#if he had actually given an answer that would have been the most acceptable one i think | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tojicide · 2 months ago

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FRENCH BOYS! ☆ RAFAYEL QI.

summary. when your paintings were featured in the same gallery walk as rafayel’s, he can’t help but commission you with an oddly cheeky request — ❛ paint me like one of your french boys. ❜

warnings. fem! reader, artist! reader, body appreciation, reader paints rafayel in the nude, terms of endearment, oral ( m. receiving ), tit sucking, cowgirl, p in v, unprotected but he pulls out. wc. 3.6k. portrait inspo!

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❛ Paint me like one of your French boys. ❜

You feel like you’ve read the line enough to have it engraved into your skull by now. You were still having trouble assessing whether or not the words were actually printed on the page or if you’d somehow misread them a million times over.

After all, who in their right mind would add that at the end of a memo for an art commission? Rafayel Qi, you learned. That’s exactly who.

Rafayel has heard of you in passing, of your astounding professionalism and the unique ways in which you depict your subjects. He didn’t know you personally though. In fact, he’s only ever seen you at the art exhibitions that your promoters put on for you.

And even then, you never truly gave him the time of day. Why should you? In the grand scheme of things, he’s a stranger.

Rafayel has never been the biggest fan of the unknown, which was why it surprised him that he was such a big fan of yours.

Call him crazy, but he wanted to get to know you. He’d even reached out to your studio a few times on the basis of collaborating on an art piece together, but when he was met with the generic excuse of your busy schedule preventing you from meeting with him, he was left to resort to the extreme.

He was quite familiar with the art style that you possess. He thought that your knack for figure painting made you interesting, made you admirable. Paying homage to the Renaissance period was a lost art in and of itself, and you managed to do so with nearly every single piece you created.

Now, here’s why he would absolutely understand if you called him crazy…

He would even understand if you called him self-concerned, if you called him vain—if you called him anything your heart desires, because all adjectives of the like are spectacular words to describe him… especially after he sent you that forsaken commission.

A commission that piqued your interest enough for you to accept, but a forsaken commission nonetheless. He knew that it made him look like an arrogant fool, because all things considered, who commissions a nude portrait of themself?

He tried not to dwell on it, because that was exactly how he ended up here, in your presence. Sure, he was posing nude in front of the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on, but at least you were here…

“Soooo… how’s it going?” he asks, desperately trying to fill the silence between you two that only the sound of your paintbrush scraping against the canvas interrupted.

You peek your head out from behind the canvas, catching another glimpse of him sitting on the grand throne that he had custom made just for this moment.

(He was paying good money for this, alright? If he was going to have a painting of his naked body lying around, he wanted it to depict him in his godliest form.)

“Pretty good,” you shortly answer, sweeping your tongue over your bottom lip as you paint the shadow of a particularly sharp line on his abdomen. Seriously, he was absolutely jacked. At least you had that to keep you from growing bored.

Rafayel smiles as you keep your answers to his questions brief. That’s about the third ‘pretty good’ he’s gotten out of you in the last hour, and don’t even get him started on the sheer number of ‘alright’s you’ve given him.

So, he presses on.

“Not much of a talker, are ya?” he asks, absentmindedly tilting his head to the side as he speaks, only for you to quickly lean around the canvas to look at him. “Uh oh. Am I in trouble?” he asks with just about the cheekiest grin you’ve ever seen.

You sigh. “Yes. You should really stop talking.”

Rafayel raises an eyebrow at you, his smirk still tugging on his lips. “Should I? Here I was, thinking that you were enjoying this dazzling conversation of ours.”

That earns an eye roll from you, which is about the most expression he’s gotten out of you thus far. “You’re too expressive when you speak, Rafayel. You’re a horrible subject.”

He huffs at that, knitting his eyebrows together. “Am not. You mean to tell me that this body of mine makes for a horrible subject? Tsk tsk.”

“That body of yours?” you echo with a small breath of laughter. “Please. Am I supposed to be fawning?”

Rafayel gives you a sulky expression. “Puh-lease,” he mimics you, “I have abs, okay? I’m not saying you have to do anything with that information, but if you were to fawn, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“You think quite highly of yourself,” you say, tucking behind the canvas as you stroke the paintbrush over the area that you were currently working on.

He rolls his eyes at that. “Jeez, woman. Sue a guy for being confident.”

When he’s met with your silence and the sound of your paintbrush splashing in a nearby cup of misty water, he sighs. “I’m just joking with you. I’ll—”

“Even when I give you the silent treatment,” you lean out from behind the canvas to look at him, “you still won’t stop your yapping.”

Rafayel furrows his brows, cocking his head to the side as he gives you a deadpan expression. “Lady, please. I was about to tell you that I was going to shut up from now on, but come to think of it, I don’t wanna.”

You found it ironic that your own inability to shut up is what led you to this position. You bite your tongue, shifting to sit behind the canvas again, but his voice is what reminds you that he’s still there.

“Anywho,” he continues. “You’re a hard woman to track down. What made you accept my commission?”

“Good pay,” you deadpan, though a smile curves on your lips. “And the final line of the memo you sent me.”

Rafayel is doing his best to keep his stoic demeanor, but once he finds out that his risky behavior has paid off, he’s internally celebrating. Very much so.

“Tell me,” you continue, peeking at him. “Are you even French?”

He shakes his head, the soft strands of blue hair that hang just above his eyes moving just the same. “No,” he admits. “But my tiny fib got you here, didn’t it?”

You press your lips into a line as his movement ruins the stillness of his pose, but you try not to scold him for it. “Sure it did,” you answer. “Some nerve you have.”

“The nerve,” he echoes through a soft chuckle.

However, the nerves that he’s truly concerned about right now are the ones in his cock that are very quickly waking up. He does his best to not shift around in his seat, but once you disappear behind the canvas again, he does just that.

He really hadn’t thought this through. How embarrassing. Not only is he erect, but he’s erect from purely talking to you. What a mess he is.

The bright side is that there’s a thin layer of silk fabric draped over the lower half of his body, but with the rapid swelling of his erection, he’s realizing that it’ll do very little to help him out.

“Uh…” he clears his throat. His ears are as red as a fire truck, he’s sure of it. “Can we take a quick break?”

You don’t look at him from behind the canvas as you answer. “I’d prefer it if you gave me a bit longer. I’m almost done with this section, I don’t want to disturb the pose just yet.”

He curses himself for hiring such a professional. “Alright,” he murmurs.

You continue working for a few seconds before you speak up this time. “What made you seek me out, Raf? I mean, you’re a pretty good painter yourself.”

Raf. He didn’t think that he’d done enough to earn that level of familiarity to get you to give him a nickname, but he’ll gladly take what he can get.

“I dunno,” he lies. “I guess I just wanted to be the muse for once,” he adds. That time, however, he was being truthful.

He’s always wanted to be the subject, the one in front of the easel, the one who is paid attention to. Call him an attention whore if you must, because he’ll gladly claim that title. Especially if it’s attention coming from you. He’ll pull out all of the stops to get it, just like he has today.

“That’s almost poetic,” you joke.

“Almost?” he repeats. “Alright, you’ve really hurt my feelings now.”

You shortly hum. “If that’ll get you to stop talking and sit still then I’m glad.”

He huffs quietly, sitting still and silent for a grand total of two minutes. He tried to keep it up, but the silence was gnawing at him.

“What are you currently working on?” he eventually asks.

To answer his question, you’d have to blatantly say that you’re painting his crotch… so instead, you stand up to turn the easel around entirely.

Rafayel takes a moment to gaze at the canvas, his eyes blown wide in wonder. You really were talented, and you’ve managed to make him look absolutely unreal in a way that he believes only you can.

His eyes settle on the section you painted last, judging by how most of the wet paint conjugated in that area. He swallows the growing lump in his throat, studying the way you even painted the faint outline of his length beneath the silk cloth.

“You’re finished with it?” he asks, raising his eyes to meet yours. “That part, I mean.”

You nod, turning the easel around to face you again. “Yeah,” you answer.

Rafayel clears his throat as he glances down at his crotch, which was sporting a full erection beneath the silky fabric. That had changed since you began to paint him, which wasn’t exactly your fault, but he curses his horny brain for what he says next.

“You got it a little wrong,” he tells you.

Your eyebrows raise as you drop your gaze down to the part of the canvas he’s currently correcting. “What? No, I…” you say as you peek at him from behind the canvas.

He shifts a bit under your gaze, watching quite intensely as you eye compare your painting to how he looks right now.

“Hm. I guess I did get it a little wrong, yeah,” you murmur, more so to yourself than to him.

Rafayel nearly smiles at your tone of indifference. “I hear that visual learning is the most efficient,” he suggests, cocking a brow at you. “Gets you well acquainted with the… material.”

“And by visual learning do you mean physical learning?” you counter.

…So yeah, physical learning definitely sounded more appealing to the both of you, which is exactly how you wound up kneeling in front of him with his cock in your mouth.

Your tongue flattens on the underside of his shaft as you sink lower, prompting him to collect a bit of your hair in one of his hands. “Gods, woman, are you trying to kill me?” he huffs, a sly grin on his face as he keeps his eyes closed.

Unsurprisingly, he can’t bear the thought of seeing your beautiful face be made of a mess of. He knows he shouldn’t feel this way, that he’s the reason you’re in this position, but he still does.

His large hand on the back of your head guides your movements as you suck him off, his head tilted back as you use your tongue on him. His stomach muscles are taut, and you’re finding yourself fawning over him after all, because his abs truly are that magnificent.

“Holy shiiiit,” he pants, finally cracking his eyes open to look down at you. He really shouldn’t have done that, because now he feels like he’s about to cum in your mouth. “Fuck, ‘m sorry, pretty,” he stammers, closing his eyes again. “Can’t… can’t help it. Feels too good.”

You don’t think he has anything to be sorry about, and if anything, you should be assuring him of the opposite. It was one thing to stare at him from afar, but it was another to look at him from this angle—with his eyes screwed shut while his forehead glistens with sweat especially.

He almost feels embarrassed for how loud he’s moaning, his thick thigh tensing as you rest your hand on it to brace yourself. You’re making him feel like a virgin with the way you take him in, the sensation of your tongue making him feel fuzzy.

“Just like—shit—just like that, cutie, yeah,” he babbles, hardly sure of what he’s saying anymore. All he knows is that if he opens his eyes and sees your gorgeous mouth stuffed with his cock, he’s going to cum.

You pat his hand on the back of your head as a means of getting him to guide your movements to his liking, noticing the way he so clearly hesitates with you. You can’t blame him. He doesn’t know you well enough to know that you actually like this sort of thing.

But with the way your mouth feels around his cock, he’s in absolutely no rush to deny you or himself this wish. He pushes your head a bit faster now, listening to the lewd sounds of your spit sloshing around with every thrust he gives you.

“Too fucking good,” he rasps through a moan. He’s almost too lost in you, his lips permanently parting as he lets his vocal cords roll out the most filthy words you’ve ever heard. “Mm-hmm, use that—fuck—pretty mouth of yours, gorgeous.”

As if the sight of him reacting so visually to your mouth wasn’t enough, the words he gives you are more than enough to have your heat pooling between your thighs. You’re both a mess here.

He flings his head back, his eyes shutting even tighter as your nose brushes against the tufts of dark purple hair at the base of his cock. It was safe to say that the curtains certainly matched the drapes…

You gag as he pushes you a bit too far on his length, his eyes snapping open almost immediately. “Oh, honey, ‘m sorry,” he huffs out, releasing your hair to let you off of him.

You shake your head as you cough, pulling your mouth off of him for a brief moment. A thick string of saliva still connects your bottom lip to the base of his shaft, and that alone has his cock twitching right in front of you.

“You’re so pretty,” he breathes as he shakes his head, almost dumbfounded by the sight in front of him. He may be out of breath, but he’s still very in tune with his abundant attraction for you. “Come up here, gimme a kiss.”

Rafayel is pulling you and you’re complying, and his lips are slotting against yours within seconds. He holds your jaw in his hand, his other moving to the small of your back to pull you closer until you’re kneeling between his spread thighs.

The kiss is sloppy, the saliva on your face immediately transferring onto his skin, though he doesn’t seem to mind. Not one bit. Instead, he’s slipping his tongue into your mouth, gathering more of your taste on his tongue.

“Don’t think I’m well acquainted enough,” you murmur against his lips, planting your hands on the back of the throne while you shift to straddle his lap. “Do you?”

He shakes his head without thinking. “Nuh-uh. Think you need a little more,” he replies, running his hands along your thighs until they slip beneath your dress.

One of his hands cup your mound while the other rests on your hip, and he nearly moans at the feeling of the sopping wet fabric clothing the needy area between your legs.

“This all for me?” he asks with a lopsided grin, his eyes hooded as he looks at you. You nod your head, a soft whine leaving you as he pulls the fabric to the side, running two fingers along your slick pussy. “Mm, I wanna taste her.”

You shake your head, your hand reaching to stroke his throbbing cock, brushing your thumb along the tip as a spurt of pre-cum leaks from it. Denying head isn’t exactly your go-to, but you can’t help it. You want to feel him inside of you.

He follows your hand down to his shaft before he raises his eyes to meet yours again, giving you the sweetest smile imaginable. “Alright, silly girl. Pussy’s all mine next time though, promise?”

“Promise,” you whisper with a smile.

Rafayel seems pleased with that, so he gives your thighs a light squeeze as he shifts to stand up, only for you to gently nudge him back down.

He raises a brow at you, a smirk quickly growing on his face. “Oh? Pretty baby wants to ride me, is that it?”

His pet names for you nearly make you buckle, and you’re not sure how considering you’re already sitting down, but it almost happened—you’re positive.

“Yeah,” you answer, slowly rubbing the head of his cock along your folds. “Look me in the eyes this time?” you tease.

He’s too drunk on the feeling of your pussy teasing his tip to realize that you’re joking with him. “Huh? Oh right, yeah, cutie, whatever you want.”

If you thought he was whiny there, it was no match for the man he became once the head of his cock pushed into your hole.

“Holy shit, woman, you really are trying to kill me,” he moans, resting his head back. “I was only joking before.”

You chuckle as you slowly lower yourself on his length, feeling the way his girth stretches you out, earning a whine from your lips in return. He smiles at you, cupping your cheek with his hand.

“You feel so good, pretty,” he whispers, his other hand resting on your hip as you begin to bounce on his cock. Up and down, up and down. “Shiiiiit, baby. Fuck me like that, yeah, just like that.”

A smile stretches across your lips as you watch his expression go from one of eagerness to one of absolute bliss, his eyes half-lidded as he watches you.

“Gods,” he breathes as his cock slides between your walls. “Pussy’s so tight—fuck,” he gasps out as he grips onto your hips, slowing your movements. “Gonna want more if you keep doing me like that.”

And by more, he means he’s going to start fucking up into you. He really didn’t want to, not with how pretty you looked riding him on your own, tits bouncing in his face and all.

You whine as he slows you down, and you come to a complete stop for a moment as you sit in his lap, cockwarming him. “Is that not the point?”

Rafayel raises a brow at you, a lazy grin on his lips. “Pfft. Alright, woman, you asked for it.”

You really did ask for it, though when he grasped onto your hips to make you slightly hover over him, you’re quickly realizing that his words were anything but empty.

His cock rams into you before you can even register that he’s moving beneath you, his thrusts hard and fast. You moan nearly every time the tip of his shaft reaches the back of your walls. Without much thought, you lean forward, resting your head on his shoulder as he continues to fuck into you.

“Ah-ah,” he playfully scolds, leaning forward to nip at the neckline of your dress. “Pull ‘em out for me, cutie.”

You do it without hesitation, shrugging the straps of your dress off your shoulders just enough for your tits to be revealed to him. He moans at the sight, leaning in to press a kiss on your perked nipple.

“Such pretty tits, honey,” he murmurs against your skin as he sucks your nipple into his mouth, the pace of his cock pushing into you not letting up whatsoever.

It’s your turn to moan embarrassingly loud now, your eyes squeezing shut as you feel heat pool in your lower stomach. He’s far too preoccupied with sucking on your tits to notice, but once he does, he nips at the sensitive skin of your breast.

“I thought we were looking each other in the eyes this time,” he says, leaning up to press a kiss on your cheek. And when you open your eyes, he smiles. “Thaaat’s more like it, pretty.”

You return the smile, but not for long. Another moan rips through you, your forehead moving to rest on his, though you keep your eyes open.

“Oh… ‘m gonna cum,” you choke out, earning a chaste kiss from him.

He nods. “Let me have it, baby. Need you.”

And it’s not like you had a choice in the matter. You’re shaking in his lap as your orgasm washes over you, another airy moan leaving your swollen lips as you find your release on his cock.

“So perfect, so beautiful,” he coos, leaning forward to kiss you again, slowing the pace of his hips down as he fucks you through your high. “Mhm, so sweet for me too.”

A soft whine leaves his lips as he pulls out of you. You watch as his hand strokes along his cock, a guttural sound leaving his mouth as he paints his own stomach with thick, white ropes of cum.

He pants as he keeps his eyes on yours, leaning forward to press another kiss to your cheek. You lean into his touch while your other hand threads into his hair.

“Well, won’t you look at that. Guess you’re your own muse after all,” you joke, giving him a suggestive wink. “Y’know, since you painted your own—”

“Mhm, I got the joke, gorgeous,” he deadpans, leaning in to press a kiss on your lips. “You’re just hilarious, aren’t you?”

“…Yeah, I think I’m pretty funny.”

note. helloooooo! i really enjoyed writing this lol, i like the lightheartedness of it all. i might write a pt2 for the hell of it buuuuut i hope you enjoyed reading <3 all interactions are greatly appreciated :)))

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#♥︎ tojicide #rafayel #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #rafayel x y/n #rafayel love and deepspace #rafayel l&ds #rafayel qi #rafayel smut #lnds rafayel #l&ds rafayel #l&ds #love and deepspace #love and deepspace rafayel #lnds smut

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formosusiniquis · 11 months ago

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This one goes out to that old guy I saw at walmart yesterday loading up his pioneer woman cookware onto his motorcycle while enter sandman played

steddie | G | WC: 1154

---

“Hey baby, can you?”

“No.”

Steve's sweet tone sours immediately returning to the much more familiar gently bitchy tone Eddie knows and loves. “You don't even know what I was gonna ask.”

“Twenty-five years of marriage, lawful and not, Sunshine. I know when you're about to ask me for some shit we don't need.”

“Why would I be calling you if we didn't need it?”

“Because if you needed it you would have told me about it when I said, ‘Stevie, sweetie, light of my life, sun to my dawn,’” he looks around trying to figure out where the hell they moved the oranges and why the produce section is never in the same configuration anytime he comes here. He makes eye contact with a kid wearing an artificially faded printing of his own tour merch looking at him with a starry eyed look of recognition not of the celebrity but of family.

“Did you forget where you were going with that old man?”

He decides he might as well put on a show, both halves of this conversation already know he's going to do what he's told. “‘Stevie, my one truth north, my muse, my reason to continue living, my dearest husband, I'm going to Walmart,’ I told you not but thirty minutes ago and asked if you needed me to get you anything and you said no.”

“Oh, you aren't going to monologue for your adoring public all the sweet names I called you?” Steve is amused, he can tell, he's always been able to tell. He's accepting this as his penance for not giving Eddie an actual grocery list when he left.

“Well dear heart I am in public, but if you think we can find another grocery store to go to after getting banned from this one. I guess there is the Kroger on the other side of town.” The kid laughs, tries to hide it behind their hand, but if Eddie has had anything in this life it's experience with teens eavesdropping on conversations they shouldn't be.

“Oh you're really hamming it up, huh, Teddy. Can I tell you what you're getting me yet or do you still have a couple minutes in your set?”

He's given up on oranges, moves on to the onion he actually came here for, the lone ingredient for dinner that he'd forgotten from his clicklist. If they want to actually have the roast tonight it needs to start soon. “What is it that you remembered we needed, oh song of my heart.”

“I already sent you the link so you get exactly what I want.”

It's just ominous enough of a non-answer that he pulls his phone out of his pocket, juggling it and the five things he'd already grabbed that weren't on his one item list. He doesn't have the time to regret not grabbing the cart he was sure he hadn't needed when he sees what he's been sent.

“I'm on my bike! Where am I going to put that?”

“I'm sorry, am I hearing you correctly? Was I right when I said, ‘Teddy bear, my stars, my bard-’”

“You aren't on speaker.”

“My beloved damsel in distress, maybe the motorcycle isn't the most efficient of midlife crisis vehicles. Aren't you going to want something with more trunk space, why don't you get a Caddy or a Bimmer for old times sake. And what did you say?”

“I don't recall.”

“Probably for the best wouldn't want you banned from Walmart, what would the tabloids say?”

“Nothing that would match your wit, Sweetheart. Does it have to be this one?”

“Yes, the plaid matches the kitchen remodel, so be a good boy and strap it to your bike. And remember we've still got one kid to put through school if she decides to go, don't bring home any strays with you. Do you need to do your encore now, baby?”

“I accept your quest, my dashing prince. I shall return home with my bounty posthaste.” Encore complete, audience still enraptured, Eddie dips into the sincere. It's been nearly thirty years together and he's not once ended a call without saying, “I love you.”

“Love you too, my knight in denim battle vest. I'll see you when you get home.”

The call ends with the usual dull toned beep beep, the playlist the call interrupted starts to filter back into his earbud. He realizes he's going to have to walk right past the kid to get to the side of the store with Steve's Instant Pot.

“Hear they're about to have a reunion tour,” he says gesturing down at the reprint of their Came Back Wrong Tour shirt. The faux-fading has left a crack through his own face at the bottom making him unrecognizable, not that he looks the same now as he did at 25. “Those old bands just don't know how to retire.”

