#the longer i look at it the more i cringe but at least i'm trying things. half a gold star for the intention i guess | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hannieehaee · 6 months ago

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CLOSER

18+ / mdi

summary: after making it all the way to your final year of uni still having not experienced a single orgasm, you decided to take matters into your hands. your solution? asking your best friend wonwoo to teach you all he knew.

content: f2l!wonwoo, softdom!wonwoo, virgin reader, unrequited crush (not really lol), pov starts with reader but moves on to wonwoo's, basically just smut and almost no plot lol, like three separate smut scenes oops, smut, afab reader, dry humping, oral (m and f receiving), thigh riding, handjob, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 12.9k

a/n: this was longer and way messier than anticipated but i hope u guys like it!!

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

"You're crazy,"

Those were Wonwoo's last words before scoffing and walking away, completely disregarding your presence.

"Wait!," you raised your voice, attempting to prevent his departure, "Just hear me out," you pleaded.

"'Hear you out'?", he scoffed, "You just asked me – out of nowhere – to 'teach you how to have sex.' The mere question was the end of the conversation," he deadpanned and continued walking away, you trailing behind.

Despite how cold and direct he was with his words, you knew him well enough to assess that he wasn't neither mad nor offended, just entirely uninterested in the proposition. He simply continued to walk away, far too indifferent about your admittedly strange request.

"Let me at least explain," you whined as you walked side by side with him.

He merely hummed, seemingly a bit annoyed at the fact you were still going on about such a silly prospect.

"Listen," you began, "You're the only person I can ask. You're the only one who knows I'm a virgin," you whispered the last words, as if any of the other students walking by would care enough to listen in on your conversation.

"Why do you need me to take it from you?", he grumbled, "Just wait til you meet some guy you like and lose it to him."

You let out a groan of annoyance, "Have you met a man before? They all suck! You're the only guy I trust," you added, "Plus, I'm 22. No guy is going to be patient enough with me not to traumatize me. They all assume I'm experienced already."

His speed did not diminish, but he turned to look at you after hearing that, a semi-serious look on his face, "Has anyone done anything-"

"No! It's just ... They kinda expect me to already know what I'm doing, and when I try to explain it they either get super horny or they just ghost me," you cringed at the sudden resurgence of failed attempts at dating through the past year.

"Okay, so, you want me to take your virginity just for research purposes?"

"Yes! Exactly that!"

"Just watch porn, then," he deadpanned once more with a scoff.

"Wonwoo!," you slapped his arm in annoyance, "Please, at least try to take me seriously."

"Fine," he grumbled, "I'll take you seriously if you actually make some sort of methodological plan for me to assess. Only then will I actually try to come to a decision."

Spoken like a true nerd.

Unbeknownst to Wonwoo, his nerdiness was kind of part of his charm.

"Okay, fine, fucking nerd," you retorted, "You. Me. My apartment. This weekend. Meet me at 10 and I'll have your dumb 'procedural documentation' awaiting your approval," you spoke the last few words with a nasally tone in order to mock him, getting a chuckle out of him.

"Great," he smiled, "See you then, virgin."

"God, you actually made a slideshow?"

"You literally asked me for this," you groaned, "Now, stop talking and pay attention."

"This slideshow looks like shit. How are you even graduating?", he couldn't help but add.

"Anyways," you hissed back at him, "This is a step by step of what the plan is, okay? We'll go slide by slide."

He nodded, amused but also having given up on arguing.

The first slide showcased simple text detailing the following:

Step 1 - Kissing

He immediately burst out laughing.

"Stop!", you swatted the pointer you'd been using to point at the screen at him, "Let me talk before you laugh!", you demanded.

"Is 'removing our clothes' going to be on the slides too?", he laughed, holding onto his stomach from what apparently seemed to be the funniest thing to him.

"Moving on," you ignored him, clearing your throat and beginning the short speech you had prepared, "I've kissed guys before, which you know. But kissing and kissing during sex are two very different things," you explained.

"How would you know?"

"That's exactly why I'm asking, you fucking-", you stopped yourself before you could insult him, knowing he was just riling you up.

"Okay, fine. I get it. You can move onto the next slide," he conceded, though you could still spot some amusement on his face.

Step 2 - Oral (both ways)

"How is me giving you oral going to help you learn to have sex if you're not doing anything?", he asked before you could even speak.

"Are you telling me you don't do oral? That's very Dj Khaled of you."

His eyes widened as he backtracked, "W-what? No! I love doing o- wait, no. I'm not talking about this," he stumbled over his words, "You know that's not what I meant."

"Plus, there's no need to teach you oral. Any guy would cum at you getting on your knees for them," he added without thinking, immediately shutting himself up upon realizing what he'd said.

Even from the place you were standing, and with the distance between you and the couch Wonwoo was sitting on, your reaction at his words could easily be noticed by him. You were both equally sheepish at his slipup, causing you to both look away in embarrassment.

"What I meant was-"

"No, uh, I get it, I-"

"Uh, maybe move onto the third slide?", he coughed out, clearing his throat.

"Yeah- yeah, sure."

Step 3 - Foreplay

"Okay, so you did add removing our clothes as a step."

"These are completely different things," you rebutted, having completely moved on from the previous awkwardness.

Suddenly, he stood up, taking your pointer from you and setting it down.

"Okay, you can stop with the slideshow," he said.

"Why? What's wrong with my slideshow?", you argued.

"Well, for one, it doesn't actually have any useful information in it. Two, these are all natural steps to sex that I don't need a recap on," he took a breath before continuing, "And three, I don't need any more convincing. I'll help you."

"What? Really?," you gaped at him.

He nodded, attempting to be nonchalant about it, "I mean, yeah. I was always going to help you, just needed to think it over a bit more. We're friends and I don't want you feeling lost on your first time, or getting taken advantage of by some asshole, so," he gave you a tight-lipped smile.

You wrapped your arms around him, far too enthusiastic for the subject at hand, but mostly just thankful for his agreement.

"Thank you, Wonwoo. God, I was so nervous I'd have to find some random guy on tinder," you mumbled against his chest.

Tenderly hugging you back, he hummed at your statement, slightly annoyed at the implication of some random guy taking your virginity, but not verbally expressing that annoyance.

"When do you want to do it?", he asked once you'd pulled away.

"Is, uh, is Wednesday okay? I know you only have Tuesday-Thursday classes this semester," you offered.

"Yeah, that's good. Do you want to do it all at once or-"

"What do you mean?"

He sighed, not wanting to say the words, as the thought of it was already getting to him. He gulped silently before continuing, "I mean the, uh, oral and the kissing, and whatever else you had on that slideshow."

"Oh! Uh, well, what do you think? Should we just do it all at once?" you asked with a newfound innocence in your eyes.

It occurred to Wonwoo that you might have been even far more inexperienced than he had first thought. This was something you'd never spoken about too in depth, but now that he really thought about it, maybe the reason why your slideshow was so simple and childish had been because of a genuine lack of knowledge in the matter. Now he wasn't sure whether he should simply sleep with you or actually show you every step necessary to ensure your pleasure and his own.

"We can take a day for oral and hand stuff," he huffed out, "and then we can use that new knowledge for foreplay before we, you know."

He felt like the virgin at his lack of ability to utter the word sex under this context.

"A-ah, okay. That sounds good," you blinked up at him, "What about ... Uh, what about kissing?", you added shyly.

"What about it?"

"Nothing. Never mind," you created some extra distance between you, timidly looking down in embarrassment at your question.

It made Wonwoo feel like shit that his simple question had made you ashamed at having asked one of your own. He needed to resolve this quickly. Sex was clearly a sore subject for you, he didn't want his teasing to actually make you feel badly.

"No, tell me. Please," he grabbed onto your arm so you'd look at him again.

"Well, I- Fuck, this is so embarrassing," you chuckled humorlessly at yourself before finally looking back at him, "I've never been kissed like that before. I was, uh, hoping that you could teach me? So I know what to do then we actually, you know."

Similarly to him, you were too shy to actually speak the word out loud, though you both knew exactly what you meant. The heavy air in the room only confirmed it.

"Oh," he breathed out, "I can ... teach you now, if you want."

The word 'teach' had him feeling lightheaded. Thinking about directing you, holding you close to him as he took his time showing you everything he liked – everything that would have him thinking of you every lonely night after the fact – as you obediently nodded under him, it all made an animalistic feeling arise within him.

"Yeah? Okay, how do we-", you began, nodding as you eyed the room to see where would be the best place to do it.

Wonwoo stopped you before you could actually wander off, holding onto your elbows and pulling you to him. They naturally slid down to your hips to position you against him.

"Here is fine."

Those were his last words before his lips descended onto your own, eyes so hooded they were almost fully closed. The kiss was very soft in nature, with it being almost just a simple peck before he pulled back just enough to speak against your lips.

"You've been kissed like that before. Right?", he mumbled.

You nodded, head tilting upwards as you shyly attempted to incite him into reconnecting your lips.

"I'm going to show you how you should kiss a guy if you want him to ... you know," he explained, breathing heavily into your mouth at the mere thought.

Barely managing to nod again, your lips were encapsulated by his own once more, this time engaging in a wet kiss, mouth immediately invaded by his tongue.

In retrospect, Wonwoo made the kiss more sensual than he intended to. There was an extra layer of intimacy than he would usually allow when he kissed someone he considered a mere hookup. But how could he kiss you like he would a hookup when you were so soft and pliant and vulnerable as you stared up at him? Having to hold back a gruttal groan as he kissed you, his fingers tightened their hold on your hips to center himself a bit.

At some point your tongue shyly came out to play with his own, making a timid attempt of mirroring his movements. The kiss became slightly messy, but that's just how Wonwoo liked it, causing a few muted grunts to sound out into the otherwise quiet room.

Wonwoo's hands came up to your jaw, angling your face in a way that would allow him to explore your mouth with his tongue at the optimal angle, suckling into your own and drawing pretty whines out of you. It was easy for him to tell that you were becoming affected by the mere kisses, making his mind fuzzy in return.

He could only hold on so much before he began walking you back, eventually landing against a wall and pressing you up into it, hands going back down to your waist to press your body up against his own. The atmosphere of the room became heavier, just as his movements. Hands gripped your waist and your chests pressed together. Your back arched deliciously as one of his hands landed on the small of your back, making your breasts rub against his hard chest.

A groan involuntarily slipped out of Wonwoo's lips at the feeling of your pebbled nipples digging at his chest. Fuck, you weren't wearing a bra.

In the meantime, your hands pulled at Wonwoo's hair, becoming rasher in their movements by the minute. You fed off Wonwoo's reactions to the pulling of his hair, pulling extra hard any time he grumbled into your lips a little louder.

His hands remained in the same general area of your waist and lower back up until one of them braved their way down to your thigh, going as far down as the back of your knee to wrap your leg around his waist, causing your crotches to make the first contact of the night.

Gasping a shuddered breath, Wonwoo disconnected your lips and began kissing down your neck, occasionally stopping to suck at spots he had a feeling would have you gasping his name. This, accompanied by a hesitant grind of his hips into your own, awarded him the prettiest gasps landing against his ear.

"Wonwoo ..." you sighed, "Is this- Am I doing a good job?" you asked, tilting your head back to nudge his lips against your own again, landing some soft yet wet pecks on his lips.

"So good," he nodded with a kiss, "Such a quick learner," were his last words before starting another long series of languid kisses between you.

Hips became braver, – both yours and his – filling the room with the sounds of clothes ruffling and muffled sighs in between wet swipes of your tongues. His large hand angled your leg even higher, angling his cock right against your cunt in a way that had you breaking the kiss as you gasped his name. Wonwoo did not allow you to pull away, however, simply opting to lick into your open mouth and entice you into continuing the kiss.

"Wonwoo, I can't, I- Fuck, I need-"

"Shhh," he hushed you, "I know, baby. Just keep moving your hips, okay? Let me show you all my favorite things," he whispered against your skin, not daring to halt the friction that had him on the verge of cumming in his pants.

"Is this- Is this what you usually do when you kiss a girl?", you asked, tilting your head back to allow him to kiss at your neck to his heart's contentment.

"Yes," he lied through his teeth, knowing he never let passion take over him so quickly with any other girl. He let his lips trail back to your own in order to prevent himself from having to speak further, but also because he couldn't stray away from you for too long.

He was sure he'd never forget those soft breaths you left against his lips any time he'd reconnect them, wordlessly expressing how affected you were by what he considered to be such a small gesture – or at least what he previously thought it to be, up until he kissed his best friend on an arbitrary Saturday morning.

As badly as he wanted to keep your lips attached to his own, he was beginning to feel his self control slip through his fingers the more he humped against you. The more he did so, the less finesse his movements had, forcing him to bury his head on the crook of your neck and groan into your skin. His hands went down to your legs, starting to drag your hips against his own and freely grunting at the stimulation. His sweats and your shorts were both thin enough for him to feel the heat of your cunt, fully aware that if he looked down, he'd find a mixture of wetness on the cloth from his precum and your slickness.

"Fuck," he sighed, "You feel so fucking good ..."

"Am I, shit- am I making you feel good?", you managed to squeak out.

Wonwoo's mind melted at the way you sought out his approval, looking to see if you were making him feel as good as he did you. Were his pathetic moans not enough indicator of how godforsakenly affected by you he was?

Then he remembered you had no point of reference to understand how intimate and heated this moment was – how the dragging of his cock against your clothed folds could so easily become his undoing.

"You're doing so fucking good. Gonna make me cum, fuck," he breathed, making his way back to your lips, "Need you to cum for me first, though. Okay, pretty? Are you close for me?", he mumbled in between heated kisses.

"So close," you were barely able to respond due to Wonwoo's insistence on keeping his lips on yours.

"A guy should always make you cum first, understand? If- fucking shit," he grunted out when he felt you beginning to pulse against him, an entire separate heartbeat forming on your cunt, "If he doesn't, he's not worth it. You come first. Okay, baby? A-always you."

The mere thought of some other loser even hearing the cute, breathy gasps you were letting out made him fume, but he couldn't get into that while you were almost on the verge of breaking down for him. He needed you to at least know what type of guys to fend away from, but he also wanted to show you how he could give you exactly what a man should – that he would always prioritize you and your pleasure.

You nodded mindlessly, completely out of it yet absolutely absorbed by the pleasure, "I need- Fuck, Nonu ... I need to cum. Please, I-"

"Cum. Be good for me and cum, pretty. I'm right there ... Fuck, gonna make me cum in my pants," he wheezed out, eyebrows furrowing in concentration when your nails dug into his skin as your orgasm took over.

Wonwoo came the second he felt you come undone, having held back from far too long in order to prioritize you – something he would always do. A mixture of emotions took over as his body underwent the immense pleasure your clothed cunt had given him. A sense of pride undertook him at knowing he had made you cum undone completely untouched. Any shame he could've felt at cumming in his pants like a horny loser left him as he took in every gasp and cry of his name as you held against him for dear life.

Burying his head in your shoulder again, he whispered words of praise and encouragement into your ear all while his hips continued their canting against yours, damning any sensitivity he may have felt due to the overstimulation. His brain was fuzzy at the pleasure, but his instinctual need to make you feel as good as humanly possible overrode any other thought in his mind.

By the end of it all, all that could be heard were your heavy breaths. Holding onto each other, you forgot about anything surrounding the bubble you currently found yourselves in. Seeking your lips again, Wonwoo gave you one last languid kiss, humming into your lips in contentment at the thought of what had just happened.

"That's, uh, that's usually how kissing goes when you're going to have sex," he explained.

He suddenly felt very awkward, embarrassed at how easily he had lost control at a simple touch of your lips. — He was supposed to merely kiss you, not defile you through your clothes against the wall of your apartment!

"Oh- Okay, that's good to know," you murmured whilst looking down at your feet timidly.

At least he wasn't alone in the feeling.

Finally creating some distance between you, he chuckled humorlessly, clearing his throat.

"Sorry if that was too much," he rubbed at the back of his neck.

"No, that was perfect- I mean, thank you! No, wait, I mean, that's exactly what I needed- fuck," you groaned, hiding your face in your hands in embarrassment at being unable to find the right words.

It was mind-boggling how easy it was for you to provoke adoration out of Wonwoo when you had just been the primary source of his lust mere moments ago.

"It's okay, I understand," he went to remove your hands from your face, looking at you with a smile, "Do you still want to meet on Wednesday?", he asked sheepishly.

"For oral, you mean?", you asked so innocently, completely disregarding the implication behind those words.

Coughing out as air caught in his throat, he cleared his throat before being able to respond, "Y-yes, it's- it's whatever you want."

"Well ..." you started, "You don't have classes on Monday, right? Maybe we could do it then? You know, so we don't have to drag this out too long?"

Oh.

Was this just something you wanted to get over with?

That made sense, considering that this was all simply a favor you were asking from Wonwoo. That knowledge still didn't prevent Wonwoo from feeling let down by your words, however.

At the end of the day it didn't make that much of a difference when you did it, but he couldn't help but have this sick hope inside him to prolong this as much as possible; maybe even do repeat 'lessons' if necessary. Especially when he knew that the moment he actually slept with you, you'd go out into the world and find someone else to do the things he taught you with.

There was a reason he had originally been apprehensive about your proposal. He knew that the mere second he had your eyes staring up at his with anything more than platonic feelings in them, he'd fall even deeper for you–

Right, did he forget to mention he was in love with you?

It was a controllable crush. He knew how far his feelings could go, so he never tested his luck with you. He also had far too much love and respect for you as a friend to ever overstep any boundaries outside of the limits within your friendship. This was why he had been initially adamant about denying you. He knew that there was no way to keep his heart out of it, but he also knew that there was no way for him to resist such opportunity, which was why he ultimately said yes.

So for now he had to make the best of it.

Was it selfish? Maybe. But he would also be helping you out along the way, so maybe it was more of a selfless act in the end. He'd be the one getting his heart broken, after all.

"Yeah, sure. You can come over to my place on Monday," was his response.

"Might as well get this over with," had been what he added as an afterthought, not taking note of the emotion changing in your eyes.

"Hey."

Wonwoo attempted to adopt a casual demeanor as he welcomed you in, hoping you didn't take note of how much he had pampered himself in preparation for you (Maybe aftershave plus cologne had been a tad much).

"Hi, Nonu," you responded, clearly way more relaxed than he was.

It was almost as if he was the virgin about to get deflowered.

Walking in, you made yourself at home, walking past him and immediately sitting on his couch. It was common for you to be at his apartment, so this visit wasn't anything out of the ordinary thus far.

Up until you spoke up.

"I might've gone overboard with preparing myself for tonight," you suddenly said, grimacing at yourself in embarrassment.

"What do you mean?"

You were wearing a simple pair of leggings and an oversized top; very common outfit for you. Sure, you looked beautiful, but he wasn't sure exactly what you meant by overly preparing yourself.

"You'll see," was all you said, patting the empty spot next to you on the couch.

Closing the door of his apartment, he walked over to you, taking a seat and facing you on the couch. Although he had sat at a slight distance from you, you had scoot over to him immediately, facing him as your knees graced against his own.

You smiled shyly at him, eyes not fully meeting his own as you seemingly tried to think of what to say.

"How- how should we start?", you finally asked.

Wonwoo took a breath, "What do you want me to show you today? Was last time helpful to you?"

"Yes!", you immediately responded, cringing at your own enthusiastic answer, "Sorry, I don't mean to sound like such a loser," you chuckled awkwardly, "But it did help me. I feel way less nervous about it all now."

"What's making you nervous?," he shuffled closer to you.

"Just ... You?", you started, "You're already so experienced and I don't want to embarrass myself in front of you or ... not make you feel good," you mumbled the last few words.

That took Wonwoo for a loop. 'Not make him feel good'? Had you seen yourself? Had you seen him just two days ago? He was a mess of himself at the mere feeling of some amateur dry humping. He was the one who should be nervous at the thought of your finally seeing your open legs in front of his face.

He chuckled sheepishly at you, "There's no way you could ever make me not feel good. I don't know if you want to hear this from me, but, you're so fucking gorgeous. Any guy, and I mean any, would kill if you gave them the time of day. You don't even need any of this 'training,'" he said with air-quotes, "There would probably be a line full of guys itching to get a chance to be with you; to take your virginity," he ranted, knowing he was doing himself a disservice in vying for other guys, but needing you to know how impossible it'd be for you to embarrass yourself when you were so you; so seductive and mind-boggling without even realizing it.

"Oh," you breathed out at his praise, clearing your throat right after to recover, "But I only trust you," you said, putting your hands on his, "I only care what you think and how you ... how you teach me," your eyes looked into his, wide and innocent.

"I'll teach you. I'll teach you anything you want," he swallowed a deep breath, breathing through his nose, "Do you ... Do you want to start with what I taught you the other day?", he decided to get the ball rolling.

You nodded silently, surprising him when you suddenly went to straddle on his lap, hands on his shoulders as you leaned down slowly, placing your lips on his.

The two of you hadn't discussed yet what exactly you'd be doing today, but getting your lips on his seemed like a necessity for Wonwoo at this moment in time. It was the most important thing to him with the current fogginess in his mind.

The kiss became heated quickly. It seemed like you had some trouble building up the tension and instead gave the kiss your all right away. Either that, or you simply felt equally as affected as Wonwoo and needed to portray that through your kiss as soon as possible. That might've been wishful thinking, but Wonwoo kept his hopes up.

His large hands wrapped around you, holding onto your ass and gasping when he felt you begin to move, digging his nails into your plush hips to guide you. It was all happening too fast, but he had no complaints. Not when you were somehow grinding so expertly against him all while breathing the cutest sighs into his mouth.

"Like this? Is it like this, Wonwoo?", you asked into his mouth, whining when he decided to lick at your tongue as you spoke.

"Yes ... Such a fast learner. So fucking good," he breathed, dragging your hips against his own.

Leaning back against the couch, he pulled you closer, planting his feet on the ground and matching your movements. Your leggings and his basketball shorts were thin enough for him to pretend they weren't there, feeling all the heat you were forming between your bodies and groaning at the friction.

Wonwoo suddenly gasped into your mouth when he felt an intrusion between you, only taking him a moment to realize that your hand had snuck down and began feeling him up to find his cock, slowly halting your movements. He let you fully slow down, groaning when your hand enveloped him through his shorts.

"Will you teach me how to make you feel good? Want you to make you cum with my hands, Nonu," you murmured between wet kisses.

He went to heaven and came right back at your words. Your voice was so shy yet so sensual, making his brain override with lust. He had to take a few moments to answer, or else he would've only been able to offer you a pathetic whimper as an response.

Despite having slept with many girls before, having almost each of them put their hands on his cock just as you were doing, none ever made him feel so desperate and depraved. Neither did they cause the warmth in his chest the same way you did.

"Anything you want," he mumbled, head completely empty, "Let me- let me take off my pants, okay, pretty?"

You moved to the side for a moment, allowing him to remove his pants and boxers as you watched with your bottom lipped trapped between your teeth. He could've sworn he heard you sigh when his cock was finally out in the open, but there was no way to confirm it.

"Shirt too?", you requested, staring at him with eyes he just couldn't deny.

Throwing it off, he immediately pulled you closer to him, kissing your lips again and again. You kept whining into his lips, hands coming to his chest to feel him up, crying out into his lips any time you'd make contact with hard muscle.

Wonwoo knew you liked his physique, – you'd told him so many times before – but having you be so affected by his body had him on a high. This would only feed into him and cause him to go even harder at it next time he hit the gym. Bulking up out of his own volition suddenly went down on his list of priorities, being dethroned by a need to have you needily feel him up just as you currently were.

Next thing he knew, your hand went from his chest, down to his abs, landing on his aching dick.

"It's so big ... Is it supposed to be this big?", you asked against his lips, a petulant tone in your voice.

There was no way you didn't know what you were doing. Was there? Were you really so fucking inexperienced and pliant for him? Or were you simply trying to put his restraint to the test?

One look into your eyes responded those questions for him. Your eyebrows were furrowed and there was a look of wonder in your face. You seemed worried about his size, but also ditzy with desire for him – just like he was for you.

"It's okay ... Just, just wrap your hands around it, yeah? I'll take you from there," he instructed, pecking your lips once for reassurance, "Y-yeah, just like t-that, fuck ..." he huffed, "Now ... just twist- yeah, fuck, that's it ..."

"Like this?", you asked, wide eyed and pouty, jerking him off almost perfectly. You were shy in your movements, but you were still causing Wonwoo to lose track of how to breathe properly.

"Yes, that's so good, shit. You're doing so good ..."

Suddenly, your other hand went down to his balls, toying at them shyly, gasping when you took notice of Wonwoo's chocked-out breath.

"Sorry! Was that-"

"Do it again ... Fuck, do that again," he grumbled, attempting to keep his voice low.

Silently, you followed his instruction, continuing to use both hands to jerk him off and play with his balls. You bit your lip, giving him Wonwoo a look of unadulterated lust he had never seen from you. His best option at that moment was to close his eyes and lean his head back against the back of the couch. If not, he'd be forced to watch you and further lose his mind.

Only a few moments later, Wonwoo felt a sudden wetness against his nipple, making him hiss. You had brought your head down to his chest, lips kitten-licking at his nipple, teeth occasionally scraping it when you took notice of his shuddered breaths at the action. You were making Wonwoo a complete mess of himself, and he had no ability to stop you – you were taking over all his senses.

"Baby ... You're gonna m-make me cum. Being so fucking good for me," he sighed, "Such a good fucking girl," the thought was rotting his mind. You were being so fucking good for him; making him feel good. No one had ever felt your touch in such a way, only him.

"Nonu, please cum ... I'm so fucking wet, I need you so bad," you whined into his chest, "Need you to show me how you'd make me feel good," you added as an afterthought. Wonwoo knew lust was taking over you, and it exhilarated him.

"Cumming, f-fuck," he had completely blanked on getting something to cover himself with when he finally came, which was why it came to his surprise when you brought down your lips to the head of his cock, wrapping them around it and softly sucking as he emptied himself out.

"Fuck, so good- so fucking good. Pretty girl so fucking obedient and, and good for me, f-fuck. Don't even have to tell you to- to lick me clean. Making me lose my mind ..." he rambled, eyes rolling back at both the feeling and sight of you sucking his dick throughout the entirety of his orgasm.

Having emptied himself out, you took him out of your mouth, using your fingers to wipe at any leftover cum on the side of your lips and licking them clean. Wonwoo could not stand that image for too long, dragging you in for a sad excuse of a kiss that mostly consisted of his tongue sucking at your own, attempting to steal his taste from your mouth. Sighing into his lips, you somehow ended up on his lap again, hips immediately grinding against his sensitive cock.

He couldn't bring himself to care about how sensitive he felt when you were so visibly desperate for that friction, dragging your hips into his slowly-hardening cock, positioning yourself so you'd rub right against your walls.

Sadly, the feeling soon became too much, leading to Wonwoo pulling away despite your whines in defiance, "Need you to lay back on the couch, okay, pretty? Gonna take care of you now," he whispered into your lips.

You stopped whining and nodded, sitting back against the couch as he got up, now being the one to straddle you, though not putting any of his weight on you.

His hands ran up and down your body, trying to assess where to start. There were so many fantasies running through his mind, and not enough self control to enact every single one.

"Can I undress you?"

Nodding, you began doing it yourself, only to be stopped by him.

"The guy should be the one undressing you, okay, baby? He should take care of you in every way," he added, "I should've made you cum first today, but you insisted I teach you how to get me off," he tsk'd lightheartedly at you, almost as if scolding you for having caught him off guard, "But I'll make it up to you."

You giggled, "Okay, Nonu. I'll let you take care of me first next time," you agreed.

Next time. God, did he have plans for next time.

His hands made their way to your shirt, lifting it up as you raised your arms to assist him. His original plan was to move onto your pants immediately, leaving you in just your underwear all at once, but the sight under your shirt distracted him too much to even remember his name.

Seeing each other today for this reason had been a last minute plan, so Wonwoo was entirely unprepared for what was sitting right in front of him. He attempted to speak a few times, but just ended up closing his mouth right after, eventually leading you into a shy giggle at how dumb he must've appeared.

"Do you like it?," you bit your lip shyly, "I told you I might've over-prepared ..."

Sitting in front of him, you were currently donning the prettiest little sheer bra, accompanied by embroidered flowers on the cups, but still allowing him prime view of your nipples through the fabric. The color of the sheer piece suited you perfectly, making your nipples peak through in a way that had his eyes glued to your chest.

You had picked out some pretty lingerie ... just for him. Now he not only had to deal with the sight, but also the thought of you dolling yourself up just for him.

After a few moments of his silence, you called him out, making him snap out of his thirst.

"Fuck, is it too much? I thought- I thought you'd appreciate if I wore something pretty for you," you mumbled, shifting awkwardly at his lack of reaction, wrongly assuming that he was put off.

Fuck, did he have to be such an idiot? Why was he acting like he'd never seen breasts or lingerie before? You made him feel like he was an inexperienced virgin who was looking up tits online for the first time.

"No! Fuck, no, that's not it at all," his hands went to your cheeks, making your eye line match his, "You just surprised me, that's all," he took a breath, "You look insanely gorgeous, I promise."

"Are you sure?"

He closed the gap between you temporarily, gifting you a few pecks as he responded, "Please tell me it's a matching set," he pleaded into your mouth.

Your demeanor changed, giggling at him and shrugging with a bite of your lip, "Why don't you check?"

Determined, he helped you lift your hips as he dragged your leggings off, being rewarded with the sight of equally sheer panties, the almost transparent fabric giving him optimal view of your cunt, which was already glistening with your wetness.

"Do you want-"

Wonwoo would never know what you were going to ask, as he suddenly trapped you in a kiss, groaning into your mouth as he pushed you to lean against the back of the couch. Sighing into his lips, you followed his rhythm, letting out tiny moans when his hands went down to toy with your tits, rubbing and pinching at your nipples through your bra.

Whining and crying into his lips, you took over every single one of his senses. You were too perfect for him, making feel genuine distress at how badly he wanted you.

His hand slowly headed south, finding its way to your cunt, fingers beginning to rub at you through the fabric. Your desperate hips matched his movements, grinding into his hand as he continued to kiss you, swallowing every plea of his name.

