#so many incomplete requests | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

norristrii · 26 days ago

Text

COULDN’T MAKE IT ANY HARDER.

“You say you can take it, but you don't know how hard I can make it”— You convinced yourself love wasn’t meant for you—not after everything. The heartbreak, the lingering wounds. But Oscar saw past all of it. He refused to let you push love away, proving it was always yours to have.

pairing. Oscar Piastri x fem! reader.

warning. slight angst (?), 8,2k words, strangers to ?? kinda, overthinking, mentions of being unlovable, feels rushed (cuz it is, sorry i tried), timeskips, part of event + based on this request!

music. Couldn’t Make It Any Harder by Sabrina Carpenter.

800 event. // event masterlist.

FOR A TIME, LOVE HAD BEEN A PURSUIT—an endless chase through whispered promises, fleeting glances, and the delicate art of hoping. It had felt like something tangible, like a treasure waiting to be unearthed, if only the right person appeared. So you searched, tracing the contours of affection through late-night conversations, through touches that lingered just long enough to make you believe.

But eventually, the search lost its urgency. The same patterns emerged, the same disappointments, and the same quiet realization that maybe, despite everything, love was not something that could be captured. It was a mirage—a beautiful illusion that dissolved the moment you thought it was finally within reach.

So, you stopped searching.

Not in a moment of sadness or resignation, but rather in a moment of clarity. Love, as the world had promised it to you, was a concept wrapped in uncertainty, in longing, in an ache that never truly faded. But here, in this life you had crafted—one of silken nights and sun-drenched decadence—you began to understand that love was not the only thing capable of filling the empty spaces.

Monaco stretched out before you like a shimmering dream, the streets lined with opulence, the air thick with possibility. You were young, effortlessly beautiful, draped in the kind of wealth that turned heads and whispered your name like a secret. People watched when you passed, their eyes tracing your silhouette, their voices hushed in admiration. You had power—not just in your possessions, but in your presence, in the way you carried yourself with quiet confidence and undeniable allure.

Perhaps you had no love, but did it truly matter?

Once, it had seemed like the missing piece—the thing that would make life whole, the final stroke in the masterpiece of your existence. But standing on a terrace with the Côte d’Azur rolling out beneath you, waves kissing the shore in rhythmic devotion, you began to question everything you had once believed. The sky melted into hues of lavender and gold, the scent of salt and citrus lingering in the air, and for the first time, there was no sense of incompleteness.

Until you found him.

Oscar Piastri arrived in your life like an inevitability, a force you had long resisted but could no longer ignore. He carried himself with quiet confidence, never asking for permission, never second-guessing his place in the world—or in yours. Unlike the others, he was relentless in the way he looked at you, in the way he approached you, as if he had already decided there was no escaping what lay ahead.

You had warned him, not once but many times. Your world was not simple. Love was not easy. But he did not flinch. He did not retreat. From the beginning, he was determined to show you that love was more than what you had known—more than fleeting passions, more than careless touches, more than the quiet ache of loneliness disguised as independence.

There was no hesitance in the way he stayed. Where others had faltered, where admiration had faded into uncertainty, Oscar remained—solid, unwavering, unafraid. He saw the walls you had built, the armor you wore, the cynicism you carried like a shield, and still, he did not turn away. Instead, he dismantled it slowly, piece by piece, until you were forced to see love not as something to be chased or avoided, but as something that had always been waiting.

───

Monaco shimmered under the golden embrace of the setting sun, every surface bathed in warm hues—bronze over the rooftops, molten gold spilling into the waves, lavender creeping into the edges of the sky. The city was alive, humming with quiet luxury, the distant laughter from terrace bars threading through the evening air.

You paused, drawn into the perfection of the moment. The way the sea swallowed the light, the way the buildings leaned into the fading day—it was something that demanded to be remembered. You pulled out your phone, steadying your hands, adjusting the camera until every color mirrored exactly what your eyes saw. The sunset was delicate, its brilliance fleeting. You had seconds—only seconds—to make sure the image held everything just right.

And just as you pressed the button, movement cut through the frame. A shadow, a blur, someone dashing past, slipping between the lens and the masterpiece beyond.

Your breath hitched out of frustration, the fleeting perfection of the sunset disrupted in a single careless moment. “C’mon,” you sighed, letting the exasperation slip into the evening air as your gaze followed the figure.

He had heard you—of course he had. Pausing mid-step, he turned, his expression open, unbothered, his laughter light. “I’m sorry, should I pose again?” There was amusement in his voice, but something genuine in the apology too.

You smiled, shaking your head slightly. “I think I’m okay.” But the man, with messy light brown hair catching the last golden rays of the sun, stepped closer.

His gaze flickered toward the horizon, where the sky melted into deep shades of amber and violet. “Yeah, it’s beautiful,” he murmured, his voice softer now, as if the moment deserved reverence. Then, with a teasing smirk, he added, “Tag me when you post it?”

There was something effortless about him, something that made the interruption feel less like an annoyance and more like an unexpected twist in the evening.

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. Was he really asking for your Instagram? Of course he was. The confidence, the casual ease—it was all so predictable, yet somehow still intriguing.

“You want my Instagram?” you chuckled, tilting your head slightly.

He didn’t miss a beat, his grin widening just enough to suggest he had expected the question. The sunset painted warm strokes across his face, casting shadows that made his messy light brown hair look even softer, catching the gold in his brown eyes.

“Would it be so bad if I did?” he countered, tone light but laced with something just enough to keep you on your toes.

The laugh slipped past your lips—soft, amused, unconsciously entertained by his confidence. Monaco was filled with people who asked for things too boldly, too quickly, always moving like they had somewhere more important to be. But there was something different about him. Less like an arrogant presumption, more like a playful challenge, an easy kind of charm that made the moment linger longer than it should.

You pulled out your phone, fingertips brushing against the screen before handing him your profile. He took it without hesitation, his own phone appearing in an instant, fingers moving swiftly as he typed your name into the search bar. A brief pause, then the familiar sound of a notification—the small moment of digital proof that you now existed in his world.

“Thanks,” he said, flashing a grin that reached his eyes. “Gotta go, or I’ll be late. I’ll text you later.”

You smiled, watching as he turned, as he disappeared into the slow-moving crowd, effortless in the way he carried himself, like the city itself had already carved out space for him. He walked away with a kind of unhurried certainty, pausing just enough to glance back once, catching your gaze, holding it for the briefest second before continuing on.

And yet, as he vanished into the golden stretch of the evening, something tugged at your thoughts.

Late to where?

A dinner? A meeting? A date—with someone waiting for him at a candle-lit table, phone in hand, expecting him to arrive, to sit across from her, to smile at her the way he had smiled at you? The thought settled, pressing against the edges of your excitement, dulling it just slightly.

You hadn’t opened the notification until you got home. The moment had lingered at the back of your mind, tucked somewhere between curiosity and a quiet sense of anticipation. You could have checked it earlier—while walking, while waiting at a crosswalk, while the city lights flickered on one by one—but something held you back. Maybe it was the thrill of prolonging the unknown, of not rushing the discovery. Maybe it was the way the evening air had still carried the warmth of the day, the way Monaco wrapped itself around you in golden luxury, letting you savor the afterglow of the encounter before unraveling its meaning.

But now, the door barely clicked shut, shoes kicked off without thought, body sinking into the familiar softness of the sofa. It was only then that you allowed yourself to reach for your phone, the glow of the screen casting a pale shimmer over your hands as you tapped the waiting notification.

oscarpiastri followed you.

The name stared back at you, simple yet suddenly significant. Your gaze flickered over the profile, the first thing catching your attention—a blue checkmark, verification. Official. Then the number beneath it. 4.1 million followers.

Wow.

It wasn’t just the number itself, though that alone was striking. It was what it represented. The reach. The recognition. The fact that, for all the effortless charm, for all the ease with which he had interrupted your sunset, he was not just another face passing through Monaco’s glittering streets.

He was someone.

Your thumb hovered, then pressed lightly against the screen, opening his profile, the digital window into a life lived at high speed. Monaco. Silverstone. Snapshots of race cars blurred in motion, podium celebrations frozen mid-cheer, quiet behind-the-scenes moments that hinted at exhaustion, at focus, at the relentless demands of a world that never slowed down.

Formula 1 driver.

The realization settled in your chest, not heavy, but shifting something. It changed the weight of the encounter, redefined the context. He wasn’t just a random stranger with a sharp grin and easy confidence. He had a career, a following, a life structured around precision, adrenaline, victory.

And yet, for whatever reason, amidst all of it, he had chosen to follow you.

Without overthinking, without weighing the possibilities, you tapped the button.

Followed.

The action felt strangely significant, like an unspoken acknowledgment—of the encounter, of the intrigue, of the way a single sunset had led to this small, digital connection. The seconds stretched, your screen still open on his profile, your thoughts hovering somewhere between curiosity and anticipation.

Would he notice immediately? Would he say something?

And then, as if the universe had been waiting for your decision, your phone vibrated softly in your palm. A new message.

From him.

Your phone buzzed softly in your palm, the screen lighting up with a new notification.

Oscar Piastri sent you a message.

Your heart skipped—just slightly, enough for you to notice, enough for you to acknowledge the intrigue curling at the edges of your thoughts. With a quiet breath, you tapped on the message, the text appearing crisp and simple against the glow of the screen.

oscarpiastri that was quick. Are u stalking me?

A smirk tugged at your lips. He had noticed.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, debating your response, the weight of the moment settling somewhere between casual and significant. You could play it cool, keep it light, tease him back. Or you could lean into the curiosity, let the conversation unfold in a way neither of you expected.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard for just a second longer than necessary before you finally tapped send.

yn don’t think much of it dear

A simple response, measured, unreadable. Not too distant, not too eager. You leaned back into the sofa, phone still resting in your palm, waiting. He had replied quickly before—would he do the same now?

A few seconds passed. Then a minute. Then another soft buzz.

oscarpiastri not sure if I should be offended or impressed

There was that easy confidence again, woven into the words as effortlessly as it had been in his voice earlier. You could picture him saying it, the smirk, the knowing look, the air of someone who was just amused enough to keep things interesting.

A small smirk tugged at your lips. He was playing along, keeping the conversation light yet just intriguing enough to make you want to respond.

Your fingers tapped against the screen absently as you read his message again.

You thought for a moment before finally typing back:

yn why not both?

Short. Playful. Just enough to keep him wondering.

It didn’t take long before the screen lit up again with his reply.

oscarpiastri fair. Maybe I should be impressed you’re not making a big deal outta me lol

That pulled a quiet laugh from you. You tilted your head, considering how to respond, the weight of his words settling into something that felt almost like a challenge.

Your phone buzzed again, the screen lighting up with another message.

oscarpiastri how about a proper monaco experience? Dinner, maybe?

You stared at the words for a moment, the weight of them settling in. A date. He was offering a date.

It wasn’t surprising, not really. The way he had carried himself, the way he had effortlessly slipped into your evening, the way he had made the simplest interaction feel like something more—it all led to this. And yet, there was still something about it that made you pause.

A Formula 1 driver, asking you to dinner.

You smirked. He’d have to earn that.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, debating your response. You could play it cool, keep it light, tease him a little. Or you could lean into the intrigue, let the moment unfold exactly as it was meant to.

yn sounds nice, but I’m not that easy

You sent it, leaning back into the couch, waiting.

Seconds later, the screen lit up again.

oscarpiastri so what’s the challenge? Do I need to win a race first?

You laughed softly, shaking your head. He was sharp, quick to keep up, refusing to back down. But you weren’t going to make it that easy.

yn i think a little more effort than just being charming and driving fast expensive cars is required

A pause. Then another buzz.

oscarpiastri alright, then. Tell me Y/n, what would convince you?

Now this was interesting. He was game. He was willing to play along. And suddenly, the power shifted—you held the cards.

Your lips curled into a smirk as you stared at the screen, considering your next move. He wanted to know what would convince you—but letting him figure it out would be far more entertaining.

You typed slowly, deliberately.

yn that depends. How creative can u get?

A pause. Then, another soft buzz.

oscarpiastri me creative? Asking f1 driver for creativity is wild

You chuckled, shaking your head, but you didn’t type back immediately. Let him wait. Let him wonder.

Another buzz.

oscarpiastri okay fine. How about this—tomorrow, same time, same place?

The moment stretched between you—just a beat longer than necessary—as you let the anticipation simmer.

Then, with a single tap, you sent the message.

yn deal

No over-explaining. No unnecessary details. Just a simple agreement that placed the ball squarely in his court. He wanted to be creative? He wanted to impress you? Well, now he had the chance.

Seconds passed. Then your phone vibrated again.

oscarpiastri alright. Tomorrow, then. But No backing out

You smirked, shaking your head slightly. Confident. He was playing his part well, leaning into the challenge you had set without hesitation.

─── one day later.

The day arrived wrapped in the same golden warmth Monaco had gifted you the evening before. The sun hung low, casting elongated shadows across the waterfront, its fading light stretching across the sea like liquid gold. The sky, once a brilliant azure, softened into a watercolor blend of pinks and oranges, bleeding seamlessly into the horizon. The city hummed with life—voices drifting through the air, laughter rising from sunlit terraces, the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore threading through the background like a quiet melody.

And yet, despite the beauty, despite the perfection Monaco had effortlessly curated, your thoughts were elsewhere—caught in the weight of an unspoken promise.

Same time, same place.

You hadn’t given him any guarantees. No reassurances. No indication that you would actually show. And yet, as the hour crept closer, anticipation simmered just beneath your skin, settling somewhere between curiosity and quiet intrigue.

Your steps were deliberate as you made your way through the winding streets, your presence merging with the slow-moving crowd that drifted along the waterfront. The scent of salt and expensive perfume mingled in the air, wrapping around you, pulling you further into the evening.

Then—just as effortlessly as the moment had formed—you saw him.

Oscar stood near the railing, his posture relaxed, bathed in the last golden streaks of sunlight that framed him like something deliberate. He wasn’t checking his phone, wasn’t impatiently scanning the crowds. No, he was simply waiting.

The second his gaze found yours, a slow smirk tugged at his lips, something knowing, something just amused enough to suggest he had never doubted you’d come.

You took your time approaching him, letting the moment linger between you, stretching the silence until it felt deliberate.

"You actually showed up," he mused, straightening slightly, his voice carrying the same easy confidence he had worn the night before.

You scoffed lightly, crossing your arms. "So did you."

He chuckled, slipping his hands into his pockets, as if this moment belonged to him just as much as it did to you. "Had to," he admitted, tilting his head slightly. "I made a promise, remember?"

Oscar’s smirk lingered as he watched you, the glint of amusement still dancing behind his eyes. He didn’t move immediately, letting the moment stretch, as if testing to see whether you’d break the silence first.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you held his gaze, waiting—curious to see what he’d do next.

Finally, he exhaled softly, shaking his head. “Alright then,” he said, motioning with a tilt of his chin. “Come on.”

He turned, stepping away from the railing, weaving effortlessly into the slow-moving crowd, expecting you to follow.

You hesitated for only a fraction of a second before falling into stride beside him. The evening wrapped around you—warm, threaded with conversation and the scent of sea air. The hum of Monaco felt different now, charged with an unspoken anticipation.

“So,” you mused, hands slipping into the pockets of your coat as you glanced sideways at him, “what exactly does a ‘proper Monaco experience’ entail?”

Oscar chuckled, his expression unreadable but amused. “You’ll see,” he said simply, stepping forward, leading the way toward the heart of the city.

Oscar led you through the winding streets of Monaco, the city alive with the quiet hum of conversation, the distant clinking of glasses, the rhythmic pulse of waves against the shore. The evening air was warm, threaded with the scent of salt and expensive perfume, wrapping around you like a whispered promise of something unforgettable.

He didn’t rush, didn’t fill the silence with unnecessary words. Instead, he let the anticipation build, let the mystery linger just long enough to keep you guessing.

Finally, after a few turns, he stopped in front of a restaurant tucked away from the bustling crowds—a place that didn’t need grand signs or flashy displays to announce its presence. The terrace stretched out toward the sea, candlelit tables glowing softly beneath the evening sky, the kind of setting that felt effortlessly intimate.

Oscar glanced at you, reading your expression before smirking. “Figured you wouldn’t settle for anything ordinary.”

The restaurant is effortlessly elegant, the kind of place where conversation hums softly between flickering candlelight, where the scent of fresh seafood and rich wine lingers in the air. The terrace stretches toward the sea, waves murmuring below, the sky fading into a deep indigo, scattered with the first hints of stars.

Oscar pulls out a chair for you with an ease that suggests he’s done this before—confident, comfortable, knowing exactly how to play the moment without overdoing it.

You settle into your seat, glancing around, taking in the quiet intimacy of the space, the way it feels deliberately removed from the rush of the city. This isn’t a restaurant that begs for attention—it simply is effortlessly refined.

Oscar leans back slightly, fingers tapping idly against the table. “So,” he muses, a slow smirk playing on his lips, “what’s the verdict? Am I off to a good start?”

There’s something in his tone—teasing, but edged with quiet curiosity. He’s watching your reaction, gauging whether you’re impressed, amused, or indifferent.

You leaned back slightly, a smirk playing at your lips as you picked up the menu, glancing over it with casual interest.

