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soft4gguk · 3 months ago

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yearning | jjk one shot

the one that finds you in Jungkook's doorstep after a night out...

Description: idol!jungkook x reader, fwb

Content: porn with loads of plot!

Word Count: 7.5k

Warnings: oc smokes 1 cigarette lol, they’re so flirty ouch, so much kissing, cutest little dynamic, dry humping (a personal fave in this house), fingering, protected sex (they’re so smart!!), loads of spanking, jaykay ass man forever.

Author’s Note: i once sworn to never write idol aus because… i know nothing about this man ok? i do not claim to know what he’s like in a relationship or a situationship or in his personal life!! so please thread carefully when reading <3333 that being said, his lives last year and these first couple of episodes of “are you sure?” have me feeling very delulu so here u go!! hope you enjoy xo

★ masterlist ★

This is a work of fiction. Please respect the members and their privacy. x

The moment you exit the club, a gust of summer breeze engulfs you. It makes you wrap your arms around your body, but it amounts to nothing, the little black dress that you’d made the executive decision to wear, in the name of fashion, betraying you. The tequila shots you'd downed before leaving the house sure had deceived your senses, too.

Needless to say, you regret said decision, a shiver running down your spine all the way to your legs, making you jump a little in place as you tipsily look around you. You’d cut the night short. Your friends had found another lonely pair they’d quickly gotten cozy with, leaving you to drink one too many gin & tonics all by yourself. You hadn’t minded it for the first two hours, enjoying the music, sparking conversation with the bartender from time to time and entertaining the occasional stranger. Eventually though, it became boring, predictable, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you feel a little shitty about yourself.

It was all getting repetitive. Friday nights, the same faces, small talk, ice breakers. Even the strangers you met had a similar M.O., making it all seem predictable. It made it feel like a waste of self, more than a waste of time, and it ate at you in moments like these, where it was strange to feel lonely amongst a sea of people, unable to shake the feeling.

The bright city lights illuminate the night, lacing it with something livelier than your mood and you smile. At least the scenery is always pretty. Pretty places. You hear the laughter of a group of people that stand a couple of feet away from you, they seem happy in that genuine way that reflects in pure, unadulterated beauty. Pretty people.

You think of him.

It’s rather instant. Or perhaps instinctive. The very own butterfly effect of your thoughts because to you, he’s the prettiest of them all. He’d been since the very first day, and as you lose focus of the pretty sights the more you stare into the city lights with him on your mind, you can’t help but think nothing will ever stand close.

A girl stands next to you, audibly shivering as she exits the club and the air greets her with the same fate it did you. She holds a cigarette between her red lips, the fire from her pink lighter shining on her red hair. It makes you crave one, too, rummaging through your bag for your own. You smile when you remember how he would tease you for smoking “the skinny kind” as he would call them. Calling you a bit of a snob, but all in lighthearted nature. After all, he could. He knew you enough to let your closeness turn into inside jokes, banter.

Perhaps giving into a vice could prevent you from falling into another.

“Can I borrow your lighter?” she smiles at you before she’s handing it over. Her nails are pink, too.

The fire feels pleasant for all of five seconds, warm against your face as you take the first drag. You give into one instinct so as to distract yourself from the one that’s tugging at your heart and senses, begging you to make a reckless call.

You check the time.

2:32 A.M.

Jungkook scrolls through the endless list of channels aimlessly. Small snippets from whatever’s playing that he cuts short, not really giving it much thought. He settles on one, solely so he can stop putting exertion on his thumb and go back to leaning against his couch – fully relaxed. He sighs. On the screen, some drama he hasn’t gotten around to watching plays, and the story seems to be developing quickly. He doesn’t care for it, if he’s honest, simply content with the white noise it fills the room with.

Bam leaves his dog house, standing right in front of him and they seem to start an unspoken staring contest. He smiles, patting the spot right next to him on the couch and the pup rushes to take the place excitedly. He gets cuddles and kisses simply for existing. For keeping him company – his presence giving Jungkook more peace than he’ll ever know.

“Hey, Bam, should we, like, meet up in our next life as well? Perhaps I’ll be the dog in that one and you’ll be my owner.”

Bam simply stares and Jungkook swears if he could, he’d let out a deep sigh right now. This makes him laugh.

“Hey, don’t be jumping of excitement at the idea, man.”

At this, he attacks. With kisses, that is – wet, sloppy kisses that have Jungkook giggling and pushing back, though it is no use, his dog is that determined to give him love.

“Alright, you win. Let’s go get a beer. For me, not for you. You’re still too young. One day, son.” His voice takes on a lower tone, imitating his father. Or maybe Yoongi’s, he can’t tell anymore.

He retrieves a cold beer mug from his freezer and cracks the can open, nodding his head at the sound it makes, the fizziness bubbling up before he pours it in the cold glass. He takes a sip as he walks back to the couch, blissed out in leisure.

He doesn’t mind being alone, specially not on nights like this when sleep leaves him and everything but seems more tempting. He likes the way everything slows down at this time of day, the ease of it all. No one to see, no texts to reply to. As for what the world is concerned for, he’s asleep. It’s peaceful, just being.

Plopping down on the couch, he rests against the pillows, making himself comfortable. He must’ve spoken too soon, he thinks, because it’s not thirty seconds after this that his phone buzzes on the coffee table in front of him. He ponders on the possibility of simply ignoring it, let it sit there, facing down. But something tells him he should check the message. It could be important, or not. The pull isn’t necessarily violent, just a quiet voice that tells him so, like a little nudge. He leans forward, setting his beer on the table before he’s taking a hold of his phone.

He gets it now – the pull.

From ___: jungkookie, u awake?

To ___: no

From ___: can I call?

He smiles – so fucking big he almost hates that he does, slightly flustered and embarrassed you have this quick of an effect on him. And before he can talk himself out of it, he calls you.

Seeing his name flash on your phone screen does more to you than anything you’ve deemed exhilarating tonight. The simple prospect of hearing his voice rushes more excitement through your body than any of the mindless conversations you had this evening. Than any of the conversations you’ve had all week perhaps. You smile and there’s no doubt that he can hear it in your voice when you say,

“Hey.”

There’s a moment of silence and you can hear the smile on his face, too. It’s warmth – he’s warmth, even far. How far is he, you wonder. Did you happen to demand of him at a bad time? Will the end of this call find you disappointed?

You cut to the chase.

“What are you up to?”

There’s a pause and you can hear the way he sinks into his couch. “Can’t sleep so I’m having a beer and watching some TV with Bamie.”

He’s home and a giddy giggle escapes you. “Ahh,” you say.

“You? It sounds busy in there.”

“Yeah, I’m outside the club.”

“Fun night?”

“No.” You don’t lie, you never lie to him. Don’t have the need to, or the want to. Everything about Jungkook is comfort – the kind that welcomes.

“Yeah, had a feeling. It’s not really your scene, is it?”

Your head leans to the side, eyes closing for a moment. He knows you in ways most people don’t, and it’s a simple remark but it gets to you. The fact that he doesn’t see you for the parts of you that feel the emptiest settles on your heart. It’s good, you think, to be seen by someone who observes.

“I want to see you.” There’s all the point in the world to be honest right now.

“Come over. I’ll make you ramen.”

“Will you show me your cat?”

There’s a pause. You picture him smiling, biting his lip, running a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, that too.”

You sway from side to side, a little drunkenly and a whole lot excited, as you stand in front of his door. It’s brief, but as you wait you make a little reflection on your emotions. What exactly do you feel right now? It’s been so long – probably not that long – but long enough to make you happier than usual to be seeing his face. Anyone else would make you nervous, and perhaps he does, too, if only a little. But it’s a different kind of nervous. It’s laced with sweetness, as opposed to anxiety. And the minute he opens his front door, it’s replaced by something sweeter.

Yearning.

He stands there, glasses and black sweatpants on, signature oversized shirt – something so very home about him. Your eyes widen as you take in his hair, it’s grown significantly, giving you a rough idea of when it was you last saw him. Two, three months ago. He looks good; rested, fresh, beautiful. You can smell him before you even touch him and it makes you smile. He returns it.

Yeah – yearning.

“I like your hair,” you say, because anything else would give you away.

“Yeah?” he runs a hand through it. “I like you.”

“I like you, too.” Let it give you away, you think. Who cares?

“Alright, well- it was nice seeing you.” He says, closing the door in a too casual, yet dramatic manner and you laugh, simply standing there – a little flustered because, oh does it feel good when Jeon Jungkook flirts with you in that boyish, teasing way only he knows how.

He doesn’t close the door all the way. Instead, he leaves it open far enough for you to see the way he peeks his head out, nose scrunch and toothy smile to signal just how proud he is of himself right now.

“Come here,” he tells you, reaching his hand out from the little gap and pulling you closer as you yelp, squeezing through the nearly closed door. “I missed you.”

You’re in his arms again, and the moment he closes the door behind you, his lips are on yours. It’s a soft kiss, one that says I missed you because you know him well enough by now to understand the things he says with his lips, and his eyes. With his hands, too.

“Mm,-“ you don’t want to pull back to get your words out, so you don’t. “Me more.”

Jungkook was always a happy coincidence – or at least that’s what you told yourself in a futile attempt to tame the feelings down. But the truth was that being back in his arms felt like fate, in that gentle way that doesn’t come in a movie-like encounter or in some sort of catastrophe bringing you together. Just being here. Anywhere, with him, felt fateful. You opt to believe in angels right this second just to thank them.

“How are you,” his hand cups your cheek, pecking your lips before you can answer.

“Good- better now.” His kisses muffle your words and you think you could live with this interruption for the rest of your life.

“Yeah, me too.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer as he circles his around your middle. You take him in, not one for big displays of affection yet this one you could never deny, could never not welcome.

It’s a sweet moment but the pull turns hasty soon enough the more your lips become familiar with one another yet again. You run your fingers through his long hair, rejoicing in its softness and length. His hand travels down, slowly but a bit desperately, squeezing when they meet your ass.

What has a promising ending is cut short by none other than your rumbling stomach. It’s rather loudly and you both hear it, laughing in the middle of the kiss you two seem to refuse parting from.

“You hungry, baby?”

“You promised ramen. And something about a cat.” Your lips part and you look at him, a pretty smile on his equally pretty face.

“Mm, yeah. I did. I’m all stocked up on ramen but the cat…,”

“I prefer Bamie anyways.”

You leave his arms, a smile on your face as you walk towards his beloved child’s crate. The moment he sees you, he hesitates for a moment, not yet having Jungkook’s command to leave his space but he’s excited – you can even make up his little tail wagging from side to side.

“Come here, baby.”

He runs to you and nearly tackles you, settling into the floor to give him the proper cuddles he deserves. He steps on you the way he did when he was a puppy, sitting down on your knees as you scratch under his ears.

“No one’s allowed to tell him he’s grown up. He’s little forever.”

Jungkook laughs. “He’s Jiminie’s height.”

You sneer at him, shaking your head at his joke. He stands there, staring at you with a fondness he reserves for certain things that bring him that kind of comfort that’s gotten rarer over the years. He’s grown up, matured and gotten real about a lot of things but not you.

Never you.

You’re still the innocence he kissed you with that very first time and the little bit of fear it wouldn’t go further than that. You’re the excitement he had when it did. You’re the flirty teasing and the falling in trust, opening himself little by little. You’re still something he once dreamt about – he still does. You’re the thing he has and doesn’t at the same time. You’re you.

Your loud giggles as Bam licks your cheek wake him up from his little daydream and he winces at the sloppy kisses he’s leaving. You don’t seem to mind though and he knows that if it were up to you, you’d stay there til dawn. No ramen, no cat.

“Alright, alright. Daddy’s getting jealous now. You can’t have her all to yourself.”

Your cheeky smile tells him you’re up to no good. “Daddy, huh? Have we ever tried that?”

“What haven’t we tried?” He genuinely ponders on his own question.

“Pegging!” You say, a little too quickly and excitedly for his liking.

“Absolutely not.”

“Mean.”

“Come on, let’s feed you.”

You smile. “Okay, daddy.”

It’s a chaos in the kitchen in between distracting kisses and your tipsy antics, munching on Jungkook’s leftover fried chicken as you scavenger hunt his cupboards for anything that could satisfy your alcohol induced need for sweets and carbs. You’d begged for pancakes, but he didn’t have any honey, and what’s pancakes without honey, really?

“Ramen. Enoki and spring onions.” He says, convincing himself more than he convinces you.

“Okayyyyy. Ramen, enoki- what else did you say?”

His thumb and pointer finger rest at his temples in mock exasperation, making you giggle. “Hey, why don’t you go shower? This’ll be ready when you’re done.”

“Will you be able to work a knife with the thought of me all wet and naked in your shower?”

“I’ll get you wet and naked later. Go sober up. Quick, quick!”

You laugh, kissing his cheek loudly and ruffling his hair before you leave the kitchen, making your way to his bedroom with familiarity - like you’ve done it hundreds of times and perhaps you have if you were to count.

You know where he keeps the towels, that it’s the left tap that opens the hot water, the way his soap smells and what brand of shampoo he uses. His face wash and moisturizer are familiar to you because it’s the same brand you use. You’d left them here once and never got the bottles back. He began purchasing them after they ran out.

You put on the same black Carhartt shirt you always do. It feels and smells the same. It makes you yearn and when you miss him, you smile in the comfort of knowing he’s in the kitchen, probably eating ramen from the pot as you take your sweet time in the bathroom.

All clean and cozy, his house always being the perfect temperature with the add on warmth that swarms your insides at knowing you’re with him, you make your way back to the kitchen. He’s reaching for bowls, back to you and your voice startles him when you say,

“Don’t get dishes dirty, let’s eat from the pot.”

He turns to you, a boyish smile forming on his lips at the sight of you in his comfy, oversized shirt. He’s seen you in it more times than he can count but it still makes his insides tingle. Butterflies, dare he say, is what the sight gives him.

“You sure?”

“Aren’t you? Afraid of exchanging saliva?” You poke your tongue at him and he grabs your wrist, pulling you swiftly towards him.

“Not the funnest way we’ve exchanged juices, but it’ll do for now.”

“Juices.” Your nose scrunches at his words.

“Mm.”

He kisses you, ramen getting cold in the pot as your lips make him forget all about his hunger in the first place. Your stomach doesn’t, though. Interrupting your heated little moment yet again.

“Feed me.”

“On your knees, then.” He teases, lips still on yours.

“That sounds more like a treat than a threat.”

He smiles, passing you the chopsticks. “I knew you’d say that.”

“Am I that predictable?”

“With me. Yes. Just me.”

His words are selfish, of this much he’s aware. He knows exclusivity is too much to ask for. He knows the baggage he comes with and the hesitation that shines through your eyes whenever you find yourselves slipping into comfort and familiarity a little too much. How he can almost tell he’s about to go a season without you, just by this comfort alone. But he can’t help but want you, all to himself. He can’t help but say you’re his even if he’s just saying it. And when the smile on your lips meet your eyes in an almost nostalgic way, he knows you feel the same.

“Yeah. I am.”

“I am with you, too.”

“I’d say I tried to talk myself out of texting you tonight, but I’d be lying.” Your chopsticks play with the noodles, eyes not meeting his.

“Why would you talk yourself out of texting me?”

You shrug.

“Don’t.” His voice is firm and your eyes finally look at his. “I’m always- I always want to see you, ___.”

“I know, it’s just- you know.” You say, and he does. He knows what you mean and he’s glad you don’t voice it because he doesn’t think he can bear the words that would only add insult to injury to the way your gaze falls, that spark threatening to dim its light.

“Yeah,” he gets closer, but it’s almost careful. His thumb caresses your cheek and you lean into his touch. “But you’re here now. I want you here now. Come back to me.”

You stare into his big eyes, smiling at him not because your heart isn’t breaking but because you wouldn’t dare break his with the reality of the situation. So you lie, but it holds truth. “I’m always with you.”

As you two eat, in bursts of comfortable silences and mindless yet meaningful conversations, you start to get used to him again. You’re too tired to fight it, and when you welcome it, it’s sweet.

The pot is empty, your bellies full. You lean against the counter as he puts you to date, catches you up on what his life has looked like for the past two months or so. Trips to L.A., New York, photoshoots, late nights in the recording studio, music videos, long flights and a Calvin Klein campaign you shamelessly admit to swoon over every time you pass by it. He asks about you and you keep your updates mostly work related. Long flights, long meetings, long days. Short bursts of inspiration and even shorter waves of motivation. You omit to tell him about the things you’re maybe not so proud of. The partying, the drinking on a wednesday night, the way your friends don’t feel like your friends anymore, more like acquaintances that keep you around when they deem convenient. You think his words could help, provide comfort and advice, but at the same time you fear the reality of the situation could burst the bubble of bliss you find yourself in right this moment.

So you talk. You catch up. You play friends for a while, feel real mature when he shares snippets of his life that involve other people, other girls. People in his radar, his line of work, the love interest in his music video. Jungkook does, too. Feels like perhaps he’s come a long way when you tell him about trips you’ve taken with friends, new restaurants you’ve tried, galas he knows you haven’t attended alone. It’s all fine, it’s good. Total control of your feelings as you take each other in.

Bam interrupts him mid-sentence, a sleepy whine in half protest he lets out as he walks inside the kitchen.

“Aw, Jungkook,” you coo, “he’s sleepy.”

“Time for bed, Bamie?” He smiles, reaching down to scratch under his ears. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here.”

You smile, well aware that he keeps his dog bed in a cozy room in his house, quite literally puts him to bed every night. It makes you think about how good of a dad he’ll make one day, how much love is stored inside of him, how he likes to be needed and shows affection through acts of service. Your smile drops a bit, a feeling taking over you that you don’t like but have grown used to over the years.

You snap out of it, busying yourself as you begin to tidy up the kitchen, sliding his pink rubber gloves over your hands before you start washing the single pot, knife and chopsticks he’d used to make you dinner. It doesn’t take him long to be back, though, walking back inside the kitchen and smiling at the sight before him. You hum a song he can’t make up, hips shimmying to the beat as you scrub the pot. Your shirt rides up a little and he cocks his head to the side, smiling at the way your underwear peeks from underneath the fabric. A black and lacy thong that has him nodding his head in boyish satisfaction.

“You don’t have to do that,” he tells you, making you jump in place a bit at the sound of his voice.

You turn around, bringing a gloved finger to your lips as you shush him before you’re pointing it at the couch and shooing him away. “I’ll only be a second. Wait for me there.”

“‘Kay, boss.” He army salutes you, turning around and walking back to the couch, sitting down and sinking further into the cushions, legs spreading as he scrolls through his phone, a bit impatiently, missing you even though you’re so close.

And to Jungkook’s great fortune, he doesn’t have to wait for much longer. Wrapping it up in the kitchen, you give it one last glance to make sure it’s back to its pristine state before you’re making your way towards him. He looks up at you, throwing his phone to the side and following you with his eyes, smiling when you’re in front of him.

“Thank you for dinner,” you say, voice sweet and low, eyes a bit hazy.

“Come here.” He takes your hand in his, pulling you closer to him, bottom lip getting caught between his teeth as you throw your legs at either side of him, straddling him.

“I needed this,” you admit.

“Me too,” he breathes. “I’m glad you called.”

You pout, eyes looking up for a second as you ponder. “You called me.”

He chuckles, not a single ounce of desire to deny you. “I’m glad I called.”

You giggle, arms wrapping around his neck and fingers getting lost in his long hair. His head draws back as your nails massage his scalp gently and he relaxes at your touch, goosebumps adorning his skin. His hands travel under your shirt, promptly finding your hips, waist, and then threatening to go higher but Jungkook wants to take his time tonight. He wants to stay in the sweet state of wanting you for a bit longer. When his eyes are back on yours, you kiss him. He sighs against your lips, bringing you closer to him by the waist, letting his tongue taste your bottom lip before he’s tasting your mouth. It’s slow, a bit sloppy and lazy, holds the quality of anything that happens in the middle of the night, when no one’s watching and time stills for the two of you.

“Your skin is so soft,” he says, lips still on yours.

“It’s your body lotion.” You roll your hips over his, smiling when you pull a low groan straight out of him.

“Yeah,” he says, hands traveling down before he’s squeezing your ass, guiding your hips into his. “You smell like me. I like it.”

“I like it, too.” Your words get caught up in a moan as the outline of his cock parts your slit perfectly.

You pull away a bit hesitantly, hands coming to rest at his shoulders as your hips pick up the pace. You go slow but sink deeper into him with every roll of your lips, eyes never parting from his as you take in the way his face starts to contort in pleasure, mouth parting slightly as his breathing grows heavier, little grunts leaving his lips with every push and pull. His hands travel back down to your hips, squeezing a little at the soft flesh, guiding them as you move over his cock. He’s so hard, can feel you through the layers, can bet on the fact that you’re wet and pulsing for him right now.

“That feels good,” he sighs, gaze dropping as he rides your shirt up a bit at the front. His eyes fixate on the way the thin, lacy fabric of your panties bunches up every time you throw your hips back.

“Brings back memories,” you say, voice a bit shaky when a particular roll of your hips has the tip of his cock hitting right against your clit.

Jungkook smiles, mind hazy but perfectly able to picture the memories you refer to. “Mhm,” he sighs, so entrapped by the feeling he swears he can feel you pulse against him. He likes the way you consume his senses. The way everything around him stills and all he can think about is you. His hands squeeze at the flesh on your hips before he says, “turn around, baby.”

“‘Kay.”

Jungkook feels the loss of your warmth as you stand up before him once again, smiling at him before you’re turning around and sitting on his lap. You press your back to his chest, letting your head fall to his shoulder, your lips meeting his cheek in an open mouth kiss. His hands travel up your body, palms closing around your tits, thumbs playing with your nipples over the thick fabric of your shirt. You circle your hips, chasing the same friction from before but it’s not enough in this position. You bring your body forward, hands resting on his thighs as you throw your ass back at him, your pussy perfectly aligned on top of his cock, making you both moan at the same time. Jungkook’s gaze drops to your ass, enthralled by the way he feels, by the way you look. He rides your shirt up your back, exposes you to him and it only eggs you on, moving against his cock at the perfect rhythm.