"Ever touched yourself before, pretty?", he whispered.

Shaking your head, your cheeks warmed up, "N-never knew how. Never felt good," you murmured almost too low for him to hear.

This almost halted his movements, but he didn't want to risk your embarrassment growing over it, so he simply let his fingers go past the barrier of your panties, now rubbing you directly, though not penetrating your walls just yet. He wanted to hear more from you.

"No?", he coo'd, keeping his cool, "Have you- have you ever orgasmed?"

You took a short pause, kissing at his cheek and making a trail down to his neck to distract him. This only worked for a few moments (He might've gotten too distracted by your cunt), but after a few seconds he put a stop to his movements, only keeping pressure on your cunt as he made it so you'd look into his eyes.

"Baby? You can tell me," he encouraged.

"No ... My first orgasm was the one you gave me a few days ago, when we ..."

Oh.

Had it been-

Had your first orgasm been when he dry humped you against the wall?

Fuck.

A mixture of pride and embarrassment invaded Wonwoo's mind. On one side, he was incredibly mortified that he had taken your first orgasm by humping into you like an animal in heat. On the other, he felt like he was on top of the world knowing that no one, not even yourself, had ever drawn an orgasm out of you until he came along.

His body decided to go with the latter, immediately feeling his loins fire up with an immense desire to give you another orgasm. And then another, and another – up until you were sobbing under him.

He kissed you again before you could express any form of embarrassment, shoving his tongue in your mouth and finally digging his fingers into your cunt. The moans you let out against his lips were muffled by his insistence on kissing you. Your hands didn't know where to land, going from his thighs to his waist and finally halting at his biceps, nails digging into them at the pleasure.

Slowly, he angled his fingers in your cunt, pumping them with increasing speed while his thumb toyed around for your clit, staying stationed on the swollen bud upon finding it.

"Never touched your pussy like this, baby? Hmm? Never filled yourself up?", he practically taunted, reeling on the fact that he was making you discover all this brand new pleasure.

"N-no, Nonu. Never ... Feels so good, s-so full. Please don't stop," you whimpered, gasping when he began pistoning into that spongy spot that made your eyes roll back.

"This is only the beginning, pretty. Gonna get you on my tongue next. Fuck, pussy's so warm and tight. Bet it tastes so good," he rambled, picturing his cock suffocating between your walls.

"Keep talking to me, Nonu. L-love when you talk to me."

— You liked his horny ramblings about your cunt? This was a match made in heaven.

"Want me to tell you what I'm going to do to you?"

You nodded with wide eyes.

"Gonna drive you to the edge of orgasm with my fingers," his fingers slowed down to emphasize his point, "and then I'm gonna rip it away from you," he chuckled when you let out a tiny whimper at the threat, "But don't worry, baby, then I'm going to lick you up, gonna tease you with my tongue til you're crying ... and then I'm gonna make you cum. Won't waste a single drop of your orgasm, pretty. Gonna lick it all up and make you suck it out of my tongue," he finished, out of breath whilst his fingers continued their torturously slow pace.

"Please ... Want- wanna cum. Just- you can make me cum twice ... Right? Just make me cum again, fuck, please?", you were a complete mess by the end of his ramblings, making his hardening cock become even more rigid.

He'd been dealing with his cock pressing up against your stomach this whole time, knowing that it was probably digging into you as it continued to harden at every whimper that left your mouth. After you'd sucked him off through his own orgasm, he knew he'd have to end up seeking another one after you left, except that task was becoming harder by the minute.

Despite his inner turmoil at his delayed pleasure, you were clearly still his main priority. Chuckling darkly at your desperation, he coo'd at you patronizingly, nosing at your cheek up until his lips found your ears, whispering filth into them.

"Wanna cum? Wanna be a greedy girl and cum on my fingers and then on my mouth?" he nibbled at your lobe, chuckling again at the desperate way in which you nodded. He pretended to mull over it for a few seconds, meanly speeding up his fingers so you'd grow closer to your orgasm, "Okay, pretty. You can cum for me. Been such a good girl for me ... Cum? Make a mess, hmm?," he encouraged.

With a mantra of 'thank you's' whispered into his ear, you tightened around him as your orgasm washed over you, forcing Wonwoo to develop an entirely new sense of self control to prevent himself from cumming along with you, intensely affected by the sight. His fingers played with you through your orgasm, up until you silently squirmed at him to remove them.

Satisfied, he pulled out your fingers and dragged them up to his lips, sucking them in a manner so depraved, he was embarrassed by the way you became bashful at the sight. He shrugged off the embarrassment, gathering more honey from between your legs and lifting his fingers up to your own lips, groaning deep in his chest at how obediently you sucked at them, making eyes at him while you gagged on his fingers.

With an impossibly hard cock, he struggled to get on his knees in front of the couch, but managed to just out of the sheer need to bury his head between your legs. His mind couldn't even allow him to give you time to recover before pulling at your legs, dragging you closer to him. You wanted to experience sexual acts in preparation for the next guy that caught your eye? Well, then Wonwoo would have to make sure to lift your expectations as high as possible, hopefully rendering you unable to find anyone who could ever bring you as much pleasure as he would. And he would start by suckling into your sensitive cunt until you cried.

"N-Nonu! Fuck, oh, God, just like that!" you cried in desperation.

He couldn't blame you. The way in which he had immediately latched onto your cunt and gone to town between your legs had been far too intense, not bothering to ease you into it nor wait for you to recover from your previous orgasm.

You sobbed and cried above him, fingers tangled in his hair as you pushed him further into your cunt, clearly too lustful to have any decorum. But did Wonwoo care for decorum? Not when he also didn't have any. Not when he endlessly groaned into your pussy, grumbling praise and pleas for you to use him to your heart's contentment. Any thought of this being a way to teach you what oral was like had been buried deep in the back of his mind. For now, you were his to invade with pleasure and nothing else mattered.

After digging deep within you with his tongue, he pulled away (despite your whines in complaint), pointing his tongue to flick at your puffy clit. You responded by grinding into him, mumbling pleas for more. At some point you had taken off your bra, Wonwoo realized as he took a peak above him, finding one of your hands toying at a nipple. The sight made him want to be buried alive. His cock was surely hard as a rock by now, and the need to grab you and fuck you into a mumbling mess kept growing by the minute.

The couch began squeaking when Wonwoo's intensity in eating you out increased, your grinding also becoming faster and more erratic. His hips joined in on the commotion, rocking against the foot of the couch in a pathetic attempt to find some friction. You took notice of this after a while, crying out his name.

"Nonu ... Fuck ... Is it like this? Is this- is this how it's supposed to feel?", you sobbed, "I can't- It's too much- too good, fuck, Wonwoo ... Please ... Wanna cum."

He wanted so badly to tell you this was not the norm. That no man would ever be as thirsty for you as he was. That no one could ever bring you this amount of pleasure nor worship you as much as him. But he opted to make you cry even more instead, rubbing his nose into your clit while he licked into you with an unquenchable thirst.

"It's that good, baby? Making you feel good?," he instigated you into more nonsensical babbles.

You nodded frantically, "Wanna- wanna try it on you ... Y-your cock. Wanna suck your dick, Nonu, fuck. Please don't cum ... I need to be the one to make you cum. Teach me? P-please?", you suddenly threw him a curveball with your pleas, causing his hips to still with a gruttal groan.

"Fuck, baby ... Want my cock? I'll give it to you. I'll give you anything you want, just cum for me, okay, gorgeous? Hmm? Gonna cum for me?", he mumbled into your cunt, groaning at your increasingly high-pitched moans.

You sounded so gone and desperate for him, it was making it hard for him to not continue seeking tension on his cock by humping the couch. But the mere thought of your lips wrapped around his cock while you asked him to teach you how to make him cum had his mind focused on a single mission.

"C-cumming, Nonu! I'm gonna- fuck, please, please, please," you whimpered in between gasps.

Intensely thirsty for you, Wonwoo sucked at your cunt through the entirety of your orgasm, licking at any cum that managed to escape his mouth up until you had to physically drag his face away from between your legs, earning a sheepish chuckle out of him at his pussydrunkness.

He climbed the couch back up, kissing you once again, pushing in any leftover cum in his mouth for you to taste. Harshly, you pulled at his hair as you licked into his mouth. It was amusing to Wonwoo how easily you'd gotten used to kissing him just in the way he'd taught you. It sent shivers down his spine thinking of how perfect you were for him.

"Want your-"

"I know, baby. Want my cock, huh? I'll give it to you, just ... Let me kiss you," he mumbled against your lips while his hand went up to play with your tits, thumbs swiping at your nipples.

Kissing him back with just as much need, the two of you remained like this for a few minutes, breathing moans into the other's mouth until losing your breaths. Wonwoo took this as an opportunity to kiss his way down to your chest, sucking at your tits with greedy moans.

It was borderline pathetic how much he wanted you. He had already cum once, yet his cock was leaking precum once again, swollen and aching for your lips around it again. He had only felt you wrapped around his tip, suctioning enough to swallow his cum, but he was yet to show you how to truly take him.

Wonwoo's sexual frustration got to him faster than he expected, leading him to yet another trail to your lips before whispering into them, "Are you ready, baby?"

Nodding, you swallowed in anticipation. He proceeded to sit next to you on the couch, far enough that you'd be able to reach his cock if you knelt on top of the couch and leaned down to his side. Repositioning you, he shuddered when you finally began to lean down, lips quickly approaching his cock. But you stopped before you could make contact, staring up at him nervously.

"How ... I'm not sure how to do it ..." you murmured.

He coo'd at you, placing a hand on your cheek, "It's okay, pretty. You can change your mind, you don't have to-"

"I want to," you interrupted, "Just ... Guide me?"

You began leaning down again, keeping your eyes on Wonwoo (something he knew would come to break him), silently asking for instructions.

"Just lick it first, okay? Then- fuck ... Pretty, shit, slow down ... God, fuck, just like that ... Shit, are you sure you need me to teach you? So fucking good already ..." he groaned when you began taking him in your mouth, eyebrows furrowed in concentration and head bobbing up and down.

Your hands wrapped around what couldn't make it into your mouth while you pushed him in as far in as possible. Occasionally, you'd choke, pulling back enough to breathe properly through your nose, but you continued to suck him off to the best of your inexperienced ability. It was messy and filthy for you both, but Wonwoo enjoyed it all the more at seeing just how desperate you were to get him off.

"My pretty girl," he grunted, hands digging into your hair as he helped you bob up and down, aiding your rhythm, "My beautiful girl loves my cock, huh? So- so fucking thirsty for it. Making me lose my mind," he continued to ramble, too addicted to the moans you'd let out at his every word, vibrating around his dick.

He was far too pent up and sensitive to survive your mouth for too long. Having watched your orgasm twice whilst humping the couch had drawn him too far to his end before you'd even wrapped your lips around him.

"I'm gonna- gonna cum, okay, pretty? Need- need you to keep your mouth on me. Swallow it all for me? Hmm? Y-yes, shit, keep doing that," he encouraged, head dizzy at your moan of confirmation.

Sooner than anticipated, his high robbed him of any ability to think or breathe, too absorbed by the immense pleasure you were bringing him. His hips canted slowly into your mouth as he rode the wave of his orgasm, eyes rolling back at how willing you were to let him use his mouth for his undivided pleasure. Once more, you swallowed every drop, drawing embarrassingly loud groans from his lips as he threw his head back.

With a heavy breath, you took him out of your mouth, wiping your cum-stained lips with the back of your hand before being suddenly pulled into Wonwoo's lap with a yelp.

"Such a good girl," he groaned into your lips, trapping you in the nth kiss of the night. He licked at every inch of your mouth, seeking out his own cum from your tongue.

He still felt incredibly needy, but knew that another orgasm would render him useless for the rest of the day. You, however, were clearly too affected for him to stop. Deciding to provide you with another new form of pleasure, he positioned you so you'd straddle his lap, guiding your hips to grind on the length of it with your bare cunt, still soaked and begging for attention.

"N-nonu," you stammered with a breathy sigh, "Fuck, feels good ..."

"Yeah, pretty? Feels so good, huh? Keep grinding on it, okay, baby? Make yourself cum on my thigh," he murmured into your ear, nibbling at the lobe before kissing down your neck.

He silently enjoyed the feeling of your skin against him, while also eating up every single noise of unadulterated pleasure coming from your lips. Falling for you more by the second, he lost himself in the moment, entirely investing himself in your person.

"You're so fucking beautiful. Do you have any idea? Any guy would kill to be yours, fuck," he started, laying kisses from your neck to your ear, "Can't believe I'm the only guy to ever get you like this," he marbled.

"Nonu," you sighed at his soft touches, leaning into his kissed and moaning softly every so often.

"God, love this body so much ... Prettiest thing I've ever had," his hands explored your body, dragging your hips so they'd grind into his thigh with even more fervor, "Need you to cum again, pretty. Yeah? Gonna be a good girl for me and cum?"

"Y-yes. Nonu, please ..."

"Only for me, right, baby? Only I get to have you like this ..." he practically whined when you nodded, rewarding you with his lips finding your nipples, nibbling at the hard buds and humming any time your moans would vibrate against him.

"Tell me you're mine," he instigated. He knew your mind was half gone in the pleasure of the approach of your third orgasm, but he needed to hear you say it at least once. He needed the fantasy to continue.

"Yours, Nonu. A-always yours ... Make me feel so good, fuck," you gasped, desperately humping into his thigh. He buried his face in your chest with a groan, far too affected by your reciprocation.

Did you mean it? Were you his? He knew it was all done and said in the heat of the passion being shared between you, but he couldn't help but take those words to heart. To save them and treasure them as if they'd been heartfelt.

Fingers tightening into the plush of your hips, he dragged you back and forth on his thigh, reeling at every gasp you let out at the feeling. He continued to wax poetic at you, letting out his most intimate of feelings for you under the vice of the pleasure getting to him.

You dumbly nodded along to every word, reciprocating every so often with a look like Wonwoo hoped was genuine. Falling against his chest, you found your third high of the night, mumbling 'thankyou's' as you kissed at his chest tenderly.

The rest of the night was spent in each other's arms, somehow managing to fall into slumber on Wonwoo's couch, you lying above him while he held you in his arms.

Wonwoo woke up the next day to your absence and a lone sticky note on the coffee table in front of him, clearly a message from you before your departure.

thank u for last night <3 i'll see u on wednesday?

He chuckled at the message, unable to help the butterflies in his stomach at the memory of the night prior and the thought of what was to come. He knew that things would likely stop after Wednesday, – the day in which he'd finally take your virginity – but he decided he'd enjoy you as long as he had you all to himself. Even if there was an expiration date on it.

Surprisingly to Wonwoo, you never showed up on Wednesday, neither did you respond to his messages all through the day. It was common for the two of you to go one or two days without responding to the other, but usually not when you already had plans to meet.

Considering the nature of the plans you had that day, the situation had Wonwoo tremendously worried. It was even worse when he'd consulted other friends and found out you'd been in contact with them, only icing him out.

It was on Thursday that he grew frustrated. With his entire day being taken up by classes, he was unable to even go looking for you. His mind had been on you all day, rendering him unable to pay attention to any of his lectures or even touch any overdue homework that he had. Your silence had only lasted a few days so far, but he was already growing insane because of it.

It wasn't until the following week that he decided to go to you, with no prior warning informing you of his presence at your front door.

As he stood in front of your closed door, hand lifted and ready to knock, he felt absolutely terrified. Last time he had seen you, too many things had happened between you. From the handjob to the eating out to the oral, Wonwoo's mind wad fried with all the intimacy that taken place that day. Had he done too much? Or maybe he had been too obvious about how he felt about you. Regardless of the reason for your sudden silence, he knew it must've been bad.

"Wonwoo?"

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a voice coming from his left – your voice. You were arriving from some sort of errand it seemed, seeing as you were carrying a large tote bag on each hand as you walked towards your own door.

"Y/N," he somehow managed to stammer your name, gulping at your presence.

You walked past him, opening your door and standing to the side, silently welcoming him in. Apprehensively, he stepped in, hands awkwardly in his pockets and his eyes stagnant on the floor.

Your figure disappeared into the kitchen for a few moments after you'd stepped in, coming back out bagless and standing in front of him in the living room. Wonwoo hadn't bothered to take a seat on your couch, too distracted by the endless thoughts of what was about to come.

"I ... I don't think I want you to take my virginity anymore," you suddenly spoke up, apprehensive in your tone and unable to meet Wonwoo's eyes.

His heart dropped at your words. He felt embarrassed by the tinge of disappointment arising within him, but also scared of what this truly meant for your friendship.

He scrunched up his eyes painfully before responding, finally looking up to look at you, "W-what? Did something happen? Did I do something wrong?"

Wonwoo couldn't help but take it personally, heart breaking at just a single sentence.

"It's not that, just ... Fuck, we took this too far, Wonwoo. I thought about everything that happened last time and ... it's too much," you said with regret in your eyes, "I shouldn't have ever asked you for this. I just- I felt like such a loser graduating college and still being a virgin, but I never should've made you do this-"

"You didn't make me do anything," he stepped towards you, wincing when you stepped back, "I ... We don't have to keep going, just ... What changed? Why- why have you been avoiding me?" He needed to know.

You hesitated, looking away and biting your lip with a pained look in your eyes. For a few moments you remained quiet, sniffling occasionally, letting Wonwoo know that you were likely on the verge of crying.

"I can't tell you," you practically whispered.

He had to force himself not to react to your words. The frustration within him was fighting to be let out into the surface. He couldn't deny that his feelings were hurt and that his ego was bruised at how lightly you were taking this. How could he have been the only one to make the mistake of putting his heart in it?

"Do you- do you think it's okay to just-," he tried, swallowing the vile forming in his throat, "How can you ask me to sleep with you and then just ... just ghost me? If you didn't want to keep going, I would've understood, but ... a week? I don't hear from you for a week after- after everything we did?," he mumbled the last part, embarrassed by how quickly he'd gotten emotional.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this. You were going to teach me, and that was it," you started, a pained look in your eyes as they gradually became glassy, "But then, that second time, when we- when-" you cut yourself off, seemingly unable to continue. You looked to the side, avoiding his eyes, "It's better if we just stop here. I don't think we should talk about this," you sniffled.

"Why?", he pushed, "What does this mean for our friendship, then? Am I worth so little to you that you'd want me for sex and then just throw me away when you change your mind?", he took off his glasses momentarily to angrily wipe at the tears forming on his eyes. His anger and sadness were mixing together, creating a combination of emotions that resulted in the mess he felt himself to be.

"Wonwoo, you know it's not like that-"

"Do I? Do I know? Because what it seems to me is like you insisted I take your virginity, changed your mind – which is totally fine, but fuck – and then ghosted me. I thought we were friends- no, best friends. Was it that horrible that you had to ice me out? Are you just going to find some guy on tinder now? Was it- was it the things I said last time?", his tone shifted, unveiling his sadness, "Did I scare you away with everything I said? I- I was just caught in the moment, it didn't," he gulped, vile forming in his throat knowing he was about to deliver a painful lie, "it didn't mean anything."

You swallowed, looking down again and sniffling, "Yeah, I know," you whimpered. Your arms wrapped around yourself, making yourself as small as possible as you stood in front of Wonwoo. It then became evident to Wonwoo that you were attempting to self-soothe. Your eyes were now covered by a layer of tears, making them glassy, much like Wonwoo's.

"Y/N?", he asked.

You looked up, sniffing before connecting your eyes to Wonwoo's.

"Talk to me. Please," he pleaded with saddened eyes.

You mumbled something unintelligible to Wonwoo, making him take a few steps forward to encourage you into speaking.

Placing his hands on your cheeks, he made you look up to look at him, finding tear-stained cheeks and a defeated look on your face.

"I can't understand you, just- just please talk to me," he pleaded once more.

Your eyes continued to not meet his despite your current standing. Taking a deep breath, your hands went up to cup his own, which were still tenderly cupping at your cheeks.

"I like you ..." you started, quietly as you finally made eye contact with him, eyebrows furrowed and pained at your own words, "I like you and I couldn't keep going when- when it meant nothing to you. And- and you kept being so nice to me and kissing me and touching me in ways I know meant nothing to you. But I couldn't stop thinking about you and how much what we did has messed with me," you rambled, your voice getting more frantic by the second, "I couldn't even look at you by the end of it all because I was terrified I'd end up telling you how much I-," you swallowed, "how in love with you I am," you admitted, "I never wanted it to get in the way of our friendship, but it all-"

Wonwoo couldn't listen to any more of your rambles before losing his mind at both the pain and irony of your words. His lips invaded your own mid-speech as he swallowed any other words making their way out of your mouth. His hands tightened around your cheeks, only making their way down to your waist when he felt you begin to return his kiss. Moaning in relief into your mouth, he sighed when he felt your tongue use this opportunity to seek his own. Emotions took over him, causing him to lose himself in the kiss, molding himself into you and swallowing every single sigh you let out against his lips.

Feeling the dampness of your tears grace his cheeks made him pull away, remembering the mess of emotions you had been just before he kissed you. The way your lips attempted to follow his own broke his heart, forcing himself to hold back from kissing you until you both lost your breaths. He needed to empty his heart out to you first.

"I love you. I adore you. I'm so fucking obsessed with you, it's been eating me alive," he rasped, lips making their way down your neck, "Felt like shit kissing you and- and touching you when I knew you'd just move on to some dumbass who could never deserve you," he grunted, frustrated at the memory, "How could you ever think I wouldn't love you back when you're so ... so fucking perfect? So made for me," he trailed off. Your sighs were just too distracting for him to deliver the heartfelt speech that had been itching to leave his lips since the day you first kissed.

He pulled away, now staring down into your eyes, hoping his words made it through to you.

"But ... You said you didn't mean it. That it didn't mean anything?", you murmured as he shook his head adamantly in denial.

"I lied," he rasped, "I didn't want you to feel trapped," hands reaching down to your own, he placed them on his chest, "Of course it meant something. Everything I said, I meant. Everything I'm saying right now is true. I love you," he emphasized, "You have to know that I love you," your hand was brought up to his lips, receiving a kiss.

Your eyes somehow watered even more, hiccuping out a gasp before pulling him into you, lips meeting passionately in between. Without any hesitance, he kissed you back, expressing every unsaid word through your meeting of lips. What had started as an exchange of innocent passion soon became a desperate demonstration of love, evolving into moans and sighs swallowed by one another.

Wonwoo felt ashamed by how easy it was for him to fall for his lust for you, but his body craved your own in ways he didn't think possible. Luckily for him, it seemed like you had the same issue, or at least that's the impression he got from how pliant you became in his touch, moans of his name instigating him into kissing and touching more intimately. His lips explored your bare neck, sucking love bites every so often and humming at every sigh leaving your lips.

His purposeful touches became more obvious, reaching down to your ass and up to your mounds to his liking. Your hands ran through his hair, pulling at it any time his touches made you particularly lightheaded. Shockingly to him, you mirrored him, exploring his body with your hands and making your way under his shirt, gracing at his torso.

You had been the first to take things further, grabbing at the end of his shirt and pulling it up. Following your silent request, he threw it off before helping you out of your own. Realizing you had been fully nude under your shirt, he let out a shuddered groan. His lips immediately trailed down to your breasts, practically slobbering all over the sensitive skin while feeding off your cries of his name. Reaching down to the back of your thighs, his hands lifted you up, aided by a small jump from you as you wrapped your legs around him.

Next thing Wonwoo knew, he found himself in your room, laying you on your bed before climbing on top of you and getting back to kissing you.

It was merely impossible to disconnect his lips from you, as your kisses kept drawing him in. He knew you'd been kissed before, but he liked to think that he'd been the first man to ever kiss you in such a way; a way that had you as addicted to him as he was to you.

"Nonu ...," you breathed out in between kisses, "I want you, fuck, please ..."

Wonwoo felt like the world was crashing in on him (in a good way). The groan he roared against your lips couldn't be helped as your words had an instant effect on him.

"A-are you sure?", his frantic eyes searched yours, hands caressing any bit of skin in his reach.

Nodding numbly, you repeated yourself, "Please, Nonu. I want you to be my first. I didn't mean it, I- I want you. I need you, Nonu. Please," you rambled, eyes filled with unrecognizable lust.

He hushed you softly, "Shh, baby. It's okay. I know you didn't mean it," he pecked your lips, "I love you. I'll give it to you, yeah? Gonna fuck you ... Love you so much," he trailed off, attacking your neck with kisses before momentarily getting up to remove his shoes and pants, leaving himself fully nude before you.

You stared back at him, shyly looking him up and down and biting your lip. The look you were giving Wonwoo tested all his self control. He wondered how much longer he could resist you without losing his sanity. But he persisted, having an intimate desire to give you the softest and most mind-blowing first time he possibly could. As much as he wanted to fuck you, his desire to make love to you overrode that need.

Nimble fingers traced down from your breasts to your shorts, dragging them off with the help of a lift of your hips. Along with your shorts went your panties, leaving a slight trail of slick he managed to get sight of before closing any distance between you once more.

Slowly, his fingers made their way to your cunt, rubbing at it softly and drawing a few hiccuped gasps from your lips. Your eyes remained connected, wordless as you communicated your lust to one another. He nuzzled his nose along your cheek, enjoying the intimacy of it all as you breathed into his skin.

"Nonu, fuck me," you whined a few moments later, hands pulling at him to somehow get him closer.

"Baby, I need to get you ready," he coo'd at your desperation.

You shook your head adamantly, "No, just- please. I've wanted you since that first day ... Wanted to break off our deal and have you fuck me since you kissed me," you revealed, wrapping your legs around his waist and attempting to push his hips down to your own.

"Baby ..."

"Please," you pleaded again, "I know you want me too. Fuck me," you murmured into his lips, aware you were breaking his resolve.

And his resolve was completely gone. Unable to hold back further, he kissed you again, readjusting his hips so he could grind against you, wanting to at least get you used to the weight and size of his bare cock before pushing it in.

After kissing you for a minute or so, he pulled back, "Condoms?", he asked in between wet kisses.

You shook your head, insisting he keep kissing you, "I'm on birth control. Just- just fuck me," you insisted again.

Leaning back, Wonwoo grabbed onto the base of his cock, running the tip up and down your swollen cunt, swallowing every gasp you let out at the barely-there stimulation. This only lasted a few moments before beginning to push it in, immediately burying his head in the crook of your neck at the immense pleasure taking over him.

He knew you'd be tight and warm and just fucking perfect for him, but nothing could've predicted how tightly your cunt would engulf him and rob him of his sanity. Every night spent thinking of you and punishing himself for wanting you as badly as he did was finally worth the endless wait to have you. Never did he once imagine that he would actually get to feel you, to have you become his and love him as much as he did you. Yet here he was, cock suffocating between your puffy walls while you gasped out his name.

"Feel so fucking good, angel," he managed to let out, "My beautiful girl ... Cunt's so fucking perfect for me ... Can't even move, baby, it's so tight," he rambled, high off his mind in pleasure.

You fared no better, gasping out nonsensical babbles of his name and digging your nails on his back, dragging them down as you left your mark on him. Your lips attempted to match the movement of his own, giving up when he defeated you in his incessant need to fuck into you.

"Tell me it feels good, baby," he breathed, "T-tell me you love me."

"L-love you so much ... Feel so good, Nonu. Can't- can't think. It's so good," you cried, head thrown back in pleasure.

He grew even more lustful at the mere sound of your broken voice. The knowledge that he was making you feel good beyond comprehension took him to cloud-9, speeding up his hips once you seemed used to the penetration of his cock.

Lifting up your hips, he angled himself perfectly to cant into you, managing to hit that spongy spot inside you that had you shamelessly wailing his name. Your tits bounced with every slap of his hips against your ass, making Wonwoo's eyes roll back at the sight.

But your wails weren't enough for him, he needed you to lose yourself completely, to forget anything that wasn't a mantra of Wonwoo Wonwoo Wonwoo. His hand snuck down to your cunt, toying around until he made contact with your swollen clit, rubbing at it with no mercy. Your gasps and screams of his name were his immediate reward whilst Wonwoo drank in the sight of your eyes rolling back.

"N-Nonu ... F-fuck! Need to cum, Nonu, please. I need to cum. Make me cum, Nonu. Please? Need you to cum with me, fuck," you rambled, unaware that he was at the very edge of his orgasm.

Your horny ramblings were enough for him to head face first into his orgasm, pulling you right down with him as his hips lost complete control.

"Cum with me, pretty. Let me fill you up while you cum with me, okay? Let me feel that cunt squeeze me dry ..." he breathed out, eyebrows furrowed as he willed himself to not bust.

That's when your orgasm found you, stealing his sanity as his own followed yours. He let go of your legs and held onto your back, continuing to grind into you as he released inside you. With his face buried in your neck, he murmured love confessions against your skin, mind dizzy with love and lust.

By the end of it, your lips were meeting again, soft and languid kisses shared between you while words of affection were exchanged. After a few moments of this soft exchange, Wonwoo finally disconnected his lips from you, choosing to slip out and lay beside you as he nuzzled against you.

"Was that what you expected?", he asked with a bite of his lip.

"Maybe ..." you were shy in your response, "Might need to try again."

"Oh?," he giggled.

Giggled? Fuck, he was down horribly for you.

"C'mere, let me teach you some more."

to read short 2.3k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my svt monthly tier on kofi or patreon!

content: smut, afab reader, foreplay, mentions of handjob, face riding, oral (f receiving), mentions of 69'ing, etc.

wc: 727 (teaser); 2317 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"Exactly how experienced are you?", you had asked out of the blue during one of your 'dates.'

Having been best friends prior to the whole friends with benefits — but not really — situation led to a very natural transition between friends to lovers. Your current dynamic with one another was exactly the same as before, except now you each shared the privilege of calling the other theirs — and all the extra perks that came with having a significant other.

Currently, you found yourselves in a situation you'd grown entirely too familiar with throughout the years of being best friends — in your apartment as you cuddled up with a movie playing in the background. The grand difference at the moment had been your sudden question, making Wonwoo's heart rate increase drastically at the recollection of all his sexual escapades prior to confessing to you.

