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badger-tales · 1 day ago

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When the Storm Breaks// D.M x Reader

a/n: guys my requests are open, who and what i write for is pinned on my account. Also Draco is my little avoidant attachment king

request: I’m back! 🤍 The jealous!Draco compilation was everything. Thank you for doing that for me.

May I please request another Draco fic? I was thinking cannon!Draco being a little toxic and the fem!reader gets fed up which leads to a stormy argument. I would love to see passion, tension, and a resolution. I would love it to be dragged out a little too. It’s the angst feeling for like a minute but then all ends well?

Thank you Badger 🤍

word count: 7.5k

The Slytherin common room was dimly lit, the greenish glow from the lanterns casting eerie shadows on the cold stone walls. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and aged leather, the soft crackle of the fireplace the only sound breaking the tense silence. It was late, and most of the other students had retreated to their dormitories, leaving the space almost eerily quiet.

You sat by the fireplace, your fingers nervously picking at the hem of your robe. Your eyes kept flickering to the entrance every few seconds, your heart sinking a little lower each time it remained empty. The room felt too large, too cold, the emptiness of it mirroring the way you felt inside.

"How much longer can I keep this up?" you wondered, your mind replaying the harsh words you and Draco had exchanged earlier. The argument had been like so many others lately—frustration, accusations, and Draco shutting you out. You were exhausted, your heart heavy from trying so hard to reach him, to break through the walls he kept raising.

The minutes dragged on, each one a dagger twisting deeper into your chest, until finally, the door creaked open. Draco stepped through, looking every bit as worn out as you felt. His hair was tousled, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion, and there was a tension in his shoulders that made your heart ache. But he didn’t even glance your way; instead, he strode straight toward his secluded study corner, the same one he always retreated to when he wanted to avoid the world.

The familiar pang of disappointment hit you, but you swallowed it down, clenching your jaw. Why does it always feel like I’m the one trying? you thought bitterly, your hands tightening into fists. Does he even care anymore?

Gathering your resolve, you stood up and approached him cautiously, each step feeling heavier than the last. You paused a few feet away, trying to summon the strength to keep your voice steady.

"Hey... you’re late," you said softly, trying to sound casual, though the slight tremor in your voice betrayed you.

Draco didn’t bother looking up. He was hunched over a piece of parchment, scribbling furiously, the quill scratching angrily against the paper.

"I was busy," he replied curtly, his tone cold and dismissive, as if your presence was more of an inconvenience than anything else.

The words hit you like a slap, and you could feel your carefully constructed composure beginning to crack. Anger simmered beneath your skin, bubbling up to the surface despite your best efforts to push it down.

"Busy?" you shot back, your voice sharper than you intended. "You mean too busy to even talk to me for five minutes?"

Finally, Draco’s eyes flicked up to meet yours, but they were cold and guarded, his expression set in that familiar mask of indifference that had become all too common lately.

"What do you want from me?" he snapped, his voice laced with irritation. "I’m here now, aren’t I?"

The way he said it, as if his mere presence should be enough, made something inside you snap. You felt the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not now. Not in front of him.

"No, Draco," you retorted, your voice shaking despite your efforts to steady it. "You’re physically here. But emotionally? You’re miles away."

His expression hardened, his jaw tightening as if your words had struck a nerve. For a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of something—regret, pain, maybe even guilt—but it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by that familiar, icy glare.

"You don’t understand," he muttered, turning his gaze back to the parchment, as if whatever he was writing was far more important than the conversation unraveling between you.

You let out a frustrated laugh, the sound bitter and broken.

"Maybe because you never let me in," you said, your voice dropping to a whisper. The weight of your own words hung heavily in the air, the truth of them hurting more than you cared to admit. "I’m trying, Draco, but it feels like you’ve already given up on us."

For a moment, he didn’t respond. The only sound was the crackle of the fire and the distant drip of water somewhere deep within the dungeons. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers gripped the quill so tightly that it might snap. But when he finally spoke, his voice was softer, almost defeated.

"I never asked you to try," he whispered harshly, not looking up. "Maybe it’s better if you just... stop."

The words cut deeper than any spell ever could. You felt your heart shatter, piece by piece, each word a blow to the fragile hope you had been clinging to.

"Is that really what you want?" you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper. Your hands were trembling now, the tears you had been holding back finally slipping free.

Draco finally looked up, and for a moment, the cold mask slipped, revealing a flash of something raw and vulnerable in his eyes. But then it was gone, replaced by the same guarded expression that had become all too familiar. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. Instead, he simply turned away, his shoulders slumping as he buried his face in his hands.

The sight of him—so broken, so lost—made your anger dissolve into aching sadness. You took a hesitant step forward, your hand reaching out to touch his arm, but you hesitated. Would he push you away again?

"Draco," you said softly, your voice barely a whisper over the crackle of the fire. "I’m here because I care. But I can’t keep doing this alone."

He didn’t move, didn’t look at you. For a long, agonizing moment, you stood there, the distance between you feeling like an insurmountable chasm. But just as you were about to turn away, to leave him to his solitude, you felt his hand close around your wrist. His grip was gentle, almost hesitant, as if he was afraid you might pull away.

"Please," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Don’t go. I... I don’t know how to do this."

You turned back to him, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his eyes. He looked so tired, so worn down by whatever burdens he was carrying. In that moment, all the anger, all the frustration melted away, leaving only the raw, aching love you still felt for him.

"Then let me help," you whispered, stepping closer, your other hand reaching up to gently cup his cheek. He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing as if he was soaking in the comfort you offered.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Draco didn’t push you away. He let his walls down, if only a fraction, and that small opening was enough. As you stood there, the warmth of the fire enveloping you both, you knew it wouldn’t be easy. But in that moment, with his hand still holding yours, you felt a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, you could weather the storm together.

Here’s the expanded scene, continuing seamlessly from the previous moment in the Slytherin common room. This scene focuses on the raw emotions, tension, and the unraveling conflict between the reader and Draco as they confront the turmoil brewing between them.

The Slytherin common room had grown stifling after your heart-wrenching conversation by the fire. The silence that followed was unbearable, filled with unsaid words and unfinished confessions. You thought, for a brief moment, that Draco might finally let you in—might finally let down his walls. But the moment had slipped away, leaving only tension in its wake.

Without warning, Draco abruptly stood up, his movements jerky and frustrated. His expression shifted back into the cold mask he wore so often, the vulnerability you had seen just moments ago vanishing like smoke. Without so much as a glance your way, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the common room, his robes billowing behind him like a shadow.

Your heart lurched. No, not again, you thought desperately. You couldn’t let him slip away this time. Not when you had gotten so close. Without hesitating, you pushed yourself up from the armchair, your feet carrying you after him, the fire’s warmth quickly replaced by the cold, damp chill of the dungeons.

"Draco, wait!" you called, your voice echoing off the narrow stone walls. The sound bounced back to you, hollow and desperate, but Draco kept walking, his shoulders tense and his jaw clenched. He moved swiftly, the darkness swallowing him up as he disappeared around a corner.

You quickened your pace, the soles of your shoes slapping against the wet stones as you tried to catch up.

"Draco, please!" you pleaded, your breaths coming out in quick, shallow bursts. The dungeon corridor seemed to stretch endlessly before you, the flickering torchlight casting shadows that danced mockingly in the corners of your vision.

Finally, in a burst of determination, you reached out and grabbed his arm, your fingers curling tightly around his sleeve. The force of it jerked him to a stop, and he spun around to face you, his eyes flashing with something dark and unreadable.

"Why are you doing this?" you demanded, your voice breaking slightly. The dim light cast harsh shadows on his face, making him look even more distant, more unreachable. "Why are you always running away? Why can’t you just talk to me?"

Draco’s expression was cold, his eyes hard as steel, the brief glimpse of vulnerability he’d shown earlier now buried beneath layers of anger and sarcasm.

"Doing what?" he spat, his tone dripping with bitterness. "Trying to survive, maybe?"

The words struck you like a physical blow, the harshness of his tone cutting through you. But you refused to back down. The fire that had been simmering in your chest erupted into a blaze.

"You’re not surviving, Draco," you shot back, your voice rising as the frustration and hurt boiled over. "You’re pushing everyone away until there’s no one left! I’m trying so hard, and you don’t even care!"

For a moment, something flickered in his eyes—pain, regret, fear, you couldn’t quite tell—but it was gone almost as soon as it appeared. He scoffed, turning his gaze away, his jaw clenched so tightly that you could see the muscle twitch.

"Maybe I don’t want anyone close to me!" he snapped, his voice harsh and ragged. "Did you ever think of that? Maybe it’s easier this way."

Your heart ached at his words, the raw pain behind them like a slap to the face.

"Easier for who, Draco?" you yelled, your voice echoing through the empty corridor. "Because it’s certainly not easier for me!"

He flinched, the sound of your voice breaking something in him. But he masked it quickly, his expression hardening once again. The tears you’d been holding back were now welling up, but you refused to let them fall. You would not let him see you cry. Not this time.

"You think I don’t care?" he growled, stepping closer, his eyes blazing with anger and something else—something that looked suspiciously like fear. "You have no idea what it’s like. What I’m dealing with."

You could feel the heat of his breath, the closeness making your heart pound painfully in your chest. But you refused to be intimidated. You stood your ground, your eyes never leaving his.

"Then tell me," you whispered, your voice trembling. "Tell me what you’re dealing with, Draco. Let me in. Stop shutting me out."

He stared at you, his eyes searching your face, but his walls were still firmly in place. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, the tendons in his neck standing out as he struggled to contain whatever storm was raging inside him.

"I can’t," he finally whispered, his voice breaking. His shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of him. "I can’t, alright? It’s... it’s not that simple."

The desperation in his voice, the defeat in his posture, made your resolve falter. You reached out again, more gently this time, placing your hand on his arm. He didn’t pull away this time, but he also didn’t look at you. His eyes were fixed on the floor, his breaths coming out in shallow, uneven gasps.

"Draco, please," you said softly, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I’m not asking for much. I just want you to let me in. I’m on your side. I want to help you, but you have to let me."

For a moment, it seemed like he might actually listen. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, and in that instant, you saw all the hurt, the fear, the loneliness he tried so desperately to hide. But then, just as quickly, his expression hardened once more, and he pulled away, stepping back into the shadows.

"You don’t understand," he said bitterly, shaking his head. "No one does."

Your heart clenched painfully, and for a moment, you considered walking away—letting him have the isolation he seemed so determined to cling to. But something in his eyes, something so broken and lost, made you stay.

"Then make me understand," you pleaded, your voice raw with emotion. "Because I’m not giving up on you, Draco. No matter how hard you try to push me away, I’m not going anywhere."

The words seemed to hang in the air, suspended between the two of you like a lifeline. Draco’s eyes locked onto yours, a storm of emotions swirling in their depths. For a heartbeat, he looked as though he might say something, might finally let down the walls that kept you at arm’s length.

But then, with a harsh exhale, he turned away, his voice breaking as he muttered, "I can’t. It’s better this way."

And with that, he disappeared into the darkness, leaving you standing there in the cold corridor, your heart aching more than ever. As his footsteps faded into the distance, you leaned against the cold stone wall, the tears you had been holding back finally spilling over.

How much longer could you keep trying to break through to him? How many more times would you have to watch him walk away?

But even as you wiped the tears from your cheeks, you knew you weren’t ready to give up. Not yet. Because beneath all the anger, all the pain, you had glimpsed something real. Something worth fighting for.

And you weren’t ready to let him go.

Here’s the expanded scene, capturing the growing emotional distance between you and Draco amidst the crowded yet isolating atmosphere of the Great Hall. The focus is on the reader’s inner turmoil and the heartbreak of watching Draco drift further away:

The Great Hall was alive with the usual dinner-time bustle—laughter, the clatter of cutlery, and the steady hum of conversations filled the air. Candles floated above, casting a warm glow over the long house tables, where students huddled together, talking animatedly about the day’s events. Yet, despite the lively atmosphere, you felt utterly alone, as if there were an invisible wall separating you from the world around you.

You sat at the Slytherin table, directly across from Draco, who was barely acknowledging your presence. There had been a time, not so long ago, when the two of you would laugh and share whispered jokes over meals, stealing glances at each other that made your heart race. But now, a heavy silence hung between you, suffocating and impenetrable.

Draco sat hunched over his plate, absently pushing his food around with his fork, his eyes darting around the room as though he were searching for an escape. His once vibrant eyes were now shadowed, distant, and every time you tried to catch his gaze, he looked past you like you were nothing more than another face in the crowd.

Desperate to bridge the gap, you cleared your throat, forcing yourself to smile as you leaned forward slightly. "So... how was Potions today?" you asked, trying to sound casual, your voice barely audible over the din of the Great Hall.

For a moment, it seemed like he didn’t even hear you. Then, with a dismissive grunt, he finally responded,

"Fine." The word was clipped, indifferent, as if even acknowledging you was a chore. His eyes never met yours; instead, they drifted to where Pansy Parkinson was sitting a few seats down.

Pansy was animatedly recounting something to the group, her hands waving in exaggerated gestures, and you watched as a small smile tugged at the corner of Draco’s lips—a smile that used to be reserved just for you. Your heart twisted painfully at the sight.

"What happened to us? When did I become invisible?" you wondered, the thought slicing through you like a knife. There was a time when you were the one who could make him smile like that, the one who could lighten the shadows in his eyes. But now... now, it felt like you were nothing more than a ghost in his life.

You took a deep breath, determined not to give up. You couldn’t let this distance grow any wider, not without at least trying to reach him one more time. Summoning your courage, you reached across the table, your fingers lightly brushing against his hand.

"Draco," you said softly, leaning in closer so that only he could hear, "can we talk later? Just the two of us?"

For a moment, you thought you saw something flicker in his eyes—surprise, maybe even hesitation—but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. His reaction was almost instinctive; he pulled his hand away as if your touch had burned him.

"I’m busy tonight," he replied curtly, his tone cold and dismissive. His eyes were hard, as if daring you to push further. Before you could say anything else, he turned back to Pansy, his posture relaxing as he rejoined their conversation, completely shutting you out.

The sting of his rejection hit you like a physical blow. You could feel your throat tighten, the familiar prick of tears threatening to spill over. But you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral, to swallow down the lump in your throat. The last thing you wanted was to fall apart here, in front of everyone.

"Why is he making this so hard?" you thought desperately, your heart aching with the weight of everything left unsaid between you. It was like trying to hold on to sand slipping through your fingers—no matter how tightly you tried to grasp it, it kept falling away.

The food on your plate had grown cold, your appetite completely gone. You couldn’t sit there any longer, pretending like everything was fine while Draco seemed to do everything in his power to push you away. Pushing back your chair, you stood up abruptly, mumbling a quick excuse to those seated around you.

Draco didn’t even look up as you left, too engrossed in whatever Pansy was saying. The realization made your chest tighten painfully. Is this it? Is this how it ends?

As you stepped out of the Great Hall, the cool air of the castle corridors hit you, and you sucked in a shaky breath, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay. You needed to get away, to clear your mind before the heartbreak became too overwhelming. You could hear the distant laughter from the hall behind you, but it felt like it belonged to a different world—one you were no longer part of.

You quickened your pace, your footsteps echoing in the empty corridor as you fled deeper into the shadows of the castle. Only once you were sure you were alone did you let out a shuddering breath, the tears you’d been holding back finally slipping free.

Leaning against the cold stone wall, you closed your eyes, letting the tears flow silently down your cheeks. All you had ever wanted was to be there for him, to help him shoulder whatever burdens he was carrying. But now, it felt like he was deliberately shutting you out, choosing his pain over you.

"How much longer can I keep trying?" you wondered, the thought hanging heavily in your mind. Every attempt to reach him seemed to push him further away, and you were terrified that one day, he’d be so far gone that there’d be no way to bring him back.

For now, all you could do was let the tears fall, the sound of your quiet sobs swallowed by the darkness of the empty corridor.

The castle was quiet, the echo of your footsteps swallowed by the darkness as you wandered aimlessly through the cold, empty corridors. The events of dinner had left your heart heavy, your mind swirling with thoughts you couldn’t escape. You needed air—space to clear your head, somewhere far from the suffocating tension of the Great Hall and the accusing looks you imagined from everyone around you.

Without even realizing it, your feet had carried you to a place that once held fond memories. The Astronomy Tower, where you and Draco used to sneak away, hidden from prying eyes. Back then, it had been your secret haven, a place where stolen kisses and whispered confessions made the rest of the world fade away. But now, standing there in the cold night air, it felt like a hollow echo of something you’d lost.

You leaned against the stone railing, the rough surface biting into your palms as you stared out at the moonlit grounds below. The stars were brilliant tonight, scattered like diamonds against the velvet sky, but they offered no comfort. Instead, they only served as a stark reminder of the distance between you and Draco—the boy you once knew, the boy who now felt like a stranger.

The tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over, hot against your cold cheeks. You bit your lip, the taste of salt mingling with the icy breeze.

"How did we get here?" you thought, your heart aching with every beat. "Why won’t he just let me in?"