"Hmm," you mused, drawing out the moment deliberately. "I don't know. I was expecting something a little more… grand."

Oscar chuckled, shaking his head, clearly entertained. "Grand? Should I have booked the entire restaurant instead?"

You hummed, pretending to consider. "That would’ve been a solid effort. Though, I guess this will do."

He scoffed, feigning offense. "Harsh. And here I thought I was making a decent impression."

You lowered the menu slightly, meeting his gaze. "You're trying," you admitted, letting the words hang for just a second longer than necessary, teasing without giving too much away.

He exhaled dramatically, tapping his fingers against the table. "Alright, noted. Monaco’s finest seafood and ego bruising. Got it."

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "Don’t worry, I promise not to be too hard on you."

Oscar leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and intrigue.

"So, I have to ask," he mused, voice carrying an unmistakable curiosity. "Were you always planning to show up, or did I just happen to catch you on a good day?"

You smirked, swirling the stem of your wine glass lightly between your fingers. "That depends," you teased. "Would you have waited if I didn’t?"

His lips quirked, but he didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he held your gaze, weighing the response, letting the question linger between you before finally exhaling a soft chuckle.

"Maybe," he admitted, leaning back slightly. "But if I did, I wouldn’t have let you know."

You raised an eyebrow, amused. "Ah, so you’d rather suffer in mystery?"

Oscar shrugged, smirking. "Better than looking desperate."

The energy between you shifted, the teasing woven effortlessly into the conversation, blending into something just on the edge of sincere. He wasn’t just playing along—he was enjoying this.

"You know, Oscar," you said, letting the words settle between you, "you're quite an interesting man."

It wasn’t just a passing compliment—it was an observation, one that had formed slowly throughout the evening. He carried himself with a confidence that should have been overwhelming, but somehow, it wasn’t. It was effortless, natural, the kind that didn’t demand attention but commanded it all the same.

And strangely enough, in this moment, you weren’t analyzing the situation, searching for flaws, second-guessing the night the way you usually did. For once, you just let it be.

Oscar’s smirk flickered into something softer, something quieter. "Interesting, huh?"

You nodded, fingers lightly tracing the stem of your glass. "You don’t try too hard, but you don’t hold back either. You’ve got a balance."

“You’re interesting too, you know," Oscar said, his voice carrying the same easy confidence that had been present all evening. But then, after a brief pause, there was something else—a slight tilt of his head, a flicker of genuine curiosity in his gaze. "A lot of men must love that, huh?”

It wasn’t just idle conversation anymore.

The question arrived sooner than expected—direct, unfiltered, cutting through the careful layers of amusement and teasing that had carried the night so far. It wasn’t just about your confidence, about the presence you carried with ease. It was about what lay beneath it.

You held his gaze for a moment, fingers absently grazing the cool surface of your wine glass.

Should you tell him? Should you admit that, despite the way you moved through the world—sure of yourself, never hesitating—it wasn’t always that simple? That confidence was sometimes a mask, that beneath it lingered uncertainty, fear?

Fear that getting attached meant getting abandoned.

That people—no matter how present, no matter how convincing—always seemed to leave eventually.

You could keep the conversation light. You could tease him back, brush off the moment, let the evening remain untouched by the ghosts of your past.

Or you could let the truth slip, just enough to reveal that, despite everything, despite the effortless charm and quiet confidence, there was something about this that scared you.

Oscar’s gaze never wavered, watching you carefully, waiting—not impatiently, but attentively.

He had asked the question. Now, the answer was yours to give.

Your heart lurched—not because you didn’t know how to answer, but because you hadn’t been expecting this conversation. Not yet. Not like this.

And before you could stop yourself, before you could smooth over the moment with a playful laugh or a teasing remark, the words left your mouth, unchecked.

"Love, maybe," you murmured, the confession threading into the dim glow of candlelight between you. "But they don’t stay anyway.”

Silence followed.

A beat too long. A pause too noticeable.

Oscar’s smirk faded just slightly—not gone, but shifted, as if he had caught something in your tone, something not meant to be revealed. He studied you, his fingers tapping idly against the rim of his glass, gaze sharp, attentive.

"Is that what you expect?" he asked, voice quieter now, deliberate. "That people won’t stay?"

Damn.

Yeah, he saw through you. Saw through the confidence, through the carefully crafted ease, through the practiced rhythm of detachment that had kept you safe for years.

You were quiet.

Not because you didn’t have an answer. But because the answer sat too heavily in your chest, too tangled in past moments, past mistakes, past departures that had shaped every instinct you had now.

The easy thing would be to brush it off. To tease him, to shift the conversation, to laugh in a way that said, Don’t take me so seriously.

But then—

"I would never leave," he said, voice steady, controlled, unshaken. "Not if you were mine."

Damn. That fast?

The weight of it landed. Not just in the words—but in the way he said it. Not performative. Not just another moment of Monaco charm.

No, this was something else.

You felt it press against the edges of your ribs, curling against something cautious, something waiting, something terrified to believe it.

You leaned back slightly, crossing one leg over the other, letting a playful smirk pull at the edges of your lips. "Let’s talk about you, champion,” you teased, steering the conversation away from the moment that had settled between you a little too heavily. It was an easy escape—one you knew he’d catch, but one you hoped he’d allow.

Oscar let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping idly against the base of his glass. "Deflecting," he mused, his tone light but his gaze sharp. "That’s bold."

You shrugged, picking up your drink, taking a slow sip, savoring the cool, rich taste before setting the glass back down. "Or maybe I’m just genuinely interested in Monaco’s finest," you said smoothly, tilting your head slightly.

His chuckle was soft, thoughtful, the amusement still present but now layered with something else—something measured. "Alright," he conceded, resting his forearms against the table, eyes locked onto yours. "What do you want to know?"

You inhaled slowly, relieved by the shift—grateful that he didn’t push, didn’t try to dissect the vulnerability that had almost surfaced just moments ago.

And yet—there was something lingering between you. Something about the way he let it go, but didn’t let it disappear completely.

A small smirk tugged at your lips, the edge of teasing returning as you leaned forward just slightly, matching his posture.

"Everything," you chuckled, eyes glinting with challenge.

Oscar raised a brow, studying you for a beat before his smirk returned—this time edged with something deliberate.

"Everything?" he echoed, letting the word hang between you, stretching the moment just long enough to make it feel deliberate. "That’s a lot to ask, don’t you think?"

You tilted your head, the playful glint in your eyes unwavering. "Depends," you countered smoothly, fingers tracing the cool surface of your glass. "Do you have a lot to tell?"

His chuckle was low, thoughtful, carrying the same measured confidence he had worn all evening. "Maybe," he admitted, watching you carefully. "But you don’t strike me as the type to settle for maybe.”

The conversation had shifted—still teasing, still light, but threaded now with something more intentional. He wasn’t dismissing your curiosity, wasn’t brushing off the challenge. He was engaging, letting the moment stretch into something more than just playful banter.

You leaned forward slightly, resting your elbow on the table, chin perched lightly against your hand. "I don’t," you agreed, your voice edged with quiet amusement. "So, let’s make this interesting."

Oscar raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lips curling upward. "A game?"

You nodded, matching his smirk. "A trade. You tell me something worth knowing, and I’ll do the same."

He exhaled lightly, shaking his head as he sat back, considering the offer. Then, after a brief pause, his smirk widened just slightly. "Alright," he said. "You first."

Of course.

You chuckled, shaking your head. "I said you first."

Oscar’s eyes gleamed with challenge, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he let the moment settle, drumming his fingers against the table as he thought. Then, finally—he spoke.

"Alright," he mused, his tone shifting just slightly, edged now with something quieter, something real. "Here’s one for you—I never planned on staying in Monaco long-term. Wasn’t supposed to. But then…" He tilted his glass slightly, watching the wine swirl inside before looking at you again. "Things changed."

The honesty was subtle, carefully measured, but there—a glimpse into something beyond the effortless charm, beyond the confidence that had carried the evening.

You held his gaze, watching him, curiosity flickering at the edges of your thoughts. "Changed how?"

Oscar smirked, laughing, but this time, it wasn’t just amusement—it was cautious. “I gave you one answer. Your turn."

Fair.

─── four days later.

The soft hum of the car’s engine intertwined with the distant rush of waves crashing against the cliffs below, Monaco stretching out ahead, bathed in the muted glow of midnight. The city, ever luminous, felt quieter now, wrapped in the intimacy of late hours, where words carried more weight, where silences lingered just a little longer.

Oscar’s voice cut through the stillness—not hurried, not hesitant, but deliberate sliding into the moment effortlessly, as though he had been waiting for the right time to ask.

"Can I ask you something?"

You glanced at him, your fingers resting lightly against the leather interior, but he didn’t look back. His focus remained on the road, one hand loose over the wheel, his posture relaxed but intentional, like this wasn’t just idle curiosity—like whatever he was about to say already mattered.

Then, without hesitation, he asked, "Do you expect I won’t stay?"

The question landed abruptly, unsettling in its simplicity, in its precision.

A slow, quiet breath pressed against your ribs, the weight of his words settling in the space between you.

Why was he pushing so much?

Your grip tightened slightly against your lap, the pulse of the night suddenly louder, the car’s movement too fluid, too smooth, as though the entire world outside was indifferent to the shift unraveling between the two of you.

Because this wasn’t just about him.

This wasn’t just a question. It was an acknowledgment. A confirmation that he had seen through you long before this moment, long before this drive, long before the effortless charm and teasing deflections had given way to something deeper.

He had caught it—the hesitation, the careful avoidance, the way you pulled back just enough to not give someone too much room to disappoint you.

The way you had already assumed, long before now, that he would eventually leave.

Your lips parted slightly, the urge to laugh bubbling at the edges—to wave the conversation away, to steer things back to something easier, something comfortable, something that didn’t ask you to dissect your own fears in the glow of streetlights and midnight air.

But you didn’t.

Because avoiding it now felt obvious, too predictable, too much like something he would see right through.

Instead, you swallowed lightly, exhaling as your gaze flickered back toward the city ahead, its streets quiet, shimmering.

"Why do you keep asking that?" you murmured, your voice lower now, edged with something softer, something cautious.

Oscar let out a slow breath, his fingers tapping lightly against the steering wheel, his gaze still locked on the road ahead.

"Because," he said, voice steady but quieter now, more thoughtful, “I want to know if you believe it—or if you just assume it’s inevitable."

Your stomach tightened.

Because what if it was both?

A quiet tension settled between you, thick with the weight of words unsaid, with the truth you had let slip before you could stop it.

Oscar’s question had pressed too much, pushed too hard, and part of you was frustrated. Not at him—not exactly—but at the way the conversation kept circling back, forcing you to acknowledge something you had spent years ignoring.

You exhaled, fingers tightening slightly against your lap, your gaze flickering toward the city lights shimmering beyond the windshield, golden and distant.

"Everyone I did things like this with left," you murmured, barely above a breath, the confession raw, untouched.

The second it was out, it felt too real, too exposed.

Oscar didn’t react immediately—didn’t offer an apology, didn’t rush to assure you that he was different. He didn’t try to argue, didn’t push.

Instead, he was silent, his grip shifting subtly on the steering wheel, his brow furrowing just slightly in thought.

Then, after a beat, after the weight of your words had settled fully between you, he inhaled lightly.

"Then maybe you’ve never done this with the right person," he said simply—without hesitation, without pretense, without expectation.

Something flickered in his voice—not arrogance, not certainty, just fact, like he wasn’t trying to prove anything, just stating something that, to him, felt obvious.

You swallowed, staring ahead, the rhythmic pulse of the night pressing against your ribs.

Was he right?

Or was he just another moment before the inevitable departure?

You exhaled softly, eyes drifting downward, fingers tracing the seam of your sleeve as the weight of the moment pressed against your ribs. You hadn’t expected this conversation—not here, not like this, not in the quiet intimacy of midnight, where words felt heavier, where silence felt more telling than any hesitation.

"I'm sorry, Oscar," you murmured, the words slipping out before you could decide whether you even wanted them to.

Oscar glanced at you, his grip adjusting slightly on the steering wheel, brows furrowing just enough to show he was listening, that he wasn’t just letting the words settle without care. "For?"

You hesitated, inhaling deeply, willing yourself to meet his gaze even as your fingers curled slightly against your lap. "For not making it easy."

For making this complicated. For hesitating. For overthinking. For questioning something that—if you were completely honest—felt unlike anything you had ever known before.

You had spent so long assuming the worst, expecting people to leave, waiting for disappointment to arrive before you even let yourself want something. It was easier that way—simpler, safer. But with Oscar, everything felt different. Unpredictable in a way you hadn’t prepared for.

But he didn’t flinch at your words, didn’t soften them with meaningless reassurances.

Instead, without hesitation, he simply said, "I don’t do easy."

And somehow, that made it worse.

Or better.

Or maybe something else entirely—something you couldn’t quite name, something that sat heavy in your chest, curling around the edges of your thoughts, demanding that you believe him.

The words hung between you, stretching into the quiet hum of the engine, settling into the warmth of Monaco’s midnight glow. Everything about this moment felt too big—too significant in ways you hadn’t quite prepared for.

"I mean, even though I’ve only known you for a few days, I’m not planning to leave," Oscar said, his voice steady, unwavering, carrying none of the hesitation that lived so comfortably in the back of your mind. "We have a whole lifetime."

Lifetime. Future. Forever.

The weight of those words pressed against your chest, curling into the spaces between logic and emotion, between self-preservation and reckless belief. You smiled—instinctively, without thinking, because the idea of it was beautiful. Comforting. Something you had always wanted to hear but never dared to expect.

And yet—

That lingering doubt remained, whispering from the corner of your mind, cautioning you against letting this moment sink in too deeply. Against letting his certainty become your certainty. Because what if it wasn’t real? What if it was just a well-placed promise, something effortless, something that felt good in the moment but didn’t hold when time actually tested it?

Oscar had been nothing but intentional since the beginning, deliberate in the way he showed up, in the way he stayed, in the way he never made you feel like this was fleeting.

So maybe—just maybe—this time was different.

Maybe he meant it.

─── six days later.

Almost a week later, Oscar was still here—not just in passing moments or fleeting texts, but fully, in ways you hadn't expected but found yourself slowly beginning to embrace.

He called—not just once, not just when it was convenient, but because he wanted to.

Because he liked hearing your voice, because he never let too much time slip between conversations. Each call was effortless, filled with laughter, quiet confessions, shared silences that never felt awkward, only comfortable.

He texted—not just quick responses or empty words, but messages that made you feel seen. The kind that arrived in the middle of the day, seemingly random but thoughtful, like he had been thinking about you, like you had already made space in his world. The kind that carried inside jokes, teasing remarks, genuine questions that made you pause and think, that pulled you deeper into something you hadn't realized you'd been waiting for.

He stayed over—not in a way that disrupted, but in a way that settled in naturally, as if he had always been meant to be here. The way his presence folded into your routine, effortless, unforced. The way he took up space without making it feel overwhelming, without making it feel like a statement— just something that was, something that felt right, felt easy.

And most of all, he cared.

Not in grand gestures, not in overwhelming declarations, but in the small, simple ways that mattered the most. The way he noticed things—the shift in your voice when you were exhausted, the way your fingers absently traced the rim of your glass when you were deep in thought. The way you hesitated before sharing certain things, but never felt the need to hide around him.

It was different.

You were different.

And in quiet moments—when he wasn’t looking, when he wasn’t saying all the right things, when he wasn’t effortlessly slipping into your world—you realized something.

Monaco lay quiet beneath the dim glow of streetlights, the kind of stillness that felt charged, like the hush before a storm, like the world was holding its breath. Only your laughter broke the silence, echoing softly against the polished façades of designer boutiques and grand hotels, blending into the rhythmic click of your heels against the pavement.

Your hand curled around Oscar’s bicep, fingers pressing lightly against the firm muscle, the warmth of his presence grounding you, steadying you in a way you didn’t expect. He didn’t pull away, didn’t tease, just let you hold on, his body relaxed, his steps effortless as he matched your pace.

Everything about this night—about him—felt dangerously comfortable. The kind of comfortable that made walls crumble without warning, that made hesitation feel unnecessary, that made you forget, just for a moment, that caution had always been your safest bet.

A deep rumble of thunder rolled through the sky, shaking the air around you with an unspoken warning. You glanced at Oscar, your brows raising in amusement as you tightened your grip around his arm, fingers pressing slightly against his strong bicep.

"No way," you murmured, your voice carrying a hint of irony, the kind that lingered in the spaces between certainty and doubt.

Oscar barely reacted, shrugging with the effortless confidence that had somehow become second nature to him. "It’s not going to rain," he said simply, without hesitation, like the sky itself would listen.

But it didn’t.

Because as soon as the words left his lips, the heavens opened up.

The first drops landed softly—cold against your skin, hesitant at first, as if testing the air, testing the moment. Then, within seconds, it became everything— a full downpour, relentless, washing over the streets, turning Monaco’s polished avenues into shimmering reflections of golden storefront lights.

Your laughter bubbled up instantly, breathless and sharp, caught somewhere between disbelief and sheer joy.

Oscar let out a low exhale, running a hand through his hair, which was already dampening under the sudden rain. He shook his head, amusement flickering behind his eyes even as he sighed in surrender.