It's not like Wonwoo knew you to be a jealous person, but the mere thought of any woman who wasn't you just felt wrong to him after finally making you his. Even as he went through every relationship and fling he ever had, he had never felt a connection with anyone as he did you. Sure, he had had some great sex back in his day, but having been in love with you throughout it all, he knew it would've been impossible for sex to ever be as good with anyone else as it had been with you — the contrast in emotional connection was just too different when it came to you.

And so now he found himself unsure as to how to respond. Would you get jealous? Annoyed? He knew damn well that he'd wanna beat down any loser you'd slept with, but he felt lucky he didn't have to deal with that, having been your one and only thus far — though he still felt an irrational hate towards whichever fucker had taken your first kiss from you. These thoughts were far too irrational, Wonwoo was aware. He knew he was a hypocrite to feel such a way when he was the one who had a past of being a bit liberal when it came to his sex life, which was why he would've preferred to avoid the subject of his past sexual partners in general. It's not like he had a new person warming up his bed on a daily basis, but he had his fair share of girlfriends and occasional one night stand throughout his college days. This was something he'd hate to hear about coming from you, and he wanted to offer the same courtesy to you.

However, looking to you as you uttered the problematic question, he found no trace of negative emotions in your eyes. The question appeared to be born out of mere curiosity, not fabricated to create a rift or any sort of argument.

"I, uh, are you sure you want me to answer that?", was all he could come up with, shuffling on the couch to turn to look at you.

You nodded with a look of wonder in your eyes, "Yeah. I'm just curious."

"Uh," he continued to stammer, "I'm just not sure how to answer the question."

"Well, how many sexual partners have you had? Or, like, is there anything you haven't tried yet?", you mirrored him in his position, still sitting on the couch but now facing him.

The follow up questions were worse than the original one. Wonwoo had no idea of the answer to neither, which appalled him in retrospect. It's not like he kept a tally of every girl he slept with, nor did he have much recollection of every sex position he'd tried in the past — was there anything he had not done at some point?

You must've caught onto the wheels turning in his head, laughing at his expression before elaborating with your questions.

"Okay, shit. Is it upwards of ten?"

"Y-yeah, maybe," — it was probably over twenty, but you didn't need to know that.

"How about my other question? Anything you haven't tried yet?", you showed no reaction to his answer, so he allowed himself to ponder on a response to your second question.

Was there anything he hadn't done? Maybe something he'd fantasized about doing with you? Something he might've saved for the day he finally got the balls to- oh. That's when it hit him.

...

find the 18+ continuation on kofi or patreon!

if you have trouble finding it on there, just let me know!!<3

#seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen oneshot #seventeen smut #svt smut #svt imagines #svt scenarios #seventeen scenarios #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo oneshot #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo smut

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purinfelix · 2 months ago

Note

Franco Colapinto, where his girlfriend gets jealous of his interviews, so she does everything to make him jealous in return.

a taste of his own medicine ⋆.ೃ࿔*･- franco colapinto

summary: you've had enough of your boyfriend's shameless flirting during interviews, and hatch a plan to get back at him for it w/c : 1.3k

a/n: AAAA this is such a cute idea anon - i wrote a good chunk of this a while ago but only just finished the last bit today, thank u for the req and i hope u enjoy !! <333

You wondered if your boyfriend could feel the stone-cold glare you were giving the back of his head from your spot in the VIP lounge - though if he could, he surely wasn't doing anything about it.

Initially, there hadn't been any problems with keeping your relationship secret - in fact, it had been your idea for a number of reasons. You just didn't consider yourself ready to be swarmed and scrutinised by the media or have the title of 'F1 wag' bestowed upon you. It didn't feel right, if anything it felt like a disservice to boil down your relationship with Franco to something so sensationalized. Keeping it private seemed the best decision, at least for the time being. But now, the longer you watched your boyfriend shamelessly flirt with anyone who crossed his path, the more you grew to regret this decision.

You weren't by any means a jealous person by nature, but something about the fact that no one but you had any problem with this situation - and only because they didn't know about your relationship - irritated you. If only you could figure out a way to make Franco feel the same way you were. Just at that moment, as if by fate, you spotted a young-looking boy in a race suit walking casually past the lounge. His carefree walk, curly brown hair and boyish smile - bingo.

"Hey there," you called out, hopping up from the chair you were sitting in and walking over to the boy.

"Oh, hello," he replied, seemingly taken aback by being addressed by you.

"Sorry, it's just that I'm a little new to all of this and," you look him up and down, "you look like you know what you're doing, do you think you could show me around?"

He laughs shyly, hand rubbing the back of his nape. "Well, I mean, alright then, I'm Ollie by the way."

"Lovely to meet you, Ollie." You offer a girly giggle which you try your best not to cringe at as you follow the boy, who begins to walk around the nearest garage.

He begins to explain things, the process of getting ready to drive, the roles of different team members and the physics of the car itself - all of which you could care less about, but you nod earnestly regardless. Along the way, you even offer any mechanic or engineer who seems your age a friendly smile, and even a wink if they're particularly good-looking.

It's just your luck too that all of this is happening just close enough to the media hubs where your boyfriend has been stuck all afternoon. You try your best not to look too often over at him, not wanting to give away the true intentions of this mini tour you're scored for yourself. He doesn't seem to share the same sentiment though, based off of how many times you've caught him stealing glances at you, his eye following watchfully as you laugh and tease your impromptu tour guide.

"And so every element of car design has the purpose of making it as fast as possible, either through aerodynamics or by making everything lightweight," he continues to explain excitedly, and even though you're starting to feel dizzy from all the nodding you give him a quick one.

"Oh, wow!" You say, and before you know it you've landed yourself in the perfect position - within both earshot and line of vision of your boyfriend who seems to be wrapping up one of his last interviews for the night. Now, for the cherry on top.

You watch as Franco finishes saying his goodbyes to the last of the media crew, his eyes now searching the paddock for you. Knowing that he's looking at you, you throw your head back in laughter at nothing in particular and bring a hand up to graze Ollie's upper arm. Though you have his back to him you know your boyfriend well enough that when you feel a hand on your own shoulder mere seconds later, you aren't too shocked.

"Oh, hello Franco," you hum, feigning innocence. "Ollie here was just showing me around and keeping me company, isn't he the sweetest?"

"Very sweet." He grins through gritted teeth, though his strengthening grip on your shoulder says otherwise.

"No problem, oh but hey I forgot to show you just one more th-"

"Thanks, kid, but my girlfriend and I have got to get going."

Trying not to make it too obvious on your face how pleased you were that your plan had worked, you thanked Ollie once more before you felt Franco's grip sliding down your arm and intertwining his fingers with yours. Desperately, he dragged you off and away from your tour guide - who had a slightly confused expression painted on his face as he watched the two of you disappear into the Williams garage. You were amazed by how quickly your boyfriend was walking as he pulled you into his driver's room, shutting the door behind you quickly.

"What was that?" he huffed immediately, not giving you a second to say anything. You only smiled in response, watching his normally calm expression morph into one of frustrated confusion.

"I told you, Ollie was showing me around, you were busy with your interviews anyways," you decide to keep up the act of innocence, though you can tell he's not buying it.

"Bullshit, what sort of showing around involves touching him."

"I didn't think you were watching, those reporters seemed to keep you pretty occupied," you say in a sing-songy tone, throwing yourself down on the couch in his room. You wait for him to respond - something equally sarcastic or quippy, but when you turn to look at him you see him staring at the wall in front of him, eyes furrowed in confusion. Slowly, the cogs in his mind seem to start working as his expression slowly changes into one of realisation.

"You were jealous," he breathes out, turning to you with eyes wide and brows raised.

"Oh pfft- I wouldn't say jealous, bored now that might be more accurate but-" You're interrupted by him taking a seat on the couch next to you, face now painted with a smug look.

"You didn't like that I was talking to so many reporters, did you?" His teasing tone is enough to make your heart race a little, though you try your best to keep calm.

"I'm pretty sure you were doing a little more than talking babe, you were flirting!"

He looks at you with a slightly offended expression, "flirting?" It's almost as if he's just realising what he was doing.

"Uhm, duh."

"Did it really look like that?" His brows curve up into a pleading expression, "I didn't mean to, I swear!" You let out a soft chuckle watching his apologetic expression.

"It's fine baby, just try to be a little less friendly next time - I think your PR team would appreciate it anyway." He nods, scooting a little closer so that he can lay his head on your shoulder. There's a beat of silence before he speaks again.

"You were jealous," he hums, almost as if he's talking to himself.

"Wh- so were you! Poor Ollie is probably terrified of you now!"

"Whatever, he's a big boy, he'll live," he sighs, reaching for your hand and intertwining it in his "Plus, don't act like you're any better using that kid to get back at me."

"Hey, I had to do something before you walked out of that media room with a second girlfriend," you crossed your arms in annoyance, refusing to even look at him.

"You're cute when you're jealous," he laughs, before turning to peck at your jawline. Before you can stop you're melting into his touch, bringing a hand up to brush his curly hair away from his face. It might be a weak apology to some, but to you - to be here with him, in the privacy of his driver's room, away from Ollie, the reporters, and the rest of the world - it's more than enough.

taglist: (reply/send me an ask if you'd like to be added!)

@spreadyourwings-my-smiling-angel @alelo23 @scill-a @multifan-idk

#franco colapinto #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto x you #franco colapinto imagine #franco colapinto fanfic #franco colapinto fluff #franco colapinto oneshot #williams racing #williams f1 #formula one fanfic #formula one x reader #formula one fluff #formula one #purinfelix #jet writes ★#jet answers ✧

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justauthoring · 7 months ago

Text

head over heels.

requested -> can i request sanemi taking care of reader? Like them being back from a mission after not seeing them for a bit? :) by -> anonymous

a/n -> eeeeeeeee i love this man <3

pairing -> sanemi shinazugawa x f!reader

you pause in your step the second you hear a familiar creak echo across the manor.

that could only mean one thing—

"y/n?" sanemi's gruff voice rings out in the silence, his footsteps growing closer as he makes his way to the entrance. "is that you?"

cringing, you press your hand harder against the side of your stomach. maybe, if you were convincing enough, he wouldn't even notice the blood.

sanemi comes around the corner a second later, his feet padding against the hardwood as he meets your eyes. the neutral expression on his face brightens, just a little, and momentarily you're warmed at the sight of him so happy to see you, but then, you see his eyes trail lower.

oh no—

"are you bleeding?"

okay, so, clearly it had been foolish to think that sanemi somehow wouldn't notice the profusely bleeding wound on your stomach. it was worth the hope, at least.

he's in front of you in a flash, face morphing into one a deep concern as he kneels, taking your hand away by the wrist and eyeing the wound itself. you cringe when you see the look in his eyes.

"i'm fine," you promise swiftly, voice somewhat breathless. honestly, you weren't fine—at least, not completely. your body ached from how hard you pushed yourself and even if you were desperately trying not to make it so obvious, the wound really did hurt. not to mention, you were exhausted and your brain felt numb as you desperately tried to get it to work properly.

setting a hand on sanemi's head and enjoying the feeling of his hair in your fingers, you smile down at him. "the demon ended up being harder than i thought it'd be, that's all," you explain, shaking your head. "he managed to get me with his claw and—oh!"

your words are cut off by a sharp squeal of surprise when you suddenly find yourslef being lifted in the air.

"s-sanemi!"

"shh," he cuts in, voice a little sharper than he intended but it does the job. your lips seal shut, seeing the slight tremble of his lips that he tries to hide. sanemi is gentle, making sure his grip isn't too hard and that he isn't pressing into your wound as he leads you through his estate, stopping when he reaches his bedroom.

he slowly sets you down on the cot and as he straightens out, you stare up at him with parted lips.

"take off your clothes," he explains, moving to make his way back out. "i'll clean the wound for you."

flushing faintly, you nod, watching his back disappear around the corner for a moment before complying with his order. you take your hoari with ease, but your slayer corps uniform takes a bit longer; shaky, exhausted fingers work to unbotton the damn thing, but every shift brings a deep ache to your wound.

you don't even notice sanemi make his way back until his hands are on yours once again.

eyes widening, you turn to him, seeing the bowl of water and clothe he'd brought, befoe focusing back on him.

"sanami—"

he just shakes his head, fingers pushing yours away as he easily unbottons the top of your uniform. your flush deepends when it's suddenly not just being topless in front of sanemi, but him being the one to take off your clothes. and, to be fair, it wasn't like he hadn't before but this...

felt a little more intimate, oddly enough.

he helps you pull your arms through the sleeves, gentle in the way that sanemi only ever really is with you. he folds your shirt and places it beside him, before grabbing the clothe and dipping it in the water before rinsing the excess and pressing it against your side. you expect it to be cold, but the water is the perfect warmth and your body visably eases at the sensation.

"why didn't you go to the butterfly estate?" sanemi asks after a moment more of silence, glancing up at you through his lashes.

"i..." and you hesitate, feeling incredibly vulnerable in that moment as your stomach flutters with butterflies and you squirm lightly in the spot until sanemi presses his fingers into your hip and you halt. sighing, you let your hands fall in your lap. "i wanted to see you," you confess.

sanemi raises a brow; "by tracking blood through my entrance?"

you pout; "sorry."

shaking his head, sanemi pulls the clothe away, falling silent for a moment as he leans closer to get a proper look at your wound. "i don't think you need stitches," he explains, "but we should probably get you checked out by shinobu in case."

your eyes widen; "no!"

"y/n—"

"i'm fine," you breathe, taking his hand in your own two and squeezing. "i promise you. i... i just want to be with you. i was gone for so long."

at that, sanemi hesitates. he eyes you for a moment more, looking like the argument is still on the tip of his tongue, but then it fades, second by second, as he takes in your pleading look and feels your hands around his own.

"fine," he concedes, "but you'll be resting. no straining yourself."

biting your lip, you hesitate; "you sure you'll be able to keep your hands to yourself?" you tease lightly, letting a small smile curl onto your lips.

sanemi liked to act tough, and you guessed, he was—with anyone else. he'd bend over backwards for anything you asked him to do, even if he denied otherwise or tried to argue. in the end, you always got what you wanted simply because sanemi was head-over-heels for you.

but you falter when you see a bright, proud smirk curl onto sanemi's lips. it's not what you're expecting at all, especially when he lets the clothe fall back into the bowl before shoving it away and putting all his focus on you.

he leans forward, hands falling on either side of you as you lean back, bare back falling against the cot as sanemi hovers over you.

"who said anything about me?" he grins ear to ear, a mischevious, somewhat devious twinkle in his eyes. "i told you to rest, but that doesn't mean i can't still... touch you."

you swallow thickly as his right hand trails across your stomach, the touch light and feathery and butterfly-inducing.

"besides," he adds after a moment of tense silence. "i still have to punish you for not taking better care of yourself."

your eyes widen; "but—!"

"uh-huh," he cuts you off when a light pinch to your hip. "didn't i tell you? shh."

and your stomach twists, heart racing, but still, you listen.

because really, you were head-over-heels for sanemi too.

#kny #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi shinazugawa x reader #sanemi x reader

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wincore · 4 days ago

Text

I faked my engagement for free cake samples and got sued after I ran away AIO | haechan

pairing: haechan x baker!reader

genre: comedy, fluff, rivals (?) to lovers (?)

warning(s): quite possibly you will be inflicted with cringe, shameless scamming, mild swearing, one (1) innuendo

words: 5.4k

song recs: santa doesn’t know you like i do by sabrina carpenter, too late for chocolate? by kana hanazawa, like a raspberry by 宇宙ネコ子, honey by kara

a/n: ty to my queens lana and cat for gassing up this dumpster fire i wrote in a caffeine haze while watching my bf die every 20 secs in ds3. the initial plot was going to be far longer and more fleshed out but i fear i'm past my prime ( ._. )" i still hope you guys have fun with this one!! i got to play around with hallmark comedy far more this time, so overall it was a fun time writing <3 happy new year, my lovely mooncakes!!

part of a nonsense christmas: reddit edition collab <3

r/AmITheAsshole

u/YeastMode6969 • 3h

I faked my engagement for free cake samples then got sued after I ran away. AIO?

I (24F, small bakery owner) faked my engagement to get free cake samples at my rival bakery but the employee said I needed my fiance to be there. I panicked and grabbed the first guy to come through the bakery door after me. Turns out he’s not just some random customer. To top it off, he was ridiculously attractive even though he pissed me off every two sentences. I had a panic attack, told myself it’s totally not my fault, and moved on by baking fourteen cakes over the weekend. I thought I got away with it, but three days later, I got an email from him—he’s now suing me for “emotional damages” and “theft of pastries.” Am I doomed, or is this just karma with extra frosting?

⥣ 7.7k ⥥ 2,701 Comments

bun_theory0222 • 2h

INFO: Did you at least try the samples? Were they worth the lawsuit? We’re all dying to know here.

➥ Reply ⥣ 3.2k ⥥

muffinbutdrama1122 • 1h

nah cuz why is he suing when he CLEARLY wants to flirt??? this man is embarrassing but so are you. somebody matched ur freak <3

➥ Reply ⥣ 1.7k ⥥

soggywaffle0205 • 6m

YTA why can’t this shit happen to me. AT LEAST I would commit to the bit.

➥ Reply ⥣ 420 ⥥

cerealfordinner0323 • 2h

Bro sued you just to slide into your life again. He’s not slick, and neither are you. Good luck with that wedding cake.

➥ Reply ⥣ 9,011 ⥥

. . .

If you could hop a few steps to the right, feign unconsciousness, and climb right into the active fireplace, it could potentially make everything okay. For you, that is. Not for the poor bakery employees who would have to call the cops.

“I’m sure he’s a handsome one!” The girl behind the counter giggles, light pink dusting her cheeks. “You’re- you’re so gorgeous!”

Setting aside the fact that most gorgeous women you know end up with malformed gargoyles, your current predicament is almost equally sinister. What started as an innocuous process to gain free wedding samples (in other words, a scam) has led to a question that should be obvious but completely escaped your mind following your trailing success.

“We’ll need to have you come in with your fiance for the free wedding cake samplers. Is he around?”

Is he around?! Boy, you sure hope so. Because now you’re also frantically looking around with the employee after you blurted out another lie: “He’s going to be here soon!”

When did you turn into a compulsive liar? You’re not sure if your mom would be proud of you for being so good at nabbing free food, or disappointed that you’re a filthy liar. After all, she did tell the buffet employees you were under 10 all the way till you were 14. So, really, you’re not the source of the problem! You brush your festive red skirt of invisible crumbs, trying to busy yourself.

The cafe itself is well decorated for Christmas—a silver reindeer bores holes into your head from by the front door, a small Christmas tree stands at the center that’s a little emaciated but the cute Sanrio ornaments in Santa hats make up for it, and most importantly, a beautiful Mont Blanc cake sparkles from atop the glass counter. (Seriously, why didn’t you think of this? Your own bakery is all sparkles and no play.)

You move out of the way of other customers, and casually glance at the source of your awe and joy. Powdered sugar dusts the top as idyllic snow, covering the sugared cranberries and sugared chestnuts, not dent in them under the white fondant star. The base of the cake is tied with an edible red ribbon, completing the seasonal aesthetic of it. A sigh rests momentarily upon your lips before it escapes.

You love Mont Blanc cakes, but you never quite get it right. That’s your biggest failure as an up-and-coming baker, and such is the reason for your unhinged serial sampling scam. You swear it started off as a search for inspiration in a creative rut but before you knew it, a lie had spilled from your eclair-sweetened lips, and another, and another.

It is at this point that you briefly consider bolting for the door. Tibet is great around this time of the year. Maybe if you convert to a monk lifestyle and atone for your sins, you’ll be granted a pardon in the form of delicious sweets. Before you can make your escape, however, the front door jingles, and in strides a sight unbelievably reassuring. A man with caramel hair enters, who might as well be wrapped in a giant red ribbon and seated atop a snow-white horse in golden ornaments.

It’s a Christmas miracle. Hallelujah! They still apply to you.

His smile—soft and sweet as meringue hearts—lights up the room as he inhales the warm, sugary air of the bakery. You’re hit with the vaguest sense of familiarity. He might be one of the few customers you get these days. For a moment, you falter. Are you really going to victimize this stranger?

Yes. Yes, you are. The situation is dire.

“Hi darling!” You exclaim within earshot of the employee, before lowering your voice. “Could you help me out a little here?”

The man blinks, dazed for whatever reason. “Uh… sure?”

“Okay, then follow along and ask questions later,” you reply, and loop your arm through his gingerly. The touch of his fuzzy winter coat makes you relax a little. It is chocolate-colored, with beige fluff around the collar. Not now, you think to yourself, You need to stop thinking about sweets for one goddamn moment.

“Here he is,” you laugh sheepishly as you bring the man forward. Gosh, what in the heavens are you doing? You didn’t even ask his name.

The employee stares, jaw agape. What’s with the reaction? He’s not that hot.

“O-oh,” she responds. “That’s quite the surprise. I never knew. Congratulations, sir!”

You turn to look at him. He simply scratches his chin with a sheepish smile, and manages to respond with a “Thanks, Kimi.”

He must be a regular, you think. Oh, (Name), what did you get yourself into? You’re just gonna have to read his name off his coffee order first.

“We have a selection of samples for our wedding cake choices,” the girl, Kimi, moves to the far side of the counter, offering a small menu card to the two of you. “I know you’re not a big fan of wedding cakes, Mr. Lee, but the latest tiramisu flavors should suit your tastes, no?”

Just how close are they?! You chew on your lip and try to calm your depraved little heart.

“Well,” he responds, thinking for a second, “I actually hadn’t thought this far. What do you think, honey?”

He turns to you with a radiant smile, but you sense a hint of mischief. You don’t have time to think of that though—so you just change the topic.

“Actually, do you have a Mont Blanc flavor? I’ve always had trouble perfecting it myself.”

Truth be told, that ‘honey’ had flowed from his lips and struck you straight in the heart. He’s not too bad to look at, you think now. His tousled hair catches the light with a playful sheen, framing his face and accentuating his disbelieving smile, while his fluffy coat adds a cozy touch to his charming, boyish demeanor. If you were to overthink a little, you’d find a hint of mischief in his voice. Alas, you’re a simple girl who only overthinks sweet treats, not boys.

“You bake?” He blurts, before his ears turn red from realization.

Kimi shoots him a puzzled look and your breath hitches in your throat. Was the miracle an idiot in disguise?

“I mean, uh, gosh, you make me so nervous, honey.” He looks like he’s trying his very best to ace an exam he never studied for. “I meant to ask if you're going to bake.. today? Don’t look at me like that.”

Maybe you should’ve picked a candied apple and prayed that a witch had poisoned it. You can’t even force out a smile at that pathetic save.

“You’re a lucky man, Mister,” Kimi jabs, a look of distrust in her eyes before they flash to you. “I’m afraid Miss (Name) in a wedding dress would make me drop dead at the altar.”

“Oh, you- you flatter me,” you choke out, “I promise you wedding gowns aren’t my thing at all. Besides, you’d look beautiful in white yourself.”

Why is she so into this wedding conversation? How close are these two? You’re not sure how to react, and neither do you know how this man is going to explain your mysterious disappearance the next time he visits the bakery. You’re sure as hell not going to continue the act beyond this. It’s time you retired from this scam business. You’re not even sure how you’ll talk your way out of this with the man, currently engaged in small talk with Kimi.

And— is he blushing?! Does he have something going on with the girl—Kimi? Did you just ruin something? Your heart tightens a little, and you have to physically restrain yourself from falling to the floor, head in your hands.

You laugh awkwardly, trying to diffuse the situation. When you open your mouth, you are interrupted.

“Actually, Miss, I think I take back what I said about the handsome part,” Kimi jokes, evident disdain sent towards Donghyuck.

Your natural response is a little laugh that leaves before you know it. Maybe, the feelings you sensed were of unrequited resentment. He does have the kind of face that looks like it’s often smacked by girls. No offense to him.

Kimi hands you the first sample (two delicious slices of Mont Blanc) and excuses herself to fetch the rest. The two of you make your way to a booth with the heaviest silence you’ve ever experienced. You might as well be at a funeral.

“So… free samples are that good, huh?” The man asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Shut up,” you mutter.

“I’m Donghyuck, by the way,” he responds with a youthful laugh. “Might I have the honor of knowing my fiance's name?”

“(Name). And stop looking at me like that.”

He lets out a short breath.

“You know, maybe we should’ve pretended it was an arranged marriage.”

“Quite proficient in the scamming business, are you?”

“Oh, you’re better off not knowing my dirty secrets.”

You couldn’t care less about his secrets but the look you shoot at him is certainly dirty.

He opens his mouth but you interrupt him to absolve yourself first. “Listen, I don’t do this often. And I’ll have you know it’s nothing personal. Well, not against you. The owner of this place maybe.”

Donghyuck blinks. “Oh? Do tell. I’m all for being a hater with my fiance.”

You stare at him, not impressed.

“Sorry.”

“Okay, so this started a month or two ago. I had been working tirelessly, testing recipe after recipe, trying to perfect the Mont Blanc cake. It was my dream to make it iconic, you know? But before I could even settle on the perfect combination of flavors, some smug bastard opens a bakery right across from me. And what does he have as his specialty? Why, the Mont Blanc cake of course. Seasonal! Cute, elaborate new decor every two weeks! Just how rich is he? I bet he doesn't even bother to create his own recipes. This guy didn’t just steal my idea, he’s turned my passion into some overpriced, generic trend!”

You heave, tired from the onslaught of frustration. Chewing on your lower lip, a pout naturally makes its way onto your face, and so do more complaints.

“And that’s not all, okay? I never see him at the bakery. I refrain from entering my competitors' establishments unless I greet them in person. But this asshole is just never there! What, is he too good to work at his own bakery? Too good to grace us lowly bakers with a visit? How could he just swoop in and steal my signature item?”

Donghyuck listens to your rant with intent, cheek resting against his palm. He even looks a little ridiculously charmed right now.

“Wait… so you’re the infamous Free Cake Phantom everyone’s talking about?” He gasps.

You’ve finally turned to your poor, neglected Mont Blanc sample, just for your heart to jump out. “What?”

“Just kidding. Your secret is safe,” he says, digging into the cake with infuriating nonchalance. “But hey, you’ve got good taste. This Mont Blanc though? It’s my personal recipe.”

Your fork halts halfway to your mouth. “Your recipe? What, you work here or something? And, no offense, but it’s overwhipped.”

If that’s a joke, it’s not very funny. The man looks more like a confectionary than a confectioner. There’s no way he works here. He’s probably some jobless guy drifting from bakery to bakery on early Saturday mornings.

His jaw drops. “Overwhipped? Are you kidding me?”

You wave the fork at him like it’s a weapon. “Chestnut puree shouldn’t have the texture of mousse. It’s called finesse, Mr. Lee.”

Before he can respond, Kimi returns with another tray, and you slip back into character, placing your hand on Donghyuck’s. “Thank you,” you coo at her. “I can’t wait to share all these flavors at our wedding.”

Donghyuck stiffens slightly at the unexpected contact, but he recovers quickly, plastering on the fakest grin known to man. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

Kimi laughs. “You’re such a lovely couple. When’s the big day?”

You freeze, and so does Donghyuck. For a moment, neither of you has an answer.

“Oh, we’re still, uh, deciding,” you blurt, glancing at him for backup.

“Yeah, we’re thinking spring,” he adds smoothly. “Cherry blossoms. Very romantic.”

“Y-yes. Maybe the Raspberry Rose should be in the winner’s spot then.”

As Kimi bows politely and walks away again, Donghyuck leans in to whisper. “Should I book the honeymoon now, or…?”

“Don’t push your luck,” you hiss, elbowing him in the ribs.

He makes a pained sound, but recovers quickly.

The second flavor is dubbed “Marble Eclipse”, a decadent blend of rich chocolate and vanilla, perfectly balanced with a luscious buttercream frosting. You try to focus on the taste, but Donghyuck’s smug grin as he watches you take a bite is more distracting than you’d like to admit. You’re not easily flustered, not by men. Unfortunately, he would have been the exact type you’d have tried to nab in college.

You shake your head. Focus, (Name), you think to yourself, You’re in the enemy’s lair right now!

“So… I might as well come clean,” Donghyuck says with a serious tone, right after you’ve taken a bite. You pause in horror. What arcane knowledge is he going to use for your humiliation this time?

“I visit your bakery often, and I must say your selection is just as good, if not better.”

You exhale.

“Oh, it’s better alright,” you retort, before realizing the unwarranted passion in your voice. You compose yourself. “I mean, maybe their Mont Blanc is… a solid competitor.”

Donghyuck laughs, clearly amused by the bashfulness on your face.

“Wait, are you patronizing me?”

“Of course not!” He places his hand over his heart in mock hurt.

“I think the difference is that this one keeps up with the youth.” He waves his fork about, explaining his point further. “Everyone loves new, shiny things. Cycle those as much as possible. Have you ever considered holding blind box events with your cupcakes? I’m sure the kids would love to find out which flavor of panda bear cupcake they got—matcha, my personal favorite, or coconut cream, or… god forbid, chocolate mint. Ugh. Have you considered removing that from the menu? Anyway, that shouldn’t take too much time and money, right?”

The youth? What is he, forty? However, however, the look on his face as he describes your own baked goods to you is enough to make you intensely flustered. Has this man visited so often? And you never noticed him? How could you miss that easy-going smile?

A familiar figure saves you from whatever awkward, garbled response you were going to muster.

Despite Kimi’s arrival, Donghyuck has a hard time taking his eyes off you. Lashes swaying with each flicker of his eyes over your face, he’s hardly taking a bit of the delicious marble cake, in fact. What, have you got something on your face?

Kimi apologizes profusely before you can say anything to greet her.

“There’s only one slice prepared for the Tiramisu Dream sample,” she explains. “I’m so sorry about this. Would you mind sharing this one? I apologize again.”

“No worries, Kimi,” Donghyuck responds, laughing a little. You shake your head and reassure it’s alright too.

Anyway, that slice is going to be yours. You’re ready to pry it from his cold, dead hands.

To your surprise, though, he shoots a friendly smile at you.

“Want the first bite?”

“May I?” You ask, just to be sure.

