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jinwoosbabyboo · 2 months ago

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Life in Linkon w/ Self-Aware!Zayne

You ended up inside of the Love and Deepspace game by Zaynes' doing. Using his evol like that takes a toll him so you'll have to stay for a few days. Not that you're complaint though besides you've had quite an eventful day in Linkon with him. A/N: Everybody say thank you to @forbidden-sunlight they are the reason this made it onto Tumblr. I was so close to scrapping this entire story. Thank you Sunny for helping me get through my writers block I appreciate you so much :) Also go check out their work (especially if you like yandere 😚) they’re an amazing writer

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Zayne used the excuse of ‘you needing some fresh air’ to take you out and show you around Linkon while answering the questions you had. That’s how you ended up downing a decadent parfait with him at one his favorite spots. “If your way of showing me around Linkon is just an excuse to eat sweets just say that” You giggled as his ears turned bright red from your teasing.

“That’s not the reason however it is a benefit” His eyes shined with mischief and so did that smile of his.

You playfully rolled your eyes and finished the last few scoops of your parfait. Zayne stood from the booth with an outstretched hand. You slipped your hand into his and couldn’t help the way your heartbeat sped up just from a single touch.

I’m so down bad this is ridiculous.

You made sure to wave goodbye to the employees as Zayne led you outside. The sun was setting now as you and Zayne weaved through the bustling nighttime crowd of Linkon. The city was even more beautiful at night — even the stars overhead were brighter than those back home.

Zayne watched you fondly as you gawked at the little shops and cafes. He’d walked this street many times before, but the way your eyes sparkled as you took in your surroundings made this feel like it was his first time as well. The city truly was breathtaking part of you still couldn’t comprehend that this wasn't just a fever dream. To try and ground yourself just a little you decided to ask him another question “So the same way you take someones pain or injuries and transfer them to yourself is what you did to bring me here?” You didn’t take your eyes off the dazzling city though — there was too much to see with so little time.

“Yes it wasn’t easy but I'm sure with practice it will get easier” While you continued to gape at everything around you Zayne admired you silently. How can someone be this breathtaking and not know it? He thought to himself. He would do anything to keep this kind of joy on your face.

You: So what did you switch me with? Zayne: A seal made with my evol You: So I have a puddle in my bed now Zayne: My snow doesn’t melt You: We don’t know how your evol acts in my world so we’ll see

You suddenly startled Zayne with a loud gasp as you stopped dead in your tracks. “What is it? Are you hurt?” You continued to stare wide-eyed at a sign that hung above this small cafe tucked away in what you could only describe as distorted shadows. Your eyes almost glanced right over it had you not been examining the shops so intently. Zayne followed your line of sight and noticed what had you stunned like a deer in headlights.

Destiny Cafe.

“That’s Destiny Cafe” You whispered in shock. In the window sat a small sign that read ‘Open 24/7 come on in!’ Zayne drew back in shock when you turned to him with wild eyes “I need to see that cafe now!” You didn’t give him a chance to respond before you grabbed his wrist and dragged him through the door. A small bell jingled as you entered, alerting the staff of a customer. Everything looked exactly as it did in the game — even the music that you chose to play on your home screen of the Love and Deepspace app. It had all the aspects of a comfy, cozy cafe the only problem was that there was no one else here. No staff, no students studying, no office workers typing away, no bookworm sipping their drink and reading silently with headphones.

Nothing.

“It's empty” You glanced out the window and saw how people passed by without even sparring a glance. Not a single person acknowledged this little cafe that sat right in front of them. You walked further, taking in your surroundings, trying to understand what was going on. “How often do you come here Zayne?” You asked without looking at him instead you brushed your fingertips along the single plush chair that resembled the exact same chair in the game. “Hard to say, I have no memory of this place up until a few months ago when I became aware of you”

You hummed at his response. So this was the game, no wonder no one else could see it. You’ve broken the fourth wall this place doesn’t exist for everyone — only the two of you. A place created just for him and now you. Could this be some kind of purgatory between your world and his? Your fingers continued to trace the intricate designs of the plush chair. “Can you actually order anything here?”

Zayne opened his mouth to respond, but quickly shut it and blinked rapidly. His face twisted into confusion as he tapped his chin searching the recesses of his mind for an answer. “I’m not sure” Something heavy settled in the pit of Zaynes stomach as he watched your face fall. Would this mysterious cafe stop you from ever coming back to see him again?

“Let’s go home” Your words snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts. His heart seemed to skip a beat at you calling his place home. You gave him a sweet grin as you intertwined your fingers with his and tugged him towards the exit.

You and Zayne made a quick stop at the grocery store on your way back to his place. In what could potentially be considered ‘Typical Zayne Fashion’ he treated you to dessert before dinner. “Who says you can’t have sweets first?” You giggled at his childlike statement.

“I just know the bakery's love you” You teased, gently shoving his shoulder.

The shopping was quick and filled with light conversation about how different your stores were back home. You helped Zayne pick out fresh produce and all the ingredients needed for the mystery dinner he planned on cooking. He quickly checked out as the store began to fill with those getting off work, making quick store runs as well. You gathered the bags, but you were met with two hands gently tugging them from your grasp.

“Allow me” His voice was soft against your ear causing a certain fire to burn inside you. He was such a gentleman in everything he did no wonder he was your favorite love interest. For the first time tonight instead of admiring what was around you — you stared at Zayne intently. The way the streetlights illuminated his face made him seem ethereal. You reached up to caress his face when suddenly a loud screech had you jolting forward not only from fear, but from the force. You glanced over your shoulder and froze in fear at what you saw.

Was this?….A wanderer?

Screams flooded your senses, disorienting you, followed by the sound of gunshots, shattering glass and crumbling concrete. There was no time to think before you found yourself being dragged down the street. Zayne hugged the groceries to his chest in one arm and held onto to your hand so tightly you thought he’d crush it with the other. You tripped over your own feet trying to keep up. Herds of people bumped into you on both sides which wasn’t helping you stay on your feet. Amidst the chaos you saw a familiar face for once.

It was you. Well your character design that is.

She moved with such fluidity and ease it was like watching a dancer walk on air. Instead of running away from danger she ran towards it. You couldn’t take your eyes off of her as Zayne pulled you away to safety.“Everyone get to safety everything will be alright!” Her authoritative voice calmed you in a way, but it also gave you some anxiety. This was the harsh reality of this world and she fit in while you stood out like a sore thumb. How could you compete with someone like that?

She was majestic.

You watched Zayne silently move around his kitchen with your chin in hand. However you were too lost in thought to actually be in this moment. “You’ve been rather quiet” You jolted upright focusing on Zayne who gave you a quick glance over his shoulder. You wanted to give the generic answer ‘I’m fine’ or ‘I’m just tired thats why’, but there was no reason to lie to him.

You sighed heavily and rested your head back in your hand “I’m nothing like her” You mumbled. Zayne turned the stove off and walked over to you with a confused look on his face.

“What do you mean?”

“She looks like me but she fits your lifestyle much better than I do” You couldn’t bring yourself to keep eye contact with him so you looked down at your hands, continuously wringing them. “Are you really fine with settling for me when you can have….” Your words trailed off as you didn’t want to sound so pathetic. You shook you head ridding your mind of those self hating thoughts “You two just make sense I'll leave it at that” your words dripped with melancholy as you looked up into his eyes. He met your sad gaze with one of pure adoration.

“She may be unique but after spending these past few months with you it makes a person realize how emotionally detached she can be” You perked up hearing that and immediately tried to relax your body — can’t seem too eager. Zayne caught the reaction and chuckled to himself. “You should know I told her I was seeing someone and do you know what she said?”

“I’ll shoot that bitch until the gun clicks?” You quirked a brow at him.

Zayne dropped his head slightly and audibly laughed which made you smile even though you didn’t want to. He managed to get out a quick “No” before gathering himself and clearing his throat. “She told me ‘I’m happy for you Dr. Zayne I hope you make her happy’ then she ran out of my office to respond to a lead on a spatial aether core”

Pride bloomed in your chest and you tried and failed to stop the wide grin forming on your face. “So she knows about me?” You looked away covering your mouth to hide to shit eating grin on your face. Zayne grabbed your chin and turned your head back to look him in the eyes. He was closer than you expected causing your lips to part with sharp inhale. His eyes darted down to your lips then back up. You wanted to kiss him so bad, but you wanted him to lean in first. You licked your lips catching his attention again. He leaned in closer softly brushing his lips against yours “Yes”

Your sigh of relief was swallowed up by him as he captured your lips in a heated kiss. He kissed you the exact same way he did when you first got here — like a man starved. He cupped your face in his hands tilting it just right to taste you better. You whimpered into his mouth tugging on his shirt just trying to get impossibly closer to him. One hand slid down the side of your neck while he wrapped the other around your waist — caressing you gently.

Zayne was the first to break the kiss and you chased after his lips pulling him back into this little heated world you two created. He pulled away again and caught your chin in his hand when your lips chased his again. “We need to eat” He whispered before giving you a chaste kiss and walking back over to the stove.

“You can eat me” You mumbled in a horny daze.

Zayne kept his back to you as he plated the food “We can have dessert again after dinner” You could literally hear the smile that was on his face. Your breath hitched in embarrassment, but also excitement.

Maybe.

Just maybe.

You could let yourself enjoy something for once.

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#love and deepspace #lads #doctor zayne #zayne #zayne x reader #lads zayne #lnds zayne #l&ds zayne #zayne salads #self aware love and deepspace salads #self aware au #nikaaaaimagines

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huntingcupid · 1 month ago

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LOWKEY — L.R

I don't really give a fuck about all the "he said, she said" bullshit so pick your poison love, let's go somewhere a little more exclusive

⌗ LARA — fem!reader, angst, fluff, silent animosity, no actual arguments, tension, swearing, dream academy mentioned, predebut - touch time line, 7thmember!reader, cyber bullying, etc...

⌗ SYPNOSIS — due to you being quiet and kept to yourself during dream academy, you unexpectedly made yourself seem like a mean girl, making the person you liked which is lara also have a secret animosity towards you

⌗ CUPID — warning missy and mitra are mentioned...ew, anyways request by @artistwitchgirl here ya go babe

you've been lurking around instagram for an hour now — until a message popped up on your phone, it was from a womans account, her bio read of being some producer and scouter — it sounded like a scam obviously yet you still opened the message

“do you want to be the next generation of idol’s?, today is your lucky day hybe has chosen to scout you, if interested send a 1 minute video of either a dance, song (with no backtrack) or rap, thank you very much” you tilt your head wondering how they even found your account, either way you didn't want to get scammed so you closed it

you didn't think about the message for a good week, there it sat in your inbox unopened since you first received it — it's not like you're untalented, and oh you only live once

you sigh defeatedly, setting up your phone to record yourself singing — you rewatched the video almost hundreds of times scared that you might have just did all this for a scam text — you clicked send and it was sent

you power off your phone, hands clammy and very much nervous, “it's just a video” you mutter to yourself trying to calm your nerves

ding, your phone vibrates with a notification just a few days after you had sent the video — you open it seeing the woman had responded, “can we have you in a video meeting later by 12?” you type and erase your response, eventually ending up sending a simple, “yeah of course!”

you take a cold shower, getting ready for the meeting wearing your favorite shirt that you barely even wear, doing your makeup extra pretty, the clock ticks each tick getting closer to 12, you anxiously open your laptop waiting for the woman to send the link

you tap your finger on the table, until you see the notification pop up, you click the link joining the meeting — two other people were in the meeting, the woman you had been talking to and some dude who looked quiet professional

throughout it they were speaking about what you are gonna join and how and where you needed to improve — and to be frank you didn't understand half of what they are saying you just smiled and nodded

well until they told you when you are gonna fly out to la, your eyes almost pop out of your head — you barely left your apartment now your gonna move to a completely different place almost thousands of miles away

you take a minute to let the words and decisions sink in, thoughts flood your mind of the worst case scenarios, what if i fail, what if i get into a accident, what if-

“y/n?, you there?” the woman's voice cuts through your train of thought, you blink and open your mouth to speak but your afraid of what you might say

“yeah, uhm I'll get my things packed and we'll fly out in a week right?” you mutter almost like it was a secret, “yeah, we will have one of our staff's pick you up when you get dropped of at la” the explanation continues

after the meeting the weight of your decision finally settles in, suddenly your packing away your life not sure of how this may affect it — you're ready to try it obviously

your shitty part time job that you got the quit was the best part — the plane ride was smooth and you didn't think about what may happen for maybe an hour or two

when you arrived you got picked up by a woman her name's aliyah, aliyah explained further where you'll be living and just what the woman you spoke to on Instagram said as well

when you made it to the house you finally met the other girls who had gotten scouted or auditioned to, “hi!, I'm karlee” the shorter korean said, “hi I'm sophia” the filipina one followed, there you met 7 girls, karlee, sophia, adela, megan, emily, daniela, ezrela and lexie — they helped you get familiar with scheduling and how to get around the house

after maybe a month or two you got introduced to more girls, and then the unthinkable happens

when the management had formed a group of 20 girls they announced how you were going public under the dream “dream academy” you however didn't like this

you had continuously asked the management if you were gonna compete or was it a competition yet they denied, now you're gonna go against the girls you had lived with for months?, this is absolute bullshit

you wanted to quit right away, especially when you realized how much you have grown to like lara, in a romantic way, the indian was talented, nice and so confident — you never really got close to her due to the fact you were scared to

for the next few weeks you tired your best to distance yourself from the rest, creating a barrier, as the show starts you got introduced to the world, you had a pretty big fan base, you always silently liked and commented on posts by the other girls, supporting them thru a anonymous account

the first group mission rolled around, you were grouped in the omg group, you did pretty well

what you failed to realize was lara's growing animosity towards you the rest of the girls had been talking about your strange behavior how you're very quiet and almost looked like your judging others

“yeah like why does she always side eye us?” lara chimes in as the rest of the girls nod in unison, “it's like if you hate us just say it?, don't be a bitch about it” adela follows

the door clicks as you enter the house, silence floods the living room as the girls look around keeping quiet — “hi” you mutter as the rest just wave, not lara though she rolled her eyes and went to her shared room, you follow up going to your room too — you knew something was wrong, the way they seemed to fake their reaction towards you spoke louder than their words, that night you talked to ezrela

“can i ask you something?” you said, the smaller girl nods smiling at you, “am i being a bit too off? like do i seem like a mean girl?” you follow for a moment ezrela stopped — her eyes wandering in the room trying to formulate a nice enough answer, “y/n, i don't know how to put this but the rest of the girls see you as maybe a bit of a bitch” she replies softly, you tilt your head confused and somewhat guilty of why they feel that way, you had acted way too distant making you seem so out of touch

the camera crew approached you and ezrela, and you went dead silent only nodding and hugging the shorter girl

two weeks in eliminations started — adela was first to go, making lara a bit upset — even more upset at you as you had the highest votes she didn't see you as deserving as the rest, yes you were talented but your attitude seem to tick her the wrong way

the night adela got eliminated you cried, you weren't close but seeing how much she worked hard and how loved she was by the rest made it hurt — and hearing the silent chatter around you made it worse, words like “y/n doesn't deserve it” or “she should've been first” made its way back to you — you couldn't help but feel lonely, feel unworthy, you stayed in your room until you heard faint rustling outside your door

“y/n can we come in?” sophias voice came through, “sure” you replied wiping your tears and composing yourself, “hey” you softy mutter, sophia, megan and emily came in

“we know you've heard what we've said about you, and we want to apologize for that” they explained which you nod to, “I'm sorry for being distant too, i just don't want to get attached” the girls understood, you started tearing up feeling so guilty about how you have acted — “y/n don't cry” sophia softly whispers hugging you, you haven't felt so safe in so long you four made up and they helped you make it up to the rest too

the last one was lara who refused to even talk to you — it was mission 3 near finals only a couple of you were left and it didn't make sense for you not to make it up to her

every elimination you felt scared maybe your next, maybe she is, you felt so vulnerable, how the management just recorded as you and the rest of the girls slowly got your mental health wrecked — you often talked to missy about your experience, since you had no one to run to

finally it was the finale — one by one the girls got picked it was the final spot only you, ezrela, marquise and emily were left, your hands shaky feeling nervous

“your final member for katseye is — y/n!” the announcer blares you crouch feeling happy and so proud, tears start flowing as you hug the others saying how proud you are — making it to the line up manon hugs you immediately as she mutters something about how grateful she is, “fuck i didn't expect this” you giggle as daniela laughs along with you

yet your eyes followed her, followed lara — she didn't hug you but only congratulated you from afar, after the event you went to stay at megan's house eating and celebrating

“we really are in a girl group now” you murmur as you and megan lay in her bed, “yeah, what the fuck is happening” she replies softly laughing — “missy told me we will be moving in a separate house in a few weeks” you mutter which megan hums to, “that'd be nice, god this journey wrecked me”, “me too” you replied

during the weeks you didn't have anything to do, you juggled working in a small local café and still training a bit, improving your dance and singing — during these days you reflected on how much you've grown as a person

the day you had to move in with the rest of the girls was the best — you were roomed with megan and lara which seemed a bit to targeted, knowing missy knew about your relationship with lara, you bunked with megan often sharing clothes with her

meetings were called about your upcoming debut — the girls got transformed some getting their hair dyed and some getting it cut, lara got this red fiery color which highlighted her features so well, you got a layered haircut with a dark blue dye

“okay miss fine shit” megan jokes which you laugh to, “yes miss ginger” you replied as you two giggle — you were in awe at how beautiful the rest were, yet you can't seem to peel your eyes off lara, how she looked like an actual goddess — manon noticed and teased you abit

“you are so gay” manon says, looking at lara too, you gasp, surprised with her words — “can't I just appreciate how a woman looks?” you tried explaining which manon only sarcastically nods to, “okay fine!” you mutter next defeated

the filming for debut was one of the best experiences ever, very tiring but fun — you got the hang off a building in the music video which was so amazing, it garnered quite a lot of views but when touch got released you really skyrocketed

the song garnered over 100 million streams in spotify and a few million on youtube, during this katseye was starting to promote in different countries starting in korea

that's until the documentary dropped — you didn't want to watch it nor promote it, yet seeing the hate you and the rest got was so draining, lara however got the most disgusting remarks ever, which made you boil in rage — you've addressed multiple times on weverse that you had no beef with anyone especially lara, despite this lara still got bullying allegations and non stop racism

during this you were in japan — promoting touch, the girls were out exploring tokyo as you and lara decided to stay in the hotel room, you heard faint sobs and coughing from the restroom, you didn't want to peek knowing she needed her own time

but as her voice grew louder and her sobs seemed to not stop you decided to enter, knocking and going in

“lara?” you ask as she sat on the ground head down hugging her legs covering her face — “what” she hissed, “lara you shouldn't take anything personally, don't mind them” you mutter sitting next to her,

she stood up abruptly and went to her bed, laying down muttering something, “lara, you are so beautiful,” you murmured, sitting next to her lying form, “why are you lying?!, you probably think the same way they do” lara snaps, sitting up as her tears continued flowing a moment, you were stunned, and quickly, you got upset

“lara i don't fucking know why you think i hate you but i don't, i care about you so fucking much that i want you to know what they say doesn't matter!, whatever those freaks on the internet say or do you'll always be pretty and talented — i know that, you're such a wonderful person and it hurts to see you cry” you heave, breathing heavily lara was shocked to say the least, “so don't fucking push me away now, hate me for as long as you want but I'll always love you and support you” you follow

a beat passes by and you two were silent, lara looks at you with this newfound interest — she slowly got close to you and hugged you tightly her head resting on your shoulders as she murmurs thank you's — her voice was small and vulnerable something you have never seen lara been, minutes pass with you two stuck in this predicament, the weight of the hate she got slowly faded replaced with your warm embrace

lara lifts her head up looking into your eyes, searching for something — her hands flew to your nape, soon connecting your lips together, it wasn't rushed but it felt fast, her lips tasted like cherries and were soft like clouds you melt deeper into her touch, your hands on her waist guiding her closer

“I love you,” lara mutters as you two pull away, needing to breathe. lara never looked better her lips swollen and her hair tousled — as her hands were on your nape, “I love you more,” you replied

it felt weird, that after months of animosity and how far you two were from each other just for it to be fixed with a simple comforting gesture — its crazy how lara hated your guts but now is gripping your body close to her

wc: 2.4k words

#katseye #wlw #fem!reader #katseye x reader #kpop #lara katseye #gg fics #lara raj #katseye lara #katseye fic #katseye x y/n

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kisakis-boyfriend · 6 months ago

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Like Ships in the Night…On a Train… (BSD version part 1)

Author's Note: Got horny. Thought about one of my favorite scenarios. Bon appetit 👍 Other installments are already in the works for different series. :3

Pairings: Sigma, Dazai, & Chuuya x male reader (separately)

Warnings: Male!reader, dom/top!reader, sub/bottom!characters, trans Sigma, chikan, grinding, groping, fingering (Sigma), nipple play (Chuuya)

Sigma

Why is this happening to him?! He's read the news headlines about creeps groping people on trains, sure, but he never imagined he'd be on the receiving end of that!

