#he pours himself into everything he does and it’s effortless

[superm4ks]

I was gonna shit on max bc he didn't change his helmet design but then he was explaining it soo cute and like I just can't 🥺😭

Wud u not kill for him . Be serious

[flickering-chandelier]

You Matter to Me

Pairing: Cassian x Reader

Summary: Reader is the mom friend, and she’s very good at it. While she is always taking care of everyone else, Cassian decides to be the one to take care of her. 

Based on this request! 🩷

Word Count: 2.6k

Cassian couldn’t help but laugh as you weaved your way through the dining room at the river house with Nyx on your hip, helping set up everything on the table while Rhysand and Feyre were finishing a meeting with Azriel and Amren in their study. 

“Oh, the wine!” you said suddenly. 

“Do you want me to get it?” Cassian asked. 

As he knew you would, you answered cheerfully, “Nope, I’ve got it.”

“At least let me hold the kid. I don’t want you falling down the stairs,” he said, reaching for Nyx and taking him from your arms before you could protest. 

You smiled at him before disappearing to the wine cellar. 

He was endlessly impressed by your incessant energy, never sitting down until everyone else was settled first, always the one to jump up and grab something if somebody needed it. Since you had come around, it felt like everything was always in order. 

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was too much. If you were always taking care of everyone else, who would take care of you?

His attention was pulled when you glided back into the room, placing wine bottles on either side of the table, before the room filled with people, the rest of the inner circle spilling out of Rhysand’s study. 

Feyre smiled at Cassian, her arms outstretched to take Nyx. “I’m surprised she let you take him.”

“Practically had to wrestle him from her hands,” he teased, smiling at you as you sidled up next to Feyre. 

“He’s being dramatic,” you said. 

“Somehow, I don’t think he is,” Feyre smiled at you. “You don’t have to take care of us all the time, you know.”

You shrugged, your eyes shining as you smiled down at Nyx. “I don’t know how to act any other way.”

Maybe we should help change that, Cassian thought. 

Cassian’s eyes were on you all throughout dinner, as you laughed with Feyre, bouncing Nyx on your lap so she could eat. He hadn’t noticed before just how many things you did for everyone else. Feyre’s glass was empty, and likely before she even noticed herself, you were smiling at her, pouring more wine. Nyx knocked Azriel’s spoon off the table and in a heartbeat, you were handing him the clean one that you hadn’t used. Cassian himself unsurprisingly required another napkin and without looking up, you were reaching to pick one up and hand it to him across the table. 

It seemed effortless, like second nature, but he knew it couldn’t have been. It must be exhausting to think about everyone else. 

As dinner came to a close, you rose from your chair, collecting plates and dirty napkins. Feyre stood up to help, and Cassian found himself doing the same. Azriel looked at him with a raised brow, and Cassian just shrugged, snatching up Az’s discarded napkin and Nyx’s floor spoon. 

He followed you into the kitchen, where you already had the sink full of water and were soaking the plates. Feyre had gone back out to collect more from the table.

You looked surprised as you noticed him. “Do you need something?” You asked. 

Cassian tried not to be offended. “No. You think I would only come talk to you if I needed something?”

He tossed the spoon into the sink behind you and threw the fistfull of napkins on the counter to be washed before turning back to you, leaning against the counter where you were, his arm nearly touching yours. “I want to help,” he said quietly. “Put me to work.”

Shrugging, you said, “No, I just… Well, what are you doing?”

You waved your hand dismissively and turned away from him, going back to the sink. “You don’t have to do that.”

“So?”

Cassian moved around you, cutting off your path. You looked up at him exasperated, and he couldn’t keep the smirk off his face. “Neither do you! You don’t even live here.”

“You know who does live here?” Cassian asked, moving in front of you again as you tried to side step around him. “The High Lord and High Lady. You do know they have servants, too right?”

“Servants deserve a break,” you said, finally looking up into his eyes. 

“So do you,” he murmured. Without thinking, he reached forward and brushed a piece of hair that had fallen on your forehead behind your ear. 

He heard your breath catch and warmth spread through him. 

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. 

Cassian smirked again. “See? You know I’m right. Put me to work.”

You blinked, then rolling your eyes goodnaturedly, you said, “Fine. Can you grab the rest of the napkins from the table?”

He gladly did as you asked. 

---

From that day, Cassian made it his mission to be the one looking after you. 

Not that he would let you know that, of course. He tried to be stealthy about it, so you wouldn’t shut down the whole operation. 

Most of the normal group was outside at the river house, enjoying the warm summer day. Cassian sidled up next to you as you were talking to Feyre and handed you a glass of lemonade. 

“Oh!” you said, surprised, but clearly pleased. “Thank you.”

It looked like you had needed it too, because not long after, your glass was empty. Cassian broke off the conversation that he was having with Azriel and wandered over to you casually, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Having a good day?” He asked, pulling the glass from your hand as you smiled up at him. 

“I am.”

“Glad to hear it,” he beamed, before heading back into the house and filling the glass up again. 

When he returned with it, you raised your eyebrow. “What are you doing?” 

Cassian furrowed his brow as he passed you the lemonade. “What do you mean?”

Your eyes narrowed slightly, like you were studying him, but you brushed it off. “Nevermind. Thank you.”

“Anytime,” he smiled. “Really.”

---

Cassian was acting weird. 

Feyre had been your best friend for years, and you were pretty sure Cassian had talked to you more in the last few weeks than in all of the previous years combined. 

You could feel his eyes on you often, and he was popping up next to you seemingly constantly, refilling your drink or handing you a snack from the kitchen. He even seemed to know which snacks and drinks were your favorites, though you weren’t sure how he would have figured that out. 

It was sweet, you supposed. If you really let yourself stop to think about it, you were willing to admit that it was nice to be taken care of a little for once. You got so busy looking after everybody else, you truly couldn’t remember the last time somebody had cared to pay attention to what you needed. 

But, at the same time, you felt a little bad, and you couldn’t understand why on earth Cassian suddenly cared so much. 

Cassian himself interrupted your thoughts, coming up behind you and wrapping a shawl around your shoulders. You realized that you were holding your arms together over your stomach, shielding yourself from the evening wind. 

You raised an eyebrow at him in question. 

“What?” he smiled, his hands lingering for another moment on your shoulders. “You were shivering.”

“Was I, really?” You asked, surprised. “I hadn’t noticed.”

He leveled you with a remarkably serious expression, considering how easy going he always was. The two of you were back towards the river house, away from the rest of the group who were gathered in clumps around the rest of the yard, laughing and drinking. 

“How do you always notice what other people need, but you give no thought to yourself?” He asked, his eyes softening as he looked down at you. 

You grappled for an answer, feeling slightly paralyzed under his gaze. “I don’t know,” you finally said honestly.

Cassian offered you a sad smile, taking your hand in his and squeezing it briefly. “You hungry?” 

You laughed. “A little, I guess?”

He smirked, nodding his head to the house, then pulling you forward by the hand. 

The two of you reached the massive kitchen. You started rifling through the pantry and Cassian placed his hands on your hips, pulling you back against his chest. 

You embarrassingly let out a squeak of surprise. “What are you doing?” You asked, trying to twist around to look at him, but he pushed you toward the counter, spun you around and lifted you to sit on it. 

He grinned, his hands still on your hips as you gaped at him. His eyes were locked on yours, and you felt your heart racing, but you were trying desperately to not let him see it.  

“Stay,” he commanded teasingly as he finally stepped away, but you knew he meant it. 

As he rummaged through the kitchen, you tried to steady your breathing. You had to admit, you had been thinking about Cassian a lot more often lately. And that… what he just did… that would not help matters. 

By the time Cassian was back towering over you, you felt more normal. He presented your favorite snack with a smile. 

You took it, thanking him. He hopped up on the counter next to you, his shoulder brushing yours.

After eating in silence for a few moments, you turned to him. “How did you know this is my favorite?”

He shrugged, turning his smile on you. You tried to ignore the way that your heart melted. “I pay attention.”

“Why?” You couldn’t help but ask. 

Cassian seemed to contemplate for a moment, his easy smile gone. He finally looked back to you, his eyes smoldering, and said, “You matter to me.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as he gazed at you, your cheeks warming, and you unfortunately could not think of a single thing to say. 

Suddenly, footsteps were coming toward you and the trance was broken as you looked toward the door to find Feyre striding into the kitchen. 

She looked surprised to see the two of you sitting together, and you knew her well enough to understand what her answering smile meant. 

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, hopped off the counter, quickly thanked Cassian, and retreated back outside. 

---

Your mind had been reeling with thoughts of Cassian for days. Something in the air felt different between you in that kitchen, but you weren’t sure exactly what it meant. 

A loud knock on your door roused you from your ever spiraling thoughts. 

Cassian was grinning as you opened your apartment door, holding a bag of food out to you. “I hope you didn’t have lunch plans.”

You gaped at him. “You’re feeding me in my own house now?”

“I thought I’d mix things up a little bit,” he said, nodding his head inside. “So, are you going to let me in?”

After studying him for another moment, you stepped aside. He walked right past you, going to the kitchen table and spreading the food over its surface. 

Giving in, you went to your cabinet to get cups and plates, but Cassian stilled you with his hands on your hips once again. “No, you don’t.”

“Cassian,” you huffed as he pulled you back toward the table. “You don’t even know where anything is!”

He pushed your shoulders down lightly until you were sitting in a chair. “You can point, can’t you?”

You rolled your eyes. “This feels excessive.”

“I disagree,” he winked at you before going to the cabinet that you were just at, pulling down a few plates, then placing them on the table. 

“Cups?” he asked. 

Sighing, you pointed to another cabinet and he went to it, jovially pulling glasses out and filling them with water. 

Within a few minutes, Cassian was piling food onto your plate, watching you intently as he ate from his own. 

“What is going on with you?” You asked. 

Casually, he said, “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean! Why have you been hovering around, feeding me, bringing me jackets?”

The side of his mouth turned up into a lopsided grin. “Do you want me to stop?”

The question was not what you were expecting. You weren’t sure that you were willing to admit to him how much he had been affecting you yet. You sat back in your seat, crossing your arms over your chest. “Answer my question.”

His smile only grew. “Answer mine.”

You raised an eyebrow, determined. “I asked first.”

Cassian laughed. “Okay, fine.”

He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the table in front of him, his eyes fixed on you. “You really want to know the truth?”

You nodded, forcing yourself to keep your eyes locked on his. 

His teasing demeanor dropped, his expression suddenly serious. “I was watching you at dinner with everyone a few weeks ago. And you were running around, taking care of everybody else the entire night. It was like you didn’t even think about it. It’s amazing how you can do that, and I know that everyone around you is thankful for it. But…” he hesitated, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “But, it also made me sad. I started wondering if anybody ever took care of you. And I figured I could be that person.”

You had to take a deep breath, your mind reeling. 

When you were silent for a few more moments, Cassian continued. “You don’t have to take care of everybody, you know. You can slow down. You can relax, and let someone else help you out, too.” He smiled slightly. “That’s what I’ve been trying to show you.”

Something seemed to snap in you then. You hadn’t even realized how badly you had been wanting someone to help you, to pay attention to you, to take care of you for once. The fact that Cassian had noticed even before you did how badly you needed someone to be there for you made it even more unbelievable. 

Your feet seemed to move without your brain’s permission, stepping right up to Cassian, cupping his face in your hands, and kissing him. 

Cassian responded immediately, wrapping his arms around your waist, and pulling you to sit on his lap. He weaved his hands through your hair, his thumb rubbing circles into the skin at your waist where your shirt had ridden up the slightest bit. 

His lips trailed down your neck, and he murmured, “You never answered my question.” 

“Don’t stop,” you panted. 

He chuckled into your neck before kissing you on the lips again. “Don’t stop kissing you? Or don’t stop taking care of you?”

“Both,” you smiled, taking his face in your hands and kissing him again. 

“You got it,” Cassian smiled against your mouth. 

After a few moments, you pulled back, tracing the edge of his jaw with your thumb. “Thank you, Cassian. Really,” you said quietly. 

He smiled, his eyes twinkling. “You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t even realize how badly I wanted someone else to watch out for me for once.”

Cassian kissed you gently. “I’m here for you now. Whatever you need. Whether you know it or not.”

You smiled, nuzzling into his neck, hardly believing it. 

---

It took some time, but you eventually became more used to Cassian’s eyes on you, to not be shocked when he handed you a plate of food or washed the dishes for you. 

You were still very much the mom friend who took care of everything, as it was in your nature. But you now knew that you had someone looking after you, too. And you couldn’t be more thankful, as Cassian sidled up to you, kissing you on the temple and handing you a glass of water. 

“Thank you,” you beamed. 

Cassian wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a kiss. “Anytime.”

@loving-and-dreaming @birdsflyhome @hanuh @sheblogs @iambored24601 @thalia-as-blog @ecliphttlunar @melmo567 @headacheseason @sillysillygoose444 @halibshepherd @cigvrette-dvydrevms @lilah-asteria @marina468 @evergreenlark @bookloverandalsocats @yourqueenlilith @mariamay02 @azrielshadows1nger @andreperez11

[tteokdoroki]

happy valentine's day!! thank you so much for your lovely writings ❤️❤️ may i swipe spicy (breeding kink :3) for nagi + ring? thank you again!! i hope i'm doing this right ;-;

⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡. — SEISHIRO NAGI. swipe spicy: bound forever.

about. boom, it’s a match! after a perfect proposal, nagi decides to make you his forever in a more sinful way ( 2.3K ).

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! nsfw, smut, characters aged up to 20s, established relationships, engagements, light choking, cum play, unprotected sex, breeding kink, pro player!nagi, fem!reader.

・:〃⤥ bumble date, swipe right event !

seishiro nagi is effortlessly good at everything. 

with his friends — his aloof charm and easygoing nature is enough to keep them entertained. they don’t find his shy and laidback nature too off-putting or boring. with soccer, his talent is natural — born from nothing but a spark of interest. when he’d first started, nagi was a level above the rest without any of the extra hard work and training…but he’d craved to be better, to win above everyone else. so, at times, soccer was worth the hassle.

and with you, well, being with you was as easy as breathing air. 

effortless is exactly the word the white haired striker would use to describe his relationship with you. on good days and bad, you and nagi fit together like perfectly made pieces of a puzzle. there’s something about the way that you love him, that motivates nagi to push himself past his limits. he’s better because of you, wants to be better for you — always. there is no feeling of hassle or tiredness when it comes to making you happy, your laughter fills nagi with life and a passion akin to what he feels whenever he’s on the pitch.

seishiro has no idea what it is about you that made him this way. but what he does know now is that he can’t live with you — the way you smile at him, hold him, love him, kiss him. it’s something he can’t bare to be without now that he’s tasted what it’s like to live life with you by his side. that’s why he finds the courage to propose to you on Valentine’s Day — uncharacteristically serious and nervous as he sinks down onto one knee in the cosy corner of that restaurant you like. 

what if you reject him? what if you say no? bringing back the ring would be a hassle but the thought of losing you is even worse…

though, when you realise what’s going on and your eyes light up with such undiluted love and adoration — the words of little speech nagi had prepared for this moment slip from him easily as if he had been born to ask you to marry him. to be with you forever. and now, for the rest of your lives — you will always be his and seishiro nagi will always be yours. 

a promise that is commemorated with the biggest and most blinding diamond ring nagi’s hefty soccer player paycheck can buy. 

romantic dinner plans were quickly thrown out of the window as soon as your engagement ring took residence on its rightful finger. after ringing up the bill and abandoning your half-finished meals, the both of you find yourselves stumbling home to celebrate the beginning of forever. your movements are frenzied and fuelled by the high of your engagement as you make it over the threshold, hands tugging and tearing at the fancy clothes inconveniently in the way while your lips meet in passionate, ravenous kisses — your tongue running over nagi’s pearly white teeth as he pours hungry moans and love and adoration into you.