“By all means,” he says, gesturing grandly. “After all, what’s mine is yours, fiance.”

You swear, if he calls you that one more time, he’s going to end up in the cake display.

Kimi stares at the two of you blankly for a moment. It instantly flusters you and Donghyuck both, so much so that the idiot digs his fork into the cake slice and holds it up to your lips with a soft ‘ah’ —and so much so that you actually accept it graciously.

And all that only for Kimi to not even notice as she excused her way back to the counter. So now you’re just two idiots deep in your romantic charades. Donghyuck clears his throat, too late to cover his coral-tinted cheeks and ears. You’re certain you wear a similar expression.

“You’re- you’re so weird,” you jab, unable to come up with an insult higher than middle school grade.

“What, you wanted me to do airplanes too?!”

“Take that fork and drive it through your tongue, will you?”

“Woah, woah, no need for violence, Miss (Name). Peace and Love.”

Unexpectedly, it makes you break character into unbound laughter. The weariness of the act and the silliness of the whole situation leaks into the sound, and it’s enough to make Donghyuck join in. For passersby, you are just a couple already past your third, fifth and seventh dates.

“Any comments for the tiramisu cake?” Donghyuck asks, grinning ear to ear.

You catch your breath, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye. “Yeah, I have a comment: who puts this much cocoa powder on top? Are you trying to choke your customers?”

“Awh, and I thought you were gonna be nice,” he whines, “Your smile is just so… inviting.”

As if on cue, he chokes on the cocoa powder.

“I still like it,” you continue. “I’d just do it better.”

“I have the utmost confidence in that.”

Gosh, his smile is nauseating—too bright, too easy, like he’s actually enjoying this. Maybe he’s a rising actor, and you’re the one being hoodwinked. After all, who looks at someone like that on a first meeting?

A moment passes, and suddenly his thumb is at the corner of your lips, brushing off the cocoa powder with a touch so casual it feels anything but. “Got it,” he murmurs, and the air between you shifts, warm and oddly heavy.

“So, how do you know all this?” you ask, changing the topic. You’re forcing yourself to focus, to breathe.

He leans back, a small laugh slipping out like he’s grateful for the lifeline. “You- uh- you could say I’m a connoisseur of pastries,” he offers, his voice lighter now. “I like to sample the best around town—just, you know, legally. I even take notes of my favorites.”

He gestures towards you, and you scoff.

The words settle between you as you toy with the edge of your skirt, smoothing the fabric down over your lap. There’s something about the way he speaks—so casual, so effortless—that needles at you. For a man so annoyingly confident, he sure seems relieved to have redirected the conversation.

Your hand grazes the tiny snowman buttons on your cardigan, tracing the cold plastic absentmindedly. His gaze flickers to the movement, then back to your face, a smile tugging at his lips like he’s trying not to laugh. You don’t know what’s more embarrassing—getting outed as the Cake Thief or the fact that he’s bound to know he flusters you.

You tilt your head, giving him a skeptical look. “How professional of you.”

The bite in your tone is softening, and you don’t like it one bit.

He holds up his hands, feigning surrender. “Hey, it’s an art. Someone’s gotta appreciate it, right?”

The faint chatter of other patrons fills the room, but his presence sharpens the moment, making it feel like it’s just the two of you. For a fleeting second, you catch yourself wondering what kind of person would take notes on pastries for fun. It’s so bizarrely specific, so utterly unnecessary—and yet, so like him.

His smile deepens, pulling you out of your thoughts. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” he teases.

You roll your eyes, but there’s no stopping the traitorous grin threatening to break through. You refuse to indulge him, even as you feel the faintest crack in your defenses.

"Maybe,” you say, finally.

He chuckles, the sound warm and genuine, before leaning back against his chair with a satisfied air, as if he’s won something. You glance at the tray, willing yourself to focus on anything else.

How awkward. How warm.

You spot a napkin fluttering off the table, carried by a sudden draft from the door. Instinctively, you step out of your chair to grab it, but Donghyuck beats you to it, scooping it up with an exaggerated flourish and a bow.

“Your knight in shining armor,” he declares dramatically, holding it out like a trophy.

“More like my nuisance in sugar-stained armor,” you retort, snatching it from his hand.

He laughs, unabashed. “Ah, so sharp. Yet here you are, sharing cake with said nuisance. Life is full of mysteries.”

“I’m just here for the cake,” you deadpan, dusting your hands off.

For a second, his smile falters—not in hurt but in sheer disbelief. He tilts his head, studying you with an incredulous expression, and you suddenly feel like a frog under a magnifying glass.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” he says, almost to himself, his voice low but still playful.

“Get what?” you ask, genuinely confused.

Donghyuck presses his lips together, fighting back a grin. He steps closer, leaning in just enough for you to catch the faint scent of chestnut cream. “I mean, I could spell it out for you, but that might ruin the fun.”

“Spell what out?” you press, a little flustered now.

He straightens with a laugh, shaking his head. “Nothing, you airhead. Absolutely nothing. Is your head full of cotton candy, by any chance?”

You narrow your eyes at him, but before you can respond, he’s already pulling his chair back, resuming his seat with a sigh.

“Mont Blanc, Marble Eclipse, and Tiramisu on the first date,” he states, deep in thought. “Maybe Matcha Lemon, Lavender Peach, and White Chocolate on the second… Perhaps a Red Velvet and a Strawberry Shortcake before you realize I literally own this place?”

You feel the heat intensify on your cheeks. You almost miss the last part, clouded by the implications of the rest of his words. He… wants to go on more dates with you? Was this a date all along? You’ve been swindled into having fun with a man somehow. He even knows the ins and outs of a baker’s life. And he’s charming in an oddball sort of way. You shouldn’t be feeling solidarity with this weirdo. But then again, somehow, his laugh is very… endearing.

Wait a minute.

“You- you really own the place?!” A scream dies in your throat.

Donghyuck looks positively taken aback. “So you actually weren’t aware?!”

“What do you mean? How the hell am I supposed to know?! You described yourself as a connoisseur of pastries. I thought you were some kind of freelance failure so I didn’t pry!”

“Excuse me?!”

“Well, either that or you’re unbelievably rich. But then you don’t look it. Your sleeves have flour and oil stains on them, and your shoes are all dusty too, and there’s gold flakes in your hair—okay, how did I miss this?”

“Geez, way to judge someone by their looks. I’m not taking that from the local tart snatcher.”

The retort barely registers because your brain is too busy replaying the words “I own this place.” The realization hits, and before you can think better of it, the chair screeches back as you bolt upright.

“Wait, where are you—” Donghyuck’s voice is cut off by your shrill, mortified “Bye!” as you make a beeline for the door, leaving behind a very startled staff and a half-empty tray of cakes. Immediately after your exit, you let out a shriek.

What the hell are you doing?!

Your face burns as you speed-walk down the street, each step punctuated by the memory of your impulsive retreat. You must have cast your senses away at that moment, like some wide-eyed fool in a fairy tale, almost charmed by that silly man and his absurd little quirks. It’s not your fault, of course—it’s his, with his flour-dusted sleeves, that stupidly endearing laugh, and the way he talked about pastries like they were a love language. What was wrong with him?! you think, conveniently ignoring the fact that it was your awkwardness and runaway theatrics that had caused the scene. You’d blame it on sugar overload if it weren’t for the nagging realization that maybe—just maybe—he’d gotten under your skin, and the fact that you deserved it.

. . .

You hadn’t expected to hear from him again. Not after your embarrassing getaway. But three days later, you’re staring at an email with the subject line: "Notice of Legal Action for Unauthorized Sampling."

You open it with trembling fingers, only to find what can only be described as the world’s most dramatic—and definitely fake—lawsuit.

Your jaw drops as you scroll through the email. He’d even attached a fake case number: #CAKE-404-NO-FUN.

The body of the email was littered with ridiculous legalese. Phrases like "egregious acts of confectionery negligence" and "failure to properly appreciate artisanal craftsmanship" were scattered between absurdly specific accusations.

There is a diagram. An actual diagram. Arrows pointing to "Exhibit A" (the Mont Blanc) and "Exhibit B" (the empty spot on the tray), annotated with notes like "victim of hasty consumption" and "left to fend for itself."

And then, at the very bottom, there it was—the pièce de résistance:

“This suit may be settled by one (1) heartfelt apology and one (1) coffee date at the aforementioned bakery. Should you require legal counsel, I suggest bringing your A-game. I am, after all, a connoisseur of arguments… and pastries. 😉”

You groan, head thunking against the back of your chair. The audacity. The drama. The fuckass emojis.

This man is getting to you.

Your first reaction is, of course, panic. Your second? Rage. And by the time you storm into the bakery at ass o’clock before it even opens, Donghyuck is waiting for you, leaning against the counter like he owns the place. (Which he does, actually.)

He’s propped on his elbows, his posture easy and unhurried, as if he’s been expecting you. The black apron around his waist is slightly askew, and his beige T-shirt bears faint streaks of flour across the chest, a testament to an already busy morning. His fluffy brown hair is an artful mess, the kind that looks unintentional but infuriatingly perfect, with a few errant strands curling over his forehead. There’s a streak of something golden—sugar, maybe?—on his cheek, catching the light as he tilts his head to regard you with an expression that’s equal parts curious and smug.

“You’re early,” he remarks, his voice low and teasing, as though he isn’t the root of all evil.

“You think this is funny?” you demand, shoving your phone in his face.

Donghyuck grins, unbothered. “Hilarious, actually. Did it get your attention?”

“You can’t just send someone a fake legal notice!”

“Worked, didn’t it?” He shrugs, leaning back with infuriating calmness. “Besides, you owed me an explanation for your Houdini act. You know, poor Kimi had to clear your tray. She almost cried.”

“She did not!”

As if on cue, Kimi pokes her head out of the kitchen. “Oh, she absolutely did. It was tragic,” she deadpans before ducking back in.

You groan, feeling your cheeks grow hotter by the second. “You’re unbelievable.”

Donghyuck leans back, smug as ever, and gestures to the email still open on your phone. “Unbelievable or resourceful? Let’s review: I sent a single, harmless message—full of creativity and wit, I might add—and look where we are.”

“At me wanting to strangle you?”

“At you running right to me,” he corrects, his grin widening. “What, were you worried?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you snap. “I’m here because—”

You stop, realizing you don’t have a decent answer. “I didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of thinking I took you seriously.”

“Oh, you absolutely took me seriously.” He nods sagely. “I saw the panic in your eyes. Admit it: for a second, you thought you were going to have to pay me a hundred grand or grovel at my feet.”

“I- ugh- fuck you!” is all you can muster, stepping forward without thinking.

He mirrors your movement, the space between you shrinking by degrees.

“But seriously, you ghosted me, and I had to get creative. What the hell was I supposed to do? I figured the legal drama might get my point across.”

“What point?”

“That I wanted to see you again.” The words come out so easily, so matter-of-fact, you don’t know how to respond. When you finally glance up, he’s watching you closely, his expression uncharacteristically sincere.

“Just because you’re all cute and covered in flour like the star of some indie chef movie doesn’t mean you get to toy with me.”

“Ha! You’re presumptuous—despite all the fine details on me you seem to observe.” He leans in. “But guess what, I’m a greedy bastard that loves attention. So, look closer.”

And you look anywhere but his lips, too pink and too plush, as your face grows hotter than a convection oven on broil.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you manage, staring resolutely at the display of cakes. “That hardly counts as details.”

“Details,” he echoes, his grin growing wider. “Like the way I look at you?”

“You’re just a flirt,” you mutter.

He gasps, mock-offended, and gestures dramatically to the kitchen. “Kimi, did you hear that? I’m just a flirt!”

“You said it, not me,” Kimi calls back without missing a beat.

You laugh despite yourself, the sound surprising you. And Donghyuck doesn’t miss it. His gaze softens, the teasing edge in his voice dropping slightly. “There it is. I knew you could laugh without running away.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Too late.”

For a moment, the air shifts, the humor giving way to something quieter. Donghyuck’s gaze lingers—not on your awkward posture or flushed cheeks, but on you, as though trying to piece together something he doesn’t quite understand.

“What?” you finally ask, defensive.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head, but there’s a small, genuine smile now. “Just... you’re such a fidgety person.”

“Are you trying to shell out an insult?”

“No, I mean, I always see you scuttling here and there. Always on the move. Always observing, but never stopping long enough to be seen. You just… don’t seem like someone who takes much time for yourself.”

You blink, caught off guard. He tilts his head, like he’s trying to figure out if he’s crossed a line.

“I’m wrong?” he asks, almost sheepishly.

“I—” You pause, unsure of how to respond. “You’re nosy, that’s what you are.”

“That’s a yes,” he decides, grinning again.

Donghyuck chuckles, leaning just a little closer, his warm brown eyes locking onto yours. “Tell you what,” he says, his voice dropping to a murmur, “I’ll prove I’m not just nosy. Let me take you out. Somewhere you don’t have to bolt out the door halfway through.”

“You think I’d agree to that?” you retort, though your words lack bite. The proximity is doing something to your brain, and you’re acutely aware of how close he’s leaned in.

His grin is confident and infuriating. “I think you’d be curious enough to say yes.”

Your breath hitches as you realize how little space is left between the two of you, your noses almost brushing. “Woah,” you whisper, trying to play it off, “my mommy warned me about boys like you. All up close and personal with flour in their hair.”

He raises a brow, unrepentant. “Smart woman. But she didn’t tell you we’re pretty good at first dates, did she?”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes, soft but genuine. “Fine,” you say, straightening up and taking a step back before your pulse betrays you further. “But you’re paying. And no weird cakes this time.”

“Deal,” he replies, his smile softer now, more sincere.

And for a moment, you believe it—not just the act, not just the cakes and the banter, but the idea that maybe, somehow, this strange, sugar-dusted series of events has led to something real.

. . .

r/AmITheAsshole

u/YeastMode6969 • 16h

UPDATE: I faked my engagement for free cake samples then got sued after I ran away. AIO?

Fine, you guys were right. We’re dating now. Let’s just say we’ve been filling my cream puffs lately 🫠

Edit: I also got the Mont Blanc recipe!!

⥣ 7.7k ⥥ 3,297 Comments

kimikakes • 13h

KIMI HERE, REPORTING LIVE FROM THE SCENE: they literally argued over frosting consistency for half an hour yesterday. This relationship is built on chaos and croissants.

➥ Reply ⥣ 7.1k ⥥

bun_theory0222 • 2h

Hellooo where are the recipes. Priorities, OP :/

➥ Reply ⥣ 4.1k ⥥

lil_sugar_daddy0813 • 1h

man i was betting on donghyuck dying alone i dont wanna lose my $20

➥ Reply ⥣ 1.3k ⥥

muffinbutdrama1122 • 1h Give me your money NYEOW ➥ Reply ⥣ 1.7k ⥥

soggywaffle0205 • 6m why are you suddenly a furry ➥ Reply ⥣ 1.1k ⥥

muffinbutdrama1122 • 1h pays the bills ➥ Reply ⥣ 2.7k ⥥

#nct x reader #nct dream x reader #haechan x reader #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #haechan fluff #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 fluff #haechan x you #moonwrites #ok so initially it was way more long drawn bc hyuck was abt to make her do the 12 labors of hercules (bakery ver) to call off that lawsuit #would have been fun but i do not have the energy for it :((#so have toothrotting fluff instead #i know im late by 2 days but my friend went to the er on the 31st and i got piss drunk last night at a party

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suplicyy · 7 months ago

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haiii ^_^

can u do a various hq x reader where the reader is a very sleepy bb and the hq boy just absolutely worships them ?

sorry if thats cringe lel…

thnkx!!

My Dear Sleepyhead

Summary — You are a very sleeper person and he loves how cute you look.

Characters — Yamaguchi, Nishinoya, Sugawara, Taketora, Yaku, Aone.

— Fluff

— Gn!Reader (the image is merely illustrative, it does not mean that it's a fem reader!!)

If you could list the things you like to do most, the first would definitely be "sleeping". You think it's just so amazing to sleep, imagine sleeping through a boring class and waking up feeling completely refreshed! There's nothing better than this in the world!!! (at least that's what you think)

You always have a sleepy expression on your face, no matter how much you say that most of the time you don't feel like sleeping.

And your boyfriend is grateful every day that you enjoy it, as he loves to see how adorable you look in your sleep.

Yamaguchi

Okay, this boy loves you SO MUCH.

If you could see the sparkle in his eyes as he watches you take a nap, you would have no doubt that he likes you.

He would shyly play with the strands of your hair, while looking at you with a smile on his face.

But if you were sleeping more than usual, he would be worried about you.

"Is they overworking themself too much? Has something happened and they doesn't want to tell me? My God, what do I do..." Please make sure you have a healthy routine, or Yamaguchi is going to have a heart attack from worry.

He will always make sure you are eating well and having a regular sleep schedule, and of course, he will always spoil you with some sweets and kisses!

Nishinoya

Listen to me, this boy is also a big sleeper like you.

When you are at each other's houses, after a good meal you would take the longest nap of your lives, waking up almost at dinner time (and consequently staying up late because you both are no longer sleepy)

But he would also make sure you are not sleeping too much.

After all, who else would help him with his homework if you were asleep in class and didn't hear the teacher's explanation?

Nishinoya would definitely wake you up with the biggest smile in the world, telling you to walk with him around the school during break time, with the aim of trying to keep you awake.

Sugawara

Upon seeing that you are sleeping, he would initially laugh at the small string of drool that was dripping from your mouth while you slept, but then he would watch you with a kind expression on his face.

He would stroke your head, gently kiss your hand, expect lots of caresses from him!

But make no mistake, he wouldn't let you take a nap all the time while you were in class (he would only make exceptions when he sees that you're too tired), because he would be worried about your school performance.

When you were home, he would let you sleep on top of him while he hugged you. And who knows, maybe he'll take a nap with you, even though he doesn't usually sleep as much as you do, but your presence is so comforting that he can't take it and ends up sleeping with you.

Taketora

If you ever ended up sleeping on his shoulder, he would freak out.

He just loves you SO much, I swear to you that no matter how you are, he will always think you are the most beautiful thing in this world.

He has lots of photos of you sleeping on his phone, from the cutest to the weirdest (and he begs you to not delete them)

And sometimes he would give you so many kisses and caresses that it would end up waking you up, and then he would begs you to forgive him for "interrupting his queen's sleep"

And if you ended up sleeping in places other than your home, he would be over protective of you, since he saw in a video that the way people are most vulnerable is when they are sleeping. (it was a video about jungle survival...💀)

Yaku

If you like sleeping in class, I'm sorry but Yaku wouldn't let you do that...

He understands that sometimes you may be more tired than usual and sleeping through a boring class, but he doesn't want your grades to drop drastically because you're not paying attention. (but either way he will always help you study)

But don't worry, he can be a little strict sometimes, but he takes great care of you!!

When you wake up from a nap he always has some water and your favorite snack, assuming you would be hungry after sleeping all afternoon.

He sometimes takes some photos of you while you're asleep, you have such a peaceful expression on your face that he can't stand it because of how cute it is!!

And if any teammates found out and made fun of him (Kuroo and Lev more specifically), they would immediately shut up when they saw the scary expression on his face.

Aone

He is definitely the most adorable among all the others above. He cares so much about you and would consequently take very good care of you.

Whenever he notices that you are sleepy, he offers his shoulder so you can rest your head and take a little nap, depending on where you are.

And I can say for sure that he is someone very comfortable to sleep together, he's practically a heater with legs. Just getting close to this boy makes you feel a comforting warmth.

He stares at you a lot while you sleep, and some people who see it from afar might find it scary (especially because of his intimidating appearance) but you know that those eyes always shine with love for you.

Aone definitely has a photo of you sleeping and made it his wallpaper on his cell phone.

A/N — Tysm for your request!! And I'm sorry if there were any characters you didn't like, but I assumed it was okay since you didn't specify who you like😭😭

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neteyamsilly · 2 years ago

Text

i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 4

summary ;; A father protects, that's what gives him meaning. Jake Sully has failed. PART 3 | PART 5 pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; PLEASE READ AUTHOR NOTES. I explicitly said in the previous chapter I would NO LONGER BE TAKING TAG REQUESTS. You're just going to have to check my profile every now and then. I also will not be re-tagging the peeps I did in the last chapter’s replies, it’s just a lot 😭 I'm sorry for the inconvenience and thank you for your understanding! Now I present you, the long awaited angst and groveling of Jake. Enjoy! Please excuse my mistakes if you see any. Thank you so much for the lovely comments and support, I hope the angst hits the way you wanted it / was expecting HHHHH

It’ll shine better, Jake mused to himself, rotating the lumpy amber around in his fingers to better reflect the sunlight streaming in thin rays from the hands of the dense flora above, once I dip this in that polish oil. It’s not entirely unsalvageable.

At least he hadn’t scraped too much in attempts to give it a rounder shape, the bug at its core you were gushing about to the point of waking him up at zero dark thirty was still intact. He had been summoned from his dreams to look at a cool rock.

Jake couldn’t not gift it to you as something to be permanently worn after that.

The problem? He was ass at this. Always had been. No drop of craftsmanship in his bloodstream at all when the Na��vi were particularly fond of their ornaments and accessories, making it themselves, in fact.

Songcords were put together from beads, bones and stones, virtuosity was a must intrinsically woven into everyday life, methodized and irreplaceable since it wasn’t as if mass production could ever be a thing in Pandora. Everything was handmade.

Jake’s worst enemy beadwork was in their clothing, for example, even in braids — his maladroit at it may or may not be why he wore his hair in plain dreads now.

He wasn’t an artist or a creator, his hands were more comfortable being fit around a gun or a knife than slipping effortlessly in the rhythm of weaving or the act of making. All his end results were dreadful enough to be bullied relentlessly by his kids — except for you, that is. You absolutely loved them for reasons your mother or none of your siblings could understand.

Jake’s blundering conscience would melt at the sight of your eyes shining and the biggest smile almost splitting your head in half as if he had just handed you the world every single time he gifted you the newest of his clunky handiwork. He didn’t know why that made you the happiest. You’d been that way ever since you saw him carving and personally adding a bead to his songcord about how he got his firstborn daughter to utter her first word: dada.

It was important to him, so, down it had gone into Jake’s life story; putting official significance to the moment he never wanted to forget in the same thread that carried the story of him becoming Toruk Makto, just beside Neteyam’s first word, which was also dadada. (Neytiri had Lo’ak’s mam, and Kiri’s perfectly articulated mommy.)

Ever since that day, you had made grabby hands at the bead all the time when he picked you up, teethed at it like a puppy trying to grab a toy, tried to rip it off to make it yours — anything, until Neytiri made you one, but no, you wanted it from dada.

So dada started making you little trinkets.

He didn’t know if it was a good or a bad thing you never grew out of receiving gifts from your dad he himself cringed at. Jake wasn’t one to complain, not when someone in this life would feel such enough joy to purify thousands of blighted souls upon receiving his ugly personal work. It made him happy, stroked his ego to high heavens that his sweetheart was doting on dada to see the imperfect as the most fascinating.

That’s why he had taken on the daunting task of making a bead for you out of the amber you’d fixated on, rasp in one hand, sitting on a thick log that cut into the little stream he and his family were spending leisurely time that day, one leg pulled to himself and one feet in the water up to his ankle. Even though he had half an ear on his four children playing around in the shallow water of the creek, all the screams and squeals of joy felt weak compared to the contained huff of amusement that escaped from his mate who had come up to Jake while he was way too engrossed in his task.

His eyes shifted to Neytiri, watching her hop on to the log in one agile move. “Don’t laugh.”

“I am not laughing,” Neytiri said, crouching to sit, her mouth twitched upwards as she looked at the amber in his hand.

“I have eyes, Neytiri, I literally see you laughing.” His face used to burn at her openly teasing about beadmaking, but his oldest daughter’s attentions had restored his bruised confidence over the years. The slander wasn’t taken lightly these days as Jake had proudly relabeled the odd shapes of his work as a creative choice. “Right to my face.”

“You’re mistaken.”

Jake made his jaw drop, overacting his bafflement. “Wow, gaslighting? Really?”

Neytiri hit his arm lightly. In her terms, it was light, at least. “I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s something you shouldn’t do to your mate.” He turned his back to her, giving a look over his shoulder. “You’re abusing me. I’m being abused.”

“Baby.”

“No amount of pet names are gonna fix my broken heart.”

“No. You are a baby. I’m insulting you.” Neytiri hadn’t even laughed, but the uplifted timbre of that sentence sure did make Jake snicker in disbelief. “If you can’t take it, maybe you should leave beading to me.”

“I would say they are fashionably off,” he defended. You carried them with delight, so why shouldn’t Jake take more pride in his work? “And you said practice makes perfect years ago, I remember the exact words—”

“Years ago. You still haven’t gotten any better at it.” Neytiri was his biggest supporter and criticizer at the same time. “And you became a part of the clan back in the day in three months Jake. Never a more unbelievable thing to me than this.”

“I’m trying alright?” He turned back to the bead, or, vaguely bead-shaped amber, if technical terms were involved. It still had a whole adventure to embark on until it could receive the noble title of a bead. “She likes what I make, at least.”

“It’s because she’s your daughter and anything you do is out of this world. Beauty in the most unlikely places. A child’s love is pure that way.” The unexpected hypnotism of poetry in that sentence alone pulled Jake’s gaze to Neytiri’s, and for a moment, he could physically feel his heart within his ribcage being squeezed, tethering on painful, but with a joyful tinge. “She doesn’t have standards yet.”

Well, that hurt. “Damn.”

“Damm!” A pair of small and branch-thin arms wrapped around his neck from behind, and something, or rather, someone, latched onto his back. “Rahh!”

Jake should have been suspicious of how silent it had gotten halfway into his talk with Neytiri. Turns out, you had swam underneath the log to get out of his line of sight, climbing with the stealth of a bug to come up undetected.

Well, mark Jake down as impressed, you weren’t able to do that without being spotted until today, this was another wonderful milestone for you — you had learned impressively, taking advantage of his distraction, avoiding making noise and using water to your advantage. Neytiri must have given you some pointers.

And now he was wondering if his mate was in on this all along, purposefully disturbing his peace so their kids could see an opening to pounce on him.

“Oof!” Your hold on him was something he could break out of any minute with how adorably strong you were exerting yourself to make it, but he wanted to play along more than anything. Jake was acting panicked, swinging his body left and right from the waist, but really, it was just a light warm-up exercise with the easiest deadlift possible. “I’m being ambushed!”

“I got you now, Toruk Makto!” You wrapped your legs around his torso, and he felt like this was just a piggyback ride with extra steps. “Watch this, mom!”

Oh, it’s on.

Discreetly handing Neytiri the amber, Jake stood up, bringing you up with him and fighting a smile at your clipped squeak as the height became too much too quick, causing you to cling onto him stronger. He reached behind, and within seconds, he had you in his hands, holding you from the armpits and dangling you above the stream, your kicking legs beating the air, and he cackled like a villain threatening to fling the hero from atop of a skyscraper.

“You got me? Please.” He loosened his grip the slightest amount to give you the illusion he would let go, and you stopped struggling to scream, catching his forearms. “A measly thing like you? Conquering me? I’ll show you why I’m the king of the skies! Here I come!”

Making sure you wouldn’t get hurt, Jake threw you into the water as gently as possible, but made the angle entertaining enough so you would go flying. He wasn’t sure who’d screeched the highest, your three siblings who had you spearheading this little operation with full trust in your capabilities, or you reacting like you were falling down from an ikran midair. Either way, he was enjoying bullying his kid a bit too much.

Emerging from the stream and shaking the water off too akin to a wet dog, your first action was to shield your siblings, open arms and whole body and all. “Nete, run! Protect Lovak and Kiri, I’ll save you!”

Jake’s evil smile looming on his kids wavered at that.

You had problems with some letters even at the big age of eight, two vowels next to each other in one word was one of them, along with the confusion of “f” and “b”, and sometimes “p” — it made for hilarious misunderstandings Jake had to fight to be a parent about instead of busting a lung from laughing.

One of the many unforgettable events was deemed “The Fish Incident” between Jake, Max and Norm. He had been recording Neteyam’s first catch on his own to add it to the cute memory pile he and his mate would watch in the future after all their children eventually moved out to pursue their paths. You happened to be present that time, watching intently as your big brother shot a particularly giant yellow fish, eagerly jumping down to the pond to get it and showing it to the camera with a shy, yet proud grin on his face.

“Good job, boy!” Jake had cheered. “Say I got that fish!”

Out of the camera’s frame and making little jumps on your toes, you’d blithely yelled. “Yeah, you got that bish!”

The rest of the footage was shaky and out of focus, the microphone hadn’t picked up any sound but Jake’s uncontrollable laughter, kicked off by an exploding snort of shock.

You and Neteyam had no idea why, but after he’d stopped recording with tears streaming down his face, wheezing because he couldn’t stop laughing, you’d joined to laugh and play with him regardless, mirroring his excitement.

Later though, Jake had to actively make it so you wouldn’t have to say the words kitchen and pitch (and obviously, fish) out loud, at least, in front of Neytiri. He didn’t want to abstain from having a little fun himself, so under no circumstance was she allowed to find out and correct you. And he had it going strong for a while until it slipped when he was talking about a scientist friend over at Hell’s Gate called Richard and you repeated it as “Bitchard”. The word had somehow weaseled into your English lexicon as well, and Neytiri wasn’t illiterate enough to be oblivious to what you’d merrily blurted.

Good old days. Jake sometimes missed hearing you curse innocently. Neytiri had to take that source of joy away from him. Discouragement and warnings would be given to his kids if they knowingly cussed, of course, Kiri calling Lo’ak penis face was something he’d immediately shot down, but this was harmless, he thought. He could have let you be blissfully unaware until the day you learned the meaning of the words, or gain consciousness of the articulation errors as you grew up and naturally fix it yourself. It was only a natural part of a child’s growth.

But he had other entertainment. The obligatory consonant you had to sometimes add to two different neighboring vowels if it was too difficult for you to pronounce, for example. Your little brother was a victim to this. Thankfully, Lo’ak wasn’t bothered to be called Lovak by his older sister, somehow thinking of it as a nickname, but Jake could bet his ass the boy would use this as infinite ammo against you once both of you were older. He would of course forget how you always protected him in play fighting like right now, of course, maybe you would remember enough to accuse him of ungratefulness, and perhaps Lo’ak would declare he didn’t recall anything such as that.

