#self care ୨୧ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

moonxknightx · 6 months ago

Text

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : MEET THE FAMILY : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Logan Howlett x F!Stark!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff :))

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: X-Men & MCU

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: None!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: After your dad, Tony Stark, finds out you’re dating Logan, he insists the whole Avengers team meet him. Nervous but with Logan by your side, you head to the compound, with Wade tagging along. The Avengers are curious and a little skeptical, especially Tony, but Logan holds his own during dinner. He impresses the team with his confidence and clear care for you, even earning Tony’s reluctant approval by the end of the night. Despite the initial tension, Logan becomes a part of your chaotic family, and everyone accepts him.

Part 2

THE COMPOUND WAS QUIET. Too quiet. You'd been on edge ever since Happy had called you that morning, voice full of that awkward yet endearing nervousness he always got when delivering bad—or rather, inconvenient—news.

“Your dad knows.”

Three words that had set your entire day into a downward spiral of anxiety. Of course, Tony would find out. He had eyes and ears everywhere, despite you trying to keep things on the down low. And now, he had apparently told everyone.

Your boyfriend, Logan, sat beside you on the drive to the Avengers compound, eyes fixed on the road, completely unfazed. He was never one to be easily rattled. He hadn’t even batted an eye when you mentioned the entire Avengers team was going to be waiting to meet him. If anything, he just lit a cigar and shrugged, saying, "Not the first time I've been sized up by a bunch of superheroes."

Logan was like that. Unbothered. Calm in the face of impending chaos.

Unlike you.

You let out a deep sigh, clutching the steering wheel a bit tighter. "You know, we could just make a U-turn right now," you muttered, hoping, praying he’d take you up on the offer.

Logan chuckled, the low rumble soothing and maddening all at once. "Nah, darlin'. We’ll be fine. What’s the worst that could happen?"

"Logan, it's my dad. My dad, who, mind you, is Tony Stark. Genius. Billionaire. Overprotective father extraordinaire. I love him, but he’s going to grill you."

He smirked, one of those self-assured, slightly cocky looks that made your heart skip. "I’ve been through worse, trust me."

You were about to respond when a voice suddenly piped up from the backseat, startling you both.

“Hey, so what’s for dinner? I hope it’s not shawarma. I had that yesterday, and let me tell you, intestinal distress doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

“Wade?!”

The red-suited mercenary, Wade Wilson—aka Deadpool—grinned as he popped his head between the seats. "Who else? You thought I’d miss a chance to meet the Avengers again? Besides, I’ve got a bet with myself to see which of them cracks first. My money’s on Banner. Big guy’s got a short fuse."

You groaned. “Wade, you weren’t even invited.”

"Yeah, but you love me," Wade said with a wink. "Plus, I’m the one who introduced you two lovebirds, so technically, I’m responsible for all of this.”

Logan rolled his eyes, but there was a glint of amusement there. He had a weird, chaotic friendship with Wade that baffled you at times. Still, Wade had been the one to introduce you to Logan in the first place. After one of those typical Wade escapades where you'd found yourself smack dab in the middle of a multiverse-saving mission, Logan had swooped in, gruff and full of snark, but undeniably magnetic. You'd been hooked ever since.

"Alright, just... please don't say anything weird when we get there. This is already going to be awkward enough as it is."

Wade gave you a salute. "Scout's honor, kiddo."

When you arrived at the compound, Logan strode beside you, a protective yet calm presence. Wade, naturally, flanked the other side, completely unfazed by the prospect of facing a room full of Earth's mightiest heroes.

As you entered the living area, the first to greet you was not your father, but Morgan Stark, Tony’s precocious little daughter, who ran up to you with a big grin on her face.

"Hey, Morgs," you greeted, bending down to hug her.

Her eyes immediately shifted to Logan, who watched the interaction with a faint smile. "Is this him?" she asked, her eyes bright with curiosity.

You nodded, a little nervous. "Yup. Morgan, this is Logan."

Morgan looked up at him with wide eyes, studying him. Logan crouched down to her level, his usually gruff demeanor softening just a bit. “You must be Morgan. Your sister talks about you all the time."

Morgan beamed. "You’re tall."

Logan chuckled. “And you’re smart.”

Morgan grinned and then, in typical kid fashion, dashed off, satisfied with her judgment. "I like him!" she called out as she disappeared into the kitchen.

One down.

Then the rest of the team filtered in—Tony, Pepper, Steve, Nat, Clint, Bruce, Thor, and even Rhodey. They all sized Logan up in their own way.

Tony, of course, was the first to speak.

"So," he said, voice casual but his eyes sharp, "this is the guy?"

Logan straightened up, meeting Tony's gaze with that signature, unflinching confidence. "Yup."

Tony took a moment, probably running a full background check in his mind before nodding. “Alright. Dinner’s almost ready, but first, I think the team’s got some questions.”

Steve, ever the diplomat, stepped forward with a polite smile. “Logan, right? How’d you two meet?”

Before you could respond, Wade butted in.

“Oh, it’s a great story!” he exclaimed, gesturing dramatically. “So, picture this—alternate dimensions, worlds colliding, typical Tuesday stuff. I’m getting my ass handed to me by some bad guys—”

“I don’t remember it that way,” you interjected.

“Shh, let me have this moment. Anyway, I call in Logan here for backup, because duh, claws and healing factor, and then boom, sparks fly between these two.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms as her eyes flicked between you and Logan. "Sparks?"

You opened your mouth to reply, but Wade was too quick. "Like fireworks on the Fourth of July. Or maybe that was an explosion—I can't remember."

Logan sighed, clearly used to Wade's antics by now. “We met on a mission. Wade was being a pain in the ass, as usual. Your girl here held her own, and I liked that."

Your face heated up at Logan’s praise. You noticed Natasha and Steve exchanging a look. Clint leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, lips quirking up slightly as if he was already sizing Logan up.

“Multiverse missions, huh?" Clint finally said. "That must’ve been fun.”

Logan smirked, locking eyes with Clint, both men now in some sort of unspoken stare-off. “Fun's one way to put it.”

Clint didn’t break eye contact but gave a slow, approving nod. “So you’re used to the crazy life. Good.”

Thor, ever the enthusiastic one, stepped forward next, looking Logan up and down. "Ah, a fellow warrior, no doubt!" He clapped a hand on Logan's shoulder, earning a slight grunt from him. “Tell me, Logan, have you faced a frost giant before? Or perhaps a horde of dark elves?”

Logan gave a half-shrug, completely unfazed by Thor’s boisterous personality. “Haven’t seen those specifically, but I’ve fought my fair share of things with claws, teeth, and bad attitudes.”

Thor laughed heartily, clearly impressed. "Then we shall have many stories to exchange!"

Bruce, who had been hanging back, finally spoke up. "So, uh... any anger management issues we should be aware of?" He asked it cautiously, but you could see the hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Wade snorted. "Banner, you're one to talk."

Logan just grinned, clearly enjoying himself. "Let’s just say I know how to handle myself.”

Natasha’s gaze sharpened. "I’ve heard about you. Wolverine, right? Healing factor, claws, indestructible skeleton."

Logan nodded once. "That’s me."

She studied him for a moment longer, then gave a small, approving nod. “Impressive.”

Tony, though silent for most of the interaction, was still sizing Logan up. You could feel the weight of your dad’s expectations hanging over the room. He wasn’t one to just roll over and let things be.

“So, Logan,” Tony said, leaning back with a scrutinizing look. “You’ve been around a long time. Done a lot, I assume. How exactly do you plan on handling my daughter?”

Logan didn’t flinch under Tony’s gaze. Instead, he gave a small, almost imperceptible smile. “She can handle herself just fine, Stark. But if you're asking if I’ve got her back? Always.”

The room went quiet for a beat. Even Wade had paused from whatever chaotic inner monologue he had going. The weight of Logan’s words, his seriousness, seemed to sink into everyone.

Tony’s eyes flicked to yours, and for the first time that night, his expression softened. A flicker of something—acceptance, maybe—passed across his face.

“Well,” Tony said, standing up and smoothing his shirt. “In that case, I suppose we should eat.”

As everyone began to move toward the dining room, you felt Logan’s hand slide into yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. You looked up at him, relieved to see a small smile playing on his lips.

“They like you,” you whispered.

Logan shrugged, but there was a warmth in his eyes. “More importantly, they love you.”

You leaned into him slightly as you both followed the rest of the Avengers. And as for Logan? He had passed the test.

As the group settled into the dining room, the mood shifted slightly—less tense, more familial. The Avengers took their seats around the long table, conversations gradually picking up, but you couldn’t shake the subtle glances they kept throwing Logan’s way. It was clear they were still sizing him up in their own way.

Logan, for his part, remained calm. He was good at reading a room, better at letting things roll off his back. You’d noticed that about him early on—he had this way of commanding a space just by being in it, without the need for flashy words or grand gestures. Even so, you could tell by the way his hand remained close to yours that he was paying attention to every little detail. Watching, listening, judging.

Morgan was seated next to Tony, happily talking to Pepper about something she’d done at school that week, her occasional glance toward Logan full of childlike curiosity and approval. To her, Logan wasn’t an intimidating figure. He was your boyfriend—nothing more, nothing less. The simplicity of it warmed your heart.

Dinner was served, and Wade, who had somehow managed to squeeze in between Natasha and Clint, immediately started in on a loud, entirely unprompted story about a mission in Madripoor that no one really asked for.

“So there I was, pinned down by a mob of highly trained ninja assassins—yes, they exist, Steve—and I’m about to go down for the count when Logan here comes in with the whole snikt, snikt thing,” Wade mimed Logan’s claws extending with dramatic flair, “and saves my beautiful behind from a fate worse than death: losing my taco night.”