"Well," you teased, blinking through droplets clinging to your lashes, shivering slightly at the cool rush of water soaking through your clothes. "That aged terribly."

Oscar exhaled again, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Alright, fine,” he admitted. "I might’ve been slightly wrong."

You laughed again, gripping his arm tighter as the rain turned heavier, wild and uninhibited, crashing against the pavement, soaking both of you entirely.

"We can run," you said breathlessly, the rain already soaking through every inch of fabric, clinging to your skin, turning the world into a chaotic blur of glistening streets and golden lights.

Without hesitation, you kicked off your heels, the cool pavement beneath your feet shocking against the warmth of your adrenaline-fueled body. Before you could rethink it, Oscar’s fingers found yours, gripping tightly, lacing through with certainty. His hold was firm, steady—a silent promise not to let go.

And then—he ran.

Not cautiously, not carefully—recklessly, unapologetically, pulling you with him, laughter spilling into the storm like something raw, something untamed, something alive.

Your breath caught as the rush of cool air whipped past, the weight of the downpour drenching your hair, your clothes, your skin, every single part of you now claimed by the storm. You stumbled slightly, the slick pavement making each step a test of balance, but Oscar never loosened his grip, never hesitated—he dragged you forward, faster, laughter shaking through his chest in a way you’d never heard before.

"This is crazy!" you shouted between uncontrollable giggles, your voice barely audible over the relentless pounding of rain against stone and glass.

Oscar turned his head just enough to catch your expression—your wild grin, your soaked hair sticking to your cheeks, the way your fingers refused to let go of his. And in that moment, under Monaco’s storm-lit streets, he laughed —a real, unguarded, breathtaking kind of laugh that made your stomach tighten for reasons that had nothing to do with the running, the rain, or the recklessness of the night.

He didn’t slow down. If anything, he ran faster, and you didn’t fight it. You let him lead, let the world blur, let the cold seep into your skin while the warmth of him grounded you, keeping you here in this perfect, absurd, fleeting moment.

And somewhere in the chaos—in the storm, in the way his fingers never let go—you realized something.

You weren’t afraid.

Not of him.

Oscar’s grip tightened around your wrist, pulling you closer in one swift, deliberate motion. The rain clung to both of you, dripping from your soaked clothes, sliding down your skin, turning the night into something electric—something charged with an energy neither of you fully understood but neither of you wanted to stop.

"You are crazy,” he murmured, his voice low, edged with amusement, but there was something else there too—something unspoken, something just beneath the surface.

You laughed, breathless, rain-slicked hair clinging to your face as you looked up at him, catching the flicker of something in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

"And yet," you teased, tilting your chin slightly, a smirk pulling at your lips despite the cold, despite the chaos, "you didn’t leave."

Oscar shook his head, his hand shifting slightly, fingers brushing against your wrist where his grip had softened. "What kind of idiot would leave now?" he muttered, but his voice had lost its teasing edge—now it was something more honest, something real.

The rain continued its relentless downpour, soaking into every fabric, dripping down your skin, cold and unyielding, but none of it mattered. Not in this moment. Not with him standing this close, his presence pressing against you, his breath warm despite the chill, his grip still firm at your waist, grounding you, keeping you here.

Oscar had leaned in, slowly, deliberately, and instinct had kicked in before your mind had caught up—you had moved away. It was fast, automatic, a reflex born out of hesitation, out of old habits refusing to die, out of caution you had carried with you for too long.

But the second you pulled back, realization crashed through you. His brows furrowed just barely, his gaze flickering downward for half a second before finding yours again, steady, questioning, but not retreating. He hadn’t pulled away. He hadn’t let go. He was still here, still watching you, still waiting. And that flicker of awareness burned through you—the understanding settling between you unspoken but undeniable.

He had wanted to kiss you. And you had pulled away. But why?

The answer curled somewhere deep inside you, tied to instinct, tied to self-preservation, tied to the belief that moments like this were dangerous because they meant something. But as the rain poured, as Oscar remained unmoving, unwavering, as everything else faded but him, you realized something else.

You wanted this.

You wanted him.

So this time, you leaned in.

Your lips met his, soft at first, testing, confirming, closing the space you had unintentionally created. And then—certainty took over. Oscar inhaled sharply against you, his hand sliding to your waist, his fingers pressing more firmly, pulling you closer, securing you against him like he wasn’t just kissing you, he was choosing you.

The kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, the rain slipping between you, merging with the warmth of him, with the impossible electricity of the moment, with the quiet, undeniable truth neither of you could take back now.

babsie radio ! this was supposed to have another part but I got kinda writer block mid this. Anon, I hope you like it though <3

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gay-dorito-dust · 1 year ago

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I'm here with a Wuthering Waves request.

Could I request Jiyan with a s/o who likes talking about how pretty and handsome he is?

‘Look at you,’ you said softly as you held his face within your hands, fingertips caressing his skin as though it was made out of porcelain, while your gaze was transfixed on the many shades that made up his gorgeous eyes that always seemed to be set in a glare or deep thought. ‘Beautiful.’

Jiyan thought that after a while he would’ve gotten use to your honeyed words of sincerity and soft touches, however the general has found himself melting under your adoring gaze more times then he’d like to admit. With him being General it didn’t leave much room for you two to spend much time together, so when you do spend some time together Jiyan tries his hardest to make every second count as reconciliation for how often he’s away performing his duties.

You on the other hand didn’t mind it, sure it got lonely now and then but you’d always remind yourself that when your beloved general does come home from the battlefield, you got the opportunity to show just how much you appreciated him. You knew what you were getting into when you accepted his affections and became his partner, and as his partner it was your duty to take his mind off of his duties and bring about a sense of normality to his life.

‘Is there a reason you’re complimenting me?’ Jiyan asked, righting his hardest to not close his eyes upon feeling your fingertips caress his jaw in a way made every thought escape his head until all he could think of was how careful you were being with him.

‘I’m merely telling the truth my dear general, you are indeed a handsome man to gaze upon.’ You replied smiling warmly at him.

‘Is that why I always catch you looking at me as often as you do when I’m training?’ Jiyan raises his brow knowingly as you could only feel your cheeks flush at being caught but your couldn’t help it, you loved seeing your partner train as you got to watch him in his element and fall even more in love with him then you already had.

‘Guilty as charged,’ you chuckled as you pressed a kiss to his nose, ‘though I will not be made ashamed in watching my beloved general look ethereal and heavenly even when he’s working up a sweat.’ You added shamelessly.

Jiyan tightened his hold on your waist and pulled you in close. ‘You truly are a troublesome one aren’t you my love.’

‘Am I worth the trouble General?’ You asked him, looking deeply into those captivating eyes that you longed to look into their seemingly endless depths of pure gold forever.

‘You are indeed worth it and much more, it is I that should be asking you that question.’ Jiyan said as he recalled the important dates that he had missed due to his duties as general, he knew you didn’t resent him one bit for it, but that didn’t mean he himself had forgiven for missing out on the most important days of your life together.

You furrowed your brows as you saw a look of guilt and remorse cast over his face and you immeditly moved into action by planting kisses all over his face as you whispered sweet nothings to him. ‘You are anything but trouble my sweet, handsome Jiyan. The man with the prettiest golden eyes and the most beautiful blue hair that consumes my every waking thought to the point it maddens me.’ You pull away just to rest your forehead against his.

‘You may hold resentment towards yourself but I don’t, I miss you it’s true but my love for you is unending, I love you when you’re with me and I love you when you’re away fighting to protect our home. You are the most beautiful man I have ever laid eyes upon and I will say that until I have lost my voice completely.’ You steal a kiss from his lips. ‘You are worth every bit of me even if you may not think so but you are and I will spend the rest of my life proving that to you because if I don’t, then may my heart be forever incomplete without you. So please don’t doubt yourself because I don’t doubt who my heart chooses to love wholeheartedly.’ You finished.

Jiyan only pulled you in tightly against his chest as he burrowed his head into your shoulder to hide away his burning cheeks, the words he wanted to say had died upon his tongue when you bore your heart out to him, his eyes sealed shut as he took you in your entirety and engraved it to his memory for when he had to leave once more for the battlefield; hoping that your scent would cling to him so that he’d have something of you to keep him going when stuck in the front lines.

He just wanted to have some aspect of you with him as his own personal morale boost when he was feeling at a loss, but wouldn’t allow for the soldiers to see that side of him, for if the general is shown at a loss, then the soldiers are quick to loose hope, he has to be strong for them like a good general should from his troupes and be a human second. ‘My heart has always belonged to you my dear,’ he began, ‘I didn’t see it fit that I’d receive your honeyed words due to my frequent absences, but with your unconditional love i am sure to see myself the way you see me one day; if you’ll continue to help me.’ He finishes, tightening his hold on you.

You smiled brightly as you stole kiss from his lips. ‘Forever and always my pretty General.’

#wuwa #Wuthering waves #wuwa x reader #wuwa imagine #wuwa imagines #wuthering waves x you #wuthering waves x reader #Wuthering waves imagine #Wuthering waves imagines #jiyan x reader #wuwa jiyan #jiyan imagine #jiyan imagines #jiyan x you

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heartyluv · 5 days ago

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Trigger/Content Warning: You will be comforted by Sylus and Rafayel after reminiscing on the SA you have experienced before they came into your life. Please do not continue if this triggers and or upsets you. You’re important. Your safety and well-being matters and will always be taken into account.

Note: Everyone, I want to take this time to warn you once again that this request does speak on SA, but in no way shape or form is anything graphic or being detailed. This is a request sent by my luvly, Venus, who is strong and willing to share her story. While this is strictly meant for comfort, your mental health matters and it is never my intention to trigger anyone. Please do not read if that is a possibility. Also, if you feel comfortable and are prepared well enough to read her request, please take the time to go ahead and —Click Here—, but proceed with caution and care as she gives a little insight into what she has experienced and what she is working through. You have been warned. Please be responsible for the media you choose to consume. I love you.

Sylus

When you began to space out and the second you randomly grew particularly silent, Sylus knew what was happening. The way your bright smile slowly began to dim. The way your quirky responses were late and not as clever. The way you began to pick at the skin on your fingers, wincing ever so slightly when your tugged a little too hard.

He has grown to read and understand you very, very well, but no matter how many times he has approached this scenario, he will always treat it like it’s his first because of how different a reaction can be and vary.

You had rare occasions where the memories of the person you once trusted, the one who hurt and violated you, would flood your mind at the most random and inopportune moments. It would paralyze you, no matter what you were doing. The amount of therapists you’ve seen, how much healing you’ve done—it was irrelevant. When it hit you, it hit.

Sometimes it didn’t need a trigger—most often than not, it didn’t have one. The brain could be cruel and beautiful, making you remember the worst times of your life and the best in the same day if it wanted to.

Right now though, it felt as if a train was sitting on your chest and like only Superman could get it off.

“Kitten,” Sylus calls to you softly, tilting his head to try and look into your eyes. The comedy movie you were once watching has turned into pointless noise for him now.

You register his voice last minute, taking a bated and incomplete deep breath before turning to look at his relaxed yet determined expression.

“You’re with me?” he asks with care, placing his hand on yours to ground you. You flinch a little at first and it breaks his heart.

“Contact or no contact?”

“Contact,” you whisper shakily. Sylus worked with you in the very beginning of your relationship to set and establish your boundaries, and to cultivate simple words and phrases to get you through times where it felt a little too hard to say more. Not once, nor will he ever, judge you. From day one, he has been by your side, being your rock in a process of uncertainty.

He stands and immediately squats down to be eye level to where you sit. He takes one of your hands in his and places the other right on your chest to where your heart beats.

“Remember what we do, hm?” he smiles delicately enough to show you how patient he is. To show you how patient and present he’ll always be.

You nod, sniffling and going on his count before you take your first real inhale. It’s not quick and has always felt like it takes far too long to get back into your own body. The exercise regulates your mind and reminds you that you are safe, that you are okay, that you no longer are being consistently pursued by a threat. And on bended knee, Sylus doesn’t falter, nor does he rush.

“We don’t have to say much, sweetie. You don’t have to say anything at all, in fact.”

“I’m so sorry…” you mumble, looking into his deep red eyes and feeling nothing but sadness that he has to deal with this.

“I have already told you that apologies for healing is never something you do. Your process is yours to experience, yours to conquer. It is not for anyone else to dictate. And as the man who loves you,” he brings your knuckles up to his lips to press a featherlight kiss. “I will be here for every step to make sure to come out stronger and happier on the other side.”

A tear falls down your cheek, but he makes quick work to catch it before it can mark you with anymore sorrow.

“I don’t want to hurt anymore, Sy… I’m so tired of feeling it…” You shake your head, looking down in your lap.

“Feelings are what makes us real, sweetie, but they do not make us. You’re stronger than anybody I’ve ever known and I’ve seen men take too many bullets to the body and survive.” He feels triumphant when the corner of your mouth lifts to welcome a gentle smile. He continues, his deep voice like a soothing melody to your ears. “That’s nothing compared to the strength that surges inside of you. If it takes you a lifetime, I will be here for it, the next, and any after.”

“What have I done to deserve you?” When you give him your full attention again, his heart rushes with the familiar urge to protect you. To heal you.

“It’s a question I ask myself all the time. What has a man like myself done to earn someone as benevolent as you?”

“Oh, Sy…” you lean forward, relaxing when his strong arm wraps around you to place you in that security blanket only he can give. “I love you. So, so much.”

“As do I, kitten. I love you with every breath.” His hand runs down your back carefully. “What do you say I take you out for a sweet treat? Anything you want.”

“Anything?”

“And everything.”

“I’d like that.”

He gets your permission before kissing your forehead. “As would I.”

Rafayel

You didn’t mean to start crying as you waited for Rafayel in his studio. The longer you stood staring at his works in progress in silence, the more your mind felt like it was apparently necessary to let the painful memories of your past creep into your psyche.

Looking at his grand piece with silhouettes touching as if they were separated between two worlds did nothing but make you remember all the times you were touched in ways you never wanted. It made you remember when you once felt as if you were on another plane because too many would believe the trusted individual over your desperate cries for help, over your need for them to trust and hear you.

When the emotions almost became too much, it was the same time that your boyfriend arrived. Quickly, you tried to wipe away the evidence of your feelings off your wet cheeks, but he knew you too well to not recognize that there was something wrong before he even got the chance to see your face.

“Don’t hide from me, cutie,” he said as his footsteps grew closer. When he was near, from behind, one of his warm hands gently took hold of your wrist to stop the movements that worked to erase your tears. Carefully he rounds you, his purple hair falling into his studying gaze.

“I am only much help when you talk to me, bub. Please help me to understand what has you so troubled.” He gives you space, not rushing you to speak faster than what you’re ready for.

“I just—” You inhale sharply, swallowing the dreadful lump in your throat. “My past. The part of it that hurts too much to think about…I’m thinking about it.”

He purses his lips at the way you seem to try and shrug it off, like what you say is unimportant. His long slender fingers trace your knuckles. “Have I, anything, or anyone, done something to trigger you?”

“It’s nothing for you to worry about.” He hates when you do that, when you try to undermine yourself and your feelings in an effort to “protect” others. He’s told you too many times before that you can be selfish with him.

“Hm.” His hands wrap around yours. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m not worrying. I’m trying to correct and to become better aware to protect you and your mind.”

“That’s never been your burden to carry, Raf…”

“Being a help to my muse and my lover, will never be a burden. I’ve told you that, no?”

You huff out a breath with a nod, licking your lips in preparation before reluctantly pointing at the piece that rests on the floor against the wall. He follows the direction in which you have shown him.

“My piece has disturbed you?” He sounds defeated and ashamed. Like he should’ve known better.

“No, no!” you rush. “It was more so me…putting my trauma onto your work. It was never your fault.”

A brief moment passes as he stares down at the art that no longer matters to him. “Why don’t you reclaim it?”

“What do you mean?”

Rafayel lifts the canvas to place it on an easel before grabbing paint brushes and dotting globs of colorful pastels onto an art pallet. “Like we’ve done with your mind and body, we’ve given you back the power over both. We worked to make you feel like you have agency again, and to feel confident in that reality, despite the trauma. Take what I have and make this art yours.”

With wide eyes, you hesitantly accept what he’s giving you. “I can’t destroy your work.”

“Your hands don’t have the ability to destroy, cutie. Not in my world.” He smiles as he guides you to stand before the thing that troubled you. “You can only take control.”

Behind you once more, he helps you dip the wet brush in a random color before smearing it against the once finished product. “And I will be here to support you, to guide you if you need me.”

Your eyes burn with tears the entire time when he stays right where you need him for the next hour.

Rather than the painting representing something so painful, it becomes a mesmerizing homage to the love you have with Rafayel. What once seemed like two strangers, is now a representation of the strong unity you have with the angel like man holding your fist as it works to move the brush until you’re satisfied with the result.

“Thank you, Raf,” you say softly, letting your head rest on his shoulder as you tilt your head back. “I love you. Thank you for loving me.”

“Thank yourself first, pretty. It’s your perseverance that keeps you golden. I’m just here to make sure that light never dims.”

He kisses the side of your head while you two stare at your creation in comfortable silence. “And I love you, too. Know that it will always be greater than any ocean and stronger than any wave. Far greater.”

