#(there's not too much work that really needs to be done to it) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

squishycheekanon · 18 hours

Text

Okay but can we just talk about run away bride reader and soft dark John price.

Your poor fiancé is stood there like what has he done wrong? And that’s the problem, not a damn thing but there’s this gorgeous burly man double your age that’s wormed his way into your heart and between your legs. For weeks he’s been attacking your pussy with his addictingly greedy mouth, it really was an accident. Your bachelorette party had ended with you being black out drunk, your ‘friends’ had left you at whatever club you had been at to move onto the next one when John found you. You could barely sting two words together when he asked you where you lived after carrying you into his jeep, he didn’t know what to do but he couldn’t leave you at that club and Simon was too busy making it with some woman inside, he wanted to go home. Honestly taking you home with him started off entirely innocent but once he go you back to his place and a little bit of water in you, you had began to open up to this stranger about your life. How you were getting married in three weeks and you were scared out of your mind to be married to this guy you’d been with for three years all because of one thing; he had never made you cum.

You explained to the beefy man with a canal glint in his darkened blue eyes in front you that you’d tried everything. At first you faked your orgasms out of courtesy and kindness. Then the emotional and physical toll was too much and you ended up confessing to him. He didn’t take it too well at first but then he asked you to show him how to be better. This really made you happy, he accepted the issue and wanted to fix it. So you showed him in every way that he could, your fingers and your toys and he really looked like he was taking it all in.

Then he took over and any progress you had made building up this wonderful climax completely shattered as he rubbed the wrong place and pushed all the toys off the bed looking offended by them. You even moved in an attempt to slip his fingers onto your clit….and he…he fucking moved them away. You remember the way your eyes stung with tears of frustration, the way your heart ached with want and need. How you felt so used when he had sex with you, he mumbled that he had urned his reward after rubbing you in the wrong spot for five minutes. You remember how you cried in the shower while he slept. And you in your drunken state told John all of this. By the time you were done he looked dangerous and rigid. He knew there were guys out there that didn’t know much about the female body but he couldn’t believe that some cunt had done that to you and by the sounds of it continued to do it for years on end. You were so beautiful, how could that guy not even bother to take the time to learn your body. To commit your wants and needs to memory. That’s how you ended up on your back naked with John kneeling at the edge of the bed face to face with your dripping pussy. John did think about it and maybe if he were a nicer guy he would care that you weren’t sober, maybe he would care that you were engaged but you just looked so sad and he couldn't let a sweet little thing like you go your entire life only giving yourself an orgasm.

His head lulls to the side, his cheek smushing against the inside of your thigh “Such a pretty cunt.” He sighs, the tip of his finger spelling out his name on your clit. His piercing eyes meet yours and your breath gets caught in your throat, the lust swirling in his dark eyes is so enticing. Plus the way he’s on his knees for you, you wouldn’t ever get tired of seeing it.

Your clit pulses erratically anticipating his next move. It’s quick and it makes you jump but then you’re whining into the air, because how can you not when he’s sucking you into his mouth like a starved man. Your body burns with pleasure but it’s oh so delicious his tongue working wonders on your cunt.

“Please-“ you pause, somewhere in your haziness you realise you don’t know whose name you should be calling out, he pulls off you with a soft pop. “John.” “Please John.”

“No flower. You can wait, I’m gonna enjoy this cunt and you’re gonna lay there and take it.” He scowls, placing sloppy kisses up your thigh. “If I have to tie you to this bed, I fucking will.” His lips smack together as his eyes leave yours once more, the pad of his thumb sliding through your folds. “Your pussy is already dripping flower, I’m gonna make you gush.” He grunts leaning forward pressing his nose against you with a sharp inhale. He can’t ever get enough of you.

John looks up his cerulean eyes finding yours at the exact moment his mouth latches onto you once more. It feels so good it hurts, the heat from his mouth has you twisting and squirming. His right hand moves up reaching until they touch your lips, a quick tap against them and you open just enough for him to slip his fingers inside. A muffled ‘suck’ has you closing your lips around them, getting them nice and wet.

He groans against your wet heat images of you sucking his cock the way you’re sucking his fingers floating through his mind. You sob, your body starting to shake when he pushes two thick fingers inside you, the intrusion making you gasp. They rub along your velvety walls bringing a new wave of pleasure, the feeling builds becoming more intense with every thrust.

His tongue laps at your clit while he searches and searches until you squeal “There it is”, he finds exactly what he was looking for striking the spot over and over again watching your back arch off the bed. A ‘fuck yeah sweetheart’ slipping out when you gush all over his hand.

You excepted him to move away, to release your pussy from his torturous mouth but he doesn’t. The bastard stays put the tip of his tongue flicking against you, the sensitivity pulling whines and whimpers from you….you think it was six, no seven definitely seven orgasms, heck you lost count after the third. Your body tired but fuck did you need his cock more than anything. You lay on your side gripping the sheets so tightly as John slides in behind you, his arms pulling you taut against him as you mewl into the air.

“I know flower I know you just have to let me in is all, nothing more.” He strokes your hair moving it out the way so he can press his cheek to yours, it’s so intimate and sweet. And yet when he lifts up your left leg, bending it at the knee so he can slip his ridged veiny shaft inside your tight cunt. You feel the sweet sweet burn of the orgasmic stretch that you never thought you’d feel in your life.

You just about manage to make out the time on the clock before your vision blurs and tears streak down your cheeks meeting the dried ones that had already fallen earlier with your over sensitivity. He feels so fucking good, with each thrust you’re pushed closer to the edge. Your moans and his mixing together in the late evening air, his pace building dramatically, becoming more and more intense the longer he fucks you. It’s brutish, rough and bare. Yet loving and gentle.