The quiet was shattered by the sound of footsteps on the stone staircase behind you. You hastily wiped at your eyes, hoping it was just a prefect on their rounds. But when you turned around, your breath caught in your throat.

Draco stood in the doorway, his figure silhouetted against the faint light from the torches below. His expression was unreadable, but there was something different in his eyes—a softness, a hesitation you hadn’t seen in weeks. He seemed to fill the space with his presence, yet there was a hesitance in the way he stood, as if he wasn’t sure he was welcome.

"What are you doing up here?" he asked, his voice softer than it had been in what felt like a lifetime. The sharp edges you’d grown used to were gone, leaving behind a tone that almost sounded... unsure.

You turned back to the stars, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall again. The cold air stung your cheeks, making them burn as you fought to keep your composure.

"Trying to remember why I’m still fighting for us," you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper, carried away by the wind.

There was a long, heavy silence. You could feel him standing there, his presence both comforting and suffocating all at once. You didn’t dare look at him, afraid that if you did, the fragile control you had over your emotions would shatter completely.

Draco took a hesitant step forward, the sound of his shoes scuffing against the stone floor. For a brief moment, you thought he might reach for you—his hand twitched at his side, as if he wanted to take your hand, to pull you close like he used to. But just as quickly, he withdrew, retreating behind the walls he was so determined to keep up.

"You don’t have to wait for me," he said quietly, his voice so soft you almost didn’t hear it over the wind. There was a note of something in his tone—regret, maybe, or fear. "You could... find someone else."

You turned to face him, your heart breaking all over again at the way he stood there, looking so lost and conflicted. His words cut through you like a knife, and you struggled to understand how he could say such a thing when all you ever wanted was to be there for him.

"Is that what you want, Draco?" you asked, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to keep it steady. "For me to leave?" You searched his eyes, desperate to find a shred of the boy who once held you close, who whispered that he’d never let you go.

But his jaw clenched, his eyes flickering away from yours, refusing to let you see whatever war was raging inside him. His silence was answer enough. He was too afraid to let his guard down, too terrified to admit that he needed you, even as he stood on the precipice of losing you forever.

"Draco," you pleaded, your voice breaking as the tears welled up again. "I’m still here. I’m still fighting. But you have to give me something—anything—to hold on to."

For a moment, you thought you saw something crack in his cold exterior. His eyes softened, his lips parting as if he were about to say something that might change everything. But then, just as quickly as it came, that moment was gone. The mask was back in place, his expression turning hard once more.

"I can’t," he whispered, almost as if he were speaking to himself. "It’s better this way."

Before you could respond, before you could reach for him, he turned on his heel and walked away, his footsteps echoing in the empty tower as he descended back into the shadows. You watched him go, your heart shattering with each step he took.

And then, just like that, you were alone again. The cold wind whipped around you, biting into your skin, but it was nothing compared to the chill that had settled deep inside your chest. You leaned back against the railing, the tears flowing freely now, no longer caring who might see.

"Why won’t you let me in, Draco?" you whispered to the stars, your voice lost in the wind. But the night offered no answers, only the distant howl of the wind as it swept across the castle grounds below.

You stayed there, alone in the darkness, until the chill became too much to bear. And as you made your way back to the Slytherin dormitory, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something between you and Draco had irrevocably changed—like a thread that had been stretched too far, finally snapping under the strain.

Yet, despite everything, despite the heartbreak, you couldn’t bring yourself to walk away. Because as broken as things were, as distant as Draco had become, there was still a part of you that believed��hoped—that maybe, just maybe, there was still something worth saving.

And so, with the taste of salt still on your lips and the cold air stinging your cheeks, you resolved to keep fighting.

But for how much longer?

The small, dimly lit study room was cloaked in shadows, the flickering light from a single lantern casting long, eerie shadows on the stone walls. The door slammed shut behind Draco with a resounding crash, the sound echoing through the confined space like a clap of thunder. He was like a storm personified, his shoulders tense, breaths coming in sharp, erratic bursts as if he’d just run a marathon.

But you weren’t going to let him shut you out this time. Not again. Refusing to be locked out, you shoved the door open, the force of it rebounding against the wall as you stepped into the cramped room.

"I’m not leaving until we talk about this," you declared, your voice a mix of anger and desperation. You could hear the tremor in your words, but you stood your ground, refusing to back down even as Draco glared at you, his eyes filled with a volatile mix of emotions.

Draco paced the narrow room like a trapped animal, his fists clenching and unclenching, the tension radiating off him in waves. He looked like he was on the verge of exploding, and for a moment, you wondered if he might.

"Fine," he spat, his voice rising as he whirled around to face you. "You want to talk? Let’s talk. Let’s talk about how nothing I do is ever good enough for you."

His words were like a slap, stinging and sharp, and they made your breath catch in your throat. You took a step back, the impact of his accusation leaving you momentarily stunned. But then, anger flared hot and bright within you, igniting a fire you couldn’t contain.

"This isn’t about you being good enough, Draco!" you shot back, your voice cracking with the weight of everything you’d been holding in. "It’s about you shutting me out! I don’t even know who you are anymore!"

The words hung heavy in the air between you, the only sound the rapid, shallow breaths you were both taking. Draco’s eyes blazed, his face twisted in a mask of fury. For a moment, you thought he might lash out—say something so cruel that it would leave you shattered beyond repair.

"Maybe you shouldn’t have tried so hard to get close, then!" he shouted, his voice raw and desperate, echoing off the stone walls. He took a step toward you, his presence overwhelming in the small space. "If you can’t handle it, then just leave!"

The silence that followed was deafening. The air seemed to grow colder, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a physical force. You felt like the ground had been ripped out from under you, your heart splintering into a thousand pieces.

For a moment, you turned toward the door, your body moving on autopilot. The logical part of you screamed to just walk away—to protect yourself, to stop trying to love someone who only pushed you away. But as your hand touched the cold doorknob, your shoulders trembled, and you couldn’t bring yourself to leave.

With a deep, shuddering breath, you turned back around, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

"I’m not leaving," you whispered, your voice breaking on the words. "I’m not leaving because I love you."

The confession hung in the air, fragile and raw, like a delicate thread that could snap at any moment. Draco’s eyes widened, the anger draining from his face as if someone had doused him with cold water. He stared at you, his expression shifting from fury to shock, his mouth opening and closing like he couldn’t quite process what you’d just said.

"You... love me?" he whispered, his voice barely audible, as if he was afraid that speaking too loudly would shatter the moment.

You nodded, the tears you’d been fighting finally spilling over, trailing hot and bitter down your cheeks.

"Yes, you idiot," you choked out, your voice breaking with the intensity of your emotions. "But you’re so wrapped up in your own pain that you can’t even see it."

Draco stood frozen, his usually composed demeanor crumbling right before your eyes. His face was pale, his eyes wide and glistening with something that looked suspiciously like tears. The raw vulnerability in your words seemed to pierce through whatever armor he had been using to keep you at bay, and for the first time in what felt like forever, his walls began to crack.

You watched him, your heart pounding painfully in your chest. For a moment, it seemed like he might push you away again, retreat behind those impenetrable barriers he’d built around himself. But then, slowly, he took a hesitant step toward you, his hands trembling at his sides.

"Why?" he asked, his voice breaking. "Why would you still love me after everything? After all the times I’ve hurt you?"

The pain in his eyes was almost too much to bear, but you held his gaze, refusing to look away.

"Because I know you," you said softly, stepping closer until you were only inches apart. "The real you. The one who’s scared, who’s hurting, but who’s also capable of so much more. I see you, Draco, even if you can’t see yourself."

A choked sound escaped him, something between a sob and a laugh. He reached up, his fingers brushing your cheek, as if he couldn’t quite believe you were real.

"I don’t deserve you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You shook your head, leaning into his touch.

"Maybe not," you said, your voice soft but unwavering. "But I’m here anyway. And I’m not leaving."

Something in him seemed to break at your words. He pulled you into his arms, holding you so tightly it almost hurt, like he was afraid you might slip through his fingers if he let go. His face was buried in your hair, his shoulders trembling as he let out a shaky breath.

"I’m sorry," he murmured, his voice muffled against your shoulder. "I’ve been so scared... so lost. I didn’t know how to let you in."

You held him even tighter, your hands threading through his hair as you whispered, "It’s okay, Draco. I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere."

For the first time in what felt like forever, the tension between you began to ease, replaced by something warmer, something softer. As you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms in that tiny study room, you could feel the cracks in Draco’s walls starting to heal—not because you forced them, but because he was finally ready to let you in.

And in that moment, you knew that no matter how dark things had been, there was still hope for both of you. Because love wasn’t about perfection—it was about choosing each other, over and over, even when things seemed impossible.

And you were willing to choose him, as long as it took.

The small study room had changed, its once cold and tense atmosphere now softened by the warm glow of the fire crackling in the hearth. The tension that had filled the air just moments ago seemed to dissipate, replaced by a fragile calm. The flames danced, casting flickering shadows across the stone walls, creating an almost surreal sense of intimacy in the tiny space.

Draco stood in the middle of the room, his shoulders slumped, the fight drained out of him. For a moment, he seemed to sway, like a man on the verge of collapsing under the weight of his own burdens. And then, as if his legs could no longer hold him up, he sank into the nearest chair, his head bowing low, his hands coming up to cover his face.

His voice was a broken whisper, barely audible over the soft crackle of the fire.

"I don’t know how to do this," he confessed, each word laced with anguish. "I don’t know how to keep you safe... how to stop them from using you against me."

Your heart shattered at the raw pain in his voice. This was Draco stripped of all his defenses, his cold mask crumbled into pieces on the floor. He was no longer the aloof, guarded boy you had grown used to, but someone who was terrified, lost, and desperately trying to protect what little he had left.

You moved closer, your footsteps soft against the stone floor. You couldn’t bear to see him like this—so broken, so defeated. Gently, you reached out and pulled his hands away from his face, your touch soft but firm. His eyes were red-rimmed, his lashes wet with unshed tears, and it broke your heart to see him like this.

"You don’t have to protect me, Draco," you whispered, your voice gentle but filled with conviction. "I chose this. I chose you."

For a moment, he just stared at you, his eyes wide with disbelief, as if he couldn’t quite believe that you were still here, still choosing him despite everything. A tear slipped down his cheek, and he quickly wiped it away, his breath hitching as he struggled to regain control. But he was losing the battle; the walls he had so carefully constructed were crumbling faster than he could rebuild them.

"Why?" he whispered, his voice breaking. "Why would you choose me? After everything... after all the times I’ve pushed you away..."

You leaned in closer, your hands cupping his face, your thumbs gently brushing away the remnants of his tears.

"Because I love you," you said simply, the words flowing from your lips with a certainty that left no room for doubt. "Because I see you, Draco—the real you. And I’m not afraid."

His breath caught in his throat, his eyes shining with a mix of disbelief and longing. For a moment, it seemed like he might pull away again, might retreat back into the safety of his solitude. But then, something inside him seemed to break. His hands trembled as he reached for you, his fingers threading through your hair as if grounding himself in your presence.

There was a moment of hesitation—a beat where you could feel the fear radiating off him, the terror that you might reject him, that this fragile connection might shatter. But you didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned in, your breaths mingling in the small space between you.

And then he kissed you.

It was a kiss born of desperation, of fear, of a longing that had been bottled up for far too long. His lips crashed against yours, rough and hungry, as if he were trying to prove to himself that you were real, that you were here. His hands tightened in your hair, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t bear the thought of letting you go.

The fire crackled softly in the background, but all you could hear was the sound of your own heart hammering in your chest, the feel of his breath against your skin. The kiss was hot, desperate, filled with all the emotions you had both been holding back for so long. Every touch, every brush of his lips against yours, was a silent apology, a promise, a plea.

But slowly, the kiss began to change, the frantic desperation giving way to something softer, something more tender. The anger, the frustration, the fear—it all melted away, leaving behind a warmth that spread through your chest like the glow of the fire beside you. His touch grew gentler, his hands moving from your hair to cup your face with a tenderness that made your heart swell.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other’s. The world outside the small study room ceased to exist—there was no war, no expectations, no fear. It was just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world falling away.

Draco’s eyes were filled with something you hadn’t seen in so long—hope.

"I’m sorry," he whispered, his voice so soft it was almost drowned out by the crackle of the fire. "I’ve been such a fool... I thought... I thought I was protecting you by pushing you away."

You shook your head, tears welling up again, but this time they were tears of relief, of joy.

"We protect each other, Draco," you said, your voice steady. "That’s what it means to love someone. You don’t have to carry this alone anymore."

He let out a shaky breath, his hands still cradling your face as if you might disappear if he let go. The firelight danced in his eyes, casting shadows that couldn’t hide the soft smile that finally tugged at his lips—a real, genuine smile that you hadn’t seen in what felt like forever.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice cracking again, but this time from relief rather than pain. "Thank you for not giving up on me."

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, this one slow and gentle, a promise of the future you were determined to build together, no matter how difficult it might be.

"I’m not going anywhere, Draco," you murmured against his lips. "We’re in this together."

And as the fire crackled softly beside you, casting its warm glow over the two of you, it felt like for the first time in a long while, things might actually be okay.

Because in that small, dimly lit study, surrounded by shadows and secrets, you had found the one thing that mattered most—each other.

The Slytherin common room was quiet, the once roaring fire reduced to glowing embers, casting a soft, warm glow over the room. The shadows danced gently on the stone walls, the only sound the faint crackle of the dying flames. The castle had fallen into its usual nighttime hush, and for once, there was a sense of calm that neither of you had felt in weeks.

You and Draco sat together on the old, worn leather couch, wrapped up in each other’s presence. It was a simple moment, yet it felt profound after everything you had gone through. Draco’s head rested on your shoulder, his hair tickling your neck as he let out a slow, contented breath. His fingers were intertwined with yours, his grip warm and steady, as if he was afraid to let go.

The silence between you was comfortable now, no longer thick with tension or unspoken words. Instead, it was filled with something softer, something that spoke of new beginnings and fragile hope.

"I know I’ve been difficult," Draco murmured, breaking the silence. His voice was soft, almost hesitant, as if he were still unsure of where he stood. He didn’t lift his head from your shoulder, but you could feel the way his fingers tightened around yours, as if drawing strength from your touch.

"But I’m going to try," he continued, his voice barely more than a whisper. "For you. For us."

Your heart swelled at his words, a warm, comforting feeling spreading through your chest. You turned your head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head, breathing in the familiar scent of him.

"We’ll figure it out, together," you promised, your voice steady and full of conviction. Your fingers traced gentle circles on the back of his hand, a soothing rhythm that seemed to ease the last remnants of tension from his shoulders.

For a while, you simply sat there, wrapped up in the quiet, the weight of the past few weeks slowly lifting off your shoulders. The castle outside was silent, the world beyond the common room a distant memory. In this moment, it was just the two of you—no secrets, no fears, just the warmth of each other’s presence.

Draco shifted slightly, lifting his head to look at you. His eyes, which had been so cold and guarded for so long, were now soft, filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache in the best way possible. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that was gentle, slow, and filled with all the promises of a new beginning.

As he pulled away, he kept his forehead pressed to yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet of the room.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "For not giving up on me."

You smiled, your heart feeling lighter than it had in months. You pressed another soft kiss to his lips, a silent assurance that you were in this for the long haul.

"I never will," you murmured against his lips, your words barely more than a breath. "We’re in this together."

The fire in the hearth gave one last, soft crackle before fading into glowing embers, the shadows around you deepening. But neither of you noticed. You were lost in each other, the warmth of your embrace enough to ward off the chill of the dungeons.

As the castle settled into peaceful stillness, you and Draco stayed wrapped in each other’s arms, knowing that things wouldn’t be perfect, that there would still be challenges ahead. But you were willing to face them together, side by side.

And as Draco leaned in to kiss you once more, his lips soft and lingering against yours, you knew that this was the start of something new—a chance to build something real, something worth fighting for.

The story ended not with grand declarations or dramatic gestures, but with a soft whisper, a gentle kiss, and the promise of a new chapter in both your lives. Because sometimes, the quiet moments were the ones that meant the most.

And as the darkness of the Slytherin common room wrapped around you, you both knew that whatever came next, you would face it together.

"Goodnight, love," Draco murmured, his voice sleepy and content as he nestled closer to you.

"Goodnight," you whispered back, a soft smile playing on your lips as you closed your eyes.

And for the first time in a long while, you both felt at peace, knowing that this was only the beginning of something beautiful.

#draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy fic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter

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soulcluster-moved · 2 years ago

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@trustbutvcriify / seth BANDAGE patch them up when they get hurt.

It took a stern voice and her ‘If you are intent on protecting me then you first need to take care of yourself’ line before Seth allowed Eirika to clean and redress his wound. With enough determination - of which he had plenty - Seth could do it himself, but not without aggravating the wound more since it was placed so precariously.

Furthermore, she was the reason for his wound. Upon fleeing castle Renais atop Seth’s horse, Valter had pursued the pair, and it was in defending her from him that Seth was injured.

