#i had exams. i still have to write one but after that… i will be a free man once more. ready to draw (hopefully)
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ylangelegy · 2 days ago
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unknown / nth ⭐ minghao x reader.
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your boyfriend gives you a language lesson before bed.
★ minghao x translator/interpreter!reader a.k.a the lost in translation couple ★ word count: 1.9k ★ genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, conversation about mandarin (my reference). takes place post-lost in translation! not entirely necessary to have read the fic prior to this. title is from hozier's song of the same name. not proofread. ★ footnotes: minghao did a brief weibo live and i've been missing lost in translation for quite some time now, so i jammed this out really quick 🚬🦆 may write more for/about this couple in the near future, so take this as the first of many! ♡
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“I think Cold Love really represents me well. It’s probably because I’m an INFJ.”
You press your palm to your mouth to stifle your laugh. Minghao doesn’t react visibly, but his hand waves at you off-camera. A wordless reminder of Be nice. 
The two of you are across the room from each other— him, perched on the couch of his hotel room, while you’re already tucked in bed. Minghao had promised his fans a quick Weibo live to discuss his most recent EP, leaving you to your own devices for the next hour or so. 
You didn’t mind. It was one of life’s simple joys, listening to your boyfriend talk. 
He spends the next thirty minutes or so discussing his creative process and answering fans’ questions. You don’t bother him, knowing you’ll have all the time in the world later to tease him for some of his remarks. Like his indignance at growing taller or his jabs at his age. 
As you busy yourself with mindlessly scrolling through your phone, you relish in the familiar sound of Minghao’s Mandarin. It’s probably your favorite version of white noise, really. The mellow tone of his voice contrasts the rapid, sharp way that he speaks. Despite being well-acquainted with the language, there are still some words that elude you. You make a mental note to ask Minghao about them later. 
Less than an hour has passed before you hear Minghao beginning to wind down. “Good luck on all of your exams. To the people working, keep working hard! Make lots of money,” he says hurriedly. “And good luck with love, too. I hope you all find someone who loves you back so you can experience all sorts of feelings.” 
He’s never been the type to drag out his goodbyes, so you’re not surprised when— after a final heart sign and wave to the camera— Minghao is finally clocking out of his live. 
Immediately, he slumps back onto the couch like the whole thing had drained him. Sure, lives weren’t necessarily one-sided, but he did have to hard carry when it came to the talking part of the affair. You flash him a sympathetic smile as you sit up in bed. 
“Done, xīngān?” you call out. 
Minghao doesn’t respond right away. You don’t hold it against him. He sometimes needed a moment, needed a minute or two to pull himself together. 
After staring at the ceiling for what feels like forever, Minghao lets out a shuddering exhale. “Done,” he responds, and he’s moving before you can register it. 
He gets to his feet and crosses the room in a few, quick strides. Once he gets to the bed, he wastes no time in reaching for you. His knees sink in the mattress; his hands dart out. 
You let out a slight squeal when Minghao tugs you into him. 
“Sorry,” he says, not sounding very sorry at all. This had been a premeditated act. You can tell in the way his arms immediately snake around your waist. 
You let out a defeated sigh against his chest, but make no move to pull away. “Tired?” you ask, your hands resting on the small of his back as you return his embrace. 
He hums a quiet ‘mhm’. “I’m not built for this anymore, xīngān,” he whines. 
The two of you know that’s a bold-faced lie. Still, you indulge your sulking boyfriend lest he begin to pout even harder. “My poor baby,” you coo, running your hands up and down Minghao’s back in a show of comforting him. “Gonna blame it on being an introvert?” 
“Shut up.” 
You let out a small laugh. You can’t see it, but you swear you can feel the curve of Minghao’s smile as he presses a chaste kiss to the top of your head. 
“Thank you for being here,” he says after a moment of comfortable silence. “It means a lot.” 
A part of you wants to insist that it’s nothing. It’s not every day that you can steal away to his hotel room, though. In between your own work of interpreting for the boys and working on subtitles for videos, there’s also the added layer of keeping your relationship on the down low. 
Tonight, Minghao had just tried to asked. Texted a couple of hours ago that he wanted to see you. And you could never really deny him anything, not even on your best days. 
“Anything for you,” you respond as you stroke the short hair at his nape. 
Minghao buries his face in the crook of your neck, his smiling mouth warm as he mumbles against your skin. “Don’t give me that much power,” he warns. “I’ll abuse it.” 
You chuckle. “I don’t doubt that.” 
The two of you lapse into another bout of quiet. This had always been your way, even back when the two of you were friends: Comfortable silences, unspoken agreements. Your new relationship had only given you two the carte blanche to be a little more touchy during your shared moments of peace. 
You’re fairly sure that Minghao has fallen asleep when he speaks up again. “How do you think I did?”
“With the live?” 
“No, with cuddling. Yes, with the live.” 
“Ask nicely.”
“Please?” 
You put Minghao out of his misery by returning his earlier gesture— leaving a quick kiss, this time to the line of his jaw. “Stellar as usual,” you reassure him. “I didn’t pick up on everything, though.” 
“That’s new.” Minghao shifts around on the bed until he can prop himself up on one elbow. He rests his chin in his hand but doesn’t stray too far. He stays hovering over you, his free arm remaining around your waist. 
He goes on to goad, “Your Mandarin must be getting rusty.”
You can’t help but roll your eyes, shooting him a half-hearted glare. “How can it be rusty,” you retort, slipping into the language as if to prove a point. “When you’re always insisting that we use it?” 
No matter how many times that you speak to him in his mother tongue, Minghao always seems momentarily startled. The surprise always fades into affection, evident in the fond way that he gazes down at you. 
He matches your code switch without missing a beat. “I’ve told you, haven’t I? I love it when you speak Mandarin,” he says, punctuating his words with a quick pinch to your side. 
You swat his hand; he giggles down at you.
“Which parts did you miss out on?” he asks. 
It takes you a moment to recall the terms and phrases you’d wanted to question him about. “撒娇?” you ask, the unfamiliar word sounding almost hesitant on your tongue. Sājiāo.
A thoughtful ‘ahhh’ escapes Minghao. “Think of it like aegyo,” he offers delicately. “It’s— often in the setting of a relationship. Acting cute to be endearing.” 
“Like when you gripe about me not responding fast enough.” 
“Examples aren’t necessary,” he says wryly. “But, yes. Like that.” 
You flash Minghao a grin before snuggling a little closer to him, entangling your legs. The added touch makes his expression softens in the way it only ever does when it’s you. 
“Anything else?” he prompts. 
It’s not everyday that Minghao gets to play the ‘teacher’ role in your relationship. In the beginning, you had been his Korean tutor. In the longer run, you had helped him translate and transpose words that he couldn’t reach. Every so often, you would run to him for some Mandarin help, and you could tell that he relished in the shift in dynamic. 
The thought pushes you to keep asking, even though the words are inconsequential. “You used the term 暖男,” you note. “What was that one?” 
“Nuǎnnán,” he echoes, correcting your intonation. You repeat the word as he said it, and he gives a small smile of approval.
“It’s our version of ‘nice guy’,” he explains. “But it’s rooted a lot in culture. A nuǎnnán is a man who can be considered inherently warm-hearted in an otherwise patriarchal society. And no—” Minghao’s tone takes on a more chiding quality when he sees you about to interrupt. “Do not try to call me a nuǎnnán.” 
You jut out your lower lip slightly. “Why not?” 
The arm that Minghao had around your waist rises, just enough so he can tap the tip of your scrunched nose. “Don’t pull out sājiāo on me,” he scolds. 
It’s not necessary for you to act cute. Your boyfriend would be endeared by you either way. 
You chuckle at being caught, and Minghao’s sternness mellows. “One last.” You hold up a finger as you try to nail the phrase that had first caught your attention. “裸婚?” 
There’s a flicker of surprise on Minghao’s expression. “That was from a fan making a joke,” he warns before repeating the word himself. “Luǒhūn translates to— hear me out, okay?— ‘naked marriage’.” 
The sight of your raised eyebrow draws a sharp laugh from Minghao. “It’s another one of those cultural things,” he says. 
When he doesn’t add onto his words, you shoot him an incredulous look. 
“What?” he asks with feigned innocence.
“That’s it?” you prod. “You’re not going to explain what ‘naked marriage’ means?” 
“You have access to the internet, don’t you?” 
“Xīngān.” 
“That’s me.” 
At Minghao’s continued evasion, you merely huff and give up. It’s getting late, anyway, and he has to be up early in the morning for sound check. Come tomorrow, you’ll have to slip away before anyone can come looking for either of you. The boys aren’t privy to your relationship yet, and God forbid any of the other staff find out.
“Fine,” you say, unable to resist the urge to just be a little haughty. “Let’s go to sleep.” 
Minghao is undeterred by your contempt. If anything, it only makes him smile a little wider, gives him an excuse to pull you into his chest. He goes to cradle the back of your head, his fingers playing with the strands of your hair. 
You lean into his touch, burying your face into the front of his shirt. There it is again. Those few, precious moments where the two of you can just bask in each other’s presence. 
The silence stretches on this time. You’re properly drowsy by the time Minghao speaks up, his words quiet as he mumbles them against your shoulder. 
“No house, no car, no fancy ring,” he murmurs, his tone contemplative and sleepy. “Luǒhūn.” 
“A naked marriage,” you respond mid-yawn. 
“Mhm.”
“Nothing but love.” 
“You got it.” 
The conversation feels like it’s teetering on the verge of something consequential, something of value. But with the two of you already halfway asleep in each other's arms, there’s not much you can do besides exchange some light pecks and mumbled words.
“I think I’d want at least a house before getting married,” you say. “Or, like, an apartment.”
“What, you wouldn’t live out on the streets with me?” he teases lowly. 
Your eyes flutter close. “You would have to convince me,” you shoot back. 
Minghao responds with a lingering kiss to your forehead. 
“How long will it take to convince you?” 
It’s a little too early in your relationship for the topic of marriage to be seriously brought up. It’s fun to dream about, though. To talk about in hushed tones, to toy with in Minghao’s mother tongue. 
To imagine a time where this might be your every night— falling asleep in each other’s arms. 
“Might take you years and years,” you answer, a giggle rising from the back of your throat. 
Minghao’s arms shake as he laughs. His lips stay on your head, almost like he can’t bear to peel away from you for a minute too long. 
“I don’t mind,” he says as the two of you begin to succumb to sleep. 
The last thing you hear is his affectionate, soft promise of, “I’ll start working on convincing you, xīngān.” 
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madschiavelique · 7 hours ago
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A Crown Of Ink : Chapter 9 - Death
summary : maybe it is time for reader to move on from patterns that are now useless and reconsider things
content warnings : some angst, then some comfort, then more angst, then more comfort, some crude language an mentions of harassment
word count : 6.1k
author's note : okay i think i might write my old bg3 requests still sitting in my inbox after this but!!!! im excited to write the next chap
proofread by the lovely @yaffles-world <3
masterlist : here
taglist : @doctorho @6selkie @yunloyal @kryscent @hypocritic-trash-baby @kapitankarate @a-lovers-card @ababanerb @lolixsstuff @forget-me-not-my-dear @smolanchovy @shugar0cone0alt @harrys--ferret-blog @suuummerrr @stillinracooncity @noxturnalmoth @dlbitch @cloufire @csolya @kathyholdsagrudge @furblrwurblr @potatointhedirt @atrocioushaircut @ren-ni @schrodingersraven @urmommt
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You had spent your Saturday recovering, not without frustration. It was a waste of time, you thought. You could have taken advantage of a day without any classes or work like that to study and make more progress, but Selene had come to visit you, worried.
She officially met Sky, who had always admired her since her first lessons with her. Selene had come to your bedside, placing a gentle hand on your forehead for a moment, then letting it slide down to your warm cheek. She sighed, familiar with your overworking habits.
She asked Sky about your night, about the prescribed treatment, and Selene couldn't help but exchange a knowing glance with you when Viktor was mentioned, especially for such chivalrous deeds. She smiled a playful ‘see, I told you so’ which made you pull your cover over your head in annoyance.
When she left, Sky came back to you, bringing you a chicken broth to restore your health, which she hoped you'd consume to the last drop.
"I'm sorry it had to come to this and calling them, calling him. But..." She sighed, watching you finally eat something with relief. "You were working yourself to death, and with such a pace, you probably wouldn't have been able to pass the exams at all if you'd kept going."
You swallowed your mouthful with difficulty, a small knot of shame and regret tightening it. You'd been so obsessed, so fixated on outdoing yourself and winning back your number one spot from Viktor that you'd become nothing more than an information-gobbling machine.
You didn't even need it, you'd just decided to get ahead on the next year's syllabus in the hope of impressing in the papers and showing your dedication. How could you be so stupid? 
"Your state was deteriorating visibly..." Sky reflected, looking down at her hands before only meeting your gaze for a moment. "You really scared me, you know."
Your heart split in two. You placed your lunch tray on your bedside table, taking Sky's hands in yours and seeking her gaze despite her bowed head.
"Hey," you murmured in your tired voice as you smiled softly at her when she looked back at you. "You did the right thing, Sky. Without you..." you sighed, thinking back on your stupidity, "I don't know where I'd be right now. This was going to eat me alive until there would be nothing left of me but a white chalk outline on my desk."
She smiled softly, squeezing your hands. Her eyes glistened, her chin trembling slightly as she took off her glasses.
"Oh, Sky..." You pulled her into your arms, holding her close. "I'm sorry."
You couldn't imagine how tired she must have been, seeing you wasting away like that, not listening to her, not hearing her. She had her own revisions, her own things to do, and you had made your problem hers.
You could feel her forehead wrinkling, her hands trembling slightly around you as she twitched.
Since when did you become such an important part of someone's life that they cared that much about you?
What would have happened if, for one more year, you'd never had a flatmate? And if that flatmate hadn't been Sky, would she have had even an ounce of patience like your friend?
You'd fucked up and nearly gone off the deep end, and Sky had done everything she could to avoid it.
"I promise you to never do that again," you vowed, pulling away from her to run your thumb over her cheek and wipe away the tears. "Please, don't cry on me. Cry on... I don't know, Heimerdinger's hairstylist."
Don't cry for me, I'm not worth a waste of tears, not yours.
She laughed nervously, her eyes going to the ceiling. "I don't know why I'm crying, really, this is..." she sniffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, "this is stupid."
"No, it's not," you smiled, "It's good to cry."
She raised her eyebrows, wiggling her nose and shrugging. "Well, you never do."
"That's because I sold my lacrimal glands," you chuckled, trying to lighten the mood by joking.
And it worked - she laughed, the sadness slowly evaporating from her face. "So you have no tears, but you still have your heart, right ?"
You closed your fist, banging it against your chest. "It's a dusty engine, but it does its work."
"Well," she stood up, "I hope it can still feel something."
You observed her for a moment, picking up a saucepan and filling it with water. No doubt to make coffee, or at least tea to ward off your addiction and prevent your mechanical heart from overheating under the caffeine. No amount of Piltovian gold could offer you anything like Sky's sweetness.
"My heart's full of room for the very few friends I have." You picked up your bowl of broth again, its warmth cupped against your fingers. "Its aorta is named after you."
She turned to you, smiling, her eyes filling again with tears as she breathed in. 
"You can't just say things like that and not expect me to ruin a box of these," she described movements in the air with her hands in ridiculous, exagerated swirls, "silk-soft tissues they have here."
"Their toilet paper is so thick and soft it feels like we're using pillows," you sneered before blowing on the bouillon.
"Right?!" Sky exclaimed, "It's only been like, a month and a half since I've been here and it all feels so fancy. Everything is so... clean."
"I know!" You laughed, "It's infuriating. The streets barely have a scratch, the buildings have colours straight out of a kid's colouring book, and they have trees."
She sighed, visualising the vegetation the city had before her eyes fell back on yours. "You never get used to it, right?"
You swallowed your mouthful of broth, pressing your lips into a thin line. "Never."
She leaned back against the worktop, watching you for a moment. "Seriously though." She tilted her head to one side. "Don't ever do that again."
You smiled, bringing your forefinger and thumb to your ear and pressing on the lobe. 
It was a custom in Zaun to pledge your word. In the Undercity, you pressed your lobe as if you were piercing it, to imaginatively seal in the skin a ring other than the one on your finger. However, everyone knows that if you pull too hard on a piercing, you can tear the flesh, and find it difficult to retie the skin so that it can be pierced again. So the promise was made with a symbolic ring, anchored in the skin, that the promise would be kept.
"May my flesh tear apart if, by misfortune, I betrayed," you recited.
During the rest of the last week of classes before the exams, you resumed a much more normal revision routine than the original, much to Sky's delight. You'd revise with her in the afternoons outside class, asking each other questions about the subjects you shared while you were trying not to die laughing from the stupid ways you looked with your facemasks during skincare time.
When Friday came around, you decided to go to the library again. Unconsciously, it had become a ritual. With Viktor or without, you intended to surround yourself with knowledge as immense as possible.
You went and sat down at a table, alone, while many students who had come for the same reason were already crowding most of the available ones. You took out your things, rereading your index cards for the umpteenth time until you were almost ready to recite them by heart if the need arose.
You couldn't help but lose concentration when you heard your name spoken in the distance, coming from voices that weren’t familiar to you, further behind your back.
"And to say Viktor got put with her on Heimerdinger's subject," one said, chuckling.
"I wonder which of them pulls their hair out more in each other's company."
You tried not to think about it, but since, for once, the conversation wasn't all about the walking street lamp, you couldn't help but let your ears hang close to their mouths.
"Did you see her the other day? A vision of the apocalypse. Hollow cheeks and dead eyes like she hadn't eaten in a month."
"Gotta have hollow cheeks to suck the teachers better," her classmate sneered.
Your jaw tightened, trying to ignore their remarks. This wasn't your first time hearing such things - the previous two years hadn't been as gentle as this one, even if Viktor had caused a few problems with his arrival.
"Can you believe what she did to Tyler?"
"She's an animal." They both laughed, causing you to sink back into your chair.
"How do you think Viktor handles her?"
"He doesn't, she's just a handicap to him and he seems to have an embarrassing enough one as it is."
You inhaled. Someone will probably tell them to be quiet so as not to disturb the peace of the library. You hoped.
"Who's a handicap?"
Your eyes widened as you suddenly turned around. Viktor was standing there, facing them, both students suddenly looking very confused and ashamed.
"Viktor," one of them laughed nervously, "this was just a joke, she..."
But the student didn't have time to come up with an excuse. Viktor raised an eyebrow before speaking.
"She's an incredible person who no one can defeat," he informed them, the latter two lowering their eyes on their notes suddenly invested in their revisions. "Except me."
He punctuated his sentence, turning away from them and meeting your gaze. He seemed surprised, not expecting to find you there, at least not doing nothing when such needlessly cruel nonsense was uttered in your name.
Inevitably, of course, he moved towards you.
Except me.  The phrase made you roll your eyes for a moment before you tried to read information from your notes that hadn't needed reading for a long time. 
He sat down opposite you, keeping his hand on the pommel of his cane. "Your name seems to be on everyone's lips, Miss."
"What can I say," you sighed, "the obsession they have for me is an undying addiction."
However, Viktor didn't seem amused at all.
"Why do you let them say such things about you without lifting a finger?"
You bit the inside of your lip, feeling the pressure of his gaze on you as your eyes scanned uselessly over your revision sheets. 
"It's not the first time I've heard that kind of comment about me," you confirmed without much interest, "I'll survive it."
"So you spend most of your time worrying about the injustices other people experience but you push your own under a doormat?" Viktor summed up, not seeming genuinely thrilled at the idea.
"If I could push the injustice that Tyler is by his very existence off the face of this world, I'd be stepping on some rich blonde aristocrat every time I left and returned from home."
But Viktor still wasn't laughing, far from it. When your eyes finally met his, they were dark.
He sighed. "Are you trying to punish yourself for something by neglecting yourself so much?"
I'd like to forget more than anything else in the world. The thought was taking over your soul, eating away at you like a gangrene with an insatiable hunger.
"Of course," you chuckled, exaggerating a falsely happy tone.
"Stop this." His tone was firm.
"Stop what?" you questioned.
"Trying to make something funny out of this."
You frowned, raising an eyebrow. "What? You're not feeling in the mood for our ritual chit chats?"
"Do I look like I'm joking around right now?"
His eyes had the same gleam, carried the same weight as when he'd held you in place in your bed just a week ago. You almost gulped, speechless. Why was he reacting like that? Why was he worried about you?
You lowered your eyes, licking your lips as you returned to your notes.
"Fine," you admitted, dropping your sarcastic tone. "I guess I owe you for saving my life, anyway."
It didn't sound like it, but it was probably the closest you'd come to a ‘thank you’ for him so far. He seemed surprised that you were finally cooperating in the conversation, that you were at last sending him a very subliminal magic word.
His shoulders slumped, as if the idea of being angry with you was stupid.
"How are you feeling?" He finally asked.
"I'm no longer sick, if that's the question you meant to ask."
"It was, but also," he brought his cane up between his legs, clasping both hands on the pommel as he came to rest his chin on it, "I just wanted to know how you are doing."
Why are you doing this? You were thinking back over the last few weeks. His questions during the power cut, the attention he'd paid to you, staying awake all night by your side to make sure you were taking your medication properly, and now...
"Well," you swallowed, these thoughts unsettling you for a moment and sending a foreign warmth into your belly, "the exams are approaching and I think you've had quite the close look on their effect on me so... yeah."
He considered you, tilting his head to the side until his cheek was the one pressed against the back of his hands. He scanned you, his gaze sending a warm wind up your spine.
"You're still on the treatment, right?"
The horrible powder you had to mix in a glass at least twice a day wasn't the moment you were looking forward to most in your daily routine, but you did it anyway, under Sky's sharp eyes.
You remained silent, just to see how Viktor would react and whether, as he had dictated, he would make sure you stayed in bed no matter what.
Faced with your silence, he raised an eyebrow as he straightened up, finally wrinkling his forehead as he frowned.
"Right?" he repeated, almost menacingly.
"Relax." A nervous chuckle escaped you. "Yes, I'm taking it."
He sighed in relief at the news, while you shook your head in confusion.
"You're putting all this effort... for me? Why"
The phrase sounded alien in your mouth, as if you weren't worth the time or energy of such dedication. He gazed at you for a moment, his eyes roving over your index cards.
"You know why."
"Because you can't have your best rival go against you while she's sick?" you recited.
"Because I don't want to be your rival."
You found this answer profoundly absurd.
"What do you mean-" But he cut you off, annoyed.
"What do you want, hmm? To become Heimerdinger's assistant?"
Of course, you thought, but the way Viktor had said it sounded... easy, too easy. Or at least, too easy for you.
"I don't intend to be his assistant, and I'm going to tell you why."
He stood up, walking around the table until he was beside you and leaning in slightly.
"Because I've already been his assistant, and I stopped."
The words echoed inside you, like the cracking of something you thought was indestructible. Your lips parted in shock, watching him with huge eyes as he straightened up.
"In any case. I wanted to make sure that you'd be back in good shape." He began to walk towards the library exit, turning one last time to give you a playful look. "And now that I'm sure you'll be in full shape, I know I don't need to hold back, hm, rival?"
He turned away, heading for the big door, leaving you with a short-circuited brain. What did he mean by "already been"? What did he mean he had stopped? How had Viktor ever been Heimerdinger's assistant?
When the sentence finally reached your mind after a long travel from your ears, you gathered your things in a flash as the questions began to fly and you almost ran to catch up with him. You caught up with him in the corridors, under the astonished gazes of all the students.
"What?" you asked, out of breath from the sudden exertion and the gust of wind the news had knocked from your chest.
He turned to you, slightly surprised that you'd practically chased after him. He'd probably expected you to sit at your table, mulling things over until the questions got too much for you and you decided to come and see him after a day or two of mental torment.
"You've been Heimerdinger's assistant?" you repeated, adjusting the strap of your satchel on your shoulder.
He shrugged, turning away from you. "Yes."
Was he really just going to leave like that? Leaving you in agony for answers you wanted more than anything? No, it wasn't going to be like that.
You grabbed his wrist, much to his surprise, and pulled him with you into an empty adjoining corridor. Once you were out of sight, checking from one end of the corridor to the other to see if anyone was there, you finally regained his gaze.
There was something in his eyes, like a hint of something that kept his lips parted until they closed and his eyes lowered to your hand still gripping his wrist.
You let go, the heat of shame spreading across your neck and cheeks for a moment as you took a step away, crossing your arms over your chest.
"When were you his assistant?"
He leaned against the wall, sighing as he stared at you.
"You do remember Jayce's trial, don't you?"
How could you forget? You hadn't been present at the trial. Selene had invited you to come as it concerned your friend, but you were too afraid of the aristocratic eyes and the pressure they would put on you.
The story remained vague. Due to special circumstances that remained under the security and secrecy of the administration as to the extent of Jayce's activities, he had been allowed to stay at the academy.
"Yes."
"By then, I had already been Heimerdinger’s assistant for a month.."
You now were certain you'd never seen him before. It was just one month into your summer holidays, and you had gone to Zaun to find Eris. Your chances of running into him were almost nil, no doubt about it.
"How did you get to become his assistant?" you quizzed.
He shrugged, and that simple movement made you want to scream. "I suppose he must have liked my assiduity enough to take me on. That and the fact that, with his little legs, I was bound to walk at his pace," he joked.