“Yes right there don’t stop!” His swollen tip glides over the spot inside you, your body goes still and you can’t do anything except let it happen. And you do, you let the tsunami of pleasure crash into you almost painfully, it pumps through your veins absolutely demolishing what’s left of your energy. You’re barely awake when warmth blooms inside you a deep moan rumbling against your cheek.

“Fuck baby.” He groans softly pulling the sheets over your body, shielding you from the cold breeze that was drifting into your beautiful moment. A kiss to the top of your head and you’re out like a light unaware of the large hand rubbing at your tummy, the sky completely dark now, unaware of the thoughts bubbling in John’s head as he watches your chest rise up and down. The next morning he consoles you as you freak out, you had just cheated and if that wasn’t killing you, the pain in your head was. He listened to you rant and panic while he cooked you breakfast, a small smirk pulling at his lips when you slump down at the table and eat everything on your plate. You leave after he sweetly promises not to tell anybody about what happened. But he insisted on having your phone number yanno in case of emergencies. You don’t think much of it until he starts calling you, a lot.

“I just thought what harm could come from one little call,” he says coyly, ignoring you when you protest he must stop, “I know you say you're taken but I say girl you're takin' too long to tell him that it's over. Then bring it on over, stringing him along any longer flower is just wasting precious time.” You don’t know what to say to him, your words caught it your throat as he takes the silence as an opportunity to continue.

“Sweetheart you know it can't wait, rip it off just like a Band-Aid. The way you look at me, girl, you can't pretend I know you ain't in love with him break up with him.” He pleads, you don’t break up with your fiancé but you do end up back at John’s house, Price’s head between your thighs licking and slurping at your pussy.

He calls you again the next night with the same speech as last time, “I know, you don't wanna break his heart but that ain't no good reason to be keeping us apart. Look, just tell him it's you, it ain't him and maybe you can lie to him and say you'll still be friends.” He scoffs with a smirk at the idea placing his phone down on the kitchen counter on speaker.

“Whatever you got to say to get through to him that you ain't in love. C'mon you can't deny that you and I kinda fit like a glove. It ain't my business to be all up in but I know you ain't in love with him break up with him. I know that you’re so done with him break up with him.” He groans out and once again he convinces you to come over and let him have his dirty way with you.

Weeks of this back on forth go by and finally it’s the eve of your wedding day, “You would've hung up by now if you weren't thinking it too. No pressure whatever just do what you gotta do. But if I was you I'd tell him that it's over then bring it on over stringing him along any longer is just wasting precious time. Flower you know it can't wait. Just rip it off just like a Band-Aid Yeah, I know I said it but I'll say it again. I know you ain't in love with him. Break up with him. The way you look at me girl you can't pretend. I know you ain't in love with him. Just break up with him.”

You don’t break up with him but you’re sure he’s gotten the hint when you run from the church, fists clenched tightly around the material of your wedding dress so your legs can move faster. You arrive at John’s house and he grins when he opens the door.

Grabbing his coat off the hook he closes the door behind him before grabbing your hand and helping you into his jeep. “John, where are we going?”

“You’re already in your wedding dress flower, why waste the opportunity. There’s a little chapel just down the road.”

237 notes · View notes

arabellasleopardcoat · 2 days

Text

To Conquer (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Incest is common amongst Targaryens, Daemon assures you. Unfortunately, Alicent got to you first.

Warnings: Mentions of sex. Cursing. Arranged marriage. Periods. Daddy issues. Religious guilt. One death aside from canon ones (Daemon murders a man)

A/N: In which I rewrite the scene of my first encounter with incest in a book. If you get it, you get it.

YOU NEVER dared call Alicent mother out loud. But in your mind, she was.

The woman who had birthed you had passed away the same day you had been born. Out of her womb you had been pulled, alongside your twin. He had not survived the day.

Queen Aemma Arryn was a mere name to you, a woman who existed in paintings and shadows, a ghost that lurked on the Red Keep. Your father never once spoke of her too you, too consumed by guilt and grief. In fact, he did his best to never speak to you at all.

You were an uncomfortable reminder of the crime he had committed. Robbing a woman of life so a man may live. It hadn’t even worked in the end. Your brother had faded from this world, nothing of him remaining.

Against all odds, you had. You had clung to life, the Maesters would later say. Fought tooth and nail to stay in this world. And somehow, it hadn’t been enough. Your father avoided you like the plague, but Alicent, guilty, scared, lonely Alicent, did not. She was all you had.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror. Despite your dramatic entrance to the world, and your eventful first few months of life, your life had turned out to be quite lackluster. There were no exciting adventures or claiming of dragons, much less a moniker attached to your name like there was to Rhaenyra or Daemon. You wondered why this, out of all things, had to be different.

The robes looked graceful enough on you, you supposed. Your father had called you a true Valyrian beauty, the very image of your mother. You knew it wasn’t true. King Viserys didn’t remember her. How could he, if he had done his best attempts to erase her? He had replaced her at once, and he never once spoke of her again. At least, not with you.

His presence in your life could be defined with one word: Absence. But he had thought it fair to reappear when he needs you to do something for him. The least he could have done would have been asking for your input about the wedding.

If you had been asked, you would have chosen a traditional wedding ceremony, with a Septon and a hand fasting. You would have worn a Targaryen cloak… To be exchanged for another Targaryen cloak. No. Perhaps it had been for the best, not to desecrate such a beautiful ritual with this nonsense.

Still, you couldn't shake the feeling of not being really married. You didn’t like it. And you liked the man who was waiting for you on the other side of the door much less.

