#a whole enchanted world is waiting for me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

itwasntimethatdidit40 · 4 months ago

Text

Extra cream and sugar.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader Words count: 5295 Rating: +18, NSFW, MDNI. Summary: Frankie is your barista, every morning you walk into his café asking for a tall coffee with extra cream and sugar. He dreams of giving you another kind of cream… Tags: Frankie's POV, brief description of reader and what she wear but no mention of her skin tone, she doesn't blush, she has hair but it's not described (she's you, baby ♥︎) , reader has her own business, pining, yearning, slow burn, Frankie is eager for you, masturbation, obviously mention of coffee and sweets, a side of Christmas (just a glimpse), soft!Frankie, kinda rom-com vibes but we go smutty 😏, unprotected p in v (reader is on the pill but still, do better irl), cream pie, nipples play (At this point you know me so you expect it, right?), reader rides him cowgirl style (yeehaw!), teasing, Frankie wants you to tell him exactly what you want from him, pussy pronouns, Frankie is smitten with you bb, no age gap, mention of alcohol, derogatory pussy eating (because it's Frankie, you know), oral (m! receiving), masturbation, dirty thoughts, dirty talk, some more filth I probably don't remember. Please, excuse me, I'm posting this almost 2 am as the usual mess that I am LOL. If I forgot something I will add it asap. I wrote a temperature in Celsius degrees somewhere in this fic, I don't know anything about Fahrenheit, sorry, I'm Italian. A/N: This fic is my Christmas gift to all of you who support me and have loved my Frankie so much in the past, I really didn't think so many people would like him 🥹 And it's especially dedicated to @baronessvonglitter who gave me this prompt around November, I promised her I would do something with it and this is the result 🤭 No beta, no proofread, no nothing, we're going down with this ship, please have mercy. I really hope you like it and I wish you happy holidays, love you all ❤️

Frankie had been noticing you for weeks. You would arrive every morning at 10:30 and ask for tall coffee with extra cream and sugar.

He thought you looked lovely, with your sexy dresses, a dainty necklace around your neck, little makeup except for a red lipstick on your gorgeous lips.

You were the highlight of the day. He had decided to open a café after retiring from the army because there was nothing he wanted more than to live a quiet life. He had seen enough pain and destruction for two whole lifetimes, all he wanted to take care of now were coffee blends, foamed milk, blueberry muffins and chocolate chip cookies.

He loved arriving in the morning and quietly opening his place, arranging the pastries in the display cases, turning on the coffee machine, setting up the tables, and getting everything ready while waiting for the city to wake up and the customers to start arriving. You were his favorite since you first appeared before him almost 3 weeks ago, but who was counting?

You were pretty in the truest sense of the word according to him, radiant, elegant without striving, charming and nice.

He had started waiting until 10:30 just to see you, with butterflies in his stomach in anticipation and his heart pounding in his chest as soon as you walked in the door.

The first time you had spoken to him he had been enchanted by your eyes; he could have sworn they were the most beautiful he had ever seen. He had not heard a single word you had said and had made you repeat the order, apologizing.

You had laughed, and your sweet laughter had resounded in his ears like music. It had never happened to him, not even once, but at that moment it was as if everything else in the world had stopped and only you existed.

“One tall coffee to go, extra cream and sugar, please,” you had patiently repeated.

You looked so pure that it seemed almost immoral to him the way his jeans had suddenly become tight.

He had shaken himself, trying to come to his senses, hurriedly headed for the coffee machine. He had prepared your cup to go and set it on the counter in front of you "cocoa? sprinkles?" he had stammered, awkward and nervous. Heck, he'd spent years in the military, he could fly a damn helicopter, his business was going strong, but in front of you he felt like he didn't know what to do with himself.

"Uhm..sprinkles, thank you," you had smiled.

He had sprinkled colored heart-shaped sprinkles on the cream -- so pathetic, he had to admit, but they seemed to suit you --, closed it with the clear plastic lid and handed it to you, all with fear of spilling something and making a mess.

"It looks so yummy, thank you" you chirped handing money to him.

“Thanks to you, um, come again,” Frankie had stammered, running his sweaty palms over his apron.

He had watched you leave, your ass swaying deliciously wrapped in your skirt, and a whiff of your perfume had reached his nostrils, filling them with a heavenly flowery scent.

It had taken him a few seconds too long to pay attention to the next customer, a rather impatient middle-aged man who had ruined the magic you had brought into his café.

He had hoped you would come back all evening, and the next morning he woke up even earlier than usual, showered, stood several minutes in front of his closet thinking about which of his shirts you might like best, even wasted time adjusting his beard. He had even contemplated not wearing the cap he always wore with fear that you might find it silly, but in the end habit won out. Besides, he had thought, I might as well show her who I really am. That is, assuming she comes back. And if she doesn't come back? He had felt so disappointed at the idea. Maybe you hadn't even liked his coffee in the end. Once at the café, he had kept himself as busy as possible so as not to drown in false hopes, but he had found himself staring at the clock more often than he would have liked to admit.

At precisely 10:30 a.m. you had entered. You were even more beautiful than the day before, wrapped in a little flowery dress, your beautiful legs exposed, your sweet scent in the air.

He knew absolutely nothing about you, had barely spoken to you and yet his palms were sweating again, his throat was as dry as a desert, he nervously switched his weight from one leg to the other, standing behind the counter as he watched you approach.

“Good morning,” you had said, with a sweet smile spreading across your face.

“Uh...good morning,” he had stammered, ”what would you like this morning?”

“Tall coffee to go, extra cream and sugar, please.”

Your melodious voice had again gone straight to the crotch of his pants.

“Same as yesterday” he had said ”coming right up.”

“Oh, you remember!” you sounded surprised. How could he have forgotten the most beautiful creature who had ever set foot in his café?

“Um, yeah, it's my job after all” he had clutched his shoulders. He didn't remember orders from customers who had been coming to him for months, he had memorized yours instantly. He didn't need to let you know anyway.

“That's so cute,” you had observed while continuing to give him that amazing smile.

He had turned to make your coffee feeling your eyes behind his back, he was so nervous that he almost burned himself pouring the coffee into the cup.

He had managed to avoid it by a whisker; he would have hated to look clueless in front of you.

“There you go,” he had smiled nervously at you, ”be careful, it's very hot.”

“I will, thank you” you had answered him softly.

You had paid him and headed for the exit, turning to look at him before pushing open the door “Have a good day”

“Oh, thank you, you too” he had replied, his voice hoarse with excitement.

That evening he had surrendered to his lowest instincts and as soon as he had jumped into the shower after a long day's work, he had allowed himself to close his eyes and think about you.

He had tightened his hand around his cock and thought about your scent, your smile, how your dress deliciously enveloped your tits, showing off your cleavage.

He had imagined kissing you and feeling the softness of your lips, lowering a hand between your legs and discovering that you were not wearing panties, running his fingers over your wet folds and then bending over in front of you and making you come with his tongue.

He had lingered in these fantasies as he pumped his cock faster and faster, stroking the tip, imagining that it was your delicate hand doing it, your red-enameled nails wrapped around its length.

He had come in his hand, soiling the shower wall, uncontrolled, totally enraptured by the wonderful vision of you in his head.

____________________________________

He had continued to play it cool for three weeks, but by now every time you came in his head was just thinking “say something more than ‘good morning’ and ‘be careful not to burn yourself’ and ‘have a nice day,’ you idiot.” Ask her something, find out if she's involved with someone.”

So one morning he finally had attempted “Do you work near here?” he had asked, handing you your usual coffee.

You had hesitated a moment before answering, “Actually, yes, just a stone's throw away. You know that jewelry store that opened three weeks ago? That's mine.”

“Oh, great,” he had said, straining not to smile like a sucker.

“Yeah, I'm a jewelry designer, I finally got to open a store with my own brand, I'm very excited.” your eyes twinkled with pride and Frankie had thought you were so incredibly beautiful that he wanted to kiss you there and then.

You had held out your hand to him and said your name, and he had shaken it with his heart in his throat.

“Nice, and nice name by the way” he had replied instead, ‘did you make that one?’ pointing to your necklace. It had a small star-shaped pendant.

“Yes, do you like it?” you had asked, brushing it with your fingers.

“I like it very much, it looks good on you.”

“Thank you,” you had replied, smiling, ”well, if you have to give any gifts to your girlfriend or wife, come by and see me.”

“Uh, actually, I'm not married or even engaged.” He babbled, looking at you embarrassed.

“Oh. Well, I see.” and then in a lower voice and winking at him you had added, ”Can't say I'm sorry.”

Holy fuck, you were flirting.

His cock had twitched at your wink; he couldn't believe that all this time you had been reciprocating his silent interest.

“I have to go back to work, now. Have a nice day, Frankie,” you said, smiling and heading for the exit.

He was dumbfounded a few seconds wondering how you knew his name, since in the heat of the moment he hadn't even told you. Then he had looked down at his shirt, where his name tag was pinned.

“I like your cap, by the way,” you had said before you left.

“Oh. Thank you. I like your dress," he had replied a little too loudly, so much so that people at the tables had turned around cackling.

You looked at him one last time with a smug expression before disappearing down the street.

____________________________________

Christmas was coming, as much as it may have felt like Christmas in Florida with 26 degrees during the day. Frankie had decorated the café with small silver decorations at the windows, a small Christmas tree near the counter filled with lights that were also silver.

While decorating however, the only thing he was thinking about was you. He had done everything early in the morning, before opening, wondering what you were doing, if you had just woken up and were stretching in bed with your hair tousled and your eyes still clouded by sleep. He wondered what you were wearing to sleep, wondering if you were a babydoll type or more of a T-shirt and shorts type.

Or maybe you were sleeping naked. He daydreamed of your florid body wrapped in your sheets, the soft curve of your ass, your breasts, your nipples brushing against the cotton fabric.

“Shit!” he exclaimed, realizing that he had dropped one of the balls he was putting on the tree, which had ruinously fallen to the ground, splitting into a thousand pieces on the floor.

He rolled his eyes as he went to the closet to get a broom and dustpan.

Maybe it was time to stop fantasizing and get moving on asking you out.

He was terrified that you would say no but he had to do it before someone else tried. Someone like you wouldn't be alone for long.

You had entered the venue at the usual time, admiring the decorations. Frankie felt a small surge of pride in the middle of his chest as you approached the counter. “Oh wow, this is so festive, I love it.”

He knew he had just smiled like a dork but he didn't care.

In your brief little chats you had mentioned that you were not originally from Florida so he took the opportunity to ask, “Are you going to visit your family for Christmas?”

You had smiled, squinting slightly, with that look that was now familiar from when you noticed his true intentions. You had given it to him with every attempt he made to flirt with you.

“Um no, actually Christmas is the best time to work for me. So I'm going to stay here.”

He had felt his heart do a little jolt in his chest as he struggled to find the right words to ask to take you to dinner.

He felt like he had never been so awkward in his life, but the truth was that he really liked you and made him nervous with your innate confidence and the sensuality you exuded.

“Well, if you'd like to go out sometime, I'd be happy to” he babbled.

“Gladly.” you had replied, looking at him -- he would have sworn -- mischievously.

“So...um...how about Saturday? Is 7 okay?”

“Perfect. You can pick me up at the store.” you had replied, fiddling with your pendant.

“Okay, well...see you soon then.”

You had leaned over the counter for a moment, signaling him with your finger to come closer, and when you had been close enough to his ear you whispered, “It's about time.”

You had left while your voice still rang in his ears like a siren song.

On Saturday night Frankie was so nervous that he had changed his clothes four times. Finally he had decided that a blue shirt and a pair of jeans would do. Maybe.

You had said you liked his cap but he had decided it was not appropriate to wear it to take you to dinner, so he had left his hair wet and styled it back with a little gel.

He arrived at 7 parking in front of your store and entered looking for you.

You weren’t there. He had looked around and the place was just like you, elegant but not overly so, bright and warm.

There were small display cases filled with bracelets, rings, necklaces, watches even.

All very fine, carefully crafted things, not that he understood much about jewelry but they looked well made and high quality to him.

You had put little window decorations similar to his own, and he couldn't help but smile as he looked at them.

Not only you were beautiful and funny, you were also talented and smart enough to run your own business, a strong independent and brilliant woman with ambitions.

He felt a jolt down his spine feeling unworthy of you with his simpler and quieter life.

You had appeared from the back after a short while "Oh there you are! Hello!” you had greeted him with a smile, approached him and kissed his cheek. He had brushed your arm as you leaned closer, feeling your soft skin under his fingers and his heart bouncing in his chest.

"So what do you think?" you had said, gesturing to the place.

“I can't say I'm a connoisseur, but it looks like a beautiful store to me,” he had said.

“Thank you. I really like your café, too.”

“Oh, that’s nothing compared to this” he brushed off.

“I don’t think so, your coffee is so good and that cupcake I tried the other day? It was heavenly. I would say you did a great job with it” you insisted and he felt suddenly better.

"Well I actually… I don't bake them, I get them from a supplier.” He had admitted.

“You have good taste anyway.” You had shrugged, smiling.

The hold you had on him was ridiculous at that point, you could have said whatever to him and he would believe you without hesitation.

“Let me get my purse and close the store and then we can go.”

___________________________________

Frankie had tried to behave like a real gentleman, had opened the door for you, complimented you on the dress you were wearing -- continuing to ogle your thighs while you were sitting next to him -- , asked you things about yourself, your studies and your life while driving to the restaurant.

The more you chatted the more comfortable he felt, you were witty, subtly flirty, exactly what he expected.

Truth was that he would have jumped on you immediately but he was trying to control himself so you wouldn't think he was a creep.

His cock however was of a different opinion, his jeans were starting to get really tight and he was afraid you would notice. You had a smirk on your face, something that made him think it was possible that you were desiring him as much as he was desiring you but he didn't want to risk making a wrong move.

“I'm sorry not to see your cap tonight” you had joked and then added ”your hair looks good though.”

“Thank you.”

“And I like the shirt,” you had said, lingering with your gaze on his outstretched arm holding the steering wheel.

He had decided to take you to one of his favorite restaurants, nothing too fancy because he wouldn't feel comfortable, the place was warm and familiar and put him at ease.

He had asked for a table with settees, to have a chance to be closer and talk more easily.

Maybe even reach out a hand to your beautiful thighs, if he had any luck.

You had ordered and he had chosen a wine, you had continued talking, and you had asked him several questions, very politely, without making him feel like you were interviewing him.

“So you were in the army...and you can fly a helicopter. Heck, I never would have guessed that. I like a competent man,” you had cooed, and he had felt his neck and face on fire. God, he wanted you so badly he felt like he might explode at any moment.

“Yeah...apparently,” he had replied proudly.

“And how did you end up opening a cafe?”

He had become serious, feeling that he was about to open up about something very intimate “Well...I actually couldn't take that life anymore. It's very hard, you know. When I got discharged, I thought all I needed was to live a quiet life without slinging a rifle for hours and playing with danger 24/7.”

You had nodded, “sure, that's perfectly understandable. It must have been brutal.”

“It was. I decided to open a coffee shop because well... basically, I love coffee.”

You had burst out laughing, a full, lovely laugh that had made it difficult for him to keep his hands in place resting on the table.

“It makes perfect sense,” you had agreed immediately afterward.

You had kept talking until you had said, “So, Francisco Morales, I have a question for you.” your expression was enigmatic and he didn't understand where you were going with this.

“Go ahead.”

“Why haven't you kissed me yet?”

He had chuckled, “Good question. And I really want to do that. I've wanted to do it from the first moment I saw you,” he had admitted.

“Then do it,” you had urged him.

He had moved closer toward your lips, breathing in your perfume mixed with the scent of your skin; you smelled good, clean, like a sunny morning in spring.

Your lips were even better than he had imagined. Soft, delicious, inviting. You were incredible.

Everything around was suddenly gone, there was only you and the way your lips encouraged him to continue, the way they had parted at the approach of his tongue, your intoxicating taste on his tongue.

Your fingers lingered on his biceps, wandering over his shirt and down his forearm, while his hand wrapped around your face caressing your cheek.

He had pulled away from you a moment before putting on a show inside the restaurant, his hands tingling with the urge to touch your breasts, reach down between your legs, get rid off your dress and finally feel your body against his.

“God...maybe we should go,” you had whispered, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

“I think so, too,” he had breathed.

He had stood up trying to keep at bay his erection pressing impatiently against his jeans.

He had paid the bill and escorted you out, despite your insistence to go halfsies.

Once you reached the car he had not resisted and had kissed you again, pushing you against the door. “I want you so bad,” he had whispered against your skin.

“Take me home,” you had replied, looking into his eyes in a way that drove him crazy.

Once in the car, you had placed your hand on his leg squeezing it from time to time. At a stoplight, you had moved your hand to his hard-on, massaging it slowly. “God, you are naughtier than I thought.”

"Is that bad?" you had asked feigned innocence.

“Not at all, baby...if I'm being honest...fuck...” he had interrupted when you had squeezed harder on his cock ”Christ, I can't wait to rip that dress off you.”

“I’m glad to hear that” you had replied in a honeyed voice.

_________________________________

The instant you had entered the door he had dragged you into the bedroom.

He had pulled down the zipper of your dress, letting it fall at your feet, and pushed you onto the bed.

“You're so beautiful.” he had whispered, almost more to himself, as if trying to convince himself that indeed everything he had imagined in previous weeks was coming out of the territory of his wanking material.

“You too,” you had replied sweetly, ”why don't you get rid of those clothes and come and get me?”

Frankie hadn't had it repeated, standing naked in front of you in an instant; he had never undressed so quickly even when he was in the army and had to observe a curfew.

He had stretched out beside you, his cock semi hard, his hands roaming over the bare skin of your hips over your panties, reaching up to graze your lace bra, brushing against your exposed neck as you lay limply sprawled on his bed as beautiful as a goddess.

“Tell me what you want me to do, baby,” he had whispered.

“What you want, I-” you had tried to answer but he had interrupted you.

“No, tell me, please. I would like to hear it. I would like you to tell me exactly what you would like me to do to you.,” he had urged you “is that okay?”

“Yeah” you murmured

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I like it…so uhm…Undo my bra and play with my titties, first. Would you?” You cooed.

“Of course, honey” he replied

You got up to sit to ease it, and then you lay down again as he tossed the bra to one side.

Frankie's eyes were fixed on your exposed breasts, he reached out a hand surrounding one of them with his palm, marveling at the softness of your skin.

“Jesus, I’ve never seen anything more perfect”

Your skin exuded an enveloping warmth that flowed through his body and merged with him. He moved a finger closer to your areola, circling your nipple very slowly and then pinching it suddenly, making you gasp.

“Too much?”

“No…go on” you sobbed “please”

“How?” He pressed you gently, continuing to brush your nipple with his fingertip.

“With your mouth…” you murmured.

He was full hard at that point, his cock grazing at your thigh while he lowered himself on your of your tit, sticking out his tongue and making you arch your spine as soon as he kitten licked your nipple. He smirked “mmm so sensitive, baby” before wrapping his lips around your bud and beginning to suck slowly, his beard pinching lightly against your skin.

His tongue brushed over you in short thrusts as he sucked greedily, his hand slowly descended over your torso, over your tummy, down to your mound and had stopped there, just above the hem of your panties.

You groaned beneath him, melting at his touch, he could feel your body slowly becoming more pliant to him.

“Yes - oh my god - go on like that” you whined and he couldn’t help but smile on your skin.

“What more do you want me to do?” he had asked, and to your discomposed groaning he had replied ”with your words, remember?”

He liked that you were slowly losing control, your barely half-closed eyes glazed with pleasure silently pleading with him.

“Touch…touch my pussy. Please”

He had moved his fingers down from your mound, slowly, over your folds, feeling your body tense deliciously.

His index and middle fingers had slipped between them, bathing in your essence.

"God, you're soaked," and you had panted.

You looked like a dream to him, your hair disheveled on his sheets, your legs spread wide for him, your breath coming in short gasps, your little pendant that rose and fell on your chest as he worked in your cunt with his fingers, lingering on your opening, going up to your clit and barely touching it, leaving you eager and hungry, just as he wanted.

"mmm more, please" you had begged and a smirk had unfolded on his face "be more specific, baby"

“I want ... fuck ... I want you to put them in me.”

"Yeah? You want me to finger-fuck this pretty cunt?” He purred, while stroking your labia, gently circling your clit with his thumb.

“Yes” you had sighed and he had easily entered you, slipping into your arousal.

He had curled his fingers looking for your special spot as you squeezed them hard “Oh damn...right there...God Frankie...right there” you had whined as a swell of pride was spreading in his chest and his cock throbbed.

You had the sweetest pussy he had ever been lucky enough to see, the obscene wet sounds coming out of her as he never stopped moving his fingers inside you was heaven.

