#they would do everything against my wishes because they never cared to listen | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

astraystayyh · 9 months ago

Text

The snow falls, we fall apart.

summary: when heartbreak looms on your life, and winter becomes a time you loathe, hyunjin helps you rewrite your memories with the season, and with it, everything you once believed about love.

genre: producer student!hyunjin x reader. roommates!au. friends to lovers. acute descriptions of heartbreak and general sadness. slow burn. hurt/comfort. healing and hopeless romantic hyune. very inspired by long for you so lots of pining and yearning. (wc: 13k)

warnings: mentions of alcohol. it is implied that reader was in an a very toxic relationship but no details are shared.

a.n: happy birthday to my hyunjin, my muse, my light. thank you for being so full of love that it made me love love again in return. this is i think my most personal piece, and i hope it reminds those who need it that love should be soft and kind, that it shouldn’t hurt, that it should heal not break. i love you guys and i love you my xi, writing this collab with you has been a true honor <3 also!! please listen to long for you while reading :,)

winter falls masterlist.

You’ve only ever felt utter despair twice in your life.

First, when you were seven years old, playing hide and seek with your cousins at your grandma’s house. It was a warm summer afternoon, the air sweetened by pastries you devoured hours ago. You decided to hide in a wooden cabinet up in the attic, only to end up stuck there. The walls felt like they were closing in on you, the oxygen seeping away from the cracks underneath the door, leaving you deprived of air, of life.

Second, at twelve, when you've come to discover sorrow's new facet, clad in grief's heavy cloak. Your parents adopted a hamster for your birthday, but they did not know he had a terminal disease. You were distraught, to say the least, when you awoke to its still form, death claiming a frail heart unaware of its imminent fate.

And now, third, many many moons later, you are knocking on Hyunjin’s door a few minutes after midnight. It is cold out, tears tracing rivulets on your cheeks, your fingers tinted pink from roaming outside in the harsh winds, your heart much heavier than when you were a child. More grief-stricken, at your own hands, this time.

A disheveled Hyunjin opens the door, his blonde ash hair tousled and sticking upwards, a clear indication of the many times he had run his hands through it in fits of frustration. His gray hoodie zipped up hastily, revealing the silver cross necklace he was wearing, nestling perfectly against his honeyed skin.

You've always had an aversion to seeking comfort, saw it as revealing your deepest vulnerabilities to a world that isn't always kind. It was easier, much simpler to do so when you were a clueless child— when you sank in your cousin Lia's hold as she attempted to steady your breathing, when your mother cradled you in her lap after Pinky died.

It is much harder now, much more embarrassing because Hyunjin has never seen you this sad, never glimpsed your shadows that now swarm his doorstep, unannounced.

“What's wrong?” he quickly asks, eyes darting over your figure in a rapid search for visible wounds. He wouldn’t find any. All your injuries stem from within— blood doesn’t have to be spilled for your heart to weep.

You had rehearsed a lie as you walked up to his doorstep. You would say that your car broke down near his place and ask if you could stay over for the night. He would insist he could drive you to your place and you’d refuse, saying that it was too late and you did not wish to bother him. You’d sleep on the couch and slip away in the early hours of the morning.

Yet, it is the genuine worry etched in his eyes that dismantles the fortress you've hidden in, melts the lie in your throat, morphing it into a steel lump coiling in your throat. He looks concerned when all you’ve had directed towards you recently was anger. And you missed someone looking at you in care, not reproach.

“I didn’t know where else to go.” You admit, your voice shattered, fragments of your vocal cords scattered out in the wind like a broken mosaic, the sound of it scraping against your ears.

Blow one hurt. It felt like your body turned against you as it deprived you of oxygen. The sobs that escaped you once you perceived the light pained you, perhaps more than being confined in the darkness.

Blow two was even worse, it was your first time experiencing grief. It was too hard of a concept for your innocent heart to grasp, too complicated for you to find solace in anything as adults do.

You promised yourself that you’d reserve blow three for monumental agonies— big pains and big sorrows only. That’s how you managed to keep all your tears at bay for most of your life. Would they be worth losing your third sob for? No, you've always found the answer to be.

And in all the twisted scenarios you’ve conjured up in your mind, deaths and illnesses and the haunting tale of failure, you did not imagine that it would happen on Hwang Hyunjin’s doorstep. That you’d burst into sobs at the compassionate look in his gaze, and the sad smile he sent your way. As if he knew, as everyone did around you. That you had handed a knife to a serial killer and it was only a matter of time before he stabbed you in the heart.

Two weeks ago.

“I’m trying to understand you but you aren’t helping me,” Seungmin is frustrated as he paces relentlessly before you from left to right like a swinging pendulum. You sit on the couch, beholding only his shoes, avoiding his gaze that would reflect the truth you dare not confront.

“He’s sucking the life out of you, can’t you see that?”

You can, out of everyone that surrounds you, you can see it the most. You feel as if you are carrying a skin that isn’t your own, weighed down by a relationship that has taken everything from you. But admitting it is admitting that you were wrong, in trusting him, in loving him. You couldn’t bear it.

“We are fine!” you shout back, the defiance in your voice surprises even you. This is a familiar script with Seungmin, a recurring conversation spurred by your puffy eyes and diminishing appetite. He tells you, begs you to leave, but where could you go? How could you leave a home where you've shed all your treasured belongings at the door— your skin, your bones, your very self.

What place would welcome you now that you're stripped bare of your soul?

“When was the last time he made you smile, huh? All he does is hurt you, and you...” he chuckles incredulously, running his hand through his hair. “You are letting him.”

Deny, deny, deny.

“This isn’t true. He loves me,” the words taste foreign in your mouth like rusty metal dragging across your lips. A small voice whispers that love shouldn't feel like this, but you quiet it down.

“Are you hearing yourself? Yn, I…” he kneels before you, his hands resting comfortingly on your knees. This is Seungmin, your best friend of five years. You know he has your best interests at heart, you are even more sure of it when his voice softens, shakes slightly when he utters your name. “Yn, please. I’m trying to help you. Please.”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” you push away his hands, standing up. “I don’t want your help, and I don’t need it.”

You quickly leave Seungmin’s dorm, your heart heavier than when you entered it, foolishly hoping that he'd ignore your distressed state after yet another fight with your boyfriend. But Seungmin doesn't understand, no one around you does— you’ve gambled your heart, and you cannot stop drawing the cards, even in the face of losing strikes.

❁ ❁ ❁

Hyunjin offers you a cup of tea with a gentle smile and you grab the steaming drink from his hands. The smell of chamomile wraps around your senses, and your brain fizzles out for a second before the soothing aroma. But it is a fleeting respite, the tempest of your thoughts crashes back onto you with an unsettling force, causing you to almost drop the drink as your hands shake. You place it down the table without taking a sip.

“I’m sorry for coming unannounced,” you apologize, wincing at the intrusion, “I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

“I always sleep late. Don’t worry about it,” he smiles, but you know it isn’t a genuine grin, because his eyes betray an unsubdued concern, refusing to morph into their usual moon crescents.

You’ve always thought that Hyunjin wears his emotions openly— when he laughed, he did so loudly, his boisterous giggles traveling around Seungmin’s dorm. When he hurt himself, everyone in the vicinity would know so from his loud yelps. And when something worried him, he would bite his lip, toying with the plush flesh to ease his nerves.

As he is doing now. Looking at you.

“We broke up,” you quickly say, and your words hang over you like a gloomy cloud. “But I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Do you want me to fight him? I’ll bring changbin too,” he suggests a serious tone underlying his playful offer, and it manages to tear a reluctant giggle out of you.

“Changbin doesn’t know me well enough to fight for me,” you counteract and he shakes his head. “He’ll fight for me, I'm his princess.”

“Are you now?” The giggle escapes your mouth less forcefully, and the smile that graces Hyunjin’s face is a genuine one.

“I am. My proposal stands,” he extends his hand and you wrap your fingers around his palm. “Thank you, I’ll keep it in mind,” you smile but he frowns, flipping your hand around in his hold.

“You are freezing,” he whispers, using his other palm to rub warmth into yours.

“It’s fine,” you lie, slipping your hand out of his grasp, not feeling deserving of his kindness.

Wordlessly, Hyunjin stands, walking into what you assume is his bedroom. You only know of his place because you dropped off Seungmin here some time ago. You are too exhausted to even drink in the interior.

“Here,” he returns, handing you a navy hoodie of his and black joggers. “This will keep you warm at night.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, hesitating for a few seconds before speaking again. “Can you please not tell Seungmin, I... I can't face him right now.”

“Of course. I’ll be awake still if you do need something.”

Hyunjin’s clothing is warm, although peeling away your own garments felt like shedding layers of your skin, as if the fabric melted into your very flesh, just like memories from the day did. You have never felt this worthless before, discarded like a forgotten leaf on the roadside, one he stepped on for his own enjoyment, leaving you crushed in his wake, unable to fly away again.

Hyunjin’s rose perfume wraps around you, and you find relief in sleeping somewhere where your, his, scent was no longer around. You foolishly hope that if you close your eyes hard enough, you’ll manage to convince yourself that you’re someone else, tonight. Someone who isn’t tethered to the heartache, someone who can slip away from the clutches of a love that hurts more than hate could ever manage to do.

❁ ❁ ❁

Heartbreak isn’t beautiful, no matter how eloquently you try to dress it in the syllables of poetry, no words can soften the burn in your lungs, the searing ache that courses through your very core, reminding you that deep within, down to the fundamentals of your being and the most basic alchemy that ties your atoms together— you are unlovable. Whether you cut your hair or allow it to grow, change your heart, or leave it as it has always been, you will remain so.

You don’t remember much of the past week, blurry fragments here and there that float in your mind like a distorted water reflection. There is little room for memories when you are busy trying to remember how to breathe— one inhale in, one exhale out. The simple concept seems harder when there are unkind hands permanently lodged into your heart, squeezing it tight.

What you do remember is telling Seungmin through text the next day, because you couldn’t bear the way his eyes would soften if you spoke to him in person. No signs of surprise cast on his figure, because he knew that it was long coming, a train with one final inevitable destination— you in shambles, him okay.

You remember Seungmin cradling you in his arms when he came to see you, and you trying desperately to keep the tears at bay— too focused on pinching your arm to let Seungmin’s warmth radiate through your being, Hyunjin lingering uncomfortably by the entrance of his living room.

You remember begging Seungmin to grab your belongings from the apartment you shared with your ex because you were unable to face him, him, and everything that your old place spelled out for you. Stand in the ruins of what you once thought would be your permanent home.

And now, you watch as Seungmin and Hyunjin bring suitcases full of your stuff into the latter’s place. And you feel like an outsider in your own body, standing at the corner of the room gazing at utter destruction, unable to stop it, unable to mend it. Seungmin quickly reassures you that you could crash in his and Minho’s place until you find a new one to live in, already taking out his laptop to search for new apartments for you.

But you did not care for it, your eyes zeroed in on the satin shirt peeking out of your suitcase. The one he bought you on your first month anniversary. Back when love felt like a gentle feather running down your spine, and not a dull knife slicing away at your skin.

“This place's expensive too,” Seungmin sighs, rubbing his temple warily. Your logical best friend could not fix your heartbreak but he took it to heart to alleviate your other troubles. You would thank him for it, later, when your tongue finds enough will to move.

“What if you move in with me?” Hyunjin suddenly says and his words filtrate through the fog in your mind easily, as if he rehearsed them enough times so they’d roll out smoothly out of his mouth. “I mean, Felix is away for the next year since he went back to Australia. And I was looking for a new roommate anyway.” He shrugs and Seungmin turns to look at you, his eyes convey the question his mouth doesn’t articulate— is it okay with you?

“I don’t…” your voice is croaked, so you clear your throat. “I don’t want you to do things out of pity.”

“I’m not. If I was, I would've told you to move in with me for free. I still need you to pay rent,” he raises his eyebrows, a playful tease and you smile in relief, nodding, “Okay, I will. thank you.”

Heartbreak is ugly and all-encompassing, weaving through the roots of your heart and infecting each organ with its insidious touch. It renders you immobile, incapable of performing the simplest tasks, burdened by a weight unseen by the world. But you try your best, your very best to contain it.

You smile at the cashier as she hands back your money only to wonder if her soft, well-manicured hands would too crush a soul without remorse. You go to all your classes without fail but your mind is elsewhere, contemplating why the sun filtering through the windows no longer warms your skin. Can nerve endings perish when subjected to too much pain? What's left of life when you can no longer feel the caress of the sun?

You watch a movie at Seungmin's dorm but your mind is elsewhere, fleeting to this morning and how you refused to stay in the shower for more than three minutes because your thoughts might become haunting ghosts tempting you to follow them. You brush your hair and spray your perfume, only because you have to, because you live with Hyunjin and you wouldn’t want your sadness to taint him too. You wonder how long you’ll have to bear it. You wonder if it’ll ever leave you or if the veins in your heart have molded themselves after the pain and they wouldn’t know how to accept happiness anymore.

You greet Hyunjin as he walks past you, shaking your head when he asks you if you want to eat dinner with him, quickly retracting back into your room. You have ten unread messages and a pile of growing laundry you need to do, but all you can muster is to gaze at the empty walls, mirroring the void within you. Your mom told you to call her again and you don’t know how you’ll speak to her without bursting into a sob, how you’ll tell her that all it took was one person to break you. Or maybe it was two people, your hands and his tearing apart your flesh and bones. Maybe that’s the worst part about it. So you don’t call her.

And you only ever emerge from your room when you need to, just like now because your water bottle is finished and you need to refill it. You go to open the kitchen door when you hear Hyunjin’s muted shatter, Felix’s distinctive deep voice coming out of the phone speaker.

“Next you add the melted butter and stir it,” Felix instructs, the sounds of pots and utensils clinking in the background. You fidget slightly, mustering the strength to paint a fake smile on your lips.

“What next?”

“Sift the dry ingredients then add them to your wet mixture,” Felix explains, met with a few seconds of silence. You can almost visualize Hyunjin's perplexed expression, blinking rapidly in confusion.

“Explain it to me like I’m five years old,” he requests, prompting a small smile to etch itself onto your face.

“How are you surviving without me?”

“I’m not please come home,” Hyunjin sounds horrified as Felix’s rich chuckles fill the air. “Why do you suddenly want to make brownies anyway?” he then asks.

You go to open the door when Hyunjin’s response catches you off guard.

“They’re for Yn.”

Hyunjin's words resonate in the air, causing a hitch in your throat and Felix’s teasing whistles simultaneously, but Hyunjin is quick to stop him. “No, no, no, it’s not like that. They’re just a bit down and I remember them loving your brownies. So…”

It takes you a fleeting moment to dig the memory out of your mind, a year ago, right before your ex came to pick you up from Seungmin’s dorm. You had a bite of Felix’s brownies, a surprised gasp escaping your lips at its delicious taste, back when food had taste and happiness came easily to you. It was an insignificant memory, you did not imagine Hyunjin, out of everyone, would remember it.

But he did, and he’s now pacing before your closed door, contemplating how he’ll convince you to finally eat something with him. He throws a thumbs-up in the air for no one but himself, inhaling deeply before knocking on your door.

“Hey,” he greets with a hopeful smile, his gaze meeting your tired form. He hesitates for a second, clearing his throat. “Brownies?” You remain unmoving and he falters, “Hm? Please?”

“Sure,” you nod and a wave of relief floods through Hyunjin as you step out of your room. His joy is short-lived when he takes the brownies out of the oven, only to find them thoroughly burnt.

His mouth hangs agape, and he walks back shamefully to the oven, lowering its door only to scream inside of it.

“This will be more therapeutic,” you say, pointing nonchalantly to the fridge and he agrees, opening its doors and yelling once again in the much larger space.

Your melodic laughter fills the kitchen, Hyunjin’s embarrassment is suddenly a forgotten memory.

“I’m craving kimbap. Should we get it instead?” you propose, a touch shyly and he quickly agrees, afraid you’d change your mind and walk back to your room where he can no longer ensure you are okay.

Hyunjin absentmindedly dances along to the music blasting through the convenience store when a girl sidles up to his side, a saccharine grin on her lips as she looks up at him, “hi,” she greets and his tentative smile mirrors hers. “Hey.”

“Are you single?” she asks, her gaze briefly fleeting to the window. “I think you are really cute.”

“I’m…” he glances at you but you're suddenly engrossed in the ingredients of the tuna kimbap you are holding, pretending not to listen. “I am but I’m not interested, thank you.”

“Oh, come on,” she places a hand on his arm and he physically recoils. “Give me your insta and we could talk.”

“No,” he repeats, grabbing her hand to remove it when a loud voice startles him. “Baby, what’s taking you so— What are you doing?” Hyunjin watches in horror as the girl’s eyes grow wide, before she scrambles to the man’s side, feigning fear.

“He kept hitting on me when I said I had a boyfriend, baby.”

“What?” both you and Hyunjin gasped in comical unison. He would find it amusing if not for the escalating anger radiating from the man, who looks like he spends all his days in the gym. Hyunjin suddenly regrets not working out with Changbin.

The man strides towards Hyunjin. “Do you want to die?”

“No? there’s a misunderstanding,” he replies, swiftly standing before you and shielding you with his arm. “Your… baby,” he wiggles his finger in front of the man's face, “she was the one hitting on me!”

The man scoffs loudly, his face growing redder from the anger seething in him. “So you hit on my girlfriend and then accuse her of cheating?” His fist rises threateningly, prompting Hyunjin to step back, accidentally bumping into your chest.

“Wait, wait, wait! Let’s go talk outside, man to man,” Hyunjin pauses, his voice taking on a taunting edge, “unless you're too scared?” he smirks as he feels you pull at his shirt, whispering an incredulous- “What are you doing?” He shakes his head, grabbing your hand and leading you outside, throwing a sly wink at the man behind you now.

“Are you seriously going to fight him?” you ask, your gaze shifting towards the deranged couple who are about to step out of the grocery store. “No, of course not. I'm a lover, not a fighter.”

“You said you'd fight my ex,” you point out and his eyes soften surprisingly.

“You are an exception.” He looks back at the man, who's now walking towards you both. “But anyways, do you know how to run?” he asks and you frown, “who doesn’t know how to—” you pause as realization dawns on you. “No," you whisper furiously.

“Yes.”

“No,” you shake your head, horrified and he nods, eyes apologetic.

“Yes.” His fingers entwine with yours, he squeezes your hand once before he takes off running.

“Hwang fucking Hyunjin!” you shout and he looks back at you, a mischievous smile on his face. “I’m sorry Yn my face is too pretty to be beaten up.”

“He’s following us!” you yell, looking back horrified as the, even angrier, man runs after you.

“Well, run faster!”

“I’m wearing fucking slippers!” you curse and he giggles, tipping his head back, the wind slamming into you both, his hand never letting go of your own.

“Oh my god why is he still running!” you groan and Hyunjin picks up speed, moving you even closer to his sprinting figure

“I know, is it ever that serious?” he yells above his shoulder and you dig your nails into his palm.

“Shut up, this wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t so gorgeous.”

“So, you think I’m pretty too?” Hyunjin grins proudly and an incredulous laugh escapes your lips.

“Really? Is this what you’re getting out of this situation?”

“Silver linings, Yn, silver linings,” he shouts as you round a small alley, finally stopping to catch your breath. You both fall to the ground, heavy breaths escaping your chests.

“Holy shit, I’m not athletic at all,” he heaves, his eyes meeting yours. He expects to find anger lingering in your gaze but all he can grasp is your amused smile before you collapse into a fit of laughter, clapping loudly and clutching your stomach with your hand.

“Oh my god, I’m crying,” you laugh harder, wiping away at the tears falling from your eyes. Hyunjin’s weariness disappears in the blink of an eye— he did not realize how much he missed your smile until he glimpsed it again. And it is beautiful. Happiness looks beautiful on you.

“Idiot,” you hit his shoulder playfully, and his response is delayed for a few seconds, the warmth from your smile rendering him immobile.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckles, pulling you up. “Here, I’ll carry you home,” he squats slightly before you. “How impolite of me. How dare I make your majesty run.”

You shake your head, amused, before climbing atop his back, his warm palms holding your thighs securely. “Only because the slippers hurt my feet.”

You walk in silence for a while, your arms wound up around Hyunjin’s neck, the ghost of a smile still lingering on both your faces.

“They said it will snow tomorrow,” Hyunjin speaks suddenly and you stay silent for so long he starts to wonder if you even heard him.