“Are you done, niece?” The knock on the door forced you into action, once again. You reached into the basin, watching the cool water shift under your fingers. There was something about the cold that cleared your head, helped you think. You took a deep breath, and tried to focus.

Alicent had told you that you should obey him in all things. That you had to do your duty, just as she had done hers. But you had seen the fear in her eyes when you were getting ready for the ceremony, and how her hands had grasped at you desperately during the feast. It had taken Ser Otto’s intervention to make her let go of you.

Your bedtime stories had not prepared either of you for this. When you were a young girl, plagued by night terrors, she would sit at the foot of your bed and pretend to read your destiny.

“One day, you will fly to the moon wearing spiderwebs as wings.” She would squint at your hand, making a show of reading the lines there.

“Tell me more!” You would squeal, fears forgotten. Despite not being the motherly type, she would always indulge you. Perhaps, because she saw herself in you. Another little girl, her mother dead, her father defined by his lack of presence.

“It says here…” Alicent would tickle your palm. “That you will grow up into a beautiful, beautiful princess who will marry a handsome lord. He will love you very much.”

Out of all the lies you had been told, it was your favorite. Each night, you would ask to hear it again and again, and think, tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow I will be all grown, and the lady of a great castle. My father will love me then.

It had been a consolation you had clung on through all your childhood. You were a princess, worthy of being appreciated by your future husband. He would love you, you knew. You would build something together, something only yours. You would raise your children to be better than you, following Alicent’s example. You would be happy.

You had never realized how much she had clung to that thought too. Her frustrated dreams for herself had been turned into hope for your future. Alicent had spoken them into the night like an enchantment, as if she could bring them to life by repeating the words over and over. So you could have what she hadn’t had. Like all parents wished.

What both of you had imagined wasn't this. You wanted to scream from rage.

“Just a bit more.” You said, your resolve hardening. The faith of the Seven dictated that laying with a relative was a sin, the same for laying with a man who was not your husband. They barely recognized Valyrian wedding ceremonies.

Had you really married him? Your High Valyrian was sloppy. Your mother had not taught you much, and your lessons had often been interrupted because of Aegon. Out of all your siblings, Aemond had been the most proficient one. He had not been present at the ceremony, being judged too young to attend.

It had been your parents, Daemon, Aegon. An intimate ceremony, just as they liked. Could your father betray you so? Give you away as a whore to appease his brother?

You opened the table’s drawers. Daemon’s bathing room was unfamiliar to you, but he must have used something to shave and you would find it. You riffled through various oils and soaps before finding the blade you were seeking.

With your non-dominant hand, you bunched the robes up. Bracing yourself, you used your other hand to slit your upper thigh. At first, you didn’t draw blood, despite feeling the sting of the blade. Your grip was too shaky. But your determination didn’t waver. Your father had asked too much of you already, there was no power in the world that could force you to share your Uncle’s bed.

Your second attempt was much more successful. Despite having tensed the muscles of your thigh anticipating pain, it didn’t hurt as much as you expected. Blood rushed out. You grabbed a rag and rubbed it on it. You examined it, coldly. No matter how Valyrian, you bled red, like any Andal.

You schooled yourself into faux embarrassment before you spoke.

“Could you… Husband…. Could you fetch my mother?”

Despite your calculations, you make the mistake regardless. The noun slips from your tongue, unprompted. A slip. The first of many to come. The temperature dropped in the room, Daemon’s anger a near palpable thing.

“Your mother is dead, niece.” He stressed the last word in a way you didn’t like. Despite the door separating the two of you, you could tell his mood had shifted from bad to something much worse. You feared what he might do to you, were you to backtrack in your plan. “Whatever Alicent has been teaching you, you should know you are not hers.”

“Queen Alicent.” You corrected, annoyed. How did he dare criticize the way she had raised you, when there had been literally no one else around up to the task. How did he dare speak down to you, as if you were a simpleton? You fought to keep your tone steady and stomped on the anger bubbling up. “I have… lady troubles.”

“Lady troubles?” Daemon asked, sounding puzzled.

You pondered the merits of skirting around the issue. You weren’t in the mood to enter a euphemism’s discussion, and so, decided to be more graphic.

The bloody rag was held gently between your fingers when you opened the door. No more words were needed. Daemon cursed and went to get your mother.

HE DOESN’T dare ask at first. Daemon understands that women’s bodies work different from his own. He has never bedded one in her moonblood, and doesn’t intend to start with you.

Despite your beauty, Daemon felt oddly disappointed. He had hoped, with you being fully Rhaenyra’s sister and not half, like his younger nephews, that you would be similar to her.

You weren’t. You lacked her fierceness and the respect for your heritage. The only thing Valyrian about you was your looks. You didn’t even have a dragon of your own, and were so damn timid, he might confuse you with a mouse rather than a Princess.

Because of that same reason, he let you be during your moonblood. While Daemon didn’t object to some blood, he doubted you would be the same. Bedding unwilling maidens wasn’t his thing. He preferred his girls willing, be it from the promise of coin or delirious from their own lust.

Somehow, he was getting the feeling you weren’t going to be the second type anytime soon. Every time he attempted to kiss you, you squirmed away, as if he were initiating something sinful and not simply trying to kiss his wife.

“Seven Hells, would it kill you to remain still?” He asked as you nervously avoided his grip on your waist. “I am not trying to initiate anything. I know you are still on your courses. Stand still. I command it.”

“I… I…” You had looked at him, all hesitant eyes. Alicent had done scarcely any things right when raising you, but at least she had instilled you obedience. But blood couldn’t be denied, and every so often your Valyrian nature reared its head. Mostly, playing against Daemon rather than in his favor. Little dragon that you were, you weren’t keen on following orders.