You were magnificent, just magnificent, his cock was begging for mercy but he had no intention of rushing it. He wanted to fill his eyes with you, he wanted to see you sink beneath him, to lose your inhibitions completely.

Every fiber of his body longed for you but he stifled his need to take care of yours first; it was too good to see you like that, your pussy clenching convulsively, your mouth half-open, your moans filling his ears.

“I need...your mouth...”

“Where?” he had asked feigning naivete.

"On my clit...please" you had cried.

He had moved, taking down your panties, lowering to reach for your clit, passing his tongue flatly all over it.

“suck it,” you had said in a whisper, ”please.”

And so he had done, taking it between his lips, savoring your taste on his tongue as you cried your last wail and broke down in shattering pleasure.

Your back had arched, your hand had flown through his hair as the other gripped his sheets tightly, and your hips pushed against his lips, your lips bent in a grimace of pleasure that radiated into your eyes, your pupils dilated, tiny droplets of sweat beading on your forehead.

“Yes… fuck… YES”

He had continued to lick and suck and push on your spot until you had calmed down.

But you were not yet satiated, as soon as you had regained the ability to speak you had whispered, “I want your cock.”

“Mmm baby” he had said arching an eyebrow, scrutinizing your face unmade with pleasure and your eyes still glazed with your orgasm.

“Really. I want it.”

You had accompanied this last sentence by wrapping your delicate hand around his length "he wants me too," you had said with a smirk, beginning to massage him, running a finger over the tip to collect the pre cum dripping down profusely from it.

“who am I to say no to you...do what you want, baby” he had granted you.

As much as he had tried to dominate, he had to admit that he was completely subdued by you, and he didn't mind it, he didn’t mind that at all.

You had gotten up and gently pushed him onto the mattress, settling between his legs, locking your gaze with his, a glint of desire in your eyes as you began to lick his engorged tip, sliding down his shaft humming in pleasure “mmm you taste so good” you cooed.

"God, baby, if you do this I'm not going to last long."

He had craned his neck not to miss any of your moves, but he already felt he was on the verge of bursting, had tried to control his breathing and stay right on the edge, without plummeting down.

"Hold on a little longer, I want you to finish in my pussy. Please, Frankie?” You had purred.

He had let out a long sigh as your mouth descended on his cock, enveloping it as much as you could, continuing to stroke the rest with your hand. You had red nail polish, just like in his fantasies, but the reality was even better. Your mouth was incredible around his cock, your tongue vexing his swollen veins, your saliva sliding slowly going to pool on his crotch.

“Please, baby,” he had grunted, and you had hummed in response, vibrating on his cock.

Your tongue had swirled over his red, swollen tip, then you had pulled away and said, "Please what?" glancing at him.

“Sit on me, please, I can’t…” he had groaned.

You had moved warily, straddling him, taking his cock back into your hand, aligning it with your entrance.

You had lowered yourself slowly, moaning "you are so thick" as he felt your cunt open up for him, your walls stretch and your essence coiling around him mixing with your saliva.

“And you are so tight ... fuck, baby, it’s so good.”

The instant you had sat completely on him had been unreal, he felt so deep inside you he swore he was pressing against your cervix, and you were squeezing him so hard he had thought he would lose his mind. You began to roll your hips over him, rubbing your clit with your fingers while your other hand was anchored on his hip.

He had begun to move his hips in rhythm with yours, thrusting inside you “harder” you had urged him “please, Frankie”

He was lost in the instant he had seen you bring one hand to your tit, kneading your breast as you continued to ride him faster and faster, pinching your nipple while rubbing your clit with the other.

“I’m coming…fuck..where, babe?” He had stammered and you cried “inside, please, I’m on the pill.” You had thrown your head back immediately after, your eyes closed, your mouth open, your disheveled hair falling over your neck, seeing you so totally ravished had made him explode inside you, painting your hot, soaked walls with his cum.

You were collapsed on top of him, wrapping yourself around his body while he was still pulsing inside you. You had waited for his breathing to return to normal by peppering his neck with little kisses, going up his jaw and ending on his lips.

He had hugged you tightly, reveling in your warmth, the softness of your breasts on his chest, your legs wrapped tightly with his, and the intoxicating scent of your skin.

You had hummed in the crook of his neck, then looked into his eyes and moved a lock of hair from his sweat-beaded forehead, kissing him one more time, his mustache tickling your cupid's bow.

“From the first time I saw you, I knew we would end up like this, you know?” you had said with a proud undertone.

“Oh yeah?” he had replied, wryly raising an eyebrow, ”how were you so sure?”

You had looked at him with the look of someone who knows very well what she is talking about and had replied, “For three reasons. First, I noticed right away how you were looking at me, second, I wanted it too and usually when I want something I get it, and third, you never charged me for the extra cream.”

bb tag list: @aurorawritestoescape @harriedandharassed @milla-frenchy @almostempty @thundermartini @cas-readsandwrites @lemon-nomel

I would like to add a couple of special people that I am starting to know a little bit better and I like them a lot: @arcanefox207 @joelmillerisapunk @gothcsz @msjarvis

archive: @pedrostories

#frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales fanfiction #pedro pascal #frankie morales smut #frankie morales #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfic #frankie catfish morales #francisco morales x reader #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier au #pedro pascal character fiction #ppcu fandom #ppcu fanfiction

380 notes · View notes

lavenderspence · 6 months ago

Text

an enduring, mighty warrior | S.R.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader | Word Count: 2.6K

Content warning: fluff, pregnant reader, mention of past death

Summary: you and spencer settle on a sentimental name for you baby

A/N: well hello, long time no see (literally i haven’t posted in over a month) and this is also the first thing i’ve finished in over a month. but i absolutely adore this, and i hope you do too. let me know if you figured out baby reid’s name before you finished reading.

masterlist

The drop in temperature was a usual occurrence for the tenth month of the year. Just when fall was slowly starting to reach its peak, almost in full swing, the all-Hallow’s Eve lovers were slowly putting up their decorations and getting ready to welcome the holiday.

Despite the bite in the air, the sun was high up in the sky and gently warmed your skin. You inhaled, taking in the crisp autumn scent. Fresh and earthy, the smell of the fallen and slightly decaying leaves reached you on the third floor of the apartment you shared with your boyfriend, and so did the enchanting view.

Streets and sidewalks alike were covered in an abundance of colorful leaves - from scarlet and burgundy to amber, carnelian, and gamboge yellow. Browns, like feuille morte and chocolate, and the softest shades of gold sprinkled in between. Trees, their crowns a beautiful array of hues in varying stages of change.

And as you looked on over the balcony banisher, you couldn’t help but feel like you were surrounded by pure magic - not just the scenic beauty, but the feel, the essence of the season itself. It was so peaceful and quiet at times, with a certain stillness present in the air. Was the world even awake, or was it just in a state of contentment?

That’s how Spencer found you a couple of minutes later - in a state of peacefulness as you took in the scene before you, curled up on the small nook you and your boyfriend had put together on your balcony.

He pushed open the door, carrying a steaming cup of tea in each hand and a thick, colorful book under his arm. He passed you one of the cups and settled next to you, pulling a blanket across your lap.

His long fingers pushed a piece of hair away from your face before he pulled you towards him and laid a soft kiss on the side of your head. As you cradled your cup, taking in the rich aroma of the tea he’d prepared for you, he reached over and cradled your bump, running his thumb around in different shapes.

It was rare to spend a whole day together in the comfort of your home. With a job where the wellbeing of people sat heavily on the team’s shoulders, where Spencer’s knowledge, his brain, and he himself was needed, you could sometimes go days without seeing each other. That had been the case when you’d started dating.

But you’d made it work - you’d managed to find a way to communicate clearly whenever the hardships of his job had gotten the best of you. A way that had allowed your relationship to build on a stable foundation of trust, love, and mutual understanding.

Late-night phone calls, separated by miles of land. Impromptu dates, minutes, and hours spent in each other’s presence, savoring what little time you had together. Declarations of love, small touches, and gentle talk - a relationship you’d only ever read about in books.

But that’s exactly what it felt like to love him, to be loved by him - a love full of memories of waking up to the other’s warmth, savoring the feeling of them in your arms, their lips stealing the breath from your lungs - a fairytale love story you couldn’t wait to tell your kids about.

“Soon.” A little voice in your head chimed in to remind you. Very soon, you’d have a little someone to tell the story to. You’d hold a little precious someone, born out of the love you shared, a combination of your favorite things about the other.

In your periphery, you watched as Spencer pulled the book into his lap. “A baby names book?” you asked, eyeing the cover - a colorful blend of blues and pinks, yellows and greens.

He smiled your way before he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you into his side. As you settled against him, you felt the pads of his fingers gently run over your bump again.

Ever since he’d taken hold of that stick and seen with his own eyes the future that awaited you some nine months later - the possibility, the reality of a family he’d longed for years to have - he'd started expressing his love for both you and your child with the smallest of touches and the gentlest of voices.

A run of his fingers against your stomach, even when the roundness of the life you’d created together had yet to make an appearance. Gently holding onto the barely there bump a few weeks later when it had finally appeared. Talking in a soft, hushed voice to your baby boy every time he could - telling him about his day, the boring paperwork, or that new pastry shop you’d tried out together, and the sweets you’d loved.

He’d taken on being a father fabulously, even though he was technically still a dad-to-be. Even though he hadn’t had the faintest idea of what a dad should be, hadn’t been blessed with the experience of having a man like himself as a father, he’d jumped headfirst and hadn’t looked back.

He’d read books, he’d searched the internet, and he’d talked with Will and Aaron for hours on end. He’d tried to prepare; he’d tried to show he’d be the father that he never got to have.

And even when the reality of the lack of a paternal figure in his life caught up with him, he’d taken it in stride. Just like with everything else in your relationship, you’d had an open conversation where he’d been able to share with you his biggest anxieties and fears.

You’d reminded him of how involved he was already, how ecstatic and curious he was to learn everything possible, and how he knew so much already. How he’d far surpassed the man his father was and how there was no place for comparison between them. You’d calm his mind and praise his character - in your eyes, he was already the greatest man and father ever.

“He still doesn’t have a name.” He responded as he cracked open the book.

“There’s still time.” You muttered as you ran your fingers up his arm, gently scratching at the skin. He gave you a funny look and shook his head before he flipped the pages. You knew he loved being prepared beforehand, especially when it came to your little one.

Spencer had started buying him little things early on, even before you knew he was a “he” - plushies, blankets, socks, and small adorable shoes. He’d gotten him a variety of books; he’d even learned some of them by heart by now.

The nursery had long ago been painted and put together, with the help of the abundance of aunts and uncles and a grandpa, waiting for the little ones’ arrival.

But the one thing he still didn’t have was a name. And not for lack of trying to pick one. You’d thumbed through books, you’d browsed the internet, and you’d even asked Penelope to put together a list of names for you, yet you could never settle on one.

“Okay, what have we got?” You mumbled, lacing your fingers together as they settled comfortably one over the other on your bump.

“Noah? It’s Hebrew, and it means 'rest’ or even ‘peaceful’.” He suggested, turning to see what you thought about it. You could see on his face he wasn’t really into it, and neither were you. It was a beautiful name, but it didn’t feel like that was the right name for you. You simply shook your head and watched as he flipped a few more pages.

“How about Luca? It means ‘bringer of light’.”

“It’s also Italian if I’m not mistaken, and Rossi’s going to love that.” He’d even suggested a few Italian names the last few months, but none had stuck.

“Do you love it though?” You shook your head in response. He continued flipping the pages of the book as you sipped your tea.

“Avery? It’s unisex, and it’s British.” You mulled it over, kind of liking the sound of it.

“Avery Reid, it’s not that bad. What does it mean though?” You asked

“Ruler of elves.” He mumbled, scratching at his brow.

“Absolutely not!” You started laughing as you shook your head. “We’re not naming him ‘ruler of elves’. Spencer, there’s a possibility he’s going to be born around Christmas anyway; we’re not putting our son through that.” You watched as he flashed you a cute little smile and shook his head at you.

He continued flipping the pages of the book, suggesting names and sharing their meaning and origin - Miles, Owen, Aspen, Wesley, and many more - but none of them seemed to fit. None screamed, baby Reid.

You observed Spencer carefully as he flipped the pages, eyes running slower than they usually did. He looked overly preoccupied, borderline fixated on picking a name for your son, and not for the first time. It almost felt like he intentionally focused on any and all possibility, sans the one, or maybe even the few he held close to his heart.

And you could see, you could tell he had a few ideas on his mind, but for whatever reason, he didn’t share them. It’s like a part of him was holding back, fighting with himself about the possibility of naming your child that.

Deep down, a part of you knew what he was wrestling with - so you decided to spare him from having to voice it.

“How about Gideon?” You whispered, and his head perked up instantly. His eyes and his whole face softened at your suggestion - a suggestion that was actually his own. He closed the book and turned to face you fully.

“Really?” His voice was small, the emotion evident underneath his soft timber. You watched as his eyes watered just a little, shining in the gentle sunlight. You never got to meet the infamous Jason Gideon, but you’ve heard the stories. You knew what he’d done for Spencer, how he’d taken him under his wing, and how he’d protected and cared about him in his own way.

You remembered how hard he’d taken the heartbreak that settled upon the team last January. The many nights he’d woke up in cold sweat, unable to take a breath, as the scene played on a loop in his head - a body sprawled underneath a white sheet on the wooden flooring of a cabin meant to shield its owner from the horrors of his old job. Bathed in a cozy light, with the record player that had stopped playing a tune long ago and the unfinished chess game, your boyfriend had tried to play for weeks on end but been unable to.

The many late-night tears he’d shed in the crook of your neck, the hiccups that had followed, and the gentle shushing of your voice trying to calm him down, trying to be his anchor.

It was evident, without having met him, the monumental impact Jason Gideon had had on the person Spencer was today. There was no question about it; you were certain that if he wanted to honor the man who’s taken the role of a father figure when he hadn’t had one, you’d give him that. You’d want him to have it; you’d want him to wake up every day and be reminded of how far he’d made it and the person who’d made sure he had.

“Yes, really.”

Before you knew it, he had pulled you into his arms and wrapped them around your body as much as your bump would allow. “Thank you.” He breathed into your neck on a shaky exhale. You turned and pressed a kiss against his head as you started gently running your fingers in his hair, playing with the curls.

You stayed like that for a little while longer before he pulled you into the softest kiss. A kiss meant to express both his gratitude and love and the everpresent awe you left him in. A kiss, where both your emotions ran high - where he was coming down from the reminder of the past, and both of you were looking forward to the quick approaching future.

“He still needs a second name.” You whispered against his lips when he pulled back. You watched as his whole face changed for just a second, as if a lightbulb went off in his head. “What?” You asked.

He shook his head before he pecked your lips again. “Nothing.”

“Come on,” You pushed his hair back a little, “I could see the gears in your brain shifting just by the look on your face. Did you have a suggestion?” You rubbed your thumb against his forehead.

He shook his head again. “It’s nothing. I want you to give him a name too.”

“I already did, Spence. You can give him his second name if you let me name our future daughter.” You joked and watched as his entire face lit up at the mention of another child, a girl. You knew he’d be an amazing father to your son, you were certain, but a part of you couldn’t help but also imagine an early morning with a little girl whose pigtails he tied as she told him about her dreams. He nodded with a smile.

“What’s the name?”

“Remember when I got shot in the neck two years ago?” You nodded as he started playing with your fingers. “I had this distinct memory - I was bleeding out, losing consciousness, and I guess Alex slipped and called me by another name. That night, when she dropped me off, the night she quit the BAU, I asked her about it.” He finally looked up and met your eyes.

“She had a son, Ethan. He passed away when he was nine - they told her it was neurological, but there’s never been a name for it. All these years, and she still doesn’t know, she never got an answer to the one question that impacted her life the most.” He shook his head at the injustice of the world.

Even with the knowledge of the over 26 thousand diseases present in the world and the many more that have yet to be discovered, he couldn’t help but feel her pain, now more than ever when he was about to become a parent himself.

Despite the fact that you never got to meet one of Spencer’s paternal figures, you got to meet his work mom - that’s what Alex was to him in your mind. You knew, deep down, that’s the way he saw her too.

Even though he grew up with a loving mother in the form of Diana, you knew he missed on monumental things with her - talking about his first love, dates, his feelings, and sometimes even his future.

But Alex had been there when he’d started loving you - she’d heard about your dates, and she’d listened as he gushed on and on about you and the future he wished to build with you. As a woman, whose marriage had withstanded some of the toughest battles, she’d offered her advice too.

You knew she loved him like he was her own and loved you just as much.

“So, Ethan Gideon?” You asked softly, already in love with the name. It was perfect - it honored the person who shaped the person Spencer was today, who started him on this journey, that would later allow him to meet you. And the person who witnessed the start of the love between you both.

And turns out, you weren’t the only one on board with the name - a series of strong kicks followed the moment you uttered his name out loud for the first time.

You laughed as you grabbed your boyfriend’s hand, following the kicks together.

“Ethan Gideon Reid.” He whispered before he pulled you in for another kiss.

did you figure out the name?🥹

Comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #dr spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid x you #reid x reader #spencer reid one shot #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfic

690 notes · View notes

gyusrose · 1 year ago

Text

➵ their reaction when you call them another member’s name prank -> enha

⚠︎ angst? lil bit of fluff ? just the boys getting angry real quick, mild cursing

someone requested this but i accidentally deleted the request i’m so sorry 😭‼️‼️

heeseung -> you know you shouldn’t pull such prank on hee, knowing how jealous he gets you were pretty much starting something you won’t be able to finish. you were feeling silly that day and decided to do it , why the hell not?

heeseung was sitting next to you on the bed you guys shared. he’s just gotten back from practice so he was very touchy and clingy. kissing all over your face and neck repeatedly , completely missing the camera facing the both of you. this was the perfect time. you giggled as he kissed you trying to push him away slightly.

“sunghoon stop-“ you said in between laughs.

the moment that name fell out of your mouth, he stopped. his whole demeanor changed in a matter of seconds.

“what did you just call me?” his voice was deep and serious.

“heeseung? that’s your name isn’t it?”

“no no no you said sunghoon, i heard it clearly, the fuck’s going on with you and him hm?” you looked at him like you were confused on what he was talking about.

“ what? nothing! i said heeseung you’re just paranoid.” he scoffed, now getting out of bed and made his way out of the room.

you giggled as you grabbed the phone recording and ran up behind him.

“babe !! it was just a prank, don’t leave!” he looked at the camera and rolled his eyes, facing anything but you.

“aw come on hee, it was funny !! you should’ve seen your face”

“don’t you scare me like that.”

sunghoon -> you and sunghoon were driving around the city. it was such a nice peaceful night. the two of you were just talking about your days when you thought of a not so great idea.

when sunghoon wasn’t looking you pulled up the camera app on your phone, knowing you’re gonna want this reaction saved. propping your phone were the two of you were on frame but also not making it obvious.

sunghoon was talking about something when you butted in.

“yeah that’s i’m saying jake- hoonie…sunghoon.” sunghoon stayed silent, side eyeing you slightly while still watching the road. you also stayed silent after your ‘mistake’ , waiting for his response.

the sudden break of the car startled you.

“say his name one more damn time..” sunghoon sternly said, now facing you.

“it was a mistake, you know i meant sunghoon!”

“you both are not even that close, we’ll not that i know of, why did his name come out of your mouth before mines? your own boyfriend?” his eyes never left yours, low key making you scared, you could feel his anger.

“you’re overreacting, just keep driving.”

“if you like the fucker so much then go be with him since-“ he stopped his tracks as he saw the small camera from your phone pointing straight at him.

it all immediately clicked in his head rubbing his temples and shaking his head in annoyance. you in the other hand couldn’t contain your laughter.

“smile you’re on camera” you said giving him a peck on his cheek.

“you had me thinking jake was better than me or something.”

jongseong-> going into the kitchen, smelling the enchanting smell of breakfast was the best feeling of the world, even more so, seeing the sight of your gorgeous boyfriend making it.

“ my princess is awake! sit down it’s almost ready.”

you sat down on the stole in from of him, watching him make the omelette on the skillet.

although you just woke up, you couldn’t help but think about this one prank you’ve been wanting to do on him for a while now. what a perfect way to start the morning right?

you started secretly recording as you continued the conversation with him like normal.

“ you look so fine right now heeseung, you’re perfect.”

jay’s hands dropped the fork he was using and slowly looked up at you.

while you looked at him with wide eyes ‘confused’ .

“ i’m sorry?” he was very offended, how could you even compare him to heeseung? what does heeseung have on you that would make you say his name all of a sudden?

“what ? you don’t like me calling you perfect?”

“you know what you said, y’all got something going on or?” he was not standing with his arms crossed, the most serious expression i’ve ever seen on his face.

