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lilacxquartz · 8 months ago

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Those Late Summer Nights | Chapter 1

satoru gojo x f!reader x suguru geto

plot: moving to the city from a small town was no easy feat, especially to start teaching as a jujutsu sorcerer.

themes: yandere, dead dove, non con/dub con, angst, naive reader, second person pov, thriller, toxic relationships, canon divergent

masterlist • read on ao3

Chapter Directory • Next Chapter >

1. Goodbye

Ever since the days of your childhood, you could see things that weren’t otherwise visible to anyone else lurk in the dark or simply just linger around people like parasites.

At often times, these beings would parrot the person they were shadowing, somehow perfectly resembling their true selves in the form of a grotesque caricature.

You quickly learned that this ability for being able to perceive such creatures wasn’t the norm and as such, your parents quickly caught on. Your mother told you fairly early on into life that you had a gift and it skipped every other generation on her side, so if you truly desire a normal life… then to just simply ignore it.

It was surely difficult, though.

For a while, you tried to live your life as normally as you could. You went to a normal school, tried to have normal friends and did your best to bury the ability to see things that you perhaps had no business seeing as time went on.

However, your gift was scouted out relatively quickly in a nearby school for special people just like yourself. It called itself a jujutsu school and the one in your area was one of the smaller ones in the country, meaning that you were the only student in your entire year and the only remaining two third years were gone by your second year with no fresh enrolments.

And when the time came to graduate, you did so alone as the only student sorcerer in the school.

The campus to your school wasn’t as greatly funded as the other schools so it didn’t quite have accommodation so you couldn’t really live there. This was apparently common in less populated areas.

Despite this, it felt like a blessing to leave your small town everyday and to simply just explore on field trips with your teacher. She was relatively young, she could have been your older sister as far as ages went and she did her best to make you feel included as a person, sympathising with you that this is indeed a lonely route in life at times but it’s all for something so much bigger.

But that wasn’t the reason you felt so alone.

There was another problem that resided in your town and it wasn’t loneliness, nor was it the fact that the town itself was polluted with generational problems — there was the problem of your lifelong childhood bully who simply did not like you and as such, made your life a living hell from the moment you could understand words.

If she hadn’t been human, she could have made a good cursed spirit. There was something incredibly off about her, something so twisted and perfectly vile, reflected and validated by the cursed spirits that hovered around her.

The town itself was crawling with them too; the town hall, the local hospital, the two schools and even certain houses harboured at least the simple ones. They weren’t dangerous, but they were there and keeping them around wasn’t doing anyone any good either.

Had you cared just a little bit more, you would have done something about it, but this town wasn’t kind to you and you weren’t going to be nice to it either.

Was that petty?

It sounded perfectly fair to you, even if you didn’t admit it to anyone. Your teacher told you that you were studying and learning how to be a sorcerer to protect people, to create a balance in this world, so technically you should have been exorcising those things in your free time.

As sad as it sounded also, she was also your only friend by the time you had reached graduation, too. You graduated from that place with the intention of becoming something similar, hoping to be someone’s support in what was an unforgiving and isolating life.

She helped you with everything beyond that point too, wanting to help you leave this place and explore your potential. She handled the references and getting your name to the right people, but still, it was starkly silent and you remained dormant for just a couple years more than you should have been after finishing school.

You hoped to land something in the bigger cities though, so you never backed down from the beginning. You knew that the cursed spirits that resided those were often worse and more intelligent, that the people there were simply just more complex, but that was besides the point—you wanted to get away from home as fast as you could, as far as you could.

Living at home in the sticks with your parents that were distant to you ever since you convinced them to let you go to that alternative school in a town under the spiteful eye of someone who understood perfectly well that there was something about you… wasn’t that great of a deal.

Especially after what she did back then.

The night that she went too far.

So, one could only imagine your relief and maybe some shock, when out of all of the places that could have taken you in for a teaching position, it was for Tokyo.

Your eyes stared at the letter for the longest time when it happened. You thought it was a prank at first, but it all seemed perfectly legitimate. Apparently your former teacher was hard at work to help you out and as it turned out, teachers with support-centric techniques were surprisingly in demand.

The letter recommended to move after the summer term had ended to get yourself set up and established, especially if moving from a place so far away. The school budget paid the teachers a minimum monthly salary due to some type of sorcerers’ union, so even if you were out of work for the summer, getting by shouldn’t be too much of a problem.

All you had to do was make it past the first month on your savings.

You were determined to make it work.

The moment that it was all set up and confirmed, you didn’t even look back. You thanked your parents for letting you stay and for not being too against your life, ready to head out and begin anew.

It would be different this time after all, you didn’t have to be the person you were before.

You could begin anew.

***

Upon arriving in Tokyo, it was admittedly a struggle with finding your bearings in such a crowded and bustling place. Your old school was nearby a city and you’d often go there for field trips, but it was nowhere near to this magnitude.

You were met at the train station by a jujutsu assistant. To your understanding, these were people who couldn’t quite make the cut as sorcerers but they were just as valuable with getting everything set up and done. Your old school had one too, but their job was simply to get you from your house and to the campus as well as the other way around.

This one on the other hand was absurdly helpful, their stature and tone laced with a certain type of professionalism that you didn’t think was possible; they not only drove you to the campus, but they also took their time to explain the layout, the facilities and even told you that you have a right to use the on-site accommodation over the summer if you didn’t quite having a living situation figured out just yet.

You didn’t, to their credit. You were about to live your first month out in a cheap hotel and hope for the best… so this was absolutely a step up in a better direction, at least as a temporary fix.

As such, you took that offer right away, not really thinking about it. It would make do for now, at least. You would be alone for the duration of it, but you didn’t quite care about that because you were already used to that to a degree.

Moving in as a result was easy enough; you chose the bedroom closest to the kitchen and bathroom, not bothering to explore the rest of the rooms because that’s all you needed.

You moved in a little earlier than the letter encouraged you to do so, but it was apparently fine to do so. As such, you were there right as the summer break had actually started so the existing teachers would be available to meet before they’d be excused for the holidays.

In a way, this thought mildly terrified you even if you were encouraged by the assistant to do so, to just get an idea of the types of people you’d be working with. You harboured some mild social anxiety from your isolated way of life and your main fear was coming across as strange in a way that was off-putting.

This was a high school so you fretted about it more than you should. What if your technique was lame? What if you came across as uninteresting? Did the teachers have cliques here or did they not care about such trivial matters?

Sorcerers were often weird themselves, so they were probably used to the latter.

Hopefully.

***

It took you a couple of days to get settled in and you took those moments to get used to the campus, mapping it out in your mind so that you could avoid getting lost wherever you had to be on your first day. The last thing you wanted to do was to mess up in front of your students, of course.

You also got used to using the nearby bus line that was close to the campus. The travel card itself was heavily discounted, just one of the many perks supposedly and you got used to small frequent trips to go and get groceries just as some strange form of exposure therapy.

Come Friday, or rather the final Friday, it was time to get to know who you would be working with. You being nervous was the understatement of the century. You always knew that you would end up at least somewhere to be a jujutsu teacher, but all of the big shots were in Tokyo and that’s who you would be working with.

The gathering point was in a standard staff lounge. The room itself was beige both in flooring and the surrounding walls had a few sofas stacked against them. There was otherwise a kitchenette further into the room with a coffee machine that apparently was labelled as defunct, despite the lingering smell of it going strong in the room.

The head of the school, Yaga as you had come to know him as, was the first person you met beyond that room. He didn’t let you say too much before he would lead you off to a group of people and throw you right in the middle of the conversation they were otherwise having.

As such, the anxiety began to fester.

You tried to keep your cool, though.

“These two,” he began to speak up as he pointed to a tall white-haired man and another with longer pulled back black hair, “will be your two official colleagues, you’ll be taking on the same students as a whole but you will be assigned individual cases based on your abilities.”

Both seemed to be around your age, which both comforted and unsettled you all at the same time

The white haired man was the first to interact with you as he drew out his hand to shake as you awkwardly scrambled to meet him halfway. His vibrant blue eyes were certainly unique, you thought.

“Pleased to meet you,” he spoke, his tone was playful and yet professional, “I’m Satoru Gojo, you can call me as you’d like.”

You have heard of that name before, at least the clan name. There were certain details that reached even your small school and you were aware of the major sorcerer clans at the very least.

“Suguru, Geto,” the black haired man added on, his handshake more curt and to the point.

A woman between the two of them cleared her throat, throwing a narrowly pointed stare at the principal and extended her hand to you as well. Yaga muttered something under his breath to her as he walked off, leaving you behind with three completely new people.

She had shoulder length brown hair and slight eye bags that occupied her face. She rolled up the sleeve to her white coat to comfortably shake your hand as well.

“I’m Shoko Ieri. Just call me Shoko, feel free to call these two by their first names too. They won’t mind, nor care,” she said as she introduced herself to you.

“I’m [name],” you nodded along as you introduced yourself, unsure what to really say beyond that point, “the new supportive techniques teacher, I suppose.”

“Ah, I heard we were getting someone new in that department,” Satoru said, his eyes scrolling up and down your body, leaving you feeling a little exposed.

“I’m the campus doctor so not really a teacher,” Shoko added along, “Satoru handles most of the students, Suguru helps train others with things like hand to hand combat and sword fighting.”

“Looks like we’ve finally got a solid facility,” Satoru smiled, throwing his arms around his two colleagues. You assumed that they were all good friends, something that you envied.

“So where are you from?” Shoko asked.

“Oh, I’m from a town further north in the country,” you replied, feeling just a little nervous for admitting it. You wondered if you should have just said you were from a city up north instead.

“How are you finding the big city?” Satoru almost teased, his teeth flashing through his playful grin.

“Exhausting,” you admitted with a small smile, your eyes trailing onto the ground as you mulled over your answer, “but I like it.”

“You’ll get used to it,” he smiled before going off to pay attention to his other friend, seemingly concluding that brief interaction with you.

Shoko stared at him for a moment as she did so before turning her sights back to you.

“Hey, so we’re going out for drinks, nothing too serious, maybe you should come along?” she asked, her tone was friendly but it didn’t seem fake.

You considered it as you looked at her for a moment. You weren’t really the drinking type as you simply never had the opportunity to do so; your parents never kept alcohol at home and you didn’t have the friends to go sneak off and get it elsewhere growing up.

“Please, you’d be doing me a favour,” she spoke up again in a more lighthearted manner, noticing your hesitation, “it would be just me and these two otherwise.”

“I could,” you nodded along to it, after all. If you were going to be leaving your comfort zone, then you had to actually take a step out of it if the opportunity arose, which it did here.

“Great,” she smiled, pulling your hand along with her as she caught up to the other two, “if you’re going to be working with these two, you might as well get to know them.”

The two men didn’t say anything but they did make room to include you as they walked along beside you. You felt some discomfort as a result, as if you were a fourth wheel somehow intruding on a perfectly established dynamic.

You walked along in relative silence as you tried to keep up with some desperation as the streets quickly became more and more crowded. To your comfort, Shoko never once let go of your wrist and pushed through the masses with you in tow, telling you to just stare straight ahead because making eye contact with people only slows them down, to focus on that building right at the end of the road because that’s where you’re all going.

You listened to her words and took everything she said seriously as the bustle quickly got too overwhelming, finding that it surprisingly worked and as such, quickly found comfort in her company because she was the first person aside from your teacher to give you a chance.

You even sat next to her when you got to the bar as the two others went elsewhere, to get drinks from what it looked like.

“Shoko’s hogging the newbies again,” Satoru pouted as he came back with a few bottles of booze as his friend brought over even more, “always getting to know them before we do.”

“You’re not exactly an easy person to get to know,” she replied as she poured herself a drink, pouring one for you right after, “besides you left immediately, what were you expecting?”

“For my grand charm to kick in and let the law of attraction do its work?” he laughed as he settled into his seat, seeming a little tired from what you could gather.

“So hopeless,” she replied as she took a swig from her glass, “you talk too much about yourself, and you don’t talk talk enough—someone has to be the middleman, right?”

“I do talk, though?” Suguru replied as he quietly poured himself a drink.

“You’ve said the least so far, to be fair,” Satoru piled on.

“The newbie isn’t talking much either,” he shrugged as he took a sip.

“That’s what the drinks are for,” Satoru smiled, “everyone’s talkative after a few.”

You suddenly felt as though it was now your queue to drink, but you didn’t really know what to expect from it but you tried your best and still managed to sour your face as you got into it, getting a couple of stifled laughs from the seats opposite.

“Take a big sip and then force it down,” Shoko said, “it gets easier as time goes by.”

You nodded as your cheeks quickly grew red from embarrassment.

“So, you said you were from the north right? Just how far up north?” Satoru asked as he leaned in, a little too suddenly interested in you after seeing you couldn’t hold your drink.

“Just… far enough… I guess…” you replied, your eyes slowly drifting off to the table as you felt less and less enthusiastic about sharing where you were from.

“You don’t sound too happy about that place,” Suguru observed as he replied to you directly, “that bad?”

You nodded a little as you made brief eye contact with him, talking yourself into drinking more for the sake of getting out of your bubble.

“[name]?” Satoru asked as he leaned in, completely ignoring the conversation that was otherwise happening.

“Yes?” you asked, suddenly caught just a little off guard from the tone he used. It was somehow accusatory and you weren’t looking forward to whatever happened next.

“I mean this politely, but is this your first time drinking?” he continued to ask.

You gulped down your embarrassment and decided to just go along with it, after all. You knew that it would only look worse for you in the long run if you made a big deal out of such things.

“I-I didn’t really get the chance to do that back home,” you tried to reply, laughing a little at yourself and hoping for the best.

“Really? I wouldn’t imagine that there’s much else to do in a small town, especially one that you’re not too fond of,” he replied, talking a little louder as the alcohol settled in his body.

“I mostly just existed there, I guess,” you said in a tone that was a little too sombre, quickly surrendering to another sip of the liquid comfort. To your peripheral vision, Suguru seemed to paying just a little more attention to you now but you weren’t sure if you were simply just imagining things.

You watched with both comfort and unease as Shoko topped off the glass that you barely finished as the others were by now onto their third glasses and then imitated a gesture of how you’re supposed to drink with her hand, expecting you to follow.

You sighed as you did so, perhaps it was some right of passage that you simply had to follow along. The drink felt sharp in your throat somehow, more so than before. It did wake you up though and to your embarrassment, you felt just a little buzz after it had finally settled.

“Attagirl,” she cheered you on as she patted your back with some pride, “see, you need to pick your poison in a place like this, otherwise it’s gonna burn you out.”

“That why you drink so much and smoke a pack a day?” Satoru teased her, leaning over the table and fishing out a pack of cigarettes from her coat pocket.

“Hey,” she replied as she smacked his hand away, “you’re saying that like you’re not the cause for it.”

“I can’t possibly be that bad enough to give you both a drinking and smoking problem,” he said as he resigned back into his seat.

“Nah, she’s right,” Suguru agreed with Shoko.

“Really?” he asked in a fake exasperated tone, not seeming too surprised about the teasing.

“Are you actually surprised?” Shoko laughed as she topped you up once again.

They continued to laugh and joke with each other, finally relaxing within your company and you finally didn’t feel like such a fourth wheel even if you weren’t contributing much.

