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erajunex · 11 days ago

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The House of Sin. (part 1)

Rating: 18+ MDNI. You read at your own risk.

Pairing: Father Charlie Mayhew x housekeeper!fem!reader

Summary: Your very religious family decides to preserve you from the evil of the world by entrusting you to Father Charlie as his housekeeper. You’re welcome in the House of Sin.

TW (for this part): NSFW. SMUT. blasphemy; mentions and references to catholic themes (some of them are prob inaccurate sorry); reader is very religious (but not innocent); mentions of blood; graphic description of self-inflicted flagellation; masturbation; voyeurism; swearing.

a/n: English is not my first language, so please be kind bc this took me so long to translate (lol), if you wanna be added to the tag-list for the next part lemme know with a comment pls

Enjoy xx

Father Charlie Mayhew had always been faithful and devoted to the promises he made before God when he decided to please Him for the rest of his earthly life, and with the same devotion he always made an effort to spread love for God within his parish.

In his whole life, he never felt the slightest desire to act in opposition to the Lord's word, he never succumbed to temptation, and his spirit never entertained the idea of sinning.

He was the perfect servant, the best guide for his parish, and for the faithful whom the Lord entrusted to him.

Or at least that was what everyone believed about him, including your parents, who thought that offering you the position of Father Charlie’s housekeeper would be the best way to protect you from the vices and dangers of the outside world.

Your father was a strict and religious man who raised you with rules and discipline, so you accepted his decisions without question.

Father Charlie knew your family well and recognized your parents' honesty and devotion, so he had high expectations for you, and you would’ve met all of them.

The initial period of living together at his house was quite peaceful, and being with him felt comfortable from the very first day. You spent your days peacefully working for him, cleaning his house and the church, doing laundry, and preparing lunch and dinner. Nevertheless, you always found a moment for prayer. You shared everything with him and you were grateful and respectful at the point you considered him a master despite his young age.

You recognized your parents' admiration for him, and you shared it too because he was a decent man who cared for all his faithful and his mission as God's servant. He was charismatic, persuasive, and seemingly flawless. To be honest, his personality intrigued you. You had to admit that sometimes you found him charming, but those were just fleeting thoughts that you quickly pushed aside— till tonight.

It’s late at night; all the lights are off, and Father Charlie has retired to his room about an hour ago.

You’ve just finished washing the dishes and are getting ready for the night. As you prepare to head to the room he had assigned to you when you first arrived, a flicker of light and subtle noise from his door catch your attention as you walk through the hallway.

At first, you think it’s just a perception, but as your feet slow down until they stop in the hallway, you realize your ears are not wrong.

Driven by curiosity you approach the door slowly, trying not to make a sound as you peek through the half-closed door to see out what is happening inside his room. But, you know, sometimes curiosity can kill.

You freeze. Your jaw drops, and your eyes widen as they look straight at the scene being etched in your memory.

Father Charlie sits at the edge of the bed, fully exposed to your gaze, the soft light casting shadows on his bare skin. His back is turned to the painting of Jesus Christ hanging on the wall, a watchful presence above him from which he is trying to hide himself.

He’s panting. He’s completely naked. With one hand around his cock.

His eyes are closed and his slightly parted lips release soft moans of pleasure, the rhythm of his breath filling the quiet room. A sheen of sweat glistens on his naked body as he keeps moving his left hand at a rapid pace, trying to set himself free from the lustful thoughts that had taken over his body as soon as possible.

Your breath breaks.

You can’t believe it. Father Charlie has succumbed to the desire of the flesh, his soul becoming stained by a sin he should never have committed. Not him. Not a priest like him.

And without knowing, he‘s pulling you into the Devil’s claws with him.

Because no matter how shocked you are, and no matter how hard you’re mentally cursing yourself for being overcome by curiosity, your eyes are glued to his magnificent body and cannot tear themselves away from it.

You are expected to go, but you can't. You don't want to.

For the first time in your whole yet short life, you hear it. That voice. The voice of temptation.

You continue to stare at him with bated breath, wishing that show will never end.

"Ah, fuck..." he groans and you shudder.

A shiver goes straight to your core, and you immediately feel an urge to clench your thighs together to hold back an unusual tickle that you had never experienced so strongly before.

However, it is not sufficient.

Forgive me, Father… you think. Your cheeks redden with shame as the last bit of reason fades away from you at that precise moment your right hand goes straight under the cloth of your sundress, and just as if it has been guided by a dark and sinister force it sneaks between your legs, right in your cotton panties.

For I have sinned.

You aren’t used to touching yourself, and even if you had done it on rare occasions you'd never imagined doing it like this— secretly watching your priest as he does the same thing.

Soon you realize that something inside you is changing rapidly. It‘s just a tiny spark, but it can set your whole body on fire in no time.

And it’s all his fault.

Your fingertips slide between your already-soaked folds, coating in juices that flow out of you like a river, and then you start teasing yourself shamefully, trying to focus on the scene in front of you to avoid those pitiful and lonely voices that keep whispering to you to stop.

“Yes…” he licks his lower lip and for a brief moment you imagine how good, how pleasant it could be the feeling of his wet tongue on your skin, exactly where your hand is. It’s so, so wrong and you know it, but you can’t control yourself. It’s overwhelming.

His nudity contrasts sharply with the solemnity of the image behind him. He looks so vulnerable, so…

“So good…” he says between moans. You want to know what he’s thinking, what kind of images are guiding his imagination— if you’re part of them too.

His forearm anchors on the mattress to balance himself, and his hips buck against his hand to gain more friction.

“Oh, God…” his broad chest is heaving with every breath that escapes his lungs as you try your best to swallow every squeak, careful not to get caught right there.

Sweat covers his forehead, small drops sliding down his ecstatic face and neck, igniting your deepest fantasies while your fingertips rub at your clit in circular motions, mimicking the pace at which he’s stroking his length.

You can’t help but look at it. Thick and veiny, the tip red and leaking with precum, your pussy throbs around nothing at the mere idea of putting his whole girth in your virgin mouth and knowing how good it could taste.

The man bites his lips and you do it too in reflection.

You are a mess. Your trembling thighs are soaked by the juices dripping from your aching pussy as you frantically touch yourself. Your entire being lies completely under the tight grip of the Devil, ensnared in a web of darkness that seeks to control every thought, feeling, and action.

His strokes become erratic, and his eyebrows knit together in a mixture of pain and bliss. He is close… and in such a short time you are too. Your teeth bite your lower lip until it bleeds, in a desperate attempt to hold back a whine. But you don't stop. You will not do it until he will too.

All of a sudden, his hand stops. A guttural sound of satisfaction slips past his throat reaching your ears as he throws his head back and the orgasm washes over him.

The tight knot in your belly snaps and thousands of shocks invade your body from head to toe. Your vision goes blurry, your mind goes fuzzy and your knees get weak like jelly.

You’ve just reached the peak without even knowing it.

Thick ropes of his white seed spill from his throbbing cock, falling right on his palm and stomach.

Your mouth waters at the sight, you can swear that if only it had been possible you’d walk into that damn room and kneel in between his huge thighs just to lick him clean and suck the soul out of him, making him cum again and again and again.

For God’s sake, those thoughts will send you straight to hell!

Silence takes his moans’ place, and his eyes open slightly as his breathing searches for a more regular pace, just like yours.

You pull out your hand from your soaked panties. A wave of post-orgasmic sense of guilt crashes over you. You have just sinned. Right now is time to go to your room and get some rest, forgetting what have just happened and never thinking again about it, and yet your eyes and your feet are stuck right here, quivering for his next moves.

Everything has been so tempting and your body wants more.

He suddenly gets up from the mattress and makes his way towards the antique dresser next to the bed. A bowl full of water is on top of it, and he quickly dips both his hands inside of it to his wrists, washing away every sign of the sinful act he had just committed—unaware it’s happened in front of you.

From that spot, his body is perfectly exposed to your gaze, and your mind takes advantage of this to explore new, undiscovered places.

He‘s tall, radiant, and huge. He looks like a classical statue. His broad chest and chiseled abs seem to be sculpted in marble, just like his thick thighs and the strong and muscular arms he usually hides under the vestments.

He’s handsome.

Only the Lord knows what those arms are capable of, how those big and veiny hands would be able to touch and grab a woman’s body- your body. How good his mouth would be able to kiss you, bite you, lick you, satisfying the most private parts of you like no one ever did. If only he didn’t have to respect the vows of celibacy and obedience... if only he didn't choose to refuse lust and resist temptation for the rest of his life…

He wipes his hands with a clean towel near the basin, heavy breathing releasing from his lungs as if he wants to get rid of that slamming weight on his shoulders. The weight of the mortal sin he has just given into, the reason why he deserves to be punished— and maybe you deserve it too.

You see him going through the drawer and picking something before he lifts the wooden kneeler to the side. And when he approaches the bed again, you recognize the scourge in his hand.

Your heartbeat down faster as soon as you realize what’s going to happen. Father Charlie places the kneeler in front of the bed, exactly where he was before, and turnes his back to you, revealing his broad shoulders and his back previously tortured by the hits he self-inflicted with the tool he’s now placing on the sheets.

A bunch of shivers flood your body from head to toe, trepassing your spine. You see the still-opened wounds and cuts on his pale skin, the clear signs of every time he sinned and begged for forgiveness.

He kneels and firmly takes the scourge in his right hand. Seven cords, seven barbs for the seven deadly sins, and seven virtues.

The mortification of the flesh.

It‘s the only way to deaden his sinful nature and bring back his focus to the only thing he pledged to honour even after his bodily death.

He rests his elbows on the board, with his back straight as he looks at the white wall in front of him, his eyes filled with certainty and confidence.

He stands right there unshaken, keeping you on edge for his next move before his lips parts and he speaks.

"Merciful Lord, I come before You seeking forgiveness and healing" with a rapid flick of his hand he whips himself violently, making you gasp in shock. You hear him holding his breath, trying his best not to cry and scream from pain, and then he spakes again.

"f-for the sin of lust that… dwells within me." another lash, another flinch from you. Cords are already leaving marks and bruises, you can feel how much they sting on his skin and on his previous wounds as the sharp edges sink on his back mercilessly.

"I confess m-my weakness in giving in to… impure desires" his stomach jolts in pain, and his dilated pupils stare blankly at the painting on the wall as his lips tremble with each syllable "and… indulging in lustful t-thoughts and actions t-that offend… You."

A lot of blood starts gushing out from his wounds, staining the cords with a bright red color.

You cover your mouth in shock. You can see the pained look on his face, pleasure has completely abandoned his now-suffering body that‘s writhing at the feeling of those rusty barbs tearing his flesh apart at every whipping, painting the cold floor with the spatters of his own blood.

Father Charlie is asking for forgiveness, pleading the Lord to save him and have mercy on his damned soul, because he is aware of the burden on his shoulders and he wanted to get rid of it as soon as possible.

And the only way to regain his purity is through suffering, through that physical pain that can purify both his body and soul, leaving him weak and miserable like a dazed sailor who lost his compass and cannot find the horizon.

"Purify my heart" he barely mutters, too exhausted "renew my mind" his forearms lost their grip on the rubbed wood of the kneeler forcing him to cling to it as strength slowly leaves his body. You watch him with an alarmed look on your face, worried about his state "and sanctify my body as Your temple."

A final statement spoken with a broken voice before Father Charlie immediately collapses on the wooden structure, visibly in a worn out state. Spurting blood stains his bare back, his eyelids squeeze trying to kill the pain of that one last whip that completely slashed his flesh.

You accidentally step back with your left foot, producing a nearly undetectable noise that forces you to lean your hand against the wall to keep balance in an attempt not to get caught. Too late.

Father Charlie turns around quickly, towards the door he previously left slightly ajar. His gloomy eyes meet yours even if shrouded in darkness. Your heart stops in your chest, becoming like a stone falling into a bottomless pit.

Shit.

a/n: part 2?

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akutasoda · 16 days ago

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“diamond tiara crushed in two, my heaven crashes down for you”

synopsis - you are a royal, they aren't. would it be such a crime for them to be someone more than a companion of yours?

includes - argenti, aventurine, boothill, sunday, reca

warnings - gn!reader, fluff, slight crack, i have no clue what im doing, wc - 2.8k

a/n: ngl this only came about cause my fav artist dropped a new single... something else was inspired by that which idk if i want to work on that onrle rrr

argenti ★↷

↪argenti was once the commander of the knights that protected the region. well, he still was but now most of his time was spent beside you. as your very own personal knight.

↪it was agreed very widely that argenti was by far the best knight in the kingdom. so it was inevitable that he ended up in such a trusted position - and it was also safe to say that your safety was pretty much always guaranteed with him around.

↪naturally, he still held his title as the commander but spent most of his days by your side so normally he would put others in charge in his absence. although in honesty, argenti never minded.

↪argenti enjoyed his job as a knight, he liked helping people out and defending the kingdom he was proud to be part of. a part of him enjoyed the serenity of spending his days with you.

↪most of it tailoring to him following you around as you attended meetings and the occasional trips to the town. and even argenti had a bit more freedom as you always let him do what he wanted but even willingly, argenti would happily spend time with you.

– – –

you walked idly through the corridors, you had nothing to do as of late. bored out of your mind. your only real idea was to head out to the town and see if they had anything to satisfy your boredom, although to do so you thought it may be best to find argenti first.

you knew where to find him however. if you were going out you wanted him to accompany you, not just as your guard but as a companion - you didn't really need a guard in your opinion. but you quickly found the knight in the training grounds.

he was very dedicated to his training. it was always intriguing to you when you did catch him in action - in training or in a real life scenario. so you couldn't exactly help but take a seat nearby and watch as he trained.

you weren't trying to be creepy but it was interesting, and rather entrancing, so you watched. although you should've expected argenti to notice your presence as soon as you sat down. he huffed as he stopped swinging his ornate spear, stabilizing himself, he stopped and turned to you with a smile.

“is there something you need your highness?” argenti slowly walked closer to you and quickly noticed the flushed expression on your face at being caught.

you tried stammering out a response but quickly gave up and broke eye contact looking at the ground. argenti let out a small laugh, “if there's something you require of me, please do let me know”

eventually you managed to piece together a coherent sentence and explained how you wanted to go visit the town for a bit. argenti agreed, like he would ever not agree, and excused himself for a moment to get ready and don his armor.

argenti always loved when he got to accompany you anywhere. your presence was such a joy for him and a selfish part of him enjoyed knowing that he spent the most time with him - argenti knew you enjoyed his presence as well which always made his heart soar.

but he was merely your personal knight. he should be glad to be granted such a title, but when you take him by the hand and lead him to wherever you wanted with that smile on your face, he could convince himself that for a fleeting moment, you two were something more.

aventurine ★↷

↪a diplomatic representative of the stoneheart group who spent their time negotiating and delivering messages between various kingdoms. a neutral group who maintained positive relationships with all kingdoms to survive.

↪aventurine was always responsible for being sent to your kingdom, and so he would always make an appearance when your council met to discuss. a part of you was curious if he'd ever drop his position among the stonehearts to become a permanent member of your council.

↪he always had very valuable insights that always seemed to work towards bettering your kingdom as a whole rather than helping the relationship between the kingdom and the stonehearts. he also spent a decent amount of time rilling up your actual council members.

↪although, nowadays you noticed how he made more frequent visits to your kingdom, and specifically you. aventurine would occasionally come and find you just to drag you away from your duties and hang out - something you never actually minded, even if you should've..

– – –

aventurine walked through the lone halls of your residence, he found it almost laughable how easily the guards let him in, how much they trusted him. he could easily walk in with the wrong intentions and dismantle your kingdom from the inside out but you both knew he wouldn't. which was why he was here now.

bursting through your room's doors, you shot up from your paperwork before relaxing at the sight of the emissarie.

“hello to you too aventurine,” you briefly glanced over to your calendar “what are you doing here? seeing as we have no meetings…”

aventurine smiled as he sat himself on the corner of your desk “do i have to have a reason to see you?” he knew he didn't, he knew you'd always welcome his presence at any time.

“you know you don't want to be stuck here doing..” he looked at what was laid across your desk, making a vague shrugging motion “whatever that is, take a break! we can walk around for a bit!”

you knew you shouldn't listen to him, that he was a bad influence on you. but one look at your desk was enough to convince you that aventurine was right. you'd have even more work to do when you got back but who was going to tell you off? aventurine was definitely one of your best “advisors”.

he smiled when he watched you stand up and he followed suit, already talking about all the things that had happened since he last saw you (which was barely two days) and asking you about what you wanted to do.

suddenly your boring day filled with paperwork was actually going to be exciting, spent with someone you liked as more than one of your emissaries.

boothill ★↷

↪apart of a group of mercenaries known as the galaxy rangers. they take up whatever contract they agree with and pay the most of course. the “galaxy ranger” name is simply a convenient way of finding the best mercenaries in the regions - whether or not someone can get one to work for them is a different story.

↪boothill was once hired by a rivaling kingdom to bring down yours, he didn't exactly agree with his contractor but they did have rather deep pockets. that hesitation of his was what you used to save your kingdom. paying boothill more than what he had previously been offered.

↪and what better way to ensure your kingdom's safety than to constantly ensure boothill worked as a mercenary for your kingdom by paying him. it was a simple solution in your eyes and boothill wasn't going to complain.

↪although as time went on, boothill was seen less as a mercenary and more as a companion - seeing as you spent quite a bit of your free time talking with him and listening to his takes from traveling all over.

– – –

“so tell me again why i’m accompanying ya?” boothill poised as he watched you eye up some shop window displays

you hummed “because i gave argenti the day off for his hard work” turning to face him you continued, “and your nice company”

nice company huh? boothill would've never considered himself to be nice company for anyone but he wasn't going to argue your word. it wasn't entirely uncommon for you to drag him around the town when you were bored, always giving that same excuse or saying something along the lines of being blunt and just wanting to hang out.

boothill would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy this time with you. it was always peaceful, a nice respite from his daily activities - which admittedly became more calm themselves ever since you began paying him to be loyal to your kingdom.

even if you were to stop paying him, he reckoned that he would still never go against your kingdom. there was something about you that was enchanting to the mercenary, no wonder you were royalty. he could spend ages thinking about you, he had no clue why however.

boothill had no idea why he felt this way about you. you were just another stupid royal who was too big for their boots. and yet, he stuck around. he indulged in your conversations and requests, he genuinely enjoyed being around you and-

“say, why don't we stop for lunch on the way back?” your voice broke his chain of thought and that smile of yours practically rendered him entranced

“sure, your choice, your highness” and he reveled in your brightening smile that was caused by him, the one that made his knees weak and he couldn't care less about how you grabbed his hand and practically dragged him away.

sunday ★↷

↪the oh so prestigious high priest of the land. the one in charge of all the churches and so he had a spot on the royal council. not only as the main representative of the churches but also as an advisor.

↪he was a form of spokesperson for the people who confided their issues with him and some of his ideas had helped the kingdom greatly, so he definitely deserved a seat among your council

↪sunday was very reliable. he would always show up to meetings and always ensured that services within the church were planned and carried out to the nest they could be. a man devoted to fulfilling his role. although with how long you'd known him, he had a few flaws.

↪namely his “people problem”. not that he despised anyone but at times he could be quite uptight and rather condescending - namely when discussing with your other advisors which made for quite the trouble occasionally.

↪but you valued his advice and so he kept his position. although you also highly valued his companionship, something he would deny of but secretly indulge in your favoritism of him - like a bird preening in front of a mirror.

– – –

service had finished mere moments ago. sunday sighed and closed up his book as he kept an eye on the last couple stragglers exiting the sermon.

so he couldn't exactly miss the line figure that walked down the aisle to his position. in honesty, even if he did miss it then sunday would know it was you, after all you had developed the rather neglectful habit of visiting him after his services - neglectful as you were obviously shrugging away duties to be here.

his face resumed his stern look that he usually held before he addressed you “your highness, you know you mustn't be here”

but you both knew that even if he sounded annoyed he wasn't. you knew that he enjoyed your clear favoritism to the priest but he cared too much about appearances and positions to let it shine through, in your opinion.

“i don't think i do” you responded, sunday quickly picked up on that playful tone of yours, he knew what he was in for “would you mind enlightening me priest?”

oh aeons how he hated that dumb smile of yours. that stupidly pretty smile that made his heart skip a few beats. no, he couldn't let you break his act down so quickly, that would be embarrassing for him. so he collected himself and answered

“considering i enlightened you yesterday, i have no need to repeat. or is your memory that bad? if so i feel a trip to your healer is necessary then?” when he heard you grumble, he knew he'd managed to save his facade.

this wasn't exactly the first, or even the last, time that you slinked away to spend time with him when he had nothing going on. but you were the monarch. you had duties to attend to and so despite his true wishes of wanting this time with you, he always urged you to go back to your duties.

“fine then” you huffed “i'll be seeing you tomorrow then”

turning on your heel, you began leaving with a stumped sunday who was wracking his brain for any idea of what you meant behind you. but he couldn't think, so he had to ask

“what's tomorrow?” sunday hadn't got anything planned with you tomorrow, yes he had other things but nothing that you should've been aware of

you stopped in your tracks and turned around, feigning shock and hurt, you gasped “don't tell me you forgot! the meeting tomorrow?”

sunday paused, “but that's the day after, no? we agreed so at the last meet”

as soon as that smile of yours widened, it all clicked together in his head “oh it is? my.. well i already have a cleared schedule for that time.. wouldn't want to waste it?”

turning around again you continued, “so ill be seeing you at noon then” before walking away once more

sunday stood in confusion for a moment and before realizing fully and blurting out “you-” but you were already out of earshot, also missing the smile that crept onto his face.

reca ★↷

↪an infamous playwright who recently had taken residence in your kingdom. his plays were known far and wide by everyone, highly praised and honored. people always eagerly awaited even a whisper of what his new creation was.

↪and so naturally, you had become a patron of his. always sponsoring his plays as you were quite the fan yourself. whenever you saw that he had a new play that was being performed, you immediately cleared your schedule for that time and got your ticket - they were always in high demand.

↪reca was faltered that royalty such as yourself was so deeply invested in his writings and he greatly appreciated the sponsorship, it enabled his plays to reach greater heights. and so it was only natural that he started pandering some of his plays to you.

↪more based around subjects that he learnt you loved, your favorite troupes, anything you deemed intriguing and so on. of course, they all came out as hit plays but he knew they were slightly more special than just his average play.

– – –

reca stood from the sideline, hidden behind a deep maroon curtain, as his latest play came to an end. he watched as the actors he so desperately searched for took a bow as gifts were showered upon them for his characters he created for them.

but nowadays, he cared less about audience validation and more about a specific person - yes he still valued the opinion of anyone that saw his plays as that's what kept him going mostly but this play was special. he spent ages driving himself into sleep deprivation and stress trying to perfect it.

all because he tailored it for you.

his number one, and favorite, patron. he'd seen you take your seat and eagerly awaited your critique for his piece. reca wouldn't mind if you didn't pick up on the hints that it was tailored towards you, just as long as you enjoyed it. and his question was soon answered.

reca's ears perked up when he heard your voice call out to him. you shouldn't be backstage, but nobody would stop you. a confident smirk graced his face when you immediately starting rambling about specifics of his play, what you liked the most, how well it flowed etc etc.

he took your praise in strides, even more so when you poised him a question.

“oh! mr reca, you must tell me how you got inspiration for the main character!” you seemed so happy and so rene's smirked widened

“well if you must know your highness, it was about a special patron of mine” reca watched as your face twisted into something akin to confusion as you tried to figure out what that meant.

he nearly laughed when your expression portrayed a more shocked and embarrassed tone, you tried stammering out a sentence “so what about their lover-”

“well a writer must take some creative liberty, no? and one's subconscious might influence those decisions” he held back a laugh as your face flushed.

“your a tease mr reca” you huffed. and he only smiled back as you too let a smile creep onto your face.

taglist - @little-miss-chaoss, @frankiesteinn

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borathae · 25 days ago

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↳ Index [Day 21 - Needy Fucking]

Pairing: Soft Dom!Seokjin x f. sub!Reader

Genre: married life!AU

Kinks: penetrative vaginal sex, needy fucking, oh lord they are so needy, strength & size kink (he is taller), hair pulling (m.receiving), choking (f.receiving), subby girl tears, praise kink, good girl kink, possessive dirty talk, breeding kink for the sake of possession NOT pregnancy, creampie, use of a plug to keep the cum inside afterwards, he playfully spanks her clit with it, hihih they’re so needy but they’re also in love <3

Wordcount: 2.2k

a/n: honestly, i don’t know what demon possessed me but i wrote this in like fourty minutes and it’s so unhinged JFJDAJF i watched outlander before that and they were being so horny so i think the language i used got a lil influenced by it jjfadjf have fun my loves 💗

“You’re such a good girl”, Seokjin grunts through gritted teeth, burying his heavy cock inside your dripping cunt over and over again.

You are beneath him, writhing and moaning with your head far away in the blissful high of pleasure he has you on.

It started off as a romantic evening. You and he wanted to do something special as husband and wife, have a little date and make it lovely. And oh lovely it was. You went for dinner to an expensive restaurant then had fun at an arcade until you even spent your last pennies on the silly machines. It was perfect. It was fun. It was romantic. And it was arousing.

Being with each other like this - having fun and laughing together, spending time doing something you both enjoyed and seeing each other dressed up in pretty clothes - made the desire for each other so unbearable that you barely managed to drive home without taking each other in the car. In the middle of the road, causing trouble for others. Of course you didn’t. You were civilised like that. Ignoring, of course, the heavy make out session in the apartment complex hallway. Now, normally you and he are never that public with your skin ship, let alone with outright desire, but you needed each other so much. Seokjin kept panting and growling into your mouth, acting like a starved man finally having his taste of flesh again. You never witnessed him in public like this before, wanting him like nothing else because of it. If you were any less civilised, you might have ripped his clothes off his body right there and then.

But you controlled yourselves, stumbling into your apartment and right to your bedroom, undressing each other on the way so that you fell into the sheets both naked and wet. There was barely any, what others might consider as traditional, foreplay. No long exploring touching, no hungry mouths tasting the other, no grinds or needy rubbing. There were hungry kisses, strong grips and desperate begs for the other. It wasn’t long after you and he fell into the sheets that Seokjin was buried inside of you. Deep and in a merciless, maddening rhythm. And you loved it. You loved every second of it.

You still do.

You love it so much.

“Good girl, taking me so well. Being so pretty for me, fuck I can’t get enough of you”, he moans, showing you his honesty in heavy rolls of his hips. His cock is weeping, pleasure mixing with yours and covering both your groins in it. How sticky it is. How messy and wet and sinful. If he could, he would bottle this feeling so he can relive it whenever he wants to. He loves nothing more than to laugh with you, loves nothing more than to experience happy life with you and to see that you are enjoying yourself as well. Tonight you ruined him, you made him a mad man driven by his desire for you. You looked so beautiful, you were so perfect and funny and wonderful. Seokjin knew he had to make you feel eternal the moment you first smiled at him.

And he loves that you want him just as much, that you are so wet and so warm because you are in paradise. Seokjin pumps his throbbing cock into you in a sensual roll of his hips. He keeps it there, writing his name on your most sensitive spot. He watches with a dizzy head how this turns off every single light of sanity in your eyes, leaving behind fiery, wild flames of pleasure. The only thing keeping the flames at pay are your tears, filling your beautiful eyes before rolling down your temples.

“Jin”, you whimper, lower lip trembling and fingers desperately grasping his hair. It is as black and dark as the night, hanging into his beautiful face messy and damp from sweat. It sits perfectly between your fingers, twisting so easily as you hold onto it for dear life.

“Does it feel good for you? Is this nice?” he asks you, mesmerised by the view of you.

You nod your head, sobbing softly with your brows furrowing in ecstasy.

“___ my sweetheart, I love being with you”, he gets out, making sure to keep the rhythm going. It makes you feel like this and Seokjin would be damned if he took this away from you. The tug on his hair grows. It burns and pinches, motivating him to keep going. It feels so good to have his hair pulled. Especially when it is done in a moment of passion.

You do it gently and softly whenever you and he are making out. You do it mindlessly and rather shakily when he eats you out for a long and attentive time. And you do it harshly and desperately whenever he is buried inside you to the very hilt.

Seokjin loves having his hair pulled in a moment of passion, riding on such a strong wave of pleasure that the feeling brings him to his fall tonight.

His middle presses into you, rubbing against your swollen clit while his veiny cock still drills your puffy walls. His face falls into the crook of your neck and his left hand incidentally falls around your throat, laying there trembling and trying not to squeeze down.

“Seokjin”, you sob, instantly wrapping your limbs around him. Your hips meet him in the middle, falling into a sloppy dance solely motivated by pleasure. It feels so good to both of you that you can’t stop it. So now you lie rutting and fucking in the sheets, holding each other so close that not even air could separate the two of you.

He is taller than you, he has more muscles too. You always call him your gentle giant and your handsome protector. Whenever you do, Seokjin smiles to himself shyly and he seems to be cuddlier for the rest of the day. Sometimes when you lie together after a hard day, you love to rest your head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. You feel so safe whenever he allows you to do this. When the weather is colder again, you sometimes like to cuddle into him until he wraps his jacket around both of you. You feel so warm and taken care of whenever he does this. And sometimes in bed, when he is barely awake, you lie beside him and trace the paths of his body until you made a map of it. You feel so blessed whenever he gives you consent to do this.

Tonight, his tall, strong body is atop of you, spending you warmth and applying gentle pressure on your chest. You never felt more connected with him than you do right now and you sob because of it, begging him to seal the connection even deeper.

“Choke me, please.”

His hips falter for a moment.

“Please my love, please.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, please. I’m yours, just please make me yours.”

“Oh, I’m gonna make you mine in more ways than one, my love.”

His fingers close around your throat, cutting off the blood flow to your brain just enough that a warm dizziness spreads behind your eyes.

“Holy fuck, Seokjin”, you moan, arching your back as best as his body on top allows you to, fingers twisting his hair in an attempt to handle what he gives you.

“Is this what you need, sweetheart? Does this feel good?”

“Yes, good. So good, oh god, so good”, you sob and mewl, throbbing around his heavy cock.

“Fuck sweetheart, I’m gonna cum so deep inside you. Gonna breed you with the sole purpose of making you mine.”

“Seokjin, please!”

“The way you say my name, urgh fuck”, he gets out and growls, forcing himself back onto one elbow so he can look at your face as he makes you feel eternal.

Your eyes are squeezed shut, your brows pulled tight and your mouth is agape. This is it. This is the face you make when you feel nothing but pleasure.

Seokjin swears he tears up himself at the sight of you, applying a little more pressure on your veins.

You wail up, arching your back off the sheets and reaching above yourself to twist the pillow. Your legs fall from his hips, shaking on the mattress each time he drills his leaking cock into you.

“Say it again, sweetheart. Say my fucking name.”

“Seokjin”, you croak.

“That’s right. Who makes you feel so good?”

“Seokjin”, you whimper.

“I do, baby, I do. Fuck”, he grunts, struggles for a second then continues with even more passion, “and who do you belong to?”

“Seokjin”, you wail, grasping his wrists to squeezes them so tightly, Seokjin fears they might bruise.

“You do, baby, you do. Fuck, you do. Mine and I’m yours. All yours, baby. With my body, heart and soul. Yours.”

“I’m cumming, please.”