You held your breath in your lungs for a moment, before releasing it. He didn't seem to be lying, at least about the only serious part of his sentence. He was undoubtedly the best choice for Heimerdinger in any case.
However, it seemed to you that it wasn't so much exasperation that you were feeling - you were trying to understand what the feeling was... a relief, but not really about the fact that the assistant's place was free, no, a relief about Viktor that you couldn't really place at the moment.
"Why did you stop?" There was no longer any frustration in your voice, just a new-found curiosity.
Viktor seemed taken aback by your new intonation, straightening slightly against the wall. "It didn't interest me anymore."
What could he have found that was better? The thought, at last, that Viktor's aim was not to be an assistant for the rest of his life, crept into your mind. Viktor seemed to pick up on it.
"See? I told you we didn't have the same goal."
You finally realised what that feeling of relief was: you didn't have to hate him any more. You no longer had a reason to try to outdo him, no longer had a valid justification for becoming number one again. But why was it such a relief? There was rarely anything more gratuitous than hatred in what you knew, and it should have been the same for Viktor, so why was it such a relief not to have to hate him any more?
Hating him served no purpose, no motivation. It was useless, and what do you do with useless things?
You took half a step towards him.
"The truce you suggested, have you come up with any clauses?"
His eyebrows rose, his eyes widened. He lifted himself off the wall.
"Um no-" he began, but you cut him off.
"Find some, and I'll consider them."
And with that, you took off, leaving Viktor speechless. 
You moved quickly, trying to get home as fast as possible. You were afraid that the street air, so pure and fresh, would wash away your conclusions and fuel a hatred that no longer had any reason to exist.
But you didn't go home straight away, making a diversion to Emeline's shop. As soon as you entered her shop, she didn't hesitate to jump on your neck and give you a hug.
"My little lamb," she enthused as she squeezed you until your ribs broke before cupping your face as if to examine you, "are you feeling better? You gave me quite a fright, you know! When your friend came to visit me and told me you were ill I nearly closed up shop to come and see you myself."
"Everything's fine," you laughed, squeezing her arms, "I've almost completely recovered!"
You'd decided that, after your chat with Viktor and all the effort you'd put into your revision, you deserved a little something to comfort you.
After a little chat with Emeline, she packed two pastries, one for you and one for Sky. Of course, she didn't forget to fill you up with an extra small packet of sweets that would have gone unsold during the day.
When you returned home, you greeted Sky with a smile and raised the two bags of treats to your head. She smiled in surprise.
"To what do we owe this feast?" she asked.
You shrugged. "Let's just say I've made resolutions for the better."
You'd been laughing all evening, stuffing your faces with these delicacies as you both took a well-deserved break from studying.
Your eyes turned to your tarot deck, you'd forgotten to draw any cards lately due to your revisions, so after wiping your hands full of sugar, you took the pack in hand.
“I see you pulling one almost every morning,” Sky remarked, lying on her stomach on your bed while you were cross-legged. “Why do you do that?”
You pulled out your cards in your hands. “To have a leitmotif to follow during the day. Although to be quite honest I don't follow their advice every time.”
She laughed softly, knowing by now your stubbornness like no other. “That doesn't surprise me at all.”
“Yeah well,” you smiled in turn as you shuffled the cards, ”some of them are not the best cards to wake up on to in the morning.”
So you cut your deck as usual, and looked at its underside. You raised your eyebrows.
“Just like this one.”
You showed Sky the card: Death.
She winced, her eyebrows furrowing as her mouth formed as if she were pronouncing the letter x.
“Okay, I get it,” she said, shaking her head. “Is it literal? I hope not, right?”
“Nah it's pretty safe.” You laughed. “The description of its meaning is in the little booklet.” You pointed to it with your chin, and Sky grabbed it, flipping through until she found the Death page.
“Transition. Underworld. Flux. Occultism. Letting go. Evolution requiring liberation. Metaphorical death.” She read. “Off to a great start apparently.”
You chuckled, observing the card as she continued reading. “Death moves across a field with a slow, steady march. A king lies dead. He represents the old systems of order cast aside. A bishop begs for mercy, a young girl turns away in fear and only a curious little girl looks up to greet death. She has not been taught to fear it.”
Your thumb passed over the little girl's drawing, your heart clenching. 
“A ship sails away, heedless of death's march. A sun rises between two towers to reflect resurrection and new beginnings. All endings give way to new possibilities. Transformation leads to renewal and growth.” She raised her eyebrows. “Ain't as bad as I thought it would be.”
“Yeah,” you considered, thinking back on your day and the fact that the cards were pointing you in the right direction, ”indeed.”
Exam week was over. You'd had absolutely no trouble at all with any of the exercises. All the subjects were in the bag and you were finishing virtually ahead of schedule in every exam room.
Today was the day of results. The teachers had spent the weekend correcting everything, and the results boards had finally been displayed.
You woke up feeling lighter than you thought you would. Since realizing that there was no longer any point in chasing Viktor to victory, you'd relaxed.
You went down the hall with Sky, passing the student mailboxes for a moment so you could check if either of you had received anything.
You opened the metal door to a single letter, sealed with a metallic black wax seal you knew all too well: Eris.
You took the key to your apartment, using its teeth to open the envelope and take out the letter, which you brought to your nose.
Her letters always smelled of the essential oils and herbs that constantly appeased you. Without further ado, you unfolded the paper and read its contents.
My sweet friend,
I thought you were a lost cause in friendship, but I guess this year the wheel is really turning on your side. I'm delighted, and I imagine the same goes for Selene. I'd love to meet her, that Sky, she sounds absolutely charming. I'm guessing, though, that the day with your Five of Wands must have been no picnic, especially if - from what I understand - Emperor Viktor is to blame. But I'm sure that the Immeasurable Grandeur of the Prestigious Piltover Academy will crown your success.
You giggled to yourself as your eyes passed over the elegant, forced curves that Eris had taken care to add in response to your own inky bows.
I miss you so much. You know how the days are here in Zaun; I open, sell and consult, and close in the evening before any trouble starts. I'm paid with golden trinkets, new flowers to dry and other plants from other regions. I have managed to get some new customers, though, and not the least important ones. Renata Glasc herself has been to my shop.
You'd already heard of Renata Glasc, an ambitious woman who was growing in influence on the streets of Zaun. She wasn't a Chem Baroness, but at the rate she was going, it looked like she was well on her way to becoming one.
In fact, it's through her that I'm hearing about worrying things here. Common for Zaun, you may say, but I can't help thinking the worst. I'll tell you about it myself when we meet. I'm planning to come here around December 23, so let's meet at the usual bridge at three o'clock. I'll be staying with you for a few days. I can't tell you more. But I've lit a candle for you, wishing you success and good health.
I look forward to seeing you again, my dearest trouble,
Eris.
What could she possibly be worried about? The situation was invariably complicated in Zaun, but what could it be that she was worried about?
You carefully tucked the letter into your bag, heading out to the shuttle stop.
“Not too stressed?” Sky asked.
You huffed, a cloud of warmth rising into the air. The cold had been gaining in intensity for over a week, and all the students at the academy had donned their scarves.
“No.” you replied, confident. “You?”
“A bit,” she admitted, her breath trembling slightly.
“Hey,” you pressed your shoulder against hers as she turned to face you, ��you've got this. I know you do.”
She nodded, smiling at you as the shuttle arrived. The journey was swift, some students over-excited at the prospect of their results, others apprehensive about what was to come.
As you arrived at the golden gates of the academy, you noticed that neither Viktor nor Jayce were in sight. Perhaps they had decided to go to the academy later?
The group of students walked up to the scoreboards, an army of others already huddled in front of them.
Sky went in search of her name, while you breathed in, waiting for other students to pass before you.
You didn't know what awaited you at the top of the board, which name would be at the head. Did it still matter? Yes, it probably did, or it didn't. Did you want it to matter? Probably not. But did your mind keep wandering? Endlessly.
What if Viktor was still number one - would you be disappointed? What if you were number one - would you be satisfied? And if neither he nor you were number one, would you be revolted?
“Look who it is!”
That voice alone was enough to make you frown, raise your eyebrows and lower your eyelids in boredom.
Tyler.
You turned to him for a moment, him seeming pleased that you responded to his voice as you rolled your eyes and sighed.
“What do you want, blondie? Searching for a new name on the boards to torment?”
He chuckled, stepping toward you. “You don't change a winning team, darling. Have you found your place at the very bottom of the ranking?”
It was your turn to chuckle, turning to face him. He had no idea about your academic results, it seemed. 
“Tyler you have as many neurons as you have eyes, and they're both fighting for any kind of connection.” You turned to the bulletin board, stepping forward slightly. “Do them mercy and close your eyelids for all eternity before we have to deal with a rain of fire and the horsemen and...”
But you didn't even finish your sentence, the words dying on your lips as your eyes came to rest on your name.
First place.
You were back in first place. Eyes and mouth wide open, you kept blinking to make sure your vision wasn't failing you. And the name underneath... 
Viktor.
Your scores were almost equal, yours barely beating him.
“Told you I wasn't going to hold back.”
You turned towards the voice, the tinkle you now knew too well of his cane echoing on the floor. He stood there, serene, a small smile on his face before his lips pressed into an inverted grin and his eyebrows raised.
“You fight well, Miss.”
You couldn't help it - you cracked a smile at him. And Viktor seemed astonished, as if he'd never seen such a thing happen. No stupid remark, no pettiness behind your drawn lips, just sincere amusement and joy.
“What the...” Tyler's voice died in his throat as he took in the bulletin boards, turning to you. “How did you...”
You turned to him, his sole presence now not even enough to ruin your happiness and relief. “As if you could reach me,” you replied with a triumphant smile, walking out of the crowd to join Viktor.
Once you got away from all this tumult, he nodded. “You got first,” he remarked, “congratulations.”
You observed him for a second, his posture reflecting a sort of disappointment. Was it from losing? Or was it from the fact you seemed so happy in your rivalry with him? You sighed, rolling your eyes.
“Quit it,” you pronounced with a smile, shaking your head slightly. “We share this crown, and you perfectly know that.”
He said nothing, just gazing at you for a moment. There was this gleam, the tickling of a smile ready to be born on his lips as the satisfaction that, maybe, these ink duels you were both fencing would wash away and let something different be born from them. 
He was apprehensive about saying something, but Jayce came towards you both.
“Ah, Jayce, exams went well?” You asked, knowing without a doubt that he didn't have to worry about his results.
“Oh yeah, perfect.” He nodded, pressing his lips into a thin line, his eyes darting from yours to Viktor's, surprised that you weren't quarrelling. “Say, hum... can I talk to you guys for a minute?” 
Viktor and you exchanged a confused look, before ultimately following him.
“A masquerade?” you repeated, as if the word had never grazed your lips before.
Jayce had brought you to a room in the Academy where you could all talk without hearing the multiple cries of students as to their result. And considering what he had to discuss with you, he'd done the right thing.
“It's this thing Mel is invited to,” he explained nervously. “All the people of high aristocracy will be there, counselors, lords and ladies... Please, can you both accompany me to it?”
“As your dance partners?” joked Viktor, frowning.
“No, Mel's already my partner. But, she said that there would be no opposition for you both to come as well. You're the,” he seemed to search for words for a moment, ”croom dé la cram?”
“Crême de la crême?” you suggested.
He pointed at you, glad you understood. “Yeah, that. La crême de la crême of the Academy. Such prestigious students as the both of you sharing the top of the board deserve to be in such an event.”
“So you want us,” you pointed repeatedly between Viktor and yourself, ”to come to this event because you're too nervous to go there by yourself?”
The interested party scratched the back of his neck, sniffling before looking at you both with puppy-dog eyes. “Yeah?”
“Aren't you supposed to have a partner to come to a masquerade?” Interrogated Viktor.
“I thought you two could... go together?”
You chuckled, your mouth hanging open. You exchanged a bewildered look with Viktor, who didn't seem to be too upset by the concept.
“You're joking, right?” you asked.
“Please just-” he didn't finish his sentence, “put your bickering aside for one evening. You don't even have to show up together if it suits you better.”
“I don't see any problems with it,” Viktor shrugged, indifferent. “When is it?”
"Tomorrow night."
“Tomorrow night?” You exclaimed. “Jayce, if it's a society gala, I've got nothing to wear.”
He reached into his own wallet, pulled out some bills and handed them to you.
“Here, I'm sure you'll find something convenient with this.”
“Jayce,” you remarked, looking at the fresh bills, “what the hell.”
“This is not much for you to get a decent gown for the gala. Keep the rest, if there is any, to get some fancy accessories.” He grabbed your hand, placing the cash in it. “Truly, this is the least I can do.”
You knew Jayce's patrons were the Kiramman’s, but to have money to give away like this? Since when was that the case?
“Vik, I think it's time for us to go.” Jayce finally remarked before leaving the room, leaving the two of you.
You both stayed in silence for a moment, both digesting the information that had just been given to you.
“What a way to celebrate your victory,” Viktor finally sighed.
“I've seen worse celebrations than a masquerade,” you remarked, observing the tickets for a moment before folding them up, “but I think I've had better experiences than being in a room with nobility sipping glasses of champagne with petty innuendo in every exchange.”
He huffed in turn. “I suppose the next area in which we must excel in no time is the art of conversation in high society. Although, considering our usual conversation,” he leaned his head to the side with a smirk, "we'll fit right in."
“How exciting,” you raised your eyebrows sarcastically, letting silence take its rule back on the room before you finally decided to break it. ”Guess I better go and find myself something to wear. See you tomorrow, Viktor.” 
“Wait,” he called to you, seeming hesitant about what he was going to suggest, ”would you like us to get together first and go? Or...”
“Let's meet directly at the party,” you assured him.
He nodded, his lips pressing in a thin line as you turned away. “Oh and...” you turned back to him at his words, his eyes piercing. “Don't forget the mask.”
You nodded, leaving the room.
You had today and tomorrow to find an outfit, and get used to the fact that Viktor was no longer a threat to be eliminated. Easier said than done. 
But still… What a way to celebrate a rebirth.
✦﹒ previous chapter ✦﹒ next chapter
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greengoblinswifey · 20 hours ago
Text
Routine—Dr. Charlie Mayhew x Fem!Reader
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summary— Dr. Mayhew invites you after hours for a ‘routine check up.’ Based on this request.
warnings— slight cnc, abuse of power, anal fingering, face fucking, praise kink, degradation, face slapping, tit slapping, choking, objectification, hair pulling, sir kink, spitting, anal, unprotected sex, ass to mouth, breeding kink, creampie.
a/n— i feel like i’ve been gone so long but i’m back now <3(though it’s lowkey hard to write with long nails)
︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿
It was late, the air unusually quiet except for the low hum of fluorescent lights. You weren’t sure why you’d agreed to come back after hours for your follow up. Dr. Mayhew’s cryptic suggestion earlier in the day had been impossible to shake: “Come back tonight when it’s quiet. We’ll have the place to ourselves.”
Something in his tone had made your pulse quicken, his usual professional demeanor cracking just enough to reveal something darker. You told yourself it was all in your head, but now, standing in the dimly lit exam room, you couldn’t ignore the tension crackling between you.
Dr. Mayhew entered, his white coat unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms. His dark eyes raked over you, lingering just a moment too long. “Still here, I see,” he said, closing the door behind him with a deliberate click. “Good girl.”
The session started—a few questions, a brief examination. But as his hands lingered, brushing against your skin under the guise of professionalism, the air grew heavy with something unspoken. He leaned in close, his voice low, almost a growl. “You’ve been testing my patience all day.”
Dr. Mayhew adjusted his gloves, his gaze piercing but tinged with something else, something darker. His lips curved into a slight smirk as he approached you, tilting his head. “I need to perform a full examination,” he murmured, his tone smooth but commanding. “Let’s start with your chest.”
You hesitated, but the intensity in his stare rooted you to the spot. His hands moved deliberately, sliding over your shoulders before trailing down to rest just below your collarbone. “Relax,” he said, voice low and firm. “This is all part of the process.”
He cupped your boobs, the touch firm under the guise of a medical examination. His fingers lingered, pressing in ways that made you swallow hard. “You’re tense,” he muttered, almost to himself, his thumbs brushing suggestively. “Maybe I should take my time here.”
Your breath hitched, but his movements never faltered. “Don’t act so shy now,” he said, leaning in so his breath ghosted over your ear. “You knew exactly what you were coming back for.”
He firmly massaged your boobs, his gaze sharp as he did. He directed you to turn around, his voice clipped and commanding. “Bend over the table,” he said, gesturing to the edge of the examination bed.
You hesitated, unsure of his intentions. “W-why are you doing this?” you asked, trying to steady your breath.
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he rested a firm hand at the base of your spine, encouraging compliance. His other hand moved with practiced authority, adjusting your position so that you could arch better. “I’m the doctor here,” he said, his voice a low rasp. “And I know what’s best for you. Trust me.”
Your heart raced as he began his inspection, his hands firm and meticulous as he groped your ass. He tugged lightly on your hair, tilting your head to the side. “Keep still,” he instructed, the subtle pull sending a shock of awareness through you. “I need you to behave.”
A gasp left your lips as he tore the shorts under your tights, the cool air making your bare pussy quiver.
“D-doctor—” you groaned, but he cut you off sharply.
“Don’t speak, this is routine. I need to make sure everything is fine with every part of you,” he growled.
Another gasp left your lips as you felt the unmistakable feeling of a finger circling the hole no one had ever been in. The hole no one should be in—yet the pure taboo of it had you biting your lip and arching your back deeper.
“No hemorrhoids, virgin ass, so fucking beautiful,” he muttered, his voice low.
You bit down on your lip harder, groaning as you felt a finger push inside you.
“Shh, just let me do this,” he cooed.
Your doctor knew best, didn’t he? Though, alarm bells were ringing in your head.
You clamped around his finger and he let it settle, curving and slowly moving it around so he could wiggle his way inside you.
“Such a tight virgin ass,” he murmured.
Just as you were starting to feel pleasure, he removed his finger. You let out a sigh of relief but your breath caught again as you heard the sound of a belt buckle clinking. Turning around, his pants were pooled at his feet with the thickest cock you had ever seen.
You were about to say something when he grabbed your curls, turning your body around.
“Need to make sure that throat is able to be used for what it’s made for,” he murmured.
He shoved his swollen cock into your mouth before you could even think about what to do. It immediately hit the back of your throat and he kept it settled until you were gasping for air before he pulled out.
You gasped as you tried to get air but he began pushing your face into his crotch leaving you no choice but to accept his length back into your mouth.
“Learn how to suck cock like you were made for you dumb slut, take it all the way in!” he growled, tightening his grip in your curls and thrusting harshly as he proceeded to fuck your mouth even more vigorously than before.
A sick and twisted part of you just wanted to show him how good you were at this. So, your tongue darted out, trailing along his shaft and getting it sloppy.
“Fuck, that’s it, slut,” he moaned.
You hummed around his cock and continued, gliding your tongue along him as he fucked your throat. Your hands went to his heavy balls, massaging as you looked up at him with tears in your eyes, trying your best not to gag.
“You’re such a good cock sucking whore, m’ gonna cum down that throat,” he gasped, his pace faltering but still just as brutal.
Suckling on the bulbous tip, you stroked his shaft and felt his cum spurt into your mouth. He thrusted into your throat again, holding you down as he came down your throat, your nose touching his pelvis.
“That’s a good whore, don’t let a drop go to waste,” he cooed.
Once again, not missing a beat, he grabbed you by your curls, shoving you flat onto the table. “Now, I’m gonna put my cock inside that pussy, just because I can,” he whispered, “and you’re going to take every single inch like the good little whore you are.”
You didn’t bother protesting, you knew your protests would fall on deaf ears and so, you allowed him to spread your legs.
“You’re so wet, your pussy’s working just fine,” he smirked, using the head of his cock to drag along your folds.
You whined shamelessly, the throbbing in your clit growing unbearable.
“No whines, only begging, and call me sir while you’re at it,” he demanded.
Something came over you—or at least that’s what you wanted to believe.
“Please sir, just put it in, please fuck me,” you pleaded, your pussy getting wetter as you uttered each word.
A sharp smack against your cheek made you whine again. “You can do better than that, slut.”
“Please fuck me sir, I need your cock, I’ve never needed anything more, just please fuck me, fuck me like a slut,” you begged.
Satisfied by your begging, he grabbed you by the throat, thrusting inside your wet pussy giving you no time to adjust.
“So tight, like your pussy was made for my cock,” he murmured.
His grip around your throat tightened as he slammed into you, hard, your tits bouncing. His other hand came down on your tits, slapping them before a sharp smack was placed on your cheek, making you moan.
“Oh, you like that? You like being treated like just an object for me to use? Good, because that’s all you are to me,” Dr. Mayhew said.
Your pussy fluttered at his words, his cock pounding against your g spot repeatedly and you could feel a strong orgasm building. He leaned down, using his free hand to force your jaw open before spitting into it.
“Swallow, and soon as you do, cum on my cock, slut,” he muttered.
You swallowed his spit on your tongue and drenched him, your back arching off the table as your orgasm took ahold of you. As you squirted on his cock, your entire body shivered, his cock pounding your pussy through your orgasm.
“That’s it, what a good slut, this is all you’re good for, being an object for me to use,” he said, “now get on your hands and knees and spread that ass.”
By then you had accepted your fate, being nothing more than just a fuck toy for Dr. Mayhew. Why else would you have come back so late? You complied, arching your back as you did and spreading your ass to him.
He felt slick fingers rubbing your pussy then trailing back to your hole. A gasp left your lips as you felt two fingers plunge into you, the burning stretch leaving you aching.
“You’re going to wish it was my fingers fucking that ass,” he chuckled.
You realized what he meant, feeling the leaking tip of his cock bore into you. Still, you kept your ass spread open for him, allowing him to push deeper inside you.
“Fucking hell, so tight for me,” he groaned, finally able to fit half of his length inside.
He grabbed your hands, pinning them behind you and holding on as he fucked your ass. His thrusts were steady and deep, invading a hole that had never been used before.
“S-slow down,” you pleaded.
“You don’t tell me what to do, bitch, I do what I want to you and you take it like a good fucking slut who’s nothing more than an object for me to use. Objects shut the fuck up,” he retorted.
A sob left your lips but your body betrayed you as your ass clamped around his cock and your pussy clenched around nothing at his filthy words.
He took the opportunity to let go of your hands, reaching to rub your clit as he felt the impending orgasm.
“Stop acting like you aren’t enjoying this and fucking cum for me,” he said, “cum with my cock in your ass.”
He rubbed rough circles on your clit, his cock slamming inside your hole and you felt yourself squirt on his fingers, your body once again betraying you.
“Good girl, that’s what objects do, they listen.”
He pulled his thick cock out of your ass leaving you agape before grabbing your by your curls to face it.
“Clean my cock so I can fuck that pussy again,” he demanded.
Staring up at him, you took him into your mouth, sucking and slurping until every part of him was covered in your saliva. When he was satisfied with your work, he pulled you off him, a trail of spit connecting you with the tip.
“So beautiful when you’re ruined like this,” you heard him mutter.
He pushed you onto your back, his cock plunging into you as he chased his own orgasm.
“Look at me bitch, I want you to look at me when I cum inside this pussy and breed you.”
You stared into his brown eyes, his cock slamming against your cervix before you felt his hot load fill you up. He moaned as you clenched around him, practically milking him of all he had.
“Good girl, take my cum,” he praised.
As soon as he was satisfied, he pulled out of you, his cum slowly oozing from your pussy. He took a few wipes from a cabinet, carefully cleaning you up before his eyes met yours.
“Same time, tomorrow.”
131 notes · View notes
fresitasmoribund · 2 days ago
Text
Beyond Marginalia
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-`♡´- pairing: Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader
-`♡´- summary: Having to borrow a book for Alchemy wasn’t your preferred way to meet someone. But when you begin to have conversations in the margins of a textbook with a stranger, you’re more than intrigued.
-`♡´- contains: does this count as a meet-cute?
-`♡´- warnings: i had to dig deep to sound like a very philosophical alchemist
-`♡´- word count: 3.4k
-`♡´- a.n: this turned out longer than I meant it to be
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You dreaded having to take Alchemy, but you were desperate for how it would look academically. And you were a little hopeful that you’d at least learn something interesting. You were wrong, for the most part. For such an interesting-sounding course, it was rather… repetitive at times. But you were going to stick through it. All you need is your parchment, trusty quill, and your book – and you’ll be set to pass before you know it.
You lost your book only halfway through the first week of the course.
You scoured through your bag, your dorm, the library, and even consulted with a few paintings. But it had vanished – as if swallowed by the very elements it was meant to explain.
You’d earned a stern scolding from your professor when you sheepishly revealed the status of your book’s location. But what could you do? It was nowhere you could find. The look on your face must have saved you from losing any house points, but she did make sure you knew that you were not to lose any more Alchemy books. Because the class was small and resources limited, she had said, you would have to share a textbook with a student who had a different schedule. You just hoped they weren’t the type to draw anything inappropriate that might somehow get you in trouble.
“Alright, fellow borrower.” You sighed before opening the book. “What wisdom shall you offer me in the form of crude sketches?”