You finally also then took hold of your third drink and stared it down with such determination that Satoru even drummed his hands on the table as you were about to drink it. Shoko did the same and Suguru was the last to join.

When you finally downed it without making a face that time, you finally felt relaxed enough to smile and laugh with the rest of them as your milestone was finally met.

Maybe this was it.

Maybe, just maybe, it was finally getting better.

(But if only you knew.)

#yandere x reader #dark fanfiction #dark fic #fanfic #yandere jjk #yandere suguru geto #yandere satoru gojo #yandere gojo #yandere geto #mdni #jjk dark content #jjk yandere #yandere fanfiction #yandere fantasy #slow burn #slow build #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat #jujutsu kaisen fanfic

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hitoshilover · 3 months ago

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roommate

directory | masterlist

pairing: timeskip!tsutomu goshiki x fem!reader

summary: you were tired of your roommate leaving the house a mess, so you decided to confront him- though you were greeted with an unexpected sexual tension.

warnings: heavy switch themes, soft dom!goshiki, vibrator, oral (male receiving), fingering, “pretty,” orgasm denial, penetration, deepthroating, handjob, blowjob, nipple clasps, restraints (belt), nipple play, heavy making out, brat!goshiki, edging, arguing for like 5 seconds, hickeys

wc: 2.3K

a/n: once again, a gift for my friend @crayooongle !! the #1 tsutomu lover. and also another long one. it’s a bit all over the place and ambitious, so sorry for that. ntm, not proofred 😖 so proceed with caution LOL!!

it was friday, the 5th time this week your roommate came home late this week. 11 pm. he glanced around the dormroom, noticing the dishes he left in the sink this morning, the crumbs he left on the counter, and the pizza box from last night still on the couch. he was a bit surprised as you usually would clean up the room, but he was too tired to even react. he moved through the mess to find you laying on his bed. you wore a baggy grey graphic-tee with dolphin shorts hidden beneath. you laid in the middle of his bed, nonchalantly looking up at him from your phone.

“so when were you planning on fixing up the house, tsutomu?”

“man,” he wiped his forehead, bothered by your confrontational attitude.

he’d been so busy hanging out with friends or working that he always left his mess for you to live in. he never asked you to clean it, but no one likes to live in a dirty house, and you were fed up with his shit.

“well?”

“‘well’ what? i’m tired, get off my bed, please. im going to sleep.”

“no,” you responded, stubbornly. you crossed your arms, placing your phone atop your chest.

“alright then.”

the purple haired boy climbed into bed, filling the small space to the right of you.

“can i have some blanket,” he looked over, “you’re laying on top of it.”

you didn’t even make eye contact, “no.”

he tried to tug on the black quilt beneath you, but he couldn’t get enough blanket, “bro, can you fucking move?”

tsutomu never cursed at you, or had attitude. his sharp words sliced your heart with rage.

“can you fucking clean the dorm,” you turned over now, propping yourself a bit up on your right elbow to look at him.

“what is with your damn attitude?”

without even thinking, you climbed on top of him, “if you at least wiped down the counters, or thrown your trash out before you left in the morning, to do god knows what- or who, i wouldn’t have an attitude, tsutomu, think about that?”

you two locked eyes, both pissed at each other. an awkward, angry, silence filled the air. a tension grew between you two, and it wasn’t only rage- rather lust?

tsutomu unexpectedly grabbed your face, sloppily making out with you for a brief moment.

“shit,” he pulled away, shocked by his own actions, “s-“

you interrupted him and leaned back into the kiss, tsutomu let out sweet moans into your mouth.

you and tsutomu never really discussed anything sexual, you’d only met since your college had co-ed dorms; you were forced into it, as dorming was required. sometimes you’d hear him bring over a girl, and touch yourself to his whiny moans- but the morning after you would both pretend it didn’t happen. though, you were curious as to what exactly made him so whiny, and how you could make him melt like that.

you pulled away, watching him try to catch his breath as you lowered yourself down to his crotch. you touched his clothed dick softly; he gasped at your contact.

“fuck,” he breathed out heavily.

you softly caressed his hard dick, eyeing him as his head fell back.

after a while of teasing him, you pulled down his black pants to reveal the shadow of his length through his grey boxers.

“so you like to be yelled at,” you looked up at him, laughing a little.

“oh shut up,” he rolled his eyes at you.

“i wont, but you will,” you glared at him, then at his dick.

now, pulling down his grey boxers. his dick popped out, twitching and already leaking pre. he was easy to please, you noted. his hands caressed your hair as you lowered your mouth to his cock, leaving soft kisses on his tip; you swirled your tongue on it and watched as he fell into absolute lust for you.

“aw,” you lifted your head, smiling, “are you done being a little brat now?”

“are you done talking back,” he questioned.

tsutomu tightened his grip on your head, pushing you down on his 7 inches. he didn’t move your head, just watched your face stay still, trying not to gag on him as he’d softly move his dick around in your mouth

after about a minute, he lifted your head up, “so you’re done,” tsutomu teased.

you didn’t appreciate his attitude, or the way he was able to take advantage of you like that; consequently, you lifted yourself up onto your knees. you pulled off your baggy shirt and tossed it to the side of the bed, revealing your pretty tits. tsutomu’s face immediately was red, he looked away a little flustered and embarrassed.

you reached down to grab his soft face, turning him towards you, “you can look at me, don’t you usually?”

tsutomu thought he was slick, that he was good at hiding his face when he watched you leave in skin tight clothing to go out. his favorite was this black minidress, you always wore dark red panties with it and couldn’t wear a bra since you didn’t have a strapless and it would show. your ass peeked out beneath it, and your nipples poked out through the halter top.

now, tsutomu was able to watch your tits without the restriction of your clothes.

he eyed your chest as you slid down your pants, remaining straddled on top of him. you moved your hands onto his dick, your pace immediately being quick.

“ffuck,” he watched your tits bounce as you touched him so lustfully, “don’t stop, please.”

and so, you stopped, staring at his dick twitch, leaking of pre.

“please,” he finally looked up at your face.

you shook your head, “if you really wanted it you’d beg for it, cmon.”

“i need you,” he grabbed your wrist to move your hands to his dick, “please, i need to finish. i need it.”

“fine, baby,” you responded.

“mm,” he whined, his face forming a desperate and needy expression as you stroked his cock with your nail.

“aren’t you cute like this,” you smiled, teasingly.

as his dick twitched in response, leaking even more pre; you grasped his dick like before, slowly sliding it up and down his sticky cock. you notice tsutomu getting closer, and so you bent down to kiss his tip, swirling your tongue around it a bit too before coming back up.

this was enough to send him over the edge, “fuck, i’m cumming,” he cried out.

cum squirted on your chest and stomach, he was a bit embarrassed by the mess he made by you- especially since he was being a brat earlier. he whined as he came, and his soft moans filled up the room.

“good job,” you watched his body squirm for more.

before he could recover from his orgasm, you moved back some and leaned down, allowing your whole throat to take in his dick- on your accord this time. tsutomu’s hips bucked up, his dick slamming to the back of your throat.

“shiit,” his eye’s widened, shocked by the sudden pleasure.

you bopped your head up and down, he squirmed around and so you gripped onto his body to hold him in place.

soon enough he was close again, “aah- im close, close, pretty.”

you lifted your head, shaking side to side, “don’t cum,” and immediately went back to his dick.

tsutomu really tried, he did, but there was something about the way you maintained eye contact and made fun of him that turned him on so much. it turned him on so much that he couldn’t hold back his orgasm, and so, without warning he came all inside your mouth.

you looked up, extremely pissed at him, “i asked you for one thing, tsutomu.”

“i know, i know,” he whined, still squirming.

“since we don’t know how to fucking listen,” you lifted yourself off the bed, “i’m done.”

tsutomu’s eyes widened, “no no, please, i’ll listen,” he got up, pulling off the rest off his boxers and pants, in an attempt to stop you from leaving.

you’d never had anyone so desperate for you before, though you’d never seen tsutomu in this way before- you began to think about it.

once again, your roommate grabbed your face, kissing you, “i’ll make you feel good, please,” he looked at you as he pulled away.

“fine then,” you dismissed him nonchalantly, although there was nothing nonchalant about how his desperate tone made your pussy ache.

tsutomu pulled you back into the kiss, this time turning you on the bed. you sat down at the edge, his back bent to make out with you. eventually he began to kiss the rest of your exposed body, he left hickeys all over and sucked on your tits for a little bit.

once he made way to your pussy, he spread your legs open, your embarrassingly wet hole twitching.

“how cute,” he looked up at you, teasing.

“shut up, tsutomu.”

“i wont,” he mocked, “but you will.”

and immediately tsutomu began to shove two fingers into you, causing you to jump a bit from pleasure. he moved at an excruciatingly slow pace.

“tsutomu,” you breathed out, so desperate for more- just like how you had him earlier.

“yes, pretty,” his soft eyes looked up at you.

“faster,” you replied, accompanied by a long whine.

“beg for it,” he smiled smugly, he loved that you were eating your words.

“fuck, tsomu,” you furrowed your brows in frustration.

his expression didn’t change, just waiting for you to beg as his pace remained constant.

you gave in, “tsomu, please. i need you, please, fast-“

he cut you off by dramatically increasing his pace, your back arched and you threw your head back rolling your eyes.

you grinded yourself on his hand, so needy for every single inch of his finger.

“tsomu, shit,” you grabbed his wrist, the pleasure of his slender fingers was becoming so much.

“i thought you wanted it faster,” he lifted his brow, “but i can go slower-?”

“no, no, no no,” you begged him not to, you need him, his quick pace.

he did maintain his pace, and made sure his fingers reached as deep into you as possible. but, when he noticed you began to become quieter, your moans becoming more drawn out and your head remaining thrown back, he pulled away.

“tsomuuu,” you frowned.

“if i couldn’t earlier, you can’t.”

his tone was stern, maintaining eye contact as he stood up. he lifted his shirt and went on to give attention to your lips. your hands lifted to his face, all needy for him, desperate for his cock to be inside you.

“i need it,” your right hand moved to his cock.

“not yet pretty,” he kissed your forehead, turning to open the drawer in his nightstand.

as you waited for him, your left hand reached to softly graze your nipple, yearning for some sort of pleasure.

tutsomu placed a black box atop his nightstand full of toys; you noticed as you peeked up. he took out a belt, vibrator, and since he noticed you touching your tits, he grabbed some nipple clasps. he placed everything to the side, and your face was a bit shocked, so to distract you he made out with you slowly moving your entire body down onto the bed and lowering you down.

“it’s okay,” he assured you as lifted himself up to grab the belt.

tsomu pulled your wrists together, down to your stomach, tying the belt.

you’ve dommed before, and other kinky stuff, but typically your vanilla. from the other room you would hear sounds of vibrators and chains, his experience made you feel safe, and turned you on so much.

he placed the nipple clasps onto you as you laid down, they had heart charms dangling from them and were crystal. you winced from the pain.

“it’s okay, pretty. you’re okay,” he softly comforted.

tsutomu positioned his cock in front of your aching pussy, just rubbing it on you. he loved the way you squirmed and whined for him, just as he was earlier for you.

“want it, pretty,” he asked.

“please.”

he slammed himself into you, grabbing onto your waist. your back arched upward as your fingers clenched into fists. tsutomu let his dick twitch inside you for a few moments, he groaned as your pussy clamped down on him.

he began to move in and out of you, heavy breaths taking up the space around you both. as tsutomu noticed you getting close, he picked up the vibrator and pulled out of you. he inserted it inside of you and put it on the lowest setting.

“again,” your were so frustrated, you needed to cum. you hated when he went slow.

“yes, again.”

tsutomu grabbed your face, kissing you; his dick rubbing on your stomach, providing him some pleasure. you tried to reach your hands to your pussy, and he noticed. in response, he pushed your hands away, still kissing you, and rubbed circles on your clit.

“mmph,” is all you could let out in response.

“you wanna cum, pretty?”

“mm, mhm,” you nodded through the kiss.

he pulled away, removing the vibrator from inside you and placing it on your clit as he entered you once more.

tsutomus pace began to pick up, and you desperately grinded on his dick. this time, he let you cum. you cried out his name and threw your head back.

he repeatedly thrusted in you as you came and even after, you squirmed from the overstimulation. it only took a few more thrusts until he pulled out and came all over your stomach.

“tsutomuu,” you whined, looking up at him.

he leaned down to kiss your cheek, “you okay?”

you nodded, still attempting to catch your breath. he wiped you down with a towel from behind his door, and slid your clothes back on you. he dressed himself after, and rested next to you, covering you both with blanket.

you looked over, “you still need to clean the dorm.”

he laughed, “i know, i am sorry.”

“i accept your apology, tsomu.”

he watched as your eyes began to flutter shut, he twirled your hair.

“goodnight pretty.”

“goodnight, tsomu.”

#haikyu smut #haikyu x reader #haikyuu #haikyū!!#shiritorizawa #멜 #goshiki x reader #goshiki tsutomu #haikyuu goshiki #goshiki x you #tsutomu x reader #goshiki smut #tsutomu smut #goshiki tsutomu smut #tendou satori smut #tendou smut #tendou x reader

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kkanabel · 3 months ago

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caffeine addiction ❃ "what." ❃ chapter 5 bakugou katsuki x reader / coffee shop!au + fashion?au

directory/m.list

⇦ previous chapter - next chapter ⇨

words: ~3.6k

t/w: implied sexual content but no actual yuckies

Bakugou sat in the men’s dressing room with his legs crossed at the ankles, examining the models before the show. The models, makeup artists, and hairstylists felt scrutinized under his wary gaze. Bakugou Masaru’s son is no joke.

This morning, he woke up and cut his daily workout short to go to his café. He was filling up two five-gallon insulated beverage dispensers with his famous drip coffee. To help out with the show, he was supplying the entire staff with caffeination. He knew that the coffee was going to lose its aroma throughout the day, but he was going to be much too busy to maintain a coffee machine today. While he was waiting for the coffee to brew, he kept his café open just in case any customers came in.

To his surprise, you walked in only a couple minutes after he opened. Outside the door, he had a sign telling his customers that he’d be closed for most of the day. Secretly, he was glad that you came in today, but he was disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to see you sit in his café for extended periods of time.

You looked amazing. He had to check if he was drooling each time he glanced at you, and then cursed himself for being such a creep. The fact that you didn’t show any signs of mutual interest in him made him disappointed. He didn’t even know why his ego was getting assaulted in response to this, especially because he got daily doses of female attention.

You were so reserved and mysterious to him, and it made him desperate to get to know you better. You always sat at that same window-seat table while doing your work. And that was the thing-- you were always doing work. He couldn’t ever have a real, meaningful conversation with you because you were always doing things. Even if you took a quick break, Bakugou was too much of a scared little shit to make an actual move.

Bakugou found his eyes trailing to you even when your hair was messy, your eyes crusty, and your dark circles pronounced. What is going on with him? What are you doing to him? And how?

Maybe it was the way you were so dedicated to your work. Maybe it’s the way you were able to look like a drug addict one day and an Instagram influencer the next day. Maybe it’s the way you smiled at him after you got your coffee. Maybe it’s the way your contagious laughter spreads to him each time you crack a joke. Maybe it’s the way you always answered with something so interesting after he asked a question about you, and then left him to keep doing your work again.

