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junkissed · 12 days ago

Text

taste like gold

★ | member — bf!mingyu x bf!woozi x f reader ★ | genre — smut, established poly relationship ★ | word count — 2.8k

★ | synopsis — jihoon's favorite way to unwind? a shower. mingyu's favorite way? a shower with jihoon.

★ | warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, dom!jihoon, sub!mingyu, sorta sub!reader. shower sex (no piv), blowjob (m), masturbation (m), edging (m), kissing (reader x gyu), cum in mouth/on face, some praise, nicknames (gyu: puppy, boyfriend, baby / reader: darling, girlfriend, baby). this is a poly fic so all three of them are in a relationship ★ | notes — a very late birthday/very early xmas present for my wonderful @onlymingyus ! i've been teasing her with this for a while so i hope you like it <3 if i had a nickel for every time i wrote a poly mingyu bathroom smut fic for mars i'd have two nickels which isn't a lot but weird that it happened twice? this fic contains mxm themes. you are responsible for the content you consume: don't like, don't read. if you're not comfortable reading then this isn't for you. i wrote this for mars because she is poly; if you do like it, she writes a lot of poly fics so i highly recommend checking out her blog! as always: feedback, asks, and reblogs with comments are super super appreciated and help me keep writing :) merry yaoi-mas everybody

it’s been yet another long day for mingyu.

he spends his precious time running around, errand after errand, phone calls and emails and meetings, and he despises it all. he has a better place to be: at home, with the two people he loves more than anything in the world. he hates being away, because every second spent away from you and jihoon is a second wasted.

every day it gets harder and harder to leave in the morning knowing he has another tiresome, monotonous schedule ahead, with the only reprieve the promise of returning home to both of you in the evening.

he tosses his coat over the back of the couch and flips on the kitchen light, the warm yellow glow spilling into the hallway. it’s been a longer day than usual, so he’s not surprised that dinner was eaten without him. without even having to check the refrigerator he already knows you’ve saved him the leftovers: the same worn red tupperware container and a sticky note on top with a sweet message, because that’s what you always do for him. he makes a mental note to update the calendar on the fridge with his dinner reservation for three this weekend, because that’s what he always does for you.

the next things he notices are the bedroom light on, the glow coming from the crack in the doorway, and then the hum of the shower running. he know better by now than to think he’d come home to a quiet house. no matter how many times he tells you not to, even after he protests and pouts because he wants his wonderful boyfriend and girlfriend to get their beauty sleep, he always find at least one of you still awake, patiently waiting for him to join you in bed.

he wanders down the hall, gently tapping on the bedroom door before he creaks it open. you look up from your laptop in bed, and your smile when you see him lights up the room far more than the lamp in the corner.

“jihoon’s in the shower,” you let him know, and he bites his lip, leaning against the doorframe. he doesn’t miss the way your eyes wander over his body, the tight black t-shirt he always wears when he wants your attention, the one he knows makes you jealous even though you swear it doesn’t.

“should we join him?”

jihoon runs his hands through his hair, pushing the long blond strands of his bangs backwards out of his face. his shower at the end of every day is what he looks forward to most, a time to de-stress and prepare himself for another busy day. he’s never been the type of person to enjoy morning showers, but he can’t lie and say that’s the only reason he takes them at night; at night, there’s a better chance that you or mingyu will be home. and although he loves the time alone to think, company never makes it worse.

steam fills the room, surrounding his body in heat and fogging up the mirror. it’s been too long since he’s had you and mingyu all to himself, and the bathroom feels too quiet. it’s hard to coordinate schedules, but he misses the warmth of your voice filling his ears and the bubbly tone of mingyu’s giggles. he needs more than the cold, apathetic sound of water hitting tile.

but then, as if he’d conjured you from a dream, the door suddenly opens and he lifts his head at the noise. his dark eyes settle on your figure as you stand next to mingyu, dwarfed by his larger one.

droplets of water collect in jihoon’s eyelashes as he stares at you, his expression kept neutral as he tries to hold back a smirk. he knew mingyu was working later than usual tonight, so like every other night he wasn’t expecting much. but the sight of you both standing there is a welcome surprise, one that he will never turn down, and he can tell exactly what you’re asking without saying a word.

it’s silent for several seconds as his gaze locks with yours and mingyu’s, as if he’s tempting you to break the eye contact and walk away, to wait for him to cuddle you to sleep like he always does. neither of you do.

“coming?” he finally addresses you both, unable to hold back a grin in anticipation. the look on your faces is almost adorable, how blatantly eager you both are.

you’re the first to respond. you slip off your clothes and let them fall, collecting in a pile on the floor as jihoon slides back the glass door to welcome you in. your movement spurs mingyu into action, and his clothes join yours piece by piece as he strips bare, nearly stumbling over himself in his eagerness to follow you into the shower.

jihoon moves out of the way so mingyu can stand under the stream of water, sandwiching you in between them. your heart races as mingyu draws you in, rivulets of water trickling down his toned chest as his eyes silently roam over your body, and you can’t help but study him in return.

your gaze drifts again to jihoon, who’s now standing in the corner of the shower looking pleased. you can see the flash of lust in his eyes as mingyu grips you tightly, pulling you closer until you’re standing flush against his body, and the proximity sends a shiver of desire down your spine at the knowledge that jihoon is watching.

“why don’t you take care of him, baby? i’m sure he’s had such a long day.” his tone is low and smooth as he turns his attention to mingyu, who’s been awkwardly pouring soap on a loofah but freezes at the sound of his boyfriend’s voice. jihoon’s head is tilted downwards, his eyes lifted to look up at him through his eyelashes, and even though it’s not directed at you it still makes you shiver with how powerful the look is. “haven’t you, gyu?”

mingyu whimpers at the attention, unable to find the words to responds, and it only confirms in jihoon’s mind how badly he needs this. he glances back at you, your eyes so focused on mingyu that it almost makes jihoon laugh— you need this, too, just as much if not more.

you feel jihoon’s gaze on you, and you manage to pull yourself away from staring at mingyu long enough to catch his nod. you start to reach for him, your hand trailing down the defined muscles of his abdomen, but jihoon tsks out a disapproving noise before your hand can find mingyu’s cock, holding in a bated breath as you wait for instructions.

“you can do better than that, darling. don’t be shy. let him use your mouth.”

you look up at mingyu for confirmation as he nods quickly, unafraid to let his eagerness show, and without another word you drop to your knees in front of him. his eyes widen a little bit in excitement as you position yourself on the floor of the shower. his body blocks the stream of water from the shower, keeping you mostly dry as you watch trails of water race down his thighs.

mingyu reaches down in front of you and uses his hand to pump his cock to full hardness, although he was more than half hard already. jihoon just continues to smile from his spot at the other end of the shower, letting you get situated the way you like.

“go on,” he says once you’re both finally ready, two needy sets of eyes pleading at him and waiting patiently. “make yourself useful, baby. show him how much you love him.”

you turn your gaze back to mingyu with a grin, taking him in your hand as you begin to guide him into your mouth. his cock is thick, so much that you can barely wrap your hand around him, and you have to open your jaw wide to fit his tip inside your mouth. gently, gradually, you sink down further and further on his length, pausing every few seconds to inhale shakily through your nose.

you haven’t even started moving yet but mingyu’s already panting, his hands clenching and unclenching into fists as he struggles to adjust to the warm, tight feeling of your throat around his cock. after a second of turmoil he puts one hand on your head, tangling his fingers in your wet hair with a gentleness that seems out of place compared to his size. he’s always gentle with you, sometimes a little too gentle, but it only takes a word from jihoon to have him roughing you up the way you love.

behind you jihoon lets out a sigh, his gaze fixed on the scene in front of him. he takes his own cock into his hand, his fingers loosely gripping his length as you bob your head over and over again down his boyfriend’s shaft. as much as he likes to actively participate, he’s also content to just watching the two of you please each other, going round after round while he keeps control, relishing in the way both of you hang on his every word.

you’re both so good to him, and he tightens his hand as he watches you gag around mingyu’s cock, half pretending that it’s your mouth on him instead. but he doesn’t need this as much as mingyu seems to, and to him, watching is more than half the fun. besides, there’s plenty of time for himself later, after you’ve taken care of gyu. next time, maybe he’ll bury himself deep in your pussy and make mingyu watch instead. or maybe he’ll let him take you too, because your moans always sound so much sweeter when both your boyfriends are inside of you at once.

mingyu thrusts his hips once, shallowly, experimentally, and you open your mouth wider to let him slide between your lips with ease. you reach up to put your hands on his thigh and squeeze a little, giving him a signal to continue. the veins in his biceps bulge as he squeezes his fingers around your hair, a constant stream of whines pouring from his lips like the shower water that pours down his back.

“look at him,” jihoon commands, almost in amusement, and you swallow and crane your neck up so you can lift your eyes. the image above you is truly a sight to see, and you can’t help but preen at the sight of mingyu's fucked out expression, his eyes closed and his brows furrowed deeply in concentration as he bucks his hips into you faster.

“he loves your sweet little mouth, doesn’t he?” jihoon urges you on. your fingers dig into mingyu's thick thighs harder in an attempt to stop him from moving so much, but you're useless against him. he's practically fucking your throat, panting out breaths with both hands firmly tangled in your hair to hold your head in place. “whose mouth do you think is better, puppy? mine, or hers?”

“fuck—” mingyu stutters, and you feel his grip on your hair tighten as he struggles to concentrate enough to organize his thoughts. “both. fucking love this mouth, god… hoonie, please—”

“please what?” jihoon says, his voice dominant yet still calm as he watches. “tell her what you want, baby. use that pretty head of yours, hm? use your words, you can do it.”

mingyu groans and scrunches his nose, trying to focus. “wanna— ah, please can i cum? can i cum in your mouth? shit, baby, i'm so close…”

you hum out a sound of acknowledgement around his cock as you glance up at jihoon, but it only makes mingyu groan louder as he feels the vibrations from your throat surrounding his sensitive, aching length. he loves the way you’re both so obedient for him, always asking permission, always being so well-behaved when he’s in charge.

jihoon stays quiet for as long as possible, drawing out the moment until mingyu looks like he's about to cry from the effort of holding back, but he finally breaks and nods. “go ahead, puppy, fill up her mouth. you've earned it. you've been such a good boy for us, love.”

at his words you let out a moan simultaneously as mingyu does, snapping his hips into your mouth a few more times as he chases the high. you try to swallow the spit that’s pooled in your mouth, but the sudden tightening of your throat is what finally sends mingyu over the edge. he pushes his cock as deep into your mouth as he can, gasping and groaning and grunting praises scattered in between cries of your name and jihoon’s.

you can feel his tip throbbing on your tongue with each rope he releases down your throat, filling your mouth until you’re forced to pull away to breathe. the rest of his cum ends up on your face as you lick your lips and swallow the thick substance in your mouth, letting out a gasp of your own as you finally inhale a full breath.

mingyu’s hands in your hair tighten for just a second before he releases you to let you sit back, bracing himself with one large palm flat against the shower wall and the other gripping your shoulder. his neck rolls backwards as he stares up at the ceiling, letting out a whine that reverberates off the tiled walls of the shower and fills the room.

as he leans to the side his body moves from the shower spray, and you shiver as the warm water hits your lower half. drops of water trickle down your neck and between the valley of your breasts, but it’s hard to tell if it’s only from the shower or if it’s sweat.

jihoon releases his length with a wince, letting out a shaky exhale as he offers you his hand. his cock twitches in sensitivity, still fully hard and now aching at the release he denied himself. but he knows you’re not done, and he knows it’ll be well worth it later. mingyu pulls you the rest of the way up, helping you balance against him after kneeling on the hard shower floor for so long.

with barely a second to let you breathe, mingyu leans forward to capture your lips, his deep voice groaning out your name as his arms slide down to sit firmly around your waist. you melt into him, automatically moaning into the kiss, and he greedily swallows your noises until it feels like he’s going to suck the breath right out of your lungs.

he kisses you harder, one hand falling to your hip while the other reaches up to cup your jaw and guide your mouth further into him, his tongue prodding between your lips in a way that makes you feel warm from the inside out. he can taste the remnants of salty bitterness on your tongue, and it only makes him whimper into your mouth in delight.

his eyes are hazy when you finally pull away from the kiss. he pulls you into his chest and holds you tight, your cheek pressed against his warm skin as you feel his heart pounding. his arms are strong around you, his thick muscles sliding around you easily from the water and sweat, one hand holding the back of your head to keep you against him.

mingyu waves his arm and then you feel jihoon behind you, brushing your wet hair off your back so he can leave kisses across your shoulder before moving in closer. jihoon’s hands glide between your bodies, cupping your breasts as he holds you between him and mingyu.

you can feel how hard he still is pressed against your ass, but before you have a chance to say anything, jihoon reaches to flip the water off with a flick of his wrist. the temperature in the bathroom instantly falls at the loss of the hot water, but with the two men around you it’s barely even noticeable.

jihoon is the first to let go, sliding back the glass door and stepping onto the bath mat to start handing out towels, and mingyu is suddenly very, very grateful that he doesn’t have work tomorrow because it’s clear that none of you will be getting any sleep until dawn. but there’s nowhere else in the world he’d rather be right now, clean and comfortable and happy with the two people he loves more than anything.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, please reblog or leave a comment or an ask! it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! i put a lot of time, love, and effort into my writing, so feedback is really appreciated and motivates me to keep posting :) thanks for reading!!

taglist — located in the replies

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marsdql · 1 month ago

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Enhypen reaction to you falling asleep waiting for them ! —

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ — AWW... " REACTION OF EACH ENHYPEN MEMBERS WHEN THEY COME HOME AND FIND YOU ASLEEP | wc: 1.8k | TeeTh rOttIng FluFF —

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨

이희승

Heeseung walked into the apartment, his footsteps soft as he tried not to disturb the quiet. The faint light from the lamp cast a warm glow over the room, and there you were, curled up on the couch. Your phone had slipped from your hand, and the blanket barely covered you.

Heeseung stopped in his tracks, his heart skipping a beat at how adorable you looked. He crouched beside the couch, a fond smile spreading across his face.

“You really waited for me, huh?” he whispered, his voice filled with affection. “You’re so precious, I swear.”

His fingers brushed against your cheek, admiring how peaceful you looked, completely unaware of his gaze. “What did I do to deserve you, my angel?” he murmured, shaking his head in awe.

He leaned closer, his breath warm on your skin as he spoke again. “I’m sorry for making you wait, but it’s okay now. Let’s get you to bed.”

You shifted slightly at his words, your eyes fluttering open for just a moment. Heeseung’s heart melted when you blinked up at him, barely awake.

“Hey there, my baby,” he whispered, running a hand through your hair. “You’re still so beautiful, even like this.”

Without waiting for a response, Heeseung scooped you up in his arms. You instinctively snuggled against him, letting out a soft sigh of contentment.

“Alright, my sleepyhead,” he said softly as he walked toward the bedroom. “Let’s get you tucked in for real.”

Once he laid you down and tucked you in, Heeseung lingered for a moment, brushing your hair back from your face.

“Sweet dreams, darling,” he whispered, planting a kiss on your forehead. “I’ll always be here for you.” -- REST OF THE MEMBERS BELOW !

박종성

Jay stepped into the apartment, the day’s exhaustion hanging heavily on his shoulders. The soft glow of a single lamp illuminated the cozy space, but it was the silence that caught his attention. He set his bag down quietly and slipped off his shoes, calling softly, “Y/N? Babe?”

When no response came, he walked further in and stopped in his tracks. There you were—curled up on the couch, a throw blanket barely covering you, your phone resting loosely in your hand. You were fast asleep, your face relaxed, your lips slightly parted.

Jay couldn’t help the soft smile that tugged at his lips. He knelt beside you, resting his chin in his hand as he watched you.

“Ahhh, you waited for me,” he murmured to himself, a wave of adoration washing over him. His eyes softened as he took you in, your peaceful expression melting away the stress of his day. “My girl… you’re too cute for your own good.”

He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his fingertips gentle. You stirred slightly, mumbling something that made him chuckle under his breath.

“You could’ve just gone to bed, you know,” he whispered, leaning closer to get a better look at your face. “But no, you had to wait up for me, didn’t you? My sweet little angel.”

He sighed playfully, shaking his head at how much you made his heart ache—in the best way. “Alright, baby,” he murmured, “let’s get you to bed.”

When you didn’t respond, Jay chuckled to himself. “Of course, you’re going to make me do all the work,” he teased softly.

Sliding one arm under your knees and the other behind your back, he lifted you effortlessly. You groaned in protest, your face scrunching up as you instinctively buried your face against his chest.

“Shh, it’s okay, sweetheart,” he said, his voice tender. He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I’ve got you.”

Jay carried you to the bedroom, carefully laying you down on the bed. He started pulling the blanket up over you when your eyes fluttered open slightly.

“Jay?” you mumbled, your voice soft and groggy.

“Yeah, baby, it’s me,” he said, crouching beside the bed to look at you. “You fell asleep waiting for me again. You’re too cute, you know that?”

A small, sleepy smile tugged at your lips, but your eyes drifted shut again before you could reply. Jay chuckled softly, tucking the blanket up to your chin.

“You’re lucky I love you this much,” he whispered, leaning in to press another kiss to your forehead.

As he stood to leave, you reached out weakly, grabbing his hand. “Stay,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

Jay felt his heart melt all over again. “Of course, baby,” he said, slipping into bed beside you and pulling you into his arms.

You instinctively snuggled closer, your head resting against his chest. Jay let out a contented sigh, holding you close as his own eyes grew heavy.

“Goodnight, my love,” he whispered, his lips brushing your hair. For the first time that day, everything felt exactly as it should.

심재윤

Jake opened the door as quietly as he could, not wanting to disturb the peaceful apartment. When he saw you curled up on the couch, he froze, a soft laugh escaping his lips.

“Ah, you waited for me,” he said quietly, kneeling beside you. He gently tapped your nose. “You’re too precious, you know that?”

You stirred slightly but didn’t wake, so Jake decided to take matters into his own hands. He scooped you up carefully, cradling you against his chest.

“Come on, baby. Couch time is over. Let’s get you to bed,” he said softly, smiling when you nuzzled into him.

Once he laid you down and tucked you in, you mumbled, “Jake?”

“I’m here, love,” he whispered, kissing your forehead. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be right here.”

And he stayed, sitting beside you until he fell asleep with his head resting against your shoulder.