He hooks a finger down the side of your panties, letting it travel down, smiling lazily at the way you trap his knuckles between your pussy and his cock, moaning as you grind on them. He can feel how wet you are, dripping for him already even though he hasn’t touched you yet. “Want my fingers, baby?”

“Yes, please,” you plead, voice shaky as you look back at him.

He’d usually tease you, make you beg for it a little longer, but tonight Jungkook obliges. It’s been long – too long – and all he can think about is being inside you, feeling you around him, making you feel good. He takes his time simply so he can savor the moment. So he can memorize it well enough to store it somewhere inside of him, just in case it’s another three months until he sees you again.

He pushes his middle and ring finger inside of you, hissing at your warmth, cock jumping inside his sweatpants in anticipation and a little big of neglect. You close your eyes, pleasure taking over you as he begins to thrust his fingers inside of you slowly, arching expertly every time they hit your g-spot. His free hand squeezes around your ass cheek, groaning when the hand that fucks into you pushes down on his cock, aiding at giving him some much needed friction. You feel lightheaded already, all-consumed in his hold as he takes over your every sense. Your body relaxes and you can feel the way your tummy tenses right away.

“Fuck, I think I’m gonna cum,” your voice is faint but he hears you well enough.

“Already? That was fast, baby.” You don’t miss the cocky tone his words hint at.

“Shut up and don’t stop,” you say, looking back at him playfully.

You see the way he smiles at you before his gaze is dropping back down, fingers moving expertly inside of you at the same pace, applying a bit more force as he pushes in, massaging that spot with the tip of his fingers. The added pressure has you mewling in no time, nails digging into his thighs, teeth biting at your bottom lip to ground you back into the moment as you let go.

“Fuck,” he says as he feels you cum around his fingers, sweet moans filling the space around you and he so badly wishes he could look at your face right now. “Yeah, baby, that’s it.” He feels the way you contract around him, hips circling over his hand as you ride the waves of pleasure.

You come down after a minute, mind still hazy as you fall back into him, lips finding his the moment he turns his head to the side. You kiss him, breathing into his mouth, smiling in your fucked out bliss. “That was so good.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you say, pressing your forehead to his. “I need you to fuck me now.”

“Want it?” he asks, and you nod your head. “You can have it.”

“Yeah, want it so bad, Jungkook.” Your voice is needy, holds a dreaminess to it that Jungkook doesn’t miss – one that makes him melt into your words, your touch, your lips as you kiss him again.

Jungkook presses his hips into you, raising them a bit as he pushes his sweatpants down. You help him take them off, hand reaching back before you’re wrapping it around his cock. He’s hard and pulsing for you and if you weren’t pulsing for him, too, you’d probably want him in your mouth right this second. He feels heavy, big and thick in your hold, a grunt leaving his lips when your thumb circles around the head. You love how sensitive he is, how receptive.

“Condom,” he says, before he runs out of blood in his brain and it all falls down to his cock.

“In my bag,” you say, reaching to the side and pulling it towards you. You rummage around it for a second too long – a second that has Jungkook’s mind betraying him. He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t. But nonetheless he can’t help but wonder where you’d be right now if he’d been asleep and hadn’t seen your text. Perhaps in the same position but with a stranger. Or maybe a stranger only to Jungkook. Perhaps he hadn’t been the only person you texted tonight. “Here you go, baby.”

Your voice dismantles his worries and he’s warm again, all thoughts vanishing and it’s back to you and him. He leans forward, kissing your lips as he takes the condom from your hand. It makes you blush slightly, biting your lip in anticipation as you watch as he rips the foil of the packaging with his teeth. You watch the way he smirks as he rolls the condom on.

“Why are you smiling?”

“Just thinking,” he says, smile growing wider, cheek dimples making him look cute but something about his voice begs to differ.

You hum. “Thinking about what?”

He smiles. “July 14th, 2021.”

You both crack up, laughter filling the air the moment the words leave his mouth because of course you know what July 14th, 2021 meant. You’d been in a position very similar to this one, perhaps a bit more hazy minded, the true meaning of the heat of the moment finding you the minute you’d realized neither of you had a condom. You’d looked into each other’s eyes and made the silent agreement to be a little reckless and put a whole lot of trust on birth control and Jungkook’s pull out game.

He said he’d never forget that day.

“Long live, July 14th, 2021,” you say.

“Shhh,” he says, squinting his eyes and bringing a finger to his mouth. “Don’t remind me.”

“You reminded yourself,” you bite back. “Now, can you fuck me? Pretty please.”

“Yeah, baby, come here.”

You push your ass back at him, looking at him from over your shoulder, biting your lip in anticipation as he strokes his cock once, twice, before he’s lining himself against your entrance. His hand comes to your hip, pulling you down towards him as you push him inside of you. You both sigh, moaning as he bottoms out, so deep and warm it has Jungkook throwing his head back against the couch, sinking further into it and pushing impossibly deeper into you.

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you whimper, nails digging into his flesh.

“Fuck me, baby,” he says, running a hand through his long hair. You nod, circling your hips a couple of times as you adjust to his size before you start moving your hips into him, ass bouncing with every push and pull. He hisses at the sight alone, bringing his hand down as he delivers a hard slap against your cheek, making you moan. “Shit, just like that. You’re so hot, ___.”

“Jungkook,” you whisper.

“Yeah, baby?” His eyes are back on yours, threatening to close in pleasure at the way your pussy feels around him.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, baby. So much.”

You fall into his chest, kissing him as he wraps his hand around your throat, not applying any pressure, just simply holding you. You gasp into his mouth when his other hand travels down and finds your clit, drawing lazy circles against the sensitive bundle of nerves. You whine and he moans when you move your hips to the rhythm of his touch.

“I don’t wanna be on top anymore,” you say, pouting into his lips, frowning when you feel his chest shake in laughter.

“Of course you don’t.”

“I’m an awful top.”

“You’re not a top.”

“Hey, I was a good top that one time,” you protest.

“Mm, yeah, that was hot. You got all bossy on me.”

“Oh, but that’s regardless,” you tell him, pushing your lips into his once more and straightening your back, smiling as you look back at him. He wipes said smile off your face in a second, hand meeting your ass in another hard slap.

“Stay there,” he says, holding firmly onto your hips.

“Okay, daddy.” That earns you another slap, though you can’t say it wasn’t exactly the goal in mind.

“Behave.”

Your face grows pliant as you nod at him and Jungkook has to fight to keep up the front because if he’s being honest, the sight alone drives him crazy, threatens to break him down completely and leave him a needy, whiny mess. He holds you in place, legs raising you up a bit before he starts pistoling his hips against you, fucking you hard and fast and even though you saw it coming, it still takes you by surprise. The force of his thrusts, how good he feels as the pain translates into pleasure, the noises he makes – it’s all too much but fuck, you don’t want him to ever stop. Your mouth parts in a silent moan, eyes closing as your face contorts in pleasure before the sensation ripples through you and you’re crying out. Your hand holds onto his arm and the firm grasp you have on it let’s him know.

“Fuck, I’m cummin,” you breathe out.

“Fuck yeah, baby. Cum all over my cock.”

“Oh my God,” you say, voice shaky and faint as you throw your body back into his.

“Fuck, I love your pussy.”

“I love your cock,” you say, fucked out giggles escaping your lips.

It takes you both a minute to steady your breathing and regain your strength. Jungkook kisses your neck, snaking a hand inside your shirt and squeezing your boob as you arch your back at the feel. “Let’s get you to bed, princess.”

“Music to my ears,” you say, giddy and excited.

Your knees buckle a bit when your feet touch the floor, the both of you laughing at your loss of balance, Jungkook a bit more cockily than you. He slaps your ass softly once, then twice as you begin to walk towards his bedroom. Once inside he takes his shirt off and when you turn around, your eyes scan over his body, metaphorically and possibly physically drooling over him. Your hands find the hem of your t-shirt before you’re pulling it off your body and tossing it aside until it’s landing on top of his. Your tits bounce as you do, and he nods his head at you, a satisfied pout adorning his lips. The pout turns sour the moment you turn around but is soon enough replaced with a smile when you start to crawl on top of his big mattress, finding the perfect spot over his pillows and laying down comfortably.

“You’re so perfect.” Jungkook says, because anything else would downplay it and he’s not in the mood to run away from the truth. You giggle, soft and sweet and he feels the way his heart aches for you inside his chest.

“Come to me,” you say, arms outstretched towards him. He makes his way to you, letting himself hover over you for a minute as he takes you in before he’s falling perfectly between your legs. You kiss him, letting your fingers get lost in his hair, breathing into the kiss and you swear this moment is laced in pure, unadulterated bliss. “Want to feel you inside me.”

“I’ll give it to you, baby. I’ll give you anything you want.”

There it is, yet again, and without a fail. It’s so common you nearly miss it – the way the moment turns tender. It’s mostly soft, this unspoken agreement you’ve fallen into with Jungkook. It’s friendship and attraction, good sex and years of exploring each other. It’s trust and communication. It’s understanding. It’s soft at the beginning and tender halfway through. It’s so tender it feels tangible, like the moment itself could fit inside the palm of your hand and feel ripe to the touch as you hold onto it. It’s tender when he looks into your eyes, it’s tender when his voice says your name, when you kiss his lips. It’s tender when the lust borders on something else. It’s tender when it lingers, when it threatens to fall.

He fucks you, hips moving against yours slowly, pulling moans out of your lips that get caught between his own when he kisses you.

“You feel so good,” you whisper into his mouth, words that only he could hear even if it weren’t just the two of you.

“Fuck, baby, so do you,” he whines, supple and yours, even if for that moment. “I’m not gonna last much longer.”

You smile, hand running through his hair before your fingers are pushing a strand behind his hear. “Cum for me, Kookie. Wanna feel you cum for me.”

Your words throw him over the edge, falling blissfully into you. It feels so fucking good. Your fingers running through his hair, down his neck and then back up again. The way your pussy clenches around him, cock throbbing for you at the wake of his release. Your lips are soft and the rise and fall of your chest falls into perfect sync with his. His hand squeezes at your breast before it’s traveling down your body, squeezing at your thigh before you’re wrapping your legs around his waist, flushed to him. Every little thing you do heightens his senses until all he can breathe, think and feel is you. His face falls down the crook of your neck and you breathe out a moan into his ear, unraveling him completely.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby.” His hips slow down before they still completely, a moan passing his lips as he releases into the condom, your nails softly running down his spine. His body feels spent but he doesn’t miss the way it relaxes on top of you, blissful and peaceful, growing sleepy right away.

“Feel good?” you ask, your fingertips running down his back in what feels like a feathery whisper.

“So fucking good,” he mumbles against the skin of your shoulder before his eyes are finding yours again. He kisses you. He kisses you because in moments like this he wants to say something else, something that makes more sense to his heart than anything his brain could say.

You kiss him back, afraid your heart will betray you, too.

You stare at him as you make your way back to his bed. He lays on his tummy, cheek pressed against the soft pillow, his pretty hair framing his face in a way that makes him look dreamlike. He doesn’t move an inch when you pull back the covers, if only for a second, to get back in bed with him. You lay on your side, eyes still fixed on him and your heart grows a new kind of tender at the sight of his sleeping form. He’s pouty and soft and so, so peaceful. Something sinks in your tummy, but it’s not in a way that signals bad news. Perhaps it’s the butterflies settling, perhaps the heat of the moment has began to cool down.

Your hand comes to his face, fingers gently pushing his hair out of his eyes before you let them wander down his face. His cheeks are soft, his ears cold and when it tickles, he frowns. Your thumb travels up again, smoothing his brow bone and he relaxes. Your eyes follow your touch as you trace the bridge of his nose, slowly, softly, as if you were being quizzed on it later. Wanting to take everything in, afraid that even blinking could take away from the moment. And when your finger lands on his lips, you trace that too the way your own did only minutes prior.

His eyes begin to flutter, a failed attempt to open them but you know he’s partially awake from the smile that pulls at his lips. You feel it on your finger before your eyes meet his gesture and when they do, you close them instinctively, leaning over and kissing him. His body can’t respond to his brain right now, exhausted and more asleep than he is awake, but he hums in satisfaction, lips puckering as he tries to give into his instincts.

“Let’s have breakfast together tomorrow,” he mumbles against your lips. “I’ll go buy honey and make you pancakes.”

You smile, though he can’t see, and perhaps it’s for the best. Your voice is a whisper when you say, “deal.”

His smile is the last thing you see before you fall asleep.

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leftoverpages · 5 months ago

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Loyalty’s embrace

Pairing 𓅪 Benjicot "Davos" Blackwood x betrothed!reader

Tags 𓅪 jealous and protective Benjicot, small fight scene (no gore), fluff at the end, romance, reader uses she/her but no physical description

Notes: i have been writing for years without posting anything so i have a insane number of fics to post, enjoy lol

Wordcount 𓅪 1.3k

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

The grand ballroom of Blackwood Manor was awash with warm candlelight and the soft hum of conversation. The air was filled with the scent of roses and the clinking of crystal glasses. Lady Y/N stood at the edge of the room, a vision in her resplendent gown. Her dress, a masterpiece of crimson silk and midnight velvet, flowed around her like a river of fire and shadow. The bodice, embroidered with intricate patterns of gold thread, clung to her form, highlighting her grace and strength. Across her chest and shoulders, the Blackwood sigil was proudly displayed, a symbol of her new allegiance and her own fierce spirit.

The fabric shimmered in the candlelight, every movement sending ripples of light and shadow cascading over her. The skirt, full and layered, swirled around her feet like a tempest, the deep red contrasting beautifully with the inky black. A delicate gold chain rested at her throat, drawing attention to the elegant curve of her neck.

She stood there as her betrothed, Benjicot Blackwood, engaged in conversation with several lords and ladies. She found herself alone for the moment, sipping a glass of champagne and watching the festivities from afar.

Despite the grandeur, there was a nervous flutter in her stomach. Being betrothed to Benjicot, the fierce and enigmatic heir of House Blackwood, was both an honor and a daunting reality. Their engagement was more strategic than romantic, a union meant to strengthen alliances and secure power. Still, she had hoped to find some genuine connection with him, something to hold onto amidst the political machinations.

"Lady Y/N, you look ravishing tonight," a voice interrupted her thoughts. She turned to see Lord Cedric, a notorious flirt and known for his less-than-honorable intentions, standing far too close for comfort.

"Thank you, Lord Cedric," she replied, forcing a polite smile and taking a small step back.

He didn’t seem to notice—or care. "It's a shame you're tied down to Blackwood. A beauty like you deserves better," he said, his eyes raking all over her in a way that made her skin crawl.

"I am perfectly content with my betrothal, Lord Cedric," she replied firmly, trying to edge away. But Cedric persisted, moving closer, his hand reaching to touch her arm.

"Come now, Y/N, you can’t tell me you’ve never wondered what it would be like to be with someone else," he murmured, his breath hot against her ear.

Before she could respond, a strong hand gripped Cedric's wrist, pulling him away from her. "I believe the lady has made herself clear," Benjicot’s voice was low and dangerous, his dark eyes blazing with anger.

Cedric paled but tried to maintain his bravado. "I meant no harm, Blackwood. Just a bit of fun," he stammered, taking a step back.

Benjicot stepped between Cedric and Y/N, his posture tense and protective. "Your idea of fun is clearly misguided," he said coldly. "If I ever see you bothering her again, I will not be so forgiving."

Cedric sneered, his fear giving way to indignation. "And what will you do, Blackwood, uh? Throw me out of your pretty little ball?"

A dangerous glint appeared in Benjicot’s eyes. "No, Cedric. I’ll do much worse."

Before Cedric could react, Benjicot’s fist connected with his jaw, sending him staggering backward. The ballroom fell silent, guests suddenly turning to witness the confrontation. Cedric, recovering from the initial shock, lunged at Benjicot with a roar, swinging wildly.

Benjicot dodged, his movements controlled and precise. He landed another punch to Cedric's midsection, doubling him over. "You don’t know to quit, do you?" Benjicot muttered, grabbing Cedric by the collar and lifting him to his feet.

"Enough!" Cedric spat, struggling against Benjicot’s grip. "You think you can control everything? Even her?"

Benjicot’s eyes darkened further. "I don’t need to control her, Cedric. I trust her. Something you clearly don’t understand."

With that, Benjicot shoved Cedric away, causing him to stumble and fall to the ground. Cedric, breathing heavily and bruised, glared up at him. "This isn’t over, Blackwood."

"It is," Benjicot replied coldly. "And if you value your life, you’ll stay away from her."

Guards approached then, at Benjicot’s silent command, hauling Cedric to his feet and escorting him out of the ballroom. The guests slowly resumed their conversations, the tension dissipating, but whispers of the altercation lingered.

Benjicot turned to Y/N, his expression softening as he reached out to her. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice gentle.

She nodded, but her composure faltered, and tears welled up in her eyes. "Thank you, Ben. I didn’t know what to do..."

He stepped closer, his hand tenderly cupping her cheek. "You never have to face such things alone. Not while I'm here."

Y/N looked up at him, searching his eyes for any hint of insincerity. Instead, she found a depth of concern and protectiveness that took her by surprise. She had always seen him as distant, a warrior hardened by duty, but now she glimpsed the man beneath the armor.

"Why do you care?" she asked softly, her voice trembling.

Benjicot sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "I know our betrothal was arranged, but that doesn't mean I don't care for your well-being. I've come to admire your strength and grace, Y/N. I want us to be more than just a political alliance."

Her heart skipped a beat at his words. She had longed for some indication that he felt more than obligation towards her. "I want that too, Ben," she whispered.

He smiled then, a rare, genuine smile that made her heart flutter. "Then let's make it so," he said, taking her hand in his. "Together."

As they stood there, hand in hand amidst the glittering ballroom, Y/N felt a warmth spread through her.

Benjicot glanced around the room, the tension in his shoulders easing. He looked back at Y/N, his eyes filled with a tender resolve. "May I have this dance?" he asked, his voice soft and inviting.

Y/N felt her breath catch. She nodded, unable to speak, and he led her to the center of the ballroom. The musicians, sensing the moment, began to play a slow, melodic waltz.

As they took their positions, Benjicot's arm encircled her waist, his hand warm and steady. Her hand rested on his shoulder, and he guided her with a grace that belied his warrior's demeanor. They began to move, their steps perfectly in sync, the world around them fading into a blur of light and sound.

The music swirled around them, a symphony of emotions. They glided across the floor, each step a silent conversation. Y/N felt as if they were floating, the dance a magical respite from the political intrigue and uncertainty that had shadowed their engagement.

Benjicot's eyes never left hers, their dark depths reflecting a myriad of emotions. In that moment, she felt a warmth spread through her chest, a burgeoning hope that perhaps their union could be more than just a strategic alliance.

The music swelled, and Benjicot spun her gracefully, her dress flaring out like a crimson and black flower. When they came back together, he held her a little closer, his gaze softening even further.

"I meant what I said," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I want us to be more than a political alliance. I want to know you, Y/N. To truly understand you."

She smiled, her heart fluttering with a mixture of nerves and excitement. "And I want to know you, Ben."

As the final notes of the waltz echoed through the ballroom, they came to a gentle stop. The guests around them erupted into applause, but Y/N and Benjicot remained in their own world, their gazes locked.

"Thank you for the dance," Y/N said softly.

Benjicot brought her hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles. "The pleasure was mine," he replied.

In that moment, surrounded by the approving smiles of their peers, Y/N felt something shift. The alliance they had been forced into was beginning to transform into something real, something hopeful.

The future was uncertain, but for the first time, she felt truly seen and protected. And perhaps, just perhaps, they could find love in each other’s arms.

#hotd x reader #house of the dragon #benjicot blackwood #benjicot blackwood x reader #game of thrones #asoiaf #fluff

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ohimsummer · 5 months ago

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✎ . . .❝ DO YOU MIND? ❞

— minors dni, suguru x gn! reader (established rs), ft. satoru, voyeurism, oral [ m. receiving ], pining?, some stsg if you squint at the end :3, barely proofread 🫣

gojo tends to show up at the most inopportune moments.

…like now, when suguru is balls-deep in your mouth.

your boyfriend watches, utterly flabbergasted, as gojo settles into the other patio chair and then blinks at him with a casual, blue-eyed stare. it’s nonchalant, careless…as if this is all normal.

you begin to pull off of suguru’s length before he stops you with a steady hand on the crown of your head. your eyes widen, lashes fluttering for a quick second before a strange sense of normality washes over you, and your body relaxes. whatever gojo is up to, you’re confident suguru will handle him with ease, as per usual. after all, this wouldn’t be the first time his best friend has walked in on you two during activities like this, though he usually doesn’t take a seat with the apparent intent on staying throughout.

suguru takes a long, thoughtful drag of his cigarette, eyes narrowing. “…do you mind?”, he asks and quirks a brow.

gojo just smiles at him. “huh? oh, no, i don’t mind.”

a couple seconds pass and suguru has to wonder if he’s actually having this conversation. “are you actually insane—“

“god, what’s the big deal?” gojo groans, interrupting the once-hushed, midnight serenity in his typical, obtrusive fashion. shifts in his seat and suguru finally notices the bulge between his spread legs. his jaw just goes slack in utter disbelief.

suguru is not distracted for long. with a flick of your tongue, you bring forth a grunt from your boyfriend’s lips, back to bobbing along his length in a craving for his creamy release down your throat. suguru can’t and wouldn’t bring himself to stop you. the situation is far past strange but, if you’re determined to continue, and gojo being a fucking weirdo doesn’t bother you, then that’s fine by him.

he sighs. “whatever.”

not even a second passes before there’s a clink of metal, and suguru watches as gojo begins pulling his own cock from his pants.