“sei—!” you whimper, soft and needy as your back hits the wall behind you. your newfound fiancé uses the entirety of his strength and height to lift you into his arms, wrapping your thighs around his slender waist whilst his hips pin you to the cold surface. lines between love and lust are quickly blurred when the heavy outline of nagi’s dick presses against the treasure hidden between your perfectly plush thighs — your dress pushed up just enough to reveal them to greedy cool-tone grey eyes. “seishiro…mph, i love you…”

“y’love me, angel?” the striker’s entire body trembles with pride at the way you call his name, keening into his closeness and the way that he towers over you. your fingers rake through his silvering hair, the band of your diamond ring icy on the back of his neck as you tug him even closer as though his proximity is not enough. “s’that why you’re gonna marry me? let me…fuck, let me have you forever?” nagi coos his sinfully words quietly, tucking his face into the alcove between your neck and shoulder — kiss swollen lips dragging over your heated flesh and fluffy white lashes fluttering against the spot as well. 

you’re so soft, so warm underneath him and nagi can hardly resist the siren’s call of your body — ripe and fresh for the taking, much like the fruit in adam and eve’s garden. he can’t help his innate desire to take you, and it’s just a little bit frustrating. 

his dick pulsates behind the layers of boxers and slacks, desperate to be sheathed within your silken walls. and in response, you clench around nagi’s tip through your thin cotton panties almost as if you’re coaxing him into making love to you. right here, right now. each time he drags his hips back and forth, slow and steady, against you, your thighs tighten their grip around his waist and your body twitches to life in seishiro’s hold. his chubby erection, leaky and hard, slides through your panty clad folds at your sensual bump and grind, only adding to your exertion. 

“‘m gonna keep you as mine...” blood rushes through seishiro’s ears and shoots through the rest of his lean body, carrying adrenaline and lust hormones via the red blood cells teaming under the surface of his skin. he needs you, he can hear how much you need him too. it’s evident in the way you gasp and mewl out for him — your own body following your fiancé’s lead. 

“uh huh, wanna be yours…” the tail end of your words fall away into a whistle tone whine, layering over the sound of a clinking belt and shuffling dress pants which give nagi the room to pull his girthy cock out. 

he noses his way up the side of your face, breathing growing erratic and unstable against your ear as he positions himself at your quivering entrance — sliding into you with very little resistance. “ngh…so t-tight, angel. can’t…can’t wait t’be the only one who gets to fuck you open for the rest of our lives.” seishiro sighs dreamily. his hips jut upwards, filling you up with his milky cock in one swift movement. you stretch around him deliciously, walls rippling around him to accommodate for his size — despite having been taken like this many times before. “don’t…don’t clench down on me like that. s’not fair, you’re gonna milk me ‘n we’ve barely fuck started.” 

the white haired player stutters with both his words and his hips — struggling to set a steady rhythm to the way he grinds into you. like that of a wet dog slipping into his rut. sometimes nagi thinks he’s being selfish, snapping a girl like you up and making you his for the keeping…but it’s times like this — where your cunt squeezes down on his seedy cockhead every time it pulls out of you — that nagi is reminded of his ego. the selfishness that’s been born into him with every play on the field and every precise, lax movement he makes to help you reach cloud nine. 

he can’t stop running his mouth, lustful and debauched gibberish slipping and sliding over his wet tongue as he builds up the momentum behind the forceful juts of his hips into yours. “unless that’s what you want, yeah pretty girl?” seishiro continues to grunt even when the length of his creamy cock slips out of you, running through your puffy folds. “f’me to knock you up… make you take all of my cum.”  your dainty fingers reach down between the slow rolls of your body to push him back in, sending a shudder down your fiancé’s spine. 

no matter how many times you touch him, fuck him, love him… he will never get used to having you wrapped around him like this. dripping so sweetly down his heavy balls. “make you even warmer in here… s’warm and wet all for me. ‘m so lucky. you’re so good.” 

a symphony of wet slaps from skin on skin echo throughout the hallway of your apartment — for every slothful plunge of nagi’s sloppy, seedy dick against your gooey and sensitive insides reverberates in the heated buzzing between your heated and temperate bodies. nagi, and all 190cm of him, curls over you protectively — lips tacked to yours as he chases your sluice, salacious pussy for more than you can give him. an impossible closeness that he craves now that you’ve agreed to marry him. 

it’s ungodly how much control you and the ring on your finger have over him — reducing the mighty, notoriously undefeatable striker to a drenched, sweaty and sex-driven mess. “i want you inside…” pressing his forehead to your own weakly, nagi’s white hair sticks to your skin and his hot, heaving breath coasts over your cherry-bitten cupid’s bow as you speak — dampening the surface. “need you to cum inside, sei. m-make me yours…please!” 

all the striker does is moan low and sexy in response, the husky sound sending thunder-strikes of dopamine across your loved-up brain. all he can think about is breeding you, stuffing you full with so much cum and so much of him that you can’t walk for days. impulsively his hips twitch upwards rapidly,  so fast that your eyes disappear into the dark depths of your skull and nagi’s cockhead bears down on that needy, spongy little spot inside of you. 

everything grows wetter, hotter and nastier. amidst your surprise from the uptick in your fiancé’s usually languid pace, your fingertips on your right hand sink into the broad expanse of his back while your left ( the one with the ring )  suddenly ensnares the colum of nagi’s throat — pulling him down so that your faves are only a breaths width apart. the cooler press of your engagement ban against his feverish skin only eggs him on, driving the pro soccer player to pursue the intoxicating squelch of your count around his thick base, a white mixture beginning to foam there from how vigorously you’re fucking each other.

nagi is loving and lazy, but greedy when it comes to you. he plans to be that way forever, if it means he can witness the look of delirium on your face whenever he has you fucked out like this. and you’re the same, a perfect match, bucking into him as though to match his strong pace — so that you both can see stars and reach new heights of insanity together. 

you’re overwhelmed, the both of you are. senses being worked into overdrive from the way nagi’s cock shines each time he pulls out of your snugg, wet sex to the way that your needy gripes and laments harmonise into the night. “g-god angel, ‘m gonna cum…g’na let go inside’a you…fill you up,” seishiro rambles in warning, losing his rhythm and tripping over his words. he could cream your cunt right now, selfishly reach his high before yours — but nagi loves you; loves the feel of your diamond engagement ring cutting into his cheek when you move to cup his face through the final moments. “spread your legs a little more f’me, ‘m gonna touch you…”

so instead, he pulls back the hood your clit with the hand on the arm that keeps you steady against the wall, and burns the letters of his name into the puffy nub. “‘hmygod, s-sei!” you squeal at the new found pleasure, groping at your man as your head falls back against the wall. it begins to creak under the pressure of sex, tinging nagi’s skin a soft pink while his dick throbs in the warm hug of your addictive walls. “‘m close!” 

“i-i know pretty thing, i know,” spreading the filthy mix of your arousals over your slit while he pumps in and out of you lewdly, nagi whimpers your name loud and proud. everything is so messy, so fucking raw, his shaft is doused in an opaque white that clings to the oretty blue veins spiralling around his cock while your mound seeps and weeps a wetness only he can bring out of you. “you gonna cum? you g’na cum f’me baby? drip d-down my cock…let me cum in you after?” the pitch of nagi’s moans rise in octave until they’re enough to rival your open-mouthed bleats. 

“y-yes! please sei, p-please!” fat droplets of precum and your juices along between your bodies and crudely drip to the floor, and it’s not long before the tickle at the base of your spine becomes a bright spark — your orgasm breaking dawn first. 

waves of your precious nectrar and liquid gold gush from your fluttering entrance before you even realise it — so fast it almost forces the white haired striker out of you. “y-yeah, yeah, yeah…fuck! that’s it angel, c-cum all over me…” nagi’s cock never relents, bullies it’s way through your blistering hot walls to nudge at  your g-spot all throughout the ordeal while the world of colours flashes behind your eyes. 

you’re such a good girl, you’ll be such a good wife — letting nagi use you and continue to canter into you until your rippling cunt push him over the edge into his own high. “c-cumming!” he gasps as if he’s taken a bullet to the chest, thrusting into you as if it’s the last thing he’ll ever do — intent on keeping you bred and full. seishrio’s load pours into you like a never ending stream of thick white, warm and viscous as it coats your mound copiously. painting you in his claim. 

he doesn’t budge even as you both fall back down to earth from your heavenly highs — making sure that not a drop of his cum is wasted on anything else except for you. a lazy giggle escapes you as your hand slinks down from nagi’s cheek to his plush lips, leaving a pink-ish (yet pain free) mark from your ring on his cheek. 

“i love you, sei,” you whisper in tired amusement as he kisses the ring on your finger.

seishiro hums happily, squeezing your thighs in his hold. “i love you back, forever ‘n always, angel.” 

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[theheartofone]

Steel in Her Veins, Chapter: Twenty-Eight

Read On: AO3 | Table of Contents | Next Chapter

Characters: Fem!Reader x Roronoa Zoro

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Sugar and Spice and Everything… Sooty

Raya races all the way up the ladder, her breath staggering in her lungs like a hellhound set on a bedevilled chase. She leans against the door, lips parting for the sharp and successive breaths to leave her system, her arms firmly curling over the heavy crate of alcohol she’s managed to swipe from the kitchen.

A heavy quake stammers across the surface of the crate, vibrations pulsing through the glass bottles like a fissure ready to spill. Almost unwillingly, she cranes her neck downwards to the mysterious assault, and when she realises the source of the ruckus, her lips fold into a heavy grimace.

Across the surface of the box lies the shattered remnants of Kikoku, humming and shuddering in such a startlingly low pitch, that its voice could raise devil spawn to grace human land.

Fuck, she hisses to herself. What has she gotten herself into?

Through the brown strands of her windswept hair, her eyes pierce down at Roronoa who reluctantly grabs the ladder by his firm hands as he heaves himself forward.

This is all his fault, she thinks to herself - a thought she finds herself repeating more and more often as a source of respite.

“I don’t get what you want me to do,” he grumbles out, a tied bottle of sake dangling from in between his teeth. His feet smoothly trace along the next ledge of the ladder. “I don’t know how to make swords. I don’t know how to -”

“Don’t try to weasel your way out of this, Roronoa. You’re guarding me,” Raya instantly replies, leaning over the high ledge of the crow’s nest. Her eyes briefly scan through the crowd of pirates, impatient fingers fumbling over the bannister like a worried mother.

“Guard?” Zoro immediately bursts into a scoff. He climbs the last ledge with one effortless leap, his boots creaking against the wooden panels of the floor. “You’re actually being serious?”

Raya doesn’t look at him - instead, she squints her eyes even harder, trying to filter through the mass of drunken moving bodies. “Look – he’s there.”

You subtly nudge your head downwards to a certain narrow-eyed pirate’s direction. Thankfully, after begging for Nami’s help to keep him distracted, it seems like he’s actually starting to loosen up. You notice there’s a beer curled within his inked fingers, and every so often he lifts that same bottle up to his lips, liquid pouring into his mouth with a sharp swig.

Into a smiling mouth, to be precise.

Raya gapes at him a little, and despite the hellish circumstance she’s in, a little grin appears on her lips as she takes in his countenance.

He’s actually been smiling for more than two seconds so far – isn’t that some sort of new record for Law or what? Raya thinks to herself.

"Look, he's all tipsy right now," she explains, turning back to face Zoro with a frown reserved only for the likes of him. "But we both know he'll snap out of it soon enough. And when he does, he's going to climb all the way up here and beat both our asses up. You're here to make sure he doesn't catch us off guard."

Zoro stares at her, clearly unimpressed with his designated role. "So, I'm the one who has to deal with his whining while you get to…?"

Raya stares back at him, clearly unimpressed with his reaction. “Roronoa, I’m fixing the goddamn sword you fell on. You guarding me sounds like a walk in the park compared to what I have to do.”

And for a moment, they’re locked in a silent staring contest.

Raya's eyes are narrowed in determination, her gaze like twin laser beams boring into Zoro's skull. She looks like a furious wet cat ready to swipe her paws at the source of her irritation - or maybe more like a stubborn toddler refusing to back down from a standoff with a particularly dead statue.

Zoro, on the other hand, looks like he’s trying to channel his inner rock, his expression stony and unyielding. But there’s a twitch in his eyebrow, a hint of something dancing in his eyes, as if he’s secretly enjoying this absurd standoff with her.

But just when it seems like the silence might go on forever, a small, involuntary twitch at the corner of Zoro's mouth gives him away. Raya catches it immediately and can’t help but smirk triumphantly, knowing she’s won this round.

"Glad you agree," she replies, her voice laced with sarcasm. She throws him a bottle of beer, flipping her hair in his face.

With an irritated grunt and a shuffle away, Zoro instinctively catches the bottle and takes a long swig, his gaze fixed on Law as he monitors his movements. For a while, the two of them stand in silence, the only sounds being the distant ruckus of music and voices and the gentle creaking of the ship blending beneath them.

“Whatever. Let’s go inside before he sees us fucking around up here,” he murmurs. And with a swift spin and snatch, the crates of clinking alcohol disappear from Raya’s arms and into the swordsman’s. While he casually strides into the crow’s nest. Raya remains standing there blinking stupidly, completely taken off guard by his quick-handed thievery.

With that, the realisation rises, a growl set on her face as she stomps after Zoro, hot on his heels.

“Don’t forget we’re sharing those!” she hisses.

In response, the swordsman rolls his eyes but doesn't protest, knowing that arguing with Raya will only prolong their time on deck where they risk being spotted by Law. He sets the crates down with a thud, and they both settle into a comfortable silence as they crack open the bottles and down their drinks.

Zoro’s expression is unreadable as he surveys the mess before him. "So, what's the plan?" he asks, his voice gruff but curious.

Raya sighs, running a hand through her thick hair as she tries to gather her thoughts. "First, I need to assess the damage," she says, leaning her elbows over the table above the broken sword. "Then… I guess I’ll get cooking…"

Zoro nods, leaning on the table beside her as he examines the poor mess of Kikoku. The once formidable blade lies in pieces before them, the jagged edges reflecting the dim light of the lanterns overhead.

"Well, it's definitely broken," Zoro says straight-faced.

"Thanks for that insightful observation," Raya snaps, reaching for one of the broken pieces of the sword. “Really, what would I do without your thought-provoking commentary, Roronoa?”

“Well, what else am I supposed to do?” He retorts, laying lazily against one of her stools. “I’m trapped in here, doing fuck-all.”

Raya looks at him indifferently and shrugs. “Sleep?”

“I’m not tired, I’m bored.”

Raya smirks, a sudden mischievous glint appearing in her eyes. Whatever idea she’s cooked up is getting her excited, with the way her teeth are gleaming in their full glory.