박성훈

Sunghoon stepped inside, glancing around the quiet apartment. When he spotted you on the couch, his lips curled into a soft smile. You were wrapped in a blanket like a burrito, your head resting on the armrest.

Kneeling beside you, he tilted his head, admiring how peaceful you looked. “Aigoo, you really waited for me, huh? You’re adorable,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

He ran a finger down your cheek, his heart swelling at the sight of you. “What am I gonna do with you, hmm?”

Carefully, he lifted you into his arms, chuckling when you murmured, “Noooo, leave me here.”

“Not a chance, baby. You need a proper bed,” he said, carrying you to the bedroom. He tucked you in, smoothing the blanket over you.

As he turned to leave, you reached out and grabbed his sleeve. “Don’t go.”

Sunghoon smiled, slipping under the covers beside you. “I’m not going anywhere. Sweet dreams, love.”

김선우

Sunoo’s heart melted the second he walked in and saw you curled up on the couch. The blanket you were using was sliding off, and your hair was a mess, but to him, you looked perfect.

Kneeling down, he tilted his head, admiring your peaceful face. “You’re seriously the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmured, his voice filled with affection.

He adjusted the blanket over you, then gently shook your shoulder. “Y/N, let’s get you to bed. You’ll regret this tomorrow if you don’t.”

You groaned, turning away from him. Sunoo pouted. “Don’t make me do all the work! Fine, fine. I’ll carry you.”

He picked you up and carried you to the bedroom, tucking you in with extra care. As he leaned down to kiss your forehead, you opened your eyes slightly.

“Sunoo?” you mumbled.

“Yes, it’s me, your favorite person,” he teased, grinning. “Now go back to sleep, my angel.”

양중원

Jungwon stepped inside and immediately spotted you curled up on the couch. His lips tugged into a small smile as he walked over, crouching beside you.

“You’re really something, you know that?” he said softly, brushing his fingers against your hair. “Waiting for me when you’re this tired. What am I going to do with you?”

He debated waking you up but decided against it. Instead, he carefully scooped you up into his arms, chuckling when you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck.

“You’re making this too easy, Y/N,” he said quietly, carrying you to the bedroom.

Once he tucked you in, he leaned down and whispered, “Sweet dreams, love. I’ll always take care of you.”

니시무라 리키

Ni-ki walked into the apartment, expecting you to be awake. Instead, he found you fast asleep on the couch, your phone still glowing faintly in your hand.

He let out a small laugh, crouching beside you. “Yah, you really fell asleep waiting for me?” he teased, though his voice was soft and full of affection.

He carefully took the phone from your hand and set it on the table. “You’re lucky you’re so cute, or I’d scold you for this,” he joked, brushing your hair back.

“Come on, lazy,” he murmured, slipping an arm under you to lift you. “Let’s get you to bed.”

You mumbled something incoherent, making him laugh quietly. “Yeah, yeah, you can thank me in the morning.”

After tucking you in, he sat on the edge of the bed, watching you for a moment. “Goodnight, Y/N,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Sweet dreams.”

ps: this was originially only for heeseung and jay so thats why theirs have longer vers.

Hope you enjoyed!

Reblogs appreciated `_-- !! ( marsdql )

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savi0rr · 19 days ago

Note

thought abt viktor and wifey scenarios

- "you're staring!" "I like seeing you happy love"

- matching fits!!

- jayce and mel spying on them obv

- reading tgt!!

- picnic date + stargazing!

- meet jayce and mel? yea!!

- viktor being a softie for his wife and wifey js being the darling she is 🫶

Cozy Wife .ᐟ

Viktor x Fem! Wife! Reader

In which, sitting by the fire with a book can be romantic. If you weren’t being stalked by a nosy duo.

a/n: no one talk to me on Sunday (the eras tour is ending)

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

“Dear, which book should we read?” you asked, your fingers gliding over the myriad of titles that crowded the bookshelf. The scent of aged paper and wood filled the cozy room, mingling with the warmth radiating from the crackling fireplace in front of you. Viktor remained silent for a moment, his brow furrowed in concentration as he settled onto a small, soft cushion near the hearth. The dance of the flames cast a gentle flickering light across his thoughtful features.

“Nothing nerdy,” you added playfully, glancing sideways at him, your eyes sparkling with mischief. Viktor raised an eyebrow in mock indignation and rolled his eyes, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You pick,” he replied, leaning his crutch against the side of the cushion before resting his arm on his knee with a soft sigh.

You nodded, your gaze darting to the shelves again. The colorful spines of novels seemed to whisper secrets and stories, each one beckoning for attention. After a brief moment of contemplation, you selected a book with an elegant cover adorned with swirls of gold. “Romance?” you teased, walking over to him with a playful sway in your step, taking a seat beside him, the cushion sinking slightly under your weight.

Viktor perked up, his curiosity piqued as he tilted his head in your direction. “Romance? Of course…” he muttered under his breath in a tone that was half-annoyed and half-interested. You couldn’t help but giggle, your excitement bubbling over as you curled up next to him, feeling the warmth radiating from his body.

Slowly, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, but you noticed his muscles tensed slightly upon the contact of your skin against his. “You’re so dramatic,” you remarked, casting him a sideways glance as you opened the book to the first page, the pages crisp and fresh.

“I am not,” Viktor shot back quickly, his voice sharp but betraying a hint of humor as he let out a small huff of frustration. You laughed, shaking your head with mirth. “I’m only teasing!” you said, prompting another huff from him. “… Kind of.”

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

Just then, Jayce and Mel poked their heads over the windowsill, their curious eyes shining with interest as they observed the warm scene unfolding. “Oh my,” Mel drawled, raising an eyebrow and smirking at the sight of you and Viktor nestled together. “They look comfy,” she teased, glancing at Jayce, who seemed mesmerized as he focused intently on the two of you, utterly engrossed in the moment.

Leaning your head against Viktor’s shoulder, you let your eyes dance over the text on the page, becoming engrossed in the words. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to you, Viktor was not actually reading; his eyes were fixated on you, mesmerized by the way the light from the fire softly illuminated your features, making your skin glow and your eyes sparkle like precious gems as they reflected the flames. He felt his heart begin to race, causing him to shift slightly on the cushion, a wave of nervous energy coursing through him.

“You okay?” you asked, perking up at his movement and momentarily breaking your focus on the book. Viktor felt his cheeks warm, his pulse quickening under your gaze. “I’m fine, love,” he muttered quietly, briefly diverting his eyes to the book before flicking them back to you. In that moment, your eyes locked, and your hands slowly slipped away from the book to rest in your lap.

“Do I have something on my face?” you asked softly, tilting your head to the side with a curious expression. Viktor, entranced by your earnestness, remained silent for a heartbeat before gently reaching up to caress your cheek with his thumb, eliciting a flutter of warmth from within you. The world around you seemed to vanish as you both leaned in slowly, drawn together by an invisible thread, feeling the warmth of each other's breath against your lips.

But just as the moment reached its delicate climax, a sudden crash echoed from outside, jolting you both apart. It was Jayce, having lost his balance, who landed unexpectedly on his back with a loud thud, sending an outside seal clattering to the ground beside him. Mel stumbled after him but managed to land gracefully on her feet, her expression a mix of astonishment and amusement.

“What on Earth?” you muttered in disbelief, both startled and amused as you stood up, your heart racing from both the interrupted moment and the unexpected noise. Viktor’s hands fell away from you as you rushed to the window, peeking outside but finding everything oddly still. “That’s odd,” you grumbled, closing the blinds with a decisive click before walking back to join him on the cushion once more.

He quickly placed his arm around your shoulder again, his fingers idly toying with the collar of your shirt, his warmth enveloping you once more. “Where were we?” he asked, trying to regain the atmosphere.

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

“You idiot,” Mel called out to Jayce as they both ambled back toward the Academia, her voice laced with lighthearted reproach. Jayce, still on the ground, rubbed his back with a grimace of embarrassment. “I don’t know what happened,” he mumbled, cheeks aflame from the fall and the attention, attempting to mask his discomfort with a nervous chuckle.

#x you #oneshot #x reader #silly #reader insert #viktor #arcane x reader #arcane #viktor x reader #viktor x reader arcane #arcane viktor x reader #fluff

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megamindsecretlair · 2 months ago

Text

Sweet Escape, Part 1

Pairing: Bodyguard!Terry Richmond x Singer!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, trying out some angst, teasing, mentions of loneliness, suicide, depression, power imbalance. Mentions of blood, knife, and violence, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some.

Summary: You are on top of the world as one of the world’s most popular R&B singers. But behind the glitz and glam, you were unmoored, lonely, and aching for something you couldn’t put a name to. With freakish threats escalating, you turn to your stoic bodyguard, Terry, in hopes that you’ll finally feel safe and like you belong.

Word Count: 5,102k

AO3 Link | Part 2 | Part 3

A/N: I know we all have bodyguard Terry on our brains so here's my contribution! I'd love to know your thoughts on the angst, I wanna get better at it. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

You felt like a damn doll. You’d been plucked, prodded, lifted, and separated so many times, you felt like you were melting beneath the studio lights. This was the last interview of the morning and you were ready to slip back into your slippers and call it a fucking day.

As production assistants flittered around like chickens with their heads cut off, you scanned the room. The lights prevented you from seeing much, but you were able to make out your best friend and manager, Mirage, and your personal assistant, Joya standing by the monitors. Mirage gave you a thumbs up and you sighed.

Mirage knew you inside and out. She giggled, knowing that you wanted to turn all this shit over by now. They wanted you to be here on time but the messy host, A’Kierra West, was nowhere to be found. And if there was one thing you hated, it was to be kept waiting.

A makeup assistant came up to you and blotted you with a napkin. You smiled at her. “Thank you,” you said.

The assistant blinked and got startled and you lifted an eyebrow at her. You’d been nothing but nice so you didn’t know where that reaction was coming from. The assistant fled from the stage and you put it out of your mind.

You bit the corners of your cheeks to keep from exploding. Right as you were about to call out to Mirage, A’Kierra waltzed into the room in a cloud of hairspray and her defining feature, her big ass boobs. The boobs preceded her into the room, tucked into a too small red dress that was better suited for clubbing than a talk show.

A’Kierra took her sweet, precious, slow time making her way to the stage, stopping to talk to the directors and producers, before finally gracing the stage with her presence. You stood up, since it was technically polite, and gave her the fake Hollywood kiss to both cheeks.

She smelled like an old white lady at Macy’s. The cloying, flowery scent tickled your nose. You wrinkled your nose and sniffed.

“It’s new! I’m so glad you love it. I’ll send your assistant a bottle!” A’Kierra said. She grinned, showing a row of veneers too large for her face. You smiled to keep your face from showing your true emotions. This bitch was nuts.

“Thank you! I can’t wait!” You said and sat back down in your seat. “So we did the promo and the commercial, now we just do the whole intro and get into it,” A’Kierra explained.

“I’ve done a few of these,” you said.

A’Kierra laughed, the shrill sound like nails on a chalkboard. Her deep brown skin glowed with shimmery lotion but it only served to make her look washed out in the dress. Whoever was dressing her must hate her.

“Yes, but you’ve never done my show before,” she sniffed. A makeup assistant floated onto the stage out of the shadows and touched up A’Kierra’s lipstick. “Thank you, darling. Make sure my coffee is nice and hot when we’re done?”

The director emerged between the cameras giving his final notes on the taping. He instructed you to be natural and relaxed. You glance slid towards Mirage who hid a grin behind her hand. The phone that was permanently glued to her hand hid most of her face, but you already knew what she was laughing at.

Optics…Optics…

The director counted down and then the popular theme song of the show played. The audience you couldn’t see began clapping loudly, wildly, as if you were on stage for a concert rather than an interview taping.

A’Kierra cued up the questions Mirage had you go over earlier. You handled each question well, playing to the crowd, and leaning into the persona you crafted for the world. The carefree, girl power, rah-rah, confident diva with strong knees and an even stronger pair of lungs.

“But what do you say to all of these mommy coalitions calling for your head, saying you’re a bad influence on their children? Saying you’re over-sexed, lewd, and not lady like at all?”

It was only your media training that kept you from unleashing your pent up fury. You giggled and shook your head. This was not in the script. “What do you mean?” You asked, giving yourself time to answer.

“Some may say that the rise in your career also gave rise to all these conservative groups, using you to fund their message of protecting their children from your explicit lyrics and lifestyle. It’s no secret that girls and young women look up to you. Is this really the message you want to send out?” A’Kierra smirked, leaning back in her seat. She crossed her legs, and tapped her notecards against her knee.

You smiled and chuckled. “I’d say…I’m not responsible for your kids. Maybe if they spent more time paying attention to what their kids are listening to than up my perfect ass, there wouldn’t be an issue. I promote self-confidence for adults. I make grown music for adults. At no point have I ever claimed to be a role model for young girls and I’m not responsible for what these mommy coalitions think of me,” you said with a sweet, saccharine grin.

A’Kierra kept a smile plastered to her face but there was more than enough ooh’s and aww’s coming from the audience. You stared A’Kierra down, communicating with just looks. She blinked first, clearing her throat and organizing her cards. “Well, that’s certainly a take!” A’Kierra said and laughed along with the audience.

You giggled with her, feeding into all the fake bullshit. This was the last show you wanted to be on. But the optics. Fuck the fucking optics. This show trafficked in gossip and rumors, more focused on catching people on lies and half-truths than speaking about something normal.

Once the cameras stopped rolling, you waved to the audience and then removed the mic pack from your hip. You passed it to the nearest production assistant, wanting to be free of wires for a long, long time. Well, at least until your next city stop.

Mirage and Joya fell in step beside you, going over the next few items on your list today. When you were done here, you had a small promo shoot for the next city you were going to be in. It’d been a while since you were in LA and you were looking forward to the In and Out burger you were going to inhale at the first chance you got.

By the door to the studio, your heart skipped a beat looking over the scrumptious, delectable piece of meat you had for a bodyguard. Terry Richmond came highly recommended through the agency you typically used. You ran through their sorry excuse for bodyguards like a kid went through candy.

But Terry was different. From the first meeting, he was completely professional, calm, and courteous. He didn’t bullshit you with flattery, he didn’t flirt to get with his dream girl, and he treated you like a normal person. That alone had you saying yes before the ink could dry on the contract.

Add in the fact that he was a former Marine and prepared for…just about everything, you’d felt safe in his presence in a way that you hadn’t with other bodyguards. You didn’t know what led him to this position, but you were glad fate was looking out for you.

“Careful Mr. Terry, stand any straighter, and your back might hurt,” you said.

Terry stood ready with his hands in front of him, one hand holding the other wrist. He dressed plainly in a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt, showing off huge, bulging muscles. He slanted his ever-changing eyes towards you but there was no other sign that he heard you.

He went through the door first, taking his job a smidgen too seriously. “Would it kill you to talk, Mr. Terry?” You asked.

Joya handed you your phone and you absently went through your texts as you walked. “No, ma’am,” he said.

You nearly faltered in your steps. He actually answered. You shook your head in amazement, feeling a thrill that he was in a chatty mood today. You glanced up from your phone to watch his ass move in his jeans.

He was unreal. A fantasy in a male body that he honed to perfection. Bless his genes, seriously, because there wasn’t a single flaw on the man.

“See, we’re almost having a conversation,” you said. You handed Joya back your phone with your thanks and followed Terry to the greenroom. You couldn’t wait to take off the fugly silver outfit. Why were you so damn shiny?

“We have plenty of conversations, princess,” he said. You giggled and rolled your eyes at his back. He called you that when he thought you were being a little shit. He approached your dressing room and entered first, doing a quick scan for any potential threats. You waited in the cramped hallway for his inspection to get done. He emerged back out turned those sinful eyes on you.

“It’s safe to go in,” he said.

You smirked at him. “Try not to miss me for the thirty minutes it’ll take to get all of this off,” you said. You tilted your head at him. Terry blinked at you. You sighed. “You’re no fun!”

Terry’s lips lifted in the corners. “I’m plenty of fun. Thirty minutes,” he said, his rich, deep voice soothing.

“Yes, sir,” you said. You gave him a stern, no-nonsense nod and grinned at him. He did the little smirking thing of his and let you walk into the room with Joya and Mirage hot on your heels.

Once the door closed, Joya collapsed against the door frame with a wistful sigh. “I wanna pass out every time I get near that man,” she said, fanning herself with the planner she always carried around. It suited her more to write all of your appointments down rather than inputting it into a digital calendar anyone could hack. She never put the thing down. You half suspected that she slept with it under her pillow.

All of the safety measures were sweet, but after a month of no contact from your supposed stalker, you were starting to feel out of sorts. Like this life wasn’t real and you were watching your life pass by on a television set somewhere in a white room.

The first thing you did was take off your platform heels, sighing as your feet sank into the plush paisley rug. “Zip, please,” you said to Mirage.

Mirage chuckled at Joya and helped unzip the tight dress you wore. Air returned to your lungs with every inch gained and you sighed again. “He really is too pretty,” Mirage said quietly.

“Too damn pretty!” You agreed. That was definitely a concern for you when you met up with him. But after twenty minutes of conversation, you were able to glean two things from the mysterious Mr. Richmond. For one, he didn’t play, ever. He was as stoic as any soldier you’d ever run across. And two, something happened to him. Something…soul changing.

Maybe it was a lost love, maybe it was a personal tragedy. Whatever it was, it made him immune to you. You flirted, you teased, you harassed the man. And he kept his attention on guarding your body. Like you hired him to do.

You pouted as you approached a cabinet in the room that stored your real clothes. Next to it, there was a clothing rack with outfit choices that you had discarded. Thoughts of how you could get under Terry’s skin kept you occupied as you opened the cabinet doors and shrieked at the gruesome sight before you.

Your clothes were cut up to shreds, a confetti of fabric at the bottom of the cabinet. Joya and Mirage joined you and shrieked in their own horror. There was a replica mask of your own face staring back at you pinned to the door with a large, very illegal knife. Blood – or god, what you hoped wasn’t real blood – dripped from the mask and down the cabinet door.

The mask was uncanny. One of the most realistic ones you’d ever seen. Terry rushed into the room, gun in his hand but pointed towards the floor. He scanned the room with a flick of his eyes, immediately moving in front of you, and shielding you from the mask.