“Let go, sweetheart. I’m right here. Your gentle Seokjin’s right here”, he soothes you and lets go of your throat.

The blood shoots back to your brain, serving as the final blow to throw you over the edge. You make a little squeak then fall into silent screams, shaking with such vigour that Seokjin fears for you for just a moment.

“Holy fuck sweetheart, what the hell? Baby, fuck. That’s it, cum for me. That’s it, such a good girl. Cum on my cock, such a good girl. You’re so pretty like this, my good girl, my pretty girl”, he chants, tongue acting quicker than his brain. He has no idea what he is spitting, but he knows that whatever he is saying to you in his delirious state, it comes from his heart (and maybe also a little from his cock).

“Please. Breed me”, you croak out with what little strength you have left as your orgasm shakes you, but to Seokjin’s ears it was as clear as day.

It breaks him. He couldn’t have stopped it even if he tried.

His eyes roll back and stay there, his back arches as far as the position allows it to. His legs feel like weak sticks, shaking between yours as his heavy balls empty themselves inside your tight cunt. He makes sure to cum so deep, to bury each droplet of his white seed in your walls so that they will know who they are allowed to welcome. Not that he has any doubt in your faithfulness, as you have none in his’, but it still feels so good to both of you to seal this promise of monogamy with a deep, sticky creampie.

He drops on top of you once your highs died down, burying you under his weight. Not that you mind. You hug him tightly, smiling happily with your head still turning.

“I fucking love you, Mister Kim”, you lull.

“I fucking love you too, Misses Kim”, he rasps, voice barely there after what he just experienced.

With your heart fluttering, you giggle. He giggles as well, kissing your neck softly. You enjoy it with tingling skin, making him feel good as well by tracing his spine gently.

“I can’t believe we did that.”

“Yeah, it was amazing. For me it at least. Was it-”

“Hush, of course it was amazing for me. You did everything right.”

“Yay, I’m glad I did.”

You laugh because he is a dork and you are irrevocably in love with him. You shift a little under him, groaning in disappointment.

“I don’t want to leak. I wanna keep you inside me for longer.”

“Mhm”, he pecks your cheek, “I have an idea. Do you trust me?”

“With my life.”

“Then, don’t move. I’ll be back.”

He rolls off of you, giving your pussy a little kiss before he truly climbs off bed to hurry to the dresser.

“What on earth are you doing?” you ask him in a chuckle.

“Getting something so you can keep me inside.”

“And what will that be, mhm?”

He returns to you, climbing on top of you. You grab bundles of his hair, purring happily as he kisses you. The kiss lasts until your breath runs out, then it breaks and Seokjin disappears between your legs. You prop yourself up in your elbows.

“What are you doing?”

He lifts a clean silicone buttplug. You ogle it, gulping.

“I know your pussy’s strong enough to keep it inside for a little. Wanna have it?”

“Yes”, you say, opening your legs.

He takes the plug inside his mouth to wet it, letting go of it with a bop of his puffy lips. He connects it with your clit first, spanking it softly. You gasp and twitch, soon reaching down to his shoulder gently.

“Stop it you”, you laugh, “I’m too sensitive for your shenanigans.”

He chuckles and nuzzles his nose into your inner thigh, kissing your skin lovingly.

“Sorry, couldn’t resist”, he murmurs, giving you one last kiss before sitting up.

He connects the toy with your puffy hole and pushes it inside, making you moan softly and drop into the sheets in a sensual squirm.

“Mhhhm that’s nice. God, I love being plugged up with your cum still inside.”

“And I love knowing that something of mine is inside that warm heaven of yours”, he rasps, kissing a path up your body, “now come and let me kiss you.”

“Is it just me or is someone not sated yet?”

“When it comes to you? I’m like a spoiled house cat never happy with what its fed.”

You fall into the kiss laughing and smiling, twisting his hair gently.

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 2 years ago

Text

From love and life

a/n I feel like we might need some good old fluffy fluff with a tiny bit of angst. So enjoy! Any sort of interaction is so so so appreciated!🤍🫧

summary: you're heavily pregnant but your medical assistant is needed in a close by town. Emotions run high and a little someone decides to make an appearance, just the timing is not ideal.

Can be read as a part two to A slice of paradise but this is a standalone

warnings: pregnancy, birth descriptions, complicated delivery, blood, yeah...

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The kitchen was dim. The only source of light was the lamp that stood in the living room. The record player lightly filled the space with old tunes as you and Joel swayed in the middle of the kitchen. It was such a rear moment lately. There was so much going on that you two hardly spent time together. Well, now that Joel was refusing to do patrol, he was way more present and even more nagging on your pregnancy brain. Even if it came from the love that he felt for you and the baby, you wish he worried less. But then again, it was easier said than done.

Your arms were lazily draped over your lover's shoulders, head nestled into his chest. Joel's grip on your body was tender. Wearier of you falling by accident, so one of his hands was firmly supporting your back, the other lovingly cupping the side of your bump. As if he were including the babe in your little nighty dance as well. Humming the tune as you two twisted and turned. There was so much love at this moment. So much attentiveness. So much reassurance. That you were in this together. That evening was going to be okay.

Even in Jackson, it was scary to bring a baby into this world. It felt so fragile. In the beginning, it made you feel selfish that you even considered conceiving in circumstances like this. But then there was nothing more that you wanted. You wanted to make Joel a father again. Even if Ellie was your baby girl as it was. You just wanted to give him a chance to raise another one. Because you knew that the fatherly love that he had was endless.

"Sofie?", Joel muttered into the nothingness of the room, and you peeled your head off his chest, shaking your head, "No, no, that's what my neighbor back in Texas was called; she was a.. well, a whore". Joel chuckled slightly and said, "Okay, Sofie gets the chop then". This had been going on for some time now. You two didn't fuss about names at the beginning, but now that you could go into labor in a matter of days, it had become quite a headache. Ellie had presented you with lists of names for both genders. She was excited to become a sister. Well, when her doubts about actually being a part of this family didn't cloud her mind. In all honesty, Ellie's reaction to the news was way more positive than you imagined it to be. The last thing you wanted was for her to feel like she was suddenly losing her rights as your and Joel's daughter.

"What about Margo?", Joel said, hands resting on your sides now, as you two continued to sway. Something in your stomach almost flusters at the sound of that, and that sensation was quickly followed by a strong kick. Joel's face quickly turned into a pleased smirk. You opened your mouth, but Joel only shook his head, "You don't even have to answer darling, our baby girl agrees," you rolled your eyes at him, "You don't even know if it's a girl," "I do she just picked her name". His hands moved to lift the shirt you were wearing. One of Joel's shirts. Both for comfort and also because it smelled like him—that's what you told Joel when he first saw you in it. Plus, at this point, almost nothing fitted you. And not all occasions were fitting for a flowy dress, even if it made the bump look adorable.

Joel's tender findings rubbed your big bump, "You're a smart little one. You like Margo, Margo Miller, huh?" Joel's attention was fully on the baby now. A baby who was happily kicking inside your tummy. A baby that mostly only kicked for Joel. Already daddy's girl or boy. The bond they built was mind-blowing to you. But then again it didn't surprise you. Joel was by your side as much as he could. He talked, sang, and read stories to the bump almost every night. Not a morning was missed without kisses. This was another source of the proposal for Joel.

"Hate to interrupt you both, but I need a snack", you mumbled, brushing some of the hair from Joel's forehead away, "You are free to continue this upstairs, and you'll be much cozier in bed; bending like that will do a number on your back". Joel looked up at you, pretending to be utterly offended by your words, "Are you calling me old?", "I'm calling it snack break that leads to bed break", you gave him a bright smile before turning to search for a jar of pickles. Joel watched you happily munching, a proud smile on his face.

You were wobbling around the kitchen, adding refills of eggs and pancakes to Ellie's plate, when you heard a knock on the door. Joel was quick to move the chair, but you placed a hand on his shoulder, mumbling a quick I got this before moving towards it. "Tommy?", it came out more surprised than it should have, but then again, he rarely came by so early and in the middle of the week as well. The younger Miller glanced towards Joel. Swallowing worriedly, you could feel a sense of dread there. "Did something happen?", you asked, moving to rest your hand on his upper arm. Tommy exhaled carefully, "You might want to kill me, but let me…", "Get to it", Joel said firmly, not breaking eye contact with his brother. "There's an emergency in the nearby town. They don't have a medic good enough", Tommy's eyes were on you now, but Joel cut in firmly, "No".

You speared him no mind though, asking, "What happened?". You had been a medic before the outbreak. It had always been your passion, not just a job. So even the fact that the world fell apart didn't stop you from wanting to help those in need. "I'm not sure, but it's a boy, and he's five at best", he continued, but Joel shook his head. "Don't try to guilt-trip her", "Joel", you warned your lover firmly. "I'm not, but you don't have to; maybe you could just talk to them on the radio?" This had to be serious if Tommy was here in the first place. And the look on his face clearly showed that the morning hasn't been easy for him.

"Get the horses ready", you said softly, "Over my dead body are you riding", Joel was up and walking towards you now. "Rode, you just the other night didn't seem to complain then", you bit back, shooting him an angry look. Ellie snorted while keeping her head down, trying not to catch too much attention, but Joel's glare still landed on her. Messing with Joel in moments like this was dangerous. This man loved his family more than he loved his life. Nothing could stand in his way. And the one who tried never survived long.

"Y/N", he said firmly, "Joel", you repeated the manner. "You're eight months pregnant; this is out of the question", he tried to reason, but in the same way as him, you were stubborn. And if you set your mind on something, making you back away was almost impossible. "You are free to stay, old man", turning to Tommy, you nodded quickly, "Go, get them ready for me, will ya?". Tommy nodded and wasted no time as he slipped out of the house. He knew that Joel's scolding would come sooner or later, but for now, he was thankful to be off the hook.

"Love", Joel's tone was smoother and calm now, as he reached for your arms. You understood his worries, and yes, you were close to giving birth, but the ride was not that long, and you felt just fine. "Joel, I ain't leaving that kid to die", His jaw tightened as he searched your eyes. Now silently pleading for you to skip this one. "You're coming along or staying here?", Joel just shook his head, still frustrated, but he said nothing. Moving towards the stairs to pack a light backpack You knew the frustration would wear off eventually. With time.

"Can I join?", Ellie's voice made you turn to her. "If you want to", you told her. The area was safe and closely monitored. The trade roads were extremely important. At times, exchanging supplies was a crucial part of surviving. "Cool family trip! Like the old days", Ellie chirped. You couldn't help but crack a smile at it. It was quite a trip you all had. Coming to Jackson wasn't easy. It seemed like forever ago now. Yet the incidents lingered in the back of your mind. It still felt too good at times. Well, even the fact that you were pregnant now was a clear indication of how everything had changed. Back in QZ you and Joel were extremely careful. To get pregnant, there was a way to end up in a grave. Here in Jackson, however, it was more than possible.

The boy had an open fracture in his shoulder. A lucky one. An inch lower, and it would have pierced his heart. He was in a critical condition when you got there, but you didn't let your mind slip even for a second. Calm and collected. Not the slightest shake of your fingers. Only when he was laying in between the clean sheets did you let your mind slip, hand resting on your bump as you watched his chest move up and down. The sound of his mother's cries still swirling in your brain. How easy was it to lose someone you loved? Didn't need to be infected even. Anything could happen.

A hand that slipped on your shoulder made you jump. You turned to your side upon seeing Joel there. Your body instantly eased. Joel was scared the whole time you were in the operating room. He didn't move from the little window. Eyes watching you as you worked. Every minute that you stayed up on your feet made him more and more tense. This wasn't okay. You were too far along in your pregnancy to operate for three hours. Your body needed rest, not this. Only now did you realize how tired you were. But you couldn't show it. No, Joel would worry too much, and this was already far too much worrying for one day. So you squeezed his hand firmly before standing up.

You and Ellie were walking through the forest. Well, you were wobbling. Walking properly wasn't an option any longer. Joel was behind you both once again, keeping a close eye on you. You suggested you walked for a bit midway through the ride. Joel gave you a questionable look but nodded his head regardless. "So they just grow like this?", asked Ellie, looking at the bush that was covered in blueberries. You nodded your head, "They do. As a kid, I loved going into the forest to pick berries". It's been quite sometime now that she was a part of your life, but no matter how many stories you told her, Ellie still found things that surprised her.

You encouraged her to reach for the berry. Watching as her eyes gaped as the sweet taste hit her tongue. "Can we get some and make a pie or something?", she asked as she reached for another handful. You smiled at her softly, "Of course we ca-ahh,", you crunched forward. Bracing yourself on the tree that was by your side. Joel's steps picked up as he moved closer to you. Ellie's big eyes watched you. "Mom,", she asked worriedly, even if the tight look on your face eased. Joel's fingers wrapped around your forearms, steadying you. "It's nothing, guys; no one needs to worry", you said. Cupping the material of the long fabric beneath your bump for extra support. "You should sit down for a minute", Joel looked around, trying to find a place for you to rest somewhat comfortably.

"There's no need", you tried to sound calm, but another wave of pain hit you, making you grip Joel's hands. Ellie looked at Joel now. Worry seeped through her because even if she knew little about things like this, it didn't seem like nothing to her. "Y/N…", Joel rasped out himself, trying to undress what was happening. But you knew this wasn't nothing. Because you began to feel strange the moment you arrived in the nearby town. Then the pain picked up during the operation, but you were able to breathe through it. It didn't bother you all too much. You were sure you were good once it eased, but then you couldn't seem to sit on the horse as the pressure and pain increased. You knew this was something more.

"Don't get mad", you said through gritted teeth as the pain slowly eased, "I just… I felt", but it seemed like your baby was more than eager to do the speaking for itself as a warm trickle of liquid started to slowly trail down your legs. The material of your dress dampened. Another breathy exhale caught in your throat as you hissed. Joel moved an arm around your middle, "I fucking told you, shit", "Don't be like that", Ellie warned him quickly. Stress was not what you needed now, yet Joel didn't budge, "Like what? We're in the middle of the woods, and Y/N's water just broke". "Joel," you cried out in pain once more, both hands holding onto your tight stomach as even more liquid rushed down your legs.

"Fuck okay, come here", Joel told you, but you didn't want him to pick you up. "Dad ", Ellie rasped out, "It's okay, everything's okay, we'll figure this out". Joel wasn't sure if he believed it, but he had to. Someone had to. "Can you sit on a horse?", he questioned, but you shook your head straight away. His mind was blanking out for him. Heart racing. This was not how you were supposed to give birth. "I saw a cabin on the way here. It… was just over the valley", Ellie spoke up again, Joel nodded his head. This was the best chance you had because there was no way he was getting you to Jackson in time, "Lead the way, kiddo".

Joel lowered you just by the patio. He needed to go in first and make sure there was no one there. No infected, no raiders. That it was safe. Ellie felt like she was going to grow gray as she watched you grip the railing. She had seen Joe getting stabbed; she had been through so much shit. Put bullets through people's heads, but somehow nothing compares to this and the fear of losing you. "Hey, look at me", you caught Ellie's hand, "It's going to be okay", you rubbed your finger over her palm. "But what if you or the baby… we have no proper…", she rambled on, "Ellie, darling, it's okay". You could only imagine how scary this seemed to her. Considering that she had never seen anyone in a position like this.

"Your sibling is just slightly more excited to meet you", you chuckled slightly, and a little smile broke onto her face as well. "I'd rather she stayed in your stomach till we returned". You hummed at her words, "Funny thing about babies is they don't listen". She breathed with you through the next contraction. Doing and saying the things that she heard Joel say while you were making your way here. "Mom?", Ellie questioned once more as your face eased, "Everything will be okay, right?", you gave her the best smile you could manage, "Of course, babe."

But everything was far from being great. Joel had pulled an old mattress from the other room and placed it next to the fire that was burning in the fireplace. Ellie was anxiously changing the cold, wet cloth on your forehead as you panted rapidly, holding onto Joel's hand. They both felt helpless. Not sure how to soothe or help. The pain was evident on your face, and if at the start you could still speak between the sharp shooting daggers that ripped through you, now it seemed that you barely managed to even take a breath in between them.

Joel moved so he was kneeling between your parted legs. "Breath, love, you need to take proper breaths", his hand moved up and down your thigh, "Remember how we practiced?", you weakly nodded your head, "Of course you do, you're a trooper", "You need to check me," your hand moved towards your thigh. Joel shrugged off his jacket, quickly rolling up his sleeves. You probably would have told him how good he looked like this. But unfortunately for you, the pain was now the center of your consciousness. Joel gave you one more look as if he was asking for permission, and his hand slipped between your legs. "I feel it. I feel the head", he said firmly, and you nodded your head.

The progress was slow, or more like there was none. Your breathing grew more and more labored, yet no matter how much you pushed, it seemed to lead you nowhere, and the energy was slowly starting to leave your body. "Something isn't right", you muttered after another wave had eased. You had started to shake slightly. "What do you mean?", Joel asked you worryingly. Suddenly it all becomes awfully real to Joel. You could easily die. This could easily lead to him to losing you both. And with the amount of blood on the white material… Joel didn't need to have a medical education to know that this wasn't right.

"Tell me what to do", he tried to meet your eyes, but they seemed frantic. The panic was more than discouraging. No, Joel wasn't going to lose you both. That wasn't an option. "Y/N, look at me," he said as he moved closer to you, "We're going to do this". Joel turned to Ellie briefly, "You think you could find your way back to Jackson, kiddo?" Ellie nodded her head rapidly. She had helped as much as she could. Joel tried to keep her away from the blood, but he could do nothing about the screams and clear agony that you were in. "Okay, you need to go get the midwife and Tommy here", Ellie only managed to nod again. She was shaky and scared. But then again, in the same way as Joel, she couldn't lose you. With one last look at you, Ellie darted out, nearly falling off the stairs as she reached for the horse.

"Help me up. The gravity….", you muttered. Joel reached for your hands, pulling you up, before moving to stand against your back. You were all covered in sweat. Your lower half was drenched. You could feel the blood drying on your thighs and cracking as you moved. Please, you thought to yourself. If this went on any further, you were going to faint. Your body felt heavy. You could barely hold onto your knees as you pushed.

"I don't think I can…", you whispered, once Joel helped you to your knees. "Of course, you can", Joel said firmly, but you still shook your head, "This is my fault". But this time Joel cupped your face, making you look at him, "We're bringing this baby into the world, and you two will be just fine. I've got you. I'm with you. I believe in you" he said, leaning his forehead onto your damp one. Joel took a moment to breathe. You needed him to be strong now. He needed to be your rock.

You pushed and pushed, and minutes melted into what felt like endless nothingness. Joel's voice guided you through it all. You had no clue how he managed it, but he was holding onto one of your legs, giving you extra support to press onto something as you pushed. While the other occasionally slipped behind you, to help you push up. "Come on, one more, mama. One more", Joel's hand rested behind the infant's head as he looked back up at you, "Give me one big one, and we'll be a family of four". You did just that. With a deep breath, you pushed with all that you had left. Yet another scream ripped past your lips, and the pressure suddenly eased as your head fell back onto the mattress.

Joel quickly pulled the baby up as the loudest cry filled the living room. He couldn't help a smile; he couldn't help the tears that filled his eyes. Joel reached for his jacket, quickly wrapping the babe in it, and rocking it gently. "Hello, gorgeous, look at your cries", he cooed at the newest Miller for a moment before his eyes moved up to look at your tired face that was now covered in tears as well. "So…", you trailed off as Joel leaned over to you so he could rest the baby on your chest. "Dad had a good intuition", he teased, and you felt another wave of tears coming. "A girl", you muttered, looking down at the pruny baby in your arms. "Oh, you sweet angel", your finger carefully traced her cheek, "As stubborn as her mom too". Joel moved behind you, making sure that you were comfortable as you rested against his chest. "She has your eyes", you muttered, looking up at your lover, who looked down at you lovingly. "Can you believe that we made her?", he asked. You shook your head, "I'm still mortified that this is a dream".

The sudden noises outside made you both perk up. Joel reached for the gun, pointing it straight at the door. Just as breathless Ellie fell into the room. Behind her, a dark-haired lady rushed into the living room. Smiling at the sight of the baby bundled up in your arms, "Look at you three, good job, and congratulations". Lydia was the main midwife in Jackson. She cupped your cheeks, stealing a glance at the baby before moving to look at the mattress.

"Check her first, Lydia,", you asked her, but the lady only shook her head, "No, darling girl, you're still bleeding, and the baby with lungs like that is more than healthy". You wanted to argue, but the chaos of the room suddenly made you feel dizzy. Your mouth went dry. "You two, baby, and Ellie, out of the room now", the midwife pointed quickly to the two Miller brothers. "What's going on?", Joel asked, yet no one answered him as Lydia pulled your body up and away from Joel. Only now did Joel see how pale you were. But Maria placed the baby into his arms before pushing them all out of the room.

Joel's worries didn't die. They were clouding his brain. You were fine just a moment ago. You talked and… But then he saw Ellie's big eyes searching the room. She looked so small. So lost and so scared. "El", Joel called out lovingly, making her snap her head towards him, "Want to see your sister?". A long-lost sparkle gleamed in Ellie's eyes. "A girl?", she muttered under her breath. "Margo. Unless your mom changes her mind", Ellie stepped closer, careful as ever. As if too big a step might harm the baby somehow. Her hands stayed by her side as she looked at the baby in Joel's arms. "She needs a bath", Ellie muttered, Joel laughed slightly, "Yeah, we can give her one after", she nodded, her eyes never leaving the infant.

"Can I… I don't have to", she trailed off, "Come here, make sure you support her head", Joel made room on the rundown sofa that was in the room they were rushing into. Ellie's arms were stiff. She stopped her breathing for a moment. "She's so tiny… Hi", the baby grasped onto her finger, making Ellie look up at Joel as if she was asking if this was okay, but he only smiled at her. "You reckon she knows who I am?", Ellie asked. Joel leaned in to kiss the side of her head. "After all the dance parties you had and the cookies you made? I think you are already best friends". Ellie nodded her head in approval, yet her eyes darted to the door and asked, "And mom?".

Here was where Joel didn't know what to say. He wanted to reassure her but he couldn't. Because he didn't know what was going on. What if you were dead? A cold shiver ran down his back. No, you couldn't. His chest started to grow heavy all of a sudden. But the door swung open, and Joel had stood up at lightning speed. "Lydia,", he called out, bracing himself for the worst, but the old lady just gave him a warm smile. "She lost a bit more blood, but everything is okay. She's all cleaned up; you three should head to her", Joel practically sank to the floor as those words filled his mind. Whoever was guarding him was working overtime. He turned to Ellie, but she was already walking through the door with Margo in her hands. "You did a good job", Lydia squeezed Joel's hand, "Go have some family time with your girls".

Ellie was nestled by your side, silent tears falling down her cheeks as you held her close. Joel stepped in as quietly as he could, but his eyes instantly found yours. You gave him a weak smile. You knew he could tell just how tired you were. "I'm so outnumbered by females now," he said as he sat down by your other side. Moving your hand to his lips as he kissed it. He nudged Ellie slightly, feeling even more ease slip through his body as she giggled. "You're destined to be a girl, dad", you muttered, running your hand up and down the baby's back as she started to fuss.

"I think someone's hungry", you said, trying to get more comfortable. Joel instantly stood up so he could pull you up slightly, reaching for a spear blanket before putting it behind the makeshift pillow. The suckling noises filled the space within seconds, as Margo happily latched on. Her tiny fist flexed in the air. Ellie instantly moved her finger for Margo to grasp; her tiny fingers wrapped around it, and her fussing eased as she ate.

Joel just watched you three, his hand resting on your thigh. This was both the scariest and most beautiful experience ever. He got to bring his baby girl into the world. He had missed Sarah's birth back then. Only got to see her wrapped up in a pink blanket hours later. It had eaten at him for years. He knew he wanted to be here this time. There was no doubt, and now, after everything, he thought that it couldn't have been more perfect.

"You're okay?", your fingers squeezed his thigh gently, making him turn to you. "Yeah, just thinking about how perfect you are and how much I love you all", you couldn't help but smile, mumbling a quick I love you back to him. It was Ellie who was struck by those words the most. She knew that you both loved her. You had told her that many times, but Joel had never directly spoken about it. "I love you all as well", she mumbled back. Joel glanced at her as he reached for her hand.

"You reckon we could all fit on this", you spoke up after a minute, already starting to feel tired again. "I take the left side", Ellie said quickly, once again moving closer to you. "Who said we're allowed to call dibs", Joel questioned teasingly. "You snooze, you lose", she stuck out her tongue as you brushed some of the hair away from her face. "There's plenty of space for everyone to get a cuddle", you said softly as Joel slipped behind you, your body melted into his tender chest. One of his hands sneaked behind yours so he could support Margo, who was still feasting. Joel pressed a kiss to your shoulder. Life had both taken away from him, but then gave him so much more. His other hand rested on Ellie's back protectively. This was both empowering and crippling at the same time. Between Joel's arms was his whole world. World that was made up of you three. His biggest treasure. His most prized possession.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #the last of us imagine #the last of us x reader #pedro pascal x reader

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astrogossipp · 9 months ago

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sun notes. 🍊

Disclaimer. these observations do not have to resonate with everyone and everything, all expressed in this post is based on personal experience and research.

masterlist🌻

𝒜𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈 : Individuals with an Aries sun sign are spontaneous and energetic, known for their honesty and straightforwardness. They're natural leaders who thrive on adventure and embrace challenges with enthusiasm. Ruled by Mars, they can be fiery and impatient at times, especially with people who don't match their energetic vibe. Yet their determination and go-getter attitude make them charismatic. However, their impulsivity and assertiveness may sometimes overshadow empathy, leading to difficulties in listening to others. Overall, Aries folks are spirited leaders who are ready for action and adventure!

𝒯𝒶𝓊𝓇𝓊𝓈 : Taurus sun individuals value security and pleasure in life. They work hard to achieve their goals, and their strong attachment to tradition makes them feel secure. Taurus folks are dependable and determined, always seeing their goals through. They are patient, practical, and good with finances, which helps them build a stable life. However, their stubbornness and laziness can make them resistant to change and cause them to miss out on new opportunities. I mean they are represented by the bull and once a bull dig in its heals it is quite hard to sway them. They also have a tendency to be possessive due to their attachment to material possessions. Overall, Taurus individuals are known for their patience, practicality, and ability to build stable lives.

𝒢𝑒𝓂𝒾𝓃𝒾 : Gemini Suns are like a two-sided coin, always switching between their positive and challenging traits. They're sociable, chatty, and quick-witted. They make friends easily and always have a clever solution. However, they can be scatterbrained, easily bored, and prone to gossip. Commitment and focus can be a struggle for them, and their duality can be both a blessing and a curse in relationships. Gemini Suns are never boring, have many hobbies and interests, and can navigate new situations easily. But they also have a restless nature and need mental stimulation to avoid getting bored. Overall, they bring excitement and variety, ensuring there's never a dull moment when they're around.

𝒞𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓇 : Individuals with a Sun in Cancer are nurturing, empathetic, and deeply loyal, with a strong love for family. They possess intuition and emotional depth, making them great listeners and creative individuals. However, they can be sensitive and prone to mood swings, sometimes retreating into their shell in the face of conflict. Their strong attachment to family can lead to overprotectiveness and difficulties in communication. Despite their challenges, Cancer Suns bring warmth and loyalty to relationships, valuing safety and security while also needing emotional space.

𝐿𝑒𝑜 : Individuals with a Sun in Leo are charismatic and confident, often excelling in leadership roles and the performing arts. They have a natural magnetism that draws people to them, but they can also be perceived as self-centered due to their need for attention and admiration. While they enjoy the spotlight, they are also hardworking and humble. They are motivated by affection and are attracted to the finer things in life, though they may have lazy days. Finding a balance between their desire for recognition and consideration for others' feelings is a continual challenge for them.

𝒱𝒾𝓇𝑔𝑜 : People with a Virgo Sun are detail-oriented perfectionists who are incredibly organized and practical. They have sharp minds and are excellent problem solvers and analytical thinkers. They pay attention to the nitty-gritty and are superb at any task that requires precision. However, their quest for perfection can sometimes make them a bit too critical, not just of themselves but of others too. Striking a balance between their high standards and a more relaxed approach to life is their lifelong challenge.

𝐿𝒾𝒷𝓇𝒶 : People with Libra sun signs value balance, equality, and harmony. They are skilled at seeing both sides of a situation and have a sense of justice. They are charming, have a great sense of style, and love art and beauty. However, their indecisiveness can cause issues, and they may struggle with putting their own needs before others. Libras may also come off as fake to some people. Despite this, Libra sun signs are sociable individuals who avoid conflict and prioritize fairness. Overall, Libras seek to maintain civility and sophistication in their interactions.

𝒮𝒸𝑜𝓇𝓅𝒾𝑜 : Scorpio suns are intense and have strong willpower. They know what they want and when to get it. They're not afraid of confrontation and have the gift to heal and transform. They have a magnetic vibe that draws people to them and are fiercely loyal. They're like detectives in their own lives, digging deep to uncover hidden truths. Their intensity can be intimidating and they sometimes have trust issues. They hide things and rarely invite people over.

𝒞𝒶𝓅𝓇𝒾𝒸𝑜𝓇𝓃 : Capricorn suns are realistic and grounded individuals who enjoy the simple things in life. They value tradition and stability and may be attracted to hard-earned luxuries. Capricorns are dependable and witty, with a mastery of sarcasm. They are ultimate goal-setters and hardworking individuals who climb the career ladder with determination. Although they can come off as too serious and workaholic, they are reliable friends and partners who prioritize their work over anything else. They struggle with letting loose and talking about their feelings.

𝒮𝒶𝑔𝒾𝓉𝓉𝒶𝓇𝒾𝓊𝓈 : Sagittarius suns are adventurous individuals who love exploration and expanding their horizons. They are enthusiastic, optimistic, and always eager to learn something new. They have a great sense of humor and can lift spirits, but can also be restless and blunt with their honesty. Commitment can be tricky for them as they value freedom. They prefer to do what they love and can seem a little irresponsible at times. They are cheerful, friendly, and easygoing, and getting along with others comes effortlessly to them. The need for escape and freedom can make them appear irresponsible at times.

𝒜𝓆𝓊𝒶𝓇𝒾𝓊𝓈 : Aquarius suns are unique and free-spirited individuals who are innovative thinkers and love challenging the norm with their progressive ideas. They value their independence and are accepting of others' quirks. Sometimes, they can appear aloof or emotionally detached. However, their idealism runs strong, and they are witty and intellectual individuals who cherish their individuality.

𝒫𝒾𝓈𝒸𝑒𝓈 : Individuals with a Pisces sun sign are depicted as dreamers with deep compassion and empathy. They are highly creative and sensitive, often channeling their creativity into artistic pursuits. However, their sensitivity can lead to feeling overwhelmed and difficulty setting boundaries. They are open-minded and understanding, but may struggle with practical matters and traditional goals. Overall, they possess a deep feeling for humanity and compassion, although they themselves may often feel misunderstood.

this post was created by @astrogossipp on tumblr <3 if reposting my work please give credits.