A/N: I can only hope that I’ve done this the justice it deserves. For anyone who can relate to this, please know and understand that you will always be stronger than you know. Know that you are believed, that you are loved, that you are golden. ❤️

Creds to @/omi-resources for the dividers!

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace rafayel #sylus x you #sylus x reader #rafayel x you #rafayel x reader #lads sylus #lads rafayel #lads x you

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sleepingcup · 4 months ago

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I can't ask in your crk blog for some reason.. So..i came here andd I wasn't sure to message you crk blog either..

But I wanted to ask if you can do shadow milk and PV or their skins.. To like comfort a mentality exausted Y/N.. 😅 (omg I'm nervous-)

(Sorry about that anon, yes the inbox in eepy-cookies is closed because it has a massive request that needs to be fulfilled. But I do feel a little bonus since it feels a bit incomplete.)

Characters: Truthless Recluse, Pure Vanilla Cookie, Sage of Truth, & Shadow Milk Cookie x G/N Reader (Bonus: Black Sapphire Cookie, Candy Apple Cookie, Awakened Pure Vanilla Cookie) Genre: Hurt/Comfort & Fluff Trigger Warning: Dark Topics and mentions of s****de Disclaimer: This is made for fun, please be aware of ooc

Summary: You are exhausted mentally for who knows how long, masking your personality. Always keeping a fake smile wherever you go, it went well even if it hurts but somehow someone noticed and corners you alone.

Pure Vanilla Cookie

It will take him a while to notice that you were masking this whole time, he always got fooled so easily its hard for him to notice a bit of your suffering. To him you are able to avoid him trying to understand you.

But if he happen to notice, he feels really bad for not noticing.

You didn't tell him and he didn't know, you two are on both fault at that.

You happen to notice that he was going near you at all cost, he won't be fooled by your attitude, instead he often goes near you to hug, ask you, and at the same time making sure that you are being comforted slowly.

Who knows he might be happy to see you being truly happy.

Truthless Recluse

You can't fool him, he can sense your sorrows.

Try masking your emotions and he can casually point it out like it was no big deal for him, of course he can piss you off wondering why but he knew he was trying to help you.

You heard me, "Help you." What else can you do when he found you alone on the top building with railings leaving behind many shoes of the unfortunate.

He may not be the best comforter but rest assure that his silent presence alone was there for you to at least let you lap on his lap, petting you and encouraging you to cry your heart out.

He looks cold but he isn't heartless there is still a slight fragment of Pure Vanilla Cookie in him.

Awakened Pure Vanilla Cookie

Fooling him once, crumbling to see you try.

Cause he can tell if you are alright or not, you might found him often checking up on you from time to time. Wanting you to be more open to him about your pain, sorrows, and dark thoughts that might hurt his heart.

Not only that be prepared for Pure Vanilla Cookie to arrive at your room asking you out to join him on a tea alone with him in a more private place just to comfort you no matter how many times other cookies tried to get him.

You being alone is not on his goal, his goal is to be there by your side. After all, he sees his own pain within you, he needs to see a future, a future where you are happy by his side no matter the cost.

Shadow Milk Cookie

Imagine your surprise that he found you alone on a bridge alone when you were lost in thoughts, you ignored him despite him mocking you to not do that unfortunate risk.

At first you think you fooled him, but he isn't he can sense your sorrow.

But even if you can't take it anymore and was about to jump, he simply won't let you. Putting you as his doll puppet for his own amusement. After all he found a PERFECT audience to perform no matter what state you are in.

But deep down, he finds your pain like a painful past reflection he has seen himself in. He won't let that slide, so he got his eyes on you no matter what. And he knew he got his instincts right the SECOND he leave you alone, disrespecting your privacy and making sure you feel better no matter his own efforts are not good.

After all, you serve a great challenge for him~

Sage of Truth

He can see you mask, your fake smile and it made him notice how you are mentally feeling. He is of course the fount of knowledge and the sage of truth, he knew the truth the second he see you. Cornering you to see how you are feeling got you on your nerves at first, but he reassures you that he was concerned for you and with valid proof he was doing everything he can to at least save you.

Of course there was an argument, but he won't back down even tho he will admit he is scared on the inside the pain that you help scares him but he knew his priority.

Finally he got you on your weakest and saddest days and he comfort you every time. And thus he decided to become your roommate despite how jealous other cookies are.

He has a feeling that leaving you alone once would make him hear the worse situation possible even tho it won't happen.

Surprise to say, he has become your therapist and comforter.

Black Sapphire Cookie

He didn't know at first but when he started inspecting you, it has somehow become a puzzle he wanted to solve like a detective investigating a crime scene. He knows your masking but he has no proof that you are mentally struggling to feel better, so he went deeper to find the pieces.

And let's just say once he did he got disgusted and now he has to capture you for himself, after all no child doesn't deserve the harsh treatment for a parent/guardian. By spreading a nasty rumor and making sure that IT IS REAL he was amused to see their face filled with begging, crying, and regret which he didn't believe and finish the job.

The next day you were doing peaceful stuff receiving concerns and worries from other cookies no matter where you go which got you confused.

But once you were finally alone, you knew the moment you see him it is checkmate.

"Now, now, where do you think your going, my dear audience~"

Candy Apple Cookie

Aside from doing the orders Shadow Milk Cookie gave her, you were the first cookie she somehow by any chance got along well with. Even if she manage to fool you, she notice that unusual look on your face. It got her confused and yet there was a desire to find out.

Those so called friends who betrayed you ticked her the wrong way, she often sees you with bruises and weird haircuts which her usual smile fades to a deadly seriousness. Candy Apple Cookie SIMPLY won't let that slide, after all YOU are her favorite friend aside from Shadow Milk Cookie and Black Sapphire Cookie.

She manage to convince Black Sapphire to join her on a scheme which gave him ideas to bring in the rumors about your so called "good friends" as she drags you away from them and your village.

Sure Master Shadow Milk Cookie WON'T mind this now do he?

#cookie run kingdom x reader #crk x reader #shadow milk cookie x reader #pure vanilla cookie x reader #truthless recluse x reader #sage of truth x reader #black sapphire cookie x reader #candy apple cookie x reader #awakened pure vanilla cookie x reader

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leia-writes · 4 months ago

Note

Hi! I read "Kiss With A Fist" and i loved it, i like ur writing sm! Can i request a femreader x Frontman smut? Here's a plot idea: hotel room 1 bed type of situation ( reader is an assistant to the Frontman and they got a love/hate type of relationship ). Ty in advance!

Bittersuite

hwang in-ho | front man x reader

ao3 link (coming soon when it decides to work)

masterlist

song inspiration: bittersuite by billie eilish

a/n: thank you so much for your request!!

warnings: smut - 18+ ONLY

word count: 9,914

posted on: 2/21/2025

The jet touched down smoothly on the runway, gently interrupting you from your thoughts. Seated next to you by the window was In-ho, who had been quietly sitting with his eyes closed before being awoken. Hwang In-ho, who was the Front Man of the South Korean Squid Games, and who was also your boss.

Your job as In-ho’s assistant mostly consisted of doing all the boring parts of his job. Keeping files organized, documenting important events, and communicating with other Squid Game operations around the world. It also meant you traveled with him wherever he went, which is why you were now landing in Florence, Italy.\

The Squid Game organization was growing at a rapid pace with many new locations being established. Because of In-ho’s expertise and experience, he was asked to visit a few sites as they were being developed. He also liked to visit existing locations from time to time, so this stop in Florence was the first of many. Once the plane finished landing, you and In-ho were led to your private car as your bags were loaded into the trunk for you. The drive to the site would be a couple hours as the location was chosen to be as remote as possible.

Construction had only recently begun on this new site, so there wasn’t much completed when you two had arrived. The main control room and some conference rooms had been built, but no residences or player rooms were finished. Despite the incomplete nature of the place, your day was filled with meetings. You supported In-ho as he spent the day going over construction blueprints, devising plans for future games, and assisting the staff in learning how to recruit players. As In-ho’s assistant, you felt pulled in every direction as he expected you to be on call and ready with whatever he needed at whatever time he asked.

By the end of the day, you were both exhausted from travel and work, not even having had time for a meal. Since the Florence site was so early in its development, you had planned to leave that evening for your next site in Oslo, which was more established and almost complete. By the time In-ho finally felt confident enough to leave, you had already missed the private jet’s initially scheduled departure time. You gathered your work bag and files with haste and all but pushed In-ho towards the car as it began to lightly rain.

You settled into the car for another 2-hour drive back to the plane, the soft patter of rain quickly turning into a full-blown thunderstorm. It was so relaxing after your tiring day, you rested your head next to the window and let yourself relax for a bit. In-ho nursed a glass of whiskey and played some soft jazz music. He wouldn’t need you for a while, so you decided to take advantage of the time and try to nap.

It was in moments like these, when In-ho wasn’t barking orders or demanding the world of you, when he seemed calm and content, that you let your mind wander. You’d worked for him for a few years now. When you started, you spent months convinced you’d be fired at any given moment. It wasn’t the game or the organization that intimidated you - you had connections of your own that landed you a job in a place like this - it was In-ho.

From the moment you met him, you had this incessant need to please him. You’d always taken pride in your jobs, always wanted to do your best, but with In-ho, you craved his approval over everything. Not only did you want to be good at your job, but you wanted him to simply like you. Knowing he relied on you and needed you made you feel important. Whether he complimented your work or yelled at you over something stupid, you craved his attention.

Maybe that’s why you had lasted so long in this job. Even when he got upset with you, even when he let his anger and frustrations out on you, you never gave up. And when you did well, god, did you love his praise.

Fuck, you were getting worked up just thinking about it, sitting next to him. You’d always felt attracted to him, but knew he would never, ever cross that line. No matter how much you wanted it, or how much you suspected that he wanted it too, it felt impossible. All you could do was live in the made-up world inside your head where he touched you whenever you wanted.

You were quickly taken from your thoughts with the feeling of a hand wrapping around yours. Looking to your side, you saw In-ho, his hand holding yours, his gaze on you like a hunter looking at its prey. You felt exposed, like he could read your thoughts. A blush was surely forming across your face.

“You did well today,” he said, his tone hoarse and low. Your heart skipped a beat, and you nodded, convinced if you spoke he’d be able to tell the dirty thoughts crossing your mind.

He squeezed your hand, his eyes lowering, searching every curve of your body before landing back on your eyes. “I think you deserve a reward for that… don’t you?”

Your breath hitched, you were too shocked to know what to say. Your mouth almost hung open in disbelief, seeing him talk to you like this.

He chuckled, his eyes darkening as he leaned closer to you. His breath gently grazed your face as he studied your features, only inches from your mouth.

“Do you want me to touch you, darling?”

An involuntary, quiet moan left your lips. A rush of warmth spread throughout your body, settling into your core.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice breathy with lust. “Please… yes.”

He slowly leaned in closer and kissed you, his free hand moving to the hem of your skirt. In-ho softly rubbed your thigh. Your mind was swirling - was he really, finally touching you now, after all this time? After all the longing you’d felt for him, for his touch, for his love and affection, why act on it now?

A sharp, hot wave of pleasure wracked your body as you felt In-ho’s hand move up your skirt, caressing your inner thigh. He kissed you more fervently now, his other hand leaving yours and reaching into your hair to press your lips harder on his. He was practically hovering over you at this point. His hands deftly moved beneath your underwear and his fingers slowly made their way to your wet, aching folds.

You cried out when he began to circle your clit with his fingers, seeming to know exactly the way you liked it. He pulled away to observe your flushed state and you felt vulnerable under his gaze, whimpering at his touch as he worked his fingers on you at a steady pace. You gripped his arms for dear life, as if you could fall out of his grasp at any moment.

He sighed softly above you. “That’s it, darling, let yourself go.”

You groaned, opening your legs further. “Please… more.”

He leaned next to your ear and whispered, “What was that?”“More.”“More what?”

You grabbed his wrist, his fingers stilling, and slowly pushed his hand down further to your entrance. He groaned darkly and his fingers began slowly teasing your entrance. Your hips involuntarily bucked forward, your aching core begging to be filled.

You gripped his wrist tighter, pushing his hand further down as hard as you could, but no matter how hard you tried he was able to resist and keep teasing you. Despite the lack of stimulation, you felt close to your release, making you even more desperate to feel his fingers.

If he could just get a little further, you were almost there… just a little longer…

Your eyes shot open.

Someone was shaking your shoulder violently, practically yelling at you. Yelling your name.

You turned to find In-ho, a flustered annoyance apparent on his face.

“Where are the fucking passports?”

What? Oh. Fuck.

Your mind was reeling in the aftermath of your dream. Reality felt like a betrayal after what you’d just felt. The man you’d just seen stick his hand down your underwear was now angrily yelling at you.

You sat up straight and pulled yourself together. Your bag was on In-ho’s lap, clearly rifled through in his frenzy.

“They’re not in the bag?”

“No. Or the suitcases. What did you do with them?”

“I-I don’t know, I had them when we arrived.” You began to look around in panic. He’d already searched everything in the car, the only other place you’d been was the new site.

“I must have left them in a conference room. Did you ask if-” “I’m not asking anyone anything, you call them right now.”

You silently scurried to grab your phone and call the staff at the new site. After several rings, you were able to get in touch with a lower level employee who luckily was still there. They quickly checked the rooms and confirmed you’d left the passports and a few other documents there. Clearly in your haste you hadn’t realized what you’d left. After getting off the phone, you realized the car was parked on the side of the road.

In-ho looked expectantly at you. You sighed, lowering your gaze. “I left them at the new site. I’m sorry. We need to go back.”

He let out a frustrated sigh and pressed the car intercom, directing the driver to turn back.

“We’ll have to postpone again,” he said, letting out a frustrated sigh, looking out the window.

You shrunk into your seat, wanting to be as small and inconspicuous as possible. Anything to avoid his wrath.

After a few silent moments, In-ho glanced at you again. His gaze seemed to linger on the edge of your skirt. “Arrange a hotel. I doubt we’ll be able to leave in this rain.”

You quickly got to work on your phone, searching for the best hotels with availability. Unfortunately, with it being a busy tourist season, nearly everything was booked. In-ho watched, clearly aggravated, as you tried and failed multiple times to find even one room.

After what seemed like your hundredth attempt, you finally found something. A nice, luxury hotel, and they even had a suite available to accommodate the two of you. You quickly booked it, and In-ho seemed temporarily satisfied.

With a sigh of slight relief, you settled back into your seat, keeping yourself from falling asleep again. After retrieving the passports, the pilot at the jet confirmed In-ho’s suspicions that you wouldn’t be able to leave that night. The car drove you both back to the city to your hotel and you set out to find dinner.

~~~

“Call a car for the hotel,” In-ho instructed, taking the last few sips of his drink. You sat across from him at the restaurant, finishing your own glass of wine. After the embarrassing events of the day, you had more than your fair share of wine at dinner. With the way In-ho was looking at you, something that felt like a quiet contempt, you couldn’t help but keep yourself busy sipping your drink.

“The hotel is just down this street, if you’d prefer to walk. Quicker than waiting for a car,” you responded. He silently nodded and finished his drink before standing up and leaving, not even bothering to wait for you. In a hurry, you gathered your things and followed him.

The rain was steadily pouring still as you opened your umbrella, watching In-ho walk ahead with his. You pulled your bag and coat close to you as you tried catching up. In the next moment, you felt someone crash into your side, sending you to the ground.

“Oh, fuck! I’m sorry.”

Your entire left side got soaked as your umbrella crashed to the ground next to you, though you managed to keep your bag close to your chest. A man appeared in front of you, crouching down next to you.

“Are… uh, are you, alright?” he slurred, alcohol apparent on his breath even from a few feet in front of you. Looking around, you noticed a bar in front of you, presumably where this man had just exited and ran into you. He seemed concerned but couldn’t help himself from giggling.

Scoffing, you quickly stood up, making sure nothing in your bag had gotten wet. The man grabbed your umbrella, still on the ground, and handed it to you. As you grasped the handle, the man wrapped his hand around yours. A cold shiver went down your spine, and not just because of the rain.

“Hey, I asked you… you ok?”

“I’m fine.” You tried pulling your hand from his but he just held you tighter.

“God, you’re pretty, why don’t you come wi-” “Would you let go of me?” you demanded.

He looked offended, then angry. Still grasping your hand, his other reached for your waist. You were about to punch him in the face before feeling him get pulled away from you.

In-ho appeared before you, pulling the man from behind by his collar with just one hand, the other still holding his umbrella. The man quickly lost his balance and fell to the ground, finally releasing you. In-ho towered over him as you backed away.

“Get your filthy hands off of her. And get the fuck out of here.”

Before the man could respond, In-ho stood up and roughly kicked him in the side. The man curled into a ball and groaned. As you watched in shock, In-ho forcefully grabbed your arm and led you back towards the hotel. He was silent, his jaw tensed.

After checking in and getting your room keys, you entered the elevator and composed yourself a bit. “Thank you.”

In-ho gave you a brief look, but simply nodded and stayed silent. The awkwardness between you was palpable - seeing him defend you like that gave you so many mixed emotions after screwing up earlier.

You reached your room door and scanned the key to reveal your suite. It was just like the receptionist described - a beautiful, luxury suite, with a large bathroom, balcony, a seating area with two large armchairs, and a kitchenette with a fully stocked bar. Perfect for two.

There was just one problem. There was only one bed.

In-ho sighed deeply and slowly walked throughout the room as you stayed frozen in fear near the front door. Not only did you fuck up the entire evening’s travel plans, you messed up the one simple job of finding a suitable room for the night. He started walking back towards the door, where your bags were, and you were sure you were about to be reprimanded beyond belief.

In-ho grabbed your bag and dropped it in front of you. “You’re soaking wet. Get yourself cleaned up.”

He walked away quietly. The wine from before seemed to catch up to you now, and you couldn’t stop yourself from speaking. “I’m so sorry, when I booked it I thought she mentioned two beds, she said it was perfect for two people so I just assumed she meant-”

“Stop.” His voice resounded throughout the room, quieting you immediately. He sighed and looked at you. “It’s too late to fix it now. So do as I told you and get yourself together.”

You scurried into the bathroom with your bag, wanting nothing more than to be out of his sight.