Sigma feels helpless as the mystery man hooks one arm around his waist, locking him in this position like a caged bird. Soon, he feels a touch on his hip, sliding down to his plush thighs as he's groped right here and now — standing in front of the train wall with his hands bracing himself against it.

Panic floods in as the stranger grabs his crotch, rubbing two fingers over his slit — you both realize something in this moment; Sigma realizes that his secret may not be safe anymore, and the dangers that come with that, while you realize that you can touch this guy more discreetly like this.

Your fingers make quick work of his pants, opening them up just enough to reach inside and touch his pussy again. Despite the fact that your victim is shaking, he's already a bit wet before you're even inside. You tease him over his underwear for a second, then dive even deeper and finally touch his bare pussy.

With all of his remaining willpower, Sigma whispers a quiet plea for you to stop, and you can practically hear the tears welling in his eyes. You ignore him, of course, already sinking between his folds and groaning at the wetness oozing out just from that.

A stranger is fingering his cunt on public transit, and no one else seems to notice. Sigma can only pray that you stop before things escalate, or before you realize he's a trans man…maybe his long hair fooled you into thinking he's a girl?

That line of thought is shattered as Sigma presses his thighs together, biting back a squeal as you fingerfuck him so rough that he squirts a little, messing up his clothes as a result. As he cums, you lean closer to his ear and whisper a “Good boy~” before you readjust his clothing for him and disappear, presumably exiting the train.

You left the man as a panting, confused mess in his little corner. Left to wonder who violated him in an almost gentle way, compared to all of the horror stories Sigma read about. His pussy was still wet, and he swears that he didn't enjoy that…but the memory won't stop replaying in his mind as he lay in bed, squeezing his thighs together once again…dripping…aching…moaning…

Dazai

How bold do you have to be to think you could get away with this? Honestly, don't you recognize the man that you're attempting to grope? Do you really think there won't be consequences?

Well, ok, hear him out… You're not being rough right now — if anything, you're actually touching Dazai rather gently. Hands caress his sides, hidden by his large trench coat, sliding across his clothed abdomen almost romantically. The most you've done so far is rub his hips, not even trying to go for anything more private (yet).

What's the harm in letting this go on, seeing just where this will lead? Dazai's pretty strong, not a big muscle man, but strong enough to hold his own when need be. If things escalate too much, or he feels unsafe, he can simply reveal who he is and threaten to call the cops on you. But for now, he'll just let this play out.

You take a step closer, pushing Dazai further against the window, and he seizes the opportunity to reveal your identity in the reflection…except your face is buried in the back of his neck so he can't actually see who you are…

Dazai feels your warm breath tickling his skin, and he can feel you… wait, are you sniffing him? Really? What a creep, smelling some stranger while you're touching him. Jeez.

That's not the only thing Dazai notices though — he also feels what he assumes to be your hard-on poking his ass now that you're hugging his body tightly. You begin to move, and this is when Dazai should stop you…but he can't deny how…nice…this all feels. Especially when you reach forward and grab his hand, clasping his with yours in a strangely soft display–

Seriously, what a depraved, obsessive, sad creep you must be to hold a stranger's hand while you're smelling them and humping them on a public train. That's just not normal, dude.

There's not much more time to question anything, as you grind against Dazai's ass until your movements stutter, then eventually stop altogether. And he can guess by your heavy breathing that you just creamed your pants without ever truly touching your victim.

'How sad. That guy could easily get off by humping another guy on the train — who knows what dirty fantasies were running through his mind to make him cum like that.' Dazai thinks, stroking himself in the shower while he pictures your fat package gliding in between his cheeks again.

Chuuya

Honestly, Chuuya surprised himself when some strange man came up behind him and trapped him in the corner of the train and he didn't say a word of protest. Perhaps the shock was what prevented his usual reactions?

Shocked at how bold you were for grabbing a Port Mafia executive by the hips and forcing his ass to meet the tent in your pants, that is. Do you really think this is going to end well? Are you just so stupid that you have no idea who Chuuya is, and how easy it would be for him to use his special ability to pin you to the floor and knock your teeth out?

You're either stupid or desperate, or maybe both, but Chuuya can't think about that too much when you're already humping him so boldly. Sure, you're somewhat hidden in the corner, but does no one pay attention to the obvious motions?

Not only are you grinding against him so hard that he's forced to his tiptoes, you're untucking his shirt from his pants and sliding your hands underneath like it's totally normal! Quickly finding his nipples and toying with them so roughly that Chuuya has to cover his mouth to remain quiet.

His smaller body jerks with your every thrust, forced to submit to this gross act of depravity or else everyone on the train will find out that Chuuya Nakahara is a public use slut. His reputation would be destroyed!

So, he lets you have your way with him — thrusting your clothed erection against the curve of Chuuya's ass until you cum, grunting right into his ear — and then a familiar chime signals the opening of the train doors, and you exit, leaving the little guy high and dry and completely disheveled as his cock leaks inside of his boxers.

Now, a Port Mafia executive doesn't have any need to use public transport — he could easily use a private car or even a fucking helicopter if he wanted to — but, Chuuya finds himself taking the same train at the same time again tomorrow. This time, he's already standing in that corner, facing the wall to conceal his hard, throbbing cock, and to advertise himself as vulnerable prey.

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amethystarachnid · 6 days ago

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Hiii, I was wondering if you could do a Loki x reader story where the reader is of one of Frigga’s ladies in waiting/a daughter of a friend of the crown who has shown promising magical ability? Frigga agrees to give her lessons in sorcery alongside Loki and they instantly get along but their friendship becomes more. Maybe she defends Loki against Thor and his friends when they belittle him. You’re my one of my favorite Loki writers so it would mean so much, thanks!

EXILED HEARTS

⤷ LOKY LAUFEYSON

ᯓ★ Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, some angst and some fluff

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 7.8k

ᯓ★ Summary: As Frigga’s protégée, you grow close to Loki through shared magic and understanding. But courtly judgment, Odin’s decree, and whispered scorn force you and Loki to choose between royalty and each other. In the end, you choose love—and build a life far from the palace’s golden cage.

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing I think, just some angst

ᯓ★ Love is in the air - Valentine's Day special game

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The candlelight dances on the silk-lined walls of the royal library, casting flickering shadows across the shelves as you press deeper into the alcove. Your fingers hover over a page in a worn tome, ancient Asgardian glyphs etched in gold leaf. The script feels alive beneath your touch, humming faintly—perhaps only in your mind, but you like to believe it’s real. You’re not supposed to be here, not this late, and not without permission. But curiosity is louder than decorum.

You recite the lines again, under your breath. The ancient incantation rolls off your tongue imperfectly, but something in the air tightens—a hush, like the world is holding its breath. You flinch as a row of candles flares, a gust of invisible wind whipping past your cheek. Then it’s gone. Stillness returns. But your heart pounds.

“That passage,” a voice says softly behind you, “is not meant to be read aloud without guidance.”

You turn so quickly your braid slips over your shoulder. Queen Frigga stands just within the archway, her silhouette gilded by moonlight from the tall windows. She doesn’t look angry—curious, perhaps, or quietly amused. Her head tilts as she studies you, eyes soft but sharp as ever. You’re not sure if you should kneel, apologize, or bolt.

“My queen, I—I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” she says, stepping into the room. “If you had meant to cause trouble, I suspect the whole wing would be in disarray by now.”

You flush, clasping your hands in front of you. You’ve served at the court long enough to know better than to touch books not offered freely. But the Queen has always held herself with grace, and now, she moves beside you with no hint of reprimand.

“You read it aloud correctly,” she says, eyes still on the book. “That’s more than most trained mages can say.”

You blink, stunned. “I did?”

A faint smile curves her lips. “Your magic is unrefined, but it's there. Stronger than I expected.”

The words wrap around you like a cloak you’re not used to wearing—warm, heavy, significant. You’ve always known the spark lived inside you, but it was private. Unspoken. Tucked away in dreams and half-lit evenings when you whispered spells into your pillow and imagined stars answering back.

“I don’t... I don’t know what to do with it,” you admit. “I thought maybe if I read enough, something would just—click.”

“Magic doesn’t click,” Frigga replies. “It unfolds. Like silk. Or music. Or a storm.”

She glides her fingers over the open pages and closes the book gently. “You have great potential, my dear. And you’ve been quite patient, haven’t you? Serving in silence. Observing.”

You nod. You've been a shadow in these halls for years now—your mother once a dear companion to the Queen, your name a small one tied loosely to the court. When you first arrived in the palace, you were told to mind your manners and stay out of sight. You did. But you never stopped watching.

Frigga reaches out, her fingers brushing just above your wrist. You feel a warm pressure—not a touch, exactly, but something more delicate. Like a thread catching yours.

“I will teach you,” she says, voice gentle but sure. “But not alone.”

You frown slightly. “Not alone?”

“My youngest son still studies. Perhaps not as diligently as he should, but it would benefit him to have a partner. And you may find him... enlightening.”

Your breath catches. You’ve seen Prince Loki, of course—everyone has. A dark figure in green and gold, wry and sharp-eyed, moving through the palace like a secret. He’s aloof, cold at times, always ten steps ahead of everyone else in the room. He’s also the Queen’s favorite, though no one says it aloud.

The thought of studying beside him is equal parts terrifying and thrilling.

“I would be honored,” you say quickly. “Truly.”

Frigga smiles. “Good. Come to the east courtyard tomorrow morning. Before the sun rises. Bring nothing but yourself.”

And just like that, the Queen turns and leaves, her robes whispering like wind through silk. You stand there for a long moment after she’s gone, heart still fluttering, hand resting over the closed tome as though it holds something more than paper and ink.

Maybe it does.

The east courtyard is cold before dawn, the stone slick with dew. You wrap your cloak tighter around your shoulders, breath clouding in the pale light. No one else is here yet. The palace is still asleep, save for the guards at their posts. You stand by the marble fountain, trying not to let your nerves chew at your composure.

Then you hear footsteps. Precise. Measured.

Loki appears from the far archway, his green cloak trailing behind him like a shadow with purpose. He glances at you once—expression unreadable—and then looks away just as quickly.

You straighten. “Good morning, Prince Loki.”

He raises an eyebrow, his tone cool. “So you're the Queen’s new pet project.”

You bite back a retort, keeping your voice even. “She offered to teach me.”

“Yes, she does enjoy playing tutor now and then. Don’t mistake it for favoritism.” He steps closer, arms folded across his chest. “I assume you’ve read half the library already. Tell me—what does the Eltherian sigil for balance look like?”

You hesitate. “Three intersecting crescents, forming a triangle.”

“Impressive.” He sounds almost disappointed. “So you are a little witch.”

“I’m not trying to impress you.”

He tilts his head, a crooked smile forming. “No? Most people do.”

Before you can answer, Frigga appears through a shimmer of light, stepping into the courtyard like the sunrise itself. She doesn’t greet either of you—just smiles softly and lifts her hands. A circle of runes spirals into the air around her, forming a translucent dome.

“Now,” she says, “we begin.”

And begin you do.

---

It starts with silence.

Not the awkward kind, but something more curious. Comfortable. Or perhaps simply patient.

Loki doesn’t speak much during your first few lessons together. He watches. Assesses. He makes no effort to hide the way his eyes flick to your hands as you shape energy into form, or the faint quirk of his lips when you mispronounce something in old Vanir. He rarely corrects you aloud, but you always feel the judgment just behind his gaze.

But you also notice the way he lingers after Frigga dismisses you both. The way he conjures minor illusions absentmindedly while you review a scroll, as though daring you to ask questions. And one morning, he surprises you.

“You shouldn’t hold your palm flat when summoning a sigil,” he says suddenly, as you're struggling to stabilize the glowing arc of a protective ward. “You’re letting too much energy pool in your wrist.”

You glance at him, caught off guard. He’s sitting cross-legged nearby, an illusion of a raven perched on his shoulder. He doesn’t look up from his book.

You frown and adjust your hand, tilting it slightly, trying again. This time the sigil hums with steadiness, and the edges no longer flicker.

“How did you know I was doing it wrong?”

Loki shrugs. “I’ve been watching.”

He says it so plainly, like it means nothing. But something in the way he says it makes your chest flutter.

From that day on, things begin to shift.

Loki is sharp and unpredictable, like a blade half-hidden in silk. But he’s also brilliant. His understanding of runes, language, and magical theory is far beyond what any of your tutors could have offered. You learn more from watching him for an hour than from studying texts for days.

And surprisingly—he starts to share.

“You overthink the spell before casting,” he says one day, as you're practicing duplication charms. “Your mind races ahead of the magic. It won’t follow you if you run from it.”

You exhale. “That’s not very comforting.”

He tilts his head. “Who said magic is supposed to be comforting?”

And yet, when you cast the spell again and it holds, you catch his expression soften.

Sometimes he shows you tricks that aren’t in any book. Subtle sleight-of-hand movements that help anchor concentration, mnemonic phrases he created himself to recall complex sequences. His magic is elegant, and full of flair—showy, yes, but also intimate. Thoughtful. Personal.

And you start to respond in kind.

You show him a meditative chant your mother taught you, one that calms the mind before a spell. You teach him a gesture from your family’s minor sigil-craft—a flick of fingers that stabilizes wards at the edge. He doesn’t admit it, but you catch him using it the next morning when he thinks you aren’t looking.

Frigga notices.

She rarely comments, but there’s a certain smile she wears now when she watches the two of you sparring or laughing quietly over a scribbled note. She leaves the sessions earlier now, allowing space to grow unmonitored. She doesn’t need to nurture what is clearly blooming.

One day, in the garden after a particularly draining session, you both sit beneath the shade of an ancient tree. Loki conjures two glasses of chilled wine with a flick of his fingers, handing one to you without a word.

You accept it, raising an eyebrow. “Poisoned?”

“Only mildly,” he replies with a smirk.

You laugh, and he watches you with a strange look in his eyes. Not amused, exactly. More like... reverent. But it passes quickly.

You sip and let the silence stretch between you, the warmth of the wine settling in your limbs.

“Why do you try so hard to hide how kind you are?” you ask quietly.

He stiffens just slightly, the smirk faltering. “Kindness is a liability in court.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He turns his face away from you, his voice lower now. “Kindness is a performance. Just like cruelty. Just like charm. It’s all costume.”

You study him carefully. “And which one are you wearing now?”

Loki doesn’t answer. But he doesn’t look away, either.

The bond forms in quiet things.

The way you begin to fall into rhythm when you cast spells side by side. How his presence begins to anchor you instead of unnerve you. How your laughter comes easier in his company, and how his sharp edges soften when you’re near.

He teases you. Constantly.

“You hold your wand like it’s a fork,” he mutters one morning.

“At least I don’t use mine like a toothpick,” you snap back, without missing a beat.

He blinks, then laughs—a full-bodied, rich sound that startles both of you.

After that, his teasing becomes more frequent. But now it’s paired with warmth. With glances that linger too long. With conversations that go on well past your lessons.

And sometimes, your hands brush when you pass him a book or a vial or a rune-stone. Neither of you ever comments on it. But neither of you pulls away.

One evening, weeks into your lessons, a storm rolls across the palace—lightning crackling violet across the sky, thunder low and distant. You find Loki already in the library alcove, cross-legged on the carpet, eyes scanning a floating scroll.

“Can’t sleep?” you ask softly.

He glances up. “Can’t ignore the noise.”

You sit beside him without asking. The storm outside is a mirror to something in your chest—wild, unsettled.

He conjures a flame in midair, letting it dance between his fingers. “Do you ever think about leaving?”

You tilt your head. “Asgard?”

He nods. “All of it. The court. The roles we play.”

You hesitate. “Sometimes. But I don’t think I’d belong anywhere else.”

“Maybe you’d belong everywhere.”

You smile faintly. “Or nowhere.”

Loki looks at you for a long moment, something in his gaze quiet and unguarded.

“You’d make an excellent liar,” he says softly.

You blink. “That’s a compliment?”

“From me, it is.”

And when the thunder rumbles again, you don’t flinch.

By the time your lessons have stretched into months, you and Loki are inseparable. At least, in your private hours. In court, things remain unchanged. Loki is still the prince, and you are still a lady of no consequence. But in the shadowed corners of the palace—in the gardens, in the library, in the stillness of the early morning—you are equals.

You know the exact angle of his smile when he’s about to say something clever. He knows the cadence of your laugh before it breaks free. You can feel when his magic flares too hot, and he can sense when yours begins to fray. You speak in half-sentences now, and still understand each other perfectly.

There’s something between you. Something unspoken.

It curls like a spell just on the edge of being cast. Like a secret waiting to be whispered into the dark.

But neither of you gives it voice.

Not yet.

One night, you find him in the observatory, leaning against the railing, staring out at the stars. His cloak is gone, his tunic unfastened at the collar. He looks more boy than prince. More truth than mask.

You step beside him. “You always come up here alone?”

“Only when I wish someone would follow.”

You glance sideways. “Did you wish for me?”

He smiles faintly, not answering.

The two of you stand there, the cosmos yawning open before you. In the hush of starlight, everything else falls away.

Loki speaks first.

“Magic is the only thing that’s ever made sense to me. The rest—the throne, the rules, the lies—it’s noise. But this...” He gestures outward. “This is real.”

You nod slowly. “I know. It’s the only time I feel like I’m me.”

His eyes flick to yours. “You always seem like you.”

“Only because you see me clearly.”

His breath catches. Just for a second.

Then, softly: “I do.”

The silence that follows isn’t empty. It’s full—of everything you could say. Everything you both choose not to.

---

It begins in moments Loki doesn’t expect.

When your laugh echoes off stone walls and silences the static in his head. When your hands brush as you pass a shared spellbook and he feels a flare of heat in his chest that has nothing to do with magic. When he finds himself watching you instead of the stars, wondering if your smile is ever meant for him alone.

He knows what it is.

Of course he does. He’s read every poem, every legend. He’s watched others pine and ache and confess. He’s mocked them for it. But this — this — sneaks up on him. A thread quietly tying itself around his ribs each time you tilt your head and ask him something only he would know. Each time you call him by name like it’s not a title but something softer.

He realizes he wants to touch your hand without magic. To walk beside you with no pretense. To hear you call him justLoki and not think it strange.

And that’s precisely the problem.

You are not just anyone. You are a lady of the court. Trusted. Refined. A daughter of the Queen’s closest friend. Frigga adores you, sees you as a protégé, a favored companion. You were born noble enough to serve royalty — but never quite enough to marry into it.

And he—he is a prince.

He’s always known the weight of that title. It crushes beneath its own expectation. Marriages in court are chess moves. Alliances. Not choices.

He tells himself it would be unkind to give you hope. To let this thing, this want, bloom into something it cannot be.

So he buries it. Quietly. Carefully. He sharpens his wit when you come too close. He flinches back when your fingers nearly touch his. He casts sideways glances when you aren’t looking.

But you notice.

You always notice.

It happens in the training hall.

You’re there with Loki, practicing controlled projection spells when Thor storms in with his usual entourage — Sif, Fandral, Hogun, Volstagg. Their presence fills the room like a gust of arrogance, all laughter and muscle and heavy boots.