It was too late. The image was already burned into your retinas. His massive back took up your field of vision, but due to the black t-shirt, it only let your mind drift. Your mind’s eye recalled the mask in every finite detail and your stomach turned with churning bile.

“I’m gonna be sick,” you whispered.

Terry closed the cabinet with his elbow, turning around to you. You looked at him, just in time to feel dizzy. Your knees buckled and Terry caught you, yelling to Mirage and Joya for a doctor.

Terry hefted you into his arms and left the room. Outside, the cold blast of air in the hallway shocked you enough to not slip into unconsciousness. Terry positioned you on the nearest crate.

The air in your chest began to boil, clawing its way through your clogged throat. Distantly, you knew that you were hyperventilating. But all you saw was your own face. Your own soulless slouched face, rubbery, with makeup stains on the teeth, and a giant knife through the forehead.

“Hey, don’t do that,” Terry said. He grabbed both sides of your face. You grunted, trying to shake your head. Trying to shake him off of you. His foreboding presence was screaming for you to run.

“Breathe. Breathe, princess,” he said.

You groaned, turning your head away. You couldn’t stop seeing it. Your face. Your face. Your face.

“Count with me. Six, two, four, nine, one, five,” Terry counted.

“What?” You whispered. Terry tightened his grip on your face and forced you to look at him. His startling light eyes bore into yours.

“Count. Six,” he said. He was so close that you could count every single one of his long, pretty eyelashes.

Your body shook uncontrollably. A lone tear dripped from your eye and you rubbed it away. “Don’t do that. Let yourself feel it,” he coached.

You shook your head. “Never cry,” you whispered. You narrowed your eyes at him. Whatever he saw in your eyes, he backed off. He nodded.

“Count then. Six, two, four, nine, one, five,” he said.

“Six…four…”

“Start again,” he said.

He repeated the numbers easily, remembering whatever asinine digits he wanted you to repeat. You needed away. You needed to be free. You groaned and jerked in his hold. The image of your face twisted and melted in your eyes. Turning your memory into slush. What was even real anymore?

“If you can’t do it, I’ll start with three numbers,” he said.

You huffed as you turned your attention back to him, repeating his damn numbers. You had to slow down, had to think about which number came next. Nine and one were the easiest to remember. For some reason, you kept wanting to throw a seven in there.

When you were able to repeat it three times without stopping to think, Terry lowered his hands from your face. You shivered at the lack of contact. His big paws covered your entire face, generating heat. Now that you no longer had it, you felt colder than ever.

Another tear threatened to fall but you were much calmer now. Better able to hold back the raging tempest inside. Later. Later you could break down. But it wouldn’t be here.

“Who would do…”

“Someone who doesn’t know the difference between a fantasy and a reality,” he said.

It was quiet in the hallway. The studio was on the other side, down the hall. At the T-instersection where you were, there weren’t even assistants carrying things. It was just the two of you.

Terry stood directly in front of you, pushed in between your legs so that he could bend and cup your face. Now, you were acutely aware of how close he was. How his chest rose and fell as if he were the one calming down from the scariest shit of his life. And you were the one who found a fan had attempted to kill himself in your swimming pool a month ago. This far surpassed that harrowing night.

“I just wanted to sing. I wanted to stop being invisible. I never asked for this,” you said, the back of your eyes burning with the need to cry. You hadn’t cried in years. The well had long dried. And now twice within Terry’s presence, you wanted to break down and lay it all at his feet.

“You were never invisible,” he said softly.

Terry gave you a look you couldn’t quite describe but knew instantly. Almost like for a brief moment, he knew you inside and out and didn’t flinch. You cleared your throat and straightened up a little. You grabbed the front of your dress and crossed your arms. The air from the closest vent blew across your back and made you shiver.

Mirage jogged down the hallway with a paramedic close on her heels. She was scrambling, practically in tears, as she ran down. Terry cleared his throat and stepped back, finally turning those crystal eyes away from you. The spell he’d woven broke, stealing your breath.

You took a deep breath to get it back and fended off Mirage after she clung to you, telling you how worried she was. “I’m fine, babe, I promise,” you said. You waved off the EMT and Terry pushed the EMT forward.

“Let him do his job,” Terry ordered. And for some reason, that didn’t bother you a bit. You shut your mouth and stared at Terry while the EMT went through his preliminary workup. He shined light in your eyes, asking you basic questions like your name, age, and where you were.

You answered all of his questions, without attitude. For once feeling like you didn’t have to come out swinging first. The EMT cleared you for shock, telling you to get some rest. “I have a photo shoot to keep,” you said, shaking your head.

“Not anymore,” Terry said.

“You don’t get to make that call,” you shot back. The EMT looked between the both of you, the subtle daggers you were throwing each other. The EMT quickly put up his supplies and slipped from between you and Terry.

“I’m tasked with protecting you. Let me,” he said.

You hopped off of the crate and watched two officers arrive, stepping into your dressing room with security guards from the studio. You stood up straight and pulled on that bitchy persona you were known for. You wore it like a well-used coat, broken in and comfortable.

“Your job is to guard me wherever I may be. I only have a few more stops on this tour and this incel isn’t going to ruin my dream. If that’s going to be a problem for you, I can call your agency,” you said. You looked at him from beneath your eyelashes. Wondered if you were able to fool him after he’d gotten a peek behind your four inch thick walls.

Terry leaned back, his stare turning hard. Judging. Your lips parted on a silent gasp. “No need. We’re clear,” he said, his voice just as hard as his eyes. Cold like diamonds. His jaw flexed and he stared straight ahead, giving you a blank, thousand yard stare.

Joya ran into the hallway, pushing past looky-loos and producers. Everybody had a phone out. It’d only be a matter of time before the press caught wind and accosted you outside. You couldn’t leave in this stupid dress.

Joya finally poked her tiny head up from between the gathering crowd. She held a bag in her hand and handed it to Mirage, leaning over to grab her knees and huff. “Emergency stash,” she huffed.

“You’re a genius, Joya,” Mirage said.

You avoided Terry’s gaze as you walked further down the hall to a different dressing room. Terry cleared this one first, moving about the room more thoroughly than he did the last. He opened the cabinet and you flinched, half expecting another doppelganger staring at you.

Nothing jumped out so Terry brushed past. “All clear,” he said.

He closed the door and you sighed, closing your eyes for a brief moment. That was bitchy of you. Hella bitchy and he didn’t deserve it. You paid him to worry about your safety. You snorted. You were paying people to care about you now. That’s how far you’d fallen.

“Dare we ask?” Joya asked.

Mirage turned to her, making a cut it out gesture. “You can say it. I was mean for no reason,” you said. You peeled the silver dress off of your body and shivered. Felt like shedding snake skin. That was the last thing you needed to visualize.

“It wasn’t…not..for a good reason,” Mirage said.

“It was out of line,” you said. You didn’t typically feel guilty this soon after pulling the diva card. It usually took a few days. After you were half deep into your favorite bottle of wine with only Mirage and Joya as your company.

Joya handed you a pair of leggings, an oversized orange sweater, and a pair of socks. You quickly got dressed, pulling your hair into the best ponytail you could manage. She handed you a hat and a pair of sunglasses. You sighed, feeling more like yourself. You liked dressing up in your costumes for the tour, liked getting pretty like the dolls you used to play with. But there came a time when you just wanted to pig out in a pair of sweats or shorts.

You slipped on a pair of tennis shoes and Joya draped the silver dress over the back of the couch. She took out her planner, flipping to a sticky pad that she scribbled a note on. She stuck the paper to the door of the dressing room.

Terry looked you up and down, noting your wardrobe change. He looked at Joya and nodded and she giggled breathlessly.

“Look, Terry,” you began, ready to own up to what you did.

“We’re good. Stay on me, okay?” He asked.

You nodded. Terry used his full height to stalk down the hallway. You avoided looking at your dressing room. At the…you were going to be sick. Your stomach twisted as you passed the room, passed the police.

“I already talked to them. They know about the, um, you know. They won’t need to question you,” Mirage said.

“Thank God,” you said.

Terry pushed and ordered people to move as he led you out of the studio and to the black truck parked in the connected parking lot. He opened the door for you and you paused before climbing in.

“I’m sorry about what I said. Truly,” you said. Terry’s eyes defrosted a fraction. He glanced at you and nodded.

“We’re good,” he said.

You nodded and hopped in the car. Mirage and Joya hopped in on the other side. Terry walked around to the driver’s side and climbed in, pulling out of the driveway just as the first news cameras were arriving.

You sighed and leaned against the backseat. “Great thinking, Joya,” you commended.

“Thanks, but it was Mirage. She made the point that the press was going to have a field day and I took off,” she said. She had her pen and phone out, staring down at your calendar.

“I called ahead and told them that we were going to be late because of what happened. They said they can move the shoot if you–”

“No. I can’t slow down,” you said. Your schedule was held together by glue, paperclips, and chewing gum. Together with Mirage, you managed to carve out true rest periods. Slots of entire hours where you didn’t have to go anywhere, didn’t have to smile at this, or endorse that.

Your mind drifted back to what you told Terry in the studio. All you ever wanted to do was sing. You watched countless videos of your favorite singers, sung your heart out whenever you had the chance, snuck and took singing lessons because you knew that this was where you wanted to be.

Hollywood never showed the uglier parts. The parts where it felt like there would always be a thousand hands crawling all over your skin. Thousands of fans taking it too far. Sending you disturbing videos of either their tiny dicks, feet, moles, chest hairs, or telling you how much you sucked at singing. They said you were overrated. Mannish. Too full of yourself. Every one of them had a different fantasy of you in their heads. Every one of them wanted a piece of you. And whoever this maniac was, they weren’t going to stop until they succeeded in killing you.

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this. It might be time to step down from singing for a while,” you said.

“What! Noooo. Why? Because of this loser?” Mirage asked.

“It’s everything. I’m just so tired,” you whispered. Terry’s eyes flicked to yours in the rearview mirror. Your eyes burned again and you looked away from him. Curse him and his damn hypnotizing eyes.

Terry got you to the photoshoot without breaking any traffic laws. But he was close. He escorted you to the door, a steady presence the entire way. No one was getting through Terry. That thought put you at ease as you turned your mind off and went back to the doll everyone wanted you to be.

Hours later, Terry was at the receptionist’s desk at the hotel coordinating your move. You were switching hotel rooms, again. You were packed up and loaded up into the truck, again. You were checking into a different hotel, classier than the last, under a different name and was once again in the elevator with Terry by your side.

He hardly carried a duffle bag. A small thing that looked silly bouncing against his big ass. Terry escorted you to the room, dropping his bag to the floor. He unsheathed his gun and pressed it close to his body.

“Wait here,” he said. He opened the door with the keycard and let himself in first. He turned on the light and swept through the entire suite, checking behind every nook and cranny. You followed behind him anyway. Even if your stalker did manage to find the place, there was no way he had enough time to set a trap.

Terry came back into the foyer and stopped up short when he saw you looking at the complimentary wine bottle. You read over the standard hotel note. “I told you to wait outside,” he said and put up his gun.

“I’m tired and I want to lay down.” You waved him off. What you really wanted to do was take a hot fucking bath and bawl your eyes out. The “later” had finally come and you wanted to break down in peace.

Terry moved to the door and grabbed his duffle, bringing it inside. He closed and locked the door, putting on the safety latch for good measure. He slung the duffle over his shoulder and walked to the adjoining suite door. He opened it and then stopped across to his side of it.

“I’ll be right on the other side if you need anything,” he said. You leaned against the open door and gave him a small smile.

“Thanks, Terry. For today,” you said.

“It’s my job right?” He asked.

You groaned and rolled your eyes. “You are never going to let me live that down, are you?” You asked.

Terry smiled tightly, like he wasn’t quite used to it anymore. “Not a chance, princess,” he said.

You rolled your eyes again, pinching your lips together to keep from smiling. All it did was bunch up your cheeks and give away the rising heat in your cheeks. “Goodnight, Mr. Terry,” you said.

“Goodnight,” he said. He closed the door and you stood on the other side of it. Wondering what it must be like to know him intimately. To know what made him smile or laugh. What made his eyes light up with joy. Or what brought such sadness to his eyes.

You wondered what it would be like to fall into his arms, easily, readily, and have him embrace you like you were the most precious thing in the world. For a brief moment, you let yourself daydream. Let the fantasy take shape in your mind.

That was a much more comforting image to hold onto than the crushing weight of the day. You turned away from the door, heading to your side of the suite. You entered your room and ran yourself a bath.

The room steamed up with heat from the bath you ran. The clawfoot tub was pristine, with an ornate faucet. The rug underneath felt like clouds. You focused on the strangeness around you.

The few trips you did take were nothing like this. You stayed in nice hotels, hotels your family was able to afford, but not like this. It didn’t stink like mold. The opposite. There was some kind of subtle, expensive perfume in the air.

The bathroom was so spacious, you could fit three clawfoot bathtubs in it and still have room left over. You were in the lap of luxury and it felt like a gilded cage, designed to keep you in a perpetual state of “other”. Temporary. In the world but never of it.

You turned off the hot water and swirled your hands through the foamy bubbles. It was the perfect temperature so you took off your clothes, threw on a bonnet, and sank in. The heated water was a welcome balm, soothing the tension you carried in your body.

The tears came too easily, just under the surface. It slipped down your cheeks and you finally let yourself break down. Allowed yourself to feel the stress and loneliness of the day. You had one of the most horrific days of your life and everybody who mattered already knew about it.

There was no one to vent to. No one who wasn’t already on your payroll. And to be honest, that hurt most of all.

Ya'll know what I'm about. The Secret Terry Richmond Files | Part 2 | Part 3

Taglist: This skyrocketed LOL. I love ya'll, so so much!

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nighttimealone · 3 months ago

Text

Cw: Nsfw (Boxer!König) ty @calismith22 for the idea

———

It’s uncommon for König to go submissive, or impossible if it’s others. But When wrap the rope around him, secure it to the headboard, bound him to it then look down at him with a smug smile, god, his boxers already has a huge tent just from this.

You say you want to try something different tonight, and he’s not the one to reject his darling’s nasty fantasies. So here he is, watch you approach him with a white lingerie, the silky straps cling to your body, travel around your waist and thighs before disappearing to your rear. Under the dim light of the bedroom, your skin glows and accentuates by the exquisite lingerie.

He’s salivating, cock drooling in his pants.

You’re literally a goddess.

König wants to touch you, craving to slide his palms across your body, worship every bit of that perfect body of yours. But he can’t, now tied back to the headboard, all he can is let you climb onto his lap with a mischievous grin spread along your lips, while panting heavily like a needy dog.

“ngh…liebe…oh Gott…” He groans out, loud and obscene, dragging the tone into a whine when you pepper kisses down his muscular and toned chest—an evidence of his years of training and fighting in the ring—playfully mouthing his cock tip through his boxers. “liebling please…need more…” He squirms a bit against the rope, he wants to be good for you, but hell, it’s too difficult when you’re a cheeky temptress.

“Shhh, baby, don’t be so impatient.” You croon softly, yet the enjoyment in your voice is unable to miss out. His hips buck upward when you pull down his boxers in a swift tug.

“Oh!” You chuckle at when his huge shaft springs out, smack against your face with a wet sound “Already this hard, König? good thing, though. Because-“ You tease him and give it a lick, making the burly man moans out, desperately try to chase after your touch, but you back off soon after.

The arrogant king of the boxing world never pleads, but he almost whimpers out “bitte, bitte…!” when you climb away a little from on the bed, but he chokes back them when you lift your hips up, spreading your thighs and showing him your pussy. He moans out again, fuck, he needs you right now, and he knows you frel the same, from how your juices dripping down your thighs, the cut-out area of your lacy lingerie leaves your core to expose, strings of arousal connecting each other between your messy thighs.

König’s tongue darts out, wetting his lips to suppress himself, and you let out another wicked giggle, knowing how he wants to lick all those juices from your folds.

“-Because I’m already all wet for you too, baby.” You continue your words, and sink down onto his girthy cock immediately.

“Can I move? bitte, Engel, I want to-want to move, bitte…” His hips thrust into you uncontrollably, so tight, so warm, the closest thing to heaven in the universe. His mind’s clouded with desire. But you yelp out when he move his hips, his long and thick cock hitting your cervix and makes your vision spun under the pleasure. But you manage to recover quickly, and give him a thrust as warning. “No moving, König.”

You start moving, bouncing on his cock, lift your hips high up before bury his length back into your precious cunny, each move igniting a moan and a growl from each of you, and he’s putty under your body, you can see the strings in his thighs straining whenever you lower your ass back and clenching down at his swelling tip hitting the delicious spots, his groans and moans come out more frequently when he’s close to the edge, then you’ll slow down, straddle his lap and roll your hips lazily, as if you have all the time in the world just to edge him to his limits.

König’s brain can’t think about things other than you now, your tight wall pulsating around his dick, trapping him in a tight hug, and your tits—gorgeous and nipples perked up so delectably — bouncing in front of his eyes every time you move, but he can’t touch them, can’t wrap his chapped lip around the buds and give it a hard suck, and his balls are heavy, yearning to empty all the seeds inside you, but you keep denying him, and he almost tears up from the bliss and frustration the fifth time you edge him from his release. He needs to do something, he wants to come, he needs to come—

Your eyes widen in surprise when you hear the sharp ripping noises of the rope, and you can’t even stop him when he parts his wrists with all his strength, the rope taut around them and break them into stripes, then rip off the rope tying him to headboard in a blink of an eye.

“König! König, you’re not supposed to- fuck…ngh!” You cry out when he flips you onto your stomach with one hand, his round tip squeezing past your entrance and slamming inside till it hits your cervix. You try to take back your control, but compare to this man, your strength is just a little breeze to him.

“Sorry, sorry, Süßer…need to come inside you” He drive his weeping cock into you fiercely, like a lion break out of its cage, each thrust of his hips pounds you into the mattress, white spots filling your vision when he abuse your cervix every time, the bittersweet bliss makes your thighs quiver under his weight, blabbering and whining his name incoherently.

You orgasm comes unexpectedly quick, backfire of your edging sessions earlier, and König pays no mind at the liquid splashing out of your cunt, let them drench the bedsheets as he continues impaling your pussy with his shaft, one hand goes down to knead and flick your engorged clit, overstimulating you cause you’d been such a mean, cruel girl for him, and now it’s his turn to make you pay the price.