“Mm? That’s nice,” your tone is melancholic, and he pauses at the peculiar sadness in it— as though you were trying to act nonchalant about something that has once meant the world to you.

“Don’t you like the snow?” he asks and your hold on his neck falters.

“I loved it. Loved ice skating and building snowmen.” Your voice is light and airy, like Hyunjin’s favorite mint chocolate ice cream. “But now it reminds me of bad times, bad memories.”

“I understand.”

Hyunjin knows what it feels like to relinquish parts of yourself you never wished to part from. For someone to grab your happiest places and to cast a gloomy filter atop them. Sometimes it is the loss of a season that hurts more than the departure of a person.

And Hyunjin loves winter.

He’ll do everything so that you’ll come to love it again too.

❁ ❁ ❁

Is it a nightmare if the person in it is one you once loved, looked forward to beholding with your gaze, hoping they’d never slip out of your reach? You don’t know, but you are growing tired of having the same dreams every night. Of waking up with an exhaustion that goes beyond your restless sleep but pleads from your soul to rest after almost a year of torment.

You sigh wearily, rubbing a hand through your face before walking to the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water. You find Hyunjin there, eating a cupcake while standing shirtless, scrolling through his phone. You blink at the sight.

“Hey,” you clear your throat and he startles, dropping the cupcake on the ground. He goes to pick it up only to bang his head on the table, a loud yelp escaping his lips. You barely contain your giggles as you walk to his side, rubbing your palm soothingly on his head. “I'm sorry I didn't mean to scare you.”

“At least pretend you are sorry,” he mumbles, pointing to your amused smile and you chuckle, taking his hand and helping him to his feet.

“What are you doing up now?” he asks as he grabs some napkins to clean up the pink frosting smeared across the floor.

You hesitate for a few seconds before whispering, “Just nightmares. And you?” you quickly add, not keen on pushing the subject any further.

“I'm working on a song,” he explains, as his gaze lingers on your sunken eyes, weighed down by dark circles from too many sleepless nights.

“And the cupcake?”

“Some people need caffeine to function. I need flour.”

“I literally see you drink three americanos per day.”

“Okay well maybe I need both,” he admits sheepishly and you grin, drumming your fingers along the countertop.

“Can I sit with you while you work?” you ask quickly, before the words linger enough in your mouth that you no longer wish to spit them out.

The smile that Hyunjin sends you is kind, pushing the shadows of your nightmares just slightly out of reach.

“Of course, yeah you can. Don’t even need to ask.”

Hyunjin walks first into his bedroom, quickly slipping on a hoodie while you take in the interior. It is a quite simple room— a large bed with gray covers, and a desk filled with what you assume to be his producing equipment sits adjacent. But what catches your attention is the dried rose hung delicately on the wall, and the array of paintings surrounding it. You edge closer to it, drawn to the well-crafted paintings— a sun-drenched beach, a couple lost in an embrace so intimate their forms can no longer be separated, and an elderly pair riding a motorcycle, their love radiating vibrantly as if enclosed in eternal youth.

“You paint?” you ask, turning around to find Hyunjin watching you. He steps closer, enveloping you once more in the fragrance of his rose perfume.

“In my free time.”

“You are amazing, Hyunjin,” you compliment sincerely, your gaze fixed on that imagery of the old couple, one that most likely grew together. It tugs at your heartstrings, stirs a painful longing within you, a memory of a time when you too believed you’d find such boundless love.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, before brushing his fingertips gently against your forearm, for a fleeting second. “Are you okay?” he asks, a tenderness you’ve been aching for latched into his question. Your eyes refuse to peel away from the paintings and the love spilling from each paint brush stroke, a love that refuses to rest on your being as if you were harboring an armor that repels it.

“No,” you reply sincerely, turning to face him. “It’s really hard,” you say with a smile, hoping that the mechanical display of happiness would keep your tears at bay, tricking your brain into believing you're not as sad as you feel.

It fails to do so, and the tears well in your eyes like a gathering storm. Frustration twists your features as you shut your eyes, tilting your head upward in a desperate attempt to contain the flood. It pauses as Hyunjin cradles the back of your head, drawing you close to the warmth of his neck. His palm glides soothingly along your spine, before patting your back ever so gently.

Your back stiffens, hands curling into tight fists, breath catching in your throat. You've grown accustomed to pushing away comfort, putting up tall barriers to shield yourself. But tonight, Hyunjin seems to break through your defenses.

Tonight, you soften, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, head nestling deeper against his tender skin.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he whispers and another sob wracks through you, but he only holds you tighter. “It’ll get better soon.”

“I loved him,” you hiccup, your voice breaks, “a lot.”

“I know, that’s why it hurts.” His voice is gentle, and yet his hold on you feels secure as if you could stumble and fall, and he would be there to catch you

“I want it to stop hurting.”

“It will, with time.”

Your next words are tinged with a childlike vulnerability, reminiscent of blow one, then two. But you do not care for it, in that instant, you crave the reassurance, you need someone to plant a seed of hope in your soul because your hands are too frail to dig for it.

“Do you promise me?”

His response doesn’t come hastily, carelessly thrown into the air like idle chatters. He takes his time, considering it with the gravity of an oath.

“I promise you.” He finally says, each syllable infused with sincerity. A brief pause hangs in the air before he adds. “And if it doesn’t then you can hit me.”

“On your pretty face?” you ask, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

“On my pretty face,” he confirms with a chuckle.

“What an honor,” you roll your eyes playfully as you lean back and he grins, tenderly wiping away your tears with the back of his fingers.

“I can't believe it took three minutes for you to cry in my room. This isn’t good for my reputation.”

“Good thing this will never leave this bedroom, right?” you point a finger at him threateningly, and he pretends to zip his lips, tossing away the imaginary key. “You got it.”

“So what are you working on?” you ask as you settle on the edge of his bed, knees drawn up to your chest.

“It’s a pretty sad song, wanna hear?” he offers, sitting across from you on his chair.

“Yeah, I'd love to,” you smile, and Hyunjin deftly adjusts a few buttons, before his melancholic whistles weave through the air, coupled with the somber melody of a piano. Your breath catches in your throat, the music reaching into the very depths of your soul. It's as if the notes are calling out for a loved one, for a time that has long passed, for a past that will never come back no matter how much we long for it.

The instrumental continues, each piano note and each violin string echo like a bittersweet lament, springing tears to your eyes. But the melody remains beautiful, akin to the beauty always found in the sadness— in the tears that cascade down your cheeks like glistening crystals, in the tremble of your hands akin to branches swaying in the wind, in the rise and fall of your chest with each breath, mirroring the ebb and flow of the waves.

Hyunjin watches you intently as the music envelops you both, his gaze softening with each passing moment. You bring a hand to your chest, almost unconsciously, too engrossed in the melody to even blink. He feels a blush sprout on his cheeks as your teary eyes hold his with the last fading guitar strings.

“You keep on making me cry,” you whisper, your voice choked with emotion, and he grins, tilting his head shyly against his shoulder.

“You like it?” he asks, a tad eager and you nod, not bothering to wipe the lone tears that are falling down your cheeks.

“I think this is what my loneliness sounds like,” you confess softly.

“As do mine.”

A silent beat runs between you both, it isn’t uncomfortable, but safe. Because you understand him, just as he understands you.

“Sometimes I long for things that have passed," he admits, “although I know I can't get them anymore.”

“The most terrible thing you can long for is yourself.”

“Because no one’s to blame for that loss but you?” he muses and you nod, a sad smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, exactly.”

You bite your lip, casting a glance back at the paintings adorning the wall. “I don't love him anymore,” you begin quietly. “I stopped a long time ago because there was no room for love anymore to grow amid weeds and thorns.”

He remains silent, sensing that this is a weight you need to unburden yourself from.

“But in the midst of it I think I stopped loving myself too,” you whisper, a confession too terrible to be uttered out loud. “That's what I long for. The things I used to love that I'm indifferent to now.”

“Like you’re a stranger before everything once familiar to you.”

“Yeah, you express it prettily,” you remark with a small smile.

“It's my job,” he grins lightly.

“I think when your heart is pure,” he begins after a while, pausing to carefully choose the words that will soothe your burn, help sleep come more easily to you. “You give love to others more readily than you do to yourself. And it takes time, patience, to redirect that love back to your own heart once again. But it's not a mistake to love, you shouldn’t hate yourself for it. Nor should you blame your past self for loving the wrong person because they did not know what you now do.”

“Think of it as a caterpillar in their cocoon,” he continues gently, “when they finally emerge from their chrysalis, they might long for who they were, where they once were because it is the only place they've ever known. But they do not realize that they've transformed into a beautiful butterfly, that they can now fly, and witness much more than their chrysalis. So maybe, your new self will love the same things as before, or maybe you’ll find new, better things to love that you would have not known before. But in either way, your heart is beautiful. That is what matters, no?”

A small pout draws on your lips, your eyebrows scrunched as you gaze at him.

“You have a very tender soul, Hyunjin.”

Your words linger in Hyunjin's mind long after the sunrise, as you lay peacefully asleep on his bed. The melody of the instrumental he produced continues to play faintly in the background, serving as a gentle lullaby that eases you into slumber, entwined in his sheets, your arms wrapped protectively around yourself, one hand cradling your shoulders and the other resting gently on your stomach. The image sears into his eyes as he sketches the outlines of a figure holding itself absentmindedly, long into the night.

Hyunjin has had his fair share of compliments, mostly pertaining to his face, and others to his craft. but it is you who seems to have sensed that a part of his soul resided in his art, that he left pieces of his heart hidden in the notes he composes and the lyrics he writes, hoping they’ll find soft hands that will take care of them, just like your own.

Five days later.

hyunjin [11:34 p.m.]: are you home?

yn [11:34 p.m.]: yeahh, do you need anything?

hyunjin [11:35 p.m.]: come downstairs, im waiting for youu

if you say no i’ll freeze to death..

hurry i can’t feel my fingers anymore (please please) ㅠㅠㅠ

“This better be a life and death situation Hwang Hyunjin,” you say threateningly as soon as you appear before Hyunjin, causing him to straighten up from the wall he was leaning against.

“It is a very dangerous life-altering situation that requires your immediate assistance, indeed,” he responds solemnly, ushering you gently to his car and opening the door for you.

“Which is?” you ask as soon as he settles inside the car and he simply grins at you, his left dimple coming forth like the very sun on a gloomy day.

“You’ll see.”

Hyunjin’s eyes fleet to your figure every now and then, but you do not seem to notice, your gaze lost into the blurring lights ahead. He can tell you're still not entirely yourself, so he was prepared to forcibly drag you along with him. He’s almost surprised you accepted to come down so easily.

“Is that… Seungmin?” you speak suddenly, pointing to a man waving in the distance, as Hyunjin parks his car near an empty field.

“And Changbin? And Minho?” you continue, squinting your eyes, “and a bonfire?” you giggle with a hint of excitement.

“You love s’mores during the winter, right?”

Hyunjin smiles, your soul softens.

“I do,” you say quietly, “I really do.”

You quickly exit the car, running into Seungmin's arms with a grin of disbelief plastered on your face. “This is insane,” you almost shout, squeezing him tight in a hug.

“It was so hard to find the perfect middle of nowhere for this,” Minho grumbles as you move to greet him, but the warmth of his embrace assures you he's only teasing.

“Thank you,” you say with a smile as you hug Changbin, who affectionately ruffles your hair. “It was Hyunjin’s idea,” he reveals, and you glance back at Hyunjin, who stands with his hands buried deep within his sweatpants behind you. You mouth a silent “thank you” to him, but he shakes his head modestly as if it is nothing to bring happiness to a bruised heart.

The night unfolds in endless laughter, with Minho and Hyunjin taking turns roasting marshmallows over the crackling bonfire, and Seungmin serving you hot coffee to keep your hands warm. Your stomach aches from the uncontrollable fits of giggles that overtook your being as Minho recounts the time he danced so vigorously on stage for his dance club that he ripped his pants, feeling a breeze where there shouldn't be one; and Changbin tells you the story of the time his voice cracked in the middle of a rap battle, and how none of the boys stopped teasing him about it for months to come.

And as the four of them take turns making you laugh, a quiet, tender realization dawns on you—you are loved. It is something he tried to convince you was impossible, that no one around truly cared for you but him. And even then, you weren’t deserving of his love whole, only scrapes of it, as if you were a beggar tugging at the outskirts of his heart.

But Hyunjin reminded you otherwise. And if your friends found something worthy of love within you then perhaps so will you again, one day.

“Did you have fun?” Hyunjin asks as he opens the door to his, your, apartment hours later. What he doesn't expect is for you to respond by wrapping your arms around his slender torso, squeezing tight in gratitude.

“Thank you,” you whisper and he nods, though you cannot see him, returning the embrace by wrapping his arms around your shoulder blades.

Hyunjin doesn't let go first, sensing that perhaps you need this hug more than he does. He smiles as your eyes meet his again, but his grin falters when he notices your gaze flickering towards your bedroom, a hint of unease clouding your expression. It's as if behind that door lie monsters only you can grasp, wearing the faces of people you once knew, once loved.

“Wanna stay with me while I work on the song?”

“Last time I ended up sleeping on your bed,” you say a bit shamefully, recalling the morning you woke up to find yourself covered with a thick blanket that wasn’t there before, alone in Hyunjin's room.

“It's okay,” he shrugs, “I missed sleeping on the couch.”

You stare pointedly at him and he chuckles, “Fine, I did not miss it. But you needed the sleep, so it’s okay with me.”

“Fine,” you concede, though you did not need much convincing for it. “But only if you promise you’ll wake me up if I end up falling asleep again.”

Hyunjin tilts his head, thinking to himself for a few seconds before shaking his head stubbornly, a small pout drawn on his face, his eyes semi-closed. “No.”

“Hyunjin!”

“Nu-uh,” he insists, shaking his head once more as he walks back towards his room. “I'm waiting for you!”

“I'm not coming!”

But you do eventually join him, after changing your clothes and washing your face. You find Hyunjin clad in beige and white checkered pajamas, his glasses pushing back his silky hair as he hunches over his journal, scribbling away before erasing what he wrote.

“Struggling with lyrics?” you ask, leaning against the wall and he startles. “Do you float on the ground? Why can I never hear you come in?”

“Or maybe you just love being dramatic,” you sing-song, laying atop his bed, much more at ease than the previous night.

Hyunjin sticks his tongue out childishly in response, and you playfully mimic the gesture before both of you dissolve into happy giggles.

“Kind of,” he explains once you both settle down, “I have this specific feeling in mind that I need to convey.”

“You'll do well,” you reassure softly, “your lyrics are always so beautiful. Remember Cover me?” you smile and he scratches the back of his ear, a shy grin spreading across his face.

“You still listen to it?” he asks and you nod eagerly, attempting to belt into Seungmin’s ending high note. You fail horribly and Hyunjin throws a crumpled piece of paper on your face to get you to stop singing.

“My poor ears,” he laughs loudly, and you retaliate by throwing back a pillow on his head.

“You just don’t get my artistic abilities.”

“I’d get them more if you stayed silent.”

You gasp, faking offense as you stand up to tickle Hyunjin on his chair, he starts squirming immediately, his loud giggles spilling all over the room, coating it in vibrant hues of happiness, and you’re suddenly captivated by the sight of him— his head thrown back, a golden lock framing his laughter-filled eyes, his top lowering slightly to reveal glimpses of his collarbones and the delicate veins that trace enticing paths on his neck.

You pause, your hand hovering over the side of his stomach, as a long-forgotten warmth spreads through your heart, like the first rays of dawn greeting the earth after a long winter night. It doesn’t diffuse quickly through your being, but rather drapes like sticky honey on your veins, making you well aware of your growing blush, of how beautiful Hyunjin is in his joy.

“Never singing to you again,” you clear your throat, laying atop his bed once again, and quickly reaching for your phone, anything to avoid his eyes which rival the crescent moon outside his window.

Hours pass before a warm hand gently settles on your shoulder, rousing you from your slumber. Blinking away the fog of sleep, you find Hyunjin leaning over you, his grin wide and infectious. “Wake up,” he whispers, but you only groan, burying your face deeper into his pillow.

He doesn’t yield, taking hold of your wrist and guiding your drowsy figure upright, before wrapping the blanket snugly around your shoulders. Without a word, he leads you out onto his balcony, carefully putting his neon green beanie on your head to shield you from the cold.

“It’s snowing!” he smiles, and his excited tone manages to dissipate the fog in your mind. You blink repeatedly and soon enough, you too behold the fallen snowflakes, each one resembling a tiny speck of light bidding farewell to the sky to greet the earth.

“You missed the first snow so I didn’t want you to miss this one too,” he explains, and his thoughtfulness blankets you with a warmth that seeps into every crevice in your body, drips down your fingertips and makes the cold of 4 a.m. seem less harsh, less biting to the touch.

You don’t know how to say thank you, because those two words don’t encapsulate the depths of gratitude that you feel for Hyunjin. Because he is speaking to the person within you who still loves snow, the part buried underneath layers of dust from a ground heartbreak. But you still manage to hear him, and you squeeze his hand tightly, and he doesn’t let go until you finally do.

❁ ❁ ❁

Remembering has become easier for you these past two months— both the good and the bad. And each day, the scale tips towards one side or the other. Sometimes you recall the suffocation you felt with him, the feeling that no matter what you did you could never please him, that your hands were crafted to break rather than mend. And on those days your wound grows, it throbs and bleeds different emotions.

Sometimes it's anger— at him for treating your heart so carelessly as if you were a being devoid of feeling. And then at you— for staying, for giving him excuses and desperately searching for goodness within him, for the one redeeming quality that would convince you he was worth the pain.

And other days bring an excruciating sadness along, a weight that presses down upon you until you're paralyzed. Because you feel bad for yourself and for everything you went through. Because you’re unsure how to rise when unseen hands push you deeper into the abyss.

And on these days, Seungmin becomes your anchor. He buys your favorite food, skips classes with you, and takes you to your favorite gardens. He talks and he talks and you try your best to laugh because you do not wish to worry him more. It is enough to be your own burden, you do not wish to burden him too.

But when he drops you home, your facade slips away, the smile fading from your face as if it were never truly yours to wear. You are too tired to pretend so you don’t, and Hyunjin doesn’t let you, either. He brews you tea and orders takeout because he knows you lack the energy for cooking. He goes with you on walks and drapes you in pieces of his clothing— scarves and beanies and gloves because he knows you couldn’t care less about a cold when there is a frost coating your bones. He lets you sit in his room while he works on his songs, and while he paints. Sometimes you talk and often you don't need to. But he’s there. He's there with you.

But you also remember the good. You remember your movie night with the boys, Hyunjin building an entire fort for you, adorned with twinkling lights and the softest blankets. How you watched movies until 5 a.m. your bodies so closely huddled together that there was no room left for sadness.

You recall Hyunjin begging you to build a snowman with him at the crack of dawn, the two of you collapsing in fits of laughter as you threw snowballs at one another, your footsteps marking the fresh fallen snow.

You remember being so exhausted after one of your showers that you simply laid atop the couch, gaze fixed on the void, too drained to even untangle the knots in your hair. Yet, it is not the tiredness that you exactly recall, nor the salty tears you shed underneath the scorching water jet. But it is Hyunjin's tender hands as he brushed through your hair, his fingers tracing the nape of your neck, his knuckles ghosting over the slate of your shoulder. You remember whispering that it was a particularly hard day and Hyunjin understanding. You remember him watching many YouTube tutorials to prepare your favorite seaweed soup, only for it to end up being too salty. But you still ate it all, because he made it for you, to lift your wounded spirits. And that alone was enough for it to taste good.

You remember your heart hardening then softening again, breaking then stitching itself back together, closing off then blooming like flowers on the first day of spring. You remember smiling only to cry then smile again. And you remember liking snow, a bit more than you thought you would. Because Hyunjin was there, holding your trembling hand, steadying it enough for you to rewrite your memories with winter.

So, you want to say thank you.

You do not wish to spell it out, because there are too many things to thank Hyunjin for and too few words to do so. Instead, you drag him to the farmer’s market near your home, and you tell him to help you pick flowers.

“I could be in bed watching my favorite show and yet here I am bestowing you with my enchanting presence,” he sighs, not too modestly, as you both eye the array of colorful blooms.

“Okay, Shakespeare, are you done?” you roll your eyes, attempting your best to hide your grin.

“Done annoying you? Never. These are very pretty,” he adds, pointing to the white roses in full bloom, their delicate petals emitting a sweet fragrance into the air.

“I agree, what else should we add?” you ponder, picking out four roses.