It was also, if she was being honest with herself, a way to be close to him. As a knight, it was his duty to protect her, and while Seth did not treat her any differently he also did not shy away when she touched him nor did he mind her excuses to spend time with him.

“At the next town, we can see about finding someone to look at this.” Eirika finished cleaning the wound, but let her hand stray across his muscled shoulder before she pulled away. With all the fighting they did, it wasn’t uncommon to find his wound re-opened. It worried her.

Eirika turned to grab the bandages, which was all they had on this march, and indicated for him to lift his arm. Obedient to a fault, he did so, and Eirika got to work.

This was the part that brought her close. When she needed to wrap her arms around him to retrieve the bandage and bring it full circle, when his bare arm steadied her against him, when she pulled the bandage firmly across his muscles. It was all done in silence with their eyes catching the other’s every so often, holding for a moment too long, all while cherishing these precious few moments they had alone. Before they had to return to the world outside, to being a princess and her knight.

#c: eirika #trustbutvcriify #trustbutvcriify: seth #answered #okok heart me out #something about #his open wound being a metaphor for their love #it keeps reopening and bleeding because he’s hiding it and not acknowledging it #the only time it is is by her in private #which is also the only time they can let their guard down a little #seth says he will likely have this his whole life #just like his love for her #and when the war is finally over #is when it can close up and start to heal #because he’s letting himself act on his feelings finally #it’s 2:30am am i making sense aslkdjasd #IM HAVING A LOT OF FEELINGS #ok im going to bed

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swampjawn · 9 months ago

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Time to talk an unnecessary amount about floors!

Episode 6 of Dungeon Meshi was produced in collaboration with a smaller studio, Enishiya - and it went way harder than I expected, for being made up of two relatively simple and self contained stories focusing on one character each.

And you can really see how those extra resources meant the animators could give full focus to both halves of the episode. Let's take a look at one piece that stole the show.

The first half was handled primarily by episode director/storyboard artist Keita Nagahara and co-animation director Hirotoshi (or Hiroaki? [1]) Arai. It's actually kinda insane how much of this section can be attributed to these two.

But the real star of the show is the second half, Chilchuck vs the mimic, led by co-animation director Toya Ooshima in his first animation director role for TV anime!

And the biggest aspect that knocked my dang boots off was something that's very consistent with Ooshima's style: background animation!

By animating the backgrounds rather than using painted still images, Ooshima and the team of other similarly skilled animators are able to create these beautiful dynamic camera movements that wouldn't be possible otherwise. Like these cuts by Takeshi Maenami where the camera becomes an expressive part of the scene, zipping forward and backward, and tilting to emphasize the speed of this murderous hermit crab. (Maenami's style is also very recognizable here - snappy timing and quick camera movements)

Or this cut by the incredible Kaito Tomioka which cleverly combines a traditional background for the walls with a fully animated floor. The level of detail in these tiles is just completely insane, and used to great effect with this wide, diagonal angle, and the way the camera tentatively drifts forward before reversing direction, and the tiles blur out as it speeds up.

I don't think I'm the only one caught off guard by how much they full-assed this little side story, but it was a pleasant surprise!

I broke down the entire episode in this video here. A lot of research went into this one, and I think it's the best one of these videos I've made so far, so if you're at all interested in more of this type of analysis in video form, I would really appreciate it if you checked it out, or re-blogged this post! Thanks

youtube

[1] It's listed as Hirotoshi on Anime News Network, but Hiroaki on a key frame that Studio Trigger shared on Twitter, so I'm not sure which one is wrong.

#dungeon meshi #animation analysis #studio trigger #laios touden #chilchuck #video #original #mini essay #Youtube

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svtswhorehouse · 5 months ago

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DATING SEUNGCHEOL INCLUDES…. — sfw

• sugar daddy or boyfriend? (the answer is both.)

• the definition of a REAL MAN. no one has ever treated you with as much respect or given you as much love as seungcheol has.

• you're his pretty little passenger princess and he's your personal chauffeur.

• mom and dad of the group, duhhhh.

• he would drop anything and everything just to give you his undivided attention, no matter how important it is.

• yes. he would still love you if you were a worm.

• he would definitely give you his bank card without a second thought. it would also be linked to your phone, he insists on you using it always and would throw a fit when you don't.

• you would also give him your card at times and he always takes it without a fight, but would never use it.

• would take you out on dates in which you can dress up pretty and maybe dine at a fancy and EXPENSIVE restaurant. don't be fooled though. he also pays attention to the little things so if you're into books, he's taking you to a library themed restaurant. if you like animals, he's booking a ticket to orlando and ya'll are going to the rainforest cafe or something.

• you would never have to lift a finger ever again.

• he would wash your car, fill it up with gas, and take it to go get serviced without any complaints.

• he would burn down the world for you.

• he always puts you first. if he had to pick between you or the company (if they ever made him choose) he doesn't even need to think, it would be you every time.

• also your body guard ! any social gathering ya'll attend, he always has his eyes on you no matter how far away you are from him.

• times in which you do drive yourself, ya'll are definitely the type of couple to have life 360 on each other. he would text you saying to slow the fuck down if you're speeding.

• no matter how much you insist he goes to sleep and no matter how late you're getting home — it could be 4 in the morning, he will ALWAYS wait up for you.

• he has the habit of buying you anything you even slightly mention. he also pays close attention to the things you look at when out shopping together and they would show up delivered to your apartment the next day. he would take the heat from you, but still would continue to spend his money on you.

• when you have a bad day, he is already there with open arms ready to give you the biggest bear hug and shield you from the rest of the world.

• whenever you two go out together, he always has a hand on your back to guide you through crowds or just so everyone knows that you're off limits.

• if you ever lose during game nights with friends or really anywhere, he would do the penalties for you!

• he always makes sure you're on the inside when walking near a street.

• if you ever doubt yourself or feel insecure, prepare for a long serious conversation with lots of tears because he WILL NOT be having any of that. no. not when he thinks you're one of the most beautiful, talented, and honorable people he knows.

• you have never felt so safe and secure than when he's around.

• he will constantly be saying "i love you." definitely the type to call you back immediately if you forget to say it and hang up.

• he has a personal agenda out for revenge against anyone who hurts or disrespects you in any type of way.

• he will be your designated driver for not only you BUT your friends as well during girl's night out.

• he may be competitive, but when it comes to you, he would let you win just so he can see a smile on your face.

• says he CAN'T (won't because he's stubborn) fall asleep if he's not cuddling you.

• he becomes the softest most kindhearted person in the world when it comes to you.

• he gets jealous easily, but he trusts you with his whole heart so he doesn't dwell on it for too long.

• when it comes to arguing, no matter if he was in the right or wrong, he is always the first to apologize. definitely the type to get you chocolate, flowers, and ALWAYS gets you a teddy bear after.

• would make you sit on his back when doing pushups or would give you a piggy back ride when he is doing pull-ups !

• he LOVES when you wear his clothes. you would always find his shirts or hoodies on your side of the closet and be like "hmm, how did this get here?" ask your boyfriend.

• rarely ever calls you by your name. always calls you baby or something cute. he also insists that you don't call him seungcheol. he will pout if you do.

• definitely impressed your parents right off the bat. your family absolutely adores him and your parents treat him like a son.

• he would tease you by giving you a hug when he's all sweaty after practice.

• he INSISTS on picking you up EVERYDAY after work.

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nightingale-prompts · 2 months ago

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The Nightingale Family-DC x DP prompt

(Shameless Addams family inspired prompt)

News travels fast in Gotham, especially in affluent circles. A new family has arrived in the city, old money at that. They had taken up residents in the old mansion overlooking the Historic Gotham Graveyard.

The Nightingales had a way of letting their presence be known. They were rarely seen in public. The eldest Jasmine Nightingale however had made waves working at the Gotham Asylum as a psychologist. She was often escorted by her younger brother Dan Nightingale. The public really started talking when Jazz was seen talking with Harley Quinn.

There were two children that lived in the Nightingale manor. They were elusive to say the least as the family didn't attend the parties of Gotham.

It wasn't until Damian Wayne got an invite from his classmate Danielle to visit their manor that someone saw the lives of Nightingales. This invite had been received after Damian carefully befriended the youngest Nightingale to investigate their connections.

That's how the Waynes ended up at a dinner party.

The manor was bleak to say the least and that's saying something in Gotham. The buildingbwas made from black stones and gargoyles perched on the roof. The garden was wilted and full of thrones that crept up the walls.

Bruce felt a sense of Deja vu as he approached the door and rang the bell. Tower bells rang out as the face of Jasmine Nightingale appeared. She was dressed in black dress pants and blazer. Her lips were painted to match. Her red hair had a striking white streak through it which had become a fashion trend since the family's arrival to girls wanting to seem mysterious.

"Good Evening. It is so nice to meet the infamous Waynes." She shook Bruce's hand. Behind her, the sounds of clanking metal was heard. "That is just my younger siblings playing. You don't you boys join while I talk to your father.

Despite only being a fresh-faced 20 year old Jazz carried herself like a confident adult. A certified genius in psychology who graduated early she also handled the inmates at the Asylum well enough that escapes are at an all time low.

"She's got it all" was what Harley said.

Bruce's admiration of the young lady was only matched by his suspicion. The house the Nightingales lived y had once belonged to the Al Ghouls. There was no telling yet if there was a connection.

He took a seat in the living room with Jazz tea already prepared. She poured two cups of black tea. Not black as in the type of tea but the color of the drink. Bruce cautiously sniffed the black liquid, it smelled earthy and acidic. Poison.

"Do you like it? I made it myself. I added the belladonna myself. It has a sweet taste so you don't need sugar. The kids have sweet tooths but we avoid added sugars. They love nightshade." She smiled drinking.

Bruce put the cup down. So they drink poison at a young age. They must be part of The League of Assassins. But why are they here?

"If you don't mind me asking. Why did you move to Gotham? Your parents-" Jazz put a hand up as she finished her cup.

"Mr. Wayne I'm sure you are no stranger to parents leaving before their time nor the concept that not all parents deserve children. Now I can't confirm or deny if that is the case for use but you can understand that it's a private matter." Jazz said sternly.

That wasn't an answer.

Upstairs Danny and Danielle played with Elle's new toys. Swords from Dan's trip to Portugal. He even sharpened them. They were currently tearing through the mansion.

Tim and Damian caught them while Danny had successfully pinned Elle to the ground.

"Dami! Help!" Elle yelled catching Danny off guard as Damian tackled Danny to the ground.

"Alright, alright. You can go next." Danny rolling Damian off him and passing him the sword. "Im taking a break."

Danny loved playing with his little sister but baby games are tiring.

"They let you play with swords," Tim exclaimed. This wasn't something he expected, sure it was normal for Damian but Damian is weird and was raised by assassins. Damian didn't do it for fun, it was training.

Damian and Danielle ran off while fencing.

"You must be one of the Waynes. Elle has been excited to have your brother over." Danny said politely if not a bit dismissive.

"Eh, yeah. Your sister said we should join you." Tim said a bit awkward. " You have another brother right?"

"Oh, yeah. He travels alot but he's relaxing right now. He's probably swimming." Danny shrugged.

Tim had heard of Danny. They went to the same school but Danny was part of a program that allowed him to come to school when he felt like it. The program is for young engineers who want to work for Wayne Industries. He mostly worked on small experimental projects. So far Danny's superconductor tech was revolutionary but impossible to replicate. Danny somehow managed to make a more effective coolant than anything they had created in the lab.

"You have a pool?" Tim knew that the mansion didn't have a pool.

"Of water? No." Danny shrugged but gave no further answer.

"I see, so what do you do?" Tim tried to sound normal like he was talking to his friends and not someone he was trying to probe.

"Anything, everything. I was going to recalibrate my telescope but I have a laser to test." Danny walked off expecting Tim to follow.

Testing was just cut a bunch of things in half. Tim got some great info on making an explosive ice canister and foam bombs. Tim made sure to get his number to hire him to make some gear for him.

The Nightingale kids were absolutely lawless. They destroyed everything in their path.

Elle had dragged Damian to her room to show off her toys. She used to travel with Dan until she started school. She picked up a bunch of items. Cult artifacts, shrunken heads, voodoo dolls, cursed puppets, knives, swords, and the homemade taxidermy Elle made from roadkill. She also had a pet dodo bird named Ernesto who had a bed next to her bed. Ernesto took a liking to Damian and sat on his head. The way he shows his affection

Soon enough Dan came upstairs to check on Elle and Danny.

"You kids, need to get ready for dinner. Sharpen your nails and teeth." He said before going back to the kitchen.

"What does that mean?" Damian asked.

"You don't sharpen your nails. Well good luck at dinner." Elle said bemused.

Dinner was...horrifying. Watching the family chat happily as they ripped apart the moving food as it came to life. Damian was actually excited as he skewered the cheese and broccoli casserole that screamed at him.

"Father, why can't we do this at our home?" He asked.

#dc x dp #Dan was swimming in the Lazarus pit in the basement #dpxdc #dc x dp prompt #dp x dc prompt #danny fenton #danny phantom #batman #tim drake #damian wayne #bruce wayne #dark danny

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bumblebeem · 1 month ago

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Transformers One (mostly Bumblebee) things I can't stop thinking about.

During the film's opening when Orion Pax falls into a room and onto a table full of energon, he bundles a load of it into his arms and is eating as much as he can until he drops it all and has to keep fleeing.

He's starving. The miners are being underfed as well as overworked.

Additionally, we see Bumblebee has three rations on his person when he offers one up to wake Alpha Trion. This might suggest he's keeping these rations for when he'll need them rather than being able to comfortably feed himself. For the miners it's a scarce resource they have to be careful with, and yet the transformers on the higher levels are enjoying it in abundance.

Bumblebee urging D-16 to "stay down" during Sentinel's attack.

This is an interesting line - if it was a nothing line meant to reflect compassion/empathy, he could have urged Sentinel to stop, or implored the 'bots next to him to take notice and do something. There were other ways to demonstrate "Bumblebee is kind and doesn't want his friend to get hurt."

But he doesn't look to authority or anyone else around him for help on D-16's behalf.

He instead instructs D-16 on how to behave to get the abuse to stop.

Which suggests to me this is learned behaviour, and he's giving advice based on previous experience. He's learned that taking the punishment and letting it happen gets the perpetrator to eventually stop, but resisting and fighting against them keeps it going.

That he was reassigned continually right down into sub-level 50 would tell me he's had more than his fair share of annoying a bigger 'bot enough to get himself knocked around once or twice. And very likely, nobody witnessing the abuse helped him, and/or the authority in the room was the one perpetrating the abuse anyway, so of course they weren't going to step in and help.

The only way out for him has always been to just take it :( So he assumes this will be the quickest/least painful way out for D-16, too.

Bumblebee is as much of a nerd as Orion is.

He knows about the High Guard (and is very excited to recite what he knows about them), he recognises the Primes as soon as they come across them in the cave, he watches the broadcast Orion locates inside Steve's head with interest... It's very subtly done, but I think this is the main shared trait between Orion and Bee. I wish we had seen more of Bumblebee trying to talk to Orion about this shared interest, but I get the main relationship they wanted to portray was that between Orion and D-16 (and really enjoyed that regardless!)

Bumblebee knows how to leave sub-level 50, yet he still goes back to his post, and doesn't appear to be using this escape-time to socialise with anyone else on the other floors he can access since he is so very clearly starved of social contact.

I'm not crying, okay, I'm just imagining this poor little guy sitting out of view watching the other cogless 'bots come and go, knowing he could get into more trouble and be even more isolated if he announces his presence and gets himself caught.

Also his "limited access" to the waste management area, and that thing he says about the main one in charge there preferring that he stays on task and really not liking any distractions... Ugh.

Bumblebee is purposely isolated in that room and there's apparently enough of a deterrent to keep him in it that he is forced to make imaginary friends out of trash to talk to instead.

I'm gonna go insane with grief and rage.

#bumblebee #transformers one #tfone #tfone spoilers #transformers one spoilers #tfone bumblebee #transformers one bumblebee #maccadam #The MAIN thing I don't like about this movie is how he's relegated to comic relief #I get WHY he is and it's fine but he's so much more interesting than that :( He deserves better :(

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goldenstring6123 · 4 months ago

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Lnds: The type of kiss they like or so they think...

Warning: for 16+ only, Suggestive, Mildly implicit, self-insert, gender neutral.

Author's notes: Here's my first Lnds post! There's many more to come so i'll be creating a masterlist once i make 3 hcs

If you ask Sylus:

He'll say he likes the deep, breathy kisses during your make-out session with him; you pressed against his bed or his sofa, sometimes on the counter, and him being in between your thighs. He likes it when he grabs your jaw and leads the kiss. He likes seeing you flustered, even more so: Teary-eyed and catching your breath, but in reality—he likes the quick, chaste peck you give him at random parts of the day. It always catches him off guard, be it a quick peck as a goodbye or a peck you give him after winning a plushie. To almost every chaste kiss you give, he'll freeze for a moment, like a deer caught in headlights, before watching you move along with your task as if the kiss was something spontaneous. It makes him feel like something…something pleasant, of course. Of course, he'll never admit that to you.