Steve sighed, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. “Right, because that’s clearly the priority in a life-or-death situation.”

“Exactly!” Wade pointed enthusiastically, as if Steve had just made his point for him. “This guy gets it.”

Natasha leaned back, smirking as she cut into her food. “So, Logan saved your life, and that’s how the two of you met?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Not exactly. Logan and I didn’t really meet officially until a little later. Wade just… happened to be there. Per usual.”

“Per usual, my dear?” Wade gasped dramatically. “You wound me. You wouldn’t have even met this tall drink of Canadian water if it weren’t for me!”

Logan gave a quiet grunt of amusement, though he didn’t say anything. Instead, he caught your eye, the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as Wade continued his rambling story.

Thor, who had been listening intently to Wade’s increasingly exaggerated tale, turned to Logan, looking genuinely intrigued. “So, Wolverine, your claws—are they forged of enchanted metal, much like Mjölnir?”

Logan paused, mid-chew, and raised an eyebrow at the Asgardian. “Not exactly. Adamantium. Strongest metal on Earth. Had it grafted to my skeleton a long time ago.”

Thor nodded, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “Ah, I see! A most noble addition. I myself am well-acquainted with weaponry of such caliber. Though I must admit,” he leaned in slightly, “I would be most curious to see them in action.”

Logan gave a low chuckle. “Maybe after dessert.”

As the conversation drifted on, Logan slowly began to settle in. Steve asked him a few more questions about his past—carefully avoiding anything too personal or traumatic—and Clint, always the quiet observer, seemed to be assessing Logan from across the table, eyes sharp but not unkind.

Tony, meanwhile, hadn’t said much since dinner started. He watched everything, listened to everyone, but remained quiet, only offering the occasional comment or quip. You knew him well enough to recognize that he was still processing. As much as Tony trusted your judgment, the whole “overprotective dad” thing didn’t exactly disappear overnight.

“So,” Tony finally spoke up, setting his fork down as the rest of the table quieted. “You’ve been through a lot. War, battles, more than most people could handle in one lifetime. And yet, here you are.”

Logan glanced at him, not quite sure where this was going, but he nodded. “Yeah. Seen more than my share.”

Tony leaned forward, elbows on the table, and his gaze sharpened, narrowing slightly as if he was putting Logan through one last test. “My daughter’s important to me— really important. You say you’ve got her back, and I respect that. But if you’re sticking around… you’re gonna need to know one thing.”

The room stilled. Even Wade had gone quiet, which was a rare feat. Logan met Tony’s stare head-on, not a trace of intimidation or hesitation in his gaze.

“What’s that?” Logan asked evenly.

Tony exhaled, his expression softening—just a fraction. “This family? We’ve been through hell. Lost people we cared about. We’ve had our world flipped upside down more times than I can count. And the thing is… when you’re in, you’re in. No half-measures. No walking away when things get tough. You stick it out. You fight for the people who matter.”

Logan didn’t blink. His gaze shifted briefly to you, then back to Tony. “That’s how I’ve always lived.”

Tony nodded slowly, almost imperceptibly. There was a weight to that moment, a silent understanding passing between them. Whatever final test Tony had in mind, it seemed Logan had passed.

Pepper, sensing the shift, smiled softly and placed a hand on Tony’s arm, quietly grounding him. “Dinner was wonderful,” she said warmly, breaking the tension. “I think we’ve had enough grilling for one night.”

Natasha smirked, raising an eyebrow at Logan. “You’ve survived the inquisition. Impressive.”

Logan shrugged. “Didn’t seem all that bad.”

Rhodey laughed. “You’re lucky. The last guy that showed up to date one of Stark’s kids? He didn’t make it past the appetizers.”

Tony snorted, shooting Rhodey a playful glare. “That’s because that guy showed up in a muscle car blaring AC/DC and quoting Shakespeare.”

“I thought you liked AC/DC?” you teased.

“I do. Not when it’s a first impression.”

Morgan, who had been quietly observing the back-and-forth, suddenly piped up. “Are you staying here tonight?” she asked innocently, looking up at Logan.

Logan blinked, clearly not expecting the question. “Uh…”

“Morgan,” Pepper began, her tone gentle but with that motherly undertone of “not now.”

“What? If he’s dating my sister, maybe he should stay!”

Wade, sensing an opportunity to cause more chaos, grinned beneath his mask. “Oh, I second that motion, mini-Stark! Logan here can bunk with me. I’ll show him my extensive collection of ‘80s action movies. It’ll be like a slumber party, only with more explosions.”

Clint nearly spit out his drink, trying to stifle his laughter, and even Natasha cracked a rare smile.

Logan, who had been stoic and composed throughout the entire evening, just shook his head. “Yeah, I’ll pass.”

You burst out laughing, and as you glanced around the table, you saw that, little by little, Logan was beginning to fit in with the Avengers’ chaotic dynamic. Sure, there were still guarded looks and unspoken tests, but your family—both blood and found—was starting to accept him in their own way.

As dessert was served and the conversation shifted to lighter topics, you felt Logan’s hand rest on your knee under the table, a small, reassuring touch that grounded you. You leaned into him slightly, smiling to yourself. Maybe this whole thing hadn’t been as bad as you’d feared.

By the time the evening began winding down, Logan was in the middle of an animated conversation with Thor about battle strategies, Wade was loudly recounting yet another exaggerated mission story to anyone who’d listen, and Morgan had fallen asleep in Pepper’s arms.

Tony, now more relaxed, leaned over to you as the others chatted around the table. “So… Logan,” he said quietly.

You glanced at him, unsure of what was coming next. “Yeah?”

Tony gave a small, reluctant smile. “I still think you could’ve given me a heads-up earlier, but… he’s alright. I guess.”

You grinned, bumping your shoulder against his. “Told you so.”

Tony chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Don’t get used to it.”

As the night wrapped up and the team slowly began to disperse, you and Logan lingered by the door. Tony walked up to Logan, offering his hand.

“Take care of her,” Tony said, his tone steady but genuine.

Logan gripped Tony’s hand firmly, meeting his gaze once more. “Always.”

With that final exchange, you left the compound with Logan by your side, Wade tagging along (of course). And as you drove away, your hand resting in Logan’s, you felt a sense of peace settle over you.

Your family had met him. He’d met them. And while it hadn’t been perfect, it was the first step in blending the two worlds you cared so deeply about. In the end, Logan wasn’t just a part of your life anymore.

He was a part of theirs.

🏷️: @twinky-wink @fidgetingbee @astarions-girl-dinner @layladestiny8 @birdy-bat-writes

If you want to be added to the Logan tag list, let me know!

#logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett fluff #deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman #hugh jackman x reader #x men x reader

1K notes · View notes

chococolte · 10 months ago

Note

Your sagau zhongli is my fave! Devotion is soooo good he's so good!! If he were offered a reward, what would he ask for? He definitely deserves good things for being such a dedicated worshipper

word count. 1.6k

୨୧ — ꒰ cw. yandere, unhealthy relationships, possessive & obsessive thoughts/behaviors, sagau + cult au shit, religious themes, g/n reader.

୨୧ — ꒰ a/n. hi guys......... sorry i took so long to write this, and im so happy you like my characterization of him!!!! it means so much to me!!!

Your praise.

Zhongli has rarely ever wanted.

When he was young, still arrogant and born of war, Zhongli didn't want— he took. He had no need of envy or desire. What he could not have, he would get in time. Immortality comes with an infinite patience.

If he was still that god, flippant and self-important, maybe he would demand some sort of compensation. Some sort of recompense for past agony.

For as long as Zhongli's lived, he has never wanted; not in the way a mortal yearns for their lover, or the way a dog longs for its owner until it whines. Never in any way that mattered, never before he met you.

Zhongli has had eons to become used to the loneliness that so often encompasses him. And now, knowing that you breathe the same air as him, he's become rather acquainted with the ever consuming desire to nestle close to you, like ink caressing every pore of canvas.

His desire runs through him— barking and loud, rapid and frantic— but when faced with you, a whisper, whimpering in the dark crevices of his ribs. At times, he comes close to asking you to hold him, but decorum and propriety keep him in place, tight and tense.

Liyue was built knowing your gaze followed him. Its foundations set, earth molded, and its rivers bent, hoping they would be fit to your liking. His every breath spent chasing after your favor, desiring to be remade in your image, to be exactly what you want him to be. Afraid that, when finally met with you, you will not like what you see.

Zhongli has rarely ever wanted, and rarer still, has he ever feared.

It's a mortal's fear. The fear of their lord displeased with their harvest. A boyish fear, made up of desperation and the fear of disapproval; one he shouldn't feel, one he should feel no familiarity with. One he suspects many have felt when within his own presence.

When you ask him what he would like in return for all of his efforts— a reward, you say— Zhongli feels his breath seized from him.

Zhongli lived much of his early life against you. At every opportunity, he rebelled at what he thought was a cruel god. Imperious and charged with Guizhong’s death, he would have demanded answers.

For him to have lived while those he cared for perished without a moment's repose, for him to have survived every moment of cruel war when each breath was like a whip against his lungs— he deserved to know, if you were as real as Guizhong so staunchly believed, why he had lived in her place.

Yet, despite centuries of tempered rage, Zhongli has become content to live as nothing more than your servant.

He tells you he wants for nothing. That all he desires now is the simplicity of being beside you; the escape of your laughter, where there's no need to concern himself with anything other than you. He tells you he only wishes to know how to take care of you better, how to align himself with your tastes and desires.