“Mm, Hibiscus? The red in the center is so vibrant,” he suggests, taking out his phone to capture the flower.

“Cute. Baby breath’s would look good too,” you say as you gather the flowers, heading to the cashier with Hyunjin trailing behind, still admiring the delicate blooms.

“Can I write a note?” you ask the middle-aged man as he wraps the bouquet in a powder blue paper.

“Sure,” he replies with a smile, and you return the gesture, quickly jotting down your words.

“Are you done?” Hyunjin grins when you return to his side and you nod, exiting the flower shop.

“What do you think?” you ask, angling the bouquet towards him.

“It's beautiful.”

“It’s yours,” you smile, growing shier at the intensity of his gaze as it lands on you, then the flowers, then on you again. “Take it,” you hand it to him, your cheeks flushing like the hibiscus’s crimson core.

“Actually?” he says softly, his fingers trembling slightly as he accepts the flowers and you nod in response. You bite your lip as you watch him take out the note, his eyes softening once he reads the words inscribed in it— thank you for making my winter less cold.

“Should we go?” you say a tad too cheerfully, turning away, but Hyunjin grabs your wrist, spinning you around once more. His fingers trail up your arm, coming to rest gently on your cheek as he leans down to plant a tender kiss there.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his lips lingering against your skin for a moment longer than necessary. You think that if his soft lips grace your skin a few times more, your nerve endings might forget the harshness they were subjected to. If his gentle hands remain on your cheeks, then maybe, your heart would heal quicker, better. Maybe your past self that you long for would emerge again, maybe Hyunjin would be able to unearth it.

Your hopeful thoughts disappear as quickly as they arrive, overshadowed by a sense of helplessness that crashes over you, all of the sudden. You sense him before you hear him, the familiar anxiety that is only synonymous with your ex’s presence.

“Yn?” the sound of your name feels harsher in his mouth, the syllables spat out rather than spoken tenderly, as they are when Hyunjin pronounces it. Your veins run cold as his voice pierces the air, your heart skipping three beats at once before plummeting to your knees. You wrap your hand around Hyunjin’s forearm instinctively, and he looks down at you, his expression morphing into one of concern.

You’re unsure of what he sees in you— whether it is your pale face, the quiver of your lower lip, or the fear that has coated all your features— but his eyes harden, his brows furrowing as he gazes at the man behind you.

You refuse to turn around, bracing yourself for his next words. “Yn,” he repeats his tone laced with anger, his fingertips grazing your arm as if intending to force you to face him. But before he can touch you, Hyunjin intervenes, swiftly stepping in between you and your ex, shielding you with his own body protectively.

“Leave,” Hyunjin's voice is cold, dripping with a venomous edge you've never heard from him before, his jaw clenching with barely contained fury.

“Is this your new shiny toy, Yn?” your ex taunts and his voice cuts through your being against your will, triggering a flood of memories you've tried so desperately to suppress. Memories of his cruelty, his manipulation, and the pain he inflicted upon you—using your love as a weapon to bolster his own ego.

“What's in it for you?” you find your voice again, though it trembles when you speak. He is the very embodiment of your pain and everything you loathe about yourself. You wish for the ground to swallow you whole, for a bolt of lightning to strike the earth, anything to spare you from facing him.

“It's only been three months, I didn't know you were a whore.”

Hyunjin's fist connects with his cheek before you can register his words. It all unfolds so rapidly that you barely have time to comprehend it. Your ex staggers back, blood trickling from the cut on his lip, while Hyunjin stands before you, his chest heaving with restrained anger, his right hand clenched into a fist, the bouquet still held tightly in the other.

“Fine, I deserved it,” your ex chuckles, his voice laced with mockery as he wipes the blood from his lip. His gaze meets yours briefly behind Hyunjin's back.

“You might not be a whore but you are unlovable, keep that in mind.” He spits out before walking away, crude words that tear at every scab covering your wounds, reopening them with a brutal force. Hyunjin moves to follow him, but you grab his shirt, pulling him back.

“He’s not worth it,” you murmur.

Your words seem to snap Hyunjin out of his haze as he turns to look at you, worry cast across his figure. He moves to cradle your cheeks but you step back, refusing to meet his eyes. He swallows thickly, clutching the bouquet in his hands. “Are you okay?”

You let out a heavy sigh, your shoulders slumping as you shake your head slightly. “Let's just go home,” you whisper, eyes fleeting to his for a split second. All the lights in your gaze are muted.

You’re crumbling before him once again and he cannot stop it, no matter how much he yearns to.

It's long past midnight when you find yourself seated on the floor of your living room, a bottle of red wine placed between you and Hyunjin. You exchange it wordlessly, taking turns sipping from it, the alcohol warming your insides but doing little to ease the ache in your heart. You don’t exactly recall when Hyunjin sat next to you, but you don’t mind. You were too lost in your own thoughts to even register his presence.

“Yn,” he calls out softly and you hum absentmindedly, memories of when your ex spoke your name haunting you, each time he yelled your name, uttered it in disdain as if it was the starting point of everything wrong with you.

“Talk to me, please?” he pleads, angling his body towards your own. But you refuse to meet his eyes and Hyunjin’s heart twists in his chest. He is afraid of all the ugly thoughts that must roam your mind. He wishes he could enter it, open the windows wide, and usher the light in.

“I'm sorry you were dragged into this,” you say, your gaze fixated on the bouquet placed atop the table. The crimson painted on the hibiscus’ petals reminds you of the blood that spilled from your ex’s mouth, and your gaze fleets to Hyunjin's hand, slightly bruised from the punch.

“Don’t apologize,” he whispers, “there is nothing to be sorry for.”

It’s as though you don’t hear him, your fingers trailing gently across his scraped knuckles, tears pooling in your eyes the more you stare at his hand.

“Does it hurt?” you ask, voice thick with emotion, and Hyunjin’s quick to shake his head. “No, don’t worry about it. He deserved it.”

“You didn’t deserve to be hurt.”

“Neither did you.”

Your disbelieving scoff that follows scares him. What if you’re slipping away into a dark place yet again, one void and barricaded, in which the only sound that echoes is your ex’s hurtful words? What if he can’t reach you again?

“If the only person I’ve ever loved says I’m unlovable then maybe I am.”

You’re drunk, you wouldn’t have said such an ugly thing otherwise, wouldn’t have allowed this sentiment to materialize into the air, to take a tangible form apart from your abstract thoughts.

“No,” Hyunjin says in a panic as though he’s trying to quickly pull the brakes on your free-railing thoughts. He cups your face between his palms, your tears falling freely atop his hands but he does not move away.

“No,” he repeats, more calmly this time. “How he treated you is a reflection of who he is. And how you see him is a reflection of who you are. And you wanted him to be loving because you’re full of love. You wanted him to be good because you are a good person. And he can’t stomach that, can’t stomach that you are happy without him so he’s trying to ruin you again.”

“Hyunjin…” you shake your head but he only inches closer to you, his thumbs gently caressing your cheekbones. “No, listen to me. Seungmin loves you so much he couldn’t eat properly for the first few days you stayed here, texted me all the time asking me how you were and if you were feeling better. He isn't good with words so instead he tries to make you laugh. He wishes he could give up parts of his happiness for you.”

A sob swells within you but Hyunjin presses on. “And Minho, he tried to memorize all your favorite recipes so he could cook them for you. It isn’t a coincidence that every time we go over to their dorm it is your favorite food that we eat. He takes more pictures of his cats these days so he could send them to you because he knows it cheers you up.”

“You told me Changbin doesn’t know you well enough to fight for you but when we saw your ex across the campus one day he wanted to get up and beat him. He always asks me if you are well and if there is something he can do for you, anything.”

He inhales deeply, tears welling up in his eyes as well. “And me…” a tender smile graces his lips as he gazes at you, “you make this house a home. I feel like my true self when you are around and loneliness doesn’t come to me as often as it did. Because you are here. You are like a beam of sunlight that lightens up every life you touch, mine first,” he’s baring his soul to you, vulnerable yet resolute. “So tell me, Yn, what’s not to love in you when you yourself are so full of love?”

“Hyune,” you speak the nickname for the first time, and Hyunjin’s heart thrashes achingly around his ribcage. “If you keep talking like this I might end up loving you,” you smile sadly at him as if it is a terrible thing to be loved by you.

“But I don’t want to love you, because I won’t know how to, not anymore. So I'll end up leaving. And I'll long for you, and I don't think I can stomach longing for you from afar.”

“So please,” you place one hand atop his own, wipe away the lone tear rolling down his cheek. “Don’t make me love you, hm? You deserve more than to be loved by someone like me.”

You leave Hyunjin in the living room, alone before the white flowers you gifted him. He doesn’t want to put them away in a vase, for as soon as he grabbed them from your hold, everything around you both crumbled. So he leaves them there for the night, the creamy white petals aglow underneath the moonlight. He spends the night painting the bouquet from memory, but the petals end up too tinged with red, perhaps mirroring the blood his heart refuses to stop spilling still.

He did not realize it before, maybe he blinded himself so he wouldn’t see what was before him all along. But it is all the clearer to him now— that in his attempts to make you love winter again, Hyunjin only ended up loving you.

A week later.

hyune [1:25 a.m.]: i miss you

You and Hyunjin spent the last seven days avoiding one another, well you more than him. He just understood your silent plea when you took a step back the one time he tried to talk to you in the kitchen, swallowing thickly before inching away, allowing you to move past him.

You did not know how to face him after what he said, partly because you were embarrassed by your own response, mostly because even in your drunken daze, his words etched themselves permanently into your memory.

It is his reassuring words that echoed in your brain for the past week, not those of your ex.

hyune [1: 26 a.m.]: and i miss sleeping on the couch

You giggle, shaking your head before replying.

yn [1:26 a.m.]: no you don’t

hyune [1:26 a.m.]: no i don’t ㅠㅠ

but i finished the song

wanna hear?

Walking to Hyunjin’s room feels as familiar as going into your own. And when your gaze finally meets his you can’t help but break into a relieved smile. It was foolish of you to punish yourself, enough people have done that for you already.

“Hey,” he greets tentatively, and you respond with an awkward wave, a moment pregnant with anticipation passes before both of you dissolve into laughter.

“What is this? Are we in middle school,” he teases and you giggle, settling comfortably on his bed once more.

“I know. We are so lame.”

“You are,” he corrects with a grin and you gasp, pretending to leave but he quickly catches your hand, stopping you. “No, please stay. I meant it when I said that I missed you,” he repeats quietly, as if afraid that his confession would make you run away once again.

Your heart aches, the knots in your stomach tightening and unraveling all at once. “I missed you too,” you admit softly, and he smiles, his thumb tracing a gentle path above your pulse before releasing your hand.

“So it's done then?” you ask and he nods, running a hand through his hair with a hint of anxiety. “How do you feel about it?”

“Good. I hope you’ll like it, mostly.”

“I'm sure I will,” you reassure him with a soft smile, and he nods once more, pressing a few buttons before his melodious whistles fill the air once again.

Nothing could have braced you for the sound of Hyunjin's voice that followed, its timbre soft as silk yet imbued with profound sorrow. It's as though he recorded the song on one of his loneliest nights, his honeyed vocals dipped in an excruciating nostalgia that seeps into every corner of the room, every corner of your heart.

In the faded photo, I come across a smile spread across a youthful face, overlapped with the seasons.

Your gaze flickers to Hyunjin as a shadow of recollection dawns on you. You remember telling him that you couldn’t stomach looking at pics of your past, ones in which you smiled so freely because you were blissfully unaware of what was to come.

The night’s so cold that it’s almost unreal.

Because you weren’t aware of the winter that will follow and the biting cold that it would bear, for everything that will go astray in your relationship, for your ex's facade to crack like a glacier succumbing to the pressure of lies and pretense.

I wake up in another silence, and I close my eyes.

You remember Hyunjin confessing that silence haunted him more than words ever could, and you had agreed, sharing how sometimes you shut your eyes, pretending that the reality you woke up to wasn't the one you were living.

The white flower we planted together has bloomed. I do not dare pick it. Now it withers away.

You gaze at the white flowers you brought him, now wilted in the vase placed on his desk, yet Hyunjin refuses to throw them still. You see the card you wrote for him hung on the wall, right next to the dried red rose. He kept it. Though it withered, he kept it all.

So I long for you. And I long for you. And I'll long for you.

You remember the longing you both spoke of, how he understood a feeling you felt so incredibly alone in. How he tried to reassure you when he too was caught in the webs of the past. How you longed for him in the past week. How you wished he longed for you just the same.

So I can keep loving you. So I could be loving you. And morе.

The violin swells and so does the emotion in your chest. You remember him asking you ‘What’s not to love in you’ and how you've spun those words in your thoughts ever since. You remember thinking that if he gave you a few more weeks, just a bit more time, you might have found it in you to believe them.

You see Hyunjin’s glimmering eyes holding yours, you see his heart atop a platter handed to you, and you see the resignation in his being. Don’t make me love you, you told him. You didn’t dare to tell him not to love you in return, deemed it too foolish of thought to entertain.

For he was Hwang Hyunjin, the quiet producer who paints in his free time and who wears his heart on his sleeve. Who remains hopeful, loving, and tender, despite the thorns pricking at his side. Who is beautiful, so much so that he allowed you to see beauty in the universe once again, through his eyes.

How could he love you?

How could you not love him?

“The song,” you whisper, the words barely escaping your lips as you stand, trembling, on your feet. Hyunjin rises too, meeting you in the center of his room.

“It is about you. For you,” he says simply as if his words don’t cause your world to burst at the seams only to mend itself once again, too eager to fix itself and exist in the same timeline as Hyunjin.

“I don't… I don’t know what to say,” you say earnestly, feeling your heart pound in your chest, its beats resounding loudly in your ears.

It is wrong of you to assume he wishes you to say something. He is Hyunjin, the one who finds words in your silences too, after all.

“I don’t need you to say anything,” he shakes his head, taking another step closer to you. “I don't want an answer, I don't wish to pressure you. I just wanted to tell you that my love is here, it is yours to take or to leave, to cherish or to discard. But it is yours, because this is who I am. I am someone who loves you.”

“So do not tell me to forget you because I don't know how to. And don’t tell me that you’ll leave because I will love you still, because you’d still be you, near or far, you are you. And you are someone I long for.” He pauses, his voice softening. “And I long for you, Yn, more than anything I've ever longed for. And I've spent all my life longing.”

His lips meet your forehead tenderly, and you feel your entire being grow limp at the chaste kiss, as if your limbs wish to liquefy and form a puddle on the floor. His touch is soft, and you miss it the moment he parts from you.

“There must be something in this room that keeps on making you cry,” he smiles and you bring your hands to your damp cheeks, surprised to find there tears you didn’t realize had fallen.

“It’s you,” you pinch his arm playfully and he squirms away from your hold, stabbing his toe on the desk in the process. A loud fuck echoes around the room, and your laughter dissipates the tension clinging into the air.

“Can you play it again?” you request softly and Hyunjin’s theatrics fade as a shy smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

“Is it good?”

“It's everything to me.”

“It's called ‘long for you’, by the way.”

“Long for you,” you repeat quietly. There has never been a prettier combination of words.

The title all but makes sense as you lay on the bed, your gaze fixed on the paintings hung on the wall, Hyunjin sketching quietly on his desk, the song resonating softly in the background. You've longed for many things in your life—the person you once were and the tender love you once craved—but amidst it all, nothing has weighed heavier on your heart than the longing for the man sitting just two meters away, almost in your loving grasp. Almost.

❁ ❁ ❁

It is an excruciating five days that Hyunjin spends apart from you, the both of you too caught up in your assignments to find a moment to properly speak. But you do not shy away from him when he greets you, and your grin is kind as it drapes across his being, and Hyunjin swears he has never seen a prettier sight than you smiling.

On the sixth night, Hyunjin completes the cover for the song— a figure wrapped around itself protectively, mirroring the way you hug yourself in your sleep. He hangs it on the wall, right next to your thank you card and the white bouquet he drew once again, wishing to properly immortalize its beautiful flowers, to purify that memory from the tumult that followed it.

On the sixth night, the house is quiet, the full moon high up in the sky, snowflakes falling softly to the ground. Hyunjin wonders if you too mimicked the snow’s descent— both of you falling apart with it.

But then, there’s a knock on his door.

His heart catches in his throat, his body freezing as if it forgot how to move. You are here.

“Come in,” he manages to say, his voice barely above a whisper. You push the door open, and Hyunjin's words wilt on his tongue as he sees what you're carrying—another bouquet, filled with white flowers, yet again.

“Hey,” you smile, standing by the door.

He remains silent, unsure of what to say, or how to speak. He longs for you when you are away, even more so when you’re before him.

“We shouldn't let these white flowers wither away too, right?” you smile slightly, placing the bouquet on the desk before walking to Hyunjin’s bedside. His voice falters, vocal cords refusing to move and overshadow your voice.

You sit beside him, gently pulling his hand so that you’d both lie on the pillows. Your hand doesn’t leave his own, instead, it moves to rest on his cheek, reminiscent of the many times he had cradled your face before. Inch by inch, you close the gap between you, nuzzle the tip of your nose against his own. “Hi, Hyune”, you say softly, and he swallows thickly, his voice coming out just as quietly.

“Hi, my Yn.”

“If we take care of the white flowers together do you think they’ll survive a bit longer?” you ask, your gaze never wavering from his, countless stars twinkling in the depths of your irises.

“I believe so,” he says tentatively, too aware of the warmth of your palm against his skin, of the sweet ache unfurling within his being.

“Mm, and even if they wilt we can always buy new ones. We can learn how to care for them better, with time,” you say, and he nods in agreement, laying his hand atop your own, tilting his head to bestow a chaste kiss on your palm.

“With time,” he echoes softly and you smile, vulnerable yet secure in his gray sheets, in his hold.

“Will you give me time too?” you ask, and Hyunjin reads in your eyes what you mean, understands in the shake of your voice the question you are too afraid to voice. Will he give you time to heal in order to love?

“As long as you need. I’m not going anywhere,” he reassures, pressing his forehead gently atop yours, and you both close your eyes, as a running warmth encloses you both, blooms a blush on both your cheeks.

His arms wrap around your back, drawing you close until your chests are pressed together, your head resting naturally in the curve of his neck. And it is long forgotten in your mind, all the nights you slept in this very bed alone. You feel safe, safe enough to long for love knowing that it patiently awaits you behind the door, once you find enough courage to turn the doorknob. You feel serene, as Hyunjin’s warm palms glide soothingly up and down your spine, as every muscle, every nerve, every atom in your being relaxes in his hold.

You are healing, slowly, with each fleeting second that passes in which Hyunjin’s heartbeat resounds within your chest, as its melody runs through your veins, melds with your own as if it was destined to be there all along. As you rest in Hyunjin, as you find a safe home within his soul to discard your worries at the doorstep and breathe.

“It did get better,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade. “Hm?” He leans back to look at you, and he’s so beautiful, so tender as he gazes at you, you can’t help but trace the contours of his face with your fingers, hoping to commemorate him with your eyes, with your touch.

“You promised me it’ll get better, and it did,” you smile, as your legs further intertwine with his, and his rose perfume becomes an indelible mark on your skin. “Too bad I can't hit your pretty face now,” you joke and he giggles, tipping his head back.

He's so beautiful, body and soul, and he longs for you, you alone.

“But I can still do this,” you murmur before finally pressing your lips against his like a boat finally reaching the shore after months of sailing. You both exhale, in yearning, in relief, as your mouths move together in a slow, languid dance, his hand finding the pulse on your neck, yours settling atop his jaw.

He would kiss you again, this intimately, in the coming months, when your heart expands enough to contain the love Hyunjin deserves. He would kiss you again, when your past comes to haunt you, and healing sounds like an elusive myth you’d never encounter in your life.

And he would kiss you again, over the kitchen table and under the fridge’s light, in between paintings and in supermarket aisles, while picking flowers and watching the first snow.

He would kiss you, this tenderly, in the next winter, and the ones after it, as if his longing for you never wanes. Till blow three disappears from your memory, till all you remember is the love, the true one, the kind one, the soft one Hyunjin alone could have brought you.