“oh my god no jay! what makes you think that! i don’t even know what i did!”

“my name doesn’t even sound close to heeseung’s! you know what, i’m calling him right now an-“

“no no no babe stop stop it’s a prank look!” you showed him your phone recording.

his head leaned back letting out the biggest sigh.

“ it’s too damn early for this, don’t do that to me ever again.”

jaeyun -> “ babe let me teach you this new dance pleasee..” you said panning up the camera ask as you started recording.

jake sat up from his seat making his way to where you were standing. he was more than pleased, he loves this stuff.

“alright so you do this, then lift your arms up and then..” you kept explaining to him the made up dance you’re making him do, him following your every move. jake’s never seen this dance before, nevertheless he continues to copy you.

“but do this part really fast.” jake nodded at you doing the part you told him to do. now’s the time.

you shook your head, “ no jungwon, not that fast, like this!”

jake stood still, looking at you intently. “what? you did the move too fast now we gotta restart.”

“stop playing with me, the fuck did you just call me? jungwon?”

“ugh jake you’re probably mishearing, i said your name.”

“not at all i heard it very clear, what up with that?” he was annoyed and mad. what does jungwon have to do with any of this?

“jake calm down, i just mistook you guys, there’s a lot of you so-“

“but i’m your boyfriend! or is he? i don’t know what to believe anymore!”

you should’ve been laughing but you weren’t, you felt bad. you pulled jake into a tight hug catching off guard.

“it’s a joke, look. you know i love you and only you jakey.”

jake didn’t respond and kissed your lips passionately, you could feel the anger dissolving as the both of your lips connected.

sunwoo -> the two of you were occupied building a lego set. you loved spending time with sunoo like this, you were both pretty good at it.

y’all were conversing as you build your tower. sunoo was never in a bad mood with you, his smile is always present with your presence, so arguments almost never happen.

you shouldn’t have wanted to do this but you wanted to see how he would get, how would jealousy look on him. obviously not too harsh as well.

“ jay- i mean sunoo could you pass me the red piece over there.” you said signalling.

sunoo just stared at you in confusion, did he hear that correctly ?

“ say what?”

“could you pass me the piece?”

“no before that..”

“sunoo could you pass me the piece?”

“no, you said jay could you pass me the piece, then sunoo. why jay huh? “ his voice got louder making you startle.

“erm-no i just- i meant you. not him.”

he rans a hand through his hair sighing in annoyance. jay? really?

you couldn’t hold it in anymore and pinched his cheek. his eyebrows furrowed at your actions. how dare you do that after you pretty much cheated on him.

“it’s a prank baby, the camera’s right there! don’t be mad at me…” sunoo just sulked and pouted on his seat. no matter what, he always managed to look adorable.

“that wasn’t funny.”

jungwon -> the two of you were cuddling in bed watching television. every friday night would be spent like this and you weren’t complaining. having barely anytime for the two of you, times like these were immensely enjoyed by the two of you.

you didn’t want to ruin it but curiosity got the best of you. as jungwon’s eyes were on the television, you placed your phone on the nightstand to get at least the view of jungwon.

“ri-ki could you turn up the volume? “

his hands that were once tangled around your waist, disappeared hearing what you just said.

“ excuse you? i’m not ri-ki, since when are the two of you close like that? “ he sat up on the bed looking straight at you anticipating for your response.

“i meant to say jungwon, you. i got nothing with ri-ki.”

jungwon scoffed, “his legal name even, you’re not fooling me, what’s he to you?” your eyes widened at his demeanour. he was very angry. it was a rare sight to see.

“calm down, i just made a mistake. that’s it end of story.”

“you know what maybe you should be with him instead of me since apparently he’s more important than you own boyfriend.” he said getting up from the bed ready to leave.

“wonie! i’m just kidding, it’s all a joke.” you said showing the phone recording.

“oh my god you’re evil !! why would you do that? also why didn’t i notice the obvious phone looking straight at me?” he rolled his eyes walking back to the bed.

riki -> “don’t cry if you lose again.” niki said as he grabbed the controller and pressed the rematch button.

you rolled your eyes at his words. you were not bad but not good at the same time. he should be making you feel better instead of just laughing at you every time he kills you. as the two of you fought the last round, showing the K.O on the screen you sighed in frustration.

“babe just admit it, i’m just too good.” he chuckled, you weren’t going to take it. you smirked at the idea that just popped in your head, grabbing your phone and discreetly started recording.

“one more time.” you said, niki shook his head at your stubbornness but agreed on it anyways.

as you were fighting, y’all were just yelling stuff at each other trying to make the other lose.

“sunoo, can’t get up?” you said loud enough for him to hear you over the game.

his thumbs left the game controller giving you more than enough time to beat him and win (for the first time)

as you cheered, you looked over at niki and saw an emotionless face on his end.

“aww someone’s mad they lost!”

“it’s not about that, at all.” he glared at you.

“oh really?”

“sunoo? are you for real?”

“what are you talking about?”

“you called me sunoo, don’t play dumb. do i look like sunoo to you?”

“no ni-ki, you must be mistaken, i said ni-ki.” you said emphasizing his name.

he rubbed his forehead in frustration, he’s getting gaslighted right now.

“so you and sunoo hm? how’s it going for y’all?”

“ni-ki what? you know sunoo’s like a brother to me!”

“yea that’s what they all say..” he said under his breath.

“i’m not staying here, i need some space.” he said not before you grabbed his hand and engulfed him in a hug. ni-ki, though, pulled away.

“ask sunoo to give you a hug.”

“ni-ki!! it’s a joke! a prank you know? there’s my phone, right in your face!!”

ni-ki was still annoyed, he hated pranks on him.

“don’t prank me like that! it’s not that funny.” he said looking at you laugh in his face.

“so you can prank me all the time but i can’t?”

“exactly .”

2K notes · View notes

punkpandapatrixk · 2 months ago

Text

🍁Essentially, What’s Your Main Aesthetic? ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

Aesthetic is anything concerned with beauty or the appreciation of beauty💋Don't you think beauty is essential for human health? It inspires and uplifts the mind and heart, after all. I think the pursuit of beauty whether in things, people(?) or creation makes Life exciting~🎨And the attainment of that very beauty makes Life worthwhile~🩰

Beauty contains an essence of something Cosmic. If you get it, if you live by it, it has the capacity to connect the Human Expression to a Divine Experience. Why religion when there is Art?🎀lmao

What about your Beauty? Do you know where to find it? I think every person's Cosmic Beauty can be found in their Story🎠Your unique blueprint that's just waiting to be expressed whether in writing, in a melody, in a sculpture or perhaps a painting, and in aesthetic décor or personal fashion choices💄

Live and breathe your Art, aliens~🛸

pov: You Found The Enchanted Garden You Dreamed in Your Childhood | ultravclet

vlog: productive days 📝📖 finishing books, writing reviews, journaling, organising✨ | cups and thoughts

deck-bottom: 9 of Swords Rx, Gold Historian (Raphael Holinshed), Priestess of Success

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 3]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings] [buymeaboba]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – I’m Hurt, But the Show Must Go On

vibe: HER by MINNIE

poetic suffering – Ace of Cups Rx

Oh, almost your entire Life has been one bloody show—like, actually bloody, figuratively or literally—and you’ve survived it all, although some screws inevitably got loose here and there. You probably identify as having somewhat of a multiple personality disturbance—yeah, just a disturbance, not so much an actual medical disorder, but what do I know? The point is, you’ve developed many voices in your head🍹

I once read something someone wrote on a YouTube comment: ‘The voices in my head make fire podcast.’ I believe that resonates loudly for you and your kind of ‘problem’🥂lmao For some of you, this was developed as part of survival; but for some others, you couldn’t help but develop this ‘disturbance’ simply because you’re high-IQ. It’s just part of the mechanics of your brains. So, it isn't to say you're damaged...

The crux of the matter is that you were always an empathetic child. Creating all these characters or personalities was your way of understanding other people—why they did what they did, what they’d do in a given situation and some such. Like I said, some of you could’ve developed these voices in your head to anticipate chaos, but for some of you, this was simply a philosophical pursuit🎡

aesthetic insanity – Queen of Pentacles

Having said that, it isn’t to say that your whole existence has not been painful. After all, with such a sweet and sensitive heart you’ve had to fight for your place in this cold, cruel, criminal world where you were preyed upon. You were preyed upon because your aenergy was so good. Empathetic people tend to get preyed upon by narcissists not so much because they’re good just like that—but because destroying your sanity and sense of self feels good to a bitter narcissistic monster🤹

You get the difference? A narcmon could target just about anybody whether or not that person’s good. But you were always a much easier target because soft-hearted people can be very accommodating to other people’s wounds. And empathetic people tend to be willing participants in the cruel shitshow created by a narcshit because they want to be a hero in someone’s Story~🎭So, that’s been your shitstorm.

How’s dealing with that supposed to not fuck people up somewhat? But in the grand scheme of everything you’ve had to deal with, you see now that you’ve still got your integrity and sense of humour. That’s all that matters, really. Someone wrote a meme that says ‘You forced me to study narcissism. Now enjoy my educated ass.’ The most ironic iconic outcome here is that now you know how to play up narcissism to get back at real narcmons you meet in society🩰lmao

dramatic scene – Page of Pentacles Rx

So, essentially, if we could summarise what your main aesthetic is: you’re simply INSANE. You were forged in hellfire and came out a little woo woo, but you’re also genuinely superbly intelligent that you know how to use this woowoo to your advantage. The you that has come out of this hellfire is now operating on VENGEANCE🏵Could be for your past; could be for any abuser/manipulator you meet in society; could be for culture, tradition or the establishment.

Simply said, you want to wreck it. Fuck it all up. But with style and humour. You’re going to mirror back society’s cruelty and lack of empathy with sarcasm and a really dark sense of humour. Show ‘em how unintelligently they’ve been interacting with Reality! Either you’re a Gen Xer in your 40s or you’re going to really vibe with this generation’s dark, almost sick sense of irony🤪

Any form of self-expression that showcases your crazy, uncontrollable, unhinged personality would feel most authentic to you. Something deep in your psyche wants to get back at society; for that, you’re willing to play up the villain or menace in society, so long as that re-educates them about what it means to be Human. But deep inside, I know that you know that you’re still the same kind and caring little child with an unchanging loyalty to…Love😘

DIVINE FACT🔻❤️

dream design – Red Alchemist (John Dee)

essence of my identity – Priestess of Magick

Access bonus, cards + affs on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – I Still Dream of Everything I’ve Lost

vibe: Summer Rain by IRENE

poetic suffering – Page of Cups

Ah, you are a poet. A total romantic. Even if your idea of what’s 'romantic' differs from most people. If anything, more than anybody else around you, you seem to be the only one who’s got a saner, purer grasp of what ‘romance’ is all about💞More than anybody you know in your surroundings you want something much more honest and sweet. Most of the time, people just think you’re starry-eyed and unrealistic—but what you feel in your heart cannot be denied❣️

If what you’re feeling isn’t real then why does it exist in your Heart of hearts?💚That’s why you needed to do Art. Maybe poetry was your way to make sense of this clash between your inner world and the world around you. Maybe you devoted massive amounts of time and energy to creating aesthetic collages just to see your beautiful inner world reflected in the physical Reality—even if all of that beauty exists only on paper, illustrations or digital edits💻

Of all the people you’ve ever known, for some reason it always felt like you were the only one with a Heart for Poetry. It could be that your society didn’t much like this type of pursuit. Or maybe it was just your family that didn’t seem to have a high level of appreciation for the kind of Beauty that ever so naturally captures your Heart. In many ways, growing up could’ve been somewhat isolating for this reason��🧸

aesthetic insanity – 6 of Wands Rx

Always the weird one out. All because you have so much feeling. You feel and feel your emotions to oblivion. It hurts to be you, if anyone cared to know. To have your kind of Heart means to be so easily moved to tears by the smallest of things. A beautiful melody, a nostalgic vibe, a display of genuine kindness or happiness, people being unconditionally helpful and patient with each other. Things that may seem so casual in the grand scheme of human greed and ambitions…but you have no such ambition to become like the rest of ‘em🔫

It's hard to be this way from time to time. It’s a challenge to navigate the pond of compassion that exists deep within your Heart. In today’s world especially, it’s so much trendier to be jaded and cynical. For many, of all ages, that seems to be the most acceptable modus operandi🕹Even if you tried you wouldn’t be able to operate well on such a negative and unexciting command. Lucky you, you’re weird enough to not give a little bunny shit about fitting in or, obeying~🐰

You can be really emotionally divorced from the world outside of your imaginations that, to your own surprise, it really is that easy to detach from the expectations of society and drift to Neptune instead—probably dreaming your whole Life away on some distant nebulous fantasies🍄That’s why you identify as an introvert. Your rich inner lives are always far more interesting than any mundane conversation some Normie is capable of conjuring.

dramatic scene – Ace of Pentacles

In the grand scheme of everything that’s wrong with modern societies, you most likely feel that Humanity has lost much of its cherished values that you tend to like things that are either old—very, very old and out of fashion—or simply childish and/or otherworldly. In essence, you’re far more attuned to aesthetics that remind people of INNOCENCE. When things used to be much more beautiful, classy, thoughtful, innocent, and just….my gosh, cute🐶

And yet, you’ve most likely been told that you act motherly, or that, ‘You’re going to be a really good mother one day.’ People can sense that you’re trustworthy and dependable—very Old Soul, you know?👽In spite of how sweet and feminine or even weird you look on the outside, on the inside you’re integritous, and most everybody can see that because you exude this charmingly calm, mature and wise aura🌾

If you’re a creator or have a social media presence, what you put out there—illustrations, poems, edits, fanfics(?), etc.—seems to possess a healing attribute. I’m sure your audience have told you that your channel/page/blog serves as their safe space🚠People who tend to be loners or those who've often been misunderstood in society gravitate towards your vibe in real life and Art on the Internet. In that sense, you really are a nurturer and protector of some motherly sort🎀

DIVINE FACT🔻💙

dream design – Silver Astronomer (Galileo Galilei)

essence of my identity – Priestess of Contemplation

Access bonus, cards + affs on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – Utterly Lost in this Sad Girl Escapism

vibe: Tejano Blue by Cigarettes After Sex

poetic suffering – Knight of Cups

Let’s admit it, you’re constantly drowning in feelings that you escape through obsessive drinking habits, yeah?🥃Most likely anything to do with liquid substances, so this could involve alcohol or coffee, or endless cups of herbal tea with heavy uses of creamer, or you could be the type that smokes obscene amounts of ciggies in a day or snacks violently on crisps all day long or… I dunno, putting yourself through hours of trance on some of Tchaikovsky’s most dramatic pieces?🎻

Perhaps this Reality is just that disappointing for you because the unnatural world doesn’t seem capable of offering ecstatic experiences what would match the feelings you carry since birth—thus your effort to escape into alternate states of feeling. You were born different🌜You feel more intensely, you feel more types of emotions, and you know more of the colours that make up the natural world; but in modern everyday reality, obviously something is missing. Cold-blooded post-war capitalism has made everything ugly…

Human interactions, as a result, become distant and dreary, unspiritual, unempathetic and unkind. And every single day of your waking hour, this awareness tortures and kills you on the inside🥓Depending on how artistic you are and how much Art you’re capable of producing, you may generally feel a sense of inadequacy from not being able to function ‘well’ in modern society. Even if you may appear to be doing just fine on the outside, on the inside you’re melting and flaring and swinging through everything…🌪

aesthetic insanity – XI Justice

If, for example, you’re the type that watches vintage movies, you realise that others your age may watch them for the laughs or other analytical pursuits, but you watch them genuinely for the staggering display of emotions, no matter how theatrical, and you get so involved and your heart aches and you let out a sob or a silent tear…🎭If not vintage films, umm, I dunno, anime, cartoon or perhaps, murder shows? Some of you may have a rather disturbing way of finding ‘materials’ what would let you feel your feelings more vividly🌈

The truth of the matter is, all of these pursuits are fuelled by a desire to find more honesty in the world. You find it vexingly difficult to express your true feelings in society; perhaps because you know this world ain’t ready for your kind of honesty. It feels like tedious intensity to them. And you’ve noticed that most people, actually, truly enjoy shallow interactions🦥Stooping to their level would be humiliating to you.

So then, you just do the best you can to feign normalcy and showcase a temperate disposition when interacting in society. But once you’re in your own company, that’s when you indulge in watching, reading or writing or creating or listening to exasperatingly profound things what would let you shiver from the core of your being☃️You, have a need to gasp and choke by emotions… And that’s intensely insane. And not many people would know what to do with any of it.

dramatic scene – Knight of Pentacles Rx

Well, not many indeed would know how to connect or get through to you. It’s true. And you may have felt very lost in this sad gurl escapism that seems neverending. As if you’d want it to end. If only you could verbalise this accurately and in a succinct manner: you have absolutely no idea how to be a responsible grownup. To begin with, what is ‘responsible’? But at this point, you don’t really give a damn anymore🙈

You grew up watching grownups perform duties and fulfil expectations—and they seemed responsible and sensible and capable. But your little heart always knew that these humans weren’t necessarily responsible in a spiritual sense. Your little sage mind always suspected that a lot of their ‘practical’ choices would sooner or later lead to much more disastrous outcomes🐾So in the end, what’s in being a responsible adult?

It was all too humiliating. And from a rather young age, you decided already that you would avert your eyes from the world of the grownups. And such it was that until now you still don’t know how to be ‘normal’ and ‘temperate’. Actually, more accurately, you don’t really know how not to be a destructive force to yourself. You just, have so much to say, and you don’t know what to say; so much rage, and you don’t even know who to be angry at…💔

DIVINE FACT🔻💗

dream design – Silver Physician (John Dee)

essence of my identity – Priestess of Luxury

Access bonus, cards + affs on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 3]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings] [buymeaboba]

284 notes · View notes

littleprinces · 10 months ago

Text

712 Times

(Weeekly Han Jihyo x Male Reader, A lot of Degrading, Rope Play, Pet Play, Vibrator, Nipple Clamps, Daddy kink, titfucking, Idol Jihan)

(this is my first collab with @smutoperator)

Happy Jihan Day!

In the dimly lit backstage of a bustling concert hall, excitement and anticipation filled the air. The stage was set for our highly anticipated comeback showcase, and I could hear the eager fans waiting on the other side of the curtain. Amidst the scattered crew members and bustling assistants, I stood there, my heart racing with a mixture of pride and longing. My girlfriend, Jihan, the enchanting idol, was out there performing with her group.

Tonight was special. After months of preparation, sweat, and tireless dedication, my girlfriend and her five group members were making their grand return to the spotlight. The thought of her captivating presence on stage brought a smile to my lips, but it also reminded me of the distance fame had placed between us. Yet, I cherished these moments when I could be near her, even if only from the shadows.

The muffled cheers of the audience reached my ears as the performance began. I could almost see her in my mind—her bright smile, graceful movements, and sheer charisma that made her an idol adored by many. As each song concluded, the applause grew louder, affirming the group's triumphant return. Time seemed to stretch endlessly, but finally, the showcase came to an end. The stage lights dimmed, and the audience's applause gradually faded.

I took a deep breath, my anticipation growing. Moments later, the backstage area buzzed with activity as the performers filed in, surrounded by their entourage. And then I saw her—my girlfriend, her face glowing with the exhilaration of the performance. As the performance ended and the backstage area buzzed with activity, I finally saw her making her way towards me. Her face lit up as she spotted me, and I couldn't help but smile back.

"You were amazing out there," I said, pulling her into a tight hug. She laughed softly, a little out of breath. "Thank you. I could feel your support the whole time." "I wouldn't miss it for the world," I replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "You always shine so brightly." She blushed, leaning in for a quick kiss. "It's because I have you cheering me on. It makes all the difference."

We lingered in each other's arms for a moment longer before I asked, "Ready to head home?" She nodded eagerly. "Absolutely. Let's get out of here." Hand in hand, we made our way through the backstage chaos, slipping out to the quiet comfort of her apartment. In the car, she sighed contentedly. "I missed this. Just being with you, without all the noise."I squeezed her hand. "Me too. Let's make the most of tonight." As we reached her apartment and settled in, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of us.

Jihan's new blonde hair made her look so hot it felt like she was 712 times more fuckable with it. Her 20th birthday was just a couple days away, so I felt like it was the perfect time to show her how much I wanted it and turn her into my personal pet. I tied her ankles and cuffed her hands, ready to dominate her and make her transition from an innocent teenager into a full-fledged slut. She had never ventured into this kind of relationship before, but I could tell she was really excited to try it.

I picked up a crop and gave Jihan's pussy a few taps that made her moan, teasing her on the apartment's couch as I quickly pulled her panties to the side. "Put your tongue out," I told her, giving it a few taps. After a few light hits in her clit, I took her bra off and started spanking her big tits with it, having fun with her sexy young body, before switching to using my own hands to grope her tits and finger her perfect pussy.