Ah, but bring you a Septa. Then you were jumping out of your seat to offer the damn woman your chair and observing her earnestly for non-verbal cues, tending to her every need like a commoner. Ridiculous.

“The Mother obeys the Father, from what I understand.” Daemon kept his tone matter of fact. He wasn’t certain that the Seven Pointed Star said that, but it sounded right, and it suited him, so he spoke the words with as much conviction as he could muster. In truth, Daemon had never opened the damn book in his life. A waste of time. The Septons he knew were a bunch of cunts and their followers weren’t any better.

“Maidens are supposed to be demure.” You protested. “Not indulge on indecent displays.”

“You are not meant to be a maiden any longer.” He grabbed you by the waist regardless, coaxing you to stroll next to him. “And wives obey their husbands.”

While you remained unconvinced, you allowed him to lead you around the Red Keep’s gardens. He kept a constant stream of chatter, using all his best lines, but you answered in monosyllables. Not only did Daemon wish to cultivate a better relationship with you, but he also wanted to flaunt his new bride. It was only fair that the other cunts here got a look at Targaryen superiority. Kept them from being too uppity.

Like everything else in this marriage, though, that too proved elusive. Soon, whispers began to circulate about his virility. One of your maids had a loose tongue, it seemed. The whole castle was snickering about it not even a week later. You, like usual, were oblivious.

In a fit of anger Daemon would later not be proud of, he got all the little chits whipped. But their attitudes about your moonblood made him begin to suspect something was amiss. A fortnight of bleeding seemed… Strange. While he was never particularly interested in women’s bodies beyond fucking them, something had to be wrong. An inquiry with the Maester proved him right. Apparently, over a week was unusual, a fortnight near impossible.

That night, he sat on the foot of your shared bed, watching you fret around the room. Daemon had asked for shared chambers, thinking it would bring the two of you closer. With his constant exiles and marriages, and the fact that Alicent had coddled you during your whole existence, you were a stranger with a familiar face. He had hoped to entice you by appealing to your curiosity about marital duties. Safe to say, it didn’t work.

You had put up barriers. Both metaphorical and physical ones. Right now, you were at it again. Laying down a towel on your side of the bed and a pillow in the middle of it. As he watched you, he found himself struck by the beauty of your hands. They were firm and precise in their movements, fixing down the towel and then neatly delimiting your side of the bed with the pillow.

You were wearing the most hideous nightshirt know to man, more adequate for a Septa than a newlywed. Slightly bent over, fluffing up your pillows, Daemon noticed that it was as white as fresh snow. Now that he thought of it, all your shifts were. And yet, none of them had ever been stained. Nor had the towel you placed on the bed and loudly proclaimed it was to avoid leakages. An effort to make yourself more unappealing, perhaps?

Somehow, the realization didn’t anger him. Instead, it made him more curious. Was this your way of rebelling? Were you scared? What went on behind your eyes, inside that skull of yours?

“Wife.” Daemon finally spoke, when you were starting to kneel for your nightly prayers. You paused, kneeling gracefully. You looked up at him, all curious eyes and nervous smile. “Have your courses always been this long?”

This time, he watches your reaction closely. During these past days, Daemon has not pressured you about it. But now, he waits on bated breath.

Your eyes widen. The hands you have clasped in prayer get even tighter pressed together.

“Oh, you shouldn’t… These are womanly concerns.” You are a terrible liar. He would laugh, were it not such a cruel thing to do when in the face of a little fool.

“I insist.” Daemon arches an eyebrow at you. You squirm on your knees like there are ants on your shift. You are visibly distraught. Does it pain you, pious girl that you are, to be committing a sin?

“Yes, they are.”

Another lie. He had asked some of the fools in Viserys’ employment. Yours didn’t last more than a week. But Daemon finds all the twitching you are doing entertaining, and so, decides to give you more rope to hang yourself.

“And yet, your father promised that you were fertile.” He drawls, cruel amusement almost leaking into his tone. He can’t help the way his lips twitch. This is too entertaining. It’s like toying with a mouse before eating it.

“I… I am.” You weakly defend yourself. Your face is looking more distressed by the second. And is that..? Oh, wonderful, you are starting to sweat a little.

“No, you are not. You are either lying about that, or about your moonblood.”

“I am not!” You protest, finally getting up from your kneeling position. A shame. You looked positively delicious in your predicament.

“Yes, you are! But I am giving you a chance to tell me the truth. Which one are you lying about?”

“I am not.” You look about to flee the room, so Daemon gets up and places himself on your path. You flinch a bit, but stubbornly refuse to admit the truth. His amusement at your attitude is starting to turn sour. Not only it is unflattering that you are making up excuses to avoid bedding him, but they are so stupid half the court is laughing at him behind his back about it. And you, absolute fool, can’t admit it.

“Wrong answer, niece.” He steps closer, trying to intimidate you. “I know the truth.”

“You do?” You startle. You take a step back, nearly tripping on the hem of that ugly nightgown. Daemon reaches to steady you, his grip on your arms punishingly. You twitch, as if sensing that you are caught in the maws of a hungry beast that could pounce at any moment.

“You are not on your moonblood. You can't be every single day of the moon!” He shakes you a little, making you yelp. But then, the most astounding thing happens. Because instead of going very still, as the frightened bird that you are, you shove him hard.

“What would you know!” You scream at him, pointing one finger at his face. Daemon wishes to say he is unbothered by your hysterics, but instead, he grabs your accusing hand and tugs it. The delicate bones shift inside his hand, threatening to snap, and you're left with no choice but go towards him or break your finger.