“I think it's smart that they're playing up the recent tik tok fame.” The kid says, “No one's even seen their lead singer since the 90s and after their first national tour he'd started wearing that mask.”

It hurts a little bit the way the kid says 90s like it's some bygone era lost to time. Tries to appreciate instead how good the mask idea had been, he'd really been an innovator. “That was a pretty sweet gimmick, you think he'll bring it back? It's kind of Orville Peck's thing now isn't it.”

The kid slumps, managing the impressive feat of looking desolate while standing over the tomatoes. “Probably, not that I'll see it. I couldn't manage to get a ticket.”

That is something he can fix, “Here,” he manages to grab ahold of his wallet, “as luck would have it, I've got a couple spares.”

The kid looks torn between fear and elation, it's likely at least the second strangest thing to ever happen to them in a Walmart. “Oh I can't-”

“No strings, I got it through work for my sister-in-law to go with my husband. She asked why none of the good bands ever have reunion tours so… not going obviously. And my husband insists he's too old to be that close to the stage. You'd be doing me a favor really.”

“If you're sure,” they say, the hesitance more a mannered necessity than real.

“Sure as shooting. Seriously, here give me your name so my husband knows who to make the thank you note out to.”

“Aspen, thank you really!”

Twenty minutes later when he’s got a kitchen appliance bungied to the back of his bike he’ll appreciate that something good came out of this. Three weeks later when he’s standing at the front of a sold out arena he’ll mostly appreciate another chance to be dramatic, “This next one is for Aspen who didn’t laugh when an old man tried to flirt with his husband in the produce aisle. Gareth, count me in.”

#steddie #steddie fic #old man steddie #rockstar eddie munson

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hywonuka · 2 months ago

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every step that i take is another mistake to you | jww (intro)

Sypnosis: It's another night out for Wonwoo, except for the small dare he has been given: to win Y/N's heart in 4 months. Could he, a lame virgin who has no idea of how to talk to women, be able to fulfill the dare?

Pairing: college!wonwoo x college!fem!reader

Genre: college au, falling for a bet or dare trope, fluff, angst, smut

Warnings: alcohol consumption, mention of virgin wonwoo, they are all dickheads except for minghao, wonwoo is a huge loser

Word count: 623 words

A/N: hiii :) i intend to make this a series (thats why i wrote fluff, angst and smut on genres even if in the intro there is none of it)!! its my first time posting any of my english works, so i hope yall like it!! wrote this mainly cuz i had the urge to read something of this trope with ww but found nothing lmao. as i go on with the different chapters, ill write the respective warnings :3

intro | chapter 1

"No way you are asking me to do that", Wonwoo said, as he took a sip of his drink, looking at Vernon with his eyes wide open. They were at a bar, with some other of their friends, chatting and laughing until Vernon dropped the bomb.

"Yes way, or what, you don’t have the guts??" Mingyu chimed in, laughing at his friend's reaction. Hoshi looked at Wonwoo, who was still stunned at his friend’s dare.

It wasn’t weird that they would dare each other to do random stuff. In fact, it was kinda the most charming part of their hangouts, which the whole group enjoyed and laughed at. It wasn’t weird either that, as they kept drinking, the dare would turn more… interesting. But, what was weird, was that Vernon, out of everyone sat at that table, would dare Wonwoo to do that.

"Y-you seriously want me to court Y/N?", the one with glasses asked, slightly tipsy at that point, but still sober enough to comprehend his dare. "Like, h-how?"

Vernon, who is clearly drunk, and even at the verge of falling of his chair, laughed at the desperation of his friend. "I don’t know, that’s up to you!! I'm not the one that got dared".

"C’mon Wonwoo, it can’t be that bad", Mingyu says, patting his friend’s back, trying to reassure him in some sort of way. They all knew this would be actually hard for Wonwoo, but somehow makes everything more entertaining.

"Worst thing that can happen is that you finally get to touch a boob", as Vernon said that, he immediately got smacked by Minghao, who was clearly against the idea of that dare. "Hey, I’m about to fall!”

“Deserved. That dare is degrading, not only to Wonwoo but Y/N. Have you even thought of how she would feel if Wonwoo goes along with this dare?" The whole table went silent at Minghao's words, knowing he was right.

"It’s not like he is gonna pull her Hao, be honest”. Wonwoo looked at Vernon offended, but deep down he knew the drunk one was right.

“Yeah, like if a 22 year old virgin who is a huge nerd can pull Y/N", Hoshi suddenly said, immediately looking at Wonwoo. "No offence, just… stating the facts”

Minghao was at the edge of punching his friends. How could they be so stupid? The lack of emotional intelligence in men was something that truly made him mad, specially coming from his friends.

“Anyways, are you in Wonwoo?" All eyes were on him, and he knew it. He could sense the gazes of all his friends, expecting his answer. He couldn’t say no, could he? After all, if he said no, he would indirectly accepting the fact that he couldn’t pull Y/N, and that would hurt his pride, even if he knew it would be impossible for him to fulfill the dare.

"What do i get if I win?"

“100$ and me being your servant for a week”

Wonwoo looked at Vernon, reconsidering his words. "And if I don’t?”

“I’ll choose your outfits for a week”

The one with glasses looked at his friend, terrified. He wasn’t scared of Vernon’s fashion choices (even if he should), but mostly at the fact that Vernon could pick a pair of boxers and say that’s an outfit. And trust him, he knows Vernon is capable of it.

“How much time do i have?”

“4 months”

After a couple of minutes of silence, that felt like an eternity for everyone sat down at that table, Wonwoo spoke up. “Cool, I’m in”

Everyone in the table, except for Minghao, cheered the dare, and ordered a new round of drinks. Meanwhile, Minghao could only shake his head, completely disgusted to the situation.

“This is gonna end so badly…”

A/N: aaah, tysm for reading!! if you wanna be added to the taglist pls tell me!! ill try to update the next chapter asap :3

#seventeen #seventeen fanfic #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo #wonwoo x reader #college au #falling for a bet or dare trope #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo is such a loser god i love him #kpop

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yumecel · 23 days ago

Text

But that is how the guilty speak 💙

yandere!neuvillette / f!reader | 6.1k words

summary: how does neuvillette go about getting your attention? by trapping you in a kafkaesque nightmare.

reader specifics: female, she/her woman terms whatever

tags: neuvillette SUFFERS, a little angsty, pining, ooc neuvillette for the purposes of yandere, oral, he’s a gentleman all the same

a/n: so this is basically a yandere version of “the trial” by franz kafka. happy birthday neuvillette!! happy neuvillette day!

tws: yandere, stalking, dubcon, manipulation

i promise i’m 18+, i promise i read the warnings, i promise i’m okay with seeing dark content, i know one thousand curses will karmically descend on me should i lie [yes⬇️] [no↩️]

——💙——

“Chief Justice Neuvillette would like to see you today.”

For the first time in days, you let out a sigh of relief. You barely feel like you’ve been given any room to breathe ever since you woke up to the Gardes outside your door, Gardemeks in tow, arresting you for a crime… that they had not yet revealed the nature of.

You’d been detained- first within your home, then at the Palais Mermonia, being taken care of to the highest standard both times. You didn’t have to cook- meals were delivered to you in a timely fashion. Come a certain point following lunch, a hot drink and small selection of cakes would be delivered. Afternoon tea. You were being given afternoon tea as a prisoner of the law.

Were all detainments this luxurious? you had wondered, opening your daily copy of The Steambird a few days in. When you had started your stay at the Palais Mermonia, it had felt like an all-inclusive resort. Which was a shame, since it really would have been more comforting had anyone actually explained to you what was going on. You’d tried to pry this answer from the Gardes many times, but were met with indifference. Did someone slander you? Did you sleepwalk your way into criminal activity? Day by day, the firm grasp you had on innocence started to waver. It never completely slipped- no, the deep confusion presided above all else- but there were moments of wondering what could have gone so, so wrong to warrant this. You had counted all your sins, listed all your inadequacies, and failed to come to any reasonable conclusion. Within the eyes of the Gardes, you were completely at the mercy of a higher authority.

Now, after three weeks of detainment, you’d finally meet that higher authority. The only authority that now mattered to you. Well aware that most meet Chief Justice Neuvillette within the context of court, you desperately hoped these circumstances meant that nothing serious had occurred. Your most recent theory involved being in witness protection, and perhaps he’d explain-

“Come on. He’s waiting.”

Shaking out of your racing thoughts, perhaps a little maddened by the persistent loneliness and alienation, you obediently followed the Gardes. When you finally entered the room, he stood up from his desk to greet you.

“(Y/N). Come, have a seat. I have prepared tea. I trust this beverage choice is acceptable?”

You nodded, sitting down on one of the sofas where a teacup sat on the table before it.

Neuvillette had sat down opposite you, a small chalice in front of him. Midday wine?

“You can have water instead, if desired.” He said, raising the chalice before taking a sip. So it was just water?

“No, no. This is lovely. Thank you, Chief Justice Neuvillette.”

“Neuvillette is fine.”

“I see. In that case, thank you Neuvillette.”

He nods. You nod. You can’t stand staring into his eyes anymore. You pick up your teacup with a soft clank against the saucer and look down into it after taking a small sip. You hope you didn’t accidentally slurp it too loud. The room is chillingly silent, so quiet that you can hear your blood pumping. He sets his chalice down on the table. You wonder if you should speak. You decide against it.

“How are you?” Neuvillette says suddenly, almost as if remembering he even intended to ask.

“Oh, I… well, I’m fine, but I am very confused.” You respond, a small laugh following. It does little to alleviate the tension.

“I see. That is understandable, given your circumstances.” The tone isn’t cold, but it isn’t warm. It is simply spoken gently, like a hesitant hand making its way onto your shoulder.

He pauses. You nod, still looking away from him. Desperate for him to explain without seeming too concerned with your state of affairs, you meet his eyes again and are thankful when he takes this as a cue to continue speaking.

“Speaking of which, your circumstances have been difficult to navigate indeed. It is a case I have been personally reviewing since the start of your detainment. My deepest apologies for the confusion.”

Sensing sincerity in his voice, you decide to tentatively prod a little. “May I please know more about the case itself?”

He takes in a breath before continuing, gaze dropping to the floor briefly. “It is so mountainous that I am unsure where to begin. I can, however, tell you that you must be protected in order to not disturb the crime scene or convene with any third parties.”

You try to still your hands as you reach for your teacup, hardly satiated by his answer. Ruling out neither being a suspect or being a witness, it was so vague and meaningless he may as well have not answered you at all.

“I see… I think. Are you unable to divulge any details about the case to me? I- I’m sorry to be rude, it’s just, these three weeks-“ You begin, trailing off at his palm steadily raising. You silence yourself before taking another sip of the tea, willing your eyes to meet his once again as you sit back.

“There is no need for apologies. It is I who should be apologising to you. Many things about the case are strictly confidential. Guilt or innocence do not matter at this stage. Only the necessity of the actions taken.”

Your body slumps in defeat as your mouth asks the question you’ve been dreading. “Will I need to be detained any longer?”

“Yes. Indefinitely, I’m afraid.”

Fists clenching and unclenching in your lap. A sharp intake of your breath. Eyes begin to water. A desperate attempt to hide the tears is made by slouching forward, staring intently at the ground.

“It’s just that I haven’t been permitted to see my family or friends all this time, they’re probably worried about me…”

Neuvillette rises from his seat and comes quickly to your side, placing a hand on your back. You jolt, but Neuvillette does not falter. As it rubs in small circles, strangely comforting, strangely- strangely warm- he says, “Please, do not fret. It may be slightly inconvenient, but there is an alternate arrangement that would give you more freedom, should you desire it.”

Of course you desire it, of course, whatever price, you’d be willing to pay it to make this extended stay in purgatory any less isolating.

“What is it?” You sniffle.

Neuvillette remains silent for almost too long. You swear his hand presses just a little firmer on your back, almost to prevent you from sitting back up.

“An arrest via supervision. My supervision, to be precise. So long as you are by my side, any danger- whether towards you or from you- is suitably negated. Unfortunately, this does mean that you must accompany me to various trials and affairs. Would you find this satisfactory?”

Actually, it almost sounded too good to be true. You found your body relaxing. The Iudex would be looking after you, offering you a privileged view of the inner workings of his life- a topic of much discussion in Fontaine. You’d continue to eat well, you could likely communicate with others freely-

“Yes,” you say, unable to stop yourself. “I just want to be able to see my loved ones again.”

His hand finally leaves your body, leaving a residual warmth. “Very well. You may make the necessary arrangements to see these people after completing the paperwork. And… it is best if you tell them you have taken on new work at the Palais Mermonia in the meantime.”

“Of course,” you say, finally drinking the rest of your tea. “Thank you, Neuvillette.”

When he sits down at his desk, there is an almost imperceptible smile on his face. Is this the unselfish joy of helping the common folk?

“The pleasure is all mine.”

——💙——

Being permanently by Neuvillette’s side could almost be considered pleasant. There is the confinement, the unwarranted surveillance, but there are plenty of amenities alongside those.

He is not much a conversationalist, but he will speak to make your experience more bearable. Your meals come at regular intervals, and there is no shortage of things to do around the Palais Mermonia. Most days. There is, unavoidably, occasional boredom, quelled by walks outside and the arrival of new books and trinkets. He takes you to all of Furina’s plays that you can possibly attend, which you rather appreciate. Backstage, she once brings up that she’s happy Neuvillette now has a personal assistant to lighten his workload. Neuvillette does not disagree, and you nod. Beyond the remnants of her previous facade, Furina is kind and thoughtful, but you often wonder if your presence provides a comfortable buffer between her and Neuvillette. Often she talks only to you as Neuvillette stands there, watching in silence. It does make you wonder though, how despite being the ex-archon of Fontaine, even she is not privy to your situation.

Well, Furina may not be an official anymore, so perhaps there is really no need to know that you are technically Neuvillette’s prisoner rather than his assistant. Still, an accumulation of small things surrounding your circumstances grows, serving to both frighten and puzzle you.

The first is something you can never quite grow desensitised to, and it’s that… come nighttime, Neuvillette seems intent on checking if you are in bed, as if you were a child.

“I must apologise for reminding you, but it is standard practice in many prisons to ensure inmates are actually going to sleep at night.” He had told you one evening, when you tried to present your dismay as jokingly as possible. You personally feel him coming into your room (his guest room) to ensure you are adequately “tucked in” is not comparable, but you refrain from saying this.

You are also not allowed an alarm clock, so he wakes you up as part of his morning routine. The first face you see upon waking, the last face you see before sleeping.

There is also the fact that having constant access to the man in charge of your detainment should be useful in terms of information, but he doesn’t let on to anything at all.

You’re very careful not to upset Neuvillette. You are aware that your situation is a privilege, that the ease of being able to see people outside of him- simply telling him when you will be gone, where you’re going, and when you’ll be back- is a pretty good deal when compared to everyone you know finding out you’re under arrest and having to fill out paperwork to approve any actions.

Still, with every day that passes, your situation grows more nonsensical. There are never any updates on your case, though Neuvillette promises he’ll tell you as soon as he’s able to provide you with information. You continue to be in the presence of the most important authority in the entirety of Fontaine. You feel like you’re freeloading every time you eat, and end up helping Neuvillette with the simplest of tasks in his office to ease this. Your attendance to every trial, witnessing the necessary coldness of Neuvillette’s impartiality, makes the subtle way his face softens upon seeing you all the more obvious. You find yourself imagining him doing everything alone, perhaps with the occasional appearance of Furina, before your detainment. Eating most of his meals alone. Walking out after a particularly challenging trial and talking to only a few Gardes on the way. There is no such person that he approaches and asks, “Shall we depart?”- a formal question that really means Let’s go home. Nobody asks him what he’s thinking about afterwards, and there are no excuses to unwind upon reaching his residence. At the start of your detainment with him, he would comb through files immediately after removing his robes. Now he joins you on the sofa, spring water in hand as he either converses with you or listens to you flick through pages of a novel. And it’s strange to admit, but you’re starting to be able to taste the difference between each nation’s water, a symbol of your proximity to him.

You learn more about him than you thought you’d ever know. The tabloids would pay good money for any of it, but you’ve strangely started to consider him a friend rather than a jailor, and it wouldn’t feel right. Besides, you highly doubt Neuvillette would permit you to exit his supervision just to talk to disreputable reporters. You try your best to make the most of this strange existence, settling into his routine, and becoming part of his life.

One day, a melusine detective skips into his office, files in hand. It’s not one you’re unfamiliar with, having spoken to many of the melusines that enter, leave, and work in the Palais Mermonia.

“Monsieur Neuvillette, we must discuss this case a little further before proceeding.” She explains, brows furrowing, but when she looks up from the case files, you catch her eye.

“Ah, hello Miss (Y/N)! It’s lovely to see you. Monsieur Neuvillette, is Miss (Y/N) allowed to be in the room for this discussion? Or perhaps we should depart? My deepest apologies, Miss (Y/N).”

“I understand if not,” you pipe up, shuffling papers around on a table. “If it’s related to my case, or-“

“You have an active case, Miss (Y/N)?”

You’ve seen melusines forget things many times before, but this one, looks… positively puzzled.

“I… do.” You say tentatively, glancing to Neuvillette.

He looks rather stunned, but it’s only a deduction you could’ve made after weeks of seeing his face and neutral expression.

“Yes, but it has moved past the need for the Marechaussee Phantoms. It is perfectly fine for Miss (Y/N) to stay in the room.”

“Ah, I see! I hope everything resolves quickly, Miss (Y/N).”

“Thank you.” You say quietly.

You start to feel, more overwhelmingly, that there is something deeply wrong.

That night, he approaches your room for his regular checking-in of you. You’re sitting upright in bed, staring into space, thinking of how little you’ve seen of your own home in the past few months, thinking of how much of the world you now consume through a Neuvillette-vetted filter, thinking of how much gratitude you should actually feel about everything- until a gentle knock on the door stirs you.

When you tell him to come in, he wears only his slacks and dress shirt, robe abandoned, and downcast eyes.

“I regret that this is taking so long, (Y/N).”

The rain patters against your window.

You sigh quietly. “… It’s alright. You can’t help it, can you?”

A howl of wind.

“I can’t. I do wish I could.”

Lashes of rain now batter against the glass in quick succession.

“Then there’s no need to apologise.”

He stands in silence, still looking down , and you turn away from him, looking out to the dismal weather. There is such a profound sadness emanating off him that you’d do anything to take his mind off it.

“Hey, is the “hydro dragon, don’t cry” stuff real?”

You expect him to laugh and tell you no.

“Only some of the time . It’s true that I have quite a powerful connection to the waters of Fontaine.”

“What about this time?”

You look back to him, finding that he’s staring blankly ahead and out of the window.

“This time… cannot be helped.”

——💙——

“Thank you. I may just have to take you on as my real assistant when we escape our current circumstances.”

You laugh, trying to hide any sense of unease. The files you had just handed him were merely sorted by date, a task that a child could do. “There’s no need to flatter me. I know you managed perfectly fine before I was around.”

“Did I..?” He mumbles. It’s so unlike him that you do a double take.

“I mean, you sorted everything on your own, right?”

“Most of the time. Perhaps it’s more accurate to assume that I appreciate your company.”

Fighting off the surprise from the sudden compliment, you manage to say, “I appreciate yours too, Neuvillette.”

You’re unable to tell if it’s a lie. He’s more than just company. He’s your entire life, at this point.

But you see the corners of his lips twitch, and the way the sunlight seeps into his office fills the room with warmth. It’s hard not to be touched by a moment like this. It’s harder to refrain from asking about the status of your case. Something inside you, a primal form of fear and unease, steels you in the face of both challenges.

——💙——

Even though Neuvillette may be the Iudex, overseeing all legal proceedings in Fontaine, he seems to hold the nature of your case above you like some metaphysical higher power. Whilst your own autonomy belongs to the court, the Iudex acts based on his principles, and the intangible whisperings of your own proceedings. You are trapped in a state that possesses neither the luxuries of innocence nor the condemnation of guilt. You don’t often dare to proclaim innocence in front of Neuvillette- should you require to, it will be within the Opera Epiclese. In the face of the entire law, defending yourself without any knowledge of what laws have even been broken has an awful pointlessness to it.

You also don’t like bringing your case up because you swear it always rains.

Both you and Neuvillette are aware that every passing day is a test on your patience. It intensified a few weeks ago when he had turned down your request for a trip to Liyue in order to visit a friend.

“There is too much on my schedule for that week. Perhaps the following month, I will have the time to escort you.”

“Why not have someone else escort me? Surely it’s well within your power-“

He drops his pen, standing up, as if to remind you of his authority. “You would be too far away from me. Our agreement clearly states-“

“Our agreement? To protect me? To protect people from me?” You laugh bitterly. “It’s been months of this. Nothing has happened, and from my perspective, nothing has changed behind the scenes. And you’re telling me I can’t have the weekend to visit a friend on her birthday?”

He remains impassive, yet a stress in his voice betrays it. “Anything could happen, (Y/N). I ask you to respect my decision on this, and trust it is within your best interests. I am more than willing to make all the necessary arrangements to send her a gift for the meantime.”

There is nothing else to do but accept defeat. The apologies, the ordering of your favourite foods, the, “I understand you’re upset with me”, and the, “Please know I wouldn’t be doing this without reason”- all serve to put salt in the wound.

With all your free time, it was only natural that you would eventually end up picking up a law book.

You’re allowed to take any book you want so long as you return it to where you found it, but the sudden interest in Fontainian law may be… suspicious. So you slip the heavy law books between novels and case retellings, bringing them to your room where you would be away from his watchful eyes. It takes a while to ascertain the correct volume, but you eventually manage to borrow the one on Fontainian laws of arrest and detainment.