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lovelaetter · 1 month ago

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i need your thoughts on chaewon with a biker!gf PLEASE

i imagine the gf being a lot taller with big veiny hands perhaps g!p if you don't think that's too much...

as a chaewon size kink enjoyer, all i can say is: big YES. this girl, she gets so giggly around you, since always, all she can do is “oh i’m so small and tiny and defenseless i wish i had a strong tall big gf to protect me ooh” kinda pick me? yes but it’s not her fault you need to understand she is thinking with her pussy, okay? and it worked because look, you’re dating !!

very proud of you with the whole biker thing. she doesn’t know much about the mechanics but she learns a lot with you, listens carefully to everything you say, loves to see you so excited about it. i will have to go for the cliche leather jacket biker here just to say she steals yours a lot to the point you just bought her one and she keeps stealing yours because “it’s comfier”, also, because of that and because of how easy it is to find her around town carrying her helmet under her arm or just hanging around your bike at the parking lot people often think it’s hers and jesus christ you don’t wanna be one of the poor unfortunate souls that ask her something about it because she will open this smile and start “actually, i’m glad you asked, my girlfriend-” like her annoying ass can’t stop yapping about you… unless it’s a weird man then she will sense that from far away and just pick her phone and text you “babe, are gonna be mad if i get some blood on the helmet? there’s this guy…” but its not like she will need to do it because she got the strong big tall gf she wanted so she can play the defenseless princess all the time around you.

overall, big turn on for her, she’s all for the aesthetic too, loves to sneak a few pics of you and you both together all the time on her insta, her mind 100% like “hehe the tiktok girlies will love this one”, she’s so silly. not to mention how she loves to go on late night rides on a highway with you where she can do nothing but wrap her arms around you and rest her face on your back, feeling the wind hit her body, she will never say no to this, in fact will beg to go with you. and you make a stop at this spot that is so beautiful during nighttime, just you two, hugging her from behind, talking nonsense, laughing… everything is romantic, babe. but let’s not pretend she isn’t the one to ruin said moments by asking suddenly to go home, looking up and blinking her adorable eyes at you just because she got too horny to handle it, like yeah, who would thought the bike’s vibrations would go straight to her pussy haha who would imagine that don’t even accuse her of such thing. horny gremlin chaewon.

now let me me talk about size a bit because i want to and i can this is my blog. she loves how you tower over her easily, no she’s not making fuck me eyes, she simply has to look up at you like that! still on the late night rides things, loves when you are just as horny as her and can’t even wait to get inside her apartment, will press your body against hers right there at the garage of her building, shushing her cries with kisses as your fingers find their way inside her with no care if someone walks in or about the cameras, it’s okay, it’s dark and no one can see her there, you cover her up just fine and all she has to do is be quiet.

obsessed with your hands, she totally compares hands sizes, all the time, it makes her knees weak how easy it is for you wrap her waist with them and do so many things with her body, throw her around and in the way you like best, bounce her up and down your cock, she doesn’t have to do a thing but be there like a toy and it’s so good, everything she ever wanted.

#asks #le sserafim smut #chaewon smut

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sfehvn · 1 year ago

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new religion

Description: AU- Astarion is enamored by you, and while he fights it at first, he may have just found his new religion. A/N: Just a tad bit of sweet smut to be honest. This was my listen while I wrote if you were curious. Enjoy! xx Rating: M (18+ minors DNI) Word count: 2,069 Characters: soft!ascended!Astarion x fem!au!Tav

━─━────༺༻────━─━

From the moment Astarion had seen you, he knew he had to have you. Walking through the animated city of Baldur’s Gate, your radiant smile was the first thing that had caught his eye. Flowing hair kissed your shoulders adorned with freshly plucked daisies. Your aroma was the most intoxicating scent that had graced his nose in all of his years. Your rose-tinted cheeks teased with the blood flowing beneath your flawless skin. Your eyes sparkled with wonder, reflecting the rays of the sun above. He had never been a believer in the love at first sight nonsense, yet there you were. If his undead heart could beat, he was sure it would be skipping against his ribcage. It was the only time the vampire had found himself utterly speechless.

For months, he watched from afar, finding excuses to go into town. Not that he had to excuse anything to anyone, but the newfound feelings were frightening, to say the least. Alas, day after day Astarion went out, whether for a drink or an unnecessary shop trip, and he would wait to get even the slightest glimpse at you. He was aware that this obsession was snowballing out of his hands as he fell harder and deeper. Hells, he had never even spoken to you. Yet he knew nearly everything there was to know.

He knew every other day you made your way to the apothecary to pick up medicines for your sick father, whom you cared for. He knew once every fifth day, you picnicked in the graveyard next to your mother’s grave. He knew your favorite color was yellow because it reminded you of the summers you spent with your mother before her untimely passing. You had six siblings: an older brother and five young sisters.

Astarion had also realized that you had a death wish, apparently. You were constantly staying out past sundown, running errands or helping neighbors. Did you even comprehend the dangers? He would often think to himself. Of course he had to follow you home to ensure you made it inside safely. You were becoming a liability to him, and quite frankly, he was terrified of how you made him feel. Just when he had decided to end this one-sided arrangement, there you were. Sat on the side of the road with tears pooling rivers down your cheeks, his body felt out of his control as he approached you.

He stood in front of you, his words caught in his throat. You stared at him with those big doe-eyes, and his knees felt like jelly. “Are you alright?” He finally managed out. Gods, what am I doing? I should just sink my fangs into her and be done with it. It’s just bloodlust. This was something he had tried to convince himself of many times already- a lie.

“Oh, yes.” Voice sweet and smooth, like the finest honey gold could buy. “Just this silly book.” You giggled, holding up the novel you had previously been engrossed in before Astarion had found you.

“Right. Good.” He clears his throat in an attempt to regain his composure and still his spinning mind. “I’ll just be on my way then.” You nod, gifting that sweet smile to him. Astarion felt his legs would give out beneath him if he stayed longer, but he didn’t move an inch.

The man intrigued you, ruby red eyes and skin pale as the snow that fell during winter. He was gorgeous. An aura of mystery surrounded him, and you were keen to discover those mysteries. “Say, you live in that big fancy manor?” You question, breaking the awkward silence that had befallen you two.

“I do. Why?” Skepticism was palpable in his tone.

You disregarded his tone, and he believed it to be your naive nature. “You have the most exquisite daffodils blooming alongside your walls. I didn’t want to pick them without asking.” Your smile is sheepish, innocent. Astarion doesn’t speak, his face unreadable. “I-I enjoy putting bouquets together. I don’t mean to-” He already knew this, obviously.

“They are yours.” Astarion can’t contain the smile that tugs the sides of his lips.

As you two stroll to the location of said flowers, Astarion finds himself loosening up in your presence. He watches you intently, the way you move your hair from your face as you carefully pluck a few from the group. He urges you to take more.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother. These are plenty.” You assure. In response, he crouches down next to you to help pluck the remaining flowers.

After walking you home, Astarion ordered flowers to be planted around the grounds. With the help of just a little magic, within weeks, roses, peonies, sunflowers, and carnations bloomed healthily. You would come with a fresh serving of food, a bouquet as thanks, and collect the flowers. As naive as you were, you could recognize what Astarion was doing. The daffodils were a one-off in that area, but now flowers surrounded the entirety of his property. The rate at which they grew, too; you were aware some effort went into getting them to blossom so hastily. At every mention of a new flower, the next time you came, they were miraculously in bloom.

This compromise had been in full swing for months when you finally questioned him about it. Astarion was on his knees as he snipped red roses from the bush, insistent on doing it himself so you didn’t prick yourself on a thorn. “Why are you doing this?” You question, a wicker basket that was already overflowing held firmly in your hands.

“I told you, you’ve nabbed yourself on these blasted thorns one too many times.” His reply came without a look in your direction as he continued to snip the stems.

“That’s not what I meant.” A soft chuckle emanates from behind closed lips. He looks up at you in realization, his hands coming to a halt. Your breath catches in your throat as he stares at you wordlessly, longingly. Standing slowly, he takes a step closer to you. He drops the roses into your basket before cupping your cheeks, closing the distance between your faces. The kiss is electric. You drop the basket to your feet, arms snaking around his neck while he presses your body tightly to his, clinging to you like a prayer. His lips were a colder temperature than you expected, but they were soft and hungry.

That’s how Astarion ended up with you in his bed. As he eagerly ripped the pale blue dress from your body, you took note of the bouquets around his bed chamber. Every single one you had gifted to him was on display and in perfect condition. Your heart flits in your chest, eyes closing in ecstasy as wet kisses trail up the inside of your thighs. A soft moan is elicited from you as his mouth reaches your warmth, his tongue flicking teasingly along your slit. Your fingers thread into his stark white hair, instinctually tugging with every contact against your clit. Colors explode behind your eyelids from the euphoric excitement.

He pulled away briefly, with his starving mouth against your thigh, he spoke muffled words, “I don’t think you realize how long I’ve been waiting to hear that, darling.” Your breathing quickens as you look down at him between your thighs with hooded, lustful eyes. His mouth returns to your clit and he suckles lightly, two fingers dipping into your dripping center. The sensation brings your back into an arch, aching to feel him deeper inside of you.

The swirling motion of his tongue brings you close to the edge, your legs shaking mercilessly. Astarion’s free hand moves between his torso and your legs, holding them steady as he continues his work on your body. Just as you are about to cum, he places a final kiss on your mound before his eyes meet yours. “You’re much naughtier than I thought.” He tsked, crooning his neck at you before moving up your body.

Your lips meet passionately, his tongue slipping effortlessly into your mouth to meet your own. He creates a gap between you as one hand holds him up, quickly removing his trousers and undergarments with his other hand. He pressed his bulge down onto your warmth, hitting your sweet spot as he grinds against you. “Do you taste how lovely you are?” He murmurs, plunging his tongue further into your mouth. You can only let out a delighted moan in response.

Once he breaks the kiss, you press your slippery core harder against his erection. “Please fuck me.” You whimper lustfully, “Please-” Your words are cut short by the sensation of him rubbing the head of his cock against your clit, causing a delicate moan to leave your throat.

“Fuck. You’re soaked, my darling.” He coos. As much as Astarion wanted to continue to play with your body, he needed to be buried in you as quickly as he possibly could. He slides the head of his member from your clit, pushing slowly into your welcoming embrace. He savors every sensation as he enters you. There is a momentary flicker of pain on your face as you adjust to his size, and he falters for a moment.

“Have you done this before?” He asks quietly, pressing his forehead to yours, avoiding your throat to save himself from temptation. He cursed himself inwardly for even asking; he shouldn’t care. This woman brought a side out of him he had never met before- a softer side. The scariest part is he actually, well, liked it.

You wavered for a second before shaking your head, confirming that he was indeed the first man to have ever been in such a position with you. The thought makes him feel feral. Such a sweet flower trusting someone like him to take your virtue; he would never admit it to anyone, but honor and pride swelled in his chest. He nodded in acknowledgment, “We’ll go slow, pet.” He reassures, hips rocking delicately into yours as he fills you with as much of him as he can manage without causing you discomfort. He lays a gentle kiss on your forehead as your pain turns into pleasure, still-shaking legs wrapping to engulf his hips.

“A-Astarion.” His name sounded like a hymn gracing his ears from your mouth, and he wanted to devour you right there and then. It took everything in him not to plow you into the bed. His hand rests on the bedframe as he finds a comfortable rhythm, eyes never leaving your face. He wanted to soak up every reaction to his touch.

“You drive me crazy, pet.” He grunts as his pace quickens, gripping the mahogany wood tighter at the magnetic pleasure buzzing through his body. He uses his free hand to effortlessly move you further up into a slightly seated position as his thumb once again finds your clit to draw purposeful eights over it.

“I-I’m- Oh my gods-” The moan is loud, music to his ears as your walls tighten around his cock.

“That’s right. Be a good girl and cum for me.” It’s a stern demand, all to mask just how close Astarion was himself. His words push you over the edge, your body clinging to his for support as the euphoria rushes over you. Every hair on your body standing on end, you throw your head back and scream Astarion’s name thrillfully.

With you coming undone, he allows himself to reach fruition, his seed filling you to the brim. His hand on the frame loosens, and his head hangs, face full of gratification. He looks down at you, pulling his now-soft member from you, a satisfied sigh leaving your lips as you stretch contently, much like a cat. Your eyes were droopy, a giddy smirk on your face as you fought to keep them open. Astarion chuckles, pressing another kiss to your lips. “You can sleep, my darling. I’ll wake you in a little.”

Astarion swore he felt the tiniest tinge of warmth in his heart at the sight of you so comfortable cuddled into his side as you dozed off. This could be a welcome change. Maybe his undead life just needed his very own light, his own sun. All he knew was that he was done fighting it. One weakness couldn’t hurt.

#ascended!astarion x tav #astarion x tav #ascended!astarion x reader #astarion x reader #soft!ascended!astarion #ascended astarion #astarion #smut #x reader #tav #reader #bg3

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princessoflalaland · 8 months ago

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Wanna Try Something New?.✶⋆.˚꩜˙⋆✶

synopsis: pegging your boyfriend, geto suguru. that's literally it. nothing more, nothing less.

꩜˙⋆✶content: geto suguru x fem!reader, smut, anal, fingering, pegging, dirty talk, degradation laced with some praise, 69, begging, impact play

꩜˙⋆✶word count: 3.5k

꩜˙⋆✶a/n: I saw this one thing in a jjk link post about pegging geto, and I honestly couldn't get him, or the thought of pounding his ass until he screams, out of my sick head. i mayyyy have fangirled over him as i wrote this because its geto suguru, who wouldn’t?

“would you let me peg you?”

it’s a beautiful Saturday spent inside watching bad horror movies with your boyfriend. your head lay comfortably on his lap, cheek pressing against the smooth fabric of his pajama pants. you tilt your head, peering over your shoulder to gauge his reaction.

suguru’s violet, catlike eyes are slightly widened in amused shock. the beginnings of a smile toy with the corner of his lips as the subconscious stroking of his hand on your hip ceases. “what?” he asks with a chuckle.

“would you let me peg you?" you kindly repeat. the glitter in your eyes is the only thing indicating that you’re only partially joking. there’s a hint of real curiosity in your voice that suguru wishes he could ignore.

“i mean…” he tears his eyes away from yours for a moment, thinking. “i dunno, honestly. i’ve never really thought of something like that.”

bunching your lips to one side, you go back to watching tv. “that’s alright. i was just wondering is all.”

your boyfriend sighs contentedly. “alright.”

you aren’t disappointed, not completely at least. you stumbled across a special twitter account recently, and just couldn’t get the thought of reenacting everything you’d seen with suguru. you couldn’t get the bitchy moans the men made out of your head, or the expressions they made.

taking those faces and translating them onto your significant other turns you on more than you care to admit. the content you’ve been ingesting flickers across your mind, the sounds repeating like a catchy song. you nuzzle your cheek against his crotch, feeling the imprint of suguru’s cock against your face.

“bored of the movies already?” suguru whispers, his fingers gliding over your body to your clothed pussy in response to your nuzzles. he rubs his thick digits right on your clit, making you clench your thighs closed.

“just a little.” you reply breathily. you kiss his growing bulge, listening to him groan. “i have an idea of something else we can do…”

“mm, ‘m way ahead of ya,” he smiles. in seconds, you two have shifted down onto the couch, your shorts are pulled to the side, pussy glistening in his face as you free his cock from his grey sweats.

“so pretty.” suguru sighs, like he’s observing a piece of art. his warm breath hits you, sending shivers rippling up your spine. he attaches his lips to your folds, fighting back a moan as your taste explodes over his tongue.

in his eyes, everything about you is a work of art. from the way you roll your eyes at inconveniences, to the way you laugh loudly and unapologetically, to how your hips naturally dip a little. you’re his goddess, and now he’ll worship you like one.

he laps leisurely at your cunt, addicted to you all over again. you lick a long strip from his base to his tip, making his thighs flex.

“mm, shit.” suguru hums, “do that again, baby.” you oblige with a giggle, then down him in one go, eyes rolling back as he fills your throat perfectly. “fffuck, yeah.”

you two exchange moans on the other, causing a never ending cycle of ecstasy to circulate between the the two of you. one of your hands snakes under his thigh to fondle his balls. your boyfriend shivers when your manicured fingers grasp him.

“ah, agh, y/n.” his masculine whimpers are music to your ears. “shound sho pretty, shugu,” you say around a mouthful of him. “sho pretty.” suguru feels his balls clench at the compliment. it’s not often someone calls him pretty, especially, surprisingly, his own girlfriend. he’d tell you to say it again, but he can’t seem to detach his mouth from your delicious, weeping pussy.

you bob your head on his cock, his tip gliding against the back of your throat easily with the absence of your gag reflex. your saliva pools at his base, some dripping down to where fingers play with his scrotum.

an idea forms slowly in your head as your boyfriend traces the inside of you with his tongue. his big, calloused hands hooked under your thighs, preventing you from squirming away from his fervent eating. you stop fondling him to collect the saliva that rests on his pretty, dark pubes onto your fingers. you suckle on his tip, tongue sliding against his slit mercilessly, to catch a glimpse of him.

he’s still completely enraptured with making out with your cunt, it looks like, making you ever wetter with his groans and him sucking sweetly on your clit. carefully, bottoming him out in your throat as a slight distraction, you let your wet digits wander to his asshole, spreading spit around his unbelievably tight hole.

suguru jolts, his surprise causing him to abruptly stop what he’s doing. “w-what are you- ahh! ohh, God…” his head falls back against the couch cushions, his breath stuttering, heat filling his entire body.

the sensation is…foreign. he’s never explored that area of himself, nor did he ever think he would. suguru assumed he’d always be the one fucking or fingering someone. but, as your curious fingers gently prod at his puckered asshole, he cant deny the butterflies going haywire in his gut, or stifle the high-pitched whines and moans floating effortlessly from his moist lips.

“y-y/n, what are you d-doin?” he gasps. the very tip of you index finger has penetrated him, and it feels like his brain is melting from the pleasure. “oh my God, baby. that’s- you’re- aghn, c-can’t think..”

his inability to formulate coherent sentences is a good sign, at least to you. “d’ya like it? like having my fingers playing with your cute ass?” your voice is sickly sweet, makes his brain even mushier than it already is.

“gotta say something, love.” you remove your finger, making him gasp.

“n-no, put it back!” suguru pleads. he hasn’t experienced being fingered for long, but it’s like he can’t go without the sensation now that he’s had a taste. he pants, looking around your body at the Cheshire smile gracing your beautiful face.

“please, y/n, love. p-put it back, please…” he tries not to sound like he’s begging, but that doesn’t work to well when his words are breathy and full of desperation. this new kind of need, the way his eyes widen with the ache to have your soft fingers in his ass, fills you with power, with dominance you didn't know you needed.

"say it properly. tell me exactly what you want." your fingers tease the smooth skin surrounding the place he so desperately wanted them. he whines, hips grinding against the couch.

"please, i- i want your fingers in my ass. i need it, need them, please!" the small whine that follows his words is the cherry on top.

“okay, but only because you asked so nicely. dont forget what you should be doing back there.” you both resume giving each other mind-boggling head, suguru’s pathetic sounds go straight into your pussy, adding pressure to your lower stomach.

his sphincter muscles spasm around your digit, signaling that he’s going to cum. you suck ferociously on him, groaning hunrgily, beckoning his cum to spill onto your tongue.

“mmph, ‘m gonna cum..gonna cum, y/n.” he mumbles into your cunt, which he struggles to lick as his orgasm crashes down onto him. you pop him out of your mouth and use your other hand to help him along, letting his seed spurt onto your face.

“ah, yes,” you whisper darkly watching him jerk slightly under your touch. “so good for me, sugu, so good..”

he’s breathless, dazed when its all over. you sit upright on his chest, looking over your shoulder at him so he can see the result of his orgasm. seeing your cummed-on face makes him hard all over again.

over the next week, suguru cannot get that moment out of his head. he can’t believe how insanely good it felt to have something inside him. he’s conflicted though: is it less masculine to enjoy being fingered? does it make him less of a man to want to beg for his pleasure?

is it bad that he wants, no, needs something bigger in him? that he needs to venture into that part of intimacy or he feels like he’ll lose his damn mind?

one night, while you were out with some friends, suguru logs into twitter and checks your following. he finds the account that’s ignited your curiosities, and finds himself becoming painfully hard at the things he sees.

one guy, a rather well-built blonde, chokes shamelessly on his lady’s strap before he takes it like a champ in his ass, crying his pleasure and begging for her praise. suguru breathes harshly through his nose, his eyes are glued to his screen.

never, in a million years, would he expect to be aroused by something like this. can it really feel that good? the guy in the video makes it seem like it sure as hell does. he palms himself over his boxers, groaning lowly. his eyes flicker to the bedroom door and he listens, making sure he’s still home alone.

suguru shimmies his briefs down just enough to get his hard dick out. he inhales sharply, dragging his fist from the tip to the base. he replays the video for reference for his own fantasies, ingesting every second like it’ll be the last thing he ever sees. then, he tosses his phone aside, already panting.

