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writesvani · 1 month ago

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Dear Me | 04

lawyer! jungkook x privatechef! reader

SUMMARY: Once upon a time, Jungkook and you were everything. Best friends who shared every moment, every secret—except one: you were in love with him. But life changed. High school ended, real life began, and slowly, you drifted apart, the distance between you growing too wide to cross.

The end. Except it isn't.

One day, after a long day at work, you open your email to find a message from 13 years ago—written by your younger self. A letter you’d forgotten, sent by a service you paid to remind you of your youth, your love for him. As the emails keep on coming and you keep reading, the flood of memories hits you, and you realize something heartbreaking: you never stopped loving him.

But now, it’s too late. Jungkook is about to marry someone else. Or is he?

estranged childhood best friends-to-friends-to-lovers?

TRIGGER WARNINGS (for this chapter): anxiety, guilt, discomfort, emotional distress, self-sabotage, past trauma, relationship tension, self-doubt, jealousy, awkwardness, manipulation, abandonment, social anxiety

comment HERE for Dear Me taglist;

SERIES M.LIST;

— previous chapter // next chapter

wc: 6,4k // date: 28th of March 2025

CHAPTER FOUR — The House; happy reading my gummies...

AN: hey hey hey!!! okay, so, like, i am OBSESSED with this chapter. like, truly. i love it SO MUCH and i really hope you all love it too because i’m freaking out over here!!

now, listen up, i’m setting a NOTE GOAL for this chapter—250 notes because YOU GUYS LITERALLY SMASHED THE LAST ONE IN 2 DAYS and that’s just like... UNREAL! i'm over here losing my mind. i can’t even. you guys are LEGENDS. so, yeah, let’s hit that 250 and guess what? I’LL BE POSTING CHAPTER 5 ASAP once we get there. i HAVE to make the note goal higher because if i keep it at 200—i'll literally post everyday and i DO NOT have the strength to do that. i am sorry (not sorry at all).

—love, vani

To be quite honest, you’d rather switch places with Sisyphus right now.

Yeah, you’d probably be drenched in sweat, rolling that massive boulder up a hill over and over again, failing endlessly, panting like a feral raccoon on the verge of collapse.

And yet? You’d take it. Gladly.

You’d throw yourself into the depths of the underworld’s worst punishments if it meant being anywhere else but here. If it meant doing anything else but sitting through this.

If it meant not having to hear, for the hundredth time, just how great Jungkook’s proposal to Nina was. How wholesome and romantic and perfect it had been. How your childhood best friend—the one you once knew like the back of your hand—is, apparently, the most lovable, charming, sweet, and overall best boyfriend-turned-fiancé in existence.

You grit your teeth as Nina’s voice pulls you back to the present, each of her words like a tiny, invisible shock to your system. Her joy is undeniable, written all over her face in bright, delicate excitement. Her hands move animatedly through the air, cutting through the thick atmosphere of the coffee shop, mimicking the way Jungkook had taken her hand in his, the way he had slipped that ring onto her finger.

And you?

You just sit there, nodding along, pretending that every detail doesn’t feel like a stone being added to the weight already crushing your chest.

Yoongi is nodding along, gasping at all the right moments—but you see through him. His fingers tap lightly against his cup, and his lips twitch, like he’s suppressing a grimace every time Nina gets a little too animated. He loves her, adores her even, but Yoongi—despite being a massive book nerd with an unspoken love for romance in fiction—is allergic to real-life romance talk.

So the fact that he’s enduring this? Says a lot.

You, on the other hand, sit stiffly, your fingers curled around the handle of your cup, the ceramic warm against your skin. You don’t tense. You don’t flinch. You just… exist in the moment, pretending this conversation isn’t making you want to pour your espresso straight into your eyes. Your smiles are perfectly timed, your little laughs polite—just enough to make it seem like you’re engaged. But inside, every word feels like an iron weight pressing on your chest.

“And I swear, I was shocked,” Nina exclaims, eyes wide, hands flying through the air as if she’s physically reliving the moment.

Yoongi leans back slightly, expression unreadable. “No way you didn’t see it coming at all.”

Nina scoffs, placing a hand over her heart as if personally offended. “I didn’t! Look!”

Before anyone can react, she shoves her phone into Yoongi’s face so fast he physically jerks back, blinking like she just hit him with a flashlight. You don’t even need to look at the screen to know what it is.

“My friends and YOU, my sweet brother, knew and didn’t even tell me to get my nails done,” she groans dramatically, shaking her head.

Across the table, Jungkook, who’s been suspiciously quiet during this entire reenactment of his own damn proposal, finally speaks.

“They didn’t wanna ruin the surprise for you, baby.”

His voice is soft, steady, but there’s something in the way his hand lightly rubs Nina’s back that makes your stomach churn.

You tilt your head, forcing out a light laugh. “Wow. Talk about friendly sabotage.”

It’s an attempt at humor—something, anything—but your fingers twitch against your cup, and when Jungkook glances at you, just for a second, his expression unreadable, you feel it.

The weight of it.

Of everything.

Jungkook looks away first.

The moment is fleeting—just a quick glance, a second of hesitation—but it lingers in the air like a truth neither of you dares to acknowledge. The weight of years apart, of missed conversations and things left unsaid, sits between you, thick and unmovable.

And then, Nina speaks again, blissfully unaware of the silent war happening right in front of her.

“But they could’ve at least hinted at it,” she whines, but her eyes shine, a soft glow of happiness radiating from her features. “Like, I dunno—‘Oh, your nails are getting long, maybe book an appointment?’” She sighs, shaking her head. “Now my engagement pics are lowkey ugly.”

You let out a small, amused scoff. “C’mon, it can’t be that bad. Let me see.”

She doesn’t hesitate to show you her phone, flipping the screen toward you. You lean in slightly, eyes scanning the image. And yeah, okay—you get it. Her nails are a bit grown out, the perfect white tips slightly out of place, but it’s nothing dramatic. Still, if it were your hands in that picture, with a ring that big and nails that unpolished, you’d probably throw a tiny fit too.

You tilt your head, offering her a sympathetic smile. “Ouch. You kinda do have a point, girl.”

“Right?” Nina huffs, crossing her arms, but there’s laughter laced in her voice now.

Your gaze flickers to her hand, fingers curled around her coffee cup, the diamond on her finger catching the light just right. “At least your nails are on point now,” you remark, nodding toward them.

She grins, wiggling her fingers in front of you. “Duh. No way I was letting that happen again.”

Yoongi snorts. “I swear, you’re the only person who could turn a proposal into a nail horror story.”

“Hey! It’s a valid concern,” Nina shoots back, tossing a sugar packet at him. “A girl’s gotta have her priorities straight.”

Jungkook chuckles under his breath, shaking his head. “Babe, you literally cried when I got down on one knee. You didn’t even notice your nails until, like, an hour later.”

“Yeah, because I was overwhelmed!” She points an accusing finger at him before turning to you. “Do you know how rude it is to just casually propose out of nowhere? No warning, no heads-up—just ‘boom, life-changing moment, now deal with it.’”

You press your lips together, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Damn, how dare he propose to you without a PowerPoint presentation and a six-week prep course?”

“Thank you!” Nina exclaims, dramatically placing a hand over her chest. “Finally, someone who understands my suffering.”

Jungkook groans, rubbing a hand down his face. “Next time, I’ll send out a calendar invite first.”

“Yeah, maybe you could even send it to us too—so we can all prepare for the big day.”

The words leave your lips before you can stop them. Sharp-edged, bitter. You’re an adult. You know better than to let something so petty slip out. It’s not like you. It’s childish. Spiteful. But restraint is impossible when the truth is gnawing at you from the inside out—when the person who once felt like an extension of yourself didn’t even tell you he was getting married.

Didn’t give you the chance to be there. To help pick the perfect ring. To witness his excitement, his nerves, the way he used to come to you with every major life decision. You were robbed. Of a moment. Of a friendship. Of him.

Nina, oblivious, just laughs at your remark, too caught up in the glow of her engagement to notice the venom laced in your voice. She keeps swiping through her phone, showing video after video of the proposal—footage taken by the friends who did know, who were there, because Jungkook, ever the romantic, wanted to pop the question in front of the people she loved.

Yoongi wasn’t there. He had been overseas for a project. That’s the only reason. But it’s funny, isn’t it? How he never even mentioned the proposal to you until the invites were sent out. How that makes you question so many things.

Funnier still is the way he reacts.

Jungkook blinks. Slowly. His expression barely shifts, but you see it. The subtle tightening of his jaw, the way his tongue darts out to press against his cheek. His brows furrow, just slightly, like your words bother him. Like they’re an itch he can’t quite scratch.

And Yoongi—he catches it too. His shoulders flinch, his breath stutters for just a fraction of a second, but his gaze never leaves Nina’s phone. Like he’s pretending he didn’t hear. Like he doesn’t want to hear.

“Mhm.” Jungkook hums, tapping his fingers against his cup. “Didn’t wanna tell too many people. Didn’t want it getting out too soon.” His lips pull into a smirk, eyes meeting yours with a flicker of something unreadable. Something close to a challenge. “You know how it is—I didn’t wanna ruin the surprise.”

You force a nod, shifting in your seat. “Yeah,” you say, voice a little too smooth, a little too controlled. “Good thing you only told the people you trust.”

His smirk falters—just for a second. It’s quick, almost imperceptible, but you catch it. He tilts his head slightly, like he’s choosing his next words carefully.

“Well, you know me,” he finally says, leaning back with a casual shrug. “Always thinking ahead.”

You huff out a laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, okay, Mr. Genius.”

He lets out a soft chuckle, but there’s something tight in the way his jaw moves, something lingering in the air between you that neither of you dares to name.

“Sooo,” Nina drawls, turning to you with a sly look, her eyebrow raised like she’s putting you on trial. “What’s going on with that boyfriend of yours?”

You blink at her, momentarily lost. “Which boyfriend?”

She scoffs. “Come on, you know—the guy you were talking about last time I saw you.”

You tilt your head, giving her a flat look. “Nina, that was two years ago.”

“So what?” She shrugs, taking a sip of her drink like that’s not a ridiculous amount of time to be out of the loop.

You exhale sharply, pressing your lips together. “We broke up over a year ago.”

Her brows furrow. “Why?”

You pause, fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of your cup. “Ehh… We just—drifted apart, I guess. Fell out of love.”

Nina hums, eyes flickering over you like she’s assessing if that’s the whole truth. You hold her gaze, daring her to dig deeper. She doesn’t—but the air still feels a little heavier.

You don’t notice the way Jungkook’s fingers tighten slightly around his coffee cup, how his grip falters just enough for the ceramic to shift in his hands. You don’t catch the subtle squint of his eyes when you mutter “drifted apart.”

But Yoongi does.

His gaze flickers to Jungkook, studying him like he’s reading between the lines of an unfinished story. Their eyes meet for the briefest second—silent, heavy. Jungkook shifts uncomfortably, clears his throat, like the moment never happened. Like Yoongi hadn’t just told him something without saying a single word.

But the message is loud and clear.

Dude, you’re an asshole.

But Jungkook—he doesn’t feel like an asshole. He doesn’t feel like he did something wrong.

Because he was the one who tried.

He was the one sending Facebook messages every damn day that summer while you were in Europe, just so you could reply—maybe three times a week, at best—because you were just so busy.

He was the one staying up all night, his textbooks blurred at the edges from exhaustion, only to set his alarm too early just so he could call you before your day started.

He was the one skipping lectures, missing out on life around him, just to sit in his tiny dorm room and listen to you talk—because that’s how much he wanted to hold onto you.

And when he finally stopped—when he silenced his alarm, when he went to class, when he decided to just wait and see if you’d reach out first—there was nothing.

No new calls.

No desperate messages.

Just silence.

And that silence? It was deafening. It was humiliating. It rang louder than any ‘I don’t love you anymore’ ever could.

So, no. Jungkook doesn’t feel like an asshole. He just feels like someone who learned the hard way that loving someone more than they love you is its own kind of heartbreak. He’s the one who learned when to stop trying.

When to stop holding onto the ties already cut.

“So, what are you guys up to tonight?” Nina asks, her gaze flicking between you and Yoongi as she swirls the last of her coffee in her cup. There’s a glint in her eye—curious, maybe even a little mischievous.