~~~

After taking a shower and getting ready to sleep, you exited the bathroom quietly and saw In-ho sitting on the balcony with a cigarette and a glass of whiskey. The door was barely open, but you could smell the scent of rain and cigarette smoke from outside. You had no clue what he was thinking, and what he planned to do about the bed situation. All things considered, you felt obligated to assume he would take the bed.

You pushed your suitcase into a corner and grabbed an extra set of blankets in the linen closet. Upon hearing you, In-ho turned to observe you. You felt his eyes on you but avoided his gaze, pulling your sweater closer to you. You’d put on a simple nightdress that felt a little too revealing without the sweater. After grabbing the blankets, you poured yourself a small glass of wine and sat in the armchair, opening a book you were currently reading.

The two of you stayed in your separate spots in silence for a while. A part of you felt more comfortable as time went on, but apprehension still laced your thoughts. In-ho put out his cigarette and walked inside, eyeing you, surrounded in a blanket, with curiosity.

“You’re not sleeping there tonight.”

You set your book down. “I’m fine. You can take the bed. It’s my fault we’re here anyways.”

He scoffed. “You’ve worked for me for how long? And you still don’t know how to listen.”

Taken aback by his words, and the alcohol giving you a little extra courage, you retorted. “Sorry I don’t want you to sleep on the floor? These chairs are way too small for you.”

He chuckled at that, and something curious tugged at your heart. He might’ve been a bit tipsy himself. “Just get in the bed. It’s fine.”

“You shouldn’t have to sleep on the-”

He groaned out of frustration. “I know. I get it. Just get in the fucking bed.” He walked to the kitchen to set down his glass.

You scoffed. “What, right now?”

He gave you a warning look - you weren’t going to push him any further. You slowly got up and sat in the bed as he gathered his things and went to the bathroom. You settled under the blankets, your body immediately responding to the relieving comfort of the bed. Well, if he insisted…

After a while, you heard In-ho come out of the bathroom. You were laying on your side, still reading, but turned when you heard him sit in the chair. He had a book of his own he was reading with his glasses on. A rare sight.

“Seriously, you don’t have to sleep there.”

He looked at you above his glasses. “I’m not.”

You stayed silent, but he continued looking at you. Daring you to defy him again. He was dressed more casually now, a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, though he still looked expensive. And those glasses triggered an excited flurry of emotions in your chest every time you saw them.

You sighed, defeated. “Fine,” you yawned. “Goodnight then.”

He laughed softly as you turned around, settling under the comforter.

“Goodnight, darling.”

He said it so casually, as if it were a second thought, as if calling you darling didn’t set off every nerve ending in your body. Your chest tightened as you tried to bring your heart down to earth. It was all too much, everything that had happened that day. You just wanted some rest.

~~~

The first thing you noticed upon waking up was the unbearable heat surrounding you. Laying in the bed with your eyes closed, you realized your sweater was making you entirely too hot under the comforter. You opened your eyes, complete darkness surrounding you except for the clock on each nightstand. It seemed that In-ho had lowered the light-blocking blinds. The clock read 4am.

You realized you were facing the other way from when you had fallen asleep, and held on to a pillow as you slept. The pillow was particularly warm, almost more than you were under your sweater. You moved your arm, getting your bearings, before realizing you weren’t holding a pillow.

It was In-ho.

Upon your discovery, you instantly froze. A million realizations seemed to hit you at once. In-ho hadn’t slept on the chair, or the floor, he slept next to you. And not only did you find yourself cuddling him in your sleep, you felt his arm wrapped around you too. On top of all of that, you were on the verge of sweating through your clothes if you stayed next to his furnace of a body.

You had to get up, now. Slowly, you pulled your arm off of him and sat up, gently moving his arm off of your back. You made slow, deliberate movements to sit on the edge of the bed without disturbing him, and pulled off your sweater. The cool air was a relief on your hot skin.

Taking a deep breath, you calmed yourself from the emotional thunderstorm in your mind. A glass of water sat on your nightstand, which hadn’t been there before. In-ho must have set it there for you. You tried to ignore the implications of it and took a few sips.

It was nice sitting in the dark silence, after the chaotic day you had. You wanted to sit in it for a bit longer, but you felt In-ho stir next to you.

“Are you ok?” His voice pierced the silence.

You sighed. “Mhm. Sorry.”

You felt his arm reach out towards you, searching the bed for you, until his fingers gently rested on your back. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“What are you doing?”

You sighed. What was with the interrogation? “Just drinking water.”

He hummed, and pulled his arm back. You found yourself craving his warm touch again. The thought of it made you exhale in frustration.

“What?” he asked again.

After a few moments of contemplation, you responded, “Sometimes you expect the world from me, and other times you treat me like I’m fragile.”

He sighed, but didn’t respond. You weren’t sure what possessed you to say such a thing. Maybe the vulnerability you felt sitting with him in a dark room, alone.

Once you felt cool enough to return to the blankets, you slowly lowered yourself down to your pillow, unsure if In-ho had gone back to sleep. Upon feeling you shift in the bed, his hand quickly grasped your arm. The abruptness surprised you.

“You dreamt about me earlier, didn’t you?”

His words felt like a knife through your body. The fact that he even knew you dreamed, let alone might know what the content of that dream was, made you want to crawl in a hole and never come out. Your mind frantically raced. What exactly did he hear from you? How could you be so stupid to lust after him so much that you’d embarrass yourself like this?

In-ho felt your muscles tense under his touch. “I think you did.”

You stayed still and silent, begging for the moment to be over.

He turned on his side towards you, pulling your arm towards him. “Tell me.”

You could feel that he was almost hovering over you, imagining what his face might look like. As his grip tightened you felt even more embarrassed and couldn’t bring yourself to speak.

He sighed, and you felt his breath on your face. Just like in your dream. His voice softened.

“Tell me it was me, darling.”

You could sense a layer of something new in his voice, something almost pleading. You reached your hand to cover his, squeezing.

“Yes.”

He sighed, and you could feel the ends of his hair on your shoulder as he leaned his head down. “I thought so.” You felt his hand move to your neck, gently resting on your cheek and jaw. “Tell me what happened.”

An involuntary whimper left your mouth, out of embarrassment or lust you couldn’t tell. But you knew you couldn’t say.

His hot breath grazed your shoulder again. “I heard those little sounds you were making. Saw the way you squeezed your thighs together,” he huffed. “It was a good dream, wasn’t it?”

Fuck, fuck fuck fuck. Your mind nearly went blank. It was simultaneously the worst thing and best thing that could happen to you.

“Hm?”

You nodded, feeling his hand caress your cheek.

He hummed softly. “I could tell how much you liked it. Could hear you asking for more.”

You squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment and cursed your body for betraying you so badly.

He chuckled. “Why don’t you show me what happened in your dream? Since you were so rudely interrupted.” His hand trailed from your jaw to your waist, his fingers gliding smoothly along your skin and nightdress, gently feeling whatever he could get his hands on.

You let out a breathy moan and moved your hand to his on your waist, grabbing roughly, unsure of what to do. In-ho moved his head from your shoulder to your face, gently kissing your cheek.

“Show me.”

In the next instant, he captured your lips with his, kissing you with a gentle fervor. His kiss seemed to bring your mind back to reality, and you responded with equal intensity. It felt as if your entire body was responding to him now, with your back arching ever so slightly to chase his warmth.

You gripped his hand roughly again and pushed it further down towards your thighs, your legs opening for him. He groaned above you, pushing your dress up your legs. His hand gently caressed the outside of your underwear, and he pulled his mouth from yours.

“Is this what happened? You want me to touch you here?”

His words, unknowing to him, almost exactly echoed your dream. You whimpered pitifully beneath him, whispering, “Yes, please, yes.”

His fingers quickly dipped into your underwear as he continued kissing you feverishly, groaning at feeling how wet you were. He wasted no time in massaging your clit, relishing in the stifled moans and desperate twitching of your hips.

Your mind was absolutely reeling at the whiplash of the last few minutes, but you just couldn’t deny it anymore. Even if it made you look pathetic, you needed him badly. Like your dream before, you pushed his hand down further. This time, he didn’t tease you.

Two fingers entered you, and he quickly began pumping them in and out. The sudden feeling of being somewhat filled by him sent white hot pleasure from your core. You clenched around him, feeling yourself get even wetter for him. He bent his head down to your neck, urgently kissing and sucking at your sensitive skin.

You felt In-ho curl his fingers a bit inside you, pressing on the delicate, tender flesh that made your body writhe beneath him. If he continued much longer you were going to come undone.

“I’m… you’re gonna make me…” you whimpered, unable to form a complete sentence.

He quickly pulled his fingers from you. “Not yet, darling,” he huffed, his voice ragged with lust.

You felt him shift back on his knees, pulling the blanket from you both. His hands found the edge of your underwear and swiftly pulled them off of you. You heard him pull his shirt off and shift to take his pants off, immediately reaching forward to feel his bare skin.

As he shifted above you and settled between your legs, he caressed your face again, gently holding on to your jaw. “Do you want more?”

“Yes, fucking yes,” you pleaded.

He huffed loudly as you felt him line his cock with your entrance, slowly rubbing around your slick folds. He wanted to tease you more, point out how fucking demanding and needy you were being to your boss, but he couldn’t stand to wait any longer. He slowly thrust himself into your aching core, your body stretching deliciously to his thick cock.

You both groaned loudly together, completely overwhelmed. He quickened his pace, fucking you with intensity as you cried out in pleasure. You never imagined it could feel this good, feel better than your actual dreams.

He roughly grabbed your hair. “Is this what you wanted?”

His words made you clench on him, almost making him stutter in his pace. You couldn’t even form words.

“You wanted to get fucked by your superior, huh? Wanted me to fuck you in that car, I bet.”

You whimpered loudly beneath him, bringing his mouth to yours, meeting his thrusts with your hips. Everything was sending your body closer to the edge.

“I can feel you. You love this. Don’t worry… you,” he huffed, “you don’t need to say anything.”

His words brought tears to your eyes. It was all becoming so overwhelming. You wanted to tell him how good he made you feel, how close you were to coming undone, but you could barely stutter in between your blubbering cries.

“That’s it. Go ahead. Cum for me, darling.”

Unable to hold back any longer, you came with an intensity that wracked your entire body, becoming an absolute mess beneath him. Your walls clenched his throbbing cock tightly, practically begging him to cum with you. As your body spasmed, you held on to his shoulders for support. You felt his movements stutter as he spilled his cum into you with a low, guttural groan, prolonging your pleasure even longer with him. He thrust into you with great force a few times before completely stilling and letting his cock soften inside you.

Your arms stayed firmly wrapped around him, your body and mind wanting to stay in that moment forever. He sighed above you, his hand caressing your face, kissing you all over your face, lips, and neck. You almost giggled at the ticklish feeling.

After several moments, In-ho laid next to you, wrapping his arm around you to lay on his chest. Just like you were before waking up. Despite feeling like a sweaty, wet mess, you both gave in to exhaustion quickly and fell back asleep.

~~~

The next morning you awoke to an empty bed. It took you a few seconds to remember all that had happened during the night, but the memories overwhelmed your mind. Wondering where In-ho was, you quickly searched the room to find his bags gone. After checking your phone, you noticed a text from him.

“I’m downstairs. Get ready and let’s go.”

Shit. He texted you almost an hour ago. You rushed through your morning routine as fast as you could and gathered your bags, making your way to the lobby. In-ho sat alone, reading through some files for the next site.

A tinge of hesitation clouded your thoughts. You weren’t sure how to act moving forward - were you a couple? Was it even allowed? How did he feel about all of this?

As you approached In-ho, he glanced at you and quickly got up, gathering his things. He seemed to be in a hurry.

“Let’s go. We’re late.”

You scurried behind him. “You didn’t give me a time.”

The car was waiting outside the hotel. The driver loaded your bags and you and In-ho sat next to each other. He promptly pulled out the documents he was looking at before, completely ignoring your statement from before. Completely ignoring you, actually.

So maybe you weren’t wrong for feeling hesitant earlier. He clearly had a lot on his mind and that didn’t consist of you. Whatever complicated feelings that blossomed at the thought of that, you kept fully suppressed, focusing solely on work. If that’s how he wanted things, that’s what you would do.

The two of you made it to the plane with no issues and landed in Oslo that afternoon. Luckily this site was almost complete, so the private runway was available. You got straight to work in helping In-ho assist with the final touches to the place.

The entire day held an air of tension between you and In-ho. There was that whiplash again - you’d just had a passionate night with him and now he was acting more coldly towards you than usual, like he would when you just started out. It frustrated you so much. Just because you both had crossed a line that you could never come back from, that didn’t mean you weren’t good at your job anymore.

At the end of the day, you were relieved to finally get a break, from In-ho and everything else. Since your hotel had been properly booked in advance, you had a multi-room suite with In-ho, both of you having your own separate rooms this time. You had a shared living area, kitchen, and bathroom, but of course In-ho kept to himself. Upon arriving and dropping off your bags, In-ho left without a word, just a quick text: “I’m getting dinner. Don’t wait up.”

You rolled your eyes at the text, opening up the room service menu. Not sure what I’d be waiting for, you thought. You didn’t feel like venturing out today, just relaxing by yourself. After eating dinner alone, you settled into your bed and started reading before seeing a phone call from your best friend.

It wasn’t often you actually had time to talk to family or friends, so you took the call and started catching up. No one could actually know the details of your job, but it was still nice being able to chat. And with all the traveling you were doing lately, you missed the comforts of home.

As you chatted on the phone, In-ho came back from dinner. He had intentionally left in a haste when you two had gotten in the room, not wanting to confront you about anything that had happened the night before. But with one too many glasses of whiskey from dinner, his made up principles were quickly going out the window. As he poured himself another gratuitous glass in the kitchen, he heard soft laughter from your room.

He approached your slightly open door, listening to you.

��I know, I miss you too.”

“I can’t wait to see you.”

“Let’s definitely do that when I get back!”

A hot wave of jealousy afflicted his mind. Who could you be talking to? Who could you be missing, or wanting to spend time with? He was convinced it had to be a man, someone he was now in competition with for your attention. He tried his best to keep his simmering jealousy to himself as he walked back to the kitchen for his glass. You heard his footsteps then, lowering your voice to your friend.

“I’ve gotta go now. We’ll talk soon. Goodnight!”

After ending the call, you settled back into your bed, listening for what In-ho might do next. You heard him walk from the kitchen to the living area, ice clinking in his glass. Still ignoring you. Deciding it was time to get ready for bed, and giving yourself an excuse to walk through the living area, you made your way to the bathroom.

In-ho briefly glanced at you but stayed silent. You rolled your eyes after passing him. After washing up and putting on another nightdress, you walked back to your room. The nightdress made you feel a bit exposed, but after last night you didn’t feel a need to hide yourself. Even if everything had happened in complete darkness.

In-ho kept his eyes trained on you as you walked past, getting a glimpse of what he touched the night before but never saw. You ignored him and climbed back in your bed, opening your book to continue reading. After a few minutes, you heard In-ho approach your door, knocking on it lightly.

“Hm?” He gave you a look of pure contempt. “Who was that before?”

“What?” “On the phone. Who were you talking to?”

You scoffed. “Why do you need to know?”

It was quite obvious he was jealous, but he had no clue what he was talking about. And he had no right to be jealous when he acted so coldly towards you all day. You ignored him and went back to your book.

That annoyed him even further. “You know, this isn’t a vacation.”

You gave him an incredulous look, putting down your book and standing up to close your door. “Stop treating me like I’m bad at my job. I was just talking to a friend,” you retorted. “If there’s nothing else work-related that you need from me, then goodnight.”

He stared you down, like he was trying to intimidate you, but you saw through his facade. Clearly he was struggling with his feelings towards you, but that was on him to figure out. Casting you aside wasn’t the way to do it. You stared at him for a few moments before you noticed his features slightly soften.

He looked down, sighing in what seemed like defeat. “I’m sorry, but… you know we can’t do this.”

Your eyes narrowed, you knew exactly what he was talking about. Finally showing some honesty. “You’ve made that clear.”

He stayed silent, his expression shifting into something more like longing.

Rolling your eyes, you prodded him further. “Why?”

“It’s a weakness they could use against us.”

“It’s not like they know.” “They could find out. They would eventually.”