#astroblr #astrology #astro observations #astro notes #astro community #sun in sign #sun in aries #sun in taurus #sun in gemini #sun in cancer #sun in leo #sun in virgo #sun in libra #sun in scorpio #sun in aquarius #sun in capricorn #sun in pisces #sun in sagittarius

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dadvans · 15 days ago

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heavy loads

2.6k of self-indulgent lactation!kink bucktommy for @rcmclachlan based on baby probie-verse, where bucktommy have a whoops baby

It wasn’t a shock to find Evan, up from his nap, in the laundry room when Tommy got home from running errands. Tommy went to go peek in on Nora—still Probie to the 118 and Miss Nora to Evan’s parents and sister, a toss up between those and Mashed Potato or Babygirl between Evan and Tommy, or Miss Piggy when she was feeding and Evan thought he was out of earshot—who was conked out in her crib. He silently snuck back from her crib to return to Evan in the laundry room and ask if he needed any help.

Four weeks and some change since bringing Nora into the world, and it was laundry out of everything that had become the main Sisyphean task to own their lives. They’d given up on cloth diapers almost immediately, but between spit-ups and changes and their basic day-to-day, it felt like there was constant, never-ceasing mountain of laundry. And Evan kept leaking.

He’d always had well-defined pecs before getting pregnant, but now he had full on tits. Just perfect handfuls, in Tommy’s opinion, but after the first few weeks the only time he wasn’t complaining about them was when he was feeding Nora.

When he was feeding Nora, all frustration or anxiety melted away into dopey bliss. Evan loved that his body was producing something good for someone else, sustaining life. “S’what I was made for,” he would say, blinking sleepily down at Nora who made sweet, little noises as she tried to suck him dry. It was a welcome difference from the weeks leading up to her arrival, when he’d been so nervous, voice shaky as he worried out loud about faulty parts, that his body wouldn’t make enough or that she wouldn’t latch, right up until she did there in the hospital on the first try.

“Babygirl’s still snoozing,” Tommy said, stuffing a hand in Evan’s back pocket while Evan leaned down to catch some stray wet socks for the dryer. “You need any help?”

Evan made a familiar disgruntled noise at the back of his throat, which meant he didn’t want to ask, but yes. So, Tommy squeezed his ass twice through the denim in a way that meant move. Evan rolled up, tossed the socks in and slammed the dryer door a little too quickly before scooting to the side. His emotions had always run high, Tommy knew, and the hormones during pregnancy and now made him even quicker to anger. In all honesty, Tommy still had to check himself when feeling annoyed about it, but it helped now when Evan twisted to let Tommy’s hand slide out of his pocket and catch on his hip. So,

“Hey,” Tommy said instead. “Hey.”

“We need to do, uh, sheets. Again,” Evan clarified, jaw tight, waving at the still-full hamper and half-emptied washing machine. He smiled like it hurt. “Passed out for a half hour and I totally soaked through them again. And I know I could leave it, let it dry, I’m putting a towel down anyway, but we already had a full load—“

“Evan.” Tommy didn’t shut him up with a kiss, but with a gentle squeeze. He’d found out that Evan’s tendency to pass out face down and sprawled out on any surface had not been fixed, but had simply laid dormant while he was pregnant, and he was up to his old habits again, which now had consequences. “I’ll take over in here. I grabbed you some more of those prebiotic sodas you’re obsessed with, if you want one.”

Evan softened. “Ginger lime?”

“Yeah, baby, ginger lime.” Tommy gave him another squeeze. “So, get out of here and try not to give yourself heartburn while I finish loading the rest, okay?”

He finished loading the wash, and—poor baby, he thought—the sheets really were soaked through already. Both machines going, he closed the door behind him as he left and for one blissful second got to enjoy the sight of Evan settling down on the living room couch with his soda before Nora’s crying from the next room cracked through the silence like thunder.

Evan sighed, and he instantly crossed his arms across his chest, tilting his head back for a second with his eyes closed. The soda can in his hand crinkled in his grip before his wrist went limp.

Before Tommy could offer, Evan said, “Trust me. I got this one.”

Tommy started re-making their bed late evening. Evan came in after leading Nora’s nighttime ritual, slingshotting his nursing tank from the doorway into the hamper, before finding a clean one in the dresser. Instead of tight, elastic straps that he could work loose, it had thicker, ribbed tank straps and deep, henley collar that he probably knew Tommy liked seeing him in. He walked into the master bathroom half-blind trying to slip it on over his head.

“You know,” he called out only to come back a few seconds later, still straightening himself out at the hem and carrying a ragged towel that he flipped over his side of the bed, “you know I think it’s cool that my body knows how to make food for our kid.”

“It’s very cool,” Tommy agreed, no-nonsense. He threw one side of their duvet over to Evan so they could snap it over the bed and peel it back evenly on each side.

Evan flopped himself on top of his towel face up the second they were done, kicking his own feet down to get his calves under the covers. “Well, lately I’m starting to feel like it doesn’t know how to stop, and I’m going to be like this forever. A leaky mess.”

Tommy crawled into bed next to him and leaned over to press a kiss to the meat of his shoulder. “I’m sorry about your tits, baby. Anything I can do?”

His mouth grazed down the strap of Evan’s nursing tank and something deep in his gut began to uncoil as Evan’s breath hitched in response. Instinctively, he pressed another kiss lower, near the crease of his armpit, and Evan shuddered on the exhale.

“You’re playing with fire,” he warned.

Tommy smiled against his warm skin, eyes beating closed. “Good thing we’re both firefighters, then.”

Evan laughed.

“Fuck, I’m serious!” He said, first fond and then softer, “Really. I’m serious, though. If you were. Curious, I mean. Go for it. There’s always a little something left in the tank.”

Tommy hummed. Eyes still closed, he could feel the way Evan shifted underneath him to wrap an arm around Tommy’s shoulder and get a palm at the nape of his neck, fingers tracing up through his hair. Ready to cradle him like that, hold him there, if he wanted.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve already thought about it,” Evan continued. “I’ve thought about it, maybe a lot.”

“Jesus, Evan.” Tommy nipped at his shoulder again, just to tease, but found himself curling into Evan’s hold, reaching up to snap open the collar of his tank and slide his hand underneath to cup at Evan’s pec, which fit perfectly in his palm and sat soft and ready below his chin. His thumb stroked over the nipple, fatter and perkier than ever since Nora’d arrived, and Evan sank back against his body in return. “You gonna feed me?”

“Y-yeah.” Evan sounded shaky but so sure. His fingers in Tommy’s hair curled into a soft grip. “God, help me out, Tommy, please let me feed you.”

Tommy hummed. “Okay. C’mere, baby, I got you.”

It was so easy, taking Evan’s fat tit into his mouth, Evan’s grip in his hair growing tighter while the rest of him went practically boneless. Another shaky breath and then Evan made a noise, half-whimper, half moan, that went straight to Tommy’s dick.

“Need you to take it deeper. Open, open, oh—God, your mouth is so big. Stay there, like that, yeah,” Evan said, hushed, almost reverent, as Tommy adjusted his latch and started putting his tongue to work.

He licked up, chasing Evan’s nipple, trying to tease his milk out. Swallowed around him and threw an arm over Evan’s lap to keep him in place when he started to squirm, thrilled to feel the way Evan shifted as his heels started to dig into the mattress, getting hard, dick pressing up against Tommy’s forearm.

And there it was, suddenly, Evan’s milk streaming into his mouth. Creamy and sweet, like the leftover dregs of Saturday morning cereal when he was a kid, hitting his tongue in little hiccup spurts. He almost choked at the sensation and felt a little slip out the corner of his mouth, and Evan’s grip tightened at the base of his scalp again, holding him there.

Their sex life hadn’t suffered even in the past few weeks, not in the way Tommy thought back on many of his old guard colleagues at the 118 talking about—dead bedrooms, wives like cold fish ever since they popped out a kid for some reason. But between Evan’s body needing the time to heal and the recent arrival of a tiny drill sergeant who demanded to be fed, held, changed and bathed at regularly irregular frequencies, opportunities to be intimate with each other had been few and far between. Tommy wasn’t complaining, but the sheer wave of niceness he felt now—being this close and familiar with Evan felt just as good as the first hit of a dilaudid drip in the back of an ambulance, made his toes curl against their fresh sheets as he swallowed.

“Missed your mouth on me,” Evan sighed, clearly also feeling some kind of way. “Shit, that’s nice. Different, but good.”

His dick was more insistent against Tommy’s arm now, the head eagerly tenting the thin cotton of his boxers.

Tommy finally took pity on him and tugged Evan out through the slit in his boxers, lips slipping loose to murmur, “Yes, hi, hello to you too.”

He licked his hand milk wet and returned his grip to stroke Evan and squeeze a little mean at the tip, the way that Evan loved, the way that made Evan pant and whine, before he resumed suckling. There was something meditative about Evan rocking into his hand and against his tongue, and Tommy found himself soothed by the give and take of his body, their natural rhythm together punctuated by Evan’s swallowed back noises.

“Okay?” Tommy asked, mouth full.

“Uh-huh.” Evan sighed, breath pitchy. “Starting to soak through my other side without my Haakaa.”

Tommy hummed, and licked a broad stripe up his nipple to his collarbone, biting there softly. “You want me to go get your Haakaa, baby?”

“Nah, I have a better idea,” Evan replied. He untangled himself from Tommy’s grip and carefully twisted to throw one long leg over Tommy’s thighs. “Hey, handsome.”

“Evan,” Tommy warned. They were supposed to be limiting the kind of sex they were having for at least two more weeks.

Evan worked the other side of his tank down his chest so both of his tits were exposed, rubbing at the neglected nipple. “I just want to continue what we started. Nothing else. C’mon. No funny business.”

“Maybe a little funny business,” Tommy murmured as he watched milk dribble out over Evan’s fingers. He leaned in to chase the wet line up Evan’s knuckles with his tongue and suck a hot-breathed open-mouthed kiss to Evan nipple before pulling away. Evan groaned and rocked forward, chasing him in response, which almost had Tommy laughing. “Hey, gimme a sec. I’m grabbing you some lube.”

“Me?”

Tommy, halfway stretched back reaching for the bedside table, gave an unimpressed glance down at where Evan’s hard dick still curved up through the slit in his boxers, plummy head drooling precome against the tent in Tommy’s own sleep pants. Then he went back to digging the lube out of the drawer, practiced hands making quick work with it until he was wrapping a slick palm around Evan’s dick.

“That’s right, said I was gonna take care of you.” He sidled back up against the headboard, and Evan shifted with him practiced and familiar, until Tommy’s hand was stroking him, snug and slippery between them. Licking another long, thick line up the small swell of Evan’s breast, Tommy said, “And you’ll take care of me.”

He pulled Evan back into his mouth, and something uncoiled in his gut as Evan’s milk hit the back of his tongue again. His eyes fluttered closed. Years together and Evan’s body was still finding new things to give, new ways to taste, sweet and warm like the rest of him, dripping down Tommy’s throat.

“Oh.” Evan’s voice was weak and pitchy, and he brought both hands back up to curl in Tommy’s hair and hold him there while Tommy continued to suck and let Evan fuck into his fist.

His stomach was soft against Tommy’s knuckles, recently tender enough that Tommy tried to get his free hand on Evan’s hip to control the roll of his hips, opting for a sluggish grind and tighter grip. In the past nine months and change Evan had ridden him, sure, actually ridden him, but more recently he’d had a belly full of their kid in the way, so it was always reverse cowboy, and not this level of skin on skin closeness right in his lap. Evan flush against him now was a reminder of their first several months together when they used a little more strength to push each other around and hold each other down and Tommy, mouth full, felt so hungry for it.

“Can’t wait to have you inside me again,” Evan said, like he could read Tommy’s mind.

Tommy moaned and swallowed in response, tongued at Evan’s nipple like he was begging for more. He could feel Evan’s dick throb hot, heavier now in response, the grinding rock of his hips going a little sloppy.

“Baby,” Evan said, right on cue, “I’m going to come.”

The hands in Tommy’s hair tugged back, Tommy’s mouth dragged away and up with a slick noise to be guided in for a kiss, milk slipping from the corners, passed between the two of them as Evan came, shuddering on top of him. Vaguely he felt Evan’s come seep through his tank and sleep pants, already damp with lube and sweat. He was defenseless against it as Evan kept kissing him through his orgasm, licking into him sloppy and greedy for what felt like an hour, big hands and long arms slowly sliding down to where Tommy was still achingly hard. His fingers curled into the elastic waistband to clumsily peel back what he could without moving to pull Tommy out into his own familiar grip.

“Evan,” Tommy said against his mouth, almost breathless with it.

“Let me.” Evan leaned back to spit on his own hand, equal parts too lazy and restless to grab the lube that was right there, but Tommy had been riding the edge practically from the start. He was so goddamn spoiled already.

Evan touched him like he knew, jerking him off hard and quick.

“Next time,” he continued, “next time we do this, you lay me down and I’ll let you jerk off all over my tits.”

Tommy came hard with an ugly noise, like it was ripped up his throat. His head kicked back and Evan laughed, smug, leaning in to kiss the noise down, their teeth clacking together instead. He body felt weightless, Evan’s weight on him the only thing keeping him from floating up to the ceiling.

“Jesus,” he said, eventually.

Evan hummed, settling back. He looked sleepy, and satisfied, and so pleased with himself. “Yeah? You good? Get your fill?”

“And then some,” Tommy replied, feeling half drunk. “You good?”

“Great,” Evan said, glancing between them. Both their clean shirts were soaked through in places. Tommy needed to grab a new pair of pants. “But I'll be even better if you take care of the laundry.”

#mpreg #bucktommy #baby probie #911 abc #delaney writes

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imaginepirates · 1 year ago

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How They Confess

For the anon who wanted to know how the characters would confess their feelings, and how they would react if the reader confessed first.

This includes Jack, Will, Lizzie, James, Beckett, and Barbossa.

Jack:

Jack isn’t one to make a grand show of things, and if he’s to confess, it’ll be in a moment of simplicity. You’ll be curled up together in his cabin, warm and drowsy, soft light shining out from the lanterns. He can only admit it to you when he’s completely relaxed—he can hardly admit it to himself sometimes, how much he loves you. But he says it softly in your ear, and you’re more pleased than surprised, already tangled together in the sheets. Your brain’s a bit fuzzy anyway, and the full weight of it wouldn’t hit you until the next morning. But by then he’s up and out on deck, and you’re left with the knowledge that he really does love you after all.

If you’re the first to confess, Jack would be taken aback. He doesn’t expect you to love him, not really, so it comes as a bit of a shock to his system. It would take him some time to process, too, and he has to do some serious introspection before he can say it back. Love is a heavy thing in his eyes, and he’s not about to mess it up.

Will:

Though he can be bashful, Will is completely unashamed of his feelings for you. If you’re of the same social station, he’ll simply tell you how he feels by taking you out for a walk along the oceanfront. If you’re too far above him on the social ladder, he’ll keep his feelings to himself, though they shine through with all the things he does for you to make life easier and more convenient.

If you speak up first, Will’s a little embarrassed, but in a good way. He feels a little guilty for not saying anything, but quickly gets over it; he’s just happy you feel the same, and that you’re comfortable enough in your affection to tell him. He likes that you can own it—not everyone is attracted to blacksmiths. Besides, hearing the words from you is just the confidence boost he needs.

Elizabeth:

Elizabeth wants to make her confession as perfect as she can. She does it over a nice dinner, just the two of you, and she’s pulled out the candles for the occasion. She’s a romantic at heart, and wants to have the right atmosphere in which to tell you how she feels. She’s really one for the aesthetic. It’s honestly rather cute, the effort she puts in, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it.

If you’re the first to confess, Lizzie is just delighted. She has butterflies for days, and be prepared for all the secret little messages dictated by high society. I’m talking fan-signals, flower language, the whole package. Even though she loves you earnestly, and even though you know both know it, she’s absolutely going to make the most of the courtship process and all it entails.

James:

We all know how awkward James is about confessing his feelings. He’s been rehearsing for days, and is almost too anxious to do it in the first place. He’s afraid of coming off too strong, and overanalyzes every interaction you’ve had together. He ensures the setting is both pleasant and proper, and though it may seem a little stiff, you’re aware the confession is genuine. That being said, the moment you indicate the feeling is mutual, his composure cracks and he gives you that huge smile he tries so hard to hide.

If you beat him to it, he’d be shocked. Not only is he surprised that you made the first move, which is so expected of him, but he honestly had no idea you felt that way about him. It takes him a good long time to find the right words to tell you he feels the same, and you’ll have to be patient as he recovers from his astonishment.

Beckett:

This man is never, ever, going to admit to loving you. He won’t even let himself think about his affection for you. In all truth and honesty, he’s terrified of his feelings, seeing them as a weakness that someone will figure out and exploit. He’s also afraid you won’t feel the same way. How could you? It would take a serious moment of vulnerability—either when something awful happens to you, or when you show him honest tenderness. Either way, it’s completely unexpected and almost unbelievable…until you see the fear in his eyes and realize it’s the truth.

If you make the first move, Beckett doesn’t think you’re serious. He’s willing to play along, but he figures you want something from him. So he brushes it off, though your words linger in his mind for days after. He’s probably in his office doing paperwork when it hits him that you were being completely serious, and he’s absolutely overcome by it. He makes sure to explain himself when he sees you next; he just didn’t think someone could feel that way about him.

Barbossa:

Barbossa is, if nothing else, a gentleman at heart. Again, this will likely be a dinner confession, though Hector isn’t nearly as anxious as Elizabeth might be. He’s been around a while, and he’s really only going to say anything if he’s fairly certain you’re interested. He also isn’t offended if you reject—he completely understands why someone wouldn’t want to be with him. He’s relaxed about the whole affair so you never have to feel nervous over any of it. If it turns out you are interested, he’s going to treat you with perfect curtesy and warm affection.

If you’re the first to say anything, Hector’s a bit smug. He might be slightly sheepish that you beat him to it, but overall, he’s happy to hear you say it. He’ll tease you over it in good humor, though he knows you can give as good as you get. He’s secretly happy to hear you say it because he’s insecure about his age.

#potc #pirates of the caribbean #jack sparrow #elizabeth swann #will turner #james norrington #cutler beckett #hector barbossa #captain barbossa #jack sparrow x reader #james norrington x reader #will turner x reader #elizabeth swann x reader #cutler beckett x reader #hector barbossa x reader #preference #potc preferences

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lure-of-writing · 1 year ago

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Left in regret

Authors note: Thank you all so much on the love for this story it truly means a lot to me that you all like it so much. I didn't plan for this to have a part two but I really hope you enjoy nonetheless!

Summary: After telling Azriel and the inner circle how you truly felt about Elain and about your feelings so Azriel the inner circles world comes to a very abrupt halt.

Word count: 2.5k, Part two to never been good enough

Part one Here: Never been good Enough

Part three: Why can't we?

To say that everyone was shocked by your outburst would be an understatement but in all honesty how could they blame you when everything that you said was correct. Looking back on all the time that has passed since the inner circle welcomed the new family members, they could see just how much you were being excluded and it broke their hearts that they were the reason that you were feeling this way but it was no one's fault to blame but their own. Azriel took it the hardest. He knew that he was spending a lot of time with Elain but she made him happy and even though he knew she had a mate he honestly couldn't find it within himself to care about that. If Elain didn’t want to be with her mate then who is he to stop her.

For the first time in a long time Azriel felt happy and it was all thanks to the person you hated most. The guilt he felt was immense but how could he not pursue what made him happy? For all of his life he never thought that he would be good enough for a mate so he accepted that it would never be one of the things he has in life but a stable relationship with Elain could be one of the rare gifts the mother blesses him with. But to break your heart with such revelations broke his own and up until the point of you practically laying your heart out to bare he never knew about your feeling for him and he has never felt like he deserved the title of spy master less then he did in that moment because how could he have never noticed how you felt about him?

Azriel hasn’t seen you since that fateful day on top of the house of wind a week ago no one has been able to reach you not even Rhysand and it was starting to concern him. You simply took off running towards the ledge of the house before throwing yourself off and winnowed away while falling through the air. A stunt has never scared Azriel more, that was until seven whole days have passed with no one being able to find you. Between the three brothers they searched high and low for you but came up empty handed every time. It was becoming very clear that you didn’t want to be found but Azriel needed you to come home, he needed to talk to you about everything. His mind hasn’t been able to quiet down since your confession “I have been in love with Azriel since the day I met him” your words plagued his mind at all hours of the day and he knew unless he was able to speak to you it would remain that way until it practically drove him insane for he knew he would spend however long until he was able to see you again replaying every interaction he's ever had with you from top to bottom wondering how he missed the signs. But he knew better than that, you were a trained spy, a very well one at that and if you didn’t want him to know what you were thinking then he simply wouldn't.

More days have dragged on then Azriel was comfortable with you being gone, he wanted you home more than he wanted to be around Elain and that was saying a lot for him.

Most of the inner circle was sitting around the table at the river house when Rhysand walked in looking less than pleased, it immediately caught his attention. That's when he noticed the piece of paper pinched between Rhys fingers “What is that?” His words were the first to break the uncomfortable silence that had been suffocating the group. “Y/n sent a letter.” this was not his brother speaking this was his high lord and something about that set Azriel on edge, whatever he was about to say next was going to break his soul he just knew it. “She addressed it to the inner circle and has asked that it only be read to the inner circle.” Rhysand shied away from Feyre's eyes but he knew that she understood because without any hesitation she stood up from her seat and urged her sisters to do the same but Elain refused. “I’m not leaving. I want to hear what she has to say.” something about hearing Elains demand to know what you said when she is the reason you left set Azriels blood on fire “Leave Elain or I will do it for you.”

Nesta was quick to anger with that statement “Threaten my sister again and I will kill you.” she statement was nothing short of a promise but Feyre was quick to grab her sisters but not quick enough for Azriels sharp words to cut deep into the middle sister's heart “If you had never come here, I wouldn’t have lost my dearest friend because of you. Now I see that y/n was right, you are a wolf in a sheep's clothing and I was too blind to see it right before my very eyes. I want nothing to do with you Elain.” Azriel knew his words cut deep but something inside him couldn’t find it in him to care. Everyone waited until the three sisters closed the door before doing anything else and they waited once more for the sounds of retreating footsteps before Rhysand cleared his throat and began reading your letter.

“In all my years of having the honor of being a member of the inner circle this is not how I envisioned my end. I always thought if anything I would die on the battle field or on a mission and that would be where my story ended amongst the circle but for it to end like this is something I could've never imagined. Rhysand I am so happy that you finally found your mate and honestly Feyre couldn’t be more perfect for you, but I cannot say the same for her sisters. To be frank I could have done without them but no such choice is mine to make. There are a lot of things I want to say but I’m not sure if I will ever be able to say them so for now I will settle with this. First I want to thank you all for being the most loving group of people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. Though you may have shown it in your own ways I will forever cherish the memories we made together and for that I am thankful. There is no easy way to put this but I see now that my time amongst the inner circle was limited and it is something I will always hold dear to my heart even with this painful ending. It never bothered me that I was becoming less needed within the group but to be forgotten about while dying in a battlefield changed something in me. For as long as I can remember if one of us was unaccounted for the others would stop at nothing to find whoever was lost but the same urgency was not placed upon me until Tamlin walked in with my dying body. Azriel I heard you ask how as a group you had forgotten about me and it broke me. It became glaringly obvious that I was no longer needed as a member of the inner circle but I didn’t want to believe it so I didn’t. But watching you fall in love with Elain was something I could not do when I knew that I had been in love with you since the moment I met you. I silently loved you from afar while hoping that one day you would realize I was here right in front of you willing to give you my love but all you could see was Elain from the moment you learned about her existence. I will never blame you for loving who you love but to say it doesn’t hurt would be a lie. This letter is getting to be just a giant jumble of my thoughts so let me end with a few things. In three days I will gather my belongings from the house of wind and move from the night court, please do not ask for any other information as I will not tell you any. Now it's time for me to say my goodbyes for I know I will not be able to do so in person. Amren, thank you for being a fountain of knowledge and someone I could go to, to sit in silence and not feel alone while doing so. Mor, your friendship is like no other that I’ve ever known and I cannot thank you enough for showing me such loyalty and encouragement. I'm sure that I will never find another friendship like yours. Cassian, your ability to be strong for not only your family but for yourself is something I hope to learn one day. I have definitely learned to be strong because of you. Please know you are worth so much more than all of the hateful words thrown at you. Rhysand to serve in not only your court but inner circle has been the honor of a lifetime. You have already proven yourself to be an amazing high lord and I have no doubt that you will continue to do so in the future. But most of all thank you for showing me that being myself is ok and allowing me to grow into the person I am. I could not have done it without you. Lastly, Azriel, thank you for showing me what true love is.”

The weight of your words lay heavy on each member's heart. Everything you had said had hit them differently. “She's leaving?” Amren was the first to speak after the never ending silence. While Amren may simply tolerate most people she had a place in her heart just for you. She saw parts of herself in you and wanted to help you in any way she could, albeit was a little unconventional so to hear that you were leaving broke her heart but deep down she understood why. She saw the moment you realized that Azriel was your mate while you watched as he shielded Elain from your wrath, saw the look of heartbreak flash and disappear within your eyes, saw the mourning that replaced it instead. She knew why you were leaving, you would never make him be with you just because of the bond so instead you would act like it never existed if it meant he would be happy without you. “Y/n can’t just leave, she's family.” Morrigan was the next to speak with tears pooling along her eyes “We are a family y/n must know how much we all love and care about her?” but nobody said anything until Cassian spoke up “No y/n is right we acted as if we no longer needed her. Rhysand has Feyre, I have Nesta, Azriel with Elain, Mor you are closer friends with Feyre then y/n and Amren has varian so who does that leave y/n with?” Cassian's question hung in the air unanswered “Exactly. It leaves her alone with no one but herself.” as much as people thought cassian was a brute he was equally if not more observant, he could see that you had been unintentionally outed from the group and to deal with his part of your leaving he got up and left without another word to work out his emotions on the top of the house of wind with a brutal workout. Cassian left everyone else to deal with their emotions on their own.

In the three days leading up to your arrival it seemed as if everything within the inner circle had changed. Azriel avoided Elain, Mor distanced herself from Feyre, Cassian barely trained with Nesta and Rhysand tried to send letter after letter to you asking to sit and speak with him. No response came. It was as if the world had stopped on a dime for the inner circle. The silence was deafening as they waited in the common area of the house of wind while waiting for your arrival. But the silence was even louder when you were set gently on the floor after being released from the arms of an unknown man with wings. No one made a move or even said anything; they simply stared at the stranger in front of them. In that frozen moment Azriel felt something he never thought he would get to experience: the mating bond snapping into place. He felt the string that connected him to you and he could hear nothing else but the sound of his heart beating loudly in his ears. He knew Rhysand said something to you but he couldn’t hear it, maybe he was in shock. Azriel watched you with extreme precision as you moved without saying anything to Rhysand to start down the hallway with the random man in tow. Azriel wanted to ask you who he was, why you thought you had to leave, where you going to go but he found himself unable to speak. It wasn’t until you reappeared in the common room that he was able to say anything.

“We’re mates?” He hadn’t meant it as a question but it definitely came out as one. He watched as a sigh fell from your lips before you spoke “Yes” Azriel had never heard you sound so exhausted, so beatdown while this was supposed to be one of the most exciting times of your life. This is what people begged the mother for, what he had begged the mother for with no hope that he would ever get to experience it. “You’re not excited?” tired eyes bore into his “If the bond had not just snapped would you want me? If you never found out we were mates would you have picked me? Or Elain? I have never been a person of romantic interest to you before today so does a bond even matter?” Azriel knew you had made valid points but hearing you say all the times he hadn’t picked you broke his heart. “The Answer is no Azriel you wouldn’t have so please don’t start choosing me now. I don’t want a relationship out of force from the bond, I want you to choose me because I’m the person you want. So please do not start acting like you want me now when you didn’t want me four days ago.” And with that he watched as you placed yourself in the arms of another man and took off towards the sea. Azriel watched as you left this place behind without another word, left without letting Azriel fight for your mating bond and he has never regretted getting involved with Elain more than he did in that moment.

Taglist: @j-pendragonx , @piceous21 , @harrystylesfan2686 , @kemillyfreitas

#acotar x reader #azriel imagine #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel x you #azriel one shot #acotar x you #acotar imagine #azriel angst #Azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger x reader

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yuulettte · 9 months ago

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𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐝, 𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐥

[𝐘𝐮𝐭𝐚 𝐎𝐤𝐤𝐨𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐗 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫] [𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐲]

"In a world where I could lose you at any moment, I want to make tonight count. So please, give all of yourself to me. For I love you purely. My mind, my body, my soul. All of it belongs to you."

✰Rating: NSFW 18+ MDNI

✰Summary: It's Valentines Day, and your long term boyfriend Yuta Okkotsu would like to take you out on the best date of your life. Just what sort of surprises could he have in store for you?

✰W/C: 5.2k

✰C/W: Oral(Fem! Receiving), Hotel Sex, Teasing, Flower Language, Marriage Proposal, Mostly fluff with a small bit of smut + hurt/comfort at the end

✰A/N: Happy Valentines Day!!! Yuta is aged up to be in his early to mid 20's, sometime after High School. Now do enjoy Yuta being an absolute love sick fool of a boyfriend. Read the 'extra notes' at the end for flower meanings.

"That was so good~" you sighed, sinking into the passenger seat of the car your boyfriend had rented for the night.

In pure honesty, you didn't even know he could drive until earlier that evening. When he'd covered your eyes with both of his hands, your ears tingling at the sounds of his tiny giggles as he led you outside your shared apartment.

"Happy Valentine's Day, my love."

The phrase was said in the same gentle voice that you'd fallen for all those years ago when you were still a teenager. That same soft tone.

Your now unobstructed gaze fell onto him holding a bouquet of Red Tulips laced with Baby's Breath, a keychain dangling from his fingers. He handed the flowers to you sheepishly. Even after all this time of being together, Yuta's humble attitude never seemed to wane. He could buy you the world and still make a face that pleads, 'You deserve more'.

"I thought these would be more to your liking than red roses," he started to speak, reaching a delicate finger to trace along the petals of one of the vibrant flowers. "They have a similar meaning though." Tired eyes closed as a smile came to his features. Cheeks still dusted pink, he went to cup yours in his free hand. He'd done his research early into your relationship. What you liked, what you loved; even learning flower language for occasions like this. He spared no expense when it came to gifting you.

"They're perfect" came your response in the form of a hum, head tilting down to breathe in the pleasing aroma of the flowers. Only when you raised your face did you see the car parked behind him.

You had mentioned it about six months ago, how you'd love to go on long drives with him instead of using public transport.

"Sure, it's convenient enough.." You mumbled while you washed that night's dishes. "But imagine all the fun we could have if one of us owned a car! We could go out whenever we want, wherever we want. Like to the ocean!"

It was well known amongst all of your peers that you were rather spontaneous. Always groaning at the fact you had to ask permission before leaving campus. Even now that you were far more mature and grown, you still had that streak in you. Yuta, of course, adored it. Something that had intimidated him during your friendship had become refreshing as the years rolled by. Nothing was ever boring with you.

He followed the trail of your eyes behind him to the fancy looking vehicle. His hand went to the back of his neck as you squealed.

"You remembered!!!" Tears welled up in the corners of your eyes. Possibly from how wide you were smiling, or maybe it was excitement. But either way, your reaction was all the man needed to know he'd done his job.

"It's rented, but I figured it'd be fun?" He cocked his head to the side and you stood on your tippy toes to kiss his cheek. "It will be so. Fun." You emphasized your words with an exaggerated pause, and like the gentleman that he is, Yuta opened the passenger door for you to slide into the car.