Yoongi leans back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head. “Nothing much. Gotta finish a chapter I’m reviewing for that author I told you about,” he says, voice casual, though you can tell he’s already dreading it.

You glance at him before taking a slow sip of your coffee, the bitterness settling on your tongue. “Same. Just… getting mentally prepared for work tomorrow.”

Technically, it’s not a lie. You do have work tomorrow. But beneath the surface, there’s a flicker of something else, something you try to ignore—a spark of unease picking at your subconscious.

Because it’s Wednesday.

And that means an email is coming.

An email you don’t want to read. An email you’ll tell yourself to ignore. An email you know you’ll end up opening anyway, your fingers hovering over words that feel like ghosts of your past self, haunting you in black and white.

Yoongi, oblivious to the shift in your mind, tilts his head toward Nina. “Why?” he asks, tone easy but laced with mild suspicion.

Nina taps her fingers against the table, her lips twitching as if she’s debating something. Then, she shrugs, but it’s far too casual to be genuine.

“I was just thinking…” she starts, letting the words linger, dangling in the air like bait.

You're hooked, despite yourself. Nina’s dramatic pause stretches, her fingers absently twirling a lock of her black hair as she builds the suspense.

"Since Kook and I took a few days off..." she starts, her tone almost too careful. Then, before either of you can react, she holds up a hand. "Look—before you call me crazy, I know it’s the middle of the week," she adds quickly, eyes locking onto Yoongi like she already expects his disapproval.

Yoongi exhales sharply, his patience wearing thin. "Just spit it out, for fuck’s sake."

Nina grins, as if this is exactly the reaction she was hoping for.

"Okay, so—I saw there’s a gig at The House tonight, and I thought, maybe we could all go. Check it out. You know, like we used to in high school."

Her words land heavy in the air. Nostalgia. A double-edged sword. You feel it settle into your chest, an old, familiar ache.

The House is a relic of your teen years, a place that holds too much history to ever feel neutral. By day, it was a quiet coffee shop, hidden from the general crowd—only those who truly knew TH even realized it was open before sunset.

But at night? It transformed. Gigs, live music, bands clawing their way into existence, hoping to be something more than just a name on a dimly lit flyer. The House wasn’t just a venue; it was a second home. A place where dreams felt tangible, where friendships were solidified over cheap drinks and lyrics screamed into the air.

And if you go tonight, you already know exactly how it’ll go. The moment you step through those doors, Alex will spot you. His signature flirty smirk will stretch across his lips, the same one he’s been sending your way since you were a teenager. He’s only two years older, but he’s been working at The House since your very first time there—and somehow, he never left. A fixture. A piece of that place, just like the worn-out stage and the dim, flickering neon sign above the entrance.

Alex was always a walking contradiction. Despite his shameless attempts to charm anything with two legs and a vagina, he was also something else to you. To all of you. Like an older brother who saw too much, who knew more than he let on. Who watched you fall in love—watched you get hurt—and never said a damn thing.

And that’s the problem, isn’t it? If you go tonight, it won’t just be a night out. It’ll be a collision with your past, a forced confrontation with the version of yourself that once walked those same floors, heart bare and reckless.

So, no. Thank you, but no. You’d rather spend the night wallowing in your misery, drowning in thar email, than risk stepping back into a place that remembers too much.

“Ugh, I don’t know…” Yoongi scratches the back of his head, clearly torn between his usual routine and Nina’s relentless pleading.

You lean back in your chair, taking a slow sip of your coffee. “I have work tomorrow, girl,” you remind her, hoping she’ll get the hint.

Nina’s eyes widen, and she immediately pouts, sticking out her bottom lip like she’s trying to win a contest for the most dramatic face. “Please,” she begs, “we haven’t gone out since high school. Just one night. Please?”

You roll your eyes, feeling the weight of her stare. “One night? Yeah, right. You’ll be the first to tell me how much I regret it tomorrow.”

“Not if you’re with us!” Nina says, flipping her hair dramatically. “It’ll be fun! You, Kook, Yoongi and me—same old crew, just like the good old days.”

Yoongi scoffs, giving her a side-eye. “You act like we were some wild party animals back then.”

Nina grins mischievously. “Whatever, but I’m not taking no for an answer.”

You stare at her, arms crossed. “Fine. But this is the last time, you hear me? Next time you pull this stunt, I’m throwing you in a broom closet with Alex from The House.”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “Wait, so you're going just to avoid the broom closet?”

You shrug. “Maybe. Or maybe I just enjoy torturing myself.”

Jungkook, who had been quietly observing the conversation, finally speaks up, his voice a little hesitant but teasing. “You know,” he says, leaning in slightly, “if you really want to make it interesting, we could all take shots and make it a competition. Who can go the longest without regretting it?”

You glance at him, your eyebrow raised. “Oh, you think you’re some kind of expert on not regretting things?”

Jungkook smirks, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Well, I did just propose, didn’t I? That takes a lot of confidence... and the ability to ignore some regrets.”

You laugh dryly, rolling your eyes. “Good one, Kook. Real subtle.”

Nina claps her hands excitedly. “Yes! That’s exactly the spirit we need! It’s settled. We’re going!”

You lean back in your chair, pretending to contemplate. “Fine. But if I hate it, I’m blaming all of you. And I’ll make sure you pay for the coffee tomorrow.”

Yoongi leans back in his chair with a smirk. “If I end up with a hangover tomorrow, I’m blaming you. And I’ll make sure you’re the one buying that coffee.”

Jungkook grins, chiming in, “I think I will need another coffee after Nina’s ‘party planning.’”

Nina gives him a playful glare. “You’re all just jealous you don’t have the same enthusiasm for drinking.”

You let out a dramatic sigh. “Yeah, yeah. But if I end up regretting this, I’m haunting every single one of you.”

Nina winks. “Deal!”

The weight of reality hits you the moment you step through the door of your apartment. The familiar scent of home isn’t as comforting as it used to be; instead, it hangs in the air like an unwelcome reminder. Why? Why did you agree to this reunion, knowing exactly what it would stir up? Going to The House feels like self-sabotage—it feels like clawing at open wounds that never really healed, just scabbed over. It's a mistake. You know it’s a mistake.

You stare blankly at your surroundings, the space that once felt so much like yours, and now it feels... wrong. The corner of your table catches your eye. Your laptop sits there, silently screaming at you. It’s the email. That email. It’s been sitting there all day, mocking you. “Take me. Read me. You know you want to,” it seems to whisper. But you won’t. Not today. No. You won’t let yourself fall back into that mess—not today, not when you're already feeling like this.

You push the thought away, willing yourself to breathe through the tightness building in your chest. There’s a limit to how much you can take, and you’ve reached it. You will not engage with that stupid email today, no matter how much it calls to you like some kind of irresistible siren. No. Not when you have exactly three hours before you have to face everyone.

Before you have to see Jungkook again.

It’s been so long since you’ve had to look him in the eye. Seeing him earlier today was one thing, but now, after everything, having to face him again—two times in one day—feels like too much. You’re not sure what you expected from today, but you know it wasn’t this.

Not this weight.

You stand there, frozen in the middle of your apartment, knowing you should get ready. But it feels impossible. Every part of you is screaming to run away, to hide from the past that keeps trying to drag you back. But you can’t. You won’t. You have to face it—face them. Even if it feels like you’re suffocating under the pressure of it all.

Your mind drifts back to The House, the one place you’ve avoided for so long. The memories are already flooding back. The laughter, the music, the people you used to know so well. But most of all, it’s the feeling of him—Jungkook. His presence is still a shadow over everything. And you know, deep down, this reunion, this thing Nina’s dragging you into, is just going to make everything worse. You're not ready.

You never will be.

Your phone lights up, the soft ping of a new message breaking the silence of your apartment. You glance down—Yoongi.

Yoon 🤍: ya home?

You: yea, just arrived. u?

Yoon 🤍: same. you sure you wanna go out tonight?

You: no, haha. wby?

Yoon 🤍: same man. but she’s my sis and the bride, gotta make her happy.

You: yeaa

Yoon 🤍: and i guess it would be nice to chill there, like before yk? see alex.

You: yeah, i miss alex, lowkey feel gulity for not visiting him there.

Yoon 🤍: yea me too.

Yoon 🤍: go get ready, we’ll be picking you up later.

Your phone pings again, Yoongi’s name lighting up the screen.

Yoon 🤍: you okay tho?

You: yeah, just... weird.

Yoon 🤍: i get that. but it’ll be fine. i’ll be there.

You: thanks. i guess it’s just… i dunno, feels like a lot of things are gonna come back up.

Yoon 🤍: yeah, i hear you. but sometimes it’s good to face the past, yk?

You: idk if i’m ready for that.

Yoon 🤍: i’ll be there to distract you if it gets too much.

You: appreciate it.

Yoon 🤍: of course. just get ready, we’ll be leaving soon.

You: alright, give me like 20 minutes.

Yoon 🤍: sounds good. see you soon.

You set your phone down, trying to take a deep breath, but then the realization hits. You quickly grab your phone again.

You: wtf dude, aren’t u supposed to pick me up in 3 hrs, not this soon?

Yoon 🤍: 😂 i’m messing with you. we won’t be there for a while. but hurry up, time’s ticking!

You: you’re an asshole, but i’m getting ready.

You roll your eyes, setting the phone down again.

As soon as you slide into the car, a sense of discomfort washes over you. It’s like stepping into a memory you’d rather not revisit, yet here you are. The seating arrangement is completely different from what you expected. Yoongi is at the wheel, his hands lazily draped over the steering wheel, fingers splayed wide. He’s laughing at something Nina’s saying—some ridiculous piece of friendship drama she’s telling him, no doubt embellished for dramatic effect. Nina, as usual, is sitting in the passenger seat, her voice louder than the rest of the car’s noise.

Then there's the seating beside you: Jungkook. It feels strange. Just like before. Yoongi and Nina are up front, gossiping, while you and Jungkook are squeezed into the backseat like it’s high school all over again. You’d imagined Nina and Jungkook sitting next to each other, given the whole engagement thing, but no—Nina missed her brother so much, she had to hog him for herself.

You sit next to Jungkook, trying to ignore the growing awkwardness. The car is small—Yoongi’s car is cramped, and the backseat feels even smaller. Jungkook is practically taking up half of it, his body large and solid, pushing you against the door like a pancake. You can sense the heat radiating off him, and every time he shifts, it’s like you feel it. His leg brushes against yours, making the space feel even more suffocating.

“Sorry,” Jungkook mumbles, trying to adjust, but his leg doesn’t budge much.

You chuckle dryly, trying to mask the tension in your chest. “It’s fine. Not like you can really do anything about it,” you say, motioning vaguely at how small the car is with your hand.

He nods, his eyes drifting to the window, as if he’s looking for some kind of escape in the passing scenery. The silence stretches between you, the weight of old, unspoken words hanging in the air.

You clear your throat, breaking the silence, whispering, even though your voice sounds too loud in your head. “I’m glad, you know.”

“Huh?” Jungkook looks at you, confusion flickering in his gaze.

“About your engagement,” you clarify, glancing at him. “How your life turned out. It’s... good to see.”

He softens at that, nodding in appreciation. “Thank you. Same goes for you. I’m glad all your dreams came true.”

You offer a small, forced smile. “Yeah, thank you.” The words are polite, but they feel like they belong to someone else.

The words hang in the air for a moment, soft but heavy. Jungkook’s voice barely breaks through the hum of the car, but you catch it, feeling the weight of it settle between you.

“Did you ever regret it?” His words are a whisper, but there's a tremor in his tone, something vulnerable hiding beneath the surface. You glance at him, catching the shift in his expression—there’s a quiet intensity in his eyes, like he's waiting for something, anything, from you.

You feel your chest tighten. Regret? The question cuts deeper than you expected. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, the cramped space suddenly feeling even smaller.

“Regret what?” You ask, your voice quieter than you intended, your breath catching slightly as you look over at him.

Jungkook doesn’t look at you, his gaze fixed on the passing streetlights outside, as if the answer is too difficult to voice. “Following your dreams,” he says again, slower this time, as if testing the words on his tongue.

You breathe in sharply, trying to shake off the heaviness that threatens to settle in your chest. You let the silence stretch for a beat too long before you respond, trying to sound more certain than you feel.