Wisely, you choose the second. You are breathing hard, and looking up at him in righteous indignation.

“Brute!”

“I asked your maids.” Daemon smirks at you, something ugly appearing on his face. In truth, whatever you see spooks you because you deflate a little. “So? Shall you tell me the truth? Or must I find it myself?”

He makes it as if to lift your shift. You bat his hand away, hard. Interesting enough, you harden then.

“What else is there to know? Beyond that I am not on my moonblood?”

“We can start with why you lied. Or why you don’t wish to lay with me.” Daemon suggests, gripping you tightly so you cannot escape. He brings his face closer to yours.

Your eyes are wide. Your face is frozen into a terrified expression, like you are realizing all your lies are catching up to you.

“I didn’t want you to force me.” You say, voice barely a whisper. Who do you think he is? Some sort of monster? Your depraved half brother, perhaps? Daemon had already heard the exploits that one was up to. Jerking off in a window, of all things.

“Force you! If I wanted to force you, I could already have.” Daemon rolls his eyes. You were not trained in any sort of combat, and you were the kind who had her head in the clouds more often than not. You were not a match for him. If Daemon wanted to force you, he just had to pin you down or pull out Dark Sister.

You stay quiet, perhaps coming to the same realization. You have gone to bed next to him for nearly two weeks, only in thin shifts. Every day, you have woken up untouched. Doubt starts to cloud up your face, as if you are noticing how vulnerable you truly have been and how well Daemon has behaved.

As if he were going to be deterred by a little blood. He was a true Targaryen. It was in his house’s words. Plenty of maidens bled when being split open on his cock. Your moonblood would not be very different.

Daemon decides to appeal to your more… Hightower side. Perhaps that would get you to yield to him. He uses his more Otto-like tone, trying to sound as cunty as possible.

“It’s your duty.”

You shake your head, frantically.

“We can’t. It's not right. You are my uncle.”

Your words are spoken with such conviction, he has to fight the urge to scream. That was your problem? You? A daughter of the house of the dragon, complaining about incest?

“It is not unprecedented. Our whole line begins because Aegon the conqueror had his sister wives. And then, Maegor married his niece, too.” Daemon’s words are sharp. He lets go of you and starts to pace the room. Good Gods, what had Alicent done to you? Had she twisted your mind so, you now thought marrying him was wrong because you were related?

“And their marriage was cursed. No child was born out of their union.” You reply, with an ugly smile. He wants to slap it out of your little face. Smug little girl, thinking she knows everything about the world.

“Jaehaerys married his sister, the Good Queen Alyssane. They had plenty of children.” He insists, trying to get you to notice the flaws in your argument. Everyone knew that the only way to preserve the Valyrian bloodline was by marrying other Valyrians. Otherwise, the magic in their blood would dilute, and they would no longer be able to claim dragons. It was common sense.

“All of them turned out very… queer.”

“My parents..!” But you interrupt him before he can finish.

“Exceptionally queer, too.”

Daemon feels his face heating up. No one before has managed to infuriate him so. He wants to shake some sense into you. His hands itch for something to punish you with. Impudent little thing, daring to suggest his parents had been queer!

Queer! The queer one here was you! A Targaryen who opposed incest!

“Listen here, you awful little…”

“Stop that. Stop insulting me, by the Seven. You won’t change my mind.” You raise one of your hands, in the universal halt sign. “I will never share your bed.”

At that, Daemon thinks actual steam must be coming out of his ears. Never. As if. You would change your mind, he knows it. No one can resist him for long. He is experienced, charming, and handsome. A prince and a true dragon. What more could anyone want?

He would make you regret your words. He would show you. Under all your repressed, Hightower ways, you were a dragon. Targaryen blood ran thick. Daemon would have you eating out of the palm of his hand before you could realize. Before, he hadn’t really been trying. But now? He was ready for war.

“Come here.” He orders. You stare at him, and do not move. “You will disobey me in this, too?”

You step closer, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“I wish to make a deal.” Daemon says. You cross your arms over your chest. “You don’t have to bed me if you don’t want to. But you will have to give me something in exchange.”

“What?” You tap your foot against the floor, impatiently. Yet your face, as always, betrays you. His offer has made you lower your guard, interested in what he has to say. Probably because you are seeing a way out of this whole issue.

“I want you to let me be as affectionate as I wish with you.”

“Fine.” You snarl at him, trying to look fierce. But you are too new to this game of pretending for Daemon to not see through your mask. You are confused.

He steps closer. He gathers you into his arms, and hugs you.

At first, you tense. Your arms remain glued to your sides, body stiff in his arms. Daemon enjoys the feel of it regardless. You smell like innocence, sweet and young. Your body is soft and feminine, nothing like the hard muscles of his first wife. He allows himself to relax into you.

Eventually, your body sags a bit. You relax into the hug.

“I wish… I wish….” You start speaking, face hidden in his shoulder. Daemon doesn’t let go. His gut tells him that whatever you are going to say, it is important. “I wish I wasn’t ashamed. And that… In our wedding ceremony, I would have liked to know what was being said.”

Daemon’s heart aches. His poor little Hightower, denied of her birthright. And then, a giant grin spreads on his face. Here it was. The opportunity he needed.

“I will teach you.” Daemon whispers, against your hair. He kisses it. It’s a lovely thing, an icy blonde that doesn’t fit your warm personality. Now that you are not fighting him, he is starting to notice you are very sweet natured. “I promise.”

“You will?” You look up at him, wary. “And what will the price be?”

Daemon chuckles.

“No price.” He caresses the bridge of your nose, tracing your features. You seem bashful at the attention, and it is so adorable, he can’t help but kiss you.