"Weeeell, lucky for you, I've got just the thing to cure your boredom," she says, reaching under the table and pulling out a tattered colouring book and a handful of crayons. She sets them on the table in front of Zoro with a playful grin. "Try this. I'm sure Chopper won't mind if you borrow it for a bit."

Zoro eyes the colouring supplies sceptically, his brow furrowing in disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me," he mutters, picking up one of the crayons and turning it over in his hand. Raya offers him a shit-eating grin when he raises an eyebrow at her.

 "Come on, it'll be fun!" she urges, nudging the colouring book closer to him, repeatedly pushing it into his elbow like prodding a wad of lettuce on a stick to an unimpressed tiger. "And who knows, maybe you'll discover a hidden passion for art."

Zoro hesitates for a moment, then sighs dejectedly and takes the crayon, flipping open the colouring book to a random page.

"You’re gonna be the end of me," he mutters, leaning back in his chair and starting to colour in a picture of a pirate ship.

Raya watches with amusement as Zoro tentatively starts colouring - his movements, cautious at first before he gradually gains confidence, his strokes becoming bolder and more deliberate. She can't help but snicker at the sight, finding it oddly endearing to see the idiot swordsman engaging in such a seemingly childish activity.

For a while, they work in companionable silence, the only sounds being the scratching of crayons against paper, the clinking of metal and the occasional chug of beer as they take breaks to de-sober themselves. Raya finds herself relaxing as she focuses on the task at hand, the tension of the earlier confrontation with Law fading into the background.

But as they work, she can't shake the feeling of Kikoku's presence beside her, the broken pieces of the sword humming with a furious energy that seems to seep into the air around them. Raya glances at the shattered remains of the once formidable blade, a frown tugging at her lips as she tries to make sense of the strange sensation.

Kikoku seems to be muttering to her, the fragments of the sword vibrating with an intensity that sends a shiver down Raya's spine. She strains to make out the words, but they're muffled and indistinct like whispers carried on the wind.

"Kikoku, what are you saying?" Raya murmurs, reaching out to touch one of the broken pieces of the sword.

In immediate response, Kikoku screeches from underneath her fingertips, making Raya flinch her hand away in shock.

‘What do you fucking think, you incompetent excuse of a human being?’ It screams in Raya’s head, rattling her very bones in her body.

Raya clenches her teeth, anxiously running a hand through her hair. "I’m sorry, Kikoku. I really am. I don’t know how it all… If you let me, I promise I’ll be able to fix you."

Kikoku hums angrily in response, the vibrations of her broken body resonating against the desk. It swirls around on the wooden surface, almost trying to will itself to spiral around into a flurry of blades.

‘Not enough. I seek for revenge. Not enough. Not enough.’

"Kikoku, please," Raya pleads softly, her voice laced with desperation. "I understand that you're angry, but I can fix you. Let me help you.”

Again, the sword vibrates with an almost manic energy, its broken edges glinting ominously in the dim light of the lanterns.

"I’ll find a way to make things even, I promise," Raya continues, her voice tinged with determination. "But for now, I have to focus on fixing you. Once you're whole again, we can figure out what to do next."

‘What are you planning, human?’ she spits, her voice sharp and demanding. ‘Let me listen to your pathetic attempt at salvaging my trust.’

The swordsmith takes a deep breath, steeling herself for what comes next. "First, I need to assess the extent of your damage," she says, reaching for another piece of the broken sword. "Then, I'll figure out a way to repair you. And if that's not enough... well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

Kikoku's response was a begrudging silence, the vibrations of her broken pieces slowly starting to calm. Raya took it as a small victory, a glimmer of hope in the midst of uncertainty.

Raya offers a tentative smile to the sword. “I won’t let you down.”

Hours pass in a blur as Raya meticulously fits the broken pieces of Kikoku back together, her hands steady despite the weight of the task. It's slow progress, but with each piece she adds, she can feel Kikoku's energy shifting, becoming less volatile and more... resigned.

"I'm sorry," Zoro blurts out suddenly, the words tumbling from his lips before he can stop them, his voice slightly slurred from the amount of alcohol in his system.

Raya’s head snaps up, surprise flickering in her eyes as she meets Zoro’s gaze. Her fingers pause in the momentum of her work, work now being the last thing on her mind.

 "I… For what?" She mutters out.

Zoro leans over the table, his fingers gently spinning the bottle around in his hands.

"For...for breaking the sword," Zoro admits, his voice tinged with regret. "I didn't mean to...I mean, I know that doesn't excuse what happened, but I just...I'm sorry."

Raya pauses, taken aback by the unexpected apology. She stares at Zoro, seeing the sincerity in his eyes despite the haze of alcohol clouding his judgment.

His lone grey eye remains steadfast on her, and although he tries his best to mask himself into indifference, a flicker of something breaks through when Raya really looks at him with her soft brown eyes.

Something breaks within him – or more so, something loosens up within him, and his control over himself - albeit hanging on by fragile and intoxicated threads - has finally been torn apart.

Raya doesn’t know why, but her breath catches in her throat when he does this. When he really looks at her. With that grey eye, intense and relentless with feeling.

In a panic, she immediately disengages from the stare and looks down to her lap, one hand fumbling with a hammer, the other shrouded in a red-hot flame for blade-tempering.

For a moment, silence envelops them, broken only by the faint sound of their breathing and the occasional crackle of flames from Raya's hand. She's not used to hearing such sincerity from him, especially not when it comes to admitting fault. It catches her off guard, leaving her at a loss for how to respond… and now, she doesn’t know what to do.

Instead, she focuses on the task at hand, the broken pieces of Kikoku spread out before her like a jigsaw puzzle waiting to be solved. She takes a deep breath, trying to steady her hands as she reaches for another piece of the sword.

"It's... I know, Roronoa," Raya finally manages to say, her voice barely above a whisper. She can feel the warmth of Zoro's gaze on her, his silent offer of forgiveness hanging in the air.

Raya can’t control it any longer. She has to look up at him again, and when she does, her warm brown eyes latch onto his enraptured gaze with such ease, with such naturalness.

And then, Zoro’s stare softens.

Raya doesn’t even recognise this… look on the swordsman, this out-of-place soft glint that consumes his face, like he’s finally uncoiled his hands from the tight reins of his self-restraint.

Zoro doesn’t know what else there is to say. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to feel at this moment, either. But in his drunken courage, his hand acts out of its own will, lifting up and away from his bottle as his eyes flicker down to her mouth.

Raya’s breath halts as she remains still. Her own senses have vanished away, along with her train of thoughts, and all she wants to do is to lean into his hand.

And they do. Zoro’s fingers press against her jaw, deftly lifting her chin up. He makes her stare straight at him with no room to escape. And Raya is completely breathless. She gives in to the pressure of his fingers, blinking at him curiously, observing the all-consuming focus on his face. His eye flickers down from her gaze to her mouth, his thumb laying idly only a few millimetres away from her skin.

And with no thought in those eyes, his thumb reaches and presses to the corner of her lips, swiping in one circular movement. For a moment, Raya’s lost in the intensity of Zoro's gaze, the heat of his touch lingering on her skin like a brand.

A subtle breath releases from his lips when he touches the corner of her mouth.

He moves his thumb again, unsatisfied with the singular touch, now placing it ever-so softly over Raya’s lips. He looks at her in the eyes, his gaze darkening and unwavering, as he brushes his thumb over her mouth, parting them ever so slightly, so softly, so slowly.

But then, as quickly as it came, the moment passes. Zoro pulls away, his expression once again hardened into a mask of indifference. He picks up his bottle, taking a long swig of sake as if to wash away the lingering traces of emotion.

He shows his thumb to you, a layer of dark black powder coating his skin.

“You had soot on your face,” he mutters out roughly.

Raya blinks in surprise, her heart pounding in her chest as she processes what just happened. She can still feel the lingering warmth of Zoro's touch on her lips, the ghost of his thumb brushing against her skin, the heat of his breath hitting her skin.

And for a moment, she's at a loss for words, her mind reeling from the unexpected intimacy of the gesture. She looks up at Zoro, her gaze searching his face for any sign of what he might be feeling, but Zoro's expression remains impassive. His eye remains unreadable as he wipes the soot from his thumb with a nonchalant air - it's as if the moment never happened, as if he's already moved on from whatever fleeting emotion prompted his actions.

She swallows hard, trying to push down the heat that surges within her. She knows that she should say something, to retort back with a typical Raya joke or simply say something really sarcastic, but all of the tricks in her conversational mind die right at the tip of her tongue, right at the entrance of where his fingers were laying against only a few moments ago.

But before she can do anything – to recover any tiny piece of dignity that still remains within her, a sudden crash from outside the crow's nest shatters the moment, sending them both scrambling to the porthole with hushed breaths.

As they silently peer into the window, they’re met with the sight of Law stumbling towards the door, his movements erratic and unsteady, a wild look in his eyes.

"Shit," Raya curses under her breath, her heart pounding in her chest. "He’s early."

[darkenedroses-world]

Mending Glass, Breaking Hearts — Pezzy x Reader

gn!reader, relationship struggles, heavy emotions, reconciliation, hurt/comfort, alcohol use, heartfelt moments, rebuilding trust, emotional intimacy, realistic relationships, healing together, soft fluff, request 🦋

The cracks had been forming for months—sharp edges slicing through what was once a picture-perfect relationship. You and Max were the couple everyone envied. Effortless laughs, shared glances, and the kind of chemistry that looked like it was plucked straight out of a romance movie. But somewhere along the way, the idyllic image began to crumble. Fights became your new rhythm. Arguments erupted over everything and nothing, like a spark in dry timber. You didn’t even know how they started anymore, but once they began, they spiraled into yelling, accusations, and slammed doors. “I’m not asking for much, Max! I’m just asking for you to be here! You’re never here anymore!” Your voice cracked, trembling with frustration as you stood in the living room. “I am here!” Max shot back, his voice rising to match yours. “I’m here every damn day, but apparently, that’s not good enough for you!” “Here physically, maybe. But emotionally? You’re a ghost, Max! I barely recognize you anymore.” “God, do you even hear yourself?” He ran a hand through his hair, his tone laced with exasperation. “I can’t do anything right with you! You find a reason to pick a fight over every little thing!”

“Because you’re not listening!” you yelled, your hands clenched into fists at your sides. “I’ve been trying to tell you how I feel, but all you do is brush it off like it doesn’t matter!” “Maybe it doesn’t,” he muttered under his breath, but it was loud enough for you to hear. You froze, the words hitting you like a slap. “Is that really how you feel?” Max’s face fell, guilt flashing across his features, but the damage was done. “Y/N, I didn’t mean it like that—” “Don’t,” you cut him off, your voice quiet but sharp. “Just… don’t.” You turned away, retreating to the bedroom, leaving Max standing alone in the living room. Your friends noticed the cracks, no matter how much you tried to hide them. Kelly saw how your nights out stretched longer, how the drinks piled up as you drowned your frustration in BuzzBallz and tequila shots. “You’re drinking too much,” Kelly said one night, her tone gentle but firm. “I’m fine,” you replied, downing another shot. “No, you’re not,” she said, grabbing your wrist before you could pour another. “Talk to him, Y/N. Fix this before it’s too late.” Meanwhile, the guys noticed Max’s descent into a hollow version of himself. On streams, he was still the same sarcastic, quick-witted Pezzy the fans loved, but the second the cameras were off, the mask slipped. “Max,” Puffer said during a late-night gaming session, his tone careful. “When was the last time you ate something that didn’t come in a takeout box?”

“Does it matter?” Max muttered, his attention focused on the screen. “Yeah, it does,” Puffer pressed. “We’re worried about you, man. You look like shit.” Max sighed, rubbing his face. “I’m fine. Just leave it.” But he wasn’t fine. Neither of you were. The tipping point came when your friends staged an intervention. Puffer stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed as he looked between you and Max. “This isn’t working, and you both know it.” “We’re trying,” you said defensively. “No, you’re not,” Kelly interjected. “You’re avoiding. You’re fighting. You’re doing everything but actually fixing it.” “So what are you saying?” Max asked, his voice tense. “We’re saying,” Puffer said, “that you two need to figure this out. No running to us when it gets hard. No distractions. Just you two, in this apartment, dealing with your shit.” “And if we can’t?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Then you’ll figure that out too,” Kelly said gently. “But you owe it to yourselves to at least try.” For days, the apartment felt like a ghost of what it used to be. The laughter that once filled the space was now replaced with unbearable silence, a stillness so oppressive it felt like it could crush you both at any moment. The fights had stopped, yes, but only because there was nothing left to say—just a vast, empty chasm where your love used to be. Max spent his time in the bedroom, his gaming chair turned toward the wall as he stared at the blank screen of his PC, headphones clamped over his ears.

He hadn’t streamed in days. He hadn’t eaten much either, his stomach turning at the thought of food. And you? You drifted between the couch and the floor, wrapped in a blanket that did nothing to chase away the cold gnawing at your soul. Bottles cluttered the coffee table, evidence of your feeble attempt to drown the pain, though it never worked for long. The hum of the TV became your only companion, its muted dialogue the soundtrack to your unraveling. One night, as Max stepped out of his room to grab a drink, the stillness felt wrong. Too wrong. His gaze swept over the empty living room, and his stomach twisted when he noticed the trail of spilled liquid glistening faintly on the floor, leading down the hall. “Y/N?” he called, his voice breaking the silence for the first time in hours.

No answer.

A wave of dread crashed over him, his chest tightening as he followed the trail to the bathroom. The door was slightly ajar, and the light spilling out was dim and flickering, casting eerie shadows on the walls. “Y/N?” he called again, his voice trembling now. When he pushed the door open, his heart stopped. There you were, slumped in the bathtub, water barely covering you, surrounded by an assortment of bottles—BuzzBallz, tequila, Smirnoffs. The air smelled like alcohol and heartbreak, and Max swore he could feel the earth tilt beneath his feet. “Shit,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart. “Shit, shit, shit.” He dropped to his knees beside the tub, shaking you gently. “Y/N, wake up! Please wake up.” Your eyelids fluttered open, your gaze hazy and unfocused. “Max?” you murmured, your voice a weak slur. “Yeah, it’s me,” he said, his voice cracking as he cupped your damp face in his hands. “Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me.” “I’m fine,” you muttered, though the way your head lolled to the side and the empty bottles around you told a different story. “No, you’re not,” he said, his tone firm but filled with pain.