You searched his eyes for something, as if you were looking for an answer to a question you hadn’t thought of yet. Why was he being so cautious, so seemingly overdramatic about this? You just can’t go back from what happened between you two.

You didn’t want to. And if he was going to put you through all of this hell, you were going to give it right back to him.

You sighed deeply, resting an arm on your hip and the other on the door. The neckline of your nightdress left only a little to the imagination. You watched as In-ho traced the curve of your chest and shoulders with his eyes.

“Well, that’s too bad then,” you declared, like you were daring him to make a move. After a few tense, silent moments, you turned to go back to your bed. In-ho quickly grabbed your arm to stop you.

“Well, if they don’t know… then…”

You pouted. “They’ll find out eventually, won’t they?”

He rolled his eyes and gripped you tighter, prompting you to push him away. Instead, he grabbed your shoulders and pushed you against the wall. His head rested near yours, his breath hot on your ear. Though his sudden movement was shocking, your body immediately welcomed the warmth of his.

He seemed so forward and hesitant at the same time, his hands holding you tightly but seemingly keeping himself from going any further. You craved his touch, his kiss, but his close proximity yet lack of action made you frustrated. Your hands slowly made their way to his shoulders, rubbing softly, bringing your body closer to his.

He quickly grabbed your waist and pressed himself against you, his erection wholly apparent. Your mind immediately went to the night before and you moaned without thinking, setting In-ho off even further. He gripped the back of your head, pulling at your hair, and pushed your head into his shoulder, his lips ghosting over your neck. He grinded himself into you as you grasped at his arms and shoulders, begging for more from him.

All you wanted was more of him. And here he was, so pliable in your hands, likely willing to do whatever you wanted if you asked him nicely enough. Despite his concerns from before, which he seemed to not care about at all anymore.

Was that his plan this whole time? Did he come up with some excuse to keep you emotionally far away but physically close? Could you even handle a solely physical relationship, and not only that but with your superior?

Your heart dropped and you pushed In-ho off of you. He looked at you confused, his face flushed intensely from alcohol and touching you.

You looked down. “You can’t… you can’t just use me for sex then…”

He seemed even more confused now, in a stunned silence.

“I know you’re my boss and everything but-”

“That’s not… I’m not-”

“You don’t get to play around with me whenever you want, like a toy.” You looked him in the eye then, the hurt apparent on your face. His expression dropped, realizing the consequence of his foolishness. He nodded slowly and walked out, leaving you alone with a storm of emotions to deal with.

You quickly shut your door completely and got in bed, wanting to forget about everything that happened the past couple days.

Hopefully you wouldn’t dream of him, as you often did.

~~~

The next day was pure torture. Not only were you exhausted from barely sleeping, but the weight of the conflict between you and In-ho felt physically burdensome on your body. Your mind was constantly being pulled in every direction - if you weren’t busying your mind with mindless work tasks, you were constantly subjected to a barrage of thoughts about him. How you felt so connected to him before, how he seemed to know exactly what you were thinking, how he wanted you just as you wanted him.

How he tried to use you.

Should you even continue working for him? The thought crossed your mind a few times throughout the day. You definitely couldn’t continue like this. But you also couldn’t see yourself doing anything else, you didn’t want to. You took pride in your work and contributions. And a small part of you deep down still craved In-ho’s approval, though it bothered you to admit it to yourself.

After your busy day, you ventured from the remote location with In-ho and the Host of your Squid Game site. He had traveled to join you two in assisting the new location. The three of you arrived at your dinner reservation and settled in, finally relaxing.

After getting drinks and waiting for your food, it was clear to the Host that there was friction between you and In-ho. Your responses to each other, in the rare moments you spoke directly to each other, were sharp and short. The Host had been suspecting something was off all day, but it was apparent now at dinner.

He eyed both of you curiously. “Today couldn’t have been that bad. What’s with the miserable faces?”

Your face flushed in subtle embarrassment, worrying you came off as unprofessional. In-ho’s stoic expression seemed to freeze in time, giving no response. The awkwardness was almost unbearable.

The Host chuckled to himself. “What, is it a lover’s quarrel?”

In-ho’s eyes darted to the Host in shock, and your face flushed even more red. Oh god, how obvious was it? You hadn’t so much as kissed before two days ago and now the Host was teasing you about your relationship?

In-ho cleared his throat. “We aren’t lovers.”

The Host looked at him in slight disbelief. “Oh, it was that bad?”

You and In-ho simultaneously gave confused looks. The Host looked at you two back and forth incredulously. “Wait. You’re not…?”

“Not what?” In-ho asked.

“You weren’t a couple?”

Your heart seemed to beat a million beats at once as In-ho tensed up completely next to you.

The Host laughed again, shaking his head. “I could’ve… We could’ve sworn that you two were together. I mean, you do everything together.”

In-ho’s jaw tensed visibly as he sipped his drink. All you wanted was to disappear.

“I just thought, with the way you two act with each other… I mean, we thought it was obvious. Even brazen at times.”

Your eyes widened and you looked down in embarrassment, In-ho clearing his throat again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know we were giving that impression.”

“Don’t apologize, there’s nothing wrong with it. You can do what you want as long as your work is good.” He smiled, clearly relishing in how you and In-ho were squirming at his words.

You could tell the Host was trying to lighten the mood, all but giving you and In-ho permission to be together. But instead of feeling excited, your heart dropped. If the Host was acting so casually about your relationship, why did In-ho think you two couldn’t be together? It made his flimsy excuse the night before seem even more like a lie. Obviously your suspicions were right about him. You wanted to be mad but all you could feel in that moment was a sad loneliness.

The mood seemed to shift more positively with In-ho and the Host, but you couldn’t put on a facade anymore. It was apparent the rest of the night that you were upset, but you stayed quiet. The Host gave you a few pitying looks, like he knew he just twisted the knife in the wound in your heart.

~~~

Once you arrived back in the suite, you immediately went to your room and shut the door, letting out a giant breath. It felt like the weight of the day was finally off your shoulders. You could’ve sworn you heard In-ho say something to you, but you couldn’t stand to be in the same room with him anymore.

You changed and climbed into bed, attempting to calm and distract yourself with your phone. It worked for probably five minutes before your mind inevitably drifted to In-ho, your memories attempting to paint a picture of who he is to you but coming up short. As if he was reading your mind, a text notification from him appeared on your phone.

“We need to talk.”

You sighed, ignoring the text and continuing to scroll.

“I know you’re on your phone.”

Ugh. Rolling your eyes, you attempted to come up with a response. What could you even say? You didn’t want to confront him right now but it was also painful to sit with so much unsaid.

“I’m in the kitchen.”

Fuck. Let’s just get this over with.

You put on your sweater over your nightdress and stepped outside. In-ho was in the kitchen, leaning on the counter, glass of whiskey in hand. He was dressed casually like before, glasses and everything. If that wasn’t enough to make you waver, the way he eyed you as you passed him and poured yourself a glass of wine made you even more weak.

He sighed. “I can tell you’re upset.”

“You’re very observant,” you stated, sipping from your glass.

“It wasn’t my intention to make you feel used.”

“Well, that’s kind of what happens when you try to use someone.”

His jaw clenched before he responded. “I wasn’t trying to use you.”

You scoffed. “What exactly does it mean when you want me one day and you don’t want me the next, then change your mind in your next breath?”

He stayed silent as you continued. “Is that not using me?” You were beginning to get heated. “Who am I supposed to believe, the In-ho that wants me or the In-ho that doesn’t?”

He exhaled loudly. “I was just-”

“You know I do a lot for you, but I can’t do that. It’s not fair.” Your anger was quickly turning to tears that you desperately tried to keep in.

In-ho’s face dropped. He stepped towards you but you turned aside, away from him. You were angry and sad and embarrassed to be like this in front of him.

“Actually, it’s okay. It’s obvious you needed an excuse to keep a distance from me, you don’t have to explain yourself. Just stop changing your mind and confusing me.” Your head hung low as In-ho seemed to hover near you.

His heart broke. He gently held your shoulders, turning you towards him slowly.

“That’s not true.”

Tears silently flowed down your face as you listened.

“I didn’t know he would say that today. I didn’t know that it didn’t matter. I was just…” he sighed. “I was worried it would look bad and then you’d have to leave.”

You sniffled softly, wiping your face, still unable to bear looking up at him.

“I never wanted to keep a distance from you. You have no idea…” He gently caressed your face, wiping away some tears. “I need you to stay. I need you.”

Through teary eyes, you slowly looked up at him, as if you were trying to determine if he was really telling the truth.

He continued. “I thought I was doing the right thing pushing you away, but then I couldn’t stop myself. And now I’ve made you cry. I’m so sorry.” He pulled you close to him, his hand gently caressing the back of your head.

The smell of his cologne and clean clothes flooded your senses. With each word In-ho confessed, you felt your defenses weakening, your body unconsciously melting into his. But a part of you was still so scared this would be fleeting.

“Tell me this is real,” you said softly.

He sighed and held you tighter. “This is real, darling. Ever since I met you…”

He continued as you felt your heart bursting at the seams. “I can’t live without you. Please stay. With me. I don’t care what happens, I don’t care if we have to run away. Just be with me.”

With his final words, you felt an immense weight release itself from your heart. You wrapped your arms around In-ho, nodding into his chest, too overwhelmed to speak. Tears fell once again, but this time out of relief.

He gently held your chin and tilted your head towards him, studying your face before softly kissing you. You immediately softened at the touch of his lips, responding with the same gentleness. He pulled away to wipe the rest of your tears away before leaning in for a deeper, more passionate kiss.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as the kiss became more intense, feeling his arms move to your sides to pull your body closer to his. It was as if he had never touched you before, as if the other night was only a dream and this was real, this was the only thing that mattered anymore.

Your hands found their way into his hair, gently tugging, eliciting a quiet groan from his throat. He roughly grabbed your hips and lifted you on the counter, slotting himself between your legs as they naturally opened up to him. His hand pressed on your lower back, pushing you closer to him.

The kiss was becoming more sloppy and heated as you both became more desperate for each other. His hands moved to your sides and pushed your sweater up and off of you, the revealing neckline of your nightdress now in view. Your back arched towards him, craving his warm touch. He broke from the kiss to look at you, his hands gently massaging your breasts. You could feel the bulge in his pants becoming more prominent, prompting you to grind on him before pulling him into a kiss again.

Kissing him felt like breathing, like swimming to the surface of a deep, raging ocean and finally taking in a breath you’d been holding for far too long. Finally arriving to where you were meant to be.

He picked you up from the counter effortlessly, carrying you to his room as you giggled and laying you on his bed. His lips found yours again, like a lifeline. Your hands wrapped around the hem of his shirt and pulled it off. As you broke the kiss, you opened your eyes to see In-ho, illuminated by the warm light of the lamp in his room. You eyed his body, from his head to his waist, relishing in the new parts of him you could finally see.

He hovered over you, studying your face as you watched him. You seemed to be in a trance, only breaking your thoughts when you noticed him smirking at you. A blush spread across your face as he laughed before leaning down to kiss you. Your embarrassment faded quickly as he trailed his kisses down to your chest, slowly lowering himself to your hips.

He pushed your nightdress up, exposing your underwear. A soft hum left his throat as he spread his hands across your thighs, pushing your legs apart. His eyes ravaged your body, his hands caressing your warm skin.

He leaned in and pressed his face to your clothed core. “Can’t believe we left the lights off,” he huffed as he kissed around your inner thighs. You squirmed delightfully under his touch, your body aching for any sensation he could give.

He quickly pulled your underwear off and pressed his open mouth to your soaking wet core. You nearly yelped at the sudden feeling of his warm tongue tasting you, eagerly swirling around every sensitive nerve he touched. Your hips involuntarily twitched and arched upwards, pressing into him. He groaned loudly and sucked on your clit, increasing the speed of his tongue. The combination of sensations sent a delicious wave of pleasure through your body.

You grabbed his hair and pressed him further on you, chasing the intense pleasure he was giving you. His hand settled under his chin and his fingers began teasing your entrance. You gasped out loud, looking down. The sight of it almost sent you over the edge, beyond anything you’d ever felt before.

“Oh god, please. Please.”

He wanted to tease you, play with you a little, but he couldn’t be bothered. He would do anything you asked in that moment. His fingers instantly entered you, and you moaned loudly. As his fingers pumped into you furiously, your hips bucked underneath him, only focused on chasing the high he was bringing you to. In the next moment you felt your orgasm come crashing down, your entire body nearly convulsing. Pleasure spread intensely from your core down to your legs, throughout your entire being, your mind starting to float above you in sheer bliss.

In-ho released himself from you and grinned, observing your flushed face as you settled down. With one look at In-ho, you felt yourself get worked up again, leaning forward to grab his face and kiss him. He pushed you back and hovered over you again, his hands pushing your dress above and off of you. You caressed his sides and down to the bulge in his sweatpants, your mouth all but watering at feeling his cock in your hand. He groaned into your neck and quickly pushed his pants and underwear down together.

At the sight of his hard cock, you pushed him to his back next to you and leaned down to his waist, preparing to take him in your mouth. He sighed loudly and pulled you back to him, pushing your hips over his.

“Next time, darling. I have to fuck you right now or I’ll lose it.”

Before you could find a response, he lined himself up with your entrance and thrust up into you, immediately groaning at your warmth enveloping him. Despite your orgasm earlier, your body responded to him quickly, indulging in the way he stretched you just enough to not be painful. His cock dragged along your walls deliciously, coaxing a stream of obscene noises from your mouth. In-ho watched you intensely as he pounded into you.

“You missed this, didn’t you?” he huffed below you, soft groans slowly leaving his mouth as he gradually lost more control of himself.

You whimpered, opening your eyes and seeing how he looked at you. The look on his face was beyond feral. With any other person you might’ve been scared at the way he seemed, almost angry, but it just made you melt. You could barely hold yourself up as he fucked you, holding on to your hips for support.

“It’s okay, I know, darling. I know,” he cooed, pulling you to his chest as he continued pumping into you. “I’m gonna make you feel so good. Gonna give you so much of my cum you’ll be filled for days.”

Your walls fluttered around him, moaning uncontrollably at his filthy words.

“You want that, don’t you? Want me to fill you up?”

It was almost becoming too much, you felt yourself almost having an out of body experience. Your mouth let out a stream of moans, your hands clutching to him for dear life. It felt so good, you simultaneously found yourself chasing another orgasm and wishing you could stay in that moment forever.

In-ho quickly grabbed your waist and pushed you to your back, barely stopping his thrusting as he did so, pushing your thighs up and outward. He moved with a deliberate roughness, like he knew he could do whatever he wanted to you. And you knew you’d let him. You couldn’t have been more open to him, more exposed.

His thrusts seemed to quicken and stutter at the same time, and you could feel he was close just as you were. He grabbed your hand and brought it to your clit, growling above you.

“Come on, darling, give it to me and I’ll give you everything.” He grabbed the back of your head and pushed it down, forcing you to watch him fuck you. “Do you want it?”

You cried out, swirling your fingers around your clit, feeling your orgasm approach quickly. “Oh god, fuck… fuck, I need it.”

“I’ll give you every, last…” he huffed above you, his thrusts becoming long and rough, “fucking… drop.”

With a few more intense thrusts, your orgasm exploded inside of you, every nerve ending in your body blooming in pleasure. Your juices gushed out of you, your sensitive flesh savoring the feeling, your body begging for In-ho to release inside of you. He continued thrusting into you, coaxing as much as he could out of you, before letting himself come undone, spilling himself into your aching cunt. He pressed himself unimaginably deep inside you, nearly grinding himself to get deeper. A loud, long guttural groan seemed to release from deep inside his body, the sound alone making you twitch on him.

His breaths slowed and he gently rested his head on your shoulder before laying next to you. You both laid there in silence for a few moments, your emotions coming back to reality. In-ho watched you with adoring eyes. As good as you felt, a part of you still worried about how he would be now.

He seemed to sense what you were thinking and pulled you close to him. You were a little embarrassed, thinking he was doing this just to placate you.

“Your thoughts are so loud sometimes.”

You sighed and hid your head in his shoulder, too exhausted to say anything.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

You peeked up at him to see a slight smile on his face. He glanced at you, and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” He stood up and turned to you, helping you stand up and leading you to the bathroom.

You showered together in silence, In-ho sensing that you were too overwhelmed for words. He cared for you with a touching gentleness, drying you off and helping you get dressed for bed. He led you back to his bed and you settled under the blankets together, cuddling on In-ho’s side. Just like you had been doing when you woke up the other night.

You sighed, finally feeling more relaxed. “You know, sleeping with you is like sleeping with a furnace.”

He laughed comfortably, a sound you rarely ever heard from him. “You seemed to like it the other night. You clung to me almost immediately.”

You softly gasped. Of course your body betrayed you.

He chuckled and rubbed his hand on your back. “I didn’t mind.”

Smiling, you sighed, thinking that despite all the mistakes you made that day, accidentally booking a one bed suite didn’t end up being so bad.

#squid game #squid game fanfic #hwang in-ho #hwang inho #hwang in ho #hwang in-ho x reader #hwang inho x reader #hwang in ho x reader #front man #frontman #front man x reader #frontman x reader #fanfiction #lee byung hun #reader insert

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matchakura · 4 months ago

Text

Silk Sheets with No Heat (Zuko x Reader)

The sunlight shining through the curtains stirred you awake, the silk sheets soft and warm surrounded you. You stretched lazily, limbs sinking into the plush mattress and letting out a groan before realizing—you were alone.