"I'm just teasing you, there is much more to come," I told Jihan, giving her body a few spanks. "What do you want little whore?" I asked her. "I want this fucking cock," she said with a soft voice. I answered her wishes, unzipping my pants for her to suck it, giving her back some light taps as Jihan slowly got my cock wet with her sloppy blowjob that made her tits bounce freely, while I reached to tap them from time to time.

"I see you like to take that cock deep in your throat; you suck it so good," I told her. I grabbed Jihan by her beautiful blonde hair, reaching to get a whip as she took my cock all the way down her throat. Shortly after, I started spanking her and then moved to fuck her pretty face. "You like that?" I asked her. "Ahhhh, yeah," Jihan moaned. "Say it." I increased the speed of the spanking, hitting her back multiple times. "Oh, I love it, Daddy," Jihan replied.

"Be a good girl; get on your knees on the couch and show me those tits," I demanded of her. Jihan gave me a cute stare and squeezed her big boobs between her tied-up arms. "What do you want, Jihan? My big cock after the showcase?" I asked her. "Yes, please, Daddy, please put it between my tits," she begged.

I did just that and started banging Jihan's big boobs. Quickly, I got back to spanking her. "Yes, yes, please, Daddy, spank me; I'm a bad girl, i'm your private whore" Jihan says, her eyes begging for me to dominate her as my meat got sandwiched between her big pair of tits. "Keep going, keep going, bounce those big tits in my cock," I said to her.

I show Jihan not only can I spank it with my whip, using my cock to hit her tits. "You like the way I treat your big tits?" I asked her. "Yes, daddy," she says. "You want that big dick inside you, Jihan?" I keep asking. "Please, Daddy," she says. "Maybe later, I'll think about it, but you'll have to deserve it," I tell her.

I tie Jihan to the couch's leg and start eating her pussy. "Don't cum, bitch, or you're not going to get my cock for tonight," I tell her. Her pussy turns into my playground as I massage it while kissing her and sucking her big milkers. My hands go deep down in her cunt, and soon I bring a cock-shaped vibrator into the mix, putting it on Jihan's mouth. "Get it wet; you'll have to take it your pussy to show me you deserve my cock," I tell her.

I move the vibrator into Jihan's entrance, slowly tucking it in her pussy as I turn it on, making her moan hard. I also pay special attention to her already erected nipples, massaging and sucking them multiple times as Jihan is already collapsing in pleasure before I even got inside her. Then I use the crop for some extra taps in her boobs to tease her.

I ran the crop around Jihan's thighs, spanking the area close to her pussy. "Count to ten each time I spank it," I tell her. "One, two, three, AHHHHH," Jihan says every time I hit her. I move up and go back to tease her boobs and then play further with the vibrator, turning Jihan into a mess of begging and moaning. "Stay strong. If you cum, you won't get Daddy's cock," I tell her.

After a long warming-up session, I'm finally ready to fuck the brains out of my girlfriend turned pet, removing the vibrator from Jihan's already extremely wet pussy. "Get back on the couch and turn around; I want you to show me that ass," I demand of her. Jihan gets on all fours in the couch, and as soon as she does, I violently whip her butt multiple times. "AH, AH, AH, AH," she screams. "Tell me what you want," I ask her. "YOUR COCK INSIDE ME," she screams.

Jihan's panties get pulled down as I marvel at the view of her perfect ass. More spanking ensues. "Little Slut wants my cock inside of her?" I keep asking. "YES, DADDY, GIVE ME ALL OF IT," she begs, screaming again. "Why do you want it?" I keep teasing. "Because it's so good, I want to be a good pet for Daddy, his little big tit cocksleeve," Jihan replies.

"Then take it," I say, putting my cock on Jihan's pussy and pounding her hard on all fours. "YES, FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME," she screams as I dominate her and spank her back and ass with my bare hands. Jihan's pussy get mercilessly fucked, her big boobs already bouncing hard. I treat her like a fleshlight. "Spank me, daddy, spank me, please," she says as I abuse her asscheeks and quickly make them red, enjoying how far that makes her boobs jiggle.

"OHHHHHHH FUCKKKKKKK," Jihan screams as I keep attacking her pussy hard and deep. Her bouncy tits are such a spectacle, and her needy face even more so. Good lord, I could fuck her for 712 straight hours and never get tired of it.

"Pull my hair, please, Daddy, and spank me more," Jihan begs as I push her hot body closer to mine. That little horny pet keeps getting obliterated as I show no signs of slowing down, giving her tight young pussy the pounding it deserves. "AHHHHHH," Jihan screams again as I do it just as she asks. "You told me to do that; don't complain, little slut," I tell her.

"DADDY, YOU'RE GONNA MAKE ME CUM, OHHHHHHH," Jihan screams. I spank and fuck her even harder when I hear those words, fully mounding on top of her. Face down, ass up like a good slut, I treat Jihan like an object, only useful to get stretched out by my raging boner. She can only moan and scream as her big tits get pancaked against the couch each time I hit her deep in the pussy.

"Come here, little whore, show me how much you want to sit on that cock," I tell her, flipping Jihan back and feeding her face full of cock with no breaks in between. "Good slut, look at those beautiful bouncy tits; you're so good," I say to her. Jihan presses her beautiful, cute face against my cock, and I fully take her panties off and order her to suck my prick as I lie on the couch, spanking her while she does it. "Keep sucking that cock," I tell her as she tries to resist all that spanking.

"Sit that wet pussy in there," I soon demand, spanking Jihan's already red butt as soon as she puts my cock back inside her. Her big, bouncy boobs are already within range as Isuck them every time they come close to my face. "Give those titties to Daddy," I say, quickly taking control as I pound Jihan from down low and attack her tits with my tongue and her ass with my hands.

"Come on, use that cock; show me how much you like it," I tell Jihan, who's never been stimulated like that. "I'M CUMMING, I'M CUMMING, I'M CUMMING," she screams. "Cum all over that fucking cock," I say, pounding her like crazy as Jihan collapses on top of my body. But I don't care and just keep fucking her throbbing cunt, also fingering her asshole to add to the stimulation, making Jihan cover my cock full of juices, using the crop to add to the ass-spanking of her.

I keep fucking Jihan nonstop as she clings onto my arms. She may be on top, but I completely own her. My girlfriend is turned into a free-use fleshlight who can't stop cumming on my cock. "Ride that fucking cock, slut," I demand of her, who bounces her red ass on it like a good slut. "Is that what you want, right little fuckdoll?" I tell her. "YES, DADDY," she replies.

I dive my face into Jihan's udders while she keeps riding my pole, her boobs hitting my mouth from every angle, making me go even more feral as her pussy is fully stretched out. "Stand up on the couch," I tell her as I pull out of her pussy, but my cock gets quickly replaced by my fingers massasing her core and making her squirt fountains of juices right straight into my mouth.

More riding ensues, as I'm now just watching Jihan do it in a straightened position, reaching with my hands and my crop to hit her big bouncy tits at will. Soon, I'm back to hitting Jihan's whole body: her pretty slutty face, her fully shaved pink pussy, her sexy butt, but first and foremost her massive milkers. "KEEP STRETCHING MY HOLES, DADDY," Jihan screams as I do just that.

After I'm done with this round of fucking, I let Jihan taste all the juices she coated my cock with, giving a gift to my cute pet as she bobs her head all over that big shaft. "Choke on that fucking cock," I tell her. "Now give me those tiddies," I quickly demand as Jihan spits between them and uses her boobs to massage my throbbing cock until you shot my load all over them.

"Damn, look at the mess I made on your big milkers," I told Jihan. But I was far from done, picking some clamps and placing them at her cum-covered nipples. "Your day as my pet is just beginning," I said. Next, I placed a dog collar on her neck and gave her an order. "Get on all fours; we're going to a different room, and I'm gonna fuck your even more," I told her. Jihan obeyed and crawled like a puppy until we reached our next destination.

Waiting for Jihan, there was an X-cross where I tied her up. As I slowly got myself hard again, I sucked her big tits and reached inside her wet pussy, teasing my pet girlfriend. "This is way more entertaining than what I was expecting," I tell Jihan. "Ohhh, yesss, Daddy, you like treating me like your pet?" Jihan asks. "A lot," I say as I start jerking off my cock and quickly get it back to throbbing hard for Jihan.

I slap my cock on Jihan's sexy thighs as I kiss her and finger her core. She starts moaning back again as I lift her left leg and put my cock back in her pussy. "Oh yes, that feels so good," Jihan says as I thrust my cock in and out of her cunt. "Just like that, Daddy," she says. I put her back on her feet and sucked her tits. "Such a good toy," I say.

I pick up the crop back and spank her ass, then tease her boobs and circle it around her nipples; more ass spanking follows as a tied-up Jihan can't do anything to stop me. Her boobs once again get the most attention as I do the sucking and spanking at the same time, before moving down into her pink pussy.

"What are you going to do next, Daddy?" Jihan asks. "You'll find out soon," I tell her. "Please, let me find out, Daddy," an already numb Jihan replies as I tease her clit with the crop. "But first I need to eat," I say, diving into her wet pussy to suck it. "Damn, daddy, that feels so good; I love that tongue," Jihan says.

"Does that pussy taste good enough for Daddy?" Jihan asks as she starts trembling, getting very weak as she's being held at the cross. "All my body is tingling, Daddy," she says as I move up to suck her tits and feed your fingers in her mouth.

"I want to fuck you from behind while you are standing," I tell Jihan. "Yes, Daddy, do whatever you want," she replies. I untie Jihan from the cross as she sucks my cock to get it back wet. "All I want to do is please you, Daddy," she says. "Then please me taking more cock in that pussy," I say, getting behind her and stretching her out once again, loving how the clamps on her nipples are bouncing when I fuck her.

"Is that pussy good enough for Daddy? Nice and wet, like you want it? Am I a good girl, Daddy?" Jihan keeps asking, but I let my thursts do the talk as her pussy starts queefing. "Yes, daddy, please, use my fucking hole," she says as my hips clap against her cheeks.

"Please keep fucking me; I'm Daddy's pet; that cock feels so good; please don't stop; Daddy loves my pussy," Jihan says as I indeed can't stop, giving her the special fucking I craved for, spending long minutes taking her from behind.

Jihan coats the floor with her squirt, and as soon as she does, I take it as a sign to push it harder. I lift Jihan's body up and start carry-fucking her. "OH MY GOD, DADDY," she screams as I attack her pussy while being the only one holding her so she doesn't fall off. "OH DADDY, YOU'RE GONNA MAKE ME CUM AGAIN," an exausted Jihan says.

"No, you're gonna make me cum," I tell Jihan, brining her back to the couch and putting her sideways. "Your cock feels so good in my tight little pussy, daddy," Jihan says as she gets a good spooning fuck on the couch. After a while, I take her off of it and pin her against the glass, giving her another pounding. "Please, Daddy, give me more," she begs. It seems like I have fucked Jihan throughout the entire apartment at this point, but I just don't want to stop.

More spanking in Jihan's butt follows. "Harder, harder, please fuck me harder, Daddy," she begs, as she can barely stand up at this point. I have fucked her for around 30 minutes, but to her it must have felt like 3 hours considering how hard I have screwed her little pink pussy.

Jihan can barely walk at this point, but that won't stop me from using her for more pleasure. I feed my cock in her face again as I put her tied hands up. "Are you ready for another surprise, little pet?" I ask her. "Yes, daddy," she replies.

I bring a Sybian for Jihan to sit on, taking the controller on my hands. I start slowly, letting the vibrating cock work in her pussy as I watch her get wetter and wetter while I grab her tits. Slowly picking up speed, I put Jihan at the mercy of the machine while I dive her head into my shaft and pinch her clamped nipples. More face-fucking ensues as the sybian now works at full speed inside Jihan's cunt, to the point she can't contain herself anymore.

"Ride that dick, little whore" I tell her as Jihan quivers with the intense vibration on the inside. My hands massaging her tits, my cock massaging her mouth, the toy massaging her pussy—it's just too much for her to handle as Jihan gets an exploding orgasm that makes her squirt all over the carpet just as she announces she's going to cum.

"AHHHHHHHHHH, AHHHHHHHHH, PLEASSSEEEEEE, FUCKKKKKKK," Jihan screams as she collapses after the intense Sybian massage. But I have one more massage to give her, laying her back on the couch, ready to finish where it all started as I put Jihan under a mating press and intensely pound her pussy.

"Give me every single massage of that fucking cock, daddy," Jihan says. "I want you to cum inside my pussy; I want you to give me every single drop," she begs. That truly surprises me. Jihan had not taken any birth control pills, meaning she was essentially begging me to impregnate her, and surely I was gonna take the opportunity, emptying my balls inside her shortly after she demands to get her tight pussy filled up.

"That was so good, Jihan; I hope we fuck like that 712 more times," you tell her. "Well, Daddy, my birthday is coming in a few days. I hope you have a special gift for your little pet," she replies.

"You bet I will," I promise her. And you know she can't wait.

Back in Jihan's pussy I go, and she loves it. "Yes, daddy, yes, please, use that pussy for your pleasure; my pussy is all yours," Jihan moans. "I fucked your friend Zoa in that position a month ago for her birthday; her legs were so fucking long and her pussy so fucking tight I couldn't resist and had to cum inside her," I brag to Jihan, talking about how I cheated on her with her groupmate straight to her face, risking no consequences whatsoever because I own her.

"Ride that dick," I tell her as Jihan quivers with the intense vibration on the inside. My hands massaging her tits, my cock massaging her mouth, the toy massaging her pussy—it's just too much for her to handle as Jihan gets an exploding orgasm that makes her squirt all over the carpet just as she announces she's going to cum.

"That was so good, Jihan; I hope we fuck like that 712 more times," you tell her. "Well, Daddy, my birthday is coming in a few days. I hope you have a special gift for your little pet," she replies.

"You bet I will," I promise her. And you know she can't wait.

#female idol smut #girl group smut #kpop x reader #kpop smut #weeekly smut #jihan smut #han jihyo

620 notes · View notes

ilium-ilia · 2 months ago

Text

In Limbo

simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader | mafia!au | masterlist

Chapter One: it's not easy—living on borrowed time

tw: none

Six years later.

The most important lesson you have ever learned is that if you want to keep your sanity, you need to keep your hands moving.

If your hands were still, the humming of the washers and dryers would reverberate too viciously through your bones until they splintered and cracked. The buzzing of the cheap laundromat lights would suffocate your hearing entirely until your head felt full of bees. If your hands were still, you would have to think too much about the unmarked envelope sitting in your lap—even worse, you’d have to think about the person coming to pick it up. You are too pusillanimous to face the world at face value.

Your distraction of choice is cat’s cradle; a silly game that consists of playing with string. You wrap the red yarn—which you had snagged from a craft store once upon a time ago—around your fingers, creating simple designs that begin to morph into one another as your fingers weave together. The fluid movement of your hands looks like fish dancing in turbulent water as you move from one formation to the next. It’s a practiced motion. One you could do in your sleep. However, no matter how often you move from the soldier’s bed to the candle sticks, every now and then you end up with a knot in the center of the design.

It’s supposed to be a simple move. A gentle dropping of your fingers as you straighten the yarn with your left hand. But you always end up ruining it somehow. Hands well versed in mistakes, no amount of practicing can erase the fact that errors are intertwined with your DNA.

The noise of the city suddenly grows to a thundering roar as the laundromat door opens to allow entrance to another patron. Eyes locked onto the string in your hands, you try not to pay attention to the fact that this man enters without any clothes to wash. Of course, there’s always the small hope that he’s there to switch an ongoing load, but you know better than that.

Despite the fruitful amount of empty benches that litter the building, you find the spot on your left filled with this man’s presence. The scent of him washes over you in a suffocating wave as his arm rests along the back of the bench behind you. While his cologne smells expensive, he wears it as if it’s as cheap as water, and the sillage is enough to sear your nostrils.

“You still haven’t shown me how to play that,” he purrs, disregarding any formal greeting. His voice sounds muffled against your eardrum—you fight the urge to turn to face him in order to hear him better.

As you unwind the string from your fingers, you ignore the way his hand brushes against your thigh as he grabs the unmarked envelope from your lap. He’s always touchy like this. As if you’ve known each other your whole lives. Each lingering brush leaves your skin itching, but you know better than to say anything about it. Marco—your unwanted friend—is not known for his patience.

“Maybe some other time,” you say softly; a sentiment that only makes him chuckle.

As you shove the string into the pocket of your jeans, Marco gets to work on opening the envelope. There’s a small wad of notes shoved inside; ones he eagerly counts. You spare a cautious glance at him, noting his acid washed jeans and scraped knuckles. The scabs are puffy and new, and the old blood sends your stomach twisting.

“Perfect, as usual,” he quips.

Shoving the envelope into the pocket of his jumper, Marco stands from the bench with a heavy sigh. You want him to leave. You can’t wait to watch him walk back out the door so you can be alone once more to play your stupid game of string, but he doesn’t. Instead, he continues to stand in front of you with his hands in his pockets. Prompting you to look up at him, he gently kicks the side of your foot. Verdant eyes pierce through you like a cat that’s caught sight of prey. You hate to admit how enchanting he is. Really, with a jawline as sharp as his, and dark hair to frame it, he could have been a model.

If only it weren’t for his vices.

“You’ve been pretty good at making full payments,” Marco comments. His eyes glance over your body as if he can caress you with his gaze alone, and once again you find your skin tingling. No amount of good looks can erase the fact that he’s just as filthy and slimy as usual. “My offer’s still on the table if you find yourself having trouble though.”

Solicitude weighs on your shoulders as if you’ve become Atlas holding up the mass of the earth. Your eyes begin to flutter as if Marco would vanish from your view between blinks like a magician or ghost. He continues to stand; he persists like an infection. The smirk on his lips screams at you that he’s enjoying this—watching you squirm. He drinks up the fear in your eyes like it’s his favorite brand of mead.

“No thanks,” you say hardly above a whisper.

Shrugging, Marco takes a step back. “Alright. Well, you know where to find me when your luck runs out, babe.”

When Marco leaves, you’re finally free to cast your gaze back to the tile floor. It’s odd that you find the grime significantly easier to look at than him—there’s at least some sort of art to be found in smudged shoe prints and spilt detergent. Yet it does nothing to quell the anxiety rising in your chest. Most days, this feeling constricts your heart to the point you swear it shouldn’t be able to pump at all, and still you endure. You’re able to for the next month at least.

It’s not easy—living on borrowed time.

Just when you’re ready to leave this wretched place, your phone begins to buzz in your pocket. While retrieving it, the string you play cat’s cradle with tumbles out and plops onto the floor. It stares at you as if to make fun of you—as if to remind you that your only comfort is a stupid piece of string. Sighing, you reach down to grab it while you read the caller ID on screen.

Incoming call from Captain Jack Sparrow 🏴‍☠️

“Hello?” you answer.

“Hey!” Aelin’s chipper voice hums through the line. “I just wanted to double check and see if you’re still coming to dinner tonight?”

Aelin Price is your closest—and only—friend. Even through the phone you can envision her sweet smile and the slight tilt of her head as she speaks. Having known her since you were a kid, Aelin has grown to be somewhat of a sister to you. Doting on you like a sibling, calling you weekly, and insisting on seeing you at least monthly; sometimes it feels as if she’s more of a mother than anything else.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you reply with a soft chuckle.

“Good! Do you need a ride? John should be leaving work any minute if you need him to pick you up,” Aelin suggests.

“No, that’s alright. I’ve got a few things I need to finish up, so I’ll just take the bus.”

“Alright, well if you change your mind just let me know. I’ll make him turn around if you need,” Aelin teases. “Okay, well that’s all I wanted to know. I love you, and I’ll see you soon!”

The smallest of smiles paints your lips. “See you in a bit.”

When the line dies, the rigid tension plaguing your body only seems to grow. All of your social energy has been expended after dealing with Marco, but you still have a dinner to go to. Usually your dinners with Aelin and her husband are fine, but when you were first invited you were informed some of John’s work associates will be tagging along, which means more people to meet. Maybe you should have said no. Made up some excuse as to why you couldn’t attend.

If it had been any other day besides today, it would have been easier, but you can’t afford to draw suspicion. Aelin can sniff out a problem like it’s a bad wound.

With a sigh, you stand from that uncomfortable bench and slide your phone back into your pocket. The glass doors of the laundromat show the hoards of pedestrians mingling outside in the October air, and you find yourself swallowing at the sight. With a final glance around the building, you swiftly exit empty handed. How odd it is leaving a laundromat without any clothes to take home.

You never do laundry on the 25th of the month.