How bittersweet of a thing it was to drift into imaginations of how his kids would be like when they grew up. Like the stinging ache Jake always got when he was confronted with the sadness of losing his children forever one day — the need to put every minute with them in a bottle, and the feeling of time slipping through his fingers, the same old melancholy each time: when it first dawned on Jake that you’d successfully sneaked up on him just now, when Neteyam had captured his first fish all on his own without assistance, when Lo’ak showed him the knife he had successfully carved by himself to get his approval, and when Kiri had tended to a scratch wound of his better than her grandmother did with precocious wisdom on her face.

Jake was making every moment count. Just like this one.

“Nobody is safe from me, I’ll huff and I’ll puff and blow your house in!” He jumped down from the log with the grace and intimidation of a leopard who had been disturbed while eating up the tree he’d dragged his meal on, splashing water everywhere. “What will you do, o’ mighty hunter?”

You loved being called mighty hunter by him, he saw the sparkle in your eyes.

“Noooo!” Kiri cried, pulling on both Lo’ak and Neteyam’s arms huddled behind you. “He’ll get us!”

Your thought process, completely spooked by Jake, was painfully visible. But surprisingly, you yelled, “Scatter!” with the experience of a rave addict who would take a forty and smash it on the ground as the police closed in on the party grounds. And his kids ran in different directions, like a group of cockroaches when someone approached them, they all ran in different directions.

Sloshing water all around to make it more terrifying, he got Kiri first, hauled her right over his shoulder when she made for Neytiri, thinking her mother could protect her, but no. Jake was inevitable. Lo’ak gave him a weak challenge trying to step around him, getting Jake to confuse his steps as if they were playing basketball, but this was his dad he was facing and not Spider, these tricks didn’t work on veterans, so now he was flush to Jake’s side, tail facing forward, carried like some strapless bag, it didn’t even put any strain on the man’s bicep. Neteyam was the last, hiding beneath the water level and holding his breath, but the little nose peeking out for air gave him away, and Jake had him up the other shoulder in seconds, the boy didn’t have enough time to run away even though he’d spied from underwater that Jake was coming for him.

Three out of four. That left only his eldest daughter.

You were nowhere to be seen. The delighted and struggling giggle-cries of the three kids in his arms and shoulders didn’t help at all to Jake taking his surroundings in with a keen ear, all senses attuned to spotting the stray.

A rustle from above.

“Attack him!”

He didn’t have enough time to see just which branch of the trees cocooning the creek you had climbed on before all three in his arms turned on him, flailing around together in unison to get Jake to fall down and kneel, and it surprisingly worked, he couldn’t even recover between the blink of a time between them getting off the way and you jumping down on him. The height at which you did that knocked all air off his ribcage for a second as he tried to retain balance, and you took that chance to sit on his shoulders, your legs dangling from each one, grabbing onto two dreads on his head as if they were the tails of Toruk he once had held onto like leashes.

Jake had to give this one to you, damn. When had you become a student of the art of strategizing?

But, defeat was defeat. He had to play his part. “This can’t be!” He opened his arms, making it seem cartoonishly like he had been incapacitated. “I’ve been… bested?”

“That’s right!” The cockiness was dripping from you as you pulled on his dreads. “I’m Toruk Makto Makto now. The first of my name!”

Your siblings started cheering battle cries, repeating the word.

Don’t laugh, he ordered himself. Toruk Makto Makto, what a title, oh Jesus Christ.

“Alright, alright, you got me, mighty hunter.”

“So I win?”

“Yes, you win.”

He was going to have two less dreads on his head if you kept pulling on them like this. “Hell yeah!”

After hearing the declaration, his other children also joined in on the ‘Hell yeah!’ train. Jake supposed he could let this slide for now, you guys were too happy, he wouldn’t sully it.

“You’re gonna rip my hair off, get down now.” You understood play time was over from his tone, and obeyed, hopping down his shoulders when he lowered you into the water, immediately attempting to rush to your siblings’ side to be celebrated, but Jake had something else in mind. “C’mere for a sec.”

He pulled you to the edge of the stream where water met grassy land, dipping his hand into the wet soil under your confused gaze and bringing his fingers up to trace a pattern on your face.

The reaction was instantaneous. You pulled back. “Ew, mud!”

“Hold on,” he gently warned, or rather, encouraged.

You let him continue whatever he was doing then, albeit not losing the laughable concern along the way. “What’s this?”

“Well, you’ve tamed Toruk Makto before an ikran. My mighty hunter should be painted accordingly, no?”

He pointed down and you followed it with your eyes. Seeing your reflection and the ‘V’ shape with a dot on your face in the water, you stopped yourself from touching it with the impulse control that kicked in at the last second, looking up at Jake, jumping up and down, unable to contain the energy, knowing exactly what he did just now. He’d recognized you as a prospective hunter candidate. “Thank you, dad!”

Jake could swear his insides liquidized at that. “Always, sweetheart.”

“Will you paint me like this when I finally get an ikran, too?”

“Of course I will.” He actually wanted to cup your cheeks and plant a little kiss at the adorable flat of your nose but the mud would be ruined, so he pet your braids instead. “As will your mother. It’s what family does.”

At the time, Jake didn’t have the slightest inkling that the paint would end up being your own blood.

Neytiri’s bloody hands — your blood, his child, his child, his baby Jake’s entire day would stop at seeing one tear on her face — had been stroking your face, trying to hold on to you anywhere she could to soothe your flaming pain as you were squirming like a dying animal fighting for the next breath. His heart beating right behind his eyes in a massive pulsating headache, Jake was too desperate fighting his swelling panic with each noise that ripped from you to notice they had left the vague pattern of Iknimaya paint pattern in their wake.

She did.

And her following anguished, gasping shudder as her shaking hands hovered above your contorted face, tracing the air along the lines the blood had left on your face ended up hitting him right in the gut. He couldn’t dwell on it. He couldn’t let this random twisted sign sweep him into the roaring waterfall of torment, your life was on the line.

Jake didn’t have any coherent memory of running back to the mouth of the cave from the family tent. One moment, he was back with his brain fried from thinking about Quaritch in the aftermath of an hour that had just taken twenty years from his lifespan, avoiding the inquisitive silence of his kids who hadn’t gone back to bed yet; and the other, Neytiri was screaming in the distance with terror worse than the anguish he’d heard her go through upon losing her father and her home. Jake had all but flown there, mind blank in swirling, spasming panic.

Neytiri had told him he had a strong heart the first time they’d met. No fear. Even though Jake was aware he was being disliked strongly, this quality of his she had remarked on, honest to her soul.

But she was wrong.

That fearless fortress heart of his had begun to crumble the moment he learned of Neteyam’s existence. And with each and every new addition to their family, Jake had been rehabilitated on what fear truly was, like a baby learning a language.

Losing. It was all about losing.

He would wake up from terrorizing, choking nightmares with the sensation of his family being violently taken away from him when his children were in his arms, sleeping peacefully all along. He couldn’t stop it. It had spiraled out of control after the sky people came back, turning him into a paranoid, angry man who was ruled by fear. He worried for the safety of his family every day, obsessed over it — beneath the impenetrable iron mask of a leader his whole clan was leaning on, Jake was nothing more than a weak, emotionally crippled father who would lose it the more his children grew up to take reckless actions he made worse by the inability to govern his fear-curbed anger. He called it tough love.

That tough love had resulted in this. Loss. Loss. Loss he had tried his damnedest to prevent. It was blood slipping through his fingers from a wound he had no way of stitching back together.

The more he pushed to block the bullet entrance point, the more you fought Jake, making feral yowls that weakened into animalistic whimpers and throaty whines that all but ripped his heart off muscle by muscle, your hits and scratches didn’t faze him, but the noises. Eywa, the noises. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know you’re in pain, I know, I know, I’ll make it go away, please hold on, c’mon.” The droplets of sweat that had formed in the matter of seconds rolled down his face. You had begun to hyperventilate from the accelerating pain because of his efforts. “C’mon sweetheart. Breathe for me, breathe for dad, okay? You gotta breathe. Breathe!”

You were unhearing, lost in the overwhelming, blinding, deafening agony he couldn’t anchor or shield you from. The grunt of desperation that escaped his sore throat rattled his carbon fiber infused bones.

Jake didn’t have time to think. His reason had flown out the mountains to be able to force one single word to form in his mindscape. He just knew he had to stop the bleeding, propelled by concentrated instinct. You were struggling too much for him to have a solid hold on you. Everything, too slippery. Too much blood. Too fucking much. The sickening smell of iron bit at his senses.

(Was it the liver? The spleen? Pancreas? One of the major arteries? But Na’vi biology wasn’t the same as humans. Fuck.)

Then, you were being restrained by a third party, Neytiri was too devastated to make that reasonable decision, and in his peripheral vision, he saw it was Neteyam who had sat down on your legs, restricting your movements with incredible strength. Jake couldn’t even bark at him to go away with how much Neteyam looked in control, a rock he and Neytiri both could draw strength from. Behind him, Lo’ak was a stone statue just standing there, frozen, his eyes not leaving your bloody abdomen.

When you let out a yelp his heart could no longer stand, he yelled, “Bring a stretcher!” to nobody in particular, out of his goddamn mind. Lo’ak jumped at it, coming back to his senses, hesitating what to do for a second before he was off to god knows where. He had to take you to Norm’s, and then a doctor—

A tiny, trembling voice he couldn’t recognize as Neteyam’s reached his ears. “Dad…”

The boy was looking at you, blown eyes shining with unshed tears, upper set of teeth sinking in his shaky bottom lip.

You had gone slack in his arms.

He hadn’t even seen the moment, didn’t stop putting pressure on the wound as the dread assaulted his body. And a biting shiver went down his spine before Jake also looked down on his eldest daughter. Your eyes weren’t closed all the way, halted gaze focused on something to the side, one tear rolling down your temple.

“Don’t do this to me.” Jake couldn’t breathe as he shook his head, he was about to lose it, about to tumble down the edge he could never climb his way up from. In denial, he didn’t lift his hands, losing all strength in his upper body and gradually collapsing forward as his forehead found yours. “Don’t do this to me, sweetheart, not like this. Please, not like this.”

The last thing you were looking at was the ikran you’d gotten.

Jake didn’t feel that very ikran making its way to their side, flapping its wings, didn’t feel anything to react when a snoot reached down and ever-so-gently nudged you, like you were asleep and it was given the duty to wake you up in the morning that day.

Your ikran nudged you once. Twice. Thrice. Each push was harsher than the other.

You didn’t wake up. Your eyes didn’t get their light back.

A paralyzing numbness took over Jake’s body, all his neuron ends stunted. The moon stopped spinning, time stopped moving, he ceased existing, all at the same time.

A piercing ringing stabbed his ears, took away his hearing. He didn’t hear Neytiri scream louder than the ikran, you were ripped from his arms, and he couldn’t move to do anything about it, just staring into the distance, at nothing, bloodied palms facing upwards in his lap.

It was Neteyam who tried to stop his wailing mother from going mad with grief, trying to get her to set down your body from her crushing embrace even though he couldn’t take his misty eyes off your body. It was Lo’ak, frantic in his run even though his panic-frozen face gave away nothing, who had rushed back with Mo’at and Kiri. It was Tuk who had thrown herself into his arms for a hug Jake wasn’t in his body to reciprocate, his seven year old child, in tears, comforting him when Jake, as the adult and the father, should have had his shit together and be the provider of comfort.

Instead, all he could feel was the blood on his hands, one small part in his mind making him focus on that one amber with a bug inside he’d carved for you, years ago, now in your hair.

The tears didn’t come. His world was shattering all around him, but not one tear made it to the surface.

Someone was talking to him, but Jake wasn’t there, experiencing the moment behind a thick veil of silencing glass.

“Open her mouth, Jakesuli.”

He looked at the source of the muffled sound breaching the ringing in his ears, painfully empty and unfeeling. It was Mo’at. In her hand, a woodsprite gently floated in the air and landed before it repeated the motion again. It was as if his brains had been emptied from his skull. He didn’t understand. He didn’t see. Tuk was clinging to him, Neytiri doubled down in waves of cries in Neteyam’s arms. Jake wasn’t there.

“Open her mouth so I can keep her spirit here longer,” Mo’at said. “Do it now. We do not have much time.”

And Jake could breathe again, his soul slinged back into his body, feeling returning to the tips of his fingers, kicking into action.

He cradled your body from the cold ground you were lying on, bringing his shaky hand to your tightly shut jaw. Your body couldn’t have been experiencing rigor mortis, so you must have been clenching your teeth to the point of your jaw locking to fight the pain, and he was nearly blinded from the sheer strength with which he had to hold back from hugging you. But he eventually opened your jaw with a sickening pop that made him visibly grimace, and Mo’at guided the woodsprite to slip inside the cavity of your mouth.

The bioluminescent dots on your body began to flicker the moment your mouth was closed again. Jake gave a shuddering breath at the sign of life, hands unsure if he should continue to cover the wound again.

“Eywa has allowed her to remain. For a while.”

“Oh Great Mother, thank you!” Neytiri took one of your hands, pressing it against her cheek and kissing it over and over again. “Thank you, thank you.”

“Bring her to my tent,” the Tsahik simply stated, and Jake didn’t even stop to consider how he should be taking you to the science guys, how they were probably going to say you needed a blood transfusion and surgery right after they got the necessary tests such as MRI and blood analysis out of the way. Kiri, sniffling weakly, took the crying Tuk away so Jake could carry you. He couldn’t comfort his girls the way he wanted to, couldn’t attend to Neytiri as their sons consoled her and got consoled in return in a tight hug together; he was on the move, heart about to beat out of his chest.

He took you in his arms and clutched your unconscious and ashen blue body tightly to his chest, your head lolling in the crook of his arm, arriving to Mo’at’s tent faster than she did — and oh, how small you were compared to him, how fragile and vulnerable. The attitude made you appear bigger than you actually were, and Jake was reminded how you were still a child from how light his daughter was, like a fleeting bird. He’d forgotten. It had been forever since he last held you like this that he couldn’t bear to lay you down on the mat. If only he could hide you away within his ribcage, away from the pain and the suffering, forever.

“Everything in this world is borrowed,” she told him, an incense was burned, salves were prepared, tools he had no idea on what they were used were brought out. Plants, herbs. Jake stood there, helpless. “Even this child, Eywa has lent to you. She is borrowed from the bosom of our Great Mother, entrusted to you. Entrusted.” Your freckles were still flickering, and Tsahik’s tone, clipped. “I will converse with her. Ask if she plans to call her daughter back home today.”

Ice washed over Jake. “No, you gotta heal her, Mo’at, I can't lose m—”

“Everything in this world is borrowed. Each breath. Each heartbeat. All children. All gifts from Eywa.” Her eyes bore into him. “I can only ask.”

Neytiri pounced on him as soon as he stumbled out of the tent, beaten and spent despite not having one scratch on his body, upon Kiri’s entrance to assist her grandmother in tending to you.

“Your fault!” He was violently pushed back, only able to take in the woman’s bloodied, wrathful face, tear tracks freshened with saltwater she couldn’t stop shedding. “This is your fault! I told you! I told you to fix this!”

Jake was aware other clan members were watching even if they weren’t out of their homes, he was Olo’eyktan, their leader, his pride would have taken this to their own tent had this been any other debate, but now, he couldn’t give a flying fuck. Bruising his back was the weight of a failed father instead of the ornamental piece of the clan leader, it was unbearable enough. She was right. There was nothing else to be said. His mate was right.

“Mother, please,” Neteyam was right beside them in a flash, holding Neytiri back and shielding his father from her. His sunken eyes found Lo’ak and Tuk crouching at the edge of the tent, huddled together, the youngest having the crying hiccups as her older brother had an arm around her, himself looking traumatized enough.

“Don’t, boy.” Jake put a hand on his stone-hard shoulder, moving him aside. Neteyam took one hard look at Neytiri half-circling his father in long strides, and decided it was best if he took care of his siblings instead even if he wasn’t told outright. He ushered Tuk and Lo’ak up and away, to the other side of the tent where they wouldn’t disturb their parents by staying in the field of vision.

Jake should have been the one to take control, but Neteyam had stepped up for it — he was a kid, too, eldest child or not. What the fuck am I doing?

In his tumultuous sorrow, every piece of the fortress Jake had put together was coming down, every decision re-evaluated, emotion overtaking what he once thought as logic. His fault. His fault. He had ruined his children, all of them. He had thought embracing the iron will of a war chief would allow him to be a strong father figure, but it had only alienated his family.

You had died in his arms.

Jake contained every storm in a box inside his body, Neytiri lived those storms, she was strong that way. He would take it. Her eyes were only seeing red at the moment, the grief and wrath of a wronged mother. “Yeah, it’s my fault,” he told her, something between a whisper and a sigh. His kids deserved to hear it. “I know.”

“She is dying because of you!” Jake couldn’t escape the truth by closing his eyes, but he did anyway, like an automatic body reflex against detecting something would be hitting him. He swallowed, his mouth was drier than a desert, no relief was found in the action. “My daughter! My child! Your child!” She pushed him again, hissing. Jake didn’t do anything to stop it. “All because you told her to go today—everything, everything… All because you didn’t reach out to her. She hid that.” A shiver shook her voice. “That… because of you. You! She thought you would be angry!”

Violent horror seized his heart, ears pinning back on his head, knuckles clenching so light blue they were almost white. “I would… I would never—how could I ever—?”

But it was in character, wasn’t it? Jake always getting angry over worry for his children. Going crazy because they could have gotten hurt. Fear grows into anger, worm eating away the bark of a tree into poisonous snake. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, chest rising and falling in big breaths, there was no air.

“She said you hated her. Over and over again, she said you hated her. Not to call you because you would hate her for it, Jake!”

Bitter guilt and glacial shock rose from his stomach, choking him, his eyes looking at anywhere but Neytiri’s blazing golden eyes, to his children who sat together seemingly away from them but blatantly listening, to the tent flames were barely illuminating the shadows inside. His legs were weak. All that he had been breaching behind a wall to prioritize your safety flooded rancid to his mind.

Jake got angry at you all the time that you’d expected it at your most vulnerable. That he would blame you, reprimand you for his enemy’s actions.

His memories were attacked by all sides. That you had gone off on your own for the Iknimaya everybody should have been there for, he should have painted your face personally for. That you have been hiding the bleeding out from the moment Jake had found you pinned down by the dead body of an avatar, from the moment you’d answered positively to the question of if you were hurt or not, with that rifle he’d thought you didn’t let go because of how the events had shaken you. He opened his mouth, a gaping fish, but no words came out, mute and voiceless.

Hate you? Hate you? Hate his own child he would burn the whole world for?

His child. Suffering in silence when her nature was anything but silent. Afraid of her father when she was the most fearless of his kids when facing him.

You thought you weren’t loved.

“What have you done to our children? What has this family become? What are we if our children are too afraid to come to us in their darkest hours?” Neytiri was snarling, both fury and grief battling inside her, teeth gnashing so hard they could sharpen a knife. “What child does not seek her parents when she is hurt?”

Unseeing, Jake couldn’t stand anymore, staggering towards a particularly large rock and sitting on it, he raised his hands to rub his face but stopped when he saw the blood.

All yours. All his daughter’s who he had failed. Who had died in his arms thinking she was hated because Jake was a shit excuse of a father you couldn’t trust to say you were hurt that you would take the risk of dying so he wouldn’t find out.

His daughter’s blood, on his hands.

He put his elbows to his legs, crossing his wrists to lean his forehead on, yet unable to hide his shaking hands even if he managed to hide his face. Jake couldn’t comprehend any of this, crushed beneath the skyful of burning hot shame and the guilt dwarfing him — tears he couldn’t seem to shed found life in his eyes at him trying to blink away the memory of you clinging to your ikran at the flight home. You had been suffering the whole time and all he could think about was Quaritch when he should have been thinking of you.

“What child would rather hide her injury than let her father know?” It shocked his spine like lightning, and Jake visibly flinched, fists clenching and unclenching. “Explain this to me!”

Shame. Shame. Shame. Jake was about to throw up, rocking back and forth.

He had nothing to say. Nothing could ever excuse this. He couldn’t wash away all your moments from this night, all a cursed film strip haunting his every breath accompanied by thorns that ripped apart his insides.

“If she lives,” Neytiri said, pointing a curled hand at him, slowly, scarily calm, but shaking with mastered rage. If she lives destroyed Jake. “We would be lucky if my mother doesn’t decide to perform Stxel’eveng as Tsahik!”

Jake’s head shot up at the word, his arms dropping altogether and meeting his mate’s tortured stare. As Olo’eyktan, he had to be taught the traditions and ceremonies to the point of talking in his sleep from overlearning — this one was a long lost one the clan hadn’t performed for a long time, as the Omatikayan were faithful and loyal to Eywa and her teachings.

Stxel’eveng was the shortened word for ‘Gifting of a Child’ — an adoption ceremony within Na’vi that didn’t even have the word ‘adopt’ in their vocabulary, simply because it was almost non-existent, most Na’vi didn’t even know the existence of such a tradition. If the parents were unable to care and provide for their child, mistreated on purpose or neglected them to the point of no return, they were to be publicly dishonored by the gifting of said child to another willing family. A knot would be formed between the three, one thread bound around the waist of the mother signifying the womb, one thread fastened to the queue of the father, and the final thread to the wrists of the child as if they were captive. The knot, then, would be severed by Tsahik to symbolize the dissolvement of the familial relations in Eywa’s eyes.

The biggest shame a Na’vi could bring upon their name.

“No,” Jake muttered, his mind going blank yet again. Fuck the shame. Damn his name. He couldn’t lose you. It’s a stone in his throat he can’t swallow, whales on his tongue he can’t speak to save himself.

“Pray to Eywa it doesn’t happen. Because if I was Tsahik, I would do it.” Neytiri turned away from him, pushing the heel of her hands on her damp eyes. “I cannot bear this shame, Jake. I can barely breathe.”

He quivered like a baby leaf caught in a storm, a couple more tears rolling down his cheeks. “Neytiri…”

“I lost my daughter today. She slipped from my fingers. I watched her die.” He lowered his head at her grief, vision swimming. “How am I a mother when I can't feel her pain? How am I worthy of being her mother when I saw my child’s pain and just sat there helpless? Why would the Great Mother ever want to send her back?” She just kept going, not having any mercy on Jake’s soul. “Where was I when she won against her ikran? Where was I when she had her first flight? Where was I to protect her from those demons?”

A father protects, that’s what gives him meaning.

Who was Jake Sully?

“Lo’ak, come back here!”

Both of them turned just in time to see their youngest son running away from the back of the tent they’d been hiding, Neteyam following a couple steps before he stopped to look back, probably at his sister.

“I’ll get him,” Jake said, soulless and absentminded. Neytiri didn’t respond, stalking back to Mo’at’s tent, just kneeling in front of the entrance, wrapping her hands and tail around her knees. Tuk turned the corner, scampering towards her and finding refuge in Neytiri immediately wrapping around her protectively.

Jake wasn’t allowed to comfort his mate.

But he could get to his children who needed it. Trust, Neytiri had said. Honesty.

Walking up to Neteyam, he put a warm hand behind his rigid back, and felt the taut muscles relax underneath his touch, another wave of shame hitting at the inability to recall just when he had last comforted his boy.

“Get Tuk. Go home. Rest.”

Neteyam turned to him, scandalized. “We will stay.”

“Neteyam—”

“Dad—sir, please. I can’t leave my sister.”

That sir was a splash of acid on his already weeping heart.

It dawned on Jake that Neteyam was the one witnessing your moment of death. Death. A surge of nausea shot up from his esophagus, and he didn’t stop himself from hooking an arm around the boy, careful of using his hands not to get blood on the eldest, pulling him into a much awaited embrace. He hadn’t allowed him to be a kid.

“It’s okay, Neteyam,” he croaked. “She’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

Neteyam’s arms didn’t wrap around him, unfamiliar to the gesture — crumbling Jake’s already broken heart into dust, but he did shiver, fighting the tremble. He simply said, “I pray so.”

He was still trying to hold it together — for everybody’s sake.

Jake felt the boy’s tears on his skin, and didn’t let him go when he tried to step back to wipe them, letting Neteyam cry silently as much as he wanted. He owed the boy that much, as his father. It was the least he could do.

Jake would stitch this family back together. He had to.

Washing the blood off his hands had taken a while. Jake wasn’t let off easy, cursed by the remaining line of bloodied dirt in his nails.

He found Lo’ak at where it all began. The mouth of the cave where your ikran was disturbing the other ones with restless chittering, reminding Jake of a wolf howling all night at the full moon.

His youngest son was transfixed by the blood staining the ground. Just standing there, looking at it. Jake couldn’t protect him from the sight. Not anymore. He himself could barely stomach it.

“Is sister going to be taken away?” was the first thing he asked Jake, not looking at him still.

Jake didn’t know if he meant death, or Stxel’eveng.

“I pray not,” he told Lo’ak, honest for once.

And like him, the boy wasn’t sentimental or emotional enough to bear his wounds to another, even to a family member, and fell silent. “It has Toruk’s colors,” he said instead, referring to your ikran’s red, orange, yellow and black patterns. Looking at the creature, Jake tried his hardest to stand up straight when he discerned all the blood coating its neck and back from the natural red color disguising it. “I wanted to fly with her.”

Pulling him into a side-hug, “I’m sorry, Lo’ak,” Jake admitted, causing him to finally break the trance he had on the blood. Speechless at his father, proud and strong, admitting he was wrong out loud and that he was being hugged when it wasn’t like his father at all to show them casual physical affection. Jake knew what must be going through his head, he would be thinking the same if his own father had ever taken responsibility for wrongdoings, as well. “It’s my fault you didn’t get to.”

Lo’ak’s mouth was hanging low. “Dad…”

“But you will,” he said, determined and full of hope. He had to be. For his children.

“You think so?”

“I pray so,” he quoted Neteyam. “Your sister is stubborn. She will pull through. Don’t lose faith in her.”

Lo’ak’s grip on his forearm was painful.

“That ikran’s lost the half of its tail fins,” the boy sniffled, thickening his voice to hide the tears. “How did it get all the way here?”

It stung in Jake’s chest. The same way you’d hidden that injury. Your ikran was fueled only by the desire to get its rider to safety, it seemed.

It would never fly again.

Jake looked down at Lo’ak, only to be met with him avoiding his look, still concerned with hiding the tears. “Loyalty,” he said. “Devotion. Sometimes you don’t want to lose the things you love no matter what, that desperation gives you enough strength to push through any trial by fire. You would do anything. Anything.”

And sometimes it was fear that did it, but he didn’t mention that to Lo’ak to not put salt on their family’s injury. Jake didn’t want to think about how terrified you must have been, or he would actually go insane. He didn’t want to think about the possibility of you not making it in the end. He had to keep going. He had to push forward. Be the father this family needed him to be.

“Come on, boy,” he pulled Lo’ak gently. “Let’s go back.”

Your ikran whined at this pitifully. Jake tried not to think. He tried not to imagine what your reaction would be upon learning you would never fly together again, and had to put down this ikran that had been devoted endlessly to you if you wanted to get a new one.

Jake didn’t think. Because if he did, he would actually go insane from the pain.

Mo’at and Kiri emerged from the tent only in the morning, by which the whole family was cocooned in Jake’s embrace for the first time in years before the sky people had come back. They all had scrambled to get up, waiting with bated breath for one syllable of good news as Kiri slipped into Jake’s arms, one wink from falling asleep while standing. He kissed the girl’s head, soothing her, hoping this could be you eventually. He had been praying for it like a madman.

“Eywa has accepted to bestow your daughter back to you, Jakesuli,” was the only answer Mo’at had for them, no word about your physical wellbeing. “But only if she accepts as well.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You must go speak with her. At the Tree of Souls.”

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#dad!jake x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x reader #jake sully x reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x daughter!reader #sully family x reader #mom!neytiri x reader #neteyam x sister!reader #neytiri x daughter!reader #lo'ak x sister!reader #kiri x sister!reader

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redsrooftopprincess · 2 months ago

Text

Monster

Raphael x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: Smut. 🌶️🌶️🌶️

Happy Monsterfucker Pride Month you fucking deviants. 😈 Here's a present.

There are a lot of words that come to mind to the average person upon meeting the Hamato clan. "Thing" is pretty popular, and "Freak" is always a classic, but by far Raphael's least favorite is "Monster."

That one tends to stick around, like a "Hello My Name Is" sticker, even after first meeting. The others have an easier time. Leo's the calm, cool one, Mikey doesn't need any help making friends, and Don's got that cute nerd thing going on, but Raphael is big, quiet, and Close Quarter Combat has left him with more scars than clear skin, making an already ugly situation worse.

So when he was sitting at your desk while you were hanging out one night and a notification popped up on your computer, the word caught his attention.

"What is a... 'Monsterfucker?'"

You're not sure sure if anyone has ever died from asphyxiating Dr. Pepper, but you wonder for a moment if you'll be the first.

When you can once again breathe, you look up at him raising a brow at you, "You good?"

"Yup," you croak out with a nod and a thumbs up, clearing your throat, "good."

He gives you a moment to catch your breath, "So... You gonna answer my question, or...?"

Damn. You were hoping he'd suddenly magically forget that he asked.

You've been holding off on coming clean to the guys about this particular personality quirk. You're conflicted because, while it would do wonders for their self esteem, it would more or less be the equivalent of wearing a big sign around your neck that says "HEY RAPH! I'M INTO YOU!" You're still trying to figure out how to approach him about it, and whether or not doing so would ruin an already amazing friendship.

Apparently, you aren't going to get a choice.

You clear your throat, procrastinating, and looking down at the Halloween coloring book you've been working on so you don't have to meet his eyes, "Well..." You clear your throat again, "... a Teratosexual... or... 'Monsterfucker'... is someone with more... exotic... preferences," you cringe internally.

"Exotic as in...?"