God, what he would give to be in that guy’s place and have you in the woman’s. he would swallow your strap so well, let it stretch his throat, let himself be the perfect fleshlight for you. he’d listen and memorize the praise you’d give him like a scripture from the Bible.

suguru’s hand speeds up, soft whimpers falling from his lips. his other hand glides over his perfect abs, toward his dark brown nipples. he pinches the bud between his fingers, moaning desperately. his heart thuds heavily in his chest, his conscience trying to make sense of what the fuck he’s feeling.

what man gets turned on at the thought of getting fucked rather than fucking? why does he so badly want to feel his girlfriend’s skin slap against his as she pounds into him ruthlessly?

that image, you behind him, pegging him while stroking him the way he’s doing it now, makes him arch his back off the bed.

oh, God, how good that’d feel, having his ass stretched like that. the fingers playing with his nipple suddenly find themselves near his ass, pressing tentatively to it. he lubes his fingers up with his saliva, then carefully inserts one into himself. the intrusion, the fervent way he jerks off, the erotic fantasy that dances behind his eyelids, all of it makes his breath stop short in his throat, makes his balls tighten and his moans impudently louder.

as he cums on himself, he cries your name, begging you, thanking you for this climax. he lays in the aftermath of his little session, blushing wildly, as he thinks about his next steps. his first should probably be to clean up, then maybe order a strap on and figure out how to break this down to you.

“and you’re sure you wanna go through with this?” you ask for the fifth time. suguru sighs, exasperated at the fact that you’re still questioning him about this.

“yes, babe, I’m sure. it’s so funny how you were the one to offer this and now you won’t stop asking if I wanna do it. So for the last time, my answer is yes, I want this.” you smile at his attitude, finding it cute that he’s being so bratty.

"no harm in makin sure you're okay with this," you reply with a chuckle, securing the pretty pink strap on he purchased to your naked lower half. "can't believe you'd be so eager for this, 'specially since you were hesitant before." you meet his eyes, there’s a glimmer in yours that makes his heart flutter. "thanks for being so open, suguru."

"of course, babe. now..." he leers at you in all your nude glory as you crawl over to where he lays on his back on your shared kingsized bed. he'd be lying if he said he wasn't equal parts terrified and horny.

you lean over and kiss him, sensing his subtle apprehension. "please, don't hesitate to tell me if your uncomfortable, okay? I want us both to enjoy this." he cups the sides of your neck and pulls you into another, deeper kiss. his tongue slow dances with yours, drawing a soft moan from you.

"I will, I promise." he utters when you two part. you're a little flustered at this point; his kisses have a way of short-circuiting your entire system.

you squirt a dollop of lube onto his asshole, hearing him hiss, and looking up at him with a tinge of worry. his breathing staggers, but he assures you he's okay.

"it's fine, it's just..colder than I expected. and I didn't think you'd- ohhh God." you don't let him finish after he's confirmed he's okay, slipping a finger into him. a smile cracks onto his face, he missed the feeling more than he anticipated.

you study your boyfriend, watch him slowly come undone under you gentle touch. "likin' this, sugu?" you coo, sinking your finger deeper into his tight, greedy walls.

"m-mhm." suguru hums. his tongue swipes over his bottom lip before he tucks it between his teeth. "f-feels good."

"that's a good boy. always wanna make my pretty slut feel good." his dick jumps at the degradation. so many kinks he didn't know he had are being unlocked.

you feel yourself getting wet, feeling it leak down your thighs at the state your boyfriend is in. he's never looked better: spread out for you to tease and torment in the sweetest ways possible. the rapid rise and fall of his broad chest, the red tint in his cheeks that spreads down to his neck, the way his tanned dick twitches as you add another finger, all of it mesmerizes you.

"I think you're good to go. whaddya say?" you ponder after another minute of fingering him. he climbs through the fog in his brain to answer you, his eyes still cloudy with arousal. "y-yeah, im ready. please, be gentle."

"I will," you whisper as you line yourself up with his entrance. his heart races crazily in his chest, like its trying to force its way out. the tip of the strap pokes him and he jumps a little.

"it's okay, I'll go slow." your reassurance calms him a little. first, the tip enters, and the stretch of his hole blanks out his mind. his head falls back onto the bed, his breathing labored. inch by inch, you penetrate your boyfriend, and with each inch he feels himself unraveling.

"oh my G-God, you're all the way in." he whimpers once you bottom out. "slow, please slow."

you only nod, a primal dominance having hijacked your mind. your thrusts are slow at first, wanting to abide by his wishes to not scare or hurt him. but with each moan, each whine that comes from suguru's lips, your control slips and you speed up.

"ah, ahh this is so- so fuck.. can’t think.” his grits through teeth. his sounds are so pretty, just like him. you now wholeheartedly believe that all men, regardless of how masculine they portray themselves to be, should be rendered to such a pathetic yet angelic state.

“aww, my slut feels so good he can’t think? does my cock feel that good, honey?” there goes that saccharine tone again, the one that makes his stomach tighten.

“y-yes, ‘s really good.” he mewls. as good as your dick feels in him, it’s somehow not enough. he needs to feel more, wants to get closer to that blissful release. so, he guides his hand down to his leaking cock, ready to pump himself to the rhythm of your thrusts.

you notice this and a sinister smirk curls your lips. you slap his hands away, watching his eyes widen with shock. "no touching. keep those hands on your chest, filthy fuckin whore."

your sudden meanness startles as much as it arouses suguru. he's never heard this kind of tone with you, and he's not afraid to admit that he likes it. "y-yes ma'am, 'm sorryy." he concedes breathlessly.

he’s cupping his large pecs like they're tits, the most perfect fucking tits. "there ya go, keep those hands to yourself. good whore." you sneer.

it's not long before he aches for more stimulation again. pinching his nipples, he gives you the saddest puppy dog eyes, "baby, t-touch me. 'm so leaky, please, n-need to feel your hand..!"

a firm slap to his thigh yanks a yelp out of him. "who the fuck do you think you're talking to? is that anyway to ask for anything? stupid slut.." you sound so mean, his dick twitches. "try again."

he swallows accumulated saliva and fails to speak. he can't seem to get around the wanton moans that endlessly slip past his lips. you slap his thigh again, reminding him of he wants.

"please, m-miss, please touch me. please touch my dick, 'm sorry for b-being so demanding. touch me, im beggin you!" drool slides down the side of his mouth, catching the light in the room.

“think you deserve it, deserve my touch? speak up, whore.” another spank, another howl-like moan.

“I don’t deserve it! I’m a dirty whore, i don deserve it, b-but please!” you like the way he lowers himself for you just for the sake of being pleasured, so you oblige, stroking his wet cock in time with your thrusts.

the slapping of your skin on his, the heat and vibrations from the impact of your slaps makes precum leak endlessly from his tip, helping you as you jerk him off, the way you speak to him like he's nothing fills his stomach with warm fuzziness that he's positive is not normal.

this is all he's dreamed of, he realizes. he's wanted this, wanted to be told what to do, wanted to be dominated. he could care less whether this makes him less of a man or not, it makes him feel like he’s on cloud nine, and that’s suguru cares about. “thank you, thank you..” he utters between moans like he’s praying. “thank youu..”

“takin me so well, sugu. makes me think you’ve taken cock before. well? you whore yourself out for any one else?” you’re panting from the exertion of thrusting into him. a thin film of sweat gleams on your skin, your pussy weeps for his cock. if he’s good, maybe you can use him to cum afterwards. “n-no, ‘m only a slut for you. need only your c-cock.” being on the delivery end of that word is something else, something he’ll probably (most definitely) never get tired of.

“aghn, wait, wait ‘m gonna cum! miss, p-please!” he wants this to last forever. as much as he wants to cum, to spray it all over himself like the nasty little cockwhore he is, he doesn’t want this feeling to end.

“aw yeah? My cockslut’s gonna cum? hmm?” your sugary tone builds the pressure in his core. “I think I’ll let you. mhm, cum all over yourself f’me.”

you jerk him faster, pound into him harder. the tip jabs at his prostrate with unforgiving force, making his moans border screams. “miss, miss i’m gonna cuuumm!” tears slip down his face into his ears, momentarily muffling the world.

“then cum, bitch. cum for your mistress.” that word feels so right in regards to you. you snap your hips with a level of expertise that he has when fucks you senseless. “cum for me, cum for me, cum for me.”

your carnal chats are all he can hear. “I’m cumming, I’m cumming, ahh, ahhn!” ropes of his milky white cum shoot out of his tip, painting his chiseled chest. you stroke every last drop out of him, smiling all the while as suguru gasps and convulses from the overstimulation.

“no more, no more… ‘s too much, please, miss..” and more incoherent babbles along those lines tumble from his mouth. you lean down and collect some of his seed onto your tongue, then harshly gripping his chin, your force your tongue into his mouth. he hums contently at tasting himself, eyes rolling back into his skull. when you two part, a thin trail of spit connects your mouths.

you both come back down to earth, the lustful glaze that was once harbored in your eyes slowly retreating. you pull out and suguru feels empty.

“that..that was amazing.” your peggable boyfriend sighs, running a hand through his dark locks. “gotta do this again, I’m being so serious.”

you chuckle, removing your strap on and mounting him. he hisses, still sensitive from his recent orgasm. “oh we will, trust me. but there’s another matter that needs to be taken care of..” you slide your sopping pussy along his hardening dick.

“I haven’t cum yet.” your smile is as sadistic as it’s ever been, and suguru thinks he’s falling in love again.

“let’s take care of that then.”

#paradiseofpleasure𓏲𝄢#i love Geto idgaf #jjk smut #jjk x black reader #jjk x reader #jjk geto #jjk suguru #suguru geto #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto x reader #getou suguru x reader #jujutsu geto #jujutsu kaisen suguru #geto smut #geto suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #I need to peg someone at least once in this lifetime #if u’re willing hit my line😘

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angelfishe · 15 days ago

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>> 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓

>> prince scaramouche x reader ( manhwa AU )

You were suddenly reincarnated or transmigrated to one of your novels as one of the villainess of the story, using your knowledge of the novel and world you will find a way to escape your original fate and live

( scaramouche pov )

Art by @XIAOJIAJU Twitter

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Side story my other < fic >read it first if you want more understanding

<< seems you guys enjoy the fic about prince scaramouche so I decided to create a side story from his point of view, I will make a part 2 if you guys want >>

Kunikuzushi's life has never been easy in the first place, he is the prince as well as the first born of the shogunate which means he's gonna be the future heir soon of the throne.

He has tutors and lessons 24/7 non stop, he wishes to have fun on the outside world but he's unable, this castle is his prison and he wishes to be more free than rather be locked up in his room. His mother doesn't even acknowledge him even tho she cares for him she doesn't know how to express it as well of her being busy with duties.

And as expected being royalty he has to choose a bride soon, the line of exquisite as well beautiful noble ladies are lining up waiting for him to choose but not one caught his attention all of them are snobbish as well to clingy.

His mother has enough and set up another meeting with another noble lady and then he has to choose one.

Originally he was opposed to this idea, but he's unable to go against his mother's wishes.

When he finally met you, he originally thought that you were weird, you were open minded as well not very obedient unlike his other suitors a personality unfit of a noble.

Due to this personality, you were not very liked by the other nobles as well others saying he shouldn't marry this barbaric woman with no respect but he pays no attention.

Sometimes you and him would sneak out of tenshukaku, to hang out and go to inazuma city, you seem to be very popular since the locals very much knew you and he of course has to wear a disguise to avoid getting caught

When the day is over you and him would go to a cliff and admire the sunset, but little did you know he was admiring you, your hair, your face, your eyes everything about you is radiant as if the gods hand crafted you by themselves he immediately knew who he wants to spend the rest of his life as well the one who will rule the nation right next to him.

Recently he noticed that every time you visit him, you will be covered in bruises and he is always the one that bandages you up and sometimes kisses the injury.

One time he once heard that you were confronted his mother and bolted towards the throne room afraid that you would be punished and was about to open the door he heard you talking to his mother saying how he always wanted to have a normal relationship with him a mother and son relationship. He stops and listens to you talking about how he's the sweetest person and begs his mother to spend time with him I guess it reaches his mother because she started to spend time with him.

Everything started to glow when you were around, everything in his life that was wrong was fixed by you, you are his sun that shines upon the world of his.

He made a promise towards you of becoming the best husband and that nothing will do you apart from him the original vows were till death do us part but for him he will find you and love you in every universe and will find you at any cost.

Recently there's been a rebellion between the watatsumi island and he's been busy training as well helping strategizing with his mother and generals. So which means he Less you but it's fine because after this war ends he can marry and see you everyday as his queen and wife. He could already picture it until it was suddenly shattered

Until "that" day happened his mother was supposed to deliver a speech with him and you present in the back suddenly a group of watatsumi soldiers appeared and tried to ambush them, one of the soldiers threw a spear towards you and everything was slowing down in his vision... He watched as the spear pierced towards your beautiful kimono and blood poured from the wound and you fell down on the floor.

He stood there stunt and was about to approach your body until multiple guards tried to drag him from you, all sanity burst thru the window he struggled and fought against the guards that were trying to bring him to safety tears shout out from his eyes, your corpse getting further from his vision and release an agonizing scream calling your name until he was drag back to the palace.

When he was inside the castle walls, he released a large wave of electricity killing the guards that were holding him from you. He felt empty, for the next 2 months he locked himself inside your room and held your kimono non stop until his mother intervened and wanted him to snap out of it.

He felt empty, you were his light and now you were there was not even a body he wasn't unable to say goodbye one last time, was it painful when the spear pierced you, was it quick so you don't experience the pain and this question circled around his head he swore he would revenge you and punish whoever opposed of him.

First he will punish your clan for laying their filthy hands on you, they were soon punished by hanging. And when one of the elders of your clan begged him to spare them "I'm pretty much sure young master you have a heart" he replied with "no, it was taken from the moment when she died" and the execution was soon continued.

No one dares to oppose him not even his mother could stop the hatred from his heart, he trained non-stop and at night he would go to your room and hold your kimono and talk towards it as if it was you.

He punished anyone who opposed him even if it was a small mistake no one can escape his raft, he ruled with an iron fist.

Until one day a diplomat from Snezhnaya one of the harbingers of the tsaritsa appears to discuss some matters he was known as the "doctor or Ill dottore" he was rumored to be a necromancer having the ability to raise the dead this catch his eyes and approach the doctor.

He ask whenever or not that can bring back the dead and the doctor replied with yes but it comes with price he need to have the body of the disease person in order to bring back the dead unfortunately your body was taken by the watatsumi.

Soon the doctor started to teach him the arts of necromancy as well as dark magic but it comes with a price but don't worry you are worth more than anything even if he falls in the eyes of darkness.

Don't worry he will have you back soon, you and him will get married and live happily ever after he promised

#genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin headcanons #genshin x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #genshin scara #genshin wanderer #kunikuzushi #genshin imagines

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oreosmama · 1 year ago

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Voicemails After the Breakup (Haikyuu!! Headcanons)

*GIFs not mine*

A/N: I pity the fools who ignore this a/n bc WARNING, these are hcs without those stupid bullet points bc I have suddenly emotionally decided that they fucking suck. Anyways, I hope y'all enjoy the light angst, for all those survivors who are still vibing in this fandom. Enjoy!

Word count: 1968

Tooru Oikawa:

“I’m totally and completely over you.”

That’s how the message starts.

Part of you wonders if you missed something, or accidentally skipped ahead. It’s so immediate, like Oikawa could barely wait for the beep before tearing into you. Like he needed to spit poison the second he had the chance.

And it’s one of those biting remarks that he wants to let fester—for a while, evidently; he doesn’t say anything else for another five minutes.

All that follows is a loud thud, like he’s thrown the phone away from him. And then footsteps, like he’s pacing, pacing, pacing back and forth, trying to think of more scathing words by burning holes into his carpet.

You hit a point where you think you should delete the message, maybe try and not care about whatever else he may or may not say after waiting for so long. You nibble on your nails and tug at the snarls in your hair. You pick four pieces of lint off your sweatshirt and seventeen more off the blanket draped over your lap, and you know how many there are because you line them up and count them afterwards as you wait, anxious, listening to your ex-boyfriend’s panting.

But a small rustle stirs at that five-minute mark, right against your ear. And a sniffle.

“Fine.” Oikawa’s voice cracks. “You win.”

You suck in a breath.

“What do you wanna hear? That I miss you?” He sniffles again, then scoffs bitterly. “That I miss you so fucking much I can’t sleep at night? That my bed is so fucking cold now I can’t even stomach sleeping in it? That every girl I see I automatically compare to you because I have to—I just fucking have to, all because she’s not you. And it makes me sick.”

His chuckle is sour and crackles harshly into your eardrum. “Am I stroking your ego enough, sweetheart? Because you win. You fucking win.

“I want you back.”

He sighs, and it sounds like he’s rubbing his forehead.

“I need you back.”

More beats pass in the silence. More sniffles, too, but stretched out, like he’s trying to steady his breathing.

You don’t think it’s helping him any. As you wipe the cuffs of your sweatshirt underneath your eyes, his voice returns, thoroughly raw and wounded. It squeaks out of him, barely above a whisper. His voice is so loud and tender, like he’s cradling the phone against his cheek.

Your hand against his warm cheek, curled over that pink skin, fingertips inches away from brushing through those soft strands, wiping tears. That’s what you wish it was.

“I didn’t know…”

A shaky breath. You hold yours in return.

“I didn’t know anything could hurt this bad.”

He swallows thickly.

“Those last few moments after you left—I thought that would be the worst of it. When you just walked out. And I keep seeing you do it, over and over and over, in my head like I can’t help but torture myself with it.

“I never knew it would get so much fucking worse.”

He whimpers a little, and your heart constricts unbearably. You tear at the damn thing buried underneath your sweatshirt, massaging the skin like it can soothe that phantom ache.

Oikawa must hate you. Maybe he hates you like you hate him: not because of the breakup, but because you can go for weeks without seeing him, holding him, kissing him, and everything still hurts like that last time.

“Thing is, I could’ve sworn you weren’t always in my life. It’s been two years. Only two years. And yet I can’t remember a damn thing before us. It feels like it was always us. Some fog, and then you, and then everything afterwards. Everything that was us.”

“And I hate that we had it so good, YN. I really do. Because missing you has been the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

The frustration in his voice is familiar, a sickening sense of deja vu around it, and you latch a hand over your mouth at how vividly the image comes to you: Oikawa tearing his fingers through his hair, teeth gritted, cheeks flushed and shiny. Like when he lost a game, but different somehow.

Like this was something he didn’t even know he could lose.

He’s crumbling in a way he doesn’t know how to stop. That ugly part about having something wonderful and new—the moment it’s gone, what the hell are you supposed to do then?

“I just—Goddamnit, I can’t stand how badly it hurts anymore. I can’t,” he cries, desperate and aching, like his hand is fisting at his heart. You can hear the breath hitching in his throat, the hiccuping breaths after his sobs. You can hear every tear, feel it against your own cheeks, a soreness building at the front of your skull.

Too many tears. Your body is screaming at you, too many fucking tears.

But it’s him and he was yours and you were his.

Were.

You were his.

You had no idea how much that single thought could make your entire chest throb.

Oikawa inhales, and it makes your heart race against the thick wall caging it in, squeezing against it.

“I need to see you.”

He says the thought like it’s just slapped him across the face.

“I need to go see you, I—I have to.”

He mumbles to himself unsteadily, like he’s rocking back and forth. Debating, really, what he’s supposed to do, if he should do it at all, if it’s right after everything.

You should probably think he’s wrong.

You probably shouldn’t be curled over your phone, eyes wide, mouth open, not making a fucking peep. Waiting to hear what he’s going to do.

Maybe—just maybe—you shouldn’t be telling yourself that as the voicemail counts down to its final seconds, if he decides he’s not going to go to you, that you’ll definitely be going to him.

“I can’t just sit here. I can’t stay in here, without you. This isn’t right, I—”

Your breath hitches when you hear the frantic jingle of keys.

Then the sound of a door slamming.

His footsteps racing down his apartment’s stairwell.

A car engine revving.

“I need to see you.”

And the voicemail ends.

_________________________

Satori Tendou:

The message begins with a scoff of utter disbelief.