“Never thought about it,” you reply, the words leaving your mouth easily enough. You glance away from him, fingers fiddling with the hem of your sleeve as you add, “But no, I don’t think so.”

And yet, even as the words leave your lips, there’s a flicker of doubt. A small part of you wonders if you really don’t regret it—if you don’t regret all the things you left behind in the process, the pieces of yourself that never quite fit after chasing everything else.

The rest of the ride passes in silence between you and Jungkook, the quiet tension almost suffocating. The only sounds are the hum of the engine and the occasional shift of his leg pressing against yours, the warmth of it seeping through your jeans, but neither of you speak. The space between you feels like a canyon, and you’re unsure if you’re even capable of bridging it anymore.

Instead, you let Nina's voice fill the car, a steady stream of gossip, her words a distracting, almost absurd relief from the heavy quiet. You listen absently as she recounts her latest drama, her tone increasingly animated.

“So, like,” Nina starts, her voice brimming with excitement, “Ana, you know Ana, right?” Yoongi nods. “Well, apparently, she’s been sleeping with her best friend’s husband. And get this—she’s been doing it right under her nose, for months.”

You blink, glancing at Nina through the rearview mirror, raising your eyebrows. The shock registers slowly. What the hell?

“I mean, what kind of shit is that? You should’ve seen Ana’s face when I called her out on it. She was like, ‘It’s just a fling, Nina. I don’t owe anyone an explanation.’” Nina lets out a loud, disbelieving laugh, “A fling?! With a married man? How do you even get to that point?”

You can feel the tension in the car rise, your stomach sinking as Nina’s story spirals.

"And guess what? The wife knows—she just hasn’t said anything yet. She's playing it cool, waiting to catch them in the act. She’s just letting Ana keep digging her own grave.”

Nina’s eyes flicker in the rearview mirror, a grin playing at the corner of her mouth as she leans in closer to Yoongi, who looks like he’s trying not to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

“Wait,” you interject, not sure if you want to hear any more, “So, what—Ana's sleeping with the guy while his wife is just letting her?”

Nina nods, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. “Exactly! And the best part?” She leans forward, her voice dropping dramatically. “She caught them at a party the other night. The husband literally walked right past her, gave Ana this huge kiss on the cheek, and then turned to his wife and said, ‘Babe, I’m going to grab another drink.’ As if nothing was going on!”

You stare at her, blinking in disbelief. “What the hell?”

Nina throws her hands up in mock frustration, her eyes wide as if she's about to lose her mind. “I know! It’s like a fucking soap opera. I swear to God, I can’t keep up with these people anymore.” She shakes her head, laughing at the absurdity of it all. “Like, if you’re gonna cheat, at least have the decency to be subtle about it.”

You glance over at Jungkook, who still hasn’t spoken, his eyes focused outside the window, though you can tell he's listening. His profile is unreadable, but you wonder if all lf this is more of a distraction for him than it is for you.

As soon as you step into The House, everything is blurry. The chaos of the night engulfs you—laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the booming bass from the speakers that makes the floor beneath your feet vibrate. There are a lot of faces, some familiar, some new. Thank God for the new ones. For a moment, you let yourself breathe in the energy of the place, the music blaring, the cigarette smoke curling around you, invading your senses.

Then you hear the familiar sound of a voice you didn’t realize you missed.

"Well, well, well, look who it is."

Behind the bar, a wide grin spreads across Alex’s face, his eyes lighting up as soon as he sees the four of you. Without hesitation, he’s moving—practically running—towards Jungkook. The scene is a little bizarre, sure. Alex, a full head shorter than Jungkook, wraps his arms around him like a long-lost mother finally reunited with her child.

“My boy!” Alex beams, patting Jungkook’s back like he’s proud of him for some hidden accomplishment. Jungkook laughs, actually laughs, his shoulders shaking a little with the sound.

“You’ve gotten so big. You’re huge now,” Alex adds, since the last time he saw Jungkook was… Well… Years ago.

Jungkook smirks, chuckling under his breath. “You forgot how to use a razor or something,” Jungkook says, pointing at Alex’s beard.

The comment makes Alex pull back just enough to give him a playful shove. “Hey, don’t start with me. I’m just getting better with age, alright?”

Nina, with a sly grin, steps forward as Alex turns to her. "Pretty girl," Alex motions toward her with a wink, “Look at you. Thinking about giving me a chance already?”

Nina laughs, rolling her eyes but giving him the affectionate hug he’s so eager to receive. “You’re still so lame.”

"You know I’m just being nice,” Alex says, patting her on the back as she pulls away. “But I’ll take the hug. You look good, girl.”

Yoongi, already standing off to the side with his arms crossed, lets out a small sigh. "The nerdy," Alex singsongs, eyes narrowing with the teasing tone. He gives Yoongi a respectful dap, fully aware how Yoongi’s personal space is sacred.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow but doesn’t pull away, muttering a quiet, “You’re lucky I don’t have to be nice to you,” but his voice holds no real bite.

And then Alex’s gaze falls on you. His eyes soften immediately, like everything around him just slows down. He leans over the counter, his arms outstretched toward you. “And my lil monster,” he murmurs, his body melting into yours as you wrap your arms around him.

You breathe in, the scent of him enveloping you—cologne, wood smoke, and something you swear smells like the old leather of the barstools. He smells like home. A safe place you didn’t know you needed.

“I missed you too,” you say, your voice surprisingly soft as you bury your face in his shoulder.

Alex chuckles, pulling back just a bit to give you a knowing look. “You’ve been avoiding me, haven’t you?”

You smirk, rolling your eyes playfully. “Don’t start, Alex.”

“Can’t help it,” he grins widely, the energy between you two palpable. “You all still owe me drinks. I’m running a tab tonight. Just like old times, yeah?”

Nina glances at Yoongi with a raised brow. “You know, I don’t think I ever told him no,” she says, half-teasing, half-serious.

Yoongi snorts, his arms still crossed. “We’re still not paying for you. Last time you drank enough for all of us.”

Alex throws his head back, laughing loudly, clearly unbothered by their teasing. “Yeah, yeah. But I’m the one who knows the best drinks, so you’re all stuck with me.”

You settle into the bar stools, the hard, cool surface pressing into your legs, yet it feels oddly comforting. The familiar buzz of The House surrounds you—dim lights, low murmurs of conversation, and the steady hum of the music—but all you can focus on is the figure behind the bar. Alex. His face practically glows as he crosses his arms, his sharp gaze flicking between the four of you with an intensity that feels almost... predatory. It’s like he’s studying you, looking for something, anything, that betrays the carefully constructed walls each of you put up. You can almost feel the weight of his eyes on you, dissecting every movement, every shift.

“So, what’s new?” Alex asks, his voice casual, but his eyes betray an underlying curiosity that you’re not sure you want to indulge.

Surprisingly, it’s Jungkook who answers first. He was always the one who could talk to Alex without hesitation, like the two of them shared some sacred bond. You can almost hear the warmth in his voice when he speaks. “I’m getting married, bro.”

Alex freezes for a moment, and for the briefest second, time seems to halt in its tracks. His brows furrow, and a flicker of recognition crosses his face as he processes Jungkook’s words. Then, his eyes dart to you, and it feels like the world slows down, all noise fading into a dull hum.

“Dang, dude,” Alex says, the words lingering in the air. “So I didn’t only miss you making it official, I missed the whole proposal?”

And just like that, everything shifts. The air in the room turns thick, suffocating. Your breath catches in your chest, and for a second, you think you might choke on your own thoughts. What? The? Fuck? Why would he say something like that? Why would he imply something so... loaded?

Jungkook gulps, his hand instinctively reaching for his drink, but it’s not served yet. There’s nothing to steady the trembling in his fingers. You see the tension in his jaw, the way he clenches his teeth, as if holding himself back from saying something. Yoongi’s eyes shut for a fraction of a second, like he’s trying to block out the uncomfortable atmosphere. Nina just stares, her expression unreadable, caught somewhere between confusion and shock.

And you? You don’t know what to do. You don’t know what to feel. All you can hear is the sound of your own pulse thudding in your ears, louder than any of the chatter around you. You want to say something—anything—to break the tension, but your words get stuck in your throat.

But then, like a cruel punchline, Alex bursts into laughter. It’s not just a chuckle. It’s manic, almost cackling, like he’s just pulled off the best prank of his life.

“Ha!” he says, his voice ringing with amusement. “Should’ve seen your faces, I’m just kidding.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, but the relief doesn’t last. It doesn’t feel like a joke. Not really. The weight of his words hangs in the air, lingering in a way that makes you feel like you’re being suffocated by something you can’t shake. Because Alex is too good at reading people. He knows. He knows something shifted in the room, something unspoken that’s now hanging between you all. And even though he’s laughing, you can feel the subtle shift in his demeanor. You can feel his gaze flicker toward you, that apologetic look in his eyes—his way of trying to backpedal, to ease the tension he just created.

But it doesn’t feel like an apology. Not when you see how his eyes flick toward Jungkook with that look—a silent understanding passing between them. It’s the kind of look that speaks volumes, and you know exactly what it means: He saw it. He knows.

The air feels colder now, heavier. And no one says a word as Alex wipes the smile off his face, pretending like everything is fine, like nothing just happened. But you can’t shake the feeling that nothing good comes after this.

taglist: @lovingkoalaface @santiiagopopegarcia @jadaocon1 @asyr97 @gukieater @themwordsblog @whatevevrerr @amarawayne @tititania @guwol @reallygenerouskoala @bgfdcvbnjk @kyljjk @whoa-jo @taekritimin123 @minimoninini @upo1313 @polnaraffsrack @tatzzz-25 @orphicepiphany @coletaehyung @bjoriis @epiphany-n @kimyishin @eegyo @dearmyfavoritepeople-bts @parkinglot-nights @mar-lo-pap @evrsncenewyork @jjeonjjk7 @minghaosimp @cerulean1riz @anumita-2007 @vantelover1306 @vynmin @nadzzzblog @jnghs @lachimolalajeon

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chokkzou · 24 days ago

Text

⠀(＞。☆) ﹑ IDEAL HUSBAND ⠀✶

︵︵ sypnosis : Ness is the perfect husband: dedicated, loving, and eager to make every moment a reality. He lives to take care of you, anticipate your every need, and be the warmth that awaits you.

𓄹𓈒 alexis ness x male! reader

From the moment you decided to share your life with Ness, it was clear that he was never meant to be just an ordinary husband.

No, he wanted to be the best. To be your unwavering support, your safe haven at the end of the day, your devoted lover in body and soul.

A perfect home, for the perfect husband.

Alexis not only made sure the house was spotless, but he did it with a bright smile, eagerly awaiting your return. He memorized your schedule to the letter, organizing his day to ensure you always had the best when you arrived—whether it was having dinner ready, preparing a warm bath, or greeting you with a kiss that bordered on adoration.

He loved seeing you come home with that tired expression after a long day of work, just so he could wrap you in his arms and spoil you endlessly.

Ness ⸺ Welcome home, mein liebling. How was your day?

His soft voice, his attentive caresses, the way he looked at you with absolute love and devotion... It was clear that he lived only for you.

The kitchen became one of his greatest prides, as nothing pleased him more than delighting you with your favorite dishes.

Not only did he know them by heart, but he learned to make them himself. Always decorating the plates with hearts or stars in sauce, or leaving sweet little notes beside your meal—just in case he fell asleep while waiting for you to come home.

But the best part was when he flirted with small gestures, like letting his shirt slide slightly off his shoulders, revealing tempting glimpses of skin as he served your food.

Sometimes, he would subtly bite his lip without you noticing when he saw tiny smudges of cream or sauce while you ate.

He really wouldn’t mind helping you with that. Perhaps cleaning the corner of your lips with a kiss?

Despite how much Ness loved taking care of you and making you feel like a king, he also enjoyed being pampered.

Whenever he could, he would curl up beside you in your free moments, wrapping his arms around you and demanding at least a bit of your attention.

Ness ⸺ You work too much, liebe~ Don’t you think you should take a break and stay with me for a while?

His voice turned into a tempting whisper, his lips brushed against your neck teasingly, and his fingers lazily traced over your shirt.

He adored it when you held him tight, when you kissed his forehead, or when you simply kept him in your arms without saying a word. For him, that was enough to know he was still your favorite.