“Scheiße, gonna come, gonna fill you all up, you cheeky hase…ngh!” He leans down to bite into your shoulder, his hips pressing onto your ass and angle your hips a bit higher, so he can squish all that inhuman cock deep inside your little pussy, heavy balls resting against your skin as he shoots all his cum and pent-up tension in you, white painting your puffy folds when he pulls out with a content rumble, watching his profuse cum dripping out your abused cunny with satisfaction.

Shouldn’t poke a bear next time, still trembling in overstimulation and unable to move even a finger due to being entirely spent-out, you remind yourself through hazy mind, and hopefully, you’ll remember the lesson not to test your partners who’s the best boxer again.

#könig x you #könig smut #könig x reader #konig smut #konig x reader #konig x you #cod x you #cod x reader #female reader #nighttimealone

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yandere-wishes · 4 months ago

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༄｡° Ice on Ice ༄｡°

𐙚 Yandere!Capitano Drabble

𐙚 Warnings: Stockholm syndrome, gore, manipulation

𝄞 Song: Kill V. Maim by Grimes

⋆˙❅ He's molded you into his perfect darling. His perfect weapon ❅⋆˙

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚‧͙̩̩͙

It's always snowing in Snezhnaya .

Even in the dead of summer.

Capintano glides across the castle like a shadow. Shying away from the moonlight gleaming through the towering windows.

Ice slithers up his arm, forging into the hilt of his glacial sword.

He can smell your bloodlust in the air, good, you've already commenced the integration.

The lower levels of Zapolyarny castle speak only of terrors.

It's where the faithless come to die.

Traitors to Her Majesty.

It was where he'd kept you upon your initiation, where he burned you down and fabricated you anew.

His pretty little deadly thing.

So eager to please.

So loyal

The salty tang of blood permeating the air has his heart racing, furious war drum hammering in his chest. He follows the embers of your rage, standing by the threshold watching as you dig your knife deeper into the traitor's shoulder. Capitano basks in your raw fury. Your anger sweet on his tongue.

"Darling"

His voice is low, a whisper among the screams. Snowflake on ice and yet you still jump to attention. Run up to him with a sweet smile that doesn't quite suit the crimson specks adorning your cheeks.

His eyes glide across your taut body, spine straight, fingers up in salute. Your pyro delusion glowing gently at your waist. Ready to engrave his commands upon your bones.

"Master, the prisoner has confessed to carrying out treason against the crown. But he's yet to disclose the whereabouts of his fellow rebels."

"He will."

Capitano hands you his coat, relishing the delicate way you clench the heavy thing. Cradling it in your chest as if it's more precious than all the constatations above Tyvat. He pulls his helmet up, ever so slightly, enough to press his frigid lips against your cheek and lick the specks of blood. You freeze, fingers grasping the fuzzy pelt.

"Come watch, my darling"

He stalks towards the bloodied man, twirling his sword, letting the tiny ice splinters impale the traitor at random. The man cries, voice hoarse and weak. The slim glaciers replacing blood with frost.

You trail after him, lovesick and devotion in every step, his coat hanging from your shoulders.

Heavy burden upon frail shoulders, such a perplexing thing you are...

Capitano can't help but smile in satisfaction. He's molded you into perfection, sculpted you from the purest ice. He studies your work rigorously. Pain painted across the vile canvas. The traitor's right eye is missing, the socket scorched, torrid flesh pealing from his arms. His shirt ripped, rude stab wounds still fresh, still dripping ruby.

He's trained you well.

Trained you to make nation topple and archons bow. To bend the stars and flames with your fealty.

Maim and kill.

Because this world is too cruel for righteous little boys and naive little girls.

Kill and maim or else it will be done to you.

You pull the informer's hair back as Capitano lands a metal-clad punch to his face, blood sprays unceremoniously, spoiling Capintao's black-silver armor, followed by the familiar clatter of a tooth hitting the thinly iced floor.

Capintano steps back, braces himself for a moment then thrusts his sword into the rebel's thigh. Marring the sturdy hoar a rotten red. Frost blisters skin ripping the soft tissue underneath.

Ice chips bone

Meat falls to the cold ground.

The man screams, crying out locations and names in jetted tongue. His eyes slowly grow darker.

The blood continues to pool.

You clap your hands cheerfully. Letting the man's head fall forward "Well done master."

For a fleeting second, as you skip towards your master, you catch the traitor's picture in the odd light. You gulp, the creature staring back wears your face, your body, your skin. You see yourself in the dead stranger. Stubborn face and blank eyes. You blink and it's gone, a trick of the dark, one you're too eager to forget. Those days have passed, left to decay in snow-covered tombs. You are someone else now, more importantly, you are Capitano's lover, his most devoted soldier. No longer a gullible thing chasing after empty ideals.

Capitano towers over you. A stone pillar etched of ivory paragons. His iron fingers wrap around your smaller wrist as he pulls you forward. Your fingers lace through his ebony main, while your other hand pulls up the helmet, desperate for his kiss. Biting his lips and letting the blood from his armor stain your uniform. He pushes pain and loyalty down your throat with metallic spiced kisses. Replaces the pearls of your spine with molten lava and brimstone. His touches are frostbite running rampant across your body. Peeling away skin and inscribing mortality and ethereal strength into the soft tissue of your organs. Leaving your lungs corked with icy doctrines.

He has sculpted his style of blade work into your blood. Your veins pump explosions through your body.

Capitano's lips trace the expansion of your neck, savoring your essence between harsh kisses and harsher lovebites. You feel like a sword in his hands, meticulously forged with the finest steel. He has killed many apostates with you. Used you to serve the Tsaritsa without fail

Weapon of war, built from the corpse of a little lost girl.

The frenzy in your eyes, the cosmic thumb of your heart, the way your fingers claw, and the silver of skin of his neck.

Deadly deadly deadly.

He plays the role of the virtuous knight.

Only he's come to learn that many mistake virtue for pacifism.

No.

Love and loyalty are delicate threads entwined with massacre and pain.

You must kill to protect loyalty.

You must kill to protect love.

And how better to express both than in love letters penned with fresh scarlet and decay?

"Get rid of the body, we have much work to do." He raises his sword up to the thin ray of moonlight. For a second your reflection flashes across his icy sword, broken and damaged and perfect in every way. He gives you a final kiss on your templet. Before retrieving his coat and turning away. Disappearing in the dark.

You sigh, breath observable in the chill. Your fingers ignite, warmer and warmer. Preparing for another cremation.

Capitano smiles, ridged, grotesque. As a putrid sickly saccharine scent wafts through the castle's dungeon.

He's raised the perfect lover.

Devoted to a fault and stronger than any weapon.

He's looking forward to unleashing you upon the rebel's nest.

Looking forward to the dance of savage carnage.

It's summertime in Snezhnaya

Although you couldn't tell from the snowy blizzard outside...

When is Varka coming out? I want to be caged between the two of them so badly 😭😭

Also, guys, what if Capintano is Rustam or Arundolyn?? 🤔 I feel like I'm onto something

°🪼° @choueries @animelover6000 @viannasthings

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chuuyrr · 11 months ago

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⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐒 .ᐟ

feat. dazai, chuuya, fyodor

ꨄ˙ SYNOPSIS: bsd men as girl dads to their daughters

ꨄ˙ CW(s): f! mom! reader, established relationship (married to your lover ofc), fluff, short scenarios, not proofread

DAZAI was humming the quiet melody of his 'certain' song as he cradles his little one. the baby in his arms was sniffling, crying softly and practically looking at him with tearful brown eyes that resembles his. he gently hushes and cradles baby sonoko in his arms, his soothing hums a lullaby in the quiet room.

sonoko was a captivating blend of both you and dazai. with her dark hair that mirrored dazai's locks and the bright twinkle in her [color] eyes reminiscent of your own, she was practically a living canvas of your shared features.

dazai gently rocks baby sonoko in his arms, whispering soothing words to calm her cries. the soft glow of the nightlight illuminated the room, creating a serene atmosphere. he cradles her close, the warmth of his embrace a comforting haven.

"hush, my little one," he murmurs, his voice a gentle melody. "there, there, sonoko. daddy is here." dazai presses a tender kiss to her forehead, his heart swelling with paternal affection, "no need for tears, little darling."

he softly sang a lullaby, the words weaving through the air like a protective cocoon. as the room embraced a peaceful stillness, sonoko's cries transformed into quiet sniffles.

dazai continued to sway gently, cherishing the precious moment of connection with his baby girl. he places her head against his chest, manipulating his heart beat into a calming rate to ground her with its sound.

you lay in bed, exhausted, but you find yourself smiling in the calmness of the night as you see your husband and daughter share a quiet bond, the world outside fading away. dazai's love for sonoko radiated in every soothing touch, a promise to always be there, hushing away any fears or tears that may come.

"you're doing that thing with your heart again, aren't you?" you whisper softly to dazai, quietly giggling.

dazai glances at you, still cradling the fruit of your love to his chest, he gently strides to your side and presses a lingering kiss on your forehead, "yeah, i am."

"i still don't get how you do that though, but it works, doesn't it?" you say softly as you see how your baby girl is all calm now.

you extend your arms to reach for sonoko but dazai gently refuses to do so, and he shakes his head as he insists, "shh, let me look after her. you go get some rest, darling."

"are you sure, osamu? sonoko can get a bit fussy," you ask softly as dazai uses his free hand that wasn't carrying sonoko to gently push you to lie back down in bed and pull the blanket over your chest.

"i'm certain. please, my love. you're exhausted from feeding her and looking after. it's daddy's turn to take over, okay?" dazai chuckles softly as sonoko began to coo and pat her tiny hands against her daddy, "we're ok."

"okay," you giggle quietly as you look at your husband and daughter, "try not to give your daddy a bad time, okay sonoko?"

sonoko merely coo and giggle at the sound of your voice before they intensified in volunme when dazai started to tickle her sides and pepper her cute round face in kisses, the rain of affection from her father making her happy.

CHUUYA sighs, holding baby saika in his arms as her cries echoed through the room. he paced around, trying to replicate the comfort saika found in her mother's presence—your presence.

although your child resembled very much like you, she got her traits and personality mostly from chuuya. she even throws quite the fuss when she was upset, and chuuya only realizes it now that you're away for a while.

"shh, saika, it's okay. come on, now." he whispers softly, his voice a mixture of reassurance and longing.

despite his best efforts to spoil her with affection, saika's cries persisted and he feels a pang of helplessness, "mommy will be back soon, little one. until then, it's just you and me, okay?" chuuya continued to sway, his touch tender and caring.

but saika's cries merely intensified, and chuuya's frustration grew. he couldn't replace the warmth and comfort that only her mother seemed to provide.

chuuya's heart sank as he looked down at his precious little one, her tear-filled eyes gazing up at him with a mix of sadness and yearning. he felt a wave of helplessness wash over him, an ache in his chest as he desperately wished he could ease her distress.

"come on, saika," chuuya whispers softly, his voice a blend of sorrow and affection. he cradles her even closer, tracing gentle circles on her back. "what's making you so upset, huh? don't you want toys? food? sweetheart, please."

saika's tiny lips quivered, and her cries persisted. chuuya's usual fiery determination waned in the face of his daughter's tears. money and gifts meant nothing in this moment. though he had her spoiled with everything and anything, she didn't seem to want any of those things as she would only squirm, kick and throw those things away in a tantrum.

in a moment of realization, chuuya gently sets aside the lavish toys and the carefully prepared food. he holds saika to his face and he looks into her teary eyes and finally, he understood the true source of her distress.

"it's not about the toys or the treats, is it, saika?" he muses softly, a smile forming on his face. cradling her up in his arms, he held her close, focusing on the simple act of giving her his undivided attention.

as he spoke soothingly to her, chuuya sensed the shift in saika's mood. her cries slowly gave way to sniffles, and she looked up at him with wide, trusting eyes. realizing that what she craved was the connection with her daddy, chuuya embraced the simplicity of the moment.

"dada's right here, baby," he whispers to saika, pressing a tender kiss on her cheek, "i got you."

in that instant, the room was filled not with the extravagant gifts he could provide, but with the warmth of a father's love that proved to be the most comforting of all.

he bounced her tenderly as he swayed around the room, the rhythm calming her sniffles. chuuya presses another soft kiss on her forehead, and saika's tiny hands clung to his shirt, finding solace in the familiar embrace.

as you entered the room later on, a tired yet content smile adorned chuuya's face. his hair was tied in a low ponytail with stickers and traces of food decorated his face. in his arms, little saika peacefully slept, nestled against his chest, her [color] hair braided with small butterfly clips.

chuuya looked up, and his eyes softened at the sight of you, "hey there, love," he greets you quietly, careful not to wake saika, "we had a little adventure, but someone decided it was time for a nap."

you couldn't help but giggle fondly at the adorable scene before you. the stickers and food smudges on your husband seemed like badges of a day well spent. saika, oblivious to your arrival, continued to sleep soundly in her father's arms.

quietly, chuuya rose from his spot, carefully transferring saika to her crib. as he joined you, he sighs happily and captures your lips in a tender kiss, "looks like our little one just wanted some dada time today." the exhaustion in his eyes was overshadowed by the joy of the shared moments.

"seems like it," you say softly as you wrap your arms around his neck as you kiss once again, "but hey, you did good. thanks for looking after saika."

"don't mention it, we're in this together. i can't have my darling wife do everything. you deserved a well-rested break today," chuuya whispers against your lips as nuzzles his nose against yours lovingly.

FYODOR cradled his precious lyubov on his lap, her wide eyes filled with curiosity. with a tender smile, he began to read from a novel, his deep yet gentle voice resonating through the quiet space.

"once upon a time, in the turbulent depths of the human soul, there lived a complex character named raskolnikov. he grappled with existential questions, much like the profound mysteries we face in our own lives," fyodor narrates, his gaze shifting between the words on the page and the wide-eyed innocence in lyubov's eyes.

as he continued reading, the intricate plot and philosophical undertones of the novel intertwined with the gentle rhythm of lyubov's breathing. fyodor couldn't help but adapt the narrative, transforming it into a bedtime story that echoed the complexities of morality and human nature.

lyubov, oblivious to the weighty themes, giggled in delight at her father's animated expressions. fyodor, in turn, savored the precious moments, cherishing the bond he was cultivating with his daughter.

as lyubov listened to her father's storytelling, a contagious giggle bubbled up from within her. with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, she pointed at the novel in fyodor's hands.

giggling at the sight of her father's earnest storytelling, little lyubov couldn't contain her innocence as she pointed at the pages in amusement.

lyubov, with her jet-black hair cascading in waves down her shoulders, bore a striking resemblance to her father, fyodor. the deep purple hue of her eyes mirrored his own, reflecting a shared intensity that seemed to peer into the depths of the human soul.

yet, amidst these echoes of her father's traits, her features held a delicate familiarity, capturing the essence of her other parent—you. the gentle curve of her nose and the subtle arch of her eyebrows were reminiscent of your own distinct features too.

in a moment of quiet amusement, you turned to fyodor, your husband, a playful glint in your eyes, "isn't she a tad too young for stories like that, darling?" you ask, your laughter blending with the warmth of the dimly lit room as you enter your baby's room.

fyodor, with a gentle smile, glanced at lyubov, who had now nestled herself comfortably against his chest, before looking at you, "perhaps, my love," he replies, his voice carrying a touch of self-awareness, "but the beauty of storytelling is that it grows with the listener. however, if you insist, then i suppose i'll find tales more suited to her age, tales that will weave the magic of childhood without delving too deep into the complexities of the human psyche."

as lyubov cooed and giggled in response to your shared laughter, fyodor couldn't help but join in the merriment.

with a twinkle in his eye, he gently teases, "my, my. look at this, darling. it seems our little one has a taste for the profound, even if the words are a bit too deep for her tender age. perhaps we have a budding philosopher in our midst."

"perhaps, fedya," you say with a playful glint in your eyes, your lips curving into a smile.

you and fyodor share a tender kiss, the laughter lingering in the air as a sweet reminder that, in the midst of literature's complexities and parenting's challenges, there's always room for joy and lighthearted moments in the embrace of family love as lyubov was still nestled in fyodor's embrace, she continued to babble and gurgle, her infectious laughter filling the room.

ꨄ˙ A.N.: sonoko's name came from one of the dazai osamu's actual children. saika translates to fortune with its kanji meaning happiness and the moon. it was inspired by the poems of upon the tainted sorrow and the moon of the actual nakahara chuuya, but i purposely alluded the name to happiness instead. lyubov means love, and it is also the name of one of the actual children of fyodor dostoevsky. ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

ꨄ˙ TAGGING.: @chuunai @aureatchi (っ'ヮ'c) ₊˚⊹♡ !

this is a queued post by the way . . .

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justnatoka · 7 months ago

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The Lost Boys headcanons

How they would behave in a relationship

Warning: possessive behavior, some smut (mainly in Paul's and Marko's parts oops)

The reader is body and gender neutral.

David

He’s definitely the possessive type. You’re his and he lets everybody know it.

He either has his arm around your shoulder or his hands on your waist. He also probably gives you hickeys in very visible spots for the same reason ;)

Or he simply just hovers over you. Like all the time.

If someone tries flirting with you, he’s behind you in an instant, and all he has to do is look at them menacingly. You’re not even surprised anymore that every guy seem to run off scared after just a few words, even if they started talking to you for a completely innocent reason. Now you just turn around with a “really?”

I imagine him to be less into PDA. But when you’re just with the boys he sits you into his lap and rests his hand on your thigh while talking to the others.

He probably shows you more physical attention in front of them, because he’s more comfortable around them.

Even though he’s possessive, he doesn’t really get jealous, at least he tells himself he doesn’t. He trusts you and knows you wouldn’t cheat on him, it’s other people he doesn’t trust. Scaring off guys is just him protecting what’s his.

I can imagine him trying to control you in some small ways, like not letting you wear stuff that shown too much skin in public or trying to keep you from hanging out alone with guy friends that he doesn’t know well. It comes from his protectiveness over you. But I also think that if you talk to him about these things bothering you, he will stop doing it.

You’re one of the few people who can get him relaxed when he feels stressed out. Like when he comes back frustrated from a meeting with Max, or when leading the group and keeping them in line (looking at you, Marko and Paul) gets to him after a long day.

He just walks over to you and sinks into your embrace, resting his forehead against yours with eyes closed and just listening to you breath for a few minutes.

He likes it when you give him shoulder massages when he’s feeling tense. He probably also likes in when you make him tea to relax (though he wouldn’t admit that one).