“Is that what we’re doing now?”

He pauses, almost like he thinks you’re going to respond.

“Heard from someone that I suddenly have syphilis. Yesterday, I had herpes though, so I guess I’m gonna have a tough week.”

A rustle like he’d shaking his head, like he can’t fucking believe it.

“And sure, okay, I figured that’s fine. You can say all that shit, and it won’t really stick because everyone knows it was us and that it’s you and you’re hurt.”

He sighs.

“But I saw it, sweetheart. I saw it.” The phone whines like he’s adjusting it against his face, and his voice is suddenly lower, darker.

“You don’t get to have it both ways, you know. You can’t spread all that shit—all those rumors about how shitty everything was and how we didn’t have anything going for us—and then turn around two days later wearing my sweatshirt. And you don’t get to wear that necklace I gave you for our anniversary and then run away from me the second you see me. That’s just not fair—you’re not playing fair anymore.”

Something swishes around like loose clothing, and a large huff greets your ear from what must be Tendou collapsing into a seat. When his little sounds become quieter, that relentless humming and the excitable clicks of his tongue against his teeth, you figure he must have put the phone on speaker and balanced it on his knee like he always did. Mid-conversation with Ushiwaka, he always used to spin his phone with those long fingers, or bounce the damn thing up and down against his frantic leg.

And the voicemail came through late last night, one of those dead hours where the only ones awake were Tendou, his scrambling thoughts, and the moths flitting back and forth outside his glowing window. He was always awake, always thinking, always doing something.

When you’d first broken up, after one long, wrenching fight where you’d both lost your voices and the frustration welled so high you just couldn’t breathe anymore, you’d been thankful for the idea of sleeping soundly for the first time in months.

You’d been wrong. You weren’t even sleeping anymore; just long, slow blinks where your phone screen would magically turn from 3:45 a.m. to 7:25 a.m., and in five minutes you’d have to get up and slug your way through another day.

Tendou had been the same. Those naturally wide eyes sagged under the pressure, and the curve of his spine had deepened like he’d been hauling the lack of sleep everywhere he went.

He must be sitting at his window now, at this moment in his message, pale skin aglow with wispy tendrils of moon. And he’s calling you. And he saw everything you’d done.

“Not fair. Not fair at all,” he whines, teasing. Always, always teasing, and if you hadn’t heard the slight cripple in his voice on the last word, you’d have gone on thinking he viewed it as one big joke.

You’re sure he heard the same thing you had—that he couldn’t keep acting like it was all fun and games. His usual, cat-like smile surely fell into a pert little frown, pale lips twisting like he’d sucked on a lemon.

No fun, no fun, no fun, he must have been thinking.

“Ya see, I thought we had a little deal,” Tendou drawls. “You’d talk smack and start dressing all pretty just to spite me, and then–and then I’d go ahead and delete all your pictures and put your name as ‘Bitch’ in my phone. And in, like, two weeks, we’d just be two ships, whoosh, whoosh, passing each other on the high seas of life, ya know?”

He breathes a ghost of a laugh.

“But, sweetheart, you look like shit.” He chuckles for real this time, and it’s disgustingly hollow. “I’m not even kidding. Like someone ran you over three times every morning—it’s horrible, really.”

You curl into yourself even further, and you’re smiling, grinning, lips peeling with how much you’ve cried and how little water you’ve drank after. You hate him; God, you hate how he can make you laugh and cry at the same time.

“But that’s okay, I’ll give you a pass just this once. I haven’t deleted your pictures yet, so I botched my end of the deal, too.” Tendou tsks his tongue.

“I won’t go easy on you, though. Here–here, how’s about this: for every day you stop wearing my clothes—because they look horrible on you, sweetheart; really, you’re painful to watch—I’ll delete one of your pictures, eh? That means, in about–uhhdivideby365daysinayearignoringleapyearbullshit–ah, seven years, I’ll have held up my end. S’that good with you?”

You lean your head back, letting the tears flood your hair as he chuckles to himself.

“Fuck it,” he says after a pause. Hopeless. Breathless. “Fuck it.” He must be gnawing on that pale lower lip, biting and nibbling until it bleeds. Because he lets something go to sigh again, and he must have smacked his head against the wall, and then you think he sniffled.

“I still want you. I’ve always wanted you. And I’m tired of missing you and wanting you. Doing both hurts too much.”

Tendou soughs.

“So I’m still your Chicken Tendy, baby. Always. And I’ll be here when you're ready, syphilis and all.”

#haikyuu x reader #oikawa x reader #tendou x reader #tendou satori x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyu x reader #satori x reader #oikawa tooru #tendou satori #satori tendou #tooru oikawa #haikyuu x reader angst #haikyuu headcanons

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silversainz · 2 years ago

Note

Can you please write an innocent!reader where she is younger than Charles and he is her first boyfriend and she wants him to take her virginity

Something unholy ★ CL16

Pairing (s) Charles leclerc x fem!reader

Warnings purity ring, smut, first time, crying, begging, fingering, p n v, light marking, unprotected sex (don’t do that) as stated above reader is a virgin, I absolutely suck at writing first times so i tried my best with this.

You were young, beautiful, pure and innocent something that came with what lingered on you ring finger, a silver shining purity ring something your mom and dad gave to you as a sign to stay innocent and pure, no boys, no sex, no dirty thoughts and god forbid no going against gods rules he and they set for you.

You followed and listened to their demands, thinking whatever they said was true and stay innocent and pure. Not once did a dirty thought come into mind, or even leave your mouth. No, you remained pure, and wore your ring proudly.

But that ring on your finger soon turned from innocent, to something evil, unholy and dangerous. Because as soon as you met him, everything came crashing down on you, not once did that single ring come into mind whenever you were with him.

He made you feel things that your parents would be ashamed of if they knew what you were thinking about and thinking about doing. But even so, you didn’t care what they would think or how they would feel, because whenever that burning ache would form in-between your legs as you sat beside him or even feel him place his cold, ringed hand on your leg, the image of your parents would leave your head, And soon be replaced with neediness and hunger for him.

And so, the dirty thoughts that your parents forbid that you have soon played out in your head. God you wanted him and needed him, and the sight of him coming out of the shower, towel hanging from his waist, hair dripping water that fell down his body, didn’t exactly help your situation.

“Love you okay?” Charles asked, accent deeper than ever sending a light warm rush to your face.

You bite onto your lip face returning to the book you were reading, “yeah fine” no you weren’t in fact fine, you craved something from him that was dangerous, and soon that burning sensation returned in-between your legs causing you to clench them together tightly.

“Okay..” he said, not fully believing you. But shrugged it off walking into his closet to throw on a pair of sweatpants and white tee.

He got underneath the covers, scooting over to your side wanting to see what you were reading. “What kinda book you reading” he asked, head laying on your shoulder looking down at the page and slightly reading the words out loud.

You nervously gulped, the closeness making you feel something, and god did you feel pathetic, you had been dating for almost six months and never once did you mind the closeness but now, with what you felt, you felt what you going to die from the warmest that lingered between you.

“Just an book, about a girl who lives in a small town and oh-” you stopped talking as you felt him place his hand on your leg underneath the sheets, the action was innocent but god was it not innocent enough to keep you talking.

“You sure you okay” his hand slid up and down your leg, “seem a bit distracted” he stated, hand coming to an halt on your upper thigh underneath your purely white night-gown you wore to bed.

You nodded lip in-between your teeth. He took his hand off your knee, which you wished he hadn’t. “Don’t seem fine to me” he asked slowly lowering your book from your hands, hand lifting up to lightly grab your jaw turning your head down to look at him.

“Am fine” he nodded placing his lips on yours, as embarrassing as it as was already a light moan fell from your mouth, hand dropping your book fully to grab onto his brown locks as he deepened the kiss.

It seemed as though he came to the realization what was happening in the heat of the moment and stopped kissing you, “sure you’re okay” he asked breathless from the kiss, his hand rested itself on your cheek, thumb drawing soft circles on your cheek.

You shook your head no feeling close to crying as the burning sensation soon started hurting you. he hummed understanding you clearly, he threw your book to the floor and slowly laid you down body hovering over you.

“I want you please, everything hurts” tears welled up in the corner of your eyes. Your hand gripped onto the back of his head bringing him down for another kiss. The softness and warmth of the kiss soon turned messy and rough as he pushed his tongue into your mouth deepening the kiss.

His hand slipped under your dress hiking the dress up your thighs, the roughness of his hands on your thighs had you whining into the kiss. Causing you to break the kiss.

“Daring are you sure, you’re ready?’’ He reassured you. Forehead resting against yours as he looked into your now red, puffy eyes. You nodded rapidly, head too consumed in want and desperation to speak, but he didn’t like that.

“Words loves, i need words please” he gently asked.

“I’m ready, please i need you” you didn’t even know half the words that fell from your lips, only could focus on the ring that gripped onto your finger shining brightly than ever like a reminder of what you were supposed to believe and do, but at the moment you didn’t care for the meaning of that stupid ring as you slid the ring off throwing it somewhere in the room.

He leaned onto his knees staring down at you, hadn’t even done anything and your hair already looked a mess, cheeks stained with tears.

Your breath hitched feeling His fingertips grab onto the hem of your dress pulling it up to rest against your torso. “So beautiful” he muttered out, and that alone had you whimpering which sent a wave of embarrassment to your body, turning your head to the side so your couldn’t face him.

He chuckled lightly, fingertips fumbling with the waistband of your panties. “It’s normal love, look at me” you kept your head to the side stomach heaving up an down from the smallest touch from him. “I said look at me” he voice was almost like a demand, causing your head to look directly at him again.

he smirked to himself seeing you already following orders, “good girl” you didn’t know why, but that sentence sent a rushness of red to your cheeks.

“I’m gonna start slow, say red if it’s too much” you nodded. He slowly pulled your panties down your legs throwing them somewhere in the room. “Good” he asked, stopping completely.

“Am Good” he hummed hands spreading your legs open, your breath picked up seeing him lay flat down on the bed pulling you even closer to him. He spit onto your pussy, fingers spreading open your lips. He looked at you, pushing in one finger making a whine left your mouth fingers digging into the bedsheet beneath you.

“You okay love” his thumb rubbed light circles on your bub ‘’ answer me darling” you couldn’t speak mouth hung open silent moans escaping your lips.

“It-it hurts fuck” his hand started moving slowly lips placing kisses to your inner thighs smoothing out the hot and sweaty skin.

A few seconds passed of silence, him giving you the time to get used to the feeling, “you okay love”

“Yes-yes faster” he returned the fast pace of his fingers pushing into your wet hole, the sounds echoed off the walls sending a wave of embarrassment and amusement up your body.

Your head threw back against the pillows as your stomach got tighter and tighter a feeling you’ve never felt before, “fuck, Charles, god i-” your body squirmed around moans being the only thing filling up the once quiet room. “I feel like am gonna pee, fuck”

“That’s normal love, go ahead let go” eyes rolling back, you could practically see stars as you let your body go. “Such a sweet girl” he kissed up your body, pants becoming tighter as he saw your state, head thrown back, hands grabbing at your breast, chest heaving up and down. It was indeed a beautiful sight to see his once innocent girl in

“Fuck Charles” the once burning sensation you felt went away as you came down from your high, “felt so good’’ he chuckled, balancing himself on his hands as he hovered above you.

“My sweet girl” he leaned towards your neck, teeth nipping at the soft exposed skin, “sweet, sweet baby” you gasped feeling his teeth bite into your skin moving his way down to the valley of your chest.

Your hair gripped onto the back of his head, legs wrapping his waist pulling him down, Grunting feeling his hard cock passed against your wet core you couldn’t stop your hips from rutting against him.

“Want you, fuck, please” you begged hands grabbing a fistful of his white tee. “Want more, please” he lifted his head from your chest, settling himself on his knees as he pulled his shirt over his head throwing it somewhere in the room.

“You sure?’’ You were too far gone now to even think about stopping.

“Sure-sure want more’’ he hummed pulling down his pants just enough for his cock to spruced free , you clenched around nothing, mouth watering, your breath picking up, nervousness filling your body but the want and desperation blocked those worries and nerves away.

He settled himself in-between your legs his tip rubbing through your wet folds, “gonna start slow” you nodded the simplest touch from him made your tongue get tied up. “Tell me when to stop if it becomes too much, okay” his palmed laid against your cheek rubbing soft circles with his thumb.

“O-okay” your hands scratched down his back as you felt him push the tip in slowly, it hurt like a bitch yes, but that pain turned into something more, something that should hurt you, felt so good and right.

‘Fuck” he grunted as he pushed all the way, “so fucking tight” you moaned nails digging deeper into his back

“It-it hurts fuck” he stopped moving, hand stroking your cheek softly. “Slow, please’’ he nodded hips moving slower than before taking his time with you.

As time went on the gentleness and slowness soon became fast and rough as charles pinned your hands above your head, loud panting, moans and grunts left your mouths in a pure unholy bites.

“Fuck Charles, feels so good” purity ring that silver thing was long gone from your mind as Charles’ cock hit all the right places that had you muttering out sentences that your parents would probably shove a bar of soap into your mouth to erase from your mouth.

“I’m gonna cum, fuck’’ your hand clenched up in his hold, toes curling up as your stomach became tighter.

“Fuck go ahead, cum sweetheart” Charles grunted as he came undone, hands letting go of your hands . “You okay” he asked hand moving your sweaty hair away from your face.

“Feel great” you giggled, not knowing what made you, but it just came out.

Charles pulled out of you a whine falling from your mouth, “lets get you cleaned up’’

You giggled as he helped you clean up, soft kisses were placed to your head, inner thighs, your neck, everywhere he could find to kiss you at. He threw the towel off to the side as he was done cleaning you up.

“Feel okay” he asked as he got under the covers pulling you closer to him, his hand on your stomach while his head nuzzled in your neck.

“Pretty sore, but i feel good’’ your finger traced random patterns on his hands.

“Your rings gone” you froze, the ring suddenly coming into mind “don’t worry they probably won’t even know it’s gone,” he lightly chuckled.

Your turned your head to look at him, mouth slightly open in shock “did, You, um, know what my ring, meant” you spoke slowly, it wasn’t a big thing, but for you it was.

‘’Of course, I’ll help you find it in the morning,’’ he kissed your head, lifting the covers up to your body ‘’now get some sleep”

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc oneshots #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 smut #f1 imagine #formula one x you #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula one smut

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gh0stsp1d3r · 4 months ago

Note

I BEG YOU TO PLEASEEEEE DO SOME SFW AND NSFW ALPHABET HEAD-CANONS FOR LOGAN (Wolverine) THAT MAN HAS ME ON FERAL MODE 👹👹👹

Logan Howlett SFW alphabet

A/n: hehe, genie does as you wish, anon. Had to hop onto my computer for this one.

warnings: sfw hcs. Might do the nsfw in a seperate thing. Not proofread.

MASTERLIST | Kofi

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. Contrary to some peoples beliefs, when Logan’s in a relationship, he loves hard. he’s surprisingly gentle.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. It takes him a while to say that he loves you. He’s not used to this, any of it. He says he cares about you, and that he wants nothing more for than you to be safe, but he’s always stopping himself before he lets the words spill out. He shows his affection by his actions, mostly.

B= Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start)

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. Logan’s not usually the “friend” type. It takes him a while to get used to it all. But when he does… he’s a nice guy.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. It surprises you, and he’s just confused as to why you would even want to be friends either him. It starts rather slowly, and the two of you just click really quick.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. He is loyal, protective, and he’s that kind of guy to only have a soft spot for you.

C= Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. He’s been deprived of physical touch most of his life. He used to hate the idea of even touching you at first, mostly in fear he would hurt you on accident with his claws.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. He’s super hesitant to even get in bed with you. But it happens, extremely slowly.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. And once he’s finally comfortable enough to actually cuddle with you, he fucking loves it. He loves the physical attention that he’s never felt before.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. An arm around your waist, or shoulder, your skin against his, and he’s usually the big spoon.

D= Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. Before you, he never really thought of it. He never thought he was ever cut out for it.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. After? He wants nothing more than to settle down with you and maybe have kids. If you want. But he craves that life.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. Okay cooker, not so great cleaner.

E= Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. Probably does it to “protect” you in some way. He doesn’t want to see you be hurt because of him again. You’re his soulmate, the reason he lives, he doesn’t want to, but he feels like he needs to.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. It would be after an argument, you practically storming in your room, locking yourself in the bathroom. He sighed, leaning against the door, listening to you choke out a sob.

He lost his temper on you, the one person he thought he needed to protect.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. He does it silently, making that decision then and there. He leaves a longggg note, packing everything he had.

F= Fiance (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. He’s lowkey scared of commitment, hence why it took a little for him to trust and get into a relationship with you. But the idea of marriage, and just settling down makes his heart pick up a beat.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. He wouldn’t want to rush into anything, and takes a lil to propose until he’s sure that you want to.

G= Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. Well, we know Logan. He’s a pretty rough, gruff, dude.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. He didn’t even know he could be gentle until he met you.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. He has his moments when he accidentally uses too much of his strength with you, like when youre hugging and his arm wraps tighter around you a little too tight. But overall, he’s a big softy at heart for the right person.

H= Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it and what is it like?)

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. He loves hugs with you. adores them. whether you’re taller or shorter than him, he LOVES THEM. It gives him sm comfort when he can hold you and you can hold him :3

I= I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. it takes him a longggg time. the words feel foreign on his lips, he’s never really said that to anyone except you.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. And the way you beam up at him when he does say it has him smiling back.

J= Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they get jealous?)

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. He gets extremely jealous at times. he’ll be silent about it for a while, a little bit more angrier than usual, quieter.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. He will wrap an arm protectively around, glaring at the man who’s attempting to flirt with you.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. There’s also other times where he has to tell the guy to actually back off, and he has no problem doing so.

K= Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪.

L= Little ones (How are they around children?)

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. Also im talking strictly movie Logan for this once becuz comic Logan is obviously not a good dad LMFAOO.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. I said this before, I’ll say it again. GIRL DAD.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. omfg like have you see this man with like Laura and rogue? adorable.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. he pretends to have that rough, tough guy persona on but you know deep down he cares for those girls and of sees them as his own.

M= Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. Lazy mornings with his arm firmly draped around your body, holding you tight in his arms. they usually end with you both kissing before getting up for the day, you cooking whatever while he strolls in behind you <3

N= Night (How are nights spent with them?)

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. he always has to have a hand on you, somewhere, he doesn’t care. he usually is spooning you, and the both of you peacefully sleep tg.

O= Open (When will they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or do they reveal little things slowly?)

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. He takes a while to be vulnerable to you. It’s hard for him. He slowly reveals things to you, you basically learn something new about him every day.

P= Patience (How easily are they angered?)

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. We all know Logan and his short temper 😭

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. He tends to lose his patience on you when he’s had a long, hard day and wants to do nothing more than just lounge on the couch. He always feels terrible and ends up apologizing a million times.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. But soon he learns how to control it with you, and knows not to bring his anger home to you.

Q= Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every detail or forget the minor things?)

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. He remembers a lot of stuff about you, tends to forget some things becuz of his old man brain but just remind him and he’ll be like “oh yeah. Got it.”

R= Remember (What is their favorite moment of your relationship?)

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. His favorite memory he has of your relationship was probably the first date. He remembers everything about it.

S= Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? how would they like to be protected?)

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. Extremely protective of you.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. He protects you in fights, and literally everything else. At first, he doesn’t like to be protected because he thinks he can take care of himself perfectly fine. but just remind him that it’s okay every once in a while to let his guard down.

T= Try (How much effort do they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. He puts in a shit ton of effort in everything he does when it comes to you. Some of the things he does remember is anniversaries. He’s terrified of losing you.

U= Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. smoking his cigars and drinking is a big one. he’s lowkey addicted.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. His anger issues.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. He also tends to not care about his health overall, it worries you constantly and he’s always saying it doesn’t matter because of his healing factor. You both get into a lot of arguments over that.

V= Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. He could care less. He’s an X-men, he ain’t got time for that shit.

W= Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. 100%, yes. He’s always felt like he was missing something without you. He was independent, alone. Now he can’t live without you.

X= Xtra )A random headcanon for them

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ tbh no clue idk.

Y= Yuck (What are some things they wouldn't like, either in general or in a partner?)

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. he doesn’t really pay that much attention to anything anyone else does like that. he could care less. He will give people a wild side eye tho.

Z= Zzz (What are some sleeping habits of theirs?