“Yeah, I’m just taking a quick break.”

“Whatcha doin’ over there?”

“Oh, I’m designing an advert for a shitty dating app! Well, I’ve gotta get back to it.”

You always walked away before he was able to make more conversation with you. Did you find him annoying? You returned the favor, though. It’s not like you were obviously avoiding him. You seemed to enjoy the short conversations that the two of you had! It just seemed like you backed out of the conversation because you were so focused on doing your job. That only made you more attractive to him. He wonders-- if he was against dating because it encroached on his work, was it the same for you?

If he was a recurring factor in your work, would you feel like you’re more allowed to pursue him? At this point, he was falling for you more and more. He might ask you out on a date and ignore his rules altogether. How did it even get to this point? You’d only started becoming a regular at his café a month ago.

Bakugou watched as you disappeared from his café with your two red-eyes. He’s going insane over a girl that he hardly even knows.

He tapped his foot backstage, standing up when he saw a makeup artist looking at the reference pictures that he gave to them. “Oi. The eyes need to be sharp and bold, like the themes of this line,” he said, voice gruff as he pointed out the sharp edges of the eye makeup in the picture. The makeup artist seemed to tremble a little under his gaze, so he left the area to continue supervising the models.

Bakugou made the reference pictures for the makeup himself, knowing that he would be best at translating his dad’s vision into makeup. His dad was only ever good for translating his thoughts onto textiles. Although Bakugou wasn’t great at makeup, he was great at knowing what this line meant to his parents.

He walked over to the racks of clothing lines up against the walls, running his hands through the fabric. This line heavily depended on the geometric patterns that his dad was inspired by this time around. Thus, everything surrounding the fashion show had to reflect that. Bakugou was always a creative director for Masaki’s fashion lines for a reason. This time around, though, he was the main creative director alongside his father. He took a sip of his coffee as he sat back down on his bench, lost in thought.

Masaki, his mother and father’s passion, became a brand that embodied creativity in an explorative and bold way. Each line always had a small sub-line of clothes that were saturated in color, even if the rest of the pieces in the line weren’t. It was always these three– orange, green, and silver. Always in bright hues. Over time, these three colors had become the face of Masaki as a brand.

In every interview his parents had, they would always describe the brand in one word. Explosive.

Bakugou never really understood the meaning and symbolism behind the pieces that his father made up until he’d grown older. Most people don’t understand haute couture, period. Many look at the pieces that these lines produce and simply look at the price tag and go, “Who would pay that much for an ugly sweater?” While Bakugou agreed to an extent (especially the t-shirts with a simple logo on them that sell for way too much) he also understood the other side of it.

High fashion, to him, is not just about the elitism of the brand—not just showing off your financial prowess. To Bakugou, the works of designers around the world are meant to be entirely works of art. Whether or not you believe that ugly sweater from Gucci is worth a kidney, there was still thought, time, and training put into it. (Hopefully.) Just like a painting, high fashion is an expression of the thoughts of the designer into a piece that takes hours to create. He saw his father hunched over a sewing table for hours for a reason, and he truly believed that the pieces from Masaki deserved their price tag, if not more.

Even then, it took Bakugou years to truly understand what it was that differentiated his parents’ work to others. When he compared the work of other brands to his father’s, he understood. Whereas brands like Kindeki valued the portion of creativity that was more subdued and focused on innovation and symbolism, Masaki was always sharp and in-your-face. It could be seen in the silhouettes of the blazers and the crisp edges of the patterns that his father preferred.

This manifested in Bakugou as he grew up, of course. As a child, he was the exact definition of explosive. His parents would have to calm down his anger-filled tantrums on the daily, and he was the middle-school bully that everybody was afraid of.

But as he grew up, he mellowed out like the flavor of espresso after being watered down. His anger went into going to the gym, and his mind became more relaxed as he worked each day at his café.

After you finished your red eye, you’d pranced over to the table with refreshments and poured yourself another cup of coffee. It tasted just like the drip coffee from your favorite café, so you were absolutely elated. There was nothing as good as the coffee that you’ve had from that place. You’d have to ask someone where the coffee comes from later.

You were watching models get ready at your aunt’s favorite luxury fashion brand. Other than her own, of course. You walked back over to your table, where she was sitting with her red eye still in her hand.

“Honey, when Mitsuki gets back, I’ve got a surprise for you~”

This woman was like a second mother to you. On your fifth birthday, you clearly remember walking into her office and touching all of the pretty fabrics and beaming at the sketches taped onto the walls. As the days continued, you spent more and more time with her when your dad was busy working, and the two of you went on road trips to spark her inspiration.

She was the one to hold you when you had your heart broken, and she was the one who took you on a trip to Milan just to take photos and show your ex what they’d be missing. Strangely enough, your dad wasn’t surprised when his late wife’s "baby" sister told him, “Hey, the 'lil cutie and I are headin’ to Milan tomorrow morning,” over the phone. He must have been used to her strange antics already.

Either way, the trip to Milan worked, because the day after you posted photos of you relaxing by the poolside with a bikini that your aunt recently designed herself, your disgusting ex texted you a long paragraph explaining why you should forgive them for making out with their best friend’s cousin or whatever. After receiving that paragraph, you’d simply texted back a “lol”, before showing it to your aunt and talking shit about him.

Your eccentric aunt was a massive part of your childhood. And now, she’s going to be a huge part of your adulthood, as well. She was still gorgeous after all these years. Although she’d be fifty this year, she looked like she barely aged past her early thirties. Even though your aunt always preached about the stupidity of having to look young as an aging woman, her skincare routine clearly did a lot for her.

Her bangs were clipped to her head with a glamorous brooch, and her matching tweed set matched with her shiny six-inch heels. This woman is the absolute manifestation of glam.

She’d demanded that the two of you match, so you had to change out of your previous outfit and into a tweed set as well. Instead of the tweed pants that your aunt wore, however, you wore a skirt. To keep warm, she’d given you a pair of pearled stockings, but you knew you’d still shiver in the cold later.

You had to pull down your miniskirt before sitting down, but an eyebrow of yours arched at your aunt’s cryptic words. No, her words are less cryptic and more… suspicious.

You continued your work with your aunt, showing her the details of the designs you drew at the café the other day. The two of you were waiting for the show to start, but you were invited backstage by the owners of Masaki because of a long friendship between your aunt and Bakugou Mitsuki. Apparently, they’d been college roommates or something. You weren’t sure. Your aunt was going to explain more about her relationship with Mitsuki, but then one of her Tinder dates gave her a uh… call…

Anyway, you always enjoyed going backstage with your aunt. Having a sneak peek of all of the pieces before the public got to see them was your favorite. Especially because you love Masaki as a brand, today was especially exciting. You noted the makeup was different from the usual haute couture makeup. While it wasn’t overpowering the clothing, the shape of the classic eyeshadow point was rounded in the corner of the eyes and amplified with a ring of white eyeliner, creating a look that was reminiscent of a ringed planet.

Then, your aunt swiftly stood up. “Mitsuki, honey! Meet my precious baby niece.”

A woman that looked oddly familiar walked up to you. She’s beautiful– her hair juts up in blonde spikes, just like on someone else you’ve seen before. You can’t quite place your finger on it, so you just brush it off as maybe seeing her in a photo your aunt has shown you before. Her skin is so smooth, she’s super tall, and her face is perfectly proportionate. Whoever her husband is… he’s one lucky dude.

You arrived at the show a little later than your aunt did so that you could grab her a coffee from your favorite café. Apparently, she’d been meaning to introduce you to this woman– Bakugou Mitsuki. She was wearing some of the pieces from the new line, and it fit her perfectly. Thinking back on your aunt’s words, wasn’t she a former model or something? It’d make sense.

“Oh, you look even more beautiful in person! Takumi has shown me some photos of you, but none of them really do you justice.” Mitsuki immediately complimented you, so you felt your face getting hot.

You turned your face away in embarrassment before turning it back to her, reminding yourself to be polite. This lady, who’s borderline perfect, is complimenting you. “No, you compliment me too much. I think you’re super pretty, onee-san.”

Mitsuki gasped in response. “Onee-san? Oh my!” She placed a well-manicured hand over her mouth. “I’m much too old for that title! I turned 51 recently.”

You gaped at her admission, cheeks burning from embarrassment. Of course she is! Why would you call her onee-san when your aunt just told you that they went to college together? She’s 51. You looked at both her and your aunt, eyes wide. “Please tell me your skincare routine, ma’am.”

She laughed and gave you all of the steps in her routine, and you nodded with a focused fire in your eyes. You took notes on your phone. After telling you her routine, her perfectly groomed eyebrows raised. It seemed like she’d remembered something.

“Oh! I almost forgot. I wanted to invite you to take photos with my son after the show. We’ve got our photographer on site, and since my husband’s just finished this line, we’d love for you guys to try them on!” Mitsuki clapped her hands together and a wide smile pulled at her face. You saw next to no wrinkles. Is she a vampire?

But either way, her offer made you excited. A chance to wear one of your favorite brands and take photos? Yes please. You wanted to commemorate this occasion as much as possible.

Next to you, your aunt placed a hand on your shoulder and looked around the dressing area. “Speaking of your son, where is he? I don’t think I’ve seen him in-person since he was five.”

Mitsuki smiled at your aunt. “Ah, he’s in the men’s dressing room, looking over the makeup artists and hairstylists.”

Your aunt turned to you. “I forgot to tell you! Her son’s like you! He helps his father with the brand and was a huge part in creating this line.” You were amazed. This line is mildly genius, so you were excited to meet this guy! Since you were going to be taking photos with him, you were sure you’d have tons of time to ask him about his creative process and the like.

“I’m super excited! This has been one of my favorite lines from Masaki as of late, so I’d love to meet the minds behind it!” You voiced your thoughts.

When Bakugou Masaru introduced himself to you, you still couldn’t shake the idea that the Bakugous look extremely familiar. You still couldn’t place your finger on it, though. You felt like you’d seen them somewhere outside of just through your aunt’s phone, but where?

As you spoke with them, you tried to dig deeper and deeper into your mind to figure it out.

Bakugou Katsuki groaned as he stood up from his watchpost to trudge over to the women’s dressing room, where his parents were. His mother had sent him a text, summoning him to meet these Kindeki people.

Much to his displeasure, of course. Although he was curious to meet the mind behind the Kindeki brand, he felt like if he left his watchpost, everything in the men’s dressing room would burn down without his supervision. Of course, this would not happen, but Katsuki thought otherwise.

He entered the dressing room filled with models, and saw his parents in the corner, speaking to two people that had the back of their heads turned to him, both with (H/C) hair and both in tweed sets.

“Oh, Katsuki! Over here!” His mom waved him over as soon as she saw him, and he walked over to face the two mystery people. “This is Katsuki." She turned to you. "You’ll be taking your photos with him today! And also, since Masaki will be having a joint line with Kindeki next season, you two will likely be working very closely.”

Both the words coming into his ears and the sight blinding his vision were making Bakugou Katsuki feel like he was going to faint. His entire body froze, muscles clenched and seized together. He thinks his heart may have skipped a beat. Or two. Or three. Wait, is he even breathing anymore?

You, in front of him, gasped. “Oh my gosh! It’s the guy from the café!” You exclaimed, dumbly, while pointing at him in an accusatory way.

“You know each other?”

“You guys have met?”

“What.”

All three of these phrases were jumbled together as you saw the guy in front of you freeze and slowly start to turn red. Wait, is he breathing? “Hey, are you okay?” You placed a hand onto his shoulder to try and ground him back into reality. You felt his muscles clench under your touch, so you pulled your hand away in fear that you’d overstepped your bounds.

Katsuki took in a deep breath, turning his face back to its regular shade. “Y-Yeah. Wait, a joint line?”

When he came back to reality, all of the words that his mother said had finally been processed.

“Yes,” his father began, “Kindeki and Masaki will be having a joint line. This has been on our minds since our college days, and since the two of you are now well-versed in the fashion industry, we thought it might be good to start it now.”

You clasped your hands behind your back as you listened to Bakugou Masaru speak. You were finally putting together the pieces. No wonder why the Bakugous looked so familiar! “Wait, but you two know each other? How?” Mitsuki asked as soon as her husband finished his explanation.

Both you and Katsuki looked at each other awkwardly. He wasn’t saying anything. “Yeah, he’s the guy that works at my favorite café. Are you the reason why the coffee here tastes so good?” Katsuki took off his quarter-zip from the line to cool himself down from the heat of the room, though the room wasn’t actually hot. It was just you.

“Y-Yeah. I- uh, I made the coffee this morning for the show.” Katsuki scratched the back of his neck as he tried his hardest to look anywhere but you. He's never stuttered this much. He cleared his throat awkwardly. You changed your clothes, he noticed. While he really enjoyed your outfit this morning, now it’s almost a complete 180 from what you were wearing.

Your hair was put into a style that perfectly framed your face, and you wore those dangly earrings that looked great on you. The tweed jacket was laid atop your shoulders, and you wore a silk camisole underneath it, which was tucked into a tweed miniskirt that outlined your waist and showed off your legs, which were donned with a pair of white stockings with tiny pearls scattered across them.

You were taller than usual with your heels that matched the color in your tweed set of clothing. Katsuki tried his hardest not to stare, but you were making it difficult for him. Next to him, his parents eyed him suspiciously.

You put out one of your hands in greeting. “Nice to formally meet you, Bakugou Katsuki-kun! I’m excited to work with you.”

It took him a moment to reach his hands out to yours after checking whether or not his hands were clammy. His hands were big and rough, and they practically ate up your hands in comparison. You shook hands.

“Pleasure to meet you as well. Lookin’ forward to it.” He steeled himself as much as he could, trying not to make himself look like a fool in front of you, but the way you smiled up at him made him retract his hand from yours a little too early, making it awkward.

“Well, it’s time to start the show. We’ll meet you after, Takumi.” Masaru said, a kind smile reaching his eyes as he patted his son on the back and walked off with him.

You watched as Katsuki’s broad shoulders got smaller in the distance, and you turned back to his mom. “Wow, you guys have great genetics.”

She laughed again and pulled you underneath her arm. “You guys do, too.”

Your aunt giggled as the three of you walked to the front of the stage to view the fashion show that Masaru and Katsuki worked on for months.

a/n: seee, no yuckies :> yet :>

taglist for this series is open! let me know! <3 stay hydrated, cuties!

directory/m.list

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#bakugou katsuki #bakugo x reader #reader insert #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #coffee shop au #bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader #fluff #bnha x reader #bnha fluff #katsuki bakugo x reader

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tonkatsubowl · 1 year ago

Text

false love. vi

jing yuan x fem!reader

nsfw themes (cursing and stuff i think. mentions of domestic abuse and self harm. mentions of suicide. no, jing yuan aint hurting u bb girl). read at your own risk.

english isn’t my first language, so please don’t mind the grammatical errors. (っ◞‸◟ c)

⪩ arranged marriage. the reader and jing yuan have an arranged marriage and she is stuck, disliking every moment of it, until…

TERM DIRECTORY

◖y/n: your name

◖e/c: eye color

◖h/c: hair color

◖l/n: last name

part one. ꕤ part two. ꕤ part three. ꕤ part four. ꕤ part five. ꕤ part seven.