Types of kisses: on your knuckles when he holds your hands. On your forehead. More passionate kisses on the lips when you’re alone. You’re his queen/king/precious person, and he definitely treats you like one.

His nicknames for you: kitten, darling, love

Dwayne

He’s a man of few words, who shows his love through his actions.

He’s a very attentive partner, always notices when you’re feeling tired, sad, stressed or anxious. He immediately gives you a questioning look or a soft “are you okay?” and makes sure to make you more comfortable.

Like he lets you play with his hand, caress his palm or fingers when you’re anxious and fidgety and need something to ground yourself with.

He’s also a good listener. He will gladly listen to you complain when you have a bad day, even if he can’t really give any advice.

I feel like he would try to learn as much about you as he could, so he can take better care of you. This obviously includes stuff like your interests or dislikes, but also a lot of small things, for example how you behave when you’re feeling sad or anxious, what are some unconscious habits you do when you’re deep in thought. He stores all this information in the back of his mind so he can use it later.

Like he observes how your eyes light up and your features change when you’re excited or happy about something, remembers what caused you to make that lovely expression and then makes sure to present you with that exact same thing later again and again so he can see you glowing like that again. He surprised you more than once with gifting you little things you briefly mentioned liking or being interested in.

He’s the type of guy who looks out for you all the time when you’re out at the busy boardwalk. He makes sure you’re always in his sight, and if he loses you, he will scan his eyes through the crowd until he finds you. In turn, if you get separated from the guys, your first instinct is to search for him, cause he’s tall and stands out anyway, but also you know he feels calmer when he can see you, even if you’re out of reach. You both feel relieved when you’re eyes finally meet through the gaps between the bodies of other people.

He’s probably more casual about PDA. He will hold your hand, wrap an arm around your shoulder or give you small pecks on the top of your head, on your cheeks or your lips.

He gives the best hugs. I mean he’s a big guy who can envelop you in his arms. When you’re having a bad day, all you have to do is ask for a hug, and you immediately feel better. I imagine that he likes hugging you from behind, pulling you to his broad chest.

Slow and deep kisses are probably his favorite.

His nicknames for you: sweetheart, honey

Paul

He’s very vocal about his love for you, the man is a flirting machine.

He’s also like a lovesick puppy, always excited to see you, always hungry for attention, and starts pouting if you don’t give him enough. He can be a bit needy at times.

Even though he can seem like a dumb blonde to the casual observer, he’s actually more in tune with your emotions than most people think. He can immediately tell when you’re feeling down, even if you try to hide it. You’re emotions also affect him a lot. When you’re sad, he’s also lethargic and does everything in his power to cheer you up, be it taking you out to have fun, staying at home and cuddle or shower you in small kisses until you start giggling.

On the positive side, when you feel happy, he’s absolutely in the clouds, and your giddiness feeds off of each other.

A LOT of PDA. He’s touching you all the time, holding your hand, pulling you into his side, hands on your legs if you sit next to him or in his lap, or quite literally draping himself all over you.

He also likes to use your legs as a pillow. Just imagine him totally high, babbling about random stuff that comes to his mind while laying his head on your lap, you running your hands through his hair.

Also, HIS HAIR. He loves it when you mess with it, doesn’t matter if it’s playing with the strands while listening to the others talk, or tugging on it in bed.

Yes, he’s an absolute manwhore in my humble opinion ;)

He’s definitely a switch in bed. Like he can be a dom and worship you, but he can also definitely be a sub and just fall apart under you, loving every second of it.

Ever since @sunkendreams said they think Paul likes it when you choke him, I can’t stop thinking about it.

I think he would also like it if you kiss his neck, or leave your mark on him by giving him hickeys. He would show off that shit so proud!

Lots if kisses all the time. He wouldn’t start making out with you in the middle of the boardwalk like Marko, but he would pepper small kisses all over your face, pecks on your lips. I feel like he’s the type who randomly starts kissing your neck while you lean on him regardless of the setting.

His nicknames for you: babe, dollface, beautiful

Marko

This guy is a fierce protector who isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. I mean it’s known that most times he’s the first to jump into action when there’s a fight.

He can be a knight in shining patchwork jacket, but he can also be a little demon with the most angelic face when it comes to show you just how much he loves you.

He protects your honor then when you get back to somewhere private he doesn’t hesitate to absolutely ruin said honor, but in the most pleasurable way imaginable.

I’m sorry, but I’m just obsessed with the thought that he’s an absolute beast in bed.

But I think he’s also such a dork. I can imagine him grabbing your hand and pulling you into a dance in the middle of the boardwalk if he likes the music they play that night. And at the end he dips you back, his hand firmly holding your back, with the widest playful grin on his face, making you break out in giggles. Then he leans down to kiss you on the lips.

He’s not the jealous type, he has absolute confidence in himself and in your loyalty.

He’s big on PDA: holding hands, hand around your waist, probably groping your thighs or butt once or twice. He’s also not shy to kiss you in public. You’ve definitely had a few heated makeout sessions before against the railing of the boardwalk.

I think he also like catcalling you or whistling at you, but only if you’re also comfortable with it.

He basically loves to let everyone know that you’re his gorgeous partner as loudly and as visibly as he can get away with. He would shout his love to you on the top of his lungs if you hadn’t scolded him for it before.

But other than that time, you love it that he’s not shy about showing you his love.

Just like David, he would also definitely like giving you hickeys in very visibly places. I also imagine him to be a bit of a biter during sex, leaving small and harmless ones all over your skin that doesn’t even leave a mark, or ever getting a bit rougher and giving you ones that do. It all depends on what you like.

Cursing in bed in Italian ;)

His nicknames for you: sugar, baby

#the lost boys x reader #tlb 1987 #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys headcanon #the lost boys david #the lost boys dwayne #the lost boys paul #the lost boys marko #tlb david #tlb marko #tlb paul #tlb dwayne

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hwaightme · 3 days ago

Text

In your eyes

THIS IS 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI FOR CAPTAIN’S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut)

(masterlist)

📚 pairing: postgrad!bf!hongjoong x afab!gn!reader 📚 genre: smut, established relationship, so much fluff 📚 summary: time is nobody's friend, and hongjoong often finds himself wondering how much he has lost. thankfully, you always remind him of how beautiful the present and future can be, how full of love, how intimate, how true. 📚 wordcount: 4.0k 📚 warnings/tags: MINORS DNI, semi-edited (do let me know if i missed something), they are so in love, teaching assistant joong, so many pet names (love, darling, etc), he is down bad, mention of time anxiety, mild relationship worries, mention of winter holiday season, y/n is an office worker (nothing specific), mention of exams (joong grading), sort of from joong's perspective 📚 taglist: below 📚 a/n: something about academic joong makes me feel many types of ways... anyhow- hope this is enjoyable and gives warm feels <33; live laugh love joong; any notes, reblogs, comments are highly appreciated! thank you

📚nsfw tags: sub-leaning switch joong, service top energy joong, lovemaking, handjob, fingering, dry humping, praise, begging, piv w condom, missionary, mating press, overstimulation, light cuddling, implied aftercare but not described

Tired eyes. Paper after paper decorated with green ink, subsequently joining the pile that was starting to take over the dining table. The persistent glow of the laptop screen, reflected in a pair of tortoiseshell-frame glasses that kept threatening to slide down an elegant nose. While grading papers was not exactly something that Hongjoong would dream of doing during the winter holidays, it came with his job, and so was not entirely abysmal. Perhaps the only issue was that he had grossly underestimated how much time and focus this task would take. Morning rapidly turned into day, and day equally as quickly trickled into evening, leaving him without as much as a moment to spare for the things people usually occupied themselves with at this time of year. Though, perhaps it was important to note that it was not the actual festivities that he longed for and felt apologetic that he could not partake in thanks to his own decisions, but rather a certain someone.

After finishing grading yet another paper, Hongjoong set his pen aside and roughly rubbed his eyes, careful to not send his glasses flying. Only now did he notice just how dark the room had gotten, barely a sliver of light crawling in through the windows, with no thanks to the gloomy weather outside. He rose from his chair, rolling his shoulders from having been in the same position for an uncomfortable number of hours, and ambled to one of the many floor lamps that were neatly stationed around the living room, each with its own story. He picked a particularly whimsical one right in the corner, squinting when it burst to life, revealing its curious design of frosted flowers, branches, and songbirds. Reluctant feet carried him back to the chair, now turned into an instrument for torturous isolation.

“Enough, you know what, enough…” Hongjoong’s whisper cut through the eerie silence of the apartment. Pushing the rest of the papers away, he leaned back with a huff and slid his phone out of the back pocket of his trousers.

The journey to his home screen was swift, only to end in a deliberate pause as he studied it with a sorrowful smile. He was unsure as to why a pang of melancholy had taken a sudden hold on him, but seeing your happy face as you were looking at a bungeoppang neatly tucked into a tiny white bag - a precious moment from a casual date you had gone on - had him irrationally spiraling. You lived together, and yet, he missed you. He longed to hold you in his arms for longer than a few seconds before pulling away. He dreamed of staying in the same room for what could be ages, sharing the quiet atmosphere, or maybe listening to your favorite songs together. The dark winter nights were taking a toll on him, and in utter solitude, the natural tendency to ruminate reigned supreme and let his worries wander freely from his mind and straight to his fragile heart.

When Hongjoong and yourself had discussed winter vacation, the conclusion was reached without much back and forth. You were not taking any days off, and Hongjoong made the most of his time off, well, doing more work. In retrospect, it might have been a silly idea on his part, but much like how you had explained it back to him, if it meant solidifying his position by being on the good side of his supervisor and being responsible for more things as a teaching assistant, it was worth it. But now, seeing couples roaming the streets around the city whenever he commuted into university, and generally the mere notion of having only the evenings and odd parts of the weekend to spend with you started to make him sick to the stomach. Without realizing it, he had driven himself into a corner, and he wanted out.

Before he could get any further than the usual perusal of social media, he heard the muted rattling of keys, and in a matter of seconds, the front door opened, revealing a familiar form. His eyes immediately settled on you, noting how you shrugged off your messenger bag and coat, leaving them on the ottoman in the corridor rather than hanging them up—clearly, he was not the only one tired. Nonetheless, when you raised your head after having freed yourself from the confines of your dress shoes, a smile spread across your face.

“Hi Joongie,” and just like that, his heart picked up its previously lethargic pace.

“Welcome home my love,” the endearment slipped off his tongue, earning him an amused chuckle.

“Mhm, missed me?”

“Maybe a little,” he played coy, knowing full well that you could read him like an open book no matter what front he put up. He returned your gleam, keeping his undivided attention on you as you sauntered off in the opposite direction.

“I just need to change and I’ll be right back, alright?”

“Of course.”

Suddenly, the laptop and exams on the table irritated him. Hongjoong rose and tidied the papers into neater piles, shut his laptop, and arranged them all on the other side, as far away from him as possible; in his mind, should you two decide to have dinner in this room instead of the kitchen, you could sit closer to him. A win in any book. He pushed the sleeves of his shirt further up and carded his fingers through his hair, undoing a couple of unruly knots. What was he readying himself for? Maybe the answer was something beyond him, but he could not deny the warmth in his chest that grew and grew when he spotted you across the corridor once again, only now in a pair of pajama bottoms and one of the band t-shirts that he owned and you constantly borrowed.

Caught in a miniature mental disarray, he remained where he was, only slightly moving to allow for your arms to snake around his torso, and his hands to settle on your waist. Your embrace was grounding, boundless in affection, and Hongjoong gave up to the floaty sensation as he leaned in and buried his face in the crook of your neck. Surrounded by the remnants of the light, daytime perfume that you used, he found himself in paradise. He sensed a hand trail up his spine and start to toy with the longer hairs at the back of his head. This was a habit that you had only recently picked up, seeing as, for once, he was letting his hair grow longer, and he would be lying if this was not motivation for him to keep the mission going indefinitely. A warning hum erupted from somewhere deep in his chest when you lightly tugged. In a feeble attempt to mask his response to your playful caresses, he murmured:

“How was work?”

“The usual, though it was quieter now that most people are off,” Hongjoong lifted his head and was immediately dazed by the adoration pooling in your eyes. You looked at him as if he hung the stars in the sky. Inadvertently, he pulled you closer, and yet still wasn’t quite satisfied.

“How’s everything for you?”

“Been focusing on the exams today, got through most of them actually.”

“Oh look at you, my scholar,” you whispered in response, tapping Hongjoong’s nose with your own. Meekly, he smiled and attempted to look away, only to be guided right back with your steady hand that had now let go of his hair, instead resting on his jaw.

“I should be the one praising you… who closed that insane project that was initially expected to be postponed into the new year, hm?”

“That I did, indeed, but doesn’t take away from how proud I am of you,” your words were honey, trickling into his ears and coating his very soul like a soothing balm.

“And I am proud of you.”

“We did well, didn’t we, Joongie?” The nickname had him wavering, tip-toeing on the edge of rationality.

“Mhm,” his next words came on their own accord, raw, vulnerable, barely audible, “I really missed you, darling.”

“But I am here, aren’t I?”

“I’m sorry, I might be getting greedy,” his hands ghosted over your hips until one hand pushed you into him by the small of your back. You let out a gasp, but quickly regained your composure, clearly not taken aback.

“Not that I mind it… Ah, is my poor Joong lonely?” after a few seconds of silence, you continued, “you are so precious, you know that?” He loved that expression you got when you basked in the glow of knowing. Knowing just how far gone Hongjoong was for you. It was embarrassing at times to reveal and admit how pathetic he could become just to see that little smirk, even just to himself, but he did not dwell on it for the reward was far too great, “tell me what you mean, baby.”

“I-... I know we agreed to keep things busy this winter but I can’t help but want… yeah, I miss you.”

“Can’t help but want me, you mean?” you detangled his intricate web in no time. Hongjoong walked in circles, while you cut straight to the chase. Maybe this was why he did not care for much at all except for your understanding and your reciprocation. He nodded, finding solace in hiding his face in your neck once more.

“Well, baby, what’s got you so pensive? Hm? Tell me?” your voice shifted from allure to sweet concern as you checked in. Hongjoong was all the more exposed, every move less calculated than the one prior, and your infinite devotion towards him, his thoughts, his everything was making him too dizzy to stand up straight.

“I just… hm, I don’t know-”

“You do, maybe are just too shy to tell me?”

“I want to spend more time with you, just us, you know? Little dates, we don’t have to do much… but I want us to be present, ah what am I even saying-”

“You were saying something that I would love to do, Hongjoong,” you were quieter than before, more tender, “we have definitely been a little relaxed after moving in together, haven't we?”

“Mm, I wouldn’t say that-”

“I would. And that won’t do. So, how about we start now, then?”

All too delectable were the images that flashed in Hongjoong’s mind, and he felt bashful and helpless under your steady scrutiny. With your pointer finger resting under his chin, he could not do anything except stare back, a task proving to be increasingly challenging as heat rose on his cheeks. His head moved on its own accord, response shallow, almost a tremble rather than agreement.

“Words, Joongie, good boys use words.”

Oh how he craved you. His stomach coiled at your dangerous reminder. Instead of any coherent phrase, vulnerable, shallow breaths danced between you and him. Nobody was his audience except you, nobody knew him like you did, and yet the sheer weight of his infatuation with you was preventing him from saying a single thing, despite any fears being irrational. As soon as he were to say what was yelling at him in his mind, you would be satisfied, and allow him to drown in everything that you were.

“Yes…” he choked out, relieved upon detecting the beginnings of a feline grin.

“Yes what? Do elaborate.”

“Yes I- want this. I want us, I want you.”

“How?”

“I want you to do whatever you want to me,” heart hammering in his chest, he stammered.

“In that kind of mood, are you?”

“Oh please-” he wanted to disappear, shrinking back to free himself from your hand to no avail. Your chest again his, lips a mere tilt of the head away, and his senses were flooded.

“I’d love to, Joongie, I’d love to take care of you.”

Soft lips moulded perfectly with his, like freshly fallen snow. Hongjoong’s senses went into overdrive as the kiss built up into a sultry, addictive rhythm. Teeth grazed his lower lip ever so gently, and before he could react,you deepened the kiss by resting your arms on his shoulders. Immediately his hands responded by finding purchase on your lower back. He was grateful that your mouth muffled the whine bubbling in his throat as you purposefully shifted your body into his. But somehow, it was still not enough.

“Mh- sorry-” Parting for air was simply an excuse for Hongjoong to fish for his glasses with a trembling hand and set them down on the nearest surface. Apparently, it was not a distraction to you in the slightest.

Your onslaught continued past his plush, reddened lips and across his jaw, ending on a particularly sensitive spot on his neck. He jolted, but when you chased him to nip at the same place again he took no time in giving you better access. You moved again, leaving quick pecks on his lips and pressing your forehead against his. In the breathless euphoria any chances to overthink had disappeared, and he allowed himself to let go, to be completely yours. He was willingly leaving himself to be at your mercy, knowing that he was going to be safe, going to be adored. In a flurry of emotion, he bared his soul.

“I love you,” he did not notice the shakiness in his own hands until you raced to clasp them with your own.

“I love you too, Joongie.”

It took one step for him to start following you to the bedroom. You appeared as the very notion of calm, guiding Hongjoong. You let go of one of his hands to switch on a bedside lamp, making haste to return your attention to him. He melted under your touch, half-lidded eyes following how your swift fingers undid the buttons of his shirt. You treated him like he was priceless porcelain, a touch here, another there, skillfully ghosting over the places you know, from experience, would send him reeling and falling to your feet. But it was obvious that this was not the night for such a progression. Tonight was about connecting beyond the physical, about exploring intimacy as more than just some flimsy term.

As soon as you gave the sign, Hongjoong shrugged off his top, shivering momentarily until your hands were back, roaming his chest and waist freely. Enthralled, he mumbled your name. His eyes roamed ceaselessly as you got undressed, standing proudly before him, almost fully bare, beautiful. While you had told him you changed, evidently that included a conscious decision to dress up in the most enticing lingerie - he thought it was impossible to keep falling in love like this, but he kept on proving himself wrong whenever you were with him. Even though he had seen you like this many times over, every time left him wondering how he could possibly have found someone so lovely. Words escaped him.

“Leaving me alone like this?” you asked, a smirk etching itself into your features. You did not need to ask Hongjoong twice for him to clumsily begin undoing his trousers and settle on the edge of the bed, face flushed.