“You’re not fine, Y/N. What the hell were you thinking?” Tears brimmed in your eyes, and you turned your face away from his touch. “I don’t know,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I just… I just wanted it all to stop.” Max clenched his jaw, the weight of your words hitting him like a freight train. His chest ached as he wrapped a towel around you, lifting you out of the tub with more care than he thought he was capable of. You didn’t fight him, your body limp in his arms as he carried you to the bed. He laid you down gently, brushing damp strands of hair out of your face. You looked so small, so fragile, and the sight of you like this broke something inside him. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper as he sat on the edge of the bed. His hands trembled as he reached for yours, squeezing them tightly. “This is my fault. I should’ve seen how much you were hurting. I should’ve—” “Stop,” you cut him off, your voice hoarse but steady. “It’s not your fault, Max. It’s us. We did this to each other.” Tears spilled down his cheeks as he nodded, his throat too tight to form words. The silence that followed was heavy, but for the first time in weeks, it wasn’t empty. It was filled with shared pain, with the cracks in your hearts laid bare for both of you to see. “Can we fix this?” you asked, your voice trembling. Max leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his tears mingling with yours.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice raw. “But I want to try. I can’t lose you, Y/N. I can’t.” You nodded, your fingers tightening around his. “Me neither.” That night, he stayed by your side, his arms wrapped around you as though he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. And when you woke the next morning, the sunlight streaming through the blinds, the weight on your chest felt a little lighter. It wasn’t a perfect fix. It wasn’t a magical cure. But it was a start. When you woke the next morning, the pounding in your head was nothing compared to the ache in your chest. You turned to find Max sitting at the edge of the bed, his face buried in his hands. “Max?” He turned to you, his eyes red-rimmed and tired. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “For everything. For the fights, for shutting you out… for letting it get this bad.” Tears welled in your eyes as his words sunk in. “I’m sorry too,” you said, your voice trembling. “I just… I didn’t know what else to do.” He reached for your hand, his touch gentle but firm. “We don’t have to know. We just have to try.” You nodded, tears spilling over as you squeezed his hand. “Okay. We’ll try.” That night, Max cooked dinner—an actual dinner. Nothing fancy, just pasta and garlic bread, but it was the first time in weeks that you sat down together without a fight. By the time the meal was over, the tension between you had eased, replaced by a tentative sense of hope.

Later, as you lay in bed, Max’s arms wrapped securely around you, you felt the weight of the past few months begin to lift. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice steady. “I love you too,” you whispered back. For the first time in a long time, you believed it would be enough.

[greenbubblefactory]

Matchup for 🧃

Congratulations you have a match with..

Cater Diamond !

★Cater Diamond notices you immediately,not just for your boundless energy or your candid honesty, but for the undeniable realness that sets you apart. In a world where facades are carefully constructed and sincerity is often diluted, you are a rarity, a presence so unapologetically genuine that it demands attention. You do not temper your words for the sake of convenience, nor do you tailor yourself to fit the expectations of others. You speak with an unfiltered directness, sometimes impulsively, but always with sincerity. It is a trait that should be startling, yet to Cater, it is magnetic. For someone who has spent his life weaving effortless charm and curating the perfect image, he finds himself drawn to you before he even has the chance to resist.

★At first, he treats you as he does everyone else, teasing words, flirtatious smiles, and playful nicknames, all delivered with the practiced ease of someone who has perfected the art of social interaction. Yet with you, there is something different. Something that makes him hesitate, if only for a fraction of a second. It is the way you embrace new experiences with insatiable curiosity, the way you pour effort into crafting imperfect gifts not for their value, but for their sentiment. The way your greatest joy seems to come not from recognition, but from the simple act of making another person’s day a little brighter. There is no performance to your kindness, no ulterior motive. It is simply who you are. And the more he observes, the more he realizes that this is no fleeting amusement. This is something far deeper.

★Unknowingly, he begins to seek out your presence. He lingers in conversations a little longer than necessary, finds himself watching the way your eyes gleam with enthusiasm as you flit between interests, untamed and ever-curious. You are a burst of color in a world that too often feels monotone. And for someone who has spent his life adapting, blending seamlessly into whatever role is required, he is left utterly captivated by someone who refuses to change for anyone.

★Then, there are the gifts. At first, they amuse him. A slightly uneven craft project, a trinket chosen on a whim, small gestures that may seem insignificant to others, yet to him, they are precious. Because they mean that you thought of him. Without prompting, without expectation, you saw something and he came to mind. And for someone who has always fought to be noticed, who has carefully shaped himself into what others wish to see, that realization is nothing short of staggering.And that is when everything changes.

★It ceases to be a game. It ceases to be about flirtation or momentary thrills. It becomes something more profound, the way you slip past his carefully constructed walls without even trying. Cater has spent years shifting between personas, effortlessly adjusting to match the expectations of those around him. Yet you? You do not mold yourself for anyone, and you do not ask him to either. With you, he does not need to be "Cater Diamond." He can simply be.

★Perhaps that is why he is the first to notice when your own light begins to flicker.

★For all your vibrancy, he sees how easily it can dim. A careless remark, a thoughtless comment branding you annoying, a moment of embarrassment that lingers longer than it should. He notices the way your usual energy falters, the way you withdraw, however briefly. Most would overlook it, dismiss it as nothing, but Cater sees. Because he knows what it feels like to wonder if you are too much, to question whether you should quiet yourself, whether you ought to shrink your presence to make space for others.

★"Babe, you do know you’re the best part of my day, right? Don’t let some lame comment ruin that."

★He will not force you to speak of it if you do not wish to. Instead, he remains at your side, ensuring that you never feel alone. Sometimes, that means teasing you until reluctant laughter spills from your lips. Other times, it means sitting beside you in silence, a quiet but unshakable presence. Because for all his dazzling charisma and boundless energy, Cater knows how to be gentle when it matters. And you? You matter.

★Then, there is the matter of affection. He plays it off effortlessly, as though it does not affect him, as though he is unfazed. Yet you see the way he hesitates, just for a second, when you embrace him without warning. The way his fingers linger ever so slightly at your back, as though committing the sensation to memory. He is accustomed to giving affection, to offering warmth with fleeting touches and playful words, but receiving it? That is different. That is new.

★The words are lighthearted, but the weight of the moment lingers. He does not pull away. He does not tease you as he usually would. Instead, there is a quiet reverence in the way he holds you, in the way his body leans into yours as though reluctant to let go. Because the truth is, Cater has craved affection for far longer than he has ever admitted. And you, with your unguarded warmth and unshaken sincerity, offer it without expectation, without demand. And it unravels him.

★Life with Cater Diamond is nothing short of spontaneous and exhilarating. Late-night music sessions where he wordlessly hands you an earbud and simply presses play, letting the lyrics speak for him in ways he cannot. Dance-offs beneath the stars, reckless and breathless, where laughter spills between you like something that was always meant to be.

★And somewhere between all of it, between the teasing, the stolen glances, the quiet moments that stretch just a little too long, Cater realizes something.

★For all the years he has spent chasing fleeting moments and perfecting the art of illusion, with you, there is no need for filters. No need for embellishment.

★Because with you, life is already beautiful.

English is not my first language so I'm sorry if there are any spelling mistakes!

[blogger360ncislarules]

In a weekly series USA TODAY’s The Essentials, celebrities share what fuels their lives whether it's at home, on the set or on the road.

Nearly three decades into his career, Wilmer Valderrama is far from finished reinventing himself.

The Venezuelan-Colombian actor, who's starred in shows such as teen sitcom "That '70s Show," crime drama "NCIS" and animated children's series "Handy Manny," is getting candid about his life and career in his debut memoir "An American Story: Everyone's Invited" (out now).

Valderrama broke into acting at age 18 as the flamboyant Fez on "That '70s Show." "Everything that I'm working on is going to feel like you're seeing me for the first time," he says. "I want to dedicate my life to continuing to take them (fans) to fun, healing, exciting and hopefully inspiring journeys."

Between hectic shoot days on TV and film sets, running multiple companies and being a dad to 3-year-old daughter Nakano, here are Valderrama's essentials for navigating his jam-packed life.

Wilmer Valderrama's 'effortless' style staple

When it comes to fashion and style for Valderrama, less is more.

If he's not donning crisp business suits for work, you can find the actor kicking it back in some fitness apparel. The E.P.U. activewear founder's go-to? A crewneck sweatshirt.

In the hair department, the actor keeps things simple with his handy wax paste from Baxter of California.

"I have so much hair, and it's so thick. It's the only thing that will tell it to do something. Otherwise, it's Erik Estrada hair," Valderrama says, jokingly referring to the "CHiPs" actor's poofy locks.

Wilmer Valderrama workout routine: 'Therapeutic' morning runs (and 'ceremonial' coffee)

The early bird catches the worm — and stays fit, at least in Valderrama's book.

While Valderrama does a mix of circuit training, weight training and mixed martial arts, outdoor runs are a favorite in his exercise regimen.

"Everything's dark — no cars, serenity. The air is still crisp and clean; you see the stars. You're listening to your favorite music. … There's something very therapeutic about that, too."

And once he's put in his sweat shift for the day, Valderrama treats himself to "the perfect espresso shot."

"You've got to get the beans; you've got to grind them. It's like my ceremonial thing," Valderrama says. "I have to make the coffee, and I have to sit there and watch it pour slowly into the cup. And then one small cube of coconut brown sugar at the bottom."

Wilmer Valderrama can't get enough of this 'fire' album

Lately, Valderrama's musical cravings have him throwing it back to the '90s.

The "Encanto" star has been jamming out to salsa icon Marc Anthony's first three albums — "Otra Nota," "Todo a Su Tiempo" and "Contra la Corriente" — on a "back-to-back" rotation.

Valderrama has also been revisiting Santana's 1999 blockbuster album "Supernatural," which features the Rob Thomas-assisted smash "Smooth." "That album is so fire," he says. "You forget how many hits is on that one."

Wilmer Valderrama says this reality show was a 'beacon of hope'

When Valderrama pops on the tube, he's all for the onscreen drama.

Valderrama is also a proud citizen of Bachelor Nation, as he and fiancée Amanda Pacheco have made a ritual of keeping up with the dating competition series "The Bachelor" and "The Bachelorette."

"Not afraid to say it: I look forward to that Monday nights and occasional Tuesdays," Valderrama says. "That's something that Amanda and I have bonded over. It's fun and equally frustrating to watch that show."

And the franchise's geriatric spinoff, "The Golden Bachelor," won over Valderrama in equal measure, with the actor affectionally calling Golden Bachelor Gerry Turner "my boy."

"I got to meet him, too, and he was so nice. 'The Golden Bachelor' to me was just a beacon of hope. I was so happy to watch that."

[sizzlingpatrolfox]

oh just found it! https://twitter.com/gingerol95/status/1123723264591790081?s=20

the other members know how jimin becomes the main attraction in america and on other continents. no one can deny it and they also know how powerful he is, which is why i don't really get why they and their label underestimate him. jimin has been proving himself time and time again

Of course they know. When Jimmy Fallon said to their faces that Jimin was his favorite, Namjoon just shrugged and said "it's okay, we understand" and laughed. And that's just one of the examples I can think of right now. Everytime they've been to the US, the attention was on Jimin and I can't even say he asked for it, the hosts interviewers etc were the ones to put the attention on him. Like the GMA lady asking Jungkook if Jimin was there, or that guy in the variety (?) magazine as well.

I actually think the Harry comparisons in terms of who's more "popular" or who's the "breakout" member are funny because I was there for all of the years one direction were together, and the most similar case to Harry in BTS is... Jimin.

I never talked about this or brought it up because those comparisons don't mean anything to me. I mean, I get where people are coming from and their intentions when comparing, but it doesn't really elicit any emotional response from me, if that makes sense. Same goes for the Michael Jackson comparisons, I think I understand the parallels but the honest to God truth is that I was a toddler when MJ was famous, and I don't really know what he inspired in people because I just didn't live through that and nobody in my family was a fan either.

But I'll say it now only once, as someone who was there for one direction, the closest to what Harry was, it's always been Jimin. The reactions they get from people when they were in red carpets, the online "virality", reactions to them on stage, being known by people who weren't fans, being loved and singled out by TV show hosts everywhere, women in the industry choosing them. Even their ways of navigating their private lives are similar, because Harry is not really on social media either and nobody sees him that much.

More than anything, it's the dedication they put into what they do. The exciting performances, even though Harry doesn't dance people are never bored with his shows. He's engaging and has high energy. Communication skills, the ability to reach people, the overflowing, effortless charisma just pouring out.

I've specially been noticing the similarities in their work ethic; you can love him or hate him, but Harry is so serious about his music. And I mean it, he's so so serious. He lives for what he does. He has a hand on everything, all the music is his and all the ideas are his. He works a lot. Jimin is no different in that sense.

I just noticed this now because people have been bringing up Harry so much lately that I ended up thinking about it, but never before I've had any reason to think about all that.

I don't believe for one second that the company is underestimating him. They're simply and plainly purposefully trying to bring him down. For what reason exactly, I don't know. But it's not that they aren't aware of the reactions and the support that Jimin inspires from people; they just don't care. They care more about the members that are using their "infrastructure" and "tools", rather than the one who's simply being himself.

[pestilight]

     The hero will not make it.

     Rauru pours every scintilla of light he has left into those grievous wounds. He presses it all into the wrist he's yet to let go of since that fateful clasp, a wellspring funnelled through the anchoring point of their contact. So tremendous an effort is it that another piece of his arm crumbles, quicker to decay without the blessing of Zonai blood nor heart nor stone, peeling off and fading into nothing within strands of dispelled radiance.

     Still, it is not enough.

     The right arm is beyond salvaging. The Gloom: a loathsome force merely kept at bay with his light's slower abrasion. With what it has devoured, devours, and seeks to continue devouring as its master recovers his strength, the hero — Link, a faint voice chimes, sweet with conviction and love for her swordsman — will not make it.

     What an enormously cataclysmic thing to reckon with.

     Somewhere in the far distance, what sounds startlingly like the time bell knells a solemn rhythm. His spirit cannot cast shadows, but it paints a seafoam glow over Link as Rauru looms over his body — hand clutching ever tighter, as though his hold alone could pierce past the trappings of mortal flesh and erase every sliver of rot in one fell swoop. He reaches for the Gloom again, tendrils of incanted light enveloping the source in a shimmering embrace, and once more, his magic does not purge as cleanly as he wants it to. Once more, another fragment of his remains falls away.

     This is foolish, a part of him thinks; the part mired in memories of wanton bloodshed, of surviving at whatever the cost, of a time before a tempering kindness. Foolish, and needlessly cruel. He has seen damage of this severity wrought before — has treated it before.

     At his core, he knows what must be done. His hesitation, in the face of that, is not a mercy: it is another moment suspended between life and death, another opportunity for the Gloom to spread, another tally against the odds of what would now be a miracle.

     Another failing.

     Rauru does not need to breathe, yet he nevertheless finds himself going through its invisible motions. It calms him, marginally, and his mind clears enough for the thought to turn constructive. Yes, he knows what must be done. The question now is: what is he to do with the repercussions?

     —What repercussions? Another part of him thinks; the one locked in shame, drowning in regret, fraying with the need to pen this story to its very end.

     The flow of his light stills.

     It resumes a split second later, surging forth to continue hindering the creep of darkness, but his grip loosens. His fingers, slowly, unwind.

     What repercussions, the thought continues, when it is only the right arm that has to be dealt with? A right arm that has to be accounted for?

     A right arm that he, blessedly, still possesses?

     Link's chances of survival do not seem so slight, now.

     ( Rauru's chances of atoning do not seem so elusive, now. )

     It is a simple thing, grasping that ruined hand. Honing his light to burn through everything — skin, sinew, blood, marrow — is, too, effortless with how densely the corrosion is seeped into the flesh. The Gloom lingers, harder to contain for a moment with no corporeal bearer, but that will soon be remedied.

     Link's fingers are the last ashes to be swept away. From there, it is just a matter of connecting.