"I insist," you say, and Zhongli realizes it's a command. His mouth turns dry, and every word settles on his tongue like heavy weights, dead and still.

You stare, and his breath hitches, his heart a swell in his chest. Zhongli thinks of every answer, how your reaction to any could either breathe life into him, or leave him broken. How, for a moment, he amuses himself with the idea of asking for your touch— the cusp of your palm on his cheek, your fingers against his spine; how he could ask, and how you might favor him enough to do so.

He then thinks of asking you for reassurance. For affirmation of forgiveness for the actions in his youth. To finally have the certainty that he hasn’t failed you, and maybe, the confirmation that you may care for him.

“Forgive me for my impropriety, Your Grace,” Zhongli begins, voice light and breathy. His hand rests on his chest, fighting the urge to dig into his skin, hoping to calm the pounding of his heart. “But… if I may, I was wondering if I had done right by you?”

You sit inertly in silence for a moment, and Zhongli wonders if it’s on purpose, some sort of punishment for daring to ask such a thing. You had no reason to reward him, and he had been blessed enough to hold your attention for longer than a moment. He had no right to ask for your thoughts, not so directly.

He thought he knew that. It was why he followed you, why he made sure your every request was completed to the highest standard. If you mentioned the taste of your tea being too bitter, or sweet, or that you’d rather he prepare something else for you entirely, he would rush to follow your word. Even if he had been the one to brew it, even if it was him who cultivated the leaves, even if he thought it would be to your liking.

All he needed was to be helpful. All he needed was you. Within you, was his salvation— within you, was love itself. Without you, the once great Lord of Geo was but a fragmented elemental wisp of energy, only ever calling your name.

A spike of adrenaline rushes through him, fear and anxiety denying any sense of hope. All he hears is the solitary sound of his heart in his ears.

“You have only ever done good by me.”

Zhongli’s heart lurches, heat rippling through his body. You say it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and his mind feels dizzy at the implication. The ground sways, and his feet feel light.

“You deserve more than that, I think.” You step forward, and Zhongli is so lost within his own thoughts, he takes no notice of your sudden increase in proximity— but his breath still quickens, and red still coats the apples of his cheeks.

“Kneel,” you whisper, and though you say it so softly, it's as though the sky had been torn asunder with the speed he responds. Zhongli’s mind still feels far away, but he hears your orders as if spoken directly into his ear.

He drops to his knees, no care for whether he does so elegantly enough. All he can focus on is the weight of your gaze, and the way he's the only thing under it.

“Do you want me to praise you?” You trace his jawline with your finger, still speaking in a soft, unhurried tone. “Do you want me to tell you how much of a good boy you are?”

Zhongli inhales sharply, fighting every thought that screams at him to eagerly lean into your hand. He stares up at you, russet lashes fluttering and amber eyes swallowed by adoration and worship.

“Yes, Your Grace,” he whispers hoarsely.

Your thumb swipes over his lower lip, and a whine rises to the back of his throat.

“My good boy.” Zhongli’s entire body shudders, his chest heaving. A shaky breath escapes him. “You've been waiting to hear that for so long, haven't you?”

He whimpers, then nods in a way he hopes doesn’t come across as overeager— quickly bereft of any sense of propriety, or care for whether or not he’s making a fool of himself. All he can concern himself with is how close you are, how easily your scent renders him still, how quickly he borders on senseless.

You smile at that, and he bites his tongue to stop himself from whimpering.

“Do you want me to tell you how grateful I am?” Your fingers move across his neck, brushing against his Adam’s Apple, watching it bob as he gulps, trying to keep himself steady and not fall against you. “How you're my favorite?”

An ugly sound rips from Zhongli’s throat, and it's one he's instantly ashamed of. Every part of him feels bare in front of you, laid out messy and without decorum. The mask he’s worn for eons steadily breaks, and every one of his veins and bones scream out for your warmth.

The Lord of Geo wouldn’t have ever allowed himself to be so vulnerable. He never would have amused himself with the thought of pleading for anything, or kneeling and falling apart because he was treated softly— least of all, of being so desperate to know that you love him; that you favor him.

Zhongli, now without his Gnosis, is as mortal as the men he used to lord over. And perhaps it’s his newfound mortality that moves him to lean into your hand, frantically trying to meld your fingers against his skin until his flesh is like clay inlaid with your fingertips; hoping that you’ll rebuild him until he fits your desires, and tell him again that he’s proven to have done good by you.

Every thought is a prayer, another hymn, another psalm.

“Am I? Your favorite?”

His voice trembles, and breathes into a soft whisper. Zhongli doesn’t mean to sound so desperate— he doesn’t mean to be so greedy— but his soul has never felt so full before. His mind is so mired by your touch and voice that he doesn’t realize his lack of formality, or how he might come across as arrogant.

He wants only to think of you, and so he does. Nothing else matters.

“Yes.” You chuckle, and his heart speeds up at the sound, fervent. “Why would I want anyone else?”

Zhongli whines, and faintly, through the blur of fanaticism and worship, thinks that no matter what you asked of him, he would do it without hesitation.

#[🦇] — my writing #genshin impact #yandere genshin #genshin x reader #sagau #cult au #sagau zhongli #yandere zhongli #cult au zhongli #yandere zhongli x reader #yandere male #yandere male x reader #male yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere #self aware genshin au #self aware genshin #gender neutral reader

3K notes · View notes

lavender-whisper · 15 days ago

Text

MAKING LIFE BEAUTIFUL ༊*·˚

beauty is a high value of mine, it makes life worth living, and with that i don't mean conforming to commercial beauty standards, but cultivating a beautiful environment, inner thoughts/mindset, and lifestyle. here are some things i want to do to make my life more beautiful:

avoiding stress by doing tasks and assignments early

feeling refreshed by not staying up late

experiencing the sunrise and sunset by waking up early and being more mindful of my environment/nature

having a clean and tidy room

having an organized digital space

having an athletic and flexible body by regularly exercising and stretching

having an uncluttered mind by journaling my thoughts everyday

having a positive mindset (no self-loathing, ugly thoughts!)

making life meaningful by not only consuming, but also creating beautiful things through creative means

pursuing my hobbies (writing, drawing, singing, dancing, crafting)

eating less processed food & more beautifully prepared healthy food

being hygienic by smelling good, caring for my nails & hair, and wearing stainless clean clothing

avoiding stress by not being forced to hurry

concentrating being in the present moment

minimizing social media usage

creating a nice atmosphere with matching music

basically romanticizing my life

i hope these tips help you cultivate a more beautiful life too! i might make more blog posts if i feel inspired, because they are pretty too ;)

︶︶୨୧︶⊹︶⊹︶୨୧︶⊹︶⊹︶୨୧︶⊹︶⊹︶୨୧︶︶

796 notes · View notes

heeluvv · 11 days ago

Text

𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 ୨୧

pairing ♒︎ sim jaeyun x reader

genre ♒︎ smut

warnings ♒︎ fingering, pussy eating, unprotected sex, tit play, daddy kink, etc.

natty's notes ♒︎ mdni, hate comments will be deleted.

you had always kept to yourself, preferring solitude over pointless small talk and meaningless interactions. socializing never appealed to you—why waste energy caring about people’s lives when they were just as irrelevant as the next? you were content in your own world, detached from the gossip, the hierarchy, the petty dramas that surrounded you.

but if there was one person who could pull you out of your quiet indifference, who could bring out the worst in you, who could make your blood boil with nothing but pure, unfiltered rage—it was sim jaeyun.

the golden boy. the poster child of perfection. the captain of the soccer team and the walking, breathing ego that came with it. jaeyun was obnoxiously charming, devastatingly good-looking, and painfully aware of it. you hated to admit it, but he was infuriatingly hot—the kind of attractive that made it even worse when he opened his mouth and let that cocky, self-assured, utterly insufferable personality spill out.

and yet, no matter how much you tried to ignore him, he was always there—always in your space, always testing your patience, always pushing you toward the edge of absolute hatred.

like right now.

the distant shrill of a whistle cut through the air, a cruel reminder that karma had decided to be your enemy today. all you wanted was a moment of peace to focus on your studies, yet the universe had other plans.

your fingers gripped the edge of your notebook, trying to block out the noise, but curiosity—or perhaps masochism—had your eyes drifting from the pages to the field below.

and there he was.

jaeyun stood in the middle of the field, black compression shirt clinging to his body like a second skin, accentuating every toned muscle, every sharp dip and curve of his figure. his sleeves stretched tight around his biceps, flexing every time he moved, and his broad shoulders carried the kind of natural confidence that made it impossible not to look.

his hands—god, his hands—looked buffer than ever, fingers flexing as he wiped the sweat from his brow. damp strands of hair clung to his forehead, framing his face in a way that was unfairly attractive, his jaw clenched in focus, lips parted as he caught his breath.

and just like that—you hated him even more.

you hated how good he looked. hated how someone so cocky, insufferable, and utterly arrogant managed to crawl his way under your skin with nothing but a smirk and a well-timed stretch. hated how, despite everything, your body reacted to him in ways that made you sick with frustration.

because no matter how much you despised sim jaeyun, there were nights where you couldn’t help yourself.

nights where the memory of his voice—low, smooth, teasing, always dripping with mockery—played in your mind like a broken record. nights where your fingers gripped the sheets, your body aching, your mind clouded with filthy, shameful fantasies about how he’d be in bed.

rough. harsh. demanding.

a man like him wouldn’t settle for anything less than full control, wouldn’t be soft or hesitant, wouldn’t let you get away with your usual bratty attitude. his cock—of course it’d be big, thick and veined, the kind that made your thighs clench just thinking about it. and he’d know exactly how to use it, how to ruin you, how to make you choke on his name the same way he always made you choke on your words when you argued.