"Exotic as in... non-human." You say, making an attempt at sounding casual, suddenly very focused on the cat you're coloring.

That was not the answer he was expecting.

The longer he's quiet, the louder the heartbeat in your ears.

"So you're... not... into humans." He ventures hesitantly.

"Not generally, no..." You say, still not looking at him. Your face is burning.

"Oh..." He says, sitting back and attempting to process, "So what kind of, uh... monsters, I guess... are you, um..." He can't believe he's actually asking this question.

"Depends," you say, thankfully without your voice squeaking.

"On..."

"On... who they are as a person," you say, "just like anyone."

He's quiet again, and you resist the urge to look up at him. He's running through moment after moment with you in his head. The looks, the touches, the gentle words, all those times he kicked himself for reading too much into things...

You tense as you hear him get up and walk over to your side of the bed. the mattress dips as he sits down beside you, and a hand comes up to still the hand coloring. You look up at him, heart thundering in your ears as his thumb brushes over your wrist.

"Now, I could be way off base," he says softly, "and if I am feel free to tell me and I swear I'll never bring it up again... but sometimes I feel like you and me, we..." He takes a breath, "What are we? Friends? I mean, Donnie's your best friend, but you spend all your time with me, and... um..." He trails off.

"Is that what you want...? Friends...?" You ask, hesitantly. You're talking about it. Everything the two of you have both very purposely avoided talking about. The time, the touches. You're talking about it, making whatever the hell this is real. Which means the next words out of his mouth could either build or break you.

"Honestly, at the risk of possibly ruining the best thing that's ever happened to me... No."

"Honestly," you say, breathless, your heart doing backflips, "me either."

"So... If not friends, then... what do you want?" He asks, holding your gaze.

He watches every one of your reactions closely. Any sign of unease or discomfort and he's going to bail. But there aren't any. He's pulled to you, and he closes what little distance there is, a blush blooms across your cheeks and chest.

"Honestly..." You whisper, "you."

He inhales sharply, and looks down at you in awe for a moment, heart pounding behind his armored chest. Exhaling, he cups your face with his other hand, brushing his thumb over your jaw before sliding it back slightly and tilting your head up to him.

"You sure that this... that I'm... what you want...?" He's vibrating. Everything in him is screaming out to take you. Claim you. You're right here. You're giving yourself to him. Anyone else would have just kissed you by now. But he isn't anyone else, and this isn't exactly a normal situation. He has to be sure.

His soft caress is sending sensations rippling down your arm, and you can barely breathe for the ache in your chest. The night they met, Mikey had been injured. Badly. So badly, that they had to drop in at April and Casey's even knowing there was a stranger there.

He stood in the corner and watched you like a hawk. You were new, and new was dangerous. He watched you jump in to help Donnie with whatever he needed, eyes clear and calculating.

In the moment, you were too focused on making sure D had what he needed to save his brother's life, but the memory set your skin on fire.

"Pretty much since the beginning." You whisper, nodding.

He wastes no more time. You've wanted this as long as he has and that thought sends a surge of heat through his bloodstream. He releases your hand and slides his around your waist, pressing his lips to yours, pulling you into his lap, and as flush against him as he can. He's been dreaming of this since the moment you met.

It feels right. Natural. Like you should have been doing this all along, but the moment the hand against your cheek slides into your hair, gripping it gently, and you can feel the rumble in his chest within your own, any whispers of regret are forgotten.

All too soon, he pulls back, both of you needing a moment to catch your breath.

His forehead pressed to yours, you look up at him curiously when he starts laughing softly.

He beams down at you, "You know, on the list of shit I though was gonna happen... ever..." You smile up at him, laughing gently as well. He looks at you with elated, if not confused, eyes, "You got any idea what you're signing up for."

"Pretty sure, yeah," you grin.

They all tried so hard to be human, but it was the hardest for Raphael. Whether it was a result of his mutation, his wildly inconsistent emotional states, or some combination of the two, he was the closest of the four of them to their primal nature.

That night, and the hulking figure in the corner, like some kind of ancient sentinel watching over his charges, was a memory you had come back to so many times you're pretty sure you could recreate it perfectly, not that you would want to.

You pull back slightly to look at him, and bring your hand up to his face, cupping his cheek. You look down at his lips, brushing your thumb over his scar, you've always wondered what it felt like, "... and I think I've been handling it pretty well, so far." Your eyes meets his like the period at the end of a sentence.

Looking at you as if you were the only thing he's ever really wanted, he presses his lips to yours far less tentatively this time, growling into the kiss.

You rest your hand on the back of his head as he kisses down the curve of your throat, nuzzling against it and leaving traces of himself on you. You don't miss the significance of being marked as His and something warm and grateful fills your chest.

He works his way back to your mouth, kissing you deeply before pulling back. He looks down at you, still in almost disbelief.

"I want to see you..." He says, breathless, running a finger just under the hem of your tank top. He looks down before meeting your eyes once again, and you would shudder if you weren't pinned down by his gaze.

You smile, pulling your shirt over your head, letting it fall to the ground. You had no idea what you thought his reaction would be to finding out everything, but this was way better than you could have hoped. Gooseflesh scatters across your skin, though you're not sure if it's from the change in temperature, or the way his eyes laser focus on on every inch of you. They light your skin on fire, but he doesn't move.

"You're allowed to touch me, Raphael..." you whisper. His eyes shoot up to yours, "I want you to." He inhales sharply, fingers already tingling, he hesitates for just a moment before a calloused hand brushes tentatively over an already hardened nub, making you shiver.

His hand covers your breast and he squeezes gently, the sigh that ghosts from your lips emboldening him.

When he dips his head and captures the other in his mouth, circling with his tongue, the whimper that escapes you as your eyes fall closed is nearly his undoing.

One of your hands rests on the back of his neck, while the other guides his hand lower. As he caresses your waist, his mouth moves to your other breast, giving it the same treatment and leaving your pulse racing.

You can feel the dampness between your legs, and from the way his churr has deepened, it's evident he can smell your arousal. His fingers play at the waistband of your shorts, but no further.

"This doesn't have to go any farther than your comfortable with," you reassure him.

"It's not that, it's just..." His cheeks darken, "I'm not... um..."

"Human?" You venture, with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah..." He says before laughing softly, still not entirely able to process that this is happening, "But, I guess... that's not really a problem for you, is it?"

"Nope," you say, offering him a wicked smile which leaves him swallowing hard.

You smirk and reach up to tug at his paldron. "Feeling a little one-sided here, Red," you say looking over all the clothing and equipment he still has on.

He exhales, a permanent smile of disbelief resting in the corner of his mouth. Him. You want him. You climb off of him, laying back on the bed, and he stands. He sheds his gear and clothing as you look on hungrily, reclined on the bed like a God damn empress. His tail twitches. You aren't just letting him have you, you want him right back, and that is doing amazing things for his ego.

As he's removing the last of his clothing, he glances down at your shorts before meeting your gaze with a brow raised in expectation.

You narrow your eyes and smirk, pushing yourself up and standing beside the bed, before pushing your shorts from your hips and letting them slide to the floor. Now it's your turn to look at him expectantly as he tosses his red mask on top of his gear and takes the few steps towards you.

He looks down at you as if you're the most beautiful creature he's ever seen, and if you ask him, you are. With fabric no longer impeding, he is glutting himself on your scent and his head is swimming as it takes everything in him not to drop right there.

Your eyes roam over his body greedily, drinking him in, something you previously could only ever do in secret, and he shivers. You can't help it, you reach up a hand and hesitate for only a moment before placing it on his chest, following the labyrinthine whorls and channels in his plastron. He's cool and hard under your fingertips, and rough in many places where the keratin has been damaged.

"You know what kills me?" You ask softly, fingers tracing a particularly deep scar, "You have absolutely no idea how beautiful you are," you step forward, pressing your lips to the deep groove. You're rewarded with a sharp inhale and the rumble in his chest against your bare skin.

His hand slides around your waist and he pulls you into him as you kiss upward along the length of the scar. Your softness caresses him, and warmth pours through his shell, filling all the parts of him starved for sunlight. A deep hum reverberates inside of him when you reach the divot in the top of his pectoral scute, and kiss the scarred skin just above.

You look up at him, whispering, "Will you let me show you?"

He looks down at you, and he looks terrified. But he nods. He trusts you.

You take his hand and walk to the end of the bed. You close the door to your room, the light flashing in the full length mirror on the back of the door.

"Sit," you say with a gentle squeeze of his hand, leading him to the side of the bed facing the mirror. He does as he's told, and you climb into his lap, also facing the mirror.

You take his large hands in yours and guide him, showing him how you like to be touched. He watches your reactions to every movement closely, and it isn't long before he's confident enough to explore on his own. His fingers trail lightly down your side, following the line of your hip slowly inward. He stills, waiting to see if you're going to stop him from moving forward.

You don't.

He holds your gaze, watching your features change as his fingers slip into your folds. You gasp as he teases you slowly, and it isn't long before you're near trembling.

You're eyes fall closed, and your mouth falls open as one finger finally pushes into your soaked center. You lean back against him, whimpering as his finger curls, brushing against the soft part inside of you, before pulling out and pushing back in. He repeats the action, slowly, and again, slowly. He feels you clench around him, writhing impatiently, and looks up at the mirror.

Flush and trembling in his arms, one hand nearly covers your abdomen, the contrast of your smooth skin and his pebbled scales looking almost intentional, color and texture complimenting each other perfectly. The other continues disappearing inside of you and drawing from you the most exquisitely frustrated sounds. And it's him. He's doing all of it. His oversized, inhuman hands are creating this moment.

There is no other word for it than "beautiful..."

Your lust blown eyes open to meet his as you whimper and twist in his lap. "f-fuck..." he shudders as he drops, gripping you tighter.

The corner of your mouth turns up slightly as you meet his reflection's eyes. Trembling, he angles himself to rub against your sex, coating himself in your slick, pulling a small sound from your throat. You're already so wet and ready, and when you tilt your hips and capture his spade-tipped head, you are very grateful for that.

The burn as you stretch around him is glorious. He's bigger than you were expecting (and you were expecting), and a deep moan is pulled from you as you sink down on him slowly, your eyes falling closed.

You still once he's buried to the hilt, both of you needing a moment to adjust. When you open your eyes, his are still closed. His arms hold you tightly around the waist, and measured, trembling breaths ghost over your shoulder.

He needs a minute. This is new for him and the worst thing he can imagine right now is for this to be over before it starts. You are so soft and warm and tight, and he can feel your heartbeat pulsing in the walls around him, and if he doesn't get some kind of control, he's going to bust right here.

After a few moments, he opens his eyes, meeting yours in the mirror. His fingers find your clit again, and he strokes it slowly, groaning, his head falling back, when you clench around him.

In an involuntary search for friction, your hips rock against his and he gasps, his other hand tightening around your waist, and he's never been more grateful for years of training in meditation.

He breathes heavily for a few moments, and once he feels like he has his bearings, he holds your gaze and tightens his grip on your hips, pulling out of you slowly before pushing back in. You can feel his churr inside you and you shudder as he sheathes himself again, feeling the vibrations of his desire scatter outward from your center, leaving your fingers and toes tingling.

You move together in a slow rhythm, his eyes never leaving the mirror. He's going to remember every single second of this for the rest of his life. Whatever happens next, this is his. This moment. This feeling. He's wanted a lot of things in his life - peace, acceptance, love -, and for this one shining moment, he has all of them. For this once shining moment, he has you.

This beautiful, brilliant goddess of light and mercy is with him, wants him. You are watching him in the mirror as if he is something sacred. Divine. This broken deformation of something that isn't even a man, held in reverence, and he is filled with something indescribable.

His head falls to your shoulder with a deep moan, as a fire ignites inside of him. Not the one he's used to, there is no burning rage. No barely contained fury. This is not the fire of battle, but the fire of a forge.

Red hot iron burns in his veins as years of doubt and insecurity are boiled away. They didn't matter anymore. Every weird, unacceptable mutated turtle thing he had to deal with. Every scream of horror at his terrible visage. Your light. Your heat, is burning it away. Allowing him to make something new. He leans back, lifting you and bucking up into your harder as that heat fills him, and with every thrust, something in him is reshaping itself.

You could see it in his eyes. That fire of creation. And if you thought he was beautiful before... He holds your gaze with open purpose, unsure but ready for anything, pouring that fire into you. The catalyst of his recreation. And for the first time in his life, he feels like maybe he deserves something good.

And, Gods, you felt SO good.

He's transfixed, his hand reaching around to find your clit again, moaning as his mouth descends to your neck and shoulders. Needing to pull more of those exquisite sounds from you. Every one of them ringing through him like a struck anvil.

A smirk turns his lip as he stands, growling, and you brace against the door as he shows no signs of slowing. His large hand comes to cover yours on the door, wrapping around it. Eyes no longer fixed to the mirror, gaze downward, watching the way you stretch around him as he disappears into you, he can feel his release building as your body flexes around him.

The fire roars under your skin as his speed and strength increases, capturing every sight, sound, and scent, and tossing them back into the flames.

You're beyond language at this point, grunting and whimpering with every thrust. You can feel him in every part of you, until there is nothing left in the world but him and the burn of him filling you completely.

You can feel the pressure building as he growls low and sparks shoot up your spine, his hot breath crashing over your shoulders in waves as he is lost to you. He wraps his arm around you, leaning back and pulling you flush against him as his eyes fall shut.

You are consumed by the flames, arching against him with a cry as white fire streaks through you, the pressure breaks, and you are undone. Raphael follows with a roar, gripping you tightly as he buries himself in you. A second wave crashes over you when you feel him spill himself inside of you, your body milking him dry.

Trembling and breathing hard, you sit back and hold each other as you come down together. You meet his eyes in the mirror, and he's looking at you in reverence and gratitude, like you're his own personal miracle.

Because you are.

He wraps his arms around your waist and buries his head in your shoulder and breathes deep, pulling your scent into his lungs as he pulls out of you, leaving you feeling empty. Glancing up, he watches himself drip out of you, staining the rug below. You are flush and exhausted, but smiling as your heart rate and breathing slow.

After taking a few moments to clean up. You crawl back into bed together. He slips his arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

You smile up at him, happy, truly, actually happy, for the first time in... ever? That can't be right. It feels right. All you know is you've never been happy like this.

It won't last. It can't. He's too special. And now he knows he has options. "Just think, when you get bored with me, there's a whole community of people that will also find you hot." you chuckle softly. It was only a matter of time, right? You were nothing special.

His smile disappears.

How could you think...

"Y/N, I don't want anybody else." He says softly, sure.

"Raph, you haven't met anybody else." You counter.

"Fuck anybody else. Everybody else. I got it in one, and I ain't about to question that." He presses his forehead to yours.

You smile at him in patient, loving, disbelief. "Okay, Red."

He raises his head to look at you. "Want me to prove it? Fine. Give me a few years, I'll have you convinced."

This gets him a laugh. "Years?" you really like the sound of that.

You grin up at him. You really, really like the sound of that. But moments later, you cringe hard and start giggling, a clear sign that your brain has interrupted with something ridiculous. "Okay okay okay, I'm gonna say it. I have to say it... I've created a monster."

"If I'm lucky," he says. You look into his eyes as he smiles down at you, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear. "You better be prepared for me not to be able to keep my hands off you," he says with a smirk.

"Y/N..." He groans and covers his face with a pillow while you cackle.

"No wait, see? Now you can't hate that word anymore because it will remind you of sex!" You chirp delightedly.

"You can't possibly be fucking serious right now..." He says, muffled by the pillow.

The next several minutes are spent with you vehemently defending your joke, while, delightfully annoyed, he quietly admits to himself that being a Monster might not be all that bad.

...

Happy Pride Month, my Monster. I love you. ♥️

...

Tag list

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll @silverwatergalaxy @gornackeaterofworlds @daedric-sorceress @sophiacloud28 @iridescentflamingo @milykins

#bayverse raphael #raphael x reader #tmnt raphael #tmnt #bayverse raphael x reader #raph x reader #tmnt raphael x reader #tmnt bayverse #teenage mutant ninja turtles #HA HA #take THAT Raph's trauma #owned #Monsterfucker

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suzukiblu · 2 months ago

Text

Day seven of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” behind the cut. tw: implications of past grooming/abuse and the inherent problems in someone who was in that situation trying to flirt with someone actually age-appropriate. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“. . . ‘fast’,” Kon echoes awkwardly, glancing down at their hands. Tim tries not to wince. He definitely sounds like an idiot or a prude or–whatever. Just incredibly, incredibly uncool.

He has actually never felt less like a prude since getting to know Kon well enough to notice things like how good the bastard looks soaked in Kool-Aid, but now is just . . . really not the time for thoughts like those, yeah.

“I, uh–I’ve never actually, um . . . with anyone, actually. Guy or not,” Tim half-admits, though it feels stupid that being a virgin is something to admit instead of just a statement of fact. Normally it wouldn’t be, is the thing, but he just really doesn’t want Kon to think he sounds lame or antisocial or . . . whatever, exactly. “I actually would literally not even know how to, uh . . . give you ‘tips’ or anything. Unless I had like, the prep time to do some research, I mean. It’s just, uh–I don't date much, to be honest. Or, uh. Pretty much at all? Like, you're definitely more experienced than I am either, uh, either way, like that's just–I don't do much of this stuff. Any of it. I have in fact gone out with exactly two girls in my life and they both were definitely, um–also the ones who were making the moves and all.”

It's not that he never want to make a move, just usually he's too busy being way too in his own head about it or something else entirely or–

God, he is rambling so much, Tim realizes, repressing a cringe when he realizes how blankly Kon’s currently staring at him. Because it is very, very blankly, that Kon is staring at him.

Crap.

“Uh,” Tim says with a grimace. “Sorry. Um. If you were expecting something . . . faster, I mean.”

Kon should definitely not have anything that fast if he’s thinking of himself as a product, Tim’s basically positive, but also that’s actually not any of his damn business, but also he definitely needs to look into Kon’s dating history just to add a few names to his list for when he finally goes supervillain and just maybe look into–

. . . Kon is still just staring blankly at him.

Tim fails to repress the cringe this time.

“Uh,” he attempts again. “Kon? Are you . . .?”

Kon turns literally crimson and ducks his head, but also doesn’t actually stop staring at him.

. . . alright then, Tim thinks.

“I do like you. I like you a lot. Like–I like-like you a lot, if I have somehow managed to not be embarrassingly obvious about that at this point,” he tries, borderline flailing in the conversation now since Kon is apparently no longer willing to use his words and he was already not doing that great with it when Kon was using his words, and he can’t even talk with his hands or anything because he’s holding Kon’s hands like an actual grade schooler, except probably no one ever has held Kon’s hands like–no, no, he is not far enough down the supervillain pipeline to be able to finish that thought process and deal with the psychological consequences of having to not burn down the system about it, he really cannot do that at any point in the next ten to fifteen years whatsoever. “This isn't–I'm just–it's not me not wanting to . . . take some pictures, eventually. Just . . . maybe we could wait a bit on it. Stick with the streets and buildings for a little while longer, maybe?”

He tries for a smile and also tries not to cringe again over how weak an attempt it feels like, and then has the uneasy and uncomfortable thought that actually doing anything like that isn’t even really–is that ethical, even? Even the idea of doing something like that? Kon doesn’t really know Robin all that well, no, but they’re on the same team and the same side, and they’re teammates and at least arguably friends, and Kon also doesn’t know he is Robin, and–

“Um,” Kon says, his hands tightening just a bit around Tim’s and his face still blazingly and borderline inhumanly red as his head ducks a little lower and his mouth curves into what is, in fact, the most unfairly soft smile that Tim has ever seen on the bastard’s face. “We could do that, yeah.”

Tim was thinking about something, probably? Which hopefully wasn’t something important, considering just how ruthlessly Kon just fried his brain out of his head. Which is not even reasonable or logical, because all Kon did was . . . well, imply he was fine taking things at Tim’s pace and not actually going to get immediately bored if he didn’t put out and was actually interested in just being together, and also did it while smiling at him like that.

Alright, fine, Tim knows exactly why his stupid brain got itself fried. He’s still apparently embarrassingly easy, though.

Well, that’s not exactly new information in regards to Kon anyway.

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #dc robin #superboy #wip: obligatory sugar baby kon #implied past grooming #implied past abuse #unhealthy coping mechanisms

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thought--bubble · 11 months ago

Text

Dreamin of You

Modern Dark Actor Aemond X (Non-Famous GF Reader)

Warnings below

Word Count: 3065

Modern Aemond Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Banners by @arcielee

Warnings:: Jealousy, possessive behavior, obsessive behavior, Dubcon, insecurity, unprotected sex (p in v), oral sex (F receiving)

Based on THIS request

"Aemond! Over here!" You cringe at the noise, a man with a camera nearly screeching into your ear.

Aemond shields his eyes, trying to block out the flashing of the cameras as he tightens his arm around you, pulling you through the crowd.

It has been about a year since he got his big break. The leading man on a hit show that streams on Netflix. One of this year's biggest hits.

His life entirely changed nearly overnight, changing yours right along with it. You could no longer go out in public with him. You would be swarmed by cameras and people reaching out and grabbing at him. Women yelled out to him that they loved him.

Oh, how the women scream for him.

It doesn't surprise you. He is handsome and charming, not to mention tall, with a jawline that could cut diamonds.

Aemond used to be a quiet man. Hiding in the shadows. Shy and self-conscious. His disability made him bow out from most social situations unless you were there.

You had met Aemond back in primary school. Growing up beside him, you knew him better than anyone else. Or at least you used to.

The man standing beside you now, curling you up in his arm, is not the same man he was just one short year ago, and the realization hit you recently.

You had accompanied him to a photo shoot as you often do. Watching him flit about the place, shaking hands and charming them all with that beautiful smile. The two female models on set hanging on his every word. One being so forward as to brush her hand on his arm. Which he allowed.

Every day, you felt the pressure of his newfound fame start to squeeze into every facet of your life.

You had never been an insecure person. Never. Now you found yourself constantly comparing.

Aemond had been approached by models, a fellow actress, and even a pretty popular musician, and when you look at them and then at yourself, it's obvious that there is simply no comparison.

He is going to leave you or cheat on you at some point, which has you constantly on edge. You had been denying this, but what man wouldn't? What man would stay with his average before fame girlfriend when he could have a lingerie model? A pop star?

You know that he loves you and you love him too, but sometimes love is just not enough.

That's how you find yourself here. Standing in his living room, watching him update his Instagram after fighting your way through a sea of photographers.

Your stomach feels sick as you watch him, trying to build up the courage to say what has been bouncing around in your head for weeks.

"It's time," you whisper to yourself.

You clear your throat as you gently shake out your limbs. "Aemond? I....I need to talk to you."

"Course." He doesn't lift his head from his phone, no doubt jumping on every notification coming from his social media accounts.

"It's important"

He lifts his head and furrows his brow.

"Everything alright, love?" He turns his phone screen down toward his lap to show you that you have his full attention.

You open your mouth to speak and immediately the anxiety of what you're about to do hits you like a tidal wave. Am I doing this? Really doing this?

Aemond can sense the panic that is coursing through you and stands up and quickly walks to you, taking your hands.

"Don't be afraid, love, tell me what's going on," He squeezes gently. His tenderness makes this all so much more difficult.

"I think it's...... Aemond? I..... I'm leaving" the relief you feel at finally telling him is soothing, it's done. You've said it. No take backs.

"Leave?" Aemond grips his phone tightly, his knuckles turning white as he turns his head from you. "Leave where? Go where? For what purpose?"

"Aemond..... I mean leave..... us. This" You turn your head in an effort to avoid that eye. You know you shouldn't look away. It's you who is doing this to the both of you. What right do you have to be sad?

The gentleness on his face is replaced with shock, and he turns his back to you, taking a few steps away. His silence is deafening, but you want to be fair. Give him a moment to process this.

"I... I just don't think we fit anymore, I'm so happy for you, Aemond. You're so talented, and all this that's happening to you? You deserve it, and i want you to have it." You recoil slightly at your own words. You've been thinking it for months, but saying it out loud, saying it to him. It's so painful. So final. "But, there's no room here for me anymore"

As you feel the all too familiar sting in your eyes, you watch his form turned away from you. You want him to look at you. Let you know that he understands that you don't want to hurt him. That this is what is best for both of you.

Instead, he chuckles, and you're hit with a wave of confusion before he turns around and stalks toward you. "Leaving? You think you're leaving me?" The smirk that creeps its way onto his face sends shivers down your spine.

He clicks his tongue as he reaches you, pulling you in tight against his chest.

"You don't get to leave." He coos. "No, my darling, you'll stay right here." he gently runs his fingers through your hair, the movement comforting and menacing.

The little hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Who is this? This isn't the Aemond you know. Kind gentle, Aemond.

No, this person is someone else.

His lifts your face to him by your chin and kisses you gently. The way he moves between loving and domineering so seamlessly, it's as if there are two of him.

"You are mine little dove." He chuckles again as he looks down at you, the gleam in his eye, conveying a message that you are having trouble reading.

"Things have changed yes, we will figure out how to make you more comfortable, but one thing remains constant and that is you."

"You don't get to decide that." You wanted to say this with conviction but it comes out weak and feeble. You and Aemond have hardly ever fought and when you do, he wins every time.

Aemond sighs and smiles. "But I do. See i decide if we stay together. Me, and i have decided that we will. Now if there are things that we can work on to make you more comfortable I am happy to do that" He pushes his face into the crook of your neck as he whispers, " It's what's best for both of us"

You push him back, his arrogance finally pushing you over the edge.

"Who are you? Huh? This isn't you! This arrogant, entitled twat!" The dam that was holding back all of your frustrations fully bursts and you can't help yourself from offloading.

"You flirt with models right in front of me, you-"

"IT'S AN ACT!" He explodes, and you jump back, his voice unrecognizable.

"You think I want them? Those vapid cunts?" He grips your arm tight and shoves you down onto the sofa. The movement jarring.

"Don't shove me!" You move to get up but he leans down caging you in with his arms.

"When I sleep, I dream of you, when awake, I dream of you, when I do anything, I dream of you. There is not another for me, not in this lifetime or the next."

You push your body back on the sofa, trying to put a little distance between the two of you. He glares at you for a moment, lowering his arms from the sofa and bringing them to your shoulders.

"If you leave, I will find you, and I will drag you back to me" He slowly drops to his knees in front of you, sliding his arms down the length of your body in the process. "I'll always find you."

Your eyes widened slightly in fear. His love has always been expressed in gentleness, kind gestures, and soft caresses.

"What happened to being partners? Since when have you owned me as you seem to think?"

"I always have." He looks at you, not with malice, not with hubris, but with a look that tells you he takes this to be simple fact.

He pushes your skirt up, and begins trailing kisses up your thigh.

"Aemond.... we shouldn't. " His grip on your thigh tightens, but he doesn't stop. Your mind is telling you to push him away, stop him but your body is succumbing to his dangerous allure, like a lamb to the slaughter.

The closer he gets to your heat, the faster you lose your resolve. He's always had this effect on you. When he kisses you, touches you, loves on you, you all too quickly fall to your knees.

He slides his hand up your other thigh, slipping it under your skirt until he reaches your hip, gently squeezing at the flesh there.

You close your eyes and lean back on the sofa as he continues to lick and nip at your thigh. Every touch of his skin to yours sending currents of electricity through your veins.

"We're gonna be fine darlin" His voice is hynotizing. Just a moment ago you wanted to punch him in the face and now you are spreading your legs wider to give him enough room to fit his face between your thighs.

"That's a good girl, such a good girl" He moves his hand from your hip to your heat gently caressing you through the thin fabric of your thong.

"For someone who thinks we shouldn't be doing this you are very very wet" You feel the embarrasment rush to your cheeks but are unable to stop yourself from gently bucking your hips upward.

Aemond chuckles and clicks his tongue. "Is that was this was all about hmm? Have I been neglecting you sweet girl?" He moves your thong to the side and brings his finger to the wetness pooling there. "Hmmm seems I have, you poor poor thing" He mocks with fake sympathy.

You sigh as he grips your thighs dragging you to the edge of the sofa. pushing your skirt all the way up and exposing you to him.

"So fucking pretty" He leans forward and flicks the tip of his tongue on your pearl. Your leg twitches in response and he pulls his head back.

You groan at his teasing scooting your body closer to his face, as he starts to chuckle.

"Now, now sweet girl. I'm going to need you to admit, that you aren't going anywhere." He lightly scratches at the sensitive skin on your thigh with his thumbnail. You were supposed to break up and leave, This life with him was making you miserable. "Give me what I want, and I will return the favor" He again leans forward and flicks the very tip of your clit twice.

The teasing is starting to drive you to madness, you came into this room with conviction and a plan but it looks like you would leave this room with shame and satisfaction. "Fine! I'm not leaving, I'm not, I promise, I promise!" You feel a mix of discomfiture and arousal coursing through you but at this point you just don't care.

"Mmmmm" is the only sound he makes before again leaning forward and taking your engorged nerve into his mouth and sucking on it harshly.

"Fuckkkk Aem" You bring your hand down and grip his head, pushing his head closer to you and he is more than happy to oblige.

He slides a long course finger into you while he continues to swallow at your pearl. The sensations have your legs shaking uncontrollably, and as if your hips have a mind of their own, they buck gently against Aemonds face as he gives you everything he knows you want.

His finger crooks inside you, rubbing at the pad inside, gently calling your orgasm to him.

"Oh fuck ahhh!" Your whole body stiffens as he quickens the pace of both his mouth and finger.

As you tumble forward into your peak, you squeeze your legs around his head, the blood rushing to your face heating up your entire body. Is this heaven, or have you been tricked into hell?

After you finish sitting dumbstruck on the sofa, Aemond wastes no time. He slides towards you on his knees, wrapping his hand around your waist.

You rest your exhausted head on his shoulder and wrap your legs around his hips. With just one arm he lifts you slightly off the couch and slowly rises to his feet, you feel the muscles in his chest and shoulders tighten as he lifts you and himself from the floor carrying you into the bedroom. His hard cock pressed against you.

"Have I got you all stupid for me, sweet girl?"

You make some incoherent noises as he gently drops you onto the bed and climbs on top of you.