You slot a bookmark about two thirds of the way through the book.

Part Seven: Wrongful Detention.

If he notices, he doesn’t say anything. And he knows you take books often, so one missing volume shouldn’t be a cause for concern. Within the volume, you hoped to find anything that could prove your detainment was unlawful, present this to him, and… hope he agrees?

You could kick up a storm in the Palais Mermonia. Wayward comments about how the Iudex violated the law, that not all citizens of Fontaine are treated impartially. The plan would come into fruition later- for the meantime, you needed to read.

Thumbing through the pages and observing the tiny size of the text, you grimace.

——💙——

“I’m going upstairs to read.”

His gaze follows you from where you hang up your coat to where you shuffle out of your shoes.

This time, there is no, “I see. Enjoy yourself” for you to hum at before leaving the room.

“Have you been particularly immersed in a series as of late? It seems this is now the only activity you do when the workday finishes.”

“Yes,” You respond. “I’m quite into it. I need to see how it ends.”

“I understand. The detective novels of Fontaine can be quite enthralling.” He tells you, with a sense of finality. You were expecting him to ask you what the series was. You were prepared to make something up, but it appears there is no need.

You continue reading the law book, switching it out for a light novel when Neuvillette normally knocks on your door and tells you he’s getting ready to retire for the evening, and if you’d like to join him downstairs for tea. You do, bringing the novel with you so suspicion isn’t aroused.

When you return upstairs, you switch it out once more with the law book, hiding it when Neuvillette arrives to ensure you’re in bed, wait until you hear his own bedroom door close, and then take it out again.

Reading under the dim light of your portable lamp, you must’ve been so engrossed that you hardly noticed him approaching.

“Oh? Pray tell, what has kept you up so late?”

Because suddenly he’s in your doorway, no knocking, and swiftly stepping over to you and your small desk.

“I-“

“Ah, the missing volume. You know, when studying law, it is generally recommended to start from volume one, which I don’t recall you taking.”

Your eyes are frozen to the book in front of you, despite feeling Neuvillette’s imposing presence behind you.

“Part Seven…” He murmurs, a finger tracing the header on the page. He’s completely leaning over you now, and you swear you can feel hot breath tickling the top of your head. “… as I suspected.”

He swiftly closes the book before stepping back from you, telling you to get out of the chair. You’re expecting him to guide you back into bed, tell you he’ll deal with you in the morning, but he doesn’t. With a hand placed on the small of your back, he guides you out of the room, down the hallway, and down the stairs. He motions for you to sit on the sofa before he busies himself in the kitchen with making tea.

When the tea is placed in front of you, you look up. There is no anger in his eyes like you thought there would be. There is only a forlorn expression that portrays deep loneliness.

“I know I owe you an explanation.” He says, sitting down beside you. You can hardly stand to look him, but see his face turned towards you in your peripheral vision.

His arms are wrapped around you before you can stop him, and you’re hauled into his lap in a swift motion, much to your dismay. “Please relax,” he murmurs. “I won’t hurt you.”

And you stop struggling, if only out of fear, the implication that he could hurt you if he desperately wanted to. You feel his face bury itself in the crook of your neck, an intimacy so foreign that your body jolts involuntarily.

“I have failed you greatly,” He mutters into your neck, “Centuries of impartiality, and…”

His arms tighten around you, squeezing you like he’s afraid you’ll slip out and seep through the floorboards.

“One person, one person to myself… all I ask… one person I would not turn my back on for the sake of my principles, I… I am deeply sorry you had to be the unlucky individual, (Y/N).”

There is nowhere for you to run, unable to move, locked in his arms. So instead, you speak.

“From the top, we can fix this,” You whisper, knowing he’s paying earnest attention to every word. “I wouldn’t tell anyone if you let me go.”

And what good would it do anyway?

He inhales sharply, giving you another squeeze. “I cannot do that. But what can I do? Countless nights have been spent lying awake, trying to orchestrate a true, unselfish reason for you to remain by my side,”

You continue listening, not daring to speak a word through his shaking breaths.

“When the desire first arose, I thought it better to hold you between judgement and ambivalence. It went on for too long. I see that now.”

The rain outside is more intense than you’ve ever seen it. A gust of wind seems to rush through his residence, and a door slams. Desperation. It is as if the storm wishes to claw at the doors, to be let in, to wreak havoc.

“Was there ever a case?” You breathe.

“Yes. You were being framed for a theft, but it was such a baseless lie that bringing you to court would have been unnecessary. It was over before you were detained at the Palais Mermonia.”

You clench your fists so tightly that you can feel nails digging into your palms. “Why me?”

He sighs like the whole world is collapsing onto his shoulders.

“There was a certain power in keeping you prisoner. I indulged this idea, of a person that wouldn’t need to be judged, constantly in the throes of the law. Neither innocent nor guilty. I was so lonely, (Y/N). I wanted to be able to share feelings with someone. I originally brought you to the Palais Mermonia to apologise formally but the more I observed… the more I yearned for something I could not otherwise have.”

You let yourself be cradled by him, let him slowly rock you as if you’re the one in emotional turmoil. In truth, you are betrayed- and painfully bitter about it- and perhaps angry at everything, perhaps scared, but Neuvillette is the least composed you have ever seen him. Time enters becomes a trickling sludge as his grip on you loosens just enough to allow movement, and you sip tea that’s already starting to go cold.

“I can’t ask for forgiveness. But please, please stay.”

“I can’t be a prisoner forever.” You admit, hanging your head.

Because in spite of everything, all the wrongs, there is a sense of pity. A hand of yours has been involuntarily plunged deep into his heart, and now that your fingers are wrapped around the glass core, you’re afraid it may shatter. Gently, you will let him down gently, and you will be free.

“You’ve always been more than a prisoner. Promise yourself to me. Marry me. Please, don’t let me rot like this forever. I beg you.”

“M-Marry you?” You sputter.

“I know those proceedings are of great significance to humans, so perhaps for the meantime you could accept engagement. The timing of our mating doesn’t matter.”

You attempt to shuffle off his lap, but he doesn’t loosen his grip. Time for a new strategy.

“Neuvillette… I’m flattered, but you know, I’m very much mortal-“

“An easily solved problem if you choose to become my mate.”

“- well, still-“

“Could you indulge me? Please, could you lend me the honour of experiencing union and understanding, even if merely once?”

His hand slides down to your thigh, not groping, not provocatively slipping upwards, but resting, slightly trembling.

As you manage to swivel around, and stare into his draconic eyes, you find yourself faced with centuries of near-imperceptible pain. His gaze doesn’t waver. You could drown in it.

Swimmers caught in rip currents shouldn’t waste their energy swimming against them. Rather, they should allow the current to take them so they can find a safe route back to shore.

You stop swimming against the current. An act of submission to the natural world. Finally, a whisper, barely recognisable as your own voice, speaks for you.

“Alright.”

And he pulls you beneath the surface, gently laying his lips on yours, slow, sweet, and soft.

——💙——

You follow him upstairs. He had offered to carry you, but you’d declined. You don’t think he takes offence, he only nods, coaxing you up every step like he fears one wrong move will send you fleeing.

He holds the door to his bedroom open for you. “Come in, now. Make yourself comfortable.”

You take a tentative seat on the side of his bed, watching as he unbuttons his shirt- most likely an old one, a few tears clumsily sewn up along a sleeve- and when he approaches you, undoubtedly catching how your eyes rake over his chest, his hands pause at the top of your silken pyjamas.

“May I?”

When you nod, it only takes a split second for his two hands to greedily yank the edges, sending every last button flying across the room. You gasp, nearly raising your arms to cover yourself but are beat by Neuvillette’s large but slender hands suddenly kneading at your breasts. Thumbs carefully circling around the buds, then pinching, squeezing, twisting. His hands find themselves under your arms, forcing you back onto the bed- you swear your body is practically lifted at some point, all of the strength he tends to keep subdued now on full display. Loose strands of his hair tickle your face as he leans down to kiss you, a far cry from the previous one. This is a kiss borne of starvation and avarice. He’s so warm against you, you can smell a light cologne, something resembling scented woods and the sea.

“We should get these off, too.” He says, not waiting for any input before two fingers hook the elastic of your pyjama bottoms and pull down. He guides them off your thighs, letting you wriggle out of them and discard them on the bedroom floor with a weak kick until you lie fully naked beneath him. He clambers off you for a moment, merely observing your form on his bedsheets as he kneels by your side. It’s hard not to admire his beautifully sculpted body, shining in the pale moonlight. His hands guide your legs open as he repositions himself and bows down ever closer to your core, where an embarrassing amount of heat has started to build. He’s between your legs, kissing all the way up your thigh as if it were you that was the deity, sucking and biting harder the closer he comes to your slit. His hand gropes your opposite thigh to balance himself, and his face pauses- so close you feel his breath fanning over your pussy, long enough for you to raise your head and see him staring right at you with draconic pupils blown wide.

“Now, please, allow me to prove my devotion.”

That’s when a finger prods at your entrance, slipping in all too easily, lips locking around your clit and sucking tenderly. Sensing the lack of resistance, another finger joins the first, curling slightly as you jolt upwards. The breath is knocked out of your lungs, something shameful and neglected coiling tighter at your core, growing stronger as his tongue flicks at you and fingers curl.

“Neuvillette!” You gasp. His intensity bears so much contrast to the usually composed man you see in front of you. Now, between your legs, he laps at you like a man possessed.

With two fingers continuing to pump against your clenching walls, his tongue continues to work at your clit, applying pressure in all right places. He’s exploring your body, fingers wavering, changing angles, figuring out what makes you jolt, what makes you whine, and best of all, what prompts you to whisper his name like a prayer. When his pace slows and his fingers are hardly moving inside of you, you beg so sweetly for him- little “Neuvillette”s and “Please, please”s- , and he delivers. You’d never have expected him to tease so much.

It’s really just that he’s doing anything to make you speak for him. Every whimper is an admission of guilt, you do want this, you want him, and it is beyond plausible deniability. That’s why he slows. That’s why he pauses. He needs to hear you say it for him. You deduce this fairly quickly, and embarrassingly, give in to every silent demand.

When his pressure loosens, when the fingers finally slip out, you twitch, crying out his name so he can finish you off.

“Patience, dear. You’ll be taken care of soon.”

He removes himself and you shuffle around on the bed, sitting up briefly, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed and resisting the temptation to finish the job yourself. He takes a handkerchief from his nightstand to wipe himself off, ever the meticulous one, refusing to look away. His gaze pins you in place, prevents a hand from slipping down to your neglected pussy. It’s only in full of view of you that he finally fully strips himself, hardly letting you get an eyeful of his shaft before he’s pushing your chest backwards, eyes full of adoration and slipping his warm hands under your thighs, moving your legs into the air, bent at the knee. His lips press down on yours so fondly as the head of his cock prods against you.

“Lift your head for me, beloved.”

And you obey as reaches over you, tip clumsily bumping against your slit. A pillow is placed beneath your head, feather stuffed, angling you perfectly to stare into his eyes.

He wants you to look at him.

“Perfect.” He breathes, positioning himself to slide into your cunt, a hand ghosting over your own and intertwining fingers.

Neuvillette moves so slowly, almost as if he’e being careful not to break you. You feel every inch of him sink into you, one by one. You close your eyes, fluttering them open every few seconds as he moves leisurely. His own gaze refuses to deviate from you, and a thumb strokes your cheek.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to have this forever?” His voice rumbles. “Have each other… forever?”

You open your mouth to respond- that’s not what we agreed to, that’s not-

But he bottoms out, pushing against you, and all you can manage is a wanton moan as you throw your head back.

In the back of your mind, you know Neuvillette is far too scrupulous to allow you to part from him after this. This is all of him, in front of you, and every inch buried inside of you. This is more than a taste of union.

He starts rocking in and out of you at a steady pace, feeling your walls clench around him. You swear you hear a growl rise from his throat, and a hand slowly starts to palm at your clit. You can feel Neuvillette’s every breath shudder through his body, every human constriction forced on his form. You can feel how he tries to control himself and move with grace, but also how his fingers simultaneously start to rub more frantically at you. Every sensation across your body is all him, all Neuvillette, a presence so overwhelming you can barely think of anything else. As you come closer to the edge, you sink into this feeling. No longer caring and with all shame abandoned, you call for him desperately, the only person that can possibly give you what you need.

And he does.

With his cock hammering in and out of you, hitting that spot that makes your toes curl and fists tighten around bedsheets, alongside his fingers rubbing against your most sensitive area, you cum so hard you see stars. You moan out his name one final time, spasming around his length as your eyes roll to the ceiling. Neuvillette continues to indulge himself within you, letting you ride out your orgasm with his persistent thrusts. He quickens, almost bordering on overstimulating you, but eventually pulls out, streaking white across your chest as he leans down and steals one final kiss. Forceful and desperate, he kisses like it’s his last chance to prove his love for you.

Perhaps it is. You feel him mutter something against your lips.

I love you.

Your stomach turns as the reality of the situation comes crashing down.

Trembling slightly and stepping back, the first question from his lips is, “Are you alright?”

It takes a short delay before you force yourself to meet his eyes, now donning an expression of concern. “Mm, yeah, just let me-“

You start to rise but Neuvillette shakes his head. “Please, let me wipe you off first.”

You end up staring blankly at the ceiling as he runs a handkerchief over you, swiping gently at your skin.

“I shall prepare a bath for us. Wait here. Relax.”

That’s the last you remember before he leaves the room. Alone with your thoughts, nothing seems to make sense. You take in all four corners of the ceiling and don’t do much else. It’s as if you’re temporarily suspended in a dreamlike state until Neuvillette reenters the room. He scoops you up from the bed and cradles you against his chest as you make your way to the bathroom. You think he presses a kiss or two against your forehead. You’re not sure. Half your body is cold, half of it is pressed against him, and you shiver in his arms. The floor beneath you moves faster.

That’s how you end up beside him in the bathtub as his hands run across your body. He doesn’t say anything to you, but the tender kisses pressed along your jawline speak for themselves.

Tonight, you will sleep in his bed. Tomorrow, you will wake up entangled in his limbs. You are to be cherished. You are to be taken care of. Nothing will change in the eyes of the public, at least not for now. But he will now have every last part of you.

You wished you had proclaimed your innocence sooner. You wish you had fought him. You could have argued that you are no less guilty than any other citizen of Fontaine, and should be treated as such. At least, if nothing else, you should’ve made a demand for fairness.

But that is how the guilty speak.

——💙——

fin. with love from yumecel. happy birthday neuvillette!! i love you!

#yandere genshin impact #yandere #yandere neuvillette #neuvillette x reader

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nyoomerr · 6 months ago

Note

i think it’d be really funny if for a fic drabble it’s just hot food blogger luo binghe who’s dated every woman on the block scrambling cuz he thinks his boyfriend who hes totally gone for likes another man’s cooking more then his (jokes on him, shen yuan’s talking about HIS videos, he just doesn’t wanna admit it)

picky food critic sy and mean but brilliant chef lbh is one of my favorite pairings in the world, actually

---

Luo Binghe had always taken pride in both his cooking and his presentation.

When he was younger, the meals he made served as a tribute to his mother. He ate well both because he knew she’d have wanted it for him and because the part of himself that would always be a hungry child of a poor single mother couldn’t stand the thought of being able to eat good food and choosing not to.

Then, when he was a bit older, cooking presented a new, more literal value: money. The daughter of a rich businessman had taken an interest in Luo Binghe from the meals he brought in to school, and Luo Binghe had by then already become wise to the fact that using empty-headed rich kids like her could pull a person out of the station they were born to. Luo Binghe used that girlfriend’s money to put himself through the first year of college; after that, he found someone with deeper pockets and won them over with his cooking as well.

Well. Perhaps by that point Luo Binghe had learned how to win a woman over with more than just his cooking, but seduction was temporary. A woman would sleep with a pretty man that could promise to be a good lay; she’d only empty her wallet for a man who could measure up as something more permanent, and providing her with good food was the most surefire way to prove a man’s worth as a longterm boyfriend.

So Luo Binghe cooked for his mother, and for his own hunger, and for the bills he had to pay by means of vapid girls who he cared little for but were easily swayed by good food.

After college, Luo Binghe became a chef, and then a sous chef, and then a head chef of a restaurant that he more or less controlled completely. He made a name for himself beyond being known as the pretty gold digger who’d dated half a dozen rich young ladies, and a wealth of his own that only multiplied when he began raking in advertiser’s money from blogging about his food on top of just selling it.

Luo Binghe’s food was good, and he knew exactly how to use it to position himself advantageously through life until he didn’t need advantages anymore. It had given Luo Binghe his life and his wealth and - most recently - his love, so Luo Binghe had no reason to feel anything but confidence in it.

“Binghe, can we have mapo tofu tonight? I’ve been craving some ever since I saw that video that’s been going around, ah, it looked so good…”

Luo Binghe feels his eye twitch. Nothing but confidence, he reminds himself.

“It’s rare for Shen-ge to want food he saw online,” Luo Binghe says sweetly, without answering Shen Yuan’s question at all.

“Is it?” Shen Yuan asks, not looking up from his phone. He’s currently sprawled inelegantly over Luo Binghe’s couch, giving Luo Binghe a perfect view of the way his shirt rides up, teasing him with a perfect sliver of Shen Yuan’s soft stomach. “I feel like I end up eating the food I see online way more frequently than the average guy, honestly.”

“Shen-ge frequently eats it; it’s rare for him to want to eat it,” Luo Binghe clarifies.

After all, this is how Luo Binghe had met Shen Yuan, the harshest food critic online. Luo Binghe had idly thought the small challenge of getting such a picky eater to endorse his food would have been good for his business, and invited him to try some.

Shen Yuan had accepted. He’d then proceeded to eat Luo Binghe’s food with an enthusiasm, blissed out expression, and a symphony of erotic noises that had Luo Binghe, known playboy and talented sex-haver, feeling as if he’d just experienced the sexual awakening of a teen facing their first set of nudes.

That was fine, though, because Luo Binghe would simply seduce Shen Yuan the same as any other pretty face that could be swayed by good food, and -

- and Luo Binghe could let Shen Yuan stay a bit longer, if only to hear the earnest way he praised Luo Binghe’s cooking and wished to hear about what it meant to Luo Binghe and asked if he could help Luo Binghe with the dishes -

- and inviting Shen Yuan back again and again would be strategic, because being the only chef who managed to not only wring a five star rating but a glowing review from such a notoriously harsh critic had been quite good for Luo Binghe’s business after all -

- and adjusting his menus to both suit Shen Yuan’s preferences and lean into heavier, fattier meals was good for Luo Binghe personally, because a lifetime of being a picky eater had let Shen Yuan grow up into skin and bones, which was bad for both Luo Binghe’s tiny remaining morality that was reserved for feeling bad for people who looked hungry and Luo Binghe’s sex life, since someone so skinny wasn’t very good for holding -

- and somehow, in the past year, Luo Binghe’s life has once more given cooking a new meaning: it’s what brought Shen Yuan to him, and got Shen Yuan to stay, in a way far more meaningfully than it ever got those rich young ladies to stay with Luo Binghe in the past.

It has also allowed Luo Binghe to grow into an ugly, wretchedly possessive thing, knowing that Shen Yuan likes his food best, that it’s his food that has filled in the little fat on Shen Yuan’s hips and thighs. A part of Luo Binghe becoming a part of Shen Yuan, and Shen Yuan enjoying it -!

“Well,” Shen Yuan says, “I want to eat this food. So - mapo tofu?”

Luo Binghe grinds his teeth. It makes the possessive parts of him howl that his picky eater boyfriend could be made hungry by another chef; if Shen Yuan had not specifically asked Luo Binghe to make the meal for him, and instead had genuinely sought out the online chef, Luo Binghe might have truly snapped.

…Perhaps this is a level of ownership that Luo Binghe should not feel over Shen Yuan’s eating, if their relationship is to be a healthy one. After all, if Shen Yuan were to ever be apart from Luo Binghe for longer than Luo Binghe could prepare meals for in advance…

Luo Binghe resolves to never be away from Shen Yuan for so long a period.

“Mapo tofu, then,” Luo Binghe agrees, smiling with sharp teeth at Shen Yuan.

Shen Yuan finally glances up from his phone, beaming at Luo Binghe.

“My Binghe’s the best after all, ah!” He says, clearly smug with himself, and some of Luo Binghe’s irritation slips away.

For Shen Yuan, he really…

…He’ll really make mapo tofu better than anyone!!

Luo Binghe had made some just the other day actually, for a video for his blog, but he doesn’t bother to make it the same way this time. Food made specifically for his cooking blog is always slightly altered from how it truly tastes best - it must be designed to look good for the viewer, rather than tasting or feeling good. Besides that, Luo Binghe is not above altering recipes before giving them out so that his own cooking would always taste best, preventing copy cats from stealing the clientele of his restaurant.

And, more importantly, this is the mapo tofu that Shen Yuan has specifically asked for, spurred on by a impotent online stranger who probably made a good-looking meal out of luck and nothing else. If Luo Binghe makes mapo tofu that is only good in a normal way, it won’t successfully prevent Shen Yuan from thinking of that stranger’s cooking ever again, ah!

So: a doubanjiang sauce that Luo Binghe has been fermenting personally, rather than store bought, and scallions instead of garlic greens to suit Shen Yuan’s preferences specifically. Tofu cut into chunks that Luo Binghe knows will be just the right size for Shen Yuan’s perfect pink lips and tongue, and the final dish plated in a way that is messier than is presentable for pictures but will have a better ratio of sauce to food, and -

Shen Yuan frowns. Luo Binghe, who has not seen Shen Yuan frown at a meal he has personally made in all the time he has known him, feels a spike of panic.