You startle. All coltish, you nearly elbow him in your haste to move away.

“What are you doing? We said no bedding!”

“I know.” Daemon smiles at you, indulgently. Now is the time to tread carefully, less you spook, and he ends up losing all his progress. “I just want to kiss my wife. Affection, for the sake of it. Kissing doesn’t need to lead to anything.”

You nod. You don’t seem convinced. But he soon discovers your hesitance comes from something else.

“I have never kissed anyone.” You whisper, almost ashamed.

“Then let me teach you that too.” And he is leaning in, and capturing your mouth with his.

“I GOT you something.” Daemon suddenly says, one morning. You lift your gaze from your book, an historic account about the doom of old Valyria, and watch him with curious eyes.

Your husband is carrying a bundle of cloth on his arms. He is back from his usual shenanigans in the city. Betting and drinking, but no longer any whoring, he assures you. The Lord of Flea Bottom is no more, or so he says.

It is quite early. You have just broke your fast with your mother, after the two of you did your morning prayers together. It is a ritual you find great comfort in, despite Daemon doing his best to discourage you. He doesn’t like that you worship the Faith of the Seven.

He has grown slightly more tolerant of Alicent as time goes by. You cannot say the same for her. Despite the fact that Daemon treats you well, she still can’t seem to get over the fact that he is Daemon Targaryen, the same man who had terrorized her father, courted her best friend and possibly murdered his last wife.

The bundle of clothes moves in Daemon’s arms. You place your book down, and creep closer, wondering about its contents. It’s then that you hear it. A soft, quiet mewl.

A grin spreads across your face. You cross the distance between the two of you, and watch as a small paw reaches out from the cloth, flexing its tiny claws. It is covered in white fur, the cushions on the bottom of it a soft pink.

“A kitten!” You say, delighted. You take it from Daemon and cradle it against you. The kitten can’t be older than a few weeks. His eyes are already open, a cloudy gray that takes your breath away. It’s love at first sight. “Oh, husband, thank you!”

“I saw it when I was coming back this morning. Thought you would like the damn thing.” Daemon says, gruffly. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“I will name him… Quicksilver!” You say, cheerily. It makes his lips twitch a bit, unable to hide his amusement. This week, Daemon has been helping you practice your High Valyrian by reading a more recent text, accounting the times of King Aerys.

The language practice has brought the two of you closer. You are no longer as resentful or scared of him as you once were. You spend nearly all your evenings with him, pouring over gigantic tomes written in the language of your ancestors. Daemon patiently corrects your pronunciation, teaching you the right way of rolling the vocals, and how to accentuate your consonants.

You would have never thought you would enjoy learning so much. He is a very compelling teacher, clearly passionate about the subject yet stern enough to make you do all your assignments before their due date. Daemon is patient and encouraging, willing to explain things to you over and over again until you understand them fully.

The kitten yawns, showing a row of tiny white teeth and a pink tongue. You coo.

“Tiny but fierce.” Daemon smirks. “The Seven preserve us all.”

“How pious.” You tease, and Daemon steps closer. He grabs your waist and pulls you in for a kiss, Quicksilver still in your arms.

Despite having kissed him many times before now, you feel as weak to his advances as you had felt the first time he had kissed you. Daemon kisses like he is conquering, nipping at your lower lip until you open for him, and taking complete ownership of your mouth. His hands grasp at your nape, holding you against him. There is no escape from his kisses, and it fills you with a thrill you had never expected to feel before. Daemon wants you. He desires you, as a man desires a woman. There is no headier feeling than that.

At first, you had thought he was lonely. Why else would he ask for affection, when he was able to ask for anything else from you? That night, when he had found out you had been lying to him, Daemon could have asked for anything, done anything to you. Not a man in the realm would have judged him for it.

His behavior after that only seemed to confirm it. When the two of you were in public, his hands would linger on you, as if fearing you would leave his side. When someone told a funny joke, his eyes would seek yours before laughing, making sure you were still there.

It was an urge you understood too well. Abandonment was something you had learned to fear as well. Your mother had left you unwillingly. Your father and sister had both been eager to wash their hands from you. You guessed Daemon’s life had been a bit like that, too. From what you had heard, his mother had passed when he was a child. Your father had grown tired of him. And your sister… Well. That had been his fault.

When you grew up like that, you clung to every kindness, to every slice of warmth you could get. It was no wonder Daemon clung to you as hard as he did. It was difficult to live like that, not knowing what kindness feels like, grasping desperately to any scraps of it until you can almost piece together what the real thing feels like.

Despite having all reasons not to, Daemon’s attention never turned suffocating. Perhaps, you too, were starved for affection. You had gone your whole life with no positive male attention, being overshadowed by your sister and forced into almost a Septa-like life by your mother. His touches were never beyond the proper attention a man would show his wife in public. It felt almost… fatherly.

As a child, your father had never sat with you, or listened to anything you said. Daemon, instead, seemed to pay close attention to everything you did or told him. He sat for hours with you, pouring over myths and historical accounts, correcting your pronunciation of High Valyrian, teaching you the meaning behind old rituals.

It was as if a door had been opened for you. One you could use to glimpse inside his mind, and your father’s and even Rhaenyra’s. You understood now much more about how they behaved, and why they did. You didn’t necessarily agree, but you understood.

Some confusing feelings had begun to arise with all this new information stuffed into your head. You liked Daemon’s attention. He was charming, and it made you feel good about yourself, being able to keep someone as worldly and cultured as him interested in you. It made you wish, sometimes, to have been his daughter instead of King Viserys’. But at the same time, the way you felt and the things you did with him weren’t the kind of things you imagined daughters feeling for their parents.