“satoru, what in the f—“

“shhh.”, gojo hisses at him, and suguru raises two astonished brows. “i’m trying to enjoy the show.“

the dark-haired man is genuinely stunned into silence. it takes a moment before he catches his bearings, tossing gojo an unamused look and leaning back to rest in his own chair. “fine, whatever, just shut up while you do it.”

suguru rolls his eyes at gojo’s victorious grin, before pulling his dying cigarette back up to his lips and billowing out another cloud of smoke. whatever. with everything going on, it’s easy for him to block out any trace of gojo, anyway, and just focus on you.

a bold smell of tobacco wafts through the air, filling suguru’s nostrils as the nicotine finishes off any remnants of stress in his body. the sloppy, wet noises of spit and pre, of you eagerly sucking him down your throat. the curious feel of your hand massaging his balls while the other twists and jerks off whatever can’t fit in your mouth. yeah, it doesn’t take a single drop of effort for suguru to forget that his best friend is jerking off to the sight of you.

someone else is properly taking the time to admire every detail of the view before him. the moonlight rays gleaming off of you and his best friend, casting a gentle glow on the lewd scene. suguru’s head tossed back with locks of black framing his face, a red blush visible across his handsome features even with the limited lighting. and you, god, you. gojo eyes the hand on the back of your head, threading through your hair. suguru has a gentle grasp for the most part, sometimes shoving you down to his base, and gojo’s cock throbs longingly at the gags you let out before being released again. so cute, so pretty, doing your best to take his friend’s fat cock all the way in, only to come up a few inches short every time. it’s obviously a struggle, and yet you still try your best, so keen to swallow every inch. so eager to please.

globs of clear precum dribble out and over gojo’s tip, making for slippery strokes as he gives his bobbing cock a squeeze. though it’s hard, difficult, excruciating—especially with suguru’s own grunts and moans calling out into the night—gojo doesn’t want to risk interrupting this moment. it feels improper and rude, akin to shouting during a performance.

as he admires you both, gojo begins to feel this abrupt sense of jealousy. whether it comes from wanting to be in your place or suguru’s, he cannot decide.

💜: @anthoosies @staryukis @teddybeartoji @lxnarphase @satoruxx @hellkaiserinphoenix @astral-hydromancy @bookswillfindyouaway @rosso-seta @sugurubabe @soraya-daydreams @bubblez-blop @arthurschneider @venzlenes @khaothick @haruchiy0 @sillysushi @risuola @hobarihope @crocodilethesir @starlightanyaaa @reodiaries @spicana @lovley212 @katharinasdiaryy @ninikrumbs @imaniitheoneee @luvr-exe @snackeyalleyjuice @apatauaia @trafalgarrattata @sataraxia @elleflying07 @toptierbunny @purplegemadventures @whokilledvivi @getouolgy @exinqiu @flvffybunny @leilalilox @babytoshiii @idkluvv @froggkat @princ3ss-juicy @starsharkz @zzzlevislothzzz @sugu-love @peachyaone @squishies0102 @ivy-vivii @mynahx3 @ratedrrrr @ha-zel-art @hongsxn @tryn-ity @rubyredish @higuchislut @mochi-islive @shhinigamii @insanebiitch @shinninglightning

#in my suguru college bf au that I have been daydreaming about for a while now :3 #I’ll write how he and reader met soon :33 #satoru is a little fuckboy-esque with a gf but he’s never beating the ‘in love w his best friend and bsf’s partner’ allegations #stsg x reader #stsg imagine #satosugu imagine #suguru x reader #suguru geto imagine #jjk imagine #jjk smut #⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ summy is thinking . . . ｡⋆

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hoshifighting · 3 months ago

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seokmin as your sugar baby!

— WARNINGS: sugar mommy x sugar baby relationship, smut, mentions of alcohol, rough sex. — (Seventeen as Sugar Baby's Reaction)

you didn’t expect your birthday to go down like this. a quiet dinner at your favorite restaurant, surrounded by a few close friends, was all you had in mind. you were the type to enjoy your peace, the steady hum of classical music in the background, a glass of red wine in hand. the kind of person who didn’t need the bells and whistles, content with the simple pleasures. but all that shifted when seokmin walked through the door.

he wasn’t thaaat loud, not like the friends he was with, but there was something about him that drew your eye. maybe it was the way his laughter seemed to brighten the room, or how his smile reached his eyes, making them crinkle at the corners. whatever it was, you were hooked from the moment you saw him.

your friends noticed too, nudging you playfully, urging you to do something you normally wouldn’t. and for once, you listened. you ordered him a drink, sending it over with a quick nod to the waiter, trying to play it cool. when the waiter delivered the drink to seokmin, you watched him glance over at you, surprise flickering in his eyes before that shy smile spread across his lips. he raised his glass in thanks, and you could feel your cheeks warm under his gaze.

“he’s cute,” one of your friends whispered, leaning closer to you. “you should talk to him.”

you laughed it off, brushing it away with a wave of your hand, but the thought lingered. then your friend decided to take things into her own hands. she called the waiter, ordered a ridiculous dessert with a flaming candle, and before you knew it, the entire restaurant was singing happy birthday to you, including seokmin and his friends.

you clapped along, trying to mask your embarrassment, but you couldn’t help but smile when seokmin joined in, his voice somehow louder than the rest. when the song ended, he leaned over, wished you a happy birthday, and then, as he left, he slipped a napkin onto your table. it was only after he was gone that you saw the number scribbled on it, and your heart skipped a beat.

you didn’t wait long to text him, just a simple “thanks for the birthday song, let’s grab a drink sometime.” his response was immediate, and the rest, as they say, was history.

it started off casual. drinks after work, long conversations about everything and nothing, seokmin’s laughter filling the spaces in between. he was charming, yes, but there was a rawness to him that you found intoxicating. he wasn’t like anyone you’d met before—genuine, kind, with an edge that made your heart tu-dum.

you found yourself wanting to spoil him, to see that shy smile whenever you surprised him with something new. it began with little things—a nice dinner, a designer shirt, tickets to a show he mentioned he wanted to see. but it quickly escalated. you couldn’t help yourself; he was just so grateful for everything you did, always just enjoying whatever came his way.

seokmin never took anything for granted, and that made you want to give him more. paying for his bills, upgrading his apartment, even sending him on a vacation when you noticed how stressed he was from work. he was your sugar baby, but it didn’t feel transactional. it felt… right.

and then there was when you made love. when you fuck.

you discovered that seokmin wasn’t just the sweet, shy guy he appeared to be. behind closed doors, he was rough, almost primal. the first time you slept together, came crashing down in a flurry of hands, teeth, and sweat.

he was all over you, pushing you up against the wall the second you were inside your apartment, his lips attacking your neck as his hands roamed your ass.

his hands gripped your hips, hard enough to leave marks, as he pulled you against him, grinding his erection into you. you moaned into his mouth, your own hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer, needing more.

“bedroom,” you managed to gasp out, and he wasted no time in lifting you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you there. once inside, he threw you onto the bed, his eyes opaque as he stripped off his clothes, revealing the body you’d only caught glimpses of before.

“fuck, you’re so beautiful,” you whispered, but he just smirked, crawling over you, his hands already tugging at your clothes, desperate to get them off.

“shut up,” he muttered, but there was a playful sparkle in his stare, one that made your pussy throb. “i’m gonna ruin you.”

and he did. seokmin wasn’t gentle. he bit down on your shoulder as he entered you, making you cry out. his hands gripped your wrists, pinning them above your head as he thrust into you, hard and fast, setting a brutal pace that had your eyes rolling back in your head.

seokmin cums soon after, his hips slamming against yours one final time as he came, his grip on your wrists tightening as he rode out his own release.

for a moment, neither of you moved, the only sound in the room your ragged breathing. then, slowly, seokmin released your wrists, his hands gentle now as he brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“you okay?” he asked, his voice back to that sweet, caring tone you were used to.

you nodded, still catching your breath, a small smile playing on your lips.

he chuckled, rolling onto his side and pulling you against him, his arms wrapping around you in a way that made you feel safe, cherished. “good. because i’m not done with you yet.”

and with that, he flipped you onto your stomach, his hand coming down on your ass with a sharp smack that made you choke, your body already reacting, craving more.

“i told you,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, “i’m gonna ruin you.”

and he did, again and again, until the lines between sugar baby and sugar mommy blurred completely, leaving nothing but dirty sex with the john walker bags looking at the two of you from the floor.

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dee-writes-angst · 6 months ago

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TULIPS (Chapter Three)

FEATURING Eris Vanserra x pregnant!reader

SUMMARY dinner with the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court was going well- if not better- than you expected... until it wasn't.

CONTENT WARNINGS fluff, cuteness, pregnancy, mentions of foot massages, rushed editing (you have been warned)

AUTHORS NOTE this was as adorable to write as it was to read, hope you all enjoy!

SERIES MASTERLIST

As the weeks transformed into a comfortable cadence of companionship, Eris's presence evolved from a persistent irritation to a source of solace and warmth. Each night, he would accompany you on leisurely strolls through the Autumn Court's sprawling gardens, engaging in deep conversations that ranged from trivial to profound. Initially resistant, your defenses gradually crumbled under the weight of his genuine interest and the gentle tenor of his voice. Eris, once a distant figure, had seamlessly become both a confidant and a friend. The awkwardness that had once marked your interactions gave way to an easeful rapport, characterized by shared laughs, quiet moments, and even intertwined arms as you walked together.

Despite your initial fears, keeping both you and your pregnancy hidden from Beron proved less daunting than anticipated. The castle staff, having grown fond of your presence and Eris's protective stance, covertly supported you, ready to accept Beron's wrath should the need arise. The life blossoming within you stirred more vigorously with each passing day, its movements transforming from uncertain flutters to joyous, definitive kicks—a constant, cherished reminder of the new life you were nurturing.

Lately, however, the joys of pregnancy have been tempered by its tolls: swelling and a pervasive fatigue that some days tethered you to your bed. Adapting to your needs, Eris crafted a new routine. Each morning, he would cross the short distance from his room to yours, coax you from the sanctuary of your bed to the plush couch near the fireplace, and spend a few moments ensuring both you and the baby were well before attending to his duties.

Now, you were nestled comfortably on the couch, wrapped in a thick blanket against the autumn chill, while Eris attended to your swollen feet. His fingers, long and defined, pressed into your arches with a precision that coaxed sighs of relief from your lips. You massaged your growing belly, lost in the tranquility that only this quiet room, with its crackling fireplace and the soothing touch of a man you had grown to trust implicitly, could offer.

Breaking the silence, Eris's voice was soft, yet carried an undercurrent of something significant. "I have a meeting tomorrow," he murmured, his fingers shifting to your ankles, easing the persistent ache with gentle, circular motions. You hummed in acknowledgment, the peace of the moment making it easy to listen.

"I'd like you to come with me," he added, his suggestion prompting you to open your eyes and sit up, tension threading through your previously relaxed posture.

"Eris, I’m not sure that’s—" you began, only to be cut off as he expertly pressed into a tight spot on your foot, drawing a sharp, involuntary focus back to the physical relief.

"I know you are hesitant to go out, but I promise, no one will learn of your condition. You and the baby will be safe—I swear it," he assured you, his gaze intense and earnest.

"And who exactly are we meeting?" you asked, curiosity piqued despite your initial reservations.

"The High Lord and Lady of the Night Court," he replied smoothly, watching for any shift in your expression. He was aware of your past efforts in the Spring Court, though he remained blissfully unaware of that one fateful night with Lucien—a detail you continued to keep close to your heart more so out of fear than true, deep love.

Eris's next words came hesitantly, a rare vulnerability shadowing his usually confident demeanor. "There's something I need to share with you, something dangerous enough to threaten my life if it were spoken here. Until now, I’ve trusted no one with this knowledge, but I want—no, I need you to know."

The notion that Eris Vanserra, the heir to the ruthlessly pragmatic Autumn throne, could exhibit such bashfulness, such sincere openness, would have once seemed ludicrous. Yet, here in this quiet room, witnessing the softening of a man known for his sharp wit and sharper politics, you realized how deeply intertwined your lives had become. The trust he offered wasn't just a gift; it was a sacred bond, one that you now held as precious and vital, as he undoubtedly did.

Your decision to accompany Eris to the meeting was not made lightly. While the prospect of venturing out with him was enticing, the shadow of Lucien's potential presence loomed ominously in your mind. You couldn't shake the fear that he might discern the truth—that he might catch a hint of his child lingering on you—and unravel the fragile web of secrecy you had painstakingly woven.

"I'll go with you," you finally responded, forcing a soft smile to grace your lips, though your heart fluttered nervously in your chest. Eris's grin widened in response, a radiant expression that never failed to warm your heart. It was a sight you had grown to cherish—the genuine happiness that danced in his eyes whenever you agreed to accompany him.

Upon entering the House of Wind, the grandeur of the Night Court's architecture took your breath away. As you traversed the expansive hall, your eyes were drawn upward to the soaring ceilings, where the natural rock formations blended seamlessly with masterful stone carvings. The room was a symphony of art and nature, each element curated to showcase the might and elegance of the Night Court.

The House of Wind was perched atop one of the tallest mountains overlooking Velaris, the city of starlight. Its location offered a panoramic view of the sprawling city below, its lights twinkling like stars in the dusky evening sky. The ethereal quality of the place lent an almost surreal atmosphere to the meeting, the high altitude isolating it from the bustle of daily life and imbuing the gathering with a sense of detached serenity.

As Eris had insisted, the change of venue to Velaris instead of the grittier Hewn City was a strategic one, especially with your presence. Hewn City, with its darker undertones and the unscrupulous characters it often harbored, was not the environment Eris wanted to expose you to, particularly not in your condition. His protective instinct had flared, not just out of a sense of duty but something more personal, a deep-seated desire to shield you from any potential harm or distress.

Rhysand and Feyre, though initially surprised by the request to relocate, were accommodating. They understood the delicacies of political alliances and personal comforts, especially when it came to gatherings that might sway the balance of power in Prythian. Their acceptance of the change also spoke volumes of their respect for Eris's growing influence and his priorities, which now, intriguingly, seemed to include you.

Upon your arrival, you were greeted warmly by the High Lord and Lady. Feyre's smile was both welcoming and perceptive, her artist's eyes quickly taking in your slightly nervous demeanor. Rhysand's greeting was cordial yet measured, his legendary strategic mind likely already pondering the implications of Eris's sudden protectiveness over you.

The Inner Circle of the Night Court, comprising individuals of notable power and close personal ties to Rhysand and Feyre, were also present. Their curious glances were tinged with an unspoken question, their minds likely whirling with the possibilities of your relationship with Eris and what it meant for the political landscape.

Once dinner commenced, the conversation flowed like the fine wines served—rich, layered, and occasionally sharp. Topics ranged from trivial court gossip to the weightier issues of territorial disputes and trade alliances. Through it all, Eris spoke with an eloquence and assertiveness that reaffirmed his position not just as a scion of the Autumn Court, but as a player on the larger political stage.

The atmosphere in the grand hall of the House of Wind grew increasingly warm and congenial as dinner continued. It was a sharp contrast to the initial wariness that had marked the beginning of the evening. You found yourself slowly relaxing, the initial tension that had gripped you upon your arrival gradually easing as the hours passed.

Seated next to Eris, you were acutely aware of his constant vigilance. His gaze frequently swept the room, subtle but protective, always returning to rest on you with an unspoken reassurance. His hand, discreetly placed near yours on the table, was a silent promise of support. It was a gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by you, and it warmed a part of your heart reserved only for moments of true connection.

Across from you, Cassian—the General of the Night Court’s armies and the so-called Lord of Bloodshed—was proving to be nothing like the fearsome figure painted in the tales whispered across Prythian. His reputation as a fierce warrior was well-known, and yet, here he was, displaying a charisma and warmth that belied his formidable title. His questions were thoughtful and his laughter genuine, filling the space around him with an infectious joy that seemed to brighten the entire room.

Cassian’s interest in your thoughts on matters ranging from art to strategy was flattering. It was clear he valued intellect and insight, regardless of one’s position or power. His ability to make you feel seen and heard was a rare skill, and you found yourself engaging in the discussion with an eagerness that surprised even you.

The conversation flowed effortlessly as you spoke of your past experiences, carefully curating the details to avoid revealing too much about your true connections and current predicament. Cassian listened intently, nodding thoughtfully and occasionally interjecting with a question that nudged you deeper into the topic. His engagement was so complete and so devoid of judgment that you felt a genuine sense of safety—an odd feeling considering the circumstances under which you had arrived at the Night Court.

The discussion took a lighter turn as Cassian shared anecdotes from his own adventures. The tales were filled with humor and humility, showcasing his dedication to his people and his unshakeable honor. The contrast between the man before you and the stories told of him in hushed, wary tones across the land was stark. Here was a man who fought fiercely but loved deeply, whose strength was matched only by his compassion.

The wine and warmth of the room seemed to weave a spell of camaraderie among all present as the night wore on. You found yourself laughing more freely than you had in a long time, the sound mingling with the gentle music that floated through the air. Eris’s occasional glances filled with quiet amusement and pride as he watched you interact with his allies, and you realized how important this evening was—not just for political alliances but for personal revelations.

The connection you felt to these people, forged unexpectedly through shared smiles and stories, reminded you of the complexities of life in Prythian. Here, alliances were not just built on power but on the subtle threads of mutual respect and understanding—threads that, once woven, could form a tapestry strong enough to stand against the darkest of times.

“So, your plans are set then?” Rhysand’s voice cut through the chatter, his gaze on Eris poised with a strategic restraint as he sat close beside Feyre, their fingers intertwined under the table in a display of unity and affection.

“They are indeed. My father’s reign will end before the year is out,” Eris replied with diplomatic precision, his fingers subtly tightening around yours under the table, offering a silent reassurance as you chatted with Cassian and Mor, who had now joined your group.

“Do you still train?” Cassian continued the earlier conversation about combat training. You were known as a formidable warrior who had bravely fought in the war against Hybern, emerging with only a few scars to tell the tale.

“No, though I do miss it dearly,” you answered with a wistful smile, recalling the days spent wielding a sword and teaching yourself survival tactics against imminent threats.

“Why did you stop?” Mor inquired, her gaze sweeping over you as if searching for a physical reason for your hiatus from training.

“I’ve been busy adjusting to life in the Autumn Court, and while I hope to resume training soon, it seems unlikely until I'm more familiar with the intricacies of this new environment,” you said smoothly, concealing the truth of your pregnancy with an ease that belied the ache in your heart from withholding such vital information from these potential allies. “I wouldn’t want to accidentally behead someone,” you joked, lightening the mood and drawing hearty laughter from Cassian.

“Well,” Cassian began, wiping away tears of mirth, “if you ever need any tips or want to spar, you’re always welcome to join me here. It would be good to have a fresh sparring partner.”

Mor's laughter rang clear and bright alongside Cassian's, their camaraderie infectious, filling the air with a sense of light-heartedness that briefly lifted the weight of your secret. The offer from Cassian, so freely given, was a testament to the Night Court's reputation for valuing strength and skill regardless of court affiliations. It was tempting, the idea of swinging a sword again, feeling the familiar weight in your hands, the rush of adrenaline that came with the dance of combat—a dance you missed dearly.

"I might just take you up on that, Cassian," you responded, your voice lighter than you felt. "It would be good to shake off the rust."

"Consider it an open invitation," Cassian replied with a grin that was both mischievous and welcoming.

Beside you, Eris shifted slightly, his attention momentarily flickering back to you from his strategic discussion with Rhysand and Feyre. His hand tightened around yours, a gesture that you knew was not only for reassurance but also a silent reminder of the stakes at play tonight. His plans, so boldly stated, were a gambit that could change the face of the Autumn Court, and by extension, the delicate balance of power throughout Prythian.

Rhysand’s gaze, sharp and calculating, moved from Eris to you, sensing the undercurrents of your conversation. He was a leader known for his insight, and you wondered briefly what he saw when he looked your way. Did he detect the nuances of your situation, the unspoken truths that lay beneath your carefully constructed facade?

"As long as Eris doesn’t mind sharing some of Autumn’s finest warriors with us," Rhysand added with a subtle smirk, easing the tension that had started to coil beneath the surface of the conversation.

"Only if you don’t mind returning them in one piece," Eris quipped, his tone light but his eyes scanning Rhysand for any sign of true political intent beneath the banter.

Feyre, ever the observant High Lady, interjected with a grace that smoothed the edges of the strategic dance unfolding at the table. "I think we can all agree that sharing knowledge and skills can only strengthen our courts," she said, her voice a soothing melody that seemed to weave peace into the words themselves.

Her comment steered the conversation towards safer waters, and you felt a silent gratitude for her intervention. The night continued, with discussions ebbing and flowing from politics to personal anecdotes, each moment carefully layered with both overt and hidden meanings.

As the dinner neared its end, you felt the first definitive kick from within—a startling, wondrous sensation that drew a gasp from your lips, momentarily drawing the attention of those around you, including Eris, whose concern was immediate.

"Are you alright?" Eris asked quietly, leaning closer to mask the conversation from curious ears.

"Just a bit of discomfort," you whispered back, offering him a reassuring smile to alleviate his worry. The moment was fleeting but significant, a poignant reminder of the life you carried—a secret that bound you to Lucien yet remained hidden even from him.

You composed yourself, returning to the conversations with a calm demeanor, the reality of your situation settled heavily upon you. The ties you were forging here, under the guise of mere political alliances, were becoming more personal, more vital. The truth of your child’s paternity lingered like a shadow; one you knew would eventually come to light.

The sudden silence that fell over the grand dining hall was palpable, a stark contrast to the lively banter that had filled the air just moments before. Cassian's knife hitting the floor seemed to echo through the chamber, an unintentional signal that caused every pair of eyes to swivel toward you, expressions filled with surprise and curiosity. The subtle yet unmistakable scent of pregnancy had wafted through the air, a fragrance familiar to those attuned to the nuances of fae biology.

Beside you, Eris's body tensed, his grip on your hand tightening imperceptibly. His quick, calculating eyes darted around the table, assessing each reaction with a practiced eye, before settling back on you with a look that was both protective and probing. He was searching for cues on how to proceed, his usual confidence momentarily overshadowed by the unforeseen revelation.

Your own heart thudded loudly in your chest, the sound almost echoing in your ears as you navigated through the rapid thoughts and fears crowding your mind. The intimacy and warmth of the room felt suddenly claustrophobic, the walls closing in as you contemplated the implications of your condition becoming public knowledge here, among potential allies and friends.