Is his food not Shen Yuan’s ideal, anymore? Has Shen Yuan found another standard that he prefers, another chef to feed him? No one could feed Shen Yuan as well as Luo Binghe can, he’s sure of it, so why -!

“This doesn’t look like the mapo tofu you made the other day,” Shen Yuan says.

Luo Binghe blinks at him. “The mapo tofu that… I made?”

“Yeah? Didn’t I say I wanted it because I got hungry looking at your latest blog post?” Shen Yuan pauses to take a bite of the dish, his eyes fluttering shut and a low noise in the back of his throat escaping him in his bliss. “Ah, fuck it, this is way better than I thought it would be, forget the blog post!”

Saying so, Shen Yuan digs in to the meal in earnest, and Luo Binghe is left to watch him as he makes peace with the fact that he had, in fact, called himself an impotent fool when he thought it was someone else who had made mapo tofu that Shen Yuan liked the look of.

#i love aus like this ehehe #unfortunately i myself am a pretty poor cook so i could never write a full au like this bc i have to research every single dish + step rip #anyway hope you like it - ty for playing!#svsss #binggeyuan #fic drabble

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placeinthemiddleofnowhere · 1 year ago

Text

Reign down on me - Part 6

Pairing: Ghost x Hybrid!reader (eventual poly!141)

No use of y/n or mention of gender/race

Summary: Reader is a wolf hybrid in a world that treats them like second class citizens, given a horrible start in life after being thrown into the military with no preparation. After years of struggle, they're finally taken away from their base by Ghost, now a permanent member of taskforce 141 reader struggles to come to terms with the fact that perhaps there's a life there for them - if only they reach out and accept it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, Angst, abuse mentions, self doubt, violent scenes

A/N: Hi, helooooo! Sorry for the long update times, my life has been super hectic. So this chapter didn't go where I thought it would end up going, so there's some things I think I said I was gonna explore that will be in the next chapter instead. However I hope you enjoy this one 💕 thanks for waiting

-🐺-

There was a quiet hum pulsing through the room, the buzz of everyone around you tending to their own conversations and hoppy drinks which allowed you to relax and attempt to tune out the busy environment. After another successful mission, the 141 wanted to unwind- which apparently meant going to the pub for drinks, darts and, according to them, mediocre grub. Although after dining fine on MRE’s for the majority of your life, you had to disagree. That sausage and mash was the some of the best you’d tried.

Ghost had forced you to change into some civvies before you’d left, which meant doing another embarrassing repeat of the shopping experience hed’d taken you out on. You still weren’t convinced you were able to put together a good outfit, fussing and trying a few different combinations of things, but once Ghost had looked you up and down and given you a nod of approval you’d relaxed.

When you’d all gotten to the pub and you’d seen that less people stared at you while in your new attire, you were soon thankful for the change. A hybrid in military gear drew attention, it probably made people think the area was being worked, but a casually dressed and collared hybrid was apparently nothing to get too concerned about. Huh.

Once you’d pressed yourself to the back of the booth, you barely worried about being out in public anymore. The world was the confines of the table, the edge of it stretching no further than your now trusted teammates. That became all the more true after you were offered a drink and then another and another. Once the buzz had started, the last of your lingering anxieties around being out floated to the back of your mind and disappeared like smoke. None of the other patrons were even a blip in the back of your fuzzy little head.

“So Pup, what’d you reckon?” Gaz asked, spinning his pint glass around in his hand. “‘Nother drink?”

How many were you actually allowed, you wondered, you’d already had a few. When you turned to Ghost to try and gauge your answer, he was too busy talking in hushed tones to Soap, so instead you employed your backup. Price smiled wryly the second you clocked eyes with him across the table.

“Like most things, Pup, this ain’t a test,” Price chuckled. “You know your own tolerance don’t you?”

“You think I’ve done a lot of drinking before?” You asked back, innocently dodging his question.

You twiddled with your own glass, rolling it between your palms and watching the dregs inside twirl. Bubbles of the beer still continued to fizzle across your palette even as you watched it dance below you. The hypnotic show only served to further make you aware of the hazy sheen across your eyes, and you were sure that if you stood up you’d probably feel like you were walking on foamy clouds.

You’d have to be careful. Wouldn’t do to overindulge, you tried to remind yourself. Though that voice was quiet compared to the euphoric beast in you that cried out for more, that wanted to keep going until you forgot about every sordid thought in your head as easily as you forgot about how uncomfortable crowds made you.

“Well you sunk those pretty quickly,” Gaz said, motioning his glass toward you.

“Not to mention Branhaven has one of the highest rates of contraband seizure for a UK base,” Price noted, finishing the last of his drink. “Reckon you’ve probably indulged a time or two, no?”

You couldn’t conceal your smile. Though your ears soon pinned to your head, realising that the implication that you were engaging in illegal behaviour was floated out wide in the open. It was true, hybrids would often do chores or other kinds of favours for human soldiers in exchange for goods, which often meant working for booze or cigarettes or stronger stuff on occasion. You’d been more than happy to help with boot polishing and patch sewing on an occasion or two. Some nights it helped with the pain, on others it just kept you from going mad.

“Don’t worry, we won’t tell anyone your secrets,” Gaz winked. “I’ll go get us another round.”

You bit your lip and nodded, watching as he made his way over to the busy bar, casually floating around a group of men before seizing an opportunity to break through to the oderous wood top. Once at the counter, he folded his arms over it and leaned his body out ever so slightly, his hips angling back toward the table.

It was hard to tell if it was entirely the drink, but as you watched him, you found yourself really looking what you saw. Gaz was a well built man, lean and proportioned well, but it was his face that your eyes were stuck on. He looked good that night, his smiles came easy, the full ones that showed his fang-like teeth. They glinted in the soft light when he turned around to say something to the man next to him, shining like pearls. His shoulders were relaxed, back untensed, his body shook with laughter when the other man made a joke.

Truth be told you couldn’t be sure how long you stared after him, but it was safe to say your roving eyes didn’t go unnoticed.

“See somethin’ you like over there?” Price asked, jerking his head back to the Sergeant.

You blinked slowly. Your head felt like it was rushing with syrup, getting flustered but too tipsy to respond with anything smart.

“What?”

“You’re lookin’ awfully hard is all,” he shrugged.

The room felt like it heated a few degrees. In an effort to not meet that crinkly eyed grin of your captain, your gaze floated along the arm hed slung over the back of Gaz's chair. However, that only gave you more problems. You immediately imagined him slinging that arm over you, holding you close and sharing his heady body heat. Smelling his scent, bathing him in yours.

It’s happening again!

Your ears perked up like lightning rods when you realised that some baser part of your nature was taking over yet another time that week. The feral little creature that usually kicked around somewhere in your hindbrain was clawing its way to the forefront. Now you were practically panting after half your team. You needed to get a hold of yourself, you reasoned, surely you weren’t going to give into whatever random desires you were getting for closeness. Stupid Pack bond - or whatever it was that Ghost had chalked it up to.

“I, uh- there’s pool over there,” you shrugged lamely, gesturing to the tables just off to Gaz’s right.

Someone managed to pot a ball not long after you’d said it. Your ears tilted toward the sound, then swivelled again when you heard Gaz’s familiar huffs and puffs of effort. He was now stepping toward you with a trayful of glasses, clenching his teeth whenever he came close to spilling or bumping into someone, walking ever slower with the wobbling glasses as he realised how precariously they were balanced. His muscles bulged a little with the effort.

Price caught your stupid staring again, but he didn’t say anything about it this time. His eyes just narrowed knowingly at you, not with accusation but with concealed humour. You could tell by the subtle pull of his lip.

“Gazzy. You up for a game?” Price barked.

“Depends, what are we playing?” Gaz asked, raising a brow as he snatched his pint.

He took a sip of it, coating his upper lip in a little sheen of foam. He licked it off in short order.

“The wolf wants to play pool,” Price said.

Price once again interrupted your brain fog from taking over. Knowing full well that he would be wearing that same stupid ‘I know what you’re thinking’ look on his face, you looked up at Gaz and reached out for your own drink. That one had to be your last before - god forbid - you were left drooling over anyone else.

“Oh yeah? You a secret pool master?” Gaz asked.

“Oh…no,” you clarified, awkwardly swallowing a gulp of beer. “I’ve watched it being played enough times though. I always wanted to try it.”

You’d never actually been that bothered about it, you preferred to blend in rather than get caught in competition, especially when it came to games with humans. However as far as any of them were concerned, it was your life’s dream. Anything, as long as it stopped anyone from thinking that you were obsessed with your teammate.

“You wanna pair up with me then? Reckon you should be on the winning team for your first game.”

“Pfft, winning team? Sure that’s with you, son?” Price scoffed.

“Beat you last time didn’t I, old man?”

“Fuck off.”

Price took a dramatic gulp of his beer then loudly pushed off from the booth, marching toward the pool table as if it were a mission objective. You laughed noiselessly to yourself, but soon had to stop yourself from choking on your own drink when the little demon inside you commented on how nice his big broad shoulders were, perfect for holding you close.

How were you going to survive the night?

You looked back over at Ghost to try and regain some sense of composure only to see that Soap was shuffling along the bench to leave and your handler was about to follow him. Giving him a slight head tilt in question, you wondered where they were going. To which, Ghost answered by pulling you in close, wrapping his arm around you and leaving you practically choking on his forearm for a second, before he released you with a messy pat on the head.

“We’re goin’ for a smoke,” he chuckled, watching your annoyed glare with amusement while you fixed your hair. “Be good while I’m gone.”

The smile lines broke out under his eyes, and for a ditzy second all you could do was stare. All thoughts of telling him off left your mind, instead you were stuck looking above his face mask, drinking in the glittering pools of his irises and the blush tinged tops of his cheeks. Your tail wagged traitorously when he continued to stare back.

“What?” he huffed, smile still not leaving his eyes.

Your entire body flamed at being caught this time.

“Nothing,” you shrugged, shrinking back into the chair.

You hoped that the chair would swallow you.

“Silly thing.”

Ghost gave you a scratch behind the ears then finally slid off to join Soap. However, you weren’t left alone to your own self-deprecating thoughts. Gaz was watching you, his lips curving in amusement. He started to twirl his glass again, spinning it around on it’s axis.

“So how do you like being with the 141 so far then?”

The question caught you off guard, but you had to admit it was a welcome distraction. You unpinned your ears from your shameful, burning head and relaxed once more.

“I like it,” you said simply.

“Oh yeah? How’s staying with Ghost?”

“Oh uh, Ghost is nice. It’s been cool having my own room,” you said, smiling as you thought about your big comfy bed. “He’s been really good to me.”

Gaz snorted out a laugh before he could stop himself.

“What?” You glared. “What’s so funny?”

“Nice isn’t the first word I’d use to describe Ghost, but….” He shrugged.

“Ghost is nice though,” you frowned, body growing tense at the hint of any accusations of the contrary.

“Sure, when he’s not telling awful jokes or burning holes into your head with that stare he has,” Gaz laughed, outstretching his hands and wiggling his fingers. “I’m from Manchester and I’m gonna steal your soul with me spooky eyes.”

You giggled at his terrible impression, back unfurling from its defensive hunch, then hit his hands away playfully. Normally you would’ve worried about the repercussions of doing something like that to a superior, but the drink was still buzzing through your head and if that weren’t enough Gaz’s smile shone brightly back at you.

“Ghost isn’t spooky,” you affirmed.

“Seriously? Next you’ll tell me that you don’t live in a big haunted castle together.”

“We don’t!” You laughed.

“I bet it has skeleton decorations everywhere. Skull pillows and skeleton paintings, table and chair legs shaped into bones.”

“No!”

“Really? Damn, the man isn’t as predictable as I thought…but honestly tell me. Does he have little skeleton jammies? You can’t seriously tell me that he doesn’t keep the skull look going when he gets home. He probably sits and watches Netflix with his skull top and bottoms and skeleton cuddly toy and skeleton sockies. No? Genuinely?”

You only continued to laugh and shake your head, denying his silly accusations. Gaz smiled back at you, shifting his eyes over you as if he were cataloguing every sign of your delight.

“Oi, time for hilarities is over,” Price said, appearing through the parting crowds. “get ready to get your arses handed to ya. I got us a table”

“You sound awfully confident, Captain,” Gaz said, scraping his chair across the rough floors.

“Because I’m not drunk this time.”

“Don’t need you to be drunk to beat you. Got Pup on my team, we can’t lose.”

-🐺-

“Maybe I should sit this one out,” you murmured, flinching as the cue white ball barely even tapped the yellow ball that you were trying to hit.

Your ears pinned low to your head and your temperature grew as you looked up and down the table and failed to see how you were going to pot even a single ball at the rate you were going. When you’d watched the game being played in the past, you’d assumed it was easy, but apparently the human soldiers were just skilled at it.

Your failure was made all the worse by the fact that Gaz and Price had very dutifully stood and explained the rules and how to use the pool cue when the game had begun. In fact Price had been so thorough on his explanation it prompted Gaz to assert once again that you were going to beat his arse easy. However…

You had taken two attempts and in that time had only nudged that mockingly cheerful yellow ball once. The first attempt where you almost missed even hitting the cue ball altogether didn’t bear thinking about. Meanwhile Price had already potted four. You chewed your lip, hoping Gaz wouldn’t be too annoyed that his tutoring was apparently falling on deaf ears.

“Aw, don’t worry Pup. You’ll get it,” Price chuckled.

“Yeah, don’t sweat it. It’s your first game!” Gaz reassured

He leaned over then and zeroed in on a striped orange ball, setting his cue across the back of his roughened hand and sawing it back and forth like a wary snake. He’d taken off his brown trucker jacket at the beginning of the match, so now his arms were out in full display, practically suffocating inside the short sleeves he wore and bursting to get out. Your eyes grazed along the cue and danced between the thick hairs on the backs of his forearms and up to his biceps, mesmerised by the shifting muscle.

You missed seeing him finally hit the cue ball, but your ears twitched at the sound and your heart sunk when you both saw and heard the resulting ‘plonk’ of the orange stripe rolling merrily into its pocket. You were so screwed.

“Gonna hold back on making eyesight jokes now, Garrick?” Price questioned, already lining up his next shot.

“Only if you manage to get that blue,” Gaz winked, pointing to a ball that sat nowhere near the cueball.

“Easy, I’ll just hit the ball off the side, let it bank left and then it’ll roll into the pocket,” he grinned.

“Oh yeah, easy,” Gaz scoffed, nudging you with his shoulder. “Watch this, Pup. Captain’s about to embarrass ‘imself.”

“Oi. Keep your shit opinions to yourself!”

Gaz rolled his eyes, but nevertheless the two of you watched in concentrated silence as Price actually started to line up the shot he called. After a few tense seconds of watching him adjust and readjust once more he took a breath then whacked the ball with all the force of a train going through a brick wall. The white ball smacked into the fuzzy green side then banked just shy of the blue striped ball, rolling furiously into the pocket straight after. It landed with a heavy thunk to boot.

“Fuck me,” Price muttered to himself, immediately grabbing for his beer straight after.

“Wahey! Look at that Pup, we’ve got two shots,” Gaz said, heavily patting your shoulder. “We’ve got this.”

“Yeah,” you laughed weakly, handing him the cue. “You got this.”

“Woah woah woah,” Gaz said, tilting his head dramatically. “We’re a team, we got this.”

“Well it is your shot.”

“Nah, I don’t think so.”

He shoved the pool cue back into your hands, but he didn’t step away from you after. He pressed you insistently toward the table and caged his arms between yours, taking your hands with his and adjusting them up the smooth wood. You shivered at the feeling of his warm breath tickling at your neck and teasing through your hair. You stiffened up like drying clay when he moulded himself closer into you.

“Don’t freeze up like that, you’re not under attack. Look, I’m gonna show you how to hold it properly and that way you’ll get a good hit alright?”

You chanced a look back at him and caught a look into those molten honey eyes, knowing full well you were a goner. You’d just have to go with whatever he said. After giving him a gentle little nod, you swallowed the lump in your throat and turned back toward the table, allowing him to slowly arrange your body so that you were in the supposed perfect stance.

His hands were silk, gliding delicately across your arms so that you would place yourself how he wanted. You had to hold yourself back from shivering every time his touch came. Once you were standing how he wanted, he took to laughing and tutting at you until you got your finger into the correct position to support the cue, and only when that was Gaz certified did he allow you to start readying your shot.

“Ok, take it away, Pup. You got this!”

After a couple of practice slides, you drew the cue back one final time, holding your breath as you prepared to send it flying forward and into the purple ball that Gaz had lined up for you. You finally took your shot, watching with wide eyes as the cueball barrelled forward and shunted straight into the purple, sending it toward the pocket while it landed neatly beside a couple more of your balls, ready for the next shot. As soon as the purple landed fully down, you were jumping up in an instant.

“I hit it! I hit it and scored a point,” you said, full smile beaming as you turned to Gaz. “Did you see how fast it went? I wanna do that again!”

Gaz’s sharp canines were on full display again. His eyes travelled low down on your body and he chuckled, and only when you followed his eyeline did you see that your tail was furiously wagging up a storm behind you. It wafted up a big draft of air, blowing gusts through the old newspapers that were piled on the low table behind you.

“I saw. You did good,” Gaz praised, laughing while rubbing the little spot on your cheek that he always did.

“Yes, Pup - very good,” Price added dryly, shaking his head while taking another swig of his drink.

With that the newspapers behind you turned from almost the front pages, toward the nonsense stories at the back.

“What’s got you so excited, fuzzy lugs?”

You turned and saw Soap leaning over the end of the table, slowly swirling his whisky while he assessed the game. His blue eyes rolled from one end and to the other then settled on you, pinning you in place for a moment until you’d realised that he’d asked you a question. You bit your lip and shrugged, trying to downplay yourself a little as you remembered that your victory was being celebrated a little too early.

“I potted a ball,” you shrugged, trying to hide your mellowed tone with a drink.

“Oh did ye, aye? You’ll have to do it again for me and Ghost,” he grinned.

Soap motioned his head to the left, pointing toward Ghost who was taking his time wandering back to Soap’s side. You could smell the cigarette smoke cloying to him as he walked by. It made your nose wrinkle. Though you soon forgot all about it when he shot you a wink.

“Gonna show us your new skills?” He asked.

Now everyone was watching you. No pressure.

You gulped and made your way back to the table side, using your cue like a walking stick. Poking your tongue out, you stood for a second and swayed a little on your unsteady tipsy feet, thinking through your next move. Your eyes roved over the balls, moving between the two most likely candidates until you settled on the green.

After looking up and confirming everyone was still staring, you shuddered. However Gaz gave you an encouraging smile, which spurred you on all the more. A few awkward seconds passed while you tried to reform yourself into the same position Gaz put you in before. Even in your drunken state you still recalled most of the ways he’d shown that you were supposed to position yourself, all the while keeping your hands further up the stick so that you could hit harder and keeping your finger ridgid against it.

You slid it back and forth, once, then another two times and finally you made your move. The cue thwacked into the cueball and sent it rocketing into the green, sending the green ball rolling forward and flying toward the left side pocket. The ball began to lose its momentum just toward the end, it slowed just a little more and then a little more and just when your ears started to collapse downward in disappointment, it managed to creep into the pocket at the last second.

“Holy shit I did it! I did it all by myself!” You squealed, perking back up again and grinning like an idiot.

You turned, making sure everyone had seen it, but before you could take stock everyone you were surrounded by two massive chests. The pressure came quickly crushing you up like a scrapped car. Though you didn’t mind, when your panicked mind realised they were hugging you, you settled into it and wagged your tail.

“That’s my good Pup,” Ghost crooned, his voice even more gravelly than usual.

“You did so good!” Gaz whooped.

They both parted from you and just when you’d adjusted to having full lung capacity again, Soap all but whacked all the air from you with a couple of big pats on the back.

“Well done, furball,” he said lowly, throwing you a sly smile. “Knew you had it in ya. You’re my wee pack mate after all, aren’t ya?”

Your tail wagged even harder at that.

“Yes, very good,” Price barked, smiling despite the faux stern expression he tried to hold. “You taking your next turn or not, Pup?”

“I get another one?” You gawped, looking at the last few balls in awe.

“You get one every time you pot. And if you don’t get on with your next one I’m confiscating it from you.”

“Don’t think that’s in the rules, old man,” Gaz laughed.

“Gotta give myself a chance here, Garrick. You two have bloody hustled me,” Price retorted.

“Oh you think you’re hustled now? Just wait for this next turn.”

-🐺-

You helped Gaz win that game in the end, and as a reward he insisted on carrying you to the taxi on his back. Well, that’s what he intended anyway. He stumbled just as he got out the pub door and collapsed in a fit of drunken laughter. At that point Ghost took over and hoisted you up on his shoulder, carrying you like a sack of potatoes.

Had you been in any state to complain you might’ve, however you were still riding on a winning high and your head was full of bubbles and fizz. No matter how hard you tried to stop it, your tail continued to sloppily wag even while Ghost carried you, and for the rest of the night he complained about having fur in his mouth. Normally something like that would worry you, thinking you’d annoyed him, but you’d been so carefree you fell asleep on him once he’d lugged you to the sofa.

You’d woken the next morning stretched out fully over a sleeping Ghost and Soap, jumping up in mortification when you realised what you’d done and running to your bed for what felt like an extra five minutes of sleep. Then as a grand result of your wild night out (compared to anything else you’d ever done), you were exhausted the whole next day. So much so that you’d been flagging through a lot of your exercises, but luckily Ghost went easy and structured training so that you got more breaks and got easier tasks to complete. Whether that was more for you or him, you couldn’t really decide.