“So precious, so good to me,” you cooed, carding your fingers through his wavy locks.

When you straddled his lap and inched dangerously close to his boxers, Hongjoong swore his head was spinning. Prompted by another gentle tug at his hair, he kissed the soft skin of your breasts, one hand making quick work out of undoing your bra while the other played with the lacy fabric.

He followed your sighs, your sharp inhales and exhales, the sounds you bit back and he would tirelessly do anything to hear. His teeth grazed you ever so lightly as he travelled from one breast to another, a trail of kisses remaining anywhere he went. You grinded your hips into his with more purpose, feeling that delicious heat starting to rise in your core. Hongjoong responded with a flick of his tongue on your nipple, humming when he could finally rid you of pesky material, leaving him with every chance to show his love for you. Fingers stimulated the one he had shifted away from, while his other hand returned to its rightful place on your lower back.

It was as though a fire had enveloped him. There was not enough space, not enough air, and yet his only wish was to be so close to you that he could simply disappear. He was painfully aware of his hardening length, the continuous friction leaving him with half a mind to start begging. For what? Perhaps, for anything. Anything that you would give. You pulled yourself even closer, now sat directly on top of the growing wetness on his boxers, putting all the more effort into your hips. Airy mewls spilled from his lips, and he lunged to hold you, hands on your ass encouraging you to continue to untangle him at this agonising pace.

It was a game of lips, tongue and teeth. You returned to kissing him, foregoing whatever stability you tried to contain to completely sink into his form. Taken as he was by you, Hongjoong tried his best to keep up, lewd, slick noise that echoed in his ears only spurring him on.

Your limbs were cotton, thoughts preoccupied by a carnal want. Palming his erection, you smiled against Hongjoong’s lips when he moaned.

“How’s that baby, hm?”

“Don’t stop-”

“Want more? Is that right?” feverish nods, resulting in you pulling at the elastic of his boxers, “Off,” you sat up a little to help him, balancing with your knees on the bed as he shimmied the fabric off just enough for you to push it further down to his ankles, “so pretty.”

You covered your palm in his dripping pre-cum and smoothed it down his length in a couple of skilled pumps, amused by Hongjoong’s adamance to be obedient, pursing his lips to remind himself that he shouldn’t buck into you. His gaze was fixated on your caresses, just enough to drive him mad, but not enough to take him over the edge, only ever wavering to glance at your still-clothed pussy. Judging by your momentary spell of quiet, you were trying to focus on him at the expense of your own desires.

With another groan, Hongjoong slipped your panties to the side, calloused fingers immediately being coated in slick. Rhythmic circles over your clit turned to music to his ears as you mewled, leaning forward to find his shoulder, biting it ever so slightly. With every breathy moan his body kept on screaming for you, your warmth unbearably inviting. When he dipped two fingers into your core your movements faltered and you squeezed around his base in warning. He could lose himself then and there, sheer power of will leaving him one thread to hang by.

“Baby, can I please-”

“Say it, Joong,”

“Can we take it to the end? Please, please I-”

“If we don’t I’d be upset. I, want, you, so, bad-” you punctuated your response with pecks across his face, an ecstatic grin meeting his own.

You and him were a mess of limbs and pleasure falling onto the bed, him helping you over and pulling the panties completely off, humming at the sight. He was eager to please, ensuring you were comfortable with how you were lying down. Adjusting the pillows, placing one under your hips to avoid any strain, checking that you would not hit the headboard, stretching towards the drawer to take out a condom, speedily tearing the packaging and rolling it on. You watched him, enamoured. Beauty, inside and out, ethereal in the honey-coloured light.

He positioned himself at your entrance, gliding his tip a couple of times over your sensitive clit before pushing in. You sighed, head falling back at the relieving fullness. Your walls clenched around him as he bottomed out, making him let out a low growl. He shifted his weight forwards until his arms were on either side of you and he could indulge in your every expression.

It was a delightful stretch. Your every sense was filled by him, and only him. Then, he began to move. He started agonisingly slow, pulling out almost his entire length only to drive it back in, punctuated by the sound of skin against skin. He dragged his hips almost lazily, but you knew better than to assume that this was going to continue for much longer, given his shallow breathing.

Hiis thrusts became more accentuated, faster within a few minutes, and you searched for anything that you could hold, all too quickly losing yourself. In a feeble attempt to reach for him you lifted your arms upwards. More often than not you did not need to explain to Hongjoong what it was you wanted - he read you and understood, just like now. With a strained chuckle he edged forwards until he was close enough for you to wrap your arms around his neck. The feeling of your digits back in his hair had him biting his lower lip, barely containing his building high.

A particularly deep thrust made you tug at strands, and he moaned, rolling his hips with newfound vigour. Every time you clenched around him he became more frantic. The glide against your walls was perfection, the familiar coil tightening at a frightening speed towards a crashing release. Your arms collapsed when Hongjoong cursed under his breath, tapping your thighs to angle them upwards. You shifted upwards, legs barely wrapped around him as the new position gave him even more depth and freedom to pound into you.

The wetness embracing him was downright vulgar, noise enhancing the redness of his cheeks. You tensed around him, previously quiet pants transforming into a mantra of his name. He gripped your thighs in a last attempt to remain grounded, but as waves of your climax took over you and you pulsed around his cock, limbs trembling, all he could do was give in. Give into you, give into white hot euphoria. You were soaking him, he was rapidly getting overstimulated but he could not careless, remaining exactly where he was even though his muscles were screaming.

He was completely spent. Nothing but adoration towards you remained. He winced as he pulled out and hastily took off the condom, far too sensitive to function. Falling to your side, he watched the rise and fall of your chest, entranced by how even the smallest details that you possessed had their own brilliance. After a few moments you shifted, pushing the pillow from underneath you and turning to the side, facing Hongjoong. Your sleepy, but totally mesmerised gaze made his heart hurt. You. It was you who he loved, you who he lived with, you with whom he could make love like this.

“Hi,” you whispered with a giggle.

“Hi,” he brushed your cheek and kissed you again. You lifted your arm, suggesting that he were to move closer to you. Much to his dismay, a surge of stimulation pulsed through him, making him gasp. Thankfully, you took it with good humour, eyes travelling down his body, seductive even in the afterglow.

“I am not sure I should move just yet,” he suggested with a chuckle, astonished with himself.

“Hm… then let me get us all cleaned up and I-”

“-you are not moving either,” powering through, Hongjoong stretched his arm until it was lying across your torso. There was no force behind the action itself, except maybe in his pouting lips that you could not help but want to kiss again and again. You chuckled and feigned annoyed acceptance.

“Fine, I guess we can stay.”

“Love you.”

“Love you more,” you countered.

“Impossible.”

You shifted closer until all you could see was Hongjoong’s face, and all he could see was yours. And yet, somehow, in each other’s eyes, you could see the world. Those plans you mentioned, those worries, those wishes, those desires all collected in miniature universes of the soul, reflections and projections of a life lived and to be lived together. Dreamy eyes.

📚perma-taglist: @charreddonuts @preciouswoozi @http-gyu @my-loves-my-life @yeonjunnie @wooyoungjpg @wowie-hockey @ren-junwrld @hongjoongs-patience @miriamxsworld @innsomniacshinestar @jaehunnyy @maddkitt @marsstarxhwa @asjkdk @northerngalxy

enjoyed? i would love to hear from you, it means the universe to me. thank you.

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kquil · 8 months ago

Text

DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER THREE

03 : SHOPPING (2/2)

CHPT. SUM. : so many stores are left on the list, the boys finally eat delicious food outside, detours are a natural endeavour and you meet a collection of interesting shopkeepers. what a day~

LENGTH : 10k

TAGS : fluff ; fun day out ; sirius and regulus being precious ; they're just kids ; reader is mother of the year ; reverse comfort ; OC ; visions ; original walburga makes an appearance ; she doesn't stay long though ; money isn't a problem ;) ; domestic fluff ; sibling fluff between sirius and regulus ; marauders fix-it-fic

← PREV. | 02 : SHOPPING (1/2) | SERIES M.LIST

“Two what?” Sirius asks, your attention snapping towards him and breaking contact with the grey-haired man standing before you.

“Do you need a new wand too, Mother?” Regulus speaks up from your other side, swiftly following after his older brother. It was clear from the differences in their elocution that they differed greatly. One was much louder, with a sharp tongue and an audacious attitude to boot; the other was of a more gentle demeanour, equipped with a clever mind and observant eyes.

Mr Ollivander leans back with an amused smile waiting to see how you’d react and whose question you’d answer first.

“The two of us need wands today, Sirius,” you hum, hoping your nerves don’t show through in your voice as you switch between the two. It was adorable how similar their curious looks appeared when staring up at you.

“Why is that?” your eldest asks curiously, the question reflecting similarly in your youngest’s eyes.

“My wand appears to be having some problems lately and, well,” you raise your gaze to meet eyes with the wand artisan behind the counter, “I was hoping Mr Ollivander could help the two of us today,” the light streaming in from the windows above reflects off Ollivander’s grey hair to create a glowing outline encircling him. His peculiar portrait reminds you of how idiosyncratic he is, like a living ghost who’s able to touch superior levels of magic and wonder. It's mysteriously intriguing but just as harrowing too. He was able to deduce so much after so short of an interaction, after all. You stare at him silently, a gentle prompt to help you and your eldest son with your homogenous need for a new wand.

“I like to focus on one client at a time,” the look he gives you offers up the decision of who should go first to be made by your small family.

Before you can say anything, Sirius speaks up with a light dusting of pink on his cheeks, “Ladies first, Mother,” he announces politely and your heart melts at his consideration. You coo and awe at his gesture while dropping down to his height where you press a loving kiss to his forehead.

“Thank you, my darling. You’re such a gentleman,” Sirius beams at your praise as Regulus meets his eyes to the right of you and grins widely. The two easily share in the small joys they’ve been able to experience around you. They don’t want to seem rude so the two of them secretly cheer at the headache you suffered to be able to change this drastically, “However," you comb your fingers through his hair lovingly, "you’re the star of the show today. Why don’t you go first, my dear?”

Sirius doesn’t refute, too distracted and pink-cheeked by your affection to do anything but nod. He then turns to Ollivander, who smiles down at him kindly. The oddness surrounding the wand artisan, however, cannot be missed and Sirius is cautious to proceed forward.

“Your name, young man?”

“Sirius Black,”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sirius. Please step behind the counter and we can get started on finding you the perfect wand, shall we?” Sirius glances one more time over his shoulder and observes the encouraging nod you give him; his heart calming from the reassuring pat you give atop his head. Another moment passes before he is led behind the counter by Ollivander. The elderly wizard proceeds to give him a short once-over before disappearing between two ceiling-tall shelves, stacked full of stored wands.

“Do you want to watch your brother find his wand, Regulus?” you ask, kneeling to level with your youngest.

“Yes please, Mother,” he nods with a shy smile, “but I don’t know if I’m allowed past the counter,”

“Don’t worry,” with a smile, you carry him up in your arms, “I can seat you on the counter instead,” for the brief moment you rise, he stays in your embrace. However, when you go to place him on the counter, you find that Regulus doesn’t want to be let go.

In a whisper, you ask if he’s alright, “Can you just hold me like this?...please?” His answering whisper melts your heart and you can't find it in yourself to say no. Even if your arms begin to ache, you aren’t going to set him down until he wants to be set down – you’re determined!

“You mean you don’t know which wand is for me?” Sirius’ words ring with curiosity more than judgment as he looks up at Ollivander.

“I’m afraid not, my boy,”

“Aren’t you supposed to know?”

Smiling fondly, Ollivander begins to explain the process, happy to answer the questions of a curious child, “Ultimately, it is the wand that chooses the wizard, Mr Black,”

Sirius contemplates Ollivander’s words for a moment as Regulus gasps in astonishment beside your ear. The awe and interest are evident in the youngest’s silently twinkling grey eyes, matching that of his elder brother. Their wonderment is clear and both are equally skilful in concealing it.

“How will I know that a wand has chosen me?

“You’ll know,” Ollivander nods. There’s something in his pale eyes that makes Sirius keep from asking anything further. Something that says ‘trust me’.

Together, you and Regulus watch over the counter as Sirius tests out a variety of wands.

At one point Sirius makes several misplaced papers catch fire, which makes you giggle quietly. Regulus stiffened in your arms momentarily at the sight of the sudden flames and only seemed to relax as soon as he heard your soft laughter. It isn't until he presses his face into the junction of your neck and shoulder that he finally draws your attention. It didn’t seem like an issue to press further about so you gave his small back a few reassuring rubs and continued to watch over Sirius – perhaps Regulus was feeling a little exhausted already. Despite the disastrous flames, Ollivander had the situation handled and simply magicked away the fire before rummaging around for a different wand, muttering softly to himself as he did so. It wasn’t until Ollivander came back with a jet-black wand with familiar-looking markings carved along its body that you smiled to yourself. This was the one.

“Try this...” Ollivander offers up the wand but after the previous incident, Sirius is much more hesitant to proceed. He was only able to resume the testing when Ollivander flashed him a kind, reassuring smile - though he remained hesitant and stiff. Sirius was too scared to turn and see your reaction to the commotion he had just caused. But it was an accident! Surely you’d understand– “Give it a wave, then, young man,” Ollivander's chuckle was able to ease some of the stiffness from his limbs as the markings beneath his fingers urged him for a sturdier grip before giving the black wand a small flick.

Appearing from the tip of his wand, a small circulating breeze moves through the room, not caring for the mess it makes of any unfiled papers nor the rattling it causes amongst the stacked boxes of wands. The breeze eventually returns to circle Sirius, ruffling his hair and clothes before eventually dying down to leave him looking bedraggled.

The result was quite confusing to the ordinary eye, which worried you, but not for the elderly wand artisan. Ollivander slaps his knee and throws his head back with a laugh. “Now that’s a match if I’ve ever seen one!” His words make Sirius stare up at him with wide eyes of disbelief.

“Really?”

Ollivander kneels beside him with a twinkle in his eye, “That’s quite a choosy wand, my boy. Wands made out of jet black Ebony are happiest when in the hands of those who are not afraid of being themselves, sticking to their beliefs no matter what external pressures there may be,” the elderly wizard’s words washed over Sirius and flooded him with a feeling of vindication. He felt light and there was a flutter in his chest. In his short life so far, it’s been so hard to adhere to his convictions, and he has never before felt so validated, “you, young man, have a very courageous heart,” Ollivander’s words make you smile widely.

You set Regulus down as Sirius makes his way back to you. The two brothers share a hug but Sirius is still unable to meet your eyes. It isn't until his younger brother pulls away from the embrace that Sirius finally wills himself to look up at you. Regulus can see the slight fear in his older brother’s eyes and he knows the exact cause; Regulus was scared too. Regardless, you haven’t done or said anything to further his fears so the younger brother tries his best to be optimistic and flashes his older brother a small smile as if to say ‘it’s going to be okay’.

Biting his lip, Sirius finally turns to find that you’ve come down to his height. Rather than a scowl on your face for his earlier misbehaviour with the discordant wands, he finds you smiling brightly at him instead. Before he could comprehend what was happening, you pulled him into your arms. One hand presses against the back of his head and encourages him to bury his face into your shoulder as the other splays across his small back to give him supportive pats.

Beside his ear, you whisper, “I’m so proud of you, Sirius,” pulling away your eyes find that his own have significantly watered, holding back tears. Tears of joy, you assess and deliver a small kiss on his forehead.

“You’re not mad at me? For setting fire to the papers earlier?”

“Of course not!” you protest and pull him into your tight embrace once more, “I’d be surprised if I don’t set something on fire when trying to find a new wand too,” he giggles against your shoulder and it's the most beautiful sound you've ever heard, “I’m so so proud of you Sirius, you have your wand now, and you’re going to be attending Hogwarts soon,” you sigh into his dark curls and mutter against his temple, “Far too soon…”

Relieved by your reaction, Sirius can finally digest your words and the sincere tone behind them. He’s never heard his mother praise him or voice how she’s proud of him but here you were, whispering rare words for him to hear only. He doesn’t know if he could ever feel happiness like this ever again. It’s hard for him to even describe - he’s just so so happy.

It’s your turn to get a new wand now and the process is entirely the same. Ollivander goes through a selection of wands for you to test the feel of, giving each one a chance to see if they want to become your companion or not. After going through the first handful, you manage to light a stack of papers on fire yourself and when Ollivander swiftly distinguishes it, your group shares a laugh.

“See? I told you it would happen to me too,” you smile over your shoulder at Sirius who giggles with his little brother.

A few more inharmonious wands go by before Ollivander hands you one that's made of a light-coloured wood. The design of its body was very elegant and emulated a pattern that was reminiscent of vintage stone pillars. Widely spaced vertical ridges run along the main body and lead towards ornate, uniform designs that either look like curling leaves or crashing waves. It’s beautiful but what matters is whether or not the wand chooses you.

Flicking the wand, a spark of light escapes from the tip and you prepare yourself for another pile of papers to be set on fire. However, you’re pleasantly surprised when the light floats through the room as if it were swimming through water. It reaches Sirius and Regulus, where it proceeds to circle each of them before departing and leaving a warm touch that lingers on their cheek. The light eventually returns to you again, where it orbits your figure several times, enveloping your silhouette in an ethereal glow before disappearing. In its wake, it leaves a path of warmth that loiters in the air, suspended like the many particles of dust dancing in the light filtering in through the high windows.

Smiling in success, you hold the wand to your chest and turn to your boys who had begun to cheer for you. You could have easily lost yourself in the moment if it weren’t for your keen ears picking up on Ollivander’s mutterings. His words were all in a whisper and not meant for anyone else’s ears.

“How fascinating…” the elderly wizard smiles whimsically to himself again, “the singular wand whose properties are the precise opposite of the original became your destined companion,” you meet the pale, almost translucent eyes of the wand artisan, who smiles at you as soon as he finishes muttering to himself, “it’s truly an honour to be able to witness the pairing of an Applewood wand,”

“Why is that?” Regulus asks before you can even react. With a smile, Ollivander moves to the front of the counter and bows at the knees to his height. Their eyes lock like that of a patient but talented teacher and his diligent student.