If you ask Zayne:

He says the kisses during quiet, intimate moments are the ones he likes most: kissing while you stroll the park late at night or passionate but brief kisses between shows. Sometimes, he also prefers kisses in public spaces. However, not necessarily the long, deep ones, but rather the kiss where you pull him down to kiss you, or he reels you up so you can reach his lips; the sort of kiss where you ignore everyone around you for a reasonable amount of time. And he believes he won't ever tell you this unless he gets maddeningly drunk, but he likes it when you kiss him when you're angry or when you're in a bit of a daring mood. Unbeknown to himself, he likes it when you play rough and take the lead when you give him orders and glare at him, sitting on his lap and forcing his mouth to open and make way for you. Whenever this happens, it is also a way for him to let off some steam from work— he knows he doesn't have to be gentle with you, especially with how rough you're kissing him by then.

If you ask Xavier:

He'll almost always say he likes the kisses he steals from you after eating something sweet and flavorful. He likes how you're taken off guard by him holding your wrist and licking your glossy lips from the lollipop you ate or that instance where a thin film of icing hung at the corner of your lips. He likes the taste of the food and you mingling together. Your blushing is a bonus as well. But between him and his favorite action figure, He likes it most when he backs you into a wall when he no longer acts meek & cute and turns into a sly little minx with you. He likes it when you don't realize you're being pressed against the wall with nowhere to go. When he towers over you and doesn't break eye contact, those rare moments are when you go silent at his off-character actions; He likes those moments, especially knowing what entails beyond the kisses he gives you shortly after he's done teasing.

If you ask rafayel:

He says, almost too confidently, that he likes the kisses where you compliment him soon afterward. Be it a short kiss or a long, deep French kiss, it doesn't matter if you say the right words to make him feel assured of himself and your relationship. "You're beautiful," "My little fishy," and "I love you" are always appreciated as they fuel his ego the most. Without realizing it, he likes a particular type of kiss, the kind of kiss where you leave him marks. The kiss during your steamy sessions where you nibble at his delicate skin in areas where it wasn't visible to the public. On his chest, back, or stomach, and if he allows it, on his neck. He likes it when you trail kisses on any part of his body. Still, he loses his mind when you leave marks, treating him like a canvas, which is pretty ironic considering he's supposed to be the artist.

Author footnotes: Kinky Xavi— i genuinely believe he's a super freaky guy beneath that doe eyed cutie. Layout by me, using canva premium | Do not repost | Dividers by cafekitsune

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itadorey · 1 year ago

Text

𝐡𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐞— gojo satoru

pairing: gojo satoru x reader summary: even after you leave the jujutsu world behind, gojo satoru finds himself unable to get over you. genre: fluff! some angst but happy ending, friends to lovers notes: inspired by the song "haunt me (x3)" by teen suicide, gojo is awful at realizing his own feelings and dealing with them wc: ~4.8k

the day that you leave tokyo jujutsu tech is a dull one.

gojo think this must've been months in the planning, especially considering the fact that you're standing with nothing but a backpack slung over your shoulder with the rest of your belongings nowhere to be seen.

(he later learns that they had already been moved to your new apartment, and nanami and shoko had helped you move out over the course of a month.)

he also discovers that he's the only one that hasn't been informed of your departure, especially since he seems to be the only one taken by surprise as you stand by the entrance and say your goodbyes. he wonders if it's his fault for taking so many missions after geto's defection, and he feels his stomach lurch uncomfortably when he realizes that he's been so distracted that he once again couldn't see something happening with one of his friends.

and now you're leaving.

"you have to promise to visit," shoko says, engulfing you in a tight hug. gojo feels his mouth run dry at the sight, and he can't help but feel panicked when you give shoko a soft grin.

"i'll certainly do my best," you respond, reaching over to tug on her hair. she sighs in return, grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking you gently as she stares you down.

"answer your phone, ok? you can't ignore my texts now that you're leaving."

a quiet laugh leaves your lips at her words, and you nod reassuringly before giving her a loud smooch on the cheek and moving down the line. gojo watches you closely as you say your goodbye to yaga, the older man turning away from you to brush a fake tear away from his eye. he presses a soft, floppy doll into your hands before you move away from him, and gojo can see the distinct shine in your eye that lets him know that you're holding tears at bay.

he looks down at the ground when he realizes that he's the only one left for you to say goodbye to, and he can't help the way he tenses up when he sees your shoes come to a stop in front of him. there's a moment of silence during which gojo can feel everyone's eyes on him, and he begrudgingly looks up at you and removes his sunglasses.

if this is the last time he's seeing you, he's going to make sure he remembers every little detail.

there's a sharp intake of breath as you steadily meet his gaze, and you find yourself rendered speechless at the sight of his eyes. gojo can hear shoko cough lightly, and he steels himself before giving you a forced smile.

"so you're leaving," he whispers, his eyes widening slightly when he realizes what he's just said. you seem to be caught off guard as well, eyebrows raising in surprise before giving him a nod. he takes a moment to breathe, aware of shoko's lingering gaze as the two of you face each other. "oh. i didn't know."

"yeah," you breathe, rubbing your arm as you look away from him. "i hadn't gotten the chance to tell you. it seems like you're always off on a mission these days."

"you could've texted," gojo attempts to say jokingly, wincing when his words fall flat. you laugh lightly at his words, recognizing the teasing undertone even if the delivery had been less than perfect. you always seem to understand gojo, regardless of whether or not he wants you to.

"we both know you never look at your phone," you tease back, giving him a pretty smile that he hasn't seen in a while. he chuckles breathlessly at your jab, and he nods his agreement before glancing at shoko.

"neither do you," he shoots back, the corners of his lips turning up into a small smile when you follow his line of sight. "you gotta get better at that. can't risk pissing shoko off."

the space between the two of you is filled with uncertain laughter at gojo's remark, and you take a moment to study gojo before taking a step forward and wrapping your arms around his neck. he stumbles back a step or two at your sudden action, tensing up when you tuck your face into the crook of his neck.

"i'll miss you," you whisper, your breath warm against his neck. he tries to ignore the goosebumps that rise up along the smooth expanse of his neck, too focused on wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer to him when he feels you start to step away.

gojo knows that everyone else is watching the two of you, he can feel shoko's soft gaze and yaga's sad look as he does his best to ignore them and bury his face into your hair. there's an intense urge to ask you to stay building up inside of him, and he clamps his lips shut tightly in order to keep himself from blurting out his plea. the two of you remain in each other's arms before you finally take a deep breath and step away, giving gojo a watery smile.

"i'll miss you, satoru," you whisper, looking away and blinking back your tears. "i'll see you later, yeah?"

gojo nods dumbly as you finally walk away, giving everyone one last wave before slipping into the car that's been waiting for you this entire time. it isn't until he sees it disappear from view that gojo realizes that he didn't tell you that he would miss you too.

he wastes no time in slipping his sunglasses back over his eyes, clearing his throat quietly before turning and making his way back inside the building.

a week later, gojo hears that nanami has left jujutsu tech as well, and he can't help but wonder if he'll ever see either of you again.

gojo likes to think that he's matured, even though shoko might say otherwise because she's certain she's right. and also to piss him off.

but the truth is, he's no longer the same spunky, reckless teenager he was before everything went wrong in his life. he knows how to sort of work through his emotions now— in a way he thinks is healthy, he might add, but he can't help but find himself frozen in this very moment. there's a weird ache in his heart, one that he silently notes seems to be brought on by the flurry of emotions he's feeling in that very instant.

he wonders if they're visible on his face. they are.

gojo satoru is the most powerful jujutsu sorcerer in japan, maybe even in the world, and yet he feels like he's been reduced to almost nothing when a familiar face slides into the seat across from him.

five years is clearly not long enough to forget you, gojo realizes, physically wincing at the way his heart seems to race at the sight of you. his eyes meet yours, and he holds steady eye contact with you for a few seconds before ducking his head and quietly excusing himself from the table.

he takes a deep breath to attempt and soothe his rattled nerves as he takes a seat at the bar, squishing himself into the corner so that he's not visible from your table. he orders a soda from the bartender, ignoring the disbelieving look he gets in return before he ambles off to prepare the drink.

gojo has barely taken a sip of the soda before shoko is crashing into his side, settling onto the barstool next to him and digging her elbow into his side as she calls her order out to the bartender. neither of them speak until shoko gets her drink, and she immediately lifts it to her lips and takes a big sip that makes gojo shudder with disgust.

"surprise," shoko says dryly, glancing at gojo as he spares a look in your direction. he notices three extra people at the table, and he lets his shoulders drop in relief when he sees familiar heads of blond, white, and brunette.

"yeah, quite the surprise," gojo huffs, taking another sip of his soda. he stares at shoko until she turns to face him, a mildly displeased look on her face as she takes in his furrowed eyebrows. "i didn't know you still kept in contact with them."

"i didn't know you didn't still keep in contact with them," shoko shoots back, raising an eyebrow as she studies gojo's conflicted expression. she continues before he can gather his thoughts, earning a loud sigh as she speaks. "you kept in contact with nanami just fine. in fact, all he does is complain about how you never leave him alone."

gojo swallows harshly at shoko's words, and he thinks long and hard before deciding to remain silent for the time being. he can't find it in himself to admit that the thought of reaching out to you hurts him more than he cares to admit. you had left the jujutsu world, the one part of your life that included him, behind. even if he wanted to, gojo doesn't think he can find the words to express how he's feeling.

"switch seats with me when we get back to the table," gojo says suddenly, pausing to slurp up the rest of his drink. shoko glares at him when he sucks on nothing but air, the obnoxious sound causing her to reach over and flick him in the cheek. gojo grins widely when she hits nothing but air, his infinity protecting him from shoko's incredibly violent wrath.

"no," she says, getting off her barstool and picking up her drink. gojo realizes too late that she's heading back to the table, and he scrambles after her in an attempt to get there before her. his attempts are fruitless, and he finds himself awkwardly standing behind shoko's seat as she takes her place two chairs down from you.

gojo acts normal when everyone turns to glance at him, and he stiffly makes his way back to his own seat, avoiding your questioning gaze as he sits down. it takes a second for the table to break out into chatter again, and gojo doesn't hesitate before turning to the seat next to him and striking up a conversation with utahime. he notices mei mei grab your attention out of the corner of his eye, and he can't help but sigh in relief as he focuses on utahime once again, disregarding her annoyed look.

gojo is certain that ignoring you is much easier than dealing with whatever the hell is causing him to feel like he's dying inside.

the days that follow the dinner at the restaurant are unnervingly quiet, and gojo finds himself sitting on his couch and wondering if he should reach out to you.

there are no missions to take at the moment, and gojo is left with nothing to do but stare at his phone and wait for a message that never comes. megumi takes note of his sullen behavior, and although a part of him is curious about gojo's sudden attitude change, he doesn't think he actually cares enough to ask the white-haired sorcerer about what seems to be bothering him.

a few more days pass before gojo ultimately decides that reaching out to you would do more harm than good, especially with the way he completely ignored you at dinner. he's given no time to even think about changing his mind, and the very next day, he's being sent out on yet another mission.

he eventually falls into the same monotonous routine his life had prior to his run-in with you, and he wonders what would've changed if he had decided to take the chance and reach out the day after seeing you. there's a dull ache in his chest that seems to linger even after he makes his decision, and it only seems to get worse whenever shoko deigns to share updates about you with him.

the two of them know that gojo is more than grateful for her updates, even if he refuses to ask about you outright. he's certain that if he were to fully give into his curiosity that his heart would feel like it's giving out on him, and not even shoko's displeased looks are enough for him to get over himself and just ask you directly. he's even stopped pestering nanami, too afraid that he would give in and ask him questions about you.

it isn't until a long time passes (a year and a half; he's kept count) that gojo thinks he's finally getting over it— getting over you. his heart finally starts feeling lighter and breathing becomes a little bit easier and he can't help but think about how silly he was being, staying hung up for so long on somebody who probably never even thought twice about him.

they're small improvements but they're still improvements, and gojo reminds himself of that even as he walks down the busy streets of tokyo. he breathes out a sigh of relief as he slips into the local pharmacy, the cool air conditioning a welcome reprieve from the sticky heat outside.

he mumbles to himself as he moves through the aisles, scanning the shelves as he looks for children's allergy medication. the sudden weather changes had affected megumi and tsumiki in a way none of them had expected, and gojo was left alone to deal with their pitiful sniffles and soft complaints.

"allergy meds," he whispers, reaching out to grab a box only to put it back when it's not the one he's looking for. "there's so much cough syrup, where's the aller—"

"gojo?"

so maybe he hasn't improved, gojo thinks to himself as he freezes up at the sound of your voice. he holds his breath as you approach him, and he squeezes his eyes shut when he feels your sleeve brush against his.

six and a half years isn't enough to forget about you either, it seems.

"it's been a while, huh?" you ask, giving him a soft glance before looking at the shelves in front of you. there's a light hum that escapes your lips as you bend down to grab something before straightening up and holding out a box in your hand. "allergy meds, right?"

gojo nods silently as he takes the box from you, quickly scanning the text on it to make sure it was the right brand. there's an awkward silence as he thinks about what to say, and he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind when you turn your face away from him.

"it's not for me!"

a noise that gojo thinks might be a giggle leaves your lips at his proclamation, and he mentally kicks himself for starting up a conversation with you.

"it's for megumi, right?" you ask softly, unaware of the way gojo's eyes widen at your question. "that zenin kid you took in?"

when you notice gojo's shocked look, you hastily ass onto your statement. "shoko told me about him when i asked about you."

'shoko told me about him when i asked about you.'

gojo thinks he feels his head spin when he hears those words come out of your mind. he does his best to remain calm, reaching out a hand to lean against the shelf comfortably and wincing when he instead knocks down a row of the cough syrups he had been studying earlier.

"uh, fushiguro, actually," he mutters, doing his best to focus on straightening out the products he knocked down. "his dad took his wife's last name or something like that. but yeah, the medicine is for him and his sister."

he finds himself shuffling awkwardly as you look down at your watch, eyes widening slightly when you take note of the time. he watches as you turn to face the shelf behind you, quickly plucking some eye drops off the shelf before turning back to him.

"i have to go, i'm running late for a meeting," you say sheepishly, giving gojo a soft smile. he gives you a half-smile in return, accompanied by a lazy wave as he waits for you to leave. you stand in front of him for a second, hesitating slightly before leaning in and wrapping your arms around him in a quick hug. gojo tenses up in your embrace, his breath catching in his throat and hands freezing mid-air before he hesitantly places them on your back. you pull back slightly after a few seconds, looking up at gojo with a stare that makes his heart feel like it's about to beat out of his chest before you address him once more. "it was nice to see you. we should catch up sometime."

you're gone with a smile and a wave, quickly paying for your eye drops before darting out the door. gojo remains in his spot for five minutes after your departure, only moving when he sees the amused look the cashier seems to be giving him. he doesn't speak as he pays for the allergy medication, and he hastily makes his exit back into the stifling heat. he starts walking down the street as he tucks his change into his pocket, eyebrows furrowing in confusion when his fingers brush against a piece of paper that hadn't bee there before.

there's an annoyed grumble from a passerby when gojo suddenly stops in the middle of the street, his fingers clutching onto the paper that contains very familiar handwriting.

'can't wait to see you again! :)'

the line is followed by what he assumes to be your phone number, and gojo can't help but wonder when you had the chance to write the note. he begins moving down the street again, his steps sluggish as he hesitates near a trash can. before he can think any harder, he lets the paper flutter into wastebasket, only pausing for a brief second before moving away.

not seeing you over the past year and a half made his heart feel lighter, yet all it took was a five minute interaction with you to make his heart feel worse than it ever had before.

the world loves to play cruel jokes on him, gojo thinks.

the past two years have been a whirlwind of chaos and uncertainty, and he's had no time to stop and think about you while dealing with geto, sukuna, and the emergence of the cursed spirit that calls itself mahito.

if he really thinks about it, he's had no time to sit and rest. from geto's attack to yuuta's training to megumi's missions to yuuji's interesting choice that led to him eating sukuna's finger, he's had no time to sit and truly enjoy the little things life has to offer.

(not that he's ever had the time. the life of a special grade sorcerer is a busy one, but gojo can't deny that things weren't always as complicated as they have been the last couple of years.)

so when yaga tells him that nanami is returning to jujutsu tech, gojo thinks that it's the perfect time to let yuuji learn from someone other than him while he takes care of some unfinished business. what he doesn't expect however, is to see you standing next to nanami, a pretty smile on your face as you greet yaga with a hug.

ten years. ten years and somehow, you still manage to make gojo feel the same way he did way back then.

there's something wrong with him, he thinks, especially because it's starting to seem like he's cursed to always somehow coexist with those he cares about without ever fully being a part of their lives. there's no way he can turn around and pretend he never saw you, not with the way yaga is already yelling at him to go over and greet the returners.

gojo wonders why this happens every time he sees you. he doesn't know how to label what he feels whenever you pop up in his life, and it isn't until you give him a hesitant greeting— your tone shy and awkward after receiving nothing but radio silence from him— that gojo thinks he might finally know what it is he feels for you.

and when the thought of him being in love with you crosses his mind and makes him feel like he wants to die, all he can do is tamp down his swirling emotions with a goofy grin aimed at nanami.