Rhysand, always the leader, was the first to address the sudden shift in atmosphere. His voice was calm and collected, though you could detect the undercurrent of authority that underpinned his position as High Lord. "Is there something you wish to share with us?" he asked, his eyes locking with yours, a mixture of intrigue and concern lining his features.

Feyre, ever the empath and peacemaker, extended her hand across the table toward you, her gesture one of solidarity and reassurance. "Whatever it is, you're among friends," she said gently, her voice a soothing balm in the tense silence. Her assurance was meant to comfort, to remind you of the support system that surrounded you in this room.

The deafening echo of fear reverberated through your ears, a raw, unfiltered panic seizing hold of you. Lucien's intricate connections to each person in the room flashed before your mind's eye, a stark reminder of the delicate web of alliances and loyalties that surrounded you. Though they might assume Eris to be the father of your child, the mere possibility of your momentary lapse in concentration betraying the truth sent a chill down your spine, tightening every muscle in your body with apprehension.

With a gentle lean and a deep, calming breath, Eris closed the distance between you, his warm breath brushing against your ear as he spoke softly, his words meant for your ears alone. "We can handle this together," he whispered, the warmth of his touch a silent pledge of unwavering unity and support. In that moment, his commitment shone through, steadfast and resolute, a beacon of strength amidst the tumultuous currents of political intrigue and personal turmoil.

You took a deep breath, buoyed by Eris's support and the encouraging faces around you, and found the courage to speak. "Yes, I… I'm expecting," you announced, the words coming out in a rush, laden with both fear and relief. The table responded in a variety of ways.

Cassian, the warrior with a reputation as fierce as his loyalty, recovered from his initial surprise with a broad grin spreading across his rugged features. "Well, that’s cause for celebration, isn’t it?" he declared, his booming voice breaking the tension, his demeanor shifting the mood towards one of festivity rather than scandal.

Mor, radiant and ever joyful, clapped her hands softly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears of happiness. "Oh, that's wonderful news!" she exclaimed, her enthusiasm infectious as she mirrored Cassian's sentiment.

The unwavering support of your new friends had the rest of the table exhaling deeply, the tension dissipating like morning mist under the first light of dawn. It was as if a collective sigh of relief swept through the grand dining hall, washing away the discomfort that had momentarily lingered in the air.

“You must be thrilled, Eris, I had no idea you were with a female, let alone close enough to start a family, an oversight on my part,” Rhysand's comment, though perhaps inadvertently brusque, was met with a swift reprimand from Feyre, her scolding glare a silent reminder of the importance of diplomacy and tact. Her subsequent words, however, carried a genuine warmth and sincerity, a testament to her graciousness and desire to foster unity among the courts.

"I believe what Rhysand meant to say," Feyre interjected smoothly, her voice gentle but firm, "is that we are genuinely happy for both of you. Congratulations are in order, and we look forward to the potential alliances that may blossom between our courts. You have found a remarkable partner, Eris, and we are honored to welcome her into our midst."

Her smile was radiant, a beacon of acceptance and friendship that illuminated the table, and you found yourself returning it with a mixture of gratitude and trepidation. The queasy churn in your stomach persisted, a reminder of the weight of the secrets still hidden, but Feyre's genuine warmth and the friendly wink she directed your way offered a glimmer of reassurance.

“Thank you,” Eris's response was measured and regal, his acknowledgment of their well-wishes tinged with a silent understanding of the delicate dance they were all engaged in.

As he pressed a tender kiss to your intertwined hands, a silent reassurance of his unwavering support, you felt a swell of affection and gratitude for the man beside you. His steadfast presence, a pillar of strength in a sea of uncertainty, was a source of comfort and reassurance amid the swirling currents of political intrigue.

With a steady voice, you echoed Feyre's sentiment, expressing your gratitude for the warm welcome extended to you both. The queasiness in your stomach persisted, a lingering reminder of the secrets still hidden beneath the surface, but the genuine warmth in Feyre's smile and the camaraderie that permeated the room filled you with a sense of cautious optimism.

"I hope to be great friends one day, Lady Feyre," you said earnestly, meeting her gaze with sincerity. The prospect of forging genuine connections with these influential figures was both daunting and exhilarating, offering the promise of camaraderie and support in a world fraught with political intrigue and danger.

As the dinner resumed, the mood lightened further, the conversation flowing freely as newfound bonds were forged over shared laughter and stories. The weight of the secrets you carried remained, a silent undercurrent beneath the surface of the evening's festivities, but for now, in the warmth of acceptance and friendship, you allowed yourself to savor the moment, cherishing the unexpected connections that had been forged in the crucible of uncertainty.

TAGLIST

@purple-writer8 @defnotlucienvanserra @cherry-cin @julesofvolterra @mirandasidefics @mandziaaa @lilah-asteria @littlestw01f @skylarkalchemist @babypeapoddd @daardyrnitta @talesofadragon

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ginxyy · 6 days ago

Text

First Snow

It’s been snowing in the UK so now i feel some type of way about Seungcheol in the snow

The first whispers of winter ripple through the vibrant streets of Seoul, where the city breathes in a dance of shimmering lights and festivities. You pull your cozy scarf tighter around your neck, glancing up at the sky as the first delicate flakes of snow begin to drift lazily from above. Each flake is like a wish falling from the heavens, gently thickening until they blanket the ground in a soft, white embrace. It’s the magical beginning of the season, and something stirs within you an adventurous spirit longing for serendipity.

You slip on your gloves, feeling the chill bite at your fingertips, yet the thrill of a night wrapped in snow entices you out of the warmth of your home and into the heart of the city. The sounds of laughter and chatter fill the air as couples stroll hand in hand, their cheeks flushed from the winter chill. You stroll through the streets, mesmerized by the warm glow of shop windows adorned with twinkling lights, feeling the world begin to make its own kind of magic around you.

As you make your way to a nearby park, the snow piles higher, cushioning your steps. The familiar scent of roasted chestnuts wafts in the air, drawing a smile across your face. You find solace within the park's serene embrace, the city’s bustling life muted by the soft blanket of snow. You take a moment to breathe in the freezing air, your heart alight with the enchantment surrounding you.

Suddenly, your thoughts are interrupted by a playful bark that cuts through the captivating silence. A frisky Maltese , fur flecked with snowflakes, bounds toward you, tail wagging furiously. You kneel down instinctively, feeling an irresistible pull to meet this exuberant creature. “Hey there, buddy! Aren’t you a sight in this cold?” you say, laughter spilling from your lips as the dog playsfully nudges your hand with his nose.

At that moment, a figure emerges from behind the trees, and your heart skips a beat. He’s taller than you expected, his smile warm and inviting as he calls out gently,” Kkuma! Come back here!” It’s Seungcheol, from Seventeen. You recognize him instantly, no longer just a name spoken in fervent whispers among friends but a living, breathing embodiment of the boy who has captured your attention countless times across your screen.

“Is this little girl bothering you?” he asks, strolling closer, his voice smooth and endearing.

You shake your head, unable to stop the shy smile creeping onto your face. “Not at all! She’s adorable.”

Seungcheol kneels to join Kkuma, tousling the dog’s fur as he explains, “She loves the snow. It’s her first winter too.” There’s a warmth in the way he speaks, a brightness that effortlessly draws you in. You find yourself leaning closer, your heart fluttering like the snowflakes drifting from above.

“I can see that! It’s a beautiful night to be out. Is it your first snow of the season too?” you ask, genuinely curious. The small talk turns easily into deeper conversations, as if you’ve known each other longer than this fleeting encounter.

As the dos and the cold air speed your words between you, you discover shared stories about childhood adventures in winter’s revelry and dreams that flicker like the distant city lights. Each laugh shared weaves a thread of connection, and with each passing moment, you can feel the time stretching and bending around you, almost as if the world has paused to allow this fragment of enchantment to unfold.

“Do you have plans for the evening?” you venture, your heart racing at the possibilities. The night feels alive with electricity, the air thick with the scent of impending romance. Seungcheol looks thoughtful, his gaze locking onto yours, and you feel heat rush to your cheeks.

“Actually, I don’t,” he replies, a soft smile breaking across his face. “I was just planning on enjoying some time with Kkuma, maybe grabbing some hot chocolate later.”

Your heart swells at the thought. “Would you want some company?” The words spill out before you think twice, but the hopeful glint in his eyes mirrors your own sentiments perfectly. “I mean, if Kkuma approves, of course.”

A soft chuckle escapes him, illuminating his features as snowflakes cling to his dark hair. “Well, if Kkuma likes you, I think it’s a solid yes!”

With a sudden rush of audacity, fueled by the warmth bubbling beneath your skin, you suggest, “How about we make it an official date? You, me, and Kkuma? A winter adventure!”

The moment stretches out as Seungcheol regards you with that same warm smile, sparking an undeniable glimmer of interest in his eyes. “I’d love that,” he finally says, his voice low and earnest.

With Kkuma bounding between you, you and Seungcheol walk side by side, the world around you fading away. The park becomes your domain, littered with laughter and snowflakes as you navigate the beginnings of something beautiful, something delicate, just like the glistening snow around you.

You discover a nearby café, its inviting warmth wrapping around you like a loving embrace as you step inside. The rich aroma of hot chocolate rises to greet you, and soon, cups are nestled between your hands, warmth layering against the winter’s chill. Each sip is sweeter than the last, but the moments shared are far sweeter radiant stories exchanged beneath soft lights, your laughter mingling with the sound of clinking cups and the distant music of the bustling world outside.

As the hours slip by, beneath a night sky blanketed in stars and whispers of snow, you realize that this night holds a promise of more than just a fleeting moment among strangers it holds the potential to blossom into something tender and lasting, like the glistening snowflakes that dance on the wind.

For one magical winter night in the heart of Seoul, amidst the laughter of newfound connection and the soft glowing endearments shared, you find yourself captivated not just by the beauty of the season, but by the warmth rising within your heart the kind you can only find when you least expect it, in the most enchanting of ways.

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radio-fmm · 7 months ago

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Magic Music Box

Law x strawhat!reader

Warnings: alcohol consumption, gn reader, confession, fluff

Word count: 1.4k

Summary: You ask Law to dance with you

Masterlist

The smell of booze mixed with the warm lights and the sound of laughter and stomping filled the atmosphere of The Thousand Sunny as everyone unraveled with a well deserved celebration. Law felt out of his element, but finding your company rarely soothing

You were sitting across his table making fun lighthearted conversation, it may not seem like it but the alcohol in your drink was starting to get to your head, laughing louder than you probably should at Law’s snarky comments and sarcastic remarks. Strangely the Captain seemed to be enjoying the night while it was spent with you, suddenly feeling part of the party and actually having a little fun in your conversation. And not gonna lie, he was enjoying the view

Your view

So when you got up form your seat running with Nami in hand to the dance floor he couldn’t help but to grimace

“Absolutely not I don’t dance” you had answered the navigator as she approached you offering her hand to get up and dance, she rolled her eyes and begged but you didn’t bat an eye. That was until Law spotted her whispering something to Brook before making her way back to the table

As the song changed and the new melody made its way to your ears you couldn’t help but to smile wide and get up

“That’s my song! C’mon Traffy” you had said as you motioned to follow the two, he just shook his head and took a sip form his drink looking away, he would rather get shot and die

Stumbling you make it to the center of the room while you let loose and hit every single move with a newfound confidence

He wondered why he allowed himself to get to this point, where he fell head over heels for a strawhat. The moment he met you he knew it would be inevitable, your warm welcoming personality threaded with your kind and brave heart made it impossible to get you out of his head, and that smile and your laugh and your big eyes that stared back pleading for him to succumb to your charm

He tried to fight it, drilling the thought of your alliance being a finite professional fragile thing that would most definitely make his feelings tangle the situation. But all of it traveled to the back burner, enjoying your long blissful talks, shared stares and slight touches that would slip out of his hands. He was present in the moment with you, everything fading

He cursed the day you had finally climbed up his walls and got through him, suddenly making himself known to you on a highly personal level; something he had prevented for so long but it somehow felt right, allowing you to hold his heart on your graceful hands and keep it safe, because he knew you would cherish it

As you spin around your eyes lock with his, a smile settling on your features, a genuine happiness that infects the surgeon making him smile back at you, pink tinting his cheeks as he basks in how gorgeous you look even when dancing around drunk

You continue spinning and fall onto Luffy, who laughs as he catches you. He can make out the words ‘sorry’ come out of your mouth, but join on the silly laughter with your stretchy Captain. Now you find yourself dancing along with him, Law clenched his teeth at the way Luffy’s hands sit on your hands and waist, which is stupid really, if you’d offered him to dance with you a second time he would decline again, but now he weights his options seeing how you sway around with the straw hat, wishing he could hold you close the same way he does at the rhythm of your favorite song

Luffy takes both of your hands and spins you around making you beam brighter than any sunset he had witnessed in his troubled life, he curses under his breath as jealousy extends trough his being that is quick to fade when you stop in your tracks, holding your head in one hand while the other looks for support on your Captain standing in front of you worried. Law is by your side in a heartbeat, hand in your back while he lowers to your level while you’re hunched over looking at the floor

“Think’ we danced too hard” Luffy says but Trafalgar doesn’t spare him a glance

“You think?”

“I’m fine” you cut them off standing up slowly but surely.- “Just a little dizzy” your eyes snap shut trying to make the room stop spinning

“You need to sit down” Law doesn’t leave room for arguing, taking you away from the straw hat’s hold while he walked you back to your table, Luffy just giggles at the way Traffy just seemed to softened in your hold.

While you walked stumbled through the room, Law could feel how you supported yourself on his bigger frame, holding onto his arm with both hands making his heart flip. He settles you down carefully, your hands quickly making their way for your drink which he grabs the moment he notices, making you whine

“That’s enough of this” a blue bubble shines through his tattooed hands and replaces the drink with a water bottle that he opens for you. You take it with a pout, Law sitting beside you with his worried eyes scanning every nook and cranny of your body

“I told you I was just dizzy” you reassure after downing half the water, Law adverts his eyes from you immediately

“Just making sure” you smile at that, knowing how he genuinely cares for your well being, sometimes too much

You stare back at the surgeon, tracing his features over and over again before you are up on your feet for a second round

“Slow down” he says switching to doctor mode again

“You’re not my doctor right now, you’re Law” your hands extend to catch both of his sending electric shocks trough his whole body, but holding onto you nonetheless

“And Law is dancing with me”

He had long jumped over the lines of being a Captain, a doctor and just being himself, the three blurring together not really knowing where one started and one ended. Somehow you had reminded him who he was beyond his pirate life, devoting yourself to Trafalgar Law, not the Captain of the Heart Pirates, not The Surgeon of Death. You saw him for just him, his vulnerable broken self that you embraced

Even though he really doesn’t want to dance at all, the way your body presses to his, his hands gripping your hips like a lifeline and your gaze on his makes him surrender, making a lot of his subordinates and allies turn their heads and laugh at how weird it was to see him in this position

You were a complete mystery to Law, how could you do this to him? Why weren’t you afraid or disgusted by his reputation? Why did you wanted to dance with him? And why did he allowed you to?

Eventually the upbeat songs slowed down to ballads, your head resting on his drumming chest while he held you like you were about to disappear

Your head looked up to his golden eyes, completely lost in the feeling “Thank you Law, I know you hate this stuff” you murmured, your sweet words fanning on his goatee making him shiver

He stays awfully quiet before he formulates the right words to speak “Please stay, y/n-ya”

There’s something almost wrong when you hear him pleading, taking you aback not only at the words but at their implications, finally sinking in the fact of the complicated relationship you had buried yourselves in

Your feet stop moving, your thoughts running a mile a minute not really knowing what your answer could do or be. You let your guard down, some people would deem it as stupid specially as you stand before the most methodic man you had ever known, your heart screams you to do one thing while your brain glitches to comprehend

You switch your position making Law increasingly nervous, thinking you may just leave him in the dust. Instead, you tip toe to meet his dried mouth and rest your lips on his in dreamy kiss full of yearning

Is it a yes? Is it a maybe? Is it a promise? Neither of you know

But it felt right

I am back on my Rock en español era and this was inspired by this song, what can I say latin-american rock is so damn good

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harmonictechnicality · 1 year ago

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*no rest for the wicked*

my teensy contribution to @thefreakandthehair's spicy six summer collection 💖 | word count: 3k | rating: T | ao3 link | also, this wouldn't exist if @chocoarts didn't send me a sketch that immediately set off sparklers in my brain so bless youuu ✨

Twenty-six hours. That’s how long Eddie has been up. Twenty-six hours and twelve minutes. The heaviness hanging in his eyes is medieval-level torturous, and the cramp in his left calf is probably permanent by now.

A sane person who enjoys sleeping might be asking, ‘Why? Why put yourself through this when there’s a perfectly decent bed down the hall?’ And Eddie would be forced to reply back with two, simple words:

Concert. Tickets.

That’s right, Eddie is actively murdering his own brain cells to win two vip tickets on the radio. Twenty-seven hours ago, it seemed like a grand idea. Genius, even. It’s free and minimal effort - he just has to call the station every hour on the dot. No biggie, right?

Ha, sure. Tell that to the muscles in his eyelids.

“How much longer do you have?” Chrissy asks, snagging a magazine from the stack on the couch.

Eddie checks his watch. Huffs out a laugh. “Let’s just say, I could watch the entire Star Wars trilogy including the credits for each one.”

“Translating to...?”

“Seven-ish hours.” Robin quickly chimes. She pops out of her bedroom and joins Chrissy’s side, instantly threading their hands together. They share a look, one that makes Eddie believe in nice things, even in his state of misery. It’s their superpower, injecting their optimistic outlook into the atmosphere. Infectious in the best way.

“I always forget that you speak fluent nerd.” Chrissy snorts.

“Ouch.” Robin gasps and pulls away, stomping off to their room. Too dramatic to be believable. “Get back to bed before I actually feel offended by that.”

Normally, Eddie is charmed by how hopelessly in love his roommates are with each other. But right now, they are his mortal enemies (well, tied with The Clock), because they get to sleep and he gets to stare at the lightbulb in the ceiling fan. Every now and then, it flickers, which never fails to startle him.

Good. He desperately needs the extra alertness.

Another forty-five minutes go by before anything noteworthy happens. Eddie’s other roommate gets off his night shift around one in the morning. The front door squeals as it opens, crackling all the adrenaline leftover in Eddie’s body.

“Scared the shit out of me, man.” Which could’ve been a literal statement if Eddie hadn’t just taken a bathroom break.

“Gotta get this door fixed.” Steve says. That’s what he always says when it creaks. The reaction never changes, always skating his fingers over the door hinges, mouth twisting to the side. Hands on his hips in disapproval. Eddie has to look away before Steve breaks out his insufferably cute ‘foot tap’ routine. “Hey - why are you still up?”

Ah, yes. Just what Eddie needed. A reminder that it’s fucking late. He finds the energy (or common decency, who knows) to point at the phone. Then to the radio.

“You’re still doing that, huh?”

Eddie nods twice.

“Damn, I’ve never heard you this quiet.” Steve sounds genuinely surprised. A little too smug for Eddie’s liking. “Didn’t know your mouth could stay in a straight line for this long.”

There it is. The rich boy smartassery that will never die. Always lurking in the depths of his genetic makeup.

Eddie claps, total deadpan.

The conversation lulls while Steve messes around in the kitchen for a bit. He’s noisily opening cabinets and clanking dishes around in the sink. Eventually, he walks back into the living room with two beers.

Both for him apparently. “Well, listen,” he starts out. Kicks his feet up on the coffee table. “I’m pretty wired after work, so if you need some company-”

“Six… hours… left.” Eddie musters out.

“Okay well, I doubt I’ll last that long. But I can give it a shot.”

Eddie smirks, raises both eyebrows. “There’s a dirty joke somewhere in there. Too tired to find it though.”

“Good to know the horny part of your mind is still awake.” Steve gives Eddie a small pat on the head.

“Oh? That’s a good thing?”

“Depends on who you ask.”

“I’m asking you.” It’s too direct, Eddie hears it. And now it’s just Out There - his inability to flirt in a subtle way. And yeah, he could blame it on sleep deprivation, but he’s never been known for his mastery of ambiguity so…

The pause goes on long enough for the light to flicker again, the room growing darker with it. Steve takes a swig of his drink and smiles. “It’s good to know, Ed.”

The light flickers even darker.

Eddie is fully awake after that. Which could’ve been part of Steve’s plan - stimulate his brain with flirty comments and keep him up with those melty smiles. It’s no secret that Eddie turns into a hair-twirling loser around this guy.

Even after living together for a year and seeing one another’s most disgusting habits, he still feels this way. Tight throat, stomach flips. Purely smitten in a way that would nauseate deadbeat poets.

In this moment, however, it’s a wonderful remedy to staying awake throughout the rest of the night. Much more effective than energy drinks and Tootsie Rolls.

Steve ends up on the floor, leaning against the edge of the couch. He sips another beer, recounting some bullshit that happened during his shift at the hotel. Eddie does his best impression of Listening to Steve’s stories, but the words are just buzzing around the glow of Steve’s hair and the shine on his lips. Nodding at seemingly appropriate times is all Eddie currently can offer.

“Sleeping with your eyes open, Munson?”

Eddie blinks hard. “Huh?”

“Creepy, but impressive.” Steve laughs, tapping his hand against Eddie’s leg. “You should add that to the Special Skills column on your resumé.”

“Bold of you to assume I have a resumé.”

They spend the next hour doing just that - adding useless skills to Eddie’s nonexistent resumé. It keeps them busy. Content. Steve smacks Eddie’s knee anytime he laughs, leaves his hand longer every time. Maybe that’s all in Eddie’s semi-dormant mind, especially since Steve shows casual affection to all of his friends. But the warmth of his palm is real enough to have Eddie fully committed to making Steve laugh as much as possible.

“What about… Expert Paper Clip Chain-Maker?” Steve suggests.