there had been too many nights where you’d touched yourself too much, too desperately, too often, chasing a high you could only ever reach by thinking about him. remembering the way he spoke to you, taunted you, tested you. he never even had to do anything overtly sexual—just the sound of his voice, the way he said your name with that condescending smirk, was enough to make your stomach twist with something you refused to name.

maybe it wasn’t hate. maybe it wasn’t even anger. honestly, you didn’t know what the fuck it was.

but you knew you were fucked.

and he knew it too.

because the moment your gaze lingered for too long, the moment you let your eyes betray you, his head snapped up, locking onto yours with deadly precision. his lips curled into a smug, knowing smirk, one that told you he could read your thoughts, see the way your thighs subtly pressed together, feel the heat burning under your skin.

and then he did something unforgivable.

his hands dropped to the hem of his compression shirt, fingers teasing the fabric, dragging it up slowly—too slowly—revealing the toned ridges of his abs, the sharp v-line disappearing beneath his shorts. his skin glistened with sweat, muscles flexing as he wiped a hand over his face, and that was it. that was your breaking point.

your thighs clenched before you could stop them, heat pooling between your legs at the intrusive, unholy thought of grinding against his abs.

but your face? your face remained impassive, indifferent, perfectly annoyed.

except he saw right through you.

his smirk widened, and then—because he was a menace, a fucking devil—he lifted two fingers, forming a V, and flicked his tongue between them, slow and deliberate.

your breath caught, a sharp gasp nearly escaping, but you swallowed it down, forcing yourself to glare.

because this was his favorite game.

he loved to push you, tease you, provoke you, just to see how far he could take it before you snapped. and you? you hated that it worked.

hated that your body betrayed you every time.

hated that instead of looking away in disgust, your mind ran wild with images of that tongue on you, between your legs, ruining you in ways your own fingers never could.

because the truth was—as much as you hated his teasing, hated his smug expressions, hated the way he knew exactly how to get under your skin…

you hated even more that it turned you on.

you couldn’t take it anymore.

the heat pooling in your stomach, the unbearable ache between your legs, the way jaeyun had looked at you like he knew everything you were thinking—it was too much. you needed to get away, needed space, needed somewhere secluded where he wouldn’t find you, wouldn’t push you further, wouldn’t see just how much he was affecting you.

gathering your belongings in a flustered haze, you left the bleachers, forcing yourself to walk, not run, as if that would somehow keep him from noticing your sudden, desperate retreat. the moment you stepped inside the girls’ bathroom, the tension in your shoulders loosened, the silence finally giving you a moment to breathe. it wasn’t ideal, but it was private, safe, far away from him.

or at least, it should have been.

but even as you reopened your notebook, pretending to refocus, your mind was already wandering. drifting back to the way jaeyun had looked standing on that field, his sweat-slicked skin glistening under the sun, his shirt riding up just enough to drive you insane.

you exhaled sharply, pressing your thighs together, feeling the uncomfortable stickiness between them. you couldn’t take it anymore. and though it was a reckless, dangerous thing to do here—on school grounds, in a public bathroom where anyone could walk in—you didn’t care.

your fingers trembled slightly as you set your books aside, reaching down to drag your skirt up, revealing the dampened fabric of your panties—soaked, ruined, completely exposing how badly he had affected you. the cool air against your heated skin made you shiver, but it was nothing compared to the fire burning in your core.

hesitation didn’t exist.

your fingers traced over the damp fabric, pressing down on your clit through your panties, delivering soft, teasing strokes that made your body twitch, thighs clenching involuntarily. your bottom lip was pulled between your teeth, suppressing the moan that threatened to spill out as you circled your fingers again, testing the sensitivity, reveling in the fact that it was all because of him.

never in your life did you think you’d be getting off at school, but you had one person to blame.

and that same person was going to pay for it later.

your mind drifted, unraveling into dark, forbidden thoughts—starting first with his hands, the way they flexed when he wiped sweat off his face, the veins running along his knuckles, his fingers long and thick, so perfectly built for touching, gripping, fucking. you imagined those same fingers curving inside you, pressing deep, dragging along your walls, knowing exactly where to touch, how to break you apart with just his hands.

“fuck…” the word slipped past your lips, soft, breathy, needy. your fingers picked up their pace, rubbing tight circles over your clit, imagining him doing it instead.

then your mind wandered lower.

his thighs—thick, strong, built from years of training—the way they’d feel underneath you, how he’d let you grind down against them, flexing just to make you feel it harder. you could almost hear him in your head, that low, mocking voice filled with amusement as he teased, “is this all you can do, baby? i thought you hated me.”

your breath hitched, your fingers working faster, needier, the tension tightening in your stomach, winding tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any second.

your mind spiraled deeper into the fantasy of him, completely lost in the intoxicating thought of jaeyun ruining you. his plump lips—the same ones that always curled into a cocky smirk, the ones that taunted you endlessly—now pressed against your body, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your skin, sucking harshly just to claim you. you could almost feel the bruises he’d leave behind, marking you up just to prove a point, just so everyone could see that you were his.

but then it was his tongue—your mind whirling at the filthy images of him trailing it over every inch of your body, slow and teasing, cruel in the way he’d drag it across your skin with no urgency, knowing you’d squirm under his touch. especially when he finally settled between your legs, hovering, smirking at how soaked you’d be for him.

he wouldn’t give in easily—no, jaeyun would make you beg, make you say his name the way he wanted before rewarding you. you could picture it too vividly, the way he’d flick his tongue over your clit in agonizingly small strokes, just enough to tease but never enough to satisfy, forcing you to writhe beneath him. you’d grip his hair, try to push him closer, but he’d only laugh, his voice thick with amusement as he murmured, “desperate, aren’t you?”

and the worst part? you would be.

but nothing—nothing—would compare to the thought of his cock.

his thick, veined length, the way he’d stretch you open, the way he’d find pleasure in watching you struggle to take him in. your mind twisted into filthier images, ones that made you ache with need, thinking about him forcing himself past your lips, groaning as he watched your mouth stretch around his size, watching you choke, struggle, drool as he shoved himself deeper.

he’d mock you for it, for your watery eyes, for the way you tried to take him so obediently despite the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. “what’s wrong, baby?” he’d taunt, “too much for you?” but he wouldn’t let up. he’d hold you there, letting you suffer with your mouth full of him, finding twisted amusement in your helplessness.

“fuck, jaeyun—” the moan escaped before you even realized it, his name falling from your lips with ease, your fingers working faster, deeper, more desperate. the sound of wetness echoed off the bathroom walls, mixing with the heavy, uneven breaths slipping from your lips. but you were too far gone to care.

your mind whirled into new possibilities, wondering—which position would he love most?

doggy?

would he want you on all fours, back arched for him, ass perfectly presented as he pressed his cock deep into you, one hand fisting your hair while the other came down in harsh, stinging slaps on your skin?

the image alone had your body tensing, your core tightening, the thought of him commanding you, ruining you, owning you tipping you dangerously close to the edge.

“shit—!”

your body jerked, pleasure crashing into you, breaking you apart as your orgasm ripped through you, leaving your thighs shaking, your breathing heavy and uneven.

your fingers slowed, the aftershocks pulsing through your body as the last waves of pleasure settled deep in your core.

but as the high faded, as the reality of what just happened sank in, only one thing lingered in your mind.

you needed to get back at him for this.

as the waves of pleasure slowly faded, leaving behind a lingering buzz of sensitivity, you fumbled for the toilet paper, wiping the slick from your fingers with shaky hands. your breathing was still uneven, erratic, the aftershocks of your orgasm pulsing faintly through your body as you reached for your phone. the screen lit up, the time glaring back at you—past 4.

you needed to get out of here. now.

with slightly trembling fingers, you tugged your sticky panties back into place, the damp fabric clinging uncomfortably against your sensitive core, a stark reminder of what you had just done. pressing down your skirt with forced nonchalance, you exhaled slowly, trying to steady yourself, trying to act as if nothing had happened.

your bag swung over your shoulder, your belongings clutched tightly in your hands as you pushed open the stall door—only to freeze.

your breath caught in your throat.

what the actual fuck.

there he was.

jaeyun.

leaning casually against the sinks, his arms crossed over his chest, his head tilted downward in what looked like bored amusement.

but then—he lifted his gaze.

his smug, infuriating, cocky gaze.

the second he heard the stall door open, his head snapped up, lips curling into a slow, devastating smirk.

his eyes—dark, knowing, utterly unreadable—swept over you in a way that made heat prickle down your spine, that made your heart slam against your ribs.

and in that moment, you knew.

he had been here the entire time.

your entire body locked up, every muscle in your frame going rigid as a sudden, burning heat crept up your neck, flooding your cheeks, settling deep in your stomach. the air in the bathroom felt thick, suffocating, the weight of jaeyun’s gaze alone pinning you in place, rendering you completely, utterly speechless.

your mind scrambled, trying—desperately, frantically—to piece together some kind of snarky response, something sharp and biting, something that would make it seem like you weren’t caught red-handed. but the words never came, vanishing before they could even form, leaving you stranded in the unforgiving silence that stretched between you.

his presence felt all-consuming, taking up every ounce of space, every breath of air, every single thought in your head. and you knew. you fucking knew there was no talking your way out of this.

because you had been caught.

completely. undeniably. irreversibly caught.

jaeyun let out a soft scoff, the sound laced with amusement, disbelief, as if he couldn’t believe what he had just witnessed—but was entirely enjoying it. he shifted, his posture straightening, his hands lowering to press against the sink counter, his grip firm, calculated, like he was settling in for a show.

but his eyes—sharp, teasing, deadly—never wavered from yours.