"nanami! what a pleasure to see you here," gojo sings, immediately pulling the blond man into a reluctant hug. he gives you a polite nod in greeting, and he can't help the way his heart sinks when you nod in response and look away.

"likewise," nanami replies, his tone strained as he pulls away from gojo. he fixes his shirt as he steps over to you, and the two of you stand silently as you wait for yaga to speak.

"introduce them to yuuji," yaga says, turning around and heading back towards his office. "and don't cause trouble. i mean it, satoru."

gojo giggles at yaga's words before clapping his hands and motioning for the two of you to follow after him, leading you down a series of hallways before you come to a stop in front of an empty room.

"yuuji! there's someone i'd like you to meet!"

you're taken slightly aback when your eyes meet bright, brown ones, and you can't help but stare as a teenage boy with pink hair comes to a stop in front of you and nanami.

"this is nanami kento!" gojo all but yells, once again slinging his arm around nanami's shoulders and swaying him back and forth. the boy, yuuji, looks at nanami curiously, his eyes focused on the glasses perched on his nose. he has no time to speak before gojo is introducing you as well, his voice softer than it had been when introducing nanami. yuuji's eyes sparkle as they shift to you, and all of a sudden he's breaking out into a boyish smile that only serves to remind you just how young he really is.

"woah! i didn't think you were actually real!" he proclaims, earning a strained laugh from gojo. "when gojo mentioned you he said you were really p—"

the rest of his words are muffled, gojo's hands clamped tightly against his mouth as he pulls yuuji away from you. out of the corner of your eye, you can see nanami staring at you, and you only give him a shrug in return as gojo pats yuuji's head and lets him go.

"you'll be following them around on missions," gojo finally explains, pushing yuuji towards you and nanami. "they're both grade 1 sorcerers so don't worry, you'll be safe! now if you'll excuse me, i have to go."

gojo's out of the room before either of you can breathe out a goodbye, and you tense for a second before excusing yourself and following after him. he hasn't gotten terribly far, but his long legs give him the advantage of staying ahead of you even as you start jogging lightly in an attempt to catch up to him.

"gojo!" you call out, huffing lightly when he ignores you and turns a corner. "hey! gojo, wait! satoru!"

the sounds of his given name has his steps faltering, and he reluctantly turns around when he hears your footsteps getting closer and closer. there's a rigidity to his stance that you've never seen, his shoulders hunched in an almost defensive way as you finally come to a stop in front of him.

"yeah?" he asks, an uncomfortable grin settling on his lips as he looks anywhere but you. he's grateful for his blindfold in this very moment, the dark fabric preventing him from seeing you in your entirety and preventing you from seeing the way he can't seem to look at you for more than half a second.

"i—," you say, starting to speak and cutting yourself off before looking down at the ground. you sigh softly, shaking your head lightly as your shoulders slump. "never mind. forget about it."

you turn to walk back to the room, and gojo feels like he might actually keel over and die right then and there if he lets you walk away yet again.

"how have you been?"

gojo's question hangs in the air, and he can't help but flinch when you finally look at him again, your eyes swirling with hurt and sadness and other emotions that pass so quickly that gojo isn't sure he could figure out what they were even if he tried.

"you'd know if you hadn't thrown my phone number away," you retort quietly, crossing your arms as he approaches you. gojo breathes in sharply at your words but remains quiet, his throat going dry as he realizes that you had seen what he did that day. "why, gojo?"

gojo weighs his options, vacillating between telling you the truth or spewing a lie. the words seem to spill out of his mouth before he can even think about whether or not to say them, a trend he notices is extremely common whenever he's in your presence. "because you've ruined my life."

okay, so the truth it is.

your eyes widen in hurt when you take in his words, and it takes everything you have to not burst into tears on the spot. "oh, i see."

"wait," gojo says, scrambling to fix the situation that just keeps getting worse and worse with everything he says or does. "that's not what i meant."

"then what did you mean?" you ask sharply, your eyes narrowing slightly as you stare him down.

"what i mean is that i think i love you," he says in a rush, ignoring the way your eyes widen in surprise at his admission. he doesn't give you the chance to respond, too focused on saying everything that's been building up for the past decade before he gets cold feet. "you've ruined my life, you know? it's been ten years but it's damn near impossible to get over you. my heart still feels as heavy as it did the day you let, maybe even heavier, and i threw away your number because i didn't see any benefit in reaching out to you. why would i torture myself by keeping in contact with you when i belong to the world you wanted to leave behind?"

"i wanted to leave the jujutsu world behind," you interject softly, taking a hesitant step towards gojo before coming to a stop. "that doesn't mean i wanted to leave gojo satoru behind."

"oh," gojo breathes. he wonders if you can hear how loud his heart is beating in his chest, and he decides that maybe he doesn't care. "does that mean that—"

"i liked you?" you interrupt, nodding your head softly. "or like, i guess. i agree, ten years isn't enough to get over you."

"i was talking about you," gojo mumbles dumbly, earning a shrug in response from you. a loud crash sounds from the direction of the room you had left nanami in, and you give gojo a hesitant look before motioning in the direction of the noise.

"i should probably go and check that out," you say quietly, a smile twitching at the corners of your lips. "y'know, make sure that nanami is okay."

"um, yeah. yeah that sounds reasonable," gojo says, his mind still focused on your impromptu confession.

"i don't think this conversation is over yet," you continue, breathing out a laugh when gojo nods in agreement. he jumps slightly when you take his hand in yours, slipping a piece of paper into in before tugging him down to press a kiss to his cheek. "let me know when you're free, yeah? maybe we can get dinner or something and talk."

"are you asking me out on a date?" he asks cheekily, doing his best to compose himself.

"maybe i am," you say slyly, squeezing his hand once before letting go. you turn to walk down the hall, only pausing to look at him over your shoulder once before you turn the corner. "don't lose my number this time, okay?"

gojo chuckles at your words, nodding in agreement as he gives you a lazy salute. "i wouldn't dream of it."

it isn't until you're out of sight that gojo realizes his heart feels the lightest that it's ever felt in years, and he finds himself once again wondering when you had gotten the chance to write the note.

reblogs are appreciated <3 ty for reading !!

#gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk imagine #gojo imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagine #gojo satoru imagine #satoru x reader #gojou x reader #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #gojo imagines #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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lowkeyren · 2 months ago

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—my muse, my cure.

in which : both you and jiaoqiu are deeply concerned about each other's health but have an unconventional way of showing it.

pairing : jiaoqiu x gn!reader

wc 850, established relationship, 2.5 spoilers woops (but this isn't angst trust), also ib by an iconic line in 2.5 iykwim, art by @/Lianzi_ on x, reblogs r much appreciated!!!

how do we get a picky eater to eat green peppers?

being a picky eater isn't easy, especially when you have a sly fox like jiaoqiu in your kitchen.

you think you're safe when you see a simple, mouthwatering dish; but with him, there's always a catch. beneath the savoury aroma of perfectly cooked meatballs or the comforting warmth of a soup, he hides the things you avoid —finely diced peppers, a hint of spice, or icky vegetables you swore you’d never touch.

jiaoqiu doesn’t say a word, but the way his ears twitch gives him away. he watches with a subtle, knowing grin as you take a bite, waiting for you to realize what he’s done. though by the time you do notice, it’s already too late. despite your best efforts, the subtle icky flavour of green peppers have already permeated your taste buds.

“you didn’t even notice, did you?” he teases, his voice laced with mischief.

you shoot him a glare as you reluctantly finish the dish, the flavours blending together so seamlessly that you almost forget what you were trying to avoid in the first place. (seems like his culinary skills managed to win you over once again)

“that’s not very polite of you, doctor.”

jiaoqiu’s smile widens at your response. “ah, come on now,” he says, feigning a hurt expression. “it's all in good fun. besides, you know those peppers are packed with vitamins. it’s good for you.”

you let out an exaggerated sigh, your irritation still simmering. “well, just because your dish turned out good, don’t think i’m letting you off the hook that easily,” you say, rolling your eyes, though a small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth.

jiaoqiu only chuckles at your response, clearly amused. “i see how it is,” his tone taking on a teasing lilt as he steps a little closer, “you best stay on your guard then, dearest.”

“how do we get a picky eater to eat green peppers?” the answer is quite simple. chop the peppers and mix them with minced meat to make meatballs, allowing the meat’s flavor to mask the peppers so even your fussy spouse can enjoy them.

how do we get a stubborn doctor to drink his medicine?

being a doctor isn't easy, especially when you’re injured and your partner is more worried about your own health than you are.

“qiu’er, i’m back!” the sound of your voice instantly draws his attention, he turns his head in your direction, the subtle rustle of sheets accompanying his movement. the bed dips slightly under your weight as you settle beside him, the warmth of your presence soothing. “here, i brought you some tea,” you murmur.

“careful, it’s hot.” you gently lift the cup to his lips, the steam rising and carrying with it the sweet, spiced scent of cinnamon —he immediately notices the strong overpowering smell right away.

ah… cinnamon? so you took his advice from years ago, but unfortunately a fox’s senses are sharper than most.

his nose scrunches slightly as the liquid gently brushes against his lips. “spiked my tea with something, dearest?” you pause, setting the cup down with a soft clink. though just as you’re about to retort, his hand reaches out, searching for you with a gentle touch. his fingers graze your arm, then find your hand, which he clasps with a tender grip.

“cinnamon is excellent for masking strong odors and is even used to conceal the scent of poison... but you wouldn’t be so cruel to me, would you?” he remarks with a playful smile, though there’s an ironic edge to his words, given his current condition.

you let out an exasperated sigh, “you wouldn’t take your medicine, qiu’er. i never thought you’d be such a stubborn doctor.”

he chuckles softly, the sound low and a little raspy. “stubborn? i prefer ‘selective.’” his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly. “and i chose to have you as my doctor.”

“if it means i get to be the one who takes care of you, then i’ll gladly accept that,” you reply, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “now get some rest —doctor’s orders.” you help him settle back on the bed, careful not to accidentally press on his bandaged wounds, before gently pulling the sheets up to cover him.

you lean down to kiss the crown of his head, running your fingers through his hair in a soothing, rhythmic motion. “i’m only following your orders, baobei,” he mumbles softly, his words trailing off as he drifts into a peaceful sleep.

today the sun may blaze brightly in the sky, but its brilliance fades next to the warmth of your smile, a light that, though he may not be able to see, touches his heart more profoundly than the brightest day ever could.

how do we get a stubborn doctor to drink his medicine? easy. disguise it in a comforting cup of tea, masking the bitterness with cinnamon, so even he won’t notice until it’s too late. of course, your tricks never really fool him, but he lets you win anyway.

homeboy has been through so much

MASTERLIST.

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anadiasmount · 6 months ago

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photo booth kisses - jude bellingham x reader.

quick sum: sharing a cheesy kiss with your boyfriend who can’t hide his shy face away from you.

psa 🗣️: a little birthday gift from me to you 🤭🤍

“sit here,” said jude tapping his lap as you closed the red curtain from the booth. you sat on his lap your legs resting by his right side and wrapping an arm behind his shoulders. “i’ll pay!” you quickly say pulling out your card and doing so before jude.

the whole date he refused to let you pay. the food, the arcade, the gifts you won at the end. while you loved the idea of being spoiled you wanted to do something for him, well the both of you to remember the date. you had made a memory box together, which held concert tickets, small flowers he picked for you, polaroids, and other reminders from old dates.

“why did you do that?” jude frowned pulling you closer to him resting his head on top of your shoulder. “because i wanted to,” you mocked him, knowing this would make him rage inside like how you felt when he said to you. “how many did you pay for?” he asked adjusting himself and you so you fit better in the frame.

“three, one for me and one for you! and then the other can go on the fridge or my vanity,” you explained smiling like an idiot as you looked up and saw jude in the frame, cheesing harder and wanting to press kisses all over his face. “i’m putting ours in my locker. my good luck anytime i play,” jude replied kissing your shoulder as you fixed the setting and picked out a cute xoxo frames for the pictures.

“or maybe cut it in half and place it in my wallet to carry you around with me all day,” he said making you pout with joy. “you’re so cute baby,” you tell him seeing jude’s face flush in shyness, his lips in a upside down smile and face begging to be tucked into your neck. “okay get ready! these have to be perfect!” you say clapping your hands excitedly.

three. two. one.

you pose cheesing and smiling hard together, two ducks in a lake happier and more in love then ever. your face beamed with a glow that only appeared when you were with him, not to say the least with jude, his brown eyes shimmering with adoration and love towards you.

three. two. one.

the two of you did a silly face. jude posing like roadman while you stuck up a peace and sticker your tongue out. you laughed it off brushing away how silly jude indeed looked while posing. you had not noticed that it automatically took a picture of you two laughing catched off guard. which made you want to squeal at how perfect it looked.

three. two. one.

you brushed your hand against jude’s jaw, bring his face close to yours and brushed your lips together. the kiss so soft and delicate it made you want more. jude sighed in pleasure, his eyes fluttering as his hands tugged your waist, his thumb rubbing shapes against your skin. you deepen the kiss, jude’s tongue brushing against yours, he tasted like candy, so sweet and tasty.

you both pulled away at the same time, you bit your bottom lip as jude hid the tiny shy smirk in your neck. just like in the movies and tv shows you had seen growing up as a teen, but now you finally experienced it with your handsome boyfriend. who also couldn’t stop cheesing at the kiss and you.

oh he was a madly in love with you. jude was never afraid of anything, but after meeting you, he was so afraid to lose you, so used to you now in his life. you were his lucky charm and the perfect person to be sent at the most perfect time for him. like a photograph taken at the most perfect time and place. a gorgeous flower grown and standing tall between roots and roots of short and dull grass.

“why are you hiding from me?” you teased jude who rested his head still on your shoulder. “because i get shy,” jude admitted with pursed lips. “because when you look at me… all i feel is this?” he took your hand and placed it over his heart. “i love you y/n…” he pecked your lips again, hearing you murmur and i love you back and feel you smiling.

“oh hey wait! they gave us four in total!”

#judey thoughts 5️⃣#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham blurb

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themidnightcrimson · 8 months ago

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good morning ࿏ wm

summary: in which you decide to get what you want first thing in the morning.

words: 3.9k

warnings: top!wanda, power bottom!reader, dubcon/noncon, breeding kink, cumstrap (r receiving), somno (r giving), blowjob on cumstrap (r giving), enhanced strap, brief choking, just imagining slutting top!wanda out like this woeidbsibfwioe its the power bottom in me

this fic is for 18+ only. minors dni. read with discretion.

masterlist.

The room was cool and the bed warm by the time you woke up. Legs shifting smoothly under the crisp sheets, you could hear the faint chirp of a lone bird outside the window along with what sounded like a gentle spring morning rain shower.

Plat plat plat plat the rain softly tapped against the window and quietly onto the roof above you. It was a sleepy rain, an early morning rain whose clouds blocked the sun from glaring through your window. It made waking a little easier, a little more soft.

The other thing that made waking a peaceful experience was the warm body you were tangled up with. The soft, curled ends of light brown hair tickled your bare shoulder, and it was the first thing you saw in the dim room as you opened your eyes. Your head rose and fell slowly with Wanda’s steady breath. It was resting on her bare chest, the skin there hot against your ear. She always slept so hot.

Your legs were tangled with hers, your arm thrown across her torso. As you blinked your eyes awake, you tilted your head upwards to get an angle of her from below. The stretch of her jawbone, the mountain of her cheekbones just beyond it. Heavy eyelashes fluttered closed, deep pink lips pursed in her sleep. The crinkle between her eyebrows that was always there when she slept. She was starting to get a permanent wrinkle from it, and while she was embarrassed of it, you told her it was just the imprint of all the dreams she’d ever had right there in one wrinkle between her brows so she would never forget them. Wanda was always a deep dreamer, for better or worse.

The puffy comforter you shared rested right below her breasts, likely pushed down during her overheated sleep. Her hair was splayed over her chest, barely covering the peaks of her soft pink nipples. Her skin looked pale and soft under the dim gloomy morning light. You let your hand glide over the soft expanse of her tummy, fingers pressing into her flesh as you shift, waking up a little more. Letting out a silent yawn, you casually let your hand stroll further down beneath the blanket, being thrown off guard a little when your hand touches cool silicone between her legs.

It was Wanda’s new creation still left strapped around her hips via harness from last night’s endeavors. It took a lot of research and magical effort for Wanda to create her enchanted strap that functions like a biological part of her body. Using her magic, she enchanted the strap so that she can feel through it and cum through it. Let’s just say the first few tries once she perfected it could be described as very quick, hot, and wet on her end. It was the most mind-blowing feeling she had ever felt, being able to feel you inside. Even now, a few weeks later, she still warns you how sensitive it still is, which you could tell from the beginning because of how fast she came with you.