Eddie stares at the chain in his hand, the one he was oblivious to creating. He whips it around like a lasso and then shrugs. “A bit wordy.”

“So you’re saying length matters?”

“Christ on toast, Harrington. You’re awfully quick to jump to that conclusion, aren’t you?”

Steve doesn’t answer, just starts laughing again. Eddie didn’t even need to tell a shitty joke this time.

And when Steve’s hand hits his knee, sliding slightly up his thigh, Eddie laughs along with him. It’s the only way to cover up the heat rushing to his face.

Eddie enters the realm of delirium with three hours left in his challenge. He slumps onto the floor next to Steve, nudging his shoulder, staring into his sleep-heavy eyes. It’s four in the morning, inhibitions be damned.

“Do you think if you ever visit Europe, they’d call you Harring-metric-ton?” Eddie picks a piece of lint off Steve’s sleeve. Perfect excuse to reach out, move in closer.

Steve groans. “Yikes. But yes, that question keeps me up at night.”

“So that’s why you’re still awake. See, I knew it wasn’t because of my silly little concert tickets.”

As soon as the words leave his lips, Eddie convinces himself that it’s the truth. Which is so dumb, so stupid. But this seed of insecurity keeps him going, fully projecting his assumptions onto Steve’s harmless comment. Somewhere deep down, buried underneath his exhaustion, Eddie knows it was a joke. But he can’t seem to shut up anymore.

“The riddle has been solved, folks! We finally know why Stevie here is still awake.” Eddie exclaims, flinging his arms out to the side. “Alert Scooby and the gang at once! Mystery Incorporated can finally pack up their magnifying glasses and pursue careers with better health insurance. Ones that covers vision costs this time. It’s what dear, ol' Velma deser-”

“Eddie.” Steve places a hand on Eddie’s arm, holding him still. Was he moving? Oh god, was he shaking?

Fucking mortifying.

Steve’s thumb swipes across Eddie’s skin, tracing diagonal lines back and forth. “You’re rambling.”

“And you’re…” Eddie loses focus. He looks down at the hypnotic patterns that Steve is making. “There. Doing that.”

Steve stops briefly to flip Eddie’s hand over, starts tracing the lines in his palm instead. The pressure makes Eddie’s heart lurch up into his throat. He can feel it thumping in his neck, faster with every stroke of Steve’s fingers. All he wants to do is close his hand around them, keep Steve there for the rest of the night. Longer if he’d let him.

“I can stop if it’s weird.” Steve’s voice is so much quieter than it was earlier.

Don’t stop. Eddie thinks. Can’t say it like that because gross. Humiliating and gross. “It’s not weird.”

Steve keeps his focus on the motion, Eddie does the same. They stay like this for a while, just watching. Intently staring over the invisible lines like pages in a novel. Eddie is pretty sure he’s breathing too loud, can hear it above the whistle in the air conditioner. Wonders if Steve can hear it too.

Probably.

“That’s not why I’m staying awake.” Steve says, never breaking the pattern.

“No?”

“It’s who I’m staying awake for.”

Steve finally stops, right in the center of Eddie’s hand. The air in the room goes dense, weighted with acknowledgment. Something has changed and Eddie can feel it everywhere.

He tilts forward, pulling his gaze away from his hand and up at Steve’s lips. If he weren’t stuck between half-awake and total-delirium, Eddie would just do it. Kiss Steve the way he’s always wanted to. Syrupy slow and deep. Savoring every second.

He could do it right now, right this second. But his focus starts drifting as he closes his eyes. “Did Chrissy tell you?” Eddie grumbles, almost unintelligible.

“Tell me what?”

Eddie’s head falls, landing somewhere on Steve’s chest. He inhales the scent of laundry detergent (because Steve and Chrissy are the only avid laundry-doers in the apartment). It’s so soothing, drawing him further into a dreamlike place.

“Tell me what, Ed?”

“That I…” Eddie is nearly asleep before he can finish the thought. The confession:

‘That I’m crazy about you.’

Sunlight hits Eddie first, startles him so much that he jolts upward. Fully awake. It takes a few seconds of furiously rubbing his eyes before the dread kicks in.

Morning.

It’s morning.

“Shit.”

Eddie fell asleep.

Steve fell asleep.

“Shitshitshit. So many shits!” He fumbles through the labyrinth of blankets and pillows around him, snatching his watch from the coffee table:

10:24 a.m.

“Goddamnit!”

Eddie sinks back down to the floor, clutching the phone that serves him no purpose anymore. All of those hours of waiting and calling for nothing. Even if general admission wasn’t already sold out, it’s not like Eddie could afford tickets on his own. He can barely keep up with his share of the rent. Chrissy had to cover for his grocery run last week and he still hasn’t paid her back.

It’s just so expected too - for him to fuck up like this. Always letting opportunities slip through the cracks, making careless mistakes. No one will be surprised that he failed at such a simple task like calling a fucking radio station.

Eddie sets the phone back on the table and cleans up the living room in a daze. Every now and then, he mutters under his breath about being a total moron. He stays relatively quiet for the most part though. No use in throwing a bitchfest while Steve is blissfully conked out three feet away.

Of course he looks good sleeping too, even in the midst of Eddie’s breakdown. Unfair.

Just before heading back to his room, Eddie hears that familiar door creak. Same one that always sets off Steve’s inner handyman tendencies.

He looks back to see Chrissy padding towards him with a blanket wrapped around her. For someone who hasn’t had their mood-altering cup of coffee yet, she looks extremely pleased to see him. Maybe she knows about the fate of the concert tickets. Maybe this is an early-risers pity party.

Fucking yay.

“Chris, please don’t try to-”

His words are muffled by Chrissy throwing her arms (and blanket cape) around him. She’s so bouncy, the way she always gets with Robin whenever their favorite song comes on at the karaoke bar. He pats her on the back and clears his throat, still trying to piece together what this exchange could be about. However, Eddie is functioning on a few hours of sleep, so his cognitive skills are groggy at best.

She gives him one more squeeze and then looks up, positively gleaming. “I knew it! I knew it would finally happen!”

“That I’d screw up for the umpteenth time in my life? Gee thanks, Chris.” Eddie says.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you and Steve!” She whisper-yells back.

Was she snooping on them last night? He wouldn’t put it past her, snoopiness is the foundation of their friendship. Well, whatever Chrissy thought she saw, she’s wrong. Sure, Steve and Eddie flirted, both letting some potentially mutual feelings slip out.

But it was all cut short by Eddie passing out mid-flirt. God knows how Steve took that reaction. Probably assumed Eddie was so bored that he would rather sleep than makeout with him. Or worse, that Eddie was pretending to sleep to let him down easy.

Christ, he doesn’t wanna think about that right now. Not while he’s still mourning the loss of his precious tickets.

“Hate to break it to you, honeyjam, but nothing happened.” Eddie shakes his head, gesturing to Steve who hasn’t budged from the recliner. “It’s just me over here and Steve over there. No conjunction connecting us together in that way.”

He can already tell Chrissy isn’t buying it. She’s getting that little forehead wrinkle right above her eyebrows, just like an angry cartoon character. Her best attempt at intimidation. “You didn’t see what I saw.”

“Gay desperation?”

“No, you jackass. Come here!”

Chrissy yanks Eddie into his bedroom, demanding for him to lock the door. He listens, mainly because the intimidation is starting to work a little. They sit at the edge of the bed and she begins to explain everything she saw:

Steve constructing a wall of blankets and pillows around Eddie to ensure he slept comfortably. Steve waiting by the phone, tapping his foot in that insufferably cute way that Eddie loves so much. Steve scoring the tickets, celebrating quietly to himself.

“How long were you standing at the door, weirdo?” Eddie teases her to avoid the way his stomach is twisting around her words.

Chrissy shushes him and squeals. “And he kissed your cheek!”

“Liar.”

“He did, I swear! He kissed you on the cheek or the chin or the nose. I don't know which one for sure because my view was obstructed by all of your hair.”

Eddie instinctively combs his fingers through a few strands, undoing the knotted pieces. Not all of them, but enough to keep his hands busy while he thinks through this. Processing. “And you’re sure it wasn’t a dream?”

“Positive.”

“What about a hallucination? Didn’t Byers make a batch of those infamous brownies again?”

Chrissy gives a deep sigh. “Whatever. You’re hopeless.” She shrugs the blanket back over her arms and heads toward the door. More than a fair assessment, Eddie can’t argue even if he wanted to (he always does).

He stares at the line of posters along his wall, letting Chrissy’s words replay over and over. Imagining what it might have felt like. If Steve’s breath was warm or if his lips were soft. Eddie wonders how it looked to have Steve dipping down to his level. Staying so quiet, so careful not to disturb him. The visuals swarm his head until there’s nothing left but Steve.

Him and Steve. Connecting them together in that way after all.

So, Eddie gets up and walks back into the living room. He takes in the view of Steve curled up in the recliner, mouth slightly parted open. Chest falling with every sniffle, not quite a snore.

There’s so many emotions while looking at him. Eddie can’t just pin one down to fully comprehend what's going on. All he can do is repeat the scene that’s occupying his mind, settling in his bones.

“Here,” he whispers, placing another blanket across Steve’s lap. It’s feathery gentle, more than he intends for it to be. So gentle that Steve doesn’t shift or stir.

Eddie takes a deep breath and bends down, close enough to notice all the little details. The ones he’s been too sheepish to indulge in before last night.

The tiny hairs on Steve’s forearm. The creases in his t-shirt. The bit of dried toothpaste on his chin. None of it should make his cheeks feel this flushed, but they do.

He lets the rush of bravery wash through him as he kisses Steve on the tip of his nose. Just the way Steve must’ve done to him. It’s swift, lighter than he means for it to be. Barely touching. But it’s enough to switch his heart rate up a few notches, pulsing jumping in his wrist.

Eddie steps away, waiting to see if Steve wakes up. Not entirely sure if he wants that or if he’d rather keep this memory to himself.

“Thanks… by the way.” Eddie adds, brushing the tips of his fingers over Steve’s hand. Wishing he could trace the lines in his palm. Rewind back to last night and pause it there indefinitely. “I’ll tell you again when you’re up, but yeah.”

“Thank you, Steve Harrington.”

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #slight buckingham because I said so #lexssummerfanworkschallenge #biggest of shoutouts to lex for giving us this space to create and share together!!!#is the sleep depravation making Eddie good at flirting???#or is it all in his overactive imagination???#the world may never know #also Eddie is wearing one of Robin's shirts bc he never does laundry #that's not relevant - it's just a brainworm that he ironically wears her marching band tees #okay okay pls enjoy 💖#(and pretend I'm in a timezone where it's still August pls)

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tkaulitzlvr · 1 year ago

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OUT OF LOVE - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: once tom realises how much your relationship has lost the love within it because of the distance he has put between you both, it’s his job to make it up to you.

content: angst to smut.

a/n: my first post!! i hope you all enjoy!

lately, tom and i's relationship has hit a bump in the road. each conversation lit an already short fuse within the both of us, the smallest of words capable of creating an unnecessary yet very real dispute that would leave us silent for hours, and in the worst of cases not talking for days. but it wasn't just the things we said, it was whatever we didn't say, too. physical touch was usually a huge part of our relationship, but now, i couldn't remember the last time that i had properly kissed him. it had gotten to the point where we slept on different sides of the bed, refusing to lay in eachother's embrace as we usually would.

as each day dragged on, feeling like tom and i were moving further away from eachother, i failed to even remember how we ended up this way in the first place. we had a perfect relationship, filled with love and trust, those the foundation of what made us, us. everyone knew that we loved eachother, we were the 'it couple'. whilst we had small disputes just as every couple did, it had never reached this point - yet it showed no sign of stopping.

which is why it brought me no surprise that tom had already become irritated from my single question, asking him where he'd been after returning home late yet again, this becoming a habitual occurrence since the beginning of whatever our distance could be called.

"look, i was just out, okay? what is this a fucking interrogation?" tom fires out, frustration laced in his tone as he throws his keys on the table.

"im sorry for worrying about my boyfriend! i just wont give a shit next time, yeah?" i shoot back, confused on why he acts this way every time i start a simple conversation.

"yeah that'd be great, thanks." he mumbles sarcastically, scoffing and sinking into the sofa, flicking through the channels on the tv displayed infront of him.

"are you fucking kidding me tom?" i utter out, in complete disbelief of his childishness.

despite the clear anger in my voice, he stays silent, shaking his head slightly and continuing to look through the channels on the tv, this only fuelling my anger.

"can you listen to me for fucks sake?" my voice begins to raise as my patience is slowly wearing thin. i walk over to the tv, blocking his view and forcing him to look up at me, his eyes cold, an unrecognisable glare within them in place of the usual love that emits from them whenever our gazes meet.

"what?" he sighs, rubbing his forehead with his thumb and pointer finger.

"i'd appreciate it if you fucking listened to me, just for one second! i'm tired of sitting here alone, every night, wondering where the fuck you are because you're my boyfriend but i know nothing about you! i never get a text, a call, nothing! instead you come home at god knows what time, and act as if i don't exist. fuck tom, you won't even cuddle me in bed anymore." my voice begins to trail off, tears beginning to cloud my vision, my tongue instinctively hitting the roof of my mouth to stop them from falling.

he stays silent, breaking his eyes away from mine and staring into his lap, his fingers playing with the material of his jeans.

"do you even love me anymore?" i ask, genuinely questioning if he feels the same way he did when we first met, the man that fell in love with me no longer in front of me.

"what? of course i fucking love you. what kind of question is that?" his head shoots upwards, his eyebrows threading together as if i have asked the most ridiculous question, though it was one nagging on my mind.

"really? it doesn't seem like it." i reply, shaking my head and biting my lip, the tears now spilling beyond my control.

"i'm going to bed." i mumble, not waiting for a response from tom as i head for our shared bedroom. the sheets feel cold as i allow them to envelop me, the warmth that i would feel from tom's embrace lost, leaving me empty. it is impossible to fall asleep, my body laid on its side facing away from the door and staring motionless at the wall, longing to be in his arms, safe and content, free of the gut-wrenching realisation that our relationship is not the same as it was.

the door slowly creaks open after a while, my eyes quickly flicking shut as i pretend to be asleep, not keen on the idea of speaking to tom, not whilst his mind is acting so irrationally, mine sensitive enough that any argument would break down my already crumbling walls. i hear the bed dip beside me, tom laying flat on his back, whilst i stay put, not daring to look at him, instead keeping my back to him. the distance between us speaks volumes, tension reaching an all time high.

after a few minutes, the bed creaks, indicating that tom is moving from his initial position. as he has done for the past nights, i expect him to shuffle to the edge of the bed, increasing our already far proximity and confirming the fact that he cannot bare the thought of being near me.

however, much to my disbelief, i feel an arm droop around my waist from behind, tom's hand gently touching my stomach as he tests the waters, clearly thinking that i am deep in sleep. deciding to stay still, my eyes remain closed, accepting this small act of affection, for it is all i have experienced in the past weeks. but, to my surprise, he doesn't stop there.

he moves closer, his chest now flush against my back, pulling me tighter into him as i feel his uncertain breathing against the nape of my neck. my breath instinctively hitches at his unexpected actions, alerting him of my consciousness.

"baby?" he whispers into the dark room, not moving as he awaits my response.

"hm?" i mutter, unsure of what to say, not intending to reveal the fact that i was in fact awake, my cover completely blown as i lay, small and vulnerable, beside him, his body against me for the first time in forever. the uncertainty of what his response will be creates a sickly feeling in my chest. he could want to fight, to let out the last of his anger from our unfinished argument. or, he could want to fix things, to be the boyfriend he used to be. and right now, my mind was going with the first option, assuming the worst and bracing myself for more of his harsh words.

"we need to talk." he speaks, his breath fanning against my neck with each word.

i knew that he was right, my heart aching slightly as the possibility of resolving whatever the fuck we have become finally starts to feel real, not just something that i have longed for.

refusing to face him, i slowly nod my head, awaiting his response, the sound of our steady breathing the only thing to be heard in the silent room.

"i'm so sorry baby." he speaks, slowly and sincerely, his hand that is draped over my stomach beginning to slowly caress the bare skin there, comforting me in the best way. tears begin to silently roll down my cheeks as i struggle to find the right words to say.

he takes my silence as a chance to continue. "what happened to us my love, hm?" he begins, sighing slowly and increasing his hold on me, the pet name causing my heart to swell, making me realise how much i truly missed his affection, wether it be verbal or physical - i just craved him.

short sniffles emit from my mouth, giving away my weakness faster than i would have preferred. tom quickly picks up on this, finally turning me to face him, our eyes meeting, his immediately softening once he takes in my state - eyes bloodshot, tears staining my cheeks, mouth curved into a frown.

"oh baby..." he trails off, taking his hand and beginning to wipe my tears away one by one, the other gently stroking my hair. i melt into his touch, allowing him to comfort me silently. "i can't carry on like this, i just- i need to be with you again, not just in a relationship with you, i want to actually feel close to you again."

he pours his heart out, all whilst wiping any loose tears that fell from my eyes, which never left his, the love in them beginning to flood back as i can slowly recognise the man i fell in love with.

"do you really think that i don't love you anymore?" he asks, guilt evident in his tone as he feels nothing but anger for making me doubt how he felt about me.

i try to find the right words, swallowing nervously. "you didn't want to be anywhere near me tom. i can't even remember the last time you told me that you loved me." uttering those words made me realise how bad things had really gotten. tom would tell me he loved me at every chance he got, never failing to remind me of how he felt. but looking back, those three words felt so foreign that my mind couldn't even remember when he had last uttered them. and the realisation hit him just as hard as it did me.

"oh meine liebe...i'm so sorry." he starts, now slowly kissing away each tear that stained my tinted cheeks, holding my face gently in his hands. "i love you. i love you so so much. never ever forget that, okay?"

i nod my head, swallowing the lump in my throat away. "i love you too."

a slight smile appears on his face, my hand reaching to his head as i pull it closer, playing with the loose braids there. tom takes advantage of our nearing proximity, grabbing my face and gently connecting his lips with mine. for the first time in days, our lips touched, immediately moulding together as if they had never been apart. he smiles into the kiss, moving his hands to my lower back, pulling me closer to him and embracing me, our lips never parting. the desire, the passion in which our lips collided reaffirming our love without the need for words, my body and soul slips further into his touch, reminding me just how much i missed intimate moments like this with him.

he slowly pulls away for air, his lips, now pink and swollen, flush against mine, foreheads touching. "i promise baby, that i'll never give up on us, no matter how hard it gets. i'll never stop loving you, ever."

deciding that actions speak louder than words, i reconnect our lips once more, with much more desire and hunger than the previous one. he picks up on this need, reciprocating it and pressing his lips so hard onto mine that my breathing becomes muffled and there is no option of pulling away - but in this moment, parting from him doesn't even cross my mind. his hand moves to my thigh, placing it over his and kneading the flesh roughly as we lay facing each other, a small whimper escaping my mouth at his actions. our lips fail to part, making up for the lost kisses that we had so desperately yearned for.

lust soon takes over the innocence, my need for him growing by the second as our kisses become harsher, his tongue entering my mouth, mine gladly reciprocating. "i love you." he whispers breathlessly against my lips, pulling away slowly and studying my face. his thumb tugs at my lip, his eyes never leaving mine as he drags it down the now plump skin at an agonisingly slow pace, until he releases my bottom lip, it quickly bouncing back into place, his thumb now slightly wet with my saliva.

"you're so beautiful." he whispers, caressing my cheeks, taking in every inch of me as if this is the first time he has seen me.

"i need you tom." i mutter, looking into his eyes with a glint of desperation, longing to feel him again, our distance meaning it has been so long since we have kissed like we just did, let alone fuck.

within seconds, his lips are back on mine, his body moving in one swift motion on top of me without breaking the kiss, hands clutching mine, mirroring the hunger i feel.

"then i'm all yours." he mutters against my lips, reattaching them and entering his tongue as i gladly accept, moaning slightly into the kiss, a small smirk appearing on his lips in response.

he pulls away, looking into my eyes before reaching for the hem of my t-shirt and whispering "can i?"

i slowly nod my head, the soft fabric being pulled off my body and somewhere on the floor, both tom and i too needy to care where. his eyes scan my body, a hint of adoration within his eyes, his hands reaching for my small lace bra, undoing the back and tossing it aside. he pauses, gazing down at me, drinking in my features, everything exposed to him. despite the look of awe on his face, insecurity takes over, and my hands instinctively cover my breasts, breaking eye contact from him.

tom quickly takes his hands, placing them over mine and moving them away so that he could see me once again. "don't cover yourself, you're so beautiful."

i hesitantly nod my head, moving to remove tom's shirt, his chiselled abs and torso now on display. refusing to break eye contact, my hand slowly runs down the skin, feeling every bump, every muscle there, his breathing hitching as i do so. it has been so long since i had felt his bare skin against mine that it almost didn't feel real, my being lost in pleasure despite us not taking anything further yet.

i soon become impatient, pulling his face downwards and kissing him once more, his hands reaching for my panties and slowly pulling them down, soon removing his boxers, leaving us completely naked.

he pulls away, staring into my eyes and positioning himself at my entrance. "are you sure my love?" he asks, searching my expression for any sense of doubt, hating the idea of forcing me to do anything.

"yes...just fuck me, please." i breathe out, craving the feeling i have missed so much.

he smiles slightly, before slowly sliding in, groaning as he does so, my walls clenching around him, not used to his size as it has been so long since we have last done this. once he is fully inside, he stops. "you okay baby? does it hurt?"

"no...move tom." i reply, and he slowly begins thrusting in and out of me at a steady pace, whines emitting from my mouth as my eyes squeeze shut. his head finds the crook of my neck, groaning into it and beginning to kiss the skin, sucking lightly and leaving marks whilst speeding up his pace.

"oh my god." he mutters into the skin, his hands running up and down my waist until they find a stable hold on my hips, thrusting easier whilst his thumbs caress me, slightly digging in, however the slight pain only fuels my fire, moans now escaping from my mouth.

"oh tom..." i trail off, hands raking down his back, pulling him downwards so our bodies our flush against each other, desperate to feel any part of him, to be closer, despite him literally being inside me.