“had fun, baby?”

his voice was smooth, lazy, dripping with pure, unfiltered arrogance.

and it was deadly.

“i-i don’t know what you’re talking about..”

the words tumbled out, weak, unconvincing, betraying you before you could even attempt to sound believable. your voice stammered, breath still uneven, the aftermath of your orgasm clinging to you in ways you couldn’t hide. it was pathetic, really—grasping at the thin veil of denial, desperately gaslighting yourself into believing that maybe, just maybe, jaeyun had heard nothing.

he hadn’t walked in on you touching yourself to the thought of him.

he hadn’t heard the breathless, wrecked moan of his name spill from your lips as your fingers worked you to the edge.

and he sure as hell hadn’t been standing there, watching, listening, waiting, while you fell apart over him in the most shameless way possible.

right?

jaeyun pushed himself off the counter, his movements slow, deliberate, like he had all the time in the world to watch you crumble. his gaze dragged over your face, taking in the way your lips parted slightly, the way your eyes darted away, flustered, panicked, guilty.

he knew. he fucking knew.

his steps were unhurried as he made his way toward you, closing the space effortlessly, like a predator playing with its prey. his hands stayed tucked in his pockets, a move that would have seemed casual if not for the way he subtly angled his hips, discreetly camouflaging what you already knew was there.

“no?” he echoed, voice mocking, smooth, his head tilting slightly, lips curling into something dangerous.

he stopped just close enough, forcing you to look up at him, the space between you nonexistent, suffocating.

“are you sure about that?”

his voice dropped lower, his tone dipping into something dark, knowing, completely unforgiving.

you were fucked.

“i have t-to go…”

your voice barely held steady, coming out in a breathless, shaky whisper, but you forced yourself to move anyway, clutching your bag like it was some kind of lifeline. your body screamed for an escape, your mind racing for any possible way out of this mess, but the second you tried to squeeze past him, it was over.

jaeyun’s hand shot out, gripping your wrist, spinning you effortlessly before your back collided with the cold, unforgiving wall. the force made you gasp, your bag slipping from your fingers, its contents spilling onto the tiled floor, but you barely noticed—not when he was this close.

your breath hitched, sharp and uneven, your chest rising and falling too fast as he closed the distance, his body just inches from yours, pressing into you without actually touching. but the heat radiating off him, the sheer intensity of his presence made it feel like he was everywhere.

his breath—hot, teasing, deliberate—cascaded over your ear, sending a shiver straight down your spine.

“why don’t i make it happen?”

his voice was low, dark, dripping with suggestion, and before you could even process his words, his tongue flicked out—a teasing, feather-light lick against the shell of your ear. your body jolted in response, heat coiling low in your stomach, a betrayal to your own desperation to resist him.

his hands slid down, coming to rest on your waist, fingers firm, possessive, gripping you like he was testing just how badly you wanted to run.

except you didn’t.

you couldn’t.

you never thought—not even in your wildest, filthiest fantasies—that this would actually happen.

you had dreamed of this—had spent too many shameful nights lost in the thought of him, picturing his hands gripping you just like this, his lips ghosting over your skin, his voice laced with the same dark amusement he carried now.

but you never thought it would go this far.

you never thought he’d know.

“i heard it all, y/n. don’t lie to me.”

the words sent a shockwave through you, making your stomach drop, your body locking up instantly.

he was so close now, so unbearably close, his breath ghosting over your cheek, his voice low, smooth, completely in control.

your wide, stunned eyes met his—dark, full of lust, unreadable in the worst way. your lips parted, chest rising and falling in sharp, shallow breaths, every ounce of air in the room suddenly gone.

the tension was suffocating. electric. devastating.

you weren’t even sure which one of you was breathing harder.

but you knew one thing—you couldn’t take it any longer.

your hands shot up, sliding over the firm lines of his neck, your fingers gripping him desperately as your lips crashed into his.

he didn’t hesitate.

his mouth moved against yours just as urgently, his grip on your waist tightening, grounding you, pulling you flush against him.

the kiss was messy, rushed, uncontrolled, tongues colliding, fighting for dominance, a battle neither of you were willing to lose.

jaeyun tilted his head, deepening the kiss, pressing into you with more force, more hunger, his fingers digging into your hips, like he was staking his claim.

his lips broke away from yours, leaving your mouth swollen, tingling, but before you could even whimper in protest, he was already moving—trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of your neck.

his tongue flicked out, dragging over your pulse, his lips following with a sharp, lingering suck before his teeth sank into your skin, biting down just enough to make you shiver.

“fuck, jaeyun—”

his name slipped from your lips in a breathless moan, your fingers burying themselves into his damp hair, tugging him closer, harder, as if you could make him devour you faster.

his hands slid under your shirt, rough and impatient, fingertips pressing into your ribs before curling around the fabric.

and then—he ripped it off.

the shirt was discarded somewhere, anywhere, his breath hitching as his hands immediately found your tits, cupping them in his palms, squeezing just enough to make you arch into him.

his thumbs rolled over your nipples, watching in dark fascination as they pebbled under his touch, slick from the heat between your bodies.

“fuck—” he groaned, his thumbs brushing, teasing, rubbing, eyes fixated on the way your tits bounced every time he played with them.

he had thought about this too many times, too many nights spent fisting his cock to the idea of it, imagining your tits wrapped around him, squeezing him, his cock sliding between them while your mouth was open, tongue flicking out to catch his tip.

and now, you were here—real, warm, desperate beneath him.

his hands moved behind you, unclasping your bra in one swift motion, tossing it aside without a second thought.

his gaze devoured you, drinking in the sight of your bare skin, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your nipples hard and begging to be in his mouth.

and then—he dove in.

his lips wrapped around one of your nipples, tongue swirling, flicking over the sensitive bud before his teeth caught it, tugging just enough to make you gasp.

“so fucking pretty,” he muttered against your skin, his breath hot, damp, intoxicating.

he sucked hard, determined to leave bruises behind, claiming you in deep, dark marks that would take days to fade.

his mouth trailed higher, pressing kisses up your collarbone, along the curve of your throat, before descending again, this time onto your other tit.

“mm—fuck, jaeyun—” your head tilted back, eyes fluttering shut, your panties soaked, sticky, unbearable with how badly you needed more.

but he didn’t give in—not yet.

“jaeyun, please—” your voice broke, your fingers tightening in his hair, tugging hard, trying to ground yourself, trying to make him move faster, harder, give you more.

but he only smirked against your skin, his grip on your waist tightening as he murmured, smug and cruel—

“beg better, baby.”

he lowered himself slowly, sinking to his knees before you, his lips dragging over your stomach, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. his hands found the hem of your skirt, fingers gripping the fabric as he pushed it up, letting it bunch around your waist, exposing just how much you needed him.

his hands guided your trembling thighs over his shoulders, positioning you perfectly, his face so close, too close, his breath hot, teasing, fanning against your soaking, ruined panties. his eyes darkened at the sight—your slick glistening through the thin fabric, staining it completely, proof of how wrecked you already were for him.

“fuck—” jaeyun groaned, his fingers hooking into the waistband, yanking harshly, tearing them away in one swift movement. the ripped fabric was tossed somewhere, forgotten, and before you could even process the loss, his hands grabbed at your ass, grounding you, keeping you balanced as his mouth descended upon you.

his tongue darted out, licking one slow, deliberate stripe through your folds before thrusting inside you, his mouth sealing around your dripping heat as if he were starving.

“ah—!” the scream ripped from your throat, your thighs clamping down around his head, your fingers flying to his hair, gripping tight, pulling hard.

but jaeyun didn’t care—he wanted it.

he wanted you to hold him there, wanted you to lose control, wanted to feel your body breaking apart in his hands.

his tongue moved in long, devastating licks, his lips wrapping around your clit, sucking, flicking, devouring. he moaned into your heat, the vibrations shooting through you, making your body jolt, shudder, tremble.

“fuck—jaeyun, please! please—!”

your hips rocked against his mouth, chasing the friction, chasing relief, and he let you, let you use him, let you grind down on his face, his tongue fucking into you, licking you so deep, so perfectly, every flick of his tongue making the coil in your stomach tighten, tighten, tighten—

his hands squeezed your ass, pressing you even closer, his mouth slurping, messy, loud, and he groaned against you, the sound deep, guttural, pure sin.

“so fucking sweet, baby,” he rasped, his voice thick with desire, his lips wet, glistening, ruined with you.

“gonna eat this pussy till you cry for me.”

your head slammed back against the wall, the dull ache barely registering over the overwhelming pleasure flooding your senses. the way jaeyun’s tongue worked inside you was nothing short of sinful—precise, merciless, devastating. every flick, every deep stroke of his tongue sent you spiraling, your thighs trembling violently atop his shoulders, threatening to give out completely.

your pussy clenched around the relentless movements of his tongue, soaking him, ruining him, making him groan into you like he was addicted to your taste. you could hear it—the obscene, wet sounds of him devouring you, drinking you in, savoring every drop like you were the best thing he’d ever had.

“jaeyun, please—c-can i cum? please, can i—i?”

your pleas turned to whimpers, then to sobs, your voice breaking under the weight of your impending climax, under the unbearable need to let go. your fingers gripped at his hair, desperate, pulling, tugging, trying to ground yourself, trying not to fall apart too soon.

jaeyun only chuckled against your heat, the vibrations sending shockwaves through you, making you twitch, gasp, tremble even harder.