Wanda’s magic was very powerful—spontaneous creation. For that reason, she insisted on wearing a condom the first several times using the enchanted strap out of fear of accidental pregnancy, though you knew she secretly had a breeding kink. Finally, she stopped using condoms, but she still pulled out of you every time. It was hot, seeing her get so close to just doing it, to just letting go and planting her cum deep inside you. You could see it on her face every time. But every time, milliseconds before release, she pulls out and chooses to spill all over your tummy or back instead. Of course, that was also hot in its own right. But you desperately wanted her to cum inside. You weren’t sure if it was the risk or the ownership aspect of it, but you fucking needed it.

And you knew she wanted it too. She had a tendency to hold you down when she’s about to cum, almost as if she is about to force you to take her cum, which you willingly would take every single drop. You even told her in a heated moment of passion to cum inside you once, and she almost did accidentally. Hearing you say that made her orgasm immediately, and she had to frantically pull out right as she spurted all over your mound, making sounds you’d never heard her make.

And now, in the dim morning light with cozy rain coming from outside, and Wanda’s soft, warm sleeping body with her cock in your hand as you thought over all these times with the new magical piece, you wanted it.

But she was so pretty and peaceful in her sleep with her crinkled brow of dreams and her slowly rising and falling chest. You wouldn’t wake her.

Licking your lips, you shifted your body so that you hovered over her, taking great care in slinking down her body without moving the blankets or the bed too much. With the hem of the blanket resting at the back of your neck, you rested your elbows over her plush thighs, eyeing the strap that now sat right in front of your face.

Humming, you trail your fingers to the harness straps, fiddling with the fabric on her hips for a moment before you carefully let them trail to the base of her cock, taking it in your fist gently. Glancing back up to her, you saw the same image—her head resting on the pillow, turned to the side, sleeping peacefully like an angel. The warmth between your legs grew as you formulated the plan of your desires, licking your lips and coming closer to her strap.

You placed Wanda’s length in your mouth. It surprised you every time how big she was—an advantage she smugly gave herself when crafting her piece. Suctioning your lips, you began to swirl your tongue around the tip of the strap with a gentle but purposeful pressure.

It didn’t take long before your mouth ignited the spell within the strap, and her magic peered through the silicone in cracks that looked like molten lava in a crimson hue. That’s how you knew she was aroused now, and as you looked up at her again, she was still sleeping as peacefully as ever.

It took some practice for you to understand how to give your girlfriend a blowjob since it was your first time, but Wanda was patient and could get off with basically any touch you gave her with how sensitive the strap felt when she wore it anyways.

So you lowered your mouth further down on her strap that was warming up between your lips, keeping your hand on the base to keep it steady. Letting your other hand gently squeeze her thigh, you sucked her gently, wanting to make her feel good but not wanting to wake her up. It startled you when, as you took her entirety in your mouth so that the tip of her cock poked the back of your throat, Wanda’s legs twitched under you. It was only once and, looking up as you deepthroated her, you saw that the sleeping look on her face remained unchanged.

The depth with which you took her in your throat prompted tears to form in your eyes and saliva in your mouth. Sniffling, you kept taking her all the way in and then suctioning as you lifted your mouth from her, letting your tongue flick around her tip before deepthroating her again. You were slow and gentle, but she was hot and throbbing with magical arousal. You could even smell it on her now and, reaching down under the base where her slit was, you found that she was wet there, too.

Getting excited, you bobbed your head perhaps a little too hard, and she twitched again, this time letting her head sway to the other side. You paused, waiting for any sign of further movement or signs of being awake, but she was still deep asleep, the crease in her brow deeper now. You went back to sucking her off dutifully, and as wet sounds filled the air, Wanda moved again, this time arching her back. The movement sent her hips bucking up, which shoved her cock into your throat unexpectedly, causing you to choke on her girth.

Recovering, you continued carefully and watched as she twitched and squirmed in her sleep, somehow still staying deep asleep even as you could feel her throb faster. Her lips fell open at one point, soft gasps of air filling the quiet, dim room along with your wet sucking sounds. Her body heated up even more under your hands, and she started to buck her hips more.

Picking up your speed, you deepthroated her more and more, choking yourself on her strap while she grew even more restless. You knew she was seconds away from cumming, so you grabbed the base of her strap and sucked harder and faster. Finally, with a whispery, sleepy moan, and a more violent twitch of her hips, Wanda came in your mouth. You kept your mouth around her, feeling her warm cum gush at the back of your throat and ooze down it. You waited, letting her twitch and gasp and push out every last drop of cum before you finally swallowed it and took her out of your mouth. She was sweet to the taste with just a hint of metal, an interesting mix of her magic that reminded you of the taste of her real arousal.

There were many benefits to this magical creation of Wanda’s, one of many being that there was an unlimited supply.

Her cock now wet and shiny and slightly glowing, you carefully crawled back up her body and straddled her. She had almost immediately fallen back into utter stillness as soon as she came, except for her chest that was rising and falling much faster now. Biting your lip, you reached down and took her breasts into your hands, squeezing and letting your thumb roll over her nipples that were already rock hard for you. You could feel her cock, resting below your thigh, twitch and throb, basically vibrating with magic. All you could taste was her cum that coated the inside of your mouth, the taste still soaked into your tongue.

She just looked so pretty, even more relaxed now, having just helplessly cum in your mouth without even knowing it. Leaning down, you pressed a chaste kiss to her still lips before moving your mouth to her neck and pressing soft, wet kisses there. You let your hand grope her breasts for a moment before sliding it down and rubbing her tummy, lowering it further and further until you reached below yourself and took her strap in your hand again.

Still kissing her neck, and feeling her twitch once below you, you adjusted yourself over her cock and rubbed your throbbing, wet slit down her length, not letting it go inside. You remember the first time you did that, before she ever went inside you with the new strap, and she had prematurely came. She had been so embarrassed, taking off the cum-filled condom and tearing the strap off of her and getting up, but you’d found it so hot. You loved having this control over her. You loved knowing that you held this power over her, that you could make her cum so easily, that she desired you so much that she found it hard to even have any control. You wanted to tease her constantly, to degrade her and embarrass her by using her desire for you against her.

Wanda’s sleepy breaths hitched as you rubbed your warm, wet folds up and down her length, leaving a wet, sticky trail on the strap. She shifted under you, turning her head back to the other side. Her eyebrows creased deeper, her face contorting into a look of neediness as she subconsciously bucked her hips, pushing herself harder onto you. Chuckling, you gave her one last kiss on her neck before sitting up fully, unable to control yourself anymore. You wanted to get what you truly wanted out of her before she woke up.

Your breathing growing heavier, along with the rain pattering much harder on the window outside, you lined Wanda’s cock up with your entrance, letting it sit there pressed against it for a moment. You took a deep breath—her size still surprised you, and you still needed to relax and prepare yourself before taking her in. Thanks to the blowjob and how wet you were, there was enough lubrication for you to lower yourself down on her cock, feeling her slide right in and stretch your walls around her.

“Fuck,” you whispered as you stopped halfway, feeling a tinge of pain. Wanda shifted beneath you, which didn’t help, so you just took another deep breath and basically slammed yourself down on her, Wanda’s entire cock ramming deep inside you.

As if on cue, right as you let out a louder shriek than you meant to because of the way her cock hit your cervix, Wanda also let out a sleepy form of a moan, her head swaying to the side as her legs shifted under the blankets below you.

Placing your hands on her shoulders, you stayed still and felt her throb inside you as she squirmed, watching her eyes scroll side to side behind her eyelids. Biting your lip, you slowly lifted yourself off halfway before coming back down again, nearly seeing stars when she hit your deepest point again.

It was obvious that doing this wasn’t going to keep her asleep for much longer. She was still moving, eyelids fluttering, lips twitching as if trying to speak between her growing breaths. She was breathing faster now, redness blooming on her cheeks.

There was no point in being careful now. Grinding your teeth together, you rolled your hips, throwing your head back as she hit your sweet spot in your lower tummy. She was so big that her cock was basically all you could feel as you rode her, feeling pure pleasure bloom inside you as you anticipated the ending you were dreaming about.

“Mmmm-nnnn” Wanda murmured as she squirmed more beneath you, kicking at the sheets covering her feet and arching her back. “Ahhh…” She was starting to come to, being lured by your actions into an in-between state between sleeping and waking. She was arching her back off the bed and bucking her hips up into you, natural instinct to have more friction and be as close to you as possible coming through.

Power filled you as you stared down at the helpless witch, her cock lodged deep inside you, throbbing as you bounced on it. You bit the tip of your tongue and squeezed her shoulders, digging your nails into her skin as you rode her cock.

The feeling of your nails in Wanda’s skin was the one thing that brought her into awareness. Her eyelashes fluttered, mouth dropping open. Finally, her eyes opened fully, exposing those pretty irises that were usually green but were now a deep, sleepy crimson red from the magic she was subconsciously using.

A grin slashed across your own face, your tummy filled with excitement as you watched the look of confusion on Wanda’s once peaceful face. This was the second moment you were anticipating the most. Her eyebrows contorted in confusion as she stared up at you, her eyes blank with dumb sleepiness at first as her mouth let out heavy breaths. Then she blinked a few times, her eyes falling down over your body and to her own. She saw her cock, glistening with wet, appear halfway with every other bounce you made. She watched it appear as you lifted up, and then disappear again as you slapped yourself down on her lap.

Then she felt it. The tight, wet warmth. The squeezing of your walls around her. The more textured parts around your cervix, how much warmer and tighter you felt the deeper she was. Your lips smushed against the base of her cock when you had her fully inside. The ridges of your cunt massaging her length as you jerked up and down on her, the friction feeling like a white hot flame of pleasure with each stroke.

Her mouth fell open wider with a loud, startled moan, her hands immediately slapping onto your hips and holding them. “Baby!” she exclaimed in surprise, trying to blink the bleariness out of her eyes as you continued fucking yourself on her.

You giggled at her reaction, how she was confused but so turned on and so obviously overwhelmed by the feeling of you milking her cock as soon as she woke up, this being the very first thing her consciousness experienced this rainy morning. You felt her cock swell a little inside you, now that she was awake with her magic.

Her breathing turned into gasps, her eyes squeezing shut as she hissed through her teeth, her hips trembling as you slammed down onto them. “Fuck, baby, fuck, fuck,” she croaked, her voice sleepy and husky and burning hot in your ear.

“I always wanted to wake you up like this,” you whispered, scratching down her chest and over her nipples, causing her to let out the cutest little high-pitched whimper.

“Fuck,” was all she could whisper, holding your hips as they bounced up and down on her length.

You could see the sweat breaking on her forehead, the flush in her cheeks, the way her tummy tightened under your palm. She was getting close.

“D-Did you use prot-protection?” Wanda stammered, her brown hair starting to stick to her temples. She knew the answer. She could feel it, but she needed to ask anyway.

Chuckling, you let out a pornographic moan just to make her shudder and then said, “Nope.”

Wanda’s eyes widened a little in panic. She could already feel herself leaking a little, or maybe it was just your wetness, which was also dripping down her shaft and onto her thighs. Through the slight panic in your eye you could see the desperation, the idea she always dreams about sitting right there in her brain.

You purposefully clenched, and she bit her lip and threw her head back, her body lifting off the bed as she pushed herself into you. You gasped at the depth but used your strength to pin her hips back down to the bed.

“Baby,” she breathed, her eyes barely open. “Baby, get up.” Her voice grew breathy with quickness. “I’m gonna cum. Get up.” She slapped your hip a few times to make you get up, but you kept riding her.

“No,” you purred, leaning down closer to her face and smirking. “You can easily push me off if you want to.” You watched her, struggling to keep her eyes open, her body moving with your bouncing, look up at you with such a strong mix of horror and desire on her face. You waited, but she only continued to struggle beneath you, not making any effort to use her magic or strength to push you off. “So why don’t you?”

Wanda whined, throwing her head back and closing her eyes as if just looking at you was going to make her bust. Her nails dug into your hips as she trembled, looking like the pleasure was turning into pain as you continued to ride her. There was no way she would actively deny you. She could stop herself all she wanted when it was her in control, but if you were going to take it from her, she couldn’t not acquiesce.

“Baby, please,” she murmured through gritted teeth, tears forming in the corners of her eyes from the struggle to keep herself from cumming. You knew she could stop it if she wanted to—you didn’t have her physically wrangled, and even if you did, her magic could put an end to it immediately. “Please, get up, I can’t hold it.”

Grinning, you slam your hand over her throat, and she gasps, choking slightly as you squeeze her throat. “You’re so cute like this,” you whisper, “Begging me to stop. You’re the one who can’t control yourself.”

Tears were falling down her cheeks now. “Please, please,” she begged, her eyes squeezed shut. “Please, baby, I can’t—I can’t hold it—I’m gonna cum, fuck, please…”

“Do it. Give me all your cum,” you hiss, riding her harder to the point where the bedframe slams against the wall. Wanda, choking on the pressure of your hand around her throat, trembled and violently twitched below and inside you as she tried her hardest to hold it. But she was hot to the touch, and so were you, and your cunt felt so good squeezing around her cock, and you were taking complete advantage of her which she found to be so hot, and she hadn’t been able to stop dreaming about breeding you for weeks now, and it was all too much for her to even stop it.

“Fuck, baby, fuck, get off, I’m gonna… fuck, fuck fuck!”

Wanda’s nails dug into your hips as her words turned into incoherent babbles, her mouth falling wide open and her body lifting completely off the bed as she finally lost all control. You tried to watch her as long as you could, but your eyes fluttered closed when finally you felt her cock give one last hard twitch before loads of her burning hot cum went gushing deep inside you, splashing the wall of your cervix and filling your tummy all up.

The feeling made you cum, shivering on top of her and squeezing around her which only prolonged her orgasm even more. Wanda saw flashing images of you pregnant, which had been fueling what she thought was fear for weeks now, but she was learning just now that that fear was pure fetish. She tugged your hips down onto her and pushed herself as deep inside you as possible as she loaded you with her cum, surprising you with her strength as she kept you in a complete hold.

After a few moments, when she had filled you with all she had to give, which was a shocking amount this time because of how long she had held it, and you were limp against her chest, recovering from your own orgasm, Wanda finally relaxed, letting go of your hips and closing her eyes.

“Fuck,” she breathed, panting as sweat rolled down her tear-streaked face. You were quiet for a minute, relishing the feeling of a full tummy of Wanda’s cum, her cock throbbing gently in your cunt. You were so glad she’d enchanted that strap.

Finally, you hummed, looking up at her. She looked dazed and fuzzy-minded, her eyes hooded and cheeks blushing red from embarrassment. She sighed and grinned sheepishly, placing her hands over her face. You smirked. “That was a lot better than cumming on my tits, right?”

Wanda breathed. “Well, good morning to you, too.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #marvel #lgbt #lesbian #top!wanda #power bottom #subby top wanda #sub top wanda #elizabeth olsen #lizzie olsen #wanda maximoff x f!reader

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ktownshizzle · 3 months ago

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Wild & Free | Part 1 of 2

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

Summary: Everybody says they want to marry Min Yoongi. But what if he only wants to say 'yes' to you.

Alternatively: While on the last leg of their PTD tour, Yoongi discovers there was such a thing as drive-thru weddings in Las Vegas - spontaneous, wild, exciting - something his pretty little brain can't seem to process having lived the last decade of his life planned to perfection by his management team, which includes you. When he goes down a rabbit hole of Youtube videos about The Little White Wedding Chapel (Omo! Michael Jordan got married there!), he starts getting all sorts of ideas - all of it starring him and you.

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Childhood friends to lovers, Idol!au, Coworkers to lovers (reader is a HYBE employee)

Warnings: Mild angst, cursing lol, mentions of sex, pining and lots of it, reader is insecure, couple of idiots truly, covid didn’t happen, one mention of recreational gambling (we're in Vegas!), canon moments I botched for my own use, ginger Yoongi is a warning in and of itself, angry Yoongi, cliches ‘cos meh, possible inaccuracies about Las Vegas - been there once, but details used in the story are just from research. Also, I get that Las Vegas weddings might seem tacky to some. Coming from a background of traditional, elaborate ceremonies, the characters in this story are genuinely surprised by this simpler approach. After all, a wedding is really just about you and your partner, and that’s the essence we’re exploring here. ♡ If you can get on board with that, then let's head to the Tunnel of Love! Viva Las Vegas! 🙂

Word Count: 7.2k (approx. 30 mins.)

Posting date: August 31, 2024

Dividers: @/saradika-graphics

Part One | Part Two | Masterlist

"Yoongi, marry me!" You shout at the top of your lungs, earning laughs from the people around you.

On the other side of the room, a couple of other people shout the same catchphrase, including Kim Taehyung, who seems to get the most kick out of it out of all the members.