ꕤ requested tag: @20forty9

in terms of time, it had been months since you were officially married...almost a year had passed, and almost weeks had occurred since your attempted kidnapping.

but the truth was still hidden from you.

however, unbeknownst to you, your father had been arrested a long time ago, but the knowledge that you had in regards to this? nothing.

it was getting colder, and the season of autumn had already greeted you with a loving embrace. summer was already hot enough as it was, so you were enjoying the autumn breeze that welcomed you with lovingness.

you sat outside, leaning against mimi and watched the view of the sunset of xianzhou luofu as you held a warm cup of jasmine tea in both of your hands. mimi's warmth combined with the coziness of the tea brought you joy, especially in your life as this very moment. it took time, but you came to realize what peace truly meant, and what happiness was.

but you still weren't healed.

you still flinched when someone rose their hand, when someone barely raises their voice at you, but that didn't stop you from realizing your potential future to great joy.

...and it didn't stop you from actually falling for jing yuan. you came to realize how much...you loved him, and how much you were grateful that his marriage had occurred. but you didn't have the heart to tell jing yuan 'i love you', yet.

after all, you believed that he didn't love you, and only married you for business related things.

"y/n."

you hear jing yuan's voice call out to you from a random direction, your heart beginning to flutter as your gaze casted towards the general. your eyes lit up, practically sparkling from joy. you wanted to go and embrace him, but mimi was already possessive of you. she lifted her paw, laying it over your chest as she yawned, giving jing yuan a rather concerning look...

jing yuan chuckled as he approached you and his beloved fluffy comrade, reaching out to rub mimi on the head. "there you are, y/n. i was looking all over for you." he said in a quiet voice, sitting down next to you.

there was a warm smile across your face, watching as jing yuan approached the two of you. "jing yuan...hello."

there was his gentle smile, but his eyes softened. "...there's something i want to tell you."

you blink, innocently peering over to him, your head tilted to the side. you were silent, allowing him to speak...

...but the man stared at you for a brief moment before chuckling, shaking his head. "...actually, never mind. it's getting late. shall i bring you to your room?"

...right. although the two of you were married for a long time, the two of you haven't slept in the same bed at all due to your discomfort of sharing a bed with someone you barely knew. but this time, from the time you spent here, you began to realize how much you can trust jing yuan. he had saved you, fed you, gave you a home with a roof over your head, and he has protected you. you can definitely trust him. your heart didn't tell you otherwise.

"...a-actually," you looked down, pink dusting your cheek as you placed your cup of tea on the small low-table nearby. you felt mimi huff, as though she predicted what you were going to say, "...may...may i sleep next to you tonight? i..." your hands came together, timidly avoiding eye contact with your husband, "...i, uh. i just...feel safer with you, that way. i-i mean, look. if it isn't a big issue...actually, uh, let me rephrase that. n-never mind what i said, i don't want to bother y⸻"

"⸻yes." jing yuan stops you, his smile widening.

you flare up, your eyes casting back towards the male as you fell silent. you wanted to pass out right then and there, but you were joyous to his response to your question.

"why would i not allow you?" jing yuan tilted his head as he extended a hand towards you, "you are my wife, are you not? you have a rightful place by my side."

you were silent for a moment before you took his hand, raising yourself up. you hear mimi grumble, laying her chin upon her paws as she went back to her nap.

"..r..right." you murmur. "it's..it's getting late. the sun is already gone and the moon is up..."

jing yuan nodded. "yes, y/n. let us depart."

when you enter jing yuan's room, it was like seeing the most wealthiest master bedroom you ever laid your eyes upon. everything was neat and clean, it was all completely organized...but some of his furniture seemed untouched. his bookshelf nearby seemed rather dusted, but the only thing that seemed truly active was the table that resided within the room. upon it were maps, little figurines to indicate enemies...it was a place to discuss your strategics, but it seems like he did this alone before conducting his plan with his allies.

you wander around as your house servants enter with the clothes you wore, placing them in a separate area in jing yuan's....well, your room now. you gently sat upon the bed that seemed bigger than a king size mattress, and you felt your rear sink into the soft cushion of the bed. you lay back, your eyes peeled towards the ceiling as you admired everything in silence.

the memory foam of the bed was enough to try to make you fall asleep here and then, but you didn't. jing yuan was here, and the moment the house servants left, you sat up.

"your room is...beautiful." you say, admiring everything, still.

"ahaha. is it?" he questioned in the background.

"yes!"

you could hear the shuffling of his armor and his clothing being moved around, and your eyes curiously peeked over...only to see him don himself in a more comfortable clothing. a silk robe, and only his chest was visible.

you were respectfully looking at his chest, but you immediately looked away when he saw you staring at him for a moment. you were red, and he enjoyed witnessing your naivete. so, he chuckled moving alongside next to you, getting ready for bed on his end.

"well, goodnight, y/n." jing yuan said as he moved under his comforter, turning his back to you as he began to sleep. you nodded slowly, responding with a quiet, "g-goodnight, jing yuan," before doing the same.

both of your backs were turned, facing each other. you tried to close your eyes...but you were too nervous...and too, well, awake? the tea had certainly caused you to feel some sort of exhaustion as well as cuddling with mimi. but you definitely were awake this time, for whatever reason. your heart was racing, and it was most likely because you were sharing the bed of a general...now.

well, this was your life from now on, and you were realizing it.

a few moments later, you turn your head, and jing yuan hadn't turned at all. you assumed he had fallen asleep, given he was silent for about thirty minutes straight... ...but you looked at his back, and admired those broad shoulders of his. the silk robe he wore exposed a bit of his neck, and due to gravity's gift, you could see a bit of his back too. you could see the scars, and you knew each one told a story.

"...jing yuan?" you whispered.

no response. the man was asleep.

you shuffle closer, taking a closer look at his back... your hands reach out to him slowly, the pad of your thumb tracing across the scar. it was soft and almost rigid, as though it were recently fresh. there was a worried look upon your face as you shuffle even closer...

"...you've...been through a lot, haven't you?" you whisper. "...i'm sorry. now i feel terrible."

slowly, you shuffle even closer to the general, moving your arms towards his waist. you embrace him from behind, your face buried into his back.

...

that was when you felt his arms curl around you, pulling you close to his chest. you blink, suddenly finding yourself against the man's figure as you were pulled closer to him. he held you close, and you were caught red handed.

"ah⸻"

jing yuan buried his nose into your hair, silent for a moment. "why do you feel terrible?"

he asked in a low voice, stroking your back.

you fell silent again, inhaling his scent and embracing the softness of his exposed chest, "...because i'm probably...a lot for you to handle. you've been through so much, i bet, and now you have to deal with me."

you hear jing yuan chuckle softly to himself, stroking your hair now, "goodness. your anxiety is troubling isn't it?"

you blink, looking up.

his golden eyes are softly illuminate within the darkness that the two of you were sharing, but you couldn't look away.

"...i..." you were at loss for words. the man who held you at this very moment was...beautiful. too beautiful.

"..." jing yuan was silent, mirroring your actions. he had looked at you, admiring the beauty that laid before him. he almost felt bad for you, as you were forced into this marriage and took you forever to practically trust him. you had thought you felt awful? goodness, no, jing yuan was the one with anxiety here. but he was awfully good at hiding it.

the two of you were silent for a bit.

"...jing yuan..." you murmur. you raise your head, your eyes fixated to his lips.

jing yuan lowered his head, inclining his finger under your chin, lifting your gaze.

your lips were slowly met with his⸻and you immediately adored the softness of his brims that brushed against yours. when the two of you retracted your heads away, jing yuan sputtered, showing a rare side of embarrassment.

"...i-i. ahem. i apologize. i shouldn't have done that without your permission⸻"

you silence him with another, reeling him towards you as you tugged on his silk robe, pulling him in for another kiss. this time, it was fiery, passionate. hungry. you breathe heavily, feeling his hands run towards your waist, pulling you in closer.

you retract your head for air, red to the face. "j-jing yuan, um... i'm sorry. i... this is my first time doing this. k-kissing and all." you murmur.

jing yuan shook his head. kindness shown in his eyes, keeping you close to his chest.

"i won't rush into anything without your permission." he reassured you. "as long as you are comfortable. then i am happy."

you breathed, tugging at a piece of your clothing.

jing yuan blinked, noticing the gesture. he was more experienced, and...seeing that you were a virgin, he had to be extra gentle with you.

"...if you are sure, y/n. i am not opposed to it, but," he whispered, beginning to slip your robe down your shoulders as he now laid on top of you, looking down upon you.

"...please tell me if it starts to hurt you."

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #hsr jing yuan #honkai star rail jing yuan

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yaniiiiism · 17 days ago

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stars and raindrops. ꒰ a k.sm series ; chp 3 ꒱

chapter three. > sunsets and the glare on my camera lens.

☆ ͡ ݂ ۫ ☁️ ࣪ 𓈒 紫 ៸ ៸ ˚ ׅ

series index > main masterlist > schedule > main directory

♪┆pairing : kim seungmin x fem!reader ͏ ♪┆ info : sadfic , fluff , melancholy , unrequited love (cough cough) , feelings , mature themes , suggestive , bsfs , one sided , uni au , happy ending (?) ͏ ♪┆ personas + bg : uni students ; best friends ; trio of jisung, seungmin and reader. music students! ♪┆ word count : 1.5k ♪┆warnings : kinda sad, seungmo's a sweetheart but just clueless. lots of fluff tho !

The three strolled to the small bench they always shared in the garden, ice creams in hand, the air around them thick with the scent of rain that had yet to fall. Jisung, as usual, was full of energy, bouncing between topics as if the silence were something to be defeated. Seungmin, in contrast, was quiet, his eyes scanning the horizon as he occasionally chimed in with a wry remark or two.

The girl had quietly sat on the bench, slightly apart from them, her journal in her lap as her eyes drifted across the pages. She wasn’t writing, not yet—just flipping through the fragments of her thoughts. She wasn’t in the mood to speak much, and she didn’t have to.

As Y/n sat quietly on the bench, flipping through the pages of her journal, Seungmin and Jisung sprawled out on the grass nearby.

"Do you think you'd survive in a zombie apocalypse?" Jisung asked suddenly, taking a big bite of his ice cream as he glanced over at Seungmin.

The guy raised an eyebrow, wiping his mouth. “Where in the world did that come from?” And the squirrel-guy just shrugged in response.

Slightly side-eyeing the guy beside him, Seungmin spoke. "You? In a zombie apocalypse?" He scoffed. "You’d trip over your own feet before a single zombie even showed up."

And Jisung gasped in exaggerated offence. “Excuse me? I have incredible survival instincts. I’d be the last one standing, okay? You’d be the one complaining about the lack of the internet.”

Seungmin rolled his eyes, leaning back on his hands. "First of all, I won’t even need wifi. And second, you’d be too busy vlogging the whole thing to actually fight off zombies."

Jisung groaned, dramatically clutching his chest, whining. “Y/n look, he’s being mean again for no reason.”

The girl briefly looked up at the call of her name, seemingly distracted, before looking back to her journal, “Whatever Min said,” She babbled randomly, clearly not knowing the convo.

Seungmin laughed at the guy’s dumbfounded expression, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“It’s because I’m the heart of this friend group, that’s why,” Jisung said, puffing out his chest with mock pride. “Without me, everything would be boring and depressing. Admit it, Min. You’d miss me if I got eaten by zombies.”

Seungmin laughed, shaking his head, when the girl spoke again, her gaze fixed onto the book on her lap. “Ji, he probably wouldn’t even notice your absence.”

“Touché,”

Jisung huffed, throwing his hands in the air. “I bet you would notice, though, Y/nnie!” He glanced over at her, but she was back to quietly writing in her journal, completely immersed.

Seungmin followed Jisung’s gaze and gave a small smile before turning back to him. "She’d probably miss you just so she could have someone to make fun of."

"Well?" Jisung grinned triumphantly. "Even my insults have value. I provide endless entertainment."

Seungmin shook his head, but the smile on his face lingered. “You’re lucky I tolerate you.”

“Oh, come on, you love me,” Jisung teased, leaning over and nudging Seungmin with his shoulder. "I’m your favourite, right?"

Seungmin leaned away, narrowing his eyes. "You’re… tolerable. Barely."

“Wow,” Jisung said, rolling his eyes, “You really know how to make a guy feel special, Min.”

"I aim to please," Seungmin deadpanned.

As the golden hour bathed the park in a soft, amber hue, the brunette’s gaze wandered across the sprawling canvas of the evening. The air was cool, tinged with the faint scent of summer blooms, and the distant murmur of city life seemed like a gentle backdrop to the moment.

Then his eyes fell upon the girl, seated on the worn wooden bench beneath a sprawling oak tree. Her presence was an understated symphony against the natural beauty around her.

Her dark hair, flowing in silky waves, caught the dying light like a raven’s feather dipped in twilight. The strands framed her face with a certain grace, slipping through her fingers as she adjusted her position, her movements delicate and unhurried.

Her soft, azure blouse draped over her shoulders like a whisper, the fabric catching the wind with a subtle shimmer. She seemed to merge seamlessly with the twilight, her attire complementing her poised, yet introspective demeanour.

In that moment, she appeared both serene and distant, her focus entirely absorbed by the journal cradled in her lap.

The famous journal, a leather-bound book with a hint of wear along the edges, was a vessel of her thoughts and dreams. Her slender fingers danced over the pages with practised ease, every movement imbued with a silent intensity.

Her brow furrowed ever so slightly, the tip of her pen moving in graceful arcs that spoke of her inner world—one that he could only glimpse through the quiet reflection in her eyes, as she bit down onto yet another pepero.

Her tinted lips, that wrapped so neatly around the chocolate coated stick, shortening with each nibble.

Seungmin felt an unfamiliar twinge in his chest, a fleeting sense of admiration that mingled with the evening’s tranquil melancholy.

He observed her with a gaze that was tender yet distant, like a painter admiring a muse through the veil of a dream.

There was a beauty in her quiet solitude, in the way she seemed to be lost in a realm of her own making, untouched by the external world.

Yet, as he watched her, a subtle, yet firm realisation anchored itself in his thoughts.

His heart, despite the gentle stirrings of affection he felt in her presence, was already attuned to another melody.

The truth was a quiet storm within him, a reminder of the emotions that tethered him elsewhere. The affection he felt for her was like a soft echo in the recesses of his mind, but it was clear and unequivocal that his heart had already chosen a different path.

The knowledge was both comforting and bittersweet.

He appreciated the serene beauty she brought to the world, her presence like a soothing balm in the complexities of life.

But his own affections lay elsewhere, woven into the fabric of his own reality.

He knew, as he continued to watch her, that his admiration was tempered by a reality he could not ignore.

Or could he just not see.. beyond her.

With a gentle sigh, he turned his gaze away from the girl, letting the evening’s shadows deepen around him.

He allowed himself to be drawn back into the conversation with Jisung and the fading light of day, carrying with him the quiet appreciation for a friend who, in her own way, had captured a moment of his heart’s fleeting tenderness.

–

They stayed like that, the sun slipping lower in the sky, casting soft orange hues across the horizon as the impending storm still held off in the distance.

As the sky began to fade out of twilight, Jisung stood up, stretching dramatically. “Hey, what do you two think about hitting the beach tomorrow? I could use some peace and fun.”

Seungmin turned to her, a soft, unreadable look in his eyes. “What d’ya think? Up for it?”