Ness didn’t just put effort into the day-to-day; he also dedicated himself to another aspect of your relationship.

His goal was to make you feel like the luckiest man in the world. Always ready to welcome you with submission, sighing your name with a sweetness that drove you insane.

And it was only natural that you’d respond the way Alexis longed for.

Ness ⸺ I love it when you act like this.

He confessed between gasps, his eyes shining with desire and love.

His skin reacted to your every touch, his body trembled beneath yours, and his breathless voice became the melody that filled the room during every encounter.

n/a: ness i love you, why don't you exist? 💔

edit : SORRY??? I deigned to publish the best draft of Ness I could think of (I've had it written for a month, lol)

#bllk #blue lock #blue lock x male reader #dom male reader #ness alexis #male reader #bllk x reader #sub bllk #gn reader #blue lock ness #sub blue lock #top male reader #alexis ness #alexis ness x reader #alexis ness x you #dom reader #sub character

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mulloey · 3 months ago

Note

Can you write a full length fic of boyfriends!sanhwa reminding the reader who she belong to after someone tried to flirt with her at party and she was too oblivious to understand and went with it?

Can you include overstim and them having the reader on their lap. And a bit of size kink on sanhwa's part.

Do not include: mxm, misogynistic terms like whore and slut.

too sweet

san & seonghwa x fem!reader

words: 1k

join my taglist

warnings: overstim, punishment, soft doms!sanhwa, kind of innocent!reader, reader is smaller than sanhwa, big size kink (you’re referred to as small, tiny, little etc)

—

“Do you understand now?”

Seonghwa’s voice is low and teasing in your ear, making you squirm in his hold; he has you on his lap, your legs spread apart and held in position by his own strong thighs. His arms are wrapped around your torso, stroking your flushed skin as you sob through another orgasm.

You don’t know how many you’ve had now, nor how many you’re yet to endure; San’s fingers pump in and out of your pussy relentlessly, his other hand holding a vibrator firmly against your swollen clit. You writhe pathetically in Seonghwa’s arms but you all know it’s pointless; they could overpower you in your sleep, and when they’re this determined to teach you a lesson, there’s nothing you can do but take it.

“Yes, Hwa,” you hiccup. Your voice is tiny and pathetic, hoarse from screaming and begging for God knows how long. “Hwa, m’ sorry, please.”

He laughs softly into your skin, lips trailing across your neck. “Oh I know, honey,” he coos. “It must hurt so much, huh?” His voice drips with condescension and you know he doesn’t actually care if it hurts; he wants it to hurt, wants you so drunk on pleasure that you can’t think of anything except them, their hands, and how sorry you are for being so bad.

And you were really, really bad—or so they said. You don’t think it’s fair, honestly, to be punished for something you didn’t even know you were doing, but you’re not silly enough to protest; Seonghwa in particular hates when you try to weasel out of a punishment, sees it as the ultimate form of disobedience—so trying to talk yourself out of this would only have made it worse. For the nth time tonight your safeword dances on your tongue but you have no intention of using it. They know as well as you do that you absolutely adore being used like this.

Still, it would be better if this wasn’t happening as a punishment; then you’d be able to ask San to take it slower, or to pull his fingers out and fuck you instead. But if that’s what you wanted, then maybe you should have been more careful.

They knew they shouldn’t have taken you to that party. A company event filled with other artists and staff, it was all too easy to lose you in the crowd; you were smaller than most of the people, a social butterfly, and endlessly optimistic of people’s intentions. For just ten seconds San had looked away from you to chat with one of his stylists—but that was all the time it took for you to slip away.

It was Seonghwa that found you chatting happily with one of the choreographers. To be fair to the guy, he was new and didn’t know the nature of your relationship to them yet; but that didn’t make the sight of him leaning against the wall with his hand on your arm any more pleasant. And you, sweet thing that you were, had no idea what he was doing.

He got you out of there quickly, both of your boyfriends bundling you into the car despite your protests; Seonghwa nearly broke the speed limit trying to get you home before he snapped and took you right there on the motorway.

You’re just too sweet for your own good. And the noises you make as you approach another orgasm certainly are.

You can’t bear to look at San anymore; the focus on his face and the bulging muscles of his arms as he works you open are only turning you on more, so you bury your face in Seonghwa’s neck, crying pitifully into his hair. You shudder through your next orgasm, barely in control of your limbs anymore and San kisses your cream-covered thighs. “Pretty girl,” he croons. “Naughty girl.”

“M’ sorry,” you whine. “Sannie, please, I can’t—”

“Yes you can,” Seonghwa says with a sweet smile. “You’re gonna, baby.”

San hums in agreement as he resumes his assault on your aching cunt. “Such a pretty pussy,” he purrs. “So tiny for us. Only for us, right?”

“Y-yeah,” you whisper. “Only for— only for you. Only for Sannie and Hwa.”

“Good girl,” Seonghwa says. “Such a sweetheart, learning her lesson so well. Isn’t she, Sannie?”

“She is, yeah. One more orgasm, baby, then I’ll fuck you, alright?”

You nod dizzily, barely aware of what’s going on; just as your last orgasm approaches, San pulls the vibrator away and attaches his mouth to your clit, sucking harshly at it and it’s all takes for you to come crashing over the edge, releasing onto his face. He comes up with a grin, mouth and chin wet with your juices as he pulls you out to Seonghwa’s arms and into his own. He pushes you down on the sheets, hovering over you. “Hi, tiny,” he smiles. “Want me in your pussy?”

“Yes,” you say breathlessly. “And— and Hwa?”

San’s smile widens and you hear Seonghwa laugh from next to you. “Silly girl,” he says. “How am I gonna fit in there with Sannie? You’re too little, baby, we’d tear you open.”

“Don’t care,” you say. Your voice is stubborn and San pinches your thigh in warning.

“Be good,” he mumbles. “Hwa’s right, honey. We’re too big to fit in that little pussy. But if you ask him nicely I’m sure he’ll fuck your mouth, right?”

“Right.” Seonghwa grabs your chin gently, turning your head to face him where he’s kneeling at the side of the bed. His eyes are soft and impossibly aroused as he looks you up and down. “Want me in your mouth, pretty?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Please.”

“That’s not enough.” There’s a stern edge to his voice now that makes you shrink into yourself a little and his lips quirk amusedly when he notices. “You were really, really naughty tonight, baby. If you want me in your mouth you’re gonna have to beg for it, aren’t you?”

“Please,” you say. “Please, Hwa, I need— I’ll be so good. I won’t be bad again, I won’t let anyone flirt with me again, I swear I learnt my lesson, pl—”

“Sh, sh,” San soothes you with a chuckle, rubbing your pussy gently; the wet sounds make you blush. “We know, baby, good girl. Always so good.”

“You are,” Seonghwa smiles.

As you feel San start to push into you you feel the bed dip under Seonghwa’s weight as he climbs onto it. His dick is already leaking when he presses it against your lips.

“Open up, baby.”

—

ateez taglist: @pixie0627 @hon3ysun @bbdeongi @hwaromi @tangerineastronaut @fancypeacepersona @aloevendetta @lemonkait00 @uhh-awkward-rightt @whyokoa @miyaluvvsyou @yabbadabbatuh @mylovelymito

requests open!

#ateez smut #ateez hard hours #ateez x reader #kpop smut #ateez hard thoughts #seonghwa smut #san smut #choi san smut #sanhwa smut #mulloey writes

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arabella0001 · 3 months ago

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my maladaptive dreaming kicking in

cn: just fluff, marriage&kids

you and satoru have only been apart for two days while he’s away on a mission with his students, but you already feel the weight of his absence. you reassured him multiple times that it was okay for him to go, even though he tends to overreact when it comes to how you’re feeling after delivering your second baby. and while you’re so grateful for all the love and support he’s given you, today was a rough day.

your two-month-old baby has been feeling worse than usual, crying inconsolably because of stomach pain. you’d hoped your seven-year-old daughter—who adores the baby—would be her usual patient self. but today, she threw a tantrum, refusing to listen to anything you said. all the while, the baby cried endlessly, and you didn’t even have a second to take care of yourself—your face was still unwashed, and the postnatal pain was nagging at you. your emotions felt completely out of control.

when satoru finally came home that evening, he called out softly, “sweetheart?” raising an eyebrow as he looked over at your daughter, his expression playful but concerned.

you didn’t greet him, didn’t kiss him, didn’t say a word. instead, you rushed to the bathroom, locking the door behind you and leaning against it as you tried to steady your breathing.

“baby, what’s going on?” he asked, his tone gentle.

“just... leave me alone for a second, satoru,” you managed to say through the door.

there was a brief pause before you heard his dramatic surrender, raising his hands “of course, my lovely wife. take all the time you need.”

he turned his attention to your daughter, crouching in front of her and noticing her pouty expression—one that reminded him so much of yours.

“hey, my little one,” he said softly, brushing her hair out of her face. “remember what i told you? let’s not make mommy sad, okay? when mommy’s sad, daddy gets sad too. she’s working so hard, so why don’t we work together to cheer her up, yeah?”

meanwhile, you sat on the cold bathroom floor, fighting back tears and guilt. you’d convinced yourself today would be easier—that your baby’s discomfort would ease up, that your daughter would be more patient, that everything would go smoothly. instead, nothing had gone right, and the pressure felt suffocating.

in the living room, satoru stayed busy. he played with your daughter, making her laugh again, or checked on the baby, gently rocking him in his tiny bed. but he couldn’t help glancing at the bathroom door, his usual playful expression fading into something more serious. he drummed his fingers against the couch, bit his nails as he stared beneath the rim of his glasses.

the second you stepped out of the bathroom, he was on his feet. his worried expression softened into a small smile as he walked up to you.

“my pretty wife,” he murmured, placing a hand on your back and pulling you close. “what happened? talk to me.”

“it’s okay, satoru. i’m sorry. let’s just—”

“no, no, no,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “we don’t do that here.” he led you to the bed, sitting down and pulling you onto his lap.

“talk to me,” he said again, his voice so gentle as you hesitated, looking anywhere but at him, but the moment your eyes met his, the tears started to fall, making his eyes widen a little.

“i’m so sorry, satoru,” you whispered, voice cracking. “i don’t want you to think i’m too dependent on you. i know how much i wanted you to keep working, and—”

“hey, stop,” he said softly, his hand cupping your cheek as his thumb brushed away your tears. “do you really think i’d ever feel that way about you having a bad day? i know how much you’re dealing with. and our feisty little girl?” he chuckled. “she’s not easy to handle, especially when you’re on your own. what can i say? she’s both of us combined.”

you let out a weak laugh, tears still slipping down your face.

“and listen to me,” he continued, his voice serious. “you’re not less of a mother if you call the babysitter to help out when i’m away, okay? you’re an amazing, strong, intelligent woman—and, might i add, incredibly beautiful,” he teased, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling faintly.

“but i need you to take care of yourself too. your body’s still healing, and you need time to breathe, especially when i’m not here to remind you. promise me you’ll let someone help next time?”

you nodded slowly. “i know, but—”

“no ‘buts.’” he pressed a finger to your lips. “don’t talk about my wife like that. have a little faith in her, like i do, yeah?” he kissed your temple, the warmth of his touch calming you.

“okay,” you whispered, sniffing.

“good.” he stood suddenly, scooping you into his arms and starting to walk.

“now,” he said with a grin, “let’s relax for a bit. i’m running you a bath.”

you wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning into his chest with a content sigh. “i love you so much, you don’t even understand.”

he chuckled softly, pressing another kiss to your temple. “oh, sweetheart, believe me—I do. because i love you just as much.”

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prettylilyanime · 3 months ago

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Our Blessing ♡ Prologue

♡ Pairing: Toji Zenin x reader

♡ Synopsis: in which your ex boyfriend left you with your biggest blessing in life, or- a bundle of a blessing. And he doesn’t even know it.