"i love you so much." he groans out, taking my legs and wrapping them around his waist.

he continues to thrust in and out of me, his tip hitting my g-spot, and i cry out. "oh god, right there tom..."

"here baby?" he taunts, hitting the spot again, causing my eyes to roll to the back of my head. he abuses that spot, my stomach beginning to tighten as the familiar feeling soon takes over.

i clench around him, feeling my release creep closer and closer. "fuck schatz, do that again." he breathes out, and i tighten my walls again, a choked moan escaping his mouth.

"i'm close." he manages to let out, speeding up his pace and capturing my lips into a kiss, moaning into my mouth. i struggle to kiss back, holding back sounds of pleasure each time he thrusts in and out, the sound of my heavy breathing muffled in the kiss.

"tom...i'm gonna, oh my god!" i cry out against his lips, feeling my release wash over me, eyes rolling to the back of my head as i swear i see stars.

"oh fuckkk..." tom drags out, throwing his head back, jaw slack as he follows, my release triggering his own, the feeling of his cum coating my walls emitting another small whine from my mouth.

he moves slowly, thrusting in and out whilst he rides out our highs before collapsing on top of me, sweat coating his forehead. his head rests in my neck, breathing uneven and heavy, planting gentle kisses on the bare skin. i struggle to catch my own breath, my fingers running through his hair, body trembling as the adrenaline slowly wears off.

"i love you so much my love. i'm sorry for everything, i promise i'll never treat you like that again." he says, planting a single kiss on my shoulder.

"i love you too." i reply, tom lifting his head upwards and meeting my lips in a soft kiss, pulling away and wrapping his arms around my waist.

"goodnight meine liebe." he whispers, placing the covers over the both of us as i snuggle closer, resting my head on his bare chest as he slowly strokes my hair, falling asleep in each other's embrace.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

#tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz x reader #kaulitz twins #kaulitz #tokiohotel #tom kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz fluff #tom kaulitz angst #bill kaulitz #tomkaulitz

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curatoroffiction · 2 years ago

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What You’ve Hidden Part 2

This is a continuation of a story I started writing in response to a post made here. (Which is where you’ll find Part 1 of this story) This is based off of @underqualified-human’s post on their “? Yuu AU” concept, and was really fun to write! I definitely love harassing Crowley. I know I write a lot of anti-Crowley propaganda, but I fuckin’ love his character. He’s such a slimeball and I love it. XD Storytime stops before Idia’s chapter because it hasn’t been released to the English version yet.

----- Story is reader-insert, gender-neutral, and is also a continuation of an existing chunk of story I already wrote. The boys discuss how much they really know the Ramshackle Prefect. That is, until the prefect arrives on the scene and begins to explain themself.

----- The conversation quickly moved from a lighthearted conversation about the Ramshackle prefect to a cautious journey embarking through the group's delicate notions of trust.

"I don't buy it - ___ can't lie. They're too honest." Ruggie shrugs. He's never seen you lie in a way that mattered. You were always so straightforward with him and everyone else in Savannaclaw, even when it probably would've benefitted you to lie. "They're not a goody two-shoes, but they sure aren't about to pull off a scheme."

Jamil on the other hand is now rethinking everything he knows about you. "On the contrary, I've found them to be quite.. Crafty, when they needed to be." He shakes his head thinking back to how you so easily would sneak out of containment prior to his overblot. How you could escape and even collect help. He starts connecting the dots on how you always seem to know just where to look or who to talk to in order to collect help. One could say it's fate, but it was hard for him to believe in fate after meeting you.

"... They *are* capable of lying.. Lying well, at that.." Riddle murmurs, not comfortable with the conversation's route, but incapable of stopping himself from treading into these waters as people talk more about it. "When Ace and Deuce want something kept hidden, they're very good at hiding things from people." His brow furrows as he thinks on the last dorm inspection.

"Well that at least tells us they're loyal to their friends!" Kalim smiles big, refusing to fret. "And that's all I need to know to enjoy their company."

"Are they loyal to their friends? Or are they just loyal to their resources?" Azul once again steers the conversation into the depths.

"Friends! If they were just looking for power, they wouldn't have helped Ace and Deuce when they got in trouble with you, right?" Kalim cocks his head to the side, looking to Azul with genuine confusion. It wasn't hard to imagine what motivated you in his eyes.

"Mmm.. I'm not so sure about that." Jade starts delving into this thought exercise. "Through those two, ___ got a chance to interact with Riddle, which dragged him into their scuffle with Leona - Which was the primary reason it wasn't a disaster. Leona helped with Azul, Azul helped with Jamil, Jamil helped with Vil, and so on..." Many of the dormleaders had never heard of the intertwining threads of their interactions with the prefect, or how perfectly it all seemed to meld together.

This starts to garner some genuine concern, causing even Malleus and Kalim to think on the coincidental nature. It's a little too perfect.

The guys are quiet as they feel themselves consumed with the idea that you might actually be a complete stranger. Someone who has come so close to them all, snaking your way in with ulterior motives. However, they each process the concept very differently.

Riddle just flat out refuses to believe it. He thinks Azul's being paranoid and that you'd have no real reason to lie to him. And even if his overblot put you off from him, you'd have no real reason to lie to Ace and Deuce. No, Azul's the one being paranoid here, and he won't get dragged down with it.

Trey feels like it's a nonsense consideration. Even if you weren't genuine when you first met everyone here, you surely warmed up with time - Isn't that just how being a social person works? No one puts all their cards out on the table without reason. He's got no reason to doubt you.

Leona on the other hand, lets his mind dance on the edge of the idea. He'd seen firsthand how you can change your tune if you need or want to. You're not above forcing people's hands, but.. You also don't really subscribe to the "Work smarter not harder" mantra that it really takes to scheme. You put too much effort into the things you do to be someone who isn't, on some level, genuine. Still, he underestimated you once, and doesn't make mistakes like that twice.

Ruggie on the other OTHER hand figures there's no reason to worry. Hell, he's fake as hell when he wants to be. As far as he's concerned, everyone's got a grift, and it'd be nice to hear you had one too. Even if your friendship was founded on a lie, he doesn't care. You've never treated him like he owed you, and you saved his life from Leona lashing out at him. As far as he's concerned, that makes you someone worthy of respect at the least.

Jade himself doesn't really care either which way. He likes you and is amused by you, but whether you value him as a friend or not matters very little to him. If he wants to deal with you, he will. He doesn't need an invitation or prior rapport. Still, he likes to think he knows you well. Even if he doesn't know your real name, he knows how to poke and prod you to get desired responses, and at the end of the day, isn't that enough?

Kalim's bothered by the prospect. He shakes his head outright refusing to even consider a world where you were disingenuous. Still, his mind thinks on Jamil. Someone he's held dear to his heart since he was a very young child was able to fool him and use him and control him. ... He doesn't like the idea that there could be secrets you keep from him. Still, if you do have secrets, maybe there's a good reason for it. Maybe you're afraid? Or you just need a safe place to open up? Maybe he just needs to be a better friend.

Jamil furrows his brow in thought. He'd overlooked you once, only to be surprised, and much like Leona, he doesn't make that mistake twice. But unlike Leona, he has to care as far as Kalim's wellbeing is concerned. He doesn't think you'd ever do anything to hurt Kalim, considering you once tracked him down to give him treasure that Kalim tried to sneak to you. If you were in it for the money, you'd have never done that. Plus, there were plenty of times that you could have hurt Kalim by now and you didn't. If you were some kind of physical threat, you'd have struck by now. But if it's a power grab, what kind of power triumphs over money?

Vil's not intensely bothered by the idea of you using every tool in your arsenal to collect strength. If you really were so quietly calculated, it'd be something to applaude. A fake smile here, a warm grin there, you're bound to make useful connections. It's no surprise to him that you were able to make useful connections that echoed forward. He finds himself annoyed with Azul's persistence on the matter, figuring that Azul himself has been bothered by this and is now trying to make it everyone else's problem. People often try to project their insecurities onto the people around them.

Rook on the other hand is delighted at the prospect. If you suddenly showed yourself to have a side that even he couldn't see coming, what a rush that would give! Maybe he should poke and prod you more. Maybe he needs to test the waters and see what really makes you tick? People often let the most real facets of themselves surface under pressure..

Idia already had like 20 fears centered around dealing with people going into this conversation - Most of which had to do with them lying to him already. This machiavelean web of social warfare that Azul is painting just gives him a headache. It's like when the business man thinks he's onto something in boardgame club and just won't relent. Idia may not have a high social self esteem, but he knows Azul well enough to not let this get under his skin. At least, that's what he tells himself. It's hard to not be bothered by the idea, but he won't get taken for one of Azul's wild rides.

Ortho's only bothered by this line of conversation because it implies that you could lie in a way that tricks his censors - And that just isn't like you at all! But any attempt to protect your good name is just met with Azul shrugging and saying 'Anything is possible, I suppose.'

Malleus is the only one who is really torn asunder by this conversation. At first, he was offended that anyone could think that way about you, being your fiercest protector in the matter, but then it hit him that you've always been a bit weird. You've never been scared of him - Was that an act? How could he ever really know? He knew he wasn't just a means to an end, but he had no clue if you befriended him genuinely or not. Did you really not know who he was when you met? Or was that a ploy? Whatever the case could be, he's gutted at the idea that you could be anything less than a friend.

Lilia isn't bothered by the idea. He pretends to be someone he isn't all the time. It's good fun! Even people who've spent their lives hiding their true selves in favor of a false self give away truths. He is, however, bothered by the dark look on Malleus' face coupled by the thunder of the rolling clouds outside. "I mean, everyone has something to hide, don't they, Azul?" His tone is more pointed, as though he'd uncover Azul's secrets for all to see if he answers incorrectly.

A shiver runs down Azul's spine at Lilia's sharper gaze, surprising him with the reaction. ".... Yes, but when someone knows all of our secrets, shouldn't we get to know at least SOME of their's?" He looks to the others to back him up, but isn't getting much help.

He can't be the only one bothered by this, right?

---

The group is deep in thought when you arrive. You step into the room and all eyes are on you. Grim gulps from your shoulder, looking at all the staring eyes. Even he can't ignore the palpable energy of the room. ".. Did we miss somethin'?" He asks tentatively.

Azul takes the lead, snaking his way beside you with a big smile. "Of course not! We were just discussing how we don't seem to know anything about you, ___. Tell us about yourself?"

You take a glance around the room, which seems to confirm Azul's claim that the room is waiting for you to talk about yourself. "...." You blink. ".. What do you wanna know?"

"Well, your name, where's it come from? What's it mean? Tell us about it."

Your eyes narrow as you look at the businessman, who laughs off your suspicions. With Azul, there's always an angle. They must've had a bet about your name. Your eyes relax as you look around the room of your friends. Riddle looks annoyed with the octopus man. Trey gives a quiet shrug like 'I dunno why this guy is being weird'. Leona looks more annoyed with Azul than he does with you, but Ruggie seems interested in hearing you explain your answer. Azul is frevently awaiting an answer, Jade making his biggest creepiest smile to the side as his eyes won't budge from you. Kalim looks somewhere between distressed and excited. Jamil looks like he's trying his hardest to look indifferent, but you know by the way he glances at you that he's invested in your answer.

Vil actually moves to shoo Azul away from your shoulder as he takes over the conversation. "Azul's been 'kind' enough to express that we don't know much about you or where you came from. You came here so abruptly, and you had so little to your name in ways of protection. It's still an amazing mystery to us as to how you adapted so well." Quite the improv actor, Vil smoothly transitions you into the conversation with the grace of a socialite. While he's not bothered by the idea of you being cunning and cutthroat, he IS bothered by the idea that Azul might slip up and make it appear as though the entire group is worried. Besides, any chance to get to know you better is a gift.

Rook smiles delightedly as Vil takes over. If there's anything you're hiding, they'll surely be able to sense it. "Ah yes, Trickster, you fascinate with how otherworldly you are! Please tell us more about yourself. How DID you acclimate so well?"

Idia feels sick to his stomach. More social nonsense is piling up. And on the one day Ortho convinced him to come in-person to one of these meetings. He can't just check out and play a game as things are heating up, so he's stuck just looking visually awkward and avoiding your gaze. Ortho looks determined, but happy to see you. He waved when you first came in, which signaled everyone that you were there in the first place. Now that things are getting weird, he's just excited to have a chance to monitor your vitals while you're under questioning, so he can prove to the others that you're not lying.

If you're lying, he'll know.

Malleus looks like he's stuck in his own head and upset over something. Deep in thought - When he finally looks to you, his eyes melt a little and the storm temporarily relaxes. Lilia's more concerned with how strong Malleus' reaction to this than whatever you could possibly hide from them. He does find it amusing that he could scare Azul with just a judgemental glance though, and files that away as something fun to do if the young octopus man's antics cause Malleus or you grief. He's got thousands of years of judgemental dad looks stashed away for such an occasion.

"Well, uh.." You're not sure what question to answer, so you just answer Vil's because he's less creepy about it. "I just did what I could to survive. I'm as surprised as anyone that I've been able to last this long." And it's true - Everything you've done has been on the fly. Ever since arriving in Wonderland, you've found yourself in increasingly strange circumstances. You shrug, sorry that you don't have a better answer.

"But surely, you must have had something - Skills you've relied on, plans you've laid out. Things that helped you survive through the messes you've encountered?" This time, it's Rook speaking up, trying to coax more out of you.

"Not really, no. I showed up and had a flaming monster thrown at me, I held him up by the scruff of his neck and Crowley dubbed me as his handler. I was given a job as a janitor, and I'd have done it just fine, but Grim wasn't having it and threw a fit. We got in trouble for it and got a bigger workload with Ace. Then he dragged Deuce into the mess and we all got expelled.." You recount your first week here at Night Raven College.

No one ever really heard the story of what happened when you got here before.

You were a janitor? Crowley didn't let you be a student? But you came through the mirror! You couldn't even go home! The frustration of the fear that you're anything but genuine slowly bubbles away as they begin to find themselves annoyed with Crowley and his handling of the situation.

"If I got expelled, Crowley was gonna throw me out, and I had nothing, so I had to do what he told me to in order to stick around. We went to the mines, fought an overblot monster that seemed ancient, and got a magestone to replace the one we broke. From there, I was pretty ride or die for Ace and Deuce." You shrug.

Azul isn't having it though. "That explains why you got involved when they had trouble with Riddle, by why did you get involved when Savanaclaw was scheming?" He won't forget that you've somehow endeared everyone here to you.

"Crowley showed up at my door and told me to figure out why students were getting hurt. When I told him 'Nah', he blackmailed me with my food budget."

The room's stunned to silence.

".... Crowley.. *blackmailed* you?" Riddle's the first to speak up, and he's appalled and pissed. That whole ordeal was incredibly dangerous! He knew Crowley was slimy from time to time, but you didn't even have magic! That goes against several regulations!

"With your food budget no less.." Trey looks disturbed. Ruggie's big grin from earlier is gone.

You shrugged once again, desensitized to the idea. "I didn't want to get involved, but then I had to."

None of them can sense a lie off of you, but they're all listening attentively. They need to know more. How do the threads of fate connect you to them?

"What about after that? You didn't really need to help Ace and Deuce when Azul's plans came to fruition." Jade now speaks up, curious. "Surely, if you were scraping to survive at that point, it would have been easier to just ignore and let them fall to their own stupidity. It would even be a great lesson for them, yes?"

"I wasn't gonna get involved that time either - You're right, they deserved a lesson. Even Grim got in trouble there, but I was so tired at that point."

"So what happened??" Kalim asks eagerly, moving closer to listen, like his ears can't hear you if he can't see you well enough.

"Crowley again. Said faculty couldn't get involved because Azul wasn't technically breaking any rules, and he needed the problem fixed. Once again, I told him no and he threatened my housing security."

Malleus' eyes narrow. The storm outside is slowly building again, but this time for a very different reason. Azul feels sheepish. At every turn, you were being threatened and forced into involving yourself in the lives of the other students. So then why were you still so friendly? Ortho's eyes have gotten frustrated at the idea of what you're telling them. He's visibly upset. Rook is stone silent as you have every ounce of his attention.

"And with Jamil..?" Ruggie jabs a thumb in the direction of the long-haired boy from the sands.

"Crowley told me I had to keep the school's heating running while everyone was away, and I barely was able to remind him to get me food for the winter break. Even then, he held it as a reward I had to earn. He gave me a cellphone in case there was an emergency, but the damn thing was on the worst possible plan, and he never picked up when I called him. Kalim invited us to the dorm for a feast, and Grim and I were so hungry that I decided to let him treat us. When we got there, we got roped into everything.."

"But you escaped. You could have just stayed away at that point." Jamil finally speaks up, remembering the events. He's embarrassed by his actions, but he needs to know why you came back.

You throw a thumb towards Azul. "Yeah, but I only escaped because I accidentally flew the magic carpet into Octavinelle, and Azul made me take him back because he had his own agenda. I didn't wanna be indebted to him for the damage the carpet did, and I didn't trust him enough to return the carpet safely, so I begrudgingly obliged and got roped into bullshit again."

Azul looks embarrassed as once again the attention's all on him. This conversation is more exposing him for his shady bullshit than you for yours.

Luckily, he's saved by Vil speaking up once again; "With my.. incident - You were pushed into it by Crowley again, yes?"

"Yeah. Your troupe needed a place to stay, and my dorm was the only one equipped for it. I wanted to stay as far out of your way as possible, but it was kind of impossible when I was named as the manager and you knew where I slept. You whipped everyone into shape, and even pushed me to do my best, lest I find my snacks.. uh.."

"Tampered with as punishment." Jamil nods, remembering the spell Vil had been using. You were in a tough situation, and once again you made the call that allowed you your best chance of survival.

---

Before you can explain anything further, a familiar voice can be heard.

---

"Hello my gracious students! Thank you all for coming to this meeting!" Crowley has finally arrived. Half an hour late. He opens his eyes from his delight to find several people staring at him with malice. He blinks and gulps down his nerves. "... I seem to have missed something." ----- If you like stories like this, check out the rest of my collection in my Masterlist on my profile, or check out my stuff on AO3! https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuratorOfFiction

#Fiction #Fanfiction #Writing #Writing from other people's posts #Twisted Wonderland #Twst #disney's twisted wonderland #Reader Insert #Reader-Insert #Gender Neutral MC #GN MC #Gender Neutral Main Character #Gender Neutral Reader

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lindwurmkai · 1 year ago

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hey, have you heard that pillowfort has ✨ drafts ✨ now? (as in, the ability to save your posts as drafts.) they're still working on the queue feature (update: it's done!), but drafts are a big step forward!

in case you missed it so far, pillowfort is like a cross between tumblr and dreamwidth/livejournal, with a simplified dashboard reminiscent of old school tumblr and some classic livejournal features such as communities, threaded comments, and the ability to make individual posts followers-only or mutuals-only.

what are communities? basically, central hubs for posts about any subject you want that, unlike hashtags, can be moderated. they may have rules, such as "[subject matter] must be tagged" for example. you can post directly to a community or reblog existing posts to it!

since the site is currently experiencing some financial trouble, i thought i'd help out by spreading the word once again.

edit: the fundraiser was a success! crisis averted! i knew we could do it :D

why you should give pillowfort a chance:

no ads

no venture capitalist funding

no spying on the users

completely free to use except for optional premium features

nsfw is allowed except for sexual depictions of minors. if you're unsure what exactly that means, their tos may help

communities and the privacy controls mentioned above are excellent features

great community, low drama compared to other websites (so far)

the site's features themselves encourage genuine connection and good-faith conversation over endless "discourse"

every blog can automatically be filtered by original posts only or reblogs only

reasons not to join:

if you enjoy algorithmic social media. there is no algorithm at all

if you want to post or look at machine-generated art. they're still finalising the wording and personally i hope some exception will be made for models trained on ethically sourced images, but basically an anti-AI rule is in the works (update: finished!)

if you cannot live without reblog additions (reblogging with comment). all discussions on a pillowfort post take place in the comments section, and only your own followers see your tags. this has its pros and cons for sure! a similar feature to scratch that itch may be implemented in the future, but it will never be exactly like on tumblr.

if you need everything to be an app. the website works fine in a mobile browser and a progressive web app will hopefully be released soon (basically it's like an app in your browser and on mobile these can be added to the homescreen like real apps i think? they have push notifications!), but there's not going to be a native app available through official app stores due to the restrictions of those stores.

other factors to consider:

yes, the userbase is still small. depending on your interests, activity may be very slow. but we can change that! and on the plus side, reblogging your post to a community is a good way to easily get more eyes on it; way more effective than simply adding tags imo

the site culture is a bit different than on tumblr. many people read everything that's been posted since the last time they were online and don't follow more users/communities than they can keep up with. it's still somewhat lacking in shitposts and heavy on "essays" but don't be afraid to post whatever 😅

there are no blog themes like we have them on tumblr as yet, but you can customise your blog's colours and use html/insert links and images in your blog description

likes literally do nothing except to let OP know you enjoyed their post. you can't look at a list of all your likes. beware!

the staff is small and development is slow. some highly anticipated planned features other than the aforementioned queue include: - multi-account management - dashboard filters/reading lists - post bookmarking (since likes don't work that way) but we don't know how soon any of those will be implemented.

there is a user-developed browser extension (well, a userscript) called tassel available that adds additional features much like tumblr's beloved xkit :)

✨ okay, so how do i sign up? ✨

if you're interested but confused by the sign-up process or still under the impression that you need to pay to sign up (false), i'll put some clarifications and invite codes under the read more below. plus a note on donating, premium features, the paypal issue etc.

in a nutshell:

it's free

signing up without an invite code is possible, but you may have to wait a short while - supposedly less than an hour atm. just submit your email to the waitlist

if you don't feel like waiting, you can either use an invite code from an existing user or pay $5 to sign up instantly

every user gets plenty of invite codes and we're all willing to hand them out at the drop of a hat. they're really not hard to come by

some invites to get you started (just click the link):

invite 1 ▪ invite 2 ▪ invite 3 ▪ invite 4 ▪ invite 5

invite 6 ▪ invite 7 ▪ invite 8 ▪ invite 9 ▪ invite 10

invite 11 ▪ invite 12 ▪ invite 13 ▪ invite 14 ▪ invite 15

invite 16 ▪ invite 17 ▪ invite 18 ▪ invite 19 ▪ invite 20

i'll try to periodically check if any have been used and cross those out.