After a short stop by your dilapidating apartment for a change of clothes—ones that don’t have Marco’s cologne lurking in the threads—you find yourself on an uncomfortably crowded bus during the busiest time of day. It will take you the better part of half an hour to make it to Aelin’s house, but you don’t mind. Despite the mass of fleshy bodies caging you into your seat, all you have to do is stare out the window and lose yourself in the scenery.

It’s grounding being the observer. Stuck in some sort of in between—only being able to watch, unable to be touched. It’s safer this way.

Usually.

Eventually the concrete and glass buildings soften into something more colorful and natural. Golden trees wave in the chilly October breeze and you watch their leaves fall like raindrops, covering the ground in a saffron blanket. When the bus finally reaches your stop, you are greeted by the gentle aroma of old rain and wet leaves. The redolence continues to follow you as you walk down the cracked pavement towards Aelin’s house.

Both her and her husband are very well off and live in a neighborhood that represents this fact well. Perfectly manicured lawns, pristine paneling, and fresh paint seems to be the trademark feature on every home you pass. It’s a stark but welcoming difference from what you’re used to within London with its chipped brick and peeling wallpaper. Still, as you trek over unmarred pavement, you can’t help but think about how out of place you are here—a stay animal lost among the rich.

You reach the house just as the sun begins to dip below the horizon. The pale grey hue of the afternoon contrasts with the warm glow of the kitchen lights bleeding through the sheer curtains that obscure the windows. Several unfamiliar vehicles—including a motorcycle, which seems absurd—park in an odd pile in the driveway, and you find yourself swallowing at the numbers you count. Even though you’ve shown up ten minutes early, it seems like everyone else has already arrived. Perhaps you should have taken that ride from John after all, because the thought of walking into a crowded home with all eyes on you has you grimacing.

You’ll just have to grit your teeth and bear it.

After steadying yourself with a deep breath, you approach the door with as much faux confidence as you can muster before knocking. Over the years, you have become quite good at concealing the anxiety that often wracks your brain. Even when your thoughts get the better of you, it rarely shows on your face. It’s perhaps the only talent you have. When living with an untamable beast for so long, you often have no choice but to get good at yanking back on the leash.

Moments later, the door opens with a click. Aelin’s beaming smile nearly blinds you as she stands in the doorway. Curled blonde locks cascade down her shoulders in a waterfall of sunlight, framing her flushed cheeks with golden strands. Arms spread wide, she welcomes you into the house with a bone crushing hug just as the warmth of the kitchen begins to swaddle and dethaw your aching fingers. Boisterous laughter booms from somewhere deeper in the house, but it’s quickly drowned out by Aelin’s melodious giggle.

“I’m so glad you could make it!” she exclaims as she leads you through the entrance. “I know you’ve been really busy with work and all.”

“I traded shifts with one of the other hostesses, so it’s not a big deal,” you politely excuse.

“Of course. God forbid they give you a proper day off,” Aelin chuckles sourly. “But you came just in time! John and I just finished cooking, and the boys are already here if you wanna grab a seat in the dining room with me.”

Once upon a time, you used to live in this house. When you were younger, of course. Fresh out of grade school, Aelin and John had welcomed you into their home with open arms, so you don’t exactly need to be coddled anymore when it comes to navigating through the rooms. Still, she insists on leading you through the kitchen—where John gives you a polite wave—and into the dining room where a small party waits patiently in their seats.

Several servings of food already adorn the rectangular table, each in their own precious dish. There’s an empty spot toward the center of the table where waxed mahogany waits to greet the main course. Plates, cutlery, and glasses of water sit at each of the six chairs lining the table—three of which are already occupied by unfamiliar faces.

Aelin makes introductions simple and quick as the two of you take your seats. First, there’s a man she calls Johnny. You vaguely recognize his voice as one of the louder ones you first heard when you came in, and he’s just as smiley as his laughter would have you believe. A messy, flattened mohawk sits on his head, and several silver piercings adorn the shell of his ears with a silver glint. You note the Scottish accent and appropriate tattoos.

Then, there’s Kyle—a handsome man dressed in an ironed shirt and slacks, he greets you with a kind nod of his head. Though he’s quieter than the man on his right, his voice is smooth and buttery as he tosses joking insults Johnny’s way; ones the man returns in kind with a devious grin.

Then, there’s Riley.

He’s easily one of the largest men you’ve ever seen, and awkwardly intimidating as he sits in the chair on your left. Slight hints of tattoos poke out underneath his sleeves, and there are a few scars on his face that line up with the unnatural curve of his nose. His eyes are piercing and dark enough to send your stomach twisting, but that agita eases as he gives you a small smile.

When you breathe in, you smell the faint spice of cigarettes—you’re grateful it’s not cologne.

“Boys, this is Chip,” Aelin introduces.

The ceremonious use of your nickname nearly makes you cringe, yet you attempt to keep an even face as you give them a lubberly nod. Really, you should be used to it by this point. Chip. That name follows you everywhere—even the cooks at work call you it.

“Thanks Row,” you fire back beneath your breath.

She gives you a crafty grin.

None of the men get the chance to ask about your true name before John enters the dining room ready to serve the main course. Perfectly roasted chicken breast sits in the center of the table as everyone begins to pass around food like you’re at a feast for a king. Buttered rolls, fragrant greens, creamy mash; your mouth waters to the point you nearly drool.

Dinner goes just how you expect it to. Everyone converses around you while you keep your eyes on your plate and pick at your food bit by bit. Cotton muddles the neurons in your brain. Each word spoken seems to blend together as you attempt to focus on the conversation, yet fall terribly short from doing so. You feel like a kitchen towel—wrung out and fraying at the edges. You speak when someone asks you a question, and even occasionally give your input when prompted, but otherwise your mind seems to derail.

Nothing but a runaway train, your thoughts seem to wander back to Marco. You can still feel his hand graze against your thigh. How the heat of him melts into your skin. His arm around your back. The smell of him. Desperate fingers itch to retrieve the string burning a hole through your pocket, but you bite that discomfort away and attempt to be a contributing conversationalist.

The aimless discussion is entertaining, at the very least. Friendly banter sparks between the men; inside jokes you don’t quite understand, and several Scottish expressions from Johnny that are quickly met by Kyle jokingly telling him to speak English. Even Aelin chips in with her own fiery humor that leaves the boys poking fun at one another, seemingly surprised that the boss’s wife has such a big bite.

Yet, your attention keeps returning to the large figure on your left. Perhaps it's the scars on his face, or the tattoos playing peek-a-boo by his wrists, but there’s something about him that whispers. He gives you an odd feeling you can’t name. In a way, he mirrors you. Quiet, only speaking when it fits the conversation—you’re not sure if you should fear him or be intrigued by him.

You don’t realize you’re gawking at him until his gaze meets yours from the corner of his eyes. Darker than the night sky, his stare pierces through you like he can read every scratch on your soul. A fiery heat licks up your spine, and shame settles deep in your chest as you quickly glance back at your empty plate. There’s no food for you to poke at, yet you still tap your fork against the china.

“Price,” Johnny’s voice booms as he leans back in his chair. “I heard you got yourself a new pool table.

John wipes his mouth off on his napkin before haphazardly tossing it onto his plate. “This your way of asking to play a round?”

“Might be,” Johnny grins.

Chuckling, John stands from his seat and begins to gather everyone’s plate. He balances them on his forearm as he nods towards the far end of the room. “Alright, but I don’t want any of you muppets scratching up the felt, yeah?”

“It was only one time! And I haven’t had anything to drink tonight,” Johnny defends.

“Wasn’t gonna name names, MacTavish,” John grins.

“What about you, Chip?”

Surprised to hear your name, your ears perk up as you stare at Kyle. He sips on his glass of water as he waits for your response with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh—uhm—I’ve never really played before,” you mutter.

“That’s alright. Riley’s a good teacher,” Johnny insists while nodding to the man next to you.

Your mouth opens to protest, but you can’t think of an excuse. A breathy laugh escapes your lips as you place your fork down and risk a quick glance at Riley.

“Well… I guess I can play a game or two.”

The dim lights in the garage illuminate the green felt of the pool table like it’s an interrogation victim. Multicolored pool balls are racked into a perfect triangle while the boys chalk up their sticks, sprinkling the floor with blue dust. Riley—who apparently is the master at pool—is the one invited to take the first shot. The crisp sound of the cue ball whacking against the others makes your ears ring as the triangle disperses like buckshot across the table.

One by one, the boys take turns making their shots and you find yourself watching over them like a hawk. You note hand placement, how they lean across the table, the way they line up their shots; all of it. Yet when your turn comes around, you don’t feel any more confident than you did at the beginning. It should be easy enough. The cue ball lines up perfectly with the purple stripe 12 yet you can’t seem to position yourself correctly. The stick feels awkward, and your hand wavers too much to make a clean shot.

An awkward laugh expels past your lips—you’re ready to throw in the towel before you’ve even started.

“Here,” Riley says, leaning his cue stick against the table.

His warmth suddenly engulfs you as he stands with his chest brushing against your back. It takes everything in you not to boil alive under his touch as he guides your hands into position along the table and stick. Fingers brushing against yours, he directly moves your body rather than simply explaining it to you. Everything feels more stable—your hands, your arms, your torso—except for your knees. They’re watery. Nothing but jello as Riley’s breath fans across your right ear.

“Steady, yeah? Strike right here in the center, but angle a bit to the left,” he guides.

Eventually, his hands slide off of you and he’s no longer crowding you from behind. The sudden absence of his warmth leaves your mind reeling as you attempt to get the table in front of you to come into focus. A ringing rattles in your ear as you take a deep breath. You can still feel the ghost of his hand over yours—large, rough, and heavy.

Staying as steady as you can manage with a swirling brain, you make your shot. A sharp clack sends the cue ball flying wonky across the table, but it still strikes, hitting lucky number 12 into its pocket. A series of celebratory whoops escape the boys as they mutter over zealous congratulations your way. Sheepishly, you look down at your feet as you tap your stick against the tip of your shoe.

“Nice shot,” Riley murmurs as he passes by with a squeeze of your shoulder.

Heat rises in your face at his touch, and you pray these lights aren’t bright enough to illuminate the perspiration gathering on the underside of your jaw. “All thanks to you, Riley.”

Smirking, Riley stays silent as he leans over the table for his turn. Thick fingers guide his cue along the table—it looks like a twig in the palm of his hands. Thick skin and muscles force his shirt to tighten along his shoulders as he hits his shot, easily pocketing yet another ball before he straightens himself. His attention is on you as he leans against the table. All on you—with those same dark eyes that have caught you sneaking glances at him all night. He gives you another quick once over before tilting his head slightly.

“Just Simon to you, sweetheart.”

The rest of the evening goes just as well as it could have. Electricity hums throughout your body, buzzing in your fingertips like you’ve had too much to drink. A fuzzy lightness plagues your head as you and the boys play a few more games underneath the watchful eyes of John and Aelin as they clean up the dining room. By the time everyone sets aside their sticks you feel as if you’ve been through the wringer. Flattened, and sapped of all you’re worth. You’re not sure if there’s any merit to the games you won tonight—certainly of no thanks to you—yet Simon still thanks you as if you were an actual contributor rather than a glorified spectator.

“You feeling alright?” Aelin asks.

The gentle hum of her car nearly lulls you to sleep in the passenger’s seat, and you find yourself chirring in confusion at your friend’s question. It takes a moment for her words to cut through the cotton in your brain. Nodding, you lean back against the seat as you watch the view pass you by. It’s well past dark by now. The lights of London snuff out the stars in the sky, but you still attempt to squint through the smog to look at them.

“Yeah. Sorry. Meeting new people gets a little exhausting,” you sigh. It’s a half-truth. The other piece is buried deep in your chest where it twists like an old splinter begging to free itself from your skin.

“Oh, I understand. My sweet little introvert,” she teases. “You seemed to get along well enough with them. They get a little rowdy sometimes, but they’re good men.”

Your only response is a nod in agreement before the conversation dies just as quickly as it began. Callosity gnaws at the back of your mind like a rodent. It’s all sharp teeth and smacking lips. Something within you urges you to keep the conversation going, but you’re quite daft in that area. Of talking. Of connecting.

The stretch of silence is short before it dies. “What are you doing Saturday night?”

You sniff as the car comes to a red light. “Working.”

“Per usual,” Aelin mutters. “What time do you get off?”

“Midnight, if I’m lucky.”

“Wanna come to the Halloween party they’re throwing at Terminus?”

Every cell in your body screams at the very thought of stepping foot into that place. You’ve been there more times than you’ve cared to go—it’s easy for Aelin to drag you along when you give into her puppy dog eyes, and admittance is free considering John owns the club. Still, the stentorian rumble of nightclubs aren’t for you. There’s too many people. Too many eyes and ears—dull teeth waiting to rip you open. Even here in the car you can smell the sour alcohol and sweat; feel the blistering heat of bodies much too close to your own.

“I don’t know…” you drone, unsure of what excuse to give her.

“Awe, come on, Chip,” Aelin whines. “It’s been forever since we’ve had a girls night with just the two of us. It’s been ages since I’ve gotten to see you at all! You’re… worrying me a little with how much you’ve been working lately.”

Worry. Of course she’s worried. You’ve given her every right to be concerned over these last few months. Working yourself to the bone, it’s not all that uncommon for you to get home in the early hours of the morning in the name of getting a few extra quid on your paycheck when cash is short. The last time the two of you had seen one another, you mentioned wanting to get a part time job on top of the one you’re already working. Aelin’s eyes had gotten so wide, you swear they nearly popped out of her skull like teal marbles.

You haven’t exactly done anything to ease her mind since then, either.

The light turns green, and the car gently accelerates through the intersection as you sigh. Your fingers lace together as you anxiously pick at your dry cuticles. “Can you promise me we’ll be home before two?”

“How about two thirty?” she counters.

You drop your head as you try to bite back another sigh. “Do you promise?”

“You have my word,” she assures, raising one hand off the steering wheel as if she’s giving you an oath. “We can even sit in the VIP section where there’s less people and better booze.”

A chuckle rattles in the back of your throat at Aelin’s enthusiasm, yet despite the laughter, a dithery tickle threatens to choke you. It forms a pit in your stomach that not even a deep breath can vanquish. Any warmth or lightheaded glee from the night quickly drowns beneath an unrelenting wave of agita—one that’s been looming over you since the moment Aelin mentioned she is worried about you.

Worry always brings a secondary feeling with it. Need. The need to smother. The need to fix. To help. Perhaps her dragging you out to her husband’s club is her own weird way of helping you. It gets you out of your dingy apartment and into the world. It gets you to spend time with her—the only person you have left in your life that you can really call family. In some twisted way, it’s comforting knowing she cares so much, but the last thing you need is someone trying to help you again.

You know all too well what that brings.

Still, you smile. “I can’t wait.”

follow @mother-ilia to be notified of updates | get early access to chapters here

#ilium writing #sr ilia #in limbo #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #female reader

239 notes · View notes

imaginingmanyfandoms · 10 days ago

Text

im fucked, i know - roy kent

warnings; swearing, smutty references, angst, accusations, fightings

summary; an article is written about some of the soft things roy does for you, and he assumes you're at fault.

a/n; first time writing for this beauty. considering a smutty part 2 if y'all want it :)

"Tell me the truth," Roy said, "Did you go to the reporters to tell them all about our homelife, huh?"

"For the last time, no I didn't."

You refused to react, because you really hadn't gone to the paps. You wanted your privacy as much as Roy did, maybe even more than Roy did, on account of never being famous and never wanting to be. But you loved him, and sacrificing a little piece of your anonymity was worth the love and and joy he brought you.

You were not, however, feeling love and joy right now.

"Well then how the fuck did they know all that, eh?? This article has shit that only you would know."

You were backed into the counter, his arms of either side of you, gripping the ledge of the granite, in a way that would normally excite you, and well still not intimidated or scared, you weren't exactly feeling good about it. Your arms crossed tightly across your chest.

On Saturday morning, an article had been published about 10 things the public didn't know about retired football legend, Roy Kent. Small things, like he liked being the little spoon, how he was hoping and praying for a little girl of his own soon, how he was absolute enchanted by you, willing to cater to your every whim. It made him look so soft, which he was, but the whole fucking world didn't need to know that.

You'd fought all Saturday, then slept as far apart as possible in complete silence, before fighting again all day today, but it was worse, it was like he was trying to force a confession out of you.

"Yeah that's my fucking prerogative, I waited until we dated for five full years before I went and blabbed to a bunch of fucking reporters telling them about how you like to be the little fucking spoon."

"Fuck!!" He shouted, pushing off the counter and turning around, hands rubbing harshly across his own cheeks.

"I'm going to bed," you said, "I think you should sleep in one of the other rooms tonight. The way you're accusing me, and talking to me... I just don't want to sleep next to you."

Roy looked over your face, noting the way your lip quivered. He was torn, his instinct said to grab you and pull you close and apologize and beg to come to bed, but his rage, his frustration, told him that you'd done the one thing he hated most, crossed the boundary most precious to him.

"I'll do you one fucking better," he said, picking his jacket up from the back of a chair, and leaving the house, slamming the door behind him loudly.

When you heard his stupid car start, your shoulders dropped from their defensive position, and the tears rolled quickly down your cheeks. You hadn't done anything. You'd been in all Friday while Roy went to the pub with the team, drinking and celebrating freely for the beginning of the off season.

Usually this was a time of bliss for the two of you, Roy allowed himself two full weeks of time devoted to the relationship before carrying on with off season training. Normally at this point, the two of you would be shamelessly rolling around in bed, and when you were panting, sweaty and recovering, still wrapped up in his arms, you'd discuss where to spend a weeks vacation. Because you, being the ever supporting partner, took the same vacation time.

You phone beeped with a text from Roy.

Lock the fucking door before you go upstairs. Goodnight.

You sighed, wiping the tears off your cheeks before locking the door, and dragging yourself to your room. Stripping off your clothes from the day, you pulled on one of Roy's shirts, and sobbed into your pillow, chasing a nights sleep that would surely evade you.

"Let me sleep in your fucking house," Roy said, staring at a confused Jamie, who didn't say anything but let Roy in anyway. He could've gone to his sisters house, but she would've asked a million questions. And he didn't want Pheobe to see him at this level of mad. "Fuck," Roy mumbled, checking his phone again to see if you said goodnight back.

You didn't.

"Alright, Royo?"

"If I was fucking alright would I be in your fucking stupid house asking to sleep in your stupid fucking guest room and not- stop fucking looking at me with that stupid fucking face!"

"We can talk tomorrow," Jamie said, "you are not regular grandpa mad right now you are just beyond."

"Fuck off," Roy said, checking his phone again.

Did you see the text? Did you lock the door? Should he call and check?

"Unless you want to talk now? I can put on-" Jamie was cut off by a glare he'd never seen before, it made him want to cower away from it. In all their years training and hating each other and becoming friends, he'd never seen a glare quite like that before. "Okay, night."

As Jamie scurried off down the hall, door closing with a little more force than intended, Roy let his face drop.

Was he wrong? What the fuck was going on? He couldn't imagine a world where you called up the paps and told them how he can't sleep without hearing you say goodnight first. About how he can't truly get comfortable at hotels until he knows you're safe in bed from whatever you were doing that day. Not that you couldn't be out or like he had any say about that but just... he liked to know when you got home after. But no one else knows that shit, that's his personal shit, shit he only shared with you.

Roy wandered over to Jamie's couch, not caring enough to make it to the guest room, and kicked his trainers off, flopping onto the furniture without even taking his jacket off.

Still no text.

After debating calling you to make sure you had stayed in and gone to bed, and saw his text to lock the door, he decided not to. Not that it could, but he didn't want to risk things getting any worse. Was bad enough, really.

Instead, he scrolled back in your messages, looking for a video you'd sent him while he was at the last away game.

But he wasn't after any of the ... intimate ones. He needed a certain one. A specific one, and when he found it, he played it over and over until he could trick his brain into falling asleep.

A simple video, you holding your phone on your face, saying "Goodnight love, miss you. Can't wait to see you tomorrow, and I love you!!"

He played the video until his phone died.

In the morning, Roy woke up to Jamie tip toeing around his kitchen. Roy groaned, his knee fucking aching from the stiff position he'd slept in, for the few hours he even managed to sleep.

"Oh," Jamie froze, "sorry didn't meant to wake you but I'm starvin," he mumbled, "Hungry?"

"No," Roy grunted, stretching out his leg and trying to hold in his grunts of pain. Fuck this couch.

"You want to talk about it?"

"Why the fuck would I want to talk about it with you?"

"Jesus, relax geezer. I figured if ya girl couldn't make you feel better I could at least try. What happened? You guys fight?"

Roy grunted, nodding slightly. Roy weighed his options... go home and fight again, or see if Jamie could help.

"Was it about the article?"

Another grunt. Another nod.