“Sleepy Pup,” Ghost chuckled, rubbing your cheek with the back of his greasy hand. “We’ll get an early night tonight, huh?”

You hummed in response. The sound of him cleaning his rifle had been relaxing, the cloth fibres smoothly running along the barrel while you leaned against his leg and caught up on a little napping. Normally he would send you off to do something while he did upkeep, but given your low energy he was quite happy to have you rest with him while he worked.

“Alright then, Pup. Time to head off home,” Ghost grunted, giving your shoulder a gentle shake. “We just gotta swing by Price’s office first.”

“Ok,” you said through a yawn.

Your tail crooked off to the side more than usual, and you could feel the fur on your ears sticking up like an animal that had just emerged from hibernation. Had there been a mirror around, you knew you’d be jumping back from it,though luckily that wasn’t the case. Instead you followed listlessly along after Ghost, plodding through the hallways like a mindless golem after its master.

“You ok to wait out here?”

It had barely even registered that you’d reached Price’s door. However when your mind came too, you were out in the dingy hallway that proceeded his room. The two of you standing by the chipped paint patch that looked suspiciously like someone had slammed a chunk out of the wall. You slowly nodded when you finally caught up, the joint in your neck rolling as if automated.

“Try not to fall asleep out here. I’m not carrying you again,” he chuckled. “You need anything, just knock.”

You nodded again and watched him quietly open the door and click it shut. He left you alone in the corridor, staring bleary eyed at the flickering light, absentmindedly falling back against the wall and counting out the seconds between its full beam and little strobe dance. Without fail it would flicker every five to seven seconds.

Footsteps marched down the hallway in the distance, and your ears twitched to their rhythm. The boots slapped against the floors at a quick pace, and slowly muffled voices echoed from out of obscurity and rang through your ears. The two men became clearer by the second, and before long they were crossing your path, just about to walk past you until one of them caught eyes with you and halted as if stopped by an invisible force.

“Care to explain what you’re doing leaning around like that, hybrid?” he growled.

You frowned at him. The man had dark hair closely cropped to his head, save for a small combed over patch on the top and big bushy eyebrows that fell heavy over his dark eyes. His friend meanwhile was almost completely bald, but had a striking scar across his cheek and a birthmark on his neck. Both of them seemed young, though not young enough that they were too fresh to think about messing with you apparently.

“I’m waiting for my handler to finish his meeting with Captain Price,” you said evenly, figuring it was easiest just to answer him.

He didn’t look satisfied with your answer though, his eyes lit up in challenge and his jaw twinged as if biting through bone. All traces of tiredness left you in that instant. Whatever was about to happen couldn’t be good, you were experienced enough to know that much.

“What was that?” the man said, tilting his head for emphasis.

His friend raised his brows, looking between the two with a vexed expression. He musn’t have been as familiar with hybrids, you thought dully, glancing at him while still keeping yourself focused on the combover man. If only one of them was going to be aggressive then defending yourself from whatever they were going to do would be easier.

“I said that I’m waiting for my handler,” you ground out, stiffening your posture.

“Waiting for your handler, sir,” the man corrected, his thick eyebrows casting a dark shadow over his eyes. “You have to show respect to your superior officers.”

You said nothing in response, only nodding your head once and gritting your teeth. Technically that was true, but given Ghost was a Lieutenant that meant that you likely outranked them (given that you were automatically ranked the same as your handler as a hybrid). Those assholes could kick rocks as far as you were concerned, you’d earned your right to speak on their level.

“Do you want a last chance to fix your attitude, hybrid?” he asked, tensing his arms as he leered over you.

His shadow flickered in the wavering light and you couldn’t help but think of him as a demon. His friend put a hand on his back and urged him to ‘just forget about it’, but still the man didn’t budge. He continued to loom over you and stare expectantly, though as far as you were concerned he could wait forever.

He didn’t though. The little shit, took your silence as insolence, and just when he was about to reach out and grab you, you strafed back from him and growled. The sound had the other man widening his eyes, but your main attacker only glared. It spurred him to come for you once again, but again he missed you and then failed to grab you another time after that.

“Get the fuck over here, you little-”

He reached out again to grab you, and finally he’d succeeded, clenching his hand painfully around your arm. However you weren’t going to let him manhandle you like that. You barked out a fearsome roar of defiance and dug your nails, more like claws, into the thick uncovered flesh of his arm and yanked it backward while spinning away from his grip. The yowl of pain he let out interrupted his sentence and sent his friend into a panic trying to drag the man back.

“What the fuck is going on out here?”

The shout echoed out across the concrete walls and all at once you all ceased your rebuttals. Your teeth stayed bared and you continued to pant, staring down the hallway as if possessed by a vengeful force. Meanwhile the two men looked fearfully over at the source of the voice, paling noticeably when they were forced to reckon with your fearsome handler.

Your attacker gulped, loud enough that your sensitive ears picked up on it and swivelled in his direction. He flinched at the movement, but soon straightened up. The pitiful man held out his arm and set his face in a grim expression, using his other hand to motion down at the bleeding claw marks.

“This hybrid attacked me, sir,” the man said, voice far more subdued than it had been before.

Ghost raised his eyebrow from behind his mask and looked over at you. Once he’d finally assessed the state you were in, he put his body in between the two of you and set to work calming you down. He took your collar in his hand and directed you to look at him, smoothing his hand down your back and blocking your view of the perceived hostile. After which, he took to gently shushing your panting and making calming noises.

“Can you tell me what happened?” He asked after a few moments, smoothing his hands over your ruffled hair.

“Well, what happened was-” the man’s friend began.

“Wasn’t fucking talking to you,” Ghost growled, not even sparing a look back.

Your mouth twitched into a smile, but Ghost didn’t indulge it. He set his eyes on you with a serious frown and forced a sigh from your lips. Part of you had thought that Ghost might be on your side, but now a little voice in the back of your mind was trying to scream past a crumbling barrier - it told you that maybe Ghost was going to give up on his gentle handler act. It would make sense, you thought, you were a bad soldier, you didn’t deserve the nice treatment to begin with.

“I was waiting for you and then…I was asked what I was doing and then, when I explained myself, I was told I wasn’t being respectful enough. He tried to grab me and I fought him off,” you said awkwardly, not wanting to meet his eyes any longer.

“Sir, that hybrid was leaning around - not even waiting at attention and when I tried to address their behaviour, I was given nothing but bad attitude back. I was trying to correct it’s bad behaviour when it saw fit to scratch me up like a fucking feral cat!” The man fumed.

“Correct their behaviour?” Ghost asked, turning to man finally. “How were you going to correct my hybrid’s behaviour exactly?”

Your heart dropped into your belly. Every instinct within you screamed out that you were about to meet Ghost’s iron fist at last. You were going to experience a lashing at the very least and at worst, he might take everything you had come to care about away from you. Hot salty tears brimmed on top of your cheeks, finally overflowing at the thought that Ghost might’ve only given you all those things so that it would hurt more having them taken away again.

You made sure to sob quietly, sniffling softly into your hand so that you wouldn’t antagonise Ghost any further. Tears won’t get you anywhere in the army, mutt, Maddox’s voice chirped in the back of your mind. You almost missed the man’s pathetic whimpering answer.

“Well…I was going to give it a slap, sir. Strike some sense into it.”

“I see,” Ghost replied, wide back still obscuring the man from you.

You doubted you’d make anything out past your tears anyway. In your mind everything was in the process of being ripped out of your life again, the team were going to look at you like the disappointment you knew you were, your things were going to be scrapped and stripped down to bare essentials once more and you’d never get to feel Simon the cuddlytoy’s soft fur ever again. However you were ripped out of your little pity parade with the sound of a hard smack.

Your ears perked up and you jumped back a pace or two, looking around for the source of the noise until you looked past Ghost and saw your attacker rubbing his cheek and groaning. For a second, you couldn't quite believe what had happened, but soon enough the man was wrenching his hand away from his face in an effort to save face and it revealed an angry looking red patch of skin. It really had happened - Ghost had slapped the soldier. 2

“You think that’s knocked some sense into you, Second Lieutenant?” Ghost sneered. “Don’t you fucking dare breathe in the direction of another handler’s hybrid ever again, nevermind think that you have the right to discipline them, you self-righteous little cunt. Get out of my sight the pair of ya.”

The man opened his mouth, about to say something in his defence until his friend nodded sharply and began to drag him away. Not wanting to cause more of a scene the man relented, but the way he glared as he turned told you that this wasn’t over. There was a new target on Ghost’s back now.

However, said back was turning away from you now and Ghost was facing you once again and pulling you into his arms. After a shocked second of fear, readying yourself to be hit or similarly reprimanded, you slowly came to realise he didn’t mean to hurt you at all. He was hugging you and rubbing your back, telling you that it was alright.

“Wh- what are you doing?” you asked feebly, trying your best not to hiccup or sniff through your words.

“Trying to comfort you, if you’ll let me,” Ghost snorted, slowly walking you backward.

You walked with him, but only grew more confused as he dragged you into Price’s office and forced you to sit on the old ratty couch and curl up with him. Out of the corner of your bleary eyes you saw Price sitting at his desk and watching you both with concern, gathering up a few bottles of water onto his desk. In front of you, Ghost wrapped his grip ever tighter round you and got you to bury your head into his neck.

“It’s over now, Pup,” Ghost said softly, smoothing over your salt scorched cheek. “You’re ok.”

“But…you- aren’t you going to punish me?” you asked, freeing yourself from his hold a little and drawing away from his usually relaxing scent so that you could make an effort to think straight.

“You’ve not done anything worth punishment,” he said gently.

“I scratched someone,” you whined, looking down at your still bloody hands with a wobbling lip.

“Someone that saw fit to break protocol and try to discipline a hybrid that wasn’t theirs. You had every right to defend yourself. You’re not going to be punished for that.”

“Especially not when the punishment he had in mind didn’t fit the crime in the first place. Corporal punishment is supposed to be reserved for serious offences Pup, not for leaning or having a bad attitude,” Price added, coming to sit at your other side. “Here, take a drink of this. You need it, you’ve made yourself unwell.”

He handed you a water bottle and gave you a serious look until you finally took it from him and slowly uncapped it. Through a series of uneasy sips, your heart began to regulate and your body stopped shaking. You hadn’t even realised that you had been shaking. The realisation made you sign, taking a couple breaths until you could clear your mind enough to reach some level of proper awareness again.

“I thought it was all going to go away,” you sighed, leaning against Ghost’s chest when you knew that things were normal again.

“What was going to go away?” Ghost asked, rubbing his thumb over your cheek.

You bathed in his and Price’s joint attentions, letting Ghost rub your cheek and Price smooth a hand over your shoulders and back. For a few luxurious seconds you let yourself revel in the fact that you were wrong. The stupid little panicky voice in your head was a liar. Everything was just as it had been.

“Everything,” you said eventually, voice barely a whisper. “I thought you were going to take all my things away and start treating me like they did at my old base. Thought I was going to be sent to the post…”

“Mark my words, anyone tries to lash you again and they’ll have the entire 141 to answer to, Pup,” Price said, voice coming through in a low growl.

“And I’d never take away your things,” Ghost vowed, cupping your cheek so that you had to look at him. “They’re given to you as payment for your service to us. They’re not for me or anyone else to take away, just like Price can’t rip my things from me. Nothing’s going away and you’re never going to be treated the way you were ever again. You’re ours, alright? We always protect our own.”

You stared at them both in disbelief, but couldn’t think of anything to say. The exhaustion and the upset combined and you were left feeling more drained than you had been in days. Instead you settled down back into Ghost’s collar bones and let yourself be petted and fussed over, sleepily letting your eyes close for the last time that day.

“Just wait till Soap and Gaz hear about this. That bastard’ll be lucky to see sunrise tomorrow,” you only just heard Price whisper darkly, before scratching a calloused hand over your ears.

“Now now, Price,” Ghost murmured back. “Gotta make it look like an accident.”

#reign down on me #simon ghost riley #Simon Riley #Ghost #mw2 #ghost x reader #Hybrid!reader

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misasimagines · 4 months ago

Text

all your fault / reader x Ren (Tokyo Debunker)

included characters: just ren!

rating: sfw

warnings: tsundere. dreaded there was only one bed trope. reader is forced to watch shakma.

What started as an innocent, “My door is always open,” offer to a tired, gaming withdrawing Ren became a habit you had no desire to break. You walked him back to your place after his shift at the diner and after your classes let out. He would sneak out of Jabberwock to bring a new terrible horror movie to watch. You would find an excuse to back out of plans so you would be able to be home when he would likely stop by.

It was almost starting to feel like he lived there.

You hopped up on your bed next to him, leaning up against the wall and settling in. “What are we watching tonight?”

He so rarely looked excited, but there was a mischievous, almost manic enthusiasm in his eyes, “Shakma.”

You stared at him.

He set his laptop up on his legs and opened up the movie site.

“The movie with the killer monkey?” You ventured.

“Yes. It’s so bad.” He was giddy. In his own way.

Taking a deep breath, you pulled your blanket over your legs and accepted your fate. It wouldn’t be the first horrible, no good, very bad movie he’d made you watch.

The movie was worse than bad. The movie was so bad that the weather outside went from a cloudless night to a rolling thunderstorm. You jumped once at a particularly loud thunder clap and he had mocked you, asking if you were actually scared of the killer monkey.

“I’m not scared of the killer monkey,” you scoffed, “I’m scared of my shitty cathedral room getting flooded by the storm.”

Ren was too invested in the evil baboon killing med students to react with much nuance, “That would suck.”

The rest of the movie passed (thankfully, it seemed like it would never end) and Ren enjoyed every second of the awful film. You could appreciate his excitement, it was cute to see him so focused and invested. The light of the laptop screen flashed against his face, illuminating his eyes and accentuating his handsome features. Honestly, most of the movie you were imagining snuggling up to him, maybe using his shoulder as a pillow, and that’s what kept you from going completely insane from the terrible direction of the “plot.” You knew if you actually tried to do anything like that, he’d complain about harassment and whine until you apologized and it might just ruin everything you had with him.

You respected his boundaries, anyway, and knew that your fantasies would go unfulfilled. You were happy enough just being friends with him, getting to know about his bad taste in movies, opening whatever links he sent you to replenish his game stamina, and even starting a game or two yourself because he wanted the referral credits. Ah, the lengths you went to for this ungrateful boy.

The credits rolled and he pulled out his phone immediately, logging in to one of his mobile games to collect dailies. It must have been past midnight already. He was like a living alarm for you. You knew what hour it was based on him opening up whatever game on his phone, they all had different reset times, and this one was midnight.

Stretching your legs, you climbed up on your knees and leaned over his legs, bracing yourself against the foot-board to look out your window. The storm hadn’t let up, and you watched a torrent of rain rage against your window. The trees bowed outside from the sheer force of the wind and as you watched, a flash of lighting touched down, turning your room almost white from the brightness.

“What are you doing?” He asked, distracting you from your inspection.

Still bent over on your knees, you answered, “I don’t think the rain is going to let up.” You pushed yourself back and sat back down next to him.

If the laptop had a brighter color than black on the screen, you would have seen him blushing. For once, he was lucky, and the credits had given away to a black pause screen that kept you in the dark about his reaction. “Great,” he complained instead. “I’ll have to walk home in the dark and during a storm.”

You frowned, “Maybe it’ll be really bad for now, and then lessen up in a bit if you want to wait?”

He was quiet, and you knew he wasn’t doing anything important in the game since he just opened up the character menu, checked their stats, and then swiped to another one. He knew all of that information already by heart, he was just distracting himself and trying to appear casual. “Don’t you have an early morning tomorrow?”

You did, actually, and it surprised you he remembered it. Your surprise must have shown on your face, because he scowled at you before you could answer.

“Don’t look at me like that. I don’t ignore everything you say…” He pouted.

You bit back a smile, “Just 90% of it?” You teased.

“...40%.” He answered.

“Aw, so everything about how you really should treat Haru more nicely you ignore?” You poked his shoulder.

He turned his head away, “Now I’m ignoring you.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile and fell back onto your pillow, propping your knees up so you didn’t kick him. You were nice to him, even when he didn’t deserve it. “I do have an early morning tomorrow, but I don’t want you to drown out there or get struck by lightning or something, so I won’t kick you out.”

Ren set down his phone and steadied his laptop, more unnecessary movements to stall for time.

“You don’t have to stay,” You promised him, softening your voice as to not startle him, “I have an umbrella somewhere around here if you’d be more comfortable going home.” It wasn’t your intention to push him or to try to break any boundaries he had very clearly set. Ren wasn’t a… touchy, emotional guy. He was stubborn, he was pessimistic, and he had a very small social battery. In the time you had known him, you knew he didn’t like casual touches, he didn’t respond well to verbal affection, and he could barely tolerate even calling you a friend. You understood these things and you would never want to put him in a situation where he felt obligated to put up with something that made him uncomfortable.

Another minute of silence passed, and you rolled to your side and prepared to search for that umbrella. He spoke up before you could stand fully, “You don’t expect me to sleep on the floor or something, do you?”

You bounced lightly back down on the bed. Did he really want to stay? “No…” but you only had the one bed.

He pushed his laptop further away from him, expression fully readable. He was uncertain, torn between the discomfort of walking home while the storm blew branches off of the trees and the discomfort of sleeping in a comparatively warm bed. With you. His friend who he couldn’t stop going to almost every day. Who he spent most of his time with, who didn’t run his social battery to empty, and who never tried to force him to do anything he didn’t want to do. You had just watched a truly despicable movie with him, not complaining, not nagging him to pick something else. You never asked for any kind of payment for your company and care.

Would it really be that bad?

His cheeks flushed again at his own line of thinking and he looked out the window to avoid you seeing it. Your room was dark, only a few candles lighting up small radiuses around the room. You wouldn’t have even really been able to see it if he had stayed facing you.

You thought carefully. You really didn’t want to send him out in the rain, and you were worried that he was going to do just that if you didn’t fix the situation quickly. What was one night on your own cold, rickety, dusty floor? It would just be one of the many things you dealt with for him, “I don’t mind sleeping on the floor-”

He groaned, “Don’t be a martyr. It’s fine, we always sit on your bed to watch movies anyway. How different can it be?”

~~~

You took some time snuffing out your candles, changing into your most normal, modest, and not embarrassing pajamas possible. He had left a bag in your room one day that had a pair of spare joggers and a t-shirt from when he had to change last minute for work, and you had generously thrown them in with your laundry after he forgot them. One win for Ren tonight not having to sleep in jeans!

You thought it might be the only win, given the absolutely devastated look he had on his face staring down at your narrow bed.

He was not small, despite the closed off way he carried himself. His shoulders were relatively broad and his legs were long. You imagined that alone he’d feel squished in your bed. With you as well? He would be channeling the experience of a sardine. You considered again offering to sleep on your floor, but your sock-clad feet could feel the cold seeping in from the floorboards and you shuddered to think of sleeping down there.

“Wall side or door side?” You offered, trying to lighten the mood.

He frowned, “Wall side, so you don’t push me off onto the floor.” He climbed in, pulling the covers over him and keeping his face pointed at the wall. He fit exactly, with no room at the top or bottom to stretch out any further.

You climbed in after him, plugging in your phone and blowing out the last candle on your nightstand before pulling the covers up. It felt strange. The weight of his body dipped your mattress in a way that you weren’t used to. The normally cold chill of your room seemed lessened with his additional body heat under the covers. You imagined the sensation of an invisible barrier between you two, keeping you from settling fully on your bed. One of your shoulders was resting on air.

There was silence in your room, cut only by the constant of the rain outside, the wind making your old walls moan and crack, and the occasional distant boom of thunder. It went on so long, you weren’t sure if he was already asleep or just determined to pretend to be. You were about to accept the crick you’d have in your neck when he spoke up.

“I can’t move over anymore than I already am,” he sounded annoyed, but the kind of annoyed he was when you brought him lunch and he was upset about you bringing a rice bowl instead of noodles. The kind of annoyed where he would have said thank you and been grateful, if only he weren’t cursed to be so terribly bratty.

“It’s fine! I can scoot over more,” you assured, sliding over a few more inches until you had to flex your arm to keep it from falling limp over the side of the bed.

Ren raised up on his elbow to inspect you and scowled, “You’re gonna fall off, so just-” he reached across you and grabbed your arm to pull you back up on the bed and froze.

His face turned red and you assumed yours matched from the scorching heat you felt in your cheeks. Ren was leaning over you, holding your arm, in the process of pulling you closer to him, and his face was closer to you than it ever had been. He could have lowered a few more inches and kissed you- If, big on the if, this situation were romantic and not potentially traumatizing for him. You hoped if he ever got this close to you it would be without an expression of such embarrassment and terror.

He dropped you and flipped over immediately, pulling the covers up to his ears and facing the wall, “Whatever, you can fall off if you're so determined to. I can't stop you.”

You took a slow, careful breath to calm your racing heart. The feeling of his hand on your arm lingered until the draft stole it away. You scooted over just enough to fit on your own bed and responded, “I’ll try not to.”

A few beats passed and he did not try to talk to you.

“Goodnight, Ren,” you mumbled, turning away from him and closing your eyes.

“...night…” he mumbled right back.

Ah, what a pair.

~~~

You started shivering in the middle of the night. He flopped over onto his back and glared at you. How was he ever going to sleep when you were shaking like a Chihuahua mere inches away from him?

“Cut it out,” he grumbled quietly.

You didn't respond and the pathetic shivers didn't cease.

He pushed himself up and squinted at you in the darkness. The curtains were too translucent to keep out much moonlight, and he could see that your eyes were shut tight and you took slow, even breaths in your sleep. Ren frowned. It was cold here, it was no wonder that you were shivering so much.