When Daemon kissed you, as he did now, you felt your stomach swoop. His skilled mouth made your skin tingle, and all your hairs stand up on edge. It made you feel ashamed of yourself. You weren’t supposed to feel such things for your uncle. No matter how Valyrian, it was just not right.

What made you feel even more ashamed was the fact that sometimes, when he kissed you for too long, the place between your legs would get slick with arousal. You wanted him too, you realized, with the utmost horror. You wanted him like a woman desires a man. A wife desires her husband.

It is then the game starts. Daemon kisses you, and you kiss back, eagerly exploring his mouth and learning how to play his game. You make out with him for what feels like hours, until you feel drunk from his kisses and become as pliant and soft as clay being molded in his hands. It is then that you let him touch you a bit more, push the boundaries your previous truce has set. His hands grasp at your hips, his lips mouth at your neck. And when the edge of your shift starts to ride up, or his lips trail too close to the neckline of it, you jolt out of your stupor.

Shame licks at your spine, grabs tightly at the back of your head. Makes you stiffen under him, body set into a hard line. How can you be so wanton? Why do you behave in such whorish ways? You struggle then, overcome by the embarrassment you feel at your own behavior.

Daemon tries to subdue you. Sometimes, you fold, other times you spend the night tossing and turning on the bed, trying to get the upper hand. Sometimes, he wins, and pins you down on the mattress. But instead of forcing you, he kisses you again and the game begins anew.

You spend the nights like this. Kissing and struggling with anxious violence, until it has begun to replace the act of love. You can tell Daemon enjoys your struggles, the feel of your buttocks against his clothed crotch. You can feel the weight of him against your hip, burning hot and hard.

Eventually, he tires and heads out. You don’t know if he pleasures himself then, or if he just ignores his arousal until it goes away. You prefer the second when it comes to yourself. For hours, you stare at the ceiling, willing the heat in your blood to go away. Sleeps evades you, yet when it does not, it feels even more torturous. You dream of him, of the act, conjuring lewd positions and thoughts, until morning comes, and you feel like you have not slept at all.

This precarious balance could never last. You are not good at the court’s games, having been a wallflower most of your life. You are a stranger to waging tongues, and malicious comments, but Daemon is not. He is doomed to always be the center of attention, this husband of yours.

Someone notices that almost three moons after marriage, you are still a maiden And someone remembers Daemon’s lack of children with his first wife. One plus one makes two.

He comes to find you in the Royal Sept, as you are lighting candles with your mother. He grabs you briskly by the arm and drags you away, the match still alight between your fingers.

“Have you heard?” Daemon asks, breathless. It is clear that he has rushed to you. “What they are saying about me?”

You shake your head.

“How would I?” You are, after all, as isolated as you were before the wedding. Your only companions are Quicksilver, Daemon, your mother, and your siblings. And Aegon is at that terrible age, where he behaves like a little deviant. The others are too young to provide true companionship, Helaena stuck on her imaginary worlds and Aemond not quite a boy, not yet a man.

“They say I am impotent. That your womb has not quickened because I have not taken you. Because I am unable to.” The crude words Daemon speaks make your eyes widen. You have grown protected from the nastier side of court life, forgotten as you were. You cannot believe how someone would dare comment on a married couple’s bedroom activities, which are meant to be one of the more sacred things to happen between man and wife according to the Seven. Much less, how someone would dare to utter such poisonous slander.

“We know it’s not the truth.” You place your hand on his arm, trying to soothe his wounded pride. Daemon is, above all, impulsive. You fear he is about to do something rash, even if you do not imagine yet what.

Isn’t it enough that the two of you know the courtiers are in the wrong? You have felt the press of his member, hard against your hip, in the nights the two of you struggle. You have felt his hips rutting against yours, as his kisses mapped unknown constellations on your shoulders. What does it matter if Daemon hasn’t taken you? How can these people dare interfere, or even mention what the two of you do or do not do?

Shame, once again, grips you in its clutches. You feel your face warm at the thought of how these strangers must view you. Queer. Twisted. You wonder if they blame his inability to perform on your blood ties. If they think the Seven are cursing your marriage, just as they had with the ones of King Maegor.

“It isn’t.” Daemon says, coldly. He walks away, a tense line on his shoulders, and you walk back inside the Sept.

Alicent is still lighting candles. You sense that there are not enough of them to make a difference for what is about to happen.

That night, a disgruntled looking Harwin Strong wakes you up. He tells you how he is there to supervise your packing. You are leaving the city, he explains, to your bewilderment. Effective immediately.

As you place your dresses inside some linens, and ready Quicksilver, you manage to coax the story out of him.

Daemon had been at his usual haunt in Flea Bottom, betting on some cockfights. You could picture the scene clearly. Daemon, lazily counting his winnings with that infuriating smug look he got when he was proud of himself. An angry patron, getting up and on his face after losing to him.

“Maybe that cock will work for your wife!”

The whole establishment erupting into laughter. Daemon, cold smile on his lips.

“Go to your manse, and arm yourself. Because I am going to kill you tonight.”

After that, there was little he could say in his own defense to King Viserys. It had been a premeditated act, in front of multiple witnesses. No way of denying it, or trying to shift the blame.

You stood outside the city gates, observing Caraxes. He looked as done with Daemon’s antics as you felt. In front of you, stood the world.

Daemon strode by, being dragged by Ser Harwin. He was chained, but managed to look as carefree as any free man.

“You know the rules.” Ser Harwin said, unchaining him, before turning towards you. There was a bit of sorrow in his brown eyes, perhaps feeling pity for you. “Farewell, Princess.”