“aww, you wanna cum, baby?” his voice was mocking, condescending, yet dripping with pure filth, his hands digging into your thighs, pressing them harder around his head. “wanna make a mess on daddy’s face?”

the word—that fucking word—sent a shudder through you, a sharp, visceral reaction you couldn’t suppress.

your moan was loud, desperate, wrecked, your body jerking involuntarily, the filthy nickname feeding into every sinful fantasy you’d ever had.

“please, please, daddy—”

your voice cracked, high-pitched, teetering on the edge of ruin, your climax hanging by a thread, so dangerously close, so impossibly unbearable.

jaeyun groaned against you, tongue flicking faster, his hands spreading you open wider, his movements completely unrelenting.

“then cum, baby,” he murmured against your clit, voice dark, commanding, merciless. “make a fucking mess for me.”

the second the words left his lips, you broke.

your orgasm crashed into you with full force, a violent, breathtaking release that tore through every nerve in your body. a loud, uncontrollable scream ripped from your throat, your entire form convulsing, trembling, muscles tightening so hard that for a second, you felt like you might black out from the intensity.

jaeyun groaned, his grip on your ass tightening, fingers digging in as he held you in place, his mouth devouring every drop of your release.

“fuck, baby—”” he rasped, voice thick with pure, ravenous hunger, the vibrations against your clit sending aftershocks ripping through you, making your thighs spasm uncontrollably around his head.

but he wasn’t done.

his tongue licked long, deliberate strokes, lapping up every bit of your arousal, cleaning you up with slow, torturous drags, drinking you in like he never wanted to stop.

“oh fuck—” your moans came in shaky, gasping breaths, your chest heaving aggressively, body still shuddering in the aftermath.

and yet, he still didn’t let up.

his mouth was relentless, his tongue dipping back in, pressing another slow, suffocating lick through your folds, his lips wrapping around your clit just to feel you twitch again.

but before the overstimulation could truly wreck you, he finally lifted himself off you, his face slick with your release, his lips glistening, wet, ruined.

and yet, he didn’t wipe it away.

he licked his lips—slow, deliberate, greedy.

“so fucking good, baby.”

his voice was hoarse, rough, completely wrecked.

and his cock—fuck, his cock was aching.

his hunger for you was insatiable, he could spend hours between your thighs, ruining you over and over with his tongue alone, but the ache in his pants was now painful, throbbing, unbearable.

he wanted to feel you. all of you.

finally.

his hands moved with ease, picking you up effortlessly, his strength barely faltering as he carried you off his shoulders, setting you down onto the cool, porcelain sink.

his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them apart just enough to take in the mess he made of you.

his cock twitched in his shorts, straining painfully, the evidence of his arousal obvious in the thick wet patch covering the front of his sweats.

he didn’t waste another second.

with one hand, he dragged his shorts down, his boxers following, both pieces of clothing pooling at his ankles as he finally freed himself.

and fuck—your assumption had been right.

he was huge.

his cock stood heavy, thick, angry, his veins prominent, his slit already leaking precum, twitching with need as he gripped himself at the base, giving himself a few rough pumps.

“you’re doing so fucking good for me, baby,” his voice was pure sin, filled with dark satisfaction as he fisted himself, teasing his tip against your soaked, pulsating entrance. “such a good fucking girl.”

your body shuddered, still raw, overstimulated, desperate, but you wanted him more than anything.

“are you gonna take me well, baby?” he murmured, his voice taunting, teasing, his cock dragging along your folds, smearing his precum over your entrance. “gonna show daddy just how fucking desperate you are for his cock?”

your only response was a soft, wrecked whimper, your body too dazed, too lost in the haze of pleasure to form a coherent thought.

but jaeyun wasn’t feeling patient.

one hand slid up to your breast, squeezing it harshly, his fingers pinching your nipple as he finally pushed in.

the stretch was instant, breathtaking, overwhelming.

your walls clamped around him, your body struggling to take his sheer size, your head tilting back, mouth falling open in a silent scream as he pushed deeper, filling you inch by inch.

“oh fuck, baby—” his groan was deep, strained, broken, his grip on your breast tightening, fingers digging into your skin as he bottomed out completely.

his cock throbbed inside you, buried to the hilt, your tight walls gripping him so perfectly, so sinfully, so impossibly tight.

“shit—” he gritted out, his jaw clenching as he held still, letting you adjust, reveling in the way your body wrapped around him, sucked him in.

he had waited for this.

and now, he was going to ruin you.

his other hand moved to your neglected breast, fingers gripping, kneading, squeezing with just enough force to make your back arch deeper, a series of soft, low grunts escaping his lips as he drank in the sight of you.

“gonna fucking ruin you…” his voice was husky, dark, dripping with sin, his breath hot against your skin as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear before he snapped his hips forward.

“i’ll have you begging for more, baby.”

and then—he slammed into you.

his thrusts were merciless, brutal, unrelenting, each one hitting deeper, harder, sharper, the sheer force making your entire body jolt against the sink. your fingers desperately clawed at his back, nails digging into his skin, leaving burning, red trails that only made him groan louder.

“fuck—” your eyes rolled back, pleasure crashing over you as he found your sweet spot instantly, his cock pushing into you so deep, so perfectly, stretching you so good that your thighs trembled violently, your breath coming in shaky, uneven gasps.

and then—his hands left your tits.

only to come slamming down onto your skin.

hard.

the sharp sting of his palm meeting your flesh made your body jolt, your head tilting back as a loud, broken scream spilled from your lips.

“fuck, daddy!”

your cry echoed in the small space, your hands flying up, searching for something—anything—to hold onto as the pleasure overwhelmed you.

your fingers latched onto his broad back, nails raking down the sculpted muscles, leaving deep, red scratches that only fueled him further.

“fuuuck—” jaeyun groaned, voice thick, slurred, completely wrecked.

his head tilted back, his jaw clenched, his stomach flexing beautifully, sweat dripping down his abs as he pounded into you harder, the force of it rocking the sink beneath you.

“this pussy—taking me so fucking well—”

his words were half-spoken, half-moan, his voice drenched in pleasure, his hips never faltering, never slowing.

“you love this fucking dick, don’t you, baby?”

his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them even wider, pushing himself even deeper, watching as your body shuddered beneath him, completely ruined, completely his.

“fuck yes! yes!”

your scream echoed through the small space, bouncing off the bathroom walls as your body convulsed, every muscle tightening, your core clenching around him like a vice. each ruthless, punishing thrust sent you spiraling closer, the coil in your stomach winding tighter, tighter—

“gonna cum on my dick, baby?”

jaeyun’s voice was thick, strained, completely wrecked, his breath hot and uneven against your skin. his grip tightened around your legs, his fingers digging into your flesh as he lifted them higher, pushing them closer to the mirror behind you.

“oh—s-shit!”

your head snapped back, a scream ripping from your throat as his fingers descended, pressing against your swollen, overstimulated clit, flicking harsh, precise strokes over the bundle of nerves.

“wet my dick, baby,” he groaned, his voice hoarse, shaking, desperate.

his cock twitched violently, the feeling of your tight, spasming walls squeezing around him, sucking him in, milking him for everything he had sending him dangerously close to the edge.

you could barely breathe—barely think—your body thrashing, pleasure swallowing you whole as the dam finally, violently shattered.

“fuck, jaeyun—!”

your hands shot down, gripping your own thighs, holding them open, wide, vulnerable, and then—you snapped.

your orgasm crashed into you like a violent wave, knocking the air from your lungs as liquid pleasure gushed out of you, squirting harshly, uncontrollably against jaeyun’s lower stomach and soaking his cock.

“oh, fuck—yeah, baby—fuck!”

his moan was loud, shameless, raw, his rhythm stuttering, his hips snapping forward in a series of fast, erratic thrusts.

his cock throbbed aggressively, the feeling of your release covering him, dripping down his abs, your walls still fluttering around him sending him spiraling right after you.

“fuuuck—” he gasped, his voice wrecked, trembling as his head fell forward, his grip on your thighs turning bruising.

and then—he came.

thick, hot ropes of cum spurted deep inside you, coating your walls, filling you completely, stuffing you full, each pulse flooding you even more.

his hips jerked in tiny, shallow thrusts, riding out the last waves of his climax, his chest heaving, his body shuddering, both of you a mess of tangled limbs, hot skin, and ruined breaths.

but when he finally pulled out, a soft whimper of protest left your lips, your walls clenching around nothing, already missing the stretch of him inside you.

his low, satisfied groan sent another shiver down your spine as he watched, completely enthralled, entirely mesmerized, as his cum spilled out of you, thick and messy, dripping down your thighs.

“fuck, baby—look at that.”

his fingers traced over your wrecked entrance, pushing some of the cum back inside, watching it slowly ooze out again, a dark smirk curling on his lips.

you were completely spent, body trembling, breath still unsteady, but in the back of your mind, one thing became clear.

maybe—just maybe—your hate for him had never been real to begin with.

maybe it had always been masked by something deeper, something filthier, something much, much worse.

and now?

it had been completely, irrevocably fulfilled.

natty's notes ♒︎ i hope you all liked it !!