Coerced to do one of those Tik Tok dance challenges, Min Yoongi stands in front of the room, hides his face behind his hands and you watch in delight as he awkwardly sways his hips side to side. More cheers erupt and two seconds after he decides he was done.

"Hajimaaaa!" Your friend says to no one and everyone, cheeks burning as he stalks back to the chair he was occupying across yours.

You push his beer bottle towards him, "Good job, gramps."

"Fuck off," he says with no real bite, taking a long swig off his drink to cool off his reddened cheeks.

It's great to finally get some down time with the crew. After such a fast-paced, high production tour, everybody needed to blow off some steam. This Korean BBQ restaurant off the Strip was the perfect venue to get the team together for samgyupsal and drinks. The vibes are, as the kids say, immaculate.

You are already sufficiently buzzed so you sit down as Seokjin takes his turn to do the challenge. He really seems to be more into it than the man currently giving you a look.

"I heard you." He narrows his eyes at you almost accusingly.

"What? It's the new viral catchphrase," you shrugged. "Everybody and their grandma is saying it these days."

"Not their grandma."

"You should be flattered."

Stop, you thought he would say. But his response catches you off guard.

"Only ‘cause you said it."

And he has the audacity to lick his bottom lip, a ghost of a smirk forming.

Fuck. Your throat dries up. When did it get so hot here?

“And in case you’re wondering…” he leans forward, a dopey-ass grin now on his face. “The answer is yes.”

Record scratch.

Did he really just-

Thankfully, you recover.

“Stop playing,” you say, trying to sound casual. But your face probably betrays the internal turmoil happening in your brain. You fear the day will come that he will have caught on to the unshakeable something you have been harboring for the better part of the last decade.

See, there’s always been an unspoken tension between you and Yoongi, something neither of you ever addressed or acted upon. Perhaps, in your younger days, there were moments when you felt your friendship was on the verge of becoming something more. But then he debuted as an idol, and things took off, and you were robbed of time. With his group’s growing popularity and you managing his personal career, the possibility of exploring anything beyond friendship and your work rapport became even more distant.

You feel like a bug under a microscope the way he observes you with a lopsided grin and while you try to hold his gaze, this clown interrupts.

"If y'all done eye-fucking each other, some of us are heading back." A drunk Park Jimin says with a mischievous grin, eyes crinkling like crescents. You could almost throw up.

Your eyes shift back to Yoongi and he just blinks in that blank way he does and bends to collect his bag from under his chair, completely ignoring his bandmate.

‘Fuck you,’ you mouth to Jimin hastily. Just enough time before Yoongi emerges with his backpack and your tote, which he already slung on his own shoulder.

You try to take it from him, but he waves you off.

"We're in bus 2," Jimin sings-songs and walks off, looking every bit the trouble-maker.

Thing is, you made the mistake of confiding in Jimin once, last year. You got drunk after getting dumped by some guy you met on Bumble three dates down, though it really was the sting of learning that Yoongi took one of Psy’s backup dancers out for coffee, even if it was just casual, that pushed you off the edge and into a bar in Hannam Intersection. Coincidentally, Jimin was there with that cute idol from Shinee and some other guys, but he joined you when he saw you looking like shit.

After learning about your long-standing crush (thank God you did not drop the L-bomb), Jimin would occasionally tease you, much to your chagrin. He’s careful not to push things too far, but it’s clear he sees himself as a bit of a cupid. You keep telling him that nothing will come of it, but he just won’t let up.

You are scared for things to change between you and Yoongi, not when everything is just how it’s supposed to be.

Not when you believe in your heart that if anything would have happened, it already should have.

And you would snuff the last embers of the torch that you keep holding out for him if only you knew how.

"Drive-thru weddings?" Yoongi enunciates in English, with the slightest lisp that you have always found so endearing. As your tour bus passes by chapel after wedding chapel, he continues to wonder out loud. "People get married there?"

Namjoon turns his head to look at Yoongi from his seat in front. "Yeah, hyung. They don't even need to get out of their car. It's just like a McDonald's. But they get a marriage license instead of a burger."

“Really? And people do this? Like, randomly?”

“Yeah, some celebrities decided to do it that way, but I assume many people do, too. I mean, look how many we’ve passed already.” Namjoon says with a tiny grin, cheek dimpling.

"Mm." Yoongi hums and you're curious about that faraway look on his face as he stares outside.

“Are you interested?” You joke lamely, instantly regretting opening your mouth. Why do you keep propositioning him? You blame that ‘one for the road’ shot of soju you downed on the way out of the restaurant.

He studies your face, before he replies lowly, so only you can hear, “Are you asking?”

Fuck, he’s bold. He’s also a bit drunk, but everyone knows he can drink anyone under the table. You know this is not the first time he got weirdly flirty with you after one too many drinks, so you take it in stride.

“What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas,” Hoseok's voice booms from the back and with a chorus of laughs ringing inside the vehicle, you take that as a sign that this is definitely just the effect of being in Sin City.

A few beats after and you steal a glance at Yoongi, finding his gaze transfixed at a sign that read: "The Little White Wedding Chapel".

Last day of the Las Vegas tour and while you are glad it is almost done, your heart aches as you remember that this is also your last one, ever. Your 60-day notice is already running, having tendered your resignation a month after LA wrapped up.

As great of a job as it is, your heart seems to always be at odds because of the lingering feelings you have for Yoongi. Everyday, you find yourself trapped in the limbo of unspoken feelings and missed chances. The endless “what ifs” weigh you down, and you can’t summon the courage to confront them. It’s not anyone’s fault but your own, and you hoped that stepping away from this life might jumpstart your next chapter, as BTS is also about to embark on theirs.

With the group taking a break for solo projects and gearing up for their military service, it seemed like the perfect moment for you to explore something different, too. Maybe finally open that cafe you’ve always wanted. Maybe you can also meet somebody, especially since your eomma has been on your back even more lately about giving her a grandchild.

You weren't planning to sever ties with Yoongi entirely, or at all. There’s too much history between you two to just walk away from the friendship. But you were desperate to let go of the emotional baggage.

The thing is, you have not told anyone. Not even Yoongi. Especially not Yoongi. It is highly likely that he will try to stop you and press for reasons, and you can't tell him that you’re in love with him, can you? Just… no. What a fuckin’ cliche.

You don’t know when you will be ready to tell him the truth, but it needs to be soon.

You find him on the side of the stage, eyes locked in on his phone that he held with one hand and you already can tell he is watching a documentary with the way his face is screwed up in concentration. His ‘watching a cat video’ face was infinitely more smiley, that's for sure.

He lifts his sleepy eyes up as you approach, handing you a latte that he apparently picked up for you from that place across the street, because the coffee from the catering ‘tastes like shit.’

Before you can say thanks, Yoongi exclaims, “Omo! Michael Jordan got married there?”

Your confusion must be written all over your face, because he quickly explains, “You know in one of those drive-thru wedding chapels we saw the other night. Wow. I can't believe Jordan did that.”

He pauses the video and turns the screen toward you, revealing a white building decked out with all sorts of decorations reminiscent of Valentine's day. The way he looks at you, expectantly, makes you feel like you should share his excitement, but you're a bit stumped. “Yoongi-ah, why are you watching this?”

He fidgets with a sheepish grin. “Well, I’ve never seen anything like this before. Korean weddings can be so complicated, you know? Hyung was really frustrated with all the traditions at his wedding.” He shrugs, still looking a bit embarrassed but trying to stay casual. “Here, it seems like you just need the right person. And maybe some courage. Okay, a lot of courage. I just— I don’t know, I find it fascinating.”

He nods to himself, gnawing on his bottom lip.

Totally endeared, you hop to sit beside him on the stage, bump your shoulder with his, and say, “Go on, press play.”

The tiniest of frowns that has settled between his brows smoothes out and he angles the screen more towards you before resuming the video.

Turns out it really is fascinating (Omo! Joe Jonas also got married there! But wait, isn't he divorced now?), so you watch a few more clips, before soundcheck starts.

You’ve always known Yoongi to have massive hyperfixations. In fact, you’re not at all surprised when that night during the concert, he even cheekily says to the crowd during his ment, “Welcome to Las Vegas, with the drive-thru wedding.” And of course, the audience eats it up, those wearing Shooky headbands, veils or holding “Yoongi, marry me” signs end up being the loudest.

But while you’ve supported all his previous mini-obsessions (League of Legends, Dalgona coffee, woodworking) until he over-indulged to the point of almost flushing it out of his system, you are not quite sure how else to help him with this one.

Unless of course, you… hah, you wish.

The tour wraps up successfully. The boys have different group and individual schedules before they return to Seoul. For Yoongi, a shoot for his photofolio, and some b-roll content for his upcoming documentary was on deck for him, you, and his crew.

The drive up to the desert was pretty uneventful as mostly everyone was asleep. You arrive sometime in the afternoon and immediately get to work in order to catch the golden hour. Yoongi has disappeared into the makeup trailer and you busy yourself with checking the preps.

The theme was glamping. Though Yoongi would never admit that that was the concept he approved. He would most likely say something more deep and poetic, that the setting is a poignant portrayal of his growth as a person and a metaphorical exploration of his artistry… Or something like that.

Things were running a little later than you like, which always happens when you are doing shoots overseas, so you volunteer to help with the set design. Placing some of the props near the camper van, you take a second to decide whether to use the metal cup or the ceramic mug, when a sleepy voice interrupts your thoughts.

"Set looks great. Good job."

You turn your head to look at Yoongi and wow his hair is orange.

The color of his favorite citrus and of course he looks sexy as fuck. He smells phenomenal, too–like mandarins with a hint of spice. You are in so much trouble. Seems your mouth is filled with cotton the way you are unable to make a sound.

“Yah! I spent hours on this new hair, you're not going to say anything?” he whines with a small pout.

You snicker at his cute expression, reaching out to touch the ends of his hair very lightly else the glam team unnies might scold you. “You look like a cat.”

“Ugh,” he groans, walking away with what you now realize is a stick of marshmallows in his right hand.

“No, Yoongi, it's cute,” You follow him as he stops in front of the bonfire, roasting the marshmallows over it briefly before taking a bite, still not placated by your words.

You decide to put him out of his misery. “You look good. Like really good. ARMY would probably even say sexy.” You inwardly cringe at the last bit–using ARMY to voice out your inner thirst, really?

Nonetheless, Yoongi's reaction is priceless. His lips stretch into a thin line, chin dimpling as he pretends to not enjoy the compliment that he very well fished for.

“Ok quit acting like an emoji and let me take your photos for IG.” You take your phone out and snap a few pics of him posing with the marshmallow, some without it. A couple of him grinning, gummy smiles on display, and you know you need to keep some of these for yourself when the inevitable comes and you won't see his face everyday.

“C’mere,” he pulls you to his side, arm going around your shoulder. A whiff of his musk has you swooning which you hope he does not notice.

Your phone is taken. He snaps a few selfies of you both and tsks when he sees your lock screen.

“Tablo-hyung, still? You know he's literally married and has a kid, right?”

You make a face and snatch your phone from his grasp. “Yah! As if you're not an idol and your face is not the wallpaper of thousands of people.”

“I think you mean millions.”

“Ass.” You try to shove him, but his hand closes in on your phone again.

Swipes and taps later, he seems satisfied and your phone is handed back to you, before he walks off without so much as a goodbye.

What did he do?

Wait.

Tablo is gone.

And the tableau in his place is one of the photos you just took with him. Eyes twinkling, smiles identical. The picture of a seemingly perfect couple.

Oh, damn. You really are a goner.

You send the pic to Jimin a little later. His response was unwelcome.

Jimin: You two have literal heart eyes for each other. So cute.

You: Not helping.

Jimin: Just tell him how you feel.

You: Again, not helping.

Jimin: What's your plan?

You: Do you really wanna know?

You ring him. Might as well tell somebody.

In between layouts, Yoongi films interviews for some magazines. You have complete faith in him and his media relations skills at this point. Smart, thought-provoking Yoongi can wow any interviewer, sometimes to the point where numbers have been slipped inside his coat pocket. Thank God this one is on Zoom, ‘cause you can’t deal with something like that happening right now.

You caught wind of something that he said during the interview and you made a mental note to ask him about it later.

“Sometimes, it feels like my life is just a sequence of obligations and schedules,” he tells the online reporter. “I can’t even remember the last time I made plans for myself. Being here in Las Vegas is refreshing. It’s like everyone is just living by their own rules. I don’t think I’m like that at all.”

"Do you want to be like that?" The reporter asks.

"Maybe..." he shrugs, sinking a bit lower on the chair he was on.

It was late and the crew was just winding down before packing up the set.

“How was your day?” he asks you with a soft smile. You can see the tiredness in his eyes.

“Not bad,” you say, taking a spot beside him on the picnic blanket that was still on set. He seems pensive.

“Did you ever think we would get this far?” he asks. “Couple of Daegu kids, now running around in America.”

“Who would've thought…” you say, observing him. His eyes were stoic, but you know he's got something else on his mind, something bothering him.

“You said something in your interview earlier.”

“Nothing bad, I hope?”

“Not bad per se, I just never heard you say it in an interview before. About not feeling like you can make your own plans. Like life has become a series of schedules.”

He hums and takes a sip of something from the mug he is holding. Your nose tells you it is definitely not hot cocoa.

“I’ve come to terms with it for the most part, you know,” he sighs looking out into the vastness. “But plans are good. Makes me feel like there is a point to all this.”

You follow his line of vision and sigh. You knew he was feeling a lot of stress lately. His life was not easy. You hate that you have to pile on top of it.

“We need to start planning D-day soon. It's going to be so busy with the album and the tour and all the content we have to make. Oh God, we might have to do fan calls, but I'm so embarrassed when I do it.”

You mimic his hum, getting disoriented with his use of ‘we’. He still doesn't know that word would be null and void soon.

“By the way, we gotta come up with a different name for the Youtube show. I can't pronounce it. Sich? Sush? Shit-”

“Suchwita,” you say, guilt settling in your tummy.

“...and we have that collab with Halsey for what’s that game again? Doom? No, Diablo! We used to play that before, remember? I think we might be doing a music video for that one.”

Just tell him. This would be the best time.

“Look, Yoongi I-”

“Thank you,” he suddenly says, in a tone so soft, and the way he punctuates it with your name makes your heart soar.

Your eyes snap to him, the slight pinks dusting his cheeks make him look like the teenage boy you met in music school.

“I’m not good at this - fuck, this is so awkward - umm but I've really been meaning to tell you that I appreciate you.” He continues, “You're really important to me.”

You try to fight back a smile at how elated you are, but can’t. And maybe he needs to see how happy this is making you. How happy he is making you.

In the years that you've known him there were two distinct moments that made you believe that just as you have been in love with him, maybe he was in love with you, too. And as you watch him rub his crinkled nose, trying to act chill but can't, you somehow convince your fickle heart that this might be the third.

“I’ve been thinking a lot, with all this talk about our ‘chapter 2’...”

“Yeah?”

“I know things are going to change, but I’m glad you’re still here. I honestly don't know what I'm doing half the time, but you, you give me direction,” he smiles, a hand scratching the back of his neck.

“Are you seriously thanking me for my constant nagging?”

“No,” he chuckles to himself. “I’m thanking you for being my friend.”

Oh. Ouch.

His lips keep moving and moving, and he is saying things with a fond smile, but your ears can’t register a single word. Except that single word: friend. Because, that’s all he sees you as, and that’s all you’ll ever be, and lest you need a reminder, that’s why you did what you did.

Disappointment cracks through your core and your lungs are suddenly devoid of air and you feel the urgent need to step away.

“Sorry Yoongi, I- I have to go.”

“Huh?” The light in his face fades, replaced by a frown and confused eyes that are watching your every move.

“Wait, did I say something? Tell me what's wrong.”

Don’t cry. Shit. Don’t cry.

“I've nothing to tell you.”

You grimace at how stiff you sounded but before you can rectify anything, your feet take you to the nearest trailer. You close the door and drop to your knees as uncontrollable sobs rack your body.

You rein yourself in after a few minutes, wiping your tears on the back of your sleeve. You fish your phone out from your pocket, the photo on your lock screen twisting the knife lodged in your heart.

You ring the first person on your recent contacts.

“I can’t do it, Jiminah.”

“What happened? Talk to me.”

You tell him how you were just talking and it was getting deep then he got sentimental and said thank you…

“For being his friend.”

A beat, then Jimin finally speaks. “He is such an idiot.”

“I can’t do this,” you say, with finality. “I’m going to finish this tour, but I’m really leaving. I can’t be around Yoongi anymore.”

You finally get a couple of days off and decide to dodge Yoongi after coming back from the desert. It’s oddly easy—he’s not seeking you out like he usually does. You left him hanging the last time you talked, and now you’re stumped about how to fix things. You and Yoongi never really fight, at least not seriously. You handle work stuff through Kakao, like sending over today’s recording schedule for the award show. He left you on read.

Jimin immediately calls out for you as you step inside the set. It was just one of the penthouse suites in the hotel you were staying in. You feel awkward as some eyes shift over to you as you barely had time to fix yourself, you just aren't in the mood.