The ride to your favorite restaurant was relaxing. Your fingers tapped at your phone screen to connect to the car’s bluetooth. Familiar music filled the small space as Yuta drove smoothly, causing you to smirk.

“How long have you even had your license for?” The question was playful but your boyfriend took it seriously, blinking a few times to think before replying.

“I got it right after my 18th birthday, Gojo said it would be useful in case I have more missions overseas.” He said while tapping his index finger on the steering wheel to the beat of one of the both of your favorite songs. “He actually gifted me a car that year too, but I returned it. How was I supposed to accept a present like that?”

The two of you laughed together at your teacher’s shenanigans. Though at times you wished Yuta to be a bit more selfish, you couldn’t deny this part of him was charming. You could vividly imagine him panicking at such an expensive gift, waving his hands and stuttering just like he would when you’d first met. The memory made warmth fill your chest as you watched him from your spot in the passenger seat.

During your first few months of knowing Yuta, the last thing you would’ve expected was for him to end up as your boyfriend of 5 years. He was timid and jumpy, but showed so much will to survive that it made you feel a bit overwhelmed. Maybe it’d started back then. The feeling in your stomach that slowly grew with time and eventually made its way to your heart. It was difficult to pinpoint when you’d fallen in love with him, but he spoke of it like it was the most grand realization.

“I woke up after Ieiri-san healed me from a difficult mission, and you were asleep sitting up, face down on the clinic bed by my legs.” He’d explained after confessing to you.

“I knew the moment you opened your eyes that I was in love with you.” He spoke that sentence without a single stutter. “I’ve.. probably felt this way for a long time before that though.” He smiled oh so gently, and then you knew you were a goner. Instantaneously, you felt yourself melt, and since that moment you’ve been his. In mind, body, and soul you became Yuta’s. Even the slightest touch now lingered, every breath he took became precious, and whatever words left his lips gained meaning. That sort of unbreakable connection; the bond that kept you up at night with both worry and excitement, made even the most hellish of missions bearable.

Because he’d be waiting for you afterwards.

The sound of his voice brought you back from your reminiscing, a smooth and clear chime you’d never grow tired of.

“We’re here, leave the flowers in the back and I’ll help you out.” With a click he pulled the keys from the ignition and got up from the front seat to open your door again for you. Hooking your arm in his, you laid your head on his shoulder for a moment. The familiar scent of his cologne on his shirt’s collar caused your skin to tingle as you walked arm in arm into the restaurant.

Once the two of you were seated you ran your hand across the velvety surface of the table cloth. Taking a moment to look down at the promise ring that decorated your left ring finger. Yuta’s gaze followed and a small smile came to his lips.

“I’ll give you an even better one someday soon, promise.” He mused before bringing your hand to his mouth to place a kiss upon your fingers.

“Womanizer~” You chided, earning a pout from him until you both started to giggle.

Your dinner was spent chatting about mundane things, mixed in with laughter and gazes that stuck for a bit too long. Yuta’s eyes always looked a tad tired. Even if you’d make him go to bed early, or bribe him into taking a nap with you, the dark circles that lined his lower lashes never diminished. Dark blue irises that occasionally almost showed black peered up at you while you ate your dish. Taking note of every tiny reaction with a sense of gratitude. How lucky he was to share moments like these with you. How blessed he was to be the man who had the honor of pampering you.

Teasing your boyfriend has been one of your favorite pastimes since high school. While thoughts of adoration and admiration filled his mind, yours was clouded with ideas on how to get him going during your dinner date. It was only fair. After all, your love was mutual. If he made your heart beat so fast with one upwards glance, then it was only right for you to give him the same treatment.

As the hour passed it was now time for dessert. Yuta wasn’t picky with food as long as it had a pleasing texture. Only learning to cook after the two of you moved in together so he could make your favorite meals. However you’d gotten him to take a liking to sweets by baking for him so often. He swears he’d have gained weight if it wasn’t for how physically demanding his work is.

So when the chocolate cake you ordered arrived, there were two slices instead of the usual one. Your eyes light up, because this was your shot. Full karmic payback.

Once the plates were set in front of the both of you, and Yuta had lifted his fork to take his first bite, you suddenly pulled the dish away with an innocent smile.

“I let you plan today completely on your own, so it’s my turn to spoil you a little in return.” You said sweetly, knowing there was no way he’d refuse. Yuta merely looked around the restaurant with a flushed face.

“Do you mean-” Cutting off his words, you lifted a forkful of cake up in front of his face and gestured for him to open his mouth.

“Just once? Please please please?” You dragged your words out to plead to him, his shoulders straightening at the sound of your voice before he let out a long sigh.

“Fine.. Just once” As he opened his mouth, you rejoiced in silent victory. His eyes closed, not having the gall to look at you during such an embarrassing exchange. It’d have been fine if you asked him to feed you, but this was.. Something he was not used to.

Sliding the dessert into his mouth you pulled the fork from his lips, watching intently as he chewed awkwardly. Satisfied with your payback, you licked the rest of the frosting from the back of the fork. The unintentionally erotic action earning an audible gulp from Yuta before you handed the utensil back to him.

He coughs a few times and reaches for his napkin, wiping the corners of his lips to get rid of the leftover chocolate. “Wasn’t so bad was it?” You said with a tilt of your head and a close eyed smile.

Now back in the car with your arms stretched upwards after humming your praise to the chef, you looked over to Yuta who adjusted his seatbelt a few times before checking yours as well.

“You don’t have to check me, you know” You sighed as he tugged at the belt, giving a satisfied hum after ensuring your safety. “I heard Utahime-Sensei say that improper car etiquette is just as dangerous as curses once though.” He mumbled through knitted brows. “I’m sure she just made that up..” And with that you began your drive home, or so you assumed.

After going past your apartment complex, you raised your eyebrows.

“Yuta, you missed our turn,” You began to say before he turned his head. Deep sea colored eyes that threatened to sink you met your own as he gave you a smile. “I know, just trust me” He spoke softly, reaching his right hand to grip your knee reassuringly.

And with a nod, you did. Watching as the city lights faded into the background of stars, Yuta rolled the windows down to let in the fresh nighttime air. You breathed in deeply and a familiar scent tickled your nose.

“The ocean..!” Your voice rose from the comfortable silence, eyes wide as you turned to stick your head out the window. And there it was, moonlight dancing off the top of the waves. “You seriously..” Swinging your head back around to look at him smiling stupidly, all you could do was laugh as you fully realized just how much this man loves you.

Your toes sunk into the cold sand after you tossed your dress shoes off to the side, your legs moving quickly to carry you to where the water kissed the land. Yuta followed after you, throwing his jacket onto the hood of the car to join you in dipping your toes into the cold winter water.

“It’s freezing!” You shivered and he laughed in response. “Of course it is, it’s February.”

Taking your hand in his, he walked with you along the shoreline. Thanking whatever God that’s out there for the weather being clear. The sea breeze blew his usually well kept raven hair to the side, offering a view you often only saw in the mornings. He was stunning.

Your body couldn’t seem to contain your affection, twisting to suddenly throw your arms over his shoulders and press your face into the side of his neck. “Thank you..” You mumbled the tiny phrase against his skin as he brought his hand to the small of your back.

“Anything for you.. If it was possible I’d find a way to gift you the sea” He spoke into your hair, breathing you in before reluctantly setting you down. “But there is something else I want to give you.”

He moved behind you, turning you to brush your hair away from your face, gently taking a swathe from both sides of your head. “I have more for you at home but I wanted to give this to you here..” Yuta clipped the two strands of your hair behind your head with a white bow, the sheer fabric decorated with pearls and lace.

“It fits you perfectly,” He hummed, pulling the dainty ribbon up by the end so you could see it from the corner of your eye. You weren’t able to speak. The red on your face must’ve been visible even in the moonlit lighting, because Yuta let out a chuckle while he ran his fingers through your hair.

The sound of his laughter sent electricity through you, forcing you to spin on your heel to face him. Your fists balled and you took a large breath in before shouting.

“Marry me!”

Shoulders raised to their highest point, gaze pinned directly onto him, you repeated your question that came out more as a demand.

“I don’t have a ring yet, and I know I’m not the one who is supposed to ask but..” Your eyes started to overflow, mimicking the movement of the seawater. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Yuta, please marry me!”

All he could do was open and close his mouth a few times. Eyes wide and watery just like yours. And then he reached into his pocket to pull out a small box.

“You beat me to it..” He laughed out through his tears. Opening the tiny box in his hand to reveal an elegant engagement ring. Slowly, he sunk down onto one knee and lifted it to you.

“I was so nervous.. I wanted to find the perfect timing but of course..” He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, his words stuttering. “Of course you’d ask before me”

“It’s only fair,” You sobbed out between giggles and sniffles. Reaching your hand down towards him so he could place his promise upon your finger, sliding the other ring you'd worn for the better of 4 years into his pocket. “You always go above and beyond.. I want to give it all back to you in return”

Your words weren’t helping his tears, his other knee giving out below him to fully kneel in front of you. “You don’t have to do anything, just stay by my side. I’ll give my everything to you.” Yuta pressed your knuckles to his lips to plant a kiss on each one. “My body, my mind, and my soul are yours. So I accept, let’s get married.”

With his declaration he stood, cupping both of your cheeks in shivering hands. He leaned down to kiss the side of your face, the corner of your eyes, the tip of your nose, and then finally your lips. It was soft, gentle, and passionate. It was Yuta.

“I’ll make tonight the best of your life, I swear to it” he muttered against your lips, his eyes looking at you with a sense of determination you’d only seen a couple of times.

The first was during the night parade of a hundred demons. The second was when you wished him luck before he left to train with Miguel. And the third was your first time. You felt your heartbeat quicken at record speed as he began to pull you back towards the car. Your pace lagged behind his, Yuta’s usual gentleness replaced with overwhelming desire as he swung you over his shoulder.

“W-Wait, Yuta!?” You squirmed around a bit to no avail, tilting down his back as he bent to pick up your shoes and his jacket that’d blown to the sand from the breeze. “Where are we going?? Don’t we have to go home?”

“I rented a hotel, it’s taken care of. Maki will get the mail for us in the morning” He spoke like he’d recited this conversation a million times in his own head. Placing you in your seat and buckling you in nicely. “Trust me.”

It was the same thing he’d told you before taking you here, but this time it was spoken with such an underlying tone of lust that it made you feel dizzy. The entire drive to the hotel was spent with your hand covering your mouth to stifle any noises while Yuta drew tight circles with his finger against your thigh.

“It’s beautiful..” You whispered, taking in the hotel room your now fiance had booked for the two of you. He put the flowers he’d bought you into a vase before setting down a bag he’d secretly packed and stowed in the back of the car.

“You really did plan everything out to perfection didn’t you?” He raised his head at your comment, giving you a shy smile. “This room was actually my second choice, the other one was fully booked” He sighed, unpacking a few items that you couldn’t see over the broadness of his shoulders.

“Hmm.. I’ll take a bath” Deciding it would be best to clean up while he was occupied, you began to walk towards the bathroom until you felt a pair of arms wrap around you from behind. “Wait..” His voice sounded small. “Let’s bathe together..”

There were moments when Yuta acted like his younger self, shy and unsure. The majority of those instances being with you. If you were upset with him, if he had to leave for a particularly long mission, if you were to take control in the bedroom. Or when he had a very specific want that he wasn’t 100% sure you’d like to fulfill. This time, it was bathing together.

“Ehhh? But shouldn’t we both get completely clean first?” You replied, trying to ignore the heat that began to pool between your thighs.

“I won’t try anything yet, I promise. I just don’t want to be apart from you” Yuta rested his chin on your shoulder, his words sincere enough to make you give in. You gave him the go ahead to run a warm bath, your hands going to start the long process that would be undressing yourself.

“Let me help with that too!” He called from the bathroom over the sound of running water, making you stifle a laugh. “Fine~”

You made your way to the tub, stopping beside Yuta who was kneeling in front of it to check the water temperature. “There, now stand still okay?” He told you with a smile, making away quickly with the distance between you.

Standing behind you, he slowly unzipped the back of your dress. The sound of the zipper making the tips of your ears turn red. One of his favorite parts about being intimate with you was the build up. You knew this very well. He’d take hours undressing you if you were patient enough. But he knew now wasn’t the time for that.

Letting you step out of the fabric that now pooled onto the bathroom tile, he reached his hand to undo the back of your bra in one swift motion. An impressive talent he’d acquired after years of experience with you. He placed the garment on the counter before moving on to the bow in your hair.

This was a new sensation, his fingers raking through your locks as he undid the bowl. You could hear his breath hitch, and immediately you knew it was going to be hard to hold back before getting out of the bath. A tiny giggle exited your lips, your hair now free from the confines of his gift.

“Ahh, it’s not fair..” Yuta groaned, tossing the ribbon to the side as he slid his hands down your body to find your panties. “Why do you have to be so..” Fingers hooking around the elastic of the waistband, he pulled them down your legs. “Enticing..?”

Now it was your turn to tremble. His words never failed to make a fire like pleasure burn deep within your core. A throbbing that only he could bring to your surface, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to you. It was possible that he did. He fought every urge within him to get back on the floor and worship your right then and there. Taking in a deep breath from between his teeth, he pulled his hands from your body and began to undress himself while you started to wet your hair.

You sat on the tiny stool in front of the shower head, humming the tune you’d listened to together earlier that night in the car.

“Stuck in your head?” He asked you, pulling up another seat from behind you as he started to aid in washing your hair. Nimble fingers massaging your scalp gently to lather you in suds before rinsing. “Mhm, it’s a good song after all”

Your voice shook at the end of your sentence, Yuta’s fingertips grazing along your spine and then back up to the nape of your neck. “Keep your word, Okkotsu” It was a stern warning. He let out a sigh in response, picking up a sponge to wash your back. “Thought I’d try my luck anyways”

It wasn’t long before the both of you were properly washed and submerged in the warmth of the bath water. Your head leaning back against his chest as you sat between his legs. The both of you were pressed quite tightly together, causing Yuta to let out a small whine at any movement. “I’m sorry..” He muttered when you shot him a look when he couldn’t help but grind into you. “It’s just.. A tight squeeze..”

“That’s why I told you to wait” You flicked his forehead softly which made him flinch. A tiny ping of guilt caused you to press a kiss to the spot, your hand running through his damp hair. “Shall we get out now?”

You swear to God you’ve never seen Yuta Okkotsu move faster in the entirety of the 6 years you’ve known him.

One of the benefits to dating someone as powerful as Yuta was his ability to learn and adapt quickly. He could easily memorize every movement, sound, and reaction he could elicit from you. The way you liked to be kissed, the places you enjoyed to be touched, and the manner of which you wanted him to please you all had their own separate dedicated category in his mind.

And it seemed he was using every last bit of it tonight as he pressed his naked form against yours. Hands gripping the sides of your hips while he moved his lips on your own. Tiny whimpers of his name leaving your mouth in between breaths, the feeling of complete and utter need within you was so strong that it made your eyes water.

“Please..” You breathed out against his kiss-swollen lips, “Touch me..”

“I’ve been wanting to since you pulled off that erotic stunt at dinner.” He groaned into your jaw before he kissed his way down your neck. The mention of your ‘revenge’ scheme caused you to flush from chest to ears, squirming as he planted his lips to your heartbeat.

Yuta’s hands came up from your hips to cup both of your breasts, gripping them firmly before rolling them in his palm. “I seriously can’t ever get enough of this” He sighed, taking his left hand away to replace it with his mouth. His tongue rolled against your freshly cleaned skin almost desperately. Flicking against your now hardened nipple with practiced expertise. He squeezed the other between his middle and forefinger to earn a high pitched moan from you. Your thighs pressed and rubbed together underneath him, head tilting back to serenade him in more of your praise.

“Ahhh.. Yuta.. Don’t stop, please? I love you.. I love you” You repeated those three words until your mind couldn’t string them together anymore. Hips rolling up to meet his abdomen with needy whines. His self restraint was crumbling with every mention of his name, gaze clouded over with an innate need to please you.

“I’m going to make you feel really good now, okay?” He raised his head to ask you for permission to go further, in which you quickly nodded. A smirk played across his lips as he kissed further down until you could feel his still slightly damp hair tickling your thighs.

“Fuck.. You’re so so beautiful, my love..” It was not often that Yuta cursed. The soothing tone of his voice mixed with the eroticism of his words made your hips twitch. “Every part of you.” He traced his finger up and down your damp slit, whining at the way you dripped and shivered under his touch.

Finally letting go of his last bit of self control, he dipped his head between your thighs to take a long lick from the bottom to the top of your pussy. Your all too familiar taste causing him to involuntarily moan against you. Immediately your hand reached down to curl your fingers in his dark hair, your hips moving to feel more of him.

He could tell that you weren’t in the mood to be teased tonight. And he wasn’t either. Here, and now, with your bare body and soul laid out before him, he wanted to bring you to the best peak you’d have yet to experience. Yuta pressed his face against you like a man who’d been starved, his nose bumping your clit as he slid his tongue to lap up and down your folds.

You wondered which one of you was making more noise. Your loud moaning or his lewd sounds of slurping mixed in with soft words of praise between moans? It was impossible to fully understand what he was saying verbally, but you could feel every bit of it. His fingers going to hold you open, wet muscle flicking softly against your clit before he took the sensitive pearl between his lips to gently suck on it.

“A-Ahh-! Wait, Yuta!” You squealed out, hips lifting off the bed to grind against his face while he rubbed his tongue against your most sensitive spot. The coil of pleasure in your lower stomach only seemed to tighten further as he looked up at you with half lidded eyes, groaning against your skin as if begging you to use him.

“Why are you, ahh~ so good at that?” You questioned with no reply, instead feeling the vibration of a chuckle on your cunt before he resumed his task of messily tonguing your pussy. Your eyes squeeze shut as you steadily felt yourself grow closer and closer to finish. Yuta swirled his tongue around inside of you before flicking it back out again to repeat the same motion on your clit. The action caused your thighs to shake, your head falling back on the pillow again as your hands tightened further in his hair.

“Here..?” He mumbled to himself, tilting his jaw to press the flat of his tongue against your clit to press down on it before giving you more soft kitten licks. Of course, all of his assumptions were proved correct. Your thighs pressed tightly to his cheeks, the sticky sounds from you juices coating his chin only getting louder as you whined and whimpered.

He took his hands to wrap around your thighs, holding you tightly against his tongue. “Look at me,” he said your name at the end of his command. Your head snapping forward instinctively. “Let it out, it’s okay” You almost finished right then and there, cursing him silently as you were unable to form any coherent words at the moment. To say such a thing, while doing such a thing, and holding eye contact. No one had guts like him.

“Make a mess of me, I’m yours.” And with that final sentence, and a hard suck to your clit you came undone under Yuta like you never had before. You felt your entire body tense before relaxing all at once as you spilled into his mouth and down his chin. Your thighs shook violently, the only sounds you could make were of his name mixed with breathy moans. Throbbing between his lips, he suckled on you gently to coax you through your orgasm, his hips moving into the bed in time with your movements. He swears he’s covered in pre.

Finally Yuta lets go of you with a pop from his lips, lapping up the remainder of your juices from your thighs in an attempt to clean you. He raises his head from between your legs to give you his classic shy smile, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and then proceeding to lick his fingers clean. “Was that okay?” He asked sheepishly, and all you could do was whimper in response.

“I swear to God, I’m going to get back at you for that tomorrow morning..” You mumbled out with your head laying on his chest, both of your body’s much too exhausted to continue any further for tonight. “You make it sound as though I did something wrong” He laughed, running his hand up and down your back in a soothing motion.

“You’ve grown so much.” A sudden wave of sentimentality washed over you as you brushed his hair away from his face with your fingers. “You’re speaking as if I’m a child” Yuta closed his eyes to lean into your touch, turning his head to place a kiss on your palm. “But you have too. We both have.”

The two of you laid in the soft comfort of the hotel bed, speaking of the future in a way you were both too timid to approach before. Words of a new home, a possible switch in professions, new pets, a happy life. “I really never imagined a day where I’d have this.” He said quietly, staring up at the ceiling with an expression of deep thought.

“I’m actually going to get married..” The sentence left his lips before his eyes went to a ring that didn’t belong to either of you, sitting on the living space table. “She’d be happy for you.”

Your voice came to him with words he needed more than oxygen itself.

“You’re right.” He whispered, a smile coming to his face as a few tears dripped down his cheek. “She would.”

Extra Notes: The meaning of the flowers written about are;

Red Tulips: Passion, love, and lust (yes, he was intentionally slick with this LMAO)

Baby's Breath: Sincerity, hope, and new beginnings (It is often used in wedding bouquets!)

#jjk x you #jjk okkotsu #yuta okkotsu #yuuta okkotsu smut #yuta okkotsu smut #yuuta okkotsu x reader #happy valentine's day #reader insert #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta x reader #happy valentines #okkotsu yuta smut #okkotsu smut #okkotsu yuuta smut #yuuta okkotsu x you #jjk smut #✰mari writes

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girlkisser13 · 3 months ago

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being married to emily prentiss would include

• emily is extremely empathetic and compassionate, and being married to her means having a partner who truly cares about your feelings and well-being. she makes a conscious effort to ensure you feel valued, loved, and understood.

• her love for adventure and her extensive knowledge of different cultures would mean you’d have a shared interest in traveling. from spontaneous weekend getaways to well-planned vacations, exploring new places together would be a common theme in your marriage.

• after a rough case, emily often comes home late at night feeling emotionally drained. you’d be there to comfort her, perhaps by listening to her talk about her day, offering cuddles, or just being there in silence. knowing you’re there for her would make all the difference.

• despite the seriousness of her job, emily has a great sense of humor. your marriage would be full of inside jokes, playful teasing, and laughter. she loves to see you smile, and her witty comments would often bring a lightheartedness to even the most stressful days.

• the two of you are cat moms.

• open and honest communication would be a cornerstone of your marriage. emily would always be upfront about her feelings, and she’d expect the same from you. she values honesty and would work through any problems with patience and understanding.

• despite her love for adventure, emily also appreciates quiet nights at home. you’d spend many evenings wrapped up in a blanket, binge-watching your favorite tv shows or movies, with takeout food spread out in front of you. these simple moments would be some of her favorites.

• emily is known for her strength, but with you, she’d feel safe showing her vulnerable side. whether she’s grappling with self-doubt or stress from a particularly harrowing case, she’d confide in you, knowing you won’t judge her.

• you’re always concerned about her whenever she’s out on a case, and she’s always concerned about leaving you on your own because she knows what kind of people are out there.

• emily enjoys socializing and would love hosting friends and family at your home. whether it’s a dinner party, a holiday celebration, or just a casual get-together, she’d enjoy planning these events and seeing everyone come together.

• no relationship is without its disagreements, but with emily, conflicts are always handled with maturity. she’s used to managing high-pressure situations, so she’d approach any arguments calmly, ensuring that communication is clear and that both of you feel heard and respected.

• emily knows how crucial it is to balance work and personal life. even though her job can be all-consuming, she’d make a conscious effort to prioritize your relationship, setting aside time for just the two of you. whether it’s a weekly date night or a quiet morning together, she’d cherish these moments.

• as a profiler, emily is very observant and attentive, often picking up on the little things you like or want. she’d surprise you with thoughtful gifts that show how well she knows you, from a book by your favorite author to a memento from a special place you once visited together.

• the two of you love supporting local businesses, you’ve always thought that people should support the locals and it was a nice thing to do together. shopping is always fun when it’s you and emily.

• emily buys you things ALL THE TIME. when you mention wanting to go to a restaurant, you end up going the next night. if you mention a new book release, she either marks it on her calendar to buy it for you on release day or preorders it.

• you guys love trying new alcoholic drinks together. if the team ever wanted to try a new one, they’d come to your house first because you’d likely have it.

• you two have built a remarkable life together, filled with ease, comfort, security, and love. it’s something you wouldn’t trade for anything in the world. <33

#criminal minds #criminals minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #cm #emily prentiss #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss smut

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skteezcursed · 7 months ago

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❝MANWICH❞ — k.ys & c.jh

part i || part ii || part iii.

PAIRING. kang yeosang x reader x bf! choi jongho.

GENDER AND WARNINGS. smut. idol verse. dom jongho. switch yeosang. sub reader. masturbation (both recieving). oral (both recieving). handjob. fingering. mxm action (only one part, so you can jump that if you are uncomfortable). cum eating. double penetration. p in v. overstimulation. lmk if i forget anything (i probably did).

SYNOPSIS. in which jongho choses to make one of your dreams come true with the helping hand of yeosang.

WORD COUNT. 7,7k.

NOTES. english is not my first language. this is a collab with @songmingisthighs & @bro-atz, this is the third and final part, also apparently i'm the only one who remembers how tihs crazy collab came to be, but yeah, i gave my best on this, i hope is up to everyone standards and lets be honest, the standards are high after those two amazing parts help. i also didn't think it would turn out like this, but anyways, hope you enjoy it, bye ♡.

IMPORTANT. this is a work of fiction, it has zero intent on portraing how any of the people quoted here are in real life.

CREDS. dividers by cafekitsune ♡

There were many things Yeosang was proud of, there were many things he could endure. He was a person with a strong conviction, he wasn’t a person to fold easily, or to beg, or to show his soft side. At least not until you came into the picture, at least not until he managed to have you around his arms, to have you wrapped around him in more ways than one. If he was to say the truth, those two weeks he had with you, every single night having you squeeze him in between your legs, hearing you whimper and screaming his name were like a dream.

A fever dream he was now, trying to recover from.

Unfortunately, just like Jongho had been stuck in the studio, was now his turn, and for the last month, not only he had to barely see you because Hongjoong would lock him in the studio or Yunho and Wooyoung would lock him in the dance practice room, he also had to come home late at night and hear you and Jongho every damn fucking night.

He knew it was wrong to crave you the way he did. The offer Jongho had proposed all those weeks ago still felt like a trick. Did Jongho really allow Yeosang to have you in every way?, to satisfy your needs in every way? Yes, yes he did. In all honesty, that day really wasn’t on Yeosang’s mind, at least not until the day you and Jongho returned from that trip he said he’d take you.

That was when he started to question everything, if it had even been real. The two weeks he had your legs squeezing his face as he ate you out, the two weeks he was buried inside you whispering sweet nothings as he watched your face contort with pleasure, pleasure he was giving you.

Everynight he returned home, everytime you and Jongho kept him awake as Yeosang could hear all the moaning and beg that you did for Jongho, just like you had done with him all those weeks prior, his name never leaving your lips, the sweet delicious lips that he often on imagined wrapping around his cock as he could hear the two of you through the walls. Fuck he was a pervert, no, he was a simp. A perverted simp, if that was even a thing.

As if his situation wasn’t bad already, as his mind kept wandering back to those weeks he had you, it also returned on how you ended up on his dick. By a motherfucking proxy kiss. If that wasn’t horrible, he now not only imagined – vividly – you around his cock, but the way he could hear Jongho command you and toying with you, was also starting to rail him up, the damn kiss playing over and over in his head when all he could hear was Jongho, probably because he was muffing your sounds and, in all honesty, the way Jongho spoke during sex should not have such an effect on him.

When the two of you were being vocal, Yeosang couldn’t help but curse and imagine him with the two of you, on how you would whimper in between them, or how Jongho could easily manhandle the both of you, as he had done several times to both in different scenarios. He should not be thinking of you like that, he should not be thinking about his friend and member like that, yet, it was all he could think for the past week as he would use his fist, imagining it was you, as his mind would wander around imagining Jongho commanding you and Yeosang around.

“Good God, fuck-”

That was his mistake, making him bite his lip with his other hand against his mouth containing the moans that wanted to leave him as the warm white stripes of cum would go all over his abdomen, it was only then he noticed how quiet the whole house was, a moment of panic flowing through him.

“Fu-fuuuuuck!”

When he heard your crying moan and Jongho’s little laugh, he could finally breathe peacefully. Hopefully neither of you would’ve heard him, hopefully he was still in the clear, being able to fuck himself at the thought of the two of you. Fuck, he was completely doomed at that point. Yeosang bit his lips as the sound of your wet pussy echoing through the dorm, along with your little moans and pleading pointless words sank through his body, making his cock getting hard again.

Giving him no other choice but to fist his leaking cock one more, using the cum on his body to help him find his release once again, your loud moans being the only focus of his, as he shut his eyes, his fist moving firmly against his length, completely unaware of how a certain figure passed through the room, a small smirk on his lips as he kept his walk towards the kitchen in search of getting you some more water.

Today was the first day in a while he had a break from everything, so he ran home just so he could relax. He knew you and Jongho wouldn’t be home, so he would also be able to relax and not have the imagine of any of you making him hard. No, that moment was for him to purely relax at the cozyness of their home. So, Yeosang took a long warm shower, made something for him to eat, making sure to leave some for you and Jongho to share as he knew you’d whine if you noticed he made food and left nothing for you.

Once he was finally done, he sat down on the couch, his head resting peacefully on the back of the couch, eyes shutting down and sleep finally catching up to him. If he could just sleep it would be incredible, but the world had a different plan, or rather, Jongho, had a different plan.

Although Yeosang sighed loudly at the pop-up text, he just locked his phone once more, only to be followed by three more notifications in a row. With a low curse spoken, he lit up the phone, the last notification being a simple, ‘open the damn text’ from Jongho, which he quickly did, regretting the same second his eyes were found with your smile, your cute little laugh filling out the dorm and Yeosang caught himself smiling at the screen.

You two were out together at a park, your shorts leaving your legs bare for his eyes to linger as Jongho made sure to focus a lot on you from afar, and Yeosang couldn’t stop his mind from wandering towards the memories of your smooth skin against his, your legs wrapped around him, legs squishing his face while he ate you out. Then the laugh filled the space, the laugh you would leave whenever he kissed your neck after sex, or when his fingers lightly caressed your heated skin, or when he dropped an unfunny joke, but you laughed as if he had said the most hilarious thing ever.

Fuck, he missed you.

The memories of all those weeks flew back into his mind as his fist worked around his length, teasing himself at the thought of you, you with him, you with Jongho, you. He was down bad and that was bound to become a real issue, but as of now all he wanted was to think of you, on how pretty you sounded when you moaned his name, how your nails dig into his flesh and scalp whenever he was eating you out or burying himself in you. At last, his thoughts went to the first time he had you, on that very same couch weeks ago, on how your pleas were music to his ears, on how perfectly your cunt hugged his cock, how pretty you looked above him impaled on his dick.

His train of thoughts was cut short as he heard the lock on the door, how long has he been edging himself? In a quick movement, he picked one of the cushions, placing it on his lap as he took his phone swiping randomly at the screen, his cock aching under the cushion as the pressure made him hold a whimper as he heard you and Jongho entering. Both eyes quickly found Yeosang as he forced a smile trying to sound natural, but he noticed Jongho’s stare, most specifically on the cushion Yeosang held firmly against his lap.

“My raccoon! You are finally home!” The fact that you didn’t notice how uneasy he was, made him give you a genuine smile, but still moved a little away from you, a small wrinkle on his nose as he did so, feeling the fabric of the cushion cause friction against his cock. “Sangie, you okay?”

“M-me? Ye-yeah, I’m fine, totally fine!”