♡ tags/warnings: 18+, (explicit content in later chapters) angst, and drama, exes to lovers, hidden baby trope, Toji is an asshole (but we love him), Reader just wants to raise Megumi in peace, CEO Toji, possessive Toji, emotionally constipated Toji, Tension, misunderstandings, Flashbacks to past relationship, Heavy themes of abandonment, trust issues, and redemption, baby Megumi is a cutie, Megumi is a mama’s boy, reader works at a flower shop, Hidden Baby Trope

♡ Masterlist ♡ Next

⋆˚♡˖°⋆˚♡˖°⋆˚♡˖°⋆˚♡˖°⋆˚♡˖°⋆˚♡˖°⋆˚♡˖°⋆˚♡˖°⋆˚♡˖°⋆˚♡˖

"Shit!"

The curse slips out before you can stop it as you stumble against the narrow, overstuffed hallway leading to the backroom of your little shop.

The bulky cardboard box in your arms wobbles precariously, the scent of freshly delivered daffodils wafting up as you struggle to keep your balance. For a moment, you fear disaster—flowers crushed, stems snapped, your pride bruised—but you manage to steady yourself just in time.

"Mama, that’s a bad word."

The reprimand is calm, almost casual, but the unimpressed side-eye that follows is devastating.

Seated by the shop’s wide front window, Megumi barely spares you a glance, his small frame bathed in the golden morning light. The sun catches in his dark lashes, making his ever-serious little face all the more heartbreakingly adorable.

You groan, already rubbing a hand down your face. "Damn—Yes, Megumi, I’m sorry." You cut yourself off before another curse can slip out, exhaling as you set the box down with a dull thud. Any more near-disasters like that, and you might actually break a hip.

Some mornings, you wake up feeling twice your age, your body aching from years of hauling flower crates, bending over counters, and chasing after an endlessly curious toddler. The weariness settles into your bones, a quiet reminder of just how much you juggle between running a business and raising a child on your own.

But then you glance at Megumi.

He sits by the shop window, his small fingers tracing absentminded patterns against the glass, bathed in the golden morning light. The soft glow highlights the curve of his cheeks, the thoughtful furrow of his brows as he watches the world outside. Your exhaustion melts just a little. You’d do it all over again—every sleepless night, every aching muscle—without hesitation.

Outside, the city hums with life. A gentle breeze rustles through the trees lining the sidewalk, carrying the scent of fresh flowers and warm pavement.

People stroll past, their neutral expressions softening into fond smiles when they catch sight of Megumi. A few wave through the window, but true to his nature, he merely blinks at them—stoic as ever—before returning to his quiet observations.

"Say, Megumi, what do you want for lunch today, hm?"

He pauses, tilting his head slightly in thought. His emerald-green eyes flick up to meet yours, considering, before he declares with certainty: "Dino nuggets."

You blink. "Dino nuggets? Again? But we just had them yesterday."

"Yeah," he says simply, as if that should be enough to end the discussion.

"Megumi, we can’t eat chicken nuggets every day. That’s not a balanced diet."

He frowns, tiny arms crossing. "I balanced it with fries."

You press your lips together, fighting back a snort. "That’s not how it works, honey. If you eat too many, a stomach bug might get you before bedtime."

He huffs, brows knitting together in frustration. "But dino nuggets make me feel good. And stomach bugs aren’t real."

That does it—you actually snort this time, biting down a laugh. Megumi’s sharp little side-eye nearly makes you lose it again.

"Okay, okay. How about this? We get pizza next door instead." You know it’s not the healthiest swap, but hey, at least it’s better than microwaved dino nuggets… right?

Megumi doesn’t look convinced at first, his small fingers still resting on the window as if debating whether or not this betrayal is worth arguing over. Then, his gaze flickers to you, studying your expression.

"Hmm." He makes a show of thinking before relenting with a dramatic sigh. "Okay… but I want ice cream too."

You shake your head with a chuckle.

With Megumi’s small hand tucked in yours, you push open the door to your store, the little bell above jingling softly as you step outside.

The late morning air greets you with a mix of warm sunshine and the faint scent of blooming flowers from your storefront display. The city hums around you—distant chatter, the occasional honk of a car horn, the rhythmic click of hurried footsteps on pavement.

Megumi stays close to your side as you walk the short distance next door, his tiny fingers gripping yours like second nature.

The pizzeria is a familiar comfort—Tano’s Pizza, a cozy little hole-in-the-wall with a chalkboard menu propped just outside.

The scent of fresh dough, bubbling cheese, and roasted garlic drifts through the slightly propped-open door, instantly making Megumi's stomach grumble.

You push inside, stepping onto worn wooden floors that creak softly underfoot. The walls are lined with framed newspaper clippings and faded photographs—snapshots of the restaurant through the decades.

At the front, a glass display case showcases bubbling slices fresh from the oven, the cheese still glistening under the heat lamps. Behind the counter stands a young employee, dressed in a slightly oversized apron and adjusting his cap as he notices the two of you walk in.

"Ah, it’s Megumi-kun!" the worker says, his voice light with familiarity. "Back again, huh? You’ve got good taste."

Megumi, naturally, doesn’t respond. He merely stares up at the man, then tilts his head ever so slightly.

The employee chuckles, undeterred. "Still not much of a talker, huh? No worries—let’s see if today’s pizza can win a word out of you."

You smile, ruffling Megumi’s hair. "He’s getting there. Slowly. Anyway, we’ll take two slices—one cheese, one pepperoni."

"And ice cream," Megumi adds, very seriously.

You sigh, shaking your head. "We’ll talk about that later."

The employee grins, already sliding two hot slices onto plates. You guide Megumi toward a corner booth by the window, the worn red leather seats creaking as you both settle in.

He swings his little legs beneath the table, fingers drumming idly against the surface as he watches the worker prepare the slices.

"Mama," he says after a moment, his voice quieter now, thoughtful.

"Hm?" You glance at him, mid-reach for a napkin.

"Pizza is better than dino nuggets."

You pause, blinking. Then, you huff a quiet laugh. "Oh? So all that fuss before was for nothing?"

Some days are exhausting. Some days, you wonder how you manage it all—balancing work, life, and motherhood like you’re walking a tightrope with no safety net.

But moments like this?

They make it all worth it.

The daytime sun streams through the wide windows, casting a soft glow over the checkered tile floor.

You take a sip of your drink, letting yourself relax, just for a moment.

Then the doorbell jingles.

It’s an unremarkable sound, the same chime that’s rung a dozen times since you sat down, but this time, when you naturally glance up, the air in your lungs turns to stone.

Two tall figures stroll in like they own the place. Crisp suits, easy smiles, and voices that haven’t changed a bit.

“God, Suguru, I’m starving,” the white-haired one groans, a hand resting lazily on his stomach as they walk toward the counter.

Satoru and Suguru.

Two ghosts from your past, standing just a few feet away, like time hadn’t torn a canyon between you.

It’s been five years. Five years since they dropped you as easily as an old habit. Five years since they picked a side that was never yours to begin with.

They were always Toji’s friends first, you knew that, but still—being discarded so effortlessly after your breakup stung in a way you’d never admit out loud.

Megumi notices the shift immediately.

“Mama? What’s wrong?” His voice is quiet, but his brows pinch, his little body instinctively leaning against yours. Then, as if sensing something deeper, he scoots closer, resting his head against your side. His small hand clutches your shirt.

You want to curse the gods for making Megumi such an incredibly perceptive child, but at the same time, you want to thank them for giving you the sweetest boy imaginable.

No, really—you could start crying at the way his tiny fingers grip your shirt, like he already knows you need the comfort more than he does.

You clear your throat, ducking your head as if looking away will make them disappear. “Nothing, honey,” you murmur, smoothing a hand over his hair. “Just thought I recognized someone.”

A white lie. A harmless one. But your pulse won’t settle, and your fingers curl against the tabletop.

Because you don’t just recognize them. You know them.

You remember the unanswered calls, the ignored texts—the way they never once gave you a way to reach Toji when you needed him most. They didn’t know you were pregnant, sure. But even now, after all these years, the resentment bubbles up like something toxic in your chest.

And worst of all? If they see Megumi, they’ll know.

It wouldn’t take a genius to put the pieces together.

The kid is practically a carbon copy of his father—God, if you hadn’t been in the delivery room, you might’ve thought Toji had just spawned him into existence himself.

Your anxiety spikes as your mind races ahead, spiraling through every worst-case scenario.

Those striking emerald eyes you love so much? They’re just a smaller, rounder version of the ones you used to get lost in years ago.

And their smiles—though rare—mirror each other’s perfectly, down to the sharp curve of their lips.Maybe, just maybe, Megumi inherited your nose.

It’s a weak thought, flimsy and desperate. Because deep down, you know that in a few years, as he grows, his resemblance to Toji will only become more undeniable.

You swallow hard and exhale through your nose, forcing yourself to stay calm.

You just have to get through this meal. Get Megumi home. And pray that today isn’t the day the past comes knocking.

⋆˚♡˖°⋆˚♡˖°⋆˚♡˖°⋆˚♡˖°⋆˚♡˖°⋆˚♡˖°⋆˚♡˖°⋆˚♡˖°⋆˚♡˖°⋆˚♡˖

To be continued, after the completion of Blooming Hearts !

#toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji x you #toji fushigro x reader #jujustu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk fic #toji zenin #reader insert #toji x self insert #toji fanfic #toji x female reader #toji fluff #fluff #angst #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #hidden baby trope

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dayndream · 1 month ago

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✶ FLOWERS FOR YOU

Fluff ft. Childe, Xiao, Neuvillette x gn reader.

⊹ CHILDE :

This man always looks for the prettiest flowers at every single floral shop he encounters whenever he gets the opportunity. Even if he is on a mission, he would never stop thinking about you; it would simply be impossible for him. Therefore, no matter how difficult things might become for him, he would always be doing his best to make some spare time in order to get souvenirs for you and his family on every mission trip he has to attend.

For him, the so-called "prettiest flowers" he is diligently searching for are nothing less, and nothing more, than the ones that remind him the most of you, considering you the literal personification of beauty itself.

When he is finally able to see you again after what you both felt like was a whole eternity—only a few days—he catches you in his strong arms, hugging you as deeply as it was physically possible, wanting to stay like that just a little longer before kissing your lips fondly.

"I missed you like crazy, my love. I really needed to see you, to feel you," he says, smiling while giving you a loving stare right into your eyes, the same eyes he would do anything for, admiring them as if they had hidden stars and galaxies. Without letting another second slip, he decided to show you what he was holding behind your back, leaving his other arm still around you. "Thought you'd like them. They're almost as charming as you, right?"

A bright smile danced across his lips before getting gently pressed against your forehead; a kiss full of warmth and care. Slowly, his lips traced a path down to yours, leaving adorable pecks onto your cheeks before getting to your mouth. The soft pressure of his kiss lingering, cherishing every moment with you as a treasure, the most precious one.

⊹ XIAO :

His sharp gaze does not fail to notice every single detail in the area while he is patrolling the Wangshu Inn at night, and that includes even the tiniest flowers on his way. Your image runs across his mind at those moments, thinking about how endearing you are to him, just like the soft petals being washed under the silver moonlight, caressed by the nocturnal breeze.

A love-filled expression was drawn on his face when his lips gently curved into a mild smile, almost as if he was unaware of how deeply in love he is with you, but he knows; he has no doubt when it comes to you. This dark-haired man is willing to give you his whole heart at minimum, yet he is scared it might not be enough; he is convinced you deserve a lot more than that.

His fingers reach carefully for the flowers he decided to collect for you, just as if they would turn into actual dust once he touches them. A lovely gaze in his eyes as he admires the tiny blossoms now on his hands, with discreet yet meaningful whispers of a love confession—his true feelings, silently echoing in the air.

Of course he would not want to wait any longer to meet up with you, impatient to give you his cute floral present, but he would never dare to interrupt your sweet dreams while you are peacefully sleeping at night. After all, an opportunity to relax is something priceless for him; something he even forgot what it was like before swooning into the serenity you make him feel solely by your companionship.

Determined to convey to you the ethereal beauty of that very moment, he waited for the next night to be under the same moon together. His hands sweetly intertwined with yours, while his golden eyes seem unable to focus on anything but you. "I got this for you." His words were a bit measured, as always, but they held a profound affection for you.

⊹ NEUVILLETTE :

Heartfelt letters trying to express a love just as deep as the ocean, yet they never seem to be enough. His love and devotion for you are immeasurable, so even after writing down the most endearing words, nothing can truly capture its depth. He loves you endlessly, beyond what he would ever be able to demonstrate, except when his softened gaze locks with yours, almost letting you hear his heart beating loudly, as if it was going to rip out of his chest just to lay on your soft hands.