He laid back down and stared at your ceiling. Did you spend every night like this? Whenever he left you to go home to Jabberwock, did you climb up into your rickety bed and freeze yourself to sleep? What a martyr. You should have demanded to live anywhere but a dusty, moth eaten cathedral.

He turned to look at you again.

But if you lived anywhere else, would he ever have been able to be here with you? If you lived with those nepotism babies in Frostheim, for example, he'd probably have to deal with Kaito and Luka hanging around all the time. Or worse, Jin demanding your presence at all hours of the night. He couldn't stand watching you disappear into that rich bastard’s room.

If you lived in Vagastrom, you'd what? Live in the trunk of some car and he'd have to hope no one tried to use that car in a monster truck rally before you got out of it? Sinostra, if you didn't get eaten by Taiga, who knows where Romeo would keep you? And those ghouls in Mortkranken, who's to say they wouldn't do some freaky experiments on you?

Of course, this was not to even consider if you lived in Jabberwock. Even with you so close by, he'd never have a chance to actually be alone with you. Haru and Towa would take up all your time and you'd help out so much you'd been too tired to hang out with him. Not…not that he needed to be alone with you or anything.

God. He sounded like such a creep even thinking that. If thought crimes were a thing, he'd be in prison.

You continued pitifully shivering next to him, your hands curled up into fists you held close to your chest.

He pulled the sheets up to cover your hands, his fingers brushing against yours as he did so. You felt like ice, so much that he risked carefully touching you again to confirm. Yep. Prison. But also, were you going to die of frostbite in bed next to him? He could just groan to imagine that dweeb Ritsu finding a way to implicate him in your death. Or worse, charging a ridiculous fee to defend him in court.

There was no way around it then. He scooted closer. He was only doing this to avoid the court fees. He tugged his pillow closer to yours. And it's not like you hadn't touched before. He laid down, slowly, until his chest was against your back. You'd hugged him once- well, you hugged his arm. Because you fell and grabbed onto him for balance. But it counted. Whatever.

Ren’s heart raced as he slowly wrapped an arm around you and placed a hand over your curled fists. It didn't mean anything. There wasn’t anything significant in the way your hands felt in his or how you somehow smelled like the most comforting thing he could imagine. He rested his head on his pillow and felt you slowly relax, your shivering dissipating as he warmed you up. It was like you were melting, your curled up form unwinding delicately until you fit against him like you belonged there.

He shut his eyes tightly and tried to keep from breathing too heavily and waking you up. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale- without meaning to, he started matching your rhythm. However awake and grumpy he felt moments before, now he felt like he could pass out and never wake up again. Just as long as you stayed there in bed with him…

No, there was no way. He'd just have to wake up before you did and never let you know he did this and then it would be like nothing ever happened. It didn't matter how good it felt or how there was a little sliver of his heart that ached to do this every night. He bit back a groan of annoyance.