He knew by the confusion in your face that you didn’t fall for that, walking closer to him, making him try to stay put, although his cock ached at every step you took closer.

“You sure? Your face is red, maybe you have a fever or -”

“Sweetheart he says he’s fine,” Jongho’s voice made you both turn to face him, but you still turned to Yeosang, your hand finding his forehead and neck, before he flinches away from you, not noticing your hurt face at that. “Why don’t you go take a shower, hm? Maybe do what we talked about?”

“Okay teddy bear,” your voice was weak and Yeosang almost let out a whimper at how obedient you were being, “take care of Sangie, I don’t think he is fine.”

“Don’t worry sweetheart, just do as I say, yes?” As they both watch you walk away, Jongho’s eyes find Yeosang once again, but his eyes are closed. “C’mon,” his voice was stern as the older one eyed him confused. “Hyung, don’t question, just come, let’s go to your room.”

As soon as Jongho’s back faced Yeosang, he put his cock back into his trousers, cushion forgotten back on the couch as he tried his best to keep his hard on hidden. Jongho is on the desk as he points to the chair beside him.

“Jjong, look -”

“Sit.”

It was all it took for Yeosang to know it was time for the dreadful talk.

The talk in which Jongho would lash out on him for telling you he liked you, for fucking you every night for two weeks straight, for fucking you in Jongho’s fucking bed, for -. “Take it out.”

“What?”

“Take it out.”

Jongho said it again, right hand on the desk as his left was inside his front pocket. His eyes and jaw sharp, not leaving Yeosang’s face even for a second, making the older one feel considerably small beside him.

“Take what out?”

“I know you are hard as fuck right now hyung,” Yeosang’s eyes shot up and he felt his cock twitches inside his trousers as Jongho lowered himself just a little, “now take it out and start stroking.”

He shouldn’t be as turned on as he was.

He shouldn’t be as turned on as he was by thinking about you, his friend’s girlfriend.

He shouldn’t be as turned on as he was for how Jongho was talking to him.

“J-Jongho, ple-please I-”

“Take it out now, hyung.”

Yeosang’s breath hitched as he looked down at the tent and wet patch on his trousers. Thank fuck you were in the shower, or would you like to see him like this? At yours and Jongho’s mercy? Something deep inside of him told him you would like that. He whined a little at the friction of his sweats against his red angry sensitive leaking cock, moaning as it was finally free, twitching slightly as Yeosang’s eyes found Jongho’s attentive ones already on the red tip, but he was still dead serious, and that was a little unsettling to say the least.

Jongho leans over, face mere centimeters away from Yeosang who was already panting. A small shock went over Yeosang’s face as Jongho’s hand went to his lips, his tongue wetting the palm before his fingers met with the red tip, smearing the pre cum all over the head before going up and down Yeosang’s length.

He had to admit, Yeosang had a pretty cock and having him do Jongho’s every bit made the younger one wanna play with the older one a little bit. The image of you and Yeosang coming back to his head, the moan he heard from both your lips that night he found the two of you in his bed coming back to him, on how turned on he was despite being slightly angry at the situation, or was it jealous? He didn’t know anymore, all he knew was that he wanted you both to squirm under him, fuck he wanted to see you both fucking again, but this time, he’d be present to guide you both through it, to see both of your fucked out faces as he buries his cock into both of you.

Seeing Yeosang whimpering and squirming all thanks to his hands was a sight he never knew he wanted or needed. Whenever he started to shiver, Jongho would slow down the movements of his hands and fingers and watch Yeosang break little by little at that. On the other hand, Yeosang couldn’t do anything but to curse as he felt Jongho’s hand work on his cock, how good he was, how much at his misery the oldest one was, and how much he liked it.

“Look at me hyung,” he couldn’t, he couldn’t open his eyes, all he wanted was to cum, “I said, look at me,” a harsh squeeze made Yeosang jolt and open his eyes in shock, finding a small smirk on Jongho’s lips although his eyes were dead serious. He gulped knowing that was the moment Jongho would tell him that it was over, that he would never have you, that he -. “You wanna fuck my girlfriend, don’t you?”

As Yeosang remained silent, Jongho’s hand squeezed his cock once again, the wet sounds already even more present whenever his fingers went up the tip, spreading more of the precum, making Yeosang whimper and bite his lip.

“Th-that’s not -”

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” his voice died on his throat at Jongho’s words and torturous movements. “I know you want to, so I’ll let you fuck her again.”

“Huh? Jjong what are you argh fu-”

Fuck, why was Jongho so fucking good with his hands?!

Yeosang’s thighs start to shake as his chest starts to go up and down, as his abdomen contracts even more, Jongho knows he’s at his limit, he’s gonna cum at any second and Jongho can’t help but smile as he sees Yeosang's spent expression. His smile only grows wider as he notices the shower noise being cut out, you were done and now the fun would happen.

“Sweetheart, are you done?”

“Yes, teddy bear, where are you?”

The panic on Yeosang’s features made Jongho move his hands a little faster, but just enough to contain whatever thing the older one was planning on doing. “Come to Yeosang’s room.”

Although you were confused as to why Jongho would be in Yeosang’s room, you didn’t question as you tiptoed your way there, only to gasp at the sight in front of you. Yeosang fucked out face, cock out, red, angry and wet, being held by your boyfriend’s hand as he eyed you with a smirk, letting go of Yeosang turning towards you, eyes drinking every single part of your body regardless of the barrier of the towel.

“Jjong, what -”

“Perfect,” he says as his wet fingers call you towards where he and Yeosang were. You do as you are told, trying to ignore how wet you already feel yourself becoming, pushing your thighs together at each step which doesn’t go unnoticed by Jongho, whose smirk grows wider. “Lose the towel and get on the bed.”

Your eyes avert to Yeosang once more, meeting it again before your eyes go to his rock-hard cock, wetting your lips ignoring how mouthwatering it was, how bad you wanted it in your mouth. As you lowered your head watching the towel fall to the ground, you also noticed the tent in Jongho’s pants, your eyes meeting him once more, the smirk present as his hands both went to his pockets, and you knew his hard on was getting uncomfortable. You took slow steps towards the bed, hyper aware of both their eyes on your naked glory as you crawled towards the bed.

The whimper that left Yeosang and the groan that left Jongho, made you smile at yourself before turning back to them, knees shut together as you sat on your heels, hands crossed in front of your body, waiting for more orders. Jongho’s eyes turn to Yeosang, a simple ‘strip’ is said and the oldest looks between the two of you before finding Jongho nodding and you smiling, not taking long before he gets up the chair, striping down from every piece of fabric against his skin.

Your breath is caught on your throat at the sight of him, but it doesn’t last long as Jongho also starts to strip, causing you and Yeosang to slightly panic, even if for different reasons. In all truth, you had led on the idea of having a threesome with the two of them, but never to open about it, yet you tried to make the idea blossom in Jongho’s mind. When he told you to get all clean up, you knew it meant that tonight you’d be fucked good, you just didn’t expect for Yeosang to be participating in it, but you weren’t complaining.

On the other hand, Yeosang felt a pit in his stomach as he watched Jongho strip, his eyes averting for every single part of the youngest body, on how the wet stains would stick the clothes, the wetness being the mix of saliva and precum from how well Jongho had worked him up, his cock twitching again at the memory begging to cum at once, begin to be buried in your cunt or to be around Jongho’s fingers once more. Fuck, he was doomed.

“Hyung, all fours on the bed,” the voice that came out of Jongho was dark, full of lust and Yeosang knew what awaited him, he just didn’t expected to be so eager for that to happen to make him question if it was a dream, one of the fucked up dreams he’s been having since hearing you and Jongho fuck every day and night since you two got back from your trip. “Hyung?”

“Jjong, maybe he’s not okay with -”

“If you are gonna fuck my girlfriend, I’m gonna be present, are you okay with that, hyung?”

The subtlety that Jongho said that he will be present however he sees fit, made Yeosang gulp, looking at you once more, all pretty in the bed waiting for both of them to ruin you. The thought of both their cocks buried in you made Yeosang close his eyes and let out a breath before heading for the nightstand, opening the drawer and handing the lube to Jongho, who smirked at the oldest one who heads your way, standing right in front of you. Your pretty breasts insight for him, making his hands twitch to grab them, to pinch the perked-up nipples, to hear you moan to -

“(y/n) spread your legs so we can see you properly, will you, sweetheart?” You do as Jongho says, your hands going to the mattress as you lift your hips moving your legs around until they are wide open on the bed, the sight of your wet folds making both boys in front of you smile. “Now, hyung, all fours, I want you to look at that pretty cunt while I take care of you for a while, yes?”

Both noticed how you clenched at those words, biting your lip as you saw how lenient Yeosang was towards Jongho’s schemes, you threatened to close your legs, but Yeosang’s strong hands held them open making you whimper at the smirk he gave your way. The lube quickly being opened as Jongho took a good amount spreading on his fingers and on Yeosang’s ass, which you saw him closing his eyes. Fuck, this is gonna be one hell of a night.

Your eyes met Jongho’s as he lowered his lubed fingers towards Yeosang’s cheeks, his right hand pushing one cheek to the side before playing with the hole as you saw the man in front of you whine and bite his lips, your hand cupping his face, making him look at you. Once he lifted his face, you could see the wet patch on the duvet from Yeosang’s leaking cock.

One last look at Jongho, a small question there, the only answer you got was a small air kiss, so you pushed your body forward. The same time your lips met Yeosang’s, Jongho’s fingers entered his asshole, a loud moan left Yeosang’s lips but that didn’t stop either of you to kiss. How much you missed his lips, how much you missed his body, his reactions, him.

Yeosang had been good to you, both you and Jongho knew, he also wasn’t stupid, your boyfriend knew how you two looked at each other, but he also knew you would never leave him or do something without his permission. He also knew Yeosang would never try to steal you from him, so what was the bad thing about sharing once in a while? If everyone was okay with the arrangements?

Once you noticed how Yeosang would only moan stead of kissing you, your lips started to move around his face, kissing the corner of his mouth and his sharp jaw, as your fingers would tangle in his hair, scratching his scalp as you feel yourself getting wetter at the sign of him like that. Moving yourself closer to him, your legs still spread open, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Jongho, who worked his fingers up Yeosang stretching him open a few more times, feeling his own cock starting to hurt.

“Hyung, eat her out.”

Yeosang doesn’t take a second to waste as he lowers his head finding your wet cunt, feeling Jongho’s hand grip his waist holding it up as he put more lube putting on both Yeosang’s ass and his cock, pumping a few times watching as your face contorted in pleasure at how Yeosang’s tongue was playing around your clit and folds, your hand going straight to his hair as your other sustained your body, making your back arch, giving Jongho clear sight of your perked up breasts before he pushed his tip on Yeosang’s asshole, making him moan against your pussy.

“Fuck, this is…”

Your words died down at your lips as Yeosang lips closed around your clit, moaning as he felt Jongho stretch him out from behind, the tip of his cock touching the duvet just enough so he knew he wouldn’t last, but Jongho picks up on that, pulling his hips towards his cock, making his dick dangle loosely, receiving a whine from Yeosang.

“Once she comes, you can cum.”

“GOD FUCK!”

It was like a fucking prayer to listen to you scream like that, to see the pleasure building up in you, to see how your eyes rolled back, to see your legs tremble, to see you biting your lip trying to contain the moans that were to leave you. Those things only turned Jongho more as he held Yeosang’s hips tighter, ramming against him, hearing your moans and his, completing each other in front of Jongho.

As the youngest took a pace behind Yeosang, he became an incoherent mess of moans, which make him eye you with hooded eyes before using one of his hands to hold you in place as his dominant hand played with your folds, all while he left a chaste kiss on your clit making you arch your back before gasping as he pushed two fingers inside of you, curling them as his thumb pressed circular motions on your bundle of nerve along with random kitty licks when he felt himself capable of using his mouth for anything other than moaning at how good it felt Jongho’s cock on his ass. All Yeosang wanted was to make you cum, not only because he loved to see your fucked out face, or how much of a mess you could make, but also because once you did, he was also allowed to cum after all the edging it has been happening.

“C’mon princess, cum on my fingers, make a fucking mess like we all know you love to make.”

That was your breaking point, Yeosang’s deep voice as Jongho fucked him from behind, his fingers curling inside of you so well that you couldn’t do anything but clench around them, your eyes went to Yeosang’s first before meeting with Jongho’s who had a smirk at your direction, mouth slightly ajar as he kept thrusting into Yeosang. And just like that, your whole body started to tremble, your legs shaking, caging Yeosang’s face against your core as his fingers wouldn’t stop pumping and curling inside of you, his nose bumping against your clit at every thrust Jongho made.

“That’s it sweetheart, make a sweet mess on hyung’s face.”

The scream that left your body came along with the pull you had on Yeosang’s hair as his tongue kept taking all of your juice, only meeting you once he was sure none of it would go to waste before crashing both your lips, and you moan as you tasted yourself on his tongue, but the connection was lost as Jongho pulled Yeosang towards him, holding him by the neck, giving you open view of Yeosang hard leaking cock.

“Baby bear, can I?”

“Yes, sweetheart, I think hyung has been good for us, so put that mouth to use, will you?”

So you laid flat on your stomach, kissing the tip of Yeosang’s cock, hearing one of the most pleasant moans leave his lips as you take your tongue out, kitty licks all over the head before licking your dominant hand to hold the base of his cock, only enough to hold him in place, but light enough that Jongho’s thrusts would pump the base ‘till the middle of his cock, as your mouth engulfed the other half and tip, the taste of the precum finding your taste buds making you roll your eyes back, finding Yeosang’s already down on you, and you realized he himself, was also moving his hips trying to get more of himself in your mouth.

Panting heavily, both men were starting to get sloppier with their thrusts, as you took Yeosang’s cock with a better grip, moving your head trying to get more of him every time, hollowing your cheeks feeling him closer and closer, by the noises you could hear from Jongho you knew he was also close, so you moved your hand under both of them grabbing hold of Jongho’s balls, hearing him groan loudly. Your cunt already wet just by seeing and hearing those two men.

As Yeosang’s left hand found your hair, you knew he was gone, he wouldn’t last long. Your hand squeezed the base of his cock as your hand started to move along with your head. It's been a while since you had Yeosang crumbling in front of you and that was making a new round of arousal to find your core.

Once his left hand forced your head to a stop, the warm cum went down your throat not long after, but once you patted his thigh he let go of your head as you promptly tried to get every drop of his cum in your mouth. Ah small weak, ‘fuck, princess’ was heard, making you eye up fiding a fucked out Yeosang looking down at you sucking him dry.

“Such a pretty little thing, ain’t she.” Jongho’s voice came from a little behind and you noticed he too had cum as he took a clean towel around his cock, that was getting hard by the second, although you still had Yeosang’s cock in your mouth. Your boyfriend’s hand patted your head before the tips went all the way to your back. “Did you swallow everything like a good little slut, sweetheart?”

“Yes, teddy bear,” you said, opening your mouth, sticking your tongue out, letting go of Yeosang’s now soft hardened cock as Jongho’s fingers took your jaw, pulling you in. “What do you want me to do now?”

“Well, you thought of me while fucking hyung, and thought of him while fucking me, so I guess nothing better than having both of us fucking you, no sweetheart?” You gulp trying to close your legs, but Yeosang’s hand were faster cupping your wet core, the pads of his fingers pressing lightly on your swollen clit. “Now, be a good slut and let us take good care of you, yes?”

Before you could answer your boyfriend’s lips were on yours, his hand firmly on the nape of your neck as you felt Yeosang’s hands leave your pussy, but the movement under you made you break the kiss only to find the eldest head in between your thighs once again, eyes filled with lust. You moan loudly as his tongue takes a long stripe from bottom up, but you are silenced by Jongho’s lips again on you.

It didn’t matter that you were whimpering against his lips, it didn’t matter your whole body was shaking on top of Yeosang almost making it impossible for him to breathe – not that he cared at least. As your body started to fail you, Jongho’s arms wrapped around your waist holding you steady as Yeosang ravishes on your pussy, finger, tongue, and mouth taking their time as your mouth was way too preoccupied with Jongho’s own mouth.

You could feel the buildup on your lower stomach, your legs already unable to hold you away from Yeosang, barely able to keep kissing Jongho, which he quickly noticed, giving you a smirk before calling the oldest one in between your legs, who quickly left from underneath you, his face glistering with your juice as he stood behind you, his hard cock pressing against your ass as Jongho kept his gaze fixed on you, analyzing how much you still could take.

“How do you feel about marking hyung?”

“I think the skin is rather blank, Jjong, should we really mark the little princess?”

You tried your best to hide how the praising was getting to you, how they are talking about you as if you weren’t there was affecting you, but you couldn’t, you had no more strength in you to fight the neediness that took hold of you.

“I think even sluts have owners, property should be marked so no one else touches.”

His hand on your neck pulled you in for another kiss as you felt Yeosang’s teeth sink into the skin of your shoulder, his hands cupping your breasts playing with the hardened nipples, making you moan against the kiss with Jongho. As your legs failed again to keep you steady, you felt Jongho put his left leg under you, your soaking cunt against the skin of his thigh in a way to keep you elevated so both men could take their time with you, and God they were taking their sweet time with you.

As an instinct, your hips started moving on their own against Jongho’s thigh, making him chuckle against your lips before taking one side of your neck as Yeosang took the other, both sinking their teeth on the burning skin, leaving a mark each. Jongho’s hand never leaves your hips, helping you move against his thigh as Yeosang kept playing with your breasts, cupping, pinching, squeezing it. You were seeing stars and they had barely started to properly touch you, yet you were long gone under their lustful gazes and touches.

Again, as you start to feel the buildup, the warmth spreading from your core, the trembling of your limbs, but they both stop, making you cry out loud already sensing a bit of the tears forming.

“Please teddy, let me cum, I’ve been good, please.”

Jongho only coos at your words, fingers gently brushing the skin of your face, in contrast to the hands around your marked neck, you could also feel Yeosang still kissing every part of your back, hands playing tortuously with your breasts as you feel him dry humping your ass, low grunts being heard from time to time.

You were nothing but their fucktoy at that point and you couldn’t even complain.

“You will sweetheart, I promise you that, but first I wanna make your filthiest dream come true and to have both of us, with you being at our mercy.”

Instantly your hips started to move faster against your boyfriend's thigh, getting a chuckle from both of them, but you didn’t mind, you were desperate.

“Seems like someone is eager,” Yeosang baritone voice made you shiver and throw your head back, only to find his lips brushing closely to yours. A painful pinch on your nipple made you gasp before he silenced you with his lips. “You should start behaving if you want to cum, princess.”

“That includes, stop moving your hips, sweetheart,” at that, Jongho’s fingers held your hips in place, digging into your skin, making you whimper as you could feel the crescent moons forming on your flesh. “That’s it, such a good girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes I am,” you whispered, barely capable of forming a coherent phrase as they sandwiched you, pressing their bodies against yours, taking everything you could give them and more. “I’m your good girl.”

You heard both of them groan at your words before Yeosang’s body takes a distance from yours, but before you could say anything, Jongho took your waist pulling you close as his back fell on the mattress, before his hand pulled your leg up so you could straddle him properly, his hard cock in between your bodies. With a small exchange of looks, you swiftly took his cock and put it at your entrance, but didn’t sink down to it, you knew better than to do that.

“Oh sweetheart, you think you are ready for what’s to come?” Jongho coos as his fingers draw small random circles on your skin, your legs barely capable of keeping you up from all the things both of them have done to you. “You think you are ready to take both of us?”

“Yes, yes please,” you cry out a plea, noticing Yeosang missing for your view before feeling hands cup one of your breasts as another takes your throat making you look at Yeosang behind you, a small smirk before he pinches your nipple and slap your tit making you hiss, before feeling his cock against your back. “Please Sangie, I’ve been good, haven’t I? I’ve been good, right. my little raccoon?”

Your doe eyes almost made him pull you in for a kiss, but that wasn’t the moment for that, he also didn’t even think Jongho would be okay with that happening, not when you were mere seconds of being impaled by the younger’s cock.

“You’ve been good, princess, but do you think you can take us both?”

His hand left your breast finding its way between your ass, pulling the cheeks to play with your asshole, making you jolt as he pressed one finger in.

“Have you done what I told you to do, sweetheart?”

Jongho’s upper body quickly met yours, his hands firm on your shaking thigh, he was testing how much you could endure until sinking into his cock, just so he could punish you for doing something without his permission.

“Yes, yes I have, I cleaned up real nice for you teddy bear.”

“Oh sweetheart, that wasn’t for me,” you felt his left hand leave your thigh already anticipating what was gonna happen, “Yeosangie hyung is the one taking your ass, because just like I said prior, your cunt was made for me.”

A harsh slap met your right ass cheek, and you whined in pain and pleasure, closing your eyes as Yeosang pulled your face higher, kissing your cheekbone before pushing another finger into your asshole, making you jolt before sinking in a little, feeling the tip of Jongho’s cock entering you in the slightest as another harsh slap was felt.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry Jjong, but my legs, please, I can’t, I-”

“It’s okay sweetheart, you can sit down, we’ll take care of you, won’t we hyung?”

“Always the best for the princess.”

Although you wanted to give in completely, you knew Jongho wouldn’t like that, he has been taking his time with you, if you sink in completely on his cock, he’ll be upset, and yet, the stinging on your right ass cheek made you consider how much were you willing to not take the punishment.

At least, Jongho’s hands were holding your legs, helping you to keep spreading them a little at a time, clenching every once in a while, mostly because on how Yeosang’s fingers were going in and out of your asshole, making you only imagine how it would feel once his dick was inside. As you sank down on Jongho’s length, both boys were saying the filthiest praises you could hear.

Fuck, princess, can’t even take my two fingers is this pretty little ass?

Sweetheart, my cock isn’t too big for you, is it? Your cunt was made for it after all.

You are so pretty like that, all fucked out, do you have any idea how beautiful you are?

You are gonna take the both of us so well, aren’t you sweetheart, such a good girl.

Our good girl.

They were driving you insane and they were barely fucking you properly.

“That’s it sweetheart, how are you feeling?”

“Full,” you moan as one of Jongho’s thumb found your clit, making you gasp and arch your back. “So big Jjong, oh my -”

“Ready to take hyung’s cock, sweetheart?”

Without expecting a word, you heard the lube being opened again before feeling the tip pressing against your other hole as Jongho’s hands spread your ass cheeks, Yeosang’s were firmly on your waist, making you whine and moan at every centimeter he entered you. If you felt full before, now you were on a break point of losing your fucking mind.

Nails digging into Jongho’s shoulder making him groan against your ear before slapping your already red ass cheek, making you clench around both of them, making Jongho repeat the act as Yeosang pulls your hair, fingertips going all the way down your spine until it reaches the point where his cock is buried in your ass.

“Princess, we need words.”

“I need you to move, please.”

“Now, that’s not how I taught you, sweetheart.”

“Green, my color is green.”

“That’s more like it,” Jongho kisses your temple before holding your thighs while Yeosang pulls you slightly up by the hair, leaving a bit of space between you and them. “Tell me if you ever feel empty, sweetheart, okay?”

“Y-yes, teddy bear.”

In a swift motion, both start to move in different rhythms but in such sync that you never felt fully empty nor fully full. As Jongho would be coming out, Yeosang was coming in and you thanked your boyfriend for having the idea of asking Yeosang all those weeks ago to fulfill your every need or else you wouldn’t be here in this fucking manwich of heavens.

In all honesty, you were nothing more than an incoherent moaning mess. Your mouth open, screaming moans and curses leaving it every so often, your nails digging into Jongho’s flesh as you tried your best from time to time to escape the overstimulation they were creating within your body, they were fucking reorganizing your organs at this point.

Whenever your body would start shaking, both would slow down their rhythm, whisper sweet nothing in your ear, Jongho would kiss your lips as Yeosang would leave open mouth kisses to your neck and back. You bit your lip trying to muffle your moans, but Yeosang took your neck as Jongho pushed his fingers to spread your lips open.

“Don’t you fucking dare hold back your moans, do you hear me?”

�� “Ye-yes, te-teddy be-bear,” you cried as both of their rhythms came back full force, your cervix was nonexistent at this point, you were numb, your legs and arms shaking like crazy, you clenched around them more than you relaxed. “Oh God, fu-”

“Tell us how it feels, princess.”

“Tell us how it feels to have both our cocks.”

“So fucking good, Jjongie,” you cried another moan just as Yeosang yanks you back, making both hit you on a different spot, feeling the common build up in your lower stomach, “fuck, yes, don’t stop, please please please let me cum, please!”

You screamed as both of them, once again slowed down their movements, you just wanted to cry at this point, so you did something you knew you would be punished for, but it didn’t matter, you need to cum, you need to-.

“What the fuck you think you are doing?” Jongho’s hands pulled your wrist away from your clit, making you look at him with pleading needy eyes. Fuck, you couldn’t take it any longer. “Hyung, hold her hands back,” the grip on your hands were firm, making you whine and move a little, the friction of your clit against Jongho making you moan. “If you wanna cum so badly, we’ll make you cum.”

“Thank you.”

The chuckle that left Jongho’s mouth was enough for you to know you were fucked.

It didn’t take half a second and they both started rammering their cocks in and out of you, while Yeosang held both your arms and hair – making you back arch, leaving your breasts and clit exposed for Jongho’s pleasure –, you boyfriend took his time, slapping your breasts, pinching your nipples, playing with your clit, it was all too much, too fucking much and you were loving every second.

“Cum sweetheart, cum for us, cum all over my cock.”

Automatically your body responded to Jongho’s words, clenching one last time before you convulse in between them, crying and cursing out loud as they used you, kept fucking you through your high, which wasn’t even done yet and another one was building up. Yeosang let go of your hair, hands wrapping around your throat pulling you in for a sloppy kiss, as Jongho’s thrusts became more feral.

“One more time princess, cum for us once more, please.”

At Yeosang’s words against your ear, you came once again, this time, feeling the older one’s thrusts become erratic before he fill your ass with his seeds, before pulling out, letting your body fall against Jongho, who quickly enveloped you around his arms, fucking you even harder before his hips suddenly stop and you feel his seed inside of you.

“How are you sweetheart?”

A small kiss is felt on your temple as you feel Jongho lift you up, putting you on the mattress, the feeling of emptiness and numbness fill you up after what just happened. Your eyes scan the room, finding Yeosang returning from the bathroom with a towel, ready to clean you up, while Jongho takes his already used one to clean himself before joining your other side as Yeosang takes his time cleaning your legs and taking particular care with your sensitive areas.

“I feel amazing Jjong, thank you,” you pull your boyfriend in for a kiss before looking at Yeosang who is taking extra attention to the task at hand, even though you know he already cleaned all he could out of you. “Sangie?” His eyes pick up as you call his name. “C’mere, please?”

You try not to roll your eyes as you saw Yeosang direct his attention to Jongho, who chuckles nodding as his fingers trace random patterns on your heated skin. In a swift move, Yeosang is now on your other side, pulling the loose hairs away from your face, making you giggle before taking his hand in yours.

“Hope we weren’t too harsh with you, princess.”

“Never,” you say genuinely, although your body would certainly complain a little more once it starts to cool down, but you didn’t care. “I know you two could never really hurt me, thank you for everything, my boys.”

You kiss each of them on the lips one last time before looking at the bathroom door of Yeosang’s room, making both boys chuckle.

“I’ll get the bath ready; you make sure she doesn’t sleep before that bath or we will never hear the end of it!”

Jongho got out of the bed shaking his head as Yeosang pulled you close to a hug, your leg quickly flying over his, tangling with each other, hand intertwined on top of his chest.

“And to think this all started because of a fucking proxy kiss Jjong gave you,” both laughed at the memory, as you turned to face him, making him curious. “I don’t regret it Sangie, and I talked to Jjong, he knows you like me,” he closed his eyes cursing at himself, “he also knows I like you,” his eyes shot up at your response, a small smile appearing in your lips. “I like you Sangie, but I also love Jongho, and he loves me, this needs to be clear.”

“I’d never ask for you to choose between us, if that’s what you are going for.”

Your laugh made a smile form on his lips, before you pulled him in for a chaste kiss.

“I was actually thinking of proposing something, like, maybe sharing?”

“Enough talk, you need to shower, we talk about that tomorrow,” Jongho quickly entered the room, taking your arms around his neck as he took your legs on his arm before turning to Yeosang, both of you eyeing the oldest. “I believe she said enough for you to think it through, hyung, we’ll talk tomorrow after a good night of sleep.”

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guxciestone · 10 months ago

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🥂 ❛ SATURN AND THE 27 CLUB ༉‧₊˚ ˚୨୧

(how saturn affected the lives of the members of the 27 club)

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the 27 club and the conspiracies behind it have always intrigued me. i always wondered if there were any astrological connections between the members and their consequential deaths. if you have any post suggestions, i’m willing to consider them. i hope you’re having an amazing day and enjoy !!🫶🏽🤍

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what is the 27 club?

The 27 club is a popular informal list of musicians, actors, athletes and other famous people who consequently died at 27 due to overdoses, suicides, homicides, addictions, and other mysterious circumstances. The first ever recorded member of this club was Robert Johnson, the first ever rockstar. There have been multiple theories surrounding Robert’s rise to fame and his death. The most popular story was that Robert got his immaculate guitar talent from making a deal with Satan at a crossroads.

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This club has developed the notion that most celebrities tend to die at that age. Additionally, most celebrities, especially the musicians, had high-risk lifestyles. The 27 club has become a cultural phenomenon and conspiracy theory that the public and other celebrities have become aware of. In Mac Miller’s song “Brand Name”, he mentions, “To everyone who sell me drugs: Don’t mix it with that bullshit, I’m hopin’ not to join the 27 Club.” Mac Miller passed away at the age of 26 on September 7, 2018 due to a drug overdose, 4 months from his 27th birthday, almost making it into the club. The celebrities from the 27 Club I am including in this blog are: Amy Winehouse, Kurt Cobain, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Brian Jones, and Jim Morrison. They were all popular musicians.

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the theory of saturn and selling your soul

The main conspiracy that goes around as to why these famous individuals made into this club is because they may have decided to attain their desire of fame and fortune in exchange for their soul and tragic death at the age of 27. Although I do not wholeheartedly believe in this theory, it is still fascinating to consider what if this could’ve been the case for all of these stars’ deaths? Especially when there may be an astrological theory that supports it.

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Saturn is the planet of contracts, deals, and promises. This planet is infamous for bringing back karma or lessons when an obligation or promise has been broken or put to a halt, which signifies the “deal” that these celebrities make with the devil, and if the deal doesn’t perform the way it should, the person has to endure the consequences. It makes it even more convincing that in tarot the “Devil” card is ruled by Saturn.

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my theory on saturn and the 27 club

It is intriguing how all of these celebrities died at the age of 27, it makes you wonder, “What is significant about that age?” and “What did these celebrities specifically do differently than other celebrities to experience a death at that age?” After researching articles and creating my own observations, I’ve made my own theory as to how Saturn could have affected the 27 Club.

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Saturn is the planet of responsibility, maturity, and obligations. It is the reality that catches up to us when we have to grow up and take accountability for our true duties. It is the planet that we are so afraid of due to the harshness and honesty it beholds for us when it is time. At the age of 27-29 years old, every individual undergoes a Saturn Return—which is when all of that exactly happens. It is the time in which you have to take responsibility for your problems, issues, and wounds, and realize that it is up to you to create the life you need and deserve. This return is a wake-up call for individuals who suffer from addictions, mental health issues, self-esteem issues, and much more. Saturn gives you that wake-up call by giving you the karma for the reality you’ve created for yourself so far, because karma isn’t necessarily just about what you do to others, but also what you do to yourself. This may pertain to the deaths of the members of the 27 Club.