"I love you" He breathes the words directly into your ear, the sadness in his voice not lost on you. He slots himself between your legs tightly gripping your thigh and pulling it up against him.

"You can't ever leave ok?" He roughly kisses you before you can respond while he pulls you closer by the thigh pushing himself up tight against your core. "Not ever".

Aemond ruts against you, still fully clothed. "Can't live without ya." His voice sounds strained like this is taking everything out of him. "Won't live without ya." His movements become more rough, more desperate.

He pulls back from you just long enough to get your panties off, disposing of his boxers and trousers in the process, before slotting himself back between your legs.

He slides an arm under your back, bringing his hand to the back of your neck, raising your face to his.

"All I want is you. All I've ever wanted is you." His lips meet yours in a searing kiss, a kiss that screams don't go.

He pushes himself against your entrance, begging to be let in. You lean back further parting your legs and he pushes forward slowly.

"Fuck, I love you, oh gods I love you" He moans as he fills you up. Once he reaches the hilt, he lies down on top of you, sliding both of his arms under your shoulders before he gently starts to move against you.

Your bodies are pressed together so tight. You can hardly tell there are two separate people here.

"I'll never let you go, I'll never let you go," he repeats this over and over as his speed increases, his voice changing from desperate to domineering.

He grips your shoulders tightly, holding your body in place as he ruts up into you. "Do you understand now? You can never leave. I love you. You're mine. " his thrusts are slowly getting harder, as the heat again builds up in your abdomen.

"Fucking mine. Always mine. Forever mine," he growls the words at you as he bites into your neck.

"I'm gonna fill you up." He bites into your shoulder, pushing himself as far into you as he can get, but pushing ever still. He can't be close enough to you. He can't be far enough inside. Everything feels like it's just not enough.

He pulls back from you, has his speed increases, and his rhythm falters.

"Cmon cum for me sweet girl" He licks his thumb and brings it to your nub pressing down harshly on the nerve, his movements furious.

You whine out, your legs trembling as you feel your lower stomach growing tighter and tighter, the feeling overwhelming but so good. "Aem." You whimper, "ohhh gods"

"No baby, it's just me." He watches in wonder as you reach your peak for a second time, arching your back and yelling out loud.

"That's good. That's a good girl. Fuck yes baby" His movements become sloppy and he grips your hips tightly as he chases his release. "Say you love me," he growls his hips smacking against your skin with a loud slap sound as you moan out riding out the top of your pleasure.

"Fucking say it" he grunts as he tries to hold back his climax, "Please baby say it." His face is contorted somewhere between pleasure and pain until you acquiesce.

"I love you." The words flow from your mouth so delicately, so naturally. There was never a question as to whether you loved him. The question is whether that love is enough.

Hearing the words from your tongue immediately sends Aemond into the climax he was fighting as he screams out like some kind of feral animal thrusting into you harshly as he rides out his high, collapsing onto your chest leaving himself sheathed inside.

"I love you too"

You wake up the next morning to the alarm on your phone going off and grumble, turning it off and rolling onto your side, looking at a sleeping Aemond. Feeling ashamed of yourself for giving into him last night.

As you slide out of the bed to get ready for work he reaches out and grips your wrist tight.

"Where are you going?" His eyes are still closed and his body hasn't moved the only thing alerting you to his consciousness being the hand tightly gripping your wrist, and his voice.

"To work?" You move again to get out of the bed thinking the matter settled.

"Oh, no we are sending your letter of resignation today" He opens his eyes and shifts in the bed stretching but not releasing your wrist.

"Aemond, i'm not quitting my job!" You can't believe he would even think that was an option. You love your job. Why would you quit? Why would he even want you to? You look towards him in utter confusion as he slightly tightens the grip on your wrist.

"You can't go. You might not come back." He yanks you back into the bed crawling on top of you.

"Like I said before. You're gonna stay right here"

To be added to a taglist click here

#aemond fanfiction #modern aemond x reader #modern aemond fanfiction #modern aemond/ you #dark aemond x reader #modern aemond #modern aemond angst #modern au #ewan nation #ewan mitchell #ewanverse #ewan mitchell verse #ewan mitchell fanfic #jess fics #my modern war criminal bf

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gotta-winwin · 1 month ago

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(🎞️) ... hit the road docu.<> at the end of this road

masterlist | cyana's masterlist

word count: 1k TW: mentions of scoups hiatus, overworking italics are interviews cut in between scenes + english. a/n: this one's short but sweet ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )

Cyana watched as Hoshi mumbled to himself in the mirror. She walked over, worried that the boy had finally pushed himself to the brink of insanity.

"You got this, Hoshi." He chided himself through the mirror. "You have to smile onstage even if you're not feeling well. This is your job."

Her heart sank.

She knew everybody was finding it rough without Seungcheol, their conditions were wearing thin and members kept falling ill left and right. Approaching him, she put a hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

"Number?" She asked. The question was feeling increasingly silly to ask as everyone's pain became more obvious.

She admired Hoshi a lot, when he still looked up at her with a bright smile. "7? I'm doing good." They both knew he was lying through his teeth, afraid of adding to the already low moral.

Cyana pulled up a chair next to him and laid her head down on the table, turning so she could still see him. "I miss Coups."

Hoshi nodded, reaching over to run his fingers languidly through her hair. She no longer recoiled at the physical touch anymore, both too tired and too used to it to move. They felt like second nature to her by now. "Me too."

It felt like they were always dodging around the problem, pretending that everything was fine. Cyana supposed it was probably easier to go onstage and smile if you didn't have to talk about what was bothering you.

"Fighting!" Hoshi brought his hand up for a fist bump.

Returning the gesture lazily, Cyana couldn't help but feel amazed at how well Hoshi could adapt, still bringing the energy even when he wasn't feeling 100%.

"My stomach was hurting a lot during rehearsal." Hoshi was busy eating as he answered the interviewer's question. "Probably caught whatever Dino had in Japan."

He could be seen stumbling during their choreo, a strange sight coming from their performance unit leader.

"I wanted to bubblewrap every single one of them and tell the world not to get them sick." Cyana's lips curled at the wishful thought. "We were all trying to compensate for Coups oppa's absence and Hannie oppa, but Hoshi was trying the most."

"We're both sick." Dino told the camera, as if he was a little proud to be having a partner in crime.

Cyana frowned when Hoshi nodded. "That's not a good thing."

"At least we have each other." Hoshi shrugged, clapping Dino on the back in solidarity. "Suffering together."

She scoffed, although the worry was evident by the way she was pulling Dino's jacket tighter around him. "My overachievers." She mumbled endearingly, shaking her head when they only exchanged a smile. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Cherish and love us." Hoshi laughed when she cringed at his comment. "Ow." He stopped laughing to clutch his stomach. "Laughing hurts."

Cyana let out a deep sigh. "Go lie down with Jeonghan. We have like 20 minutes before we're rehearsing again."

She looked at the camera with an exasperated glance as the two boys left, following her orders. "It's a wonder I'm younger than all of them. Sometimes I feel like the oldest."

The Hiphop Unit's performance felt empty without Seungcheol's presence. Cyana sat next to Hoshi and Woozi, joining them as they watched Vernon, Mingyu and Wonwoo rehearse their own separate parts.

"They're good." Hoshi spoke into her ear, tucking her hair aside.

She nodded. "I miss Coups though."

"You've been saying that since he left." Woozi glanced at her with faint amusement. "Keep talking and we'll start thinking you have a favourite."

Cyana laughed, clapping her hands together at the accusation. "Maybe I do have a favourite."

"It's got to be me." Hoshi mused, grabbing her hand in his and shaking it. "You love me."

She made a face and he pouted.

"We both know her favourite is Dino." Woozi offered, it was rare for him to join in in teasing Cyana, but she was glad he felt they were close enough for that now.

Eyes wide with mock offense, she gently nudged Woozi in retaliation. "I'm not telling."

Hoshi sighed, ignoring her words. "It's definitely me." He said, deliberately, to no one in particular.

The other two shared a look and they both snorted at the statement. "You wish."

"What is Hoshi to you?"

The question was asked to everyone gathered in the makeup and hair room, a couple hours before their concert in Bangkok.

Wonwoo looked up from the ramen he was busy picking apart. "A..." He paused, trying to find a more polite way to phrase what he was thinking. "...a very passionate friend."

"A cute attention seeker?" Minghao offered when the camera approached him.

Hoshi let out a guffaw from behind him. "I am not an attention seeker.”

"Hoshi's a lunatic." Woozi said, summing up exactly what everyone else had been thinking but had been too afraid to say.

The camera panned to Cyana, who was staring at Woozi, mouth agape. "That was what I was going to say!" She protested, now at a loss for words. "Umm..." She looked at Hoshi, thinking. "Hoshi is a friend who I look at sometimes and think...what is going on inside his mind?" She quoted the viral tiktok sound, laughing when only Vernon caught the reference.

"People usually don't know that I'm an introvert." Hoshi spoke to the camera. "I'm only a lunatic around my members, or people I'm close to."

"You should've seen how shy he was the first time we were alone in a room together." Cyana remembered the instance. "He could barely look at me. Addressed the ground whenever he said anything.”

As the hours passed and it was time for the concert to begin, everyone crowded around and placed their hands in the center, looking expectingly at Hoshi for him to begin their chant.

"Okay everyone!" He yelled, all fired up and ready to go. He could feel the energy and passion bubbling through him as a fire ignited within, ready to give his all onstage. "An Ode Tour in Bangkok! Let's give a shout in 3!"

Cyana stood opposite to him in the circle, admiring him silently.

"I always joke and say I want to be just like Hoshi when I grow up." Cyana giggled at her little quip. "But there's truth to that. I want to be just like him onstage - a natural performer who gives his all."

a/n: there will be lots of hit the road eps coming soon! i loved exploring hoshi and cyana's dynamic further

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hannieehaee · 7 months ago

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CLOSER (teaser)

18+ / mdi

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 477 (teaser); 12.9k (full fic)

RELEASE DATE: july 12th

or you can check it out on my ko-fi or patreon today by subscribing to either one!

a/n: this was longer and way messier than anticipated but i hope u guys like it!!

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

"You're crazy,"

Those were Wonwoo's last words before scoffing and walking away, completely disregarding your presence.

"Wait!," you raised your voice, attempting to prevent his departure, "Just hear me out," you pleaded.

"Let me at least explain," you whined as you walked side by side with him.

He merely hummed, seemingly a bit annoyed at the fact you were still going on about such a silly prospect.

"Why do you need me to take it from you?", he grumbled, "Just wait til you meet some guy you like and lose it to him."

His speed did not diminish, but he turned to look at you after hearing that, a semi-serious look on his face, "Has anyone done anything-"

"Okay, so, you want me to take your virginity just for research purposes?"

"Yes! Exactly that!"

"Just watch porn, then," he deadpanned once more with a scoff.

"Wonwoo!," you slapped his arm in annoyance, "Please, at least try to take me seriously."

"Fine," he grumbled, "I'll take you seriously if you actually make some sort of methodological plan for me to assess. Only then will I actually try to come to a decision."

Spoken like a true nerd.

Unbeknownst to Wonwoo, his nerdiness was kind of part of his charm.

"Great," he smiled, "See you then, virgin."

...

you can check it out today on my ko-fi or patreon by subscribing to either one!

#seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen oneshot #seventeen smut #svt smut #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo oneshot #wonwoo smut #bookmarks

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shuenkio · 5 months ago

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Rewrite the stars | PJ.s 🍂

Paring: Jay x Male!reader | Genre: Angst but fluff.

Synopsis: the man who once broke your heart, decided that he will make a change between you and him, to form the love once again.

Cw: nothing just two exes getting back together.

Non proof read | Eng is not my 1st lang.

A-N: This was way back in June so it's a bit 🤏 cringe and many dramatic scene you'd discover, again I'm still develop how to express character emotion:> .

Years of dating with Jay crumbled in a blink of an eye when m/n saw him with a girl on a date with his gift that m/n gave him during his birthday. M/N calmed down, trying to process what's truly happening. We can't judge a book by its cover, but the moment M/N saw Jay press a soft kiss on the girl's cheek, it's over.

There's no explanation for this. M/N's tears break down unconditionally; he wants to go there and scream at Jay's face and ask why he would do such a thing to his boyfriend here. That's the ugliest memory you had of him. Nevertheless, since I love him very much, he can't seem to let him go.

Not because of his wealthy status; it's because he loves him so much from the bottom of his heart that he swears he would do anything for Jay. However, Jay had asked M/N to break up with him, and with no more heart in those eyes that once used to be, the adorable expression he made just for you when he talked about his day is no longer in this broken relationship.

Begging for him to stay would just make you pathetic and blinded by love. When m/n has decided he has to let him go, the person who's once been the love of his life is now leaving for their own good. Are all of the memories and promises nothing to Jay? The question seemed unspoken without an answer, clenching in his chest painfully in sorrow, along with the hurtful words that haunted your sleep every single day.

"Let's break up"

—5 years later, after M/n graduated and found his true passion with his dream job. He was no longer stressing about nonsense; he got everything at the age of 25: money, a car, a house, importantly, a job. chapter of his life wherein he can get whatever he wishes for. I worked as a designer, making tons of exquisite and high-quality collections of luxurious clothes and dresses that hit the market every single time they were launched.

His name soon became the hot topic in society; not only did he walk with the trend, he was also loved by everyone with his relatability and kindness. Moreover, during the week, while he was spending his time at the spa, M/N got a call from his manager saying that there'll be a new member of a top-tier design team who wishes to work with you, especially as one of the co-workers. This was not new, nor is it difficult to handle, but what was coming for you was a blind spot.

The time has come; M/N is now in a meeting room, waiting for the new guy who is eager to work with him so much. He wonders who it could be, as a top-tier designer in this city will make an appearance in front of you at any moment soon. The glass door was opened by a pair of hands, and his manager came in with the taller man behind in his black suit. Everyone in the room stood up as a sign of respect except M/N.

He was so lost in thought at the new face behind his manager. He is quite familiar. M/N refuses to care if he's scolded by the supervisor, yet who cares? The whole group settled down in their own seats, and due to M/N sitting across from the table, he began to focus on the meeting instead of giving his attention to that guy.

"Everybody, Meet Jay Park! He will be working with us from now on, as a designer, of course, just like our gem, M/N. Haha, and it looks like this gentleman is here. I look forward to working with you. How do you like that m/n? " It was horrible the unrequited attention on you was your least favorite thing you thought would never happen; the uncomfortable shift in your seat explained everything.

"Very well, Mr. Park. So then, since I've already seen him, I'll take my leave. Please excuse me." Once m/n knew who he was, he spared no time before leaving the place immediately. A glance on Jay's face, flashing back all of those nightmares once again. I don't know if it's because of work or something else, but deep down, a part of him said Jay is probably planning to take you back. How annoying.

Ever since the first meeting, of working together with your ex, M/N got nothing but troubling. Whenever Jay had time alone with M/N, he would always bring up the past topic all over again. He was truly sorry for his actions—for hurting you and for cheating on you with another girl. Jay swears he would wear his skin to the bone just for you to accept him once again.

However, it was such a bad move. Due to how much popularity M/N had, there's some reason you thought he would come back for you just because you had fame. Along with the sudden request to get back together, what will happen if he's going to cheat and repeat all the events once again? A busy day ended with the finished touch of your creation. M/N didn't know how long he had been standing here in the studio. All the sections are in pitch black except him. Employees have all gone back to their own homes. Prepared for you stuff to head home after a long day, a fade of voice fills the room from behind. Well, it was loud and clear to recognize.

"M/n i... Aren't you supposed to go home yet?" He paused, dipping his hands into his pocket.

"I'm about to. It's getting late; you should too," m/n implied with no enthusiasm for a small talk.

"Look, um, I know it's hard for you, but please hear me out." Jay's words seem so desperate; the low tone in his voice gives me chills. From the head to the bottom, not gonna lie, it's true he's a total mess. The bags under those eyes were visible on his face, and the lip was dry like he hadn't drunk any water. Is he going to make you pity him? No? At least you give him a chance to talk.

"If you talk about our relationship again, you should stop. I have nothing for those past memories."

"I’m so sorry... I never should have hurt you. I'd let you go. But every day without you is like living in a world with no sun—cold, empty, and endless. I was wrong to think I could burn on my own and that I didn’t need you. Without you, I’m just ashes. Please, I can’t keep pretending I’m okay. I’m losing pieces of myself every day. Give us another chance—I need you more than words can say" He whispered, his voice thick with regret. His hands trembled as he reached out, but he hesitated. Still respect your boundaries and keep the space between them. M/N stood there, stunned.

His chest tightened, and he could feel the lump forming in his throat, making it impossible to speak. Memories flashed through his mind—the laughter, the nights spent together, all the moments they shared. Tears began to well up in his eyes, blurring his vision. He tried to hold them back, but they spilled over, one after the other. His hands shook, and he felt completely lost, unable to do anything but let the tears fall.

Unable to hide his own weakness, he covers his own face with the pair of his palms, breaking down on the spot as his knees feel weaker than ever. Why should you cry over someone who once broke your heart, someone who left you in the middle of the ocean with no shore at all yet? Till today, he was crawling back, begging for forgiveness, swearing he'd never done it ever again.

Isn't that two times more painful than before? Should you accept him back or not? Or are you scared of getting stabbed again? His heart sank as M/N started crying. Seeing him so broken made Jay's chest tighten with guilt and sadness. Jay can't contain himself to stand while watching you in this state; he was the one who caused this after all.

Unexpectedly, you were surprised to see him wrap his hand around you before pulling you into a tight hug. Listening to your sobbing was enough for him to bury himself alive in the graveyard. He wanted to wash all his sins away for having wounded you; if he could go back in time, he'd sacrifice anything just to keep you close

once again.

"Let's rewrite our story hm ? I'll be a better man from now on. I promise there'll be fewer tears in your eyes, pretty. I'll love you till the day that i die "

🗣️ Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

🗣️ dividers: Thecutestgrotto and crd to all the pic owner..

Thanks for this pookie 😽❤️ IWALY!!!!

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uranometrias · 7 months ago

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my love mine all mine , aaron hotchner

this is incredibly self indulgent. i wrote this for myself, because my cat passed away today && i have no idea how to grieve correctly. but i've always been able to express myself the best through writing, so here i am trying to do so.

basically reader loses her kitten && hotch is there to comfort her while she grieves. reader is a doctor && gets her nails painted. mentions of sleeping in a scarf and braids (but this can apply to any race <3) hotch is pretty flirty. he also had a dog that died when he was younger (idk) ... i'm still getting used to writing him (but he's been rotting my brain) so hotch girlies please be sweet to me, i'm trying.

"Have you decided what you want me to grab on the way?" You feel giddy, eyes beaming vibrantly as you unlock your front door. Aaron was on the other line, he'd been looking forward to spending the evening with you for the past two weeks. Your jobs often sent you in separate directions, with him following cases cross country, and you spending nearly twenty hours a day working at Inova Fairfax Medical Campus. The commute was nearly an hour from Quantico, which made it difficult for your schedules to coincide the way you hoped.

Today though was an exception. He'd just gotten back from a case, a successful one, and you'd been lucky enough to finally get two days off. You couldn't contain your excitement when you'd finally managed to get Aaron on the phone, and with Jack staying at Jessica's for another night, it seemed everything was working out in your favor. You still had no idea what you were in the mood to eat, despite having ample time to figure it out. "I dunno." you mutter, and you drop your keys into the basket just to the left of the front door.

"Well honey, you've gotta give me something." Aaron chuckles, and his voices makes you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. "I'm sure you haven't anything at all today." and it doesn't take a rocket science to know he's absolutely correct. Your stomach grumbles audibly, and you cringe, the sound a dead giveaway of your poor eating habits. "Do you need a bit more time to think about it?" he asks, and you're nodding your head, despite the fact that he can't see you. Your focus is split, eyes darting around your place in search of Piper.

Piper was your five year old tabby, the most special companion that you'd cared for since she was a newborn. Usually she'd be making her way to your front door, nudging her head against your shins, meowing her head off as some form of reprimand for being gone too long. Her absence was unusual, but you'd noticed she'd been sleeping a touch longer in the recent months. You'd taken her to the vet and they'd written off any life threatening illnesses. Perhaps she was jus becoming a lazy cat they had said.

"What'd you eat yesterday?" you ask, and you shrug off your coat next, hanging it in the closet as you slip off your cork-leather clogs. You admire your pedicure, French-tips gleaming back at you as your feet hit the cherry laminate flooring. You imagined that he'd hardly been able to eat well while out on a case, Aaron (and his team) had a horrible habit of neglecting their own health and wellness for the sake of cracking the case. You'd call him out on it, but it'd feel to hypocritical with the way you gave most of your life to the hospital.

"Four cups of coffee." and he sounds sheepish as he replies, he'd been running himself ragged with this last particular case. He couldn't leave the precinct until he was convinced he'd made a dent in the investigation. He could imagine your disappointed pout, but he was doing his best, or at least trying his best. "But, Dave made sure that I got something this morning before we got on the jet." and it's not like he has to explain himself to you, you'd never berate him. He believed it was just a side effect of falling for you.

"Four cups?" you gasp, head already shaking. "You're going to turn into a cup of coffee if you keep up with habits like those." you scold. "You'll have to double your water intake, you could seriously dehydrate yourself that way." you say with a quiet huff. You round the corner of the foyer, heading for the kitchen. "Are you feeling alright?" your tone grows a bit softer, "Four cups means you were really absorbed in the case. Everything okay?" you tread lightly. You weren't quite sure how he felt about you asking about his job.

"As far as endings go, I'd say it was better than most." he replies thoughtfully, clearly unfazed by your desire to probe. That makes you smile a bit, the obviousness of his trust for you. "We minimized the amount of deaths, the unsub was taken into custody... the team worked really hard." he proceeds, and you find yourself grinning. "But, I will do a better job of taking care of myself. You'd be a good nurse, but I can imagine a few better scenarios for you to take care of me."

You smile despite the fact it makes your heart stutter step. You were still getting used to him growing more confident in this way, but you weren't complaining in the slightest. "I'd be a great nurse." you correct him delicately, "I'd enjoy taking care of you in any way though." and you bet he can hear your shyness through the phone. Your relationship with Aaron still felt fairly new, you'd been seeing one another for going on seven months, but you knew you loved him.

Even if you hadn't managed to say it just yet.

"Look at that, another thing we have in common." he exhales, and you want him to hurry up and get to you. You hadn't seen him in so long, and despite the fact you were willing to mount him on sight, you just wanted to enjoy being in the same place for once. "How are you? Did you have a good day?" and you like the way he's so attentive, how he seems to genuinely care about what you had to say.

"It was great." you insist, and you've poured yourself a glass of water, ice tinkling as you scanned the dining room for any sign of Piper. Still nothing, weird. "I went to the bookstore a bit earlier, got a few novels for my book shelf." you list. "I got my nails done, and I got a facial. It was so relaxing I wound up falling asleep on the table." and you chuckle a bit at the memory. "Piper and I went on a drive before lunch, she's so spoiled." you add, but you're still scouring the space.

"Drafted up my budget for the month, my new schedule came in," you exhale tiredly at the thought. "Picked up my scrubs from the dry cleaners, I did a grocery run, and went to see the flower exhibit near the Farmer's Market. I got this really incredible soft-pretzel croissant." you sigh dreamily at the memory. "And now I'm home, and waiting for you." you complete, and you lean forward, arms resting against the countertop. "It was a really nice day. I thought I wouldn't know what to do without work, but I'd nearly forgotten what it feels like to be off."

Aaron's silent, but not because he's disinterested in your ramblings. He finds them endearing, and oftentimes had to remind himself that you, much like Jack, needed verbal response in order to feel heard. "I missed you." and it's not quite what he was aiming to say, but it's what comes out. It's true, it had been a while since he'd seen you in person, and with the way your schedules overlapped, he'd hardly been able to get much conversation out of you apart from quick check-ins in between patients and breaks in BAU cases.

You let out a quiet puff of air, it's not quite a sigh nor an exhale. Your lips curve upwards, and you wonder if there's a record out there for most smiles achieved in a single phone call. "You've got no idea how happy that makes me." you reply, and you inhale deep. "I missed you too, hurry up and get over here." you press, and you replay the sound of his responding laugh over in your mind. You don't think you could be more lovesick, but it's a more than welcomed feeling. "As far as dinner, why don't I just cook something?" you offer with a shrug.

"Do you want to?" and Aaron's got this weird thing about him where he's still getting used to the fact that you want to do certain things for him. You go over it a lot, reminding him that you'd love nothing more than to spoil him as much as he spoils you. He's still a bit hesitant, but you don't mind fighting the good fight until he relented. His hands tighten just slightly on the steering wheel, and his leg jumps as he awaits your response. He knows, or better put, he has an idea of what you'll say. He still wants to hear it either way.

"We take care of each other, mon amour." You coo, and he feels that familiar rush of affection towards you. "It'll be fun." you add, and then you're sighing audibly. "I just really can't wait to see you. I don't want to wait any longer than I need to." you express, and Aaron understands. He'd been restless on the jet, Dave and Emily seemed to zero in on his jitters, he was thankful they had enough couth to keep it to themselves. All he received was a knowing smirk from Rossi as he made a beeline for the tarmac the second the jet landed.

"I'll be there soon." he promises, and you grow giddier. "I-" and he wants to cross the line, mutter three worded phrase that would change everything. He'd been learning to be more bold, to focus on the things he could control, and appreciate those things. "I love you." he doesn't have time to think about the repercussions, because it's out, and there's a strong sense of relief that washes over him. You are surprised, but elated. The excitement his words bring you is hard to diminish.

"I love you too." and it comes out as easy as breathing. Probably because you mean it with all of your heart. "I'll see you soon, Mr. Hotchner." you promise, and he's chuckling at your sudden formality, likely a side effect of your newfound nerves at the huge step you'd both taken in your relationship.

"See you soon." you don't bring the phone from your ear until you hear the faint click of the call ending. You exhale shakily, mind running at a mile a minute as your heart seems to double in size. Still, you find this moment is short lived- mind once again on the eerie silence in your apartment. You place your glass down on the counter, coaster be damned as you make your way past the dining room and towards the living room. Sometimes you'd find Piper curled up on the couch, quiet purrs escaping her as she slept contently.

"Piper!" you coo, surprised when you note that she's nowhere to be found. You know that she wasn't outside, you'd made sure before leaving back out that she was comfortable in the house. You follow the layout of your place, the archway that led from the living room back to the foyer is the route you take, heading towards your bedroom as you continuously call for the cat. "Piper, where are you, pretty girl?" you enter your room, hopeful that you'll find her there.

You spot her little paw peeking out of her hideaway and instantly relax. "Oh Piper, you scared me." you let out a shaky sort of giggle as you fully enter your bedroom, feet brushing over the comforting carpet. You kneel just in front of the hideaway, reaching out to pet her. It takes you a few moments to make peace with the fact that she's not rousing. You swallow thickly, a lump growing in your throat as you wiggle her paw. She doesn't move, just as limp as before.

"Piper?" you feel the way your throat constricts, eyes immediately wanting to brim with tears, as you grow frantic. "Oh, please no-" you exclaim, head shaking as you feel a shudder rack through you. You're gentle as you maneuver around the hideaway, hands looping around her small body as you move to pull her out. She's limp, not even the act of you lifting her up enough to make her move. Your glow feels like it's diminished almost instantly, a dark cloud setting in over your head. It seemed a bit silly, panicked over the loss of a cat.

But she was yours, like a daughter to you in the way you cared for her, and made her apart of your routine. She was special, and despite the reputation cats gained for being standoffish and unable to understand human love, you knew that to be wrong. Piper was sweet, a loving cat that curled up beside you every night and followed you like a second shadow. She'd play games of tag with you, chasing you around your apartment as you squealed and screamed for your life.

"Please, please, no-" you're shedding real tears now, they're slipping down your cheeks in a constant succession. "Piper, please wake up!" it's silly, probably. Rocking back and forth with a dead cat in your hand hoping that sheer adoration will be enough to turn back the hands of time. It's certainly not, and the reality crushes you. The first sob is choked, almost like you're holding yourself back, not letting your feelings take full affect. You hadn't prepared yourself at all.

You didn't know what to do.

You think that's when the first swell of sobs begins. They're more ugly wails than anything else, the loud sound echoing through the space in front of you as your arms lower, Piper's body leaning against you as you continued to let your tears flow freely. Your chest tightens, constricting every couple of seconds like you'd suddenly developed chronic heartburn. The pain is a violent assassin, the air around you feeling tight. You think you may be choking on all that you're feeling.

You hate the part of your brain that was constantly in 'Doctor Mode', the side that reminded you that despite your grief, handling a deceased animal like this was a surefire way to get sick. Her body wouldn't start to decompose for at least another day, but you had no real way of knowing just how long she'd actually been dead. You don't move though, until at least your sobs have waned, you know it's not the end of them, but it's a reprieve just for a moment.

You slowly climb to your feet, still clutching Piper as your eyes whip around your bedroom. Your eyes land on her carrier, and the image makes you want to cry all over again. You shut your eyes, allowing yourself to take in a deep breath. It doesn't help. Still, your feet lead you over to the carrier, where you're gently placing Piper. Her vet was only eight minutes up the street, and maybe your ability to dispose of her so quickly was precisely why this was happening to you.

Guilt was loud, too loud. It almost knocked you to your knees as you imagined Piper's fear whilst you were gone. Was she sick? How long had she been? Why hadn't you noticed? Why did you leave her alone? Why weren't you there? You let her down. You had let her down.

You want to curl into a ball, hide under the blankets and cry until you passed out. But, she deserved better. She deserved to not be lugged around like she was some prop, she needed a proper place to rest. Once her carrier is zipped up, you're picking it up by the handles, using your other hand to swipe at the tears still trying to fall. You take the route you'd walked not ten minutes prior, slipping your shoes back on, and grabbing hold of your keys. Aaron still had another forty minutes or so in his drive, you hoped it went by quickly.

You don't think you ever needed him more than now.