But the person who you shared this book with was quite the opposite of what you had expected. They were already well ahead in the chapters and left some very insightful notes – it was brilliant, really. It made studying much easier – provided they were clever enough. Judging by the meticulous scribbles in the margins, they seemed to be.
Your fellow classmate’s handwriting was immaculate—too immaculate for a typical student. Each and every page they seemed to go over was filled with tidy annotations in deep, almost-too-perfect ink – organized and detailed. There were no random doodles or ramblings – only sharp, precise notes that seemed to outline everything in perfect order.
In the following days that it was your turn with the book, you used the stranger’s notes to your advantage after writing your own. And, more times than not, you shared the same judgement and interpretation of the material.
You were almost catching up with them after setting a goal to surpass them somehow. A little academic competition never harmed anyone, did it?
As you leaf through the worn book one afternoon, skimming over all their highlights and notes, one of them sticks out in a later chapter. Right under the large title, a note was left. One that was unusually snarky for your mystery annotator.
Another whole chapter on transforming lead into gold. Lovely.
A slow smile graces your features as you huff in amusement. They were right, of course. You weren’t sure how many times the subject would be taught.
Your fingers hover over the next page, still trying to absorb the information on metallic transmutations and their metaphysical connections. But your mind keeps wandering back to that note. Whoever it was you shared this book with was getting just as tired as you were – that was a comforting thought.
As you continue your reading, you found more dry comments pointing to your book partner’s growing exasperation.
This is the worst example of alliteration I’ve ever read. Was the author asleep?
And:
Yes, because THAT’S going to come up in the exam.
You were starting to appreciate the break from unnecessary hyperbole that were forcefully crammed together with academic jargon.  
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The next time you dive into a section, words were mostly underlined. It isn’t until you reach a particularly dry explanation about the relationship between alchemical substances and human nature that you come across another note. You roll your eyes at the overly complicated metaphor about the “sublime unity of opposites” and “the celestial influence of Jupiter” before reading what your partner had to say about it.
More painfully obvious metaphors. At least pretend to be subtle.
The bluntness of it has you exhaling a laugh through your nose. And, before you can stop yourself, you grab your quill and scratch a quick reply in the margin:
Pretending to be subtle doesn’t sound very subtle to me.
A small part of you is regretting what you just did, and you wonder if it was foolish to write back. After all, you weren’t sure if they would appreciate your retort or if they’d even read it. But then again, you are bored and desperate. The small thrill of talking to a stranger in such an unconventional way follows you even after turning the page.
You were halfway through the next chapter when you stumble upon yet another pretentious phrase. The author had described Principia Alchemica – the title of the book – as “a seminal text in the canon of alchemical studies.” You can’t help it. The more you read, the more the book’s lofty language makes you cringe. You always thought Alchemy was meant to be more practical, but this text made everything feel so abstract – so high minded. That’s why you left another note:
“A seminal text.” Sounds messy.
You weren’t too proud of it, but it made you snort just a little. It was a bit cheeky, but honestly, this whole thing was starting to feel like an unnecessary circus of symbolism. You won’t really wait for a reply, but you wanted to let the stranger know you were up for conversation.
A few days later, you open the coursebook again, flipping idly through the pages. You freeze when you spot it.
Glad to see someone else who knows this text is a bit… much. Good one.
You blink. Had they actually replied to you?
Smiling, you continue with your studying since you didn’t have long with the book tonight.
It doesn’t take much time to reach another chapter so weighed down with metaphor that you start to wonder if the author had forgotten they were writing a textbook and not a bad novel. They had seriously chosen the wrong profession. Every chapter feels like wading through a thick swamp of unnecessary poetic language, the concepts buried under numerous layers of parables that strain even your patience.
You skim over the paragraph for the third time, using all the literary skills you have in order to dissect whatever spiritual connection the author was fabricating. He must have been on drugs, was your final verdict.
The author waxed lyrically about “the juxtaposition between the earthly and the divine” and how it reflected in the journey the human soul must take through sin, suffering, and reaching an eventual enlightenment. By the time you reached the end of the paragraph where you swear the author was just repeating the same sentence differently as a form of manipulation, you felt as if your brain had hopped out of your cranium and hung itself to dry.
You frown, your eyes flicking to the margin where another note was scrawled:
If I have to read the word “juxtaposition” one more time, I’ll scream.
You exhale sharply, nearly laughing out loud in the library. You don’t hesitate to reply.
You’ve just written it, mate. Enjoy screaming.
There was that thrill again at seeing your words next to theirs. Somewhere out there, your mysterious book-sharing partner was going to see that and—well, you don’t know what they’d think. But that was part of the fun, wasn’t it?
The thought lingered with you for the rest of the day.
The next Alchemy period, you crack the book open again, pretending to follow along while your professor drones on. You eagerly look for your last note, hoping for a response. Sure enough, it was there – nestled beneath your note in the same sharp handwriting:
Touché. I suppose I’ll suffer through the screaming for now. Are you trouble?
Your lips twitch as you read it. Trouble? You weren’t sure about that, but this was the most fun you’d had in Alchemy since the term began.
Only when the material calls for it. Should I include your tidbit in my study time, or is that just for me?
You tap the end of your quill against the desk, staring at your reply as you tune back in to your lesson. Somehow, this back-and-forth was making the endless drudgery of Principia Alchemica bearable.
You wondered if they felt the same.
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The next few days pass in a haze of classes, coursework, and the usual chaos of Hogwarts life. But you were mostly looking forward to every spare moment with the Alchemy book. The weighty tome, which had once filled you with dread, now seemed a little more stimulating.
You’re slouching in one of the armchairs by a fireplace, trying to power through yet another mind-numbing chapter. You were hardly paying any mind to the information – you were more focused on reading the response awaiting you. Your patience is rewarded after you’re done with the tangent on the “alchemy of the human condition.”
I think the author’s overcompensating here. All he needed to say is that purification is about balance and focus.
You dip your quill into the inkpot and write back immediately:
Harsh, but valid.
While you continue to write notes and highlights further than they seemed to have read, you take the initiative to spark a deeper connection with your enigmatic book partner.
This book is absolutely suffocating, but you’re hilarious, so thanks.
You don’t expect a quick reply, but when you check the coursebook in the morning the next day, there it is – tucked beneath your own words:
 Glad my misery can bring you joy. Cheers. – R
“R?” Did you know an R? You stare at the initial, tilting your head as if that might reveal their identity. The only people you knew whose names began with R were… well, not many, actually. A few names sift through your mind, but none of them feel right. Still, it was exciting to know the mystery stranger was willing to play along.
From there, conversations and replies were passed through the book more than actual annotations. You used a certain ink for your quill, so you don’t find it necessary to include your initial like they do. Or maybe you liked dragging out the revelation on your end?
You brace yourself for more of the author’s overly philosophical musings, telling yourself that the notes would be worth the metaphorical fluff. There was something about some kind of dance of opposing elements in an existential struggle of mankind that you almost skipped to read something left on the page’s margin.
This chapter is making me question my life choices. You? – R
Earning a sharp glance from Madam Pince for snickering, you scribble back:
 I question mine constantly.
You were past the point of caring about what the punishment would be for vandalism. Using the dusty textbook as some sort of communication device was far too fun to pass up. As the days rolled by, the notes were less about the material.
You’re far too quick to suggest fire as a solution. Are you a Gryffindor? – R
 Who knows. Are you this judgy about everything?
The following conversation came after a philosopher – Steel Pineneedle – was being referenced for his metaphor of the banquet and the Alchemist’s pursuit of the Magnum Opus. Replying came naturally now.
 Or just how not to throw a party.
Their response had been:
 Big fan of Pineneedle, are you? – R
The material quickly became background noise. It’s the notes – the exchanges – that keep you coming back. R’s latest message sat in front of you, and you’re struck by how different it is. They’d been teasing you about your studying habits, saying something along the lines of how you’re far too easily distracted. And as much as you roll your eyes at the fact that they’re probably right, you scribble back:
What kind of girl do you take me for?
Your quill lingers in the air, hovering for a moment as you realize the words may have come across a bit… flirtatious. You didn’t intend it to sound like that, but something about it has you smiling to yourself as you shut the book.
When you go back to the margins during your turn with the book again, you freeze.
There was a note with a line through it – but you could still make it out:
 A proper fit one, I hope.
You stare at the crossed-out note, your heart skipping a beat. The handwriting wasn’t R’s, you realize. It’s messier, slanted at an angle – a more rushed penmanship. A message under that one – with a scrawling you could recognize – says:
Promise I didn’t write that – R
You breathe a little easier, though your face still heats up. If not them, who had it been? You hadn’t seen anyone else writing on the margins. A friend? The implication of R talking about you to their friends causes your thoughts to scatter. Oddly, you feel pleased.
You chew on the inside of your cheek, gazing at the text again and trying to read it in a different light. But the mystery deepens. With a sigh, you close the book – knowing it’s time for another round of waiting.
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Having been buried under a particularly long Potions essay for a few days, you’d been neglecting the Alchemy book—and, more importantly, the notes. You feel a little bad reading over them. They had piled up in the margins, their familiar scrawl weaving through sections you hadn’t touched yet.
Your breath hitches when you stumble upon one:
It’s a good thing I’m patient, considering how distracting you’ve been. Did you finally get through that section, or am I still waiting for a reply? – R
They’ve been waiting for a reply? That’s… oddly sweet. And annoying – though the sweetness outweighs the annoyance. You bite your lip, trying to figure out how to respond.
 My life extends beyond our little chats. Glad to know you missed me though.
Something about what followed your comment had you feeling like you were anticipating an outcome. Now, you didn’t have the gift of foresight – your performance in Divination was a testament to this – but your intuition was screaming at you.
You’re a terrible influence. What would our professor say? – R
Nothing you should be concerned about. Let’s worry about the trouble you’re having connecting the human spirit with mercurial fluidity and sulfuric heat.
This is starting to sound like a self-help book. – R
  Tell me about it. I think I need a drink to get through the chapter.
  You’re very quick to resort to alcohol. Might be an issue. – R
  I can read past your jealousy. I’m sure you’d crack first.
   Is that a challenge? – R
You find yourself replaying the idle moments as the days blur together. Each sharp-witted note you uncover, you follow like a thread leading you closer to someone whose identity remains vexingly out of reach. And then, after a few weeks of this strange and captivating camaraderie – it changes. A message greets you that’s unlike the others.
 Care to meet me in the library? Tuesday, 5 PM. – R
The words seem to leap off the page, and you simply stare at them. Your heart picks up an uneasy rhythm as you read it over and over again. You’re sure you’re imagining it.
This person—this stranger who has been leaving pieces of themselves in the margins of your book—has asked to meet you. In person. Face to face. All the banter, the teasing, the sense of connection that has grown between you, they want to bring it into the real world.
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The library is quiet, save for the occasional rustling of pages and the soft murmurs of the students studying in isolated corners. It was a typical afternoon in Hogwarts, the kind where the lights filter through the large windows and cast long shadows. The familiar scent of books and dust soothe your nerves enough to keep you from hanging your head low. You didn’t want to miss your stranger. You walk between the shelves, the weight of the textbook feeling heavier than it usually does.
You pause for a moment, looking around the library. You weren’t sure who you were looking for, and that made you feel a little silly. Another detail should have been disclosed to make this easier – but you were here now. That’s what mattered. Anxiety settles in your chest as you scan every soul in your vicinity.
You swear on your life that you felt an electrical shock when you made eye contact with him.
Well, you weren’t 100 percent certain it was him – but something about those eyes of his made your head feel lighter somehow. The connection was instantaneous. As you approach the table, your heart beats in tandem with your hurried steps.
“Right,” he says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, “so we’re off to burn the book, then go for drinks, yes?”
You blink at him, unsure if you heard him correctly. But then, as your brain computes the twinkle in his eyes and curve of his lips, you can’t help but laugh.
“Burn the book?” you ask.
“Only the bits where I feel like my soul is being drained,” he replies, now smiling wider. “You know, the usual alchemy stuff—‘the eternal balance of elements’ and ‘the metaphysical connection between human spirit and…’ well, whatever they go on about.”
He waves his hand dismissively, as though the words are already forgotten.
The tension in your shoulders eases. Maybe you were expecting a more awkward exchange. After all, you spent nearly a month swapping books and notes without ever knowing who he was. And now here he sat – in the flesh—someone whose personality had captivated you in the margins of a book.
“That sounds like a perfectly reasonable idea.” You smile to match his. “Will you be crying out Incendio? Shall I? Both of us at the same time?”
“Two’s better than one, I suppose. I’m Remus. Lupin.”
You tell him your name.
 Sitting across from him, a quiet thud comes from the book as you drop it onto the table. There is a moment of silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable – more like the pause between two people who had known each other longer than the two of you have. You glance down at the book, the one that had sparked all these bizarre, random, and unexpectedly enjoyable conversations.
“Burning it might be a bit dramatic,” he admits, tapping the side of his finger on the edge of the table. “But I think we could do better than just analyzing it. We could always talk about something else.”
You cock your head, intrigued. “Like what?”
“Like…” He pauses. “Anything that doesn’t involve alchemy specifically. We’ve already done enough of that.”
You lean back in your chair. “What else do you have in mind?”
“Well,” he begins, shifting forward in his seat, “we could always talk about how you’re planning on surviving the rest of the term. Because, trust me, I’m not sure alchemy will be the thing that gets you through.”
“Survival,” you repeat, “that’s dramatic.”
“Ah, but it’s fitting, isn’t it? Given the state of our coursework.”
The two of you shared a laugh, and for a while, the world beyond the table felt distant.
You weren’t sure what to say, so you decide to change the subject, asking, “So, what now? You’ve been quite the mystery for weeks.”
“Now?” His voice is quieter. “Now, we figure out how much trouble we’re really in for. Marginalia on a textbook not owned by either of us is still a form of vandalism, so…”
You raise an eyebrow, about to respond with a sharp retort when he holds up a hand, cutting you off.
“Only kidding.” He smirks. “But really, you’ve been a great distraction. I suppose we ought to talk about something else before we get caught talking about it.”
The two of you share another glance, the silence stretching out comfortably between you again. You want to ask more—who he was, what he was really like—but the words didn’t quite come out. Instead, you simply smile back at him.
“I guess we’ll have to wait for our next round of punishment,” you say, your voice lighter than you expected. “But in the meantime, drinks?”
70 notes · View notes
angelremnants · 2 days ago
Text
A TALES OF.. l Tides and Mishaps
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OR.. After your strange ordeal, you find yourself brought to Asgard, where you're to face a trial for your unusual bond with your necklace. With Loki forcing his company onto you, you both go through a tense encounter that leaves both of you soaked, disheveled and wondering what will happen next.
pairing : Loki Laufeyson x f!reader
warnings : Mature themes (+16), mild suggestive content, power dynamics, flirtation and teasing, unresolved sexual tension, mild language.
word count : 11.4k
author's notes : I am back, baby! Finally finished with my exams, and we're celebrating with this ficlet! It adds more depth to the series' lore while sprinkling in some playful moments. Writing this felt essential to set the stage for the spicy plot I’ve been itching to dive into. Stay tuned—it’s coming soon!
NEW ! — Find the continuation here.⠀(18+—MDNI.)
(ao3 version)
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The Bifrost roared to life, a maelstrom of light and sound that seemed to swallow the world whole. For one heart-stopping moment, [Y/N] felt weightless, as though the very air had been torn from her lungs. And then, just as suddenly, it was over.
Her feet hit solid ground, though it didn’t feel it as much—it didn’t have the same firmness as Earth’s soil. The surface beneath her was smooth, crystalline, and alive with shifting colors. She stumbled slightly, catching herself against the closest steady presence, which just so happened to be Loki.
“Do try to stay upright,” he drawled, steadying her with a hand on her arm before stepping back with exaggerated grace.
[Y/N] blinked, regaining her balance as she fixed him with a glare. “You could’ve warned me.”
“And miss that look of sheer terror? Absolutely not,” he replied with a smirk, releasing her as if it were beneath him to linger too long.
Her retort died on her lips as her eyes took in the sight before her: Asgard. The city glimmered like something out of a dream, its golden spires piercing the heavens, the sky above it painted in hues she couldn’t name. Rivers of light wove through the air like threads in an invisible loom, casting an otherworldly glow over everything.
Her jaw dropped. “It’s… it’s…”
“Glorious?” Loki supplied, clearly enjoying her reaction based on the indubitable edge of pride in his voice. “Magnificent? Breathtaking? Go on, I’ve got all day.”
“Overwhelming,” she finished, still gaping.
“Ah, a new one,” he said with mock surprise. “How refreshing.”
Before she could formulate a response, the sound of footsteps echoed across the bridge. An imposing figure approached with the deliberate, measured pace of someone who carried the weight of millennia on his shoulders. His golden eyes swept over [Y/N], lingering for a moment longer than she was comfortable with before settling on Loki, narrowing slightly.
“Prince Loki,” he saluted with a small nod, his voice low and resonant.
“Heimdall,” Loki replied smoothly, his tone laced with feigned civility. “No need for that intimidating look. I am precisely where I’m supposed to be.”
“Rare, but true,” Heimdall said, his gaze shifting back to [Y/N]. He studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. “You are the one who bears the gift.”
She hesitated under the weight of his gaze. “That’s me,” she said with an awkward smile, trying for a tone that sounded casual but landed somewhere closer to nervous.
Heimdall’s piercing stare softened slightly, though a flicker of something unreadable danced behind his golden eyes. “Perhaps…” he murmured as if speaking more to himself than to her.
“Perhaps?” she repeated, frowning. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He ignored her question, instead turning his attention to Loki. “And you brought her here in due form? Color me surprised—perhaps your talk of redemption isn’t entirely hollow after all.”
Loki’s smirk deepened, as though the mere idea of Heimdall questioning him brought him endless amusement. “Oh come along, Heimdall, have some faith in me will you? Thor was otherwise occupied, so yes, I am the one who delivered our little anomaly to Asgard. Do try not to look so surprised.”
Heimdall’s gaze flickered back to [Y/N], and this time his expression was unreadable. “You assume much, Loki, as always. There is more to this one than meets the eye.”
[Y/N] blinked, her brow furrowing. “Uh, hello? Cryptic much?”
Instead of gracing her with an answer, Heimdall turned and began walking toward the city, his stride as unyielding as the bridge beneath their feet. “Come. There is much to discuss, and the Allfather will not wait.”
She exchanged a confused glance with Loki, but he only shrugged, clearly uninterested in dissecting Heimdall’s cryptic words.
“Don’t let him get into your head,” Loki said, following after the gatekeeper with an air of feigned indifference. “He enjoys making everything sound mysterious and profound. It’s practically a pastime.”
But [Y/N] couldn’t shake the weight of Heimdall’s words as they drew closer to the city. More than meets the eye. It was an idea that gnawed at her as she stared at the golden gates ahead, a growing knot of unease twisting in her stomach.
Whatever awaited her inside the halls of Asgard, she suspected it would be more than she was prepared for.
⠀⠀
Soon enough, the small group reached the golden gates of Asgard which opened with a slow, reverent creak, revealing the splendor within. As they stepped across the threshold, [Y/N] felt her breath hitch. The palace was impossibly vast, its ceilings arching so high above that they seemed to disappear into the ether. Columns of gleaming gold lined the grand hall, their surfaces etched with intricate runes that shimmered faintly as though alive. Sunlight poured in from massive windows, casting kaleidoscopic patterns on the polished floors.
“I’m starting to think you people don’t do subtle,” [Y/N] murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Loki, walking beside her with his usual swagger, smirked. “Subtlety is overrated. What you see here is the peak of sophistication and culture.”
“I get where your dramatic flair comes from now. Feels like you’re compensating for something,” she shot back, unable to resist.
“Compensating?” Loki scoffed, his lips curling into a mischievous grin. “Darling, if Asgard were compensating, we’d have built two palaces and made them float.”
[Y/N] snorted, shaking her head. “Right, because subtlety really is your strong suit.”
“Subtlety,” he said, stepping ahead with a flourish while twirling his cape as if to make a point, “is for those who have nothing worth showing off.”
Ahead of them, Heimdall paused and turned just enough to give Loki a pointed look. “Do try to behave,” he said dryly. “We are in the presence of the Allfather’s court, after all.”
Loki sighed dramatically. “Always the stickler, Heimdall. I assure you, that my behavior will be exemplary. Can’t guarantee the same for our invitee over here.”
[Y/N] raised an eyebrow but wisely chose not to comment. Instead, she focused on the grand hall ahead, where grand statures loomed at the far end seemingly watching over the entrance of the throne rooms. God, must all Asgardians be so tall?
Two guards in shining armor led them through the labyrinthine halls, their expressions stoic, their silence impenetrable. She clutched her neck where the artifact had affixed itself weeks ago, the golden runes etched into her skin glowing faintly under her touch. It hadn’t hurt, but it had refused to let go, as if it had claimed her. Those wretched SHIELD scientists on Earth had no answers. Neither did she.
A voice broke through her thoughts as they reached the throne room. "The Allfather will see you now."
The massive doors creaked open, revealing a short but intimidating old man seated on his throne, the ever-watchful Heimdall leading the troupe and striding to pay his respects. Guess not, after all. A gorgeous and graceful lady sat beside him, her serene expression offering a sliver of comfort amidst the tension. [Y/N] stepped forward hesitantly, feeling like she had sinned for even letting her feet brush against the polished floor.
"Come closer," Odin commanded, his voice echoing through the chamber. She obeyed, feeling small beneath his gaze.
Even from a distance, his presence was imposing. Draped in regal robes of deep crimson and gold, the Allfather sat upon a throne that seemed carved from starlight itself. His one remaining eye fixed on them as they approached, sharp and unyielding. The queen beside him held an elegance that was a stark contrast to the weight of Odin’s authority.
As they drew closer, [Y/N] felt the weight of their scrutiny settle on her. She was acutely aware of her attire—a basic white shirt, paired with a burgundy leather jacket and jeans, entirely impolite for the occasion. The contrast between the modern, casual outfit and the ancient, sacred setting was striking, and it felt as though she were wearing a banner of her inadequacy. The artifact bound to her neck—the ornate, ancient-looking jewelry she hadn’t been able to remove—seemed to pulse faintly under their gaze, as if sensing the gravity of the moment.
However, beneath the surface, there was an almost surreal feeling tugging at her. She had been stripped of her usual layers, her defenses, her control—forced to stand before these gods and be judged.
They stopped at the base of the dais, and Heimdall stepped forward, bowing deeply. “Allfather. I present the mortal who bears the artifact.”
Odin’s gaze shifted to her, and the air seemed to grow heavier. [Y/N] swallowed hard, unsure whether to bow, curtsy, or just stand there and hope she didn’t offend anyone. Her voice faltered as she glanced at the ground and stuttered, “Do I... Do I bow, or—?” Her words trailed off, feeling absurd in the silence that stretched between them.
Odin’s expression hardened, but there was a brief flicker of something—amusement, perhaps—before he spoke. “You stand as you are, mortal. Your presence here has already spoken volumes.”
The silence hung thick, and she straightened, hoping she hadn't overstepped, but unsure if she had done enough. Loki’s absence of protest was loud in its own way, though.
“You’ve brought her here safely,” Odin said, his voice deep and resonant, carrying the weight of eons. “Good.”
Then his gaze moved to Loki, narrowing slightly. “And you. I had expected Thor to complete this task, yet it is you who stands before me. Explain.”
Loki’s posture straightened, his usual smirk fading into something more restrained. “Thor is off-world, tending to a matter of great importance,” he said smoothly. “I was the logical choice to retrieve her. After all, who better to guide a mortal through the complexities of our realm than I?”
“Or to exploit her presence for your amusement,” Odin countered sharply, his tone cutting. 
Loki’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t falter. “I’m here because I was entrusted with the task. And I fulfilled it.”
“You are supposed to be on house arrest, boy—”
Frigga stepped forward then, her voice gentle but firm. “And had he not gone, we wouldn’t have the chance to meet her, would we, my king? She stands before us unharmed.”
[Y/N] sneaked a glance at Loki out of the corner of her eye, and for a moment she saw something entirely unfamiliar. The usual sharpness in his demeanor, the endless supply of biting wit and bravado, seemed dulled under Odin’s glare. His shoulders were tense, his jaw tight, and his hands clasped behind his back as if restraining himself. She’d never seen him so repressed before, so small beneath someone else’s authority. It unsettled her more than she cared to admit.
Odin’s gaze lingered on Loki for a moment longer before he shifted his focus back to [Y/N]. “What do you know of the artifact you carry?”
“Not much,” [Y/N] admitted, her voice steadier than she expected. “I found it during a trip to Sweden. The moment I picked it up, it latched onto me. I’ve tried everything—pulling it off, cutting it, even letting some organizatiom poke at it with their fancy tech.”
Loki smirked beside her. “Charming.”
She ignored him. “It doesn’t hurt me, but sometimes it feels like it’s… alive. Like it’s trying to tell me something.”
Odin’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something in his eye—curiosity, perhaps, or recognition. “It is no ordinary artifact,” he said at last. “Its origins are older than even this realm. We will determine its purpose and its bond to you, but the process will not be easy.”
[Y/N] frowned, her fingers brushing against the cool, smooth surface of the artifact. “What does that mean?”