He is a man whose perceptive eyes know how to find beauty in everything; his refined taste never fails to impress you whenever he gives you something, always gifting you the most thoughtful details.

As he finished pouring his heart onto this new letter he was writing for you, he decided it would be nice to give you some pretty flowers; it was more of a habit now. He rapidly left his desk, leaving the handwritten letter folded and kept inside an elegant envelope, which stood out gracefully from all the other papers on the surface.

His attention was drawn to a decorous bouquet, but he wanted something more intimate; hence, he made a bouquet himself, carefully, meticulously. The amount of passion, time, and effort he put into anything he wanted to give you is unimaginable; only you, being the only one capable of holding his warm and sentimental heart—which was usually covered by a distant and solemn coat—could have a slight idea.

He invited you to watch together the sunset scenery at the shore, and by the time his work was finished, he felt the urge on the tip of his fingers to give you his handmade gift. His hands held the flowers and the envelope with delicacy, giving a few steps in your direction when he noticed you. A sweet smile appeared on his face at your fragrance, pressing his lips onto your cheek and going for your lips afterwards, finally giving you his love present.

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fastandcarlos · 6 months ago

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Meet Baby Ricciardo : ̗̀➛ Daniel Ricciardo

summary: after welcoming your first child, you return to the paddock and introduce everyone to baby ricciardo

You smiled wide as Daniel glanced back, checking that you were still just behind him. You followed him stride for stride as he parted the crowd, allowing you to easily wheel the pram through the paddock as you headed for the garage where you could make yourselves comfortable.

“How many visitors do you think we’re going to have today?” Daniel laughed, holding the door open for you so that you could walk in, heading straight for his driver’s room.

You greeted a few familiar faces as you walked into the hospitality lounge before throwing yourself down on the sofa in Daniel’s room. You were already exhausted as you reminded yourself how busy the paddock was, unable to remember the last time that you were there.

It had taken a little bit of convincing by Daniel for you to return today, your daughter in your company. He’d been pestered endlessly by the other drivers, keen to meet your daughter for the first time, unable to stall them all for any longer.

Daniel closed the door before taking a seat beside you. “I give it five minutes before they start appearing, you know how it is around here, nothing ever stays secretive for too long.”

“You never know, they might all be too busy getting ready for practice to come over here.”

“No way, you’ve got no idea how excited all of them are sweetheart.”

The two of you made yourselves comfortable, but as expected, it didn’t take long. After just a couple of minutes Daniel opened up the door to see several figures hanging around outside, desperate for their first glimpse of your little girl, someone they already adored.

After letting you know who was outside, Daniel lifted your daughter out of her pram, handing her to you and instructing you to find a seat at one of the tables of the lounge. As you did, Daniel stepped outside to greet them all. “Do you people not have anything better to do with your time?”

The boys all shook their heads, peering through the open door to see where you were sat. After briefing them all to be quiet, Daniel invited the group in, pointing in your direction as they all hurried over, fighting it out to be the first one to get there.

Your smile was wide as you looked around, Oscar, Lando, Charles and Max all stood around you, their eyes bright and their mouths open in astonishment.

“Wow, look how cute she is.”

“You guys...she’s adorable.”

The sound of new voices had your daughter squirming, much to the boys’ delight. “She’s so small,” Max whispered, unable to take his eyes off of her, finding his breath taken away with how tiny she was.

Daniel took a seat beside you as the rest of the boys all pulled up chairs, sitting as close to you as possible. They couldn’t get enough as you filled them all in and introduced her properly, barely able to get a word out without them cooing over something that she did.

“Can we have a hold?” Lando excitedly asked you, nervously extending his arms out. “I mean, only if that’s alright, I’d just love to have a cuddle.”

“Of course,” you responded, carefully standing yourself up, moving over to where Lando was.

A gasp came from you at how light she was as you placed her into his arms, almost scared to hold her alone with how fragile she was, struggling to keep her eyes open.

“How did you manage to create such a beautiful daughter?” Oscar jokingly asked Daniel, able to get a much better look at her now that she was in Lando’s hold. “There’s no way she’s got any of your genes going on there.”

“And she’s not got the nose,” Charles sniggered, feeling Daniel hit against his arm. “I’m only messing, she’d look beautiful even with your snout.”

After a few moments Lando passed your daughter onto Max who was beside him, feeling your eyes watch over him as they passed her, still slightly terrified of something happening. “I can’t actually believe that you’re a dad,” Max smiled over in Daniel’s direction.

Truthfully, he couldn’t quite believe it either, it absolutely felt like a pinch me moment. He was loving life to say the least, finding every day that he was learning something new about the newest lady in his life, the lady who had captured his heart from the moment that she arrived.

Daniel hummed as he draped his arm across your shoulders. “I was never too sure on having kids, but now that she’s here, I can’t believe there was ever a moment when I wasn’t sure.”

“We always knew you’d be a good day,” Oscar chimed in response, “you’re like an old man and an annoying older brother all in one around the paddock, the perfect qualities that you need to be a dad.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, getting exactly what Oscar was trying to say. “He won’t like me for telling you this, but someone did actually shed a few tears too when I was in labour, well, he probably cried a river.”

“I was not that bad!” Daniel quickly protested as the other boys sniggered at your story. “It was a pretty emotional moment; I don’t know what else to say. You guys all wait; you’ll know the feeling one day.”

The memory of Daniel would always stick with you, he was an emotional guy, but you’d never seen him so overcome with emotion in your life. He didn’t know what to say or do as his heart raced, struggling to believe what you had done, and that his little girl was there.

As silence descended, it was soon broken by your daughter letting go of a sneeze. A chorus of coos came from around the group again, everyone’s eyes landing on your daughter.

“Well, that was officially the cutest sneeze I’ve ever heard.”

Everyone quickly nodded in agreement with Lando, finding themselves falling in love all over again. “Do you reckon we can all mutually agree to just forget about having to drive a car today and spend all our day sat around here with this one instead?”

It would’ve been nice, everyone agreed with Charles, but you knew it would never come true. However, the one you thing you were confident of was that you never needed to worry about your first trip back to the paddock as all the boys looked after you both, perfectly.

“You better be coming to every race from now on,” Oscar warned you as you stood up to take your daughter back. “Do you know how calm I feel after sitting here? I’m going to need this relaxation before every race.”

“I’m just coming to races for cuddles from now on.”

“And I’m going to go and persuade Alexandra that we need a baby,” Charles added as Max finished talking. “It’s funny, she probably has no idea who any of these strange men sat around her are, does she?”

“We’ll make sure as she can, she does,” Daniel smiled around at the four of them. “It won’t take long for her to know who her weird uncles are who drive cars around for a living.”

“There’s nothing weird about us,” Lando protested, “although you can assure her we’ll be protective uncles who won’t let her ever go near a boy in her life.”

“Can you please stop wishing my child’s life away?” You laughed in reply, “she’s barely a couple of weeks old, not a moody teenager about to rebel thank you.”

Daniel smiled across at you as you spoke, “we’ve got all of this to look forward to darling.”

“No way, she’s staying my baby forever.”

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

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st4rg8te · 6 months ago

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A Captured Dragon (BL)

Yandere! Half-brother X Crown Prince! Reader

[tw: graphic depiction(s) of violence, obsessive behaviour, betrayal, imprisonment, gaslighting, non-con kissing, incest!!!, teeny tiny bit of feminization]

✦✧✦✧

“You have done nothing to deserve that title. You were only lucky enough to be born the King’s son.”

A lot of things in life were beyond your control.

But fate had been kind to you, gifting you a life that most could only dream of. Born into the royal family as their beloved Crown Prince, the world bent to your will from the very moment you drew your first breath.

Spoiled, indulged, and never once tested by struggle—perhaps you were destined to fall from the start.

✦✧✦✧

It’s getting harder to tell the days apart.

The world around you blurs into a cycle of sleepless nights. Your mind is a fog, heavy with the weight of guilt and fear. Each hour blends into the next, until time itself feels like a punishment.

The nightmares don’t help either.

Every time you close your eyes, they come—haunting, vivid dreams where blood stains the corridors and screams pierce the air. The sounds of blades slicing through flesh, of bodies collapsing onto blood-soaked floors, echo endlessly in your ears. It is relentless.

You see the palace engulfed in flames, your servants and people—those you’ve known your entire life—crying out in terror as they are cut down by the cold steel of soldiers.

In every dream, you stand helpless, watching as they beg for mercy. Your people reach for you in desperation, their faces twisted in agony, but you can’t move.

In every dream, at the center of it all, is him.

Daewon.

Your half-brother.

While you grew up in the limelight, basking in the affections and adoration of others, your half-brother was cast into the shadows. Born from a lowly maid, his very existence was a blemish on the royal family's image. He was the son who would never be acknowledged by his father—neither loved nor remembered.

Despite that, you had treated him kindly.

When did everything go so wrong?

After the slaughter, you were taken away and imprisoned. The room you were kept in was dark and empty—there was no light, or any warmth. It was a far cry from the luxury you were used to.

Occasionally, food and water would be brought to you—a guard would come every few days, sliding bowls of stale rice and cloudy water across the floor without a word, without so much as a glance in your direction. You felt like an animal.

But worse than the silence of your captors were the visits from Daewon.

You hated those days the most.

“Brother.” His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine. You can’t make out his face within the shadows.

So you bury your head further into the damp pillows, hiding from the monster in the room.

It isn’t long before you feel the bed dip under his weight, the chain on your ankle rustles against the sheets. He kneels beside you, leaning close enough for you to smell the faint traces of blood still lingering on his robe.

“You haven’t been eating,” Daewon’s voice was soft, almost tender, but you could hear the dark amusement laced beneath it. “Is the food not to your liking?”

You keep your eyes shut tight, fists clenched under the thin blankets.

It'll all be okay. Soon enough, he would leave you alone.

Cold fingers brush against your cheek, and you flinch. He chuckles at that, a low, mocking sound that makes your skin crawl.

“Did you know that these meals are what I had to eat as a child?” He whispers, his breath hot against your ears.

You briefly open your eyes, glancing at the food scattered across the floor, remnants of your earlier fit of rage—destroyed, just like everything else in your life.

“There were many days when the servants never even came. My mother often gave me her share, just so I wouldn't starve."

You grit your teeth—

"Why don't you just kill me already?"

The words hang in the air, and a suffocating silence stretches between you.

But then, Daewon's firm hand suddenly grips your chin, forcing you to meet his dark gaze.

“Kill you?” A cruel, guttural laugh escapes him, sending a shiver down your spine. “But death would be far too easy.”

“No... you have to live. You’ll live and endure. Just like I did.”

He had lived a life of invisibility, where no one cared to look beyond the stain of his tainted blood—no one, except you.

And the thought of it drives him mad.

His hand falls from your chin, trailing down until it rests against your chest. With that simple touch, your spirit breaks just a little more.

You hate him—hate him more than you’ve ever hated anyone.

Without any warning, you feel the press of his soft lips against your own. His body heat seeps into yours as he forcefully pulls you closer and presses you flush against him.

You are too tired, too hungry to resist.

"No, stop—" You protest breathlessly, the words barely escaping your lips as your mind reels, still foggy from the kiss. A dizzying mix of shock, confusion, and disgust floods your senses.

"This is wrong, we can't—"

"They will never fully accept a half-blooded bastard like me as their king."

“What?” You swallow hard, blinking up at the man.

"But surely, they'll accept a 'bride' from the royal family.”

The realization hits you like a punch to the gut.

Before you can react, his lips crash against yours again, harder this time, more possessive. The taste of him—bitterness and control—invades your senses completely.

A twisted smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, and you finally understand.

This is a debt of suffering, a price he intends to collect over and over—until you were broken.

"Don’t worry. For everything you’ve done for me, I'll repay your kindness tenfold."

✦✧✦✧

[A/N]

This was not proofread, sorry for any mistakes!

#tw yandere #male reader #yandere male #yandere writing #reader insert #x reader #yandere #x male reader #yandere oc #yandere x darling #yandere blog #yandere x you #male yandere #yandere x reader #oc x reader #yandere imagines

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animekpopsimp · 6 months ago

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Hi, can I make a request where Reader is a Yapper and Genshin (S/O) was busy, then Reader stopped talking cuz she thought that Genshin (S/O) wasn't listening, but they confirms that they're actually listening by answering the thing she was talking about??