“Still playing with illusions, brother?” Thor calls, grinning. “Come train properly. Throw a hammer. Lift something.”

Loki doesn’t look up. “Some of us have more refined pursuits.”

Volstagg laughs. “Refined? More like useless. You could conjure a feast and still starve.”

Sif smirks, arms crossed. “He can conjure shadows, but they’re no use in real battle. At least Thor’s brute strength wins wars.”

Your magic flickers in your palm, spell unraveling.

You look between them—four warriors who have never respected the power of what Loki does. Who see his magic as vanity, not strength. They’ve made jabs before, but today it feels crueler. Sharper. Directed like knives.

Loki says nothing. But you see the stiffness in his shoulders. The quiet set of his jaw.

You step forward before you think twice.

“At least he uses his brain,” you say, voice steady. “He wins with thought instead of swinging wildly until something breaks.”

The room falls silent.

Thor turns to you, brows raised in mild surprise. “Lady Y/N, we mean no offense—”

“I think you do,” you interrupt, stepping closer. “You mock what you don’t understand. Magic isn’t for show. It’s not weakness. And if any of you had half the discipline Loki does, you might learn something beyond brute force.”

Sif’s jaw tightens. Fandral shifts uncomfortably. Even Thor looks vaguely chagrined.

Loki doesn’t move. But his eyes are on you now. Intently.

You hold your ground.

“If you’ll excuse us,” you finish, voice colder now, “we were in the middle of a lesson.”

The warriors exchange glances, then file out with awkward nods, their usual bravado softened.

The silence that follows is deep and heavy. You turn, pulse still racing.

Loki is staring at you like he’s never seen you before.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says quietly.

“I know,” you reply. “But I wanted to.”

A pause. You take a breath.

“They shouldn’t speak to you like that. You’re powerful. Brilliant. You—”

“Don’t,” he says, more sharply than he means to. You stop.

“I’m not a hero, Y/N.”

“I didn’t say you were,” you reply, carefully. “I said you deserve respect.”

He looks at you, and there’s something in his expression that’s almost... pained.

“You shouldn’t stand that close to me.”

You blink. “Why not?”

He exhales. “Because you’ll make me believe this is real.”

Your breath catches. The words hang between you, raw and dangerous.

He turns from you before you can answer, voice quieter now.

“You’re... a lady of court. The Queen favors you. One day you’ll marry someone respectable. Someone who isn’t—me.”

“Someone who isn’t a prince?” you ask softly.

“No.” He swallows. “Someone who isn’t this prince.”

And there it is — the truth, laid bare like a wound.

You don’t answer. You can’t. Because if you say the wrong thing, the thread between you might snap.

Instead, you step closer again — slow, deliberate. Close enough for your shoulder to brush his.

“I don’t care what they think,” you whisper. “Or what they expect.”

He doesn’t look at you.

But you feel the way he leans, just barely, into your warmth.

You stay like that, side by side, the air thick with unsaid things. And for now, that’s enough.

---

You are summoned before the Allfather at dawn.

Two guards knock at your chamber door and say only that the King requests your presence. Their expressions betray nothing. Your hands tremble as you lace your boots, and your stomach is stone by the time you reach the throne room.

Odin waits, seated high on his gilded dais. Frigga stands nearby, her face unreadable, her hands clasped tightly in front of her.

You bow low, heart thundering. “You summoned me, my king?”

His voice is cold. Distant. “I did.”

He says nothing for a moment. Just watches you with that single eye, piercing as a blade.

“You spoke out against my son and his companions,” he says, calmly. “Disrespectfully. In front of others.”

You lift your head, confused. “Your Majesty, I—”

“You may think yourself clever,” he cuts in. “But you are not above consequence. I allowed your presence in this court out of respect for your late mother. That grace has now ended.”

The words hit like ice.

“I—please, I meant no harm. I only—”

“You dared to insult Thor, a prince of Asgard, in favor of his brother. And worse, you did so publicly.”

Your heart stutters. He saw. He heard everything.

“My loyalty to Loki—”

“—is inappropriate,” Odin interrupts, voice thundering now. “And suspect. You are no longer permitted within the palace. You will leave by nightfall. You are not to communicate with the royal family again.”

It’s not a punishment. It’s exile dressed in silk.

You turn to Frigga, eyes pleading. “My queen—please—”

Frigga’s voice is soft but firm. “She is young. She spoke in defense of someone she believes in. Surely—”

“I have made my decision,” Odin says flatly.

The finality in his voice is ironclad. There will be no further appeal.

Frigga’s jaw tightens. Her eyes meet yours, filled with sorrow. But she says nothing more.

And so you bow again, this time with your heart breaking inside your chest.

You don’t go to Loki.

You can’t.

Not with what you’ve been ordered. Not knowing it’s your last night within the golden walls you once thought were home.

You pack slowly. Quietly. No servants. No goodbyes.

But as twilight falls, your door creaks open.

Loki stands there.

His eyes rake over you—half-dressed for travel, your spellbook missing from the shelf, your satchel folded on the bed.

He frowns.

“Where are you going?”

You try to say his name, but your throat locks. You look away, and that’s all he needs to know something is wrong.

He steps forward, sharply. “What happened?”

“Loki—”

“No. Don’t lie to me.” His voice rises. “Who sent you away?”

You swallow, tears already rising. “Odin.”

He stills.

“What?”

“He heard what I said. In the training hall. About Thor. About the others. He says I disrespected the crown. I’m no longer permitted near the royal family.”

Loki laughs once, bitter and sharp. “So I’m to lose you because I’m the wrong person to defend.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Yes, it is,” he breathes. “Of course it is. I should have stopped you. I should have warned you what my father is capable of.”

He paces, restless. Like if he doesn’t move, he might collapse.

Then he stops.

“I was coming to see you,” he says, voice softer now. “Because I couldn’t keep pretending anymore. I was going to say it, even if I shouldn’t.”

You stare at him.

He steps closer.

“I love you.”

It doesn’t sound like a confession. It sounds like a surrender.

“I love you,” he repeats, more quietly. “And I tried not to. I tried to be noble. But I can’t stand another day watching you from across a hall, pretending you’re just another sorcerer. Another shadow.”

Your breath trembles.

“Loki…”

“I thought I had time,” he says, laughing again, but it’s broken now. “Time to say it properly. To plan something clever. Something worthy of you. But I don’t. Do I?”

You shake your head, tears falling freely now.

“They’re sending me away,” you whisper. “And I’m not allowed to see you again.”

He steps back, like your words have struck him.

“No,” he says.

You say nothing.

“No,” he repeats, more fiercely this time. “You’re not leaving like this. I won’t allow it.”

“You don’t have a choice,” you say, barely able to stand. “Neither of us do.”

He storms toward the window, magic sparking from his fingertips. “I’ll talk to Mother. To Odin. I’ll threaten—”

“No.” You grab his hand. “If you do anything, he’ll punish you. He’ll hurt you more than he already has.”

He shakes his head, jaw clenched.

“I just got you,” he says, voice cracking.

You pull him in, pressing your forehead against his.

“I know.”

He clings to you. Arms tight around your waist like if he lets go, the whole realm will fall apart. Maybe it already is.

You stay like that until the bells toll the hour. The hour of your exile.

He doesn’t speak again.

You pull back first, trembling. He watches your hands, as though memorizing them.

And then you turn and walk away.

You don’t look back.

You can’t.

Because if you do—you’ll run straight back into him and never leave.

And you can’t afford that.

Not when he’s a prince.

Not when you’re already gone.

---

Loki does not sleep the night you leave.

The moment your footsteps vanish down the hall, the palace feels hollow. He tries to pretend it hasn’t happened. He sits where you last stood. Stares at the place your satchel had rested. Breathes the air as if it still carries your warmth.

But it’s not the same.

It never will be.

He doesn't cry. Not because he isn't shattered — but because the grief settles too low, too deep, for tears. Like stone in his chest. Like ice in his blood.

He doesn’t eat the next day. Doesn't speak.

Thor asks where you’ve gone at breakfast.

Loki leaves the table without answering.

Days pass. Then weeks.

He tries to throw himself into study. Into perfecting spells. Into illusion and fire and silence. But nothing helps.

He stops attending court. Avoids the library. Avoids everywhere you used to be.

When Frigga finds him, he’s in his chambers — the air stifling, windows shuttered, every candle burning too hot.

She sits beside him without asking. She doesn’t offer platitudes. Only a mother’s eyes and quiet understanding.

“I couldn’t stop him,” she says softly.

“I know.”

“I tried. I would have made him see.”

Loki doesn’t look at her. “He never sees me.”

Frigga’s silence answers everything.

When she touches his cheek, he lets her. But he feels nothing. Her warmth is not yours.

“Come back to court,” she urges gently. “Don’t let him take your fire.”

He looks at her then — really looks. And when he speaks, his voice is low and dangerous.

“He took more than that.”

Loki begins to despise Odin.

Not just for banishing you — but for what it reveals.

For how easy it was for the Allfather to cut you away. For how little your voice meant in his grand design. For how quickly love and loyalty were outweighed by appearances and pride.

But what terrifies Loki most is that he begins to believe him.

Not Odin’s justice — but his reasoning.

You are not of the blood. Not a royal. Not a pawn he can use. You were disposable the moment you became inconvenient.

And if that is true...

Then what is Loki?

Whose blood runs in his veins?

He buries the thought like poison. But it festers.

He begins to unravel.

You feel the loss in your bones.

The first few days after your exile are a blur.

You travel to a minor outpost of Asgard’s outer provinces — a quiet, forest-ringed settlement near the eastern fjords. Frigga arranges your passage discreetly. You don’t see her, but a letter arrives, signed in her delicate hand:

You are not forgotten, child. Not by me. May your magic carry you where our laws failed you.

You cry for the first time reading that.

The nights are the worst. You lie awake listening to the wind and wonder if he’s thinking of you. If he feels this phantom pain — this severed thread — the same way you do.

You left without saying it.

You were too afraid that saying the words aloud would shatter you.

But you love him. Fiercely. Completely.

And now it is too late.

You settle in the village as best you can.

The people here know your name, if not your story. They’re kind. Curious. They’ve never met a sorcerer who trained in the palace before, and certainly not one who left under mysterious circumstances.

You take on small magical work — healing charms, weather wards, illusion weaving for harvest festivals.

It is not the life you imagined.

But it is life.

And slowly, the ache dulls to a throb.

But it never vanishes.

You still wear the green ribbon he once conjured for you — tied to your wrist now, fraying at the edges.

Back in Asgard, Loki starts seeing you everywhere.

Not truly — but in every spell he casts. Every half-finished rune where your handwriting used to correct his. Every mirror that flickers with an illusion that looks a little too much like you.

He dreams of you.

Sometimes you speak. Sometimes you don’t. Sometimes you walk away before he can stop you.

Those are the worst nights.

He stops trusting himself.

He picks fights with Thor. He withdraws further from court. When he sees Sif or Fandral, rage curls in his gut like fire, but he says nothing. Not yet.

Frigga continues to reach for him.

But he pulls away. Even from her.

Because you were the one who made him feel worthy. Who looked at him not with pity or fear or expectation — but as someone whole. Someone he could become.

And now, without you...

He doesn’t know who that person is.

Seasons shift.

You grow stronger.

The pain does not vanish, but it becomes a companion — one you carry with quiet grace.

Your magic flourishes without palace constraint. You discover new rituals in the wilds, spells born from root and river. The land teaches you in ways scrolls never could.

Children in the village begin to call you “the silverweaver,” for the way your spells shimmer like thread in sunlight.

But at night, you still sit by the window, gazing toward the northern skies — hoping for a flicker of gold and green. Hoping he might reach for you, even now.

And far across realms, in a tower steeped in shadow and magic...

Loki whispers your name into candlelight.

Every night.

As if that alone might bring you back.

---

Loki is quiet.

Not the poised, calculating quiet that used to mask his cleverness — but a hollow quiet, a kind of stillness that speaks of erosion. Day by day, Thor watches his brother grow more distant. He forgets meals. Avoids mirrors. Sometimes, he vanishes for hours, only to reappear smelling of smoke and magic.

At first, Thor says nothing. For all their history, he’s never been good with Loki’s silences. But this one... this one feels dangerous.

One morning, he finds Loki in the royal library. Not reading. Just standing, unmoving, in front of a shelf where a spellbook used to be. The space is empty now. Loki’s hand rests on the spine next to it, fingers still.

Thor clears his throat.

“You always mocked my dramatics,” he says lightly. “Now you haunt rooms like a ghost.”

Loki doesn’t turn. “Go away.”

But Thor doesn’t.

He steps closer, voice softer now. “You loved her.”

Loki’s fingers curl into a fist.

“I saw it,” Thor continues. “I didn’t understand it at the time. I didn’t respect it the way I should have. But I see now. It broke you when she left.”

“She didn’t leave,” Loki says bitterly. “She was banished.”

“I know.” Thor breathes out, guilt lacing his voice. “And I did nothing.”

That gets Loki to turn — sharply, eyes flashing. “You laughed with them. Mocked me. Mocked her.”

Thor bows his head.

“I did. Because I was foolish. Because I thought it didn’t matter.” He pauses, then meets Loki’s eyes. “But it does. You love her still.”

Loki says nothing.

Thor continues, more gently. “I asked Frigga where she’d gone. She didn’t tell me everything, but she told me enough. I want to make it right.”

“You can’t,” Loki says, voice tight.

Thor straightens. “Maybe not. But I can take you to her.”

Silence. Long. Breathless.

Loki doesn’t dare believe it.

“You know where she is?” he says finally.

“I’ve kept eyes on the outer provinces. Quietly. Just in case.” Thor offers a small, crooked smile. “You’re not the only one who missed her.”

You’re in the woods outside the village, gathering herbs at twilight when you feel it — the magic, sharp and bright, blooming behind you like starlight cracking open the air.

You whirl around, heart stuttering.

Loki steps out from the shimmer of a hidden portal. Slowly. As if unsure you’re real.

You don’t move.

You can’t.

He looks thinner. Paler. His eyes are rimmed with exhaustion. But his face — gods, his face — it still makes something in you collapse.

“Loki?” you whisper.

He doesn’t answer right away. Just walks toward you, step by step, until he’s close enough to touch.

“I thought I’d forgotten how to breathe,” he says, voice thick. “But here you are.”

You reach for him, fingers trembling.

He catches your wrist — gently — and presses your hand to his chest.

“Still beating,” he murmurs. “Barely.”

You laugh, and it’s cracked and wet and full of disbelief. “How are you here?”

“Thor,” he says simply.

Your eyes widen.

“He knew,” Loki continues. “He saw what I became without you. And he... he helped me find my way back.”

You blink fast, tears gathering. “But your father—”

“He can rot in his throne,” Loki cuts in. “I don’t care what he says anymore.”

You stare up at him. And in a breath, everything comes crashing down — the exile, the silence, the ache.

“I missed you,” you whisper. “Every day. I thought I’d never—”

He silences you with a kiss.

It isn’t sweet. It’s desperate, and aching, and hungry. His hands tremble on your waist like he can’t quite believe you’re real. You kiss him back with years of unsaid words and broken nights behind it.

When he pulls away, his forehead presses to yours.

“I didn’t come just to see you,” he says. “I came to take you back.”

You tense.

“I can’t go back,” you whisper. “He’ll exile me again. Or worse.”

“I know.” Loki pulls back, looking into your eyes. “That’s why we’ll do something he can’t undo.”

You blink.

“We’ll marry.”

Your breath hitches.

“Loki—”

“Not in the palace. Not in gold or glory. But truly. Vows. Magic. Soulbound.” His hand cradles your face. “If I am bound to you, Odin will have no power over it. Not without defying ancient rites. Even he wouldn’t risk that scandal.”

You stare at him, stunned.

“I should’ve done it the moment I realized,” he says. “I should’ve fought then. But I’m here now.”

You say nothing.

Just throw your arms around him and nod against his shoulder.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Yes. Yes.”

The ceremony is quiet.

Thor stands witness, dressed not in armor, but simple Asgardian blue. He says nothing, only nods as you both step forward under the canopy of stars.

Frigga is not there, but you feel her blessing. In the wind. In the stillness. In the soft glimmer that dances across your joining hands when the spell begins.

Loki speaks the old words first — the binding vow of his magic to yours, his heart to yours, his soul to yours.

You echo them, voice shaking but clear.

A ribbon of starlight winds around your wrists, sealing the bond. A vow older than kings.

When it fades, Loki cups your face.

You smile through your tears.

And when he kisses you again, the world rights itself.

Later, after Thor has gone, and the night has grown still, Loki lies beside you in the little cottage, holding your hand like a relic.

“You’re mine now,” he murmurs. “Truly.”

You smile sleepily. “And you’re mine.”

“Forever?”

“Always.”

His eyes close.

---

The Bifröst opens in the high dawn light, casting shards of color across the golden bridge. The wind is cold at this height, but Loki doesn’t feel it. He only feels your hand in his.

You step into Asgard again for the first time since your exile, and the moment your feet touch the bridge’s smooth surface, your breath catches.

Everything looks the same.

And nothing feels the same.

Loki doesn’t let go of you. Not for a moment. His posture is tall, regal, but there’s a tightness in his jaw that only you notice — the readiness of a man still expecting his father’s wrath to strike like lightning. But beside him, you walk unflinching.

Because this time, you’re not just a lady of court.

You’re his wife.

And Odin cannot undo what’s been bound by magic and vow.

At the end of the bridge, Frigga waits.

Her cloak is silver today, soft as falling snow, and her face is unreadable as you approach. But when she sees your hands twined, when she sees the thin thread of starlight still woven faintly around your wrist — the magic of the bond — her expression cracks.

Her eyes shine. And then, impossibly, she smiles.

“Mother,” Loki says carefully.

She says nothing at first. Just lifts her hand — and touches your cheek.

“You’ve come home,” she whispers, voice full of emotion.

“Yes,” you whisper back. “Together.”

Her gaze flicks to her son.

“You found your way,” she says.

Loki’s throat works, but no sound comes.

Frigga exhales, a soft laugh, and pulls you both into an embrace.

For a moment, there is no kingdom. No judgment. Only warmth.

Then, from the far archway of the bridge, another presence approaches.

Heavy boots. Gold-lined robes. The weight of rule etched into every stride.

Odin.

Loki stiffens.

Frigga steps back, her hand remaining on your shoulder. She doesn’t retreat. Neither do you.

Odin stops several feet away. He says nothing.

His eye lands on your face — then drops to your joined hands.

You wait for the outburst.

But it doesn’t come.

His gaze flicks to the faint shimmer of your marriage binding. Ancient, lawful, soul-forged.

He can’t deny it.

So instead, he says nothing. Just watches with that unreadable stare.

Frigga is the one who speaks.

“They are wed,” she says, her voice light but firm. “By rite. By vow. And by will.”

Odin’s silence stretches.

“Not under my roof,” he says at last, flatly.

“They didn’t need your roof,” Frigga replies.

His jaw tightens.

Loki finally speaks, voice calm but icy. “You banished her. You cast her out for loyalty. But now she returns not as servant, but as my equal.”

“She was never your equal,” Odin says, low.

“She is now,” Loki replies, eyes sharp. “You can no longer pretend I am yours to command.”

Odin looks at him for a long, long moment.

Then he turns.

And walks away.

No decree. No fury. No blessing.

Just a quiet defeat.

Frigga’s sigh is subtle, but full of decades of disappointment.

Loki watches his father vanish into the distance, the old cape dragging like a shadow behind him. Then he turns to you — and for the first time since crossing into Asgard, his shoulders ease.

“You stood tall,” he murmurs, pride in every word.

“I had you beside me,” you reply.

Frigga smiles at you both. “He cannot touch what is bound by older laws than his crown. He knows it.”

Loki’s hand squeezes yours. “Let him try. I’ll burn down the throne room first.”

Frigga gives him a pointed look. “Let’s not start a war just yet.”