Instead of answering directly, Odin raised his staff, Gungnir, and tapped it once against the polished floor. The chamber darkened, and the golden light of Asgard’s magic rippled through the air. A projection began to form before them—a shimmering, ethereal image of Yggdrasil, its vast branches stretching infinitely. At its roots coiled the immense, terrifying form of a serpent, its scales dark and glimmering with an otherworldly sheen.
“This,” Odin began, his voice reverberating through the room, “is Níðhöggr, the wyrm who once gnawed at the roots of Yggdrasil, threatening the very balance of the Nine Realms. Long before my reign, even before the reign of my father Borr, the great serpent clashed with my grandfather, Búri. Their battle raged for days, shaking the very foundation of existence.”
The projection shifted, showing an imposing figure clad in ancient armor, wielding a glowing axe as he fought the massive serpent. As the battle raged, one of Níðhöggr’s scales fell, pulsing with the chaotic energy of Yggdrasil’s roots.
“When Níðhöggr was finally defeated by my grandfather the late Búri and cast into obscurity, this single scale remained—a fragment of its power, imbued with the raw magic of Yggdrasil itself,” Odin continued. “It was believed lost, hidden from both gods and mortals alike, until now.”
The projection faded, and the light returned to the chamber. Odin’s gaze fell heavily on [Y/N], his expression unreadable. “That scale, the Wyrmscale, has bound itself to you. Why it has chosen a mortal remains to be seen, but its attachment is no trivial matter. It may seek to awaken something within you—or to serve as a harbinger of something far worse.”
[Y/N] stared at him, her chest tightening as she processed the weight of his words. “And… what does that mean for me? What happens now?”
“That’s why she’s here,” Heimdall interjected, his tone solemn, stepping forward. “To be tested.”
Odin nodded gravely, his expression unwavering. “The Hollow of Trials. It is a place where the balance of the realms is tested, a sacred site known only to a few. It is said that those who enter must confront the deepest parts of themselves, for the cave reveals not only your strengths but your weaknesses, your fears, and your potential. It is a place of transformation, where even gods must face their trials to gain wisdom and power.”
[Y/N] raised an eyebrow, eyeing the seriousness of Odin and Heimdall before turning to Loki, whose face was as unreadable as ever. She had to admit, that the description sounded intense. But she wasn’t about to let the solemn atmosphere throw her off. “So… it’s just a cave, then?”
Odin’s eye twitched, his gaze shifting from the projection of the cave to [Y/N] with a sharp, piercing look. His brow furrowed ever so slightly as if trying to decide whether to address the disrespect or simply let it pass. He chose the former. “It is not ‘just a cave,’ mortal,” he said, his voice low but carrying the weight of centuries. The side-eye he gave her was cold and unimpressed. “The Hollow of Trials is a place of great significance. It tests those who enter in ways you cannot yet comprehend.”
[Y/N] met his gaze without flinching, but there was no hiding the slight grin tugging at her lips. She leaned toward Loki and whispered, just loud enough for him to hear, “Guess it’s not just a cave then.”
Loki’s lips twitched into a brief smile before he straightened, looking back to Odin. “It is a place of trials, yes. Much more than a mere cave.” His voice was smooth, but there was a slight edge to it, the kind that came from having spent too many years around Odin’s more… imposing presence.
Odin’s side-eye lingered for a moment longer before he gave a barely perceptible shake of his head. “You will see for yourself soon enough. But remember this, [Y/N],” he added with quiet authority, “you are on sacred ground. Show it the respect it demands.”
[Y/N] gave him a nod, not entirely convinced, but fully aware that disrespecting him further would probably not end well. “Got it. Big, serious cave.”
Heimdall stepped forward, eyeing her now with a hint of disapproval, though he didn’t speak. Odin’s gaze shifted to Loki then, seemingly dismissing [Y/N] for the moment, though the weight of his earlier words still hung heavy in the air.
Frigga, who had remained silently observing the exchange, finally spoke, her voice light but with an undercurrent of motherly warmth. “You are brave to face this trial,” she said, her gaze flicking over [Y/N] with a faint smile. “The cave will bring out what you least expect, but it will also show you the truth of yourself. Be prepared for what you may learn.”
[Y/N] wasn’t sure if she should be reassured by Frigga’s words or if they were meant to prepare her for something worse. She gave a tight smile. “I’ll keep that in mind, Your Majesty.”
Frigga’s smile deepened at the respectful tone. “Good. Trust in the process. And remember, you are not alone in this, no matter how it feels in the moment.”
Before [Y/N] could respond, Loki stepped forward, his usual swagger replaced with a more persuasive tone. “And while [Y/N] faces these trials, surely it would be wise for me to accompany her. As her guide, I could—”
Odin’s piercing gaze snapped to Loki, his expression unreadable, but the tension in the room thickened. “You will do no such thing.”
Loki’s smile faltered for just a moment. “But father, surely my presence would be—”
“No,” Odin interjected, his voice cutting through Loki’s words like a sharp blade. “This trial is hers alone to face. You will remain here, where you are needed.”
Loki hesitated, pressing his lips together as if weighing his words. There was an unmistakable flicker of reluctance in his eyes, one that wasn’t lost on either of his parents. Frigga’s brow furrowed slightly, and she exchanged a rapid glance with Odin before turning her attention back to Loki.
“You seem... unusually determined to accompany her, Loki,” Frigga remarked, her tone soft but laced with concern. “Is there a reason you are so reluctant to let her face this alone?”
Loki’s smirk faded, his posture stiffening. He quickly recovered, though, leaning into his usual charm. “I’m simply looking out for her well-being,” he said smoothly, though the edge in his voice suggested there was more beneath the surface. “Surely you both can see that this trial will be taxing on her. It’s only natural for me to ensure she isn’t harmed.”
Odin’s eyes narrowed, suspicion clouding his expression. “And you think you are the best one to protect her in this trial? You, who has only recently earned back our trust?”
Loki didn’t flinch at the accusation, but there was an almost imperceptible twitch in his jaw. “I am capable of more than you know, Father. You needn’t worry about me.”
Frigga studied him with a piercing gaze, her motherly instincts keen. “Loki,” she said gently, “it’s not the protection of [Y/N] we question. It’s your reasons for wanting to accompany her. You’ve never been one to shy away from danger or intrigue. What is it that you fear in her doing this alone?”
Loki’s eyes flickered toward [Y/N], his voice lowering. “It’s not fear. It’s caution.” He looked back at Odin and Frigga, his expression a little more guarded now. “This is a unique situation. One I believe requires a guiding hand.”
Odin’s piercing gaze remained fixed on him, his silence speaking volumes. There was no anger in the god’s eyes, only a quiet understanding that Loki’s behavior was anything but ordinary. Frigga placed a hand gently on Odin’s arm, but her eyes never left her son.
“You are not to accompany her,” Odin finally decreed, his voice firm. “The Hollow of Trials requires solitude, and it is not your place to interfere.”
Loki’s face remained neutral, but his eyes darkened with unspoken emotions. “As you wish,” he said flatly, stepping back. “But I’ll be close, Father. You know where to find me if you need anything... or if the trial proves too much for her.”
Odin and Frigga exchanged another look, their suspicion deepening as they watched Loki’s retreat. Frigga’s voice softened, though, as she turned back to [Y/N].
“Do not mind him,” she said, her tone comforting. “Loki’s path is… complicated, but his concern for you is genuine, in his own way.”
[Y/N] nodded, feeling a mixture of sympathy and wariness toward the prince. Loki had certainly been a puzzle to her so far, but right now, she had more pressing matters at hand.
“Well, I guess I’m off to this ‘Hollow of Trials,’ then,” she said, a nervous smile creeping onto her face. “Hopefully I can avoid turning into a snack for whatever’s in there.”
Frigga smiled warmly. “You’ll do fine. Trust yourself, [Y/N]. That is the most important part of the trial.”
Odin, who had been quietly watching the exchange, finally spoke again, his tone softer than before. “The trial begins now. Proceed with caution.”
⠀⠀
As [Y/N] stepped into the lavish room, Frigga followed close behind, her presence both comforting and commanding. The regal chambers felt foreign to [Y/N], the walls lined with intricate tapestries depicting ancient battles and victories. It was strange to be in a place so full of history, knowing she was now a part of it, however briefly.
Frigga smiled gently, her warmth radiating in the cold, cavernous room. "You must be feeling overwhelmed," she said softly, watching [Y/N] as she looked around.
[YN] gave a weak smile, her hands still nervously twitching. "You could say that. I never expected any of this. One moment I’m just a regular exchange student on a school trip to Sweden, and the next I am here, about to enter a sacred cave... and probably face some weird, magical thing."
Frigga’s eyes softened, her smile never faltering. "This is a lot to take in, but you are stronger than you realize. It is an honor to be here, and this trial will help you find out what you're truly capable of."
[YN] glanced at Frigga, then down at herself. She was still dressed in the simple clothes she had worn for the journey, and though they were practical, they wouldn’t do for such an occasion. "So... what exactly am I supposed to wear? Not that I’ve had much time to go shopping for sacred cave attire."
Frigga chuckled, the sound rich and full of warmth. "Fear not, I’ll take care of that." She moved toward a large wardrobe at the far side of the room, filled with gowns and outfits woven from fine silks and materials that shimmered like the night sky. "These aren’t the usual gowns of Asgard," Frigga explained, "but they are practical for such a trial."
She motioned for [Y/N] to sit as she began pulling out garments, her eyes assessing the materials with a practiced hand. "I know it may seem strange, this idea of dressing up for a trial, but appearances can be important in Asgard. There is honor in how we present ourselves, even in the most difficult of moments."
[YN] chuckled, shaking her head slightly. "Seems a bit... extra, don’t you think? For a cave trial?"
Frigga smiled knowingly. "Perhaps," she said softly, as she began to unfold a simple yet elegant outfit made of light fabric. "But this trial will reveal your inner strength. You must present yourself as you truly are—strong, capable, and unafraid of the challenges ahead."
Frigga laid out the attire, a soft, flowing robe of pure white that shimmered faintly under the dim light of the room. The fabric was delicate, like the finest silk, but not overly elaborate—its simplicity lent it an understated elegance that would suit [Y/N]'s unassuming nature. The robe draped down from the shoulders in soft folds, the design was minimal but graceful, with no heavy embellishments to distract from its quiet beauty. The sleeves were long and fluid, cinched at the wrist with a thin silver band, and the hem barely brushed the floor, giving the robe an ethereal quality, like a soft cloud in a moonlit sky.
Around the waist was a subtle, golden-threaded sash that tied loosely, giving the robe shape without constricting it. It didn’t cling to her figure, but the soft weight of the fabric promised to mold her body in a way that would emphasize the graceful movement of her form. There was nothing ostentatious about it, yet the robe exuded a regal aura—its simplicity accentuated by its luxurious fabric.
It was clear that Frigga had chosen this robe not just for its beauty, but for its practicality. The lightness of the fabric made it seem almost weightless, yet its soft sheen caught the light in a way that would make it appear even more beautiful when wet, the material clinging gently to the skin, tracing every curve in a way that was both delicate and stunning.
She held up the clothes and turned back to [Y/N], who was still seated, unsure of how to approach the situation. "I know this is unfamiliar," Frigga continued, her voice warm and soothing. "But let me help you, child. You don’t have to face this alone. Not truly."
As [Y/N] began to change behind a nearby screen, she felt an unusual sense of comfort in Frigga's words. Despite the regal atmosphere, the queen’s presence was grounded, maternal even. It was hard not to feel a little at ease.
Frigga, seemingly reading the mood, smiled faintly. "You have a strength about you, [Y/N]. Something I see, even in the way you carry yourself, the way you’ve managed to survive what you’ve been through. You may think you’re just a mortal, but I sense something different in you."
[YN] peeked out from behind the screen, raising an eyebrow. "Oh? What, you mean I’m some kind of hero-in-the-making?"
Frigga’s eyes glinted with wisdom, a knowing smile on her lips. "Not exactly a hero. But there’s more to you than meets the eye. The bond between you and the artifact... It’s no coincidence. There’s something in your soul that the artifact recognized. Something ancient and powerful." She hesitated for a moment before speaking again, almost as if she were considering the weight of her words. "And something that might be more connected to Asgard than you realize."
[YN] tugged the tunic over her head and emerged from behind the screen, feeling more herself in the simple yet elegant clothes. "Connected to Asgard? You mean the whole ‘grand destiny’ speech? Because I’m still waiting for the part where I get my cape and superpowers."
Frigga’s smile softened. "Not quite that. But there’s a connection in you, something unseen. My gift of sight allows me to see beyond the surface—into the hearts and souls of others. And I’ve seen it in you."
[Y/N] paused, looking at Frigga in surprise. "Wait, you’re telling me you can see... beyond your eyes? Like, the future? Or some deep, dark secret about my life?"
Frigga chuckled gently, her gaze never leaving [Y/N]’s. "No, nothing like that. But I can see the essence of who someone truly is. And you... you have strength that even you don’t fully understand yet. It’s as though you’ve always been destined to walk a path that will lead you here, to this moment. You may not see it yet, but I do."
[YN] was quiet for a moment, letting the weight of Frigga’s words settle in. "I guess I never really thought of it that way," she murmured. "I’m just a regular-sized human being from Earth—or, Midgard as you say. Never thought I'd be standing here, in the middle of a royal family’s palace, about to face some huge trial... and all because of a shiny rock I picked up on vacation."
Frigga smiled warmly, her eyes full of understanding. "You may not see it now, but perhaps the journey you are on will help you understand your place in this world—here, with us, with the Asgardians. And in time, you’ll understand why the artifact chose you. Everything happens for a reason, [Y/N]. Even if that reason is something you can't yet comprehend."
There was a long silence as Frigga finished adjusting her outfit, and then stepped back to admire her work while [Y/N] studied herself in the mirror, noting how the robe cascaded around her with almost divine grace. The robe felt both foreign and natural on her body. The cool fabric against her skin gave her a sense of being part of something larger—something ancient. It was as if she were wearing a garment that had been crafted not for her, but for a version of herself she hadn’t yet discovered.
Frigga’s eyes softened as she gazed at [Y/N]. “It suits you,” she said gently. “Simple yet powerful. A reflection of your true strength.”
[Y/N] smiled faintly. "Strength, huh? I might need a lot of that. Mentally, especially."
Frigga laughed softly, a sound full of affection. "Yes, perhaps you will. But you are capable, and you will face this trial with courage. Trust in yourself."
[Y/N] gave a hesitant nod, feeling a mix of nerves and determination wash over her. "Thank you, Your Majesty. For everything."
Frigga placed a hand on her shoulder, her grip firm but kind. "It is my duty, [Y/N]. Know that you are not alone, no matter what happens in that cave."
As [Y/N] turned to leave, Frigga’s voice stopped her for a moment. "Remember, this trial is not just about strength. It’s about finding who you truly are."
[Y/N] gave her a small smile. "I’ll keep that in mind." With one last glance at Frigga, she walked toward the door, ready to face whatever awaited her in the Hollow of Trials.
Frigga led [Y/N] through the palace, her presence calm and steady despite the looming uncertainty of what was to come. The tension from earlier still hung in the air, but Frigga’s quiet confidence was a grounding force.
“You’ll need to remain calm,” The queen said, her voice soft but firm as they walked down the stone corridors toward the cave. “The sacred cave will reveal to you the truth of the artifact, but it will test you. Tests are not always kind, but they are necessary.”
[YN] nodded, trying to steady her breath. She hadn’t expected it to feel this real, this heavy, despite the absence of a clear threat. It was as though the cave itself was waiting for her, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to meet whatever it held.
“The trials within will challenge your mind, your body, and your spirit. But most importantly, it will reveal the bond between you and the artifact, and the deeper purpose it holds for you. To the land of Asgard, to the ancient power that lies beneath,” Frigga continued, her gaze distant for a moment. “The scales of Níðhöggr are not just a relic of old, they are a key to understanding the future. You must enter the cave, and what you see may shock you, but you mustn’t lose yourself in it.”
The more Frigga spoke, the more [Y/N] felt the weight of the task before her. “What exactly will happen when I enter?” she asked, her curiosity mixed with an edge of nervousness.
“You will be shown what lies dormant within you,” Frigga explained, “The cave is connected to the heart of Yggdrasil itself, and it will guide you through what you need to see. Focus. Don’t let fear take hold.”
They reached the entrance to the cave—a massive opening, shrouded in mist. The walls seemed to breathe, pulsating softly, almost as if welcoming her into their depths.
[YN] swallowed hard. “I’m ready.” She wasn’t sure if that was true, but the words felt like something she needed to say.
⠀⠀
They arrived at the entrance to the cave—an imposing archway shrouded in mist and darkened stone. The air felt thicker here, charged with an almost tangible energy that made the hairs on the back of [Y/N]'s neck stand up. Frigga paused, giving her a steady, reassuring glance before stepping back to lean against the stone just outside the entrance.
“You must enter alone,” Frigga said, her voice gentle but firm. “You will know when the time comes to act. Trust yourself, and remember what I’ve told you.”
[YN] gave a nod, a mix of apprehension and determination in her heart. She stepped forward, crossing the threshold of the cave. As her foot touched the cool stone floor, a slight chill seemed to seep into her bones. She shivered but didn’t stop.
The inside was dim, shadows stretching from the walls as if the cave itself had a life of its own. The faint glow from the artifact around her neck illuminated the path before her, casting eerie reflections against the wet stone. She continued to move deeper into the cave, the silence pressing in on her like a weight.
As she ventured deeper, she could feel the air grow colder, and she felt the pulse of the artifact beneath her skin. The longer she walked, the stronger the pull—it was as if it was calling her, urging her toward something deep within the cave.
A sudden voice broke the stillness, echoing off the walls.
“Are you really planning to do this alone, little mortal?”
[YN] spun around, startled. Before she could even process who—or what—it was, her instincts kicked in. A sudden rush of panic and irritation propelled her fist forward, swinging at the mysterious figure standing in the shadows.
But just as her punch came within inches of its target, she froze, her eyes going wide.
Loki stepped forward into the faint light, a sly smile curling at his lips, completely unfazed. The blow had missed him by mere inches, and he watched with amusement as [YN] lowered her fist in realization.
“Loki?” she asked, voice tinged with irritation. “What are you doing here? I thought your mother said I had to do this on my own.”
Loki didn’t skip a beat. “Oh, she did, didn’t she? But I thought I’d just... make sure you’re not getting yourself into trouble. After all, we wouldn’t want you to get lost in here or something.”
[YN] blinked, still trying to steady her breath. “You’re not subtle.”
Loki’s grin widened, clearly unbothered. "I already told you, subtlety is overrated."
Suddenly, [YN] felt a surge of irritation—at herself, for being startled so easily—and without thinking, she swung out with a fist, aiming straight for him.
She didn’t even land a punch.
Loki’s grin only grew as he effortlessly dodged the swing, leaning to the side with the fluid grace of someone who had seen this kind of thing before. "Is that your idea of defending yourself, mortal?" he teased, standing completely still as her fist missed by inches.
[YN] froze for a moment, eyes wide with embarrassment. "I wasn’t... I was just—"
"—Trying to punch me? Well, I suppose it was a valiant effort," Loki said, unruffled, his expression mocking yet somehow fond. "But you’ll have to do better than that if you want to hit me."
[YN] scowled, rubbing the back of her neck. "Yeah, yeah. I’ll keep that in mind, thanks."
Loki chuckled softly at her annoyance. "You’ll need a lot more than a surprise swing to face what’s ahead, mortal. But don’t worry—I'll be here to help," he added, his voice turning more serious, though there was still that underlying amusement in his tone.
[YN] scowled, feeling her blood rise to her cheeks. “Great. First, I punch a god, now I’m being scolded and tailed by one.”
Loki smirked, clearly entertained by her flustered reaction. “And here I thought I was the deranged one.”
[YN] crossed her arms, doing her best to hide her embarrassment. “Well, you are.”
“Only on special occasions.” Loki chuckled, his grin widening. “Now, let’s get on with this, shall we? I’ll stay close in case you need me... even if you insist on attempting to hit me again.”
“Oh trust me, I’d love to make you my personal punching ball. But you’re not supposed to be here, Your Highness,” she said, her voice firmer this time. “This is my trial, not yours.”
Loki’s smile faltered just slightly, but he quickly recovered, his eyes glinting with a mixture of mischief and something else. “Oh, don’t be like that. I’m not here to interfere. Just think of me as an... observer. I’m actually quite good at observing, you know.”
[YN] narrowed her eyes. “Fine, but you stay out of my way. I’m not in the mood for your tricks.”
Loki’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he stepped closer, seemingly unbothered by her resistance. “I’m just making sure you’re safe. Who else could keep you company on this grand adventure? Your noble Asgardian family? Heimdall is too busy watching the horizon, and moth—Frigga, well, she’s always so proper.” He gave a dramatic roll of his eyes. “You’re stuck with me.”
[YN] didn’t know whether to be frustrated or amused, but she felt a little of the tension in her chest ease up. “Fine. But if you do anything to make this harder than it already is, I swear I’ll—”
“—you’ll what? Throw me out of here?” Loki interrupted with a soft chuckle. “You can try, but I’m rather skilled at slipping past... inconveniences.”
Just then, they heard Frigga’s voice echo from outside the cave, calling out in a tone that barely masked her amusement. “Loki, if you’re going to follow her, at least try to be subtle about it.”
Loki’s grin widened as he turned to [Y/N]. “See? I told you, not subtle at all.”
[YN] huffed but followed, rolling her eyes as she muttered under her breath, "I’d rather be doing this on my own."
Loki’s soft laugh echoed around her. "Oh, I’m sure you would, but where’s the fun in that?"
[YN] gave him a pointed look before stepping deeper into the cave, determined not to let his presence distract her. The further she ventured, the more the air seemed to hum with energy, the walls of the cave narrowing around her as if closing in, but she kept her focus.
Loki followed closely behind, his presence bringing a mix of annoyance and reluctant comfort.
“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do here,” she said after a moment, her voice a little softer.
Loki raised an eyebrow, the humor in his voice fading for just a moment. “You’ll know. Trust me. The artifact has a way of showing you what you need to see.” He paused, then added, “And if you don’t, well, I’ll be here to make sure you don’t do anything... rash.”
[YN] sighed, her eyes scanning the dark cave around them. Whatever was about to happen, she was ready—or at least, she hoped she was.
The further they ventured into the cave, the more surreal it became. The air grew cooler, and the light seemed to dim as they descended deeper into the cavern. Soon, they emerged into an expansive, otherworldly space. The chamber stretched high above them, the walls lined with shimmering minerals that cast faint glows, giving the place a mystical feel.
At the center of the cavern was a clear, glowing pool of water, rippling ever so slightly as if something ancient and powerful stirred beneath its surface. The water shimmered with an eerie blue light, reflecting the faint beams of light that filtered through cracks in the ceiling. The surroundings were so calm, so peaceful—it almost seemed too good to be true.
“This is it?” [YN] asked, taking in the sight. She felt a mixture of awe and apprehension.
Loki, who had been walking in silence beside her, stopped a few steps ahead, eyeing the pool with a thoughtful expression. “Yes. The pool of trial,” he said, though his voice was laced with a touch of amusement. “Step into the water. It will reveal what you need to face.”
[YN] froze, her heart sinking as she stared at the pool. “Wait, step in? That?” She gestured toward the glowing water, the nervous energy creeping up her spine. “What if it’s, I don’t know, scalding? What if it burns me?” She glanced at him with wide eyes. “I’m not exactly in the mood to be turned into a crispy bacon today, thank you very much.”
Loki raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by her concerns. “You’re overthinking this,” he said, his voice laced with mild amusement. “It’s not as dangerous as it looks.”
Her anxiety didn’t seem to ease. She slowly stepped toward the water, her eyes scanning the surface for any signs of heat or danger. “You’re sure it won’t burn me? Because I’m really not equipped for magical burns.”
Loki watched her, fighting back a grin. “You’ll be fine. It’s not as dramatic as you're imagining.”
Still, she hesitated, her heart racing. Her mind ran wild with all the possibilities—maybe it wasn’t just water. Maybe it was some sort of curse in disguise. Maybe it was boiling acid that would eat through her skin. Or worse, maybe it was a test to see how long she could stand the pain before... She shivered at the thought.
As she took a tentative step forward, Loki raised an eyebrow. “What’s the matter? Scared of a little water?”
She shot him a glare. “I’m not scared. I’m just being cautious. There’s a difference.”
Loki rolled his eyes dramatically. “Oh, please.” Before she could respond, before she even had the chance to think it through, he took a sudden step forward and with a swift motion shoved her into the pool, sending her stumbling into the water.
“Loki!” she yelped, flailing in surprise, her feet slipping beneath her as the cool water splashed around her. The shock of the sudden fall took the breath out of her as she splashed into the pool, sputtering as she broke the surface.
Loki stood at the edge, watching her with a satisfied grin, arms crossed. “You were taking too long,” he said, unfazed by her glare. “Besides, you were overthinking it.”
[YN] glared at him, brushing her wet hair out of her face. “I wasn’t overthinking! You just pushed me in without warning!”
“Oh, come on, you weren’t going to do it yourself,” Loki said with a shrug, clearly enjoying her flustered reaction. “Sometimes, you just need a little push.”
She was drenched now, water dripping down her clothes, but she couldn’t help but feel a bit of a sting in her chest at the sudden, unexpected splash. “I was thinking about it... slowly.”