"Awh, mate. Don't take it so hard, everyone makes mistakes. I know she's a private one, was she mad?"

Roy scrunched his eyebrows together. "Why would she be mad?"

Jamie looked confused, "Dunno, cos she hates attention like tha?"

"If that were true she wouldn't have fucking told everyone that shit," Roy mumbled. He realized choosing to talk to Jamie about this was stupid, what does Jamie know about privacy? What does Jamie know about fucking anything?

"Erh, Royo..."

"Fuck this," Roy grunted, standing up but grunting as his knee gave him trouble. He started jamming his feet into his trainers.

"Coach listen," Jamie started again, but Roy just grunted, ignoring him.

"She'll tell the truth today and say sorry, sure of it, hates sleepin' alone."

"Wait, listen to me, seriously." Jamie said, standing in Roy's way when he moved for the door. "Did you guys fight because you were mad at her?"

"No shit," Roy said. "She crossed a boundary that I'd made very fucking clear when we started."

"Erh, I dunno how to say this but..." Jamie took a breath, "wait let me uh," he took a few quick steps back, safely out of Roy's reach. He took another deep breath. "You told them reporters all tha'."

"Fuck off," Roy said, face covered in anger. "Like I would ever do that."

"No really," Jamie said, bouncing his weight between both feet as if warming up to flee Roy's rage at any given moment. "Me and Isaac tried to fuckin' corral ya'at the pub but you were drunk, talkin' about 'er all excited to anyone tha' would listen. An' when we tried tellin' ya that you were talkin' to a pap you told us to fuck off. An' we were drunk too so we did."

"No," Roy said, finally. "That's not what happened."

"Call Isaac if you're sure but like... that is what happened."

"No."

Jamie looked sad. "Were ya mean to 'er?"

Roy wasn't even sure if he believed Jamie. Yes, maybe he got drunk enough that Keeley and Colin had to drag him into the uber. And maybe it was the first time in a while that he'd woken up with that bad a hangover. And he wasn't sure how he even got from the car to the bed, but he was in pajamas and you'd made him a big breakfast. And his car had been back in the driveway even though he'd left it at the pub and... he could vaguely remember talking to random people that night. He remembers telling the boys it was ready to get the ring out, and that he was feeling particularly in love with you lately and...

Oh.

Oh no.

Roy sat back on the couch. Right on the very edge, and put his head in his hands.

"Please," he mumbled, with an air of vulnerability that made goosebumps shoot up Jamie's arm. "Tell me you're joking."

"Sorry," Jamie answered. "But 'm not."

"Oh fuck, I'm fucked." Roy didn't move an inch, sat like a stone statue and Jamie didn't know whether to leave him in it or move closer. Jamie stayed perfectly still, worried about making any move.

"I'm so fucking fucked, fuck!"

And suddenly Roy was on his feet. Checking his pockets for his keys, which obviously weren't there, and he cursed and swore and muttered frustrated nonsense as he searched the couch cushions for his keys. And where the fuck was his phone? Ah, forget the phone. Didn't need the phone, needed the fucking keys.

Where the fuck were his keys?????

"Coach?"

"What!?"

Jaime was pointing the leg of the couch, where the keys were poking out.

Roy grunted grabbing them and rushing towards the door. Jamie had to nearly jump out of his way. Before he left he glanced back at the living room, cushions and blankets severely out of place.

"Sorry."

"All good."

Roy moved to leave again but stopped. He looked over his shoulder at Jamie, shirtless and stupid, and Roy muttered, "thanks."

"Anytime, granddad."

When Roy got home, he parked like shit and raced into the house. He was frantic, calling out your name and looking for you. It was still pretty early, but if you had a shit night like he did you'd probably be up. He threw his coat on the floor and slammed the door behind him, harder than he meant to.

"Babe?" he called, taking the stairs two at a time and ignoring the pain in his knee.

But you weren't in the bedroom, or the kitchen, or the bathroom, or the back deck. You weren't here. Roy sat on the floor in the hallway, head buried in his elbow, and knees drawn up to his chest. The ache in his knee didn't even fucking compare to the one in his chest, the one fueled by guilt and regret and remorse, fuck he was such a fucking idiot.

Of course you didn't go blabbing to reporters. Why would you have done that? You've more than proven your loyalty to him, and your relationship. Not that you'd ever needed to prove anything to him. You'd always been there, supporting him when coaching made him nostalgic and sad. Always patient with him when he was being a dick because he was at a different stage in his life.

And you did it without ever making him feel like you were putting up with him. You made him feel like you were just feeling it with him, like you were loving him through it. And then at one sign of trouble he'd turned it at you, made it ugly, didn't let you explain anything, made it nasty.

He had been so, so awful.

And you hadn't deserved any of it.

He blamed you for him getting drunk and telling strangers how much he loved being the little spoon.

At the sound of the door unlocking, Roy's heart skipped a beat, and he was up on his feet quickly, rushing down the stairs to meet you. You were in casual athletic wear, sunglasses covering your face and hair in a ponytail that was sticking out the back of a baseball cap.

"Hi love," he mumbled, throat closing at the sight of you. You didn't smile when you saw him of course, but weren't frowning either. Your face gave away nothing. But when you took the hat and glasses off, he saw what he caused. He saw the red, puffy eyes from too much crying and too little sleep. Saw the cheeks rubbed raw from wiping those tears away.

And he felt sick. What kinda partner had he been?

A really shit one.

"Morning, Roy."

"You weren't here, fuck, got so scared you'd left."

And while yes, you had left the house, you knew what he meant. He meant thought you'd left him.

"After all this time you should know well enough I wouldn't just cut and run from you without trying first." You weren't trying to be mean, but you were just exhausted. You'd slept like shit. "I texted you that I was going for a walk in case you came home."

Roy didn't know what to say to that, he never did find his phone at Jamie's and just left without it. He was dying to pull you into a hug. Desperate to feel you in his arms, feel your heartbeat against his. But he had no right, not until he told you the truth.

"It was me," he said suddenly. "On Friday when I was drunk I was talking to some reporter. I didn't know I did that, and I was shit to you. I was so fucking shit to you and I'm so sorry. I'm so so fucking sorry, you didn't deserve me berating you for one fucking minute and I did it for a whole weekend. And I wasn't listening to you and I was a shit partner and I'm sorry, love, I'm so sorry. Couldn't fucking sleep proper after fighting and it just made my temper worse and Jamie kept looking at me with that stupid empathy face and..."

"Roy, you've gotta take a breath." you said, putting your hands on his arms, the first time he'd felt you touching his skin in days, made him shut up and frown, just looking down at you.

He took a few deep breaths. And instead of talking more he just grabbed your hips, pulling you into him. You let out an 'oof' as you were pushed into his chest. His lip trembled as he held you, trying not to let you see it, but you just knew he was close to crying, could feel his fingers trembling as his hands spread out over your back.

"We'll talk about it, love."

"No, don't please..." Roy sighed, "please don't be nice to me, be mad at me."

"I can be nice and mad at the same time."

Roy huffed, squeezing you tighter against him for a second before pulling away gently, just enough to look down at you again. The sight of you, light pout on your lips, eyes hurting from his actions, made his heart feel like it was imploding in on itself.

"I'm really sorry," he said, voice a soft and gentle whisper.

"We'll figure it out," you said, "We have two weeks together, I'm sure you'll pull together some grand gesture to make me feel better."

"The grandest. So grand you'll be embarrassed of it. They'll write a movie about it."

You laughed, softly and not your full, happy laugh. But enough to give Roy enough sense to know things will be okay.

"I'm going to shower," you said, "maybe when I get out we can have tea together and talk about it, okay? Maybe they're will be a chocolate croissant from that place I like..."

"Chocolate croissants, got it, yes, there will be." He grabbed you cheeks, kissing your forehead, then both temples, then both cheeks, then he splattered a barrage of kisses from the cheek to your ear, trying to convey all his love and apologies and affections with the sweets pecks.

You laughed again, a laugh closer to your real one, and pushed him off, slipping out of his arms and walking towards the stairs to shower.

Before you could get to far Roy called out to you again, and you looked at him. "We'll be okay, right? You and me?"

"Of course we will," you said, "If we broke up just because you were an idiot we wouldn't have made it one week."

Roy laughed.

He bought ten croissants from that place you like.

#ted lasso #roy kent #roy kent imagine #roy kent imagines #roy kent fanfic #roy kent x reader #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent angst #roy kent fic #roy kent x reader angst #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso fanfic

158 notes · View notes

moonlight-alexia · 3 months ago

Text

enchanted to meet you: steph's birthday ˏˋ°•*⁀ steph x mccabe!reader, social media

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

liked by katie_mccabe11, leahwilliamsonn and 27,980 others y/nmccabe my favourite day of the year, getting to celebrate my favourite person, celebrating my Stephy❤️ happiest of birthdays to my love, I adore having you by my side and taking on life together. to many more years of getting to celebrate you, make memories with you and live the life we're building together every single day. I love you, so much 🥰😚 tagged: stephcatley

stephcatley absolutely adore you my sweet girl ❤️ thank you x ↳ y/nmccabe can't wait to spend this week celebrating you ❤️

marialeonn16 always been bit soft, no? ↳ y/nmccabe no...😑 ↳ stephcatley for me yes ↳ y/nmccabe fine :( yes for you amor ↳ marialeonn16 🙄😏

katie_mccabe11 wdym your favourite person is right here 🙋🏻‍♀️ ↳ kyracooneyx and here! ↳ y/nmccabe shh i will block you both, it's steph's day 🙄 ↳ y/nmccabe my favourite person = steph 🙂‍↕️

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

y/nmccabe just added to their story

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

stephcatley just added to their story

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

stephcatley just added to their story

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

y/nmccabe just added to their story

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

stephcatley just added to their story

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

liked by stephcatley, alessia and 27,980 others y/nmccabe a whole week celebrating my princess 👑 the most deserving person so worthy of all the love given to her this week and will spend a lifetime giving you the world my lovely wife ❤️ tagged: stephcatley

stephcatley i love you ❤️ ↳ bethmead_ all she can manage after gushing and blushing over this and lil mac for hours ↳ stephcatley i was not! don't spread lies ↳ y/nmccabe so cute how i can get you like that

leahwilliamsonn everyone needs a y/n in their life ↳ alessia yes when will i get one😩 ↳ caitlinfoord big agree! it's a need! ↳ katie_mccabe11 um excuse me you've got one ↳ kyracooneyx MY MUMS!

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

liked by y/nmccabe, bethmead_ and 45,896 others steph catley not enough words to describe how full of love and life i felt this week❤️my person, my people, always ❤️tagged: y/nmccabe

y/nmccabe you deserve all this and so much more x ↳ leahwilliamsonn 'she makes me so weak, have you seen how gorgeous steph is' ↳ y/nmccabe never telling anyone anything ever again ↳ stephcatley oh? huh baby hurry up and come home...show me just how weak i can make you

bethmead_ we all love you our steffy girl ↳ stephcatley love you all to bits

katie_mccabe11 glad to have you part of our family ↳ stephcatley glad to be part of this big chaotic family ↳ y/nmccabe who are you and what have you done with my sister? ↳ kaite_mccabe11 i can be nice you know

#steph catley x reader #steph catley #woso fanfics #woso soccer #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso community #woso social media au #social media au #awfc x reader #awfc imagine #auswnt x reader #katie mccabe #leah williamson

215 notes · View notes

himasgod · 3 months ago

Text

Sharing Valentine's Day with NRC

DIASOMNIA VER.

HEARSTLABYUL VER SAVANACLAW VER OCTAVINELLE VER POMEFIORE VER SCARABIA VER IGNIHYDE VER

SCENARIO: The morning sun shone down on Night Raven College as students prepared for Valentine’s Day. Classes had ended earlier than usual, and the hallways were filled with rumors of chocolates, a few confessions, and secret dates. Despite the general excitement for that day of remembering and sharing, you hadn’t planned anything special for that day. Or at least, that’s what you thought.

But he had been acting oddly suspicious since the night before. You’d noticed his furtive glances and failed attempts at hiding smiles whenever you came near. You knew he was up to something.

With Malleus Draconia, Lilia Vanrouge, Silver and Sebek Zigvolt

Malleus Draconia

Valentine's Day at Night Raven College always had its air of magic, but this year you felt a special tension in the air. Early on you had received a mysterious message that said, “Meet me at the Garden of Stars tonight.” You knew exactly who it was from: Malleus Draconia.

Night fell, and the moon illuminated with its silver light the path to the Garden of Stars, a hidden corner in the grounds of Night Raven College that only a few knew about. The flowers shone with an ethereal glow, and the trees rustled in the night breeze. There, under the largest tree in the garden, Malleus awaited you.

His tall, elegant figure stood out under the moonlight. His jet-black hair and signature horns gave him an imposing appearance, but his expression was soft. His emerald eyes looked at you with a mix of anticipation and something deeper.

“I’m glad you came,” he said in his calm tone, though you could notice a slight tremor of nervousness.

Malleus led you through the garden, showing how he had prepared everything especially for this night. He had summoned enchanted fireflies that floated around you, leaving a trail of golden light. Night flowers opened in their wake, releasing sweet scents that filled the air.

“Valentine’s Day is a curious concept,” he commented, looking up at the starry sky. “In the Briar Valley, we don’t celebrate this holiday. But after observing how they celebrate it here, I wanted to do something special for you.”

Your heart raced. Malleus, known for being reserved and distant, had planned all of this just for you.

You reached the center of the garden, where there was an ancient fountain that reflected the stars on its surface. Malleus stopped and looked you straight in the eyes.

“There is something I have wanted to tell you for a long time,” he said, his voice filled with solemn tenderness. “Ever since you came into my life, everything has changed. For the first time in centuries, I feel like I am not alone.”

His words were deep, laden with an emotion he rarely showed.

“You are the light that illuminates my darkness.”

You approached, touched by the sincerity in his eyes. Without saying a word, you took his hand.

“I feel the same way too, Malleus. I will always be by your side.”

For a moment, the whole world disappeared. There was only the two of you under the starry sky.

Malleus extended his hand again, this time in a silent invitation. Without music or words, you began to dance under the moonlight, accompanied only by the sound of the wind and the rustling of leaves.

Your steps were slow and careful, but each movement was full of meaning. Malleus held you with a mixture of devotion and reverence, as if he feared this moment might fade away.

“Thank you for accepting my invitation,” he murmured at the end of the dance.

You stayed in his arms, enjoying the calm and peace that only he could offer.

Lilia Vanrouge

Valentine's Day at Night Raven College was always full of surprises, but you could never foresee what Lilia Vanrouge would do. The morning began with a black envelope sealed with red wax that you had found on your nightstand. The message only read: “Get ready for an unforgettable day. I will wait for you in the Enchanted Forest.”

You dressed warmly and headed to the Enchanted Forest, a place known for its magical air and ancient aura in the surroundings of NRC. Upon arrival, Lilia was waiting for you under an arch of ancient trees, with his characteristic mischievous smile and a sparkle in his crimson eyes.

“Welcome!” he exclaimed, lightly jumping towards you. “I hope you are ready for the most memorable adventure of your life.”

Without giving you time to respond, he took your hand and led you to a clearing in the forest.

The first stop was a picnic in the heart of the forest. But, instead of a regular blanket, Lilia had summoned an enchanted floating tablecloth, which was suspended a few inches off the ground. The dishes were a mix of human delicacies and some unique Briar Valley creations that you didn’t quite recognize, but they tasted surprisingly good.

“You never know what you might discover when you venture off the beaten path,” Lilia commented with a smile.

After the picnic, he led you to a secret cave that only he knew about. The walls glowed with luminous stones, and the echo of his footsteps resonated in an almost musical manner.

“This cave is ancient, and they say that those who leave a wish here will receive a special blessing.”

With a knowing look, Lilia closed his eyes for a moment, leaving his own wish hanging in the air.

Back in the clearing, Lilia finally stopped and looked you straight in the eyes. For a moment, the mischievous expression he always wore softened.

“You may know me as someone playful and a little unpredictable,” he said, his smile more tender than usual. “But there’s something I’ve always wanted to tell you.”

He took your hands in his, his fingers light but firm.

“Ever since you came into my life, everything has become brighter. You are the spark that inspires me to be better every day.”

Your heart pounded at his words.

“Lilia… I feel the same way too.”

The sparkle in his eyes intensified, and in a spontaneous gesture, he lifted you into the air with ease, spinning you under the starry sky.

Without warning, ethereal music began to fill the clearing. You didn’t know where it came from, but it had a soft, lovely rhythm. Lilia took your hand again.

“There’s no better way to celebrate this day than with a dance.”

You danced under the moonlight, your movements light and full of joy. As the music faded, Lilia looked at you tenderly.

“I promise that no matter what happens, I will always create unforgettable moments for you.”

You stayed in his arms, enjoying the peace and happiness that only he could offer.

Silver

Everyone was running around with flowers, chocolates, and scented letters. However, you knew that Silver wasn’t one to be swept away by the loud festivities. His quiet, thoughtful nature set him apart from everyone else. So when you received a handwritten letter asking you to meet him in a secluded corner of the Diasomnia Dorm, your heart pounded in anticipation.

The sun was beginning to set when you arrived at the designated spot. The shadows of the trees danced gently in the breeze, and the air was filled with the scent of the season’s flowers. Silver was already there, standing by a wooden bench beneath a large oak tree. His silver hair shimmered in the golden light of the evening, and his expression was serene but attentive.

“I’m glad you came,” he said with a soft smile when he saw you approach.

He motioned for you to sit beside him, and the silence that followed was warm and comforting, like a soft blanket on a cold night. With Silver, no words were needed to feel the connection.

“Sometimes, days like today can be overwhelming,” he admitted, looking up at the sky as the sun faded beyond the horizon. “But I’ve always believed that love doesn’t need grandiose displays. It’s found in the simple, genuine moments.”

His words resonated with you. You knew Silver wasn’t one to open up easily, but when he did, each word held a special weight.

“Ever since I met you, every day has been calmer and more beautiful,” he continued, turning his head to look directly at you. “Your presence gives me peace.”

Your cheeks flushed at his sincerity, and before you could respond, Silver pulled something out of his pocket.

It was a simple yet elegant crescent moon-shaped pendant. It was handmade, and you could see the care in every detail.

“I made it myself,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck shyly. “I wanted to create something that would remind you how special you are to me.”

He put it around your neck, and the gesture was so soft and delicate that your heart melted.

“Thank you, Silver. It’s beautiful.”

The first stars began to shine in the sky, and Silver took your hand. His fingers were warm and firm.

“I want you to know that I will always be by your side, no matter what happens. You are my anchor in this world.”

The world seemed to stop as you looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and devotion reflected in them. In that moment, you knew that Silver’s love was constant and faithful, like the night sky that now covered them.

He leaned in slightly, and his lips brushed your forehead in a sweet gesture.

Sebek Zigvolt

I will write Sebek's part tomorrow, in a couple of hours, since I'm quite tired and I've already written too much these days, he's my favorite character so I'm going to give him what he deserves, just wait for it! <3

249 notes · View notes

ghostieblr · 6 months ago

Text

Melting Glaciers

Because the universe is unfair, it gives Derek Hale a kitten. One that is just as black as his wolf fur, and just as scary looking until you manage to get close to her by a painstakingly long process of trust exercises and find that oh, she's the most adorable thing in the world, too.

See, Stiles is a realist. When constant skirmishes with one certain older werewolfman, where his life was equally threatened and saved by this said werewolfman, made his little Stiles happy to the point of constant little deaths in the not-so-privacy of his bedroom, he'd choked down the realization of not being so straight as he'd mistakenly thought. At the time, the sorrow of it had more to do with the fact that his crushes were always so unattainable rather than the fact that it was a man he was crushing on, one that his dad had arrested too. And then when his dad was brought into the fold of the hidden layer in their world, and he saw his dad recognize the real Derek, he knew he had his dad's permission.

His dad's always been a realist, too. Stiles' affection is anything but secret when it comes to Derek, because he deserves all the good things in the world, and despite his design to push and prod until the person Stiles is talking to comes undone and shares their secrets, Stiles has done anything but that with him. In the beginning, it was curiousity. It was his desire to know the unknown, to gather all the facts, to know enough to get over Derek Fuckin' Hale. Somewhere down the line, but very close to beginning, his feelings turned warmer, though. Glacier of ice melting into rivulets of water, carried away on a sea of emotions he'd denied himself to dip toes in for far too long.

And now that Derek's brought home a kitten he found abandoned near the Walmart, and named her Princess of all things, Stiles has been forced to take a fucking dive into that sea.

He makes a choked off sound when Derek, in the middle of the Loft, takes off his soft-looking, cozy green henley, and Stiles is assualted with the very vivid view of his gorgeous abs.