The girl looked up, her brows raised slightly as she closed her journal, placing it back into her bag. “The beach? Tomorrow?” She glanced back at the guy who suggested it, who only shrugged.

“Yeah, I mean,” He began, “It’s a Friday, we’ve all been pretty busy with uni, especially you, by the way. And it’d seem like a good time-off!” “He’s right, you know,” The brown haired guy nudged her lightly, his left hand resting on her right shoulder. “You deserve a break, just for an evening.”

She turned her gaze towards him, eyes softening slightly, the hesitation melting away. “Fine. When are we leaving?”

— about 10 minutes later.

A familiar voice chimed in, pulling all three of their gazes toward the entrance of the garden. Felix and Eunha strolled over, waving as they approached.

“Hey, you guys! What’s up?” Felix grinned, his sunshine energy as contagious as ever.

Jisung waved back with a grin, Seungmin simply nodding in annoyance. “Oh, Lix, Eunha, hey!”

The two approached the group, joining them on the grass. Some time passed.

“We’re actually planning to head to the beach tomorrow evening. You guys wanna tag along?” Seungmin asked, his tone casual but his eyes on Y/n.

Felix's face lit up immediately. "I'm so down. Eunha?"

Eunha smiled, nodding. "Sounds perfect."

The girl quietly sat onto the bench, looked up at the conversation, her jaw clenching the tiniest bit.

Why in the world did he have to invite them?

It’s like she doesn’t even exist anymore – not that it matters but yeah.

Another day, with Eunha tagging along.

Another day of Seungmin trying terribly to gauge her attention.

Another stupid day of stolen glances at Seungmin that Y/n wasn’t sure anyone else noticed—or cared about.

She had been waiting for the day, despite the hesitation. But now that Eunha’s coming, she might as well skip, it wouldn’t make a difference, would it?

But she couldn’t, not to her closest pair of friends anyway.

“Yay..” She cheered quietly, a faint smile playing on her lips as she tucked her journal into her bag.

But inside, she was already bracing herself for the next day, hoping the beach wouldn’t be just another backdrop to the feelings she could never quite express.

a/n. ୨ৎ

sat in the drafts for too long lmao yani's active era yall watch me disappear in a few days tho my pretty seungmo nd berry i might kms guys if u liked this lmk by commenting or liking <3 check out my post-schedule/masterlist/taglists/etc right here ! channie late bd fic soon ! thank you for reading >< !! — love, yani ♥︎

thank you to @bernardsbendystraws , @adornedwithlight , @url2no for the dividers + mood board!

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parmahamlarrie · 11 months ago

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Welcome back to another post for the directory of fic recs on my blog! As Omegaverse fics are one I adore, this will be our first multiparter! If you would like a specific theme or trope, let me know! As always, these are all fics I have read and loved, and think you should read too. **This post will be updated as I have read more fics in this theme to recommend!**

Pretty Please (With Sugar on Top) || @angelichl || 113.6k A/B/O, Sugar baby Harry, Omega Harry, Alpha Louis, Soulmate AU

Make It Up As We Go Along || @lululawrence || 52.2k A/B/O, Poly, Movie Adaptation, KidFic, OT5

Truebonds || @jacaranda-bloom || 39.6k A/B/O, Truebonds, Omega Louis, Alpha Harry, Farmer Louis, Scenting

Quiet People Have the Loudest Minds || @2tiedships2 || 38k A/B/O, Strangers to Lovers, Mute Louis

voicemail sings a wreck || @falsegoodnight || 37k A/B/O, College AU, American AU, Enemies to Lovers, Frat AU

Too Young To Know || @2tiedships2 || 35.4k A/B/O, Exes to Lovers, Lou has a boyfriend, Fluff and Angst

dream about a summer night || @onlythebravest || 33.6k A/B/O, Friends to Lovers, Summer Camp AU

Short and Sweet || 5ft9 || 29.6k A/B/O, Strangers to Lovers, Tattoo Artist H, Super Soft Lou

Introduction to Dynamics || @juliusschmidt || 29.1k A/B/O, Omega Louis, Presenting, Coming of Age, Uni AU, Strangers to Friends to Lovers

two sugars || @sun-lt || 21.6k A/B/O, Mental Health, Nesting, Strangers to Lovers

taken by lust’s strange inhumanity || @larrydoinglaundry || 20.6k A/B/O, Alpha Louis, Omega Harry, College AU, Frat Brother Louis, Intersex Omega, Virgin Harry

how do I stay tender || jessicamcqueen || 16.8k A/B/O, Alpha Harry, Omega Louis, Neighbors, Touch Deprivation, Nesting

love so soft, you ain’t had nothing softer Series || @neondiamond || 15.4k A/B/O, Alpha Louis, Omega Harry, Fluff/Smut

A Fateful Snow || @parmahamlarrie || 13k A/B/O, Christmas, Christmas Tree Farm, Small Business Owners, Fluff

Come In and Change My Life || @lightwoodsmagic || 12.1k A/B/O, Famous/Non-Famous, Mpreg, Strangers to Friends to Lovers

hit me with your sweet love (kill me with a kiss) || @bottomhaztoplou || 11.5k A/B/O, Alpha Louis, Omega Harry, Courting, Fluff, Valentine’s Day

resolutions and lovers in the kitchen || orphan_account || 10.8k A/B/O, Heat, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut

Cut me up, kiss me harder || @lunarheslwt || 9.4k A/B/O, Alpha Harry, Omega Louis, Enemies to Lovers, Spin the Bottle

Find Me in the Kitchen || @neondiamond || 9.2k A/B/O, Cooking Lessons, Fluff

All I Needed || @fallinglikethis || 9.1k Harry Potter AU, A/B/O, Alpha Louis, Omega Louis

my heart's against your chest, your lips pressed to my neck (I'm in love now) || @bottomhaztoplou || 8.8k A/B/O, College AU, Courting, Friends to Lovers, Roommates

Can We Start Believing || @fearlesslysweetcreature || 8.1k A/B/O, Nesting, Friends to Lovers

young hearts on the chase || @polaroidlouis || 7.4k A/B/O, Courting, Alpha Louis, Omega Harry, Soft Harry

they found the evidence and they found your fingerprints (all on me) || angelsueavenue || 6.6k A/B/O, Alpha Louis, Omega Harry, College AU, Pining, Jealousy, Scenting, Friends to Lovers, Parties, Winter

when we get intimate || rainblou || 6.5k A/B/O, College AU, Ace Harry, Nesting

Lost in your Paradise || @sadaveniren || 6.3k A/B/O, Public Sex, Unplanned Pregnancy

just the two of us (we can make it if we try) || @starryhaze28 || 5.9k A/B/O, Pregnant Harry, Omega Drop, Established Relationship

Get Nesting & Soft Knots || @pocketsunshineharry || 5.7k A/B/O, Youtuber Louis, Knitter Harry, Nesting, Touch Depri

breathe into your well || turnyourankle || 4.7k A/B/O, Rut Bar, Heat/Rut, PwP

Mr. Tomlinson || @canonlarry || 4.2k A/B/O, CEO Louis

Spring Fever || @kingsofeverything || 4k A/B/O, Mpreg, Unplanned Pregnancy

take you with me every time I go away || starryhaze || 3.6k A/B/O, Established Relationship, Anxious Harry, Portable Nest

my lap is the best place for you to be || @bottomhaztoplou || 2.9k A/B/O, Historical, Intersex Omegas, Pregnant Harry, Established Relationship

The Scarf || @homosociallyyours || 2.6k A/B/O, Nesting, Getting Together

this love is ours || wherewestwood || 2.5k A/B/O, Established Relationship, Chirping

‘cause I built a home for you || angelsueavenue || 2.3k A/B/O, Mpreg, Fluff, Nesting

Baby, Don’t Apologize || @neondiamond || 1.8k A/B/O, Established Relationship, Alpha Louis, Omega Harry, Asexual Harry

Sigh Softly || aalexandravictoriaa || >1k A/B/O, Established Relationship, Nesting

#tracksintheam #trackinghappily #trackinghome #1dsource #fic rec #fic rec list #larry fic rec #my fic rec lists #omegaverse #omegaverse fic rec

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brightdirectories · 1 year ago

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#religious directory theme #religious listing theme #religious directory listing theme #directory theme #business directory themes #directory software

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nobedofroses · 1 month ago

Text

October 16th

pairing: no outbreak!Joel x gn!reader

warnings: allusions to smut, fluff

words: 1.3k

a/n: Prompt for today is "laying wide awake at night after watching a horror movie that left them unnerved" from this list by @scealaiscoite. Reader in this hates horror movies just so you know and Sarah is like 12. This can be read as a continuation of the last Joel blurb if you want!

Directory, previous Joel blurb, Day 15

🎃🎃🎃

A year into dating, you and Joel had become a team. You weren’t living together officially, but you stayed over at least three nights a week, were on all the lists for picking Sarah up, and Joel kept bringing up how your lease was ending soon. It was a busy, messy life that you loved with two people you loved.

It also came with Tommy and whichever girlfriend he had at the time. Which usually added some variety and a bit of wildness in your otherwise stable routine which was nice at times. But tonight you feared it had gone too far.

Since Halloween was coming up, you had decided to do a family movie night. Tommy and his girl, Maria, came over with beer and soda and Sarah and you had gone shopping for and then made some Halloween-themed treats while Joel ordered lots of pizza.

While Sarah was up, you watched family Halloween movies, both new ones and the ones you adults had watched and loved growing up. But she fell asleep during the second one so when it was over Joel carried her to bed.

As he was tucking her in, Tommy turned to you and said, “We brought a couple horror movies, do you want to pick which we watch first?”

“Oh, um, I don’t know a lot about horror movies. I guess… should we ease in? Maybe the one with the least screaming so it doesn’t wake Sarah up?” you suggested, hoping they wouldn’t be able to tell that you were worried more for yourself than for Sarah. Horror movies were something you avoided as much as possible. Horror books you loved, but seeing everything happening and hearing it too, that was the worst. But you didn’t want to ruin their fun time, especially if Joel liked horror movies too. It wasn’t something that had come up very much since you were usually watching movies with Sarah and she was too young to watch them yet.

“Smart. Babe, which do you think has the least screaming?” As Tommy and Maria started discussing it, you got up to refill your glass of water. You tried to still your hands and hold it steady, but a little splashed onto the counter.

“Here, sweetheart,” you heard Joel’s voice behind you, coming up close so he could wipe the counter with a dishtowel. Then he wrapped his arms around you and kissed your temple, “What’s going on down here?”

“Tommy brought some horror movies, so they’re just picking one. I told them maybe the quietest so we don’t wake Sarah,” you explained.

Joel guided you to turn around in his arms, kissing you sweetly before saying, “Always so thoughtful.”

You shrugged but when Joel leaned in for another kiss, you returned it eagerly, happy to have something to distract you from the thought of horror movies. After a minute though, Joel pulled away with one last peck and then opened up the fridge, “Want anything? Soda? Beer?”

“No, just water’s okay, thanks.”

Joel grabbed a bottle for himself and opened it with the bottle opener magnet on the fridge, “Tell you what, though. It’s just like Tommy to want to watch a scary movie to get a girl in his arms.”

You laughed, “Some people, if they don’t have the charm they have to use crutches like that. Horror movies, haunted houses, stuff like that.”

“Now, listen here,” Joel moved toward you, grabbing your waist and squeezing as you laughed and laughed.

An hour later and you’re not sure Joel’s theory is correct. Maria seemed just fine watching this movie, and she might have been enjoying it more than Tommy was. You, however, were terrified. You had cuddled as close to Joel as possible as soon as you sat down and he had no complaints. You closed your eyes when necessary but refrained from covering your eyes, gritting your teeth to get through it instead.

It wasn’t the worst horror you had ever seen, not too gory and actually less screaming than you had feared, but it was still too much for you to be comfortable.

When it was almost over, you leaned in to whisper in Joel’s ear that you were getting tired so that they wouldn’t want to start another one. Thankfully, he did his duty and when Tommy asked if they should pick another, he took the fall for being too tired to stay up another two hours. Tommy teased him for being old, but seemed more than fine with it. He and Maria seemed anxious to get back to Tommy’s place.

After a quick cleanup, you and Joel went to bed, talking a little, but Joel thought you were tired so he kept talking to a minimum and was kissing you goodnight before long. The only problem was that you couldn’t sleep. You had laid there for an hour, then two and still nothing. Every sound in the house and outside it had you on edge and the roaring of blood in your ears and tingling in your hands and face from hyperventilating made it impossible to relax.

Joel was sleeping so peacefully that you didn’t want to wake him over something so silly. But eventually he woke on his own. He was rolling over in his sleep, reaching out to wrap his arm around you like he always did, but he must’ve felt something different in the way your muscles tenses or maybe he heard your breathing, because he lifted his head to try and look at you and rasped out, “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

You shifted uncomfortably and then turned to him, “Just— I just, I hate horror movies. I can’t sleep.”

Joel pulled you into him and you willingly let yourself get tangled up in his body. “Because you’re scared, sweetheart?”

You nodded and he could feel it against his chest.

“Honey, I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t say somethin’. But you can. I don’t wanna do anything that’s gonna make you uncomfortable or scared. And if you’re ever worried about disappointing Tommy or something, I can say it’s me. Plus, who cares what that jackass thinks? He can go watch scary movies at his place.”

That made you laugh because you knew that Joel did very much care about what Tommy thought. Just not about this.

“I just didn’t want them, or you, to miss out on watching it since it seemed like you were all excited,” you explained.

Joel hummed, “Yeah, I get that. But guess what, sweetheart? I was fucking bored throughout the whole thing, I’d much rather watch one of your detective shows than that crap. I thought you’d like it with your taste in books and all.”

“Guess we shouldn’t assume so much,” you said sheepishly.

“No, now we’re all asses,” he said and you chuckled.

“Except Maria, she doesn’t seem like an ass,” you pointed out.

“You’re right there, Maria is maybe one of the least ass-ish people out there. Tommy’d be lucky to stay in her life,” Joel said and you agreed, thinking you wouldn’t mind having her around for all the future family nights.

You both quieted for a minute and then Joel asked, “Honey, does this help? Being wrapped up like this? Will you be able to sleep now?”

“I’m not sure. The talking was good but I started thinking about it again just now. But I don’t want to keep you up all night,” you told him, knowing he’d push back but wanting to protect his rest as well.

“‘Course I’m staying up. But you know, if our throats get tired, we can always do something other than talk. If you think it would help,” Joel said suggestively.

You laughed, “Hmm, and what would that be, mister?”

“Mmm, it’s kinda hard to explain. I could show you though.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright then, show me,” you said, a bit of a challenge in your voice. And show you he did.

🎃🎃🎃

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #blurb #fluff #nobedofroses #spooky fluff 24

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not-poignant · 6 months ago

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Hi Pia

Feel free to ignore if this is unwelcome, but have you ever thought about publishing traditionally to sublimate your income and draw in new readers? I know you've self published two books already and that you didn't feel like they did very well, but maybe the experience would be different if someone else was in charge of marketing and all the other business stuff?

Obviously everyone's experience is different but as an author myself who's published both trad and self, traditional publishing has been a completely different experience and has allowed me to focus more on writing because I'm not the one responsible for advertising/marketing/financing anymore.