Loki chuckled, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “No time for slow thinking. Now, let’s see what happens next, shall we?”
⠀⠀
As [Y/N] mourned her state, the cold rippled across her skin, but it wasn’t the chill that caught her attention. The water around her began to shimmer, glowing brighter with every passing second. The air itself seemed to hum, pulsing with an energy she couldn’t quite comprehend. Slowly, an aura of light began to envelop her—faint at first, but growing steadily stronger. Her body began to glow, not with harsh light, but with an ethereal radiance, as though the northern lights had taken form within her. Soft, shifting hues—pink, green, blue, and violet, colours reminiscent of the Bifrost—wove through her skin, with a faint touch of gold cascading across her form like the flowing branches of a great tree, stretching to every inch of her being.
The glow, fluid and seamless, surrounded her in ribbons of light, as if she were the very embodiment of the auroras themselves. For a fleeting moment, it was as though she were no longer entirely tangible. Her edges blurred, her form rippling like water, the colors of the aurora intertwining with the essence of her very being. She seemed weightless, suspended between realms, as though the cave had absorbed her into its ancient roots, her presence melding with the very magic of the place.
Her glow was hypnotic, a thing of beauty and power. She seemed both present and absent, solid and ethereal, bathed in the light of a thousand unseen stars. The colors shifted and swirled, weaving through her, a dream only half-remembered, a story half-told. The entire cavern seemed to hold its breath, caught in the magic radiating from her.
Loki barely noticed the way his breath caught in his chest. “By the Norns,” he muttered under his breath.
For the first time in a long time, Loki felt small.
His gaze was locked on her, entranced. He had seen many forms of magic before, but nothing like this. It was as if she were a bridge, a living conduit for powers older than time itself. The air around her thickened, vibrating with an ancient force that seemed to pulse in time with her heartbeat. It was a weighty energy, something primordial, something far beyond the grasp of any ordinary god.
There was something more, something familiar, yet elusive. A pull, deep within him, that resonated with the core of his being. For a moment, he almost felt as though he were standing before something divine, something ancient beyond measure. The glow around her flickered briefly, revealing an intricate symbol—tree-like, its roots sprawling across her form like a reflection of her nervous system. It was so subtle, so fleeting, that Loki almost questioned if it had been real. A vision? A trick of the light? But the connection, the sensation, was undeniable. She was tied to something vast, something far older than anything he had ever encountered.
Then, as the colors of the aurora deepened, he could have sworn he saw it—the roots of Yggdrasil, stretching across the cavern, whispering through the light, intertwining with her very essence. The vision was brief, but the connection between her and the great tree was unmistakable. She was no longer merely a mortal. She was something far more. Something much greater.
Loki snapped out of his trance, shaking himself from the dizzying pull of her presence. His thoughts needed to settle, but the image of her, radiant and unknowable, had left an indelible mark on his mind. She wasn’t just a mortal anymore. She was tied to something far greater than any of them. Something even he couldn’t comprehend.
But then, there was a shift.
The air in the cavern crackled with magic, and for a moment, Loki could only watch, intrigued, as [Y/N] glowed with an otherworldly light. Her body shimmered like the northern lights, colors shifting in mesmerizing waves, casting ethereal reflections across the water. He couldn’t deny the effect it had on him—her beauty was undeniable, but it was the strange, potent magic swirling within her that truly captured his attention.
A subtle distortion rippled across her body as the pendant around her neck began to pulse, glowing with an intensity that made the air around them feel charged. Loki narrowed his eyes, sensing something was about to happen. This wasn’t just a glowing display of power—it was something deeper.
The pendant’s magic stirred, and from the center of her chest, a shadowy, serpent-like form emerged. It moved sluggishly at first, as though testing the air, then, with an unnerving speed, it coiled outward, slipping from the pendant like a living nightmare. Loki’s eyes flashed with surprise as the serpent’s body unfolded, scales shimmering with a dark iridescence, its glowing eyes narrowing as it circled the room ominously. It didn’t seem like a natural creature; more like a manifestation of some ancient magic.
“Well, that’s new. Should I be worried?” he mused aloud, watching the serpent glide through the air, its tail whipping past the cave walls with a hiss that vibrated in his bones.
He wasn’t exactly concerned—it was just another magical oddity—but there was something about the way it moved that made his curiosity flare. He had seen many strange things in his long life, but this? This was unlike anything he’d encountered before.
He looked to [Y/N] for a reaction, but her gaze was locked on the serpent, her expression a mixture of awe and hesitation.
For a moment, the serpent paused, hovering directly above her, its eyes fixated on her face. It was as if it was waiting for something—waiting for her. The air grew thicker, charged with a tension that Loki could almost taste. Then, without warning, the serpent lunged, its massive body streaking toward her like a bolt of lightning.
Loki’s eyes widened, his reflexes kicking in as he moved forward, his hand outstretched, ready to intercept. But before he could act, the serpent vanished into her body, slipping right through her with eerie ease. The force of its intrusion jolted [Y/N], and she was thrown backward, crashing into the water with a splash that sent ripples across the surface.
Loki stood at the edge of the pool, momentarily stunned. His pulse quickened as he peered into the water, watching her disappear beneath the surface. For a split second, he wondered if he'd misjudged the situation—if he had waited too long to intervene.
The seconds stretched on like an eternity before, finally, she resurfaced.
Her appearance was… quite different from before. The faint glow that had enveloped her body earlier remained faintly, but now it clung to her like a second skin, subtle and ethereal. Her hair, damp and flowing around her, cascaded in waves down her back, each strand catching the light in a way that made her look almost unreal—like a siren from the depths of myth. Her robe, soaked through, clung to her form in a way that left little to the imagination and left the god breathless, and the water that trickled down her skin only seemed to enhance the otherworldly glow that surrounded her.
Her eyes met his, their usual sharpness now softened by the strange, lingering magic that swirled through her. There was a quiet moment between them, one that felt far too heavy for the situation at hand. Loki’s gaze lingered on her—on the way the water clung to her skin, tracing every line of her form, on the way her wet hair shimmered in the dim light.
For the first time, he felt something stir within him that wasn’t just idle curiosity or his usual inclination to tease. His eyes flickered downward, and a rush of warmth settled in his chest as the realization hit him like a force of nature.
She was stunning. No—more than that. She was... captivating.
It was the kind of attraction that came suddenly, like the snap of a string. He didn’t want to admit it, especially not to himself, but there it was. The light clinging to her skin, the way her body moved through the water, the delicate way her robe shifted, revealing more than it concealed—it was impossible to ignore.
Loki swallowed, his pulse quickening before he could rein in his thoughts. Focus, he told himself, but it was harder than usual.
His mind raced as he forced a casual smirk on his face, his usual playful tone returning. “Well, that was... certainly a display. You might want to be careful about who—or what—you attract next time.” His gaze flicked over her, lingering just a second longer than he intended, before he shifted back to his usual playful teasing.
He wasn’t sure if he was still speaking about the magic or the effect she had on him. Maybe both.
She stared at him, her expression unreadable, still trying to compose herself, but the moment of vulnerability—the way her eyes still held that same faint, ethereal glow—stuck with him. It was difficult to keep his mind from drifting back to the image of her, glowing like some otherworldly being.
Loki scoffed softly to himself, shaking off the sudden jolt of desire that had swept through him. He was Loki, after all. He was in control. But as he turned away, he couldn’t deny that something had shifted in his perception of her. Whatever power she had, whatever strange magic clung to her, it was only amplifying the attraction he hadn’t quite wanted to acknowledge.
It was a dangerous thought, one he didn’t dare explore too deeply just yet.
Her voice, though still shaken from the strange encounter, snapped him from his thoughts. “What just happened?”
Loki took a slow step closer, eyeing her with a mix of amusement and skepticism. “It seems like you just had a little chat with whatever that thing was,” he said, gesturing vaguely to her glowing form. “Seems like it didn’t do you any lasting harm, but you’ve certainly made an impression. Whatever power that was, it’s definitely tied to you now.”
He crossed his arms, his mind already working through the possibilities, analyzing every detail. His gaze lingered on her a little longer than he intended, noting how the glow still radiated from her skin, subtle but undeniable.
She shook her head, trying to regain some semblance of control. “That’s not exactly comforting, you know.”
“Not my problem,” Loki quipped, his lips curling into a teasing smirk. “But I will admit, it’s an interesting little magic show you’ve got going on. I’m curious what comes next.”
Her eyes flickered with frustration, but she took a breath, regaining her composure as best she could. “I don’t know how many times I’m going to say it, but it seems it’s never enough: I didn’t sign up for this.”
Loki shrugged, his smirk widening. “Oh, I think you did. At least you served for the entertainment.” He crouched near the edge of the pool, looking at her with a mischievous glint in his eye. “But I’d say you passed. Whatever that creature was, it seems to have accepted you.”
There was no immediate danger—just a strange, powerful magic coursing through her—but Loki’s mind spun with questions. And if he was being honest, there was something about her now, something different that made her undeniably more intriguing than before. He wasn't sure if it was the magic or her new... presence, but he couldn’t look away.
She wiped a droplet of water from her chin, her eyes still narrowed, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. She didn’t appreciate being mocked, especially when she'd already gone through whatever strange ordeal had just occurred. But Loki, of course, couldn’t resist taunting her.
"Yeah, real funny, Loki," she replied, rolling her eyes. "I’m sure you're quite entertained by this, aren’t you?"
Loki’s grin widened, the gleam of mischief in his eyes unmistakable. "I’m simply admiring the show," he teased. "You know I’m an amateur of the fine arts. I barely get to witness such dramatic performances these days."
She stood there in the water, trying to reign in her frustration, a slow smile tugging at the corners of her lips. He was so confident—so smug—like he didn’t have a care in the world. She had a feeling he wasn’t quite expecting what was coming next.
"You do love a show, don’t you, Loki?" she said sweetly as she stepped closer to the edge of the pool, her posture shifting in a way that was almost predatory. 
Loki, caught off guard by the tone of her voice, tilted his head, arching an eyebrow. He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze flicking over her with the same playful smirk. There was something about the way she moved—too graceful, too calculated—that gave him a sense of unease, but he couldn’t quite place why. His curiosity only deepened. She was as unpredictable as always, and that made her endlessly fascinating.
She braced herself on the edge, pushing herself up with a fluid motion, lifting her body out of the water slightly. Her eyes met his, and she leaned forward just enough for their faces to be mere inches apart. The air between them was charged, and she couldn't resist the chance to tease him back.
"You should really try it for yourself. It’s quite refreshing, being all… dripping wet," she murmured, her voice low and sultry, her lips barely brushing his as she spoke.
She tilted her head just slightly, allowing the water droplets on her skin to catch the light as she took another step closer. Her robe, still clinging to her form, glistened with water, and the ethereal glow clung to her skin like a second layer. Her eyes glinted with something so peculiar, and the slightest smile curved her lips. The air between them shifted, charged with tension, and Loki’s smirk faltered for a brief moment as she leaned forward just enough to invade his personal space.
"Hmm, I think you have," she teased, her voice low and enticing, drawing him in closer. She raised herself a little higher, leaning just that bit more, her lips almost too close to his. "Maybe you even like it. Maybe you like watching me struggle helplessly..."
For a moment, Loki forgot the situation entirely. His gaze drifted downward to her lips, and he barely noticed the slight shift in her posture. She was so close now that his heartbeat was racing, his body nearly responding before his mind had a chance to react. It was that subtle, but enough to get Loki utterly captivated. She had ensnared him with a soft look, a playful gesture, and it was all too easy to get lost in her presence.
He wasn’t sure what was happening, but she was so close now—close enough that he could feel the warmth of her breath, her scent all around him. Her lips were mere inches from his, and for a fleeting moment, he wondered if she was actually going to kiss him. Without thinking, his gaze flicked up to meet hers, and her eyes sparkled with a knowing gleam, as if she’d caught him.  She could see the effect she was having on him—how his usual sharp gaze had softened, how the mischievous glint in his eyes had been replaced with something distracted, almost dazed.
"But maybe you don’t mind being part of it every now and then."
Loki's eyes widened as he snapped out of his trance, a sensation of weightlessness overtaking him in a split second. "Wait, what—"
Without warning, she grabbed him by the arm, her grip surprisingly firm, and yanked him toward her. With a sudden, swift motion, she pulled him into the pool with her, his startled yelp cutting through the air as the water splashed around them. He stumbled in the wetness, head first.
“How’s the water temperature?” [Y/N] now sat perched on the edge of the pool, smirking, the faint glow still clinging to her skin like a siren’s call. She casually flicked a few damp strands of hair from her face, her eyes twinkling with amusement.
Loki gasped and blinked, dripping water from his hair as he pushed himself up from the surface, wide-eyed and dripping wet. "You—" he sputtered, glaring at her in disbelief. "You tricked me!"
She tilted her head to the side, her smile widening. "Oh, I think you tricked yourself," she teased. "You were too busy being entertained to notice what was going on right in front of you. I must say, I now understand your point; truly a sight for sore eyes."
Loki shot her a glare, but the heat that had flooded his chest earlier was still there—this time, it wasn’t just irritation. His pride had taken a hit, but there was something else too. A burning sentiment that he desperately tried to repress now more than ever, should he let his impulses rise and take over to provoke something regrettable.
"You’re lucky I’m feeling generous," he muttered under his breath, but his gaze lingered on her just a moment too long.
She chuckled, her eyes dark with amusement. "Maybe you should pay attention next time," she said casually, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. "You can’t keep mocking me and not expect a little retaliation. But for now, I’d say that’s a win for me, don’t you think?"
Loki didn’t respond right away, his mind already racing with plans for payback. But as he stood up in the water, still dripping wet and irritated, he couldn't deny the stirrings of something else—something that was entirely more complicated than just his usual urge to tease her back. The whole encounter had left him... flustered, unsettled, and, if he was being honest, curious in a way he hadn’t expected.
As he clambered out of the pool, water dripping from his clothes, he realized that this little game between them was far from over. And next time, he was going to make sure she regretted it.
"Enjoy it while you can," Loki muttered darkly, locking his murderous gaze onto hers.
She simply grinned, her eyes sparkling with that same mischievous light that had drawn him in from the start. "Oh, I sure do."
Loki, still dripping wet and clearly irritated by the prank, stands tall, his posture rigid with the lingering desire to regain control. But instead of moving to challenge her, he takes a moment, eyes narrowing, scanning her with an almost predatory intensity.
He steps closer, slow and deliberate, no longer the teasing trickster but something sharper—darker. “Your boldness is gonna lead to your imminent downfall,” His voice is low, but the air around them crackles with energy, his irritation mixing with something else.
Her grin falters for just a moment as she meets his gaze, unsure of what to make of his sudden change in demeanor. “Oh come on, I’m just having a bit of fun,” she replies, trying to keep her voice steady.
Loki’s lips twitch upwards, but it’s not a smile. More like a challenge. “You’re playing a dangerous game, and I’m starting to wonder if you even know the rules.”
She tilts her head, taking in his shift. He’s still teasing, but there’s a hint of something else in his eyes—a sort of curiosity, an intrigue he’s trying to hide behind his usual bravado. And perhaps, for the first time, she’s sensing a crack in his usually confident demeanor.
As she steps back, just a little, she can feel the weight of the moment, the tension in the space between them. Her earlier confidence begins to waver as she picks up on the way he’s looking at her, no longer merely amused but almost calculating.
"I’m not afraid of games," she says, her voice a little quieter now, with a faint edge to it.
Loki watches her for a long moment before he speaks again, his tone uncharacteristically serious. “You should be.”
Before she can react, he turns sharply, as if ending the conversation, and starts to walk away, leaving her to wonder if that’s really the end of their playful rivalry—or if it’s something else entirely, lurking behind a charade of endless banters.
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As the last echo of their footsteps in the cave's entrance faded behind them, Loki and [Y/N] stepped into the bright light outside. The sun bathed the landscape in soft golden hues, a stark contrast to the strange, eerie atmosphere they'd just left behind. But both of them were still drenched, Loki’s clothes dripping with water and [Y/N]’s posture slightly stiff from the tension of the ordeal.
They’d barely exchanged a word as they emerged, the weight of their previous interaction hanging between them. Neither of them could deny that something had shifted, something unresolved that neither was eager to discuss. Loki was lost in his thoughts, glancing sideways at [Y/N] with an unreadable expression.
But as they approached the clearing, standing against a large stone formation was none other than Frigga. Her presence was calming, and yet there was a knowing look in her eyes that immediately set both of them on edge.
“You’ve both made it out, I see,” Frigga said, her voice gentle but carrying an edge of authority. “I trust everything went well?”
Loki’s lips twitched into a wry smirk, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “As well as can be expected, Mother,” he replied, though his voice lacked its usual confidence. The last thing he wanted was a conversation about what conspired within the confines of the underground chamber, or how the whole ordeal had affected him.
Frigga’s eyes shifted to [Y/N], a soft smile curving her lips. “And you, my dear? How do you fare after all that?”
[Y/N], still processing the surreal events of the day, met Frigga’s gaze. “I’m... fine. Just a bit shaken, I think,” she said with a small, tight smile, the weight of the strange magic still lingering in her bones. “It was unexpected, to say the least.”
Frigga nodded knowingly. “Magic always has a way of testing us when we least expect it. It’s not just about strength, but about understanding oneself in the face of the unknown.” She turned back to Loki, her expression softening. “You both seem... different. Changed, perhaps. A little more than you were when you entered.”
Loki’s eyes flicked away from her, unwilling to admit anything. He didn’t like how much she could read into his silence. “We handled it,” he muttered, but it was clear to Frigga that he was brushing aside something deeper.
Her gaze softened, but there was a flicker of something serious in her eyes. “I can see that. But you seem… distracted.”
Loki’s shoulders tensed, and he tried to evade her penetrating stare with an insistent tone. “There’s nothing to tell, Mother.”
Frigga’s gaze sharpened for a moment, and she placed a hand on Loki’s arm, holding him there.  “I can see the truth in your heart.” Her voice softened, as though speaking only for him. 
Loki’s eyes flitted to [Y/N], then back to his mother. He couldn’t seem to hold her gaze for long, the truth of his feelings hanging just out of reach, even from him.
Frigga, sensing his reluctance, decided to take a different approach. She raised her hand slightly, and with a simple wave of magic, she reached into Loki’s mind, transferring a glimpse of his own emotions to her. His confusion, his attraction, the pull that was impossible to ignore. She felt it all, a brief but powerful connection.
When she released him, Loki staggered slightly, blinking as though coming out of a trance. His gaze shifted uncomfortably. “You’re always meddling in my head.”
Frigga smiled gently, a knowing gleam in her eye. “It’s my job, my son. And sometimes, it’s necessary.”
Loki opened his mouth to protest, but Frigga raised a hand. “Not now, Loki. Not yet.”
He was silent for a moment, his frustration clear. “Fine. But I’m leaving.”
Frigga allowed him that moment, her expression a mixture of understanding and mild amusement. “Go, then. But I will be waiting for you when you’re ready to talk.”
Loki nodded curtly, shooting one last look at [Y/N] before turning to leave in a hurry, no doubt eager to escape whatever thoughts his mother had stirred up within him.
Frigga turned to [Y/N] with a soft smile, one that carried a quiet weight. “You’re handling this better than he is, I think.”
[Y/N] chuckled softly, feeling the weight of everything she had gone through. “I’m not so sure about that,” she said. “But... it’s certainly complicated.”
Frigga placed a hand on her shoulder as they began walking toward the throne room. “Indeed. But I have no doubt you’ll handle it well. Now, come. I believe there’s something we need to discuss regarding what happened.”
As they walked side by side, her voice rose again and took on a slightly teasing tone. “Though, I must admit... you two are quite the pair. Loki doesn’t often find himself so... ruffled. It seems you’ve caught his attention in more ways than one.”
[Y/N] looked at her, surprised by the comment. “It’s not like that.”
Frigga raised an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth curling up. “Isn’t it?”
She smiled wryly, unsure of how to respond, but the playful look in Frigga’s eyes made it clear that this conversation was far from over.
And as they approached the throne room, [Y/N] couldn't help but wonder just how much Frigga truly saw.
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theoldkyokodied · 1 year ago
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This bloodweave art dump has it all: The price of devotion, the serenity of simple touches, cat to cat communication and iasip redraws with slightly altered dialogue
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wuxian-vs-wangji · 6 months ago
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Yeah... I remember seeing the architectural design majors at my uni having this breakdown each semester...
#love in the air#lita#rain#scriptwriting was the only course within my major famous for making people openly cry#because the professor would eviscerate you with her feedback#not to be mean; but she would look at the feedback you'd already been given by your classmates over and over throughout the course#and if you still hadn't fixed issues she'd really stab into them and rip you apart#she liked me though- i followed the syllabus due dates and no one else did#meaning day 1 i already had a treatment ready by the first class#and even though she told me the syllabus schedule didn't need to be followed; i chose to follow it#because it kept me a week ahead or so#So when I finished each 200+ page draft of my script I was finishing it a week early#which let me focus on other exams in other classes and manage my workload more easily#the only time scriptwriting made me cry was when i spent 6 hours typing draft 6 of a 214 page feature and my computer crashed#erased the whole thing#i'd been typing up the script based on hand notes i'd written on my previous draft so it was easy to recreate#but redoing it took 8 hours since my hands were so tired#but that wasn't the classes fault; that was my fault#i did really well in the class; you just can't take feedback personally and a lot of writers really struggle with that#i've lost so many friends because they claim to be writers who take feedback seriously#and then it turns out they're little bitches about it and throw tantrums after begging me to give them feedback#so now I will not give a friend feedback on anything they write#for the record- the way i was trained is not to be cruel or mean#you literally just go through it like 'here is what I had issues with as a viewer and here are some ideas on how to easily fix that'#always offer a solution#and for every complaint you have to give a complementt#so i'm not out there like gordon ramsey ripping into people; it's very gentle and kind#except when i gave M her round 6 feedback on her script and she STILL insisted Mt Everest was 3 billion years old in her story#AT EVERY STAGE OF THIS SCRIPT I REMINDED YOU IT IS AROUND 30 MILLION YEARS OLD GET IT THROUGH YOUR-
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ranvwoop · 5 days ago
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i try to avoid my acc being Just vntposting . in this world. but man is it going
#vwoop.noises#rest of tags is a lil heavy one#I am just so like. baseline unhappy with my life#and i can't be distracted all the time because like A) I have to be a person and B) World Cannot Revolve Around Me#and even a bit of those distractions have been Also caked in misery bc i am. difficult#so like what even is the point#And then. school .#did not go to my exams. my parents are mad and sayign i can't take a semester off because this was my write off and its like. NO. NOT REALL#they do not care how much of a mental breakdown i have visibly because they do not believe anything I have Not had any sort of rest .#and also like. they have their own problems. but one of these problems is telling me i wouldn't Really act like this#bc. and i really do like. wish that ppl would get help but we've tried but. over the last couple years my mom has believed that things#have been replaced / altered. and constantly brings up like. Oh yr dad NEVER ate pizza before :/ / you would've never said that / etc#Which like. it's such a genuine mental health thing like I deeply fully understand but I've been the only one taking it on and I am like.#21yo and very useless. And Also She's Mean 2 Me Now. I don't know what to do /shrug#And that's my storey . Kind of why it's been a constant stream of negativity we are doing :heart: Bad#like a year and a half ago: haha it's okay i'll just lock in next semester#the horrors: Hello. You are never doing an assignment again#sorry for the lore drop . thx if youve read this far idc if not. it's nice to get off my chest for real.#i gotta. make something soon idk#i can pretend that it will fix me :D#i am doing okay for the record uhhh we persist or whatever. if u are concerned of my absence my other blogs r in my pinned :]#I am still chronically online believe this. this is just my original posts blog. n mncrft sometimes still#after typing this out i left it on my puter to go search for food#and i had a huge rant sesh with my brother and this did kinda fix me ngl . Still posting tho.
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forgotten-daydreamer · 6 months ago
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Took twice the max dose of melatonin before the final revision for tomorrow’s exam, I’m shitting my pants and I genuinely don’t know anything as thoroughly as I should but if I sleep less than 4 hrs before it I just know I’m gonna do even worse somehow
#don’t take twice the max dose of anything btw#genuinely don’t do the shit that I do#i only did it bc I know my limits and haven’t had any other substances in over 24 hrs but don’t ever try it#always talk to your gp before taking any meds and supplements at all#anyway psa aside#I want to revise for two hrs so until 1.30am circa but I genuinely hope I pass out sometime in the next hours and a half#godspeed ig#uni#melatonin#I have super high expectations but I genuinely prepared this exam in like 4 days and my brain has been all over the place#haven’t had the chance (economic too so please please consider sparing a couple of bucks for my ko-fi?) to meet my therapist in 2 weeks#been super suicidal super busy dealing with stuff and people and my family and uni and ah oh how I wish I had a brain able to focus#also the ‘visions of horror’ as I call them have lowkey turned into auditory hallucinations that never stop and it’s… tough#genuinely so tired of everything in general#I’d promised to hang with my uni friends after the exam bc I should be done my midday tops but I know im gonna be super sad and underwhelme#so I hope I can be at home by 4 pm tops with one excuse or the other#I love them all so much but I need a break. also bc I got another exam in less than a fucking week and I still haven’t started studying for#it because it’s objectively easier than tomorrow’s and because when was I supposed to study for it#I spent 3 good days working on a paper that isn’t even mine for a subject I don’t even take#a favor for a friend which turned into 3 more friends asking me if I could help them with theirs#and you know me#I never say no. unfortunately. but also I’m super glad they want my help bc they know I can write at least (one good thing)#but. that’s still -3 days available#then. the demons#wasted so many hours just pacing and biting my nails raw and being pathetic#so yeah. in a little under 15 hrs I want to be in bed again. resting until the 19th when the cycle will begin anew#also math ain’t mathing. my exam is in 12 hrs only now 13.