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Next, I am going to interpret each of the members’ Saturn placements to see how their Saturn Return affected them personally.

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NOTE: I am simply reading the aspects of these celebrities for entertainment and curiosity purposes; I obviously did not know them personally, and these interpretations may be incorrect. I hope you enjoy it.

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♡ amy winehouse ♡

Saturn in Scorpio in the 6th house

This indicates that Amy Winehouse may have had deep-rooted issues involving her self-care, habits, and health. There was this struggle to develop a close and intimate relationship with one’s personal wellbeing, and anything that interfered with that could have affected her. It is publicly known that Amy struggled with drug and alcohol addiction during her time and additionally dealt with other health problems such as bulimia. There were times where she repeatedly refused to go to rehab or get help. Before her Saturn Return, there may have been subconscious refusal to accept the problems that would’ve come from not taking much care of herself, and the only time when there would be acceptance of these problems is when it is too late because Saturn allows you to pick up the pieces of what you’ve put out for yourself as an adult. However, with maturity, this placement gives the individual the ability to dig deep into the depths of their nature and spirit to get to know themselves and satisfy their needs, wants, and desires in the most healthiest and effective way possible.

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Moon in Capricorn in the 7th house sextile Saturn

There is a sense of maturity and seriousness when it comes to one’s emotional fulfillment. Winehouse valued her personal relationships as it gave her a sense of security and personal contentment. It may have been particularly harder for her to express this to her closest people, considering the fact that emotions and vulnerability might have not been her forte (Capricorn) However, she also held her personal connections to a high standard–she might have held boundaries, rules, and restrictions towards her loved ones. If she sees that someone is not behaving in the way she desires, she could easily cut them off. This would have been helpful for her in developing a sense of self-respect and maintaining her well-being and health as it could help prevent attracting people into her life that could influence her in the worst ways, such as developing addictions from partners.

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Uranus in Sagittarius in the 6th sextile Saturn

Amy may have been an individual who was interested in sudden changes and unique circumstances in her work and routine. She would likely struggle in a workplace or environment that requires her to hold order and normality. She worked better in areas in which she can be independent, make her own schedule, and create her own flow. However, this placement can indicate unexpected changes in health as well–considering Amy had a 6th house stellium, health could have been an important part of her life. It seems that Winehouse would be able to maintain her sense of wellbeing and habits in a progressive and helpful way by allowing herself to create her own sense of routine. Perhaps using unique and healthy mediums of self-care would have helped (such as meditation, journaling, herbs–anything unconventional, but promising for her)

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Pluto in Libra in the 6th conjunct Saturn

This indicates that Amy had a strong sense of ambition, focus, and determination. She might have had a strong need to succeed, worked hard and pushed herself to her limits. This willpower is beneficial in helping her progress in her wellbeing and habits, especially considering that this aspect indicates sudden changes and transformations in health–either for the best or worst. However, Winehouse may have easily worked herself to poor health such as burnout and exhaustion. Additionally, individuals with this placement are often good at keeping secrets and holding their ambitions to their chest. Not to mention, they are more than likely to struggle with pessimism and this aspect can magnify realism to a huge extent.

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♡ kurt cobain ♡

Saturn in Pisces in the 7th house

This indicates the struggle to allow vulnerability and unconditional love submerge into one’s interpersonal relationships. Cobain was a sensitive, emotional, and imaginative individual who desired to hold his connections and loved ones closely. However, he might have had an issue with developing closeness in these relationships due to the fear of intimacy and being loved. Cobain could have had habits of isolating himself, distancing himself from potential connections, or developing loneliness. It was known that Kurt dealt with mental health issues such as depression. Although we are not sure of what caused Kurt’s depression, there are things we know about his life. Firstly, his parents divorced when he was young, and secondly, he also struggled with drug addiction with heroin.

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Venus in Pisces in the 7th conjunct Saturn

This indicates that one presents a loving and compassionate nature to partners and interpersonal connections. Cobain handled his relationships with a sense of selflessness and often held a huge imagination about and glamorized his partners. However, with this particular aspect, it may have been harder for him to express this true character to the people he loves and cares about–as transparency may have been one thing he struggled with. It seems that there is this fear of becoming codependent, needy, or illusioned in the realms of romance, so one tends to push themselves away from the possibility of connections with others. Furthermore, with the energy in Pisces, there could be a sense of melancholy or loneliness when he separates himself from the very relationships he longs for.

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Jupiter in Cancer in the 10th house trine Saturn

Cobain had an excellent sense of discipline as well as optimism and faith in his goals and aspirations. He was meant to be successful in the realms music, art, and creativity as he had the ability to deeply connect with the public and accentuate special emotions and feelings in the audience while maintaining a sense of realism within his imagination. He was fairly hardworking and career success came to him naturally; and it seems that Cobain would have benefited vastly from doing this. He could have found that developing professional yet close connections with the public, his audience, and business partners would have helped him miraculously in his journey towards being vulnerable with others and developing knitted and unconditional relationships.

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Midheaven in Gemini square Saturn

Kurt had the ability to communicate and express himself through mediums in his career, whether that be music, writing, teaching, and much more–it was in his path. However, it is possible that there could have been particular career blockages. Perhaps Cobain refused to integrate with the people and develop business connections with others, which could have made him struggle with expressing himself successfully to the public. He may have felt like he could not portray his image too well because of this, and it may have felt like nobody understood him and his image. Due to this, it could have been easy for Cobain to fall into deeper depression while in the public eye because it may have been another reminder of his lack of connections.

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♡ jimi hendrix ♡

Saturn in Gemini in the 6th house

There is this struggle of learning and taking advice from one’s peers in regards to your nature of order, routine, health, and responsibilities. Perhaps Hendrix lacked a sense of accountability in how he took care of himself or the habits he adapted. Perhaps he was the type to not be that interested in the regular workplace, schedules, or environment. He struggled with maintaining order in spontaneousness and control. However, it may be the other way around–perhaps there was a lack of accountability in being a workaholic, overworking himself, or pushing himself to his unforeseen limits. Peers, friends, or family members may have tried to consult him but there could have been the refusal to listen or abide. Apparently, although Hendrix did not suffer from drug addiction like most of the 27 Club members, he did have a fair fixation with alcohol, and there were times when he would get violent and abusive under the influence. There was even a time in which he had a physical altercation with his girlfriend while drunk.

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Sun in Sagittarius in the 11th house opposition Saturn

Jimi was a bohemian at heart. He lived his life in authenticity through rejoicing with others, exploring the horizons, and taking in a huge amount of knowledge. Hendrix had the core value of enjoying the present and taking in all that you can; however, he also was an advocate of being involved and gaining experience with his community. He could have been fairly popular and likable. Nevertheless, this aspect can indicate that the influence of friends or social groups could have easily led Hendrix to an irresponsible and careless path in regards to his obligations and wellbeing. There would not be a surprise if he got into alcohol or drugs though friends, cousins, communities or peers. Matter of fact, during his drug trial, Hendrix admitted that he found doses of LSD and marijuana through gifts at a fan club meeting for the Beatles.

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Mercury in Sagittarius in the 11th house opposition Saturn

Hendrix had the ability to attain incredible amounts of wisdom and was more than likely an intelligent individual. He was an expansive, open-minded, yet benevolent thinker; he was always willing to learn and challenge new customs and ideologies. He may have been particularly interested in social issues, his hopes and dreams, and connecting with communities. Furthermore, he could have been involved with many different groups of people, making him fairly known. However, there is a struggle with expressing himself through his means of communication, learning, being heard, and verbal expression. There could have been an imbalance in where to put his mental energy–either in expanding his horizons and indulging in new learning experiences or restricting himself to his duties and responsibilities. It may have been difficult for him to connect with others and he often felt distant from his peers, friends, and communities. He struggled between handling his work and advocating with his people.

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♡ janis joplin ♡

Saturn in Gemini in the 3rd house

This indicates an individual struggling with expressing oneself, connecting with others, and learning through peers when it comes to areas of communicating, their mindset, and thinking processes. Joplin was a mature, disciplined, and rigid thinker; she was wise and precise in the facts and messages she took in. She could have been an eloquent communicator as well. She was known for her strong and enduring three octave voice. However, this placement could manifest as her possibly struggling with communicating with others or developing connections with her peers and social groups. She may have been stubborn in receiving advice from her equals, and could have also struggled with negative thinking or pessimism. Apparently, when Joplin was in high school, she was one of the few to vocally oppose segregation amongst students, she endured bullying from racists and her peers. Furthermore, she was fairly a good student and popular until highschool–when she started to rebel and dress differently from other girls.

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Chiron in Leo in the 7th house square Saturn

This indicates that Janis has a wound surrounding self-expression and connecting with her true self in her interpersonal relationships. She may have struggled with feeling genuine within her romantic connections; she could have felt that she had to fight to be heard and understood by her partners. There could have been conveniences in which she felt the need to distance herself from her love affairs due to feelings of being misheard or misunderstood.

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Venus in Aquarius in the 12th house trine Saturn

Joplin was an electrifying, unpredictable, and quirky partner. She might have chosen different and special kinds of people to integrate into her love life. She thrived from eccentricity, and she desired to try new things in the matters of romance. However, she had a mystifying quality in regards to love. She was an idealist, and often had a huge imagination for her partners. She could have idolized them or put them on a pedestal. She may have dreamed about having the “perfect” lover too. She was fairly compassionate and giving towards the people she loves and cares about. This placement could also point to being a part of the LGBTQ+ community because Janis strived for unique partners and may have preferred it behind closed doors. There were tons of speculations that Joplin was lesbian, or at least bisexual, considering she had a long-term relationship with Peggy Caserta and went to gay bars before marrying her fiance Seth Morgan. Nevertheless, Joplin has innate ability to express her opinions, thoughts, and mind processes through these distinctive and thrilling connections because perhaps she felt could demonstrate her true self. This also made her a mature and stable lover as well, she was persistent and thoughtful in the matters of love.

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Midheaven in Sagittarius opposition Saturn

Janis was seen as a rebellious, hippy, jubilant, and outgoing individual in the public eye; however, the issue surrounding the relationship with her peers growing up and her struggles with feeling heard, connected, and understood by them still ran deep in her heart. She might have compensated for this lack of community or fellowship by pursuing his career endeavors, which could have been beneficial to her to an extent. It was mentioned that Janis escaped her day-to-day issues in school by diving in her passion for music and art. However, this aspect calls for one avoiding the actual issue and not being willing to fix it, which could have hurt her in the long run. There was a need to resolve the broken connection there is with associates and her immediate community and allow herself to express her thoughts and be understood and comprehended for who she is.

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♡ brian jones ♡

Saturn in Taurus in 9th house

The Rolling Stones member had a deliberate, cautious and organized mind when it came to his materialistic and mental assets in life. He may have had the fear of losing his financial security, depending on others, or lacking foundation in his life whether that be with money, relationships, or success. Furthermore, Jones had a firm and solid foundation of values and morals that he was stubborn to changing. He was intelligent and had the ability to maintain his views. He may have grown up with rigid beliefs in the household, and it may have been particularly difficult for him to change the beliefs he had surrounding security, stability, and his foundations. It has been said that Brian dropped out of college due to the fact he disliked the conformity and discipline of it, although he performed very well and was intelligent at a young age.

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Mars in Taurus in the 9th house conjunct Saturn

Jones was a disciplined, fairly motivated, and meticulous man. He was persistent and consistent when it came to his goals and aspirations. At some point in his life, graduating from college may have been an important thing for him to accomplish. This also indicates that he pursued his dreams and ambitions with the desire for security and stability in mind. However, this aspect can point to one being stuck in accomplishing their goals, whether that be from overworking, refusing to learn from failures, or pessimism.

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Mercury in Aquarius in the 5th house square Saturn

This indicates that Brian Jones struggled with mediums of communication, learning and interacting with his immediate community. He could have had issues with expressing his unique and exciting talents due to his inhibited and stubborn views and morals. Perhaps at some point, college may have prevented him from pursuing music and producing, and it made him feel misunderstood and disconnected from his versatility and creative processes. This could also point to using detrimental vices to compensate for the lack of connection with one’s hobbies and pleasures (such as addictions, investing in endeavors you aren’t interested in, punishments, and much more)

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♡ jim morrison ♡

Saturn in Gemini in the 5th house

Morrison was an intelligent, critical, and versatile individual. His special abilities were being creative and deliberate in solving problems, speaking his mind with eloquence, and handling long-term projects. However, there seems to be an issue with balance between being too reckless and feeble-minded and too critical and stubborn in the acts of creative endeavors and joys in life. It may have been hard for Jim to indulge in his hobbies, affairs, or even considering children. Morrison did not have any children nor did he have a good relationship with his parents, so all of his will went to his girlfriend.

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Chiron in Virgo in the 7th house square Saturn

Morrison has a wound surrounding the criticality, order, and sensibility. He may have had a strong sense of perfectionism and judgment when it came to his interpersonal relationships. Perhaps growing up he had to deal with harsh and fault-finding parents, friends, siblings, or partners. It could have caused him to develop a feeling of inadequacy–like he is not good enough. According to Morrison, his parents had “immense discipline” growing up and would have military-like punishments such as dressing down. He reportedly mentioned how he distanced himself from his parents over the years. This feeling of inadequacy may have caused Jim to develop a critical, self-inflicting behavior when it comes to him enjoying his personal endeavors, affairs, casual relationships, or hobbies.

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Sun in Sagittarius in the 10th house opposition Saturn

Morrison was a career-oriented individual who valued learning new things, expanding his knowledge, and experiencing new excitement through his professional endeavors and public image. However, he may have noticed that over time, prioritizing his legacy, image, and success could cause him to distance himself from his true passions and leisures. This may have influenced serious, “wet blanket” behavior and possibly becoming overly critical and strict himself.

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#astrology #natal chart #guxciestone #zodiac #astro observations #astro community #astrology observations #tarot community #pick a card #tarot

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boxofbonesfic · 1 year ago

Photo

Title: Tonality [4]

Pairing: Prince!Geralt x Princess!Reader

previous chapter

Summary: “The white wolf wants you. He’ll have no other.” As you grieve the loss of your father, your mother marries the king. Whilst you struggle to acclimate to your new life, you begin to suspect the interest your new brother has in you is less than familial.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Dark Fantasy, Darkfic, Step-cest, Medieval/GoT inspired AU, (Future)Smut, Dubcon/Noncon, Manipulation, Gaslighting, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, MINORS DNI!!

A/N: a little more story, a little more tension, a little mor everything! what do you guys always, please mind the warnings, and enjoy!😊🥰 divider by @firefly-graphics

The Nilfgaardian banner snaps in the sharp, salt-laden breeze, the dark fabric bearing the crest of its namesake. The bright yellow sun mirrors the one in the cloudless sky above the keep. From your room, you can see their approach long before they reach the gates, a thin vein of black weaving through the countryside like a snake. The garrison pauses only briefly in the city, winding through the crowded streets in their pitch colored armor like a long satin ribbon. You grimace at the sight of them, swallowing against the sourness you feel growing at the back of your throat.

You do not know why the sight of them fills you with a dark foreboding, a shadow that looms in the space behind your thoughts. Perhaps it is the knowledge that you are expected to greet the Nilfgaardian envoy alongside your mother, the king, and the prince that makes your stomach curdle.

“My Lady, should we not join their Majesties?” Kassandra’s voice draws you from your churning thoughts. “Her Highness would not be pleased if we were late.” You swallow the dry retort that your mother would not be pleased no matter what you did, and automatically feel guilt over the bitter thought. You grimace before nodding at Kassandra over your shoulder.

Nothing good will come of this. The feeling—no, the knowledge—is as familiar to you as your own name, appearing among your thoughts as if it had always been there. Only sorrow will come of this day.

“Are you alright, Your Grace?”

Your throat tight, you smile. “Y-yes.” I am grim without cause. You shake yourself, smoothing your hands down the stiff, unfamiliar dress. It’s new, gifted to you only this morning as your mother had informed you of her expectations.

“You’ll look lovely in this,” she had bade the servants to lay out the massive thing, a veritable ocean of fabric, with so many skirts and stays you find yourself amazed you can even move at all. You detest the restriction and corsetry of it all, fidgeting with a frustrated grimace as Kassandra opens the door. Your thoughts must be plain on your face, for she is quick to reassure you as you pass.

“You are a vision, Your Grace,” she says, hurrying to your side as she closes the heavy door behind you. Despite your displeasure, her words do comfort you, and you offer Kassandra a watery smile in thanks. “I daresay you shall be the envy of every Lady in attendance.”

You laugh dryly. “Even you?” Kassandra’s response is unexpected—she shakes her head, pressing her lips together into a thin, apologetic smile.

“No, my Lady.” She says softly. There is true pity in her eyes, which stings all the more. “Though there are many in His Majesty’s keep who would treat with the Gods themselves to take your place—and, exalted though it may be, I am not among them.” The words pass unspoken between you, true honesty masked only slightly by propriety. “I would not wish that for all the world.”

The throne room is as packed with bodies as it was at your mother’s coronation only a few scant weeks prior, servants weaving deftly in and out of the crowd. It parts easily for you, people scrambling out of your path as you make your way toward the throne. Geralt stands to the king’s left, and you feel the weight of his gaze upon you so heavily it is as though he has touched you with his hand.

“My King. I trust you are well this morning?” He heaves a heavy sigh at your question, massaging the graying hair at his temple.

“As well as can be expected, given the circumstances.” King Vesemir graces you with a tired smile. “But I am glad these worries are mine. Would that they fall on mine own shoulders and save yours.” Of these troubles, you know only what little you have managed to glean from casual conversation and your own observations—the Lord of Nilfgaard has sent his envoy, along with a garrison of troops, to treat with the king.

Your mother scoffs. “You are a King, my love,” she says, tilting her regal head at him. “You can do nothing without rousing at least a little of the rabble.”

You take your place next to her, skirting around the prince with a wide berth. Your mother reaches for your hand, patting it as she nods approvingly at you.

“You look as lovely as I thought you would.” Somehow, her complement makes you like your clothing even less. The dress is heavy and cumbersome, the corset laced so tight a deep breath makes the seams groan.

“It is the color.” Geralt’s interjection makes your mother’s smile thin and tighten, until the edges seem brittle like paper. “It suits you, sister.” Is there no line he will not cross? From behind his wide shield of plausible deniability he mocks you, his mouth quirking innocently as if he is unaware of the boundary he dances upon. Gracious acceptance is the only play you have, and he knows it as well.

“You are too kind, my Prince.” You clasp your hands together and face forward. It is surreal, almost, to see the calm with which he regards you now, when only a week ago he had raged at your door like a madman. Had you not seen it yourself, you would not think it possible. Though you would blame him for it, the nervous twisting of your stomach is not Geralt’s fault alone. The ill feeling that had taken root in your belly at the sight of the Nilfgaardian envoy still left you with a sour taste on your tongue, one that did not seem to wash away.

And the dreams…

You shudder to think of them, the dark, creeping things that keep you awake long after the halls of the king’s keep have fallen silent. You have not wandered from your rooms again to your knowledge, but you’ve slept so little in the past week that you suspect it is less a matter of your self control and more the lack of opportunity. The nails on your fingers, hidden by the cumbersomely long sleeves of your dress, are bitten down to the quick. It is a new habit you’ve developed sitting in the crushing dark as you wait for the dreams to come.

Your father’s rotting face swims before you again.

Sugar sweet—

You twist the heavy fabric of your sleeves in your nervous hands as you stare hard at the stone floor between your feet.

“What troubles you, Little Doe?” Geralt’s voice is as much of a surprise as his proximity, his side lightly pressing against your own as he leans down. You drop your hands to your sides like deadweight, suddenly aware of his eye.

“And why would you think me troubled?” You ask curtly. The prince’s wolfish grin sends a strange, hot pulse straight to your core, one you vehemently try to ignore. You are under no pretense, you know what the prince is, who he is. He has gone out of his way to show you, and yet—

“I am apt to know trouble when I see it.”

The throne room doors slam open, leaving you no time to respond as every eye is drawn to the entrance. The instant hush that falls over the room is so deep that the herald’s voice is like a crack of thunder. At the same time, your stomach tightens. The dark warning in your heart rings again like a bell, clear and true. Though you still do not quite grasp its meaning, the message is clear—whatever you’d been meant to avoid had now come to pass, leaving no room for escape or denial.

“Presenting His Lordship, Duke Emhyr of Nilfgaard!” The duke sweeps into the throne room, his ink-black cloak billowing behind him. There are two of his own guards flanking him in their telltale black armor, like pools of animated shadow. Their faces are hidden by their helms, the sides carved like griffin wings.

The duke stops before the throne, dropping down to one knee.

“My King.” His accented common turns the words up at the edges, almost like a question. “Hail.” His face is handsome but severe, high cheekbones, fierce, beady eyes, and a thin mouth that curls up at the corners, just like his words. There is a scar on his face, long and thin and jagged, stretching from his left temple to the right side of his chin. His already wan smile thins further as he turns to your mother.

“My Queen.”

“Lord Emhyr.” The duke’s smile is wan as he dips his head again. “I bid thee welcome. I trust you found the journey pleasant enough.” The words are empty pleasantries, merely frivolous formalities exchanged before the truth is allowed to be addressed.

“Aye, Majesty, as enjoyable as one can find a carriage journey.” He straightens back up. “I would extend my many congratulations on your union. The Gods themselves could not have delivered a more beautiful Queen.”

To your surprise, it is Geralt who speaks next.

“We did miss you at the celebration, my Lord.” The remark is meant to sound like a casual observation—you know it is not. “Quite a pity.”

Emhyr’s jaw tics. “Indeed.” He looks over his left shoulder, and motions the guards forward. “My deepest regrets. As I previously expressed to His Majesty, my presence was required elsewhere. As I am sure you recall, we do share a border with the Elves.” He spits the word like a curse. “Occasionally those savages do need a good reminding of where their lands end, and ours begin, Your Grace.”

You shudder. There are few elves left south of the heavily policed Nilfgaardian border, but you have met some. Savages. The word makes your lip curl. They are rather fond of that word, aren’t they?

“I did bring a—belated—wedding present.” Between the two of them, the guards haul forward a small black chest, the polished wood glinting in the light. He pulls back the lid, and a murmur travels through the gathered courtiers at the sight of the jewels. A small fortune in dark blue sapphires sits within. King Vesemir stands, bidding two of the ivory cloaked kings-guard forward to take the chest.

“A most precious gift.”

“The mines remain prosperous. Perhaps Her Highness might have them made into something befitting her loveliness.” A smile creases your mother’s ruby lips, but it is sharp enough to cut. Neither does it reach her narrowed eyes.

“We cannot thank you enough for your gracious gift, my Lord.” Her voice is delicate, like breaking glass. “But I do not believe you rode for six days to bear witness to my beauty.” You are left to wonder in the brief moments before Duke Emhyr answers. If he will allow the truth to be broached, or if he will flee from it like a rat from a burning ship.

“Indeed my Queen, I have not.” He casts a look around, as if the words he is about to speak are for everyone there, not just the king. “Your Grace, I come before you today with only the deepest respect for your will, authority, and wisdom.” Duke Emhyr chooses his words carefully. He chooses them as carefully as a mason did his stones, stacking each one meticulously on top of the other. “But I do admit my heart longs for clarity on this matter.

Not a season past, when His Majesty announced an end to his long mourning period, and indeed his intent to marry once more, I did put forth my own daughter as prospect.” His accusation takes shape, and you watch your mother’s face tighten, her fingers curling around the polished bone arm of her throne. “And before this very court, His Majesty agreed. I had imagined a shared future of prosperity and happiness between both our great houses. I mean no offense, and so I beg pardon—”

“And yet you have given it.” Your mother’s expression remains placid—her voice less so. You can almost hear the icy words forming on her tongue as her lips part to speak again, but the king silences her, holding up one steady hand.

“I appreciate your candor, my Lord,” he leans forward. “But it is Vesemir who rules here, not Emhyr.” All chatter ceases, and the chamber is as quiet as the crypt beneath it. “The decision as to who it is I marry is mine—and mine alone.” King Vesemir stands, descending the short set of steps until he is level with the duke. “It is I who bears the burden of ensuring the prosperity and stability of this realm. And while I am ever thankful for the service you have provided it… you would do well to remember that fact, my Lord.”

“Of course, my King. I—I mean only for the betterment of the empire.” It is then that his eye falls to you. “I see no reason a match might not still be made—”

“Then we shall speak no more about it.” You watch the duke’s jaw tighten, his lips thinning as he fights not to show his displeasure.

“As you will, Your Grace.” You have not heard the last of this matter, of that you are certain. A sinking feeling rises in your stomach, like you’ve tumbled freely over the edge of a cliff. There is no going back, the feeling seems to whisper, goosebumps erupting across your flesh. A path has been chosen now and you will walk it—

“I thank you again for your generous gift, Lord Emhyr,” the dismissal is obvious in the king’s tone.

“The pleasure is mine, my liege.” The words sound broken in his mouth, like he’s chewed them up. A cold finger traces down your spine as his eyes meet yours again. “I thank you for your counsel.”

—

The sky is dark, angry black clouds roiling above the keep. You’ve not seen much rainfall in Rivia since your arrival, but today the clouds above you seem full to bursting, the smell of the imminent downpour filling your nostrils. Still, you take your time as you stroll through the gardens, stopping every so often to enjoy the sight of flowers in bloom.

“You are enjoying the gardens today, my Lady,” Kassandra’s observance is gently made, though she looks worriedly up at the sky.

“I feel I must,” you reply, leaning down to inspect a half-closed bud. “Summer here is drawing to a close, and I must admit I fear the cold.” You offer her a small smile over your shoulder.

“Have you no winter in Redania?” She asks, wonder coloring her words. “The land of eternal summer indeed.”

“No snow,” you agree, shaking your head. “Tis more like… autumn.” There is a wistfulness to your words you cannot suppress, a longing that brings moisture to your eyes. In truth, you doubt it will matter how many years you spend here at court—Rivia will never feel like home. Kassandra smiles thoughtfully.

“I should like to see it, my Lady,” she says. “Twould not be a chore to accompany you—if you wished it so. The winter here is harsh, even within the city walls.”

“Aye, winter on the continent is no easy task to weather.” The two of you turn at the sound of a new voice to face the speaker. Duke Emhyr bows respectfully, removing his cap as he does so. “I did not mean to intrude—I find the gardens less familiar than I imagined,” he adds, a small smile turning up the corners of his mouth. “Might I trouble you for an escort?”

You had not seen the duke since his spectacle at court the day prior, the matter of which had the courtiers aflutter with gossip. You suppose you, like Duke Emhyr, had been equally blindsided in the matter of your mother’s courtship and her subsequent marriage. Nervously, you wonder if his feelings of dissatisfaction—and possible animosity—extend to you by proxy. Kassandra curtsies, and you nod, forcing a small, charitable smile onto your lips.

“O-of course, my Lord.” You reply. “I myself find the task of navigating the keep daunting, despite calling this place home.” Kassandra falls into step just behind you, and you must physically stop yourself from commanding her to walk beside you. Though you’ve little personal regard for the importance of blood and titles, you know here in Rivia those things matter above all else. The duke is more than happy to ignore her, his hawkish eyes weighing heavily on you.

“How long has it been since your arrival at the White Keep, if you will indulge my curiosity?”

“Nearly three months.” Though you have kept count of every passing day since your arrival, to say it aloud makes homesickness rear up in your chest. The duke clucks his tongue pityingly.

“Tis a shame. Redania is quite beautiful this time of year. I have had the pleasure of many a visit.” He clasps his hands behind his back and casts a look at the dreary sky. “Nilfgaard is my home, but I would be a liar if I said I did not envy the beauty of the southern jewel.” The wistfulness in his voice inspires thoughts of warm autumn nights scented with pine and faded sunlight. But a warning echoes in your heart at the false note in it, the one that reminds you of the coy, prying questions of your mother’s ladies in waiting, only cloaked in a cleverer disguise.

“Indeed.” You round the corner of a hedge. “I have never seen snow, now that I think of it. I should much like to, now that I am older.”

“Never seen snow?” The duke echoes your words, replacing your simple desire with shock. “Though I would not speak ill of your late father—Redania has never seen a finer Regent—I do believe he kept you far too sheltered.” It takes effort to keep your smile from going thin at the mention of your father. As if in response, a dull ache throbs in your chest.

“How lucky for us, then, that his death should bring me here.” You flick the words from your tongue like the lashing of a whip. There is a brief moment of dark satisfaction as the duke’s eyes widen, and his confident words falter.

“My sincerest apologies, Princess, I did not mean—”

“No, of course not.” You reply, swallowing against the sudden lump in your throat. “Forgive me, Duke Emhyr. My father I are—were, quite close.” You offer him an apologetic smile. “Might we speak of something else?”

“Of course, of course. My deepest sympathies.” He casts a furtive glance in your direction. “I hope you have been enjoying your time here, despite the… unfortunate circumstances.” You nod primly—for what words do you have to describe the aching emptiness that fills you at the thought that home is a distant thing now, the memory of a place you no longer belong.

“I have found ways to occupy myself.” You feel as thin as your smile. “The White Keep is large, there are many ways to spend ones time.”

“And Her Majesty has certainly taken to her role,” he continues. “She has taken to court as though she were born here.” There is a note of bitterness in his voice. “Has she spent much time in Rivia? Surely during His Majesty’s rather short courtship—”

“I know little of my mother’s courtship,” you say flatly, your eyes narrowed. “If you wish to know about it, perhaps you should ask her.” This time, it is difficult to leash your ire. You grow tired of the duke’s probing, his thinly veiled attempts to pick information from conversation behind the shield of feigned ignorance.

“Highness—”

“I trust you will can your way from here.” There is an unfamiliar coldness that underscores your words, one that uncomfortably reminds you of your mother. It is like hearing her own voice from your mouth, leaving a sour taste on your tongue. “Lady Kassandra, l believe we should take our leave.”

“At once, My Lady.”

You leave him at the entrance to the gardens in the courtyard, sweeping past as his eyes bore into your back.

—

“How does it end?” You are sat before the fire, a book held tenuously in your hands. Your loose, traditional dress is folded beneath you primly as the flames dance in the hearth. “How does it end?” Your father repeats warmly, chuckling as he leans forward to rest a hand on your shoulder. “You stopped reading.”

You can’t quite recall where you were now, the words seeming to shift on the page as you squint at them.

“I… I don’t remember now,” you say, glancing over your shoulder at your father. Though the flames are bright, his face is shadowed, but you get the feeling that he is smiling.

“The princess has just met the wolf,” he replies. “She doesn’t know it yet, but he plans to devour her whole—body, and spirit.” You look down at the page. “She is careful, the princess, and clever, but the wolf is sly, and he is not the only thing she has to fear.” You do not know why, but his words fill you with an incomparable sorrow.

“What else does she have to fear? Is the wolf not enemy enough?” You are crying. You don’t know why, but you are, tears pouring down your face and dripping messily off of your chin to stain the pages with salt.