There are a ton of literary agents nowadays that want to represent diverse and lgbtqia+ fiction, some of them even in Australia.

Websites like Reedsy, AgentQuery and Jerichowriters have extensive directories to find literary agents.

(This is lengthy folks so I'm putting the other two parts (and my response) under a read more! Also putting it under a read more so the anon can skip my response since it's very 'here's all the reasons I can't do this' and they just might not want to read that, lmao)

(continued -> )

Trad publishing houses have better resources for marketing and helping authors get more attention than any self publishing website could.

Obviously most authors, unless they're really prolific, don't get a huge advance (the average is between $1000 - $5000) but getting your foot in the door or on the traditional publishing "ladder' so to speak can have a huge benefit for your serials. Because it gives you more exposure. Plus it's in the agent's best interest to find a publishing house that accepts stories that contain darker themes and negotiate the best deal for you.

For some reason places like Amazon and the like accept and keep up more "dark" books that are traditionally published than they do with self pub ones. Maybe because they have more respect or leniency for publishing houses? I have no idea. But you could use this to your advantage. I think I remember you mentioning that writing novels felt quite isolating to you? But you already have 2 completed novels (3 if you count the fae one) that you could potentially revisit or rewrite to your liking and get them represented by agents.

You already have a loyal readership and that's very attractive to trad pub houses and agents.

As well as trad publishing, you could also make s simple website that doesn't require much maintenance. It could be just a landing page that says something about you and then has links to your tumblr and patreon where you're more active. That way you increase the chances of getting your serials found by additional readers and also come across looking more "professional". Not that you're not professional now. You are and I admire you greatly, but the unfortunate reality is a lot of people still judge by appearances and some will be more drawn to an author's website than a tumblr page, at least at first. So I think having a simple landing page would open up another door for you to benefit from.

Trad publishing is work but definitely not as much as self publishing, and you can continue on with your serials. Getting an agent can be time consuming but I personally believe the pros outweigh the cons and I also believe that your stories would be a huge treasure to the growing lgbtqia+ market. Seriously there needs to be more!

These are just suggestions and thoughts and like I said before, feel free to ignore. But I know you've mentioned wanting to grow your career in the past and I genuinely believe you can do so with some of these pathways.

Okay, my response. Posting this because firstly I think the suggestions could work very well for other authors reading this! And I hope they take the advice to note, and secondly because I haven't talked about this for a hot minute so let's talk about it again.

So the TL;DR is yes I have considered traditional publishing. I have actually been traditionally published in short stories, poetry, and also had my art published on covers and re: interior illustrations. But my Fae Tales works got soundly rejected when I sent them to publishing houses that were doing open calls for that sort of material. I've never heard back from an agent and I never expect to, heh.

Now for a bit more detail

I have been traditionally published before (it's how I got my writing out there long before I ever wrote serials), and yes, I have approached publishers with my writing since then. In fact Tradewinds was written for the traditional publishing market, and it got soundly rejected, and then shelved. The reasons it was rejected ran the gamut from 'I don't like that these fae eat humans no one is going to relate to these people' (while the editor then went on to publish vampire books idk) to 'There's too much worldbuilding you can't expect readers to keep up with this' to 'Your stories are too long, no one wants to read characters talking all the time.'

Meanwhile in my online serials I was getting feedback like 'my favourite chapters are the ones where the characters just sit in a room and talk' lol.

The traditional publishing world is also not quite as utopian for most authors as you make it seem. I'm friends with a lot of authors who are traditionally published because that's the world I came from, and unless they're solely in KU and doing generic rapid release formula romances, none of them are making that much money. Certainly not enough to live off. It may have been that you were very fortunate, anon, but I know hundreds more traditionally published authors that left trad pub to make money, and I know about 5 in trad pub personally who are making enough to live off of.

Only one of those is really writing what she truly loves to write, and even then, publishing houses have refused to commit to her entire fantasy series (and she's regularly in 'Top 10/20 Women Fantasy Authors in the World' lists) and forced her to finish the series prematurely. Something I never ever have to worry about in self pub.

The reality is that in trad pub these days, you're still in charge of most of your marketing unless you're one of the big earners for the publishing house. In fact I'd be expected to keep even more of a social media and marketing presence than I do now. I don't do almost any of the things you're supposed to do as an author in marketing to be appealing. I don't have a Facebook author account. I don't have an Instagram author account. I don't maintain or regularly send out newsletters (which automatically puts me in the like 0.05% of authors who make money doing this lmao).

I don't know if you ever have looked that closely into what m/m publishing houses expect from most of their authors, but the newsletter swaps, cover releases, review circuits, interview circuits and more are fucking grueling. We're expected to be responsible for our advertising and our marketing to a fairly massive degree. Some traditionally published in m/m still have to pay for their release blitzes out of pocket. These publishing houses, by and large, do not offer advances. You say most authors don't get large advances. I don't think most authors in this arena get offered advances at all unless they're somehow miraculously acquired by a Big 4.

We're expected to have an already established social media presence because of that (that's why it's so appealing to publishers that we have social media presences already, anon, so we can market, they can save money, and we still see only a minimal cut from the royalties).

And you still have to focus on your finances, because publishing houses like Dreamspinner straight up didn't pay a whole bunch of authors for so long they destroyed careers. They still haven't paid some of their authors. And they're still running a business and people still buy their books.

Trad publishing houses have better resources for marketing and helping authors get more attention than any self publishing website could.

This is true if a) they're a big publishing house and not an indie publisher of which most LGBTQIA+ publishing houses are and b) they're willing to use them on you.

The authors that make the most money get the most resources. If they believe you're going to earn back your advance and move thousands or tens of thousands of units per book, then yes, you will get those resources.

I have been told so many times now - even from friends who run publishing houses, including one who works at HarperCollins - that my work will never be mainstream enough to have broad appeal. They literally told me not to keep trying re: trad pub, because that was my dream for a long time. These folks have given me rock solid advice in the past, it's one of the reasons I'm doing so well now via Patreon + Ream. But they were like (paraphrasing) 'you don't write 60-80k romances and you don't want to and that's not your strength anyway, you're multi-genre which makes you hard to market, you write psychological and literary trauma recovery which is hard to market, you write character studies which are hard to market, publishing houses often don't commit to series anymore if the first two don't move units and if they pulled the plug you'd be contractually obliged to never finish that series until your contract was up.' I could go on, but it was like yeah...actually. Fair.

They do, but most publishing houses want very formulaic dark romance which is not what I write.

I have a 300k omegaverse slowburn that still hasn't had any penetrative sex in it, anon. Publishing houses don't want that. They don't expect anyone will wait 4 full length novels to get to literally a single penetrative sex scene.

But you already have 2 completed novels (3 if you count the fae one) that you could potentially revisit or rewrite to your liking and get them represented by agents.

If I rewrote them to my liking, trad pub wouldn't want them. They'd be too long! I think agents etc. take one look at me and go 'oh god, no thank you!' I'm not an easy sell, by any means.

Plus I'm very e.e about all of that with the knowledge that they then give me only about 10-15% of the royalties on the sales, vs. self-pub where I get around 70%, or subscription where I around 80% of it. When someone subscribes to me, they don't have to worry about 85-90% of their subscription fee going to a publishing house. I don't have to think about how many thousands and thousands of books I'd have to sell to make the same amount that I do now via subscription.

As well as trad publishing, you could also make s simple website that doesn't require much maintenance.

If it was that simple, I'd be doing it. I don't mean this in a facetious way, I mean it in a: I've made a lot of websites, in fact I run one at the moment not connected to my writing (I've been running it for so long it's now in its 20s and can probably has a driver's license). I find it so tedious that I barely remember to check in on it. But forgetting about it means there's always maintenance to keep up with when I get back to it.

Running websites is simpler than it used to be, but it's still not simple. There's hosting and hosting costs, there's server changes, there's back-end maintenance etc. I'm considering it for down the track, but there's a reason I decided to go the route of Patreon over my own site. There are authors (like Christopher Hopper) who actually do subscription through their own domain, but it's a lot of work.

Even placeholder sites are still work. They need updating, details change, story titles changing etc. Maintaining my Patreon + Ream About pages is enough, they're always both a little out of date, lol.

Not that you're not professional now.

Oh no, I mean from a 'traditional publisher looking at me to see what kind of candidate I am' I'm really not though. Like I said, I don't have the newsletter (100 subscribers who get one newsletter a year is not really a newsletter), I don't have the Facebook/Tiktok/Insta/Twitter/Bluesky/Threads accounts, etc. I write multi-genre across multiple steam levels, and I'm allergic to writing serials shorter than 150k. One of my best performing original serials was an 800k contemporary story with no sex in it but a lot of BDSM. It can't be marketed as clean or sweet, it's not high steam, an entire chapter is 'boy saves snail from rain.' Also he was cruel to animals, so not exactly what I'd call a sympathetic main.

And yet that story did so well for me via Patreon + Ream, because people want the kinds of stories that publishing houses generally don't want and I happen to be writing them.

Anon I just literally do not believe an agent would want to represent me. I have 0% belief in that. Not from a self-deprecating angle but from a 'I am not a good bet for the trad market' perspective. From a 'I have so many friends who are trad pubbed authors who stare at me like I'm insane for writing serials as long as I do' perspective. From a 'professionals in the industry have told me it's amazing I'm doing so well in serials because there's no way they'd take a risk on what I'm doing' perspective. From a 'just because it's queer and diverse doesn't mean it hits literally any other thing a trad pub is looking for' perspective. I've been doing this for 10 years. There are agents who represent work similar to mine who know what I'm doing and wouldn't touch me with a ten foot pole. They're not missing out on a trick, they know I'm not broad appeal, and they're right.

Also the only way I'd have the energy to manage trad pub is by quitting serials. And honestly, I never found trad pub all that much fun while I was doing it for non-novel stuff. It was fine, and it is nice to have my stuff out there, but it was a ton of admin and a lot of going back and forth between people who really only care about marketing a product, and that's great and what they excel at! But I'm too disabled to turn this job into something crushing just to potentially make more money, I'd rather just quit and go back onto a full Disability Pension. I can't see any way I still get to write the stories I want to write, in the way that I write them, and be remotely appealing to a single reputable trad pub or agent.

Also *gestures to everything in this article*

#asks and answers #pia on writing #pia on publishing #i appreciate your thoughts anon #and i'm so happy it's working out well for you #and that you're able to live off what you're doing #you are one of the rare outliers in the world of publishing #and i truly wish you all the success in the world #i do think a lot of your advice will go to help a lot of writers who sometimes check in #at my tumblr #but yeah no i don't even write that much 'dark' stuff in the classic sense #of what trad pub wants #right now the publishing world that i'm adjacent to #seems to view me as some kind of oddity #'i don't know how he's making an income off all this stuff that we know would never work for us'#'how odd and strange'#'best leave him alone'#most authors are thankfully not doing what i'm doing #in which case yes they should absolutely consider agent representation #and looking into trad pub #unfortunately i'm not like a CS Pacat #even though she's a role model for me #and when i tried to write for the more traditional market #which was perth shifters #i honestly really struggled

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ask-poethetic · 4 months ago

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Ah, you can call me Poe?

I’ve never had social media before, so, apologies if I do so,etching wrong. But! I do hope to make friends! Anyone who recognizes me from the soup kitchen or from my shop on Connudatus St, please let me know! I’d love to talk about my work with people. I’ve always been interested in gardening, and recently I’ve even started helping out at a farm, so if anyone wants some tips in that realm please ask!

Also, if anyone has any recommendations for things to check out, such as movies or books or whatnot, or even safe places to hang out, please let me know! Until this year I’ve been pretty sick and stuck inside, so I don’t really know any of the popular places.

But in summary, if you need help with something, please feel free to ask, if it’s something I can help with I promise I will!

(Rules, Disclaimers, and Information below)

📍This blog is 18+ only

📍Due to the subjects of the game DoL, there will likely be upsetting themes such as noncon/dubcon and violence, continue at your own discretion.

Art by @dol-dee

Poe the Plaintive

An orphan that until this school year, was kept at the orphanage due to his sickly state. This has left him to be far smaller than average for someone his age, not to mention his general frailty. Despite the fact that he only recently come into social consciousness, he has quickly made a name for himself as someone incredibly kind and willing to help, not to mention that he has made a name in the business due to his flower shop, in which all flowers are homegrown! Any foul rumors that sprout up about him quickly find themselves silenced, to the point that the public only know him as a charitable soul.

Though how his hair turned an ashy blonde, almost grey, is curious, didn’t his hair used to be brown? And the hair shows no sign of being dyed. Plus it only turned that color after the Red Moon and a week of being missing. And since then he has made weekly visits to the hospital. Perhaps his sickly condition is returning?

Poe is Tiny, Intersex, and Meek. He uses exclusively he/him pronouns and has no official romantic partner thus far in game, nor has he become interested in anyone.

Tag Directory

#ask-answered - Asks that have been answered

#me - Posts by Poe

#vibes - Vibes/Aesthetic/Text Posts that Poe likes

#convo - Interacting with other dol rp blogs

#not-blog - Posts that are set outside the realms of the blog itself

#not-poe - Posts not made by Poe

#captured Poe arc - In which Locke is hired to kidnap and give Poe to a mysterious anon

<OOC>

Howdy hey I’m Hemlock ( @hemlocks-hidey-hole ) I’ve never done something like this before but I was seeing others so it and it seemed cool, so I’m latching on. Feel free to interact however you want. I will create a blacklist if it becomes necessary

Anything I write that’s OOC will <look like this>

#dol #degrees of lewdity #ask blog #send asks #Poe the plaintive #dol pc #introduction #art #pinned post

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unofficial-tron-rpc · 9 months ago

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What would you most like to see on this blog?

Thinking about how to run this blog, and figure out what would be the most helpful. So. Question. What would you like to see on this blog. Some ideas of uses for this blog:

Reblogging promos

Directory of folks in the Tron RPC (opt- in)

Submissions for folks looking for partners to RP specific characters

Tron specific ask memes (these will probably be sporadic or posted once a week considering how busy life currently is)

General RP advice

Resources for themes, templates, etc.

Please reblog if you respond to the poll! I would really love to see this blog get more traction.

#the voice of the grid #system setup #tron rpc

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yerion · 1 year ago

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jeon jungkook being perfect was a fact you could vouch for; up until he appeared to church without his dear fiancée and his chocolate coloured eyes that delineated so much kindness. the question is—why is it just you noticing his sinister differences?

pairing : jungkook x you (as jia). au(s) : vampire!jungkook, forced roommates!au, enemies to lovers!au. genres : dark romance, mutual pining, slowburn, angst, innuendos of suggestive themes.

content : you tear down jungkook’s fake front of being the most generous soul without knowing he’s an attractive yet menacing curse who lived for way too long. on days you want him to vanish, you sway at his sickly charms—and so does he.

your relationship with jungkook tied into a playlist.

previous chapter. next chapter. chapter directory. masterlist.

chapter two.

word count : 6,4k.

“can you spare some time?” jungkook now smiles in the way you expect. late for you and your suspicions. at this point, you’re just thinking—”surprise me more, jungkook.”

“coffee’s on me.” you suggest gladly. “it’s for yesterday.”

jungkook raises a brow. “are you sure?”