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szczylpierdolony · 2 years ago
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they should invent a suicide that doesnt inconvenience ppl around you
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warriorprincesstramp · 2 years ago
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oh I love feeling somewhat hopeful and excited about academia again :( I just have to get through this hellish year and then next year should be so much better. KNOCK ON WOOD.
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girlivealwaysbean · 4 days ago
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wow when i think about it maybe this year wasn't that bad
#i mean yes it was one of the worst definitely i kept falling down and down and down and i def hit rock bottom#highest weight of my life 'pcod' 'pre diabetes' ugh that was the worst#and the generally not studying#but but but. im going to list all the good things because it made me feel so weirdly happy that wow this happened to me#let's go chronologically#1. pretty awesome birthday got a gift from my then bestf which made me feel so seen and so understood#for the first time in life to the extent that i couldn't believe that paying attention to me and loving me so much was even possible#2. discovered i def like guys too and him writing on a tissue to me hbd and me giving him that letter which was almost like a love letter#that was so brave and vulnerable of me i can't believe i did that im proud of myself#3. learning thru an admittedly bad experience that there is no timeline for life and experiences and i definitely do not need#to have like sex and stuff to be cool and fit in its okay to wait for the right person it doesn't make me a loser#because at the end of the day i have to live with it i can sleep with someone just because i hate the feeling of being 21 and feeling#like im behind everyone but then that would be disrespectful to myself and i deserve better#4. that brief period of 15 days when i was almost friends with this girl from office and even tho she left i still remember resting my head#on her shoulders and feeling safe after so long#5. getting drunk with my bestie that was pretty awesome i shouldn't say this but it was such a good year for us cause she broke up with her#bf so whenever we met we would just play music and dance to sabrina#6. getting drunk with my SISTER and clubbing with her fuck that was pretty awesome i love her and i love her guy friend and i really hope#he succeeds in pata ing her and he becomes my future jiju#7. passinv this exam. i honestly didn't think i had it in me to get this degree and it's still hard to believe but i do feel motivated to#try now. i worked hard i sincerely studied which i hadn't done in like 2 years and it really feels like god#said yeah beta you take this win and keep getting better okay?#so much bad happened too ive now lost everyone except my family and my one irl bestf but i still feel hopeful. i hope it will be ok 2025
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learnandturn · 8 months ago
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I was punched and pepper sprayed by cops that my university administration set on student protesters yesterday. Including once where a cop ripped my mask off my face, grabbed my jaw, and sprayed pepper sprayed straight into my mouth. The university sent out an alert in the middle of our protest canceling classes for the rest of the day, only citing “adverse conditions”. After protesters dispersed under threat of even more violence and three buses of riot police from all over the state with rubber bullets and bully sticks parked in front of one our school’s famous landmarks. I staggered over to a couple of friends who were watching on the sidelines. They gave me water and an apple and held a bag of ice on my very pepper spray irritated face. As they were walking me back to my dorm we ran into one of their roommates. She had taken cancelled classes as an opportunity to get crumbl cookie with her friends. Standing in front of her, happy in a floral blouse with her box of cookies, in my pepper spray and water soaked tshirt, keffiyeh sadly hanging off my shoulder, holding an ice pack to my mouth, felt like a slap in the face.
After putting my pepper spray soaked clothes, shoes, and keffiyeh in a plastic bag and taking an extraordinarily painful shower, a friend and I went for dinner just off campus. There we had a pot of green tea and ramen to soothe pepper sprayed throats. We got ice cream after (shared a cup with chocolate and raspberry pomegranate with strawberry pieces on top, it was very good). From our spot outside the ice cream place we watched a steady stream of groups of sorority girls in matching jeans shorts and blue bikini tops walking back to their apartments after some apparently raucous parties. The cognitive dissonance was insane. I really felt a little like I was going crazy.
Even this morning, waking up to the smeared sharpie of the National Lawyer’s Guild’s phone number on my arm, a black and blue chest from where a grown man straight up clocked me while I was held up by two other protesters in a wall, and a still sore throat and eyes from the pepper spray, life goes on like normal. I still have final papers to write and a math exam to review for.
I’m not sure I really have a point. But, this feeling only makes me want to fight harder for a free Palestine. So, fuck Israel for being an apartheid state and all of their crimes over the last 76 years. Fuck university administration for not disclosing their level of investment in Israel. Fuck university administration for not divesting from this genocide. Fuck Joe Biden for actively supporting this genocide. And fuck the police.
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amoeganism · 4 months ago
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PROJECT PARTER HCS (he wants you so bad) haikyuu
ft: aran, kita, atsumu, osamu, suna
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ATSUMU:
HES TRYING!!! but is it successful? (no)
literally cannot shut up the entire time you two meet up but it's ok because he's funny
"hey you wanna see pictures of my teammates" "yeah sure" he pulls out a blurry .5 of suna's nostrils
offers you protein bars and osamus leftovers as snacks
compliments you on literally everything
you wrote two words? he starts cheering and clapping his hands like you're shakespeare presenting a new play
loves pretending to be your strict teacher whenever commenting on your work
makes up for his lack of preparation by making you laugh and flustered
"i think you can add a little more to this part" "you look so sexy calling me dumb"
if you two meet up at a cafe he ALWAYS!!! pays for you
started off as a mistake because he asked you for your order in front of the barista
but he thought for a moment and decided you're worth an extra $5 out of his wallet
always loses his pencils but has dozens of erasers?????
SWEARS by wooden pencils. he sees a mechanical pencil and jumps 5 feet into the air and starts screaming
last few days of the project he looks constipated every time you two are together
"do you need a diaper" "I WANT YOU"
you accept his confession because you unfortunately like him back and because you want a good grade
also because you don't want him pooping his pants
ARAN:
the sweetest!!
always asks how you're doing before pulling out his notes
digital note taker 100%
loves loves loves writing with erasable pen and only uses pencils for exams
is a "let's work on everything together" kinds guy
he says it's to make sure there aren't any disagreements in content and aesthetic (he just wants to talk to you)
if you guys aren't at your house, always offers to walk you back!!!
great academically but if you're making a poster or slideshow do NOT let him decorate it... pls watch out
"does this look good!" "i'm gonna hold your hand when i tell you this..." "omg you want to hold my hand 😍"
starts giggling to himself in his head whenever you guys accidentally touch
you catch him staring at you one day and you don't know what to say so you just stare back
he thinks its so romantic
you're just confused but go along with it
after presentations you think you guys are gonna go back to being friendly classmates but he finds you after class and asks you out :)
KITA:
ACADEMIC WEAPON TEACHERS FAV EVERYONE LOVES HIM
"do you want to read my notes?" he pulls out 5 notebooks with everything color coordinated, sticky tabs, perfect handwriting, and factually correct
he can sit and work for 5 hours straight and still somehow have perfect posture
first time you asked him for help on something you were about to piss yourself because you thought he would call you stupid and send you to hell
he gave you a small smile and started walking you through it with an unmatched level of patience
that was the moment you folded and had to physically restrain yourself from grabbing his cheeks and kissing his face
always offers you tea when you come over and brings out a small tray of snacks
"are you comfortable? do you need any help?"
is suuuuper meticulous but kind with his 739273 different corrections
he swears by the sandwich method of compliment-critique-compliment
"your analysis is amazing in this section but i think you can expand a little bit after because..."
you're the one who confessed first because you thought you would explode from cuteness aggression if you didn't
and also because you thought even if he did reject you, he'd do it in the most painless way
was super happy and bursted into a bright red face but shy smile!!
still told you to go back to the assignment though...
SUNA:
menace i hate him (no i don't)
literally doesn't understand anything that's going on and probably doesn't process what you're saying at first
realizes you're serious about this assignment and forces himself to lock in
asks a BUNCH of questions and jots them down on a google doc
loves to make random conversation when you two are working
actually insane gossiper
nosiest birch you know
allergic to minding his own business that mf has shit on everyone
are you slightly scared of what he has on you? yes. do you still want to hear everything he knows? yes
"i'm taking this info from page 175 of the textbook" "got it, but did you hear that kato is trying to get with his exs best friend??"
leaves notes on your project that are both unserious and encouraging
"omg u are literally einstein"
folds origami when bored
will give you paper cranes, frogs, foxes, and cats whenever you see each other
you discovered that there's small doodles in the posts it's he uses to make them
one day there's your name and his surrounded by hearts like the corny mf he is
confronted him and it and he was just like "oh you found that? well, do you want to go out with me?"
he was NOT SLICK with the way he skipped home and whistled to himself that day after you said yes
OSAMU:
HES TRYING HIS BEST!!! (pt. 2)
can only meet up after school because of volleyball so he offers to cook for you before starting to work
takes notes in class but doesn't understand half the stuff he jots down
writes actual bullshit but half a page in decides to abandon his pride and ask you for help
leans in a little too close whenever listening to what you're saying
tries to make sure your knees are touching and that it's all an accident when your fingers brush (he prepared each scenario in his head before sleeping the night before)
down bad LOSER
spends his time doing his portion of the project while sneaking glances at you
doesn't know how to decorate presentations for the life of him so he is on doodle duty
gives surprisingly good suggestions and takes your corrections to heart
one of the best project partners because of how willing he is to learn and contribute!!! (also because he wants to impress you)
talks shit about his brother to you
atsumu has walked in while osamu was telling you an embarrassing story
they start fighting
osamu gets super embarrassed when you laugh at him
then gets overly confident when you tell him you were rooting for him
will not stop dumb smiling whenever he sees you after that
asks you out after the project is turned in with his hands in his pockets with how they're shaking so much
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parfaitblogs · 4 months ago
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guess ❀ s. reid x reader
in which spencer really likes changing the way in which he wakes you up. 
pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: smut (18+ mdni) tags: soft dom!spencer. oral (f receiving). spencer bought the underwear r is reading (it's described). very brief nipple stuff bc i hate writing that word xoxo. healthy sex discussion midway through!! communication yippee!! desired somnophilia (it doesn't actually happen). fingering. spencer's a little shit (who's surprised). not proofread!  word count: 2.5k a/n: the lacy black pair with the little bows 💃💃 the ones i picked out for you in tokyo 💃💃💃imagining s13 spencer specifically in that episode he has his firearms exam. u know the one mhm mhm! 
You were indescribably pretty, in Spencer Reid's very professional opinion.
In every form. Even your sickest, most disgusting form — according to you — when you had gastroenteritis that one time after being away on holiday. You were pretty when you dressed up for a date with him or drinks with your friends. When you had just gotten out of the shower and had wet hair and were wearing your pyjamas (either being a matching set or one of his stolen t-shirts). And, his most recent obsession; while you were sleeping. 
Which might be sick in some way shape or form. How much he liked watching you while you slept. The rise and fall of your chest, the blankets bunched up and falling just below your hips — showing the skin of your legs, because the weather was warm and Spencer's apartment was always warmer. 
Yes, it probably is sick. But it's not like he did anything about it. In fact, he usually just watched you until the clock ticked to a time he deemed unreasonable to still be in bed, and he got up and went on about his day (thinking about you the entire time, of course). 
But it was a Sunday, and you had made him promise to be there when you woke up that morning; too sick of finding him out in the kitchen already showered and making food. When all you wanted was to lie in bed for — at least — an hour with him before your days began. 
Your rule was probably the only reason Spencer's mind wandered away from their usual thoughts about you in the morning. But he also wanted to blame it on the fact that your hair was freshly washed and his sheets now smelled of your shampoo, and your legs brushed against his own so many times he thought you might be awake already. 
You were just so, so pretty. And his shirt on you had risen just the right amount, your stomach peeking through, and really, Spencer should not be held accountable for any of his actions that morning. He was but a man, at the end of the day. 
Despite everything he wanted to do to you, he was still a gentleman, and this was a boundary of consent you were yet to cross together. Hence; the arm snaking around your waist, pulling you into him, and the kisses he had begun leaving along your cheek, jawline and neck, hoping to coax you awake, gently. 
Hope that had been answered, because he heard you groan quietly beneath him — the sound, embarrassingly so, shooting straight to the pit of his stomach like he was a teenager. But you were awake. 
"Good morning to you too," you had murmured, voice riddled with morning husk and a layer of exhaustion no doubt still there. 
"Morning, honey," he answered, lifting his face from your neck to your own face, lips twitching a little as you blinked your eyes open. He was quick with it, connecting his lips to yours and eliciting a quiet squeak from you, which simply had him smiling. 
"I have morning breath," you said, though both of you knew he could not care less. He never did, which was almost laughable for a man with such a big phobia of germs. 
"I'll need to brush my teeth after this too, anyways," he had replied, and your stomach flipped in the best way possible. 
"What's this?" 
"Hopefully," he began, placing one last peck to the corner of your mouth, before he shifted your bodies enough so he could trail kisses down to your peeking collarbone. "You'll like it."
"Promise?" you asked him as he hooked fingers beneath his t-shirt, eyes searching yours for approval, before he pushed it up and over your chest.
"Promise," he said with a confirming hum, trailing kisses down your sternum, before kissing back up and taking a nipple into his mouth. 
He decided he liked you like this; still waking up, too out of it to properly silence yourself the way he knew you would if you were in any fully conscious state of mind. It was arguably his least favourite trait of yours — how much you hid when all he wanted was to hear every little noise you made (a thought that shocked him too, the first time he thought it). 
But your back arched and barely functioning limbs pressed down against the mattress when you mewled, and it was beautiful and he was repeating the motion of his tongue flicking over your nipple once, then twice, just to hear it again. 
He smiled at your breathless whimper of his name when he detached his mouth, a hand dropping to your hip and rubbing gentle circles into it. 
"So impatient when you're tired," he murmured, almost scoldingly, gaze flickering up to catch your expression. Not that there was much to look at — you were watching him through half-shut eyelids, lips pulled into a content smile. He moved his head to take the other nipple into his mouth. Goosebumps rose on your skin, and so he comforted the other (now neglected) peak with his thumb. 
But, he was a man on a mission. And so despite how much he wanted to tease you, he had other, far more exciting plans for you. 
Lips kissed down your stomach, stubble scratching delicately at your skin, making you squirm and evoking a hum from Spencer, who glanced up at you with an arched brow. 
"Stubble," you explained, almost breathlessly, and his lips pulled into a smile in acknowledgement. Which was sweet. 
What wasn't sweet was the way he grasped your hips between his hands and pushed them into the mattress and said, in his (incredibly arousing) low voice, "Need you to keep still for me."
"You don't want my hips punching you in the face?" you asked. He laughed at that — it had happened one time. 
"If I can help it, no," he punctuated his sentence with his fingers squeezing your left hip, and you only hummed in response. Then, "Aren't these the ones I bought for you?"
You looked down, and his fingers were hooked under the waistband of your underwear, black bows resting on either side and flipped up on his fingers. 
"Uh... yeah. I must've put them on by mistake last night," you told him, and his eyebrows only rose. "What?"
"By mistake?" he mused, one of his hands letting go of the waistband to trace his knuckle across the top and down over the centre of them, eliciting a shudder out of your lips. 
"I haven't done laundry?" you offered your second excuse. His bewilderment only deepened and he pulled his hand away from you.
"You wanna tell me the truth?"
Damn him. "Okay, so, I was planning on trying to do something with you last night. I did an everything shower and everything," very complex sentences you were creating, clearly. "But then I fell asleep."
"I see," he said, and amusement crossed his features. 
"I wear them all the time!" you protested. "They're comfortable. Also they're really pretty. You would know if you tried to have sex with me more often."
He laughed, only because he could see the faux pout on your lips, and he knew you weren't serious. "I already have sex with you a lot."
"Twice a week isn't a lot."
"I'd argue it is," he said, placing a kiss to the inner side of your thigh — the recognition of what position you two were in whilst having this conversation being somewhat jarring, but mostly humorous. "Do you want me to have sex with you more often?"
"If I say yes, will you?"
"I'll do whatever you want me to," he answered, hair tickling your skin as he tilted his head to the side, resting it on your thigh. 
"Then yes," you breathed out. 
"Okay," he nodded his head, picking it back up to refocus on his task at hand. "Can I take this underwear that you apparently wear all the time off now?"
"Yeah."
Even in the warmth of his apartment, you shivered when he tugged the black lace down — with some resistance he no doubt expected, but still reacted to with a barely audible hiss. You smiled at that.
"So pretty," he murmured, like it was the first time he was ever seeing you. 
He met your eyes one last time, and you watched that stupidly gorgeous smile stretch across his lips, before he was leaning forwards and licking a stripe down the centre, eliciting a breathy whine from your lips. 
He was painfully good at this — a fact that popped into your head every single time he had his mouth on you. You wondered if he was simply born with the knowledge of your body already catalogued in his brain, because even the first time he ate you out, you were immobile for thirty minutes (though, he did make you come four times at once, so maybe it was that). 
"Angel," you felt a nip on your thigh, and your head snapped down, eyebrows furrowing when you met Spencer's gaze. "Focus on me."
"I am," you huffed in response.
"Really?"
In theory, yes. You were thinking about him. Just a distant, past him. 
"Am I boring you already?" 
"Maybe. You might wanna speed up," you replied, always taking the opportunity to have some form of attitude towards him. 
"I miss when you were half-asleep," he sighed, but he gave you what you wanted regardless. 
Lips attached to your clit and his tongue flicked over it, and any retort you had died on your tongue. He liked to shut you up this way, it seemed. Hands that were still holding your hips pushed you into the mattress instinctively, having premeditated the bucking of them. A whimper escaped you when he sucked, head pressing down into the pillow beneath it, and you could feel the muscles of his face move as he smiled against you. 
He always ate you out like he was starved, and if you didn't know better, you'd think he was. He was almost pathetically down bad for you when he was horny, though, and even if you were promising him pleasure, his mouth would find its way to you no matter what. Something about being a service dom or whatever. He had told you about it one time while he was knuckle deep in you, and you clearly didn't retain much in that state. 
"Oh," you breathed out when he dropped his head lower, his tongue circling your entrance, nose bumping your clit. 
You could feel his eyes on you when he flattened his tongue, watching every micro expression you made. 
Now, Spencer Reid was never smug about his knowledge. All those memories and his ability to quote just about anything at the drop of a hat and he never bragged about it. But knowing you? That he could brag about for hours and then some. Because truly, he knew you.
He knew he could make you come just like this; obscenely eating you out. In fact, it was quite easy to. But he found no fun in giving you what you were expecting. It was the only reason he was returning his lips to your clit, a hand dropping down from your hip, sliding over the skin of your thigh, before brushing through your folds, teasingly. 
"Spencer."
He repeated your name in the same whiny tone of voice as your own, mockingly so, and if you weren't so hellbent on reaching an orgasm, you probably would've kicked him.
A finger pushed into you embarrassingly easily, and you moaned, louder than you had yet that morning, which he knew. 
Indecent sounds left your lips continuously, and you eventually stopped fighting them. Much to his satisfaction, clearly, because he had curled his finger in just the right way at the same time he sucked on your clit and you were crying out and hands that had otherwise been heavy on the mattress were flying to his hair. 
You felt and heard him laugh at your reaction, only for him to do it again before you could argue. 
"Fuck, Spencer." 
"I know," he said, lifting his eyes back up to meet yours, twisting his finger and flicking his tongue over your clit. "Taste so good, angel. Could stay here for hours, you know?" You did know. He probably would, unless you had a mass protest to hold. 
"Please," you gasped out, pathetically so.
"Please what?" he mused. 
You opened your mouth to respond, but he chose that exact moment to push another finger into you, cutting any sentences you had off with a moan. 
"You've gotta use your words, sweet girl." You shot a glare at him, and he barked out a laugh. "Okay, okay. Sorry."
He was sorry, because he resumed his ministrations without so much of a delay, both fingers pushing in and out of you, filling the air with vulgar wet sounds to accompany your gasps and moans. 
You moaned his name again, and he mumbled another gentle, "Yeah?"
"Wanna come," you said.
"I know," he said, voice oh so soft, juxtaposing his every action. "Are you asking me or telling me?"
"Telling," you replied, almost huffily, and he laughed, increasing the pace of his fingers only slightly. 
"You don't wanna ask me?"
"Do I need to?"
"Maybe you should start."
"Spencer."
He laughed again, and you felt him nod his head against you. "Okay, okay. Making you come. Relax, sweet girl."
Arguably, you were the most relaxed you could possibly be. But you no longer had enough fight in you to argue, because he was rutting the tips of his fingers up against that spot inside you, and his tongue was moving faster, and you were gone; seeing stars. 
Maybe one thing he loved more than eating you out, was making you orgasm from eating you out. The way your fingers that almost always ended up in his hair scratched at his scalp, your thighs clenching around his head just enough that he had an excuse to pin them open, your voice going breathless and high-pitched. He had watched and felt it happen so many times it was burned into his memory, and yet he was still in awe of you regardless. 
Coaxing you through it and teetering on the edge of overstimulation was another bonus, because your breathless moans turned into whines and you always, always tried to escape him, and he got to remind you how much stronger he was, arms hooking under your thighs and tugging you closer. 
"Spencer," you whimpered. "No more. Please."
That was his cue to stop, and he pulled back, lips upturned in a lovesick grin as he looked up at you, face glistening. 
He pecked up your body until he had reached your face, and then he was kissing you again, regardless of the remnants of your release covering his skin. 
"Did so good. You're always so perfect for me, sweet girl," he murmured against your lips, swallowing your quiet whines. 
"Love you," you managed to mumble out, and he smiled against the cheek he was now kissing. 
"Love you too."
your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡
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yoongifis · 5 months ago
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💌 switching positions | myg
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where the boy that you’ve got wrapped around your finger works his hardest to change his position from a somewhat friends-with-benefit to an official relationship with you. [and hes not the only one who will be switching positions ;)] *if you haven’t read ‘fxck a fxckboy’ yet, i suggest to read it before reading this! or don’t :p do as you wish!*
pairing: flirty/smartass!y/n x fuckboy!yoongi
; warnings: ass grabbing, ass slapping, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, fingering, creampie, cock warming, blowjobs, handjobs breastplay, usage of sex toys, masturbation, usage of mature words, some dirty talk, jealous yoongi
; genre: smut (18+), pwp
; wc: 11k (hooooly sheeeeiiit)
a/n: SHES FINALLY HERE AAAAHH!! a little continuation of fuckboy yoongi~ hehe! very very sorry it took me so long! i had this in the drafts for a while and was slowly building it throughout the year :v now i've gotten busy bc your girl got into nursing school :') don't get me wrong though, i'll do my best to put out some writings here and there bc i do enjoy doing this :p i also wanna say thank you so much for showing so much love to the original 'fxck a fxckboy' fic!! i didn't expect it to gain that much attention, so i was pretty hyped to see a lot of people enjoying it :D i really hope you guys enjoy this one <3 it's just a little somethin' to fulfill your fuckboy yoongi needs hehehe. fair warning though, this is literally pure smut with no sort of plot (call me a horny mofo lmfaoooo). please ignore my grammatical errors :') i'll fix them at some point when i am notttt lazy ! :p
-
“Yoongi, could you quit it? I’m trying to help you study for your exam!”
The two of you were in one of your university library’s study rooms—which included a whiteboard, a table, and a couple of chairs in a somewhat small amount of space. Out of all the seats that were around the table and the free space this room has to offer, he chose to stand right behind you, hands wrapped around your waist as his head rests on the back of your shoulder as you wrote things on the whiteboard. 
He’s groaning out of boredom. 
“But isn’t this supposed to be a date?”
You snort with a chuckle, “yeah—a study date.”
You went a couple more rounds on the day you first slept with each other (and damn did he go crazy). After that, you told him you didn’t want to fuck him without being “official” because it felt like you were one of his little flings. He respected that, and really held himself back (although he does manage to sneak some kisses from you here and there to get his daily dose of you). He became eager to get you to be his girlfriend, but like you said you wanted to go on dates before you can agree.
And that’s what he did.
He’s been making everything into a date. And so far, he’s taken you on plenty.
Work on assignments together at the school library? (study) Date. 
Drive around town, enjoying the views as you guys talked? (car-ride) Date.
Watch a movie at his place with all the snacks he bought just for you? (movie night) Date. 
How about the two of you make dinner together? (cooking) Date.
It was cute. Something you’d never expected from him. Did he always have this romantic, sweet, and cheesy side to him? You could tell he is trying to keep his promise—take you on a bunch of dates till you agree to be his girlfriend. It may seem a bit too much, but due to his past history you wanted to make him wait and work hard for the ‘boyfriend title’—which he was willing to do. 
“Still a date,” he mumbles.
Yoongi’s squeezing you tightly, bringing his head to the crook of your neck, lips just slightly brushing against your skin. 
“Yoongi, you’ve got to study. They’re not going to let you graduate if you don’t pass this class. This is what you get for always skipping.”