“Weep not, daughter. She may yet avoid his jaws—and if not that, then perhaps she might at least turn him to her will. But the peacock—she is her true enemy.”

“A bird?”

“Yes, dear girl,” your father’s voice goes strangely quiet as the fire burns low in the hearth, and the sitting room is shrouded in gloom. “For while her pretty feathers distract you, her beak plucks out your eyes.”

You wake blearily, blinking in the darkness as you struggle back to wakefulness. Instead of your bed, you are knelt on the cold, stone floor in front of the half-dead hearth. The embers that still smolder within are not enough to give off true heat, and pins shoot through your legs when you struggle to your feet. It is frigid in here, and you shiver, clutching your thin nightgown tightly around yourself.

You’ve no memory of leaving your bed, nor of kneeling in front of the hearth, and you sniffle as you make your way back beneath the canopy above your bed. There is a familiar ache in your tight throat that feels like you’ve been crying, and when you lift a shaking hand to your cheek.

Your face is wet with tears.

—

Your mother strokes your head as you sob, your tears soaking into her gown.

“I—I fear sleep, I fear waking,” you rasp, wiping at your sore eyes with the back of one trembling hand. “T-there is no respite from them. I close my eyes in one place and open them in another—” A hiccoughing sob cuts the words in half. “Mother I fear I… I fear I shall go mad if I see father again. His face—!” You bury your head in her lap as another round of shuddering sobs wracks your limp body.

It has been years since you have sought your mother’s comfort like this, and in truth you cannot remember the last time it was even offered. She had been surprised to see you at her chamber door at this hour, disheveled and still clad in your nightgown, but she had let you in after you’d tearfully recounted the contents of your dreams.

She strokes your head. “Nightmares, my love. Nothing but terrors spun up by your mind—brought on from stress, no doubt.” Her hand is cool and comforting against your forehead. “I shall have the healer assemble something for you.”

“T-thank you, mother.” You offer her a watery smile.

“Anything for you, my love.” She strokes your cheek affectionately, the bandage wrapped around her index finger rough against your skin. “I do so hate to hear of your suffering, I will do what I can to appease it.” You smile wider, even as you swallow back the inappropriately bitter feeling that says you have been suffering all this time regardless. This was the response you had desired from her all those weeks ago when you’d begged her to send you home—and now, for some reason, it feels… hollow.

“What happened to your finger?” You ask, and she sighs, waving her hand dismissively.

“A hairpin, nothing to worry yourself over.” You dry your eyes, dabbing at them with a handkerchief. Your mother barely acknowledges the timid knock at the door before the chambermaid pokes her head inside.

“Highness? H-His Majesty is here.”

Your mother does not look surprised to hear this. If anything, the corners of her mouth curl up into a sly smile for half an instant before she nods.

“I see. I shall see to him in a moment—” The maid squeals as the King himself pushes past her, his eyes wild.

“Thayet!” He calls your mother’s name with a hoarse, desperate voice. “I have waited over an hour for you—oh.” He seems to note your presence with all of the recognition one would give a fly. His bright, golden eyes are cloudy with confusion—as though he hasn’t the faintest idea who you are, or why you are there. Recognition finally lights in his eyes, and he nods at you.

“Princess. It is… quite late,” he says slowly, as if he is only now realizing that fact himself. “Should you not be abed?” Your face heats with embarrassment.

“Ah, y-yes, my King. I was… troubled.” Your eyes dart between him and your mother. “But mother has allayed my fears.” You gather your shawl about your shoulders, bowing your head respectfully. Of course he would visit her as a husband—that is a fact you suppose you have known since you came to this place, but to catch the King in your mother’s bedchamber was another thing entirely.

The eagerness in his eyes as he looks at her, the way he licks his lips—it reminds you uncomfortably of Geralt, and of the need you see mirrored in his amber eyes. You retreat from the sitting room, though the sound of your mother’s voice makes you glance over your shoulder one last time as the door begins to close.

“I shall send Callista with a sleeping draught,” your mother calls at your retreating back. “For the dreams.”

Your stomach turns uncomfortably as you watch the king latches onto your mother, pulling her close as he trails desperate kisses down her arm. You are too far away to hear the words he growls through his gritted teeth before ripping at the bandage on her thumb and sucking the injured digit into his mouth.

The door closes with a loud bang, leaving you alone in the dark, empty hall.

The peacock, your father whispers in your memory as you shuffle back toward your room in the early hours.

She’ll pluck out your eyes.

to be continued…

Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️

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mikareo · 9 months ago

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౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆ A LOVE LETTER TO: THE LOUVRE ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀呪術廻船; geto suguru x fem reader ⠀ ꒰ . . org. writing repost ꒱ . . . word count; 12.9k

⊹ ⠀⠀ for as long as he can remember, geto's world has been black and white - giving him no reason to appreciate his mother’s profession as an artist and the beauties that art can provide. however, an accidental meeting with you gives him reason to doubt his former beliefs - proving to him that there may be true beauty in a world that’s void of everything bright, that beauty being the sunshine that you provide.

contains; colorblind!geto, painter!reader, geto's mom is reader’s art mentor, he hates art, strangers to friends to lovers, major crushing from both sides, slow burn but also not slow burn, swearing, fluff, reader acts like she’s on an adrenaline rush 24/7, jealousy, angst, explosive arguments, lowkey toxic, extremely inaccurate depictions of colorblindness!!, geto sucks at flirting author's note; repost of a bllk fic i have, titled 'rationalism'. if there are any plot errors pls let me know,, the original fic is still posted, i just wanted this up for jjk too,, enjoy!

Whenever the sun meets its peak at the high dawning point in the sky is when Suguru knows it's a perfectly acceptable time to visit his oh-so-beloved mother. If he could, he would spend every waking moment with her - he’s a momma’s boy through and through - not only because she birthed him and taught him everything he knows, but because she’s kind and good. She’s also one of - scratch that - she’s the only person he can stand to be around for more than twenty four hours - and he takes great pride in having such a wonderful woman in his life.

However, despite how dearly he holds his mother to his heart, the issue with visiting her at this time of day is that she’s in her art studio. A place he loathes more than having to wear wet socks with sneakers. While it’s a beautiful space, with high wooden beams and floor to ceiling windows, he finds himself nauseous at the mere sight of the countless tubes of oil and acrylic paints. It’s not that the smell or colors are distasteful, it’s the fact that no matter how hard he squints and struggles, he cannot fathom what the simple color red looks like.

Complete black and white color blindness isn’t a life threatening condition in the slightest, but for Suguru, it feels as if he’s being stabbed through the sternum at any notion of the changing leaves or colorful streaks of light across the sun-setting sky.

He doesn’t hate his mother for being an artist, he simply hates the art itself.

And he especially hates pieces of art like the one sitting before him, now. With the blobs of squares and triangles against the supposedly white canvas, sitting perky on the easel as if to mock him - he decides to reach his hand out - and remind himself how emotionally detached acrylic paints make him feel. It’s wet, he observes, rubbing his thumb and pointer finger together to mix the possibly different hues. Suguru hopes he didn’t ruin the artist’s painting in any way, he wouldn’t know if he’d accidentally smeared shading or contrasting primaries - but surely the artist could fix it in a jiffy.

“Do you like it?”

Well, that certainly isn’t his mother’s voice.

“I tried using cooler tones in the corner here, and then migrated towards warmth in the lower portion.” You’re beside him now, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with his position, and completely ignoring his personal space - all while he’s never met you before this day. Your finger is extended, pointing towards the artistic decisions you’re elaborating on that, in all honesty, he doesn’t give two shits about. “I’m thinking about sketching some paper cranes on top of it all, I want it to represent the change of seasons.”

“What do you think?”

You’re staring at him now, bright eyes shining with curiosity. Suguru is at a loss for words, mostly due to your unannounced appearance in the studio, but also because you’re possibly the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid his eyes on - which is shocking, considering the sight of thick paint smudged against a person’s face typically sends him running the opposite direction. He’s never felt an immediate connection to the women of his past - however you, a strange girl who resembles a dog waiting for its treat, has his heart beating at twice the rate.

“I like this shape.” Suguru purses his lips into a straight line, never having felt so awkward in his whole life. “This square is nice, too.”

You look utterly unimpressed with his evaluation. Your nose is scrunched in distaste and the fold beneath your right eye seems to be twitching in disapproval for your own artwork. “That’s all that you like?” You step ever so slightly closer to him, chin tilted up to meet his gaze, before retreating quickly and coddling your painting. “Perhaps I overestimated my color palette. I really thought it would be the outstanding moment of this piece, but I guess I could rework it if the shapes are all that matter—”

“Did you touch my painting?”

Oh boy, he’s in for it now.

A nervous laugh leaves his mouth, embarrassing him further as he reaches up to scratch the back of his neck in an attempt to look casual, only for you to grab his wrist out of thin air. “Oh my god, you did!” Your mouth is agape, inspecting his tattered skin in shock - yet somehow he knows that you aren’t truly upset with him - you don't seem like that kind of person. “Did you not realize that you’ve got scarlet red all over your palms?”

Suguru’s mind is blank, his ability to form coherent sentences is gone, and he can only muster up the cheesiest, most terribly dreadful joke that he’s said in the twenty three years he’s been alive.

“I guess you caught me red handed?”

There’s a moment of silence, with the two of you displaying the most aloof expressions either of you have ever made, until your face lights up with laughter. He doesn’t understand what could possibly be so funny - his joke was awful - but the sound of your contagious fits of giggles make his heart feel a little bit warmer in a place that he commonly feels suffocated in. For the first time, the studio gives him a sense of comfort rather than distress - and he knows it's because he’s developing a very clear crush on the pretty girl beside him.

You’re hysterical, resembling that of insanity while Suguru is simply stuck in time. He can’t tell if he should be steadying you before you trip over your own feet or if he should simply take his leave and forget this day ever happened.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” he begins, watching you wipe a tear of laughter from the crinkle of your right eye, “but why are you here? Do you have an appointment, because I could’ve sworn there weren’t any other people that were allowed in the studio at this hour—”

“Oh, I do know you!” The volume of your voice just seems to get louder and louder. “You must be Miss Geto’s son! She always mentions how lovely her little boy is, I can’t believe I’m finally meeting you! Though, I expected you to be like six or seven, not my age. She should’ve mentioned that you were handsome, not cute - she really chose every adjective other than the ones that wouldn’t make you sound like a primary schooler.”

Does she ever stop talking? Suguru doesn’t think he’s ever heard another person ramble on-and-on like you do. Normally he’d have ended the conversation by now, walked away without a second thought of whether he acted rude or not, but he knows that his mother would strangle him if he was to blatantly disregard her current favorite student. The student that she loves telling him stories about at the dinner table every Sunday night as he’s just trying to eat his fingerling potatoes in peace.

The same student who he’s somehow enjoying talking to - though it’s mostly just you talking to his blank face - and is causing a soft yellow blush to form on his cheeks. He doesn’t actually know if yellow is the color related to blushing, but he thinks he’s read it somewhere before.

“Anyways, to answer your question—”

Suguru feels like he’d asked you hours ago.

“—I’d walked all the way to the train station and realized I’d forgotten my wallet here - which is strange because normally I never forget anything. I’m a very organized person—”

Yeah, he doesn’t believe that.

“—and then I had to run all the way back here—”

Your shoes are scuffed. You definitely tripped on the way.

“—where I accidentally ran into a stroller…poor baby—”

Yep. Tripped.

“—which led me to you!”

You’re smiling now and Suguru doesn’t think he’s seen so many teeth shining at him in all of his life. God, do you ever run out of energy? No matter, he knows exactly where your missing item is. The anonymous wallet had been the first thing his eyes had grazed over when striding towards your artwork - good thing it’s only an arm’s reach away.

He snatches the wallet from the art easel and is pleasantly surprised by the quality of the possibly monochromatic leather. The clasp is simple, requiring just one twist before the contents of your identity are laid out before him. “Well, it’s nice to meet you,” Suguru recites the name written on your license and holds the items out to you, to which you reach out, eager to reunite with your belongings. However, at the last second he waves it in the air - away from your dying fingertips - and clicks his tongue two times. “Try not to lose it again. It’s a luxury brand, isn’t it? I like the black color.”

“Black?” Shit. The tilt of confusion your head makes indicates that your wallet is not, in fact, black. “I’m either stupid or color blind, but this is red.”

Before Suguru can respond, he’s saved by the bell. Well, technically his savior isn’t an actual bell, but you get the gist. “Miss Geto!” Thank god she’s finally here to distract you. He’s been fighting to maintain his pride throughout your entire interaction. “I made an extra trip to the studio and ran into your son, here! You weren’t lying when you said he’s a little quiet - honestly, I feel like I’ve been talking to myself this whole time.”

You quite literally have been doing that very thing for the past ten minutes.

“Oh, Suguru! Have you been acting rude?” His mother’s expression is tense, stricter than the time he ‘accidentally’ took her (grey?) Kia Soul on a joyride that one weekend he and Satoru decided to go on a midnight run to the department store. “Please don’t mind him at all, dear. You see, he doesn’t exactly get out much - his social skills might be a little underdeveloped.”

She can’t actually be saying this right now. This is exactly why he hasn’t had a girlfriend in months - his mother embarrasses him in front of every pretty girl they come across in the first two minutes of saying ‘hello’. It isn’t that Suguru is a terrible flirt - which he is, but he likes to deny it - it’s that he loves his mother so much that he can’t bear to tell her that her attempts at ‘hooking him up’ are always bound to fail.

However, you don’t appear to be phased by her words. If anything, you’re actually pleased by the sound of him being socially impaired.

“That’s actually perfect!”

What.

The.

Fuck?

“He can be my portrait model!” You’re still talking. Please, for the love of God, stop talking. “You know how I’ve been trying to become better skilled in the emotional aspect of my paintings, he could definitely help me out by showing anxiety and embarrassment - and you’ve been telling me it’s about time that I found myself a model.”

The endless trail of words that continue to string from your mouth seem to reach their end. Rather than speaking in spitfire, you’re now crazily staring at Suguru, himself. Both of your fists are clenched together in a pleading hold and he doesn’t think that you’ve blinked since the start of your conversational rampage - but despite the absurdity of your proclamation, he believes you have good intentions. There really is no reason to deny the request - after all, he’d be helping out his mother in the process, she does love having successful students - but he just can’t imagine himself spending any more time in the dreadfully grey studio than he already does.

“I don’t think that would be a very good idea.” His mother catches your words before he has a chance to give you his own oral letter of rejection. “Suguru’s never been one for art.”

“Oh.”

All you have to say is ‘oh’?

“I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” you continue. The expression on your face is suddenly stern. Has he offended you in some way by saying no? “I’ll figure something else out, Miss Geto. I apologize if I overstepped.”

You’re bowing your head before him now, and Suguru is shell shocked. His first impression of you was undoubtedly a dud, considering how you actually do seem to have a rational bone in your body despite the hyperactivity you displayed just moments before. While he’s mustering up a response, you lift your eyes - lashes fluttering like upwards brush strokes on a canvas - and send a small smile his way. It’s as if you’re silently apologizing to him for the undivided attention you tormented him with, but he doesn’t want you to apologize.

He just doesn’t know how to say that he actually liked your personality.

God, he’s so bad at flirting.

“Thanks for finding my wallet, though.” Your fingers are suddenly touching his, momentarily grazing against his skin as you pluck your wallet from his hands. There’s no chance that you haven’t noticed the rising heat that’s currently warming the blossoms of his cheeks, and he hopes that you find it endearing. While he isn’t great with words, he likes to think that he may be at least a little bit cute. His mother always calls him a ‘cutie’ - which he appreciates, but it’s also so degrading for someone of his age. “Maybe I’ll be forgetful more often, now.”

He hopes you’ll start being more forgetful, too.

You’ve left your entire bag this time.

He can’t tell if you’re trying to be subtle and coy with the budding feelings that’re growing between the two of you, and you’re just as awful at flirting as he is - or if you’ve just given up on leaving small signs of attraction. Honestly, in the past few weeks of you leaving paintbrushes and lanyards in the studio, he’d assumed it was all naturally an accident. This, though? How do you expect him to believe that you left your entire satchel in the studio? Sure, you can be a little dense, but not that dense.

It’s obvious that you’ve begun to lose track of your belongings for the simple reason that you enjoy partaking in the awkward exchange of items when you ‘hastily’ return to the empty renovated greenhouse and get to act surprised to see him standing there with his arms full of things with your name written all over them. In fact, this instance has happened so often that Suguru is beginning to believe that he actually enjoys it, too.

Sometimes he thinks that maybe you should just write your name on him to speed up this dreadful ‘will they, won’t they’ process that you’ve been pacing together.

He likes you. He really really likes you, and you both know it.

You’d picked up on his feelings from the second time you met - when he willingly stayed behind in the studio for an extra two hours just to hear you ramble about the difference between heavy and soft body acrylic paints. There was something about the way you grinned at him. How your chin would angle upwards to his height in order to have a proper conversation. How you weren’t afraid to say anything and everything that was on your sporadic mind. How your eyes would sparkle at the dedicated eye contact he was making - letting you know that he was hanging on to every word that left your lips (which he just recently found out are pink - and boy does he wish to know what that undoubtedly lovely color looks like against your skin).

He hates to compare you to a painting - which he still finds a positively dreadful blob of nothingness - but to him, you are one. You’re a captivating piece of art hanging on the walls of the nationally acclaimed museum in his mind.

A captivating piece of art whose art of subtlety is extremely lacking, considering that your phone number is quite literally painted on the largest white canvas your easel can hold, in bold lettering that he would have to be visually blind to miss, plastered behind the hiding place of your bag.

‘P.S. It's written in red paint. I know you have a thing for red.”

As much as he likes you, you can be such a pain in his ass. The bane of his existence, if you will.

It pains him to notice how he hadn’t thought twice about typing the digits into his text bar, smiling to himself at the sight of your make-shift contact with the horrid selfie you’d taken on his phone to be your future contact picture. Your hair is an utter mess, with flecks of paint scattered across your hairline - which, to be honest, look like dandruff to him with their lack of vivid color, but he told you that they resemble snowflakes. He lied - but what you don’t know doesn’t hurt you.

Without hesitating, he types a singular ‘hey’ before backtracking. What if you don’t know that it’s him texting you? What if you think that it’s a random stranger who just so happened to be in the art studio and thought to add your contact information to their phone? He better be more clear.

‘Hello. You know me.’

Perfect.

In less than a split second, you respond. He can feel his nerves itching at the sight of the grey text bubble popping in and out of view. Suguru can’t even remember the last time his heart beat so fast. Perhaps when he was standing in front of his secondary school health classroom and he accidentally mistook a photo of the urinary system with the ovaries during a speech about the female menstrual cycle? The stream of liquid projected against the white board was in fact not what he thought it was (how was he supposed to see the difference between red and yellow?), which turned into a horribly disgusting presentation that Satoru still bothers him about to this day. That was dreadful - but this is definitely equally as dreadful, if not more.

‘Stalker much?’ Huh? ‘Hi though, Suguru. That text was very…you.’

‘You added my number pretty quickly.’ Man, you text really fast. ‘You just couldn’t resist me, could you?’

He doesn’t know what to say back. It’s as if his mind has been scraped raw of all romantic material that one would usually use in this situation - the situation in which an unbelievably pretty girl is talking to him through a phone screen. Suguru is completely frozen in place, time, and thought. The only part of him that isn’t paralyzed is the hole in his chest that is beginning to be thawed by you. His frozen heart of past relationships has found its fire - and oh does it burn for you.

“Cat got your tongue?”

Where the fuck did you come from?

Swiveling on his heel, he turns to face your approaching figure. Your footsteps are lighter than air, likely being the reason as to how you managed to stealthily sneak in so quietly while he had been distracted with his phone. The light denim jeans that cover you from waist to ankles are perhaps his favorite pair you own. You’ve painted on them over time, sketching out a garden of patterns that don’t require color to appreciate. Your artistic ability is uncanny - he can’t deny the fact that you’re incredibly skilled - and he believes that you should be given an award for making ‘art’s number one hater’ a growing fan.

“You left your bag.” No shit, Captain Obvious. “Do you want it back?”

He’s so bad at this.

You skip towards him, your left foot following your right in a rhythm of peppiness, and lean up towards him with a shine in your eyes. God, you look so pretty. Sure, seeing you from a comfortable distance with an easel separating your bodies was nice and all, but when you pull stunts like this - with no room for him to scurry off and run - he actually takes the time to digest your features in their true beauty. You’re the artist, yet he seems to be the one who’s always studying you.

“Do you have any plans for today?” You ask in a curious tone. Your hands are held together behind your back as you send him a beaming grin with an upturned lip. “—because I was thinking about grabbing some tea, and it would be so unfortunate if I had to go all alone and sit by myself with all of those strangers around me. Who knows what could happen? If only there were someone who could protect me in case a sleazy guy asks for my number…”

Are you trying to manipulate him, right now?

“I’ve got nothing to do today.”

—because he’ll gladly let you do so.

The peaks of your eyebrows raise in surprise, not expecting him to accept the offer so quickly. Over the short time you’ve known one another, you’ve noticed that Suguru’s reluctance to spend one-on-one time with you has dwindled. He’s slowly becoming more comfortable in your presence and whatever inner turmoil that he’s facing is fading into the tide of your raging tsunami. There’s a peaceful gaze behind his brown eyes, now. One that you love to study whenever he isn’t looking your way (which isn’t often).

“Then it’s a date!” Surging forwards, you take his arm in yours and link yourselves together. He’s initially shocked by the immediate physical connection you’ve managed to make within mere seconds, but he thinks that he likes it. It’s been so long since he’s even held hands with a girl, so he’s understandably tense, but you’re giving him time to adjust. After all, scaring him away would be your last intention. “I’ll even pay for your drink, since you were kind enough to find my lost satchel.”

“Yeah, your lost satchel was so hard to find.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He smiles to himself.

Yes, you do.

He isn’t sure how, but he’s somehow burned his tongue again.

“Shit!” Suguru hurriedly places his mug down onto the circular wooden table that separates the two of you, while attempting to be gentle since he doesn’t want to waste the perfectly tasty coffee that you paid for. He groans, dabbing the corners of his lips with one of the complimentary paper napkins. “Why does it get me every time?”

This is perhaps the third week in a row that you and him have ditched the studio and decided to claim the neighboring cafe as your designated date spot - though you’re still an unofficially exclusive couple. Unofficial as in Suguru hasn’t found the nerves to ask you to be his girlfriend, and exclusive as in neither of you are nor want to see other people. It’s a confusing situation for both parties to be in, but he just can’t seem to take that next step with you no matter how hard he tries to push himself towards the ideal solution.

Suguru is a rationalist. He takes in the information given to him through interactions and associations, working through it with logistics on his mind, and tries to find the best outcome. It’s how he’s lived every hour and every day of his adulthood, and he’s fairly set in stone with his mannerisms at this point. He always known who he is, what he wants, and how to obtain those things. What he didn’t know, though, was that an unpredictable variable (you) would crash into his life and disarray the routine that he’d been building for twenty-three years.

The hypothesis born of the situation isn’t a difficult one to solve, after all he’s had it written down for a month: if Suguru finds the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend, then you’ll likely say yes and the two of you will live happily ever after. Easy, right?

Wrong. He’s a chicken.

“Here. This might help you cool down.”

Your arm is extended, offering him your drink of the day without hesitation. Every time you come here, arm-in-arm, you order something different. ‘There’s no fun without surprise’, is what you tell him after the consistent strange glances he sends your way when you’re ordering, and he can’t help but disagree. You’re very different individuals - and that difference is extremely apparent with the light, mint garnished tea in your glass compared to the dark roast coffee in his.

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver.” He sighs in relief as the cool liquid flows down his throat in an internal waterfall. “Holy shit, this is actually so good.”

You laugh, “I would hope so. I only got it because of the photo on the menu. It’s like a rainbow of color.”

And there it is. The thing that isolates him the most from your world.

As much as he likes you, which is more than he can explain, he can’t help but have that itching thought at the back of his mind that you’ll never truly be able to connect with one another. You bask in the beauty of the world around you. From the apparent golden sun showers and bouquets of stark red roses - two things that you’ve described to him in great detail amidst your walks through the farmer’s market on Saturday mornings - to the countless brush strokes against the white canvas at his mother’s studio, you adore a world in color.

It’s a viewpoint that’s shaped who you are, from infantry to your current age of twenty-two, and it’s something that you’ll never be able to let go of.

To be quite frank, it scares him. It keeps him up at night knowing that seeing the world through your eyes is impossible. That it’s a far off dream that is unobtainable, taunting him in his mind and heart like a bone dangling in front of a dog’s face. He wishes that he could admire the blue streaked skies and emerald green ferns that line the streets of the city. He yearns to feel overcome with pride at the sight of your watercolor drafts - which you attempt to show him after every class session to no avail - and congratulate you on the progress you’re making. There are so many things that he dreams of doing with you, dreams that exist solely in your world, as they’ll never be possible in his.

He hasn’t officially asked you to be his yet, because how could he?

How could he bind you to him? You’d be miserable looking through his eyes - having to see only hues of black, white, and grey, similar to the pencil sketches that you’ve openly shown your hatred for in front of him. ‘There’s just nothing there,’ is what you mumble to yourself. ‘No life, no anything without color.’ To which you then drop a single ounce of paint against the seemingly dreadful piece of art - and the sparkle in your eyes as it comes to life is something that he loves to see but can’t understand…

…as you see the world in a way that he can never understand.

Suguru doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to tell you about his condition. It would end everything all at once, and he isn’t sure how he would recover from that kind of heartbreak. You’re so blissfully unaware of how much conflict runs through his veins on a daily basis. Hell, you don’t even notice how he orders a singular black coffee every time you approach the counter together. You don’t see how he struggles to agree with you as you admire the assortment of blended beverages with a forced smile on his face. You don’t understand why he chooses to indulge in such a bitter drink and make sure to comment on it every single time.

He can’t blame you, though - it really is disgusting - but he also can’t tell you that he orders his coffee black since it’s a universal drink that appears the same to everyone who sees it. At least when he’s holding the steaming mug between his large palms, he knows that it appears to you as it does to him. That the divide that’s ripping a ravine through your connected hands is lessened in a sense - and you’re truly viewing one thing as the same.

Which is why he sits pretty and appreciates the short time that you do spend together, and suffers through piping hot coffee three times a week with no interruptions.

“I think I’ve made some progress on my portfolio.”

Your drink has been returned to your hands now. The small, clear glass is ringing as you tap the sides with your fingernails. It’s somewhat soothing, the rhythm following the tune of one of your favorite songs that Suguru happens to know very well after walking in on you in the middle of ‘art therapy’, in which you blast the music at full volume and deafen all other sounds. You have a tendency to be impatient - art being the only thing that can really pin you down for a long period of time - yet you’ve made room in your heart for Suguru despite this.

“Really?” Suguru dabs his mouth carefully, being ever the proper suitor in your presence. “My mom hasn’t given you any recent critiques?”

“No, she has.” As your words continue, you take a long sip of your tea. He can feel his cheeks flush while you swallow. He loves anything you do. “Just little comments about negative space and color theory, but I’m getting there.”

“Nice.”

He doesn’t know how to respond to that.

“Yeah, nice.”

Despite his seemingly rude reaction, you’re still gazing at him with a smile on your face. It isn’t an exceedingly joyful smile or one of excitement, but something of contentedness. You’ve become comfortable around him - shedded the hyperactive layers of skin that you display to onlooking strangers - and have begun to share the side of yourself that only your bedroom walls know. Seeing this side of you has made him fall even harder. Knowing that someone so confident, so bold, is just like him - caring so much about first impressions and likeability - and has their own insecurities is validating. Validating in the sense that you find him special enough to throw away the filter and be your true self in his presence.

“You know,” you begin in a wistful tone, “you aren’t a man of many words, Suguru - and if I’m being totally honest, my patience is running out.”

He hopes this isn’t going where he thinks it is.

He’s not letting you ask him out before he can—

“What am I to you?”

Oh.

Your eyes are giving him an expectant look, now.

What the hell is he supposed to say to that?

This is the quietest you’ve ever been, you aren’t even swirling the star-shaped ice cubes in your strawberry lemon tea.

Why can’t he think of anything to say?

His silence is causing you to furrow your eyebrows in concern.

This is so embarrassing. Just say something. Anything.

“You’re my mom’s student.”

Anything but that.

“I’m…” the words at the tip of your tongue seem to dissolve like damp sugar cubes, “I’m your mom’s student.”

Your sentence is more of a statement than a question. It’s as if there’s a machine in your brain, working through his given answer and comparing all of the other possibilities he could’ve said. There were endless responses to your inquiry, and he somehow managed to pick the worst one.

He needs to fix this. How can he fix this?

“You’re not just a student, though.” His words are tumbling over one another in somersaults and you seem to perk up at his continuity. The hope in your heart grows a little bit larger, pulsating and yearning for him to say exactly what you’d been wanting for weeks-on-weeks. “You’re my mom’s special student.”

Oh God, he made it worse.

“What?” Suguru tries to reach for your hand in an attempt to compensate for his actions through physical touch, but you retaliate and instinctively jerk away. You quickly stand, drink in hand, and back away from him as he follows like a lost puppy. Your head is shaking from right to left, disbelief exerting from the pores of your skin like poison - sentencing him with death while it seeps through his gaping mouth and empty palms. “I’m a special student?”

How the hell are you so fast?

Within seconds the two of you are at odds outside of the building. The weather is somewhat chilly - springtime having just come around with the cherry blossoms in full bloom - and it’s probably a beautiful day with the petals raining down on the pavement. You’d usually make a comment about how wonderful the horticulture was outside of the shop, but now you’re stomping over every fallen flower and budding stem that lies in the way of your rage-filled path. He’d always thought of you as a gentle soul, but apparently even gentle souls have their breaking points - and he never dreamed that he’d be yours.

“If I’m so special, what makes me different from the girl before me and the one before her?” This is the first time you’ve ever raised your voice at him. “Did you take all of them out for drinks? Did they all get to spend one-on-one time with their mentor’s ‘handsome’ son? Did you lead all of them on, too? Suguru, what kind of answer is that?”

You’ve found yourselves in an alcove now - about a block from the cafe in a small garden nestled between two buildings. The blossoming trees continue to surround you from all sides, perfectly framing the tragic picture of him saying anything and everything you absolutely do not want to hear. A large sigh leaves your lips, heaving from your chest as if he’s popped a balloon and is pushing all of the air out with the strength of his smooth hands.

“That’s not what I meant!” He pauses as you halt in place, slowly turning to face him like you're something out of a horror movie - a monster who’s ready to murder their prey. A gulp runs down his Adam’s apple. You’re terrifying when upset. “Please, just let me explain!”

“Explain what?” Suguru flinches at your volume. “If you want to explain yourself so badly then tell me why the hell would you say something like that?”

“Sure, you aren’t the best with banter or having a crush - but dear God, you cannot possibly be that dense.” This is getting bad. “I’ve left hundreds of hints! Every single goddamn day - and you’ve picked up on all of them! You know, I thought that when you’d hold my hand or kiss my cheek that you actually meant something by it. I figured ‘he spends so much time with me, he can’t possibly not like me’, but no. I’m just a student.”

Your face is fuming with every dreadful word that comes out of your mouth. “Oh, sorry. I’m a special student.”