Zuko was gone.

You sighed, lips forming a small pout as you reached for his side of the bed. He must’ve been up before dawn again, duty calling him away to one of his many meetings as the Fire Lord. It had been only a few days since your wedding. You knew it was inevitable, as the Fire Nation needed a lot of rework to be able to remove the past. But still, waking up without him felt incomplete.

A gentle knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts. A few of the palace maids head peaked through the door, bowing slightly. “Good morning, my lady. We have prepared you a warm bath.”

You smiled, murmuring a soft thank as you slipped out of bed. The bath was already filled with steaming water, the scent of jasmine and lotus blossom filled the air. Two of the maids were waiting for your permission before helping you into the bath. You still hadn’t gotten used yet to palace customs, and the attention made you shy. But they said that the Fire Lord had insisted they help you.

As they help you slip out of your robe and guided you into the bath, you let out a small sigh of contentment.

“This is amazing,” you sighed out as you inhaled in the air infused with floral scents. The tub was actually big enough to be mistaken for a small pool. And it was only you occupying the entire area.

You sank further into the water, eyes fluttering shut as the warmth soaked into your skin. Gentle hands poured water over your shoulder, and massaged fragrant soaps into your scalp.

“Oh, His Majesty has requested lunch with you in the garden pavilion,” one of the maids murmured as she combed through your damp hair.

A small blush creeped onto your cheeks, the warmth from the bath further enhanced it. Even with his packed schedule and official duties, he didn’t forget about you.

After getting out of the bath, you got dried off and dressed in a flowing crimson silk robe. The maids combed your hair and placed simple accessories that matched your dress. After spraying on perfume, you made your way to the garden.

Zuko was already there, seated beneath the shade of a cherry blossom tree. His golden eyes that seemed to be filled with worries lifted the moment you arrived and the weight of his responsibilities seemed to lessen by your presence.

“You’re finally awake,” he mused, smirking slightly while sitting up.

You rolled your eyes, settling beside him. “Well, maybe if someone hadn’t disappeared so early, I would’ve woken up early,” you huffed.

He chuckled slightly as he reached for your hand. “I’m sorry, my love. I had a meeting with officials from the Earth Kingdom. I missed you too,” he admitted quietly.

Your heart fluttered at the endearment and his confession at the end. But you tried playing it off and merely squeezed his fingers in return. Even if duty pulled him away in the morning, at least he always found his way back to you.

#prince zuko #zuko #atla #atla zuko #fire lord zuko #zuko x reader #zuko avatar #avatar the last airbender #zuko fluff #zuko imagine #fluff

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n0tamused · 1 year ago

Note

Welt nerding out about his little special interests and his tv show he likes and whatnot... Dr.Ratio going on and on about all his bath soaps and bath salts and whatever he has... Sunday snuggles and sleeping after a long and heavy day of work....

A/n: Sorry for taking so long pookie I hope you like these little imagines :( <3 mwah, ty for requesting <3

Contents: gn reader, separate drabbles for Sunday, Dr. Ratio and Welt, a bit angsty in Sunday's part, fluff otherwise

Gloved fingers held around the black stylus pen as it glided over the digital screen in a few precise strokes. The character on screen is becoming more and more alive, and looking over his shoulder you can see the several other frames that lay finished, resembling only the start of this little project you managed to convince Welt to partake in.

“I take it you like it, right?” you ask, tiptoeing playfully around the direct question, prompting the man to laugh heartily, mirth seeping into the crinkles in his face. Leaning back in the chair he takes a small break from the lineart, adjusting his glasses before he look up at you where you stood at his side.

“You’re spoiling me, you know?” he begins, his eyes mellow with a childlike wonder and joy that isn’t too often seen on his person these days. “Yes, I do like it, a lot. This tablet is even more advanced than the ones I was used to using back in my day. I mean, it holds so many functions, and the program itself has many great features to assist with the process - whether it be just one piece of art or a whole animation” His eyes gleam as he looks back at the screen, his eyes flickering over the corners of the canvas, the little icons and frames and the low opacity sketch of the animation.

“That is a relief, and I’m glad to hear you’re enjoying it so much. You do deserve it, Mr. Yang” cooing at him softly you pat his shoulder and give him a light squeeze before taking note of what’s on screen. It’s a simple set of characters, and in a more cartoonish style - chibis, is what you heard them call this style. But the characters are oddly familiar to the crew itself.

“Huh..? Is that.. us?”

“Yes… Since this gift was from you, and also the crew has left its mark on this old heart, I thought that my first project on the tablet should be something special too.. Uh, wait..” He fumbles a bit with the frames and animation, brief images flickering of different character - Dan Heng surrounded with books, March 7th’s chibi showing a worried face as she stands next to a pot of Himeko’s coffee and Himeko looking pleased as she drinks from her mug, and there’s PomPom next to the Express, but what gets your attention is the chibi version of yourself at the very start of the frame set. You’re sitting at a round table with a few chubby stars above you.

“Starting with you, I am first making an introduction to each character..”

“But where are you?”

“Hm?”

“I saw everyone in these, but not yourself? This crew is incomplete without you, Welt.. You should put us together in one frame. I mean, we can be drinking tea at the table together, right?"

Welt looks at you, then at the frame, noting the vacant left side of the big table.

“You’re right…”

“Sunday..” sleepy mutters fall from your lips as you push yourself to sit on the big bed, the covers pooling at your hips. Your hand is lifted up to shield your eyes from the golden light that spilled from the hall.

“Apologies... I'll turn the light off now.." comes a reply from the figure shrouded in darkness, but by silhouette alone you could tell him apart from another. His wings droop underneath his ears, showing that even the lightest parts of him felt the heaviness of today’s work. He swiftly but quietly slips into the hallway to turn the lights off, before his footsteps mark his return to the bedroom. Now you can only listen to him shuffle about, the heavy breathing making your heart throb from concern, but you know asking him about it wouldn’t grant you an answer.

So you wait until he lifts the bedsheets and until his palm searches for you across the vast expanse of the mattress. Taking his hand in yours you lead him to where you are, laying on your back and feeling the bed dip and move underneath you until Sunday has settled himself with his head on your chest. Sighing the biggest breath you heard from him so far, you tighten your hold on him, arms circling around his shoulders.

His arms wrapped around your waist as he had you both sinking further into the bed, desperate to feel your warmth, hear your peace and feel it rub off on him too. “I missed you…” he confessed, leaving a chaste kiss on your collarbone before his ear pressed above your heart, listening to the trapped drumming within.

“I missed you too..” you reply, combing your fingers through his hair, feeling the wings around his waist stretch out for arguably the first time today, one wing shorter than the other, feathers cut halfway.

“Rest now..” you prompt, kissing the top of his head and he hums into you, wanting nothing more than to dream of you and freedom with you.

"I told you to be a little more careful with which shampoos you purchased.." you heard him say when you pointed out how a particular shampoo on the shelf made your hair damaged the last time you used it. You sighed, in agreement with him, but as he plucked the bottle from the shelf you looked over the other products on the shelves, taking a hair mask container and putting it in your cart.

“See, this is why this shampoo didn’t sit well with you” Veritas says, looking over the ingredient list after catching sight of the logo of the producer, a sneer already on his face as he never had good experiences with this company’s products.

You look over at him, holding onto the shopping cart with one hand as you peer at the bottle in his hand. “Oh, yeah- that one did have my hair feeling like hay.. ugh” you frown a little but as Veritas looks further down the ingredients list, you let your eyes wander over the shelves in search for a possible alternative - one that won’t leave your hair feeling dry and ready to snap.

“Hmm…” Veritas looks up, his coral eyes looking over at you after he had returned the bottle onto the shelf. “Let me see..” he muttered, already reaching out to grasp a lock of your hair in between his fingers, twirling it for a moment before thinking hard about it. Then his eyes return to the vast selection of shampoos, reaching for a green bottle on a higher shelf. “Ah, this one would go well for your hair type. And it will regenerate whatever damage that other bottle left you with”

“Oh, let me smell it-” you whisper with soft excitement, forcing a huffed chuckle from Veritas as it seemed you cared more about the smell than what the shampoo actually had to offer. He shakes his head as he pops the lid open and brings it to your nose.

“Does it smell good enough for you?” he asked, teasing laced in his words, but despite that he brought the bottle to his nose as well to inhale the light green apple smell. He relishes in the scent, imagining the way our hair would smell the same if you purchased this.

“Ohh.. oh definitely, it smells so good. Give it here” you smile up at him and take the bottle to put in the cart. “I should ask you more often on this guru advice, Veritas, you’re more help than I gave you credit for” you playfully jab at him as you walk a few steps forward, looking at another section where bath salts and bath bombs lay. “Oh! Look at this!” you gleam as you pluck a round bath bomb colored blue.

“Lavender?” Veritas asked as he came up next to you, choosing to ignore your initial jab.

“Yeah. Lavender suits you, and it is a relaxing scent over all. Didn’t you run out of those bath salts too? We should get some new ones” you throw the bath bomb into the cart before he can reject it, but you make space for him to look over the other products, smiling up at him coyly as he gives you a daring look, yet you knew he meant no malice, he was being playful.

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robin-evry · 3 months ago

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I SAWWW YOUR DEMI GOD AUUUUU

as a autistic wee little boy who's hyperfixation is currently all things percy jackson, your demi god au reminded me of that, so if i could request a demigod!yuu who's related to Hera, (my hc is that the child would be made parthenogenetically) and i thought it'd be really funny. you can write them however you think is best, my hyperfixation is just REALLY getting me 🤭😇 have a good rest of ur timezone <3

Thank you, and I hope you enjoy this I got some inspiration from epic the musical hera

𝐓𝐖𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐈 𝐆𝐎𝐃 𝐘𝐔𝐔 ( 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐀 ) 🦚💍

Hera (/ˈhɛrə, ˈhɪərə/; Ancient Greek: Ἥρα, romanized: Hḗrā; Ἥρη, Hḗrē in Ionic and Homeric Greek) is the goddess of marriage, women, and family, and the protector of women during childbirth. In Greek mythology, she is queen of the twelve Olympians and Mount Olympus, sister and wife of Zeus, and daughter of the Titans Cronus and Rhea.

Similar towards how Hephaestus was made, demi god!yuu was created by hera with out needing any form of intimacy but they were born incomplete basically coming out to early making them half divine. But once they reach adult age they will be able to be ascended into a god they just need to wait.

They absolutely dislike the philandering type rook, Azul and Crowley. Similar trait towards their god parent, when Crowley was about to put them towards ramshackle they were offended they are doubting whether or not Crowley is a capable person or not how could they let someone live in these ruins.

An aura of regality, even without trying. They naturally command respect, making others instinctively recognize them as someone important. When they first arrives, their aura alone unsettles people. They radiate regality��posture perfect, gaze sharp, every step deliberate. Even without saying much, they command attention.

they have high standards towards themselves always keeping a poise and dignified look, never lacking perfection they have high standards. They know the value of keeping faces which earn the respect of vil.

They valued relationships very much, they always stay loyal towards the person they deem as loved ones and they do not take relationships lightly. To them, bonds are sacred, not something to be made and discarded on a whim.

Demi god!yuu is always there for those who are struggling, giving advice and a shoulder to cry on. similar towards a parent would care for their children

Peacocks are always seen with them, as a sigil of their divine heritage as well as connection towards their powers and identity. Two peacocks have miraculously appeared at ramshackles always tailing behind them.

Demi god!yuu is very fashionable due to them being the child of hera, they have to make a good impression towards others about them when they appear and kept face as a person.

They also have the natural abilities of giving out blessings and curses, Those who prove their loyalty to them find subtle fortunes following them as if fate itself bends in their favor.

Even tho demi god!yuu does not curse lightly, but those who betray them find their luck souring, relationships faltering, and an unshakable unease settling in their chests.

They are over protective of grim willing to protect him any sort of danger that may towards him, sometimes when things get too tired towards demi-god!yuu would carry him similar towards a mother holding their baby.

When the octaniville chapter, Azul was curse due to him conning multiple students into working for his restaurant, when meeting demi god!yuu, they say with a serious voice is to let grim, ace and deuce free but Azul unfortunately laugh at there face and ignored them, the next day bad luck seems to seep in towards his life accident happened in the kitchen, his grades started to go down and more, until he agreed to let grim, ace and deuce go the curse stop

Many people seem intimidated by them but even tho that hard interior leads towards a caring person who just wants to protect the people they hold dearly towards them.

#not canon #twisted wonderland #twst scenario #disney twst #twst headcanons #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland yuu au #twst mc #twst yuu au #twst x reader #greek mythology #hera greek mythology #demi god!yuu #demi god!yuu hera

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osiiiris · 2 months ago

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V Perpetua - my headcanons

I think so far I’ve seen enough of him to develop some personal headcanons for Perpetua.

Perpetua is human to me, but a very strange kind of human. However, he wears a mask because he doesn’t want to be perceived as one.

He’s mostly nocturnal, has a history of selective mutism, and is terribly afraid of social gatherings. When he has to participate, he has absolutely no idea how to interact with so many people. In trying to seem “normal,” he ends up acting like one of those aliens from Men in Black, the ones wearing human skin but moving in incredibly awkward ways. He’ll say something weird, completely out of context, and people won’t know how to react. He’ll think he did a great job.

He’s absolutely clueless. Always. Completely uninterested in the world around him, he lives mostly in his own mind and frequently dissociates. Too bad, his mind isn’t a nice place. You’ll try explaining what he has to do on stage, and he’ll just stare up at the giant structure, imagining how it would look with real human heads hanging from the ceiling.

As a result, you can’t have a real conversation with him. He’s too unpredictable, and his attention span is too fleeting. Having a meeting with him is one of the most frustrating experiences.

When he was a child, he used to stare at people, a lot. From windows, from inside a car, from a distance, or even directly in front of them. He would stare them down for endless minutes with wide, unblinking eyes, making everyone deeply uncomfortable.

He can’t sit properly. You’ll most likely find him crumpled up in a chair, looking at you like an owl.

He’s only relatively interested in sex, in the sense that he rarely thinks about it or seeks it out. His mind is too detached and chaotic, and carnal lust isn’t his first choice when it comes to seeking pleasure. But when he does engage... he’s freaky. He has some peculiar kinks. Strange shit go on in his bedroom (and not only). He usually doesn’t need to have full-on sex to be satisfied: he just needs to practice his kinks. Most of his occasional partners don’t want to “have sex” with him again.

He listens to a wide range of music, from black metal to techno rave. He can go from Mayhem to Die Antwoord in an instant.

He has a passion for taxidermy that began when, as a child, he used to find dead lizards and snakes and cut them open to see what was inside. He’s not very good at it, though… his creations are terrible.

He collects real animal skeletons and fossils.

The only request he made as Papa was for a private laboratory. What he does in there is a secret, but techno music can always be heard when he’s inside.

He smiles a lot, mostly out of uncontrolled excitement, but since he can’t quite act like a regular person, his smiles are unnaturally wide and unsettling.

Although not many people knew of his existence, he spent a lot of time studying the old Papas. As a result, he often quotes their speeches during his concerts—but he’s no copycat. Sometimes he evokes their words and leaves them incomplete, adds something personal, or even mocks them. It’s as if he’s saying, “Do you remember this? Well, I’m not the same.”

Unlike the other Papas, he’s not in competition with anyone, nor does he want to conquer anything. He was simply pushed onto a stage, and now he just does the thing. His real interests lie outside his musical career.

Sister Imperator is still trying to figure out whether he’s the greatest mistake she’s ever made.

#the band ghost #papa v perpetua #skeletá #the band ghost headcanons #the band ghost lore #Papa v perpetua headcanons

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thee-horny-thicky · 7 months ago

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This might be a weird request. But I was looking for a Muzan or douma x reader. However whenever they get intimate- the female never moans. It’s not that she doesn’t enjoy it she just isn’t very vocal which annoys and gives them a complex. The fact they can’t even get a human girl to moan annoys and frustrates them. She’s shy, little insecure (chubbier side) so never moans. Also doesn’t get off on general just touching etc. it excites her but doesn’t get her soaked.

Congratulations, Anon. You've been selected for 'Drafts Thicky Should Finish and Post Program!' I chose to do Douma for one because that's what past me chose to do. Anyway, enjoy!

Much didn’t hurt Douma’s pride. But you, a little human maid, succeeded easily. You were supposed to be a distraction, a way to get his dick wet. Then, when he was done with you, he’d turn you into a meal. You had a cute face and ample curves that’d keep him well-fed. At least, that was the plan, until you rejected him.

“I’m honored,” you’d said, a blush consuming your plump cheeks.

He remembered grinning smugly, thinking he had you in his trap. Then, you’d continued speaking, wiping his smile away.

“But I must decline your offer."

With that, you’d bowed and scurried away, leaving a shocked Douma in your wake.