“I just don’t understand that calculus shit. And I can’t study when you’re around.”
“You don’t even like it when I’m not around—but it somehow has to be me that has to help you with studying.”
“Exactly.”
You’re chuckling again at how cute he was. How is it that he was one of the biggest fuckboys at your school and now he’s the biggest simp for you?
“How about we make a deal?”
He hums, “I’m listening.”
“Pass the class and I’ll give you whatever you want.”
His head shoots up. “Whatever I want?” He repeats.
“And I’ll stop your suffering and agree to be your girlfriend.”
It’s like a whole switch went off in his body; he was ready to get going.
“You don’t have to tell me twice, princess,” he’s removing his hold around you, finally taking a seat with a pencil in his hand and a paper in front of him as he looks at you, “if that’s all it’s going to take for me to be your boyfriend, I’ll do it.”
Of course, Yoongi left himself with only two days to study for his final exam. It may seem like not enough time, but one thing you learned about him is that he can get really determined to do something especially if he gets some type of reward from you. 
He surprisingly locked himself in his room (according to Hoseok), and was trying to do things on his own. He also did not contact you at all that day—making that day the first time the two of you haven’t hung out or contacted each other since the day you both had that little confession session.
You didn’t want to admit it, but you were honestly missing Yoongi despite it only being a day. You’ve gotten so used to having him constantly around you that him not being right next to you felt so off. 
These feelings must’ve been bothering you so much because now you’re at the front door of his apartment with an early dinner of take-out in your hand, waiting for Hoseok to open the door.
“He’s still in his room—the doors unlocked this time which is new. I would have loved to join you guys but I promised to go out with the other boys,” he pauses. “…I did ask Yoongi to join me but he told me to ‘get lost’, so—,” he grumbles under his breath as he makes his way around you.
You laugh at him.
“No worries, Hoseok. Just go have fun.”
The two of you switch places, with his hand still on the door handle as he’s about to head out.
“I should be saying that to you guys,” he wiggles his eyebrows at you, causing you to roll your eyes.
“Yoongi’s right! Get lost already!!” You gently hit the side of his arm as he laughs at your reaction. “Don’t be so weird.”
“Who said it had to be those things? I never said that,” he laughs, but you roll your eyes at him. “Go out, watch a movie, or cook—whatever to get him up and out of his room. That guy isn’t even getting enough rest like usual and barely ate today and yesterday. I’ve literally never seen him like this before—he’s actually studying pretty hard for his exam.”
You’re thinking to yourself, giving him a little nod before he says his final goodbye and shuts the door.
God—Yoongi is really serious about this.
You knock before you enter, only to be faced with Yoongi at his desk, tons of loose paper scattered everywhere and crumpled ones on the floor. He didn’t even notice you until you said his name, his focus from the lecture playing on his laptop switched to you when he glanced over his shoulder.
“Babyy,” he mumbles lowly, a little smile on his mouth.
You’re walking towards him, expecting his eyes to stay on you but they don’t. He’s listening to whatever lecture he had on, scribbling down whatever. It kind of hurt a little. You were too used to having his attention all on you.
“Have you eaten? I brought some take out.”
All he does is shake his head, still focused on his work.
A small pout on your face appears, upset with how he was. You put the bag filled with food onto the floor, next to the drawers of his desk. You take a step closer to him, a hand immediately going to his head to run your fingers through his messy hair. You gently massage his scalp with the pads of your fingers, leaning over to take a look at his work. The only sound that could be heard between you two was the lecture that he had playing.
“Look at you, working so hard,” you broke the silence, “you literally weren’t able to be like this at the library.”
He doesn’t say anything. Just a little “uh-huh”. It was more of a little grunt in agreement. 
It bothered you that he wasn’t talking to you like usual. No hands or eyes all over you—nothing! 
You remove your hands away from him.
“Yoongi, don’t you want to relax with me for a little bit?”
It was obvious you were pouting again—you can just hear it as you spoke.
“Can’t, baby. I’m sorry,” he mumbles. He didn’t even bother to glance over at you or complain how you removed your hand from his head. 
“Not even just for a little?”
You hear him exhale, the small action enough to make your heart sink just a little.
“Baby, I’m a little busy. Go lay in my bed and rest for me over there, yeah? I’ll join you as soon as I can.”
Now that definitely hurt.
He didn’t even take a look at you again! Not one glance.
Without a word, you sat on his bed. Eventually you quietly lay down, taking your phone out to scroll through your apps even though you’d much prefer to be talking or hanging out with Yoongi. 
The silence and sound of his lecture videos and the small scratches of his pencil on his paper echos in the room.
Who would have thought you’d ever see Yoongi ignoring you or not be all over you when you’re in the same room as him?
You immediately got to thinking.
And it hit you.
You toss your phone somewhere on the bed, getting up and making your way to Yoongi. You stood next to him, watching the way he doesn’t even acknowledge your presence. He sits there silently, carefully watching his lecture. When you see the right moment, you turn his chair a bit towards you, giving you enough room to squeeze your way through and sit on his lap while facing him, wrapping your arms around his neck.
“Baby—,” he sighs, “I told you I’m busy right now. I can’t have you on me like this.”
“But babyyy I miss youuu,” you whined, “can’t I get a recharge?”
You notice him completely freeze, slowly taking in what just happened—it was the first time in forever where you didn’t call him by his name.
You mentally smirk to yourself.
Now that’s what you were waiting for. 
He swallows hard, keeping his composure. 
“Yeah?” He hums, “I have the test tomorrow and I’m trying to get a good grade on it. If I let you sit here with me, you gotta promise me that you won’t distract me. This test means a lot to me. Got that, baby?”
You tighten your hold around him, nestling your head against the side of his neck. You nod your head at his words. Not because you agree or that you’d promise to follow his conditions. It was just for the sake of his sanity.
He clears his throat, hitting the play button and grabbing his pencil to continue scribbling down notes or whatever. 
Everything was pissing you off at the moment. 
You missed his hands being all over you and the way he’d fight his way to steal another kiss from you while you’re trying to push him away because he was always greedy for more. You wanted him to be annoyingly head over heels for you while you try to be nonchalant about it. And it’s also crazy to think that it’s only been a couple days and you’re acting like this over Yoongi not showing you the same attention as usual.
You give it some time. Patiently waiting until you thought it was time to get him all riled up—and then maybe he might just pay more attention to you. But being extremely patient at this moment is a pain in the ass, and you knew you didn’t want to drag this on forever. You move around on top of his lap, trying to somewhat grind against him as you pretend to get yourself more comfortable. You move your face closer to his neck, nuzzling your head on the top of his shoulder. You softly exhale, allowing your breath to hit and tickle his neck. 
Nothing. No reaction. 
You place your soft lips against his skin, giving him very light kisses on the same spot.
He slightly tilts his neck away without a word, causing you to huff in annoyance. You immediately bring your lips to his neck again, placing slow and gentle kisses on the side of his neck that instead lead to a spot under his ear and along his jawline.
He groans, clearly enjoying your actions but conflicted with the need to resist the temptation of you.
“Baby,” is all he says, voice sharp and stern. 
You pull away, sitting up straight to face him. 
“Enough.”
You could tell on his face that he was being serious.
Well..trying to. And it was cute—which is why he wasn’t as successful with intimidating you.
You roll your eyes at him, making your way towards him to pepper his jawline with kisses.
“But I miss youu,” you mumbled against his skin, making your way to his ear.
“…and I want you so bad, babyyy.”
You hear him mumble a “fuckin’ hell” under his breath and his hands creep underneath your thighs. He’s picking you up and you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck tightly. In no time, you feel your back hit against the bed. You watch him adjust himself so that he’s eye level with you as he hovers above you. Just by the look of his dark eyes, you knew you were in for it. 
“Yoongi—,” you squeaked.
“Hm?” He hums, voice rough. 
The atmosphere around him felt different this time. It was just hard to point out what it was. Nevertheless, you brushed it off. As desperate this may sound, you were finally getting what you wanted and you’re not going to let anything get in the way. All you wanted right now was him because—fuck—you miss him. 
“Please—,” you mumble.
It felt embarrassing to be underneath him like this with his hungry eyes beaming at you—and that’s all he’s been doing for the past how many minutes that felt like an eternity. You watch his eyes flicker from your eyes and down to your lips, clearly tempted to just devour you then and there but he doesn’t. He shifts in his position, bringing his right thigh in between your legs and pressed against your crotch, giving you the opportunity to grind against him—cuz fuck, you couldn’t help it. You wanted to be touched—you needed him to do something to help you get some relief but he didn't do anything.
He watches you carefully. The way your eyes flutter shut and open slowly as you attempt to grind against his thigh, begging for him to do something.  God, you were just so fucking tempting. But he couldn’t.
Instead, he brings his head to the side of your neck, peppering a messy line of light kiss along it. He leads the trail up towards the side of your jaw, almost mimicking exactly what you were doing earlier. Once he makes it to the spot underneath the lobe of your ear he pulls away.
“What do you want, princess?” He softly speaks into your ear. 
The sound of his voice and the way his breath hits your skin already sends shivers down your spine. It was really just the effect he had on you, and he never failed to make you feel this way. Your mind was already drunk off him, words also didn’t seem to want to come out of your mouth.
He removes his thigh away from you and sits up, getting another good look at you before he lowers himself more till he becomes face-to-face with your abdomen as he lays in between your legs. He lifts up the oversized hoodie you wore, but only exposing your tummy. From there, he started to place slow and soft kisses from below your chest and leading down to underneath your belly button. These actions were making you go crazy—maybe it has been too long since you’ve been touched this way by Yoongi.
He stops giving your tummy kisses when he reaches the spot under your belly button, making you whine out a little “please”.
“Mmm?” He hums, looks up at you as he sits back up to admire you. “What baby? You want me to go further, don’t you?”
You nod at him, your eyes telling him that you need more.
He gives you a lopsided smile before bringing his head to the side of yours, his lips slightly grazing the shape of your ear.
“I don’t fuck just anyone anymore, remember? My girlfriend is the only person I ever want to fuck.” 
What a damn smart ass.
He’s already pulling away chuckling before you could wrap yourself around him to keep him on top of you.
“Whaat?!” You whined, “—but Yoongi!”
He’s laying in between your legs, arms wrapped around your hips as he nuzzles the side of his head on your tummy. You watch him get comfortable and his breathing slows. 
“Yoongi,” you gently pat his head in annoyance.
Silence.
“Yoongi, wake up,” you huff.
Nothing.
The exhaustion finally caught up to him and made this man fall asleep on you just like that.
You grumble to yourself in annoyance—a perfectly good plan gone to waste. You do your best to shove him off you (of course it took a couple tries). Once you finally got him off you, you took your needy ass home.
That was just it.
Hoseok could deal with this man when he gets home!
You honestly couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that you’re in this position right now. The Yoongi you were seeing now was a complete 180 from the one you were dealing with yesterday.
“What’s with the little outfit you have underneath your hoodie, princess? Were you already expecting me to come over?”
His smile is cheeky, the thought of you waiting for him to come home in that outfit got him smiling like crazy. 
Fuck—it  made him way too happy.
You hum, carefully picking out your words.
“I was going to film something.”
“Yeah?” His eyes widen, and his imaginary tail starts to wag. “as a congratulatory gift, huh?” 
“That… or a ‘sorry-you-failed-you’ll-get-it-next-time’ gift,” you chuckle.
He scoffs at your words.
“You thought I wouldn’t pass?”
“I mean there was a possibility, wasn’t there, Yoongi?”
He chuckles, bringing his eyes from you down to your thighs.
“You don’t get it, baby,” he hums, fingers lightly grazing down your thigh, “you told me you’d be all mine if I passed this exam.” He pauses, removing his fingers from your thigh and brings his face closer to your skin, pressing chaste kisses that lead up to your inner thigh. He gently bites down, earning a little yelp from you.
Yoongi sits up to face you eye-to-eye again, admiring the annoyed look on your cute face yet there was a slight shift in his demeanor.
“There’s no way I’d ever want to lose to a prize like that, baby. And even if I weren’t able to pass that exam, you know damn well that I’ll make sure to make you want to be mine.”
He stares at you, mentally undressing you causing him to lick his lips. The way he looked at you made you feel small, despite his eyes flickering from your eyes, down to your lips, and to your bare legs. It suddenly felt embarrassing to be wearing such an outfit under a hoodie while being in front of Yoongi. 
As if he could sense your feelings, he gets off the bed and grabs your swivel chair from your desk, placing it right in front of the end of the bed. He takes a seat, leaning back with his legs spread and arms crossed over his chest.
“Show me what you were about to film.”
“Yoongi—,” you mess with the bottom of your hoodie, pulling it down to cover yourself some more, “—you know I can’t —.”
“Show. Me.” He interrupts, words sharp. His voice was low and demanding—and you hate to admit it but it was definitely turning you on.
You swallowed hard, awkwardly clearing your throat before answering him. 
“I’m—uh—,” you croaked.
“What is it?” 
“My—um…,” you mumbled “…it’s in the drawer on your right.”
He raises an eyebrow, turning to his side to pull open the drawer of your dresser. He rummages through it without looking until he feels a particular item he can already recognize. The boy brings it out, holding it in front of him with a snicker.
“You were going to use this too?” He’s waving it around, a big smile on his face.
Your grow even more embarrassed, face flushed. You look down, avoiding his gaze as you sheepishly nod your head.
“What a treat,” he hums, “but don’t you need to prepare yourself before using your little toy?”
You lift your head up only to find him still watching you with a teasing smile. 
“Let me see how you get yourself all nice and wet, princess—then I’ll hand this over to you.”
As you’re sitting on top of your legs in a kneeling position, you bring your thighs a little closer to each other—and he immediately notices it.
He’s tipping his head upwards, giving you a signal to “go on”. 
You could just not listen to him but in all honesty, you’ve been waiting so long to become intimate with him again. And knowing him—especially from what happened the other day—he’d definitely tease the shit out of you and not give you what you want if you don’t follow his orders.
You try to brush off the nerves you were feeling, moving your legs from underneath. Your legs were spread apart, knees bent and feet on top of the bed, giving him a good view of your skimpy, sheer underwear you chose to wear today. He could already tell you were wet—just from a quick glance at your panties he’s already spotted a little wet patch.
With just your index and middle finger, you take the two digits and place them over your panties and on top of your clit, rubbing it in small and slow circles. You were already closing your eyes, throwing your head back while moaning softly. Maybe it was the effect of his presence or just him overall but you felt even more turned on than when you do this by yourself.
“Panties to the side, princess.”
You do as he says, feeling the surge embarrassment run through you, causing your face to grow hot and red. You continue to slowly rub your wet clit, with your head turned to the side as you whimper and moan all while avoiding him.
“Don’t avoid your pussy, baby. It needs some attention too,” he hums, “put a finger in.”
You look at him, biting down on your lip as you remove your fingers from your clit.
You hesitate a bit before slowly inserting your middle finger into your heat, pumping it in and out as you turn your head away from him to avoid his gaze. You bit down on your lip with enough pressure to leave indents, suppressing your moans from Yoongi.
“So good baby, you’re such a good girl.” He coos.
“Your pussy is just sucking your finger right in, princess,” he chucked, “making a whole mess just from one finger.”
You ignored his comments, torn between concentrating imagining that your fingers were his own or his cock that were filling up your pussy, or the fact that you wanted to hide yourself and your moans from the man in front of you. God, it’s embarrassing—to be exposed and to be playing with your most private part right in front of a man you were head over heels for. Yoongi, however, wasn’t having it. He thought this whole thing was the biggest turn on he’s ever had. You were the sexiest girl on earth to him, especially with the nice treat of you playing with yourself. 
“Nnnggh—ahh~!” You yelped, quickly looking down to see the man in between your legs, eyes dark as he lapped up your overflowing essence. Your movements stutter, and he takes that as an opportunity to move your hand away and replace it with his, making you a bit noisier than before. He pulls his face away, thumb playing with your clit as he keeps eye contact with you.
“There we go, baby. Don’t hide that pretty face from me,” he smirks. It was easy for him to read you—he already knew that you would try to avoid his gaze. He’s tossing your pink dildo on the bed, removing his hand from your clit. He places each hand on the back of your thigh of each leg, pressing your legs against the sides of your chest and nearly folding you in half. This position was one of his favorites—he was always able to see everything while he ate you out.
He keeps a tight hold on your legs, making sure they stay in place. He switches from using a flat tongue while moving his head side to side to using just the tip of his tongue to stimulate your sensitive and erect clit before sucking it—completely indulging in all your juices that were flowing out of you. 
“W-wait!—please!” you squealed.
He has you squirming, lifting your hips in an attempt to get it away or closer to his face. The noises he made were obscene— loud slurps, low hums. He ran his tongue up and down your slit, lapping up the essence you produced. He uses that thick piece of muscle to probe at your hole, plunging it in and out of you. He buried his face into your pussy, his tongue moving around your hole as his nose brushes against your bead, allowing him to inhale the sweetest scent of you.
He loved watching the look you had on your face—cheeks brushed red, mouth hanging open, eyebrows furrowed. It was a sexy look—and being in this position where he had a good view of your lower half and your face could almost make him cum. He removes his hold from one leg, bringing that free hand to easily slide two fingers in you as he abuses your clit with his mouth, causing you to let out a strained gasp.
“Y-yoon…gi~!” You cried.
He hums against your clit before removing himself.
“Fuck, princess—,” he curls his fingers upwards as he thrusts them into you, “—you taste so damn good.”
“Please—! Need you!”
He’s chuckling at you—thought that you looked so damn adorable that he was contemplating to tease the shit out of you or completely fuck your brains out.
“Yeah? You need my cock, huh, baby?” With his two fingers in your pussy, he uses his thumb to rub your clit, causing you to clench around him. He becomes more aggressive with his thrusting of his fingers.
“Hhhnnghh—!” You squeak, feeling yourself about to reach your high. You’re gripping onto the sheets, arching your back. Right there—it was right there. You could feel the way he was trying to get you to release. But once you almost felt that wave of pleasure, it was quickly taken away from you. Your legs shake and you clench around nothing.
“You owe me a show, princess,” the man hums, bringing the wet digits to his mouth. He spreads his two fingers apart, making a v-shape as he takes his tongue and licks around his fingers—the slick, sticky essence coating them— all while making sure to maintain eye contact with you.
“Yooonggii—,” you whined with a pout, bringing your legs together to rub your thighs against each other to feel something. “Was almost there, Yoongi~,” you mumble with a pout, innocent eyes glistening at him. 
He’s standing up as you spoke, chuckling at how desperate you looked. 
“God, you’re fucking cute.”
It was clear to him how badly you wanted him to continue. But he had to hold himself back because he just had to play around with you. The man reaches over the bed to grab the sex toy he tossed earlier, holding up to show it to you.
“I got you all ready for this, baby. Show me how you use it.”
You look at him with a flushed face, lips pouting at the fact he wasn’t going to continue what he was doing earlier. It was annoying—stopping you from cumming just because he wants to see you ride your dildo. You were hoping the pleading look on your face would change his mind—make him want to continue, but he doesn’t budge. You slightly roll your eyes at him, reposition yourself to sit up in front of him on your knees again. 
He smirks, satisfied with how well you’re listening to him even though he can see right through you. Yoongi gently tosses the dildo in front of you before taking a seat. You took the toy into your hands, holding it as if it was a foreign object to you. 
“Go on, baby.” He hums, keeping his eyes on you. He looked relaxed; slightly slouched against the chair with his legs manspreading. 
You huff, mustering up the courage and to mentally preparing yourself to do such a lewd act in front of him (even though the two of you have already slept with each other and seen one another naked and whatnot…). You lift yourself up, standing on your knees with them slightly spread apart. You hold the bottom of your hoodie underneath your chin, which exposes just your tummy, while you try to position the toy underneath you. You bring your panties to the side to expose yourself, brushing just the tip against your slit which makes you clench around nothing. You  slowly sink down once you feel yourself wrap around the tip. 
“Haaa~,” you gasp, tilting your head back as you sink down even further. You’re a whimpering, mumbling mess when you have it completely in you—and fuck has it been a long time since you’ve actually used it or been fucked by Yoongi. You allow yourself to get yourself adjusted.
He focuses on how your face scrunches up and how your mouth hangs open, since you’ve let go of the bottom part of your hoodie and is now covering where all the action was. 
You missed this feeling of being full that it was making you go crazy. You wanted to stay like this, but for some reason you felt like wanting to move. You lift your hips up in an attempt to have the toy just barely in you, but it doesn’t slide out of you so you sit down again.
“Your pussy isn’t letting it go, princess. You’re gripping it so tightly,” he chuckles, leaning forward so that he’s closer to you and the bed. “I’ll hold it for you, baby.”
You nod, lifting your legs up as you try to relax yourself, letting your dildo slide out and onto the bed. You stood there on your knees, waiting for him to do something.
He brings his hand to the bottom of your hoodie.
“Hold this up with your mouth for me, baby. Make sure this part is the part you’re holding with your mouth”
You look at him a bit weird, not fully understanding his specific request but you do it anyway. You bring the fabric up to your mouth, now completely revealing your lingerie to him.
Ah…What a smartass.
He notices you roll your eyes at him, making him chuckle. He takes the sex toy and holds it with the base in his palm.
“Alright, baby. Go at it.” He’s positioned the dildo underneath you, waiting for you to get on it again. 
The two of you make eye contact as you slowly sink down again. You feel the tip of the toy brush against your wet folds, causing you to bite down on the fabric a little harder than before. 
Why are you more excited? Is it because of Yoongi? 
Fuck, you wanted him badly.
As you slowly slide yourself down on the dildo, you’re  immediately throwing your head back again, breaking eye contact but he continues to watch you. You feel yourself reach the end of it, only for you to immediately raise your hips and again to slowly start moving up and down. You find a rhythm as you bounce on the toy, your hands finding their way to massage your breasts, massaging them with the lingerie still on as your moans are slightly muffled from the fabric in your mouth. 
“Look at you playing with yourself. You look so sexy, princess. You were going to film something like this for me, right baby?” He hums, reaching over in his pocket to take out his phone. He opens up the camera app, tilting his phone upwards to get the whole view of you and starts to record you. “I'll help you and be your cameraman—look at the camera, princess.”
At first he gets a shot of all of you—you glancing down at him and the camera with a flushed face before quickly throwing your head back, hands grabbing at your own breast over the sheer fabric covering them, your hips moving on its own as you bounced up and down. He then pans the camera to your pussy swallowing up your dildo.
“Yeah, keep moving like that, baby. You’re making such a creamy mess on your dildo like a good girl. You’re gripping so hard—fuck, baby,” he groans lowly.
He watches the way all your overflowing juices were pooling at the base of the dildo and makes sure to get a good shot of it before tossing it to the side.
“Take the hoodie off, baby.”
You do as he says, tossing the fabric somewhere on the floor. He takes in the way you looked in the skimpy piece of clothing you wore underneath. 
God, you blew him away. 
You were just so. damn. beautiful. 
The white made you look heavenly—angelic, actually. And the lacey, sheer fabric that covered you wasn’t necessary at this point, but damn did it do a good job at catching his eye. The set you had on also had some frills on it, along with a little bow in the middle of your waistband and of your bra. It all suited you—it was perfectly made for you.
He literally just couldn’t take his eyes off of you.
With his free hand, he caresses the curve of your waist to the curve of your hips. He takes a finger and curls it underneath the thin waistband of your panties, following it slowly until he removes it once he reached the middle of your thigh. Yoongi brings his hand up to your chest, using his index finger and thumb to pinch your erect nipple right through the sheer fabric.
“Haaahh~,” you stutter in your movements, letting out an airy moan.
God, he needed you so bad.
He takes the hand that is holding your dildo, flicking his wrist upwards, causing you to fall forwards and pause your movements. He slides your dildo back out, only just to slam it back in and keep it at a steady pace—fucking you with your dildo as you stay still leaning over him. His free hand goes to the side of your ass, helping you stay up.
“Yoongi—!” You whine, your arms making its way to link behind the man’s neck. Your chest is nearly pressed against his face, giving him the opportunity to grab a mouthful of your breast. 
The man encases your hard nipple through the fabric in his mouth, biting down on it enough to get another moan of his name out of your mouth.
“Nnnghh~!” You squeal, pulling him closer to you. 
He then begins to suck on your nipple, toying with the metal bar that’s pierced right through it. With how sheer the fabric is, he’s practically sucking on you rather than the fabric.
Your legs begin to shake as he starts to pick up the pace with your dildo. You could feel that high again, the same feeling you felt earlier when he was eating you out like a goddamn monster.
“Yoongi!” You chant with your mouth slightly hung open, “please! Right there—!”
He’s slamming the dildo inside you, filing you all the way. He’s hitting the spot that made you roll your eyes backwards, your mouth hanging open and spewing nonsense.
He removes himself from your breast, pulling back to take a look at your face, admiring how sexy you are. God—he can’t get over you.
“Go ahead and cum for me, baby,” he mumbles lowly, “lose yourself already.”
He uses the hand on your ass to guide you on your dildo while the other hand has it sliding in and out of you. He brings his lips to your collarbone, trailing kisses towards and up your neck.
You breathe heavily, mouth hung wide open as pleasure takes over you. It almost felt like you were being fucked by him, but it was nearly enough. 