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. Snores like fucking crazy. You’re shocked it doesn’t shake the damn house half the time.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. he’s a heavy ass sleeper and can probably sleep through a whole bomb going off.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. He literally cannot sleep without you anymore. 😭

#divider by fairytopea #wolvie #wolverine x you #logan howlett xmen #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine fluff #wolverine #x men #x men movies #marvel #marvel x reader #wolverine x y/n

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joemama-2 · 2 months ago

Text

ten reasons i love you

pairing: gojo x fem reader tags/warnings: angst, angst, angst, light fluff, smut, death, divider by @cafekitsune

word count: 2459

Reason #1: you’re patient

Sometimes, I get a little jealous. I wish I were like you, and I try to be, but no one could ever be like you. You handled every situation, every wrongdoing, every argument, every fight, with grace. A simple and natural elegance.

Every time, it proved why I fell in love with you.

But, I love when you’re patient with me. I know I can be hard to handle sometimes, annoying, or an “ass”, whichever name you decided to grace me with that day. You stayed with me, even when sometimes I wished you hadn’t. Because I knew you deserved, deserve, better.

“Can’t you just tell me all the reasons now?”

“Nope, that would ruin the surprise. You get your next reason next week.”

A gentle kiss to the forehead, followed by one to your cheeks, nose, and then lips.

Reason #2: the way you laugh

I know it’s getting hard to do that now, but when you finally do, it’s the most pleasant sound my ears have ever heard, that my body has ever felt when you giggle against my neck. It sounds like a sweet melody, one that makes you warm. One that makes you smile, without noticing.

I don’t think anyone could ever have as beautiful as laugh as you do. Even then, it wouldn’t compete.

The way you laugh sounds so natural like you don’t care who hears. I miss your laughs so much. Whenever I hear it, in that moment, everything is okay. Everything is perfect. Because you’re perfect.

It’s the sound of joy that fills up a room and my heart. I wish I could listen to it forever.

“I didn’t take you for a poet.”

Satoru laughs, dimple more prominent. “I can be cute when I want to.”

You smile, followed by your oh-so-precious laugh. He practically melts on the spot. He can hear the rattling in your chest he’s unfortunately become familiar with. But his face doesn’t fall, instead, he holds you closer and presses a kiss to your hairline.

It feels like just yesterday when you both got the news, when your lives changed. It’s the second week, but he just prays for time to slow down. For he’s not ready for the future.

Reason #3: your determination

It’s so beautiful to see. The way you try and try, even after failure. The way you never give up. Maybe it’s because you’re a bit stubborn, but you never back down. It’s a quiet strength about you that I hope you can make loud one day.

You’re fierce, but quiet. Determinated, but timid. I’ve never seen those combinations before, but now that I have, I love it.

“I wish I was still strong enough.”

His heart breaks at the sight before him, along with your resigned tone of voice. Pushing some strands of hair out of your eyes. “Listen,” he murmurs, head titling. “You are strong, then and now. You will always be strong. Do you want to know why?”

“Why?”

“Because I know you. And I know you’re not ready to give up, just like I’m not giving up on you. We’ll both fight this. In the end, I’ll buy you that ice cream you really like.”

Tears fill your eyes, a sad smile playing on your lips. “Okay, I can’t wait.”

Reason #4: your creativity

I know you’re trying to find ways to take your mind off the now, I am too. I didn’t think someone was capable of picking up on hobbies so fast, but the gloves you knitted me say otherwise. Oh, and the cute little crotchet animals that now take residency on my side of the bed. But I’ll let that slide, just for you. (The little gray bunny is my enemy, btw.)

I wish I was as creative as you. It’s like your juices just get flowing and once you start, you don’t stop. I love seeing it happen in real-time. It makes you happy, I know that. So it makes me happy too.

I’ve been getting more yarn now when I’m out, it’s kind of just like second nature now, I guess. They’re starting to pile up, but I hope one day they’ll all be gone.

“Keep her off her feet more.” The doctor tells Satoru, who currently stands with a pensive expression, fingers curling around your own. “Your wife needs all the rest she can get, so if you can, keep her on bedrest with less strenuous activities.”

Bedrest.

That word alone shakes you to your core, a prime example of your deteriorating condition. You can hear your weakened heart pound in your ears, tears threatening to fall from your eyes. If you’re being advised to be put on bed rest, what hope is left for you?

Almost none.

Reason #5: how you care about people

“That’s ironic, isn’t it?” You huff out, a wince soon taking over.

Satoru’s comforting hand places itself on your pale one, smiling. “Just keep reading.”

With one final breath out, your eyes travel down to the small journal, reading today’s entry.

You have a certain way of making people feel seen. Including others in conversation, making sure no one is left out. You listen when needed, comfort when needed, and give advice when needed. Even if you’re not doing the best yourself.

You make people feel important, make me feel important. You look beyond titles and hierarchies and just see…me.

If someone’s at their lowest, you make them feel seen. I’ve seen it, I’ve experienced it, and I love it.

You don’t even know you’re reaching out for him until his arms wrap securely around your waist. Careful not to drop his full weight onto your frail body. But god do you wish he did, you missed how things were before.

Hot tears stain his shirt and Satoru feels his own set begin to let loose. He’s always been good at comforting you when you’re crying, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t cry with you.

Reason #6: the way you make the mundane beautiful

“Mundane.” You repeat, coughing.

“Mundane.” Satoru confirms, holding your hands. “Do you think mundane is bad?”

“I feel like I can’t even do mundane things now.”

His head shakes. “You can, and you do. Life is mundane with you, but it’s also exciting, beautiful.”

With a jut of his chin towards the journal, you take the hint and continue reading.

How you can turn something so ordinary into something magical is still beyond me. Maybe you’re a secret witch (I would like that). You look for the beauty in things.

The way the sun hits the leaves, the sound of rain, or the way our hands fit together. You see the world in a way no one else does.

I see the beauty in you too. When your nose crinkles because of my “smelly” socks, your head tilting when you’re confused, or even that look you give me when I say something stupid or funny. I like admiring you, and I like the way you admire.

Reason #7: how you make me a better person

There’s a resounding thump noise as you throw the journal into the wall. Health slowly failing along with your own mental stability. Satoru holds back a frown, feeling himself uncomfortably shift beside you.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He gently asks.

“I don’t wanna read anymore.” Your voice is bordering on unrecognizable, the rattling in your chest more prominent.

He heaves a small sigh, walking over to pick the book up and back to you. Sitting on the edge of the bed and carefully regarding you with an examining gaze. “Why not?”

Many reasons. “I-It just makes me emotional, Satoru.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Everything!” You shout, looking at him with a pitiful expression. “I’m already fucked up as it is, I don’t wanna cry anymore!”

God, is this really testing his emotional resilience. But that’s not what you need right now. “I know, I know you don’t, baby. But look at it like this,” he scoots closer, fingers intertwining with yours. “There’s nothing wrong with crying, it means we’re still human, it makes us feel….complete sometimes. And I know you’re trying hard to hold everything in, I see it. But please, just let everything out, don’t worry about the mess. Because I’m here.”

Your hands tremble, no longer fighting back your tears as you hesitantly reach for the outstretched journal and read, tears wetting the page. He holds you close.

You challenge me, in the best way. You push me to be more rational, logical, to be more punctual and caring. You push me to be the best me, you encourage my beliefs and ideas, and you’re there for me when something doesn’t fall through.

Without you, I can’t be who I am today. Without you, I’m not me.

You’ve made me the best me, by just being yourself.

Next week, you’re saying bye to your forever home. Being forced to spend your last days in an uncomfortable hospital with a scent that you hate. This is the last time you’ll walk these halls, use that stove, watch that TV, sleep in that bed.

You cling to him like a lifeline, sometimes you wish he was.

Soft cries fill the otherwise dim and quiet room, his arms wrapped around your body. Your arms are around his neck, legs opened wide enough so he can fully accommodate his body between them. The way he deliciously slides in and out, in the slowest and gentlest manner, all for your sake. Small moans and grunts fall from your guys’ lips.

The last time he’ll ever make love to you.

“Reason #8: the way you love me.”

You almost break down even more at the sound of his cracking voice, noticing the shaky inhale he does as he looks down at you, hips moving in a steady motion.

“You love me so fully, so unconditionally.” he starts off, grunting quietly as your walls squeeze around him. “It’s not about perfection with you. It’s about the way you choose me. Every day, even when we’re not at our best. I know I’m loved because you show it, every moment, in a thousand little ways.”

His lips kiss and gently suck on your pulse point, tongue darting out to lick and savor your sweaty skin. The tip of his cock hits your g-spot in a rhythm that has you whimpering out, nails digging into his shoulders. Your head tilts back slightly, he guides it back with one free hand and kisses you passionately.

He swallows your moans and tastes your tears. His tears fall onto your cheeks, mixing in with everything.

This isn’t just about sex, but it’s about being one with each other. It’s about savoring each other like it’s your last breath, melting into each other’s bodies, and loving you in the most intimate way.

He commits this to memory.

Satoru stays by your side every day and every night. He doesn’t leave, even when he’s prompted by you to eat and sleep. But he can’t, not when this could be the last time he’ll ever talk to you.

You look so fragile, so out of place in the hospital bed. The gown one size too big and he just wanted to take you in his arms and into a far-away place. Away from the hospital, away from this heart condition, and just with him.

You can barely even keep your eyes fully open, multiple wires running through your body to keep you conscious. But you still hold onto his hand, tightly, as if you never want to let go.

And you don’t. Neither does Satoru,

Pale skin and dry lips. Everything about you screams illness. No matter that, you force yourself to stay coherent while he reads.

“Reason #:9”, he looks at you, “the way you feel like home.”

Satoru forces his voice to remain steady, smiling at you. “Being with you is a safe place, a shelter from this cruel and dirty world. No matter where I am, where you are, where we are, I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. You make me feel seen, understood, loved. Nothing else matters but us. Your touch, your voice, your presence, that’s all home to me, and I’m so happy I finally found my home.”

Warm tears slowly trickle down your cheeks, your smile feeling like it’s too hard to handle. “You’re my home too, Satoru. I….I don’t wanna leave home.”

A shaky breath. “You won’t.” His hand squeezes you tighter, planting a chaste kiss on your cracked lips. “I’ll always be here, I’ll always follow you. Just keep holding onto me, okay?”

“O-okay.” You croak out, sniffling.

That night, he falls asleep with you. Holding you like he always does. Whispering sweet nothings into your ear, thumb tracing lazy circles on your knuckles. Your warmth keeps him going, but it also makes him sleepy.

It’s only then does he realizes something.

He’s happy. He’s so, so happy. He’s with you, you’re with him, and everything else fades away. Because it’s just you two. As much as it hurts, he wants you to go peacefully, and with him.

So, as the hours pass and when he opens his eyes. He’s met with a cold body, an unmoving form in his arms. And tears mixing in with your hair as he hugs you tight one last time.

“Reason #10.”

He sets the bouquet of white roses down on the cold stone, kneeling down before it. Your name stares back at him.

“The best one, in my opinion. You know….I really hate how I couldn’t tell you this last one in person. But you’re still listening, aren’t you?” He places his hand above your name and a small gust of wind replies back. He smiles.

“The way you taught me to live.”

“You taught me to how to live, not just in ‘big moments’, but in the small ones too. The moments that matter. The times we spent together, the quiet talks, the laughter, the shared silences. You’ve shown me that life isn’t about counting days—it’s about making days count.”

After leaving, he can’t help but cry. Fingers twitching by his sides, ears ringing. He blocks out the world. Until there’s a small rustling in the bushes beside him. He stops and looks.

He laughs.

“Guess you’re still keeping an eye on me, huh?”

Staring back, a cute little gray bunny. Its ears twitch, as if acknowledging him.

He takes a step closer, then kneels down, his voice softening. "Don’t worry. I’ll be okay. I promise."

He looks at the bunny one last time before standing up and walking away, feeling an inexplicable sense of comfort.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru #gojou satoru #gojo satoru angst #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo x you

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levandright · 2 months ago

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BEST FOR YOU ✦ P.SH

pairings : ex! sunghoon x fem reader ୨ৎ content / warning(s) : hurt with comfort, sunghoon gets closure ୨ৎ word count : 1.5k ・ archive

synopsis. sunghoon reflects on his past relationship with you, feeling the weight of your breakup and the distance that has grown between you. as he sees you move on, he is reminded of your shared memories and the love you once had. coming to terms with the changes in your lives, sunghoon finds peace, wishing you well as he lets go of the past and the connection you once shared. lev notes : this is inspired by the song best for you by slchld <3 i actually cried when i first finished writing the draft which was shorter (around 700 words) and this is my first ever angst!! hopefully it doesn't dissapoint >.> i genuinely had such a hard time writing some parts but i pulled through with the power of friendship!!

sunghoon sat in his room, the dim light of his desk lamp casting shadows against the walls. the air conditioning hummed softly, the only sound filling the silence of the quiet evening. he leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair as his gaze drifted to the window. the stillness in the air matched the quiet that had settled within him—a feeling he couldn’t shake, no matter how many times he tried to distract himself.

there was something about the loneliness tonight that felt different. it wasn’t just the silence that made it seem so heavy, but the creeping ache in his chest that had been growing for months, ever since your breakup. sometimes, in the middle of a busy day, he would forget that the person who used to be at the center of his world was no longer there. but in moments like this, when it was just him and solitude, the reality of it all hit harder than he cared to admit.

the soft glow of his phone screen illuminated his face as he unlocked it, absentmindedly scrolling through his instagram feed. it wasn’t like he was looking for anything specific—just trying to fill the emptiness in the room with something, anything. his thumb paused when he saw your post. you were smiling brightly, laughing with your friends at some outdoor café. the image felt almost surreal to him.

he had never been the type to go through his ex’s social media, not anymore. but today, something had drawn him in. he couldn’t help but wonder how you were doing, how you were living your life without him. it had been a while since you breakup, and he had been trying his best to move on, to accept that things were over between you two. but seeing you this happy, living the life you’d always dreamed of—it hurt.

your smile was the same as it had always been, bright and effortless. but now it wasn’t for him. it wasn’t because of him. that realization hit harder than he expected. his heart clenched, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

he continued scrolling through your feed, stopping at another post—a picture of you and him, taken months ago at the park. he remembered that day so clearly, the way the sunlight had filtered through the trees and made everything glow. it had been a perfect day, one that had felt like it would last forever. how naive he had been, thinking that nothing could tear you apart.

but everything had changed.

back then, you and sunghoon had been inseparable. high school sweethearts. you had shared everything with each other: dreams, laughter, and even the inevitable frustrations of growing up. you were each other’s safe haven. but life had a funny way of pushing people in different directions, of breaking apart the very things that once seemed unbreakable.

he remembered the late nights he’d stayed up studying, only to have you call him crying, talking about how much the distance between you two was weighing on your heart. and then there were the times he was too exhausted from his part-time job to really listen, too caught up in his own world to hear the desperation in your voice. he was juggling university, work, and trying to hold onto a relationship that was slowly slipping through his fingers.

sunghoon had never been good at balancing everything. he had never been great at handling the outbursts or the tantrums that sometimes came from the overwhelming pressure of your long-distance relationship. back then he had only been able to offer quick reassurances, tired words that meant little in the face of your pain. and when the break-up came, it felt like a punch to the gut.

the reason you drifted apart was simple, yet so complicated at the same time. you both had grown, and in that process, you had grown away from each other. the person he was back then, caught between uni and a part-time job, he had failed to truly see the depth of what you needed. and now looking back, he wished he could have done better.

"i should have tried harder," he whispered to himself. "i should have been there more."

but that didn’t change anything now. he couldn’t go back in time and fix his mistakes. all he had now were memories, and the reality that those memories would never become anything more.

the pain of that realization had hit hardest after the breakup, it felt like the ground had shifted beneath him. for so long, he had imagined his future with you. suddenly, he was adrift, lost in a world that no longer made sense. he remembers nights lying awake, replaying the last few months of your relationship, questioning what he could have done differently, feeling anger, confusion, and heartache twist together inside him.

eventually, he learned to let go of the resentment, to see things with a little more clarity. you both had grown, and sometimes people simply grow in different directions. even now, he knows that his feelings for you haven’t faded, that part of him will always love you in some quiet, unspoken way. but he’s come to accept that you’re better off without him, that he needs to let you go fully.

and then, one night, it happens. he’s scrolling mindlessly again when he sees it. a new photo—one that’s different from the rest. you’re standing next to someone, a guy with an easy smile and a warm, gentle presence. jay.

jay, sunghoon had heard about him from mutual friends. he was kind, thoughtful, everything sunghoon wished he could have been for you back then. and now, it was clear: you had found someone new. someone who made you happy. someone who could give you everything he couldn’t.

sunghoon sat back in his chair, feeling a lump rise in his throat. it felt like the final confirmation that you had truly moved on, that his place in your life was nothing more than a shadow now. he’d always imagined a future with you. he’d imagined growing old together, supporting each other through everything life threw at you. but now, all he had were his memories—and even those felt like they were fading, slowly but surely.

he looked at the photo again, your smile still as bright as ever, but this time, it wasn’t for him. it was for jay. and a strange peace settled over him. you had found love again. you were with someone who made you feel the way you deserved to feel.

sunghoon took a deep breath and opened your chat. he had been avoiding it for so long, unsure of what to say, but now he knew. he wanted to reach out one last time. he didn’t expect anything in return, but he needed to say what was in his heart. after all, he had never been good at letting go, but it was time.

his fingers hovered over the keyboard as he searched for the right words. they trembled slightly as he types:

“hey y/n… i saw your post. i just wanted to say, i’m really happy for you. you deserve all the happiness in the world, and i know jay will treat you the way you’ve always deserved to be treated. thank you for everything, for all the memories. i’ll always wish you the best.”

he paused, staring at the message for a moment before pressing “send.” a weight lifted off his shoulders as soon as he did, his heart heavy yet at peace. by saying goodbye in that simple message, he was letting go, wishing you well—even though he knew he’d never see your smile in person again.

sunghoon sat back in his chair, his eyes drifting back to the photo of you and jay, the one that had started all of this. for the first time in months, he wasn’t angry or sad. he wasn’t resentful. instead, he felt an odd sense of closure, a peaceful acceptance that the two of you were no longer meant to be.

his mind wandered back to the first time he saw you, in the school library. you had been sitting at a table, a pile of books in front of you, your head slightly down as you concentrated. when your eyes met his, you smiled shyly, and something in him had shifted. it was as if the world had slowed down just for that moment. that smile had been the first spark, the first flicker of something that would grow into an overwhelming love. that first smile had stayed with him, a memory he carried through every moment you shared.

“i fell for you right then,” sunghoon whispered to the empty room. “and i think, a part of me will always love you.”

he closed his eyes and leaned back, letting the memory of that smile wash over him. it was bittersweet, but in that moment, he finally understood. you had been his first love, and though that chapter had closed, it would always be a part of him. and that was enough.

he whispered a final goodbye to himself, letting the memory fade into the stillness of the night. with it, he carried a silent promise to move forward, even if it meant holding a small piece of you with him forever.

as he drifted off to sleep that night, he silently wished you well, hoping that wherever life took you, you would find everything you were looking for and more.

perm taglist. @honeychocos @honeybelleee @manaah02 (open!)

©levandright

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darth-jess · 3 months ago

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Anidala rant

Alright I really don't understand people saying that Anakin didn't actually love Padmé, he was just obsessive and then used her as an excuse to get more power.

First off, love in general is just a tad bit obsessive okay? I'm a bit obsessed with my husband, I love him, he's amazing. You have to be a little obsessive to have the courage to bear your heart and soul to someone who you are absolutely NOT supposed to be with. Also, can we talk about the fact that after Padmé "rejected" him he totally backed down? I mean he still loved her, but he wasn't going to push it anymore until she admitted that she loved him too.

Also…ANAKIN LITERALLY SACRIFICES HIS SOUL because he can't bear the thought of living without her. If it isn't clear enough in the movies (it is crystal clear) then the Revenge of the Sith novelization makes it even more so. He is genuinely horrified when he discovers that his friend, the Chancellor has been a Sith Lord this whole time, and multiple times he wishes Obi-wan was there with him because Anakin is so confused and has no idea what to do. And the ONLY reason he goes back to "save" Palpatine is because he can't let Palpatine die without learning how to save Padmé.

EVEN WHEN MACE IS FIGHTING PALPATINE Anakin wants Palpatine to BE ARRESTED. The only time Anakin moves against Mace Windu is when Mace is about to kill Palpatine, who has convinced Anakin that he is the only one who has the knowledge to save Padmé.