“There are many properties of a wand that can be attributed to the reasons why it chose its ultimate owner, one of which is its wood. Your brother,” Ollivander gestures to Sirius, “has himself a wand that is made of Ebony wood, while your mother has herself one that’s made of Applewood. Applewood wands are very powerful indeed, I can assure you of that,” you find yourself leaning closer, eager to learn more, just as much as your two sons were to learn of their mother and the nature of wands, “their owners are typically ones who harbour ambitious goals and even higher principles. As a result, there stands a positive correlation between possessors of Applewood wands and the life they tend to live,” your breath remains trapped in your throat, held there by anxiety as you tensely anticipate Ollivander’s successive words, “they live a life that is long and where they are well-loved,” the relief was great and one that you were desperate to maintain. You know what you're setting out to do is going to prove a difficult challenge but it is going to be worth it, as long as your two boys are happy and by your side.

Together, both wands cost 14 galleons. And, despite the excitement you first held for meeting such a distinguished Harry Potter character, you were eager to leave, slightly scared of the amount of knowledge he potentially held. At the very least, you were able to depart on a good note

Naturally, the next order of business was to get all of Sirius’ robes and uniform at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions shop. That would be on the north side of Diagon Alley and, considering you were on the south side for Ollivander’s wand shop, you needed to direct your boys back up to the North. You admit, it was quite inefficient to go from Gringotts, which was North, to Ollivander’s (South), only to go back North when all the shops you had left to visit were up there. There were many shop names that you recognised on the way down, however, it was best to get the only singular South-side shop from your list out of the way so you could spend the rest of the afternoon easily hopping from shop to shop in the North-side.

“What’s wrong, darling?” you ask, noticing that Sirius has been staring off in one direction for some time, completely motionless and glued into place.

“Nothing… let’s go,” he grabs a fistful of your dress’ skirt but you already noticed what had captured his attention.

“A joke shop…” a small grin tugs on the corners of your lips. You remember the child-like wonder that washed over you whenever you watched the scenes featuring Fred and George Weasley’s joke shop. This joke shop isn't theirs but you wonder if it’s just as remarkable.

Sirius had no hope of ever convincing you to take a look, especially when most of today would be packed full of shopping at other shops for his supplies as a first year. In his insecurity, Sirius was only able to muster a quiet, “...yeah…”

“What a good idea,” you smile brightly and take both their hands into yours, heading in the direction of the shop happily named, ‘Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop’, “Let’s have a little look shall we? A small detour like this can’t do much harm,” Sirius was smiling from ear to ear as soon as he overcame the shock your agreement brought, “Although, I'm afraid I won’t consider buying anything,” a treat like that is meant for another time...

“That’s okay!” Sirius cheers and hurries along, making it to the door before you could and holding it open for you.

You’re beginning to realise a recurring discrepancy between the size of a shop’s exterior compared to its interior space; the joke shop is considerably larger on the inside compared to its outside appearance. It added to the joke factor of the store itself - how funny that it appeared so deviously small on the outside.

The entrance was lined with shelves filled with an assortment of joke items, all were vibrant and eye-catching. It was hard to enforce any form of restraint when your eyes couldn’t stay in one place too long, nor could your feet. There were several other children with their parents roaming the galleries of jokester paraphernalia too. Only then were you finally able to focus your gaze on your two, fascinated boys, not wanting to lose them.

“How undignified!” your eyes roll at the scratchy, annoying voice that invades your head once more, “No child of mine should ever be seen in a Joke Shop!”

“Oh Shut up, let my kids be kids,” you retaliate, folding your arms loosely as you observe Sirius dragging around his younger brother by the hand. Regulus happily heeds, not needing to be dragged to be able to shadow his older brother. Nevertheless, their small hands remain connected. The scene made you smile warmly, they’re the cutest boys you’ve ever – you want to prolong their happiness and give them as many opportunities as possible to experience the same delights over and over again.

“THEY’RE NOT YOUR KIDS!”

“YES. THEY. ARE!” shaking away Walburga’s shrill screams, you try to focus on the ground beneath you. It’s best to end this argument quickly, you don’t want to faint in the middle of a joke shop and ruin the day for your two boys; it's barely started.

You didn’t prolong your stay but enough time was spent there for you to witness Sirius’ certain appeal towards a particular item: a purple box of stink pellets. Smiling to yourself, you make a mental note of the fact before leading your two boys out and back to the north side of Diagon Alley.

It’s a relief that most shops offer delivery services, you don’t believe you would be able to carry all of your purchased items home.

At Madam Malkin’s, you bought all the necessary uniforms and robes for Sirius to have. Being an established house and family, you were attended to right away despite your insistence on no special treatment. Sirius was then measured and the appropriate sizes for his robes and other items were brought back to be tried on. He looked somewhat embarrassed from the attention but you couldn’t help yourself. There are many joys of being a mother and one of them was the ability to brag about how beautiful and exemplary your child was. To anyone within earshot and to those who, both, cared and didn’t care to listen, you openly talked their ear off about Sirius. Said son grew redder and redder with each expression of praise that left your lips without an ounce of hesitation.

Was he hearing right? You're just joking with him...but you sound so sincere. Surely those other people don't care, why are you such talk on them?!

“He looks all grown up, I’m so so proud of him,” Sirius’ ear tinted a faint red.

“I worry that he’ll attract too many girls’ attention and grow a bad reputation over breaking too many hearts. But, then again, look at his handsome face, of course, they would fall for my son,” Sirius looks to the side, trying to find interest in the cracks of the shop’s walls -- a weak attempt at distracting himself from the flames in his cheeks.

“I can already tell! He’s going to achieve so many great things, I just know it!” Sirius looks over and narrows his eyes at his giggling younger brother. Wait until he has to go through the same thing when he starts his first year!

“Yes yes, I know your son looks wonderful in his robes too but look at my son! His robes look like they were made for him!” try as he might, Sirius can’t help the smile that pulls at his lips. His heart swells up in his chest and threatens to burst from the amount of happiness your endless praise fosters in him.

Just as the checklist states, you made sure to get three sets of plain work robes in black, a pointed hat, a protective pair of dragon hide gloves, a black winter coat with silver fastenings and, lastly, name tags to attach to all items. The total amounted to 28 galleons and 44 sickles. Madam Malkins offered a service that stitched on the name tags for you but you kindly refused. It’s a tedious task but you wanted to stitch the name tags on yourself; you had the time and you wanted to do your due diligence as a mother. This is your job and you aren’t going to hand it over to anyone else. You were told to expect the owl delivery within a week.

“How about a break?” you suggest upon seeing a sudden fall in your boys’ energy. Their once slumped shoulders suddenly tense and the two peer up at you with cautious eyes. Despite the amount of progress you’ve made in cultivating a mutual rapport with them, it appears that some phrases put them on high alert regardless of the harmonic atmosphere.

“It’s okay mother,” Regulus hurriedly assures, his smile now much smaller and wrinkled at the edges from superficially conjectural nerves.

“Yeah, we’re not tired, we can continue shopping just fine,” Sirius continues, reaching out to hold hands with his brother as they stand before you with identical ambivalent expressions. It breaks your heart. Their words are simple but their actions are heavily veneered by a thin veil of coy nonchalance.

“Aren’t you two hungry?” you ask, crouching down to meet at their level, where you’ve gotten into the habit of being able to converse deeply with them. Keeping their gaze, holding each other’s attention and listening closely has led to so much understanding and that’s all you want with them.

They look at each other from your question. Sirius can see the obvious hesitation in his younger brother’s eyes and he gives his hand a small squeeze. Usually, Sirius was the more outspoken one, never letting his fears show while allowing his tongue to run and verbalise all the thoughts and opinions in his head. It was his small bit of freedom in a house that was so set on censoring him and his many opposing views, despite his young age. Oftentimes, his parents would guilt him into thinking that he was being a bad influence on Regulus, simply by voicing his views, which are usually opposite to those of his parents. Regulus had a much softer disposition, however. While Sirius carried about smug confidence and had a deficiency for self-preservation, Regulus reigned in studiousness and quiet wit. Sirius knows that his younger brother is gifted but his bright mind shouldn’t be cultivated under such oppressive practices and methods. If that happened, Sirus feared that his darling, little brother's gift would be reduced to nothing. There's no way that Sirius would let that happen to his baby brother, which is why he’s so vocal! But… what's changed?

Now he was hesitating, his throat clogged up, his palms were sweaty…he was scared. Scared to have you look at him with disapproval or disappointment. Sirius doesn’t know what happened to you, his mother, but you’re different now, he wants to love you and be loved in return. You’ve shown him that you can give the tenderness he desires, you’ve proven that he’s loveable and that he’s worth your time and attention.

He’s scared because if he makes a single misstep now… he’s going to lose that. It’s much harder losing something you’ve known, felt, and experienced than losing something that never existed in the first place…

“My dears?” you whisper with concern, leaning forward ever so slightly with furrowed brows of worry, “what’s wrong?”

“We’ll have to go home to eat…” Regulus confesses softly. He avoids your eyes as he fiddles with the hem of his long-sleeved shirt and completely misses the confused look on your face.

“It is not proper to conclude important errands prematurely,” Sirius explains as if reciting from a rulebook, “...and we don’t want to go home yet either…”

“We’re not stopping entirely,” you reassure, petting their soft hair affectionately and rewarding them with a kind smile as soon as they raise their hopeful faces to you, “we’re just having a lunch break, my loves,”

“You mean…” Sirius begins.

“We’re eating outside?” Regulus continues. Both look astonished at the notion.

“Of course, it’s better than eating back at home,” it then occurs to you a simple explanation for their odd behaviour, “Do you two not want to eat outside?”

“No!” Sirius jumps over-excited before a flash of realisation flourishes in his grey eyes and he quickly drops back, “No, it’s not that, m-mother,”

“W-we’ve just never eaten outside before,” Regulus explains shyly, “you have us on a strict dietary regime as a proper gentleman wizard of the Black family should be,”

“I’m putting a stop to that ridiculous ‘diet’ as soon as we get back,” they perk up at you but are quickly ushered forward to the nearby pub; unable to press you further on the matter.

Stepping into the Leaky Cauldron, you're greeted by the comforting aroma of hearty meals, mingling with the faint scent of crackling firewood and a faint fog of cigarette smoke. The space is a cosy retreat from the chaotic cobblestone streets outside. From the ceiling hangs several candle-lit chandeliers made of blackened iron, its flickering lights casting a warm glow upon the worn wooden tables and mismatched chairs positioned about the room. The walls are lined with shelves displaying an eclectic assortment of magical curiosities - from peculiar potion ingredients preserved in jars to enchanted artefacts that seem to hum with hidden power. An array of portraits decorate two parallel walls above brick archways. The portraits contain inky sketches that move about freely, some interacting with other portraits as a few characters walk between the varying displays. You guess they might be disappointed to realise that their selection of landscapes are largely the same - plain - but having the freedom seemed sufficient for them to stay jovial enough. At the heart of the room stands a grand fireplace, its flames dancing merrily within its brick frame. Its ochre light casts playful shadows across the room, socialising with the silhouettes of fellow bar guests.

Lighting within the pub relied heavily on candles so the atmosphere was quite dim but the tall candle illuminating the centre of your table gave the time spent there a very idyllic ambience. The two were unfamiliar with the menu items so, with their permission and trust, you ordered in their place.

Since Sirius didn’t mind what he got, you ordered for him Hunter’s Chicken. Regulus said he had a liking for fish so you got him a classic plate of Fish and Chips. For yourself, you got the cottage pie. For drinks, they got apple juice while you had a hot tea. Thinking back on the bland meals served at the Black family household, you’re certain that they were in for a treat today.

It doesn’t take long for the meals to be given out after your beverages; thankfully all of your entrees were delivered together. In front of Sirius were two succulent chicken breasts wrapped in smoky bacon and smothered in a rich and tangy barbecue sauce, baked to golden-brown perfection.

He takes his first bite and moans in amazement at the taste. The tender chicken yields effortlessly to reveal layers of savoury goodness - the sweet and smoky notes of the bacon harmonising with the bold tanginess of the barbecue sauce. Every mouthful he takes thereafter struggles between going slow or fast, the symphony of textures and tastes, leaves him craving more of the hearty dish. He doesn’t think he’s ever tasted something so appetising. Why couldn’t the food at home taste like this?

Regulus had before him a plate displaying a golden fillet of flaky fish. It’s encased in a light and crispy batter, served alongside a generous helping of thick-cut, crispy-on-the-outside-fluffy-on-the-inside chips, garden peas and a small ceramic of tartar sauce. Having not seen this appearance of a fish dish before, Regulus looks up at you with a curious look as if to say ‘What is this?’. You greet his curiosity with a sympathetic but patient gaze.

Gently, you urge him to squeeze the lemon slice over the battered fish and nod when he timidly follows your instruction, “Now give it a try, my darling, I promise you’ll like it,”

…and like it, he did!

With each bite, Regulus is met with satisfying crunch after satisfying crush. The exterior is perfectly fried, giving way to the tender fish within. The delicate cod melts in his mouth, introducing the delicate flavour of the fish, complemented by a sprinkle of salt and the squeeze of fresh lemon. Together they create a harmonious balance of savoury and tangy notes that dance happily over his palate.

“It’s delicious Mother!” Regulus grins with partially stuffed cheeks and crumbs of the batter decorating his lips. Sirius nods enthusiastically beside him, unable to speak from stuffing his mouth full of his chicken dish.

“Big brother, you have to try some!” you watch with a heart swelling up from adoration and pride as Regulus offers a big chunk of his fish and places it onto his brother’s plate.

“You too Reggie!” Sirius does the same with his chicken, generously offering up a portion from his plate. Once the two try a bite of each other’s meal, an explosion of ardour lights up their grey eyes, creating a galaxy of endless constellations in their wake. They are so precious.

Giggling at their antics, you turn to your dish and begin to eat. In all honesty, seeing them enjoying their food for the first time had your stomach already halfway full. So you happily offered a portion of your cottage pie as well. They wanted to say no but you were much too convincing and when they offered a bite of their dishes, you explained that you were already getting full.

They were named after stars but at this moment, their eyes held a galaxy of their own, just from tasting a delicious meal. You want to see them like this all the time…maybe you should begin cooking in the kitchen again? It was a hobby of yours that you enjoyed, baking too but found limited time to partake in it when your business had exponential growth.

Throughout the meal, you often forgot your unfinished plate to be able to tend to your boys. They’re not usually this messy but they were enjoying their food so well that they couldn’t help themselves. They haven’t tasted food this good before!

“You two are so messy,” you joke, giggling to yourself as you reach over with a napkin to wipe at the edges of their mouths while they chew their food. A look of shame crosses their adorable, sweet faces and they slow their mastication, avoiding your gaze.

“Sorry mother,” Regulus apologises meekly as Sirius mutters a similar apology beside him.

“Whatever for?” you pout at them, “I love seeing you enjoying your meals so much,” their expressions relax slightly when they turn to gaze up to witness your kind smile, “maybe I should get a cookbook and begin cooking up some delicious meals at home for you two, hmm?” a wide grin overcomes them, their astonishment quickly washing away from their elation at the prospect.

“Really mother?!” hopefulness makes Regulus’ voice raise an octave higher as Sirius bashfully stares up at you.

“You’d do that?... For us?” Sirius’ voice comes out unusually shy.

“Of course,” you shrug nonchalantly, trying to temper your exuberant grin, “I was getting tired of the dull, tasteless meals anyway,”

The main topic for the next visit was Eeylops Owl Emporium.

In your head, you remember the dark feathered owl Sirius owned in the films who had a horrible habit of biting people. Surely it wouldn’t affect the timeline drastically if you bought a different owl for him. It’s been on your mind how you would like to write letters to Sirius regularly, especially during his first year. You might even convince Regulus to join you so you could send your letters together; you didn’t want your son getting bit every time you wrote a letter to him so you’ll be getting him a different bird for all prospective deliveries.

Upon entering the shop, you encourage your boys to explore and keep a lookout for an owl that would be suitable for Sirius to have for school. In the meantime, you tried to pinpoint the owl with the terrible biting habit so that you may be able to steer Sirius away from ever encountering the bird. You don’t understand why Sirius would have ever decided to get a bird like that in the first place so if he manages to find it before you and decides he wants it, you don’t know how you’ll be able to convince him otherwise—

“That insolent thing bit me!” as the original Walburga’s voice enters your head, an image of the familiar black-feathered owl flashes behind your eyelids.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

‘The amber-eyed owl, quick as lightning, launches its head forward with a vicious snapping of its beak. Successful in its attack, you reel your arm back – except it’s notyourarm – with a shriek of fright and pain. Upon looking down, you observe the torn fabric of your sleeve as well as the lacerated skin of your arm – still not your arm – which begins to bleed a crimson red. Anger and embarrassment flood your veins as you prepare to curse at the insolent thing but stop when your eyes lock onto the hidden smirk of your eldest son.

“I want that one,” he says, a devious twinkle in his eyes. Before you could protest, his negligent and, often, preoccupied father, steps towards the shop clerk to request the owl for purchase. Orion hadn’t seen the vicious beast attacking you; too eager to return to his work and rushing through the list of school supplies needed for Sirius' first year. The man you call your husband only has himself to blame for waiting so late, only a week was left before Sirius had to depart for Hogwarts but, thankfully, most delivery services didn’t require that long to complete shipment.

“Let's hurry along then,” Orion clicks his tongue in displeasure over the sudden slowing of everyone’s pace, “we must be done by noon, I have better things to be doing!”

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

“Wh-what the–?” blinking rapidly, your vision of the present slowly returns as you reach out to grasp onto something just to steady yourself. Unlike all other squabbles, the original Walburga doesn’t return to elaborate in her screeching voice; she is unusually silent but you’re too dazed to point it out.

You don’t realise what’s happened until you’re flinging your arm back with a sharp cry, cradling your arm to your chest.

“Mother!” Regulus runs up to you with furrowed brows marked by distress, “Are you okay?” he reaches for your arm and you bashfully show him your injury, inflicted onto you by a black-feathered owl. The cheeky thing tilts its head at you as if it’s done nothing wrong and merely proceeds to preen its feathers, unbothered by the whole ordeal – so rude.

“Not that one,” Sirius glares at the malevolent bird, narrow eyes filled with malice before turning to you with a softened look of concern.

“It’s alright my darlings,” you smile reassuringly at them both, “it’s just a scratch, let’s look for a different owl, alright?”