“Yoongi—yoongi!” You chant before losing yourself. You rest your head on his shoulder, listening to your heart pound crazy while you catch your breath. 
“Good job, baby, you did so good.” He kisses the side of your head, slowly removing the dildo from your pussy, earning a little whine from you.
He lets you sit down on his clothed lap, your wetness probably leaving marks on his sweats. At this point, you could most definitely feel how hard he was right now. You lift your head up and look at him with fucked out eyes. Your hands were clasped behind his neck, while his hands rested on your waist.
You grind yourself against his hard erection, hoping he gets the hint that you wanted him now instead of having you beg for it.
The corner of his mouth lifts up to a small smirk.
He’s lifting you up as he gets you both off the bed. He’s turning around, gently bringing you down on top of the bed.
“Lie down for me, baby,” his voice low.
He gets a view of you again in your sexy lingerie. Yes, this fucking sexy ass lingerie—god, all the mental photos he has of you will definitely be on repeat in his mind. He didn’t want to remove it. I mean—it would be a waste if he had to. Just the look of you in such a pretty yet skimpy outfit made him go crazy. 
You attempt to be quick with closing your legs again, keeping some modesty. However, he was able to beat you by bringing his hands on either of your legs and pushing them slightly down to keep you wide open for him.
“So pretty,” he mumbles under his breath as he salivates at the look of your body. You grew embarrassed again, having the urge to shut your legs to cover you up but Yoongi was too strong for you.
“Can you tell me what you want next, baby?”
You already knew he was going to tease you—actually he probably just wanted to hear those words come right out of your mouth. It would be music to his ears.
“Yoongi, please…,” you mumble, “don’t you want to fuck me?” You give him the most innocent doe eyes that you could, hoping he could lose himself already.
He chuckles.
“Of course, princess,” he brings himself closer to you, taking his painful erection and grinds himself against your slick, teasing your little hole. “You want me to fuck you like this? With my clothes on? It’s making such a mess on my pants, baby.”
You bite down on your bottom lip, shaking your head no. You wanted more, and you know that he knows that already.
“Thought so,” he hums. “Be specific, baby. Tell me what you want me to do.”
You hesitate a bit, but his teasing was enough to make you more upfront with what you wanted.
“Take your clothes off too, Yoongi.”
“Mmm…were you feeling alone?”
“Extremely, Yoongi”
He chuckles as he removes every piece of his clothing from his body, tossing it wherever in the room.
“Can’t let my baby feel that way,” he hums.
Your eyes go from his to below his waist, watching him slowly remove his boxers and revealing his cock. It was thick and long, an angry red at the tip with a bit of precum oozing out. 
Your hand gravitates towards it, holding it by the base and squeezing it a little. You completely forgot how big and girthy he was. As you slide your hand up and down his cock, you got him lowly groaning while you thought to yourself about whether or not this thing could fit in you again. But fuck—you wanted him so bad. 
“…please Yoongi,” you remove your hand from his cock, looking up at him, “fuck me already.”
He’s smiling, bringing his cock closer to your core. He takes his thumb to push his cock on top of your slit, and keeps it there. He slides himself back and forth, coating himself with your slick, teasing you as he rubs the tip of his cock against your clit.
You let out a little whine from his touch. 
“Want your cock inside me, Yoongi,” you mumble.
He’s leaning forward to press a chaste kiss on your forehead, his facing hovering yours.
“It’s all yours, baby.”
He’s leans in again to steal a passionate kiss from you, while he slowly pushes his cock inside your soaked hole. You slightly pull away from him, your mouth hanging open, spewing out soft moans as he fills you up. 
He gives you the chance to get used to him being inside you. And fuck, did he miss your fucking pussy. 
He pulls his hips back, letting you miss the feeling of him filling you up before he slams himself right back into you again.
“Haaah~! Yoongi!” You say breathlessly. Your hands crawl to hold the sides of his face, as he continues to leave a trail of scattered kisses from the side of your neck and down to your chest. He’s pulling the cup of your bra down, exposing you before he latches on to your pierced nipple. 
He starts to pick up the pace as he thrusts into you; finally leaving your breasts alone with hickies that mark you as his. He stands straight to look down at you, watching you writhing underneath him. He pulls the other cup to your bra to expose the other perky and pierced breast. His eyes mesmerized by the face you were making as you were getting fucked by him, your tight pussy sucking him right up, and your tits bouncing everywhere—god it felt like they made him even harder.
“Fucking gorgeous,” he grunts as he thrusts into you, “you’re all mine, huh?”
You let out little more whimpers and moans, unable to make out any sentences. He chuckles, wanting to see you lose more of yourself. He lifts your leg and puts it over your shoulder, wanting to penetrate you even deeper. He takes his right thumb and gives it a quick lick with his tongue before placing it right on your clit, rubbing it in circles.
“Nnnggh—ah! Yoongi!” You yelp.
“My pretty girl. You take me in so well, huh?”
He watches you let out louder moan, realizing that his cock grazed your most sensitive spot.
He’s snapping his hips hard against you. He lifts his knee up to place it on the bed, angling himself so that he could continuously hit that spot that had you rolling your eyes back. He presses down on your clit harder, torturing it with quick and small tracings of a circle.
You’re mumbling nonsense, spewing out whatever came out of your mouth. He could feel you tightening around him, making him let out another groan.
He looks down at the area where you two were connected, admiring the creamy mess you were making on his dick. His eyes wander upwards to your heavenly body. Then up to your cute face, making all kinds of sounds as he pounded you—God, he’s actually going insane, he was grunting with every thrust. 
“W-wait! Haahnngh~! Yoongi!” You bring a hand to his abdomen, weakly trying to push him away as he’s drilling himself inside of you. 
“Please!” You whined, “s-something’s coming out!” 
A soft smile slowly forms on the man’s face as he watches yours—mouth hung open, nonsense whining. You were writhing underneath him, trying to get away from him but he wouldn’t let you. He presses a soft kiss on your forehead before putting more strength into his thrusts.
“Yoongi!” You yelped, letting out helpless whines as you can feel yourself about to reach your high. 
Your hands wrap around his back, your sharp nails scratching him enough to show red lines and possibly make him bleed. 
He gives a final thrust, causing you to squirt all over his pelvis area and onto the bed when he removes himself from your hole.
“Fuck…,” he grumbles under his breath.
He watches your chest move up and down, eyes closed as you’re still trying to recover from what just happened.
“You made a fucking mess, baby. You squirted all over me.”
Your eyes shot open, propping yourself up with your elbows to look down at what you did.
“I just…?” You lay yourself down again, covering your eyes in humiliation. It’s the first time you’ve done that before. “Yoongi—this is so embarrassing,” you whined.
“Embarrassing?” He’s leaning forward to kiss the back of your hands before gently removing them away from your face, eyes now on him. “That was sexy as fuck, baby.”
He’s lifting you to sit you up before he carries you again. He sits first on the edge of the bed, placing you on his lap while facing forward. Right in front of you, you had a view of the two of your naked, sweaty bodies. Hickies scatter across your chest, your legs spread apart and glistening from you making the biggest mess. You feel your cheeks grow red from looking at yourself.
He helps remove your sheer, lace bra off. His hands roam around until they glide up and down the sides of your waist.
“Look how sexy you are, baby. So, so fucking sexy.”
He’s tapping on the side of your ass, signaling for you to lift your bottom just a bit, which you did, as he helps you remove your panties. He holds his cock up, and helps you guide your hips to it. You slowly slide down on his cock, fully taking him whole, causing you to let out a shaky moan.
“Bring your feet up, baby.”
You do it, placing one foot on either side of him and near the edge of the bed. He has his chest against your back, an arm holding your waist to keep you steady while his other hand is pushed against the bed behind him to hold him up.
“Bounce for me, princess. And keep your eyes on the mirror. Need you to see what I see when I fuck you.”
You bite down on your lip, looking at him through the mirror and he tips his head again telling you to “go on”. You slowly lift your hips up, feeling somewhat empty without his cock in you, until you drop yourself down on him. The fullness had you moaning out his name, throwing your head back in pleasure.
“I told you to watch yourself, didn’t I?”
You keep a steady pace on his cock, your eyes closed and mouth hanging open again.
“…too embarrassing—,” you moan.
He scoffs, annoyed with your response. He wanted you to see how you looked—how your body reacts when you have his cock stuffed inside of you. He wasn’t going to let that answer slide.
The man hooks his arms under the back of your knees, carrying you while he keeps himself in you. Your eyes flash open when you feel yourself in the air.
“W-wait! Yoongi!” Your hands go to your face to cover your eyes. You lay your back more against him to keep yourself from falling forward.
He’s moving you on his cock with no difficulties. He has you bouncing up and down, while you’re still trying to process what’s going on.
“Look at how much of a slut you fucking look like, princess,” his voice low and gravely. 
The contrast of his words turn you on. Peaking through your fingers, you catch a glimpse of your glistening, naked body. 
“Remove them, now.”
You swallow hard, finally facing yourself. Your eyes wander, watching the way your pussy took in your boyfriend’s cock, how you were making such a damn mess on it, the way your perky breasts bounced around while he thrusted upwards into your pussy. It was all so vulgar—a dirty scene that came out of a porno.
“Yeah, that’s it, baby. This is the view that I get—andI’m the only one who gets to have this view.”
Despite feeling slightly embarrassed about watching yourself, you couldn’t help but feel a bit more turned on. Who knew you could make such a dirty yet sexy expression?
You’re furrowing your eyebrows, mouth hung open as you whimper and moan. Your hand travels down to your lower abdomen, holding it there to feel a slight bulge whenever Yoongi pushes himself in you. It was actually insane to you to be able to feel and see this.
“Go lower, baby. Play with yourself.”
Your hand slowly inches lower, grazing your skin. You take a finger and draw small, slow circles on your clit. You watch yourself through the mirror, your eyes flickering to watch your scrunched up face to how Yoongi was pounding your pussy while you played with your swollen, sensitive bead.
“Fuck—that’s it baby. You listen so well,” he grunts. 
He adjusts his hold under you, making it more comfortable for him to slide you in and out of him while he fucks you harder underneath. He was basically doing bicep curls at this point—his muscles were nearly on fire but he couldn’t care any less.
“More pressure baby.”
You follow his commands, and you have yourself throwing your head back again as you lose yourself. Your sensitive clit makes your hips shake, causing you to squeeze tightly around him. You hear Yoongi slightly growl in your ear, going crazy because of you. 
“You’re milking my cock so hard—you want my cum that bad, huh?” His voice was gruff.
He holds you a bit lower, stopping his little bicep curls and instead continues to fuck you from underneath at a faster pace and with more forceful thrusts.
“Ngggh—ahh~!” You yelp from the change in speed.
“Don’t fucking remove your fingers. Keep playing with yourself.”
You were nearly seeing stars again. You couldn’t think straight. But you could feel that same feeling you felt earlier, and you knew you just couldn’t hold that knot in your stomach anymore.
“F—fuck! Yoongi! Ah—!” You cried, “cumming!”
“Fucking cum for me, baby. Lose yourself already.” 
He’s thrusting you with all the power he can, while his face was stuck on watching your reaction on your airbrushed slightly red face. 
Soon, he's pulling out of your slippery, wet hole. Your mouth makes an “o” shape, before crying out Yoongi’s name as you orgasm again.  Your body fluids shot out of you and coating the mirror—and you squirt again, just as he was wanting to get you to do. 
Your head falls back against his shoulder, eyes closed as you were trying to catch your breath. You could feel your hips still twitching from being so sensitive. This was something you’ve never experienced before. 
He’s kissing the side of your head, mumbling sweet words. He gently lays you back down on the bed on your back, allowing you some time to relax for a bit. You can feel the mix of his and your fluids seeping out of your hole, dripping down to your other puckered hole.
Your eyes flutter open and they couldn’t help but take a quick scan at the naked man’s body that stood in front of you. As you look lower, you can’t help but notice that his cock was still painfully hard, standing up straight with a slight curve to it.
He towers over you, watching every small movement you make. Although he was being sweet to give you some time to rest, by the look he was making you could tell he was hungrily waiting for the next round. He licks his lips as a lazy smile forms on his face as your eyes finally meet.
“Yoongi…,” you mumble. Your hand makes its way to his length, wrapping your fingers around it. Your essence still coats him, making it slippery enough for you to slowly stroke his cock. You look up at him with half-lided eyes.
He lowly groans in pleasure, throwing his head back for a second before bringing it back to look at you.
“Mmm…yes, baby?” 
“All that fucking and you’re still so hard?”
He’s laughing, an odd thing to do when someone is giving you a handjob. 
“I can’t get enough of you, baby.”
“Yeah?” You hum, slowing your movements. 
He takes his hand and wraps it around yours, helping you pump his cock before he starts to guide it to your slit. The two of you drag the tip against your wet folds.
“Looks like it’s the same for you too, baby. You’re fucking wet again.” He’s pushing himself into you again, the two of you letting go of his cock. He slowly sinks in, getting a little whimper out of you.
“All that fucking and you’re still clenching onto me so tightly, baby. You really love my cock inside you, huh?”
He’s pulling out, still keeping the tip in, before he thrusts back into you. 
“Mmmph~! F-fuck…! Yesss, Yoongi.”
He’s chuckling again, keeping his pace steady.
“Yeah?” He hums, bringing one of your legs over his shoulder. He wraps his arm around your thigh to keep it steady. Taking his free hand, he uses it to press firmly against your lower abdomen. You’re mumbling nonsense again from this new feeling of pleasure.
“God—I fucking love you,” he grunts, bringing your other leg over his shoulder. He’s leaning against you, practically folding your body in half just to reach you even deeper. This position had you rolling your eyes back, reaching for any body part of him to dig your fingernails into his skin. Yoongi would switch it up at times—from giving you fast yet shorter strokes to taking his sweet time as he pulls himself nearly all the way out just to slowly bring himself back in. However, he made it his goal to make sure every thrust was sharp enough to bruise your cervix. 
Your mouth hangs open, nothing but airy moans escaping from it with every thrust he makes. He brings his face to yours, using this opportunity to probe his tongue into your mouth. His tongue dances along with yours before he captures it in his mouth. He’s sucking on it, eliciting more moans from you but he removes himself to swallow them. You pull away to catch your breath, the knot in your stomach becoming tighter.
“Gonna…cum—,” you mumble under your breath. 
Yoongi huffs, giving you small pecks on the sides of your mouth. He really didn’t need you to let him know. He could already tell by the way your insides were clamping onto him. 
He’s quickly removing himself from you, denying your orgasm. The man watches your hips move in desperation, your hole spasming around nothing as he helps you rest your legs on the bed.
“Yoongiii—hnngh…,” you cried, voice whiney. “So mean,” you quietly mumble.
He smirks at your words.
Without any word, he rolls you onto your stomach. The man lifts your hips upwards to have your ass sticking up and spreads your legs apart. He pushes the upper portion of your body against the mattress, your arms cushion your head as you lay there. With his large hand, he presses on the small of your back, helping you with a deeper arch. 
“Beg for my cock, baby.”
You turn your head around to look back at him, shaking your head in disagreement while he has you in this position.
His left eyebrow lifts up and a dark chuckle escapes his lips.
“You were behaving so well earlier, princess.” He hums, taking his dick and running it through your wet folds to collect your arousal. “Now you want to be a brat?”
“Don’t want to beg anymore,” you mumble.
He scoffs. “So should I end it here?”
“Go ahead. I’ll find someone else who could do a better job then. They would let me cum.”
He smacks the sides of your ass, getting a yelp out of you.
“Watch your mouth.”
“Maybe I can call up this one guy—.”
He grasps the sides of your ass, spreading them apart to reveal your needy pink, dripping hole. He slowly sinks into you, causing you to let out a shaky moan. Yoongi keeps still inside of you, making sure you’re taking in all of him.
“You only need me, baby—your fucking boyfriend. I’m the only one who gets to see you this way and get you to cum.”
He can’t help but absolutely hate the sound and the thought of you with another man. It drove him crazy just hearing you mention “some other guy”.
Your eyebrows furrowed together, little moans coming out of you as being stuffed with his dick made you go dumb in the head.
“—Yoongi—ngggh—! Move!”
He lifts your hips higher, pressing the small of your back to get you to arch your back more. He leans over you, his pelvis pressed against your ass, making you feel his dick even further in you, causing you to let out a swear. He leaves gentle kisses on the back of your naked shoulder.
“Say please,” he mumbles into your skin.
“F—fuck, Yoongi!” You grumble, annoyed at his words.
He waits patiently, letting his silence and your soft whimpers fill the air. The man couldn’t care less if he had to stay in the position for hours—he loved the feeling of your soft, warm, and wet pussy pulsating around him. 
And with that, you knew you couldn’t win.
 “—Please—!” You cry out. 
“Remind me who I am again.”
“—boyfriend!” You quickly spat out, desperate for him to move already.
“You gonna be a good girl for me again?”
You’re quick to nod your head ‘yes’.
He grins at your response, happy with how easy he can get you to be submissive when you’re full of his cock.
“Now was that so hard to do, princess?”
He’s pulling out, just the tip barely in you.
“…annoying,” you mumble under your breath.
He slams himself into you again, causing you to moan out his name.
“Yeah? I’m annoying too, huh? A big mean, annoying boyfriend, right?”  His voice was low and gravelly.
He starts to find a rhythm and pace as he starts to pound your pussy. Snapping his hips to make sure his skin hits against yours as loud and as hard as he can, the noises filling the room and the skin of your ass slowly turning a shade of red.
He’s searching for your dildo that was thrown somewhere nearby. Once he finds it, he’s immediately taking it. He leans over you as he fucks you, placing the dildo in front of you. Yoongi halts his movements, removing himself from you.
“Yoongi~,” you whine, swaying your ass side to side. You push your hips back, trying to find him so you could reconnect again.
God, this view—this scenario. It’s all he could easily get used to.
“C’mon, baby you can’t be doing that to me,” he slightly groans, “you’re driving me crazy.”
“Please,” you mumble, bringing your hands behind you. You place one hand on the sides of your ass, gently spreading it apart so that Yoongi has a better view of your weeping hole. You turn your head to look back at him as you hold yourself in this position, swaying your ass side to side. “Please go crazy and fuck me already, Yoongi.”
What a fucking invite.
“Fuck,” he hissed, running his hand through his wet hair. He could feel all the blood in his body rushing to his cock, making him painfully harder. His mind went damn blank just from hearing you say that while being in such a pornographic position. 
You seriously knew how to turn him on. 
How fucking dangerous.
He’s bringing himself closer to you, rubbing his erect cock in between your ass, allowing it to slide back and forth. It gets you impatient, causing you to wiggle your ass again as he continues with his movements.
“Be a good girl and keep that dildo in your mouth while I fuck you, alright princess?” He gives the side of your ass another gentle slap as a form of encouragement.
Yoongi patiently waits for you to start bobbing your head, along with the vulgar slurping noises you obnoxiously made.
Did you really enjoy having that dildo inside your mouth when he was right behind you?
He mentally scoffs out of jealousy, knowing that he shouldn’t be feeling this way at all. 
You became louder with your muffled moans once Yoongi was inside of you again, making those dumb thoughts disappear. The view of you being filled up both way clearly made him way too hard—he was instantly fucking you at a brutal pace, almost as if he hasn’t touched you in ages.
He’s rougher this time; using one hand to gather your hair and make a makeshift ponytail just to wrap it around his hand to help you guide your head along your dildo while the other free hand is gripping the side of your ass as he fucked you from behind.
“You’re so fucking good, baby. Sucking on your dildo while I fuck you senseless, just like a pretty little slut you are.” 
His thrusts had more force to them, your skin turning redder than before. He wanted to demolish you, make you melt underneath him. All you could do was hum into your dildo in pleasure, holding onto the base for dear life. You could feel tears threatening to spill out of your eyes whenever your dildo would reach deeper in your throat, causing you to gag on it. Of course, Yoongi thought all of this was sexy. God, it was fucking sexy.
He found that one spot again that has your mind spinning. The man angles himself so that he kept hitting that spot over and over again.
You immediately pull away from your dildo, drool escaping from the sides of your mouth.
“Y-yoongi—!” You yelped, your hands let go of the dildo after you toss it to the side, now gripping onto the sheets.
He releases his grip on your hair, moving his hand to the front of your neck to pull you up and your back arched against him, changing the position again. The other hand around your waist to keep you steady.
Yoongi brings the side of his head to yours.
“Not gonna let you get away from me,” his gravely voice whispers against your ear—and god did that send tingles down your spine.
The pressure of his hand around your neck was pleasurable enough to keep you lightheaded. However that hand goes to toy with your breasts, fiddling with piercing and pinching your nipple before taking a big handful of your breast to massage it as he fucked you.
He finally brings his hand to your front, pressing his two fingers against your swollen and sensitive bead. You feel your hips twitch, unable to control your body movements. All you could feel in this moment was how hard the two of your heartbeats were and pure ecstasy. This man knew how to fuck. Scratch that—he knew how to fuck you. He’s already memorized what had you throwing your head back, what’s got you clenching so damn tightly around him, or what has you babbling nonsense just from fucking you a couple times.
“Yoon—gi! Haaah~!” You turn your head to the side and towards him. He brings his face to yours, attacking your lips again before you pull away a moaning mess.
“Fuck—you take me in so goddamn good, baby,” he grunts, “you wanna cum, huh, baby?”
You’re nodding your head, feeling yourself nearly on the brink of losing yourself again. He’s just about bruised your cervix enough and made your damn clit so swollen and sensitive to touch. You knew you were already making a mess around his dick.
He moves his hand away from your breast and around your waist again, embracing you and holding you tightly for what’s yet to come. Your arms hold onto his arm with one of your hands interlocking with his, a gesture that had him feeling like his heart grew 10x in size. He loves you. He’s way too in love with you—head over heels at this point.
If it was even possible, he’s fucking you even harder. Grunting into your ear, telling you how good you are, how damn pretty you are—how fucking perfect you are, practically made just for him. It was all enough for you to finally lose it, and it was the same for him too. He’s groaning in pleasure when he feels your pussy twitching around him. His warm cum coats the inside of your walls before it oozes out when he removes himself. You fall forward and lay against the bed with your arms weakly holding you up. He watches the mixture of your cum slowly dripping out before he takes his two fingers to push it right back in, only for it to slip out again. He’s quick to get the kleenex tissues to wipe you up, letting you have some time to  catch your breath. You’re rolling over to finally lay down on your side, watching the boy walk through the door.
“I went ahead and got the bath running, baby,” he hums, helping you sit back up. He pulls you onto his lap, pressing a gentle kiss against your temple. 
“You’re insane, Yoongi.”
“Am I?” He lazily smiles.
“I really don’t know what possessed you back there.”
He laughs, “Baby, I haven’t had a taste of you like that in so damn long. I couldn’t help it.” 
Before you knew it, he had you relaxing in the bathtub while he cleaned up the room and got it ready with new sheets and all for the two of you to get some rest. 
You could feel Yoongi’s body pressed against your back; his arm sitting across your waist and his head nuzzled against the back of your head. This was all something you had never imagined for yourself—to be lovingly cuddled like this after a long night with your now boyfriend who was an ex “fuckboy” from your school, but it’s definitely something you could get used to. 
You carefully remove yourself from his hold, quickly replacing yourself with one of your pillows. You glance over at him to see his sleeping figure one last time before leaving, and softly scoff with a smile on your face. 
This man is actually very cute when he’s sound asleep.
You quietly pick out some new clothes before tip-toeing away to your bathroom across the hall to get yourself ready for that well-deserved shower.
-
After putting on your clothes, you open the bathroom door, letting all the moisture and heat out. You take the time to gently brush your hair a little more after blow drying it, then applying some hair oil to the ends of it.
“You can’t just leave me like that and expect me to be okay with it.”
Your head quickly turns around to see the mumbling boy, squinting a half-asleep eye at you while using one of their fists to rub one of their other eye. You chuckle at his appearance—his naked torso and his boxers. He stood there in between the door frame, looking like an actual child who just woke up.
“It was just a quick shower, babe.” You turn around to the mirror and continue what you were doing. “I’ll be in the room soon.”
He grunts, making his way towards you as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you against him and lays his head on top of your shoulder.
“Yoongi~,” you whined with a soft chuckle. 
“Don’t call me that.”
“Why not?”
“It’s only allowed in bed.”
“Mm, so last night was just it, huh?”
He snorts with a chuckle at your comment, barely having enough energy to react a lot bigger.
“‘One time’ my ass. You’re stuck with me. Not letting you off that easy.”
He turns to your head and presses kisses to your hair. You bring a hand up to gently pat the side of his cheek.
“Congrats on passing the class,” you mumble, “and for finally getting that boyfriend title you’ve been wanting.”
Yoongi turns to look at you with a big smile on his face through the mirror, your hand gently caressing the side of his face. The two of you turn to each other, pressing a small kiss on the lips before pulling away.
“I know a better way you could congratulate me.”
You immediately knew exactly what he was hinting.
“You told me you’d give me whatever I want plus the boyfriend title.”
Fuck—yeah, you did promise that.
You sigh in defeat.
“…Breakfast first?” You bat your eyelashes at him, giving him that doe-eyed look that made his heart flutter like crazy.
He looks at you with so much adoration, in awe that this beautiful girl was finally his. 
-
if you got this far, thank you for the read <3 :)
i hope you enjoyed!! pls check out my other work!
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