The three of you walk through the palace together, and for once, the golden halls feel like yours. Whispers follow, of course — nobles peering from behind pillars, servants pretending not to look. The rumors run ahead of you, unstoppable.

But you walk proudly.

At Loki’s side.

A prince’s wife. A sorceress in her own right. Not a shadow or a servant or a secret.

Not anymore.

---

At first, the court doesn’t know how to respond.

They bow, of course. You are married to a prince. You walk beside Loki now in green-trimmed gowns and silver circlets, your hand on his arm, your back straight. Protocol demands deference.

But behind the smiles, the court stirs like a nest of snakes.

They whisper. Always just behind you. They speak your name with too much reverence, or not enough. You are not royal, not raised in the line of succession, not bred in the traditions of courtly diplomacy. You are — in their eyes — an interloper. A symbol of rebellion. The lady who loved too loudly.

They speak of you in corridors. In gardens. Over wine.

Did you bind Loki by spell?

Did you seduce him to power?

Why would a prince give up his rank for a former lady-in-waiting?

The speculation coils around every room you enter. You hear the sharp pause in conversations. See the too-wide smiles from noblewomen who used to speak freely with you. Even the servants are cautious, uncertain if speaking with you is offense or obligation.

Loki feels it all.

He doesn’t show it — not openly — but you can tell. His shoulders tense at council meetings. His words grow colder with every cutting aside made in your direction. He starts to avoid the court dinners altogether. Not because he is ashamed — but because he is tired.

Tired of pretending.

Tired of seeing you flinch at the weight of scrutiny.

One evening, late, you sit in the highest balcony of the palace garden — where the stars hang low, and the fountains drown out the city noise. Loki stands beside you, silent, watching a comet trail faintly across the dark.

You speak first.

“This isn’t what I thought it would be.”

He doesn’t answer immediately.

“No,” he says at last. “Nor I.”

You look at him. His expression is unreadable.

“I thought,” you begin, voice quiet, “that once we were together — once it was real — the rest wouldn’t matter.”

He turns to you now, eyes tired but soft. “It shouldn’t matter. But this place…” His voice tightens. “This court has never forgiven me for being different. It was naïve to think they’d love the woman who made me stronger.”

You take his hand.

“So what now?” you ask. “Do we just endure it?”

He hesitates.

Then, slowly, he sits beside you, your fingers still laced with his.

“I have lived a life built on approval,” he says. “On proving myself worthy. To Odin. To Asgard. To every lord and scholar and warrior who looked past me.”

You nod, listening.

“I thought royalty gave me power. But now…” He looks down at your hands. “Now I have you. And they would ask me to pay for that with silence. With shame.”

He lifts your hand and kisses your knuckles gently.

“I won’t.”

You exhale, your heart breaking and healing at the same time. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” he says slowly, “that I would rather live unknown — peacefully, freely, beside you — than wear a crown that costs me everything.”

Tears rise behind your eyes.

“Loki…”

He presses his forehead to yours.

“If you would leave this behind with me,” he murmurs, “I will build us a world of our own.”

You nod. Fiercely. Without hesitation.

“Yes.”

Frigga listens in silence as you both tell her.

Her expression does not falter, but her eyes glisten faintly.

“You are certain?” she asks gently.

“Yes,” Loki says. “We want peace. And truth. Not this.”

Frigga reaches for your hand. Holds it between both of hers.

“I always hoped one day you’d return here,” she says. “That you’d be safe within these walls.”

“You gave me that once,” you whisper. “But Asgard never did.”

Frigga exhales. “Then I will help you.”

Loki looks at her. “You’ll aid us?”

“Of course,” she says softly. “You are my son. She is your wife. That makes her my daughter.”

You almost break at those words.

Frigga leads you to a sealed archive — quiet and old, deep beneath the palace — where records of the lesser realms are kept. She scans scrolls and maps, her fingers sure and searching.

Finally, she finds it: a small realm under Asgardian protection, a quiet place of rolling hills and warm sunlight, where trade is simple, governance is light, and nobility is a formality. The people are kind. The land is rich. It is a place where magic is respected, not feared.

“There’s a manor there,” she says. “Untouched for years. Still under crown stewardship, technically.” She smiles. “But I believe I can lose the paperwork.”

Loki clasps her hand. “Thank you, Mother.”

Frigga’s expression softens. “Write to me. Tell me of your seasons. And if you have children—”

Loki lifts a brow.

“—especially if you have children,” she finishes with a fond smile.

Thor finds you both in the gardens the morning you leave.

He looks unusually serious. His cloak is folded over one arm, not worn, and his hammer hangs at his side untouched.

“I hear you’re vanishing again,” he says, trying for lightness.

Loki smirks faintly. “Running from you, specifically.”

“I thought as much.” Thor steps closer, then hesitates. “Are you sure?”

You and Loki exchange a glance.

“Yes,” you say. “This is what we need.”

Thor nods, jaw tight.

“I envy you,” he says. “Sometimes I wish I could leave all this behind. Be someone other than the crown’s shadow.”

Loki tilts his head. “You’re more than that.”

Thor smiles.

Then he looks at you, and his expression changes — softens.

“Take care of him,” he says to you. “He’s an idiot sometimes. But he’s a good one.”

“I will,” you promise, blinking quickly.

Then Thor turns to his brother.

“And you—” He steps closer and places a hand on Loki’s shoulder. “If you don’t name your first daughter after me, I’ll be offended.”

Loki blinks. “You want us to—?”

“Oh, I expect nieces,” Thor says proudly. “A house full of them. Wild, magical little terrors who’ll terrorize me when I visit.”

You laugh — a full, surprised laugh — and Loki rolls his eyes.

“We’ll see what we can do,” you say, smiling.

Thor embraces you both — a rare, bone-cracking sort of hug — and steps back with a grin.

“Go. Be free. Just don’t forget you’ve still got family here.”

And with that, you leave Asgard.

Not in secret. Not in shame.

But together — arm in arm, bound by vow and choice.

Your new home is far from the golden towers, tucked in the folds of a sunlit realm that greets you like an old friend. The manor is modest by royal standards, but beautiful: tall windows, a warm hearth, a garden grown wild with herbs and glowing flowers.

You breathe freely there.

You rise with the birdsong and fall asleep to Loki reading old texts beside the fire. The villagers come to know you with kindness. Children ask you for illusions. Elders thank you for weather wards. It is not the life of a queen — but it is yours.

And Loki, for all his sharp wit and starlit power, smiles more in these quiet days than he ever did in the throne room.

Sometimes he watches you walk through the garden, fingers brushing lavender and light, and he says nothing. Just watches, like he’s memorizing every movement.

Because he chose this.

He chose you.

And for the first time in all his long, guarded life…

He has no regrets.

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hyukalyptus · 2 months ago

Note

txt reaction when they’re making love to you for the first time, you’re shy and want the lights off, but they urge you to keep them on and end up finding your healed body scars. Is that angsty?

HELL YEAH THIS IS ANGSTY i love it. lets do some hcs,hmm?? im kinda nervous for this one lmao. i feel like my answers may be a bit cringe but i don't care lmfao. maybe a tad self indulgent MWAHAHA

cw. lots of talk of scars and of self harm (nothing graphic, just talking about scars, not the actual harming), kinda cheesy i think?, i tried really hard to not make it cheesy though, sex implied but nothing graphic there, kissing, swearing.

hcs under cut. again, this talks about self harm.

yeonjun is quiet at first. you can feel the moment he sees them. it happens every time. and you still don't really know how to prepare or react. should you act like they don't exist? address the elephant in the room? cover them up with the blankets? your internal argument is interrupted, though. "i see them," he says. no sugarcoating things. which might be your favorite approach so far. you let out a quiet laugh. he says, "honestly, i was already impressed by you." then he grazes his fingertips over them. "now I’m just kinda intimidated." u raise a brow, unsure if he's joking. "you went through all that, and you're still here like it's nothing." you take a deep breath. then he looks into ur eyes and says, "you're even more of a badass than I thought." and you can tell that it's not a stupid line he pulled out of his ass. he's dead serious. and when he leans in to kiss you again, he shows you just how much he wants you.

soobin i think would be very quiet about it. like not really making many comments for a while. but not out of shock or confusion or pity. just an acceptance of who you are. like he's undressing you gently and finally sees your bare body in the light and starts noticing them slowly, his eager hands slowing down. he looks at it for a second while u carefully watch his reaction and then he leans down to press the softest kiss to one. again, not a performative pity party, not feeling sorry for you, and definitely not wanting to "save" you like some have wanted in the past. it's almost in admiration or reverence. and he kisses more of them, saying i see you without speaking.

beomgyu notices them when he lifts your shirt off, eyes slowly trailing down before catching on the thin lines as a flicker of awareness flits across his eyes. you've done this before, though, and with worse lighting. it's not so scary anymore. "yeah," you start. "they’re what you think they are." and he just nods, "okay." and there's this beat of silence before you finally ask, "you good?" he nods with a chuckle and says, "just trying not to say something stupid." a small smile tugs at the corners of ur lips. then he gently rests his palm on ur stomach and says, "it's just..." he takes a deep breath. "ur still here. and you let me be here too." he smiles. "that’s…a lot, you know?" and honestly? you finally feel seen. not as someone with weird scars or some pathetic thing that's minutes away from breaking down. and he's obsessed with you.

taehyun is kinda caught up in the moment already. ur splayed over the bed, fully bare and visible in the light. and he's just noticing them, touching them to acknowledge their existence. "they're not new," you say. "i'm okay now." and the way he looks in ur eyes, a deep admiration and respect ur not sure u've ever felt, just sort of hits. he holds ur face in his hand and says, "thank you for letting me see this part of you." and it's not dramatic. just truth. and you finally feel like he's not looking at something broken. "i didn’t mean to make it a big deal," you murmur. "you didn’t," he whispers. "but it is. you could’ve kept the lights off or covered up. but you didn’t." and the kiss is so beautiful and blissful—not because he sees your scars—but because you trusted him to.

hueningkai sees them when he's kissing down your stomach. he takes them in, slowly, silently. you go still, bracing for something, but ur not quite sure for what. you just hope it isn't disgust or worse: pity. he doesn't speak. just sits back on his knees and really looks at you. "damn," he starts. "you've been through it, huh?" then his eyes flick back up to yours, something different in them now—heavier than they were before. "and i’m just really fucking honored you chose me." you blink. and it hits. you don’t say anything. just reach for him, hand wrapping around the back of his neck to rest gently. when he leans in to kiss you again, it's not careful. it's intentional. he knows what this means. and he's not afraid. and this weight lifts off your shoulders. because he saw them. and he stayed.

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luneariaa · 1 month ago

Text

⋆˚࿔ — I CAN TELL YOU'RE EXHAUSTED, SWEETHEART ; ➢ ; BOB REYNOLDS .

🗡️ SUMMARY — you're truly exhausted, and Bob comforts you.

. !! — fell in love and adore bob sm while watching the movie,, :(( english isn't my first language so there might be some grammatical errors; ooc bob 🫶💜 !! wrote this as a part of me to vent,, dividers by @/cafekitsune and @/enchanthings .

unedited .

SILENCE. PERHAPS, you've gotten used to the silence way too much to your own liking. And yet, you couldn't even prevent it— couldn't stop it from happening—

— because deep down, you know, that you deserve it.

Others could just live their own life the way they want it to be, but not you— never will be you. You don't believe in any of it any longer, you're used to this kind of thing.

Working from nine to five everyday, you barely know what you truly wanted in life itself. You believe that this will continue on for years to come; or maybe, forever. The mere idea did scare you every once in a while, but what other options do you really have?

Eyes scanning over to your other friends, who seem to be interacting with one another and not bothering to even sneak any sort of glances at you, hurts you silently, yet so deeply.

Who would've blame them, for maybe it is your fault to begin with.

Around the store's closing time, you brought a plastic trash with you to throw it away, as per usual. That's when your attention is averted towards something— or someone, to be exact.

"Bob..?"

His name would escape past through your lips easily without any second thoughts; your gaze remaining upon his temporarily unmoving form as he stood before the bulletin board being displayed in front of him.

But what really caught your attention further, is the two cups of takeaway drinks within his own hands at the very moment.

Upon hearing his name being called with the familiar voice of someone that he deeply have grown fond of, he eventually turned around— a warm grin immediately plastered upon his handsome features.

"Hello there..!" He managed to do a small wave at you, his gaze staring downwards onto the two cups of drinks that he has been holding.

"Love, hey!"

You rush over to him without any ounce of hesitation present, all while being careful as to not make the drinks fall. "Did you wait for long?"

The simple term of endearment causes for his cheeks to warm up by itself, his grin remaining there as he starts to feel a little giddy; shaking his head at your question.

"No, no I haven't.. I just got here, you don't have to worry."

He lifts up the two cups of drinks within his hands afterwards, "And look— I got these for us!"

"You do..?" Just by his simple gesture alone, it manages to lighten up your mood even more than before.

"Mhm!" He seems so proud and happy that he's actually able to get you something, "I got your favorite too!"

You nodded and accepted the drink with such natural ease, completely missing the fact that he has been staring at you with a mixture of admiration, and even a hint of longing within them.

He silently hopes you know that he misses you a lot, truly.

In this sometimes dreadful place, or even world— he knows he have you, and you have him as well. You two got each other, that's what he keeps reminding himself every day, especially when the days are starting to get a bit too tough to handle.

He wanted to hold you so badly, yet he can't do it just yet. He couldn't. He's afraid in doing so.

But what is he afraid of, exactly?

"Thank you, Bob."

"I hope you know that this means a lot to me.." it truly touched your very own soul to know that someone out there is so willing to do this for you— even if the gesture may seem so simple.

Perhaps, it's one of the reasons as to why you adore him so much.

He never even expected for you to gradually give him something to hold onto— made him actually feel wanted, safe— the moment you fell into his very own line of vision.

But his smile eventually falters as he notices your current expression; your eyes, specifically. You're facing him, that's for sure— but your eyes, it's not entirely focusing on him at the moment. They look a bit.. detached, dare he say; mixing with your own untold exhaustion.

"What?"

You attempted to grin, gazing back into his own eyes. But the moment you did, you weren't even sure if he's able to see that you are truly weary, both physically and mentally.

"Sweetheart," by pure instinct, Bob moves a tad bit closer to you as possible, eyes not leaving your own just yet— pushing his own nervousness away for your sake. "Are you okay?"

"Hm?"

Admittedly, you're a bit caught off guard by his question, especially by the seemingly simple term of endearment. You don't really know what to think as for right now, but—

— you would be lying if you said that you didn't internally melt upon his words alone, despite the current situation.

You didn't even realize that you've been unintentionally avoiding his currently watchful gaze— looking elsewhere and anywhere instead of him.

"Sweetheart..?"

Bob's tone is quite soft, almost inaudible to be heard, as if not wanting to scare you off. He's clearly trying his best to coax you in a way.

One of his hands would automatically reach out to hold onto yours with such delicacy, his thumb would caress your palm and even the back of your hand— silently hoping that it might be able to soothe you, and even getting your attention back to the present.

"I.."

"Sorry, are you—" you finally managed to regain your focus, looking up at him after. "—are you gonna stay here, for the night?"

"Never mind I said that. I understand if you're busy or something with the team." You brush it off with a chuckle, walking backwards slightly while shaking your head to yourself, didn't want to hold him or even anyone back if they wanted to leave to do their important tasks.

How selfish of you for doing such a thing.

"I'm sorry, maybe I just needed a nap." You kept on apologizing for no reason. It saddens him deeply.

A sinking feeling immediately courses through him, concern for your well-being rising sharply—he's already fully aware that something is definitely wrong, more than what you've let on.

"No, no.." Bob shakes his head, holding onto your wrist not so tightly, preventing you from backing away even further. "It's all good. I'm not busy anyway."

His statement made you visibly huff out a breath of relief, and admittedly relaxed than before. As if sensing your state, he dares to gently pull you towards him even further— embracing you comfortingly, and closely, as if wanting to shield you from the rest of the world and from any potential harm.

You never truly asked to be held— but he did, nonetheless. But it feels so nice; you're unable to pull yourself away from him, you wouldn't want it in any other way.

He may not mention it as much, but he's so glad that you stayed, didn't make any efforts to pull away from him. Even his frame feels less tense now, visibly more relaxed upon your actions alone. Bob understands if you didn't want to talk about it, as long as he's able to hold you and comfort you.

For the first time in many uncountable years, he's not afraid to do something worth like this. If he could, he would've taken all of your existing pain away, and throw it elsewhere, where it doesn't come and find you back again.

"I'm sorry.."

"I'm just tired, and don't know how to say it.."

"Can you just.. hold me? Like this?"

His gaze softens upon your words, nodding without any hints of hesitation.

"You don't have anything to apologize for, my dear." His hands would be moving their own— to do the gentle ministrations by combing his fingers through your hair so lovingly, and the other would still hold you close, securely. "Of course I can.. anything for you."

It's still low-key amusing on how he's able to call you several, sweet nicknames by now so freely, and yet, you never once complained. It's a nice change, and it makes you happy.

"I will keep holding you, as long as you want me to."

Sometimes, a part of him is terrified; but he wouldn't ever dare to say it out loud, that you might see him as a potential danger, or something akin to it.

And yet, moments like this kept him grounded in reality—knowing you would never do something like that.

He makes you feel so safe with him; you make him feel wanted and safe with you.

#written by aria 💌#luneariaa 💫#sfw 🗡️#bob reynolds #bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds x y/n #bob reynolds x you #sentry #robert reynolds #robert reynolds x reader #thunderbolts #thunderbolts*#marvel #marvel thunderbolts #marvel fanfiction

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jakesimfromstatefarm · 2 months ago

Note

an idea if u do decide to take rqs: foods enha would cook/bake u as their significant other

but u can always delete this :P

ahhh i love cute lil domestic prompts like this oneee,,,sorry it took me a while to get to this anon! here are lil blurbs of meals enha would cook for you hehe (only the hyung line though because i have insane writer's block rn) here's a lil something something before the next part of the no doubt series!

& side note: to all u fine line enthusiasts, the heeseung one is for you ;)

THE BOYFRIEND CHEF DIARIES ─ hyung line ⭑.ᐟ

HEESEUNG doesn't know how to cook until after midnight. until it's quiet, the both of you probably half asleep, curled up on the couch and watching some rom-com that you forced him to watch with you (but he definitely still cried). until your stomach growls at the end of the movie and he slowly turns to you and gives you the look. you sigh. "hee, it's late, let's just go to be—" "baby, are you ready for gourmet?" yup, he's a lost cause. he disappears into the kitchen for a solid ten minutes and when he comes out, messy hair, wide grin and all—there in his hands: instant spicy ramyeon. he proudly places it on the coffee table in front of you before sprinting back into the kitchen and running back with the finishing touch: a slice of cheese. "amazing. beautiful. a masterpiece," he whispers to himself. you roll your eyes at your dramatic boyfriend. you regret buying him the pack of ramen to stock up at home. "okay, open up," he holds the bowl up under your chin with the chopsticks dangling in front of you, his eyes watching you intently. and when you finish, at the expense of your own tastebuds dying from spice, he runs back into the kitchen and makes you cool down with, of course, a single box of—coffee milk.

JAY only exists to spoil you. that's it. that's his sole purpose on this earth. so when you say you're hungry? oh, he's not cooking you a meal, no. he writes a cookbook for you. buried somewhere in one of the shelves of your shared kitchen—he has a notebook. a sacred notebook where he's literally documented the recipe to every meal you've ever liked—whether homemade, or meals from restaurants that he would attempt to recreate for you when it's too late at night for him to order in for you. so when you mutter you're hungry—he gasps and runs to grab it. "okay baby, what are we feeling tonight?" he's flipping through the pages like a man possessed. "do you want the stew from that place we went to last week? we should have all the ingredients. i'll sub the radish with potato." flip. "oh! what about the grilled chicken from our trip last year? i think i perfected the sauce, trust me." flip. "wait. no. no no—this is it. i'll make your favorite stea—" "jay." he freezes. his hand is mid-page-turn. you raise an eyebrow, amused at your endearing psychopath of a boyfriend. "i just wanted a snack." jay grins. "perfect. i'll start the grill, you grab the steak." sigh.