It took a while to calm the boys enough to distract them from the mishap and finally return to the task at hand. You're injured but you, thankfully, didn’t have to do much to convince Sirius about choosing another owl. Only… The fact that your injury looks identical to the one that appeared on the arm of (what you assume) is the original Walburga’s vision, was disconcerting.

You make mental notes of everything that happened in the short period, not wanting to ponder on the sinister details just yet, not when you were having such a fun day with your two boys.

In the end, Sirius settles on a majestic barn owl with beautiful gold and white feathers. The shopkeeper informed you that the owl was a female as he prepared all the additional items you wanted to have with the owl; treats, a small care guide, its cage, water bowl, food bowl, and all of its necessities. You don’t want to acknowledge the shopkeeper’s suspicious gaze as it periodically falls on you. It was beginning to make you feel self-conscious and you’re eager to distract your racing mind. This was probably all original Walburga’s doing. You know how much of a bitch she is but her reputation is proving to be incredibly troublesome when it comes to interacting with other people.

“What will you name her, Sirius?” you ask, hoping your voice doesn’t give away your discomfort. Thankfully, your question is a good distraction for everyone, including the shopkeeper.

“I don’t know…” Sirius ponders to himself, “Maybe… hmmm… Owletta,” he grins cheekily, proud of himself for the creative name. You can already see the marauder in him and it makes you grin as well.

“That sounds very fitting,” you wink at him as Regulus giggles to himself, enjoying the given name as well, “great choice,”

“What happened to the last owl you purchased?” the shopkeeper asks suddenly, finally finished with preparing all the items and eying you warily. You feel Sirius and Regulus’ eyes on you from his question as well and hurry to make an excuse. This situation has grown very uncomfortable.

“Last owl?”

“Yes, the screech owl, from last week,”

“It was for a gift…to a friend,” you smile innocently despite your awkward wording, grateful that the shopkeeper doesn’t ask any further questions although he does appear reluctant to hand over Owletta. But with an impatient flap of her large wings, he hands her over inside her cage. She probably felt the taut tension of indecision in the air far worse than you.

“10 galleons…” you gladly hand over payment and usher your boys out.

This has the original Walburga's name written all over it.

Continuing with the shopping, your next stop was Flourish and Blotts for Sirius’ books. The list of publications needing to be purchased was long, amounting to eight volumes of knowledge ranging from magical creatures to history and magic theory. You were tempted to read through the books yourself and learn a thing or two but didn’t want to appear lacking. As unfortunate as it is, you’re supposed to be the Walburga Black, a very proud, ‘high-class’ witch within the wizarding world, meaning that you had to be proficient in, at least, 1st year of wizarding knowledge.

Fortunately, there was an owl delivery option for the books, which saves you from carrying the heavy load but you’re beginning to feel sad for the poor owls subjected to delivering such a package. Not only that but you worried for your poor Sirius’ little shoulders and arms having to carry around those heavy books at Hogwarts. You hope to god there’s a magic bag that could carry many things without transferring the weight onto you. From the books and the delivery fee, everything costs 14 galleons in total.

It wasn’t listed on the official school supplies list but you had the foresight to go to Scribbulus Writing Instruments to buy an assortment of inks, quills and parchment. Sirius and Regulus were fascinated by the colour-changing inks available, some transitioning between two to three colours and some cycling through much more. At first, you found it odd that they hadn’t encountered such a simple and commonplace magical item before until you remembered their parents and all the unfortunate implications that came with that realisation. It made your fists clench in anger and had you impulsively buying a small pot of each colour-changing ink to the surprise and subsequent delight of your two boys.

“Y-you didn’t have to do that Mother,” Regulus comments shyly with a soft pink glow dusting his cheeks as he cradles a small pot of colour-changing ink in his little hands. That particular one was his favourite, if you remember correctly, it transitioned through an array of blue hues. He looks so adorable; you don’t know how you were able to resist reaching down to pinch at his pudgy cheeks.

“Of course, I had to,” you huff with a playful sternness before leaning down and bringing them in close to whisper for their ears only, it was as if you were telling a century-old secret. Intrigued by your actions, they lean in with rounded eyes of wonder, “But promise not to tell your father, he doesn’t deserve to know about our secret ink stash,” Sirius grins mischievously as Regulus' cheeks dimple. Nodding firmly at each other, your agreement was sealed and the three of you continued with your shopping spree.

The next stop was Potage’s Cauldron Shop, where you purchased a small cauldron before getting potioneer equipment and a telescope from Wisearce’s Wizardry Equipment. Again, like all the shops before, it was incredibly touching to be able to see your son's eyes sparkle in fascination and wonderment. You can practically hear their thoughts. Even though Regulus has to wait another year before he can attend Hogwarts, they’re both glowing with enthusiasm and alacrity to learn and experience something new. It just makes your heart ache a little over how you’re going to be mostly absent from that venture, seeing as Hogwarts is a boarding school. In the meantime, you’ll savour having them with you now and spending the little time you have with Sirius worthwhile and carry that on with Regulus while his older brother is at school creating chaos with the rest of the marauders.

Sirius’ assortment of school equipment was quickly piling up and so was his excitement. It was an excitement that proved to be very contagious as Regulus stood to his right, absorbing the delight that flowed from him in wave after beautiful wave. Seeing such precious smiles on their faces, it was hard to believe that the first day or so was filled with them fixing you with permanent scowls or passive expressions that were too mature and ill-suited to their youthful faces. These gorgeous smiles suited them a lot more… and you want to keep it that way.

Stepping back out onto the cobblestone streets, you look around with your mental list of shops that still need visiting but find your gaze stopping on the sign of a quaint, unassuming shop dubbed ‘Belby’s Potions and Ingredients’. You don’t remember ever hearing of a shop like this being in Diagon Alley but that’s to be expected, the world building wasn’t very expansive in the Harry Potter movies or books when it came to Diagon Alley, and this is without considering that you were in a different era of the Harry Potter Universe. You’ve already come across some shops that you’ve never heard of before but sit comfortably, right at home, amongst the other recognisable shops in the district; this one in particular shouldn't strike you as so intriguing.

“Is that where we’re going next, mother?” Sirius speaks up, snapping you out of your dazed state.

Smiling shyly, you make a small confession, “It’s not part of the list, I’m just hoping for a little detour to get you familiar with potion ingredients before school," you skillfully fib, "is that okay with you boys?” asking for their opinion and giving them a choice to agree or disagree always seemed to make them happy. It’s a freedom and a luxury, that they were rarely given when under the real Walburga’s ‘care’ so they were more than happy to oblige.

“Of course that’s alright,” Regulus looks past the skirt of your black dress to meet eyes with his brother, “right, Sirius?”

“Yeah!” grinning happily, they hold your hands in their much smaller ones and start pulling you along to the shop, their enthusiasm making appear like normal, happy kids, “let’s go, mother!”

Looking up at the sign once more, you allow your curiosity to spring forward. Indeed, you can’t recognise this shop before your transfer into the Harry Potter, Marauders era universe but the name ‘Belby’ definitely piqued your interest. It’s on the tip of your tongue but you couldn’t quite place where you recognise the name.

Entering the shop, you were presently enticed by the entirely separate atmosphere it presented. Unlike most of the other shops that were, either, barely lit or bursting with colour, the atmosphere of this shop was remarkably serene. It was pleasant. A good change of pace. Switching from two extremes of decoration, it was relieving to finally find one that danced in the middle, leaning towards an aesthetic that was homey and unsophisticated.

Your two boys were quick to begin surveying the shelves of products themselves - a library of carefully crafted potions and their ingredients. It was clear that they too, were welcomed and put at ease by the cottage-core aesthetic of the dwelling. There were dried bunches of flora hanging from the walls and ceiling, some with cute blossoms, frozen in their prime, whilst other herbage sported brittle stems and frail, veiny leaves. The colours of the ingredients and tightly packed potions meticulously measured into phials were somewhat muted but in a very pretty sense. It was like opening a beloved, ageing book and diving into its wondrous, antiquated tales, freckled with wise passages that transcend all time and languages. The shop was very small but also very charming and well-loved; you felt right at home.

As your two boys weave through the isles of merchandise, a genial voice calls out to you, “Welcome to Belby’s Potions and Ingredients, I’m Damocles Belby, how can I help you today?” at the front counter, you observe a man in his mid-thirties with a full beard and moustache framing a no-eye smile. Slowly easing himself out of his merry greeting, his eyelids unfurl to reveal a beautiful pair of honey-amber eyes. He looks kind; his affable demeanour is just as welcoming as his cosy shop.

“Hello sir,” you hope your smile conveys, at least, half of the warmth of his own, “I’m just taking a look around, thank you,” he gives a soft ‘ahh’ of acknowledgement before nodding, “My two boys are also around here somewhere. My eldest son will be starting his first year at Hogwarts next month so I wanted him to get a little familiar with the potion ingredients he’ll be encountering at school,”

“That’s a brilliant idea,” Damocles grins in approval, chuckling to himself at your chest swelling with pride for your son, “what is your son’s name?”

“Sirius Black,” you announce fondly, the friendly atmosphere coming to a screeching halt when realisation washes over Damocles’ features. The once cordial air has plunged to freezing temperatures within seconds, prickling your skin with goosebumps.

“M-madam Black,” he greets formally with a bow of his head. It’s clear that Walburga’s reputation is notoriously menacing but you’re not her and you kindly ask that he refrain from such discretionary (in your eyes) behaviour.

“I’m simply a mother to my sons and a wife to my husband,” a disgusting, pile of shit that’s a complete waste of oxygen, who doesn’t deserve the title of father or husband, “that is all,” your answer doesn’t soothe him as you’d hoped it would but your attentions are soon required elsewhere when you’re both drawn to an even cosier corner of the store.

Led there by the whisperings of your two sons, both accompanied by a tired yet melodious voice, you are greeted with the most charming sight — your boys sitting at the foot of a rocking chair, where a frail but equally kind-looking woman slumps into, her pale blue eyes shining with fondness at them as she embroiders a shimmering pink thread into a plain square of cloth in her lap. She’s dressed modestly, with her top hiding her arms in long lantern sleeves as her collar stretches up her neck. The long skirt of her dress looks layered, puffing up at the sides of her seat and what little skin you would have seen at her ankles are covered in thick socks. You wonder if she’s cold at all. Or maybe she’s just a very unobtrusive person with a likeness for coquettish and demure fashions.

“How do you know how to make the flowers if you don’t draw them first?” Regulus asks, peering over her lap in an attempt to catch sight of her work between her elegantly working hands.

Sirius nods and adds to the conversation with his question, “Yeah, and why aren’t you using magic like everyone else?”

“It comes with a lot of practice,” she answers your baby first before turning to your slightly older baby, “and I do it because I enjoy embroidering; besides…” she turns her work over to them, allowing you a glimpse of her masterpiece as well, “it always looks prettier when I embroider it myself,” your two boys ‘ooo~’ and ‘aaah~’ at her work. The interaction draws a soft giggle from you while the shopkeeper beside you sighs quietly – he sounds relieved.

“Are you feeling better, my dear?” Damocles steps up to his wife, placing one hand on the head of the cane that’s kept beside her rocking chair. His other hand reaches up to curl his fingers into a shy ringlet of her blonde hair. They are a loving couple, a 'one true pair'.

“Mr Belby, you need to stop being such a worrier,” his wife chides playfully at him, abandoning her embroidery to smile lovingly at her husband, “and besides, there’s nothing for you to fret about when I’m around such good company,” her comment makes you smile widely, proud that your two boys were growing a reputation of their own, ones separate from the infamous Black family. You can handle the stares and uncomfortable accommodations for your prominence but you wouldn't stand for them to experience it too.

“Right, of course,” Damocles nods with a short but airy chuckle and nods at the boys thankfully when they shuffle their way back to you. Sirius and Regulus had never seen such an affectionate couple before; their parents weren’t like that. And, although they wish they could grow up under such a soft and healthy model of love, they know that it wouldn’t be possible; to them, mothers and fathers don’t normally show affection for each other and that was how it was going to stay between their parents. There was no use in hoping.

“You must be these two young men’s mother,” Damocles’ wife meets your gaze and smiles, her beauty unable to be masked by her pronounced ailment, “My name is Ruth Belby, I see you’ve already met my worry-wart of a husband,” the two of you share a laugh before you’re able to introduce yourself as well. Unlike her spouse, Ruth's first reaction was not fear but rather surprise, an astonishment that quickly melted into a soft smile.

“You two have a very lovely shop,” Sirius and Regulus nod eagerly by your sides, agreeing with your comment, “it’s so much cosier than all the other shops around here,”

Damocles’ expression softens, his eyes mirroring sweet honey before he presses a kiss to his wife’s temple, “It’s all because of my wife’s keen eye, I catered this place solely for her palates’ enjoyment,”

“I’m very lucky in that sense,” Ruth’s twinkling laugh rings out as quickly as it gives way to a coughing fit. It sounds as though she’s trying to hack up a serrated knife, the sound of it making all witnesses' hearts shake with panic except for Damocles', who rushes about to quell her discomfort. He hides his worries well. His expression is completely neutral as he offers her a crisp glass of water, however, his other hand reveals his true sentiments – his true fretfulness. As soon as she's had her fill of the glass, Damocles offers up a phial of magenta liquid that you’re all too familiar with, “darling, there’s no need for that,” Ruth’s nose scrunches up at the appearance of the healing potion.

“It’s for your own good, please Ruth. I only want for you to feel better, my dear,” she grumbles and whines but eventually gulps down the healing potion, taking a moment to get over the ghastly taste before changing the topic. Your eyes fall onto her with sympathy. That potion is truly disgusting.

“That’s enough about me, I hear that this young man is going to be attending Hogwarts,” Ruth gestures to Sirius as you fondly bring up a hand to comb your fingers through his perfectly permed hair.

“Yes, he’s growing up far too quickly…” you hum, melancholic despite only being with your newly acquired sons for a little over a week. Sirius’ ears tint a soft pink and he shyly peeks up at you with pouting lips.

“Growing up is normal…” he utters like a grump.

“I know,” you sigh in gentle acceptance, “but I quite like you as you are right now,” Sirius’ eyes widen in disbelief and his cheeks burn as pink as his ears. It’s an expression that makes you smile warmly, you like the appearance of it on him, he needs to express it more often, “I want you to stay like this with me just a little bit longer, is that too much to ask?”

“...not really,” you didn’t expect him to answer but it was in a whisper so you had to lean down ever so slightly to hear him clearer, “I’ll try to stay like this a little longer for you…if you want,” his comment, heard by you and Ruth, have you both cooing at him as Regulus grins hard enough for his dimples to show again; his older brother’s rose-red face is so funny to look at!

When it comes time for you, Regulus and Sirius to leave, you thought it would just be a regular goodbye but not for your two boys. They've made good friends with the couple, especially Ruth so a memorable adieu was in order.

Regulus bows to Ruth like a true gentleman while Sirius places a small kiss on her knuckles, whereby he then turns to his younger brother and says verbatim: that’s how a true gentleman bids farewell to a beautiful lady. The gesture of your eldest made Damocles’ eyes bulge out as Ruth laughed aloud, her shoulders shaking as her eyes lit up in glee. It's a relief that she didn't have a coughing fit this time. You, yourself, don’t know why you were so surprised. It appears as though Sirius’ philanderer ways didn’t start in Hogwarts; he already had the potential even before attending the boarding school.

With another wave of your hand and a glance over your shoulder, you leave the couple whilst leading your two boys to the door in front of you.

It was then that you saw it…

In Ruth, you saw your past self. It was like looking into a mirror, a mirror into the past where you couldn’t have children no matter how desperately you wanted to have ones of your own. Like you, she probably had a list of names picked out in her head already. Like you, she probably pictured their innocent, beautiful faces in the appearance of other children. Like you, she envied the mothers who were able to conceive and desperately wished for a miracle to happen only for that miracle to never materialise. It was a mix of hopeless yearning and doleful forbearance. From your peripheral, you discern a similar impression on Damocles as he stands beside his ill-stricken wife.

Damocles Belby… why does that name sound so familiar to you?

The boys did so well today. It was long and arduous and you could see the sun beginning to set, however, it’s never too late for–

“Ice cream?” Regulus asks with glittering grey eyes.

“We can have two scoops each,” you announce, eager to reward yourself as well, “we deserve something delicious for our hard work today,” Regulus was bouncing on the soles of his feet, something both you and Sirius noticed.

“You can go first Reggie,” Sirius smiles at his little brother, who turns to you with pleading eyes.

“Can I choose my flavours myself?” he asks to which you smile and nod. Eagerly, he looks through the collection of available ice cream and decides to go for, “one scoop of strawberry and peanut butter, and one scoop of apple crumble please,” he seems proud of his order and is soon savouring it with the happiest expression on his face. It’s unexpected but he, undoubtedly, has a sweet tooth. A studious, quiet boy with a secret love for sweet things - how charming and precious.

“Can I have one scoop of the clotted cream, and one scoop of the sticky toffee pudding please,” just like Regulus, Sirius was soon delving into his ice cream too, both teetering on the edge of wanting to devour the rare, cold treat whilst also trying to make it last as long as possible. You giggle at their antics briefly before ordering your own two scoops from the same vendor who smiles at you kindly. In his gaze and wrinkled but dexterous fingers, familiar and elegant with their motions, express a love for his craft and a love for those who show their appreciation of it – the simple act of enjoying their ice cream was payment enough to him.

“Thank you kindly, sir,”

“Not at all mam, enjoy yer ice creams,” the man offers a slight tip of his head upon accepting payment.

On a nearby bench, Sirius, Regulus and you sit quietly together and finish your doubly topped cones, taking the time to observe passing wizards and witches while enjoying the little time you have left of your day out shopping. You don’t think the day could have gone any better, and Sirius and Regulus don’t think anything would be able to transcend the fun they’ve had.

Meeting each other’s eyes, Sirius and Regulus silently agree that today has been the best day they’ve ever had, not knowing that you have plenty of great days lined up for them.

NEXT. | 04 : BEGINNINGS → | SERIES M.LIST

A/N : it's finally here, my promised, final update before i go on my hiatus. i'm sorry it took me so long to get out to you darlings. after my indefinite hiatus announcement, i got really busy. however, i'm sure you darlings would be happy to know that my situation has gotten better. it's not to the point that i feel like i can comfortably write but i'm definitely getting there so i can confidently say that I can see myself returning from my hiatus later on this year. in the mean time, i hope you darlings enjoy this chapter and please take care! i love you all so much and i'll see you soon x

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