     Rauru does not say the words as he threads their vitalities together. Vows like these have always been a show of devotion more than anything, anyway. When this arm is all he can hope to offer to Link — to Zelda, to Mineru, to Sonia, to Hyrule, to everyone and everything he's loved and lost — what could possibly indicate his devotion more?

[lerotisme]

Most women do not want to be the teacher, the leader, or the sculptor of a man. They want to rest in the presence of a man who already knows himself.

Women are creators by nature. Their energy is constantly in motion, mirroring the cycles of creation, destruction, and rebirth. Whether it’s their biological cycle, the emotional labor they carry, or the way they nurture life in all forms, they are always giving, always transforming. This process is often exhausting, sometimes painful, and always profound.

Because of this, a woman longs for a man who can give—a man who does not demand to be shaped by her hands but instead arrives whole, with a sense of direction and purpose. She does not seek a man to fix or build from scratch. She seeks a man who has already carved himself through his own trials, who stands firm in his own knowing.

A woman’s nature is fluid, like the ocean—vast, deep, and ever-changing. She does not need a man who tries to control her tides or resist her waves. She needs a man who is steady, like the land, offering her a place to return to, a space where she can lay down her burdens and simply be.

A woman who is constantly forced into the role of a teacher or guide for her man will eventually lose attraction. Not because she lacks patience or compassion, but because it is not her natural role in a romantic dynamic. She wants a partner, not a student. She wants a man who leads himself first, not one who constantly seeks direction from her.

When a man knows himself—his purpose, his values, his wounds, and his strengths—he becomes a safe place for a woman to soften. She does not have to explain to him what it means to be present, to be responsible, to be emotionally available. He understands because he has done the work to understand himself first.

This does not mean a man must be perfect. Perfection is an illusion. It means he must be willing to do the work of growing, healing, and evolving on his own. It means he does not expect a woman to complete him but instead seeks a woman to walk beside him.

A woman does not want to feel like she has to mother her man. She already carries enough—physically, emotionally, and energetically. What she truly desires is to feel safe enough to surrender, to let go, to trust. She wants to know that the man in front of her can hold his own emotions, make his own decisions, and stand firm in his own identity.

When a man provides this, he unlocks a different side of a woman. She becomes more radiant, more open, more deeply connected to her feminine essence. She does not have to operate in survival mode, constantly managing everything around her. She can breathe. She can receive. She can love fully.

A woman who is met with strength, stability, and emotional depth will offer a love that is both fierce and tender. She will pour into a man in ways that feel effortless because she knows she is pouring into a vessel that is already whole. And when two whole beings come together—not in need, but in deep, mutual reverence—love becomes something sacred.

- Abhikesh

[fahrenheitegg]

HOW THEY'D WRITE A POEM FOR YOU

✻ pairings: luxiem members x gn!reader

✻ synopsis: how each luxiem members would write a poem for you

✻ further notice: n/a

he wanted it to be deep and romantic, but in the end, he could only make up a simple yet sweet words for you

his head was in the clouds while thinking of you and how he'd write you in his poem

he asked himself "what do i think of them?" "what does their smile feel like? their hugs?"

he thought about it for days and has asked for a lot of help

it's for you, after all, so he has to pour all his love and thoughts in it to the point that you'd feel his strong emotions for you

probably stood up late just to complete it

My love, you are a wonder.

Your smiles are like morning dews,

Your laughters are like sunflowers that has bloomed.

You yourself are a walking treasure I'd kill people for.

My beloved treasure.

not a good writer

really

but he wanted to try his best

he asked for mika's help, but mika eventually gave up on him not even half an hour later.

he said he was solely just thinking of you while writing this poem

he wasn't lying at all when he said that

he just wanted you to know how he really feels and what he really wants

and mysta really did put it in the poem.

You is a goddess

You turn me on, effortless

You is sexy

Please fuck me lovingly

this overly romantic demon wants it to be passionate and sweet to the point that your teeth will rot.

he may not be a good writer but he's been around for generations

he want to put in a pinch of vintage type of love letter that would make you feel like you're reading it while drinking tea during the 80's

he asked ike for help, which was a great idea

but he also wanted to add a little bit of him. a little bit of flirt in the poem.

For hundreds of years, I've been living

I can guarantee, shame is what your beauty brings to all paintings

You would always light my world on fire

And you'd always flame up my inner most carnal desire

After you read this poem, maybe a night of heat won't hurt

I'll take care of you, my lady, until both our souls are burnt

nauurr he's not good at writing, especially poems

but he'll try. if it's for you, he must do his best! it'll be worth it!

since it's really not his forte, shu would just come up with the most most most simple, straightforward, uncomplicated yet candied and adorable loving words

or he would try making it a little comedic so it would be less boring

also, so he could see you laugh and giggle

oh, how he loves it when you laugh and giggle

roses are red,

violets ain't blue (they're purple srsly)

you are my sweet cheeks,

and i just want to gooble you up like food

hehe i love you

this man writes every day, what do you expect?

you are this man's muse!

most of his books are inspired by you

made and published, because of you!

you're just always the perfect subject for his work

because you and literature? both a work of art.

the skies have always been our haven

everything on it just reminds me of you.

the stars reminds me of your eyes,

the moon reminds me of your beauty

if only i could catch them all for you, i would've.

until i remember

i realized i had them all along.

Masterlist

[cyborg-franky]

What Kind Of Fanfiction Writer Are They Part Two

Part two...

Law

He was told by Shachi and Penguin that he needs ‘a hobby�� and constant plotting revenge and murder isn’t a good enough hobby. Lame.

So here he is, trying his hand at writing.

He gets like, an hour a week free to work on anything but that’s enough to work on small pieces which is all he’s interested in doing.

Law has been told that perhaps his accompanying doodles aren’t the best addition to his pieces. Also, lame, be cool guys.

Never needs a beta, his writing is very on point with grammar, spelling all the logical things that make a good writer. If you even suggest a beta he will give you a look and make you wish you were dead.

Doesn’t handle criticism well. Don’t like something he’s written? You and the laptop get ‘roomed’ out of the sub.

His smut is the worst and ends up turning you off more than anything.

Shachi was super excited to read smut by Law once and couldn’t look at a naked woman for weeks.

The male made careful arrangements to make sure the female was prepared so there wouldn’t be any vaginal trauma. The female’s natural lubricant is made for effortless penis insertion.

Law thinks it’s rather spicy himself.

Corazon

- Sits down, falls off his seat, drops his laptop, and almost spills his wine on his keyboard. - It’s okay, he gets there eventually and pours himself another glass of wine. - He’s used to writing notes to talk so writing like this should be easy, right? - Corazon ends up writing 1k in a short time but then realises his stories are either about ‘spies’ ‘murder’ ‘betrayal’ or he’s just basically written Lion King but with humans instead. - So he deleted everything as not to out himself to anyone who reads his works. Tells himself that he will reward himself with a sip of wine for every sentence he writes. - He often gets drunk before he finishes a piece. - Instead of a Greek tragedy that’s far too close to home he ends up keyboard smashing and crying as he writes about sad things. Then he has to delete all his work again because it outs himself as a spy in other ways. - Thinks it’s best he just reads or leaves sticky notes everywhere with unhappy faces.

Kid

‘Get your anger out on paper’ they said, ‘Expressing yourself will be good for you!’ they also said.

No one takes a pounding like Kid’s keyboard [well, maybe Killer]

He is a keyboard smashing, angry little man.

‘This language might offend your reader’ the document says “FUCKING GOOD!” Kid laughs loudly and adds ‘fuck’ every other sentence.

CAP’S LOCK, NOT JUST FOR MAKING A POINT, BUT FOR ALL TEXT.

Killer doesn’t even bother correcting him or reading over his shoulder any more.

Kid is also a sour bastard when it comes to negative reviews.

Will caps lock fight people back and forth in the comments of his works.

Is always very proud of his work, and will crow from the rooftops about it.

Likes to play with the ‘thesaurus’ option on dirty words.

‘THE SUPER ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN KID AND TWO OTHER LOSERS’ is the tittle of everything he writes.

Killer

Also writes about ‘handsome strong wonderful chef main characters.

Is in competition with Thatch for the best romance novels on the Grandline.

Uses a super boring normal name as his pen name.

Just goes by ‘Greg’ or some shit.

Has no one to beta for him, is sad about it.

Kid tried to do it for him once and complained there wasn’t enough fighting and explosions for him.

‘Why are they kissing instead of fighting? The chick should fuckin’ punch the dude in the balls HAHAHA’ and that was when Killer stopped letting Kid read.

Overuses the italics. He says it’s all about the emphasis.

Will judge someone on their favourite font, if it’s not Times New Roman are you even a writer?

Also judges you if you don’t have a favourite font.

Always trying to publish his stories before Thatch does.

For some reason all his stories include detailed descriptions and recipes for pasta.

Has a very long straw that goes inside his mask so he can sippy his wine as he works.

[livhatesbeans]

I was thinking about what it must feel like for Hyrule to use his life spell. It must feel so weird to be able to produce this almost physical energy and just pour it into someone else, watching them come back to life?? So I wrote this little scenario around that, and it turned out way longer and fluffier than I intended. Enjoy

Tw for blood, nothing graphic tho

His magic dutifully appeares when he asks for it nicely. It blooms gently in his chest, warmth like sunlight spreads through his veins and down his arms. Like steam on a window it condensates in his palms and drips down his fingertips, leaving his skin in heavy droplets and light mist alike.

The sensation of his life spell would be a rather pleasant one if it wasn’t for the blood and worry it was constantly associated with. Yet he still can’t help but bask in the warmth it creates, soothing his own pains and loosening tense muscles in its wake. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to how it makes him feel, alive to the point where he feels otherworldly. He keeps the magic alive by storing it within him, and in return it lets him experience the world through it. He feels like he’s just as much the boy kneeling on the ground as he is the flowing vail of energy surrounding him, to the torn skin that is slowly but surely knitting itself together underneath his fingertips.

He rests his hands atop his friends bloodied skin. A moblin had got in a lucky hit that resulted in a nasty cut that’s stretching across his abdomen. The veteran of the group sleeps on, blissfully oblivious to the pain that must be radiating from the gash, but also unaware of the otherworldly scene that’s taking place before him. The forest, as well as boy above him is painted gold. Each freckle on the fae’s skin is lit up as if the power within him is leaking out of his pores.

Hyrule feels as such. A force to be reckoned with to whoever would dare to disturb him as he works. But the image breaks slightly when the Healer spots thin crimson crescents on his fingertips where his friends blood has seeped in underneath his nails. He’s trying not to let the reality of the situation affect him, pushing the fear away for later. He knows what he’s doing, Legend will be fine. He has to be, because Hyrule wouldn’t even dare to think what he would do without him. He can tell that the flow of blood is slowly decreasing as the minutes pass, so the Healer lets himself feel a small sense of relief.

“The wound is almost closed, don’t overdo it Traveler”

He keeps pushing, thinking that the voice should save its precautions for a less life threatening situation.

Hyrule lets out a heavy sigh. There’s not much left of the once fatal injury. The only trace of it is the dried blood that cakes everything in its path, as well as an angry red scab. The fae doesn’t want his predecessor to suffer if he can help it, and lets his last drops of magic seep into Legend’s skin. This powerful trick of his does not work without a cost. Releasing a tremendous amount of magic in one short burst is not effortless. Just like adrenaline, it drains the body of any energy it has left once it’s purpose is fulfilled. Hyrule can feel his spell starting to wear off as his arms shake just from the effort of holding them up. The looming darkness that is slowly covering his field of view is becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.

“Hyrule, that’s enough” he hears someone say. He decides he agrees with the voice and lets the last embers that glows underneath his skin die out. He feels more than hears the rumbling voice just beside his ear, “you did good traveler, Vet’s gonna be fine thanks to you”. He figures that the voice belongs to the person who has their arms around his midsection, holding him steady. When did those get there?

“Mmm”. He agrees, “I think I’m gonna pass out.”

“That’s okay”. The voice - Warriors - says, his grip around Hyrule tightens, “I’ve got you, you can rest”.

He doesn’t protest when the arms starts pulling him downwards until his back meets something warm. He turns his head to the side so that his ear is pressed to the soft surface of the Captains tunic. A steady heartbeat seeping through the fabric. Hyrule is grateful that his glorified pillow has donned his armor, he certainly wouldn’t have been this cozy while covered in cold metal. And how is he this bony? Hyrule has seen the way the man inhales his food. Wars could probably eat Four for breakfast and still be hungry. The Healer giggles at his own loopy thoughts, oblivious to the look the Captain sends their leader.

“You didn’t have to go all out you know. I told you not to overdo it“.

Hyrule couldn’t care less.

Warriors is saying something else, but Hyrule’s tired brain can’t be bothered to comprehend any of the words. He focuses on the vibrations the sound causes in the Captains chest instead. Not ready to let go of consciousness just yet, he lets his senses tell him of his surroundings instead. The steady rhythm of breaths coming from the warm, if slightly bony chest beneath his ear. The lush scent of moss and pine trees of the forest surrounding them. The twitter of birds are starting to become difficult to make out over the buzzing of his ears, but he’s sure they’re there all the same. Someone is touching his hands, he manages to draw the conclusion that they’re probably being cleaned from the blood he forgot to wipe off earlier, right.

Even after the spell has left his body, the warmth lingers on his skin, like when you’ve been out in the sun all day, soft and safe and impossibly heavy.

He reminds himself that Legend will be okay, he made damn sure of it, and his seven other brothers will make sure of it too now that he has done his part. His Veteran is safe, and the hand stroking his hair reminds him that so is he, he lets himself sleep.

[demonprodigy-kingofsheep]

“Definitely not!”

The two teenage boys yelled in unison above the din of the party hall, the disbelief in their voices making Mori’s lips curl beneath his interwoven fingers.

“I’m not asking you two for my sake, you know?” he said simply. “Elise-chan is the one who wanted to hear you two sing karaoke together. We don’t want to disappoint her, do we?”

Dazai and Chuuya stared at him, trying to come up with some counter-argument for Mori’s demand, but Mori knew no matter how much they tried, they could not refuse when Elise was in the equation. So, he leaned back onto his chair and watched them end up gaping soundlessly like two fish trapped in a glass bowl.

Driving the final nail into the coffin, he said, “Consider this a competition- a part of the evaluation for the position of an executive.”

“How does that even make sense?” Dazai protested.

“It will let me know if you two have the essential skills for the position. As an executive, you will have to boost the morale of your subordinates, coordinate with other officers, and be confident in your ability to sway a whole crowd. This is the perfect opportunity to show those skills off, don’t you think?”

“But-”

“Now get on the stage. I expect you two to give a fine demonstration of what teamwork and trust looks like to the rest of the mafia.”

With no room for further discussion in Mori’s razor sharp smile, Dazai and Chuuya were left side-eyeing each other in dread.

A few seconds passed in a deadlock, but Dazai was the first one to give up with a long sigh.

“Whatever, let’s get this ordeal over with.”

Chuuya looked at him incredulously, as if he was shocked that he gave up so soon. But knowing he was outnumbered, he too shook his head in resignation. “Hey bandage-bastard,” he grumbled, “If you do something weird on stage, I won’t hesitate to punch you on the face.”

Dazai shot him a condescending look. “Keep dreaming, Chuuya.”