JAKE tries to surprise you with pancakes. not in a sweet breakfast-in-bed, 'good morning, my love' kind of way. no. he wakes you up at 2:43AM because he got hungry and missed you. "jake," you mumble, eyes still closed. "i've been here. the whole time." "i know," he whispers dramatically, already half-laying across your body, "but i still missed you." "...we're literally touching." "doesn't count. you have to be awake," he sighs, before releasing a storm of desperate kisses all over your face. "please, please, please come to the kitchen or i will cry. from starvation. and love." and so here you are—sitting on the counter, legs dangling, watching this menace of your boyfriend mix banana milk into his pancake batter, claiming he saw it once on tiktok and now must try it. a couple minutes—and a few stolen kisses from the counter later—and they're slightly undercooked. and shaped like questionable blobs in his attempt to make them heart-shaped. and he calls them 'jake-cakes.' but he tops it off with some strawberries and whipped cream and mumbles something about presentation being overrated anyways. then he places the plate beside you with a grin, slipping between your legs and feeding you a bite like it's a wedding cake moment. you chew slowly. it's raw. he looks at you like you hung the stars. so you smile anyways. it's the thought that counts.

SUNGHOON has never touched a kitchen utensil in his entire life. but it's late at night, and you're craving pasta. pasta. so, one frantic google search on how to boil water and one very questionable hour later—"wait," you smack your lips together, chewing the noodles he proudly presented in front of you as if he was a master chef himself. "it's...really good, hoon." his eyes go wide. "REALLY?" you nod, fighting back a smile. "yeah, seriously. i'm impressed." he blinks. "like, good good? or good-for-a-guy-who-thought-the-spatula-was-a-back-scratcher good?" you giggle. "good good, babe. i like it, good job." he throws his head back and pumps the air like a cartoon character. "I AM HIM!" he runs a victory lap around the kitchen and crashes right into you, wrapping his arms tight around your waist and lifting you up like you're his trophy for cooking one (1) decent meal. pasta sauce gets everywhere in process—but you're laughing, sweet and loud, all while sunghoon's thinking one thing: thank god he found that jar of pasta sauce in back of the pantry.

this is actually just pure crack, i apologize heh

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livelaughloveluffy · 7 months ago

Text

comfort - trafalgar water d. law

a/n: listen... i was always a law simp pre-wano..... but wano law 😭😭😭 you will always be famous. and the brain rot is just so intense for him that i had to write this fic

a/n: i'm still adjusting to my antidepressants and literally have 9 labs due this week so forgive me for not being insanely active; i'm mainly just trying to survive 💀

nothing but fluff here! 💗

---------------------------------------------------------------------

when he comforts you:

-the captain goes above and beyond to silently help you out. chores you were supposed to do around the polar tang are miraculously already done, a cold glass of water and a small snack left on your nightstand when you wake up, your laundry folded and put away.

-and it doesn't stop at that. law wants to make sure you can relax and destress, so this sweet man will run you a bath, dimly lit with candles and a glass of wine, and he'll stay to gently wash your hair and give back massages. fully allowing you to just enjoy the warmth of the soapy water and his touch.

-he'll always make time in his schedule for cuddles, even if that means the two of you are crammed into his desk chair, he'll hold you tight to him, gently stroke your hair, and whisper sweet nothings into your ear.

-while advice isn't law's strongest area of expertise (he's much too pessimistic and blunt for that 💀) he is a fantastic listener. once he knows you aren't looking for a solution to your problems but just someone to support you while you rant, he'll sit through hours and hours of ranting and rambling, attentive eyes on you, his hand on the smalls of your back rubbing soft circles into you, even when he's busy he'll always lend an ear to your problems and a shoulder to cry on.

-he's a lot more affectionate than usual when he notices you haven't been yourself. pda suddenly doesn't bother him anymore, and he won't leave a room before giving you some kisses, his arm will be around your waist as he address the crew, or he'll grab your hand and intertwine his fingers with yours.

-when you're sick, injured, or on your period: law will provide literally the best cuddles you could ever ask for, his silk sheets against your body, the smell of his cologne filling the room, his warm body next to yours, your head on his chest, he'll let your fingers trace over the lines of his tattoos with absolutely no protesting. he's going to do the most for you, and if you didn't know him as well as you do, you'd truly have no idea who was leaving little chocolates and love notes on your pillow, a new book on your bed, your favorite drink stocked up in the fridge, and the fresh flowers on your nightstand everyday. he'll never address it or come out to take credit for it, he'd just do it. the captain will shower you in kisses much more than usual, on your cheek, the top of your head, a small peck on your lips, he's much more affectionate as its the subtle way he expresses his love and worry for you.

when he needs comforting:

-law is not the kind of guy to talk about his problems. a lot of this is because he struggles with verbalizing his feelings, worries, and stresses, but also because he doesn't find any relief in it. you instantly know when the captain needs you by the way he asked for you to meet him in his office. the second the door closes, he's picking you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and holding you so close to him, the faint scent of bourbon vanilla fills your nose as you bury your face into the crook of his neck.

-there's nothing the captain loves more than the feeling of your fingers tangled up in his soft dark raven locks, with your face resting against his chest you can hear the way his heart beat slightly slows fully enjoying the sensation of your touch.

-law finds lots of solace in hearing your voice, it's simply music to his ears. he'll listen to stories about your past or adventures you've been on, rambles about your hobbies, what you did today, anything and everything. he loves the distraction it provides him as well as the comforting ambient noise it provides while he works.

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a/n: soft law my beloved 😭😭😭😭😭 i totally forgot the whole "when you're sick" section of this fic when i first posted it, so i panic wrote that shit so damn fast 💀 it's been a minute since i wrote one of these 😭😭

a/n: enjoyed this fic? here's my masterlist!!

a/n: if you are interested in being added to my taglist: here's a google form!!!

#one piece #one piece fic #one piece x reader #one piece fanfic #one piece headcanons #one piece fluff #one piece trafalgar law #op trafalgar law #trafalgar law #one piece law #op law #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #law x you #law fluff #fluff fic #via's fics

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oscquinn · 3 months ago

Note

Can I request scars of the kissing prompt with William eklund

hi lovely, ofc!! ekky <333

[ scars ] a gentle kiss on the partner's scar(s) from these kiss prompts. part of my mini writing event!

william eklund x fem!reader, rated t. tw for scar talk, but nothing s/h related (surgery & childhood bike accident), soft ekky cause i couldn't imagine him any other way, implied sexual contend & some clothed touching, google translated swedish (sorry). also ekks is a boob guy lol

"how'd you get this one?" you ask in a whisper, tracing over a scar on his shoulder. it's an old one, faded with time, but you still feel the ridge of skin beneath your fingertips.

william lays next to you, the expanse of his body stretched lazily across the mattress. sheets gather around your hips, you're wearing nothing but a loose tee while your boyfriend remains bare from your previous activities.

he just smiles sheepishly, eyes wandering as if he's searching for the words. his accent curls around the syllables as he tells you, "i had to have surgery, when i was fourteen."

you trace the line again, leaning closer to him. your lips follow the line traced by your fingers, covering the scar with gentle kisses. william's sigh falls soft on your ears, his chest rising slightly before deflating, body melting into the bed.

you only pull back once you're satisfied with the kisses you've given him, fingers splaying over his bare stomach. "vacker," he murmurs, voice laced with awe, but you can't stop the giggle that escapes your lips.

"what's it mean?" you ask, tilt your head in curiosity, and go willingly when william pulls you on top of him. "eks," you whine, "c'mon, tell me."

"it means," he murmurs, large hands moving up to cup your breasts through thin, cotton fabric. "beautiful," he explains, voice coming out quiet and breathy. blue eyes stare up in reverence, like he's memorizing your features, like he can't stand to look away. "vacker tjej, beautiful girl. what you are."

god, you get so lost in him.

staring down, watching his eyelashes splay across his soft cheek as he blinks, noting the way his hair's getting long, curling a bit too much at the ends. you cup his jaw, thumb over his lips, then lean down to kiss him.

william's lips travel to your chin, pressing to the white, raised scar there. "and you?" he asks, all warm and curious. "what's the story?"

you sigh, your face still smushed a bit awkwardly against the side of his own. but his kisses keep you there, your brain remembering the pain and sending small, tingling sparks beneath his lips.

"i was six, first time on my bike without training wheels. hit a fallen branch and ate shit on the gravel." you chew at your bottom lip, finally pulling back as he laughs softly as your story.

noticing the glare you give him, william shakes his head. "sorry, i'm sorry," he manages, stifling giggles.

"you're the worst, y'know?" you tease him, crossing your arms over your chest. he pouts like a child who's lost their favorite toy, but you don't give in. "i hated that scar all through school, thought it ruined all my pictures."

"my love," he whines, really, whines, like he can't believe you'd even think that. "i like it, it makes your face special."

"oh, thanks a lot," you bite back, but your resolve is crumbling and a smile is fighting to break through your upset look.

he takes your hands, untangling them from your body, then he tugs you down against him. "vacker, every bit of you. beautiful."

you can't protest anymore, melting into his warm embrace.

#william eklund x reader #william eklund fluff #william eklund blurb #william eklund imagine #we72 x reader #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #maggie's musings [blurbs]#we72

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fuzzythoughtsblog · 1 year ago

Text

CnC rating:

🕊

I've been craving some Alpha/Omega play which has caused me to be thinking about how much I want to be coerced into letting an Alpha "help" with my heat after I've pushed everyone who's tried away. Which lead to this fantasy :

Like always in this fantasy I'm in a program for disobedient wayward omegas. However this time Im having a persistent heat, one that I can't shake by myself. And despite the programs efforts, they can't manage to find a Alpha that can subdue me long enough to take me in my feral and fearful state. To add to the mess none of the tranquilizers they've been feeding me has calmed me down.

Due to the failed efforts the people of the program are starting to lose hope in taming me. That is until a college graduate and prodigy who majored in Omega psychology and physiology volunteers to help. The female Alpha read a paper on my case and had been intrigued.

She goes to the program and asked the doctors how I've managed to fight off all the other Alphas.

"She's cunning for Omega pretending to submit with a kiss only to bite their tongues, busting a light bulb above a Alpha suitors heads and scratching through the cuffs of the breeding bench. "

"Hmm I like her. How long has she been in heat?"

"She's been in heat on and off for about 4 months but it's usually only for 3 days at a time. This is the first time she's been in this state for a more than a week, 2 weeks in fact. "

"Aww poor baby! Her body knows what she needs. *sigh* Poor stupid omega trying to think with her brain. Turn on the air condition, get me soft blankets, pillows, plushies, and t-shirts, her favorite snacks and drinks, lots of water bottles and condoms. Despite how satisfy it would be to breed her body needs to balance out after we get her off her heat. "

The doctor agrees and with in minutes she's outside my door with a wagon load of stuff. I imagine I can smell her through the door causing me to already be on high alert before she walks in. As the door creeks open and she rolles the stuff in I sink further back into the corner. She then closes the door before turning to me.

"Hi Angel."

At her words I begin to take a defensive stance.

"Uh uh none of that Omega, now I've brought you some things."

I slightly peer over at this statement.

"Things for your nest. "

Slowly I scoot a little from the corner and look at her confused.

"I know sweetheart, the program has a misconception of you. They say only good girls get to make their nest. But you my angel are a good girl. "

I shutter at the praise that washes over me. Still I don't move from the spot I've settled myself in.

"*sigh* it's ok Omega here. " she says as she begins to throw the blankets, pillows and plushies cautiously over to me. "See you don't have to move yet. "

Slowly while keeping my eyes on her I gather the blankets pillows and plushies.

"Go ahead baby, I'm not going to touch you while you make your nest."

I continue to look at her before slowly switching working on my nest and looking at her. However soon I'm consumed by the process. This blanket is the based, these the walls, the plushies go here and the pillows lines the blank walls and... I stop as I pick up a T-shirt smothered in her scent. Slowly while checking to make sure she's not paying attention as she scrolls through her phone I take the shirt. And put it up to my nose letting out a quiet moan as I take in her scent. I look back at her to check again. She's still scrolling. I quietly begin to look for more t-shirts finding 2 no 3 and then the holy grail a T-shirt stained with her cum. I whine at the sight before looking over to her only to find her eyes starring back at mine. Her eye's making the heat in my stomach burn hotter.

"Aww did you like your present Angel. It's all for you, in fact I have more presents, you must be so hungry Omega after all the doctors said you've been laying there curled in a ball for hours just touching yourself. " she says while pulling out some snacks and drinks.

Setting them in the middle of the room, still closer to her than before.

I try to convince my self I'm not interested, that it's all a trap but she's right I am hungry. With such precautions I step closer to her and the food closer and closer. Before grabbing a bag of gummies and a bottle of lemonade and bolting back to the safety of my nest.

"Good Omega, eat. "

I look away as I tear into the bag and take the occasional chug of lemonade.

"Good Omega, such a good girl. Look at my pretty Omega in her pretty nest the best one by far. "

I begin to feel a twinge of pride at her words. The praise getting to me starts to go lower. As I feel a little slick run down my leg the scent meeting the air causing the alpha to take a deep breath in. To my dismay I begin to glare at her once more.

"Now Omega stop that. We both know what you need and it's not more food it's this " she says as she pulls her leggings down letting her cock flop out.

Again I start to back up.

"Now now angel I'm not going to force it. "

I look at her eyes full of doubt.

"Truly I'm not, but then again I don't have too. You know how good of a mate I am. Deep down you know, I can take care of you. " she says taking steady steps toward my nest

"I can give you everything thing you need, food, shelter what ever you need... Pups. "

I let out a long whine at the statement. As she approaches me closer.

"That was a good response Omega, is that what you want? My pups inside of you. Oh you'd look even more beautiful. "

I begin to close my eyes and hold my hand over my leaking pussy as she kneels down to my level.

"I know it's hard to say it baby. But I already know. " she says before gentle grabbing my chin making me look up at her "I know what your body needs. "

I begin to shake my head no as she leans in a kisses me letting out a deep moan as she does. As the kiss continues she deepens it sticking her tongue in my mouth before moving her hands down to my nipples. Only breaking the kiss when she's fully on top of me.

"Delicious, sweet but sour like Kiwis and lemons. "

I can't even begin to push her off as I'm left panting from the kiss.

"I wonder if your whole body tastes like that. " she says as she leans down and leaves dark hickeys on my chest moving further down to my nipples her mouth only adding to the heat in my stomach as I double over with pain. Looking up at her for help.

"Ssh I know baby I can help you. " she says slightly pulling away from me allow her room for her hands to trail down to my unclothed cunt.

I gasp and bite my lip as her fingers lightly ghost over my already sensitive clit.

"Aww look at my girl, her clit is swollen all ready. Did you play with it that much?" She teases still moving her fingers.

"The doctors told me you didn't use any of the penetration toys they left for you, are you scared of it? The stretch? "

After a minute of her waiting patiently i slowly nod.

"It's okay angel your body can take it it's what it's for." She says rubbing her fingers up and down my slit as I try to squirm away to no use.

How did I let this happen I think to myself. Especially as she starts to sink a finger inside of me.

"See it went in with ease. " she proves by fucking her finger in and out.

Watching intently as she moves her finger in and out. After a while she puts her mouth to my clit make me squirm. Distracting me as she sinks two more fingers in.

"See sweetheart, you take it like a champ. Such a good Omega"

She begins to set a fast pace fucking her fingers into me with earnest. Stretching and kissing my cunt in the process

"Such a good fucking girl! " she says as she herself becomes more and more undone. "So fucking wet for my knot. Practically begging for it! "

She says before pulling her fingers out and lining up. As tears of fear run down my face.

"It's ok, shhhh, your good." She whispers in my ear as she sinks inside me.

I let out I whine as she just keeps going, when am I going to hit the base?

She groans "So fucking tight, warm and tight! "

Then finally our hips met. As tears continue to drip down my cheeks.

"See dumb little Omega, you took it so well."

I continue to sob as she runs her fingers through my hair before pulling out and slamming back in to my dismay.

"Ssh it's okay I'm gonna mold this pretty cunt to the shape of my cock and your going to lay there and take it like a good girl. "She whispers as she sets a brutal pace for my already heat wrecked little body.

Causing me to whine and gasp with each thrust. However, despite my original dismay the original pain from my heat starts to evaporate with every pound. I breathe a sigh of relief until my Alpha - no the Alpha reaches down and plays with my clit causing me to scream more.

"That's it baby make some noises for me. Fuck you get even. Fucking. Tighter. I have to keep you! " she announces as she leans down towards my neck.

Causing me to flinch away and whine.

"No baby, this is happening! I'm going to claim you and your sweet body and your going to lay there and milk my knot! " she states grabbing my hair to give her better access to my neck.

All while continuing to pound and rub as she attempts to make me ready for her knot.

"Good stubborn girls like you need structures, an Alpha. And I'll be that little Omega. I'll give you everything that you need discipline, pleasure, punishment, protection, pups and most importantly I'll love you! " she says so sweetly before sinking her teeth in and shoving her knot in as I moan.

Pleasure and satisfaction begins to wash through me as I feel her cock leak into me - no a condom. I let out a displeased sound at the realization.

She laughs "I know baby, don't worry I'm going to breed that cunt nice and full when the doctors clear you. "

I groan but accept her words as she our bond knot still locking us together. I purr as she runs her hands through my hair. Hearing the door open but paying no mind as this Spacey pleasure continues to flood my mind.

"Ah doctors, nice timing. Did you enjoy the show? Anyway my mate needs actual food before I take her home with me. " I vaguely hear the Alpha state before the door closes.

I continue to live in the pleasure that is till the knot goes down and my Alpha tries to pull out. I whine and grab at her.

"So needy, good Omega let go allow me to give you everything." She says before getting me in position to be taken again.

#wlw nsft #wlw ns/fw #sapphic ns/fw #lesbian ns/fw #lesbian smut #sapphic nsft #lesbian nsft #wlw noncon #wlw blog #sapphic cnc #cnc wlw #queer cnc #wlw a/b/o #wlw omegaverse

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antonsbf · 2 months ago

Text

Unspoken

chapter 2- once more to see you

⤷ summary: a slow-burn, emotional story about childhood friends torn apart by time and dreams—only to meet again years later as rising stars in the spotlight. Between secrets, past feelings, and second chances, they learn that some things never really fade.

⤷ pairing: idol/actor!ni-ki x actor!male reader

⤷ wc: 1.5k

⤷ warnings: heavy angst! slow-burn! secret feelings! yearning male reader! childhood friends!

⤷ read chapter 1 read chapter 3

"it's not like i'm going to disappear. we'll still talk. i'll be back soon enough, i promise."

that had been the promise he swore he wouldn’t break. the one i clung to long after he turned and walked away that night by the creek. even when other words were spoken, and even after time pulled us apart, it was that single vow that stayed with me—the last real thing i had to hold onto.

he had been the person i grew up with. the one who had always been there, even when nothing needed to be said. the one who made me laugh through the rough patches and somehow always knew exactly how to push my buttons when i needed it. the one who, without even trying, felt like home.

and maybe that’s why it hurt so much—because even when everything else faded, that promise never did. not for me.

✦ ✦ ✦

five years later. five years and ni-ki had become a memory i tried not to touch too often.

life had a way of moving on even when you didn’t want it to. and somehow, without meaning to, i learned how to live with the space he left behind.

at first, it was little things, his contact slipping lower and lower down my favorites list. the empty spot beside me at the creek the summer after he left. the inside jokes that stopped making sense because no one else was there to laugh with me. the days where i'd reach for my phone without thinking, fingers hovering over his name, only to pull back and pretend it didn’t sting.

then bigger things, the day i realized i didn’t know what song he was obsessed with anymore. or whether he still cracked his knuckles when he was nervous. or if he even thought about me at all. whether he still missed the way our hometown smelled after it rained, or if he remembered the way we used to sneak out just to sit under the stars and talk about stupid dreams.

he had been chasing a dream, and i-i had been left behind trying to figure out what mine even was.

sometimes, when it got really quiet, i could almost imagine he was still here. that if i closed my eyes long enough, i could hear his laugh from down the hall. feel the familiar thud of his sneakers against the wooden porch steps. catch the scent of fresh grass and summer sweat and the cheap cologne he used to over-spray before every "big moment" in his life.

sometimes, i hated how easily i could still conjure him.