...paypal issue?

ok so paypal doesn't like working with sites that allow nsfw. as a result, you need a credit card in order to donate to pillowfort, buy one of those insta-registration keys, or subscribe to premium features*. i personally happen to have a credit card and would be willing to help out anyone who trusts me enough to send the money to me via paypal, but i realise chances are only my friends will do this.

some users are currently organising various activities for the purpose of letting people who only have paypal contribute to the site's survival. it's not super relevant for new users and won't get you access to premium features, but i thought i'd mention it anyway in case someone loves the concept of the site so much they want to support it immediately. a fundraising community has been created to collect posts of that nature!

*premium features are strictly limited to two categories of things:

fun little extras that no one truly needs

higher image upload limits, because obviously big images take up bandwidth and are therefore a reason for increased costs

you will never need to pay for vital accessibility features or anything of the sort. :)

#join us join us join us #my art got so many more notes over there #pillowfort #pillowfort social #social media #tumblr alternatives #;

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mare-sanguis · 1 month ago

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The queercoding in Sangcheol's and Jeongwoo's relationship

Let me preface this by saying: everyone is still allowed to see them as whatever they want (a work related relationship, best friends, close friends, soulmates, lovers, and and and) but I think most (if not all at least here on tumblr) can agree it would be ignorant if we completely overshadow just how much queerness there is.

This analysis is brough to you by this thread (why JW is snow white and why SC is the prince) and @thedevildeer latest post. Its not structured and really just a ramble so excuse me if it might sound a little confusing at some points.

Let's start by looking at it through a heteronormative kdrama lense below the cut

How often do most kdrama fans watch a drama, see the lead man and the lead woman and think "woah, they would look so hot as a couple" even when the drama isn't a romance? Quite often, that's right. That's because most M/F leads are designed to be shipped even outside of the stereotypical romance genre. If it's a crime drama, thriller, mystery etc. Where the focus should solely lie on the plot they will still most likely try to create an M/F duo so most kdrama fans will have something to latch into. It has happened so many times that people dropped a non romance drama because it had no M/F couple, but people apparently want it so badly because how else can they enjoy a non romance drama, right? And kdrama directors/writers know this- they see and read the reviews and work with them; That's why in kdrama land M/F ships are still the norm, still seen as the most canon- even if there is a 2nd ML who has insane chemistry with the 1st ML (perhaps even more than the FL, cuz let's also face it in a lot of kdramas women are written flat)

When the ML is near the FL, everyone immediately interprets all kinds of thoughts into it, even worse when they go as far as to look at each other and hold eye contact, when they worry about each other, support each other, visit each other or are just having a work related conversation. They dont need to confess their love or kiss for the viewer to know they are in love*

Those are all valid points for shipping, that's obivously not the issue- The issue starts when they genuinely can't see the FL as her own character, when they can't seem to understand that men and women can be platonic friends, the issue continues when the 2nd ML appears whos got way more chemistry with the 1st ML or even takes the place of where the FL should be. Its then where the issue peaks- their relationship will automatically treated differently (2nd ML get potentially hated by the M/F shippers even) and it creates rift within the fandom, its shipping and arguments about queerness as a whole (discrediting that queerness is a large spectrum) by cishet fans

Suddenly, if it's M/M those actions I mentioned earlier dont seem romantic anymore, suddenly it's just a simple bromance (and while the term per se isnt homophobic, in these circumstances it sure sounds like it which is why I personally dont like it and rarely use it), best friends caring about each other because homies are homies. ("why can't men stay friends?" we all know that argument) *if they don't confess to each other outright, don't kiss each other, then they aren't i love (last part especially is targeted towards specific BL fans who only think a relationship is valed if they kiss and maje out)

So, this out the way let take a look at SC, JW, HS and BO approach (intentionally or not) on queercoding and the importance of a strong man-woman friendship.

First, let's look at tropes commonly (but not exclusively) found in queer media or media that tries to imply queerness and the similarities they share with SCJW:

Found family (the most common trope in queer media, especially the media that emphasises on realness, as found family serves as a safe space for queer characters when they arent accepted at home)

A strong opposite gender friendship or a friendship that defies traditional views

Color coding (mostly a warm and a cold colour, often times its blue and red)

Language coding (do the characters say they are queer, do they use specific terms, do they confess or declare their love for each other through something deeper; just what are they saying?)

The character design (this is not just about how they look but the desgin as a whole: background story, family, friendships, career, driving force, are they representing something (like a specific color, a flower); what was the creators thought process while creating them)

How do they express love around the person they ador (for example, men express love with touches while women often times use words and actions)

Broken friendships (because old friends dont accept)

Then of course we have common tropes found in all media highlighting love

Clothes sharing

Intense eye contact

Personal space

Lingering

Caring

Hurt/Comfort

Touches

And what do we have here? That's right. Black out s well as SC, JW and HS fit right into the common tropes and the queercoding tropes and yet we see some totally discrediting its validity to exist within the universe because god forbid both JW and SC are queer or viewed as such cuz they both were with women prior and they can't possibly be one of them queers... right?

HS is a really well written female character who's got nuances, a great backstory with a fair share of suffering and the additional nosiness which makes her so special. She is sweet and caring to everyone who seems nice in her eyes. She cares about JW's mother (prior to knowng he's JW's mother so thers no point in saying she does it cuz of JW), cares about Suoh and is genuinely interested in his hobbies. Her character takes care of everyone because she's a med student (you can take a med's job away, but you can never take the job out of a med). This is what her character is about- taking care, worrying. Her purpose in Mucheon was (as we know by ep.13) to find what shes looking for, to find her way back. She is by no means not connected to eithe JW and SC but her story is canonically detached from both JW's and SC's- it takes part in a different pace, in a different setting and through a different lense and most of it happens off screen or throug her observig the people. We rarely get any of her POV's, unless it's either around Suoh or Geonoh. The other times when we do get a POV of her is when SC and JW and in the same frame. Then she is postitioned as the onlooker, the one who observes. When she is alone with JW she gets almost no POV, even less that focuses on her feelings towards him. But the most important thing I said already: her story is detached from SCJW. She grows alone unlike SCJW who grow together. She is that friendship JW needed to show him a part of humanity that got lost with his fake friends. She is to represent and tell that you do not need a large group of friends to feel at home.

Then there is JW. Beautifully written full of nuances, a tragic yet amazing written backstory- easily to read as a story of someone being queer. A big group of friends, a beautiful home with loving parents and then you got the catalysator which sets the whole plot moving. While for JW it's murder, abuse, gaslighting by friends and people he thought were family, prison and finding new hope in humanity through one person- how can one not look at this and think "yeah it's somewhat reminiscent of someone coming out in a conservative country with traditional family values"? Family and friends ditching before the person can even stand up for themselves, people spreading venomous lies, all the guilt trips, that person shutting themselfs off retreating into their own little world. JW was obviously never meant to be read as such and some even might find this part weird, but it's undeniable he has those classic queercoding tropes. He finds true meaning in humanity again through HS and SC at the same time, yes, but it is SC alone who stands by his side the whole time- every single day. JW feels the safest around SC, falls asleep in his home (therefore also in his presence) and gives in to being taken care of only when SC is around, he also laughs at his dumbs jokes and makes sure to catch his reactions when he is sassy (handing out flyers scene or the scene at the scrapyard). JW is meant to not grow alone but together with someone else- and that someone is SC. who he shares the exact same pain with. He sees the good in people- he sees the good in SC so he keeps on pursuing him even when he would reject him. Because he can see himself in him. Because he feels he's different- just like him. (And isnt it like: Queer people know someone is queer when they see one?). We cannot forget him being a metaphor for Snow White which imo solidifies the queercoding in him even more and how he steps in to save SC and then again to support him by beating up those debt collectors. (Also, just a random little side note: I think it's funny how he's either loved or hated, there was no inbetween. BM and MS hated him, they were eaten up by jealousy; BY, NG, DE and the twins loved him (also again, random side note to me any anyone who cares: it's so easy to read the feelings GO felt towards JW prior and post time skip as more than just friendship tbh which again, adds to the queerness layer))

And then there is SC, just as complex and full of nuances like JW. Having an almost identical tragic backstory to hm even- losing the love of his life. While hes story is way more difficult to decipher as queercoding, his character is most definitely not. He is portrayed as rude and rough towards any criminal and at the beginning of the story we genuienly dont know where we stand with him with this ever fluxuating personality. He is hurt, struggles, doesn't even seem to know himself very well, has seen a lot and he also doesnt trust anyone (as seen when he immediately clocks BM as suspicious when the review the CCTV footage) except JW. How come he trusts him more, even after he had accused him of the hit and run accident, but is side eying everyone the moment the incident with the mother happens? When he should have more trust in his own people then defending and caring for a guy whos accused him of causing the car accident. Even when he finds out JW apparently killed the girls, his actions towards him are differet than the actions we see him taking against the guy he chases after in the beginning. We see him falter and struggle even more in the manhole when he's threatening to shoot JW, we see it again when they are at the shed and JW is reinacting the murder scene- he is reluctant. Even when using violence against JW. Because, just like him, SC feels they are the same. And it doesn't even take much time for him to switch side- we can see him questioning everything onwards from from episode 4 during their first team dinner. And when he switches side he suddenly becomes so soft and caring- completely taking on the role of a possible love interest in both drama, romance and fairytale. Because he has seen the good in JW, saw the same suffering, this unfair treatment. He is a character not meant to grow alone but together and this togethes is only JW. JW still has HS by his side but in SC's world there was only JW who shows him all aspects of what it means to be a good human being. It's through him he grows.

Their shared journey:

To quote Leo Buscaglia again "Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around."

And isn't this what SC's and JW's shared bond is about? How they grow with and around each other- thanks to each other.

The little things SC does to make JW more comfortable, to show him love still exists? He takes him home without thinking twice because he's worried he might get sick when he could've taken him back to his house. He dresses him up in his clothes, let him sleep on his couch, in his blankets, gives him something warm to eat and drink (the glass of milk will never stop making me sob), showers him in touches and shows him warmth through them, always reaching after him because he's afraid something might happen to him, watches out for him, observes his reactions and waits for him. The little things JW does to SC- giving him a reality check that not everything is as it seems, graduately bringing back his old personality, stays by his side.

It's how SC brings JW's smile back and how JW brings SC's smile back. Its how SC not once but twice declares his worries, adoration and love towards JW: once when he's so worried sick JW might get hurt so he installs that app on his phone and the second time when they say their "goodbyes"- those words are so easy to read, so full of love. The "if you move" highlighting just how much he wants and hopes JW to stay in his life a little longer. It's longing and we can clearly hear it in his voice when he says "I'm sure you can" right after the monologue and then tilts his head. It's how JW doesn't know how to approach him after this, contemplating what to do and then goes on for the hug first. This is JW's way of showing his love.

And yet, despite it all there are still people who only see it as a bromance. Those who think JW and HS will end up together because they are at the same uni, study the same. And are a man and a woman. If either SC or JW would be a woman, no one would even bat an eye to think they aren't in love- no one would even come up with the idea to even ship JW and HS. If one of them was a woman, every little gesture would be seen as romantic, betting on it the drama would perhaps even be a lot more popular as well as the ship. It's so disheartening to see how many deny an obvious queercoding between them just because they are men and for the sake of a straight, not well manouvred, ship because again apparenlty many kdrama fans don't dare to ship queer.

We know Black Out/Snow white must die is a fairytale because it very much is just one of many iterations of a snow white and exactly because is one of many nothing is impossible and queerness is allowed to exist within it.

#so sorry it's so long and so unstructured #i was going through a lot when i wrote this haha #but i also love to write these specific analyses so yippe ig #honestly tho the more i think about it the more they are canon in my eyes (from an analysis standpoint alone)#might edit this post later but i wanted to get this all out if my head first before going to sleep #ignore all the grammar issues for the time being my head hurts 😭😭#백설공주에게 죽음을 #black out #snow white must die

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naomeii · 11 months ago

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Of Stones and Ribbons.

(a/n: before you read, i'd like to genuinely thank you all for showing such support in my fics, especially my mutuals <3, and since i'm close to 100 followers, and christmas is coming up, i'd be opening my requests again! so just comment or send me asks for the specific plots, events, etc you'd like to see! :))

—Pairings: Zhongli x F!Reader

Content : fluff, tiny bit of angst, slight mentions of death, mortal x immortal, reincarnation, zhongli's lore is literally thrown out of the window.

loosely based on : someone you like.

Synopsis : The ribbon, once dismissed as trivial, becomes a tangible link to a love that spans centuries. Amidst the winds of fate, the ribbon takes on a significance that transcends its humble appearance, carrying the weight of enduring love, redemption, and the unexpected twists of destiny.

During an era long preceding the Archon War, Rex Lapis, a youthful lord brimming with arrogance, sauntered through the bustling streets. He scoffed at the mundane tasks his attendants thrust upon him, bath time being the most abhorred of them all. One day, evading their grasp, he found himself near a majestic tree where a demure mortal named Y/n immersed herself in a book, a ribbon adorning her hair.

Intrigued by the enigmatic allure of this stranger, Rex Lapis couldn't help but fixate on her. Sensing his gaze, Y/n looked up, prompting the young lord to quip, "Maybe I'll grace you with my attention for a while."

Before any more could transpire, the servants discovered him, abruptly halting the moment. "Ah! Young lord! There you are," they exclaimed, whisking Rex Lapis away from the captivating scene.

The vibrant streets of Liyue bustled with activity as Rex Lapis, now a young adult consumed by his responsibilities as the Geo Archon, found a rare moment of respite. Duty had kept him occupied, and the memories of his mischievous childhood were tucked away in the corners of his mind. However, on this particular day, a sudden impulse led him to seek a moment of solitude.

As he walked through the lively marketplace, the scents of exotic spices and the sounds of haggling merchants filled the air. The weight of his responsibilities momentarily lifted, and he found himself exploring the stalls and enjoying the simple pleasures of the city.

Amidst the myriad of faces, a familiar ribbon caught his eye. His steps halted instinctively, his gaze fixed on the subtle accessory that stirred a long-forgotten memory. The ribbon was tied around the hair of a young woman, and as she turned to face a vendor, Rex Lapis caught a glimpse of her profile.

The recognition slowly dawned on him, and he felt a strange sense of nostalgia. The pretty face with the ribbon in her hair seemed to unlock a door to the past. Intrigued and guided by an unseen force, he approached her.

"Excuse me," he began, his voice carrying a regal tone even in casual conversation. "I couldn't help but notice your ribbon. It reminds me of something from my childhood."

Y/n turned to him, her eyes searching his face for any trace of familiarity. Rex Lapis, felt a subtle connection, as if the threads of destiny were weaving their way back to that childhood encounter under the tree.

"Do I know you?" Y/n asked, her expression a mix of curiosity and uncertainty.

"We met once, a long time ago," he replied, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Under a tree in Mondstadt."

As the words lingered in the air, a spark of recognition lit up on the ribbon-haired girl's eyes, "Are you the young lord who used to avoid bath time?"

The archon's expression softened as Y/n's laughter filled the air. The weight of his responsibilities as the Geo Archon seemed to momentarily fade away, replaced by the genuine warmth of a shared memory from their childhood.

"Yes, that was indeed me," Rex admitted, a nostalgic gleam in his eyes. "I must confess, avoiding baths seemed to be a skill I perfected in my youth."

Y/n chuckled, a musical sound that resonated with familiarity. "Well, you certainly have come a long way from that mischievous young lord. What brings here today?"

He hesitated for a moment, contemplating how much of his true identity he should reveal. Despite the weight of his duties, there was a desire to connect with the simplicity of the past, even if just for a moment.

"I found myself with a rare moment of leisure and decided to take a stroll through the city," he explained, choosing his words carefully. "And, of course, a ribbon caught my eye, bringing back memories."

Y/n smiled, seemingly understanding the unspoken connection that lingered between them. "It's funny how a simple ribbon can hold so much meaning."

"Indeed," the Archon agreed, his gaze lingering on the ribbon in her hair. "Perhaps fate has a way of weaving stories, bringing people back together even after years have passed."

As they continued to converse, the Geo Archon and the mortal found themselves caught in a moment that transcended the boundaries of time and duty. Rex Lapis discovered a rare and precious respite from the weight of being an archon, and Y/n found herself drawn into a tale that intertwined the past with the present.

The third time Rex Lapis, met Y/n was during the annual Lantern Rite festival in Liyue. The city was adorned with colorful lanterns, and the air was filled with a sense of celebration. Rex, though burdened with the duties of an archon, decided to take a moment to witness the festivities and perhaps catch a glimpse of the familiar ribbon once again.

As he strolled through the lantern-lit streets, Rex's eyes scanned the crowd, his gaze drawn to the vibrant colours and lively atmosphere. Suddenly, he spotted her – Y/n, the girl with the ribbon, blending into the sea of revellers.

Their eyes met, and recognition flickered in both their gazes. Rex felt a subtle warmth in his chest, and Y/n's smile echoed the sentiment. It seemed that fate had brought them together once more, this time amidst the joyous celebration of the Lantern Rite.

Approaching her with a regal yet approachable demeanor, he greeted her with a nod. "Fancy meeting you here, under the glow of the Lantern Rite."

Y/n grinned, the festive ambiance adding a twinkle to her eyes. "I could say the same. It seems like this festival has a way of bringing people together."

As they walked through the lantern-lit streets, sharing stories and laughter, the Archon realized that the annual celebration had become more than just a cultural event for him. It had become a symbol of unexpected reunions and the weaving of threads that connected individuals across time.

Under the soft glow of lanterns, Rex Lapis and Y/n continued to enjoy the festivities, savoring the moments that brought them together once again. The Lantern Rite became not only a celebration of light but also a celebration of the enduring connections that could withstand the tests of time and duty.

As the night unfolded, Y/n found herself captivated by the charisma of the nobleman she was spending the evening with. Little did she know that beneath the regal exterior, the Geo Archon harbored a secret longing for simplicity and connection—a longing that seemed to resonate with her own desires.

As their encounters continued, the festival became a backdrop for their growing connection. Rex Lapis, though bound by the responsibilities of his divine role, found solace in the simplicity of their interactions. Y/n, unaware of the archon's true identity, enjoyed the companionship of a nobleman who seemed remarkably charming.

Their conversations deepened, delving into matters of the heart and the shared experiences that transcended the boundaries of status and duty. Rex Lapis, in the guise of a mere nobleman, felt a sense of liberation—a fleeting taste of a life unencumbered by the expectations of a god.

One evening, as lanterns illuminated the night sky and the air buzzed with the energy of the festival, Rex Lapis found himself drawn to a quiet corner with Y/n. Away from the revelry, he couldn't help but confess, "I have enjoyed these moments with you. There's a simplicity in our interactions that I find... refreshing."

Y/n, touched by the sincerity in his words, smiled. "Likewise. It's not every day that you find a nobleman who's so easy to talk to."

Rex Lapis chuckled, a sound that echoed with a blend of both his divine wisdom and the genuine joy he found in these stolen moments of normalcy. "Perhaps there's more to me than meets the eye."

In the weeks that followed, Rex Lapis and Y/n continued their connection. The archon found himself increasingly drawn to the mortal, captivated not only by her charming demeanor but also by the genuine simplicity she brought into his life.

One day, as they strolled through the serene gardens of Liyue, Rex Lapis turned to Y/n, a contemplative expression on his face. "There's something I must confess," he began, his regal demeanor momentarily giving way to vulnerability.

Y/n, intrigued, urged him to continue. "What is it?"

Rex Lapis took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving hers. "I am not just a nobleman. I am also the Geo Archon."

Y/n's eyes widened in surprise, the revelation sinking in slowly. "The Geo Archon? But... why didn't you tell me before?"

The archon's expression softened, and he confessed, "I yearned for a connection beyond the confines of my divine responsibilities. I wanted to experience the simplicity of life, to share moments with someone without the weight of titles and expectations."

Y/n, though initially taken aback, felt a warmth in her heart. The revelation brought a new layer of understanding to their connection, and she realized that the man she had come to appreciate was more than just a nobleman.

"Even as the Geo Archon, I've cherished these moments with you," Rex Lapis continued. "And now, I find myself at a crossroads. Would you consider becoming more than just a companion in these fleeting moments? Would you be my partner in the journey that lies ahead?"

Y/n, overwhelmed by the revelation and the sincerity in his words, nodded. "Yes, Rex Lapis. I may not have expected this, but I've come to appreciate the person behind the titles. I would be honored to be your partner."

A rare smile graced the Geo Archon's lips, and in that moment, amidst the gardens of Liyue, beneath the lanterns that had witnessed their evolving connection, Rex Lapis and Y/n embraced a future that transcended the boundaries of mortal and god.

The air in their once-happy home felt heavy with tension as Rex Lapis and Y/n faced each other in a heated argument. The Archon war had erupted, and Liyue was plunged into chaos. The consequences of Rex's decisions weighed heavily on his shoulders, and the bloodshed that ensued left an indelible mark on his soul.

Y/n, the mortal who had become the anchor of his existence, couldn't bear to see the person she loved burdened by the weight of the conflict. As the war raged outside, the echoes of their disagreement reverberated within the walls of their home.

"Rex, you can't continue like this!" Y/n pleaded, her eyes filled with both love and concern. "The decisions you make affect not only Liyue but us. You're putting yourself in unnecessary danger, and the bloodshed… it's tearing us apart."

Rex Lapis, still consumed by the arrogance and recklessness that had defined him for years, retorted, "I am the Geo Archon! It is my duty to protect Liyue, to maintain order. Sacrifices are inevitable."

Y/n, unwilling to accept the callous justification, stood her ground. "But at what cost, Rex? We are at the brink of losing everything, and I can't stand by and watch you become a god of destruction."