His turning to the Dark Side has nothing to do with power, and solely to do with wanting to save his wife from certain death. Dude was literally about to leave the Jedi Order, and he honestly didn't care anymore about being granted the rank of Master. The only reason he NEEDED the rank so badly is because he wanted to look up stuff in the Jedi archives ways he could possibly save Padmé, but only Jedi Masters were able to access some of these files. Add in the fact that his nightmares had made it impossible for him to sleep for literal days (weeks?) before the battle in the Chancellor's office.

Even when he's choking her on Mustafar, it's not because he never loved her, it's because he is in so much pain. All he sees is that the woman he loves most in the world, the woman he has sacrificed everything for and destroyed his soul for, WANTS HIM DEAD. Which of course isn't true, but why else would she have brought Obi-wan with her? He chokes her because every one of her words is a dagger, he feels betrayed and he can't listen to it anymore or he'll shatter. –This is not an excuse for any kind of abuse, but you have to understand the emotional turmoil he is going through. This is also not an argument that what he did was RIGHT in any way after turning to the Dark Side, but you do have to see how his actions (to him, at least) make perfect sense and that NONE of his actions hint at the fact that he either didn't love her or stopped loving her. He loved her even as Vader, he loved her forever.

Anyway, sorry, I've been reading the ROTS novelization and I'm almost done with it and I'm sad and emotional.

#star wars #anakin skywalker #character study #padme amidala #sheev palpatine #Darth Jess

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recklessmark · 1 year ago

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i can help

Pairings: Manipulative step dad Mark x Innocent afab reader

Summary: You're hurt by your breakup but determined to make your step father feel better after finding out that you’ve made him hurt almost every day for the past few months

Genre: smut

Warnings: unprotected sex (be safe!), infidelity, daddy kink, virginity sex, masturbation, coercion and heavy manipulation, degradation, dirty talk, breeding.

Word count: 4k

A/N: to the anon that sent the ask of step dad mark, this is not exactly what you imagined. i twisted the story a little bit... hope you like it :)

It had been a long fucking day. A long week to be honest.

But today was an interminable marathon of work that left Mark weary. The clock struck 4 a.m. and he yearned for the solace of your voice, a lifeline amidst the storm. Despite the ungodly hour, he dialed your number, his heart praying fervently that you would answer. And when you did, a familiar rhythm of "hi" and "how are you?" began, like a soothing melody as he took off everything but his underwear and slipped under the covers.

“When do you come back?” You asked, making him smile.

"Just a few more days, my princess. I promise," he assured, his voice a balm to your restless soul.

"Okay," you replied softly, vulnerability seeping into your tone. Then, in a hushed confession, you added, "I miss you."

His throat emitted a low, smoldering chuckle, envisioning the delicate blush that surely adorned your cheeks. “I miss you too, sweetheart. What have you been up to though?”

You rambled on about your day, telling him about how you made cookies earlier for Henry—your idiotic boyfriend, and that you were quickly growing bored in the mostly empty manor and your completely empty apartment. His wife—your mother—had been out of town for five days, and even if she was present, it still felt like she’s invisible. Sometimes, Mark felt sorry for you, but he was also thankful for that because it meant he was the one that took care of you.

He tried to pay attention, honestly he did. But he hasn’t touched his cock in almost a week because of how busy he’s been on the business trip and he missed the sound of your voice. So what else was he supposed to do when his cock fattened up in his briefs?

When you started talking about this argument you had with your boyfriend, he tuned out your words a little bit, just listening to the softness of your voice, imagining the pretty little whimpers you could make with it. Pushing the covers and his underwear down, he freed his cock and instantly took it in his hand, stroking slowly. His breathing started to change a little, growing heavier and faster, making you trail off in the middle of your sentence.

“Don’t stop talking, princess.” He rasped, hand speeding up.

“Are you okay?” You asked quietly.

“I’m perfect. Your voice is just so soothing, baby. Keep talking.”

“O-okay.” You continued hesitantly, telling him about how you were so sad after the argument, wishing he was there to give you advice, or just simply provide comfort for you. You also told him about how you’ve been having trouble sleeping since you can’t come to his room in the middle of the night after having a nightmare. God- he fucking misses that too. It’s one of his favorite things, being able to caress your body or grind against you while you sleep, never waking up because of how safe you feel in his arms. When he let out a quiet grunt, you stopped again.

“Are you sure you’re okay? What was that?”

“I’m so good, princess. Keep going.” He tried not to moan through the words.

“Okay…” He swiped a thumb over the tip and took in a sharp breath, making you stop again. “Why are you breathing weird, Daddy?”

“Baby, I'm not.” He sighed. “I promise I'm okay. If you don’t want to keep talking, we don’t have to.”

“No!” You said quickly, because of his tone. “I didn’t mean it like that, I was just worried.” Instead of letting him reply, you continued talking about random things that have happened while he’s been away. Every once in a while he’d let out a sound to let you know he was listening, a grunt disguised as a sound of acknowledgement, but you bought it.

He started tuning out your words again, just focusing on the soft lull of your sleepy voice. You being sleepy is probably his favorite thing, closely followed by you being scared or in pain. You’re so pliable, so easy to manipulate. He can caress your tit or your ass and pass it off as an accident, or even tell you that he can’t sleep in clothes, only underwear, and that it’s perfectly normal for your step father to sleep almost naked beside you whenever your busy mother is away. Sometimes, if he’s really lucky, he can convince you that you won’t be comfortable in those modest pajamas you wear and that you’ll be able to sleep much better in just his shirt. And you almost always agree.

He stroked his cock even faster, quickly nearing his orgasm after so long without one, and when he cursed under his breath, then let out a long, quiet groan, you trailed off again.

You did your best to keep speaking, stuttering through the sentences, but it fell on deaf ears as he came, thinking about how fucking hot it was that you didn’t even know. When his noises quieted and he was slightly panting, you decided to ask again.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m perfect, baby.” He sounded significantly more tired and relaxed, but he knew you’d be too stupid to put it together. “You’re so good for me- my good girl. Thank you, princess.”

“You’re welcome…?” You asked, confused, but he wasn’t going to bother explaining. “Are you tired now?”

“Just a little, but I can stay up for you.” He murmured, grabbing a tissue from the nightstand to wipe his come off his stomach, cock twitching as he imagined you licking it off him instead.

“You don’t have to. I’m tired too.” He knew you well enough to know that was a lie.

“How about we go to sleep, but don’t hang up. How does that sound?”

“Okay, yeah. Thank you, Daddy. I love you.” You said quietly, but he could practically hear the smile in your voice.

“I love you too, princess. Sweet dreams.”

He knew he would at least have some.

"Mark?" you whispered, your voice trembling through the narrow gap of the door. He stirred in bed, the sheets slipping down, revealing his bare chest. Sensing your distress, he sat up, his eyes filled with concern.

"Another bad dream?" he asked softly, his voice a gentle caress that soothed your frayed nerves. Nodding in confirmation, you stepped inside, drawn to the comfort of his embrace. With a tender gesture, he lifted the covers, inviting you to slide beneath them. Curling up against his chest, you sought solace in his presence as his arms enveloped your trembling form.

"Did I wake you?" you whispered, your voice laced with guilt, your vulnerability laid bare before him. Whenever your mother is away doing god-knows-what, you always find yourself slipping into her bedroom. You didn’t know if it’s the right thing to do to sleep next to your mother’s husband without her knowing it, but it’s easier to fall asleep with Mark, especially when you have one of those nightmares.

"Nah, couldn't sleep," he replied, his fingers tracing soothing patterns along your back, an attempt to chase away your anguish. "Just had a lot on my mind. But let's focus on you. Do you want to talk about your dream?"

Tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over as you struggled to find your voice. It wasn't a nightmare that had shaken you to the core—it was something far more devastating. With a quivering breath, you finally managed to utter the words that weighed heavily on your heart.

"It's not... not a dream," you choked out, the truth hanging heavy in the air. "I... I broke up with Henry."

Mark's lips pressed together, a concealed smile tugging at the corners. Beneath the guise of sympathy, he masked his true sentiments, knowing all too well that Henry was a pitiful fool who never deserved someone as exquisite as you. But he had bided his time, refraining from openly expressing his disdain for the fucker while you remained entangled in a relationship. Now, as the truth spilled from your lips, he adopted a pretense of speechlessness, his feigned sympathy coating his words.

"Well, that's unexpected," he mumbled, his voice veiling his true satisfaction. "I'm sorry, baby."

The words lingered, a heavy silence stretching between you. And then, the floodgates opened, tears streaming down your cheeks as the weight of your decision crashed upon you. Mark held you tighter, his touch a lifeline amidst the wreckage of your shattered relationship.

"It's okay," he murmured, his voice a seductive lullaby, its dark undertones weaving a tapestry of comfort. With tender care, he wiped away your tears, his touch a balm for your wounded soul. "I'm here for you, always. Let it out, let it all out."

Sobs wracked your body as you clung to him, your tears staining the fabric of his embrace. “I really like him…” you cried out, your voice trembling with a mix of desperation and pain.

"I know," Mark grunted, his voice laced with a hidden jealousy that he fought to conceal. "But I don't think he's good for you."

Looking up from his chest, a slight frown etched upon your features, you questioned. “How do you know?”

He sighed, his thumb tenderly caressing the crease between your brows. “This is not the first time you cry because of him, is it?”

Your lips pursed, your gaze thoughtful as it rested upon him. Mark's words held an undeniable truth—your relationship with Henry had seldom been a source of genuine happiness. He craved excitement, always seeking something more, while you, plagued by fear, hesitated to embrace life's adventures. It had been a ticking time bomb, waiting to implode.

"Did I ever make you cry, baby?" Mark asked, as if seeking confirmation that your ex was a douchebag. A soft shake of your head earned a tender smile from him. "You see, he's not the right person if he fails to bring you happiness."

His words resonated in the air, mingling with the breathless silence surrounding you. Mark's lips brushed against the crown of your head, a gesture filled with an enigmatic tenderness. The nature of your bond remained a mystery, veiled in shadows, yet whenever you were near him, your stomach fluttered and your mind grew weightless. Whenever he touches you, it always feels good. Not a normal good though. It makes your core start to ache and you feel like you have to pee. The more you continued thinking about it, the more you started to feel it.

"Daddy?" you ventured timidly, your voice barely a whisper. He emitted a low hum, granting you permission to continue and you tried to let the vibrations of his chest calm you. “How come whenever you touch me, it... it makes me feel... weird?"

His hand froze on your back, and a sudden tension enveloped the room, causing you to stiffen, worried you said something wrong.

"Weird how?" Mark's voice echoed with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. Your cheeks flushed, warmth blossoming beneath your skin as you struggled to find the right words.

"Good weird," you managed to confess, your voice laced with uncertainty.

A silent pause hung in the air, before Mark's hand resumed its soothing motions on your back, as if trying to quell the charged atmosphere between you. With a voice heavy with anticipation, he asked, "Where does it feel good?"

Your breath hitched, your mind racing, as you summoned the courage to answer. "My tummy... and... and my..." This time, it was Mark who stiffened beneath you, his reaction palpable.

“Where, princess?” He urged you to continue, but you just whined softly and buried your face in the sanctuary of his chest. Sensing your hesitation, his free hand ventured boldly, brushing against your inner thigh with a teasing caress that sent shivers coursing through your veins. With a featherlight touch, he trailed his fingers upward, barely grazing the fabric that concealed the heat between your legs. You jumped at the sudden touch.

“Here?” He rasped. A nod escaped your lips, accompanied by a barely audible affirmation, "Mhm."

“Do you know what this is?” That made you frown— you’re not stupid.

“Of course I do.” Your tone made him chuckle under his breath.

"Have you ever touched here before?" His gruff words ignited a tremor within you, nearly eliciting a whimper as you confessed the truth.

"No... I'm not supposed to," you muttered, feeling your hips instinctively seek the pressure of his fingertips.

“Who told you that?” You knew if you looked at him, he’d be frowning.

“School…” You said quietly. You never like to talk about the fact that you went to a religious school– people always make fun of you for it. He hummed in acknowledgment, then removed his hand, making you let out a needy whine and buck your hips forward. Instead of responding, he just took your hand, and gently moved it down, under the covers. When he placed it on his bulge, you gasped and tried to remove it, but he held you there, making you feel him.

“You know what this is?” He asked and you bit your lip as you nodded. “Good. Do you know why I’m hard?” This time, you shook your head. “Because of you, princess.”

“Me?” You lifted your head to look at him.

“Mhm. Always you. Everytime you sit on my lap, cuddle with me, whimper when we spar and I go a little too rough– you always make me so hard, baby.” You stared at him with wide eyes, watching the his dark-browns almost completely disappear from the size of his pupils. “And everytime, I have to come in here or go to the bathroom and jerk myself off to make it better. And it’s all your fault.” That made your face tighten in a grimace.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” He brushed some of your hair behind your ear then cupped your cheek, placing his thumb on your bottom lip.

“It’s okay, baby. But if you want to make me feel better, you have to do something.” You wanted to help him, you wanted to make up for all the times you made him feel like this.

“What? I’d do anything.”

Instead of answering, he just helped you on top of him, so your front was completely pressed to his. You placed your hands on his chest and he grabbed your hips, then started dragging your core over his bulge.

“Anything?” He asked.

You nodded, holding down a whimper. “Just wanna make you feel better, Daddy.”

“Good girl. You’re so good, princess.” He cooed, giving you a soft smile that made your heart flutter. “Have you ever kissed anyone before?”

“Only once with Henry,” you said quietly, glancing away from him, embarrassed at your lack of experience.

“Good.” He all but growled. Mark removed a hand from your hips and placed it on the back of your neck, then pulled you down, only stopping once your lips brushed his. Your eyes fluttered shut in anticipation, you weren’t sure what to expect from this.

Finally, he pressed his lips to yours, slowly kissing you to get you used to it. After a moment, he deepened the kiss. The warm, wet sensation on your lips made you gasp and he slid his tongue in your now open mouth. It was weird. But it feels good.

By now, your hips were rutting against his as you grew more desperate. He was barely guiding your movements anymore while you chased the pleasure. When he pulled back, your eyes fluttered open, lips still parted and chest heaving. You never knew kissing could feel like that. Your step father must have some magic because it didn’t feel like that with your ex. That thought made you freeze.

“W-wait, we shouldn’t be doing this. You’re my step dad and– I was supposed to wait until marriage.” You said quietly.

“I thought you said you wanted to make Daddy feel better?” He frowned, making your stomach drop.

“I- I do, but,”

“There’s no “but.” Either you want to help me or you don’t.” He had a look of disappointment and anger that was intensified by a frown. “You’re the reason I feel like this. You seriously just want to leave me in pain?”

Pain? You didn’t know it was hurting.

“It hurts?” You squeaked, brows furrowing in concern.

“You’ve never heard of blue balls?” You shook your head, so he continued. “It’s incredibly painful, sweetheart. Only feels better once I can bury it in a tight, warm cunt. And you’ve made me feel like this for months.”

“I- I’m sorry, Daddy, I didn’t know…” You whimpered, chest aching at the thought of you being the cause of his pain.

“I don’t forgive you. Not yet anyway.” Tears welled in your eyes from his words.

“I want to help. Please,”

He shushed you and cupped your cheek again. “You sure?”

“Please. Wanna make you feel better.” You whimpered and the corners of his lips turned up at your words.

“Okay, princess. I’ll let you help me.”

“Thank you.” Before you could even finish, he was rolling you both over so he was on top. He settled between your legs and leaned up on his knees.

“First, this has to come off.” He said, grabbing the bottom of your shirt and pulling it off. “You’ll only really be able to make me feel better if you’re naked.” He explained, when he saw your confused expression. “These too.” He pulled your sleep shorts and panties down your legs, making you blush. Letting out a low groan, he swiped his thumb through your folds, then circled your clit lightly, making your hips buck into the friction.

“You’re helping already.” He smirked and you glanced at the tent in his underwear. It didn’t look like you were helping. You whined when he removed his hand, but he quickly moved down to your hole and inserted a finger, letting out a low groan at your tight heat.

As he fingered you, he debated what to do. While part of him wanted to prep you, make it as easy on you as possible, a larger part wanted to fuck your virgin cunt right now, before it could get any looser. He didn’t have to think about it for a second longer before he was removing his finger and shoving his pants down his thighs. When you saw his cock, your eyes widened as your lips parted in shock at his size. He took it in his hand and stroked it slowly.

“Just the tip, okay? I promise, baby. Just need to put the tip inside, then Daddy will feel better.” He said, to ease your anxiety. You whined, but agreed anyway. He leaned over you and you wrapped your arms over his shoulders as he lined his length up with your hole.

“Relax, princess. It’s okay.” He whispered against your ear. You couldn’t help but obey. It took a lot of pressure before his cock was able to breach your hole. Once he pushed in though, you tensed up again.

“Hurts, Daddy. It hurts…” You whimpered, eyes burning with unshed tears. Your pussy was trying to force him out, not used to the intrusion yet.

“I know, baby. Just relax.” His voice was strained with arousal and he reached a hand down to rub circles on your clit, making walls flutter around his cock. “Fuck, that’s good.” He groaned, resting his forehead in the crook of your neck.

“God- I know I said just the tip, but it feels so good. Can you take just a little bit more?”

“Daddy please, it hurts…” You whined.

“I know, princess. You gotta relax, it’ll feel good soon.” He slowly pushed in farther and you cried out, digging your nails into his back. “So fucking good. Your little cunt feels so good.” He said through a moan. He pulled back, then pushed in again, continuing the slow rhythm.

“This is just what I needed, baby. You’re doing such a good job for me.” You tried to focus on his words and the stimulation on your clit, rather than the constant pain from the stretch. “Good girl. Good fucking girl- take it.” He growled on a particularly sharp thrust that made you let out a choked sob.

“You fucking owe me for all the times you gave me blue balls. I’m gonna fuck you every night now to make up for it.” He hissed, voice getting progressively breathier as the speed of his thrusts increased. “Gonna bury my cock balls deep and fill you up with my come fucking breed you, every single night.” He growled. His pace turned bruising and you could barely release any sounds because of the way your breath was being punched out of you with every thrust.

“You deserve to be my little breeding bitch after all the months you made me fucking come on my hand instead of in this tight, little cunt.” He spat, placing a hand on your neck and squeezing. “What’ll your mommy say, huh? When you go to her asking for birth control. Or are you just gonna let me knock you up?” You let out a whimper, feeling your cheeks heat up at just the thought of the embarrassing conversation.

“Maybe you will just have to let me knock you up. After all, it’s not like you can tell her you let her husband fuck you.”

“Daddy,” You sobbed, too overwhelmed emotionally and physically.

“From now on, you’re going to come in here every night. And I’m going to use your little cunt until I fuck my load into you. Do you understand?” He growled, making you whimper. “This is your own fucking fault so stop bitching about it. You’re the one who decided to be a fucking tease around me.” You let out a choked sob, knowing that he’s right. You didn’t tease him on purpose, but you still made him hurt everyday for months.

His thrusts turned frenzied as he buried his face in the crook of your neck again. Only a few thrusts later and he was pushing all the way inside, the pressure on your cervix almost painful as he forced his cock in. He let out a low groan and you could feel him twitching against your walls as started to fill you. He stilled for a moment, breathing heavy, then leaned up to sit on his heels.

He slowly pulled out, eyes never leaving your cunt, and cursed under his breath when his come started dripping out. Ignoring the blood on his dick, he swiped his fingers through the mess and pushed it back in your hole. As he watched some of it leak down to your ass, he made a mental note to buy some lube so he can fuck that soon too.

“Did- did I help?” You whimpered, making his gaze move to you. He eyed your fucked out face, the way your cheeks were still wet with tears and your hair was tousled, and gave you a small smile.

“You did, princess. Thank you. But this isn’t a permanent fix, okay? I meant what I said about you coming here every night.” Despite the softness of his voice, it was still stern, letting you know that this wasn’t a request, it was an order. You let out a quiet whimper at the thought of having to do this again, but as long as you were making him feel better, any pain you felt would be worth it.

He grabbed your underwear to clean his cock, then pulled them back up your legs. You already made enough of a mess on his sheets, he didn’t need his come adding to it any more than it already did. When he laid back down and pulled you into him, you hissed in pain as you moved but eventually got comfortable enough to sleep.

“Love you so much, princess. You did such a good job for me.” He placed a soft kiss on the top of your head, making you smile.

“Love you too, Daddy.” You mumbled sleepily.

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