---

With a crash of the cymbal, another spotlight appeared, shining on the person who lazily climbed the opposite end of the stage and made his way towards the center. Gritting his teeth, Chuuya watched the bane of his life approach him.

Dazai removed his black coat- the one gifted by the boss- with an effortless shrug of his shoulders and casually threw it in the direction of the many hands that reached towards him in the crowd. He then grabbed the blue mic from its stand, his brown eyes fixed on Chuuya’s face.

Each and every one of his actions were graceful, and yet, laced with an air of detached boredom- as if he wanted to get over with everything and return home soon. How could someone be this much of a dead fish in front of such a zealous crowd? It was yet another one of the million mysteries about Dazai that Chuuya could never understand.

---

When Dazai turned around, the guitarist had already taken the front stage for the interlude, giving Chuuya space to stroll towards the side of the stage and pluck a water bottle from one of the attendants with a brief nod of gratitude. Instead of keeping the mic aside and using his hands like a civilized human being, he twisted the bottle cap open with his teeth.

As Dazai watched on with a mask of disgust, Chuuya poured the water all over his face and hair until the bottle was completely empty.

The crowd went wild as Chuuya strode around the stage, waving and pointing at the audience, and inciting them even more with shouts of encouragement.

He sure is popular, Dazai thought.  

Droplets of water flew from the tips of his red hair as he shook his head, sparkling as they caught the stage lights mid-air. Dazai found himself unable to rip his eyes away from the spectacle that his partner was. 

Fascinating. Breathtaking. Incredible.

---

Thanks for reading this far! Find the whole fic (with more gay tension) here.

[tsumucore]

Request: ok headcannon this the tiktok trend of either climbing into your bfs lap/filming their reaction to you dancing/the walking in naked reaction Daichi, Kuroo, Semi, Bokuto, and Iwa??? or really any of them bc like honestly those reactions would be hilarious 🤣

A/N: I have so much fun writing tiktok requests :D

Warning: implied NSFW

Daichi

You were planning to spend some quality time with your boyfriend by having a movie night. As he set up everything in the living room, you were finishing up your shower. After drying your hair, you wrapped a towel around yourself which gave you an idea.

You had been seeing the trend of people ‘dropping the towel’ and walking in naked on their partners all over social media. You wanted to know how Daichi would react; obviously, he had seen you naked many times before, but catching him off guard would be interesting.

“Baby, are you almost done?” Daichi’s voice floated over to where you stood in the bathroom, spurring your eagerness to commence with the plan. You loosened the towel and got your phone ready to catch everything on film. You opened the door and emerged from the cloud of steam that had filled the bathroom.

“Daichi,” you drawled as you watched him prop up pillows and spread out blankets on the couch. You waited until he turned around to acknowledge you before letting the towel drop to the floor with one effortless flick of the wrist.

This man didn’t even bat an eye at your naked form. “Uh, babe? Make sure you’re completely dry if you’re going to be laying on the blankets.”

You felt like a clown; you were trying to catch him off guard, and instead, he had caught you off guard. You quickly stopped recording and saved the footage before stamping your foot. “Daichi,” you whined. “You were supposed to react more favorably - blush or stutter or something.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” he chuckled at your slightly indignant expression. “Here, why don’t you sit on my lap while we go ahead and start this movie. I’ll show you a genuine reaction.”

Kuroo

Damn you, Kenma, you thought to yourself for what felt like the umpteenth time. Ever since Kenma had introduced your boyfriend to a new game, he had been hooked. You considered yourself to be a reasonable person, but if Kuroo didn’t give you some attention soon, you were going to spontaneously combust.

Lo and behold, you saw the trend all over your ‘for you’ page: people walking in stark naked to see how their partners would react. You decided at once that you were going to try it. If your boyfriend didn’t react favorably to this, you were going to scream into the void.

You wrapped a towel around your otherwise bare body and pressed “record” on your phone. You ambled into the living room, took a deep breath, and called his name before dropping the towel.

“Yeah, babe,” your boyfriend didn’t even bother to turn around as his fingers madly pushed the controller’s buttons. Unbelievable. He merely continued to talk into his headset. You were going to have to kick this up a notch.

You stopped recording and threw your phone on the couch. In case you failed again, you did not need your humiliation caught on film. You came up behind him, lightly massaging his shoulders and calling his name one more time. “Tetsurou...” You were now climbing into his lap.

Kuroo immediately dropped the controller in surprise. He took one look at you before pausing the game and hastily turning off the headset before lightly tossing it next to him. “What’s all this, babe?” He chuckled while roaming his hands all over you.

Bingo. “It’s for you,” you replied.” But if you want to get back to your game, that’s fine with me too.” You shimmied out of his grasp and started heading out of the room. You had to pull together every brain cell you had to suppress your laughter when you heard him tripping over himself to chase after you.

Semi

Your could hear the echoes from your boyfriend’s bass wafting from his makeshift studio in his apartment. He really was good - so good, that you could feel the energy his sound conveyed from where you stood in the kitchen.

The bassline tingled through your extremities as you felt it evoke a slight swaying of your hips. This gave you an idea. You pulled off your clothes and casually dropped them on the living room couch before opening the tiktok app and recording your journey to Semi’s studio.

You lightly danced your way down the hall and to the right where you paused briefly outside the door of his second bedroom-turned-studio. You knocked lightly and pushed the door open, continuing to sway your hips to the rhythm of your lover’s music.

Semi was still playing when he lifted his head to look up at you - and when he did, his eyes widened and crimson dusted his cheeks. “Eita, I just love your playing so much... Look what it’s making me do,” you giggled as you slightly twirled your torso, causing your breasts to bounce.

At this, Semi couldn’t meet your eyes as he stopped playing to use one hand to cover the embarrassed smile tugging at his face. Cute. You stopped recording and shook your phone at him. “Now everyone will know how talented you are. You’re welcome,” you declared teasingly.

He gave a slight roll of his eyes before setting aside the bass and pulling you on his lap. “Oh? I think you had an ulterior motive going on here... I find it hard to believe you did this out of the goodness of your heart.”

You stuck your tongue out at him before lightly slapping his chest and feigning shock. “I’m offended that you’re questioning my kindness.” This earned you another eye roll and a sweet kiss straight on your lips.

Bokuto

The second you saw the trend circulating all over social media, you knew you had to try it on your own eccentric boyfriend. You wanted to see how he would react - obviously, he would get excited (it was Bokuto after all), but you thought it would be funny to get everything on camera.

He was on the phone with someone - Akaashi, you presumed - as you dawdled in the bedroom. You stripped yourself down completely and hit the record button on your phone. Showtime.

“Akaashi, I swear! It’s all in the Chipotle sauce.” Your boyfriend was speaking through mouthfuls of sandwich when you walked into the living room. “No, it really does make a difference! Man, this re-” You rolled your eyes as you waited for him to look up at you. 3, 2, 1.

When he finally acknowledged your presence, his already owlish eyes widened even further and bits of sandwich were falling out his mouth as he gaped at your completely bare form. “Akaashi, I gotta go,” he practically screamed as he tossed his phone on the couch and eagerly ran towards you, banging his toe on the furniture in the process. This man really started limping in his efforts to get to you.

You decided to yank his chain even further by innocently asking him what was wrong and then glancing down at yourself as if realizing for the first time that you were naked. By now, he was practically frothing at the mouth. “Woah, can we do it right now?”

You stopped recording because his hands were getting - ahem - grabby, and you were sure tiktok’s policy wouldn’t take too kindly to what was about to commence.

Bonus: He pulled a fast one and did the exact same thing to you a few days later.

Iwaizumi

You had been seeing the trend all over your ‘for you’ page for the past couple weeks. At first, you disregarded it as just another corny gimmick for couples chasing clout. However, your curiosity got the best of you as you wondered what your own boyfriend’s reaction would be like.

You commenced your plan of action by staying in your bedroom when he came home from the gym. He always made a protein shake in the kitchen after working out, so you knew this was the best time to catch him.

The only thing you had on as you made your way down the hallway was a towel wrapped precariously around your body. Your phone was on and recording your journey to the kitchen. Once you reached the kitchen, you saw that his back was turned to you as he was pouring the shake into a glass. Perfect.

“Hajime,” you called in the sweetest tone you could muster before dropping the towel on the floor. Your boyfriend was in the middle of taking a swig of his shake as he turned around.

When he saw that you were completely naked in front of him, he spluttered and choked on his shake, which sent him into a coughing fit. It took a whole minute for him to recover. His cheeks were red and his hands were wiping away at his mouth.

You teased him incessantly after ending the recording. You had successfully captured what you were looking for.

“Oi, what do you think you’re doing?” While you gleefully examined the footage, you didn’t notice your boyfriend inching closer to you and grabbing your hips. “Maybe I need to teach you a lesson.”

.°•  rules  ₊˚•.  masterlist  .°•

[sombreboy]

Clipped wings♕yandere!prince!jjk

♮ 18+ ♮ xtremity: 4 ♮ pairing: prince jjk x female reader ♮ genre: soft smut, light angst, royal au, soft yandere ♮ word count: 7.7k ♮ warnings: light angst, soft yandere, possessive behavior, stockholm syndrome themes, soft smut, virgin!reader, oral(f), fingering, praise ‘dirty’ talk, unprotected sex/creampie.

A/N: This has been in my drafts for so long and here he finally is. I want to thank @ppersonna​ for being my soft smut aid, I couldn’t have finished this without you. And thank you @chimoona​ for being a good support to keep me from throwing this fic into the trash can at several occasions. ily or something. Also thank you to my dear @carly-bean-blog​ for helping me out with this gorgeous banner. chu♡

It was a late night, the darkness illuminated by the continuous lightning strikes flashing, rain pouring down so hard that it was hard to see further than a few meters ahead.

It was the worst thunderstorm in history, you were sure of it. 

Unfortunately, you were in the midst of it, lost in the woods as you tried to navigate your way back to town. 

But to no avail, you were completely disoriented, panic rushing through your spine as you felt your clothes getting heavier, soaked by the cold rain.

Aimlessly wandering for shelter, you end up in a large garden, following the trail of flowers until you reach two grand doors. You look up, palms placed flat on the surface, your eyes squinting to get a better look of it. You couldn’t see very well, but this was a very large building-- A castle?

Another strike of lightning sparked in the sky, the silhouette of the castle visible for a split second, and you gasp, startled from the roaring sound. In the midst of it, you decide to knock three times on the wooden doors.

A long moment passes, until you take a step back when the two doors slowly creaked open. Keeping one hand over your face to shelter your eyes from the rain, you’re able to distinguish the frame of a man standing by the doorway,

‘‘Who may this be?’’

Must be a butler, his voice deep and smooth. He didn’t look very pleased, however.

‘‘I-I just.... I’m lost, and-’‘

‘‘I’m sorry, we are unable to help. Unless you have business with the prince, you must leave immediately.’‘

You took a step closer, a frown on your face, ‘’You’re going to leave me here in the cold? It’s pouring!’’

The butler didn’t move, but his eyes were apologetic, ‘’I’m sorry, ma’am.’’

‘‘I’ll die from the cold!’‘ You pleaded. It felt partially true, you were freezing, soaked and lost. How could one be so heartless?

The butler pursed his lips, as if he was trying to find a solution, ‘’Then... step inside for a moment.’’ he ushered for you to get inside just far enough for you to be sheltered by the building, closing the doors behind you before he strides through the hall towards a room, ‘’Wait there, I will be back shortly.’’

So, you did. You waited, for what felt like forever.

Until finally, the footsteps of the butlers heeled boots echoed through the large hallway was heard as he returned, a vague smile on his lips as he bowed at you,

‘‘The prince would like to see you.’‘

You tilted your head to the side, ‘’He would?’’

The butler nods, ushering for you to follow behind him, so you do.

When reaching the next large door, the butler opens them before stepping to the side, announcing your presence, ‘’She’s here, my lord.’’

You walk in, unsure of what to say or do, jumping where you stand as the doors slam shut behind you, leaving you alone with this.... prince.

‘‘Who are you?’‘ His smooth voice snapped your attention towards the man standing by the window, back facing you.

From what you could see, he was very young. A lot younger than you expected, probably around your age if you weren’t mistaken.

He had raven hair, a form fitted suit showcasing his perfectly sculpted proportions, a slim waist with broad shoulders. 

Please, let him at least have a less attractive face.

The prince turned around slowly, a wine glass swirling in his hand while the other was stuffed deep down the pocket of his suit pants.

Of course he was beautiful.

‘‘Let me ask you again,’’ he said, taking one sip from his wine as he slowly sauntered over to you, the echoing of his heels clacking against the floor prominent in the grand room, ‘’Who are you? And what do you want?’’

Your eyebrows were drawn together, gaze following him as he circled around you like some kind of predator eyeing its prey.

‘‘I’m Y/N. I simply wish for shelter from the storm until it passes, then I will be on my way.’’

The prince hummed, his eyes drawn to the liquid in his glass as he’s in thought,

‘‘And why should I grant you this wish?’‘

What? Wish?

‘‘Are you serious?’‘ You grew annoyed, crossing your arms over your chest. Ah, your clothes were cold... Looking at him, your eyes were annoyed, yet pleading, ‘‘It’s a very bad storm, I can’t go back out...’‘

‘‘Then what do you offer?’‘ He glanced back up at you with a serious face.

What could you possibly offer a prince? He had everything he could ever desire.

But, you did have one thing that could not be bought...

‘‘I could sing for you.’‘

The prince’s eyes widened, he didn’t expect that out of all things you could’ve offered. ‘’Huh? I mean...What?’’

Now he’s the one speechless. huh.

‘‘Yes,’‘ You take one daring step forward, ‘‘I’m not rich, nor do I have anything of... value to give. But.. I can sing. Isn’t it awfully quiet in this large castle all by yourself?’‘

He rolled his tongue on the inside of his cheek, placing the glass down on the nearby desk before crossing his own arms over his chest. ‘’Go on then. Sing for me.’’

His command causes you to take a deep breath, giving him a short nod. God, you wish you would’ve been able to change into dry clothes first... Hopefully, this would be enough for him to let you stay, and maybe even accommodate some dry fabrics for your freezing body.

Jungkook leaned against his desk, fingers thrumming against his bicep as they were crossed. He wasn’t expecting much, honestly. But, he was truly bored-- why not mess with this strange girl before throwing her out?

But, he spoke too soon, and his premature judgement backfired. As soon as you cleared your throat, a shaky tune escaped your parted lips. With every word you sang, your voice got steadier and more secure in your abilities. The cold was less of a bother as the piercing, fixated gaze of the prince heated your entire being.

He was absolutely mesmerized by your voice, his lips fell slightly agape, his body stiffening. He expected nothing special, but this... It was probably-- no, it was without a doubt the most beautiful sound he’s ever been blessed with. It touched his soul, his heart pounded beneath his rib cage so hard it felt like it would burst, eyes now focused on your effortless beauty despite your messy damp hair and soaked clothes. You were way beyond physical beauty.

He’d already made his decision by now.

‘‘Enough.’‘ The prince had closed the distance between the two of you, his body standing right in front of yours. You hadn’t noticed that he came up to you until your eyes opened, breath hitched at his close proximity. Your doe eyes stared up at him, his own dark orbs swirling with an unnamed emotion.

‘‘S-so...?’‘ You whisper, hoping that it was enough for him to let you stay the night.