#enha smut #enha x reader #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enha #enhypen smut #enhypen jake #jake sim #jake smut #jake x reader #sim jaeyun #sim jake #jaeyun x reader #enhypen jaeyun #jaeyun smut #jaehyun

554 notes · View notes

loveyni · 4 months ago

Text

taesan is for …

sungho • riwoo • jaehyun • taesan!! • leehan • woonhak

a/n. hi loves!! i’ve decided to let bonedo join enha + txt for this series on my blog ^__^ the very first one being taesan~ AKA. another self callout post . please enjoy onedoor <33

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ──

taesan is for those who fail to love in moderation; you can see it in the way they speak so fondly of their friends; the various trinket collections scattered around their room; the way their voices raise a pitch around babies or animals; the love letters they’ve never sent collecting dust in the closet.

taesan is for those who treat their playlists like little diaries; bits and pieces of them hidden behind lyrics they relate to all too well; the people they think of when those love songs play; the memories associated with each soulful melody; the endless nights they spent with music as their only comfort.

taesan is for those who obsess over personality tests, archetypes, and astrology because they have an ache to be known; for anything to give breath to their identity because its proof that they are someone (what’s ur favorite uquiz… i know u have one,,).

taesan is for those who cringe whenever a particular name shows up in their predicted text box or photo gallery memories (they can’t hurt you anymore, i promise).

taesan is for those who are hyper independent because they don’t believe that their needs are worth the time of others (to deny help is a disservice to yourself,,, i hope that one day u can open up your heart again my love).

taesan is for those who carry a particular melancholy with them, who have diligently learned to live alongside it despite it all (happiness isn’t something meant to be deserved, but you deserve it all).

── ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

req to be added to taglist !! ^^ until next time xx take care of yoursellf <3

759 notes · View notes

shotoh · 2 years ago

Text

❝ I THINK I… ♡ ❞

⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ when they realize they’re in love with you

feat. oliver aiku, itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, isagi yoichi, itoshi sae, kunigami rensuke, mikage reo

cw + tw. fluff, some angst, fem!reader, aged-up!characters, pro-player!characters, friends to lovers + established relationships, pet names, (!!!)attempted assault (in kunigami’s scenario, but he’s obviously not the assailant), alcohol usage (in oliver’s), maximum self-indulgence

notes. jdjsjsn this is kind of all over the place but i just wanted to word dump some cute scenarios and headcanons

OLIVER AIKU

honestly, he’d get kind of scared. and not in an appalled way like, “psh, i’m oliver aiku! i can get any woman i want so why should i only care about this one person?!”

no, it’s because he’s fully aware of his disloyal and womanizing past that he’s afraid of this. he’s afraid he’ll end up hurting you—the one person he truly cares about—and he believes you don’t deserve that.

you deserve so much better than a douchebag like him.

he keeps that growing pit of adoration to himself and carries on with his life as always, but that can only do so much when he’s so clearly infatuated with you.

the most he lets himself do is tag along on your night out at clubs. however, he doesn’t drink a lick of alcohol. he needs to be sober to take care of you in case you get too wild out there to do so yourself. while he’s there though he talks to a few of the women flocking around, entertains them a bit, maybe as a feeble attempt to get you off his mind and forget about the jealousy rooted deep inside him when too many guys check you out and ask for a dance. but nowadays, he can never find it in himself to take any of these women home. that’s how deep his affections for you have run.

at one point during the night, you approach him with one too many drinks in your system, evident by your wobbly steps and the carefree grin plastered on your face.

“oli~! why don’ yer dance wit me?!” you slur, nearly toppling in front of him if not for oliver dashing forward to stop you from falling on your face.

“i think you’ve had one too many drinks, sweetheart,” he chides. after that he’s draping his large coat over your bare shoulders and leading you back to his car to get you home, while ignoring all the pouty women on his way out.

you object to leaving at first, droning about how the night is still young, but oliver is persistent in getting you home safe and sound. eventually, you doze off in the passenger seat while he’s driving. when he parks in front of your apartment complex, he carries you all the way up to your door, fishes out your keys from your clutch, and finally gets you into bed.

he lingers a little bit longer to make sure you’re all settled and if you need his help with anything, but once the buzz in your system has fizzled and your eyes are fully lidded, oliver assumes you’re out like a light. that is, until he’s sitting at your bedside and he hears the faintest murmur from your lips.

“love you… oliver…” is what comes out in a lovely daze and he almost wants to deny he heard it for both yours and his sake, but all he can do is muster a smile, ghosting a hand along your cheek, and say while you’re blissfully unaware,

“love you too, sweetheart.”

ITOSHI RIN

lowkey annoyed over this because instead of soccer plaguing his mind 24/7, his thoughts are now overrun by you! so he ignores the feeling, thinking it will magically go away or something. but newsflash to rin: it’s not as simple as it looks, and he ends up learning that lesson the hard way.

he spends the next week evading you—declining invites to hang out, sending half-hearted text messages, and ingraining himself in his soccer practices. unfortunately for him, his performance actually gets worse because now all those feelings he’s been bottling up inside his fragile heart are about to burst.

even shidou has been scoring more than him and rin just can’t live that down, especially when the former asks if the reason he’s been doing so poorly is because he and his “little girlfriend” broke up. which isn’t even the case since you’ve both never crossed that bridge.

poor boy goes home one day conflicted over all of this, slouched on the edge of his bed with his hands ruffled in his hair. soon he gets a text from you, which he shouldn’t be surprised by, given how he’s been treating you lately.

but then you’re asking him if he’s okay and rin is utterly taken aback because he’s been acting like such an asshole, yet you’re the one that’s still worried about his well-being.

right then and there rin has a long moment of contemplation, breathing a sigh into his hand which clasps over his mouth. he replies back with a quick apology text before telling you to meet him after his practice tomorrow. the moment he hits send, he tosses his phone on the bed, not willing to wait for that hovering gray bubble to appear on the message window.

when tomorrow arrives and practice is over, his steps are dragging along the pavement outside the training facility. he’s honestly doubting if you’ll even show up, but those qualms are immediately dashed when he sees your figure a few distances away. you’re standing there with apprehension written on your features, which morph into worry as soon as you cross eyes with him.

rin can’t even get a word in or form a coherent thought because the moment you run up to him, you’re blabbering about how he didn’t have to apologize because he was probably working so hard on soccer, chasing his dreams and the like. then, you bring up how maybe you should continue distancing yourself in order to help him focus, and god, that flicks a switch in rin’s head because that is far from what he wants.

all of a sudden, he’s silencing you as he pulls you into his chest. you find yourself buried in his jersey, confused but not drifting away, and even return the embrace when you sense him shake against you.

“fuck, no. i don’t want that all…” his voice sounds like he’s about to break as he mutters those words into your hair. his arms tighten around your shoulders as if you’ll leave him at any moment. you assure him you won’t as you nuzzle closer into his chest.

“then i’m not going anywhere, rin.”

NAGI SEISHIRO

the thought comes upon him when he’s alone in his apartment. it’s not immediate though.

the sunlight seeping through the curtains inevitably wakes him up one very late morning. and by very late, i mean this dozy boy definitely slept in that day, if he couldn’t already tell from his digital clock reading 11am.

even though nagi is always keen on getting plenty of shut-eye, he’s constantly kept on his toes when it comes to having a productive sleep schedule. partially due to soccer practices, but also because you sometimes visit him in the mornings. so normally, he’s woken by the ruckus you’re making while cooking him breakfast in the kitchen.

but this morning it’s… silent. which in hindsight, nagi should be happy about, right? he got to sleep in, after all, and he doesn’t have practice today. what more could he want?

once he shakes off the last remnants of sleep from his body, he finally musters the strength to get out of bed and maybe start his day with something to eat. which this morning is… leftovers. specifically the leftovers from the last time you made him food—a couple days ago.

regardless, he warms them up and sits down with a plate on the table. says his appreciations for the meal and digs in. when the first bite enters his mouth, it tastes the same as when he initially had it, but there’s an empty feeling in the bottom of his stomach he can’t quite pinpoint. he scarfs down a few more spoonfuls until he grows tired of eating, resting his head on the table.

his tummy is full, yet that emptiness persists—it’s been on the forefront of his mind for several days now and it’s starting to annoy him. he can’t determine why that is and what makes those days any different from before succumbing to that void in his heart.

after all, nothings changed.

just that… you went on an overseas trip. without him.

well, it’s not like he was ever going to be invited since you’re supposed to be vacationing with your girlfriends.

ah, wait. maybe he’s just lonely.

no, that can’t be it. he hung out with reo and some of the other blue lock boys the day after you left. even a slacker like him still makes time to see his friends. so what is he missing here?

the question lingers in nagi’s noggin as he drags his fork along the remaining food stuck on his plate. at some point, his phone’s ringing breaks him from his stupor, and he’s surprised to glance over and see your caller id on the screen.

he’s not sure what comes over him, but nagi swears he’s never hit the accept button so fast in his life. immediately, he brings the phone next to his ear, and is the first one on the line to utter “hello?”

“sei, you’re awake! i’m glad i got the time zones right!” you exclaim in your cheery tone that nagi has always been accustomed to hearing in the morning. “y’see i’ve stumbled on a gift shop the other day and found a few souvenirs i’d think you’d like!”

you ramble on and on about your adventures around the country you’re visiting and nagi finds himself absorbing your voice, hanging on every word, and even nodding next to the phone like you’re right here in front of him.

suddenly, his heart feels so full and everything clicks into place again. it’s like his day never actually started until you appeared with all your mirth and energy. even on opposite sides of the earth, you’re still the sun to his moon.

“angel,” he murmurs as you’re in the middle of talking, and you’re silent after acknowledging his call, waiting on his words.

“come home soon. i miss you.”