“Hi,” you respond simply. “How's everything?”

Jimin glances over his shoulder, and you follow his gaze to find Yoongi staring blankly at the coffee table, a face of thunder.

“He knows. He heard you on the phone with me.”

Your heart immediately drops to your ass. “Shit.”

Jimin shrugs, a mixture of sympathy and amusement on his face. “Yeah, he’s pretty confused… and a little pissed.”

“Did you–”

“I would never,” Jimin interrupts quickly, holding up his hands. “It’s not my story to tell.” He pats your shoulder reassuringly. “Just talk to him. What’s the worst that could happen?”

You’re not sure if Jimin’s optimism is comforting or just making you more anxious. You’ve spent years imagining every possible outcome, every scenario where he finds out you felt something deeper. And most of those scenarios end in heartbreak.

Either way, you know you’ve got to face the storm brewing in Yoongi’s eyes.

The shoot goes on without a hitch. You and Yoongi avoid each other like the plague, so much so that one of the makeup unnies takes notice. You downplay it, not wanting to be the subject of workplace gossip.

The schedule wraps up and as you get ready to leave, there is a light tap on your shoulder.

“Hey noona,” Jake says, looking a bit nervous but flashing a tentative smile. “Umm, a bunch of us are heading out tonight. If you don’t have plans, you should join us.”

Jake’s one of the newer camera guys, and while he’s been nice—always greeting you and opening doors—he’s barely scratched the surface of what could be considered a friend. He’s not just polite; he’s actually pretty cute. You’ve never really hung out with him before, but something about the way he’s looking at you makes it hard to say no. It was one of the last nights you have in Las Vegas, and maybe, you should live a little.

“Ok. What time are we leaving?”

“Can we meet at the lobby by 10?”

Just as you’re about to respond, there’s a loud crash from the other side of the room. You catch a glimpse of Yoongi and Jin amidst a flurry of crew members rushing over. Whatever happened, it looks like it’s already being dealt with.

“10?” you repeat, still distracted by the commotion.

He nods.

“Got it,” you reply, trying to shake off your unease.

Jake adjusts his backpack and gives you another nod, his smile still lingering as he heads out. “Cool. See you tonight.”

“Ok…” you nod, a little dazed as you watch Jake fistbump one of the producers on the way out.

“Hot date?” Jimin appears out of nowhere, casually sipping his Americano. His grin is a little too knowing—clearly, he was eavesdropping.

“Not really. He just mentioned that a few people were planning to go clubbing and asked if I wanted to join.”

Jimin’s eyes light up. “So, he wouldn’t mind if we tagged along, right?”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

Yoongi lifts his wine glass at you, smiling and unbothered.

Is this him extending an olive branch?

“Hey, Danbi, Eunchae…” he says, his gaze drifting past you to the two girls from Design. They look momentarily stunned, then offer hesitant waves, clearly not accustomed to this rare gesture from the usually wordless Yoongi.

Seriously?

This asshole.

A knot of frustration tightens in your stomach. Not only is he acting like nothing happened, but he’s also playing it cool, like he’s completely unaware of how much this is getting under your skin.

You’re sad, but now you’re kinda pissed, too. And the worst part of it all, he knows he looks fine.

Ginger hair slicked back to reveal the fresh undercut, He’s wearing some black shirt and black pants, with Jordans you would guess, and you know if it was any other man wearing that, he would have been stopped at the door.

You shift the strap of your dress slightly, conscious under his taunting eyes. The little number was something hot you recently picked up, the kind that might end up on somebody's floor.

“Are you going over to them,” Jake asks casually, leaning closer to your ear.

“No,” you say, breaking eye contact with Yoongi and moving to the next table where the others were, with Jake following closely behind.

A chorus of hellos started as you reached the table. There were a couple of girls from Hair and Makeup and some of the videographers, too. As if on cue, a tray of colorful shots are suddenly placed on the center console. The night is about to begin.

Jake has been incredibly attentive so far, but the truth is, it’s someone else’s attention that you want. You are hyper aware of Yoongi’s presence and it’s like having an itch you couldn’t scratch.

You spot Yoongi by the bar, alone and absorbed in his own world. As usual, he's oblivious to the pair of women casting lingering glances in his direction.

Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself and make your way towards him. You notice his shoulders tense and stiffen as you approach, a clear sign of his unease, which almost made you want to retreat. But you know you can't go on another day of this unresolved tension with him.

“Yoongi, can we talk?”

He looks up, smirking as he swirls his drink. “Nah.”

Alright. You were not expecting that.

“Look, I just wanna explain–”

“It’s cool. You don’t have to,” he cuts you off, his voice casual but his eyes fixed stubbornly on the lowball glass he’s holding.

“But I–”

“You don't wanna be around me anymore, simple. Dunno why you're here.”

“Wait, Yoongi, you don't understand.”

“Don't understand? You never told me shit.” You notice how his fists are clenched, knuckles turning white. “I would have apologized if I did something wrong. Thought you knew that. Thought we were friends.”

It’s that word again. You chuckle bitterly. “Friends, I know. You keep saying that.”

At this he looks up at you, brows furrowed, but it was your turn to avert your gaze.

“‘Kay. You're leaving anyway, right? You can start now.”

“Fine.”

“Bye.”

You take a few steps, but something tugs at you, pulling you back. You glance over your shoulder, hoping to catch him watching you leave, wishing he’d somehow intervene, stop you from walking away.

But he isn’t there. His chair is already empty, the space where he sat now as vacant as if he’d never been there at all.

No one knows you better than Yoongi, and apparently no one else can hurt you quite like him, too.

The night is young. The club is electric. It is the hottest spot in town and you are hell-bent to experience it to the max.

Spirits and sugary shots tempered the hurt that settled in your gut after your encounter with Yoongi, now replaced with an urge to forget, to almost rebel.

The dance floor becomes your sanctuary. Shots of sweet, potent liquor flow, loosening you up and syncing your movements with the music. The crowd sways around you, a sea of bodies, but Jake remains a constant anchor.

His hands rest confidently on your stomach, your back pressed against his chest as you grind slowly against him. With one arm raised, you hook your hand around his neck, letting your bodies move in perfect rhythm. It's been a while since you let yourself go like this, but it's Vegas, after all.

You can feel the warmth of his breath as he leans in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “You’re so sexy, noona.”

“Wanna get out of here?” The words leave your mouth before your brain can stop you.

Jake's eyes widen slightly, but he nods, quite enthusiastically actually, and you think: fuck it, he's cute and you are leaving the company anyway.

Disappointingly, the heat between you and Jake cools with every passing second as you make your way back to the hotel. Yet, you cling to the idea of seeing it through, driven by the need to prove a point: that a) your life doesn't revolve around Min Yoongi; and b) you are attractive and can pull anyone, even if Min Yoongi does not want you.

In another world, this would be a whirlwind of clothes flying off, bodies pressed against walls, hands exploring with urgency. But instead, you both enter the hotel room in silence, the air heavy with a tension that contrasts sharply with the passionate encounter you’d hoped for. The quietness between you feels like a stark reminder of how far you are from the fantasy you envisioned.

Jake notices the maze of thoughts you were lost in.

“Noona,” he says, placing his jacket over the arm of the couch. “Are you sure you want this?”

Want. It was hard to stitch words as a response to that. Not when your heart has only wanted one person for years.

To be fair you do want Jake in your bed tonight. Objectively, he is super attractive - his soft, wavy hair, those wide, doe eyes, and a jawline that could cut glass.

No time to waste. You turn to him, slowly unzipping your dress and letting it slip to the floor. “Does this answer your question?”

“Yes, yes, it does,” he walks in long strides over to you, yanking up his shirt in one fell swoop, revealing his toned stomach.

His hands cup your face and soon you feel his lips against your… neck? Ok, you can get into this. It’s not like you hate it.

He spends a few moments kissing you there. You close your eyes, willing your brain to shut off and just be in the moment.

“Can I touch you here?” One of his hands ghosts the side of your rib, inching towards the underside of your breast.

But before you can answer, loud knocks pound at your door.

“What the hell?” You hastily pull up your dress, zipping it up quickly. The furious raps continue and you can hear a voice behind it.

Jake follows you as you head to the door, picking up his tee from the floor and pulling it over his torso.

Bothered at the urgent banging, you don’t think to view the peep hole as you swing the door open, revealing

“Yoongi?” you squeak.

“Get out.” Eyes bloodshot, he strides past you and goes for Jake, who quickly tries to side-step him, moving a few steps back to create distance between them.

“Yoongi-ssi?” Jake's eyes, wide as saucers, go to his elder then to you, before a realization dawns on him. “They said you weren't– Fuck, I swear I really thought–.”

"Get. Out." His voice is cold, laced with a fury you’ve never heard from him before. He grabs Jake by the arm, practically shoving him toward the door.

Jake casts a pitiful glance back, mumbling, "Sorry, noona," even though he’s done nothing wrong. But you don’t see it. Your hands are covering your face, trying to shield yourself from the shock and shame crashing over you as the scene unfolds.

“Fuck off, kid.”

And then the door slams shut.

Yoongi paces the room like a caged animal, his hand raking through his sweaty hair in frustration. His breathing is heavy, almost ragged, as if he’s on the verge of losing control.

You finally find your voice. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You can't just barge in my room like that!”

“I just did,” he fires back. “Why are you with him?”

“It's none of your business. But since you really wanna know. I was about ready to fuck him.”

He clenches his jaw, his voice strained. “Did he touch you?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck!”

His hand shakes as he drags it through his hair again, his frustration barely contained. “Did you want him to?”

You can't understand why he’s asking these questions, why he’s reacting like this.

“Yoongi,” you exhale heavily, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. “Why are you here?”

Yoongi’s POV

Min Yoongi likes being in Las Vegas. The city buzzes with an electric energy, a stark contrast to his own chill demeanor. It’s a place where neon lights flash all night, and the unpredictable atmosphere makes him feel like a fish out of water—a thrilling kind of discomfort. He doesn't get why a city so loud and chaotic captivates him, but it does.

He was never one for outlandish, over-the-top spectacles, but the Cirque du Soleil show he watched with you and Hobi the other night instantly became one of his favorites.

He never liked recreational gambling, but the way you lit up with joy and hugged him tight after winning just 20 bucks at a random slot machine—it’s now one of his most cherished memories.

He never fared well in big, buffet restaurants, but if it means hearing you shout “Yoongi, carry meeee” (so stupid) as you beg him for a piggy back ride after downing five heaping plates, then maybe he can start looking up some buffets back home, too.

Las Vegas is free. Las Vegas is wild. Min Yoongi is not.

At least, not until that night when he tore past wild and plunged into nothing short of primal.

Straight out of a segment from The Animal Planet, he was a tiger, lounging contentedly with his pack. You were his queen, his chosen mate—though you don’t know it yet. But when a looming threat emerges, the alpha in him awakens, tapping into ancient survival instincts to protect what’s his.

First, he observed the threat.

Some guy from production. Jake. He’s HYBE's new ace videographer from Australia. Isn’t he younger than her?

Oh shit, this was the dude Yoongi actually handpicked to be the director of photography for his documentary. He might have to rethink this, depending on how things play out.

Fucker has his hand on your back and you shift subtly so his hand falls away. This is good, you don’t seem to be too into his advances, Yoongi tells himself, relaxing slightly on his chair.

Second, he assessed the situation.

Unfortunately for him, the situation escalated quickly.

Never in his life has he ever wanted to gouge his eyes out so badly. If he could actually shove his fingers in his eye sockets and scoop his eyeballs from his skull he would have done it right then. Yet somehow he couldn't look away. There was a sick, sadistic pleasure in watching you lose yourself on the dance floor. Like a voyeur, he stared, mouth slightly parted, breathless as your body grinds in time with the bass. He didn’t want to acknowledge the other man in the picture, the one that wasn’t him.

“You’re drooling, hyung,” Jungkook teases, and Jimin erupts in a fit of giggles, almost falling out of the bar stool.

Yoongi wants to deny it. But between the ache in his heart and the boner in his pants, he did not have it in him to lie. “Pass me a napkin, dipshit.”

Third, he sensed danger.

Unfortunately again, he had to use the toilet at some point. And as he returns to his spot on the balcony, he panics.

“Where the fuck is she?”

Jimin looked at him, warily. “They left.”

No, he thought. No, no, no they’re not leaving this club. They are not leaving his sight.

Fourth, he took decisive action.

A rush of adrenaline coursed through his body spurring him to run out the door, his phone on his ear as he tries to reach his driver.

“Hyung, stop.” Jimin runs to keep up with him. “Where are you going?”

“You know where.”

“Why?”

His head is pounding. He cannot think straight. And Jimin asking so many questions is so fucking annoying.

“You know why.”

Jimin sighs exasperatedly. “Why didn’t you idiots just talk about this like normal people?”

He doesn’t answer his friend, but he knows Jimin will be coming with him, whether he likes it or not. Because Jimin, nosy as he may be, is also one of the last real ones in his life.

Fifth, he confronts the threat head-on.

Which has brought him here, in your room, acting like the unhinged motherfucker he never aspired to be.

Your stern voice shakes him from his thoughts. “If you’re just going to stand there, just get outta here, Yoongi.”

“No.”

“No?” you let out a huff, a bitter sound cutting him. “You got some fuckin’ nerve. You ask me all sorts of questions, but you can't answer mine, huh?”

He has never seen this look in your eyes, and he starts to regret the hasty decision to come to your room.

Now, he was confronted with the first and very real possibility of you walking out of his life.

“Again, why are you here?” you ask, your voice a notch softer than it should be. It’s clear you’re exhausted, your tear-filled eyes an indication, wanting nothing more than for everything to make sense.

He cautiously pads towards you and gently reaches out for your hand. To his relief, you let him take it and he envelops it in both of his.

He takes one good look at you, committing your face to memory, because in his mind, this could be the point where your friendship ends.

He takes a deep breath, squeezing his eyes for a moment, before a confession finally spills from his lips. “Because I can't lose you.”

You blink and a lone tear spills free.

“I heard you on the phone with Jimin and what you said broke me. I keep thinking what I did wrong, but I can't figure it out. Then I saw you with that guy and I lost my shit. You know I'm terrible at expressing myself, but I need you, ok? More than I can say. Don't go. I can’t let you go.” He tugs you gently towards him, encasing you in his arms.

It didn’t take long for you to return the hug, pressing your cheek against his chest, and he is certain you can finally hear his heart that beats only for you. How he wishes he can summon the courage to say so. But the moment feels so delicate and he wants to tread lightly.

“Yoongi…” you sigh out his name and his heart races at how tenderly you seem to have surrendered to him.

“I’m so sorry that I was such a dick to you. Didn’t mean to ice you out. Honestly, that’s the last thing I ever wanted.”

“What is it that you want, then?”

“This.” He tightened his arms a tad against your frame to make a point, before pulling his head back, just enough to be able to see your eyes when he says, “You.”

Your breath hitches and he is unable to read the expression in your face. Was it just shock? Was it dismay? A slight panic bubbles in his throat. Did he misread the signs? Did he just blow it? But you felt so pliant under his touch, you still do. So he had to ask, even if your response might just end him.

“Y-you don’t want this?”

“No, I do, I do,” you say, almost too quickly, nibbling on your bottom lip afterwards. His thumb goes to caress your cheek, and you lean slightly into his touch.

‘Fuckin’ do something,’ his brain screams at him, the way it has for years now.

So many words are still unspoken between you two, but as he looks at the affection and the want in your eyes, he decides–fuck it, you can talk later.

"I really want to kiss you right now," he finally admits, his voice low but steady. "Is that okay?"

You nod, but hesitate. "I’m just—” you place a hand on his shoulder, as if to anchor yourself on him. “I’m afraid that if I start, I won’t be able to stop.”

He lets out a breath, a smile playing on his lips as he sees yours curve into a shy grin.

“That’s exactly what I want,” he murmurs as he closes the gap, his lips almost grazing yours.

“I don’t want to just be your friend anymore, Yoongi.” Your nose nudges his, inviting him to make the next move.

“You were never just a friend,” he whispers against the corner of your mouth.

“And after this,” you say, moving your hands to the back of his neck, “I might want you all to myself.”

His lips brush against yours, featherlight. It’s barely a kiss, just a fleeting touch, but it leaves you both craving more.

“Baby,” he breathes, “I’m already yours.”

A/N: What do we think??? Feedback is appreciated! Do we hear wedding bells, or nah? See you in Part Two! 🙂

Tag: @tea4sykes @mggv97 @jajabro @yooglefics @codeinebelle @tinytan-gerine @comingupwithacoolnameishard @dontcribuyabag @mizz-kraziii @angelfuzzy2 @marnz1990 @speedyhandsbonkpalace @amarawayne @coffeedepressionsoup @little-cherry01 @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d @lolpanda94 @parapiop7 @wobblewobble822 @dazzlingjade @storyofafangirl @yoongrace @mzbtsreads

Thank you so much for reading, you beautiful human! xo

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