If this were a scene in an animated film, your hair would be on fire now. Flames as high as mountain tops would be spiking in sharp peaks at every end of sentence and statement spitting from your mouth. Your normally warm irises would be drawn as ice cold, not leaving any room for life as they skate across his timid features - wishing for him to reach freezing level so you could smash him into a million pieces.

You’d always told him that red and blue - fire and ice - were two things that you admired most. With their ever changing states of matter and forceful power amidst the seasons, he found himself believing as you do. Suguru actually learned to appreciate their vast palette as if he could see it with his own eyes - but now? Now he thinks that they’re the two worst things in the universe - as their destructive nature has decided that their target is him, and he has absolutely no defenses prepared.

“I should’ve caught on sooner, shouldn’t I have?” You’re still going, hot tears building up and threatening to stream down your cheeks. Never in his life has Suguru been at the receiving end of such anger - and never in his life has he learned how to manage a situation as such. So, he does what any clueless man would do - he returns the anger.

“You’re not even listening to me!” His hands are violently moving while his words cut like knives. “You never listen to me!”

“I never listen to you?” He’s apparently hit another nerve. “Is that some kind of sick joke? Suguru, all I do is listen to you! It may not look like it, but I see the way you tense whenever I talk about my passions and dreams. I notice the way your face drains when I’m asking you for your opinion on my works in progress. Sometimes it’s like I can physically hear your eyes rolling when they see me walk into the studio with my bag of brushes and materials. Yet, you think that I don’t listen? I take note of every single thing that you do when you’re around me, because I don’t want to miss out on a single moment with you, and you don’t even care!”

He can’t believe that you’re pinning this on him.

“How could you even say that?” Suguru can’t tell who’s in the right or wrong anymore - all he knows is that if he doesn’t stop speaking, you’ll walk away forever. “I’ve never cared about anyone as much as you! I’ve done my best to entertain your interests and the absurd things you ask of me—”

“Well, your best hasn’t been enough.”

You’ve got to be fucking kidding.

“Are you being serious, right now?”

Your eyes are stoney, rock solid with stubbornness as you refuse to accept his side of the story and he knows that you won’t be budging from the beliefs that you’re choosing to hold against him. Suguru doesn’t know how everything went so wrong so fast, but he does know that he doesn’t have what it takes to save the situationship that he mistakenly put the two of you in.

“What the fuck did I do wrong that you resent me this much? Not even an hour ago all you wanted was to see me get down on one knee and profess my ‘undying’ love for you.” He’s so angry. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this angry. “Now I’m some asshole who doesn’t give a shit about your wellbeing? If everything I’ve done hasn’t been enough, then I might as well go fuck myself, right? I’m sorry I’m not perfect like you! I’m sorry I can’t see the world through crystal lenses like you! I’m sorry that I’m not good enough for you!”

His face feels wet. When did he start to cry? Was it ten minutes ago? Five? Just now? The hurricane of emotions that he’s putting himself through is more than he’s endured in years - his mental blockage of his condition finally coming to light as his heart runs off of the rails - and you’ve definitely seemed to notice considering the concern etched into your expression.

“I was never going to be perfect for you,” he begins with a softer tone. Perhaps his hot bundle of rage has subsided for a few moments. “I can’t be with you. I can’t understand how you see the world. I couldn’t spend the rest of my life listening to you ask me all of these questions and opinions on your work when I can’t even see it fully.”

You’re so close to him. Somewhere in the flurry of words, you took a step in his direction. “Suguru, what’re you talking about?”

As he bites his bottom lip with the fear of judgment raging in his mind, his secret is set free.

“I’ve always liked this shirt on you,” he solemnly smiles, “This shade’s my favorite color that you wear.”

You look up at him, pulling at the fabric against your chest in confusion. “Red?”

“Grey.”

He’s laughing lightly, making up for the thoughtful silence that you’ve found yourself in. It’s like he can physically see the gears turning in your head as they attempt to make sense out of his statement. “It’s more of a rich grey - almost black - and it compliments your skin tone. You know, my mom used to tell me that the way to a woman’s heart is through compliments. I’ve always tried my best to do that, but it clearly hasn’t been working.”

His hands somehow find yours as he shares the inevitable truth he’d been hiding so hard - and with a deep gulp, his secret is finally exposed.

“After all, how could I ever reach someone’s heart without even knowing what color their eyes are?”

He misses you. He can’t help it, but he does.

The memories he has with you are a cassette tape on autoplay - constantly running through his mind on repeat, and always ending with the awful confrontation that you’d left each other with. Suguru wishes he hadn’t raised his voice. He wishes that he would’ve been honest with you from the very beginning, but he hadn’t, and there’s no changing the past. All he has now are two empty hands that would much rather be interlaced with your paint-covered fingers.

“How much longer do you think you’re going to be moping?” Satoru’s call is distant from the turning gears within Suguru’s brain. He’s sure that his best friend has grown tired of his constant state of melancholy - having been forced to be his support system after you walked out the door - and Suguru feels awful about it. If he could, he’d rip his heart from his chest and allow you to step on it. To stomp and tear through the organs just as you’d done to those poor bystanding cherry blossoms on the sidewalk.

“As long as she’s still upset with me.” He groans as his forehead hits the marble of the island counter. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Yeah, well we already knew that.” The bright-eyed man beside him scoffs while taking yet another drink of his apple juice - which he has unfortunately had to drink for the past hour and a half since Suguru had somehow consumed his small supply of alcohol within the past few weeks that the two of you hadn’t been speaking. “I was really rooting for you, man. I thought she was the one to break your cycle.”

“Cycle?”

What the hell does he mean by ‘cycle’?

“Oh, you know,” Satoru continues without even taking a breath, “The cycle of life you’ve got going on with your inability to actually attract girls.”

Suguru hates him.

“You’re so funny.” He grumbles, taking his own swig of the pint of orange juice he found in the back of his fridge. Is it expired? Likely yes. Does Suguru care, at all? Definitely not. Is he even more pissed off that he doesn’t understand the irony of why it’s called orange juice? He doesn’t want to answer that question. “An unhelpful funny guy who should definitely stay over and cook dinner for me since he wants to make up for being so unhelpful.”

Satoru scoffs, shaking his head whilst the thin, soft strands of his hair flit back and forth. His right eyebrow raises in a mocking expression, “You need to get yourself back out there, man. You’ll be old and grey if you keep waiting for the perfect girl to come knocking on your door, so just talk to her. Just talk to her and put me out of my misery.”

“Are you trying to make this about you, right now?” Suguru stares at his best friend in utter disbelief, but he’s not truly upset. He knows that Satoru holds good wishes for him in all manners of life - this being no exception - and takes his words to heart. He’s right. Of course, he’s going to lose you if he doesn’t even try to get you back. “The sun must be falling out of the sky because I’m actually considering following your advice.”

“That’s a pretty picture to imagine,” his friend chuckles, causing Suguru to roll his eyes. What’s the sensation that everyone has with mentioning imagery every five seconds? “Just talk to her, man.” Satoru continues, “Please, I’m all out of advice.”

Suguru takes his friend’s pleas to heart. It is quite ridiculous that he’s spending his time depressed and lonesome when he could be reconciling with you. Perhaps it’s his fragile masculinity acting out and refusing to take blame for the situation, although he’s fully aware it’s completely his fault that you’re upset with him.

It’s difficult for the gears to begin turning in Suguru’s head. They’re covered in brittle rust that’s been creeping deep into the crevices of his mind for his entire life - slithering down his spine towards his blackened heart that you had only just begun to breathe life into. He misses the feeling of spring that came when you called. The freshwater rain of your laughter and budding blossoms of your smile that washed away his loneliness and replaced the awful emotion with an overgrown garden of bliss. He still doesn’t understand how he managed to mow that garden down with one sentence. He might as well have taken a chainsaw and brutally hacked into every connection that he’d managed to make with you in your time of knowing each other.

Now he’s going to be on his knees begging for forgiveness with his hands stained by the minced grass. Does grass stain green or yellow? Hopefully not brown, dear lord. He’ll be buried deep into apologies that should definitely be rehearsed, but he knows he’s not an artist with words and he won’t bother to waste your time with crumpled-up ‘I’m sorry’ notes and improvised tears.

You deserve nothing but the best - so much more than he’s been giving you and he needs you to hear those words come straight from his mouth.

When did you begin to mean so much to him? Suguru doesn’t even know.

It could’ve been when you showed up to his community soccer game unannounced, with first row seats and a booming cheer that he never knew he desired. ‘C’mon number ten! I know you can do better than that! Beat their asses, Suguru!’ He nearly tripped at the sound of your voice, and falling on his face was the last thing he wanted to do in front of the opposing team - but to be completely honest, he doesn’t remember much of his qualms with his rivals from that day. Suguru was solely focused on playing well for you. The world stopped and he was given all the time needed to impress you. You give him a reason to be better, a selfless reason to do good.

Perhaps it was when you’d shown him around your homey apartment, with maple art easels and splattered canvases lining the walls, and watched with glee as he made his best attempt at a finger painting (which may or may not have ended up looking like two worms kissing). ‘It’s abstract’, you’d say every time he found something new that was wrong with the art piece, ‘All it needs is a home. See?’ You hung his shitty little sketchbook paper on your living room wall, right next to your TV for the whole world to see. The way you stood there staring in awe still rattles his brain. You’ve always been able to find beauty in even the smallest things.

Or maybe his heart had begun to beat a little faster that Saturday night on the way out of the theater. The romance of the film the two of you just witnessed was still on Suguru’s mind, provoking his alcohol-induced body to make a pathetic attempt at holding your hand - which resulted in him accidentally knocking you over into a street puddle that swallowed the heel of your shoe. ‘I needed to take a shower anyway, Suguru, it’s fine!’ Your smile continued to be bright despite the low temperature and sprinkling rain, and he can recall wondering how you managed to stay so positive in such a dreary situation. As you discarded your soggy heels into a nearby trashcan and skipped barefoot on the pavement, you called, ‘Come on! Dance with me!’ The shared laughter between the two of you echoed through the seemingly empty streets that surrounded you - hands connected as you swung in circles around each other and fell over one too many times, until he carried your sleeping body home. He doesn’t think anyone’s ever been able to make him laugh as hard.

The way the corners of your eyes crinkle amidst fits of giggles is his favorite image to replay. He doesn’t need to know the color to be able to see how beautiful they are - to appreciate the blinding sparkle that overwhelms your irises when he accidentally trips over the uneven sidewalk or knocks over your painting station - or even when he unintentionally makes a sexual innuendo that you just so happen to pick up on. ‘That’s a love hotel, Suguru! Why would I have stayed there before?’ It was almost as if you were conducting a symphony of glorious laughter that night. The violins played the tune of your voice in a higher octave and the cellos added a punch everytime you’d bite your lip in an attempt to calm down. He hadn’t known what a love hotel was intended for before that night, but he’d also made the mistake to say, ‘I wouldn’t mind going to my first one with you, it could be a first for both of us.’ and you still haven’t let him live it down. Suguru’s honest with himself for the most part. He’s awkward, insufferable, and a bore to be around - yet, for some odd and unknown reason, those are your favorite things about him. Why?

Why is it that he can’t function like a normal person when your eyes meet his?

Why do his words rearrange themselves and become complete gibberish when he attempts to woo you with his charm?

What is it that keeps him coming back to you, despite holding such deep hatred for the things that you love most?

“I need to text her.” Suguru feels his chest vibrate as he finally makes a decision, the words pouring from his mouth in a short word vomit - forcing Satoru to piece together the jumbled mess and attempt to comprehend whatever it was that his big brother was trying to say, to which he jumps up from his seat at the island and aggressively pats Suguru on the back.

“That’s what I’ve been saying, dumbass! Get those fingers movin’!”

His phone falls into his hands in a millisecond, with Satoru eagerly awaiting to hear his poetry. He’s grateful to have such a supportive friend. Suguru knows that there aren’t many people who would be willing to put up with him for so long - having been moping around and complaining day-and-night of relationship problems that were solely caused by him - and he can’t imagine not having his support. Hopefully he’ll be able to introduce you, one day. You’ll both give him so much shit for his attitude. Oh well. It’ll all be worth it having two people he loves get along.

…

Did he just…

What did—

There’s no way.

Did he really just use that word? That godforsaken word?

He’s trembling. Suguru’s phone is shaking in his hands as he finally comes to the realization that he does, with his entire heart and being, love you. In an instant, his entire world scrambles together with rapid dashes and line art that he can’t even comprehend. There’s no rules to follow with these types of feelings - this insistent need to see you. Hold you. Kiss you.

Fuck, he wants to kiss you. He can’t think of anything else he’d rather be doing.

Like tapping raindrops that never cease their fall, his fingertips move against the keypad in a rhythmic motion - singing a song of love that can’t be contained into a simple lullaby. His heart pours out into the message, apology after apology being pasted in paragraphs, and hopes with his whole soul that you’ll find it in yourself to at least see him in person. There’s no way you won’t. Suguru knows you well enough now that he’s certain he’ll be seeing you again. All he needed to do was take the first step towards forgiveness, and he’s finally willing to be vulnerable and own up to his inability to be honest about his feelings, because he loves you. He loves you and he wants to tell you a hundred times, a thousand times, and a million times until you beg him to shut the hell up and kiss you.

‘I’ll be at the studio tonight. I miss you, and I’m sorry.’

He ends the message with a final apology, begging fate that you’ll read it in time to meet him while he still has courage - and with that, he’s on his way to the place he hates most, awaiting the person whom he loves most.

An hour has passed - well technically it’s been fifty-seven minutes, but who’s counting?

He’s counting.

The sun went into hiding ages ago and the moon now stalks him as he sits in his chair, lonely with two vacant eyes that wish they were gazing at yours. Suguru can’t even tell if you’ve read the text or not - the grey speech bubbles look the same as they always have, and the delivered sign is posted at the bottom with no response. He wants to send a follow-up message, just a little ‘hey, you there?’ but he knows that’s a little bit much. If you want to see him, you’ll see him and he’ll confess his feelings once-and-for-all - though, he’s feeling much less confident than he was an hour ago. Ahem, sorry. Fifty-nine minutes ago.

Suguru has a plan of what he’s going to say to you, and hopefully it makes sense when the words begin to fall from his lips. He’s said it many times before, but he’ll say it again, he’s never been good with words or feelings or anything of the sort. He wants to get better, though - to become more emotionally aware for your sake, because he knows that’s a priority for you. You have an image of your dream guy that’s been in your wishes since primary school - tall, handsome, daring, dashing, yada, yada, yada - and he’s trying to be that guy. He needs to be that guy. He’ll be anything for you.

Anything and everything…even the desperate guy who can’t get a text back.

Y’know, for a moment - a brief and fleeting moment - the world seemed a little more beautiful in his self-realization of love. The stars glistened brighter and the street lights sparkled in their reflections. Before tonight, Suguru hasn’t ever been able to appreciate the natural beauty of what surrounded him. He never understood your fascination with replicating real life into paintings and sketches, but he seems to have digested the concept - at least a little bit. The only thing that could undoubtedly make his world more dazzling would be the sight of you, and holy shit there you are. There you are opening the front door - and your gorgeous, perfect reflection in the glass is looking straight at him.

He doesn’t need the ability to see color to know that you’re the most fascinating and jaw-dropping sight in the entire universe - and that the rainbow should be rearranged in the letters of your name in honor of your ability to captivate attention and inflict a multitude of emotions on him that he’s never felt before.

“Suguru?” Your melodious voice is the remedy that his ears have been yearning for. “Suguru, is that you? Why’re you in the dark?”

This means you haven’t read his text, right? Otherwise, why would you be confused as to why he’s here? Wait, why’re you even here?

You begin to explain yourself without him needing to ask, “I left my phone in here earlier like an idiot and I’ve been looking for it all day. Isn’t that so dumb?” You let out a little laugh, amused at your inability to keep track of your personal belongings. Why aren’t you acting like you’re upset with him? The last time you talked, you could barely look him in the eye - yet now, you’re so casual, almost as if nothing happened. “Here I am looking for my lost phone, but instead I find a lost Suguru Geto.”

“What are you doing here? Sitting in the dark?”

The repeated question is met with a pregnant silence as Suguru fails to piece together the rehearsed words he had come up with earlier, settling on a bear hug that nearly suffocates you.

He’s so overwhelmed by the feeling of touching you again that he barely notices how stiff your posture is. You’re practically a piece of rock in the midst of being carved by its maker, frozen and unable to formulate an action in response - which, in this case, means that he’s your artist. Suguru relaxes his hold, urging you to reciprocate his warmth by nestling his face in your neck. Your right arm finds its place wrapped around his waist and your left around his neck, allowing him to engulf you further into his hold. You smell so nice. He notices the lavender perfume that he bought you is still rubbed into your skin, and he’s glad that you’re finally using it.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

Suguru’s fingers run through your hair in smooth waves, gently kneading out the small knots and helping you relax - and he can tell that your full attention is on him. For the first time in knowing you, there aren’t any distractions or excuses to avoid this conversation. It’s just you, him, and the bare truth. He just hopes he can execute this right.

“There aren’t enough words to explain how sorry I am, genuinely. I shouldn’t have ever belittled you like that.” He takes a deep breath, one of many, and closes his eyes. The scene of you stomping away from him has no end in his mind. It constantly plays at every hour of the day, re-run after re-run, to torment him and remind him how horribly he screwed up with you. Please, please forgive him. “You’re not just my mom’s student. You’re not just a friend that I get coffee with. You’re so much more than that and I’ve been such a fucking chicken and haven’t been able to be honest with you.”

“You couldn’t have possibly known about my condition and it was wrong of me to take my frustration out on you.” Suguru can feel himself begin to cry, his tears raining down his cheeks in cascades of pent up anger and hatred for how he made you feel that day. You didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve to be treated like shit by him. “Your work is important to you and I know it should be appreciated. What’s important to you is important to me, okay?”

“You love your art, and I love you.”

He says it over and over again. Those three special words rapidly become six words, nine words, eighteen, forty-two, and onwards as you look at him with an empty expression. Please, please say something. For every second of no response, he confesses his love to you. He confesses as if it’s his source of air - the only way that he’ll be able to survive this encounter is if he bares his emotions with no regrets. If this were a movie, he’d be the desperate protagonist in the climax of the story who fucked up his love life and is begging for a second chance - hell, this is real life and that’s exactly what he’s doing. Just, please, have a happy ending.

You open your mouth, yet nothing comes out. No words. No statements. No confessions. You’re simply staring at him like he’s just told you the most absurd news in the existence of the universe…

…and then a tear falls.

One tear slips from your eyes, followed by another, and another…until your face is drenched in salty rain with black mascara creasing your eyes. You look like a raccoon. Suguru almost starts laughing. No. He is laughing; laughing because your false lashes have fallen into your hands as the glue refused to be waterproof - and now you’re standing before him in a puddled mess of makeup and disheveled hair. You’ve never looked more beautiful.

Suguru brushes his fingers across your cheek, attempting to wipe away your tears like an artist covering up a beautiful mistake. If he were a painter, he’d paint you a million times and more - hanging every portrait on every single wall of his apartment, until there was literally no space left for a scrap of paper. You’re the most gorgeous girl he’s ever laid his eyes on, and the smile that suddenly bursts from your sobs confirms it.

“What’s going on? I’m so confused, are you happy or are you sad?” He’s so concerned and his inability to read emotions correctly only makes him more helpless. “Talk to me, beautiful. C’mon.”

You lean into his touch and he instantly knows that everything is going to be okay.

“I just never thought I’d hear you say that.” Your smile is directed at him now, and he feels a warmth that is so familiar yet unfamiliar and he can’t get enough of it. It’s similar to the feeling of being showered in sunlight or snuggling beneath a comforter in the winter - an overwhelming comfort that’s a gift from you to him. “I feel like I’ve been waiting forever. Fuck you for that.”

Now you’re both laughing, giggling, and beaming at each other. His heart feels so at peace. The civil war between his divided emotions, love and loneliness, has finally ceased.

“I love you.”

Neither of you can stop the flow of confessions that slip from your tongues and in an instant your lips are on his - clashing and colliding in a furious kiss that rivals the strength of a hurricane. It’s almost as if he can physically feel your love pouring into him and warming his heart into a heated flame, stoked by the embers of your touch. God, he missed your touch. The feeling of it is addicting. It’s his personal heroin and he’ll never get enough of it.

Your lips are just as soft as he imagined them to be, perhaps they’re a rosy pink color with the slightest touch of strawberry lip balm that he keeps getting a fleeting hint of taste from. Never in his wildest dreams did he think you’d love him too. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. He silently repeats over and over - grateful that he’s been so blessed to know you…feel you…and love you in the awful world that he hated living on his own - the world void of color that you’ve somehow brightened by simply breathing beside him.

His hands are everywhere. Your hips. Your waist. Your breasts. Your neck. He can’t get enough of the feeling of you. With every passing second he’s falling deeper and deeper in love. You’re utterly perfect, he would kiss you for years if that was an option—

Aw shit, he knocked over an easel.

“Goddammit,” he mumbles while briefly pulling away from you. Of course he had to interrupt the moment he’s been waiting months for with his clumsiness. He’s such a dumbass. If he could punch himself in the gut, he would - but that would be way too embarrassing in front of you - hold up, this painting is familiar!

“Well I'll be damned.” He chuckles and turns the canvas towards you, to which you burst out laughing. “I thought you’d have thrown this out.”

“No,” you gaze at the painting with love in your eyes. “I could never, that’s how we met.”

The painted streak he accidentally inflicted upon your artwork remains in the same position. It seems that you never even bothered covering it up and embraced the imperfection. While Suguru cannot decipher the magnitude of colors on the canvas, he’s sure that the various strokes look gorgeous and masterful. You’ve always been so talented. He’s so lucky.

As he places the painting upon a now-standing easel, you rest your forehead against his. He loves you. He loves you so much. So much so that he can’t help but take a step closer, not just one but many, and embrace the overwhelming love and passion he holds for you. There are so many words he wants to say, confessions that can carry on for an infinite number of lines, but there’s no need for that now. You have forever - and he decides to start that forever with his favorite thing…

…a kiss.

“I love you.” You whisper.

“I love you more.” He replies.

This is a fancy-ass venue.

Suguru can’t help but feel underdressed for the occasion, despite being clad in a fitted white button up and black tie, whilst his dress-shoes cramp his feet in the worst ways imaginable. He almost looks like that one moviestar in the romantic comedy you love so much. Was it the one with the rich guy in Singapore or the one where they worked in an office and he was a businessman? Suguru can’t remember. Whatever, it doesn’t really matter either way. He’s distracting himself too much, he needs to focus— tonight is one of the most important nights of your career. No, it is the most important night for your future career. His mother contacted every big art distributor and critic that she has professional relationships with. It’s your night…and wow did you kill it.

It’s almost as if you’ve plastered yourself across the walls. Every art piece that his eyes roll over is exceptionally you - your personality, your passions, and your heart - and it’s obvious you’ve spent months curating the most perfect array of paintings a person could muster.

He can read your story like an open book while he slowly makes his way through the gallery. There are paintings depicting your childhood, ones that remind him of the stories you tell him of your primary school drama and premature interests. That one must be when you broke your arm while learning to ride your bike. You’re particularly stuck on that story— strongly stating how upset you were because it was your dominant arm, halting your ability to paint for seven weeks. Referencing your painting passion, there’s a whole array of canvases dedicated to your love for art; beginning with inspirations of immaturity to skillful selections of texture techniques. Suguru is obviously no art critic, but if he were, he’d write a whole expose on how amazing you are.

With his mind so engaged with your talent, he’s oblivious to the people passing by; so oblivious that he doesn’t even notice his own family approaching.

“She’s talented isn’t she?”

Holy shit. The familiar voice of his mother startles Suguru, but he instinctively wraps a loose arm around her waist and greets her with a grin. She returns the affectionate expression and it’s painfully obvious that he got his smile from her, and even more painfully obvious that they’re all trying to embarrass him when Satoru walks up with his teeth beaming.

“Your girlfriend’s a pro at this stuff, Suguru.” Satoru ruffles his best friend’s hair and lightly nudges his shoulder. “I told you something like this would happen one day! You’ve found yourself a dream girl.”

Suguru rolls his eyes in amusement at his friend’s quips, completely ignoring him and focusing on his mom. Satoru’s always been his number one supporter. Though he’d be surprised if Satoru actually kept a girlfriend longer than a month with his constant busy schedule and inability to focus on one girl at a time; but that’s a story for another day. What matters now is his mom’s praise of you.

“Y’know I always knew she had an innate ability.” Miss Geto has a faint smile on her face, gazing at her son with nothing but pure happiness. It’s a true display of a mother’s love for her child, and Suguru doesn’t know what he’d do without her guidance. She squeezes his side and presses a gentle kiss to his cheek. God, he’d be so embarrassed if his friends saw this. “Though, I always thought she specialized in artwork.”

Hm? Suguru sends a puzzled glance in her direction. What is she going on about?

His mom continues, knowing her son well enough that he needs a clear explanation in order to understand anything at all, and presses her hand against his chest. “I didn’t realize she was so skilled at touching hearts.”

His heart is beating faster at the mere thought of your beauty.

There are tears behind Miss Geto’s eyes and Suguru can feel the waterworks attempting to break his own dam. They’re an emotional duo, him and his mom, Satoru gets tired of their antics sometimes— but Suguru knows he loves them. His mom always knows the right thing to say. “I never thought I’d see you like this, Suguru.”

Satoru smiles, nodding in agreement. “You seem so at ease. It’s cute.”

Reflexively, he pulls them both into a big hug— which is the first girl-related hug he’s given Satoru since he was a teenager, seventeen years old and inseparable. Suguru finally understands what it means to love and be loved, all because of you; and now he can apply that same love to his perspective on life, which was dreary for so long. The overwhelming comfort he feels in his family’s arms is the same warmth he felt when he was a child, to which he ran into his mother’s arms at any moment for a grasp at joy. For a long time, Suguru believed that it was only possible to have a singular love. Oh how wrong he was.

“I get it now.” he says softly into their ears. “She helped me understand.”

“And we’re happy for you,” Satoru pats him on the back as hard as he can, eliciting a threatening glare from his best friend, to which Suguru’s mother laughs.

“Check out the centerpieces down the hall.” Miss Geto nudges Suguru on, standing beside Satoru. “I think you’ll love them, sweetheart.”

With their encouragement, he carries on with the gallery and down the straight hallway of evolving paintings. Every step he takes, seems to carry him into a new era of your life. It’s almost as if he’s time traveling through memories that seemingly morph from abstract to realistic art; and he learns more and more about you with each passing second, ultimately leading towards one large painting in the center of the room.

Holy shit. You’re breathtaking.

Never in Suguru’s life has his world stopped due to paint on canvas— but right now, it feels like every single brush stroke is a frozen second that he gets to relive again and again, just basking in the presence of your beautiful skill.

The way you’ve outlined your hair with thin lines and highlighted your lovely cheekbones, is nothing short of masterful. If he looks close enough, he can understand the comforting feeling of cupping your face with just his eyes. He didn’t even know you did self-portraits, but now he wishes he could hang this very one right above his couch; to show off the talent of his amazing girlfriend for everyone to see (not that he actually has many friends other than his former classmates).

Where are you? He needs to let you know how special it is to be with someone like you—

“Cat got your tongue?”

Speak of the devil.

“Do you like it?” You raise your eyebrows at him expectantly. “What do you think?”

You said the same thing when you first met.

Suguru looks between you and the painting, now realizing that no matter how masterful your skill is, it’s impossible to capture just how gorgeous you are in any form of art. You’re simply exquisite. The most talented painter in the world wouldn’t know how to appreciate your beauty. Davinci? No. Botticelli? No. Di Angelo? Not even he could sculpt your features to perfection. However, despite his high standards, Suguru believes that your self portrait is the greatest thing he’s ever seen.

The familiar feeling of flusteredness grows on his cheeks as he holds eye-contact with you, wondering what color it is you’re wearing. He bets it’s red, you always wear red around him. “I love it.”

As your right hand finds his palm, the left reaches up and cups his cheek. With a gentle touch, your lips are on his and Suguru feels his head take a spin on the merry-go-round of love. He can’t get enough of you. If he had a choice, he’d spend every waking second of his day peppering you in light kisses on every part of your body— and he’d make sure that you never felt loneliness again. You deserve nothing less than the absolute best, and he’s made it his life’s goal to give that to you.

Slowly, he begins to feel your smile against his lips and you pull away with a lovesick gaze. He pulls you into his chest, cradling your head and kissing it softly before whispering how proud he is, and it’s almost unbelievable how far Suguru’s come. Somehow you’ve lured him into a bottomless ravine where the only resource to live is to be hopelessly in love with you— and truthfully, he never wants to escape. You’re everything to him.

“You love it?” your eyes are shining brighter than the sun. “You haven’t even seen my best work yet.”

“Oh?’ Suguru raises his brows, mocking surprise at your statement. “Well now you have to show me. It’s only fair.”

You place your hands on his chest and peck his lips before spinning him around. He’s confused for a moment, wondering what you’re doing when you could’ve just led him to the canvas instead of guiding him around like it’s a dance class…but then he sees it.

He sees himself.

Never in his life has he completely understood what being in love is. Yes, he's felt love. From his mother, who raised him to be the man he is; caring, thoughtful, and compassionate. From his best friend, who helped him understand ambition and sacrifice. From his community, who challenge him to be the best he possibly can and to support one another without holding grudges. He's felt different types of love from so many people in his life. Familial. Platonic. Admiration. This is different, though. The love you show him is true love. It's the kind of love that movie stars win awards for portraying. It's the fantasy that kids dream about having when they grow up into big adults. It's the thing he thought was impossible to obtain, but was lucky enough to stumble upon you in that empty art studio on the best day of his life.

He didn't know love could be expressed in this kind of way. Through the very same paint strokes and brush marks that used to make him nauseous with hatred. Seeing your masterpiece, he doesn't understand how he could ever hate something so amazing. Art is spectacular. No. Your art is spectacular. You are spectacular.

"You love it right?" You're trying your best not to giggle at his awestruck reaction. "Want to know the best part?"

Suguru can feel himself nodding, desperately reaching for your hand in an attempt to ground himself from the air he's walking on— and you begin to explain. "It's a dual piece. Notice how we're facing each other?"

Oh my god, you are facing each other. He hadn't noticed it before, but he can see clearly now. You've placed him in the dead center of the room, giving him a full view of both of the paintings— opposite of one another on two opposing easels. "Tell me more, baby." His voice is nothing louder than a whisper, only for you to hear.

"I'm painted in black and white."

Oh?

"You're painted in color."

...Oh.

"I wanted to show how love knows no bounds. There's beauty in how you see me and how I see you. It doesn't matter that I'm colorless to you, you still look at me like I'm the prettiest girl in the world; and I only wish you could understand how vibrant your eyes are, Suguru. You're the most handsome man I've seen in my entire life."

He loves you.

He loves you so, so much.

A part of his heart feels like he's falling in love with you all over again. It's growing larger and larger, unable to contain the capacity of feelings he holds for you. He's so overwhelmed with joy that tears begin to fight to escape his eyes, ultimately dripping down his cheeks like watercolor on paper, and he sweeps you into the tightest hug known to man.

There's really only one thing left to do. One thing to close this chapter and carry on with the rest of your love story, something that's sacred only between the two of you. Something that he hopes to say to you everyday, every night, every hour, and every minute that he can.

"I love you."

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