✦ ✦ ✦

acting wasn’t something i’d planned. it wasn’t like i woke up one morning and thought, hey, i want to be a bl actor.

it just... happened.

a friend dragged me to an open audition when i was nineteen. "you've got the face for it," they'd joked, shoving a script into my hand. i didn’t even take it seriously at first—just read the lines, half-laughing, not thinking anyone was actually paying attention.

but someone had been. someone saw something i didn’t even know i was showing.

the first role was small. background. hardly more than a name in the credits. but it led to another. and another. and suddenly, somehow, i was y/n, rising bl actor with a growing fanbase and a face that people started recognizing on the street.

funny how that worked. when i was a kid, i used to think the only way to matter was to stay next to ni-ki. now people screamed my name at fan meetings, shoved letters into my hands, told me i saved them without even knowing it.

i smiled through it all. smiled for the cameras. smiled for the fans. smiled for the interviews where they asked me about "first loves" and "inspirations" and i lied through my teeth because the real answer was someone who hadn’t even seen me become this person.

and yet... none of it ever really filled the space he left.

there were nights i would come home after a long shoot, collapse onto my bed, and stare at the ceiling, feeling like a stranger in my own life. nights where the applause felt deafening but the silence afterward was worse. nights where i wondered if he would even recognize me now.

✦ ✦ ✦

i wasn’t bitter. at least, that’s what i told myself. bitterness was too ugly of a word. i was just... realistic now. ni-ki was never coming back to the life we had. not really. fame changes people. time changes people. and maybe the worst part was that he wasn’t the villain. he hadn’t broken his promise on purpose. life just... pulled him too far away for promises to keep.

and me? i survived.

i built a life out of auditions and scripts and interviews where i smiled too brightly and told polished stories about my dreams. i learned how to cry on cue, how to fake laughter, how to pretend a love story was real when the cameras were rolling and forget it the moment they cut.

i was good at pretending. maybe too good.

✦ ✦ ✦

when my manager handed me the new script, i didn’t think much of it. another bl drama. another love story. another faceless co-star to pretend to fall for.

i flipped through the pages on the ride home, half-distracted, until i hit the name. the stage name at the top of the character list. a name i hadn’t heard in too long. but one that felt like it had been carved into my ribs.

nishimura riki. his real name. not a character. not a role. him.

at first, i thought i was hallucinating. or maybe someone else just had the same name. but a quick search confirmed it: ni-ki. idol turned rising actor. making his debut in the very same project i’d just signed onto. of all the projects. of all the people. of all the times.

life had a funny way of laughing at you when you thought you’d finally moved on.

✦ ✦ ✦

the first day of rehearsals felt like waiting for a storm you knew was coming.

i spent the morning getting my makeup done, my hair styled, my outfit prepped. i laughed when the staff joked. smiled for behind-the-scenes cameras. played the part of "friendly, easygoing y/n" so well i almost believed myself.

but under it all, my hands wouldn’t stop twitching. my heart wouldn’t stop pounding. i told myself it didn’t matter. that it had been five years. that he probably barely remembered me.

but when the director finally called for rehearsal and i turned around there he was.

ni-ki.

older now. taller. still awkward in the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot. still ni-ki in the way his mouth tilted into a half-smile the second he saw me.

he looked like someone i used to know and someone i hadn’t met yet, all at once. familiar and foreign and terrifying. and all at once, it hit me like a punch to the chest: all the years i spent trying to forget, trying to move on, trying to survive, none of it worked. because the second our eyes met, it was like no time had passed at all.

✦ ✦ ✦

"hey," he said, voice deeper than i remembered.

i swallowed hard. my mouth opened, but no words came out.

there were a thousand things i could have said. "you left." "you broke your promise." "i missed you." "i hate you for not missing me back."

but all that came out was, "...hey."

the director called us over before either of us could say anything else. we fumbled through the first rehearsal, stiff and awkward. the kind of awkward that had nothing to do with inexperience and everything to do with all the things between us left unspoken.

when the scene ended, ni-ki glanced at me. his mouth opened like he was going to say something.

but the staff swarmed us with notes and touch-ups and schedules before he could.

and maybe that was a mercy.

because i wasn’t sure if i was ready to hear whatever he had to say. or worse, what he wouldn’t.

✦ ✦ ✦

later, as i sat alone in the makeup room, wiping off the fake sweat from a fake emotional scene, i caught sight of myself in the mirror. i looked the same as always. polished. put together. exactly the way the world expected me to be.

but inside, i was thirteen again, knees scraped from climbing trees, laughing until i couldn't breathe while ni-ki teased me about losing another race. i was seventeen again, heart pounding too fast when we held hands under the summer stars. i was eighteen again, standing by the airport window, watching the boy i loved walk away, too scared to ask him to stay.

time was supposed to heal things. wasn’t it?

so why did it feel like the wound had just been ripped wide open all over again?

i leaned forward, resting my forehead against the mirror, letting the cool glass soak up the warmth of my skin. i told myself to breathe. to be patient. to remember that this was just another scene. just another project. just another co-star.

but no matter how much i lied to myself, the truth was simple.

he was here.

he was real again.

✦ ✦ ✦

taglist: @kaiyunsim @deliousberry @arequiem4u @yourmaple17 <33 (leave a comment to be added for future chapters)

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soobinologisttt · 1 year ago

Text

playing with fire - yang jungwon

pairing ☆ jungwon x f. reader

warnings ☆ dom!jungwon, (im a sucker for doms), sub!reader, cunnilingus, cheating (reader and reader's exbf), in exbf's bed (lolol), praise (!!!), jungwon is a sweetheart, ft. ryujin of itzy and jaemin of nct

word count ☆ 4k

a/n: summer break !!! i can finally post more :) i am taking summer courses which sucks tho :(

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

usually, you love a good party. the drinks, the way drunk girls unite while in line for the bathroom. it became one of your favorite things about college.

but it wasn't always this way.

during your first year, you absolutely despised parties. opting out to curl up with a good book or tv show.

it was your second year when you found your love for parties.

your roommates begged you to go to a "beginning of the school year" party. then they dressed you like you were their doll.

3 shots later, you were all ready to go. (you wanted to pregame in fear of getting spiked at the party)

when you saw yourself in the mirror, you could not see the nerdy girl underneath.

short black skirt, tight white corset, boots that gave you at least two inches of height, and smoky makeup up with lashes.

your breast sat pretty, your ass was basically out, and your hair was straightened. straying away from the normal curls.

this was way out of your comfort zone but you liked it. feeling, for once in your life, hot.

of course, once you were actually at the party the confidence you had dissipated. you felt self-conscious, as you stood in the corner of the room.

you watched as people danced with friends, boyfriends, girlfriends, sneaky links. seeing them dance so openly and freely made you feel like an imposter.

you looked down into your red cup full of sprite. it wasn't even halfway finished.

you frowned as you looked back up. scanning the room for your roomates, you saw them having a good time.

sipping drinks and flirting with a group of guys that you've never seen.

that's when a pair of eyes found yours.

your eyes met his dark eyes and you felt your heart flutter.

your eyes dart to the floor in a panic as your cheeks heated up.

you never had gotten attention from boys, especially guys that were as hot as him.

he was tall, a good 5'10, lean, pretty face, dark eyes, jet black hair that looked soft to the touch and full lips that curve up into a cupids bow.

you could only imagine how they would feel.

you pulled yourself out of your thoughts and raced to pull out your phone.

focusing intently on your phone, you pull up your shared groupchat and start to type.

you only got to third word when you saw a body enter your eye sight.

you looked up to see who it is and it's the guy that was staring at you.

your heart was beating out of your chest. you've only ever read about guys this beautiful. but now you were in the presence of one.

you were awestruck like you just saw god.

he was dressed in the most basic fit, a backwards hat, a white tee, black adidias pants with stripes, and a white pair of adidas.

"hey, i've never seen you hear before." he gave you the most gut churning smile.

his long dimples catched your eyes like a moth to a flame.

"yeah, my roommate dragged me here and then disappeared." you bit your bottom lip.

"well, i can keep you company for the time being," he took your empty hand into his, leading you to the kitchen.

"what are we doing?" you question as you see where he is leading you.

"to get a drink." he smiled.

"what's your name?" you asked as he pulls you along.

"i'm na jaemin," he smirked.

that's when you knew you were in deep shit.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

now, your stood across the room from him just like how it started. glaring at him as if you were a hunter stalking its prey.

you know he feels your gaze. choosing to ignore it instead for some girl. the girl being one of your ex-roommates. the same one that brought you to a party in the first place.

you weren't surprised at this revelation. you knew she was known for being a homewrecker.

even going as far as sleeping with a professor. leading to his divorce with his wife.

so when you found the sext's between your boyfriend and ex-roommate, you didn't even flinch. she's known for this.

but, jaemin doesn't know that you know. all day you've been going around like everything is okay between you two.

just like is started, you plan to end it that way too.

he wants to play, you can play too.

while dressing up, you made sure to put on something that would turn heads.

dressing yourself in a tiny black skirt, red corset, and your favorite black heeled boots.

wearing the most dramatic makeup, a smokey red look with eyeliner that could cut.

nevertheless he doesn't even give you a second look. instead his focus is on the girl in front of him. looking her up and down while smirking.

you feel your face get hot, the anger has you crushing the red cup in your hand. nearing spilling all of you're sprite and vodka.

your hands releases before anything can spill.

instead you take a big gulp, nearly draining your cup.

you continue watching as the alcohol runs down, basking in the feeling of the warm substance reaching your stomach.

the feeling calms you. taking your mind away from the breaking heart in your chest.

you close your eyes and take a deep breath. containing the tears that you've been holding back.

when you open your eyes, you see him flashing his gummy smile at the women in front of him.

you are so over it. you are so ready to go over there and talk your shit.

not only to him, but to her too.

just as you were getting ready to stalk towards them, you feel a pair of hands on your waist.

you yelp as you jump to turn around.

"oh i didn't mean to scare you," your best friend, ryujin apologizes.

"it's okay," you turn back around as you feel your eyes start to water.

she quickly follows your gaze to where your almost ex-boyfriend is flirting with your ex-roommate.

she knows everything. as soon as your found out, she was there. threatening to cut his dick off and shove it down his throat.

at the time that made you laugh, but now it makes you want to cry. you wish she could do it without getting charged, but unfortunately that is frowned upon.

you put your head down to shield the forming tears from your best friend.

"forget about him," she makes her way to your front.

"i am trying," you pull your head up to look her in the eyes.

her hands make their way to your shoulders, shaking you lightly.

when you see her soften smile, you nearly break down.

"we are going to dance." she pulls you into a hug before pulling back and grabbing your wrist.

you hurry to gulp down your drink as she pulls you along.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

you end up between ryujin and a random guy.

your back is to him as you scan the room to find your cheating boyfriend.

you didn't realize how close you were until he leans over you and whispers into your ear.

"what are you looking at?" he follows your eyes to were you have been looking, "you've been staring over there all night."

you roll your eyes, "my boyfriend is cheating on me with my ex roommate."

you turn around to face him, faced with on of the most beautiful boys you have ever seen.

you thought the same about jaemin, but this guy topped him by a lot.

as tall (maybe taller) than jaemin, wide cat light eyes, that gleamed.

you couldn't help but notice how pretty his eyes are. a dark chocolate color that has you buckling at the knees just looking at them.

you immediately freeze, face turning red for the second time tonight.

"i'm sorry for throwing that all on you,"

"no, it's okay. i'm jungwon," he greets you.

that name sounds so familiar but you can't put your finger on it. you crinkle your face as you attempt to recall.

"jungwon... i know that name from somewhere,"

"we had a project together last year. over the pros of solar power." he tilts his head slightly and smiles, his dimple on full display.

his smile caused the butterfiles to unleash from their cage in your chest. you attempt to lock them back up, but instead they make their way down to your cunt.

you slightly rub your thighs together as you feel your underwear dampen.

"oh yeah," you smile back.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

during the night, you dance with ryujin and jungwon. even going as far as to grind on the both of them.

hoping to get a reaction for your cheating boyfriend but instead getting the attention of his friends. glaring at you like you were in the wrong.

you couldn't care less, flipping them off multiple times as you grind your ass on the two people surrounding you.

as the night goes on you start to forget about jaemin. enjoying your time with jungwon and ryunjin, laughing and dancing to the music.

sometime around 1am, ryujin excuses you and her to go to the bathroom.

while standing in line you catch a glimpse of jaemin leaving his room with your ex-roommate, attempting to hide her behind him.

"where have you been all night?" he questions accusingly, as the girl sneaks past you both.

"i don't know, where have you been all night?" you scolf, crossing your arms.

"looking for you," he rolls his eyes.

"i was so easy to spot, ask your friends," you smirk, "or maybe ask your little fuck buddy," you nearly laugh.

"what?" jaemin squints his eyes are he plays dumb.

"oh you thought you were being sneaky?" you laugh this time, "might want to tell her that, she has been eyeing me the whole night. i think she wants me next. too bad i don't want your sloppy seconds." you wink.

you watch as his face turns a deep red. making you want to laugh even more. as he opens his mouth to respond, you hear the bathroom door open.

it is your turn for the bathroom.

"come on y/n," ryujin pulls you into the bathroom with her before you could finish going off on him.

"thank you," you hug her.

you probably would of pushed him down the flight of stairs next to you guys if she didn't pull you into the bathroom.

"no problem," she smiles at you as she pulls back.

after you both pee, you decide to go to check jaemin's room. sepecting that they were fucking while you were dancing.

you know that is it going to hurt you but you just need to prove it. your noisy personailty getting ahold of you.

when you both exit the bathroom, you top her. stepping off the side so the line can keep going.

"you can go down first," you tell her, "i have something i have to do." you nod to the room jaemin and his mistress came out of.

"okay, call me if you need me," she smiles, "the offer still stands, i can cut it off and stick it down her month instead."

you shake your head with a chuckle.

"i need you out of jail, who else is gonna threaten people for me."

she rolls her eyes, "fine, well text me. i'll be downstairs."

you give her a tiny nod before turning to walk down the dark hall.

when you get closer to jaemin's room, you see jungwon enter it.

you feel your stomach flip.

"why is he in there?" you question.

you conutine to stalk towards the room and with one step at a time, you feel your heart drop.

by the time you open the door, your heart is in your stomach.

the light on jaemin's desk is the only light on in the room. casting a orangish yellow color within the room.

"what are you doing in here?" you ask the boy that is leaning on jaemin's desk. the very same desk that you do homework on. or atleast did.

you shake the thought out of your head.

"waiting for you," jungwon smiles.

"how did you know i was.... you know what nevermind, can you help?"

"sure, what do you need me to do?"

you look down at your shoes that are killing your feet.

"i'm looking for anything that proves that they were.. having sex." you wince at the heartbreaking thought.

he quickly moves to look around the bed as you rummage through jaemin's drawers.

knowing him, you thought he would hide it somewhere.

just like how he hide his secret side piece.

"like this?"

you turn around in a flash and to see jungwon holding the evidence.

a ripped condom packet.

you feel the tears form.

"fuck." you quickly wipe the few tears that are rolling down your cheeks.

he looks at you with pure eyes. watching as you wipe your tears.

he starts to walk towards you, "y/n, you know that he -"

he stops as you dash to the bathroom, feeling bile rise from your stomach.

you dry heave into the trash, only to find the final conformation that he indeed slept with her.

the condom, lazily tied and tossed for the world to see.

you feel your world crash down around you. you back up to the wall behind you. sliding down it as the tears slide down your face.

"he doesn't deserve you, y/n." jungwon sits down next to you.

"i know, jungwon. but it still hurts," you pull your knees to your chest and put your head on them.

jungwon takes this chance to move in front of you. pulling your head up to look into your eyes.

his brown eyes matching his dark brown hair, both glimmering in the bathroom light.

"can i take your mind off of it?" he wipes your tears.

"how?" you search his eyes for a clue to why he is being so nice to you.

"like this," he leans foward and smashes his lips onto yours.

you kiss back, feeling his warm lips against yours. not in lust but in want, need, yearning.

placing his hands on your cheeks he pulls you into a deeper kiss.

he pushes his tongue lightly against your lips. asking for entrance. you slightly part your lips and he pushes his tongue in.

he tastes like cranberry, probably from the cranberry vodka he was drinking.

you moan at the taste, sending a shock to your now aching cunt.

you took this time to push your tongue into his mouth, exploring it, memorizing, and craving more of it.

you don't even know how long you have been kissing when he pulls back.

you could care less as he rest his forehead on yours.

"fuck, you have no idea how long i've wanted to do that." his dimples reval themselves as he smiles..

"really?" you look down at your shoes.

"yes," brings his pointer fingers to your chin and lifts up your head.

"jungwon?" you question as your eyes flicker from one eye to the other.

"yes gorgeous?"

"can we get off the floor? my heels are hurting my feet." you chuckle.

"oh yeah," he moves quickly to get up.

once he is on his two feet, he holds out his hand to help you up.

thinking that he is just gonna help you up, you take it. but instead you end up around him.

legs circling him and arms incasing his neck.

your faces are inches apart when he utters.

"is this okay?" jungwon asks, pulling his face back a little to watch you answer.

you feel youself blush at the way his breath tickled your lips.

"yes, this is okay." you smile up at him.

he takes this as a okay to walk you out of thr bathroom. sitting you on jaemin's desk, he quickly makes his way to look the door.

"if you want to stop at any time, tell me okay?" he states as he takes big strides towards you.

you nod with a little smile. already feeling a little daze from the way he is talking to you.

"baby, use your words. i need to know that you understand," he reaches you and pulls you to the edge of the desk. pulling you closer to him.

"i understand jungwon," as soon as the words left your mouth, he lunges at your neck. soft lips leaving a trail of soft kissed and love bites.

"atta girl." jungwon praises you.

you feel the ache between your thighs worsen as he speaks.

"if i was your man, i would treat you better." he mutters on your neck.

"jungwon," you moan as he places one hand on your waist and the other on your left tit. pulling roughly on your corset, letting your breasts out of the tight garment.

"you like that? my hands all over you in his bedroom?" jungwon teases.

"mhm, i like it so much," you throw your head back in bliss.

his fingers pinch and squeezes your nipple making you jump and whimper.

"fuck y/n, you're so amazing." he grunts.

you close your thighs around jungwon, core aching in need as he continues talking.

"i would make you so happy y/n," jungwon starts, "baby, you would never feel the way he makes you feel,"

he brings his hand down from your tit to your clit. outlining the little bead as you arch into his hand.

you throw you head back, making it easier for him to have access to your neck.

he sucks roughly at your soft spot.

between the feeling of his lips on you and the noises that are filling the room, you could no longer hold back.

"fuck, jungwon." you moan loudly.

"you're so perfect y/n." he groans.

your fingers claw at his clothed back, wanting more.

"can i leave a mark?" he asks against your neck.

you nod as he starts to suck and nip at your skin savagely.

the sensation of his lips against your neck and his fingers circling you clit but not touching, you feel like you were going to combust of need.

"jungwon," you try to move your neck.

but, he doesn't let you move instead he places the hand from you waist on the back of your neck.

"please, please," you grind into his finger, finally getting it to touch your clit.

you roll your eyes in pleassure.

"what do you need baby?" he mumbles against your neck.

"i need you."

he pulls back and brings his hand from your clit to your chin. admirring his work before looking into your eyes.

"are you sure?" his bright brown eyes look at your wereily.

"please, i really want this," you smash your lips onto his.

you feel his arms embrace you before picking you up and making way to jaemin's bed.

you know this is wrong but you couldn't care less. jaemin cheated on you... and you want this.

jungwon lays you on your back on the edge of jaemin's bed.

"god, you're so gorgeous," he pulls back to look at you.

you blush and shy away, turning your head.

he pulls your head back to look at him.