“let me,” you coax. “i’d say the time is quite perfect for it.” you appeal even further as you scan your surroundings once more. everyone’s already gone to where they should be. should you be pleased that no one is near?

“undeniably a perfect time to share cups of coffee.” jungkook nods like he just bought your seduction. “sounds like a plan.”

“you said it was your first day today?” you almost confirm for yourself. this guy hosts chaos in his life; he has too many things going on. you won’t even be shocked if he confesses that he’s actually a father of two children. “how about we walk over to the café at the front? it won’t be as busy as before, so don’t worry about running late to anything.”

“i wouldn’t have asked you if i was in a hurry.” jungkook tilts his head in amusement. “do you have somewhere to be?”

you shake your head in denial. “not exactly.”

“let’s take our time then, shall we?”

the next thing you know, you’re walking side by side with him. he’s half a head taller than you as he strides with confidence under the tender sunlight; one hand hooked onto his jean pocket, his beautifully proportioned legs leads him into taking bigger steps compared to yours. he’s more focused on the scene ahead of him rather than glimpsing at you back and forth; which is an act you’d predict from him, knowing how much of a smart conversationalist he is.

a defined jaw, cheeks full and protruded—it gives him the heavenly balance of youthfulness and masculinity. his eyes are so round and almost reflective with a glimmer, but some strands of his hair are soon going to blanket the starry stars thanks to the attractive length he’s trying to maintain—not too short; not too long.

“does that mean you studied anatomy in the past?” with a subdued voice of yours, you gently intrude his proclaimed silence.

“i unfortunately couldn’t make it further than second year of medical school.” he takes a hitched breath upon chuckling at his own failure. “but i was lucky to be acknowledged in the anatomy and physiology aspect of things, so here i am, giving out additional lectures whenever they need.”

jungkook likely excels in that too; based on the way he’s been conversing with you all this time, he’s been giving you the most detailed and thorough answers to your questions. he speaks fluidly too; he hasn’t stuttered once or spoke too fast for anyone to understand. you can imagine how he’d be when talking to the students in his room.

“everyone’s been wondering what you do.” you confess as you study the side of his face while walking under the trees. shadows envelop his pale face, and you’re no longer able to watch the subtle changes to his expression. “an educator suits you.”

“you think?” his cheekbones move upward; you assume he’s smiling.

“definitely.”

“can i ask how you injured that ankle of yours?” jungkook’s soft, deep voice blankets your ear like warm honey; a voice full of genuine concern. you can tell he’s not asking for the extra point into his account—that much you know after experiencing a life full of tangled twists and hazardous turns. “i happened to notice on the day we met.”

“and i tried so hard to hide it.” you easily admit your defeat in a whimsical exaggeration. “is this your interest in anatomy acting up or was i just awful at acting?” tightening your lips in wonder, you narrow your eyes at jungkook’s face of contemplation.

“i have a feeling you’re going to take back your offer on the coffee if i answer truthfully.”

“i didn’t know you had such a side to you.” you almost scoff before chuckling at his tenuous boast about himself. you suppose he’s not wrong, since no one else noticed for the past few weeks. jimin is an exception.

jungkook stifles a laugh. “i’m sorry to disappoint you.”

outside the trees’ embrace is the café. situated beside the university fountains, the café is petite for everyone’s convenience; the smaller it is, the easier it is for the baristas to receive and submit orders. from what you see, there’s three workers today—a good headcount for the morning wave of students desperate for coffee. their laughter enlightens you; it apprises you that your guess about the rush hour is quite true.

you sigh in relief. “there’s almost nobody around.”

“is there anything in particular you like?”

“i usually go for an espresso.”

“you do?” jungkook asks in surprise when he intentionally takes a bigger step forward. now you realise he’s been trying to walk at the same speed as you this entire time. “you’re the first.” he then says once he reaches the cashier.

“first of?”

“w—what can i get you?” the cashier stutters in nervousness. all the colour in her face has flooded into her cheeks, her shoulders are tense and her fingers are curled into her palms.

is she acting like that because of jungkook?

seriously?

like, seriously?

“we’ll have two espressos to have here, please.” with his customary smile glued to his face, jungkook swipes his card before you can even process your flabbergasted thought.

“wait—” instinctively trying to block jungkook from paying, your hand touches his at the sound of a melodic beep. your body freezes at the familiar sound, knowing it’s too late to bother, so you simply heave out a sigh of disbelief. “that was my chance.”

“how about you decide where we sit instead—” he suggests teasingly. “—after your hand wakes up.”

“i—” you immediately rip your hand off of jungkook’s. “sorry.”

jungkook nods at the cashier upon confirming the order before walking relatively out of the queue, seeing that there’s a student waiting behind. that’s another person witnessing you blatantly holding an engaged man’s hand.

jungkook is engaged.

doesn’t that mean he should be wearing a ring?

that was the left hand you just held—his cold hand—but there isn’t a ring on it.

is there a possibility for it to be on his right hand?

it’s not—that was the hand you held yesterday.

“where would you like to sit?” with the receipt slipped in between his fingers, jungkook turns to you for an answer.

“how about outside?” you suggest. “the sun’s nice, it’s shining this way.”

“shouldn’t that be the reason to avoid the sun?” jungkook shuts down your invitation adamantly; however, in the softest voice and the gentlest smile. without both, you’re sure it would’ve sounded like a warning.

“to some.” you reply vaguely for now. “we can sit over there.” you beckon towards the seat of two in front of the cake display full of creamy confectionery. it’s a place illuminated with mostly artificial light rather than natural lighting.

you know the silence he’s given you is indicative of an approval, but before you can entirely check his expression, you catch a barista approaching the counter to announce the freshly made coffees jungkook ordered just a minute ago. no doubt about it, they’re yours—judging by how small the cups are and how fast it was made.

“two espressos!”

“i’ll go.” you quickly insert. you need to remind yourself that this is not a race, but it feels as if jungkook actually started one. he isn’t good for the competitiveness you were born with.

like clockwork, everything collectively goes on like it should. you, jungkook—the two of you happened to meet out of pure coincidence today, and now, like two freakishly normal acquaintances who are on the same wavelength to maintain a conventional relationship as two catholics attending the same church, the two of you are facing each other—awkwardly—whilst sipping on espressos.

lips departing from the cup, you clear your throat before peering up decisively. “i’m curious what brought you to our church.” your face brightens; grinning heartily with your eyes in play now; they crinkle and shut tight, harmonising with the curve of your lips. “we’re quite undersized if you haven’t noticed already. that’s why you’re making such an impact in the community.”

“you’re flattering me,” jungkook breaks into a short, airy chuckle behind his cup. “but to answer your question, it was merely a suggestion. someone i know recommended your church, saying kazuha and i will be welcomed by a collective of friendly people.” he whispers, “which happened to be very true.”

his answer is so detailed yet so average. it makes complete sense to know he has to consider a friendlier environment for kazuha since she’s not quite fluent in korean, so a friend’s recommendation would be easily followed and trusted.

nothing to note there, and nothing is finding you like electricity like earlier. you could swear his silence spoke so loudly to you back there. was your instinct simply a figment of imagination?

“i assume it hasn’t been long since you moved to seoul,” you ask quietly. “is that correct?”

“i lived in greece for a while before living in busan for a few years.”

“greece,” you lower your gaze to reminisce. your daydreams were filled with overflowing desires to go to santorini one day—the thought still stands, if you really look further down in the crevices of your heart. “i didn’t expect that as an answer.”

“my parents got married there, loved it a little too much and stayed behind longer than anticipated.” jungkook chuckles deeply. “you and i both know how unpredictable life can get.”

“and you moved here because of kazuha?”

“because it all seemed to work out.” jungkook continues, “with the job opportunity of doing something i genuinely enjoy, and to live here with her. it’s much more convenient to stay in seoul if we have to go back and forth to japan as well.”

what if he really is a nice guy?

“that sounds like a dream, despite the constant moving.” bobbing your head with your lips subtly pouted, your thumb traces the curves of the porcelain cup handle. “it must’ve been scary, going from one place to another at a young age.”

jungkook sits in silence when he registers your last sentence. “it might’ve been.” he then admits emptily after a minute. the boy who possessed everything now looks so hollow.

“my father is a neurosurgeon, so he’s always away to operate. my mother is a translator for celebrities, so she’s always overseas, always living in different times.” you breathe out the tightness in your chest. “and it was scary for me, to be left alone like that—since home didn’t actually feel like home, with anyone there but myself. i figured it might’ve felt similar to your journey.”

jungkook lifts his head to smile warmly at your story. perhaps it reached him, like you wanted it to. “your childhood sounds more tough than mine, if i’m being honest.”

“it might’ve been.” you mimic his words playfully.

jungkook sets his cup down onto the table before looking straight into your eyes. he takes you out of thought. given the definition of his gaze, you really do think twice about how much his eyes glow, albeit exceptionally dark. “you said you were significantly interested in something rather than someone.” he tilts his head in wonder, “would that be ballet?”

“it would be.” you answer honestly. “so it’s not nice being handicapped with an injury.”

“tendonitis can be healed as long as you take good care of it.”

“how did you know?” you don’t sound shocked, but your eyes widen at his scarily accurate conjecture. “can you easily tell?”

“please don’t forget kazuha also follows your path.” jungkook grins when he alludes to his fiancée again. “she had the same problem in japan.”

“of course,” you nod understandingly. it’s no doubt that ankles are the first to go when you’re a ballerina. yet here you were, pondering if that was another mishap, since anatomists aren’t doctors or podiatrists.

“perhaps it’s your turn to tell me why you’re here,” he says. “i’ve been curious as well, since i can’t imagine what kind of business ballerinas would have at a university.”

you break into a chuckle at how naïve this smart guy can be. you felt it in the car—this guy feeds you the best chances to attack. “think harder.” you raise a brow teasingly, “this university has more than a normal university would.”

as told, jungkook indulges into deep thought. his look of contemplation shows him habitually tipping his head to the side as his orbs dive straight to the floor. at that, you become aware of his new piercings again. it’s even more noticeable now that it’s reflective.

“the dance studio.” he says after a short skip in time.

“that’s it!” you exclaim like you’ve been waiting this whole time for him to hit the bullseye. “i mean,” not only did you just notice how unnecessary it was for you to be jumping like that, but you also feel his words from before seeping into your spine. “i was only here to take a few of my belongings i left behind.”

jungkook frees an amused laugh. “i don’t bite, jia.”

instantly retreating to your cup of espresso, you take another sip before locking eyes with the guy. “j—just know that i’m taking care of myself.” you stammer in embarrassment.

“please stay away from physical activities.” jungkook leans over, both his elbows resting against his thighs when he does. “i’ll only say it once since i’d hate to be that person.”

“you’re…” you shake your head to cut yourself off. compliments will cause misunderstandings—you’ll save it. “thank you.” is all you mumble.

what if his voice changed a bit?

what if he has some new piercings?

what if he doesn’t wear an engagement ring?

what if he’s overly sensitive to sunlight?

jungkook is right, maybe it’s time for you to face the harsher truths of reality rather than fixating on foolish deceptions. there’s no need to corner such a flawless guy. this isn’t the time to allow your imagination to run wild—you’ve graduated from such thoughts.

what did you expect to discover anyway?

pushing himself back against the chair, jungkook coincidentally stares off to the side and catches the time on the wall. “i’m afraid i’m going to have to end our time here.” he states, “can’t be late to my first class.”

“go ahead.” you reply cordially. “i’ll see you on the weekend.”

“we’ll talk again.”

at his own words, jungkook stands, flashes another grin from above before exiting the café. the barista’s gaze is glued to his back as he leaves, and so is yours. the second you watch jungkook disappear from your vision, your eyes return to the front, only for you to stop yourself from swallowing when you notice jungkook’s cup untouched. the cup is still full of black espresso, now cold from the wait.

in your hands are brand new pointe shoes yet to be broken into, and ahead of you are mirrors, enclosing you in a familiar darkness. you sit there, and only a few lights are illuminated; they’re dimmed, not cranked to their maximum brightness. it’s you that you want to see—nothing else. it’s always been like this for you, though the darkness scares you time and time again.

clenching onto your rigid pointe shoes, you stare blankly at your bandaged ankle. as much as you want to tear the damned thing off so you can slip your feet perfectly into your new pair of pale pink shoes, you just squeeze your eyes shut and sigh out to the greyed ceiling.

will today become a mistake and a regret in the future?

there’s months left till the competition. a brief calculation of 90 days remaining until you fly out to whatever continent in europe and compete against ballerinas from different countries.

the thought of it kills you—it crushes a bit of you inside and you’re in flames to impress, but you know days of patience is what you need rather than gruesome hours of practice.

endure it.

face it.

broken things can heal crooked, and that can’t be you.

the weekend found you like how monday would; it caught you in a blink of an eye. your weekdays felt like vacation because you were only resting at home, caring for your ankle while studying your old ballet videos. you also might’ve squeezed in bits and pieces of your favourite series here and there and maybe cooked yourself two different instant ramen cups at an ungodly hour. you overdid yourself there, but you settled down to officially declare this time as your resting period.

you exit your car, unknowingly stepping into a wet splash. the puddle below your feet pooled throughout your drive here, because after one week, the skies showered the world once more. thankfully it wasn’t as persistent as last weekend, but it was still a hindrance on your way here. cars were desperate to slow down ahead of you, and all you could do was groan behind your steering wheel while selling yourself to the sound of rain pattering against your windshield.

you frown at your partially soaked feet before shaking off any excess water stuck to your sneakers. thankfully it wasn’t your bad feet, otherwise you would’ve dealt with a wet bandage. “the rain and i definitely have issues.” you grumble to yourself.

looking ahead, you see the usual crowd of people at your church, waiting around for the doors of the church to open for today’s mass. you’re exactly on time because of the downfall earlier, so you try to walk faster to avoid the fate of being the last person entering those doors.

when you approach the front, you wave casually to the few people recognising you first—kim jisoo, park chaeyoung and kim mingyu.

“you could’ve taken your time.” chaeyoung’s eyebrows both collapse in concern. “shouldn’t you be taking it easy?”

you shake your head profusely to reassure chaeyoung’s restlessness. she’d always be the first to worry if anything happened to you. “i’ve been taking it way too easy.”

“have you now?” jisoo squints in scepticism. “that doesn’t sound like you at all.”

“i have,” leaning forward into jisoo’s face, all you do is purse your lips and make a ‘tsk’ noise out of them frivolously. “you’d be surprised when you see that i’ve eaten most of the instant ramen you left behind last time.”

“really?” jisoo’s face brightens like the sun on a cloudy day when she hears that you’ve been outwardly taking care of yourself; eating what you want, sleeping as much as you want. “now i’m not worried—so, chaeng, don’t be worried.” she nods adamantly at chaeyoung.

chaeyoung huffs before smiling widely. “okay,” she dismisses softly.

“you say something too, mingyu.” jisoo pats mingyu’s shoulder—and it’s undeniably quite a stretch for her, since mingyu definitely has some height in him. “hasn’t it been long since you last saw jia?”

“i think… it’s been a good two months?” mingyu thinks aloud.

“hm,” you hum before cracking a laugh behind your hand. “i don’t know, you tell me. maybe it’s been three, or even one?”