Derek opens his arms and Princess, deeming it her cue, climbs atop him, her little claws her little helpers, and Derek's enchanting smile Stiles' doom. Once she's nestled against his chest, he looks at Stiles. Another sound falls from Stiles' mouth, without his permission. It's a whine, he thinks; a call for help.

"You okay?"

O-K-A-Y. Four letter word, where sometimes the last two alphabets are unnecessary. Just like this question.

"What do you think!" Oh no. He needs to calm down. Princess is looking at him, her green eyes wide and anxious. Stiles whispers, hisses really, "Her! You! Henley!"

Derek looks at his little princess, then looks back at him. "You are not making sense, Stiles." Looks back at Princess, says, "Your Tata is acting crazy." Princess meows, as if in agreement, and oh fuck, seriously universe? Why should Derek look so damned adorable when he's just paying attention to his kitten like many others do! Hell, Peter was doing the same thing in the last pack meeting, and Stiles had thought nothing of it. But Derek does it, and it's like Stiles has discovered a whole new world of kinks. What the hell.

During Stiles' inner freakout, Derek has managed to sit on the couch, and now he's petting Princess, who is still attached to his chest like a barnacle. Why isn't Stiles a kitten?

Wait.

"DID YOU JUST ME CALL ME HER TATA?!"

Princess hisses quite venomously at him, probably at the volume of his voice, because Derek winces too. Oops. But no, not oops!

This is serious business.

He points a finger at Princess. "Don't talk to me like that young lady," he waggles his finger for emphasis. She follows it with her eyes, looks at Derek once, then settles down and watches him with wide, unblinking eyes. What an attitude on this one. Just like her dad, really. Who is... looking at him, the corner of his lips tilted up in amusement. "You. Words. Explain."

"Words are usually his thing," Derek tells Princess, who meows once in acknowledgment. Then he lifts his eyes towards Stiles and pats the free seat beside him. Stiles sits. "I am more of an action person."

And then Derek takes Stiles' hand and puts it on top of his other one, the one Derek's been using to constantly pet Princess. Stiles' breath stops for a moment at the touch.

"Is this okay?"

"More than," Stiles admits, and watches with awe as Derek's eye sparkle under the waning sunlight, the way his mouth stretches further up into a grin, unabashed and unbelievably pretty this close up. Stiles forms a grin in response too. "So," he says, playfulness creeping away the shock. "Since I am her Tata... I vote to name her Princess Leia."

Derek's laughter in response echoes through the Loft, and Princess makes her displeasure known at the vibrations on her comfy spot by jumping onto Stiles' chest. They remove their hands at the movement, and Stiles puts his hands back on her, lets her burrow in his chest. She's already in his heart, anyways.

"Stiles," Derek says when he's calmed down, only a minute later. Stiles isn't even offended; The sound of Derek's laughter is like eating candy. Like pure bliss. "That's already her name."

Stiles blinks.

Derek calls, "Leia, come to dad," and she goes.

"I love you so, so, so much, you don't even know, Derek Hale," the words come out, and he... is not afraid they're out there, because Derek has, once again, Princess Leia on his chest, and his left arm comes around Stiles' shoulders to pull him in towards himself.

Derek kisses the top of his head, and Stiles melts, and he is a realist, so when Derek replies, "I love you, too, so, so, so much," he knows he's done for life.

Stiles' heart will belong to no other, but Derek Hale.

As if reading his thoughts, Princess Leia meows, and Stiles amends his mental declaration: his heart will belong to no other, but Derek Hale, and the family they create.

#sterek #teen wolf #derek hale #stiles stilinski #sterek fic recs #*sterek fic recs #derek hale adopts a kitten #sh.writesonmain #sh.writing

229 notes · View notes

cirqosmos · 2 years ago

Text

Did I, A Side Character Became the Male Lead's Wife?!

2023 | 13+ | ONESHOT | YANG JUNGWON × READER | -> PART 2

SUMMARY you — a side character in a royal novel doing absolutely nothing but enjoy your rich ass yet boring life, only watching over the female lead and doing your job in protecting her, only for a pair of kittenish eyes to fall not upon the female lead but on you, unfortunately.

AUTHOR'S NOTE not me writing a whole ass oneshot at 5am bcs of that sweet ask from that one anon, imma name u serotonin dopamine anon lmao- and jungwon bae u r truly my muse.. also inspired by sum manhwas cuz I binge read 90+ chapters in less than a day 💀💀💀 plus happy 900+ followers for me <333 mom wake up I'm famous even tho I'll never let u know what my secret writing blog is about 😊😊

a side character, how cute?

well, you only came to know of this very horrible (not really) fact that you're nothing close to a main character's vibes cause look at you babe, where's the sparkling shiny starry dust on you as you walked through the red carpet at the ball?

and did they even spare a glance at you? unfortunately, nope. because the female lead, Liz; was your enemy, at least in how your character was written in the novel by the goddamn author which was you.

yes, that's right!

you, a hella introverted author dwelling in the deepest corner of her room doing nothing but spent an ungodly amount of hours creating the perfect and enchanting characters after crying for major character death of a fic a few years ago. wiping your dripping tears off your cheeks in a comical way as you pull open your laptop and risk your 20/20 vision for life, just so you can reverse the aching pain in your chest that you wore a thick ass glasses now.

Liz, the female lead. Swooning over her was your religion, throwing not one but a ten whole buckets explaining how perfect she was—or how tremendously kind she was, delicate and utterly sweet. patting yourself on the back for creating such a goddess of a character, so it's only wise for you to give her a fitting male lead, right? Okay we'll talk about that later since it's about you right now.

So how did you end up in your novel? Well, because of one fateful day of you doing absolutely nothing but taking a goddamn rest, and whoever the god in heaven that just randomly decided to throw you in the novel you wrote yourself—must be utterly insane. Perfect indeed!

it took you a humongous realisation to see yourself in a dark green puffy dress that represents jealousy, envy, and betrayal—which also represents the side character standing behind the female lead on the thick cover of your book. you've originally written her as that wicked best friend that uses her seductive way of speech to seduce men, and at last turning her back at the female lead by accusing her of a horrendous crime.

her fatal fate consists of her head being snapped by the guillotine, unfortunately. but for you, not really, cause you are so in for destroying wicked characters but jokes on you—you're now in the body of that character.

pfft, can't the gods put you in a character that lives near the sea, with your straw hat on and as you drank your lemon juice away from the public drama, angsty dialogues, cringe moments you yourself have created because you don't have atleast an ounce of social skills that's why you pour it all on your characters.

"oh my apologies, milady— pfft—" three ladies sticking with each other like a super glue, had thrown the glass of wine on the female lead's gown—earning a series of gasps from everyone who saw but you were sure won't pay an ounce of consideration towards her as you had written almost everyone in this novel as "the world against the weak, fragile character."

oh, right. the hyena laughters of those you describe in episode 3 of "the flashy ball"; the three evil sisters, because why not? they added the extra spices in your tongue to the point you couldn't wait for them to get slap by the female lead or possibly someone.

ah, the tremendous satisfaction.

and you were one of that person whose hands itching to smash their skull apart, you cringed enormously at them as they were the ones that brought total trouble wherever they went or whoever are unlucky enough to get in their way. unfortunately, you seal your female lead's fate with them as she need some little obstacles, doesn't she?

you as hell were not sure what you're supposed to do, whether to just let things happen as the story goes or you do the male lead's job in protecting the female lead cause you have no idea why is he taking such a long time to appear, when he should've made his grand entrance at the freaking introduction?

and you wrote it that way cause you got fed up with male leads making their first appearance at the ball, and somehow quickly gaining the female lead's heart like Cinderella cause dear lord where's the slow burn?

just say, you're a conservative grandma type of a mindset or that you are skeptical over love at first sight. yep, you're right. that's why you ain't gonna let your precious female lead get bullied in front of your very eyes. she's like your granddaughter right now, seriously.

a shriek echoed through the entire ball, gaining everyone's attention. "oh my god! my dress! you— lady Liz! who did you even brought with you?!"

oh right, you forgot it's your first time at the ball either. "my apologies, milady. it's just that i saw a bunch of hyenas roaming around.." you rubbed the back of your neck.

"hyenas?! guards—"

"chill, what's the commotion here?" a bright dashing blonde haired man in a red royal suit came around, with sets of stars dusting upon his form which you already realise to be part of the main characters but unfortunately you forgot. you ain't having that extra superhuman memory just because you are an author.

the bunch of hyenas before you reasoned with the prince, but you slowly realise that the prince was none other than Prince Jake. Inspired by that one puppy image idol from fourth generation of kpop, you were apparently slurping your noodles in the local restaurant when you watched him imitating a dog from the tv, causing you to choke on your noodles.

it's safe to say, he's hot enough that he had to be part of your main characters. aah, that signature dashing smile of his as he defended the female lead with his wisely chosen string of words which immediately melted everyone's heart at sight.

times like this you wish you were actually the female lead, but the logical side of you beg to differ; you are not emotionally capable of spewing cringy romantic words for that's only reserved for writing. So thank you, i'll pass.

Surely, Prince Jake ain't the male lead for your precious female lead but you just let them converse with each other despite her with her absolute kindness, urging you to talk with them too, atleast a word. it sort of felt for a moment like she was trying to match you with the prince.

like no please, you'd rather not to. hot guys are hot, but they're not worth the emotional investment past the fangirling section.

plus the prince doesn't seem interested you as he doesn't spare not even one look at you which obviously you couldn't care any less, you sneakily went out the ball after a series of mishaps—for example your heavy puffy ass gown with its sole purpose to only look pretty but the reality ain't that pretty to say the least, panting like a dog as you took each step towards the entrance all while cussing yourself for ignoring your logical part of brain that you shouldn't have been adding humongous useless words to describe the gown just to make it sound extremely pleasing to the readers.

now you're the one to bear the consequences of your own writing, the fuck.

"one! two!—" a long, long, depressing sigh echoes. "three! ah!—" consequently falling upon your face, what a perfect day indeed. you just wanted to go home, tuck yourself in your comforting blanket, eat your hot cup of ramen or indulge yourself in the sea of chocolate while daydreaming of your favourite idols and fictional characters.

not this awful disaster of you getting tangled in the courts' affairs.

"i suppose, you need help, milady?"

oh no, certainly not. don't call me milady, pretend i do not exist for i certainly do not have the social skills to pretend that i like you, or form a decent conversation especially with men.

"milady?"

you curled yourself, burying your head into the comfort of your gowns. wondering quite a bit of how odd you look in the middle of the hallway.

"milady?" his voice-like whisper came closer, obviously standing beside you right now. "are you okay?"

fuck it. "please, i beg of you to kindly leave me alone as my day has been utterly ruined and—" oh wait, he seems oddly familiar. those lush fluffy hair and kittenish orbs that only softens among those he were close enough.

prince jungwon.

oh! the male lead, oh my god! your jaw hang so low it fell on the ground, your eyes sparkled in dozens of star like universe as you took in his marvelous beauty that you had spent creating meticulously after studying all the '101 rules of how to create the perfect male lead that had the readers heart evaporating & a huge ass green forest that certainly would cause blazing flames'.

"oh my god! you look absolutely gorgeous, i've done it really well didn't i?! oh my god!"

"o-oh—! absolutely, you did well!" he immediately replied back, pressing his lips tight nervously.

wait what? what did he say? oh shit, oh well, covering your mouth instantly as you accidentally let it out before the prince, your precious male lead that you solely created for the female lead. "i—.."

the prince, your very precious character—obviously taken aback with a slight blush dusting of his adorable cheeks as he raise his fist up to his lips, coughing a couple of seconds. a personality trait you very well are familiar of cause that's how you wrote him when he fall in love with the female lead.

your eyes ogled out at that familiar sight, screaming at the back of your mind—wait, wait! you're not supposed to fall in love with me, you idiot! go back! go inside the ball, she's inside there!

"that's oddly brave of you, milady. i'd certainly go as far as to say that i've never seen such traits from a lady." kitten eyes softening at you, crouching down as he lend both of his hands for you. you raised your eyebrow confusingly at what is he trying to pull at but you realise he was intending to get you up.

"u-uhm? uh, sorry. i could get up on my own, actually." yeah, that's what you did. pushing yourself back up despite his protests because you ain't gonna let him fall any further for you, nah uh, not in this life, your mission is to get him and your female lead together inside the frames of birds holding flower wreaths as they went on to their happily ever after.

not with you!

"may i have the honour to know your name, though, milady?" why the fuck isn't he leaving, what is there so interesting in you that he is still standing here asking you such generic questions.

you shouldn't be having the characters attention on you as you obviously wrote it that way, and that even though your character in the novel had tried to get the prince's heart, despite resorting to foul actions, that he never truly had been attracted to her despite this characters' seductive aura.

for you squealed so loud at the scene you wrote, with jungwon putting her in her place. "you are not her, and you would never be her." along with the bunch of your readers hosting a flamboyant celebration under the comments, screaming over how loyal he was.

so what in the actual fuck is this?

"you don't need my name." you nonchalantly answered.

"my apologies?"

"you see, my best friend is in the ball—" you gestured your hands to the entrance of the ballroom, "and she needs your help more than i do."

"wait? why would she need my help?" his eyebrows knitted together in utter confusion as you pushed him through his back.

"of course, she do! don't ask anything!"

"wait!— my name is!" he forcefully turn to face you again, but you immediately covered his mouth with your hands—kabedonning him against the wall.

an excruciating silence occured between you two in the silent hallway, Jungwon freezing to his core when your other hand shoot beside his head.

"listen i don't need your name, dear sir." you emphasise each word, you certainly don't need to know his name nor his status as a prince, not wanting to risk any possible connection with him judging by how he acted before you just now.

"b-but!" his words were muffled into the void as you cupped his mouth tighter.

"shh, shh. stop talking and listen, will you?!"

jungwon nodded slowly, what an odd situation he was in right now, he thought. but somehow he likes it.

"so first step, is go inside the ballroom. second, look for the lady in pink gown, and third—"

"t-third?"

"third is tell her your name! my best friend needs it more than i do!" you release him from your grasp as you went to swing open the huge double door, "now go!" waving a goodbye before kicking his body through the entrance, pulling the door back with your entire strength despite his protests.

oh of course, you finally let out a gag after suppressing it in front of him the entire time as you've never had a proper conversation with a male without stuttering, somewhat a sad tragedy for you, unfortunately. you felt quite guilty about your readers who swoon over the romances you wrote between your leads, weeping over how you're so good at it—not knowing you're a complete introvert with only a gigantic ass dictionary with you.

finally, the male lead and female lead's romances are about to start! you squealed with your hands clasping as you went on your way to the carriage, gesturing for the rider to embark on the way to your heavenly puffy manor with the widest big grin ever that it had him questioning you, "has any gentleman had caught your heart, milady? a couple of hours ago, you were often beyond distraught to attend the ball but insisted when you heard Lady Liz was going."

"oh, you silly." you giggled as you swayed your hand, "of course, that's one of the reasons. but there's another one.."

"may i ask what is it, then?"

you leaned in closer, urging him to get closer as you whispered. "i got the chance to become a Cupid!"

"a Cupid?" you squealed before the old man, hopping like a child for quite awhile before flying into the carriage much to his surprise, but only shook his head in amusement—appalled by how his mistress had changed so much.

"so?" you couldn't help yourself from pulling out the widest eccentric grin at the female lead, extremely curious and ecstatic over what romances had bloom between her and Jungwon.

Liz raises her eyebrow in confusion, "so?.. what do you mean, milady?"

you shrugged, falling back to your seat as you raise your eyebrow in a comical way, "that.." whispering ever so seductively, "prince."

"p-prince?

"yes!" the teacup rattles at your excitement oozing so much that you tapped the table a couple of times. "what happen? what's the tea~"

she lets out a soft giggle, a bit amused by your excitement. "i have no idea what you're trying to imply, milady."

"wait? what are you saying? didn't the prince went to you last night?"

Liz shook her head slowly, her expressions clearly stating that she absolutely don't know what and who you were talking about as a smile pulled up on her lips once again, taking a few sip from her teacup.

veins popped out from your neck as it dawned on you, your head snapped towards the castle on top of the mountain, you stupid of a prince! you cussed at him endlessly at the back of your mind, tightening your fist as your ears and nose fuming in anger. how dare he? he didn't listen to you at all? what in the actual fuck? would this somehow divert the original route? a dozen question arise into your mind one after another, causing you to let out an exaggerated sigh.

facepalming yourself as you imagined the imaginary heavenly light on top of you, weeping to yourself about how tremendously unlucky you are to have a hard headed male lead. it's impossible, you have never added a trait so irritating like this in his profile so how could this happen?

"milady?" the gentle voice of your precious female lead pulled you out of your inner desperation, you leaned in closer, whining so much over how unlucky you were and such, the rest only being in your mind as you pouted.

"ah, i remember now, the prince—"

"WHAT?—" you immediately seated yourself after giving her a potential heart attack, "my apologies, what did you actually.. remember?"

"i assume you were talking about the prince from yesterday? prince jake?"

"no not that bitch— oh certainly not him, ehem.." you took a couple of exaggerated coughs, avoiding her evident confusion. "isn't there a prince.. name jungwon with you that night?"

"oh my goodness! right! prince jungwon!" she shook her head in disbelief with her finger on her head.

right, how did you even forgot that the female lead in front of you had a "weak ass memory" in her profile description. tsk tsk, truly a forgetful author you are. you should be trying your best to remember the things you wrote before and revise it as best as you can, to avoid any possible problems in the future, atleast.

"right, how did i even forget, the prince asked me for your name, milady—"

"huh?" you look at her with confusion, as you were out of reality a couple of seconds ago. your orbs terribly widened as her words slowly sinking in to your brain. "HUH?"

ask your name?! why your name, why not hers?! what did the prince ate that night before stumbling onto your way that he had to ask for your name before the female lead—his own lover?!

laughing awkwardly, you raise your leg on top of another as you nervously swayed your hands repeatedly. "oh dear, oh dear. you might have heard it wrong, the prince?—" snorting outloud as you gestured to yourself, "asking for my name? what a funny news!"

"i didn't, milady. the prince came to me and asked me for your name, as he was immensely curious of who you are so i—"

"so what?—" you can't believe this, you really can't bring yourself to believe any words she was uttering. you should have been bestowed by the news that the prince had taken an interest in her, a hand in marriage, or anything, anything as long as you're out of the picture! "y-you didn't tell him my name, d-didn't you?"

"of course, i did!" exclaimed she did with the widest grin ever.

why are you so freaking happy over this?! clasping your head in your hands as you tragically fall on your knees causing the lady to gasp in shock, ushering to your side to get you up.

"milady?! what's wrong?"

"d-dear," you pouted as you look up to her, "you didn't tell him where my manor's at, r-right?"

she simply replied, "i did? the prince informed me that he's going to send a letter for you to be his partner to the ball."

an imaginary arrow struck back to your heart, forming a humongous hole that threatens to give you a panic attack. what? what in the actual fuck? did you accidentally did something to divert the original story you yourself created? but you didn't even do anything! you tried to do your best to keep the interaction with him as short as possible and he dared to take an interest in you?!

"milady, a letter from the royal palace had arrived for you."

"discard it. throw it. keep it away from my sight."

"milady?!" Liz and the head of the maid exclaimed in utter shock at your nonchalant answer.

"forget about it, forget about it." you clasped your forehead in utter disappointment, yet your brain were creating another plan b for this unexpected turn of events. what should you do? even more so, what would you do now that the prince had asked for you to be by his side to the ballroom?

this won't do, you won't let this happen—you had to look as unattractive and ugly as possible for him to cringe on and finally divert his attention back to the rightfully person who deserved it; the female lead.

your maids could only fall apart every single time you pluck out the enchanting gems they attached on your hair, ears and wrists. their efforts deemed futile as always as you had no mood for any sort of events, it was like a slap to their face as you initially weren't like this. you overheard them that they couldn't get used to how you were adamant in staying behind the spotlight as you often did your very best in dressing yourself up before, with the sole intention of gaining the favour of men and even more better, a prince.

of course, they are totally oblivious to your real identity. only a series of jaw gaping one after another with your change of character, at first—you had a dilemma over whether you should act like the character you created but you later scrap the idea as soon as the anxiety of being engulfed in the crowd suffocated your chest. opting to avoid as many as balls or public events as possible, but that obviously didn't work out that well since you heard of the female lead's arrival from the country side—just like you intended it to be.

and being the proud mother (writer) you are, of course why wouldn't you take one single look at her and see of how far she had came? but alas, one interaction leads to another one and so on—till finally, you became her best friend throughout her entire journey. waiting for the male lead's arrival, and watch their romances blooming and per se—but oh well, look at the situation you were in right now; total disaster.

you truly despise being in such an extravagant puffy gown and the numerous accessories hugging your skin, it's tremendously uncomfortable that you wanted to rip it off part in front of the prince standing before you right now, and right here.

asking for your hand to dance with that odd kittenish smile, that you swore you had never ever written in his personality profile; he should never have been this casual and chill over a person he had just met. he should've been cold as fuck, icy to touch, and a spiralling disaster if you dare to talk to him, so why?

plus how could he have taken an interest in you? you couldn't possibly have added a dose of the love at first sight trope, didn't you? you despised that trope to your very core.