This was obviously your fault.

~~~

Sunlight filtered through your curtains, illuminating your room in a soft but insistently bright glow. Your phone alarm went off a few seconds later and you reached up to turn it off.

After the rough and cold start to the night, you felt certain you'd sleep horribly, but as you rubbed your eyes and stretched your legs, you thought you got the best night of sleep you'd had in a long time. You sat up in bed, pleasantly cozy and unable to keep a small smile off of your lips.

Ren was already up, shoving his night clothes into his bag.

“Good morning,” you managed mid yawn.

He made a noise at you.

“Sleep okay?” You asked, “Sorry if you were uncomfortable.” He seemed… off and you felt guilty that he had such a bad night when you felt so invigorated.

“It was fine…” he responded noncommittally before straightening up and throwing his backpack over his shoulder.

You nodded, your good mood hanging by a thread.

He gave you a look you didn't see as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and pawed for your phone to check your texts. He wanted to tell you a number of things he couldn't even let himself think. So he just grabbed his things and made his way to the door as he checked his own phone. “I have a bunch of raids tonight back to back.” He announced.

“Hmm, okay,” You acknowledged.

He frowned. Invite him back.

You were too tired to get it.

“Ugh, I'll be back tonight. You're not busy, right?”

You shook your head.

He frowned again, opened the door, and stood in the doorway. There were so many ways to end this better. He turned to look at you, your covers puddled in your lap, your cheek baring the red crease mark of your pillow, your eyes still foggy with sleep. He could say anything, do anything better than just saying “bye” and closing the door behind him.

You smiled softly at him, “I'll see you tonight,”

His cheeks felt hot, “Yeah. Bye.” He stepped out and shut the door behind him, that picture of you sitting in bed and smiling at him burned in his brain. He'd be able to think of nothing else all day. Ren checked his weather app. More rain tonight.

He started off back towards Jabberwock. It would be too much of a hassle to grab an umbrella and you would freeze without him… he scowled at his own thoughts as he trudged home. This was really all your fault.

#tdb #tokyo debunker #tdb x reader #tokyo debunker x reader #ren tdb #ren tokyo debunker #ren shiranami #tdb fluff #please no one expect consistency from me #i have a full time job and i am playing skyrim again

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onlyjaeyun · 2 years ago

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𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 | 𝐋𝐇𝐒

✗ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✗ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩!𝐀𝐔

✗ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.7k

✗ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐨𝐧/𝐝𝐚𝐠𝐞 (𝐦.), 𝐞𝐝/𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐚𝐥, 𝐃𝐃/𝐋𝐆 (𝐃𝐚/𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐃𝐨/𝐦/𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥) 𝐝𝐲𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐬, 𝐝𝐨𝐦!𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐮𝐛!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐜𝐫𝐞/𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐞, 𝐝𝐮/𝐛𝐜𝐨𝐧 ( 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠), 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭), 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝!

Lee Heeseung is a good boyfriend.

He’s attentive and caring, sweet and gentle, quite funny and just as responsible and respectful. Despite being quite busy with his career and everything it comes with, he’s always made sure to give you the attention you need and deserve because you’re the one he wants to spend the rest of his life with and just the thought of your sadness hurts his heart.

Being in a relationship with him has given you everything you’ve ever asked for, which is why you can’t complain at all, and thankfully it’s the same way for him with you.

He’s a busy man – he always has been and will be for quite some time, which you’ve always been more than aware of.

After a while of being together, you’ve gotten used to his packed schedule which mostly consists of morning runs before work followed by a shower, a sweet goodbye kiss and then work. His daily routine always ends with a two-hour gym session before he comes home and starts making dinner for the two of you.

At the end of the day, you’re always the one to come home to him and that’s what matters to you the most. You don’t mind if he forgets something here and there, neither do you care about him coming home later than usual and you usually reassure him about it all when he starts apologizing too much. You’re understanding and Heeseung might be the only person you can’t hold a grudge against, so most of the things he forgets or misses out on don’t faze you.

You usually make sure to send him a reminder about an hour or two before an appointment; if it’s something urgent.

He’s also never forgotten anything super important – until four days ago.

Since he’s got assigned to his very first big project, your boyfriend has been even busier than usual, which again: isn’t something you’re not used to.

However, you definitely didn’t expect him to forget about your dinner reservation for your six year anniversary.

Hence his time consuming schedule, the two of you had decided to celebrate three days later than the actual day of your anniversary, which you were absolutely okay with since it was the middle of a busy week for the both of you.

It had been so long since you went out to spend a whole evening and night with each other, despite living together, which is why you’d been looking forward to it.

You know how busy he is, know how tiring and exhausting his days are and you know you shouldn’t have felt as sad and disappointed as you did as you removed your make up and changed back into your casual clothes after waiting for him for a total of two hours.

You texted him about his whereabouts three times and only got an answer hours later, telling you not to wait up for him for dinner since he was still at the gym with his boys.

Just as usual, you just accepted his response because the reservation had been canceled anyway and even if he actually decided to rush home, it would have taken him another two hours to be fully ready and in your head it just wasn’t worth the drama.

Now, about four days after intentionally crying yourself to sleep on the couch and avoiding your boyfriend as much as possible, simply to heal your slightly disappointed soul and not stress him even further, you’re quite sure Heeseung’s taken notice of your change in demeanor.

Maybe because you stopped waiting for him in bed, pretending to be asleep hours before he crawls underneath the blanket to cuddle you or because of the way you’ve dodged all of his initiations of intimacy the last few days. Not just the sexual ones, Heeseung doesn’t really care about those because he respects your boundaries and would never overstep any of them, but you’ve never been the type to move away from his soft touch or hold your cheek up against his lips instead of your own.

You know you’re being unfair and mean, you should just talk to him about it – he’s such a good boyfriend, after all. Yet…something in your chest makes this so much harder than it actually is and you can’t overcome it, no matter how hard you’ve been trying to.

Before you can overthink anything, your brain opts for the self defense mechanism of shutting yourself off, which is why you’re fast asleep by the time Seungie decided to call it a night – again.

This time, however, your boyfriend of six years seems to be a little more persistent than usual as he places his big hand on your cheek and kneels on the floor of your side of the bed to be on eye level with you.

“Baby, I know you’re awake”, he whispers softly and caresses your warm skin, his pretty eyes attentively roaming your face, “I wanna talk to you. Would you mind giving me a second, please?”

It takes every bit of self control in your body for you to hold back a tiny whimper in response to his request; he has absolutely no right to be this gentle and kind, not when you’ve been the exact opposite for almost a week.

“Something’s been going on with you lately and I wanna make sure you know I’m here for you no matter how busy I am, my Angel.”

This time you physically can’t stop yourself from tearing up as you slowly open your eyes and are met with the precious sight of your perfect boyfriend, who looks like he’s been living off of three hours of sleep for the past month.

Hee’s expression quickly changes from soft to worried the moment he spots the single tear rolling down your nose bridge and before it can land on your cheek, he places his lips on your skin and catches it.

“Baby, what’s wrong? What happened?”

You can hear the worry in his deep, raspy voice and your heart breaks into so many pieces once you realize how much you’ve missed him.

Heeseung is quick to round the bed and get comfortable on his side before he pulls you into a soft hug and lets out a soft sigh. You can feel the waves of security and comfort break down on your tired body, but surprisingly you don’t start sobbing the way you expected it.

“Seungie”, you whisper and pull away to look into his beautiful eyes again, losing yourself in the feeling of home they come with, “do you remember Saturday?”

As soon as the words leave your lips, Heeseung’s brows furrow in confusion, not only because of your question but because you’ve addressed him by his name – something he isn’t quite used to when it’s just the two of you, especially in the safety of your bedroom.

“Yes, Baby, what about it? Did something happen during my late gym session?”

You nod. For a moment you’re contemplating whether or not to tiptoe around the topic but your heart is aching for his touch and you’ve been carrying this around for way too long.

“We had a really important dinner reservation, Hee.”

At first, you hesitate with eye contact but as soon as his name falls past your lips, you lift your head and lock gazes with your lover, who is actively thinking about what you just said.

“What do you mean important, Baby? I can’t quite follow”, and for a moment, you feel your heart sink into your stomach, but you have absolutely no idea why.

Maybe it’s because you simply didn’t expect him to forget something so significant or maybe because you’re not used to it, yet either way a wave of soft anger washes over you.

“We were both supposed to leave work early because we had a dinner reservation at your favorite place”, you snap back and look at him with sad eyes, “to celebrate our sixth anniversary, Heeseung.”

The second you throw those last words at him, his whole face drops in absolute shock. You can tell from his lack of physical reaction, that he’s currently trying his best to process what‘s currently going on. Not even a second later, you start regretting your slight change in tone, since you never meant to accuse him of anything and your conscience is currently busy making you feel horrible for your overreaction.

“I – forgot about it.”

After a whole minute of silence, Heeseung states the obvious with actual horror gleaming in his pretty eyes and you can’t help but feel even worse now.

“I’m sorry I got distant instead of talking to you about it right away, Hee”, you quickly say before he can add anything else in hopes of calming him down after making one bad decision after the other.

Yet, all he does is shake his head before he pulls his arms away from your body and buries his face in his palms.

“This is – I’m – How could I?”

You don’t respond. You’re not even sure if you’re breathing properly and with every following second of silence, the usually so comfortable atmosphere in your shared bedroom becomes more and more tense and thick.

Heeseung isn’t one to be left speechless so easily, which is why you’re struggling with your reactions but thankfully he’s quick to regain his composure as he reaches for your face and carefully takes it into his big, calloused and ring clad hands.

“I’m so, so sorry, my Angel”, he whispers and places the softest kiss on your forehead, “I knew I was way busier than usual, yet I would have never expected this to happen, I promise I didn’t mean to.”

For some reason – probably because of how much you’ve missed him – you can’t stop yourself from tearing up at his genuine apology, which only turns out to stress Heeseung out even more.

You start shaking your head to reassure him of the good in your reactions and with a soft sigh, he pulls you back into his arms.

“My sweet angel girl, I hope you know I never meant for this to happen. The day started off so early and work was so much more exhausting and then I just said yes to some extra hours and–”, all of a sudden, Hee stops talking and just takes a deep breath to gather his thoughts before he continues.

“You know what? These are all just excuses and you deserve better than this. I simply forgot because of how busy I was and I’m sorry, Baby, I really am. Can you please forgive me?”

You’re quick to lift your head from the crook of his neck to look into his eyes, nodding almost immediately because you hate the thought of him feeling bad or guilty – which is kind of hypocritical since you decided to opt for silence and distance instead of just talking to him immediately, yet you try not to be too hard on yourself since you hadn’t had to face a situation like this with him in years, so your body just went with ways from the past.

“Thank you, my Love”, Seungie places another soft kiss on your forehead before he sighs and looks into your eyes again.

“I promise I’m gonna make it up to you, okay? I’m gonna take you out to dinner to your favorite place, flowers, presents – the whole package.”

And out of nowhere, an idea occurs to you.

You have no clue, where it comes from nor have you realized up until that particular moment, how much you’ve been thinking about it but for some reason, your brain has decided that this is the perfect moment to ask for something Heeseung probably won’t ever suggest himself.

You have been together for so long, either of you feels comfortable enough in every matter imaginable – especially in terms of sexual desires, curiosity and experimenting. Certain dynamics, kinks and scenarios have developed between you two in the past few years, so you’re not quite sure why you’ve been so hesitant to ask him about your little fantasy.

Heeseung is a naturally dominant guy. His personality and whole behavior gives it away the second he steps into a room, and you absolutely love it. You love letting him take complete control over every situation and not use a single nerve in your brain whenever he’s around, it just feels right and he’s told you several times how much he enjoys and appreciates the trust you put in him. He says it makes him feel good about himself and gives him confidence, and since he’s your absolute safe haven, you're happy to be the same for him.

Now, when it comes to kinks and fantasies, Hee’s always been quite open-minded. He’s tried most things such as hard degradation, neglect- and role plays, which neither one of you got further into after one or two tries, as well as a Daddy Dom – Little Girl dynamic and soft humiliation, which you’ve been sticking to ever since the first time.

Not once has he left you unsatisfied, never once has he denied you anything, never once has he overstepped any of your boundaries – and vice versa.

And yet, every now and then you find yourself fantasizing about using him for your own pleasure in the most self-centered and egoistic way possible. Which is kind of ironic since Seungie’s always made sure to put you and your pleasure first, never finishing before you and always giving into your wishes and requests.

Maybe it’s not necessarily said aspect of it, but rather the fact that you want to physically tie him up so he’s at your complete mercy – all while you’re still grazing through the sweetness of your submissive haze.

You don’t want to dominate him, no, neither do you wanna be in complete control. All you want is to use him for as long as possible, while maybe teasing him in the meantime.

“May I also suggest something else to help you make it up to me, please?”, you respond after a good moment of absolute silence, knowing he doesn’t just pull you back into reality when he notices how lost you are in your thoughts.

Heeseung’s soft lips stretch into a big smile and he nods, giving you the wordless affirmation to continue.

“Don’t push it aside right away, okay? Just give it a thought please”, you say as you try to collect every brave pore in your body to form your risky request.

He now squints at you in confusion, his smile never fading and making it even harder for you than it already is

“I want to tie you up.”

And as soon as those words leave your lips, your boyfriend’s face switches from suspicion to absolute shock and you seriously can’t remember the last time you saw him this genuinely overwhelmed.

Heeseung doesn’t move, nor does he say a single thing and for a short moment you’re worried he might not be breathing, until he pushes one of his big hands through his thick hair, scratching his chin right afterwards.

“Wha – you can’t be serious, Baby.”

You attentively watch the way he starts scoffing in disbelief and for a moment you regret suggesting it but not even another minute later, Hee turns serious again and looks into your eyes to search for affirmation.

“Please, Daddy”, you whisper and push your lips into a pout as you reach for his hand and start playing with his pretty, calloused fingers to distract him and maybe get some kind of different reaction from him, “if you won’t feel comfortable or get any pleasure from it, then I won’t be any more persistent, I promise. But I know you don’t want it because it makes you feel submissive and like you’re losing control.”

You take a deep breath and never once avert your gaze from his face because you’ve known Heeseung long enough to be aware of his insecurities and his worries and the last thing you’d ever want is for him to think you’re taking advantage of your knowledge.

“I promise you’re still gonna be the dominant one, you know how easily you push me into submission. All I want is to – uhm – use you.”

This time the words seem a tad bit heavier but rather because you’re not quite sure how he might react to them and you're afraid he might be upset. Hee isn’t one to get mad or angry easily, especially not with you, but this topic is something you two have talked about a total of two times in the past, so you’re more nervous than anxious.

“Oh? My pretty girl is greedier than I thought”, he suddenly says, his hungry eyes roam your face as his pretty lips finally stretch into a playful smirk and you feel the weight disappear from your chest just like that.

“No, am not”, you pout and roll your eyes, moving a little closer to him before you place a soft kiss on his pretty lips, “I’ve just been thinking about it a lot lately and you’ve been so busy, I miss you, that’s all.”

“My sweet, sweet little Angel, come here”, Heeseung mumbles and pulls you into an even deeper kiss, pushes his tongue into your hot mouth and grunts softly, which sends a jolt of pleasure through your veins right into your core and all of a sudden your panties start sticking to your cunt.

“I can’t lie, I’m not really into being tied down. Mostly because of what you said but also because touching you is what gets me off the most. There’s just something so…”, Hee gently wraps his slim fingers around your throat and slowly tightens his grip, pushing you even deeper into your sweet haze of arousal, “good – about it. Makes me nervous to think about not being able to touch you.”

You try your very best to listen to what he’s saying, yet – your brain is clouded by his sweet scent, the feeling of his firm grip on your throat and his warm breath hitting your skin in ways you’ve been craving it for way too long now. All you can do is nod along to his words and for a moment you forget about your own request.

“Hey, hey”, Heeseung suddenly whispers and grabs your face to pull you back into reality, “eyes and mind on Daddy, sweet girl. I’m talking to you, don’t be rude now.”

“Mhm, I’m sorry”, you quickly reply and gulp harshly as you wrap your fingers around his slim wrist.

“I’m gonna let you tie me up, Baby, I wanna make it up to you, after all.” He sounds a lot more confident than just a few minutes ago and the way he’s looking at you makes your stomach jump in absolute excitement.

“Thank you, Daddy”, this time you let your eyes move to his pretty lips, staring at them for way too long as you think about how good they feel on your skin and in between your legs, firmly wrapped around your clit, “I really appreciate it, I know it’s a big request to make.”

“You’re always such a good girl for me, Princess, this is the least I can do for you. Now, how about we get to it, hm? I’ve missed you so much, all I can think about is how good that sweet pussy of yours feels around my cock.”

A literal heatwave rushes through your body and you feel your heart thrumming in your heart from excitement because not only are you craving him and his touch, but have also been fantasizing about this for a lot longer than you would ever admit, so there’s absolutely no doubt you’re gonna have a great time.

In the following minutes, Heeseung guides you through the whole process of taking your and his own clothes off before he pushes his hand in between your legs one last time to gather your sweet juices on his fingers and push them right into his mouth, all while looking into your eyes.

After he’s made sure to get you even more flustered by chuckling at how shy you get with him, Hee lays down in the middle of your shared bed to give you enough space and then helps you with the rope. A few minutes later, you come to kneel in between his spread legs to stare at the perfect sight in front of you with big eyes.

You don’t know how long you stare at his toned torso but you know your focus stays on his thick thighs and his raging hard cock even longer, not realizing how worked up your needy gaze is getting your sweet boyfriend.

“Baby, stop staring and touch me, please”, Seung grunts and slightly bucks up his hips, a deep growl following his calm request and before your brain can process it, your hand reaches for his cock and gently starts stroking him.

“F-Fuck”, the profanity falls past his lips almost immediately and you quickly look into his face to watch the way his perfect features contort in pleasure, his cheeks reddening even further as he throws his head back into the pillow.

For a short moment, you can watch the way he’s falling apart and it’s making your head spin in the sweetest ways possible, yet only fuels your excitement even further.

It doesn’t take another minute for your hunger to get the best of you and before you can realize it, you wrap your lips around his pretty tip and lap up the tiny bits of precum glistening on his skin. Heeseung lets out a row of deep grunts, bucks his hips up to push his cock a little deeper into your mouth as he pulls on the rope and sighs in frustration. You’re surprised to see him this worked up, when it hasn’t even been longer than a few minutes but you’re enjoying every second of his desperation.

“That’s my good girl”, your boyfriend mumbles and locks gazes with you, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he watches the way you take his cock all the way down your throat, “Daddy’s missed that pretty mouth so much, it’s been way too long.”

You nod in agreement, yet too focused on the perfect feeling of his heavy cock in your mouth and his sweet taste coating the muscle of your tongue, so all you do is bop your head and wrap your hand around the lower half of his length to make up for the lack of contact from your mouth.

While you’re slowly losing yourself in the noises and taste of your sweet boyfriend, Heeseung’s trying his very best to remain as calm and composed as possible but after not being close to you for a lot longer than he had intended to, he’s way too close to lose it all within the next few minutes.

“Take it easy on me, Baby. I haven’t even had time to fuck my fist to the thought of you, so I’m way more sensitive than usual”, he warns and tries to move away from your needy mouth, only for you to pull away and look at him with glossy eyes.

“But I’ve missed your cock so much, Daddy, you can’t just make me stop. If you’re gonna cum, just do it, you know I love it when you do.”

“You’re being greedy, Princess, behave yourself.”

For a moment, you can’t help but push your lips into a pout, only to realize that Seung can’t do much besides verbally scolding you and all of a sudden a shiteating grin appears on your face.

“Hmm, no, thank you, Daddy”, you reply cheekily and let a thick drop of spit fall onto the tip of his cock before you start stroking him again.

Heeseung’s face quickly contorts in absolute pleasure because you know exactly how to make him feel good, yet his initial facial expression is one of absolute shock.

“I fucking knew it”, he grunts and rolls his eyes yet again, “I knew you’d take advantage of this and brat out on me.”

“Huh? I didn’t even do anything, don’t be mean now. I used my manners, looked at you and called you Daddy, how is that being a brat?”

Heeseung squints at you with furrowed brows, his soft chest tinted in the sweetest shades of red, as well as his cheeks and his bit swollen lips.

“I told you to t-take it easy, Baby, I’m way too close and I haven’t even gotten a taste of you.”

You know Heessung’s worried about disappointing you by letting himself indulge in the sweet pleasure you’re providing him, which is why he’s slowly losing his patience.

“Mhm, sure”, you just mumble and suck on his tip, humming softly when the salty taste of his precum hits your tastebuds.

Before Hee, you’ve never even liked the thought of sucking someone’s cock, yet with him it’s become something you’re actually craving and you have absolutely no idea why and how.

“How about you untie me, hm, Baby? You’ve been so stressed lately, let Daddy take care of his angel, wouldn’t want you to overdo it, right?”

You can hear the desperation in his words as well as his voice, and even if that wasn’t the case, reading his body language has become the easiest thing for you personally, and you can tell his current mood just from the way he’s pulling at the ropes around his wrists.

“No”, you reply calmly, and take the whole of his length down your throat, swallowing around him just to hum once his sweet moans and deep grunts fill the thick air of your shared bedroom.

Heeseungs eyes roll into the back of his head and for a solid minute, he feels like he’s going to pass out from how close he is to cumming, only for you to pull away the second he decides to let himself indulge in the sweetness of his relief.

You simply get back on your knees and let your eyes roam over his strong body, your hands are firmly placed on his thick thighs and currently caress his sensitive skin, whereas Seung tries his very best not to lose his mind from the sudden lack of pleasure.

“What the fuck”, is the first coherent thing he manages to produce after a row of deep, animalistic grunts and moans had left his throat and for a short moment, you feel sorry for your sweet boyfriend.

“What the fuck are you doing, Baby? I was so fucking close”, Seung spits and throws his head back in annoyance, his big cock twitching right in front of you and if it wasn’t for your plan of fulfilling every bit of your fantasy, you would have just let him cum.

“You’re okay, Daddy”, you smile and move away from in between his legs, at least one of your hands remains on his body as you come to sit right next to his head.

“Untie me, Baby, come on. This was fun and all but Daddy really needs to cum and I mean this, don’t play with my patience”, Heeseung’s voice is still hoarse, yet a lot stricter and less soft than just a few minutes ago. You know you’re doing something you usually would never even think of. Usually you just want to be his good girl and his pleasure is the only thing on your mind, yet for some reason to see and have him at your complete mercy like this is the reason for the wetness on your inner thighs.

“You’re doing well, Daddy, I promise”, you say with a big smile and pull him into a needy kiss, sucking his tongue into your mouth and moaning softly when he digs his teeth into the flesh of your bottom lip.

“F-Fuck, Baby”, Heeseung whispers and chases your lips once you pull away, freshly bleached and dyed hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, his cheeks tinted in the sweetest shades of red and the way he needily licks the last bits of your spit from his mouth has your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“Spit in my mouth, Angel.” The request is random and slightly overwhelming, not because he hasn’t asked you to do just that before but rather because you weren’t expecting him to sound as needy as he does.

“Of course, Daddy”, you say and nudge your nose with his, placing the softest open mouthed kiss on his parted lips to make sure he’s longing for more, “how could I ever say no to you, hm?”

Heeseung hates the way his cock twitches in excitement at your words, your voice and your touch. He knows he’s not being pushed into submission yet he can’t help just how much your confidence and control is driving him crazy.

He knows you’re being a tease and you’re being way too good at it for his personal liking, yet the urge to just let his sweet girl do whatever the fuck she wants to him is almost overwhelming.

Before you can say another word, Heeseung parts his lips and sticks his tongue out, his eyes never once leaving yours and when the sweetest little whimper escapes your throat, he knows everything is still the way he’s used to it.

You reach for your boyfriend’s face, gently cupping his cheeks and nudging your nose against his before you pull away and let a thick drop of your spit fall onto the back of his hot muscle.

As soon as he gets a taste of your saliva, he lets out a deep grunt and you can feel his cock twitching against your lower tummy, his reactions easily making your head spin and for a moment you even consider just letting him do whatever he wants.

“Good girl”, the praise is the only thing Seung manages to mumble, since you randomly decide to straddle his lap and press your wet cunt against his rock hard cock, making his eyes roll into the back of your head as he tries his best to maintain his composure.

“Do you think I can make you cum like this?” Your voice is soft and innocent, your eyes are glossy and needy, yet your question seems to be the complete opposite and if it wasn’t for all the arousal clouding his brain, Heeseung would have scolded you for teasing him.

“I don’t give a fuck how you do it, just please make me cum, Baby”, Seung replies and gulps harshly, aware of just how desperate he sounds but the feeling of your warm cunt dragging along his shaft is driving him absolutely crazy.

You chuckle in response to his pleas, slowly moving your hips to apply just the right amount of pressure on his cock and focusing on his leaking tip with each movement. There’s just something so…hot about watching the way your usually so composed and stern Daddy is slowly falling apart from that little bit of teasing and you can’t help but get addicted to the feeling.

“Oh? What’s wrong, Daddy? Are you okay?”, you reply with a faux pout on your lips, trying your best not to giggle as excitement rushes through your veins.

With a sudden thrust of his hips, Seung grunts warningly and furrows his brows once he realizes how much you enjoy seeing him like this and if it wasn’t for the frustration of being denied his relief for the second time, he would have been a lot less harsh.

“Stop fucking playing with me, Baby, just guide me inside and fuck me properly”, he hisses through gritted teeth, his cheeks reddening even further as he looks into your eyes, yet moans as soon as you rub your pretty cunt against his sensitive tip.

Usually he needs way more than just that little bit of stimulation, but after weeks of being busy and not even finding the time to fuck his fist, your boyfriend is a lot easier than he would have ever thought.

“First, I want you to cum for me like this, Daddy”, you say calmly and get comfortable on his thighs again just to spit on the tip of his cock and calmly wrap your fingers around his shaft to give him a few gentle strokes and attentively watch the way his whole body tenses up.

Heeseung just lets out another row of long, raspy moans which are almost about to sound like actual whimpers and you can’t help but gulp harshly when your cunt starts clenching in response to his sweet noises.

Your eyes roam his flushed face like it’s the only thing you’ve ever done, and even then there’s something in your head which pushes you even further to the sweet line of your boyfriend’s edge, despite your awareness of his slowly declining patience. Maybe it’s the way he bucks his hips up into your touch in absolute despair or maybe it’s the thought of watching him fall apart underneath your touch, yet regardless of the reason, you still find yourself slowing down the movements of your hands as soon as his breathing gets heavier, less regulated and his little moans turn into rather guttural grunts.

“Faster, Baby, come on, I’m so close”, his words confirm your observations and with wide eyes you do as you’re told to see just how far you can push him.

Heeseung feels a wave of actual relief wash over his body as the first few jolts of pleasure run down his spine and he can physically feel himself tumbling over the edge, only for you to pull away as soon as his cock starts twitching in your hands.

For a whole minute, your boyfriend seems absolutely speechless. Not a single coherent word passes his lips as he gasps for air and throws his head back into the pillow to calm himself down, not quite understanding what’s going on.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth to hide your cheeky smile, you don’t want your precious Daddy to see (or notice just yet) how much you’re enjoying his current state, all while calmly caressing his thick thighs and gently littering his hot chest in open mouthed kisses.

“What the actual fuck, Baby? What the fuck are you doing? I was – what the fuck?”

Heeseung’s always been one to swear a lot, even back in his High School days, yet whenever he seems to struggle to form a single sentence without a profanity, that’s when you know he’s quite close to his last limits.

“I thought you wanted me to fucking cum, Baby, why the fuck did you stop?” For some reason you can’t help but pout at the fact he’s still using his favorite petname for you, when the frustration has taken over every bit of his being.

“I changed my mind, Daddy”, you reply and move away from his legs to kneel next to his handsome face, placing one of your hands on his cheek and chuckling softly at the way he easily moves into your touch, “I promise you’re gonna get to cum very soon, okay?”

“What the fuck does that even mean, Baby? Come on now, you’ve had your fun, right? Untie me so I can finally fuck my sweet little angel-”, but you don’t really give your boyfriend the chance to finish his sentence as you straddle his face and sigh softly once you finally feel his perfect mouth on your ruined cunt.

Heeseung tries to fake a little protest, yet instantly folds as soon as he gets a taste of your sweet juices and before either one of you realizes, he’s sucking your needy clit into his hot mouth.

“Fuck”, his voice is even deeper than just a few minutes ago, his eyes fluttering close as he indulges in the sweet taste of your pussy spreading in his mouth and taking over all of his senses, “I missed this pretty cunt so fucking much.”

And without even giving you the opportunity to respond, Seung starts eating you out like a man starved. Loud slurping noises, deep grunts and sloppy licking sounds start filling the space of your shared bedroom when you move your hips against his mouth and try your best not to lose your mind from the feeling of stimulation you’ve been missing oh so much these past few weeks. You both know you can’t cum like this, not when he can’t use his fingers, yet you feel like you’re actually floating in the sweetest haze of pleasure and you simply can’t seem to stop yourself from getting lost.

You gently pull at his hair, grinding your cunt against his pretty face and let out every single noise which dares to enter your throat, since you, much like your boyfriend, haven’t had the energy to make yourself cum these past few days and have way too much pent up frustration to simply care.

“Baby”, Seung suddenly says and lets out a deep sigh after swallowing one more time.

“Hm?”

“You’re close, aren't you? But Daddy can’t make you cum like this, right?”

All you do is let out a confirming hum in response to his words yet again, way too deep in your pleasure to form a coherent sentence.

“Untie me then, Angel, come on”, Seung mumbles and pulls on the ropes around his wrists again to remind you of his current situation, not expecting you to giggle at his attempt of taking advantage of your clouded brain.

“That was cute, Daddy”, you mumble and get off of his face again, purring like a cat when the cold air hits your drenched cunt, just to straddle his lap right away.

“But your Baby’s a lot stronger than this, don’t you know? Gonna make sure to make the best of this as much as I can.”

This time Heeseung can’t help but smile once his words hit you. You’re way too adorable for your own good and if it wasn’t for his painful hard on, he would have been able to focus on the sweet warmth spreading in his chest as an almost automatic reaction to your behavior.

But from the way your eyes have gotten even glossier and your words sound a lot more slurred than just a few minutes ago, Hee can tell you’re close to breaking, he knows you like the back of his hand.

For a moment, your boyfriend holds his breath, calmly watches the way you reach in between your legs to grab his rock hard cock, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as soon as you line his angry tip up with your cute hole.

“That’s it, there you go”, he exhales loudly and presses the words through his gritted teeth, his knuckles turn white in the process from how hard he’s gripping the ropes and just the way he seems to be oh so eager makes you head spin.

“Look at me, Daddy.”

Before you can even finish your sentence, Heeseung’s lids flutter open and he locks his glossy gaze with yours, absolute despair gleaming in the sweet brown surrounding his iris – just how you wanted it to be.

“Come on, Angel, show Daddy how well you can fuck him, yeah? Make me proud.”

And with those words, Heeseung easily pulls you back into the haze of his dominance as he plays into your urge to please him, so the only thing your body manages to do is to slowly start sinking down on his hard length.

The feeling of his tip stretching your sensitive cunt elicits a row of loud groans from the both of you and despite trying your absolute hardest to maintain the eye contact, you have no choice but to throw your head back and whimper.