The room seemed to shrink with the intensity of their emotions. The love that had once been a source of solace now became a battleground for conflicting ideologies. Rex, blinded by duty, failed to see the toll his choices took on the person who stood before him—a person who had given up immortality for a life with him.

As their argument reached its zenith, Y/n, with tears in her eyes, whispered, "I can't bear to see you lose yourself in this war. You were once a mischievous young lord who avoided baths. Now, you're a god drowning in the blood of thousands."

The words hung in the air, a painful truth that neither could escape. Rex Lapis, realizing the gravity of his actions, felt a pang of guilt. The once-arrogant Archon stood vulnerable before the mortal who had seen past the divinity to the flawed soul beneath.

In the silence that followed, neither knew how to bridge the growing chasm between them. The war outside mirrored the war within their hearts, tearing at the seams of a love that had weathered so much. The echoes of their disagreement lingered, leaving behind an unsettling calm before the storm.

As Liyue continued to bear the brunt of the Archon war, Rex Lapis and Y/n found themselves on opposite sides of a conflict that threatened not only their city but also the foundation of their shared life. In the midst of chaos, they grappled with the harsh reality that their love alone could not shield them from the consequences of a war fueled by recklessness and arrogance.

In the aftermath of their heated argument, the silence that followed was deafening. Rex Lapis, fueled by anger and consumed by the weight of his decisions, had left their home, leaving Y/n to grapple with the devastating aftermath.

Alone and vulnerable, Y/n wept in solitude, the tears staining her cheeks as she contemplated the fractures that had formed in their once-unbreakable bond. The room seemed to close in on her, suffocating her with the weight of the unspoken words and the pain of a love unraveling.

As she cried, a faint sound interrupted the silence—the creaking of the door, as if someone had returned. Hope flickered within Y/n's heart. Perhaps Rex had come back, ready to mend the wounds and apologize for the harsh words spoken in the heat of their argument.

Driven by a glimmer of optimism, Y/n rushed towards the source of the sound, her steps echoing in the emptiness of their home. The dim light cast eerie shadows on the walls as she reached the doorway, her heart pounding in anticipation.

But instead of the familiar figure of Rex Lapis, a shadowy silhouette stood before her—a figure cloaked in darkness. Y/n's eyes widened in horror as the realization hit her like a cold, merciless wave. This was not the return of her beloved; it was an intruder, a harbinger of tragedy.

Before she could react, the intruder lunged forward, and a sharp, searing pain cut through the air. Y/n gasped, the world around her spinning into a nightmarish blur. The room seemed to tilt as her strength waned, and the darkness claimed her.

As she crumpled to the floor, the intruder disappeared into the shadows, leaving behind a chilling silence. The door left open, as the intruder ran out.

In the aftermath of the tragedy, the echoes of Y/n's cries and the unanswered questions lingered in the air. The home that had once been a sanctuary for love and laughter now bore witness to a heartbreaking tale of loss and betrayal.

The Archon war outside continued to rage, oblivious to the personal tragedy that unfolded within the walls of a home that had once been a haven for an immortal god and a mortal who dared to love him. The shadows deepened, concealing the secrets that now stained the very fabric of their shared history.

Rex Lapis, having spent hours cooling down amidst the serene beauty of Liyue, felt a profound sense of remorse and regret for his actions. Determined to mend the shattered pieces of his relationship with Y/n, he decided to pick some Glaze Lilies—an offering of apology, a symbol of change.

With a bouquet in hand, he hurried back to their home, a newfound determination to set things right burning within him. However, as he approached, a dreadful realization gripped him—the door was ajar. Panic surged through him, and without a moment's hesitation, he rushed inside.

The scene that unfolded before him was a nightmare he never could have fathomed. Y/n, the love of his immortal life, lay on the brink of death, her eyes barely open. The Glaze Lilies fell from his grasp, forgotten, as he rushed to her side.

"Y/n! No, no," he exclaimed, his voice filled with desperation. He cradled her fragile form, the weight of the moment settling like a leaden burden on his shoulders.

In her weakened state, Y/n managed a faint smile, her eyes searching his. "Rex, I… I missed you though it's just been some time," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Fear and guilt clutched at his heart as he frantically scanned the room, seeking any sign of the intruder who had brought such devastation. "Who did this? What happened?" he demanded, his voice trembling with a mixture of grief and rage.

Y/n, summoning the last of her strength, gently touched his cheek. "It doesn't matter now. Just promise me… promise me you'll change, Rex. For Liyue and for us."

Rex, tears streaming down his face, nodded fervently. "I swear, Y/n. I'll do whatever it takes to make things right."

Y/n, with great effort, reached for the ribbon in her hair—the same ribbon that had once symbolized the beginning of their story. It was stained with her blood, a stark reminder of the tragedy that had unfolded.

"Take this," she murmured, handing him the ribbon. "I promise I'll find you again. We'll be together, no matter what."

Rex clutched the ribbon in his trembling hands, a mixture of grief and determination etched across his features. He cradled Y/n in his arms, the weight of her fading warmth sinking into his very soul.

As Y/n's eyes fluttered closed, the room seemed to grow colder. The once-happy home now bore witness to a profound loss, a tragedy that would forever change the course of Rex Lapis's immortal existence.

In the aftermath of the devastating event, Rex clung to the ribbon, a silent vow etched into his being. The promise of change, the pledge to honor Y/n's memory, would become the driving force behind his actions in the turbulent times that lay ahead.

Rex Lapis, having undergone a profound transformation during the war, found solace and redemption in the changes he had made. The once-arrogant Archon had become a more compassionate figure, saving even a Yaksha, an act his old self would have deemed unthinkable.

Amidst the ever-shifting tides of the war, the Archon often found himself reflecting on his actions and the promise he made to Y/n. As he gazed at the stained ribbon, a relic of their shared history, he couldn't help but wonder if she would be proud of the man he had become. The ribbon, weathered by time and stained with memories, became a silent witness to his journey of growth and redemption.

Finally, as the war came to an end, Rex Lapis made a momentous decision. He stepped down from the title of the Geo Archon, shedding the weight of godhood to embrace a mortal life. Taking on the role of a consultant at Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, going by the name Zhongli, he found a certain poetic beauty in guiding souls on their final journey—a stark contrast to the bloodshed of the war.

In the quiet moments of his mortal life, Zhongli continued to carry the ribbon with him. It became a constant reminder of the love he had lost and the promise he had made. The streets of Liyue, once bustling with the energy of an Archon, now witnessed Zhongli as a humble mortal, navigating the ebb and flow of everyday existence.

One day, as he strolled through the city, the ribbon—old as centuries passed—fluttered in the wind. A strong gust, as if guided by unseen forces, pulled the ribbon from Zhongli's grasp. Panic seized him, the fear of losing the tangible connection to his past overwhelming him.

Desperation etched on his face, Zhongli reached out to catch the fleeing ribbon. The weathered fabric danced in the wind, slipping through his fingers like memories slipping through time's grasp. But just as it seemed lost, the ribbon came to rest in the gentle hands of someone else.

As Zhongli looked up, he was met with a pair of familiar eyes—the eyes of Y/n, reincarnated and standing before him. A mixture of disbelief and awe filled Zhongli's heart as he realized that the promise she made in their darkest hour had come true.

Y/n, holding the ribbon in her hands, smiled—a smile that echoed the sentiments of a shared history spanning centuries.

"I told you I'd find you again."

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nanamis-bigtie · 6 months ago

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Round 5: The Drink Is on Me

about, rules & navigation | previous round | in some of the routes reader consumes alcohol

The dates are now all proceeding in a promising direction. How the gentlemen will handle the trial of time though? Will they be able to hold your interest with the same intensity towards the end of the dates?

Remember you vote for a character you don't want to advance further! The character with the biggest number of votes will be eliminated.

Higuruma Hiromi

The party headed under the deck earlier than you expected. Insisting on dressing elegantly shattered Hiromi under the merciless sun; even after he took the light jacket off, he kept sweating profusely and you worried he might get a heat stroke.

"I'm sorry, I'm not really fond of summer weather," he said when you proposed moving to a (hopefully colder) different spot, but his voice was full of relief rather than genuine apology.

"Don't sweat it, I could use some shade too."

There's still time for enjoying the sea and the sun, after all, and you would rather savor the strength for the island exploration. Besides, you can't really complain: the under-deck space is even more comfortable and has an exceptionally intimate atmosphere. The lights and music are toned down, everything is soaked in the blue of the sea behind the colossal glass—and most importantly, except for the person behind the bar you're all alone.

Hiromi orders you light cocktails and you choose yourselves a cozy sofa right by the glazed part (according to him, closer to the island you will be passing by a reef—a sight you don't want to miss). You're finally sitting close, your knees almost touching and your shoulders bumping against each other whenever one of you tries to take a turn or lean towards the table. It's a rather tight space but comfortably tight, in a way that melts the remaining, tense ice.

"Do you take all your dates for cruises or is it just a coincidence?" You don't want to poke at a fresh wound, but the topic presses itself into the conversation. And you would rather have it behind it now, when the mood can be easily salvaged.

"Yes and no," he shrugs but keeps that friendly smile, gentle but pushing the corners of his lips enough to reveal his dimples. "The previous one was first and a coincidence. But this I had planned from the very beginning."

"I fell into a trap?" You remember the placement of the ticket on that photo. You suspected it was bait—but a whole meticulous strategy? You wouldn't peg him as someone who puts this kind of logic into dating.

He slightly narrows eyes, giving his smile a sly touch, as he leans against the back of the sofa, one arm casually thrown over it, "Yes and no, again. I wouldn't call it a trap. I would hate to do something illegal, it's against my profession's ethics. And I don't like to trap my dates."

You take a sip of your drink, tossing a few strategies of your own in your mind. A slight buzz of alcohol in your blood lifts your spirit and you can't pretend that the atmosphere hasn't added its dime to certain ideas perking their heads.

"So, what do you like to do with your dates?"

There's a longer break on his side as Hiromi swirls the remains of his mimosa, clearly weighing his words, "This... depends wholly on the character of the date. I'm open minded and I like to try at everything from the buffet before I settle on a certain dish. But if I were to choose here between trapping and being trapped, I would go with the latter."

Nanami Kento

Holding your breath, you untuck the offered bundle. It's a little shell, one of many you saw around, both on the beach and stalls with souvenirs—but its color is unique. It's probably painted over or otherwise embellished but you have to give it to the anonymous artist (who also threaded it with a thin leather thong): they knew how to keep the appropriate balance between their vision and the natural look.

"I found it on a local market the other day." The way Kento glances at you is somewhat shy. Head slightly lowered, he observes you over his glasses, his eyes big, almost doe. "The color reminded me of you. But please, don't feel inclined to accept it."

You decide to keep the bribe. He helps you to tie the bracelet around your wrist—but more than on the new accessory you're focused on his moves. His hands are big, warm and very gentle. He clearly pays attention to not touching you more than necessary but also doesn't shy away when you're catching an additional contact on purpose. It pushes your thoughts into an interesting direction. Would he be as gentle and overly respectful if you agreed for being touched in a less innocent place? How would he act if you initiated something bolder? How would this pleasant and soothing touch against your shoulders, middle, hips?

You're looking for a thread of communication in his eyes when his fingers brush your wrist for the last time—but he averts them and leans back to his side of the table, to the comfortable and appropriate distance.

So, it's still too early for him.

At least the mood doesn't have time to falter; soon your drinks arrive, and they swallow all of the attention. Sweet and decadent, served in hollowed-out pineapples, they please the eye and the camera. You take photos almost at the same time and the thread of communication returns with a shared smile. From word to word, you end up in his gallery, filled to the brim with food and drink pics.

"Is that your friend?" You point at the first person you spot in the roll: a wide-smiling man, posing with the biggest loaf of bread you've ever seen. "The one from the bakery?"

Maybe it's alcohol, maybe it's a perfect choice of topic, but it's like a breaking dam with the way Kento's tongue untangles. Right now, in the bar, under the slowly fading light of the sunset, you learn more about him than through all the hours you spent on texting. You learn about his previous disappointing job. About said friend dragging him out of his lonely life (lonely part not said outright but it's not hard to read between the words). About the first proper vacation he's had since highschool and how badly he refused to go just to love every single moment of his first proper leisure time now.

"Am I your first too?" Having the comment about Tinder at the back of your head, is not hard to draw this conclusion.

"No." Kento's answer is as concrete as always, no shade of embarrassment or hesitation hidden behind the words. "But first in a very long time. I haven't had any dates or casual sexual contact since college."

Ryomen Sukuna

He stayed true to his words however the promised entertainment had less to do with the exhibition and more with his...overwhelming presence.

And it's not because Sukuna is a bad guide. Quite contrary: he must have prepared himself for this with the amount of detailed information he bandies around as he walks you through the gallery. Yet again he leaves you with an impression of a very well-educated person, in addition used to working with speech. If your assumption is wrong and he simply is natural: you can only envy such talent.

No, he's excellent in his role. He's just too distracting.

He keeps close, right on the edge of being a little inappropriate for this stage of a date and your "situationship" and being in public. But he doesn't cross it, just teases and tests your reactions. It's leaning close and over to speak closer to your ear, voice lowered down with courtesy, it's touch brushing against your shoulders, middle, the small of your back, it's the soft vibration behind his words that resonates with the right strings of your body. You wouldn't categorize it as straight up sexual flirting—but he's definitely building a steady ground for it, to strike as soon as you open yourself to it.

You would love to, if only out of curiosity, how far he can go in an art gallery of all places. But it's just more fun to be the prey who requires a meticulous hunt. It might be a weird strategy after the shameless exchange in the chat and very bold pictures you shared but you're both so into it. It would be such a pity to lose all of this thrill for the sake of any easy and fast route.

Sukuna greatly appreciates your attempt to pass as hard to get, seemingly not paying attention to your weak knees and silent gasps you let out when he finds—and remembers—a good spot to touch. He tightens the screws slowly but with precision, bringing you up right to the boiling point but not letting you burst. He's tending to you as if he was a chocolatier tending to his signature exquisite dessert. One that he plans to devour in private.

By the time you're finished with the exhibition and heading for lunch you're not sure if you're hungry for food or something...different.

Following his recommendation, you settle on simple and classic pasta and wine. Light and tasty—perfect to sate the needs for now but leave enough space for another meal later. He doesn't say it outright but it's clear he's predicting the day together will last longer than a meeting for art and lunch.

"Will I finally learn the secret?" You muse over your glass. The wine is not enough to mess your thoughts, but it does loosen your tongue after the teasing tortures you went through.

"The secret?" Sukuna leans against the back of his chair, content with the meal and your presence. He eyes you with a curiosity of a predator assessing if the prey is worth the attack. "There's plenty and a few darker ones. I don't mind sharing, I'll allow one question for now, though."

You meant his profession but now your attention takes a sharp turn. You ask for a darker one.

"Whether it counts as dark depends on your approach to BDSM—" The corners of his lips budge but he doesn't smile openly. "—but I used to be in the community. As a dominant."

Kusakabe Atsuya

Somehow, you end up at his place.

The desserts were exquisite, and the ice cream parlor was an endearing place to be, but it got significantly colder once the storm passed and goosebumps spilled all over Atsuya's arms, indicating he desperately needed a change of fresh and dry clothes. He kept wiggling out of your suggestions and insisted to withstand everything till the end of date, but you set up your mind. You didn't want to get him sick (and possibly ruin the rest of your plans for him).

After a chain of backs and forths, he sheepishly invited you over and led you to his car.

He lives nearby, in the area blending between the suburbs of the town and the countryside, in a big, older house with a huge garden. You're looking around curiously; the place is tidy but undeniably inhabited with the natural disarray breaking here and there, toys thrown all over the corridor and the living room where you're eventually seated, and family photos on the walls and almost every flat surface of the furniture.

"I know what it looks like." Atsuya sighs once he spots you staring straight at the composition over the fireplace. All photos displayed there are of a woman and a child, in a hard to assess age somewhere at the early stage of elementary school. "That's my sister. And my nephew."

Indeed, when you take a closer look, you can spot a strong family resemblance between her and your date. If Atsuya was a woman and smiled as much as she does in every single picture taken, they could convincingly pass as twins. Some of the resemblance passed on the little boy too as he took lots after his mother.

You can't help but wonder how many times Atsuya must have been taken as his father. The divorced dad energy and desperation to not look like one finally finds their explanation.

Atsuya serves you coffee from the machine and cookies, then excuses himself to get changed. You use your extra alone time to run an investigation over the place, nothing too nosy, just a quick scan at things offered on display to any visitor. Some of your pressing questions find their answers—and a few new ones appear, especially in regard to cups and medals in a display cabinet and photos of him with various kids in uniforms you can't pinpoint to any particular sport but associate with Japanese martial arts.

"Ah, those?" You ask him as soon as he's back and he leans over your shoulder to see better what you're pointing at. "I'm a kendo instructor. And those are the fledglings I gathered over the years."

He smiles fondly at the picture you paid special attention to: him posing with a cheerful teenage girl with characteristic, blue-dyed hair.

"You're such a family man without even having one." You tease, curious about his reaction.

"Yeah, tell me about it." He grumbles, running fingers through the hair at the back of his head. "I keep picking up kids but with my luck in dating I don't think I'll ever see one that's truly mine."

"Hey, it can't be that bad, right?"

He gives you a look that's somewhere between tired, embarrassed and 'is it really a topic for a Tinder date?', "Let's say I haven't had a partner for a while now. But I'm not running rusty."

Choso

With adrenaline and excitement running through your veins after the concert you easily overpower poor shy Choso. He seems to be thankful you took the initiative; he's focused on listening, nodding and answering sporadic questions as his body and speech gradually relaxes. His confidence from the scene doesn't return though. He doesn't act like a spooked doe after a while but the submissive and introverted vibe to him doesn't ease even after he's refreshed himself and reapplied the makeup. He clearly is one of those artists who put a strict distinction between the scene and normal life. Even if keeping the scene persona would be beneficial for him.

Choso doesn't make a big mystery out of the fact he's not the most popular guy around. He's aware of his shyness and rather busy life, even admits his profile was made by one of his brothers. He wouldn't find courage on his own—and wouldn't even know what to put in it to make himself presentable.

"I don't know how to talk to others," he says more quietly than usual, his words slurred by the mouth of the bottle he keeps close to his lips. "I either make an idiot out of myself or I scare them off."

Yet, he maintains conversation with you. The shared enthusiasm about the concert is a huge help but he also perks his ears up when you show interest in his family. Your head spins a little when he starts throwing names and photos (he has more of them than money in his wallet), but he doesn't falter when given the initiative and manages to keep your interest. It's endearing how he cares about his big family and how protective he is of them, especially of the youngest of the gang, the one dreaming of college and involuntary (and unknowingly) making Choso work his heart and soul out to earn money for it. There's no doubt he would give away everything to make their lives better. Truly the role model for the oldest son of the family...

"What about you, though?" You nudge once he finally leaves you some space to speak.

He takes a longer break to think over his words, staring into the distance with a look painfully in between longing and emptiness, "They keep telling me this too, you know? Especially Kechizu and Yuji. That I should stop babying them and think about my own life instead."

There's another episode of silence but before you take the reins back, he decides on another addition, "Maybe I scare others off because I am too overprotective of people I care about. It's just a guess, I have never gone any further than the beginning of attachment. Once it starts, they disappear."

You don't know what to say. You would pull him into a comforting hug if not for the concern and respect for his reserved nature. You have no idea how he would react to a spontaneous cut of the distance—and the last thing you want now is to make him feel worse.

"You haven't dated anyone before?" You risk instead.

"I haven't even met anyone from Tinder face to face." He admits and smiles at you. "You're the first. Thank you for this opportunity."

Geto Suguru

How is this man a self-defense instructor instead of a voice actor or a preacher—you have no idea. Unless his trick to break his opponents is talking to them softly before he proceeds slamming them on the ground, that you could believe without hesitation. Suguru's voice is made of wind chimes, rustle of old paper and humming of calm waves. He speaks and you're entranced, thirsty for more even before he finishes a sentence. No wonder you let him take over the conversation. You wouldn't even mind, if he didn't take breaks for your turns.

When you eventually point out the contrast between his profession and presence, he laughs (oh, what a beautiful laughter he has...), "I haven't said that I've never worked in a different field. I do gigs rather than staying at one place. Currently it's only self-defense but I did audio dramas, radio, acting, fitness, bondage classes—"

You almost choke on your coffee, "Pardon?"

His smile now reminds you of the face of a curious cat. Maybe it's only your imagination but you could swear his pupils have dilated a little as he leans forwards, cutting the distance between the two of you—for only a few inches but enough to have you squirming in your seat, "I had my little step into kink. Not as a work, with the little exception of those classes, but it used to be a significant part of my life at that time."

You can't say you're surprised, given the effortlessly dominant aura he's had to him all this time, but you're still a little disconcerted. You haven't expected such a confession during a casual date with a goal of assessing each other before the matters take a more direct route. And in such a calm cafe on top of that! Your intuition has convinced you there's going to be at least one more date, in a more... intimate place.

But maybe you're overthinking. Maybe he mentioned bondage and kink without any particular horny intentions for now. Maybe it's just his voice that made it sound so...sultry.

"You got quite shy." Suguru tilts head to the side, his gaze piercing you inside out. "You've been braver online. Am I making you uncomfortable?"

You shake your head over your salad. No, you're not uncomfortable. Nor shy, "Is it bothering you?"

"Not at all. It has a certain charm to it." His smile sends shivers down your spine and has your hand trembling together with the fork you're holding. "I like shy people. Or when they are acting shy. Breaking those confident into shyness is such a fun thing to do, too."

Something tells you he's done it many times before. Hell, you're sure you've just become a subject of a play of this kind, whether you like it or not.

"You said... That it used to be a significant part of your life." Despite everything you decide to follow this direction. "You lost interest?"

"Not... quite." For the first time his domination falters—but he's quick and smooth to cover it. "I had a break in dating in general due to...certain life circumstances. But now, once I'm back, I'm not opposed to returning to my favorite roots."

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