“stop that,” mingyu uses his index finger to poke the centre of your forehead. you always get pushed back from this, consequently why the guy never stops. twenty more centimetres and you would’ve ran into his forehead with your own. “i went on my business trip when you won that competition.”

“impeccable memory.” you feign amazement by gasping dramatically. “how did that go anyway? didn’t you fly to beijing?”

“says you.” mingyu naturally lowers his hand. “it was nice, since getting out of here always feels good, like the air is different, the food is different, the people are different—”

“he hates us,” jisoo whispers noisily.

“he totally hates us.” chaeyoung whispers back just as noisily.

“no way, mingyu.” you gasp more dramatically than before. “without you here, the air is also different and the church is different—”

“i want you to pray for your safety today.” mingyu quips.

shrugging off mingyu’s wise words, your head turns, and you automatically notice jungkook engaged in a bigger group. some are laughing and exchanging carefree grins to one another, but the focal majority dons earnest expressions. when you glance over, it’s as if jungkook physically felt your stare; he doesn’t make it a secret (not that it’s meant to be) the second he recognises you from afar. eyes first—jungkook smiles, then you observe him slowly excusing himself out of the group crammed with adults and other younger adults close to your age.

“who’s that?” mingyu asks.

“that’s right, mingyu wouldn’t know since he was away.” chaeyoung says. “he joined our church probably a week after you left.”

“he joined with his fiancée—” jisoo adds quietly, “who is weirdly not here today.”

she isn’t?

“great to see you again.” wearing a cool guise, jungkook never misses to sound proper. he offers everyone around a courteous smile to begin before returning to you. “are you taking care of yourself?”

you laugh nervously, feeling rather aware of your friends’ stares. you want to desperately yell at their faces that you’re not homewrecking and this is solely happening because of too many coincidences. “always.” you answer boldly. “and i assume your lecture went well, judging by your friendly face?”

jungkook chuckles attractively at what you said. “even if it didn’t, i wouldn’t be making it noticeable.” he replies. “it went well, and i most certainly wasn’t late to it either.”

“as expected.” you praise. “also, is kazuha not with you today?”

“kazuha urgently flew to japan because her father suddenly had to be admitted for high blood pressure.” jungkook explains, “she couldn’t tell me when she’ll be back, so she preferred me to stay behind.”

“is that so?” you murmur. “please send her my best regards.”

“i will.”

“that reminds me,” you almost forget to make your adorable and speechless friends known to the captivating (and taken) stranger named jungkook. “this is mingyu, chaeyoung and jisoo. they’ve been a part of the church for as long as myself.”

jungkook nods knowingly before facing the two girls first. “thankfully we’ve already met before.” he grins comfortably. “isn’t that right?”

“very right.” jisoo agrees.

“sure did.” chaeyoung straightens her dainty shoulders and tucks her hands into her blazer pockets. “it’s really nice to see you getting along with everyone.”

“you’re too nice.” jungkook deflects.

“that must mean i’m the last person you haven’t met.” mingyu speaks up. “it’s nice to meet you, jungkook.” he offers jungkook a hand. you espy how levelled this whole exchange looks—it’s got to be the perks of being similar height. “i’m mingyu.”

jungkook gladly accepts his hand and gives it a firm yet gentle shake. “it’s nicer to meet you, mingyu.” he replies. “let’s get along.”

“you bet.” mingyu grins smugly.

“we should head in,” jisoo suggests as she brings attention to the opening doors ahead. the two doors swing open heavily with two female reverends pulling each door from behind. light leaks out of the fracture between the doors, faintly igniting the cool evening.

at that, the whole of the community moves towards the entrance. when you walk in, the church is ablaze—from top to bottom, almost every wall is covered in stained glass. it’s a place where you can’t differentiate the time of the day when you’re inside; day or night—the church always stays unchanged. this church isn’t as vast as others, but reasonably cramped and compact—you can see everything from where you are—that being somewhere in the middle, closer to the back.

beside you, there’s chaeyoung with her eyes squeezed shut and hands clasped. jisoo and mingyu went over to the right together, meanwhile jungkook is one of the people in front. upon taking out your rosary from your purse to clench in your hands, the priest climbs a short flight of stairs to stop behind the podium, standing before the pane of religious stained glass.

the mass goes on for an hour. the priest peruses the bible, voicing the god’s prayers. when the first segment rolls over, someone is chosen to read the next prayer behind the lower podium alongside the priest.

you, luckily, have gone up already less than a month ago.

as coincidental as it can get, jungkook happened to be today’s spokesman. how merciless of them, to elect a newcomer like that. nevertheless, in your mind, he seemed to be the perfect prospect anyway. not only does he speak eloquently, but you heard him—the guy never stutters; he delivers every word as if there’s a ribbon tied on top of each term.

jungkook relaxedly rises from his seat and treads lightly to the podium on the left wing. everything about jungkook is so blasé in this specific moment, which you assume is from his so-called experiences. as so, he even seems to be aware of how sensitive the microphone can be, otherwise he wouldn’t be flipping the pages of the bible so quietly. you knew it—he’s in his zone.

“... mother of god, pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of our death.” jungkook articulates. “amen.”

“in the name of the father, and of the son, and of the holy spirit,” the priest recites. “amen.”

like that, the mass reached the end. it’s around 7pm when everyone scatters, returning to the normalcy of sharing conversations under the moonlight before concluding their weekend. the moon looms over half of the people who remain, while the rest bid their farewells until next time. consequently, that’s you saying your goodbyes to jisoo and chaeyoung, since they have a farther way to go than you.

“i’ll see you next week.” you mouth to the pouting jisoo and the pouting chaeyoung waving at you from ten metres away.

“did you drive?” mingyu asks beside you.

“i did,” you answer with your eyes fixed to the two girls ahead. you watch them vanish when they turn a corner into the car park before meeting mingyu’s eyes that were stuck onto you the entire time. “do you need a ride?”

“i was going to ask you that.”

“that’s awfully considerate of you.” you tease in a whisper. “i’m fine though, since i brought my ride with me.” nudging mingyu against his arm, you give him a toothy grin.

mingyu nods once. “you be careful on the road then.”

“don’t think my driving skills deteriorated because of a single injury.”

mingyu snorts at your furrowing eyebrows tagged along with your dauntless remark. “i’ve been thinking that way before you injured yourself.”

“oh,” you blurt blankly. “just go already.”

“i’ll see you next week—” mingyu drops his arm on top of your head. “—shortie.” he mutters playfully.

you kick the air when he’s staring back at you, already metres ahead. “i’m literally taller than jisoo!” you squeak when he’s gone.

in case you forgot anyone, you examine your surroundings once more. apart from you, everyone’s waving to each other, fading into the coal black of the night, disappearing to pursue their car to rush back onto the road. the headlights of some cars in the distance remind you of fireflies dancing in the dark; which urges you into a realisation that those glowing lights will be zooming off soon, turning off the majority of light in your life, so you decide to leave when the amber lights afar start to wane one by one.

walking quietly on your own, you reach your car—and that specific puddle you bathed your feet into last time. you squint and shake your head, denying the thought of making the same mistake twice. after, your hands sink into your purse to fish out your car keys before going around the puddle to jump into the driver’s seat.

the car park is fully vacant, but there are vehicles lined up on the main road just up front. not that you desperately needed reassurance, but a part of you rests easy anyway, especially knowing that there’s mingyu out there waiting for the traffic lights to blink green.

you hum while fiddling with your phone to choose a song for the road. “perfection.” the corner of your lips lifts at your favourite song—charlie puth’s dangerously.

before you can press the accelerator with your beloved music playing in the background, you glance at the church one last time absentmindedly. it’s like a built-in mechanism, checking out your back the second you abandon a place. you think nothing much of it until you catch a shadow walking past the spot you were exactly at ten minutes ago.

you must be seeing things.

if there was really somebody there, the lights would’ve switched on because of the sensors.

for a split second, you feel a shiver run down your spine. your neck and shoulders feel freakishly ticklish from it, but you want to prove yourself once more that you might be wrong. your body slants to the right, your head peeking out to see more of the church. the lights are still off, and there’s no one there.

“what?” you spit out in puzzlement. “stop scaring me.” you whimper in the dark while decreasing the volume of your song. you’re not in the mood for a party in your car anymore.

you’re seeing things.

eyes clung to the church in hopes of finding nothing again, you silently push the button to start up your car. “this is because i rewatched ‘attack on titan’ last night.” laughing nervously under your heated breath, you move your gear stick into ‘drive’.

it’s at this moment you see the light flicker. the light was brief and small, but you definitely saw it glint in your peripheral vision.

what was that?

which light was that?

you think back—if you possibly saw someone—or something go past the spot you were in earlier, it moved to the left—that being the church.

did someone leave something behind?

you think back once more—did you see everyone leave? was anyone left behind—or did you not see anyone leave? what makes you so sure that you were the last person out?

“why am i even thinking about this—” you sigh in disbelief. “let’s just go.”

wait.

hold on.

a thought crashes onto you—it ruptures everything in your head, and you’re thrown back into the endless pit of your unnecessary hyper analysis of everything and anything.

you didn’t see jungkook go.

you didn’t see jungkook when you saw everyone waving to each other.

if you think about it, jungkook would’ve been heard or talked about at the last minute. knowing he’s the star of the church, no one would just let him go without saying a word or two to him.

you would’ve heard that if that happened.

you know you’re crazy; you know you’re insane for jumping to this conclusion and this is psychotic of you.

you immediately shut down your car when you feel a silver of composure upon seeing that it’s only 7:40pm. an illicit disaster can’t feasibly occur at this time, or no one would actually plot to do anything profane at this time of the night. it’s still relatively early, and you’re going to sneak away and rely on security cameras if there’s really someone you don’t recognise in the dark, roaming around the grounds of the church alone.

conscious of the fact that retracing your steps back to where you were will trigger the lights, you duck your head and soundlessly approach another entrance of the church by looping to the side. it’s a separate entry for the priests, so it’s much more upfront than the main gateway. you have no idea if you should be feeling rather grateful or rather dense (for obviously committing to this thought of yours), but at least there’s enough cover for you thanks to all the shrubs encircling the building. no human eye can detect you with this much darkness drowning you as well.

the only disruption for you right now is this door. you can’t see through it because it’s not exactly transparent. anything you see through it is heavily hazy like a cloud, but you could try to make out shapes if given context.

crouching down to align with the height of the shrubs, you push your ear against the door to pick up any noise from inside. for now, there’s utterly no sound coming from the opposing side of the door; merely the sound of your ridiculously fast heartbeats. determined, your jaw tenses up and your toes curl in your shoes as you persist in waiting for the next few minutes.

the sound of doors swinging open—it’s forceful and reverberating. it’s conspicuous that the person behind the door has no intention to keep themselves a secret, like they’ve come with a solemn purpose.

the sound of their footsteps is relaxed, unhurried, rhythmic… they know exactly what they’re here for, and it’s not their first time coming here. otherwise, their steps would be broken up, wondering where to go in this pitch blackness.

“about your beloved girlfriend, that—” he cracks into a disturbing laughter. “i forgot which one.”

is that jungkook?

he exhales in thought, “the one you begged me to save.”

no way in hell that it is.

this guy sounds… completely different.

“she reincarnated,” he says. “and called herself kazuha.”

kazuha?

terror suddenly washes over you; your heart is now throbbing in your ear, and your muscles are completely frozen. now you seriously feel your instinct screaming and pleading you to retreat. even if your mind was detained with horror or not, you can barely understand anything—whatever the hell this guy is saying about saving, reincarnating and about kazuha—she wasn’t even here today.

“you should’ve seen the face she made when i bit her.” he snickers in a breath heavy and husky. “sorry, now i’m really bragging, aren’t i?”

bit?

“you’ve grown,” he mocks. “i was hoping to see you insane again. you’re quite a sight to see yourself.”

is kazuha… dead?

“let’s see how long you last.”

right after that, everything stopped. you couldn’t hear his threats anymore, nor his steps or the sound of the door slamming back shut. you can feel the rate of your heart slowing, but you already know every colour is drained from your face. whatever that was feels like a fever dream to you, and you still don’t know whether to believe if that was true or not. life has never been this questionable to you.

shocked, you muster courage to drag yourself out of hiding nonetheless. your car isn’t far from where you are, but you still think it’s smart to take your time. god knows if that psychopath is still lurking around and talking to the skies. you gradually find your way out of the shadows and see that your car is still undamaged. judging by how things are right now, you wouldn’t even be surprised if your car exploded into flames then ashes.

“jia?”

you stand there for a couple of seconds, feeling yourself shrinking away at the sound of your own name. you try your hardest to contain any shallow breaths and shaky limbs. there’s a weight in your stomach now, and the pounding of your heart is starting to feel painful.

“may i ask why you’re here?”

it is jungkook.

he killed kazuha.

“it’s not nice to ignore someone, jia.” jungkook’s aura completely shifts; there isn’t an ounce of sweetness left in his voice, instead he sounds exactly like that voice from before—you prayed for it to not be his, but deep within, you knew it could only be him.

“i was waiting for you.” crossing your arms, you deadpan as you spin around. this really isn’t time for you to argue, but you’d rather die than exhibit your fear.

“were we ever that close?”

“if we’re close enough to sit across from each other and share cups of coffee,” you challenge. “wouldn’t it make sense for me to stop if i see them doing something awfully strange, like talking about reincarnations and biting into your fiancée?”

“the world calls that nosiness.” with his head lowered, jungkook takes steps forward. everytime he inches closer, your body naturally flees by taking steps backward.

your limbs are free; you’re under control again as you back away from jungkook. “and what does the world call you?”

jungkook finally raises his head and glares into your tentative eyes brimming in perturbation. “instead of talking so much,” his fingers creep around your neck, and you instantly stiffen at his cold hand connecting with the heat emanating from the base of your nape. “why don’t you try and beg me to save you?” forcibly yanking you down to be on par with his lips, he then whispers scarily, “amuse me.”

your heart is beating so frantically, you could actually feel your body beating as one. it feels nauseating when it clashes with the pure fear coursing through your flesh and bones. your breaths are clinging to your throat and you’re failing to swallow them down. your legs are paralysed and so are your shoulders. one single move, and you think you’re going to crumble and fall to pieces.

“no one wants to die.” you answer breathlessly. “did kazuha not tell you?”

retracting his hand, you carefully watch jungkook resort to putting both hands into his pockets instead. “she couldn’t.” he laughs huskily, “she had no idea she was dying.”

snapping your head upward, you scowl at his deranged smirk. “what the hell are you?”

“i’ll tell you,” jungkook harshly lunges forward to press your body against the nearest wall. your back lands rather softly against it, and you think a lot of it because now you understand he’s exceedingly capable of adjusting his brute strength; that being nothing alike to a human’s. “in exchange for your blood.” he crooks his head into the side of your neck and breathes heavily onto your skin.

blood?

panicking, you try to tear him away by pushing his chest. he doesn’t budge, but you find a moment to steal a glimpse of his half-shut eyes that’s centimetres away from your face.

the colour of his eyes are yellow.

“jungkook,” you interject. “promise me you won’t kill me.”

his breathing stops, and you squirm as you watch the rest of his eyes open slowly. his yellow orbs are devoid of any emotion, but they look at you in fascination.

“i’m being serious.” swallowing the lump in your throat, you clench onto his shoulders desperately.

“why should i do that?”

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