“Hey, hey”, Heeseung grunts and gently bucks his hips up to push his cock even deeper into your pussy, but also making you shift your attention back to him, “don’t you dare look anywhere but me, got it? Wanna watch the way you look when you cum on my cock, Baby.”

You nod in response and try to stop your cunt from clenching around his length as the previous sweetness from your stolen high starts coating the muscle of your tongue again, only to fail miserably.

It’s been too long and after being with him for such a long time, you’re too greedy to care about anything else.

It takes another minute for you to sink down on his cock completely, and once he’s bottomed out, you gently place your hands on his flushed chest and try to catch your breath.

“W-Wanna untie you, Daddy”, you suddenly whisper and slowly move your hips, your thighs already burning from how much you’ve been tensing up. “I want you to take over, please.”

However, this time Heeseung’s the one to shake his head, not once averting his gaze from your pretty face.

“You’ve got this, Angel, I know it. My pretty girl’s gonna make her Daddy cum so good, aren’t you, Baby? Go on, fuck me.”

His words of encouragement are a hidden demand, but he knows you’re too fucked out to notice – it’s so cute. The tiniest taste of his cock filling your cunt and his perfect, obedient Baby’s back to the point where not a single thought lingers in her sweet brain.

You take a short moment to regain your composure before you sit up again and slowly start circling your hips, grinding into him and finally giving the two of you some of the relief you’ve been craving oh so much.

Heeseung's eyes sparkle with pride as he calmly thrust his hips up to meet the movements of yours, grunting and moaning at how good your pretty cunt feels around his cock.

It doesn’t take too long for you to grow absolutely impatient, though. All of a sudden you start picking up the pace of your movements, gently yet firmly pulling your body up and sinking down on his length to make sure his tip hits your sweet spot each time and before you can even think about it, your biy pushes you to the edge of your high with just his words.

“Rub your clit for me, Angel”, he grunts and pulls his abused bottom lip between his teeth to hold back his noises, only to let out the raspiest whimper the moment your cunt tightens around his cock from the stimulation on your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Good girl.”

Those two deadly words of praise make you gasp for air as a huge wave of pleasure breaks down on you and you can’t help but whimper when you feel your juices sticking to your inner thighs.

“I want your fingers in my mouth”, the request comes out of nowhere, yet is definitely not random. If there’s one thing about Lee Heeseung, it’s sucking on your fingers whenever he’s about to cum and even if you’ve been expecting – or better said, anticipating it, you still can’t stop your body’s needy reaction to it.

“Gonna cum with Daddy, yeah? You’re gonna make a mess of me, aren’t you, Princess? Go on then, look at me when you take my cum.”

Without missing another beat, you place your shaky hand on his chin and nervously push your fingers into his mouth, a high pitched moan falling past your lips as soon as you feel his hot tongue on your digits.

With every single word, Heeseung thrusts his hips up to meet the sloppy circles of yours, his brown eyes never once leaving yours before he harshly pulls on the robes to the point where they finally lose against his strength and before your brain can process it, you feel your boyfriend’s hands groping and kneading every bit of flesh they can find.

However, as soon as his thumb reaches your clit, your high comes crashing down on you like a huge wave, almost drowning you in the process.

Your whole body tenses up, your cunt tightens around Heeseung’s cock like a god damn vice and pulls him over the edge so he cums inside of you and coats the inside of your spasming pussy with his creamy cum.

Whimpers, whines, groans and even sobs are the only thing to fill the emptiness of your shared bedroom, your noises easily overshadowing your boyfriend’s deep grunts and guttural moans and if it wasn’t for the sweet taste of your high, you would have indulged in his perfect noises of pleasure.

You have absolutely no idea how long you’re cumming, all you know is the feeling of Heeseung’s nails dig into your waist as he tries his best to take the overstimulation after being edged for so long.

“Good girl”, he breathes and pulls you into a sloppy kiss, chuckling against your lips as soon as he feels your breath hitch in your throat, “my perfect little Princess, you did so well.”

“You too, Daddy”, you shoot back breathlessly, gently kissing his lips and then his cheeks followed by his chin and the tip of his flushed nose, “thank you so much for this. You’re so good to me.”

“No need to thank me, Angel Girl, might as well do this more often, hm?”

(✗ 𝐀/𝐍: 𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐞𝐬! 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐀𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨𝐬 (𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦) (𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐯𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐨 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐢𝐭 𝐢’𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲)! 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 (𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒) 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭 (𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠) 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐱𝐱 𝐳𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐞)

#enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #lee heeseung smut #heeseung smut #heeseung hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen x reader #daddy cw

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nordickies · 22 days ago

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I've been thinking about the Nordics' view on their immortality. How would they feel about it based on their character and experiences?

Björn (Sweden) seems to be the most keen to live like humans. He wants a domestic life, living quietly somewhere in the countryside, willing to guide and raise younger nations, and focusing on his crafts. He just wants to live in peace. Maybe he'd be willing to give up his immortality status if that was possible; if it meant he could live the kind of life he wanted to without constant outside intervention (from people and other immortals). Perhaps he feels little joy from his status, i.e. representing people or taking the responsibility of such duties. It's a task that he can never fulfill; managing to please everybody. He could have also felt alienated from others throughout his life, never really fitting into any period. So would he feel a deep connection with people to begin with? Perhaps he just wants to live on his own accord, somewhat self-sufficiently, not owning anything to anybody.

Meanwhile, I think Magnus (Denmark) would have a more positive experience with his immortality. He loves his friends and family, always looking out for them. Maybe being surrounded by other immortals makes him feel less alone in his world. After all, could humans ever relate to his life and experiences, since they can't even comprehend what he has gone through? So it'd make sense why he'd seek family and companionship from other immortals. And it'd make sense for him to be terrified of death and losing someone important to him - so I don't think he'd wish to be a mortal. In a way, he enjoys his immortality status. He probably loves his people and feels a sense of pride in representing them.

Sigurd (Norway) however, has had horrible experiences with other immortals, so I think he'd pursue some form of meaning and comfort from his job; representing something he values. He wants to focus on things that are important to him, finally fulfilling his own needs and not being restricted by others. And his position or job would definitely strengthen his sense of self and purpose in life. While he feels limited by his responsibilities at times, he also feels seen. He's finally important and valued. Perhaps he's neutral on his immortality, recognizing the positives and negatives at the same time.

Perhaps for Timo (Finland), the question is complicated. He's an alien not only among people but among his peers as well. Does he really fit into either world? Perhaps his thoughts about immortality are tied to his role and place throughout his life; who he actually is and what he actually wants. He's torn by the whole question, not being able to make his peace with it.

And finally, Eiríkur (Iceland) is rather different from everyone because he has always been so isolated. Thus he has always been alone with these big questions. Who is he and what he's supposed to do? Why he specifically is different than the rest? I think he could have a different impression of immortality because no one has ever told him what it's supposed to be like - he has come to these answers based on his own experiences. Perhaps he's closer to people than most other immortals. Instead of his peers being there, the presence of humans was the only constant in his life. He learned to accept that they'd pass on at some point, but there'd always be new people to take their place. He has accepted death as part of their existence and therefore he doesn't run away from it. It has undoubtedly given him a twisted sense of humor but also healthy optimism and hope about things figuring themselves out.

#don't know does this make any sense i'm tired hah #here goes nothing #hws nordics #hetalia #headcanons

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tanenigiri · 3 days ago

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Like several others in the fandom, I'm still recovering from the feels that Chapter 25 of Hirano and Kagiura has given me, especially the scenes that paint Hirano in a rather green and purple light. As someone who only recently came to terms with being aro and acespec, seeing Hirano go through very familiar struggles felt like an out-of-body experience.

It also made me want to revisit some manga that I've read so far that have featured characters in the aro and ace spectrums. Since I mostly consume BL, there understandably haven't been a lot that's come into my radar, but the few I've read have all been great, and I wanted to take this opportunity to give them a shoutout.

I Want to Be a Wall by Honami Shirono - Definitely my favorite in this list and one of my top 5 fave manga overall, this stars an aroace woman and a gay man who get into a marriage of convenience. It deals with expectations from their families and society as a whole about what an ideal marriage should be, but it also spends a lot of time exploring how Yuriko comes to terms with her asexuality and how the people around her react to it, especially her husband Gakurouta - who also deals with his own issues about hiding his homosexuality and his very apparent attraction to another character in the series who's presented as straight. On top of dealing with all these issues very tastefully, it's a great slice-of-life manga with a lot of humor and fluff squeezed in, so if you want a feel-good read with depth and lots of soul, I really recommend this one.

Is Love the Answer? by Uta Isaki - The manga on this list that's most blatantly about aromanticism and asexuality, this explores the story of Chika and her journey to discovering, questioning, and accepting her romantic and sexual orientation. It goes very in-depth into this journey, and it even has multiple other aroacespec characters that she deems as role models, such as a professor who serves as a mentor for Chika and many other characters in the series as well as an older brother figure who had a much rougher time discovering his own asexuality. If you want to read a coming-of-age story where the lead comes to terms with her asexuality much in the same way that many BL and GL manga leads come to terms with their own queer identities, I highly recommend this manga. (Trigger warning for a brief sexual assault scene at the start - it's not graphic, but it definitely shows the attempt, so stray away if a scene like that would unsettle you.)

I Think Our Son Is Gay by Okura - I've talked about this manga before, and in my previous posts I mentioned that my favorite character is Yuri, the brother of the titular son Hiroki. Turns out I was onto something, as throughout the manga, Yuri mentions that while many girls in his school have expressed interest in him, he always turns them down, saying that he doesn't really get why everyone's making such a big deal about love. That already got my attention, but there's a scene in the fifth volume where Yuri actually goes into this more and researches why he's feeling that way, and it leads to a certain label we all know and love. Sadly that fifth volume is also the series's final one, so we don't get any more after that, but it really solidifies Yuri's journey throughout the manga, making for a nice parallel for his mother's own journey about accepting Hiroki's identity.

Our Dreams at Dusk: Shimanami Tasogare by Yuhki Kamatani - I've also talked about this manga before, and just like I Want To Be A Wall, it has pretty much cemented its place in my top 5 fave manga overall. What made me fall in love with this manga is how it explores so many types of queer stories in a very realistic light, dealing with issues like discrimination, family acceptance, and identity crises in a way that really shows how serious they can be. Expectedly, one of the types of queer stories it explores is about Someone who's aroace (whoever's read this manga - yes, that was a pun), though unlike the other characters in this series (and unlike most of the other characters in this post), that character is already at the point of their journey where they're comfortable with their sexual identity. Instead, the author uses Someone-san as a mentor throughout the story, helping other characters come to terms with their own identities and running the safe space that most of the story centers around. If you're looking for manga that's explicitly about the aroace experience, I don't think this would be the one for you, but if you're looking for great queer manga in general, this should be at the top of your list.

Bonus:

Cherry Magic by Yuu Toyota: I can't end this post without talking about queen Fujisaki. In the manga and anime, she takes on the role of a fujoshi who's a big fan of Kurosawa and Adachi's relationship even before they get together. But her role in the Japanese TV series (and movie) was changed, toning down the fangirlism (though hints of it are still there!) and instead giving her a unique storyline, one that eventually reveals to Adachi (though not explicitly) that she isn't interested in dating anyone. There isn't any explicit confirmation about her sexuality beyond this in the show, but there have been interviews from the showrunners where they do mention it. And honestly, as someone who was only starting out with BL at that point, seeing a character like her have that kind of background was already so incredible to me.

If you made it this far, thanks for reading! I hope you check these manga out, and if you know of other manga with great aroace rep, let me know!

#manga #manga rec list #lgbt manga #queer manga #aromanticism #asexuality #Hirano and Kagiura #Hirano to Kagiura #I Want to Be a Wall #Is Love the Answer?#I Think Our Son Is Gay #Our Dreams at Dusk #Shimanami Tasogare #Cherry Magic

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stillness-in-green · 26 days ago

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Finding Fascism in My Hero Academia (1/4)

Being a 4-part project to compare the Meta-Liberation Army, the Heroes, and the meta-narrative messaging of My Hero Academia to Umberto Eco's evergreen Ur-Fascism and its 14-point list of beliefs, ideologies, and cultural hang-ups that can serve as flashpoints for fascism.

This was inspired by ongoing aggravation with the crappy rhetoric used to talk about the MLA, especially in Twitter circles. I had already been thinking about writing this piece anyway, but some ragebait brought to my Tumblr inbox together with the massive letdown of the canon ending pushed me over the edge into what eventually ballooned into several months of work and thirty thousand words about how My Hero Academia makes some expressions of fascism really easy to spot while hiding others behind a double-thick wall of double-standards.

Read some excerpts below! Or read the first part on my Patreon, no membership required.

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Are the MLA fascist? How fascist exactly, and in what ways? More to the point, are they noticeably more fascist than the broader society in which they exist—the society Heroes fight to uphold!—with its indefinite torture prisons and its laws restricting bodily autonomy and its rampant discrimination against multiple different demographics of people?

To answer those questions, first we have to define our term: what is fascism, anyway?

The trick to that question is that “fascism” is infamously squirrely and difficult to pin down to a single, all-encompassing yet concise definition. Wikipedia has a dedicated page solely for definitions of fascism, entirely separate from the page for fascism itself. It contains a wide sampling of definitions offered by reference books, scholars, Marxists, Fascists themselves, and a number of others. At the bottom of the page is a subsection labeled “Fascism as an insult,” in which can be found the following quote from a writing by George Orwell in 1944:

“The word ‘Fascism’ is almost entirely meaningless. In conversation, of course, it is used even more wildly than in print. I have heard it applied to farmers, shopkeepers, Social Credit, corporal punishment, fox-hunting, bull-fighting, the 1922 Committee, the 1941 Committee, Kipling, Gandhi, Chaiang Kai-Shek, homosexuality, Priestly's broadcasts, Youth Hostels, astrology, women, dogs and I do not know what else... Except for the relatively small number of Fascist sympathizers, almost any English person would accept ‘bully’ as a synonym for ‘Fascist.’ That is about as near to a definition as this much-abused word has come.”

It would be entirely possible for me to find definitions of fascism that would let me say, “No, the MLA aren’t fascist at all.” For example, over half of the definitions on the Wikipedia page mention some variation of nationalism explicitly: ultranationalism, militaristic nationalism, revolutionary nationalism, hypernationalism, or a more expansively worded version of “subordinating the individual to the State.” If you exclude the definitions offered by Marxist sources, who have a pretty different paradigm around fascism, that count jumps up to three-quarters! So if we’re operating under definitions used by people who have actually put in some thought and research, the MLA can’t even pass one of the most common, basic criteria: they are in no sense of the word nationalist.

Case closed! People on the internet need to learn what words mean, The End.

…But let’s go back to Orwell for a second. He also said that, while the definitions can be fuzzy, people generally know what they mean when they throw the label around. So, what do people generally mean?

I think the definition that most gets at that is a 14-point list that I’ve seen circulating around Tumblr for years, and has recently started to come up more frequently on my radar given the state of politics in the U.S. The list is part of an essay called Ur-Fascism written by one Umberto Eco in 1995. Eco grew up in Fascist Italy and researched fascism as an ideology extensively as an adult; his tack was to approach the roots of the ideology, identifying a number of commonalities that one could view as symptoms of or warning signs for the rise of fascism in a group—hence the essay’s alternate title of Eternal Fascism. Not every state or government described as fascist would possess all of these traits, but even a single one being present in a group could potentially serve as a point that fascism could coalesce around.

I have seen Ur-Fascism described as uselessly vague or overly broad, but the point is that it isn’t a definition of fascism itself, but a description of the kinds of mentality or circumstances that can give rise to fascist ideology. Given that I know for a fact Eco’s checklist does the rounds on Tumblr and thus may inform the understanding of any number of fans who are using the fascist label more colloquially than with an eye to strict accuracy, and also given that the MLA succinctly fails to meet a primary criterion for fascism proper, I want to look at them instead through the Ur-Fascism lens.

…Not just them, though! My whole spite-fueled goal with this project is to compare the MLA to the protagonist Heroes and the status quo they defend. In the writing process, this has stabilized into three relatively distinct considerations: both the Meta Liberation Army and Team Hero as presented within the story and, further, the meta-narrative of My Hero Academia itself.

---(...)---

Point 1: The cult of tradition.

Looking to the thinkers of the ancient past for wisdom, believing that there can be no (worthwhile) new knowledge/advancement because the “ancients” already knew everything of worth. Look particularly for historically discrete belief systems being falsely syncretized, the internal contradictions of the resulting fusion being ignored or massaged away in service to the desired narrative.

MLA: No. Their whole thing is looking towards the future of quirks and people “becoming who they were meant to be.” The only thing they’ve got going on in terms of past-worship is their veneration of Destro and his bloodline, but that feels less like believing in the supremacy of the old than it does just the supremacy of one particular martyr. They don’t worship him out of a sense of “older = superior”; they worship him because he had a view of the future that he was prevented from carrying out, and they’ve been taught to share that view of the future. They aren’t trying to return to an idealized past, and certainly not a syncretistic one, though they do become a syncretized organization with the League merger. This, however, is a practical matter of current alliances, rather than the more characteristic Ur-Fascist attempt to flatten the beliefs of discrete groups in the past to better play up their supposed superior wisdom.

---(...)---

Point 2: Rejection of modernism.

Rejection of the modern way of life, particularly the shifts that came of the Enlightenment, the Age of Reason, modern history revolutions (as in France and the U.S.), frequently capitalism, etc. The modern age is viewed as one of moral collapse leading to depravity. In the modern U.S. for example, we see the alt-right trying to roll back the social upheavals of the civil rights era; my readers may also consider, if they’re familiar with the phenomenon, Rome Bros on Twitter. In Japan, this has tended to manifest as veneration of the Emperor as divine and a desire to purge Japan of Western influence.

Team Hero: Human advancement at large is explicitly described as grinding to a halt during the Advent of the Extraordinary. All technological development, all culture, now seems to rotate solely around Heroes and how best to support them. However dire that state of affairs is, however, it’s not a result of Heroes/the current regime specifically rejecting advancement or modern schools of thought. I will come back to this, however; it very much fits the bill for a later point.

---(...)---

Point 3: Action for action’s sake.

“Action being beautiful in itself, it must be taken before, or without, any previous reflection. Thinking is a form of emasculation.” Reflects in a disdain for intellectuals/academics. Like the following point, this ethic exists at least in part because the cultural syncretism of Point 1 can’t withstand critical analysis.

Meta-Narrative: See all of the Hero analysis and kick it up a notch. The “act without thinking” mentality as a marker for Heroism is never seriously critiqued, examined, or undermined. It’s a plague in the Shonen Jump brand, I think, that “intellectual” characters can be good guys, sure, even in the main character’s nakama, but the protagonists are classically shounen hot-heads, with that hot-headedness being portrayed over and over again as more genuine, and therefore more admirable, than cool-headed intellect, which tends to get portrayed as compensating (unsuccessfully) for a lack of strength or faith at best, and evil manipulative cunning at worst. While Heroes as a collective may not believe in action for action’s sake in-universe, the fact that the characters who do uphold it as a value are the main characters becomes much more reflective of the meta-narrative ethos.

Indeed, it’s quite glaring to me that, while the planning for the raids is a great counterexample to “action for action’s sake” within the story, none of the kids the audience views as the main characters and promised symbols of a better and brighter future are allowed to take part in those plans. Rather, the kids merely act as they’re directed, without reflecting on whether the orders they’re given are good orders, much less whether those orders will actually lead to the aforementioned brighter future. The kids who were once willing to directly disobey the orders of adults have long, long vanished from the story by its end.

Read the rest here!

#bnha #bnha critical #meta liberation army #this particular section is a bit mla apologetics but I promise it does not last #bnha analysis #bnha meta #finding fascism bnha

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itstheghostofmypast · 9 months ago

Text

Thanatophobia

Idol Choi Jongho x (F)Reader

Summary: How long does it take one to actually give up on you? How long does it take the other to realise that love is more than just an act of receiving, where bottled-up fears and insecurities may be enough to pull someone away from you, especially the someone Jongho had begun to take for granted.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 2.4k

Est. Read Time: 20 min

Warnings: Strong language, thanatophobia (fear of losing someone you love)

Rating: PG-13

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels

Choi Jongho was anything but heartless, he was arrogant at times, he was stubborn most of the time, he was emotionally clueless sometimes, he was sarcastic most of the time, he was petty at times and he was straightforward most of the time, but what he was not, and he quotes, was a ‘heartless moron’. Now, he wasn’t one to fight, in fact, they’d barely ever get into a fight, usually because she would be compromising or choosing to accept defeat, but tonight was not one of those nights where he was given this privilege, where she would easily accept defeat and brush off his sarcasm, no, it just escalated into something ugly and gruesome.

It all started when he came home early for once, the dorm was empty too, or so he thought, for the moment he had flopped down on his bed, face forward, someone had jumped on him, scaring the daylights out of him.

“Boo!” “HOLY SHHHH- what are you doing here?” he whined, rolling over when she rolled off him, both of them lying on their backs, staring at the ceiling, well, he had his eyes closed, she turned her head to look at him with a pout, scooting closer, wrapping her arms around his arm as she pressed her cheek smush against his shoulder, enjoying the warmth of her baby bear, “I had the spare key, Wooyoung gave it to me last time I came over but you were out, so he was like I should have it, gave me his saying he’d get another one and-” Cracking open an eye he scoffed, “You sure talk a lot to Wooyoung huh?” turning his head to meet her gaze, she had stopped her monologue, to stare at him in utter shock, “What? I’m not wrong, I didn’t even know about the key thing- Sitting up she glared at him, “That’s because you weren’t home, Jong.” The tension between them was getting thicker, he was tired physically, but she was tired mentally, “You haven’t been responding to my texts or answering my calls, so I doubt you’d know- “I have a job, you know?” he scoffed, following suit, as she sat on his bed on her knees, frowning at him, and he sat at the edge of the bed, both in a heated stare off, he was actually waiting for her to avert her gaze, or mumble an apology or whine cutely to end the fight, so he’d feel like he’d won like he had control, some form of dominance, “I can’t just respond to your every whim.” That was probably what set it off, because the next thing he knew she got off the bed and snatched her phone off the side table, slamming the bedroom door shut when she marched out of the room, her tantrum just set the whole forest on fire as he marched behind her, slamming the closed door open and calling out, “Yah? Are you in your senses? Why are you being like this!?” reaching out to grip her wrist he turned her around, ignoring how she was trying to pull away, “What is your problem? Are you mad about the Wooyoung thing? Cause I’m right about that! You’re my girlfriend, not his!” by now he was yelling, furious, frustrated, fed up, but at what? At his hectic schedule or her? Or perhaps he was upset over how he was unable to spend time with her and the time he had been given was ruined by his own pride. “Y-You think I don’t know that?” she yelled back, snatching her wrist out of his grip, “I know you’re busy too, but the least you can do is leave me on read, can’t you? You don’t even open my texts! I can’t magically guess your schedule!” He should have stopped there, he should have, he had realised that he was in the wrong, but was he willing to accept it so easily? No. Why? Because he was jealous, he was upset and more importantly this was the first time she had ever ignored him, ever chosen to show how his nonchalant attitude had upset her, this was not what he expected, he just thought they’d go on for ten minutes and she’d probably change the topic, not list down why he’s a bad boyfriend. “Doesn’t mean you get all cosy with Wooyoung.” “I-” she stared at him standing in the hallway for a good minute before taking off her ring and throwing it at him, the clink of the gold ring hitting the ground resonated within the silence, before her words cut through it, “You’re a heartless moron.”

That was three hours ago, three hours ago when he had let her walk away like she didn’t even matter to him, instead, he stood there watching the ring on the tiles, the ring she had gotten for them on their first anniversary, it wasn’t a promise ring, but more of a ‘just know when we’re far apart across the world, you’ll always have a piece of me and I’ll have a piece of you’ kind of ring- why’d she throw it at him, shouldn’t she have taken it with her and asked him to give the one he was wearing back to her?

“I love how that’s the only thing you’re worried about.” Wooyoung sighed, climbing up the stairs, his phone sandwiched between his ear and his shoulder as he carried two bags full of groceries up the quiet staircase, “You’re a real idiot you know, she did come over three times last week, the poor thing sat outside the apartment for an hour the third time and that’s when I gave her my key…Hongjoong told me that was the right thing to do too.”

“I- I was busy.” The youngest huffed, staring at the gold band, twirling it around in his fingers, “It’s not like she told me, I was too busy to read her texts, so she should’ve understood-”

“Understood what? That you’re a shitty boyfriend?” Wooyoung stopped at a step, the step that led to their floor, someone was sitting on the floor next to the door to the hallway (Yes Woooyoung had used the fire exit to come upstairs, San had told him this was a great way to work out- he’d kill the bastard for that tomorrow), hugging their knees, head resting against the wall, puffy eyes closed- was she asleep?

“What? Why!?”

“Jongho, did you even call to make sure she reached home safe?”

“Well… I…no.”

“I’m amazed you found someone who loves your useless a**.” With that Wooyoung hung up, sighing as he walked over to her, placing the grocery bags on the floor to crouch down and gently shake her shoulder, “Excuse me miss, but are you in your senses- how are both of you this dumb?”

Jongho slammed the front door open, not even bothering to put on his mask as he hastily made his way out of the apartment, only to bump into a smaller form, hearing a familiar yelp he instinctively reached for her, wrapped his arms around her to pull her closer, pressing her against him. He let out a breath of relief, at the realisation that it was in fact her, she was too tired to pull away or even push him away, and that was why she just stood there, letting him wrap his arms around her, resting her forehead against his chest, too drained even to protest. He looked behind her to spot Wooyoung standing there, grocery bags in hand with the most disapproving look he could muster, “Found her on the staircase, poor thing cried herself to sleep there- then there’s you, a bastard with an ego as big as the sun-”

“H-her phone was powered off.” He quickly defended himself, pulling her even closer as he tightened his arms around her, not wanting her to escape. The moment Wooyoung hung up on him, he realised how bad he had f*cked up, Wooyoung was never one to leave a conversation hanging, that is until he completely gave up on the person, and if Wooyoung had given up on him, did this mean his patient, compassionate, honeybee had done the same? Though his question was answered with a loud sniff, causing him to look away from Wooyoung and look down at her, only to meet her teary gaze, his gut twisted at the way she asked the dreaded question with her voice trembling, as if it was being thrown around by her pestering insecurities, insecurities that he had brought to life, that he had helped manifest within her, by constantly pushing her to the sidelines, by ignoring her beckoning calls, by looking right through her even though she stood right in front of him, with a warm smile and a heart of gold- one he was not worthy to call his own; “D-do you not love me, anymore?”

It was this very question that had him look up at Wooyoung in panic, a cry for help, though the fox-like man shrugged and walked past them, mumbling, loud enough for him to hear, because he knew the girl crying in the younger man’s arms was sobbing so loud, the floodgates of all that pain and anxiety that was slowly drowning her had now enveloped her completely, leaving her a mess, a mess he was supposed to fix, so she couldn’t hear him, she didn’t hear him, when he side-eyed the youngest, and walked past them, “You f*cked up, fix it yourself,” slamming the main door shut behind him, finally leaving the two alone in the corridor.

An eternity later the two were sitting on the same staircase where Wooyoung had found her, the two were staring at the window ahead, she thought she was tired before, but all that crying just amazed her, at this point, she felt like she’d faint if he pushed any wrong buttons. Though they had been sitting quietly for the past hour, he had not uttered a word, which meant he wasn’t going to be the first to break the tormenting silence, as usual, it would be her, to kneel and-

“I’m sorry.”

Her eyes widened at the foreign choice of words, slowly turned her head to stare at him with shock through her puffy, swollen, eyes, licking her dry lips before speaking. Still, he cut her off again, this time turning to face her, the determination in his eyes somewhat scaring her, she’d only ever seen that look when he was going to sing a song that wasn’t the easiest when it came to the number of high notes, perhaps he was going to sing a perfect melody that was just for them, in tune with their pent up love for each other- for his locked up love for her, a symphony she wouldn’t mind hearing over and over again.

“I- I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but you need to understand I did not doubt your loyalties or misjudge your character, I was only self-projecting my insecurities, I know you’d never do such a thing, I know you love me and I- I” he paused, watching how her breath hitched, eyes widening in expectation, biting her lower lip unsure of how he felt about her, “I love you so much it turns me stupid- it scares me how much I want to be around you, I- I want to be vulnerable around you and…what if you don’t like it? You don’t like me when I’m not my at my strongest or my best…and I- I guess what I’m trying to say is,” he reached in his pocket to pluck out the ring, showing it to her, “Could you please find it in you…to give me another chance- you don’t have to say yes right away, I won’t force you, I could never…just…let me drop you home this time…yeah?”

She stared at him quietly, blinking slowly as his words processed before letting out a sigh, scooting closer as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, burying her face in his neck as she placed a soft kiss against his warm skin, sighing when she felt him pull her closer, gripping him tighter when she heard him sniff, feel his body trembling against hers, letting him finally let it all out against her, but never looking up, her face buried in the crook of his neck, mumbling sweet positive affirmations or kissing the skin as she let him have his moment, only to feel him slowly push her away, looking down at her with puffy eyes that matched hers, and a nose pinker than hers, “Please…stay.”

“I wasn’t going anywhere, you dummy.” Sighing she pulled off him, taking the ring from him but he didn’t let her, instead, he slipped it back on her finger, “I was waiting for you to come and give this to me…if I wanted to leave you for good, I would’ve told you to give me the ring you’re wearing back.”

Letting out a dry chuckle he shook his head, he was an idiot, one who couldn’t read situations as well as he boasted that he could- he guessed he was clueless when it came to love, at least he had someone as patient as her to help him pull through his minefield, frolicking through it like it was a field of daisies.

“Thank you…” he sighed and pressed his forehead against hers, before leaning closer to capture her lips in a kiss, only to realise how long it had been since he had kissed her, making him pull her closer, cupping her face as he tried to make up for lost time.

Finally pulling back she smiled at him out of breath, watching how he took in equally deep breaths, his cheeks all puffed out and pink, “I’m out of practice.”

“Don’t worry, we’ve got all night.” She smiled.

“I prefer taking things to the bedroom, not a voyeurism guy.”

“Choi Jongho.”

“I love you” he chuckled, watching her shake her head in defeat as he pulled her up to her feet, laughing when she whined at how he was speed walking to the apartment, mumbling, “Do you want me to carry you? Because I will, for as long as you want, honeybee.” And that’s what Wooyoung saw before Jongho closed his bedroom door, carrying her half-asleep form in his arms, bridal style as he mouthed a thank you to Wooyoung before going to finally cuddle up next to her like she had originally planned for the night.

Taglist: @edenesth @yessa-vie @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp @spooo00oky

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