"you don't have to cover up for me," he smiles at you.

"okay," you look into his big brown eyes.

he makes his hands down to your skirt.

"can i leave it on?"

fuck.

"yes," you whine.

he moves to his knees and kisses up your thighs to your underwear.

you gasp as jungwon's teeth latch onto the thin fabic of your underwear. you sit up on your elbows to watch him drag them off of you with his teeth.

you can feel the smooth surface of his teeth as he slowly drags them against your skin.

his hands are on the side of both of your thighs as he looks up at you with dark, lustful eyes.

once your underwear are past your thighs, jungwon finishes pulling them down quickly.

"lay just like that baby." jungwon mumbles as he lightly pushes you back down.

when you're back down, he starts to kiss up your thighs.

his hands return to the side of you as he continues to kiss up your thighs slowly until he makes it to your stomach.

"you're so pretty," he growls onto your stomach.

"jungwon, please." you arch.

he slides his right hand up your thigh to your wet heat.

you shudder at the feeling, feeling the sensation of your pulsating cunt.

the soft tips of his fingers prodding at your entrance.

"please what?" he smirks against your stomach.

"touch me," you moan as he slides his finger in.

"that's all you had to say y/n," he slides back onto his knees.

before you could even think of something to say, his mouth connects with your clit. sucking harshly as you whimper.

"fuck jungwon," he slides another finger into your wet pussy.

fingers pumping into you as he sucks on your numb clit.

"jungwon," you heave as he speads up his pace.

his tongue swirls around your clit as he continues to finger you.

"i am going to cum," you moan, "please keep going, just like that." you run your hands through his hair.

he doesn't stop as you grip his hair tightly.

you start to feel that build up of pleasure that jaemin could never bring to you.

"fuck, i am so so so close,"

jungwon moans against your clit and you break.

arching you back as you chant his name.

he slows down his motions and lifts off of you, quickly coming up to check on you.

"are you okay?" jungwon smiles with his red lips and puffy lips.

"yes, i am more than okay." you smile at him in a daze, "this is the first time in awhile that a guy has made me cum." you blush.

"glad i could help," he smiles again before going down to pick up your underwear.

"what are you doing?" you sit up on your elbows.

"dressing you. i don't want your roommate to worry." he helps you to pull up your underwear.

"she'll be okay," you smile as he stands.

"i want it to be special." he looks down at you.

"what?" you look back up at him.

"I want my first time with you to be special." he explains.

"why?"

"because, this is something i've been dreaming about. i do not want it to be in the same room that you're cheating ex lives in. you deserve so much better." he pulls you up and looks into your eyes.

you blush as you look down at the floor.

"is that okay with you?" jungwon brings his hand to your chin and guides it so that you are looking at him.

his eyes as wide as a full moon. glaring at you with a sparkle that has you wanting to drop to your knees.

"yes," you kiss him, jungwon kissing you back with more passion than you thought a human could ever have.

he pulls back after about a minute, "let's get you home."

you nod as he grabs your hand and leads you to the door.

as soon as you open it, your ex is standing there.

"what the fuck are you doing with my girlfriend?" he nearly screams.

"doing what you couldn't," jungwon smiles innocently, "making her cum."

you chuckle as jungwon pulls you though the party.

eyes are all on you both but you couldn't care less. for the first time in a long time you feel wanted. cherished.

you look around for your bestfriend but don't see her. pulling out your phone you see her text.

i went home, text me (jungwon texted me ;))

"i can drive you home." he says as you both step out into the cold.

"i would love that," you smile up at him from his right side.

"alright," he slings his arm around you and kisses your forehead, "let's go."

#jungwon x reader #jungwon imagines #jungwon fluff #jungwon smut #jungwon hard hours #yang jungwon #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #enhypen smut

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takami-takami · 2 years ago

Text

Like Animals.

kinktober day 4: sex pollen.

includes— hawks x reader. minors dni. smut

warnings— afab!reader. dubcon (sex pollen/heats, but both have been pining like idiots). breeding if you squint.

keigo's beloved crush sidekick gets hit with the unluckiest quirk possible. he quickly discovers his rut suppressants ain't shit.

Through all the horrors and adverse life events Keigo has endured in this line of work— brutal near-assassinations, negotiations with international crime syndicates, purchasing sugar-free canned coffee with Splenda substitute by mistake before his morning shift— he has always been able to find a silver lining in the darkest of moments.

Which makes it infinitely more concerning that for the first time in his life, he nearly whines through his teeth the words, "why me?"

A palm drags once down his face, thumb and index finger pulling down his darkened eye bags. His hand collects the beads of sweat and stops to rest over his mouth.

He supposes this must be his penance for taking a risk and trusting faulty intel.

Keigo's informant told him the villain he and his darling sidekick were meeting would have a limited-ranged fire quirk, so the diligent hero stuffed ointment and cold packs in his pockets before leaving just in case.

If he had known the villain was a plant heteromorph and possessed a heat-inducing mist quirk instead, and that the person he was hopelessly in love with had a bit of a crush on would be caught in the direct line of fire?

He would have brought a paper bag to hyperventilate into instead. And some prayer beads. The god to which the prayer is delivered doesn't necessarily matter, he thinks. He'd simply pick one and drop to his knees in a bid for mercy.

"I'm taking you to a medic," Keigo puts his foot down for the fourth time this evening.

"Fuck no," you groan from the couch, shifting to squeeze your thighs together. It offers not even a modicum of relief from the incessant throb. "Do you want my cause of death to be humiliation? Is that your plan, genius? 'S bad enough as it is that you're here."

The subtext is unspoken, but clear to him through your adorable pout: I only trust you to see me like this.

It's unlucky that the man you've had the most innapropriate-for-work crush on for the better part of two years happened to be the one beside you that day. And it's just your sorry luck, you lament, that Keigo would also be the one to catch you, to fly you home cradled in his painfully capable arms, to refuse to leave your side and insist on making his favorite chicken soup for you in a desperate flail of support.

He'd respect your decision and leave, should you ask him to. You know that. And yet the humbling truth gnaws at your pride: doing so wouldn't do much to save your image at this point. He’s already seen you like this, you grumble. The proverbial cat has long since escaped the bag, waltzing its way over to rub its purring body against Keigo’s leg to your abject horror.

If you close your eyes, you can attempt to trick your brain into thinking this affliction is a flu of some kind.

Yes, this is just some common cold. You're wearing nothing but your work partner's shirt (your clothes were contaminated by the quirk's dust, Keigo explained, speaking in that strict work mode voice that makes you picture your mouth stuffed and drooling somewhere beneath his desk and between his spread legs). You pull the damned fabric down over your core as you try your hardest to not writhe in fits of pleasure underneath the blankets, rubbing your thighs together for any friction against your swollen clit.

All symptoms of an affliction of the flu, of course.

You don't need to reach down and touch to know the slick would string those thighs together, should you attempt to pull them apart.

Keigo knows that, too. But he doesn't say anything about it.

You would be mortified if you were aware of the truth.

That he knows everything.

Keigo knows exactly how you ache; like you're constantly on the precipice of an orgasm, perpetually ablaze from the heavy heat scorching your body from its surface to the boiling core.

You try to suppress your glee as he spoon feeds you the broth, reminding yourself that this is just what good friends do for each other.

Friends coo praises at each other when they swallow, friends tilt each other's chins up with one finger and mutter things like that’s a good dove and you can take another as they watch their throat bob in tandem.

Friends shiver from their wingtips down their spine when they pull the spoon back. They let their gaze linger for just a second on those lips that open wide, aching to touch with their own.

Ever the gentleman, Keigo stays lowered to his haunches and places one hand over your forehead to check for a fever, redirecting his focus toward taking inventory of your vitals. He doesn't wince when he hears your moan at the contact, even though the pitiful sound pings at his weak points. His avian instincts remind him he needs to protect you, please you, take care of you; to make it go away, to fix that feeling he knows better than anyone is aching like a bruise between your thighs.

He doesn't allow his eyes to wander astray or trail their way downwards, especially when you're in such a vulnerable state; but his professional assessment is that if he could only wet his appetite, the flat of his tongue alone could—

He shakes his head and blows a puff to cool the soup, raising another spoonful to your lips.

"Here. Another. You need to keep your energy up," he reminds you, voice stern. It's nearly clinical and achieves the opposite of its desired effect.

Your heart rate picks up to thump at a steady, thrumming beat at the innocuous gesture of domesticity.

How have you never noticed how capable of a mate Keigo would be…? He’s all musculature and sincerity, sharp ridges at his knuckles and soft curves at the small of his waist where he only trusts you to touch.

You huff an involuntary moan.

He picks another god to praise that the couch you're laying on obscures his lower half.

Today, Keigo discovers his suppressants are only designed to reduce the chance of a rut being triggered. It brings the possibility of it starting in the first place to a comfortable near-zero, allowing him to carry out the spring and fall seasons as if he were entirely quirkless.

But if that rut passes through the blockers' biochemistry in, say, the event Keigo's luck rears its ugly head, for example… It does fuck all to reduce the actual symptoms.

More importantly than his own anguish, however, is this: his mate work partner got hurt because of him— hurt being a stretch, he'd know if he weren't overthinking so much, given the blissed out panting just two feet away from him; but you’re probably suffering and it's all his fault. It’s all because of an unlucky, once in a lifetime slip up from Keigo Takami himself, and he can't detangle himself from the guilt.

If drowning in the unexpected whirlpool that is his first rut in half a decade is his penance for the crime, then Keigo will hang his head and take it.

The huff he lets out is your last straw.

"I'm going to my room," you state, moving to leave like you left the stove on and are trying to avoid an upcoming house fire.

When his hand darts out to stop you, the touch against your shoulder sends shockwaves down your stomach.

He's touching you. He's taking such good care of you, feeding you, providing for you in his nest and now he's touching you?

It sends your hormones into overdrive.

You'd do well to conceal it, if his heightened instincts couldn't smell your desperation.

"I'm afraid it ain't that easy, dove," Keigo warns, eye contact averted. "I'd avoid doing that, if I were you."

He schools his expression, but not before you catch a flash of something hungry.

There's no chance in hell he's letting you out of his sight. Not like this. You're confined to the couch while he keeps an eye on you. Attempting to fix it yourself will only make the feeling unfathomably worse, something he tries to communicate to you with a look that only ends up making him look like a kicked puppy.

You squint right back when you process the implication of his words, eyes raking down his form in suspicion.

"How do you know all this, anyway," you ask.

Keigo goes silent, hand concealing his mouth.

Ah, it hits you.

Bird things.

Your head falls back against one of the numerous pillows your partner propped up behind you.

"The couch is soft," you murmur, situating yourself against the cushions and throw blankets he so carefully arranged. You trail your fingertips along a silk pillow. Keigo slams his eyes shut.

"Please don't say it like that."

"Why not?" Your lids droop, heat overtaking your better judgement. Tentatively, you play along the bounds. You allow your hands to run along the soft divots of the blanket covering your body, squeezing your chest and pinching the peaks. "It's like a little nest, isn't it?"

His hand drags down his face before pinching his nose bridge, suppressing a whine. "Baby, please—"

"You don't wanna join me?"

"You don't know what you're talking about. It's just the heat," Keigo tells himself more than you. "For the love of God, dove, stop talking—"

"But it hurts, Kei'." It’s a low blow, judging by the protective coo that escapes his lips.

Fed up, he leans forward and swings his right leg over your hip, crawling atop you as if his body has a mind of its own, utterly bogged by desire and yanked like puppet strings.

With Keigo kneeling tall above you, the bodysuit of his hero costume hides absolutely nothing. The musculature is quite impressive, actually. Proof of his viability as a mate— all dominant and masculine and gorgeous.

And at this angle, you can see the most painful erection straining against his pants.

"I need you, Kei'. I need— mmph!"

A palm silences you; slapped down, hot, imposing, and heavy like a weight against your mouth.

The authority of the action makes your cunt clench; and Keigo would die before he lets that feeling go to waste, so his hips drop down to grind once against it.

Your eyes go wide, doughy and stunned, darting down in haste, following the trail of his thick bicep up toward the disciplinary scowl on his face.

His nostrils flare with the heaving in his chest, eyes screwed shut with his last slivers of patience holding its grip on his psyche.

"One more word," he says, pulling his hand away. "One more word and I'm ripping this blanket off and fucking you raw."

After a moment of silence, you speak.

"Please."

Keigo is wordless when he unbuckles his belt and lets it— and his inhibitions— drop with a satisfying clink.

The reality of what you've gotten yourself into comes crashing down as it hits you how utterly fucked you are. The scaffolding of years of sexual tension comes crumbling down like bricks to rubble, a city of restraint reduced to pure, animalistic desire.

Years of Keigo's eyes darting away when you nonchalantly change into your uniform in front of him, even though he never seemed bothered by any of his other peers doing the same; years of you both curling in on yourselves at the furthest edges of the bed you had to share, cramped close in those under-the-radar motels on stealth missions; years of the words "idiot, can I kiss you," held back by your lips as you watch Keigo moan when he sinks his teeth into his comfort restaurant's chicken teriyaki every stupid Friday night, sitting cross-legged and at home on the carpet of your apartment floor.

Not a single word is exchanged as he pulls his cock free from its confines, nearly too thick for his fingers to meet when they wrap around it. He tosses the blanket to the side with haste, dragging your shirt (his shirt) up to your collar, exposing your chest when he lines his cock with your entrance.

"Please, Kei'," you sniffle. "Hurts."

"Oh, I know, baby... I know." His lips are pursed when he shushes you, tracing your cheek with his palm. "I'll make it go away."

When your lips meet, it's like static electricity; and it's entirely remorseless.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he groans against your mouth, dragging his length along your sticky thighs before plopping the thick of it atop your soaked cunt.

"You're so wet for me," he reveres in awe, dragging the plump tip through your mess to get it slick enough to rub against your clit.

Your rutting hips buck with impatience in an attempt to glide his length against your swollen pussy, but that only serves to fuel his desire; and those desperate little whines only feed into his insatiable need to fuck, to breed you until you're silent.

Until you shut the fuck up.

Those pathetic little sounds are music to his ears, a siren's song that used to play only in his most shameful fantasies; the ones that kept his fist tight around his cock the moment he returned home after missions, the sight of you panting and spitting blood after battle with a smile on your face still fresh in his memory.

Keigo wants to hear you moan.

But his rut needs to fuck you wordless with satisfaction.

"Oh, fuck," he hitches, shifting his hips back and forth to the tune of the audible shlicks below. Unable to stay upright any longer, his chest falls flush into yours in a rut-afflicted haze, rutting against you like animals.

When he slips his cock inside, it's with a kiss to muffle his voice.

And he wastes no time setting a punishing pace, aided nicely by the slickness that coats the sides of his cock. The legs of the couch surely must be scraping indents into the floorboards, judging by the creaks that mingle with the sounds of his belt buckle at every thrust. You'd notice if either of you were lucid enough to care.

It's a brief consideration of a possibility of an afterthought, like a sheepish voice behind a roaring crowd.

Pulling out, that is.

Yeah, if he were a stronger man, he could probably will his hips to stall. There's a chance someone far stronger than him would hiss when he does it. His cock would weep in denial of that sweet, velvet entanglement, dripping out in the cold when he fists himself to completion mere inches away from what might as well be the center of his goddamn universe.

But when it comes to you, when it comes to his rut, Keigo is not a strong man.

He allows his cock to throb in the vice of your cunt, instead.

"God, baby," he moans into your neck, wings flapping once, twice with each thrust, shedding a few feathers before straightening out and grazing the ceiling behind his back. "Baby. Oh, baby. You're so tight. You're so— fuck!"

He's babbling, but so are you. Legs hooked across the small of his back, you bump your hips as best you can to aid in his efforts; and with your last shreds of lucidity, you decide for the both of you how things will end.

With watery lashes, you open your eyes enough to blink away some tears and clear your vision just enough. Your gaze crawls up his legs that are still clothed to the thighs, peeking over the curvature of his ass and up his shuddering spine— all to mark onto your scarlet red prize.

When you entangle your fingers into the downy feathers at the base of his wings, it shoots straight to his cock and he spills.

With eyes wide open and a strangled choke at the back of his throat, Keigo's hips stutter when he empties himself. With every throb comes another rope from the tip, sticky and excessive from the rut, mixing with your wetness as you crash over the edge soon after.

When the ringing in your ears ceases and you finally come to, it's to the sight of your now probably-more-than-a-work-partner pulling out and staring between your legs as if under a trance, eyes glimmering.

"Kei', you okay?"

"Uh huh," he answers absentmindedly, utterly transfixed on the mess he made.

It's strange, he thinks. Whatever urges his rut transcribed into cravings, every instinct that tugged at the avian etched in his DNA and called him to fill you pales in comparison to the satisfaction of having indulged himself at last.

His eyes flick back to meet yours.

"Does this mean I can kiss you at work now?"

You snort. So that's where his mind goes in the end.

"It means a whole lot more than that," you say, rolling you both over so he lands square on his back.

#sorry i made jesus canon in this fic. I had to have him say it. Okay bye!#i know his quirk doesnt work like that its not an animal quirk but shhhhhh im having fun #🖋 writing #🌶 spice #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #bnha x reader #mha thirst #mha x reader #bnha thirst #smut #x reader

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revelboo · 6 months ago

Note

now you've gone and done it, I just ordered my first blokees figurine 😭

I'm still super new to the fandom, I didn't even know soundwave from shockwave 2 months ago and now here I am, eating up everything you post like a starving beast

I love all the stories, but I think my current top favorites are with Rumble, Waspinator, and Jazz 💙

The Blokees are too cute- I need to add some more to my hoard. Dragging folks into the Transformers fandom is what I live for 😁

Over It Now Pt 15

IDW Jazz x Reader

• “Aw, no smutty book today, doll?” He teases as you shoot him a scowl. Sprawled in the grass under the tree, you’re not sure how a big, alien robot manages to look so human. So relaxed. “I was looking forward to you reading all those naughty bits to me.” Using the end of a crutch to lightly tap his ped until he obligingly moves it out of your way, you huff at him. It’s hard to stay annoyed with him when he’s grinning at you, though. Especially since the expression is real and not just a pantomime.

• “Naughty bits,” you scoff, parking yourself on his ankle. “What do you know about naughty bits?” You’re laughing at him and he just flashes a tight smile back, because you have no idea and maybe it’s better that way. He likes what he has with you, likes having someone he doesn’t have to pretend with. Someone who won’t leave if they see the worst parts of him, so while he wonders about more, he’s not ready to risk it. Teasing, though? Oh, so lovely especially when he can get you flustered.

• “Oh, I know all sorts of fun things, doll.” Flashing those denta, his visor flares slightly as he reaches to walk two servos over your hip, grin widening when you lean away before he can touch your ribs and accidentally figure out you’re ticklish. Annoyed that he can slide into shameless flirt mode as easy as you breathe and that it affects you when it shouldn’t. “You’d be surprised.”

• “Uh huh,” you mutter, head tipping back and he watched your breath fog in the air. And there’s the guilt for having you out here in the cold, even if you’d come out to him on your own. “I don’t know what the smutty scenes can do for you.” Choking back a laugh, he clears his vents roughly and you look up at him, brows arched as he just shakes his head. Because he has no idea how to actually explain how much the two of you have in common or what might be possible. Flirting is one thing, but actually asking for more? Risking ruining this? Driving away the only person he doesn’t have to put up a front for? That fear keeps him from crossing that line.

• No clever comeback this time? Those warm servos slide against your spine as he just stares up through the leaves of the massive tree. Leaning back into his touch, you study his face. Wondering when he’d become so familiar to you. When you’d started looking forward to the time spent with him. As much as he frustrates you, that warmth that spills through you when he gifts you a real smile is almost enough to make your heart miss a beat. Because you’re realizing you not only have a crush on the big guy, you might be falling for him even though you know better. Know that it’s doomed from the start and can only hurt you.

#transformers x reader #jazz x reader #idw jazz

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incognit0slut · 1 year ago

Text

Right Kind of Wrong (19)

SERIES MASTERLIST Part Summary: Spencer finally takes her out on a date.