ISAGI YOICHI

this boy is a mess! he’s the kind of guy who as soon as those feelings start blooming in his chest, he gets super flustered around you all the time. and it’s obvious too.

before, he was super nonchalant with you. treated you like a friend, flirted without even knowing because he’s just that comfortable around you, but when any of his friends or family mention how the two seem closer than you realize, he just freezes and his mind goes blank. erupts in an embarrassing fit of sputtering and denial, face searing red down to the nape of his neck. it’s so cute.

however, he’s not fooling anybody! anyone can tell by the windblown expression on his face—starstruck eyes admiring you as a warm grin overtakes his features—that he’s absolutely smitten by you. he just needs to admit it already.

well, his next outing with you (in which he swears wasn’t actually a date, but c’mon isagi), finally gets him to come to terms with his emotions as he reminisces spending the whole day just laughing his heart out and being so full of that warmth and happiness you give him that makes him feel completely weightless. almost like he can do anything. afterward, when he gets home, he rushes upstairs and literally flails in his bed with the most insane blush on his cheeks. like wow, he’s in love with you.

isagi yoichi is in love with you.

but love to isagi is like a double-edged sword, especially to someone who just escaped that blue lock hellhole and now has to devote even more of his life to his soccer career.

with that carefree sensation comes a new box of trepidations that he’s afraid to open.

what if there comes a time when he would have to choose between you or soccer? he’s hoping that won’t ever be the case. he’d hate to struggle juggling the two and end up breaking your heart.

god, never in a million years does he want that.

the best he can do is take steps to introduce this side of his life to you. he does so in extravagant fashion, by inviting you to come watch him play during his championship game.

to say you were a little startled by his offer was an understatement, but you take him up on it, and promise you’ll be there, especially since isagi went out of his way to get you the best seats in the stadium.

on the day of his match, he’s more nervous about performing well in front of you rather than winning. winning is instinct for him so he has no doubts he’ll claim victory and take home the championship cup. he’s just eager to show you a new isagi you’ve never seen before, rather than the tongue-tied, flustered puppy isagi that’s been vying for your attention lately.

coming onto the field, his eyes are too busy swerving in the direction of where you’re seated than focus on his opponents. the moment he distinguishes your figure at the very front of the stands—draped in a jersey that reads his name—countless butterflies begin fluttering in his stomach. it’s a feeling that he can never truly convey into words.

all he does is let an elated grin spread wide on his lips, cheeks swathed in such a dainty shade of rose that has his teammates swatting the back of his head to remind him he has a very important game to win.

and oh does isagi win. during the match he scores four goals in quick succession, absolutely annihilating the other team to the point where it’s downright embarrassing for the opposing side. the commentators are completely baffled, questioning what has the player so stoked. little do they realize that each of those goals were all made in your name and isagi can’t wait to let you know that later with his championship cup in hand.

ITOSHI SAE

sae is pretty accepting of this revelation. nothing really fazes him after all, and he recognizes that it was only a matter of time before he came to terms with the idea that he might be head over heels for you.

in fact, he takes those feelings in stride.

as if sae wasn’t already a gentleman before this, his mannerisms around you only intensify. he’s constantly holding the door open for you, pulling out your chair, giving you his jacket whenever you’re cold, and so on. you never have to lift a finger when you’re with him. it’s to the point where he’s even sweeping stray hairs off your face and tucking them behind your ear before you’re given a chance to realize they were bothering you in the first place. not a day goes by where he doesn’t place you on a pedestal and worship you in the best ways he knows how.

he’s also gotten very touchy and a tiny bit possessive (okay maybe more than a tiny bit). sae isn’t the type to initiate pda regularly, but whenever he feels threatened in any way—which is very rare but not impossible—he always has a hand on you. whether it’s on your lower back as he ushers you closer to him, or intertwining your fingers together before sending a cold, piercing glare over his shoulder at the offending party, he always makes his intentions with you known even if you yourself are oblivious of them.

it’s not like he’s controlling or obsessive either. he simply wants to make you feel special. to be frank, he’s setting such a high standard that no other man can compare to him.

on more than one occasion, he’s had to travel overseas for international business, and the first time he left the country for an extended period without you, he grew incredibly homesick. not because he particularly misses the normalcy of his life back in japan, but because it always feels a little empty, and frankly, boring without you by his side. he’s grown to appreciate the moments he shares with you, from the time he wakes up beside you to when he falls asleep while you’re in his arms.

after that, whenever he has to fly out of the country, he insists you tag along with him, and goes out of his way to pay for all your expenses—plane ticket, lodgings, everything. most of the time, you try turning down his offer, stating you don’t want to be a hindrance while he’s working. yet sae counters by saying it’ll be more trouble for him if you weren’t there with him than not, and who are you to object when he’s staring at you with such unwavering ocean eyes, looking as if you’re the whole world to him.

KUNIGAMI RENSUKE

deep down, kunigami has always held you closely in his heart, regardless if he’s aware of the love he possesses behind it.

it’s natural for him to want to protect the people he cherishes, but with you, you activate something so visceral inside him. it scares him sometimes, how you can make his whole body rattle, blood pumping erratically to the point where all he can hear is the ringing in his ears and his heart thumping wildly out of his chest.

that’s especially the case when he receives a late night call from you while he’s settling himself at his apartment. he’s slightly surprised by the random call. you don’t normally reach out for him at this time since you’re either going to sleep or hanging out with friends in the dormant hours of the night.

accepting the call, he brings the phone to his ear.

“hello? y/n?”

“r-ren? u-um, can you please stay on the phone with me..?” you whisper in the receiver, tone quivering to a frightening degree. he hears the anxiety laced in your voice and suddenly sirens go off in his head.

“where are you?” he questions sternly as he instantly stands from his seat, reaching for his car keys.

“i just left a club and was going to walk to the station, but… s-someone’s–”

kunigami doesn’t need to hear anymore to understand the full picture that makes his bones quake for your safety as he dashes out the door.

“i’m coming to get you, so send me your location. until then, stay in an open area and don’t stop talking to me, okay?”

you affirm quietly before moving your phone from your ear to pin your location to him with trembling fingers. as you’re doing so, kunigami’s already started the ignition to his car, revving on the roads with little care of the law. he’s never driven this fast in his life, swearing he’s a defensive driver, but that means nothing to him when your safety is on the line right now.

if he grips his steering wheel any harder, it might just break off from his bare strength alone. a single glance at the map on his dash tells him he’s less than a minute away from your position. in the last stretch, he can finally spot your frightened silhouette under the dimly lit lamps.

as soon as you recognize the model of his vehicle, relief washes over your tense shoulders. you take it as your chance to escape your precarious situation, but the shady man a few meters away decides to attempt a last minute assault, dashing in your direction.

when the fiery-haired athlete sees this, his restraint all but snaps. he gets out of his car without even slamming his door shut and spontaneously reaches for you, pulling you behind his intimidating, brawny frame before punching the man square in the jaw. the assailant tumbles onto the hard ground, completely knocked out.

kunigami’s attention immediately turns to you, putting all his efforts into your well-being as he yanks you in his protective embrace. the adrenaline from both your bodies wears off and the striker can sense you bursting into tears against his chest.

“ren, i’m so sorry, i was out with friends and i thought it would okay for me to stay out later even though they wanted to leave, and-and–” your words collide with your jumbled thoughts, but the last thing kunigami wants is for you to apologize for this scumbag’s actions.

“shh, princess. it’s not your fault,” he whispers next to your ear, “fuck! if anything happened to you… i… i…” his voice breaks apart. his hold on you tightens just imagining if he was even a second late coming to your side. for now, he’s thankful to have you back safe and sound, tucking you closer to his heart.

MIKAGE REO

when reo considers that what he was feeling might no longer be a crush, but rather actual love for you, he’s a bit doubtful. mostly because he’s approached countless girls with romantic intentions in mind, however, to his disappointment, he’ll discover that they’re mainly interested in his status instead of him as a person. his good looks and charisma are just a plus for them. therefore he’s very hesitant to fully act on these emotions, afraid to have his heart broken again.

however, he slowly starts accepting the notion that he might be wrong about you. it shows in the way you’re always asking about his life outside of him being an heir to a billion-dollar corporation. he’s stunned by how your features can glow with such intrigue whenever he speaks about his time in blue lock, leading to his journey to becoming a star player in the land of professional football. most girls he entertained would fake interest in this before quickly changing the subject.

eventually, they’ll throw themselves on him to garner his favor and try gaining access to his parents’ wealth. however, you seek greater value in sharing the same experiences with him. you take him out to watch movies, hangout at the most unique cafes, and have the time of your lives at amusement parks.

reo’s used to his dates borderline demanding him to drive them out for extensive shopping sprees or book them dinners to the most high-end restaurants in the city. it becomes exhausting when all his partner sees in him is a personal wallet for them to call on whenever they’re eyeing the newest luxury trends displayed on shop windows.

so to have a person like you by his side, who doesn’t determine his value on such materialistic facets is… refreshing… but also just as frightening because he’s afraid of losing such a precious person like you.

though it may be counterintuitive, reo means to return your kindness by spoiling you, thinking you’re someone who genuinely deserves to be dolled up and treated like royalty.

the first time reo swipes his card on a hefty purchase for you, you’re a little bit overwhelmed, going on to say he didn’t have to do all this. but the man is difficult to argue around, what with his suave words and charismatic demeanor that makes it hard for you to say no to the jewels and dresses he wants to adorn on your body.

then as if he couldn’t have pampered you anymore, he also brings up the offer for you move into his penthouse so you don’t have to worry about rent while making ends meet. of course, you bring up the case that you don’t want to rely on him for money—that you simply enjoy being with him—but reo counters with similar reasoning.

“c’mon doll, just let me do this for you,” he insists. “you’ve done so much for me already, and i just want to make sure you know how special you are to me.”

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock fluff #bllk fluff #aiku x reader #oliver aiku x reader #rin x reader #nagi x reader #isagi x reader #sae x reader #kunigami x reader #reo x reader #aiku fluff #rin fluff #nagi fluff #isagi fluff #sae fluff #kunigami fluff #reo fluff

8K notes · View notes