Genshin Men x Talkative Reader

You have the tendency to talk a lot, and you sometimes think it annoys your boyfriend. One day, you think he isn't listening, but when he responds, you realize he's been listening to you the whole time.

Diluc

You had gone silent, thinking Diluc had been ignoring you the whole time. A small frown appeared on your face, thinking Diluc was growing annoyed by your talkative nature. However, you noticed a small smile stretching across his face as Diluc turned to face you. There was a soft look on his face as he effortlessly continued talking about the same topic you had been rambling about before. You couldn't help but smile as he silently urged you to continue, he could never be annoyed with you.

Kaeya

Kaeya had a drink in his hand as he sat next to you, he had a small smile on his face as you talked endlessly. Though he didn't respond, he still listened to every word that came out of your mouth. He always found you adorable, even if you did tend to talk a lot. Part of you had worried that he would be annoyed by it, but he had always reassured you that you could talk as much as you want, and he would always listen.

Zhongli

Zhongli sat across from you with a soft smile on his face as the two of you enjoyed some tea together. You almost continued talking, but paused for a moment. Looking up at Zhongli, you noticed that he wasn't responding.

"Why did you stop talking?" He asked, still smiling. You were silent for a moment. You wanted to admit that you were scared that you had annoyed him, but it was clear that he wasn't. You simply continued talking, knowing Zhongli didn't mind listening to you ramble about your favorite topics.

Xiao

Sitting next to Xiao on the top floor of Wangshu Inn, you began telling your boyfriend about your day. He didn't say anything in response, simply humming and nodding on occasion. You stopped for a moment, looking over at him. Noticing that you had stopped talking, Xiao looked over at you, a tiny smile that you barely noticed appearing on his face. He gently placed his hang over yours,

"you can keep talking" he spoke, his voice soft. Your heart felt warm, knowing he would happily listen to you speaking for hours.

Neuvillette

Sitting in your husband's office, you had begun to ramble without even realizing it, a habit Neuvillette found adorable. He smiled softly as he continued to listen to what you were talking about. Hearing you speak with such passion was enjoyable. Suddenly, you stopped. Looking up, he saw that you were staring at him with a small frown on your face.

"Is something wrong?" He asked in a comforting voice.

"Am I annoying?" You suddenly asked, Neuvillette didn't say anything, he stood up from his desk and walked over to you. Leaning down, he placed a kiss on your forehead, making you blush.

"Of course not, keep talking" he told you.

#x reader #genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #Diluc x reader #Kaeya x reader #zhongli #zhongli x reader #xiao #xiao x reader #Neuvillette #Neuvillette x reader

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wholoveseggs · 1 month ago

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Reverence

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Request(s)~ #1 - "Could i request for elijah pls? maybe something like the fic you did a while back about klaus making her insecure. as a bigger girl its nice to see the comfort from my man LOL! so yeah just something about someone/something making reader upset about her body and she kinda shuts elijah out? he finds a way to reassure her/comfort her! (can definitely be smutty) thank you angel! have a great day 💜" #2 - "Could you possibly write something with Elijah about body worship? Maybe the readers a bit insecure and he reminds her of all the physical things he loves about her as well as the mental and like personality traits… like just soft fluffy smut?"

{Elijah Mikaelson x f!reader} Elijah protects you from a stranger’s insult, then shows you why it was never true...

♡♡ Thank you for the requests beautiful anons!!! I adore this idea, struggling with body issues is a subject close to my heart and I hope I did it justice, and that this feels like a comfort to anyone who needs it.~ ♡♡

4.3k words - Warnings: smutt, heavy body image insecurity, reader is plus-size and self-conscious, fatphobia (insult from a side character), crying, hurt/comfort, very soft Elijah, white knight Elijah, fingering, slow sex, body worship, praise kink && tiny bit of violence...

You didn’t want to leave the house. You barely had the energy to exist, let alone face the world. But your job at the bar didn’t care about bad days. It didn’t care that you wanted to curl up in bed and pretend the world didn’t exist. It didn’t care that your body felt too heavy. It just demanded you show up, slap on a customer-service smile, and tolerate people you had no patience for today.

Your uniform didn’t help. The black t-shirt was too tight, the logo stretched across your chest, and the skirt was even worse. No matter how much you tugged it down, it still felt like it was working against you. It was hard to feel comfortable in it, especially when you felt like every set of eyes lingered too long. Like every glance held something unspoken. You could sense their judgment, could feel it pressing down on you, and you felt shame bloom hot and heavy in your chest. It was as if the world was reminding you that you took up too much space. That you shouldn’t exist.

You sighed, laced up your sneakers, and threw on your leather jacket, tugging it tight around you like armor. Maybe it would offer at least some comfort.

The night was a mess. You were short-staffed, the customers were assholes, and the clock seemed determined to move at a glacial pace. Every minute felt stretched thin, dragging endlessly. When you finally got a breather, you slipped out back, leaning against the wall and dragging in lungfuls of cold air. The night bit at your skin, sharp and bracing, but at least it was real. At least it was something other than the weight in your chest.

Just one more hour. One more hour, and you could go home, take a long shower, and maybe scrub away the feeling of existing in your own skin tonight.

"Is there anyone working here?" A voice bellowed from inside, slurred and impatient. "I've been waiting for a refill for, like, fifteen minutes!"

You closed your eyes and exhaled slowly through your nose. Fucking prick.

"I'll be there in a moment!" you called, shoving yourself off the wall and forcing your legs to move.

The man at the bar looked wasted, his hands flat on the counter as he scowled at you.

"Finally!" he spat.

You didn’t bother responding, just grabbed his empty cup and refilled it. "There you go." You slid the drink toward him.

He downed it in one go, then slammed the glass back down. "Put it on my tab," he slurred, "and get me another."

"No problem. What's your name?"

His bleary eyes narrowed. "What? Why should I tell you?"

You sighed, already regretting this conversation. "I can’t put anything on your tab if I don’t know who it belongs to."

He reached for the drink, but you pulled it just out of reach.

"Name?"

"Fuck you."

You arched a brow, unimpressed. "Right. Then you’re paying cash."

His lip curled. "Oh, fuck off, stupid fat bitch," he spat, his words sharp as broken glass. "You can't do shit."

The breath left your lungs.

For a second, you didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

The bar noise faded, drowned under the roaring in your ears. Heat crawled up your neck, but your body felt frozen. Locked in place, your hands gripping the counter as if letting go would send you crumbling to the floor.

He was still talking, still slurring insults, but you weren’t really hearing him. Not over the voice in your head that whispered, See? Everyone could see just how awful you looked. Even this drunk asshole. You should be ashamed of yourself, embarrassed.

Glass shattered.

It took you a second to realize what had happened. That he had smacked his empty cup off the counter, sending shards flying. He was standing now, a sneer twisting his face as he leaned toward you.

"Fucking cunt," he snarled. "Give me my damn dri-"

He never finished the sentence.

One moment, he was lurching forward, and the next… A blur of movement. A hand, firm and unyielding, slammed down on his shoulder.

The man gasped as he was shoved back into his seat, his body caving under the pressure. His face paled, and he let out a choked, strangled sound.

The hand didn’t move. It didn’t need to and a familiar voice, calm and cold as steel, cut through the air.

"That," Elijah said, "is quite enough."

Elijah stood behind the man, his fingers digging just enough to make the drunk squirm, but his expression was unreadable. controlled, collected. But you knew better. You knew the quiet, simmering rage that lurked beneath his civility.

The bar had gone silent.

The man tried to move, but Elijah’s grip didn’t falter. He only leaned in slightly, voice as smooth as ever.

"Apologize."

The drunk swallowed hard, his bravado crumbling under the weight of Elijah’s presence. "I…" His voice wobbled. "I didn’t mean…"

"Apologize."

The word was softer this time. Deadlier.

The man turned his panicked gaze to you. "I-I’m sorry," he stammered, voice barely above a whisper.

Elijah didn’t release him right away. He let the silence stretch, let the man feel his power pressing into him. Then, finally, with an almost dismissive flick of his fingers, he let go.

The drunk bolted from the stool, muttering some half-hearted excuse as he stumbled away.

The moment he was gone, the tension in the bar broke, conversations resuming in hushed tones. But you were still frozen. Still stuck in the moment before Elijah had intervened, in the moment where the words had hit you like a slap.

You turned away, suddenly desperate to escape. To hide, to try to breathe, to not let Elijah see the cracks forming in your expression.

You ran into the bathroom, slamming the door shut and locking it. The tears came then, spilling down your cheeks as you pressed your forehead to the cool wood of the door.

It was stupid. You were fine. You were a big girl. You were used to this, and it didn’t hurt. It wasn't like you hadn't called yourself worse. It wasn't like you hadn't spent nights wishing your body was different. You weren’t the kind of person to get upset over a few words.

So why did it feel like you couldn’t breathe?

A soft knock on the door.

"Y/N." Elijah's voice was gentle.

You didn’t answer.

"Y/N," he repeated, softer this time, "may I come in?"

You drew in a shaky breath, rubbing furiously at the tears on your face. You couldn’t hide from him, not forever, so you pushed yourself off the door, unlocked it, and stepped back.

Elijah eased the door open, slipping inside and closing it behind him. His expression was calm, but his eyes were bright with concern.

"Are you alright?"

You nodded quickly, turning away from him and trying to wipe the remaining tears away. "It's fine. Sorry. I'm fine."

You were mortified. Elijah had seen everything. The scene. The confrontation. And now, your tears. The two of you had just recently begun dating, and the last thing you wanted was to start the relationship off with your baggage.

You couldn’t meet his gaze, couldn't look up from the floor. You were a mess, and he was immortally chiseled and beautiful. How could he possibly find you attractive, especially after he saw how weak and pathetic you were acting.

Elijah took a slow step toward you.

"It is okay if you are not fine," he murmured, his words warm and soft. "It is okay if he upset you."

He brushed his knuckles along your arm, then he took your hand, lifting it to press a gentle kiss against your skin.

His sweet gesture broke the last remaining shreds of your composure, and the tears fell harder. You turned to face him and he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. You buried your face in his shirt, breathing in the scent of his cologne as his hands stroked along your back.

He pulled off his heavy woolen coat and draped it over your shoulders. The weight was comforting, and the lingering heat of his body surrounded you, easing the trembling of your limbs.

He didn't say anything. He just took your hand and led you out the door, and then outside, the cool night air a relief on your flushed face. You followed him, letting him guide you to his car.

"Stay here," he said, opening the passenger door for you. "I'll return shortly."

You nodded, climbing in and shutting the door. Being inside his car muffled the noise from the bar, and you leaned back, closing your eyes and exhaling.

When the driver's side door opened, you looked over, watching as Elijah climbed in and started the car. For a moment you wondered what he had gone to do, but the question didn’t linger. The answer came when you saw the small specks of blood on the cuffs of his sleeves.

He handed you your leather jacket and purse, which he must have collected from the break room. You smiled to yourself, and the knot in your stomach loosened a bit.

"Thank you," you murmured.

"Of course."

He pulled out of the parking lot and into the night. The ride was quiet, the radio playing some low, soft classical music. After a while, he glanced over, and you felt his eyes on you. You still couldn't look at him, and you kept your eyes down, staring at your lap.

Your soft belly was sticking out slightly, the skin between your shirt and skirt exposed. You could see the way the flesh dimpled, and a rush of shame heated your face.

Elijah placed a strong, warm hand on your thigh, squeezing gently.

"May I ask," he began softly, "why did his words hurt you so deeply?"

You looked up at him, his expression calm and open.

You sighed. "I don't know."

It was a lie. A poor, pathetic attempt at a shield. Because you did know. You knew why the words bothered you.

He nodded, but didn't push. He just returned his hand to the steering wheel, his attention on the road ahead.

It wasn't a long drive, and when the car pulled up to your apartment, it was well past midnight and most of the lights were off. The large building felt so cold, empty, imposing, and you didn't want to go inside. Not alone.

Elijah got out, coming around and opening your door. He took your hand, helping you out, and you didn’t let go. Not as he led you to the elevator, not as he opened the door to your apartment, not as he guided you inside.