He smiled softly, reaching to stroke your cheek with the back of his hand. ‘‘I’ll need you to sing for me once more,’‘ He paused to snap his fingers, the maid that you didn’t even notice was in the room ushers you out of the room to lead you to your own.

Jungkook wanted to hear it again. And again... And again… For the rest of eternity.

~ ~ ~

The following morning you felt well rested, the large bed and dry nightgown provided worked wonders. Peering around the room, you realized that you’d possibly overstayed your welcome, the sun shining through the large... locked and barred window? Odd. Safety precautions, supposedly.

You pushed the bedspread away from your body to stand up, heading towards the door to leave.

It was locked.

‘’What the..?’’ 

You were in disbelief, jerking the handle once, twice. It wouldn’t budge. You were locked in.

‘’Hello?... I can’t get out! Open the door!’’ You yelled through the keyhole, fist slamming against the wooden surface of the door, hoping that somebody in the large castle would hear you.

As soon as you were about to slam your hand against the door once more, it suddenly opened. It was the kind butler, handing you a stack of clean clothes and an apologetic smile.

‘’The prince has instructed for you to join him for dinner this evening,’’ He pauses to make sure you’re keeping up, his lopsided smile still present, ‘’Please put this on before then. I will return when it is time.’’

He puts the fabrics in your hands before you’re able to even think of a response, your eyebrows drawn together in confusion. 

‘’Wait-- Why was the door locked?’’ You pleaded for an answer, but the butler avoided the question, and simply took a step back before slowly closing the door, the expression on his eyes nothing but penitent.

You couldn’t believe what was happening, eyes widening as you dropped everything to the floor, attempting once again to open the door, but within the same second the click of the lock striked the room, and the fading sound of footsteps leaving in the hallway.

What were you supposed to do the entire day?

And why did the prince want you to stay for dinner? 

And for god's sake, why on earth were you locked in? You thought the prince wanted you out as soon as humanly possible. Nothing made sense.

A defeated sigh pushed through your lips as you picked up the clothes that you’d dropped, heading over to place them on the bed. You wonder if the prince himself had personally picked out this ensemble for you. Not that it mattered. You lift the cloth to inspect the dark purple fabrics, a cocktail style dress… and honestly… you’d lie if you said it wasn’t beautiful.

~ ~ ~

The evening finally arrived, and you actually had gotten ready in lack of anything else to do, dress on with the matching shoes-- even the little bracelet provided, a small silver dangle attached shaped like a little bird. You figured, you might as well oblige to the prince’s wishes, and hopefully you’d be able to leave after this… dinner.

Meanwhile, Jungkook had made sure that everything was up to his expectations; the grand table filled with a variety of delicacies. He circled the table several times, sharp eyes observing that every single detail was up to par. And it was, he hummed in content before his gaze landed on his butler. ‘’Bring the lady, make sure she’s dressed for the occasion.’’

‘’Yes, my lord.’’

~ ~ ~

A firm knock on the door caught your attention as you were observing yourself in the large mirror. Suddenly, you almost felt nervous-- jittery. Taking a deep breath, you head towards the door, waiting for whoever is behind it to open it for you. ‘’Are you dressed?’’ The deep voice on the other side muttered. 

‘’Yes.’’ As soon as you voiced your reply, the door swung open, this time a boxy smile adorning the butlers face instead of the crooked one you’d almost gotten used to. It was nice to see he had any other expression than a gloomy one.

You were guided downstairs to the dining hall. As soon as you entered through the two large doors, you felt so incredibly small. You jumped when the doors were slammed shut behind you, and a sudden hand gently placed on your lower back to usher you to your seat.

Jungkook crooked his eyebrow at the butler's daring move and gave him a warning glare as he pushed your seat in behind you.

‘’Welcome, Y/N.’’ Jungkook clasped his hands on the table, leaning forward as his eyes roamed down the outfit you’d put on… The attire he’d chosen especially for you. His gaze landed on the small bracelet on your wrist, the silver bird dangle beautifully decorating you like a piece of art.

‘’Thank you..’’ You replied, a bit unsure of this situation. But you decided to enjoy it. Why not? It’s not everyday that you’d get to dine with royalty. All this food smelled heavenly. Jungkook snapped his fingers, and on cue the butler poured your wine, while the maid put food on your plates. When he was satisfied, he told them to leave the room and wait outside.

Jungkook wanted utter privacy with you.

‘’What do you think of this?’’ Jungkook asked, gesturing around the room; but he meant everything. The castle.

‘’It’s divine,’’ You answered truthfully as you sipped your wine to wash down the food, ‘’Is it just you here?’’

‘’Yeah,’’ He nodded, a small smile on his lips. It almost looked sad, ‘’If you don’t count my servants.’’

The dinner was pleasant, surprisingly. There wasn’t much conversation, but a simple comfortable silence with the occasional comment about the delicious cuisines that were offered. While you were gazing around the room, chewing your food in content, Jungkook’s eyes were completely transfixed on you. The way your nose scrunched slightly from the bitter aftertaste of the wine. The way you continuously placed strands of your hair behind your ear, to just how enchanting you looked in the attire he’d dressed you in.

He felt lucky that he found you. Or rather, you found him. It couldn’t be anything but fate. Jungkook believed it. He stayed this way for a while, enjoying the silent admiration he was giving you. He hadn’t had this kind of company… Ever. It was new, and he didn’t want to let it go. Suddenly the silence felt suffocating.

‘’Sing for me.’’ Jungkook asked softly, swirling the wine glass in his hand. His eyes followed the flow of the liquid for a second before shifting his piercing gaze to your face.

You stopped yourself from questioning him, knowing he knows that you heard him the first time. But that didn’t mean your eyebrows weren’t raised in surprise. ‘’Okay.’’ After all, he had told you that he wanted to hear you sing one more time.

Jungkook’s doe eyes sparkled in awe as he leaned back in his chair, completely forgetting about the glass in his hand. He couldn’t even think, just listen-- and stare at you the second you got up from your chair and sing. The way your lips moved with every word, his eyes followed. The small gestures of your hands made him want to hold them. And the brightness in your eyes that he hadn’t noticed before, had his heart pounding heavily in his chest.

This is it. She’s the one.

While you sang, he’d slowly gotten up from his seat, placing the glass on the table to leave it behind. Approaching you, his hands reached out to grab your wrist and pull you close to his chest. Your singing stopped with a surprised yelp, staring at the little bracelet he was observing as he held your wrist up for the two of you to view.

‘’You know what this is?’’ He asked, grasping the little dangle decoration between his thumb and index finger.

‘’A dove?’’ You said, a bit confused as to what he meant. It was obviously a dove.

‘’Correct,’’ He chuckled, the endearing smile of his growing, ‘’A symbol of peace.’’ A piece of peace in Jungkook’s world.

You hum in agreement, still not sure what he’s implying. Trying to pull your wrist away, he willingly let go, but replaced the empty spot in his palm by placing it on your waist. This was awfully close, and you felt your face heat up in embarrassment.

‘’I-- thank you for the dinner… But, I should really get going now.’’ You glanced towards the window, seeing the sun shining bright, ‘’The storm has passed.’’

Jungkook’s smile faltered at your words, slowly morphing into a frown when you stepped away from his grasp. His hands fell to his sides, looking at you as if you had just torn his heart out of his chest. But you didn’t notice. ‘’Don’t leave.’’

You were on your way to the door, hand grasping the handle before his words stopped you, causing you to look over your shoulder at the prince. Silence filled the room, and the air grew thicker.

‘’I have to leave. I can’t stay here. I need to go home.’’

Jungkook sighed, clenching his jaw as he stared at the floor. He almost looked like a child throwing a tantrum when they didn’t get what they wished for. ‘’You can’t.’’ He murmured.

‘’Watch me.’’ You huffed, jerking the door open before stepping out into the grand hall, striding towards the door with a made up mind. You were going home, you shouldn’t get used to this lifestyle. It was only for one night. You made it to the grand entrance, pushing with your entire body strength and pulling at the handle-- but it wouldn’t budge. It was locked. Your eyes searched for a way to unlock it, you were inside of the building after all. Why couldn’t you open it?

‘’Y/N..’’ Jungkook startled you, appearing behind you so suddenly. His voice was calm, arms crossed over his chest. A concerned look played on his face.

‘’Why is the door locked?’’ You asked, confusion obvious in your expression as you let go of the handle to turn to him.

‘’I told you, you can’t leave.’’ He sighed, clacking his tongue in annoyance. Why didn’t you get it?

‘’Why?’’

‘’I want you to stay… Be my little bird.’’

‘’What… what do you mean ‘little bird’?’’

‘’Sing for me, always.’’ The look in his eye was serious, yet gentle. He stepped closer, reaching out to delicately take your hands in his own, ‘’I will take care of you, everything you need is right here. Anything you want. Just please be mine.’’

Your mouth fell open, unable to speak or think of any witty comment to counter with. His words were sincere, the vulnerability in his expression along with his delicate touch had your heart skip a beat.. Or stop completely-- you weren’t sure. The logic in you told you no, this couldn’t be. He couldn’t love you this quickly, and neither could you. But your heart pumped these new emotions throughout your body, clouding any sense of what should and shouldn’t-- any logic thrown out the window. A part of you that grew with every second spent drowning in his dark eyes, your body decided to make the decision for you with a vague nod. 

‘’Say it.’’ Jungkook urged, his eyes sparkling with a layer of tears. Were they happy? Sad? Maybe both. He wanted to hear your sweet voice confirm, his own chest so tight it was hard to breathe. He squeezed your hands in his, ‘’Say you’ll be mine.’’

‘’I… I can’t say that yet.. I’m sorry.’’ You whispered, and you swore you could hear his heart audibly crack. But it was okay, he mused. You didn’t reject him-- but you didn’t accept him in your heart yet. All you needed was time.

‘’Y/N…’’ Jungkook pulled you closer to his chest, brushing your hair away from your face. As he spoke, his warm comforting breath fanned your lips, ‘’It’s okay, you don’t have to say it yet. Just… Stay with me.’’

You nodded, feeling your own eyes sting with the tears building up from his heavy emotions rubbing off on you. He smiled softly, palm carefully placed on your cheek to draw you in, closing the distance between your lips in a sweet kiss.

All he needed was patience.

~ ~ ~

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months spent in his castle. You hadn’t taken a single step outside since that stormy night, and it was as if you’d forgotten what grass felt like underneath your feet. However, the times he allowed you to sit with him on his balcony, the warm sun and chill breeze would bring you enough peace to satiate your need for the freedom you were robbed of.

It was complicated, the way you felt. Spending every single day with the prince, you’d gradually fallen for him, and become close enough for you to even start calling him by his first name. He spoiled you with everything you could ever want; clothes, jewelry, endless amounts of books and pretty things, flowers. He showered you in his affection, a large smile constantly on his face whenever he gave, gave and gave to you. He saw how you slowly opened up to him, and it made him so happy; nobody had ever seen the lonely prince this way before.

But at times when he wasn't home, out attending to his duties, you suddenly felt lonely. You had time to think about everything, and it scared you how much you missed Jungkook. However, what you had started to miss even more was your freedom… The life you had before you met the prince.

It was clear that you weren’t allowed to leave, every window was barred, and every door was locked. It was impossible. No matter, because at this point you were scared to live without him. You couldn’t.

So you opted for the one thing you knew, the one thing you had that was in your control.

You stood by your window, watching the birds chirp and fly by, feeling the warmth of the sun rays beaming at your skin in stripes through the bars. You sang your heart out. 

In the beginning, your singing was bright and full of life, proud of how Jungkook admired your voice.

But lately, your tune was laced with melancholy.

~ ~ ~

Jungkook heard your voice as he strode through the hallway, feeling his heart jump at the beautiful sound. Lately, your voice had gotten more and more bewitching. He was obsessed with the sadness in your vocals. He carefully peeked in through the crack of the door as he opened it, and the sight before him was breathtaking. You looked like a goddess with the sun glowing on your skin, eyes closed as you were completely indulged in your song. 

He loved you so much, nothing or nobody could ever compare, nor could anybody intervene. You were his, kept safe in this castle for the rest of your life.

After a long moment of admiring you, Jungkook finally opened the door to step inside, quietly strolling over to stand behind you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, letting his hands settle on your stomach as he pressed his chest against your back, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. Your singing ceased, eyes widening in surprise at his sudden appearance. Just as quickly as your body tensed up, it relaxed in his embrace.

“You sing so pretty, my little dove,” he cooed into your ear as he held you tight. His hands splayed against your stomach and rubbed gently, carefully and slowly moving upwards. Your breath caught in your throat and you felt your body tingle with a mixture of fright and excitement, warmth blooming where his hands trailed.

Jungkook turned you in his arms, pressed his chest against yours as his fingers caressed the side of your delicate face, a loving smile on his lips. He moved slowly, with intention, towards the plush bed behind you. His eyes never left yours, peering into them as if he could see your inner most desires. It made your body feel engulfed in flame.

“Please, let me have you,” the prince asked. His voice was sweet, pleading and desperate. He guided you towards the bed and the press of the firm mattress behind your knees made you fall with a soft gasp escaping your lips.  “I need you, my love. I need to taste you, please.”

You found it hard to say no, hard to say anything at all despite the warnings sounding in your head. As confused by him and this entire situation as you were, you couldn’t help the magnetic pull you felt when he held you close, or the way your heart throbbed when he was around. 

“Y-yes,” you replied, voice timid. 

His body hovered over you, lips inches from your own and you felt your body press further and further into the bed as he encroached over you. 

“Yes, what, little bird?” He asked. His voice was light—sensitive and loving. His eyes spoke volumes. He looked at you as if he wanted to claim every inch of you, make you his physically and emotionally for the rest of his life. 

You swallowed hard as you lied down, head resting on the soft pillows, as your eyes connected with his. Any doubt had slowly left you as the warmth of his body seeped into your clothes and into your very core. It felt like a fire was building, growing larger and more intense, in the center of your thighs. 

“Yes, please,” you whispered.  

Your answer pleased the prince—he moved down further until his lips connected with yours. His hips pressed into your own and you could feel his hard length against you—making you gasp into his kiss. 

It spurred Jungkook on, his tongue taking advantage and sliding into your open mouth to caress and lick at your own tongue. He moaned lightly at the taste of you, so sweet and perfect—just like you. He wanted to taste it for the rest of his life, have the sweet essence of you on his tongue every single night. He was sure if your mouth tasted so sweet, your drenched folds would taste even better.  

“Let me see you,” he whispered as he pulled away from your honeyed lips.  “Please.”

His voice was so desperate--so full of love and desire for you that the fire within you blazed higher. It was becoming harder and harder to resist the prince at all, and you found yourself wondering why you ever resisted in the first place.

After receiving your consent in the form of a nod, Jungkook pushed the fabric of your dress up from your thighs. His strong hands smoothed over the soft, plush skin and you shivered at the feeling of his warmth that lingered where he touched.  He continued pushing the dress up until it exposed your stomach and core to him. 

His eyes explored every inch of your body.  He was mesmerized by the way your stomach curved and your hips swelled. Your body was finer than any of the paintings in his castle, more valuable than the jewels glittering in his reserves. His breath came out heavier as his vision trailed to the linen of your panties, the very ones he provided for you. Jungkook loved the way you looked in the clothes he picked especially for you--his gorgeous, little songbird.