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The sobs returned the second you'd walked past the threshold of your house. You sluggishly made your way back to your bedroom. It felt much lonelier now, the house feeling much too big for just you. You think that makes you cry even harder. You're covering your mouth with your hand, hoping that it would be enough to mask the sound of your bawling. You doubt that it does, but you can't do much else. You don't want to go to sleep, you don't want to do anything.

You begin berating your behavior once more in your head, replaying all the ways you'd been a shitty caretaker even though you know it's a bad idea. Your leg shakes under your comforter, the blanket squished underneath your body as you hid your face beneath the blazing heat of your huge blanket. You don't even realize how long you've spent in this space of self-loathing and bitter tears, until you hear the front door's lock shifting out of place. Aaron was here.

"Y/N, sweetheart?" and you want to run to him more than anything. You can't though, because you don't want him to think you're a failure. So you stay put, and you cry a bit more, sniffles growing more audible as you're forced to choke back angry sobs. It doesn't take long for him to make his way towards where you are, and you don't know what he'll say when he finds you looking a mess. You know your mascara has given you racoon eyes, and in your grief, you'd failed to tie a scarf around your head. Your braids would look messy soon.

"Y/N?" and his voice is so soft, soothing, everything you don't deserve now. Your hand clutches a fistful of your shirt, right where your heart rests. "Are you in here, honey?" and you sniffle, an answer all on its own. You barely hear his footsteps, but you feel it when the bed dips just slightly, and you feel it when he gently pulls at your blanket. When he's pulled it back, he's met with the sight of your tear-streaked cheeks. Your nose was runny and raw, and your lip was quivering. It didn't take a profiler to know that you'd been crying, and he frowns.

"Are you alright?" he questions, and his hand reaches out to brush against your cheek and neck, almost like he was checking your temperature. "You've been crying?" and he examines you subtly for any signs of assault or struggle. "Did something happen?" and he knows he keeps asking questions, but he's getting worried.

"P-" and a sob racks through you, your entire body curling in on itself. Your hand is pressing against your mouth again, and your shoulders shake as you began to cry once more. "Piper she-" and your head shakes, hand clenching and unclenching against your shirt. Aaron's eyes dance around your room, and his eyebrows push inwards. He was worried, but determined to be extremely delicate with you, namely by being patient as you got out what you needed to tell him. "Piper's dead." you finally say, shoulders sagging as you weep.

Aaron's examining your face, which gives you a front row seat of the way his face is eclipsed with compassion. "Oh, honey..." his lips pull downwards into a frown, and you know, of course you know it's awkward. What do you realistically say to a person that loses their cat? It's not like any amount of conversation would bring her back. "I'm so sorry...." and usually it sounds empty when anyone offers condolences, but like with most things, Aaron is an exception. "Are you okay? Can you tell me what happened?" he pleads.

And you know that he knows that you're not okay. It's meant to be a stupid question, the obvious one. But you also know that he's giving you the chance to vent, to articulate everything you feel with no judgement. It makes you want to curl into him, and stay wrapped up in his arms until neither of you had any idea where one ended and the other began. "I just-" you have to take a moment to gather yourself, hiccupping blubbers escaping you. "I came home, and I-" your voice cracks harshly. "She was just gone. I don't-" you shake your head.

"I don't know what happened." you express, and Aaron's sympathetic, and he hates seeing you like this. Every time you cry it makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand upright. He supposed that came with loving you, an innate desire to protect you, and keep the bad things out. He'd only ever seen you in this state a handful of times, mostly when things went wrong at the hospital and you lost a patient. He had to get to you before you started blaming yourself for something that completely out of your control.

He didn't know much, but he did know your love for Piper, and how deep it ran. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that you'd never do something to put her in harm's way, you'd never do anything to hurt her. And he wants to pull you into his arms and tell you everything will be alright, he wants to be there to anchor you down. To ground you in the midst of all these swimming and overwhelming emotions trying to fight for the upper hand. He wanted to be there for you.

"Is there anything that you need from me?" he asks gently, grief was harsh, it came in ripples and waves. It was gut-punching, it could be loud and then silent. Sneaky and then outright. It was a process, and whether anyone else thought so, if you needed to grieve the life of your pet, you should. Who was he to ever get in the way? He's gently rubbing his thumb over your cheek, your tears splattering as you kept the duvet pulled up to your chin, as you stared him down. He figured you must have been deep in thought.

It takes a moment for you to reply, and he's fine with the silence. You're tears haven't stopped, but they've grown more quiet. Silent tears that pool and trickle down his wrist and onto the blanket. You soon take in a shaky puff of air as you sit up. Aaron's patient as ever, watching as you pull your legs from underneath the blanket, crawling until you were sitting on his lap. There's no sexual undertone to your movements, you don't want to fool around, you just want to be close.

Your head rests against him, eyes closing as his arms envelop you. "Can you just stay with me?" you ask, and he's already nodding his head. You both knew it was an impossible request. At any moment you could get paged, or he could get a call about a new case. The world didn't stop all because you were grieving, but for one second you both could pretend. He could stay right here with you, and you could love him, and not feel so overwhelmed by all your sadness.

"I'm not going anywhere." he mutters, and he's reaching for your hand. His easily dwarfs your own, but it's still just as comfortable, letting your palms press against his own. "I have never lost a cat before-" and he's treading lightly, wanting more than anything to help you and not harm you. "But I did lose a pet when I was younger." he expresses, and your interest is peaked, just slightly.

"What type of pet?" you ask faintly, and you're squeezing his hand in your own. He knows that it's comforting you so he says nothing about the tight pinch of his fingers pressing together.

"He was a golden retriever actually." Aaron replies, "Nothing was particularly wrong with him. He was fed well, taken care of, treated like one of the family..." he proceeds, and you involuntarily hold your breath as you listen. "But one day he just... he just went." Hotch proceeds, "And when you're a little kid that's not in the best environment, a staple like a pet dog is important. Losing him was like losing the only bit of sanity I could cling to. Does that make sense?"

Your head nods, and you squeeze his hand again to show him you care. "And surprisingly enough, I found myself crying over it. Mourning this dog, an animal that was part of the family, but of course, was not my family member." he continues, and his chin rests on the top of your head. "The point is, him being a dog didn't make it hurt any less when he left. It's okay to be upset about Piper, she was important to you, special even." he whispers. "And you did a great job giving her all the love you possibly could." his eyes close then.

"I need you to know that it wasn't your fault. And keeping yourself up with thoughts of 'what ifs'." it's his turn to squeeze your hand this time. "And those moments where you... didn't want to play, or wanted to be left alone are not what she remembered when she passed on." he insists, and he won't take any arguments on the matter. "You gave her five amazing years, and whether science backs it up or not, she knew how much you loved her." he insists. "You might not believe it today, but I hope that you do in time." and he kisses your forehead.

It's butterfly inducing, and makes you cling all the more to him. "You're not by yourself." he adds, and you're glad to know it. You peel back, eyes locking with his, and they're glassy. You hate seeing such a grief-stricken look on his face, at your sake no less. It makes you lean forward and kiss him, in the hopes you'd manage to kiss it away. He kisses back instantly, and you're still sad, you probably will be for a long while, but you don't feel as lonely as you did an hour ago.

"I love you." you mumble the second you've pulled back, and this time there's no phone. His eyes are swirling with so many thoughts and feelings of his own, but you need him to know you mean it, and likely always will. You couldn't imagine anyone else being here with you like this now, nobody else that would care enough to grieve with you. He gives you a half smile, and kisses you once more, a much deeper kiss that makes you lightheaded and dizzy. Of course he had that effect.

"I love you too." and you're happy that he hasn't left you hanging. Your fingers trace his collarbones and cheeks, moving to cup his face with your right hand. You kiss him again, this time just long enough to get the message across. When you pull back, your head is finding it's place back on his chest, and his arms move up and down, rubbing gentle circles against your back, as he cranes his neck to kiss your head. It makes your stomach flutter, but it makes you want to cry too.

He leaves three gentle pecks on the top of your head, moving to kiss your cheek, before he's looping his arms around your waist with a palpable amount of admiration. He plants a sweet kiss on your shoulder, and mimic this action by offering him a kiss of your own. "Thank you." you exhale, and you mean it so wholeheartedly.

"You don't need to thank me, Y/N. We take care of each other, mon amour, remember?" and he recites your earlier words back to you. It makes you cling to him much tighter, tears returning to your lashline as Aaron pulls you even closer to him. "If you need to cry a little bit more, go right ahead. I'm right here." so you do.

Grief was a lot, it could be paralyzing, debilitating, and outright traumatic, but you knew even if it didn't feel that way now, in time you'd be okay. Part of you felt like you had Aaron to thank for that.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotcher fluff #aaron hotchner angst #ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #hotch #hotch x reader

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keyotos · 1 year ago

Text

the only exception

summary ⎯ where blade thinks there is no more hope for love, but you may be the only exception.

tags ⎯ soft blade. mentions of blade's past. reader uses his real name (yingxing) like once on accident. emotional rollercoaster. blade goes through the 5 stages of grief except its not grief it's love. blade is bad at feelings.

tana's thoughts ⎯ gave into the voices and i starting writing this.

the xianzhou is not like it used to be, yet it has not changed that much either. at least, that's what blade noticed as he stood by one of the railings at starskiff haven. he watched the starskiffs come and go as he stood there, motionless.

he had a cup of tea from the tea parlor nearby. some customers wanted him to engage in tea discourse with them because he was an "outworlder," but with one glare from him, they knew better than to press on. so now, he was alone in the dark with sunglasses on.

starskiffs seemed to improve throughout the years. his favorite snack stand was gone, one he used to visit with you. blade tried to ignore the burning sensation in the middle of his chest at the thought. but the stupid mungbean soda vending machines were still there. damn them, he thought.

blade took off his sunglasses momentarily as he rubbed his eyes. sunglasses were obviously meant to be worn in the sun, not in the dark: they were causing him eye strain. he tried to be as subtle as possible, not trying to attract any cloud knights or realm-keeping employees. his face was still on a wanted poster, after all.

"ahem."

blade turned back to find a cloud knight with a mung bean soda in their hand. his mind instantly turned to you, given that you were also a cloud knight who loved mung bean soda (unless that changed as well), but he snapped back to the current situation. he was about to be arrested. the cloud knight cornered him, spear in hand as they slightly lifted up their helmet to take a sip out of their drink.

have cloud knights gotten sloppier? why are they drinking soda when they were about to arrest someone? blade furrowed his eyebrows, but still got into a defensive position.

he was about to swing at the cloud knight until they held their hands up in surrender, "woah, dude," they slowly said, raising their hands up, "i'm not gonna arrest you," they placed their mung bean soda on the railing, and removed their hat.

and it was you. he was just thinking about you, and you appeared. the sight felt surreal. you, who he had been so close with all those years ago. you, who became his first friend on the luofu. you, who still lingered in his mind after all these years, who he thought about even when the mara was affecting him.

you've changed. though you haven't exactly aged, you look older. you look exhausted; your face didn't glow as it used to. blade thinks he is partial to blame for that. your posture is profoundly straight and no longer slouched⎯something you used to struggle with.

the wind blows through your hair, scattering some leaves around with it. your expression is neutral as you throw all your armor on the ground and dust yourself off. there is no smile adorning your face. everything feels so identical, but so different.

his stance softened, but he didn't let up. when you saw that, you only sighed in response. after kicking some stray pieces of armor to the side, you lean your back on the rail as you sipped your soda. the sound of the armor colliding together on the floor made blade cringe.

"i don't actually wear armor, by the way," you swung the drink in his vicinity, offering him a sip using a hand gesture. when he didn't respond, you took another swig. "i have my own uniform. pretty cool, isn't it?" you tilt your head down towards your outfit.

blade doesn't understand. why were you speaking to him as if you two were still friends? could you recognize him under the glasses? it has been so long, he'd be surprised if you recognized him at all.

blade tries to maintain his cover. he is silent while you raise an eyebrow inquisitively, wondering why this stranger wasn't responding to you. you're waiting for him to speak, blade notices. he doesn't say anything. you tilt your head to the side, and blade tilts his head the other way.

you sigh, "you know, not many people are out here so late," you sip out of your soda can, looking at blade while he looks at the starskiffs. you continue, "an old friend of mine used to do this. we'd go out every night and create elaborate stories about strangers, and then stare at starskiffs."

you're telling blade about himself. or, his past self anyway. there's a present ache in his heart, hearing how you speak about him. blade feels like an imposter, standing here with sunglasses on while you talk about him. you sound melancholic, like you miss him. a stupid thing for you, blade thought.

"he's gone now," you turned and leaned forward, now watching the starskiffs with blade. he gets a sense of deja vu, and the feeling sends chills all over his body. you rest your head on your arms on the rail, "i miss him though. he was a little awkward, but he was kind."

"and sometimes," you turn your head towards blade, "he was a little annoying. like he would keep hating on my soda," you hold your soda up to blade, but all he could think about was how you just called him annoying, "or he'd force me to go to bed early. coddle me. nag at me to do my laundry⎯that was very annoying. like, hello? i'm an adult, i could totally do my own laundry," you ranted as you watched the starskiffs.

"maybe you should've done your laundry earlier," he mumbled to himself. he made sure it was low enough that only he would be able to hear it. if you noticed, you didn't say anything; you were still focused on the starskiffs passing by.

blade takes the time to look at you. to study you. it felt like everything about you was so different, but you were still the same. you still chatted about anything to strangers (something he always chided you about). you still drank mung bean soda. you didn't have that growth spurt you dreamed about.

but you were quieter. ironic, because you just jabbered about the annoyances blade had caused you years ago. but you didn't give out too many details. you didn't mouth off about what tea parlor was best, or recent gossip from earlier. you kept things to yourself. blade doesn't know if he should be happy or not.

something was off. there was a wall between you now. and it felt so wrong. blade knows he isn't entitled to anything⎯not anymore, at least. but the feeling of disconnect between two people who were once rooted together physically pained him. even with everything that has happened, he did not want to see you like this.

"i hope he visits soon," you look at him with eyes that glitter among the stars. you're still hopeful; that has not changed. you speak like the sun is shining in your body, and your words are laced with warmth that eases enough for blade to let his guard down. that's when he realized that you're still glowing, and you never stopped.

but your words also bring a stabbing pain into his heart. why are you still longing for him? you should have moved on. you should have found someone better for you. someone who will not harm you at any given moment. but here you are, missing him. hoping he comes back.

"seriously? i just told you that i missed you and hoped you came back, and you say nothing??" you grimaced, looking exasperated. there's a slight crack in the wall now, but blade doesn't notice.

he had other things to concentrate on. like what you just said.

blade did not find this very amusing. his eyes widened underneath his sunglasses and he took a few steps back. after all these years, you could still find him in a crowd full of people. it was love he did not deserve, yet still begrudgingly craved.

"how did you know it was me?" was all blade could utter. he was too alarmed to ask any other questions, or press on your story. or to ask more about you.

you glower and huff, "so he does speak," you cross your arms over the railing as you turn to make eye contact with your past ally.

"how did you know?" blade snarled. he didn't intend for his words to come out as harsh as they did, and the moment they left his mouth, he wanted to shove the words back in and eat them. he had forgotten how you made him feel like an idiot sometimes just by doing absolutely nothing.

your eyes widen and your eyebrows slightly jump up; blade wishes he could erase that expression from his head permanently. however, instead of reacting to it, your composure remains calm. it unsettles blade; he has never seen you so calm before. when you two were young, you got into arguments with those who barely picked a fight with you. you were straightforward and aggressive: blade shouldn't have admired that about you, but nevertheless, he did.

you're less temperamental, and blade doesn't know if he likes it or not. he was worried. after a lifetime of emptiness and recklessness, blade worries. he worries about you: your life, your job, your wellbeing. he worries if you got promoted or not, or if you're living happily.

do you have a partner? blade tries to ignore the flames surrounding his heart as he thinks about your love life.

"oh please. after all the years we've spent together, you'd think i wouldn't be able to spot you in a crowd?" you let out a dry and curt laugh, "just because your hair got darker and you changed your outfit, does not mean you are unrecognizable."

"not to me, anyway," you quietly add, turning your gaze away from him and back to the starskiffs. there's an overwhelming feeling that was welling up in blade's body. it wasn't mara, because it felt more peaceful. but the urge was still strong. he wanted to grab your chin and turn you back towards him; he wanted you to look at him again and explain. to tell him about everything. he doesn't care about the topic, but he will listen no matter what.

blade feels foolish. how could one conversation (if you could even call this a conversation) make him feel so lovestruck? every single feeling for you⎯that he thought he had discarded a long time ago⎯reappeared out of thin air. it all came rushing back at him: your personality, your terrible jokes, and every single thing he grew to love about you. blade tried so hard to dismiss those feelings in the past century, and in the midst of a few minutes, all his past work crumbled.

when blade doesn't say anything, you take a sip out of your drink. the silence is tense; it is opposed to the once comfortable silences you two shared while watching starskiffs. blade thinks that, in another life, nothing would have changed: he would not have become mara-struck, and you two would watch starskiffs fly for hours on end.

but everything has changed now. and there's no going back to fix it. blade will shove down every morsel of affection he feels for you again. and this time, they won't come back up. starting tonight.

you give him a small smile, "so, wanna tell me what you've been up to?"

he will shove down every morsel of affection. starting tomorrow night. another crack in the wall between the both of you.

the feeling of wanting to capture someone's smile is maddening. you drive him crazy, and you make him more insane than mara ever could. all of this because of one smile? blade pictures your small smile once again. it's incomparable to your true smile, though. one where you're showing all your teeth and your eyes crinkle with such bemusement it drives him amuck.

once he pictures your toothy smile, he sinks deeper into the talons of endearment.

"aren't you supposed to arrest me?" he deflects, trying to stem away from his previous lovesick thoughts. maybe, if you arrest him now, he could flee from the luofu forever. maybe then, he'd have a reason to avoid you for life.

you make a 'pfft' noise with your mouth, and the sound is familiar and stupid. it has no reason to make his heart flutter the way it just did.

"if i wanted to arrest you, then you'd be in the hall of karma ages ago," you boast, "luckily for you though, i'm on a break."

"didn't know cloud knights slacked off now," blade rolls his eyes under his sunglasses. he thinks that if he's rude enough towards you, then you'd get the message that he's changed, and you would leave. he's not the same person he was before. if he didn't deserve you back then, he most definitely did not deserve you now.

"well, i'm not a cloud knight anymore," you step closer to him, "i'm a lieutenant."

so you got promoted. blade deeply tries to ignore how his breaths get more shallow after the mention of your promotion.

instead of congratulating you, blade instead replies with, "so you're the same rank as that kid that follows the general around?"

your face falls, and dread swarms throughout his body, spreading through every vein and artery and organ. every regret blade has does not compare with whatever he just said. blade finds that, whenever he thinks about regret, your face has always remained through his sea of remorse. you are the one thing he regrets in many different ways.

blade regrets meeting you. he regrets indulging in your offers for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. he regrets spending his nights with you. he regrets every time his heart leapt multiple beats whenever you were near. he regrets letting his guard down around you, because even now⎯whenever he is with you⎯he feels incredibly relaxed, despite not having to see you in centuries.

he regrets you. he regrets not being able to say goodbye to you. he regrets leaving you with so many qualms. he regrets not being able to see you change. he regrets the fact that he never got to confess to you. he regrets the fact that he still loves you, because why else would he be feeling this way?

the idiot keeps his mouth shut, even though he wants to apologize. "i didn't mean it," he wanted to say, "i'm sure you are very capable now. you stand up more straighter and you look more put together. not that you didn't look put together before. well, actually you didn't, but that's not the point."

it occured to blade that he was rambling about you in his mind. he was describing you in his mind. he was going crazy. nobody else notices these things about you. but blade physically could not tear his eyes away from you. the more he stared, the more he noticed more: such as the way your shoulders were more upright, your breathing was slow and even, and you surprisingly didn't look like you wanted to kill him. the you from centuries ago would have thrown him off the ledge.

you sigh, pressing your fingers to the bridge of your nose, "i see you've met yanqing."

blade says nothing, which simply prompts you to keep talking. a tiny slither of comfort enter's blade's body: it was refreshing to see that after years, some things will never change.

"he's jing yuan's retainer," blade internally (and bitterly) revels in the fact that you don't use any formalities with jing yuan anymore, "he can be a bit... much. but it makes sense. he's only a kid, you know? i like him," you move your soda can to the side to make room for your arms. you're leaning on the railing again, and you were not looking at blade anymore. it should not scatter uneasiness around his nerves.

he wants to share an anecdote of his own. blade yearns for connection with you for just once more. when he is around you, there's an ache in his heart. it was always there; past and present. he thought it would be subtle, like a symptom of a short-term illness. but soon he realized, the symptom he shrugged off was a manifestation of something bigger. and blade never truly recognized how long his sickness would last. because here he is right now, sick as a dog in your presence.

if wanting to fuel your everlasting fire was a sickness, blade decided that he would be diagnosed as terminal.

blade tsks at your statement. you are not impressed; your face looking slack and skeptical. there have been many times where he has been on the receiving end of that look, yet he feels the air swirl all around in his stomach every time you look at him that way. he also tries to slow his heart rate down: there should be no reason why he should be elated at the fact that you're looking at him.

"don't give me that," you cross your arms, "he reminds me of you," you pause, letting the silence overtake the both of you. there are so many unsaid things that the silence feels full, yet still too quiet. you know that the past is a sensitive topic for blade (and you as well, but you choose to dwell on that another night).

"back when we were kids, anyway," you quickly add on.

blade scoffs. scoffs. he does not see himself in yanqing, and he also does not know how you came up to that conclusion. it was ridiculous and strange. blade had to fight a scowl off his face: yanqing and him were nothing alike. if anything, the child was the spitting image of the general.

at least time hasn't changed your terrible analogies.

"terrible?" you point a finger at him, nearing his sunglasses. oh. he said that out loud. "i'll have you know, my analogies are great!"

"you compared me to yanqing, who resembles jing yuan the most," blade shifts his head to the side as he crosses his arms. your finger made his glasses shift down slightly. he could see you a lot better now without the dark obstructing his view, and he internally curses at the wanted posters for being the (indirect) reason he has to wear the glasses.

you let out a sound of disbelief, which resembled blade's scoff and your huff from earlier, "first of all, i was describing temperament. second, terrible?!?"

"if you were describing temperament, then that child would be your twin," he says, trying to fight off the feeling of his lips turning up. this feels familiar. it feels homely, almost. the world melts away when he is around you. every person, place, worry: disintegrated away by your warmth. did you know that? how do you do that? how do you make all the problems in the world disappear so easily?

you let out a breathy laugh, turning away from blade one more time. except, this time, you turn back, a grin evident on your face. it's dark in starskiff haven at the moment, but blade is sure that he just saw the sun in your smile. out of his peripheral vision, he looks to see if anyone else has noticed. have they noticed the light coming from you? how do they notice notice it?

the world continues to move, but with you, it seems that everything is perfectly still.

"i'll have you know, i worked on that whole temperament thing," you held up a hand to his face, "i'm chill now."

"oh really?" blade skeptically raises an eyebrow. you can see it through the crack in his facade left by the sunglasses. you can see his eyes a little bit more clearer.

"oh yeah," you drag out, taking a long sip of your soda. you turn on your back and spread your arms across the railings, mimicking a tired soldier, "i'm chill."

and this feels so normal, like if it was a typical night on the luofu. you and him spending time together once again. everything fell back into place so easily, as if the events of all those years ago never happened. why was it so easy?

various emotions coarse through his body, each feeling worse than the last. he can't stay. he can't live. he knows that the longer he stays here with you, the harder leaving you gets. but things have changed, even if you have not. you probably couldn't even love him the same either, logistically speaking. there were too many obstacles standing between the both of you: loving him was impossible.

he still does not understand why you still speak to him.

greeted by his silence, you choose to continue the conversation further, "this soda really helped," you slide the drink over to him again, "it's been a few years. you should try it again."

"a few years, huh?" blade eyes the drink. biggest understatement of the year.

"yeah," you eye him. your eyes are telling him to say something. blade, in all of his fearlessness, is scared. he has not been scared in a long time. the feelings of fear rushing back into him leave him stranded to his own devices, and he has no clue how to react. he used to turn to you for these things, but now, you are the reason for his fear.

you step closer to him. you are close enough that your shoulders are now touching. when you speak, blade tries to control the agitation growing in the pit of his stomach. destructive thoughts impede and pervase through his mind.

"they hate you."

"things will never be the same."

"whatever you had once, it has all gone down the drain now."

"please try the mung bean soda."

what?

blade snapped out of his head to see you holding up your drink right next to his face. he leaned his head backwards as he was met with your pleading eyes.

you took him out of his trance like it was nothing. you didn't have abilities like kafka did, yet you were able to take him out of his spiral using only six words. how was it that everything surrounding you became so easy?

"i'm not drinking that," blade says with a stern voice. he hopes that his glasses hide the panic that was once apparent in his eyes.

"c'mon," you begged, "just one sip⎯"

"why are you even doing this?" blade irritatedly snapped.

you raise an eyebrow and pretend to not know what he was talking about, "because i want you to try new things...?"

"you know what i mean."

you set down the soda can again and let out a long sigh. you run your hands through your hair, and blade thinks this is it. this is the moment where you snap back like you usually would. this is the part where you tell him that he should leave. he's too difficult, too hard to love.

"did you think i was lying back when i said i missed you?" your entire face softened. there was no light-heartened smirk or grin. you look sad. there are no other words to describe how else you look except sad. blade could not think of any other words. all he could focus on was you.

"i wasn't lying," you say, sounding more desperate than before, "i miss you so much, yin⎯blade." your tone turns sharp when you say his name now. this is it, blade tells himself, this is the part where you leave.

"you matter to me," you eunicate, "i still believe in you. i don't care about the past; i'm not letting it hold me back. which, i know is probably wrong on some level, but i don't care. because i miss you a lot."

"it's not even the fact that i miss us from before," you're rambling now. blade does not have the heart to stop you, "but i just miss you. blade or yingxing, i couldn't care less. i miss our late night talks, so when i saw you here tonight, i jumped at the opportunity to talk to you," you threw your hands up in the air, and then ran another hand through your hair, "and when we spoke⎯even with everything that happened⎯everything felt so easy while talking to you. and everything was okay. and i just wanted that so badly," your voice trailed off. blade swore he could hear it crack a little.

you had felt the same way he did. blade does not know if he was just consumed by an overwhelming sense of air flowing through his chest, or feeling something drop in his chest after you said what you said.

"sorry," you had nothing to apologize for, "i just word-dumped on you," you were using another one of your weird terms again, "i just wanted to let you know that i've always missed you. i've missed everything about you. and i don't want to let you go."

i still love you.

you don't say that. you finish your tangent with a long sigh and another swig of your soda can. it's almost empty. mentally, you feel like that soda can right now. you just dumped years worth of feelings on blade, and he responds with silence.

this is it, you think, this is where he leaves.

but he doesn't. he brings you closer. blade grabs your wrist before you can put the drink back down, and he brings the can to his lips. he faces the fact that he just put his lips where yours were. for a brief second, he imagines that he was pressing his lips onto yours⎯not the soda can.

blade takes back everything he said earlier. he does not regret you whatsoever. he yearns for you. he needs you to function. he wants you: all the time.

he does not regret meeting you. he is not a believer of gods, but he wants to praise whichever higher power that allowed your fate to intertwine with his. he does not regret spending every moment of his time with you; those have been some of the happiest memories in his life.

most of all, he does not regret loving you, because who would regret the warmth of an everlasting flame?

love has been something blade has lived without for many years. but it all comes back so effortlessly with you. and now he realizes why: he loves you like air fans flames. he will keep on giving into your love, so long as you are still there. it doesn't matter when or where: it just matters if you are there.

"i thought you didn't like mung bean soda," you look at his ear rather than his face, not ready for rejection.

"you wanted me to try something new, didn't you?" blade only looked at you, wrist still in hand. he ponders how he was ever scared of your love.

“i didn’t think you would try it so soon,” you pathetically laughed.

“sooner than you’d think,” he quietly mumbled, only so the two of you could hear it. his fingers were grasping the top of your hands as he still held onto your wrist.

“look,” you place the drink down, slinking your hand out of blade’s hold, “i know you’re probably going to be gone soon. that’s fine. couldn’t really expect you to stay because of your… you know. job,” you awkwardly explain, tucking your hands behind your back.

“but,” you sounded more optimistic, and it seemed as though the street lights all lit up, “you know that friend i was telling you about? the annoying one?” blade rolls his eyes, you only laugh at his reaction, “i hope that he visits more often.”

hope. you hope for him to come back. you hope for more. blade hopes for more too. he wants more, actually. craves it.

but he plays hard to get, “well, if you keep calling your friend ‘annoying’ i doubt he’ll visit as often as you’d like,” and he smirks. you have to bite your lip, hard, to restrain your giddy smile.

“well, i was just telling it as it is,” and it’s easy again. and you want this as much as blade does. and this is hope. this is hope that, even after everything, you’re still here and love is still alive. the wall is broken so easily.

“mhm, okay.”

“yup!”

“i’ll see if i can sort something out,” blade tells you, taking another drink of your soda. he’s emptied at this point. he’s only taking the “drink” so he could try to hide his (growing) blush from you.

“i thought you ‘weren’t going to visit’ as often,” you pouted, rolling your eyes.

“well, i never said that. i said your friend was going to do that. just giving you some advice, that’s all,” he teased. you felt your heart swell up: everything was going to be fine.

“your advice is shit.”

“you’re shit.”

yeah. everything will be okay.

if this looks familiar it’s bc this is an expanded ver of the xianzhou men hcs i did like a week ago. this was from blades part and i liked it sm i wrote more. wish i could have done the end a little bit more justice but i am TIREDDDD it was 4:30 in the morning.

but if u made it all the way down here i hope u enjoyed!! i put my tanussy in this and i wrote for like 5 hrs so pls enjoy LMAO

#tana writes (∗´ ᨔ `∗)#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #blade x reader #blade x you #blade x y/n #this was supposed to be longer but it’s 4:30 in the morning and i’m done #like my brain is fried and i cant do this anymore 😭#the ending was rushed asl but yk other than that i didn’t hate this

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