Part Warning: 18+ explicit content (Public fingering)

A/n: I did not forget this series, I've just been distracted I'm sorry!! I also apologize if there are any inaccuracies in some random facts, I am not as smart as him, I can only do a quick research from Google.

"SO, HOW DO I LOOK?"

She spun in front of the mirror, showing off the dress she had picked out that afternoon on an impromptu shopping spree. The garment had looked stunning on the store mannequin, and now, in the soft glow of her bedroom, it was more appealing.

The spaghetti straps delicately framed her shoulders, and the lavender fabric accentuated her curves. The bottom of the dress, hovering just below her knees, gave a playful vibe with a teasing slit inching up her right thigh. And the neckline, with its very low plunge, offered a glimpse of her cleavage she couldn't help but wonder whether it was showing too much skin.

"Like you want to get laid," a playful voice called.

Her laughter echoed through the room as she turned to face her phone and realized the dress was hugging her ass quite snugly. "It's too much, isn't it?"

"Not at all," Sandy's voice echoed through the phone again. She glanced at the screen, seeing her friend's smiling face. "You look gorgeous."

She grinned, the reassurance from Sandy making her feel more at ease. "You think so?"

"Absolutely."

She reached for a sparkling necklace and dangling earrings, holding them to the camera. "Necklace or earrings?"

"Hmm." Sandy squinted at the screen, studying the options through the video call. "Go with the earrings. They'll add a touch of glamour without stealing the spotlight from the dress."

She nodded in agreement. "Earrings it is, then."

As she carefully slipped herself into the accessories, Sandy couldn't help but muse her thoughts. "I don't think I've ever seen you wear purple."

She cleared her throat awkwardly. "What do you mean? I've worn this color before."

"Your wardrobe either consists of black or gray. You had to go out shopping to buy this dress."

She laughed nervously, caught in the act of her predictable wardrobe choices. "Alright, fine." She pursed her lips together before letting out a sigh. "I may or may not have asked his friend what his favorite color is."

"You sly fox," Sandy laughed with a huge grin. "So you do want to get laid."

She blushed, adjusting the earrings. "I mean, if the occasion arises..."

"You've got this all planned out, huh?"

"Well, not exactly, more like... strategically considered?" She tilted her head and observed herself in the mirror again. "Does it make me look desperate?"

"Of course not," Sandy reassured. "It just shows you're putting in effort. Besides, confidence is attractive. You look hot."

She blushed at the compliment, but before she could respond, the distant hum of an engine reached her ears. Her eyes widened, and instinctively, she moved towards the window and noticed a car pulling into her driveway. It wasn't the usual sleek, black government vehicle; instead, the car looked like it had seen better days, although it held a vintage charm that caught her by surprise.

Then reality finally kicked in—he was here for a date, not because of his job. They were actually going out for a nice dinner he had prepared.

She suddenly felt sick.

"Sandy, he's here," she whispered, her voice betraying a touch of panic.

Somehow Sandy still managed to hear her voice from across the room. "You'll be fine! It's not like you haven't spent time with him before."

"Not when my life wasn't on the line." She was met with silence and walked over to her phone, picking it up to find Sandy's disapproving glare. She sheepishly smiled towards the screen. "Too soon?"

Sandy shook her head with a sigh. "Only you would joke about your near-death experience."

"Spencer told me it's a coping mechanism."

"You've joked about it to him as well?"

She nodded. "He's not a fan either." The sound of the doorbell ringing brought her back to the present. "I need to go."

"Wait!" Sandy's urgent voice echoed through the phone again. She watched as her friend's expression softened. "How are you feeling today?"

A warm smile graced her lips, moved by Sandy's ongoing concern. Ever since they reunited at the hospital, Sandy couldn't stop apologizing for what had happened, even when it wasn't her fault to begin with. Her friend consistently checked in on her well-being.

"I'm actually feeling pretty good. Nervous, but good."

Sandy nodded, her smile carrying reassurance. "Good. Now, go enjoy your date."

She reciprocated the sentiment with a blow of a kiss towards the camera. "I'll call you later," she promised before ending the call. Taking a deep breath, she composed herself, slipping her phone into her purse as she descended the stairs.

Spencer was waiting at the door when she opened it, all cleaned up and undeniably handsome. His well-fitted suit accentuated his strong shoulders, and the crisp white shirt beneath complemented the subtle purple tie he wore. The fabric of the suit, in a rich charcoal shade, seemed to bring out the warmth in his hazel eyes.

A nervous smile played on his lips, only enhancing his charm and giving him an endearing quality that made her heart skip a beat. His eyes, however, spoke volumes as they assessed her, taking in the way her dress hugged her curves. Spencer couldn't help but be mesmerized by the sight before him.

He was so mesmerized that without thinking, he stepped forward and wrapped an arm around her waist, catching her by surprise. In an instant, he leaned down, his lips meeting hers in an unexpected yet tender kiss. The warmth of the moment enveloped them, and for a brief instant, her worries seemed to fade away.

Her initial surprise transformed into a soft smile as she reciprocated the kiss, savoring the way lips moved against hers, and when he finally pulled away, he looked into her eyes with a mixture of admiration and affection.

"I couldn't resist," he admitted, his nervous smile now replaced by one of genuine warmth.

She couldn't help but smile, feeling a flutter of excitement in her chest. "I'm certainly not complaining."

As they exchanged smiles, she noticed a smudge of her lipstick on his lips. She burst into laughter, breaking the moment with a lighthearted touch.

"You've got a little something right here," she teased, reaching up to gently wipe off the lipstick with her thumb.

He simply gazed into her eyes with a sincere smile. "You look beautiful."

Blushing at the compliment, she smiled appreciatively. "Why thank you. You don't look too bad yourself," she replied with a playful glint in her eyes.

"Come on," Spencer urged, gently tugging her arm, and she willingly followed him after locking her door.

As they walked down her driveway, she felt Spencer's hand on her lower back, a gesture that added an extra layer of comfort to their connection. Unable to contain her surprise, she couldn't help but comment on the unexpected sight of his vehicle.

"I never pictured you as someone who owned a car," she commented, her tone teasing but filled with curiosity.

Spencer chuckled, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "It may not be as sleek as the government vehicle, but it gets the job done."

She laughed, finding his revelation endearing. "Well, I'm impressed. It suits you." Her eyes scanned the vintage-looking car. "It reminds me of you actually."

"What? Old and worn out?"

She shook her head, smiling. "No, not at all. I meant classic, with a certain charm."

His smile widened at her response. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Spencer graciously opened the car door for her, and she beamed appreciatively, slipping into the vintage car's comfortable interior. The soft glow of the dashboard highlighted the nostalgia-infused details of the vehicle, making it clear that Spencer had a penchant for classic styles beyond his usual government responsibilities.

As he closed her door, he circled to the driver's side, sliding behind the wheel. The engine hummed softly and as she watched him, she felt a certain warmth traveling through her body.

In the soft glow of the car's interior, she couldn't help but notice how attractive he looked. His features were highlighted by the dashboard lights, casting a subtle yet captivating glow. Before he could pull away from the driveway, a spontaneous impulse surged within her.

"Wait," she said, her voice breaking the quiet ambiance of the car. Without overthinking, she reached over and gently grabbed Spencer's arm, tugging him back for a moment.

He looked at her with concern. "What's wrong?"

She smiled, feeling a surge of boldness, and leaned over to him. She closed the distance between them, her lips meeting his in a more passionate kiss than before.

He responded with a mixture of surprise, yet his hand gently found its way to the back of her neck, deepening the kiss. His lips moved in sync with hers, and when she softly sighed in contentment, he pushed his tongue inside her mouth, tasting her ever so slightly as his other hand found its place on her thigh.

But when his hand inched under her dress, she laughed and gently pulled away. "I don't think we'll be eating anything if we continue this."

He looked at her sheepishly. "Right," he murmured, readjusting himself in the driver's seat. "Sorry."

With a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, she settled back into her seat, fastening her seatbelt. "So, where are you taking me, Handsome?"

His lips curved into a smile as he finally pulled away from her driveway. "It's a surprise," he said. "You'll see."

It wasn't really a surprise. Spencer had already mentioned wanting to visit this place and the big sign saying 'PLANETARIUM' at the entrance was already a dead giveaway.

However, the unusual quietness that enveloped the space caught her off guard. With only a handful of staff present, the vastness of the empty lobby echoed the click of her heels.

The atmosphere shifted when he gently urged her to close her eyes. Suspicion mixed with curiosity, she couldn't resist teasing him as she followed his instructions. "What do you not want me to see? I already know where we are."

A secure arm wrapped around her waist as Spencer guided her through the darkness. She could sense a grin in his voice as he replied, "Sure, but the location isn't exactly the surprise."

"What is then?" She asked. The echo of their footsteps persisted, creating a rhythm in the quiet space of the planetarium.

"The experience," he simply answered. "Keep your eyes closed a bit longer, we're almost there."

"This is kind of making me nervous," she admitted. "You're not going to kidnap and murder me secretly, are you?"

His steps faltered briefly before she let out a sigh, urging him to continue moving. "Sorry, that sounded way better in my head."

There was a heavy silence before he replied, "We should do something about you joking on that matter."

"It's called dark humor."

He softly hummed. "There's actually a psychological explanation for dark humor as a coping mechanism. It's a way for people to navigate and make light of challenging situations."

"You've mentioned this before."

"I know," he confirmed. "I just want to remind you that every time you think you're being morbidly funny you're using a well-established psychological defense mechanism."

"And what do I have to do with that information?"

"Well, for starters, you can appreciate your brain's attempt to keep things light." He gently squeezed her hip. "But maybe try to cut yourself some slack for the occasional dark joke."

She couldn't help but smile, even with her eyes still closed. The subtle squeeze on her hip added a reassuring warmth to his words. "I still don't get why your boss wants me to see the therapist you guys provided when I already have you."

Spencer chuckled and pulled her closer. "Because one, I'm not a licensed therapist. And two, my therapeutic techniques might involve a bit too much intimacy for the average counseling session."

She laughed. "You mean sex?"

"Sexual intercourse," he corrected, still not wanting to say the word, which she nudged her elbow into his side in response.

As their footsteps finally ceased, Spencer gently urged her to open her eyes. When she complied, her eyes widened in astonishment at the breathtaking sight before her—a vast array of galaxies projected onto the ceiling of the planetarium. The cosmic display painted the dark expanse with hues of celestial beauty, leaving her momentarily awestruck.

Yet, what surprised her even more was the scene at the center of the room. A table setting, elegantly arranged, caught her eye. The table was adorned with flickering candles, casting a soft glow on the carefully arranged dishes and the gleam of polished silverware.

She stood in awe. "Spencer, this is... incredible." Her eyes swept over to him. "You did all this?"

"Well, technically the staff prepared this." He guided her further into the room. "But I pulled some strings."

"Some strings? I think you pulled all the strings." She threw him a grateful smile as he pulled her chair, urging her to sit down. "This must cost a fortune."

"Don't worry about that," he assured her, settling in the seat opposite her. "I just want you to enjoy the night."

As she took her seat, the soft glow of candlelight accentuated the contours of his face. She felt a flutter in her chest, realizing she was falling even harder for him. It wasn't just the fancy setup; it was the thought behind it that got to her.

Fate truly had a peculiar way of guiding her to this present, bringing Spencer into her life. It was a bit surreal knowing that the worst things she'd been through somehow brought her to a moment like this.

Maybe, she pondered, there's a silver lining, a reminder that good things can sneak up when you least expect them. And now it was worth focusing on those good things.

So she savored his company, the easy flow of their conversation, the delicious meal he had prepared, and the soft music playing through the stereo. She also enjoyed being close to him moments later when they finished their dinner. The warmth of his presence felt comforting as they lounged in the viewing seats, gazing up at the scene above.

"Do you see the seven bright stars forming a distinct pattern?" he asked, gesturing toward a shimmering formation.

She followed his guidance and nodded. "They look like a tiny ladle or a dipper."

He smiled, appreciating her observation. "That's the Ursa Minor, also known as the Little Dipper. And the North Star, Polaris, is at the end of its handle."

"The North Star?" She repeated.

"It's a crucial navigational star. Sailors and travelers have used it for centuries to find their way. It remains relatively fixed in the northern sky, making it a reliable reference point."

"Hmm," she hummed. She then pointed to another set of stars. "What about that one?"

He followed her gaze and smiled.

"That's the Orion constellation," he said. "It's one of the most recognizable and has a lot of myths around it. In some cultures, it's a hunter chasing various prey across the sky."

"And what's the story behind that?"

He leaned in closer to her. "Well, in Greek mythology, Orion was a mighty hunter who fell in love with the Pleiades. However, fate had different plans, and he ended up among the stars, forever pursuing them."

Her gaze remained fixed on the celestial display, captivated by the tales woven into the stars. "So, he's like a romantic?"

Spencer chuckled. "In a way, yes. Myths often carry themes of love, tragedy, and destiny."

"Like human nature."

He nodded in agreement. "Like human nature."

There was a moment of silence before she turned to him. "How do you even know all of this?"

"We often travel outside the city and the skies are pretty clear in remote areas. Sometimes you can see a few constellations."

She raised an eyebrow. "You're telling me you're a secret astronomy enthusiast while solving crimes?"

A bashful smile played on his lips. "When I have the time," he admitted. "There's something fascinating about the stars. They offer a sense of perspective."

She smiled. "It's nice to know even a man of logic and facts finds magic in the sky."

His gaze softened. "Magic has its place in the world, even for a man of logic." He suddenly reached out to the back of her ear and retrieved a dollar bill out of thin air. "See? Magic."

She couldn't help but laugh as she took the bill from him and examined it, tracing the edges. "I remember you doing this trick the first time we met."

He leaned back, a contemplative look in his eyes. "It feels like a lifetime ago, doesn't it?"

"Considering everything that happened since then, yes," she replied. "You know, I never asked why you were at that bar in the first place."

A subtle blush painted on his cheeks. "I was... enjoying a drink." When she gave him a deadpanned look, he raised his eyebrows. "What? Do I not seem like the type to be hanging out alone at a bar?"

"You stood out like a sore thumb." She gave him back the dollar bill. "I remember you barely touching your beer."

Spencer sighed, taking the money and placing it back in his pocket. "I was supposed to hang out with the team, but they ditched me."

She arched an eyebrow. "They ditched you? Why?"

He shrugged. "Apparently something important came up."

"So they left you hanging at a bar?" When he nodded, she tilted her head in mock sympathy. "Well, it certainly worked in my favor."

He watched her, the flickering memory of that night flashing before him. The first time he kissed her, the taste of her lips, the sensation of holding her naked in his arms. Then his eyes raked down her collarbone, pausing slightly at the swell of her breasts before looking back up to meet her gaze.

"It worked in my favor too."

She noticed his gaze lingering, a subtle heat spreading across her cheeks. The air suddenly shifted as he leaned closer, creating an intimate space between them. There was a magnetic pull, and she felt her breath catch in anticipation. He gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lightly grazing her skin.

"Tell me what you remember that night," he said, a low timbre in his voice.

She felt the warmth of his breath against her ear and she met his gaze with a flush coloring her cheeks. "I remember seeing you sitting alone at the bar."

His reply, a mere whisper, reverberated dangerously low. "What else?"

"You came up to me and did that magic trick." A faint smile played on her lips as she reminisced. "I was amused, and we sat together."

His eyes lingered on her mouth. A subtle tension lingered in the air, each exchange building upon the last. "And then what happened?"

"We talked," she breathed, the word lingering in the air like a shared secret as he leaned closer. "We laughed." She felt his breath brushing against her lips.

"Then you kissed me," she confessed, and in the heartbeat that followed, he leaned in, his lips meeting hers gently. She let herself sink into his touch as he held her face, keeping her in place while he continued to taste her all over again.

His lips fit perfectly and she kissed him back as eager, letting his tongue glide into her mouth so effortlessly. She held onto him, slightly pulling him closer as if he wasn’t close enough even when he was practically pressing his body against hers.

When he slowly pulled away, she suppressed a moan. "Like this?" He asked.

"Like that," she murmured, the taste of him lingering on her lips as they shared the space between breaths.

The warmth of his lips traveled down her jaw, leaving a trail of soft, lingering kisses that brushed over her skin. "What else do you remember?"

His lips trailed further down, and she shivered. "We..." Her voice wavered, breath hitching, as his hand slid down her arm before his fingertips began to faintly stroke her skin, grazing over the hem of her skirt. "W-We went back to your place."

"Go on," he urged the words hanging in the air. She felt his fingers glide over her inner thigh, stopping abruptly as he reached the middle.

"You..." She let out a small, shaky sigh as he dragged his fingers up, stopping just before the rough pads of his fingers brushed over her panties softly. "...you touched me."

He began carefully moving his middle and forefinger in a gentle circular motion, rubbing her teasingly through her damp panties before, without warning, they were pushed aside, the hot pads of his fingers finally making direct contact with her clit.

"Was it like this?"

Her hand wrapped around his forearm, trying to stop herself from moaning aloud, her eyes fluttering closed as he began to play with her clit, his fingers skillful as he rubbed in small circular motions, his eyes fixed on her. She looked over at him, her mouth going slack as she felt the sensation in the pit of her stomach.

She didn't seem like herself, and although she didn't mind public displays of affection, she wouldn't let it go beyond a kiss. She wasn't the kind of person to be intimate in public, but here she was, letting him touch her when any of the staff could walk in. Heck, she wasn't sure he was the type of person who would do something like this.

His fingers moved from her clit, dragging down her slit and collecting her arousal, briefly plunging them inside and curling upward, pressing firmly against her walls. She looked down to see his fingers gently pumping in and out of her cunt. Her legs were so wide from him that her knee was practically resting against his thigh.

"Tell me," he whispered, "Did I touch you like this?"

Her chest began to heave, her hips unconsciously bucking against his hand as he worked over her casually. "Yes," she breathed out.

Soft whimpers escaped her as she bit her bottom lip, trying desperately to be as quiet as she could manage. The fire in her stomach burned hotter with each expert glide of his slick fingers. Her legs opened wider and wider for him which seemed to please him judging by how fast his fingers began to pump into her cunt.

A strained whimper filled his ears the moment he circled her clit with his thumb, the added stimulation did nothing to help her sanity, and moans began to spill from her lips, mouth parting in pure bliss.

"Spence," she whined, voice so unsteady and breathless, she couldn't control her volume anymore, desperate moans mixing with the sounds of her wetness dripping between her thighs.

"That's it," he encouraged, speeding up his fingers. "Let go for me."

The pressure of his fingers was making her impending orgasm loom dangerously close as her back arched from her seat, hand gripping around his wrist. Her eyes flew over to him as she reached her peak, body shivering and writhing as she pushed her hips down against his fingers, feeling them slide from her pussy before circling her clit in rapid motions.

With a final gasp, she lost all control, her mind growing numb, feeling him wildly as wave after wave of pleasure pulsed through her entire body. She cried out silently, calling his name over and over until she grew too weak while she desperately clung to him.

When he finally pulled away, she felt her arousal dripping down her legs. She stared at him wide-eyed as he fixed her panties back in place before brushing her dress over her legs. When she kept looking at him in a daze, he softly laughed and leaned down, brushing his lips over her cheek.

"Are you okay?"

"I..." she was gasping for air, a hand-tossed over her chest. "Did that actually happen?"

He chuckled, his warm breath tickling her ear. His fingers gently traced the outline of her jaw as her face flushed—lips delicately swollen, eyes glazed with a mixture of desire and surprise. The aftermath of her climax painted her cheeks in a captivating shade.

"Come on," he said, extending a hand and gently pulling her up.

"Where are we going?" she asked, her voice still carrying the traces of her orgasm. His gaze met hers with an intensity that spoke volumes, revealing an unspoken hunger that mirrored her own desires. His intention was clear.

"We're going home."

>> NEXT PART

a/n: it did not occur to me the possibility of CCTV cameras in a planetarium lmao please excuse me. Also, the plan is to write one last part and an epilogue to wrap it all up.

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