"milady? may i?" he extended his hand before you, patiently waiting for your answer.

you had decided that you're going to reject him quick and efficient—just like the local fast food restaurant your mouth kept drooling over for, smashing a five star review for their inhuman speedy delivery.

"you see, prince jungwon. i have no desire to have a connection with you, a relationship, as a matter of fact."

he raised his eyebrow, seemingly unfazed by your bold words. "i'm curious milady, why so? have i done something that perhaps had annoyed you?"

cliché question, you loathe that. "what if i said you did?"

"then tell me, milady. i'll try my hardest to own up to you—" he took a steps forward, which causes you to immediately step back as well with a frown on your face. you can't, not in this life, to even give him a single chance to get close to you. nah uh.

"no need, and stay one meter apart, please." you pointed your index finger towards the floor and he hesitated, but complied immediately.

"i." you raise your index finger back to yourself and then at him, "don't like you. do you understand?"

"b-but?"

"stop questioning me, prince jungwon." you stayed firm in your spot, "i believe it's a common decency to step back when a lady had voiced out her opinion, a prince like you certainly would understand, am i right?"

Jungwon was clearly taken aback, the fact that you didn't give him a single chance to utter a word nor take a step closer was a hard punch to his face. It feels as if he was trying to reach for you, but you efficiently dodged it with ease. It kind of.. annoys him.

"base on how you didn't say anything anymore, i assumed we're done here! well then, goodbye prince jungwon." you turned your heels towards the entrance, not bothering to waste any time at this goddamn ball. "i hope this will be the very last." you scoffed inside your mind, eager for the story to return to it's original route, and that the prince would soon deem you useless and such—returning to the female lead's arms.

hm, now where's your precious female lead? she should've appeared right now and right here, strike the pot while it's hot!

"i'm afraid i can't back down that easily, milady." jungwon took a few steps forward, wrapping his hand round your wrist as he spun you around to face his eyes filled with blazing determination. one that you specifically added on top of his profile so that your readers would kept it in mind.

your breath hitched down your throat as you remembered there's only two reasons he could have this; one that reminds you when he was at war, shouting at the top of his voice to encourage his soldiers as they push through the enemies, and another reason of it appearing is when he have to get what he wanted, or else all hell will break loose, chaos will ensue.

right, you're truly an idiot. staying a few years in this novel without any memories, and only for it to surface back when you stumble upon the library—dozens of books flickering a series of eccentric images in your mind. It had cause you to lose all memories of important details, only emerging everytime you are presented with a situation you couldn't comprehend. such as when you forgot that the female lead had memory problems and such.

"i'll only present this choices to you, milady. since you tremendously intrigued me over how well spoken you were and fascinating indeed—" bitch, you don't even know how you had the sudden ability to confront him but you were just sure as hell that you don't want to ruin your own novel. no fucking way.

you can't let him have the upper hand on you.

"let me go." irritated to your core, you tried untangle Jungwon's tight grasp on your wrist but he won't budge even an inch which only had you fuming in anger. "i said let me go, bitch!"

the crowd emits a series of gasps and murmurs as you spun around—twisting the prince's arms which had him yelping in pain, and ultimately pinning him onto the ground. with rage consuming you that nothing was going in your way, you slammed your hands on the both side of his head. clenching your jaw and gritting your teeth as you emphasised each word. "you are one a dumb hell of a bitch, when i said i do not want to see you anymore. i mean it. so—"

"so what?" his smug look resurfaces, one that emerges whenever he was being challenged. yes, do that! he should despise you, not take an interest in you! he should loathe you so much that he can't even gaze at you for a second. excitement surged through your veins as you open your mouth, preparing for the last blow.

"so, get lost. just because you're a prince doesn't mean every girl would fall for you, idiot."

an even more louder gasp emits from the crowd as they clearly heard what you said, their jaw gaping and some covering their mouths with their hands as their mind are now bombarded with random questions over how exceedingly brave you are to insult the royal prince, and of what fate will you met now that you've done such an atrocious act.

a low giggle sent shivers down your spine, and goosebumps to riled over your neck as you realise the prince under you had the widest smirk on his face. you frowned deeply, he shouldn't be smirking! he should be fuming in anger and throwing you out of the palace at this moment. so why?!...

"oh milady, how truly fascinating you are." you let out a loud yelp when he grabbed both of your wrists, pulling you closer to his face—a dangerous close proximity against his fluttering eyelashes and lips that your breath caught up in your throat which causes your cheeks to heated up in embarrassment of what kind of position you two were in right now. "i like you, you would certainly be a perfect fit to be by my side."

"what?!" you exclaimed, jaws dropping and eyes about to pop out at his very words. "i don't want to be by your side—"

"a lady like you, i'm afraid to say, intrigues me very much..." Jungwon shots a kittenish wink right through your heart. "be my wife, milady. i'll show you how good I can be for you."

#「 talesofyuan 」 fics #did i. a side character became the male lead's wife?!#enha #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enha imagines #enha x reader #enhypen oneshots #enhypen scenarios #enha fanfic #enhypen x female reader #enha fluff #jungwon smut #enhypen fluff #enha smau #enhypen jungwon #yang jungwon

2K notes · View notes

aurorasgate · 6 months ago

Text

as long as we're together

sephiroth x afab!reader | 3.4k+ words

warnings: an alternate ending to nibelheim, angst/comfort, afab reader but i didn't use any pronouns, pregnancy, he's a little scary and handles you not very gently but overall i wanted to try my take of seph losing his sanity being a mix of things like losing his friends, lack of sleep n water and meds he probably needs to be taking plus some jenova influence (he was really going through it), i don't think anything else but please let me know if i missed any tags!

there’s a ringing in your ears, somewhere between a joyful hum and the screeching break of the whole world around you. a perfect mirror to the whirlwind of emotions you’re feeling at the moment.

this could not be fucking happening. not right now, at what you would consider quite literally the worst possible time in your whole life. and yet there’s an undeniable happiness, a flicker of light in the darkness.

after all, was it not something so special to have a child with your beloved? the ultimate product of your love. a reason to hope. a lovely addition to the future you had dreamt of together.

but there is nothing simple or ideal about the current situation you’re in. not when you’re in nibelheim with sephiroth and with how.. unusual he’s been acting since arriving and made worse by the fact he’s holed himself inside the shinra basement for more than two days now. reading and reading, never once looking up to answer your calls of his name or touching the food and water you’d left for him.

it was a few short weeks ago, after losing angeal, the possibility of abandoning shinra became a matter of when between the two of you and when he had been assigned this mission, only days ago, he proposed that you leave after nibelheim.

you chalked your oncoming nausea and discomfort to stress. the anxiety of running from shinra and that you had no reason to believe they’d let sephiroth go so easily. the normal life you’ve longed for together almost within reach and yet so far away, with an entire blockade ready to stop you. or more likely, kill you.

but of course that had been a naive assumption and you wouldn’t be surprised if the goddess was laughing at your foolishness now. waiting on her throne of the most vivid greens and enchanting flowers to see how this would all play out.

“- okay?”

zack’s voice pulls you from your thoughts and dulls the ringing in your ears. it’s then you notice too that you’ve made your way to shinra manor and the sun is in its last few moments of setting behind the mountains. by the way zack looks at you, a confused tilt to his head and worried puppy eyes, you think he’s tried to get your attention more than once.

“zack.” forcing a smile you’re sure doesn’t meet your eyes, you find some comfort in his normality and presence. hoping, praying, he could do what you hadn’t been able to thus far. “any luck with sephiroth?”

“no.” his face drops, his blue mako eyes avoiding yours. “it’s like i'm not even there. he just keeps reading and muttering to himself about jenova and what we saw at the reactor.”

your chest aches horribly. what was going on.. what could you do to help him.. how could you help yourself? or the baby growing below your belly? taking in a deep breath of the cool, mako free air, you will yourself to calm. even if only a bit, hoping to lessen what your baby has to feel no matter how scary things were getting.

“thank you for trying,” and you mean with all your heart. reaching out, you place a hand on his arm and try to let it ease you both. “i’m going to go talk to him.”

before your hand can pull away, zack grabs ahold of it, saying your name seriously. “i don’t know if that’s a good idea. sephiroth..” worrying his bottom lip through his teeth, he hesitates. like he doesn’t want to say whatever comes next. “he’s not himself at all. what if..” his grip on your hand tightens. “what if he hurts you? i know you can hold your own but he would never forgive me for letting you get hurt and i wouldn’t be able to forgive myself either. i can -“

“i’ll be fine.” your voice and eyes soften, a gentle reassurance to you both. “really.” no one could talk you from going down there. nothing could stop you from trying until you physically could not speak or move or breath. you believe sephirot would do the same for you. looking down, your next words are a whisper, meant for the life growing inside of you, “i can’t just do nothing.”

“but -“

“no ‘buts’ zack. he’s my husband. i have to.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

night slowly settles in, chilling the unkept manor. the lights sephiroth had never let dim since diving into the records and books lining wall to ceiling are your guide to the one that holds your heart and the only source of warmth besides sephiroth himself.

you pass by the tray of food you had left earlier today before heading to the clinic alone, untouched and now drooping on the plate. the water still completely full, just like every other glass you had tried to get him to drink without success.

your heart is a wicked beating drum, loud enough you don’t doubt that sephiroth can hear it clear as day the closer you make it to him but you can’t stop it when your mind is racing. should you lay the truth on the table? use it to hopefully snap him out of this? or would it only make it worse. could you even do it? neither of you would ever have wanted to use your baby as a bargaining chip, as a means to do anything other than love them and give them the world. but if nothing else, he deserves to know. right..

resting on his knees, sephiroth looks like a man possessed as he hunches over the open book resting utop a stack of dozen or more. there’s an unusual greasiness to his usually pristine hair, dark circles under his emerald eyes that have a sheen of ferality to them that you’ve never seen before. proof that for days he’s done nothing but this and that with every book he reads, it takes more of his sanity with it.

despite knowing he can hear you, your steps are quiet and when you approach him, kneeling down to be level with him, you place a gentle hand on his arm to alert him of your presence but he does nothing to acknowledge it. he continues to read, gliding his finger along the pages as he does.

“sephiroth,” you call his name softly, reaching for his face with your other hand, trying to brush his messy bangs away from his face.

before you can touch a strand of his silver locks, his large hand is wrapped around your wrist, tight and impatient, enough to be a subtle ache and catch you by surprise.

“it’s okay,” you use the voice you had so many times before in the latest parts of the night when nightmares tore him from sleep. a warm promise that he’s not alone and never would be again. “it’s just me.”

for the first time since locking himself down here, sephiroth actually looks at you but the look in his eyes forms a lump in your throat in its unfamiliarity on his beautiful features; a stark contrast to the gentle man you knew him to be. especially towards you.

“seph-“

his grip on you tightens to something more painful and in a flurry of inhumanly quick movements, you’re being pinned to the cold floor of the library, the dusty rug the only thing to cushion the impact.

the stack of books falls at your side, their pages scattered open. his right arm keeps him hovering above you, caging you between his legs and under his board body. the long strands of his hair fall over his shoulders and tickle your skin as he stares down at you with a crazed edge to his features and the thin slits of his pupils. like he might devour you both right here and now.

the most dangerous predator and his sweet, helpless, little prey.

but you weren’t helpless. at least you didn’t think so. he had every bit of physical prowess over you, yes, but it’s one simple truth that keeps you from breaking underneath him no matter how much you don’t recognize the man in front of you.

he won’t hurt me. he would never hurt me. you repeat the words in your mind, knowing it’s true.

“you need to sleep, my love. please.” you plead, not fighting the hold he has on your wrist, pinning it to the side of your head while your other hovers in the space between you. “this isn’t good for you.”

the smirk that spreads across his lips is unsettling and the laugh that follows is as though he pities you. it makes your heart constrict and your skin break out in chilling goosebumps. his voice is distant and low when he speaks, almost as if he’s muttering amusingly to himself. “as if you could know what i need.”

“that's not true,” you try so badly to keep your calm but your voice still shakes. finally you let your free hand connect with him, a soothing press against his chest. “i’ll watch over you and cook you pumpkin soup when you wake up and then we can talk about all of this.”

sephiroths expression turns serious, his smile falling into something almost pained. “i’ve learned the most interesting things about myself.” he says, ignoring your words. again, it’s as though he’s talking to himself, recounting what he’s read. “my mother; an ancient, a steward of the planet. how they found her and exhumed her body from rock and used her to resurrect the ancients, which led to my conception. my.. creation.” the word seems to pain him further, making him close his eyes with force and draw his brows together.

he lets go of your wrist in favor of reaching for his face as if the pressure of his fingers on his skull will help ease whatever it is that’s going on inside of him. it doesn’t seem to last long though. so quickly does it dissipate, the candle light surrounding the room growing brighter, letting you see clearly how his gloved hand is now only hiding a part of his terrifying smile and muffling a manic laugh.

“the crowning glory of professor gasts experiment.”

“you’re not an experiment or a creation!” you’re so quick and steadfast in your reply, refusing to accept anything else. you don’t want to let yourself give into the fear bubbling within you but some of it is so impossible to hold back. you can’t help the tears that stream down your cheeks or how your hands tremble when holding his face between your palms, forcing him to keep looking at you. “you are so much more than any of that.”

he doesn’t seem to feel the warmth from your palms, the truth in your words, or the sincerity in your eyes. every moment that passes he just feels farther and farther away.

“you are right about that.” he says coldly. you aren’t sure exactly what he means but you know that he’s not taking your words like you intend, that there’s something more behind what he’s thinking. “and mother..” you watch as his pupils blow wide and shrink back, the mako in his eyes seeming to darken. like he truly is possessed. needing only one of his hands, his fingers coil around your wrists and tug your hands away as if they were nothing more than pestering flies. “she’s waiting for me.”

you have so many questions and no time to try to piece them together or try to answer them. not when it feels as though he’s slipping through your fingers like sand through a sieve. the heat of his body recedes, the weight of him, the aura of darkness around him, starts to lessen on your person but you can’t let him go. you wouldn’t give up on him. you can’t.

“sephiroth!” grabbing onto his coat, you hold on with all your might and try to stop him in his tracks but quickly find yourself once again pressed to the floor, staring into enraged cyan eyes, the glint of masamunes blade shining in your peripheral vision, right next to your head, and the sound of her sinking into concrete like nails on a chalkboard fills the room.

you’re pinned, pressed down by the weight of him and more strength than he had ever used with you before, completely unable to move from the hand that holds you down.

he won’t hurt me. he won’t hurt me.

“don’t try to stop me.” he seethes.

“i will.”

“a truly foolish decision.”

“maybe it is,” you can feel the tears still streaming down your cheeks, how hot the air in your lungs is. you can’t think straight - can never give up on him. “if you want to stop me you’ll have to kill me.” the words come out with all the conviction of your heart, fueled by your tears and never once do you break your gaze from his. a heartbeat passes, his hold on you growing in its strength until you think you’ll have bruises come tomorrow but there’s an undeniable flame in your eyes and it helps to steel yourself to say what may change the course of tonight entirely. “but know, in turn you’ll be killing our child too.. or at the very least leaving us both - is that right?”

“liar,” sephiroth growls through gritted teeth and with an expression you can’t quite make out when his eyes break away from yours and he uses his hair to shadow his visage but it feels like he’s fighting with himself. calling you a liar and yet not wanting to believe you actually are one. knowing you aren’t one.

“see for yourself. the paper with the test results are in my pocket or perhaps that soldier hearing of yours can already hear their heartbeat.”

you don’t really know what you’re saying. for goddess sake you didn’t even know when a baby's heartbeat is able to be heard or how far along you are but you would have done anything to bring him back to you. to save him and your child. to show him that flicker of light in the darkness and take his hand so you could walk towards it, together.

on bated breath you wait for him to move and when he does, he lets go of his sword to take his head in his hand, grunting in more discomfort than before. his hand holding you down grows weaker too but you stay where you are, finding the rug underneath you beginning to warm from your body heat.

it feels like so many long moments but after what was causing him pain starts to ease, his touch changes completely.

forgoing the paperwork in your pocket, the fingers that held you down only moments ago are now a feather of a touch down your middle and takes care when lifting your shirt, helping you lift your back so it bunches and sit underneath your breasts. he slides on his knees to lower himself and uses his other hand for leverage until he’s able to rest his ear on the soft skin of your belly.

there’s so much comfort in the way he lays on you like this and so badly you want to relax as it attempts to wash over you, coax you to ease, but it’s not until both of his arms wrap around you, pressing him further into your stomach and lifting your middle off of the ground, and he sighs do you allow yourself to actually do so and take in your first steady breath.

the mess inside your head is hardly coming back together. some of it left worse as his words start to settle in and only leave more questions but the darkness once looming over you, ready to take everything from you, to snuff out that small flicker of hope, starts to recede. slowly but surely you feel it draw back into the shadows, the life in your womb the source of light forcing it to stay there. protecting both you and sephiroth.

over the minutes that pass while you’re kept in the awkward position your tears begin to subside, every breath a bit calmer than the last. he’s okay. we’re okay. everything else aside, so long as you two were by each other's side, everything was going to be okay.

when sephiroth breaks the silence between you, his shakey words akin to something much more familiar to the man you love and yet laced with a new emotion you aren’t sure you have a name for and raises your anxiety in completely different ways.

“there are two of them.”

“what..”

he holds you ever closer. “two little heart beats..”

in the fully lit basement, there is no telling how much time has passed since sephiroth succumbed to sleep while listening to the beating hearts in your womb. this space on the dusty rug becoming a temporary haven for him to rest at, where he’d be totally and completely safe and where you could watch over him like you had promised.

your hands had found their way into his hair, for hours combing through the tangles and knots that had developed over the last few days and scratching at his scalp gently with the tips of your fingers until they’re too tired to continue and simply rest on him instead. in his sleep, you can hear barely coherent murmurs of your name from his lips and feel the warmth of his breath seeping into your skin as the hours pass.

at some moments, when you let yourself bask in bliss and relief, everything that happened before might have seemed like a bad dream had it not been for masamune still shining next to your face. you wouldn’t have been able to sleep regardless, you’re certain the only reason sephiroth had is because he physically could not stay awake any longer, but the way his sword lingers over you does little to help you in that aspect.

instead you focus on the other side of the door, the hallway you can only see a bit of out from your place on your the ground, books with disturbed dust and others untouched, the outward point of sephiroths nose, his long dark lashes, your fingers threaded through his silver hair and the twin babies resting in your belly below him.

when he finally does stir, he hardly rubs the sleep from his eyes or sits up completely before he’s lifting you off of the ground and into his arms, the defined muscles of his body softer than the rug and concrete below it, warmer, your personal haven where you were safe from anything.

“let’s leave this place - shinra,” he says against the crown of your head, voice thick with tiredness but resolute in his decision.

you could almost laugh from how relief hits you like a train, clinging on to your promise, your dream of a normal life that seems closer than ever. “after you’ve had some water and a meal, yeah?”

“no.” it’s not often that sephiroth denies you and it comes out harsher than he intended but he’s quick to bring you closer, pressing his forehead to yours now, holding you like how he spoke to you, not doing as you wish, might make you push him away. he speaks much more gently now, so close you can feel the warmth of his words on your lips. “i will, as soon as we’re far away from here.”

“but seph-”

“forgive me.” you don’t know he means for everything leading up to this or for not giving into what you wanted now. perhaps both.

sephiroth stands, cradling you in his arms and keeping you securely against his chest. wrapping your arms around his neck and ready to hold him to his promise as soon as possible, you only have one question.

“what about zack?”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

zack wasn’t sure how much time to give you before venturing back down into the basement. he hadn’t heard anything or seen the lights change but after so long without either you or sephiroth returning, he didn’t know if that was a good or a bad thing.

the night passes and into the early morning he makes his way back into the basement. not at all expecting to find it messier than before with a rip in the otherwise put together rug, books strewn across the floor and completely devoid of the two people he expected to find.

on the desk, resting below a flickering candle a folded note catches his attention and he’s quick to unfold it, scanning over the words and recognizing his friends handwriting despite the note being unsigned.

‘zack, thank you for everything.’

#final fantasy vii #sephiroth #sephiroth x reader #final fantasy vii x reader #final fantasy x reader #final fantasy 7 #ff7 #ffvii #ff7 x reader #final fantasy 7 x reader

195 notes · View notes