Your hands clutched at the bunched material of your dress and you desperately sought to take it off, expose yourself fully to the handsome prince above you. Your body squirmed as he continued drinking you in, hurrying to take the rest of the fine dress off your body. Jungkook noticed your discomfort, and moved to help you pull the dress up and over your head. The gesture was sweet, so sweet it felt like an ache in your heart and your core.  

Jungkook threw the garment aside, no care for the price or quality of the dress. His only care was you, now nearly naked and pliant underneath him. If he thought the hills and valleys of your thighs were mesmerizing, he was wholly unprepared for the sight of your breasts.

He could feel his mouth drying up as he watched your nipples prickle in the chill of the castle’s air.  He was sure he stopped breathing as he watched your chest rise and fall with each deliberate breath you brought in and expelled.  He felt his tongue dart out of his mouth to moisten his lips, eyes glued to the pretty pink nubs of your breasts.

“My dove,” he gasped. 

Your eyes were wide, pupils blown with a mixture of anxiety and lust, and your hands sought to grab at the cloth of his shirt.

“Please, Jungkook,” you whined softly. Being so exposed, so vulnerable to the man above you made you needier by the second. You were sure you couldn’t stand another minute under his intense gaze without him touching you somewhere, anywhere.

Jungkook’s eyes slipped closed at the sound of his name rolling off your sweet tongue. He felt his body nearly tremble, and he knew he needed to hear it for the rest of his life. There was no way he could let you go now, now that he would have you fully.

“What do you need, my love?” He asked as he smoothed a hand over your delicate stomach and up towards your ribs.  “Tell me what you need, and I’ll give you everything you could ever want.”

Your back arched off the bed as his warm hand pursued up your body until it summited the crest of your breast. He marveled at the way his hands fit over the soft globes, and how perfectly they fit in his palms. He knew you were made for him--that you were the only one meant to be with him. Everything about you reminded him that you were made for him.

His fingers pinched at a nipple and he sighed as he heard your soft, gentle squeak at the pinch.  His stomach tightened painfully, and his cock strained hard against the linen of his pants. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself between your plush thighs, but he knew he needed to to worship you, to make you feel like the princess you would soon become.

In one swift movement, his head bowed down piously to pull a nipple into his mouth while his fingers maintained pressure on the other. He moaned around the bud in his lips, the way it felt against his tongue and the sweet flavor of your skin. Your keening gasps and sighs encouraged him, making him suck the nub in further and tongue swirl around it. 

Your body felt grazed with tiny pinpricks of pleasure, electrifying you down to your veins. You have never felt such pleasure in your life, never knowing the touch of a man. But you’re sure that no man could compare to the way the prince felt above you, pressing his worshipful kisses to your breasts.

Jungkook switched to your other breast, frenzied to taste and consume you--every last inch. He fervidly licked at your prickled nub before he pulled it into his mouth and allowed his tongue to explore and pleasure it.

“J-Jungkook!” You gasped at the feeling. His other hand rubbed and pinched at your abused nipple so well it made your legs tremble.  

He popped off your breasts but maintained his grip on you with his hands, a toothy smile brightening his features as he peered at you.

“Yes, my dove?” He asked as innocently as he could. He knew this action was driving you mad. He could tell by the way your hips bucked and swayed that your channel would be slick and burning with desire by now.

“More, please,” you begged. “I need you to take me.”

Jungkook kissed his way down your sternum, lavishing kisses at your navel and skin of your thighs. He wanted no part of you left untouched, unclaimed by him. He meant to have you in every sense of the word. The prince was determined to ensure every single part of you was conquered by him, and him only.  

Jungkook was eager to get the remaining fabric off you. His deft fingers swiped at your covered slit, smiling as he felt the wetness pooling there.  He hummed deep in his throat as he made himself comfortable between your thighs. Jungkook noticed how comfortable, how natural it felt to be between your thick thighs.  He wanted to leave marks all over them, physical reminders of his claim of you.

You stirred gently, awkwardly, at the intense gaze that the prince was holding with your barely covered decency.   His stare was intense--it fanned the flames within you, making them lick hotly at every inch of your being.

Jungkook tugged at the thin fabric between your thighs, pulling it down your legs gently, as if he was unwrapping the finest and most delicate china.  His breath caught in his throat as he threw them to the side and your centre became exposed to him.  You bloomed below him like the most beautiful rose, petals opening and slick with arousal.  His tongue sought out of his mouth, anxious for a taste of what he was sure to be the most delicious nectar.

“My beautiful,” he sighed as his hands pressed your legs further apart.  You whimpered gently, the feeling of the cold air rolling over your heated body was nearly driving you insane.  Jungkook stared at you as if you were his final, mortal meal.  Jungkook nearly salivated at the sound and the way your legs trembled with need--...need for him.

His face inched closer and close, desperate to be buried face first in your pretty cunt, but careful not to scare you.  Jungkook loved you, passionately and desperately, and he quaked at the thought of terrifying you further. You were his little dove--you needed to be loved slowly, gently.  

“I want to taste you, my love,” he murmured as his face settled centimeters from your exposed folds.  “Please, will you let me have you?”

Your bottom lip trembled, and your eyes were wide with arousal.  The growing ache and need for him was surging through your veins swiftly, swirling in your mind and clouding any thought that wasn’t the handsome prince, and the way his hands and body felt against yours.  All you could think, all you could comprehend was him--only him.

Your head nodded quickly in reply. “Yes, please, sir.”

Jungkook stifled a groan at the sound of the honorific leaving you.  His spine tingled and he nearly lost all resolve to remain composed.  You drove him mad, and it took all he had to not claim you fully and deeply there, now.

With a gentle kiss to each side of your luscious thighs, Jungkook worshiped each inch of your skin as he worked towards the apex.  He let the sounds of your pleasured sighs and keening gasps roll over him like fine silk.  As he reached your center, he gently bowed his head and pressed a soft kiss to your clit, before allowing his tongue to dart out and taste a droplet of your slick.  

He pulled his head back and closed his eyes in bliss as the flavor blossomed on his tongue.  You tasted so sweet, and earthy.  Like a mulled wine, sweet and honeyed and intoxicating. 

“Perfect,” he admired as he lowered his head back down. “I knew you’d taste so sweet, so perfect.”

Jungkook eagerly got to work now, tongue gently caressing the nub of nerves that had your legs quaking at each tender lick.  He couldn’t get enough of the way you felt, succumbed to his desire and pliant underneath him.  He wished to be buried in your sweet cunt for ever, both mouth and cock.  He knew now, irrevocably, he would never be able to live without you.

He drank from you as if you were the last fountain on earth, the only source of his hydration.  His tongue worked eagerly, dipping into the pools of your tight heat and licking up the sweet wetness that pooled.  He couldn’t fathom how one little angel could taste so sweet, feel so good against his tongue.  

Your sweet sighs and moans spurred him on.  Your legs trembled gently and with each caress of his tongue on your nub, your sounds only increased in volume and in need.  The prince was eager to get you to your high, make you feel euphoria caused by him and him only.

Your legs quivered and you gasped his name, and he couldn’t help but smile.  A finger slid into your walls, coaxing your climax with each curl and press of his finger against the tender spot inside you.  It made you nearly scream with how delicious it felt, and Jungkook knew you were near the end. He increased his pressure and speed of his tongue, and curled another finger inside of you.

“Cum for me, my love,” he encouraged between licks. “Let me taste you.”

You were no match for him and his words, dripping in unadulterated love and need.  His eyes connected with yours and your climax washed over you swiftly.  Your back arched and hips squirmed as your walls fluttered and milked his fingers, begging for more--so much more.

Jungkook fervidly licked at the juices that slowly trickled down his fingers from within you, cleaning his hand as he let it slide from within you.

“My little dove,” he sighed. “You taste so sweet when you cum for me.”

Your breaths came out hard, as if your lungs hadn’t worked for hours. You inhaled sharply as you watched him continue to devour the juices on his hands and you felt your spine tingle in response.

Jungkook’s hard length was hard against his trousers and you were desperate now to have the man buried inside you.

“Jungkook, please,” you gasped, hands reaching for the man who now sat above you.  “Please, take me.”

The prince’s heart nearly melted to the floor of the castle at your desperate plea.   You were his, you knew now that you were his. He made quick work of the cotton trousers and shirt, tearing them off his body until he was just as naked as you.  He knew this is how he wanted to be, always.  No clothes, no barriers, nothing to stand in between him and you, his perfect little dove.

“I’m here,” he soothed as he pressed his lips to yours.  “Let me take care of you, my princess.”

He easily lined himself up with your heat, rubbing the bulbous head against the slick and nearly entering when you swiftly grabbed his arms and stared at him with wide, frightened eyes.

“I-I’ve never done this before,” you whispered, shame coloring your cheeks. “Please… please don’t hurt me.”

Jungkook stopped breathing, the world stopped turning.  He couldn’t believe his luck--his dove, his princess... all his. You would become his in every sense of the word. He will have what no man has ever had before, and never get the chance to take. He kissed at your lips gently and nodded.

“I’d rather cut off my own hand than hurt you even once.” 

Your eyes softened, soothed by his words and actions, and you nodded gently. 

“Take me, Jungkook.”  Your words were brave, and ready.  Jungkook felt his cock twitch with excitement, and he pressed one final kiss to your lips as he lined himself up and pushed in gently.

Jungkook pulled away from your lips to gasp.  Never had he felt such incredible, tight heat.  He could tell by the scrunch of your features that you were adjusting to his thick length. Despite your first climax, your body still resisted the press of his cock inside you.  It felt like scorching wet heat and the tightness alone nearly made the prince cum as he bottomed out.

He remained still within you as your body relaxed.  His hands rubbed gently at your hips and thighs, caressing them sweetly as he whispered his praise to you.

“You took me so well,” he murmured.  “My little dove, so good for me.  You’re doing so well.”

You whimpered out in need, desire for him to move inside you.  The pain melted away to pleasure quickly, and you’re thankful he spent so much time preparing you with his mouth and fingers. The tender care the Prince showered on you made your heart beat rapidly against your chest, working over time like the beat of a bird’s.  

“Are you ready, my sweet?” He asked. He could feel his cock ache with the need to set a pace, to feel the way your walls stroke him, but he would not allow himself such pleasure without your word.

“Take me, Jungkook, I’m yours.”

He moaned loudly, allowing the possessiveness of your voice to spur him to begin.

He started his movements slow and with intention.  Each drag out and thrust in, he monitored your face for any sign of displeasure. When all that crossed your features was blissful pleasure, he moved faster.  

Your body relaxed ten-fold as the man above you began to drill harder into you. The pain of the stretch was nearly gone by now, replaced only by a sizzling bliss that had your mouth gaping open and begging for more. Sweat began to gather at the prince’s brow and you’re taken by how handsome he is, how truly carnal he looks as he pounds into you with no abandon.  

Your walls accommodate him perfectly, gripping him tight while still allowing passage. Jungkook felt as if your very cunt was made for him, molded to be his exact match. He could feel himself nearing closer and closer to the edge of bliss--climbing so high to the peaks of climax.

Your body was racked with pleasure. It poured out of your body in sweet sighs and torrential trembles. With each delicious push and pull of his cock within you, the fire grew and grew. It swirled around your body, clawed at your neck and clouded your mind with smoke. All you knew was Jungkook, his thick length, his warm body, and the way his eyes burned holes into yours.  Each thrust sent you so much closer to another dizzying peak and your fingers gripped at his arms tighter.

He could tell by the rapture on your face that you were close--could feel it in the fluttering of your walls.

“Cum for me,” he groaned. “Let go, little dove. Let me feel you.”

You whimpered needily, groaning as the prince continued to thrust into you at a turbulent speed. He licked his thumb before allowing it to circle your clit, the bundle of nerves nearly screaming to life as he stimulated it.

Jungkook licked his lips as he watched your body come nearly undone at his touch. He could feel the way his body was building and climbing towards a grand finish, one he wanted to bury deep inside you.

“G-going to cum,” he groaned as he increased his strokes. ‘’I will fill you so well, you feel so good..’’

Never had you felt closer to another person, another man. Jungkook was truly the only one in the world for you, and you could never stray away. His hands gripped you tight and possessively as he powered his way to his finish.

“P-please!” You gasped as your vision started to dot with black spots. You couldn’t speak, breath overtaken by gasps and whimpers of need, as your body finally peaked at it’s high. Your moans were loud as you soared into the blissful pool that only Jungkook had ever taken you to. Your walls contracted around him tightly, squeezing and coaxing his cock to release his own pleasure inside you.

Jungkook lasted mere seconds after feeling youl grip him so tightly, and hearing your sweet dulcet voice sing praises and whines. His cock pulsed as he emptied himself into you, hot cum painting your sweet walls and pooling in your womb.

A long moment followed where Jungkook was just.. staring down at your exhausted form from above. His overgrown fringe clung to his clammy skin, lips swollen from biting down on them more often than not, and chest heaving up and down as he emotionally gathered himself back into one piece after shattering for you.

‘‘My love,’’ He whispered as he leaned down over you once more, sweaty skin sticking together. But no matter, he wouldn’t want you any other way right this moment. He gently moved his lips against yours, all while still keeping himself deep inside of you, making sure nothing would be spilled to waste, ‘‘My beautiful Y/N.’‘

A small smile tugged at your lips when he calls you by your first name. You reach out to brush his fringe away from his forehead, combing his dark, soft locks with your fingers, ‘’My dear Jungkook.’’

Jungkook’s heart almost stopped. You’d said a lot of things, you’d even given him your body. But you had never, ever had referred to him with any term of endearment until now. It was always his name, or his title.

‘‘What did you just say?’’ He asked, one hand cupping your face gently to guide your eyes to meet his own. He looked at you with an emotion you couldn’t quite place, but if you tried to name them, it’d be a mix of confusion, joy, and relief.

‘‘My dear,’‘ You paused to place your hand on top of his, leaning your cheek into his palm further, ‘‘Jungkook.’‘

Jungkook’s hot breath fanned your lips as he sighed in content, eyes still fixed on you. He kissed you once, softly, before pulling back to look at you again.

‘‘Please say it now’’ He asked quietly. The hint of sadness and desperation wasn’t evident in his voice, however, his eyes didn’t lie. They were wide, intensely focused on your every single reaction as he anticipated your answer, ‘’Say you’ll be mine.’’

You were already his in every sense of the word, except one. He needed you to say it yourself.

And who were you to resist the prince?

‘‘I’ll be yours.’‘ You finally broke the silence. Jungkook’s eyes flickered between yours with his doe ones, desperately trying to find any sign of lies. But instead, all he could see was utter affection, and your truthful words finally sank in.

‘’Be my wife.’‘ Jungkook continued, leaning his forehead against yours, ‘‘I love you. I promise to always love you. Nobody else will be able to take care of you the way I can.’‘

You nod, a quiet ‘yes’ leaving your lips before you crane your neck to kiss him. You might’ve been confused, frightened, and even sad at times-- but now? You were happy.

Happy to belong to the prince.

Jungkook smiles against your lips, he couldn’t believe he was so lucky to have found you. 

Or rather, you had found him.

Either way, it couldn’t have been anything but fate. And.. Jungkook believed in that. 

© sombreboy 2020. Do not edit, repost or translate.