Your rejection had lit a fire under Douma, spurring him to chase you until he finally got you in his bed. Somewhere along the way, he’d grown attached to you, the game of cat and mouse being played throwing a wrench in his plans to fuck and eat you. Through hours of stalking and harassing, he’d gotten to know you, and your gentle, bashful demeanor reminded him of Kotoha, when he’d first stumbled across her. Maybe that’s why, after he just finished fucking you, he had no interest in consuming your flesh. Or perhaps, it was because his mission felt incomplete. He’d bedded you, yes, but you barely made a peep. Your lip stayed firmly between your teeth, and when he managed to coax a sound out of you, it was only a few whimpers.

Worst of all, Douma didn’t think you came.

So, there he lay, stewing in frustration and humiliation, tangled in the sheets, his nude body pressed against yours. He had half the mind to snap your neck right there, for all the effort you were making him put in. But if he did, he’d have no chance to redeem himself. So, instead, he voiced what was on his mind.

“Was I not good?” he blurted, the question sounding absurd coming from his lips.

He was Upper Moon #2, irrefutably handsome, powerful, intelligent, and had a legion of loyal followers. He’d given many pleasure before you and would continue to give pleasure to many after you. Douma was more than good enough, he was amazing, and yet you had him questioning himself.

One day, you’d pay for that.

You looked at him, face flushed, lips swollen from his kisses, and eyes glossy. You looked thoroughly ravished, except you hadn’t fucking come.

“It felt good,” you said with a small smile, meant to be reassuring, but doing nothing for him. “I-I just don’t…”

You trailed off, then shook your head, looking away as your cheeks grew hotter. “Never mind. It’s silly. I…I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Tell me,” he ordered, feeling borderline desperate.

You sighed, then refocused on him. “I…I just don’t have intense orgasms. Really, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

He stared at you, not fully understanding. Never had he been with a woman who didn’t have a noticeable orgasm. Douma analyzed everything he’d done to you, which was rather tame compared to past encounters. He limited it to fingers and cock, too consumed with want to do anything else.

Oh.

At that moment, he had a revelation, suddenly feeling like a dumbass. Penetration alone wasn’t enough for many women.

His gaze remained locked on yours, and the longer he stared, the more embarrassed your expression became. “Just forget I said anything,” you said pleadingly.

Absolutely not.

Instead of obliging, he sat up fully and crawled over your prone form. First, he kissed your neck, relishing in your soft gasp. He smiled against your skin. Already, you were proving his theory correct.

“Silly me, not savoring you properly,” he murmured as he kissed down your body, stopping at your breasts.

You squirmed, trying to escape his touch, but he held you in place

“Y-you don’t have to do this,” you panted, before whimpering when his tongue swirled around your pebbled nipples.

As he sucked and nibbled, he could feel your heartbeat quickening under his palm, smell your arousal, sense the blood pumping through your veins. The results he was getting just couldn’t be denied.

“But I want to,” he said, before switching to the other breast and giving it the same attention.

You moaned, back arching, hands tangling in his hair. Any protests you had died a quick death.

When he had his fill of your full tits, he resumed his descent, kissing your soft belly, then your wide hips, and finally your thick thighs. The smell of your wet heat had his mouth watering. He parted your legs, taking a moment to admire the slickness that greeted him, before leaning down and swiping his tongue along your slit. When your taste hit his taste buds, he groaned. You tasted so sweet. He imagined your flesh and blood would be just as flavorful.

When he spread your lower lips to have full access, he blew air onto your dripping sex, chuckling at your whimper and pathetic shoves. Teasingly, his tongue darted to sample some of your juices. The rich, tangy taste made his restraint snap. Not even a second later, he speared his tongue inside your core, nearly drooling at just how delectable you were, at the sweet sounds you were finally making.

“Oh!” you gasped, gripping the sheets and arching into his mouth.

He ate you with gusto, his eagerness reflecting his hunger for you, literal and metaphorical. Each move he made resulted in his nose bumping your clit, stimulating you further. Your shyness started to disappear, and soon, you were shamelessly grinding against his face, chasing the pleasure you’d been deprived of earlier.

Silly Douma, thinking his cock was the best part of him. Clearly, it was his mouth. Not only was he an excellent conversationalist, but his tongue could bring pleasure to any woman, a fact you were reaffirming.

He kept a firm grip on your thighs and hips, keeping you still as he feasted. To send you hurling toward the edge, he rubbed his thumb over your clit in quick, firm circles. Moments later, your body was tensing, your pussy clenching around his tongue as you came.

“Don’t stop, please!” you cried as you experienced your peak, moaning at the top of your lungs.

He had no intention to. He licked and fingered you through your orgasm, drawing out your pleasure until you were a sweaty, panting mess. He was content staying between your legs the rest of the night, finally sampling your flavor and pleasing you. It was a win/win, and most importantly, saw the return of the ego that defined him.

TLTR: Reader only has intense orgasms from having her pussy ate

#asks #fanfic #fem reader #chubby reader #demon slayer douma #demon slayer kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #douma kny #douma x reader #kny douma #douma #sorry for the delay #no reason this ask should've taken this long #please accept this humble offering #smut #demon slayer smut

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 1 year ago

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I dont know if you done this already, but what about you logan x fem reader fic, where reader is the little sister of Charles xavier or Eric, and they keep their relationship secret, but then everyone finds out and readers brother gets really protective of her and has a talk with logan trying to scare him off but it doesn't work

.⋆｡Worst Possible Decision｡⋆.

Logan x plus size reader

How could Logan be stupid enough to fall for the little sister of an overprotective metal controlling mutant? As it turns out, very easily.

Warnings: angst, gunshots, burns/fire, fluff, protective!erik, descriptions of pain, reader is german but there’s no further description than vague references WC: 2.7k

A/N: This went a little off of the request but I hope you still like it and I’m sorry for how long it took!

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

She was too much like her brother in a lot of ways, but at the same time, they couldn’t be more different. Where Erik could command any room he walked into, she blended, finding a home in the shadows where she could be hidden. He exuded confidence and a suave attitude that could charm anyone. She was meek, shy but with a power bubbling under the surface that felt like an even bigger threat than any her brother could come up with.

Erik shot first and asked questions later, Y/N wouldn’t ask, she would get all the answers she needed with a single look and then dispose of the trash without so much as a flick of her wrist. While Erik controlled metal, Y/N controlled pain.

Logan met the brother and sister duo long before the mutants were fractured. He noted how beautiful she was, even when he only glanced at her through his peripheral vision. She was curvy, with a belly and plump thighs. He told them to go fuck themselves.

The next time she saw him, she was alone. She seemed lopsided without her brother beside her, incomplete. Logan saw the way her hackles raised when Charles screamed at him to leave, calling him a liar. He saw how she flinched when Erik was mentioned.

Wolverine knew what happened between them, the rift that hadn’t ever been healed, even after her death in the far future. He was stunned by her beauty then, finally seeing her in the flesh after so many years, alive and well. Logan pulled her to the side as soon as they were alone, embracing her. Y/N tried to push him off but when she felt his pain, the raw burning like his nerves were on fire, she wrapped her soft arms around him, easing him.

“Stay alive.” He told her. “Do whatever you have to, you have to live.” He pleaded before he was pulled back to the future but not without kissing her like it was the last time. He stole her breath away as he poured every ounce of love as he could into her lips.

When Logan strolled into the Manor many years after that kiss, Y/N stayed away from him. He was so much younger, so much more whole. She could see now the pieces of him that would break away over the years and it hurt her. She knew what was going to happen to him, what had happened to him. But he cornered her eventually.

“You seem to already know who I am.” She shivered when she heard his voice call out to her from the infirmary door.

“You made a very big impression on the school.” Her accent had long since disappeared, snuffed out by the need to be hidden, to be safe. She didn’t look at him, instead concentrating on cataloguing the new medical supplies that had been delivered the day before.

The mutant huffed, clearly not content with her answer. “You avoid me like the plague while everyone else is indifferent.” Her eyes flicked up to him briefly.

“Maybe I have decided that I already don’t like you. You did threaten to abandon a young mutant on the side of the road.” He scoffed at the mention of Rogue.

“She had it comin’.” He shrugged. “So what is it exactly that you do?” His large body lounged against the one hospital bed in the room. She couldn’t help but glance up at him. He was physically older, slight grey in his sideburns, more lines on his face but his eyes weren’t as sad, the deep brown swirling with emotions he was trying desperately to tamp down but hadn’t learned how yet.

He was still incredibly handsome though. He walked with a confidence that came from youth, that blind faith in himself and his strength that made him cocky and untouchable. Y/N turned away. “I’m the school’s nurse, I thought that was pretty obvious, given I’m in the infirmary.”

Logan grunted, crossing his thick arms over his chest, holding a beer bottle between two of his fingers. “I was talkin about yer power, bub.” That made her smile, the corner of her lips turning up. She wouldn’t admit it out loud but she missed his attitude.

“I control pain. It’s useful.” She shrugs off the question with a half answer. She picked up the last of the supplies on the infirmary bed, making a note on her clipboard before putting them away.

She heard him huff and a silence settled over the room but it was not awkward or uncomfortable, it was just… silence. The beer in his bottle swished as he gulped down the last of the brew. The supply closet’s door swung shut with a creak and she chanced another look at the man.

She couldn’t ignore the way his muscles bulged so she forced herself to turn away. It would do her no good to get involved with him in any capacity, even if her heart screamed for him. Logan took the hint, leaving the infirmary with a grumble and a glance back at her.

It was impossible to completely avoid someone like Logan, even in a school as large as the academy. He seemed to appear in moments when her guard was down, lurking in the corner of her vision like a ghost. His blue eyes locked onto her whenever they would be in the same room, both undressing her and observing her with some morbid fascination.

But no matter how hard she tried, her lips still ached from that kiss all those years ago and her heart burned to know what would become of them in the future.

——————

“You seem awfully close with the professor.” The manor was silent, a much needed reprieve after the long day of classes in Logan’s case and lots of skinned knees in Y/N’s. An ancient record player crooned in the corner of the huge sitting room, bathing its two occupants in pleasant song which was quickly becoming more of a lullaby. The older mutant sat on one end of the couch with his companion lying across the rest, a thick book propped up on her chest and her sock-clad feet dangerously close to his lap.

She let the statement sink in for a moment as Logan took another sip from his glass of bourbon he had pilfered from Charles’s not-so-well hidden stash. “Are you asking me something or just talking out loud?” He rolled his eyes.

“What do you think darlin’?” He snapped but his usual condescending tone was replaced with a sarcastic tilt to his voice. Her lips quirked up and she shut her book, letting it rest on her sternum as she met his gaze.

“Yes, Charles and I are very close. I’m the same way with Hank and Alex, we’ve all been here since the beginning.” She knew her answer was one that was far more simple than he would’ve liked but she wouldn’t give him the full story unless he asked.

Logan dropped his left hand from where it had been resting upon his chest onto his meaty thigh, the edge of his palm now just grazing the tip of her fuzzy socks. “Are you fucking him?” The question was so unexpected that Y/N choked on her own spit. She shot up as she coughed, tucking her legs beneath her. Too caught up in catching her breath, she missed the way his eyes dulled at the loss of her closeness.

“Scheiße.” The German naturally slipped from her lips and she thumped her chest with a closed fist. “God no! Having a telepath as a friend is bad enough, I could never imagine dating one.” He smirked, letting out a pleased chuff.

“So…” He prompted. Y/N leaned back into the couch. They now sat side-by-side and Logan was able to study her profile as she eased the drink from his hand, finishing it off in one gulp.

Her face was solemn, haunted by something he couldn’t quite place, even in his many decades of life. She looked as if she were in mourning. “I traded one overprotective brother for another.”

——————

Logan’s legs ached as he ran, the smoke from the fires that raged around him singed his senses. Flames licked up the sides of the manor as gunshots still echoed across the fields, even if the fighting had already stopped. They had come in the dead of night, guns and torches lighting their way.

The school had always been a risk, especially being so close to town. But young mutants needed a place to go. It was inevitable that those who hated them would try to run them out, they all thought they had more time.

It was her voice that pulled Logan from his retreat. Laced with tears, she was comforting one of the older students as he nursed a severe burn to his arm. They were laid out in the grass which was still damp from the early morning dew. Y/N cupped his face with glowing hands and Logan could clearly see the pain that rippled through her.

More students gathered around them, each with an injury of their own, each begging for some kind of relief. Exhaustion painted her face as her body wound tight with agony. The ground shook as Logan dropped to his knees next to her.

“Give me their pain.” She was withering away right before his eyes, driven only by a need to protect, to give the children comfort in the only way she knew how. She shook her head and instead moved to a girl who was no older than 13. A flesh wound cut across her leg, the edges of the wound burned with residual gunpowder.

A sob escaped Y/N’s lips as she took the girl’s pain and Logan watched as the woman began to wither away. She was killing herself.

“Give me their fucking pain.” He yanked her hands away from the girl and laid them on his broad chest. She thrashed in his hold in an attempt to pull away but he wouldn’t budge.

Her eyes met his and she froze. This was the moment that he had warned her about so many years before, a premonition that he would never remember. But to give her pain, her gift, to someone else, she couldn’t even fathom it. “Please.” He begged, squeezing her hands in his own. She was weakening, she doubted she could stop him even if she tried.

Logan felt like he was burning alive as gunshots ripped through his arms and legs. And yet he smiled at her and in that moment, something shifted between them. “That’s it doll face.” Heat rushed to her cheeks and it wasn’t because of the fire that still blazed behind them.

——————

The sounds of power tools and hammers were almost constant nowadays as the mutants worked together to rebuild the crumbling school. Y/N strolled happily through the halls, the walls still blackened from the fire. The students were gone, taken home by their families or sent to safe houses around the country, leaving only a few teachers who wanted to lend a hand.

“They’re working quite quickly.” Charles noted from his place where the greenhouse used to sit. A handful of people, including Logan, Hank, Alex and Rogue among others were steadily building a large room across the way- a brand new library.

Y/N chuckled as she handed him a cup of lemonade. “They have a goal to achieve. This school is important to all of us.” He grinned slyly at his long time friend.

“I’m sure one of them has another motivation for working so hard.” His blue eyes flicked to the love bite that peaked from her collar.

“Shut up.” She muttered with a kick to his wheelchair, Charles laughed under his breath as she walked away to the man responsible for her tender steps and slight limp. As much as Charles loved to tease, he loved even more that she was smiling again and the pain that always seemed to radiate from her mind was now a dull ache that was easily chased away by the touch of her lover.

As soon as she was near enough, Logan abandoned his work, his full attention turned to her. Her laugh carried through the summer breeze like a bird song as he wrapped her up in his arms, lathering her face in kisses. The others rolled their eyes and continued their work as the couple embraced.

“I see my absence was not missed.” Erik’s cool tone froze Charles’s blood.

Rage rolled off the mutant in waves as he glared at the man who was all over his precious sister. His knuckles turned pale and Charles could almost hear the way his muscles tensed. “Erik, what a surprise. I thought you were still on the run.” He looked up at his old friend though he almost didn’t recognise him. His eyes were so much older, his soul so much darker but yet, it was still him.

Y/N had yet to notice her brother, too wrapped up in the arms of her lover but as she pressed another kiss to his cheek, Erik’s anger mounted. He knew what Logan was, knew exactly what pain he was capable of inflicting. “How long?” He growled.

“A couple months though I suspect that Logan had been pining for her since the moment he met her.” Perhaps it was optimistic of Charles to divulge details of their relationship to Erik, but he was a romantic at heart. “Logan saved her life, Erik.”

Her laughter did nothing to ease the furrow in his brow but the way that Logan grabbed at her ample backside absolutely did something.

“Logan?” Y/N asked curiously as the man in her arms suddenly froze and his eyes widened almost comically. “Are you ok?” She cupped his cheek and pain unlike anything she had ever imagined rocketed through her veins. Her bones felt like they were twisting in upon themselves, severing nerves and destroying her body from the inside out. She could feel Logan’s flesh move unnaturally as she pulled him closer to her.

“Logan!” Her hands pressed harder into his jaw in an attempt to steal the violent sensation from him but still, his chest echoed with his suffering.

“Erik enough!” Her head whipped around, as did the attentions of all the other mutants gathered around. The fury in his eyes was like nothing she had seen before, as if he was looking at a roach he had crushed under his boot. His knuckles paled with the force of his power.

A howl of pain escaped Logan’s lips, finally breaking Y/N from her trance. “Release him or I’ll fucking break you.” She snarled and for just a moment, Erik faltered.

His hold wavered briefly but it was enough for Charles to grab his wrist and completely break his focus. “This is beyond childish.” He scolded as Y/N pulled her partner behind her but her deadly glare remained firmly on her brother. Erik didn’t bother to respond, instead his shoulders dropped in surrender and Logan collapsed, the pain finally dissipating.

There was a flurry of movement as she fell to her knees and the others rushed to make sure they were alright. “She’s happy, she’s safe. Leave it alone.” But Erik ignored his friend. His Y/N was gone and perhaps she had been for years. This woman that threatened him when he hurt a boy, as he had done dozens of times in the past with no fight from her, was not the girl he grew up with.

She stood up straight all on her own. She didn’t need Erik to balance her nor Logan to push her up, perhaps that’s why her brother slipped out in the dead of night, leaving behind the one thing that kept him tethered to his humanity. Y/N would awaken the next morning in the protective hold of the man she loved and find a single coin, rusted with age and stained with dried blood on her nightstand. She knew that she would not hear from him again, Erik was dead, only Magneto remained.

The worst decision indeed.

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