The apartment was dark, and Elijah moved to the lamp by the couch, switching it on and filling the room with a warm, gentle light.

You shrugged off his coat, handing it to him. He folded it carefully, setting it aside, and for a moment, you just stood there, arms curling around yourself, like you could shield your body from his eyes.

You swallowed hard, shifting uneasily, staring at your feet. You crossed your arms tighter, wrapping them over your stomach. Just a feeble attempt to shield yourself from Elijah’s gaze. You didn’t want him to see you like this: hurt, weak and ashamed.

Elijah watched you carefully, his expression unreadable, but you felt the weight of him, the way he saw everything even when you wished he wouldn’t. He didn’t move closer, didn’t press you to speak. He let the silence settle, warm and patient.

You swallowed hard, fingers curling into the hem of your shirt. “I’m sorry,” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper.

"For what?" His voice was gentle, but firm.

You hesitated, then exhaled. “For… tonight. For making a scene. For ruining the evening.” Your head shook, your throat tightening. "For being-"

"Stop," Elijah said softly.

"Why do you stay with me?" You said a little harsher than intended. The words spilled out before you could stop them, sharp and raw and ugly. Your voice wavered, and the shame burned hot and painful in your chest.

"Am I a pity case? Are you bored by beautiful women, so you chose to date me?" The words came faster now, tripping over themselves, tumbling from your lips before you could cage them.

"Stop," Elijah said again, stronger this time.

The quiet authority in his tone cut through the air like a blade, sharp and deliberate. It made you pause, made you glance up despite yourself.

He was watching you with something almost… pained in his eyes. As if the idea that you could blame yourself for any of this physically hurt him.

"I know how you feel about yourself, and I know that there is nothing I can say or do to change that." His voice was warm, heartbreakingly gentle, yet unyielding in its certainty.

"But allow me to ask you one thing. If someone said those words to another you care for, would you blame them? Would you think less of them for being hurt? Would you think them weak, or that they deserved it?"

"No." You muttered, the word slipped out before you could think. It was immediate, instinctive. Reflexive.

"Then why," Elijah asked softly, "do you think that of yourself?"

You let out a choked breath, your fingers curling into your sides like you could claw your way out of your own skin. "You don’t get it."

Elijah stepped closer, filling the space you tried to shrink away from. His hands found your waist, fingers pressing in just enough to ground you, to remind you that he was here. That he wasn’t going anywhere.

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh, shaking your head.

“Elijah, look at me.” The bitterness in your voice startled even you. You stepped back, pushing him away, your arms unfolding as you gestured to yourself. "Really look at me."

"I am."

"No, you’re not."

Your breath stuttered. The words were rising now, acid in your throat, too much to hold back.

"I'm fat." The word felt heavy, like a curse, like something filthy. "Not just soft, not just curvy in some romanticized way. I have rolls, Elijah. I have stretch marks, my thighs rub together when I walk. My stomach isn't flat, my arms jiggle, and if I sit the wrong way, I feel like I’m spilling out of my clothes."

Your voice was rising, cracking under the weight of your self-loathing. Your hands pointed to all of your unsavory parts, you grabbed at your stomach and arms, the tears falling in earnest now.

"You could have anyone. Someone effortless. Someone who fits into the world the way they are supposed to-"

"Enough."

His voice wasn’t loud. It wasn’t harsh.

But it stopped you like a wall of stone.

And before you could blink, his hands were on you. Not rough. Not unkind. But firm. Unyielding.

His fingers closed around your wrists, stopping your frantic gestures, silencing your spiraling words. His grip was steady, grounding. Holding you together before you could shatter.

Before you could protest, before you could even breathe, he moved.

Effortless. Controlled.

One moment, you were standing. The next, your back hit the wall, and his body was against yours, pressing you into it like he could mold you into him.

A sharp gasp broke from your lips, and instinct took over. Your legs wrapped around his waist, your hands clutching at his shirt, the heat of him overwhelming.

"I am looking," he said, his voice a low, steady rumble, "at exactly who I want and what I want,”

His hands stroked down your legs, hooking under your thighs, his fingers pressing into soft flesh like he wanted to commit the feel of you to memory.

His mouth traced slow, reverent kisses up your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

"I have seen women starve themselves to fit into corsets, their ribs near breaking. I have seen them darken their skin, pale their skin, carve their features to fit a mold that would be reshaped within a decade. I have watched beauty be declared, discarded, rewritten over and over again."

His lips brushed over your jaw before ghosting over your own lips. "But none of it has ever been real. Not like this. Not like you,”

You let out a shaking breath. Your fingers curled into his shirt, holding onto him like an anchor.

"Elijah-"

He silenced you with a kiss.

Tender and insistent, cutting off every self-destructive thought before it could take root. His grip tightened, his body shifting, and suddenly, the wall was gone.

Your arms locked around his neck, your legs tightening around his waist as he carried you with effortless strength, the motion smooth and deliberate. The bed met your back in the next breath, the mattress dipping beneath his weight as he settled you there.

His lips never left yours, his hands never stopped touching. Trailing reverent paths down your arms, your waist, the softness of your belly.

He pulled away for a moment, his hands moving to the buttons of his shirt, his movements unhurried. You watched as he shed his clothing, his body beautiful and chiseled and perfect.

And for a moment, it was a reminder of how imperfect you were. How soft you were where he was hard. How different.

But then he was kissing you again, his lips insistent, claiming, and his touch chased away all your negative thoughts, at least for a moment.

He gently pulled off your top, revealing more soft curves, more places to touch, to hold. Your breasts spilled out awkwardly, your bra unable to contain them, but Elijah only smiled, undoing the front clasp, and kissed the swell of skin there.

He helped you peel away your bra, and you covered your chest instinctively. He brushed his hands over yours, guiding them away, and pressed his lips to the valley of your breasts, the tender flesh beneath, the sensitive spot where the swell of your stomach curved.

Your skirt was next. Elijah slipped it off, letting his palms drag along your legs.

His hands left fire in their wake, the heat of his touch sinking deep, setting every nerve alight. Every time you tensed, every time your body tried to curl in on itself, he was there, lingering longer, chasing every instinct to hide. His fingers traced each curve with purpose, as if learning you, mapping you, claiming you.

"’lijah," you whispered, voice unsteady, caught between need and uncertainty.

His only response was to press his lips to yours. The kiss was slow and deep and overwhelming, pulling you under, drowning you in him. And for a moment, everything faded. Everything gone but his hands and his mouth, the heat of his body against yours, the steady, deliberate way he took you apart.

His fingers skimmed between your thighs, teasing, testing, spreading the wetness he found there. His touch dragged along your slit, and you gasped against his lips, your body responding before your mind could catch up.

His tongue brushed over yours, stealing the sounds from your mouth, his thumb tracing teasing circles over your clit.

"So beautiful," he breathed. "And all mine."

The words made a rush of warmth pool low in your belly. You couldn't form a reply, not with the way his fingers were working you over, the way he was looking at you. You squirmed, arching your back, trying to grind yourself against his hand, but he only smirked, pulling away slightly.

"Not yet," he murmured.

His fingers moved down, slipping inside, and you let out a shaking gasp. Your hips rolled instinctively, needing him deeper.

Elijah watched with a satisfied expression, his lips brushing against your cheek, looking down to where you were connected.

"You grip me so tight, so warm, wet and lovely," He curled his fingers, watching as your eyelids fluttered shut. "I like the way your body moves, the way you give into pleasure."

He kept the perfect pace, the heel of his hand bumping your clit in slow, easy rhythm. Wet, filthy sounds filled the air, the slickness coating his fingers and your inner thighs.

He watched as his touch coaxed a wave of heat over your skin, as it left you panting, and a small, helpless sound caught in the back of your throat. Your body was tightening, every muscle winding into a knot, and when he sucked your nipple between his teeth, the tension snapped.

Pleasure burst through you, sharp and overwhelming, and his fingers didn't stop, dragging the climax out until your entire body was trembling.

He let out a low groan as your pussy clenched around his fingers, his lips found yours. You felt him undo his pants, the head of his cock dragging over your slit. You gasped and lifted your legs, wrapping them around his waist.

Elijah's eyes darkened, his pupils blown wide, and his hands slid beneath you, grabbing your ass and lifting your hips, easing himself inside.

"Y/N," he hissed, a low, feral sound, his lips pressing to yours as his cock sank deep.

"’lijah," you moaned, clinging to him, letting him take control.

His mouth sealed over yours, muffling the soft, desperate sounds spilling from your lips. Your hips rocked into his, the pressure building in slow, aching waves, each movement pulling you deeper into him.

Elijah pressed deeper, his thrusts turning sharper, his pace quickening, more desperate now. The room filled with the wet, sinful sounds of your bodies moving together, of your breathless moans and the quiet, strangled curses slipping from Elijah’s lips, the only sign that he was losing himself in you.

He adjusted, angling you just slightly and the shift sent pleasure sparking up your spine. A gasp broke from your throat, and he drank it in, his chest pressing flush against yours, pinning you to the bed.

He didn't care that the soft skin of your breasts spilled out, didn't care that the squish of your belly crushed his sculpted abs. No. He leaned into it, drank in the feel of you, how soft and lovely you were. His tongue slid up the curve of your neck, tasting the salt on your skin, drinking in the way you moaned his name.

Your fingers found his hair, tugging and pulling, your legs locked around his hips, every little detail in you wringing pleasure from him. Your sweat slicked skin, flushed and trembling, the greedy, needy way your body took him.

You felt his control begin to slip, a growl, low and visceral building in his throat. He leaned back, his dark eyes glittering as he looked down at your body.

He watched the way your body bounced with each deep thrust, the way your breasts and belly moved with him. One hand skimmed down, and his touch teased over your clit, the other tightening on your hip, holding you in place.

You wanted to cover yourself, feeling so utterly exposed underneath his intense stare. But his fingers were relentless, circling and stroking, your entire body tightening and trembling.

"That's it, darling girl," he growled. "Let go."

You broke.

You shattered with a helpless cry, pleasure rushing through every nerve, leaving you trembling beneath him. The moment your body clenched around him, his perfect rhythm faltered, grinding deep as he followed you over the edge. He had held on, resisting until he had unraveled you completely, until he could finally let go, spilling inside you, filling you with warmth.

It was hot, messy, primal…but neither of you cared.

You clung to him, holding onto every last wave of pleasure, every last tremor that wracked through your bodies.

Slowly, your breathing evened, the heat of the moment giving way to a softer, quieter intimacy.

Elijah shifted, carefully rolling to the side, but he didn’t let go. He pulled you with him, keeping you pressed against his chest, like letting you go was out of the question.

His fingers traced absent patterns along your stomach, a slow, idle reverence. He wasn’t even aware he was doing it, you realized. He simply couldn’t stop touching you.

You hesitated, watching as his hands traced over the softest parts of you. Without hesitation, without doubt. Normally, you would swat him away, retreat into yourself, discomfort creeping in before his touch could linger. But you couldn’t. Not now. Not when you could see it so clearly in his eyes. How much he loved you, every curve, every so-called flaw. He didn’t just accept them. He worshiped them. And who were you to deny this adoring man the very thing he cherished?

“Do you really mean it?” you whispered, your voice barely above the hush of the night.

Elijah’s eyes lifted to yours, dark and unwavering. “Mean what, darling?”

You swallowed. "That you…” The words caught in your throat. "That you think I’m beautiful."

His hand flattened against your stomach.

"Look at me."

Your eyes slowly met his as heat crawled up your neck to your cheeks.

Elijah leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. His breath was warm, steady, unshaken.

"I do not think you are beautiful," he murmured, voice as certain as stone. "I know you are,”

A tear slipped down your cheek, but this time, it wasn’t from sadness. And Elijah kissed it away before it could fall.

"You will believe me one day," he promised, his voice threaded with something fierce, unshakable. "Until then, I’ll keep showing you."

He gathered you closer, tucking your head beneath his chin. For a moment, you stayed stiff, uncertain. But then, slowly, you let yourself melt into him, your body relaxing against his, your breathing syncing with his steady, unshaken rhythm.

Your hand drifted over his, where it still rested against your stomach. You hesitated, then laced your fingers together, holding him there. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself believe him.

Just for a little while.

And that was enough.

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