“Where to, Lady Wife?” Daemon asked, cheekily. There was no hint of remorse on his face. It seemed exile reinvigorated him like nothing else.

Your lips pursed into a thin line. You didn’t want to leave. It was scary, the thought of being away from home. The times you had been outside the Red Keep could be counted with the fingers of your hands alone. And what were you to do, friendless in the big world that opened in front of you?

You wanted to punish him. If he was giving you a choice, you were going to give him a lesson.

“To the North. Perhaps that hot blood of yours will fare better there.”

“ARE YOU sure?” You ask him, all pleading eyes. Daemon nods, already sitting inside the hot spring. You are strangely fearful of the warm water, perhaps, having already grown used to the cold of the North.

“If this scalds me alive, I will come back to haunt you.” You warn, turning to face away before beginning to undress. Daemon can’t help but let his eyes linger on your body, despite knowing how indignant it would get you were you to notice. He has promised to avert his eyes, after all.

Naive as you are, you never check to see that he actually does.

He watches as you remove your furs, and unlace your dress. It has taken him quite some effort to get you to feel comfortable enough to be naked in his presence. There might come a day when you are desensitized to nakedness, but Daemon guesses you are still far away from it. He has to keep trying.

You are worth the effort, though. His precious niece, sweet as the Maiden herself and twice as pretty.

“Dragons don’t burn.” He answers, absentmindedly. You are only wearing your chemise and your hoses, and as you lean down to remove those, he gets a perfect view of your cute rear.

“Perhaps. But I am no dragon.” You pull the chemise over your head, unaware of the fact that you are being watched. Daemon drinks in the sight of your naked legs, strong yet delicate, leading up to beautiful hips and a soft back. As you pull your hair up, he notices how the muscles of your arms and back move in a graceful combination that can’t be anything more but a natural gift. He spends a few seconds mesmerized by you, before you start to turn around and Daemon remembers he is supposed to be averting his eyes.

He fixes them politely on the other side of the hot spring, careful to not let you catch him looking out of the corner of his eyes. You are becoming sloppy in your old age, he scolds himself. Daemon can't help it. Lately, he feels more like the boy he once was than the man he is. His attempts at seduction are fumbled, he gets carried away by his passion, a single one of your smiles can render him tongue twisted.

Everything that you do is charming. The slight sway of your hips as you walk, the way your eyes light up when you laugh, but most of all, your personality. Freed from the cage of Alicent’s judgmental stares, you seem to be growing into yourself. Life on the road seems to suit you, despite your fearful nature. Surrounded by strangers, you no longer feel the weight of being judged for imaginary sins.

“You are. Just one with a more…. Fragile constitution.” How he wishes to be able to turn back time, sometimes. Gather the girl you once were into his arms and soothe all the old hurts. Raise you the right way, give you all the attention you had desperately needed and watch you bloom into an impressive woman. You were already a creature of impossible beauty. How much better could you have been, if they hadn’t stunted your growth?

You were too much of a Hightower, Daemon himself had thought once. But Alicent had thought you not Hightower enough, and she had tried to mold you into one, keeping you well away from what she thought of as queer customs.

Who had told you weren't a dragon? And how had they made that awful lesson stick, until you felt adrift, and belonged nowhere?

The sudden sound of water shifting, and you hissing makes him jolt out of his contemplation. Daemon turns his head the barest bit, managing to catch sight of your hips sinking into the water, and the shape of one of your breasts. There is one puffy nipple crowning it, hard and proud and begging to be bitten. He fights the urge to pounce on you, and instead remains sitting on his side of the natural pool and tries to relax into the warm water. Patience is of the essence in seduction, after all. You need to come to him convinced it is your idea.

“Ready.” You say, sounding a bit too close. He turns and there you are, right in front of him. You sit on the shallower end, water covering you to nearly your collarbones. Daemon playfully reaches out with his foot and touches your leg, making you jump. He laughs.

“It isn’t so bad, is it?” Daemon’s voice still carries a bit of mirth. He can’t help it, you have such cute reactions.

“No. Almost like a warm bath.” You fan your face with your hands. Seeing you lose your composure a little, Daemon feels a bit guilty about pressuring you to enter the pool. It’s true you are not as used to extreme heat as he is. He rushes to your side, uncaring of his own nakedness.

“Too hot?” He asks you, wiping away a stray drop of sweat before it can get into your eyes. You mumble something incoherent, so he presses a hand to your forehead. He doesn’t want you to swoon from heat exhaustion, out of all things. But your temperature is normal. It is then he realizes your eyes are fixated on his chest.

Ah. Poor thing. Daemon can feel his lips stretching into a proud smile. Finally, succumbing to your lust. He should press his advantage, but he finds himself hesitating to do so. Despite how appealing he finds you, he understands that you are different. A being that walks the world of the divine and the mundane that skirts the two but was not made for the more carnal things.

Instead, he commits the sight to memory, for when he decides to touch himself. Perhaps tonight, even. It is something he has been doing more and more often. Daemon has found intercourse with whores is nowhere near as fun as laying on the bed, with you by his side, and tugging at his cock until completion.

He is never quiet about what he is doing. Soft grunts and moans fill your chambers each time he does. You pretend to be asleep, but Daemon can tell you are listening. The next day, you turn fevered with lust. It is you who kisses him, who rakes her claws along his back.

There is no consummation yet. But it is becoming clearer than once fully freed from the judgment of your family, there will be.

You sway slightly. Daemon opens his arms, and lets you curl into him. He guides the two of you into a sitting position, placing you firmly on his lap. Your hair falls into a mess of curls thanks to the humidity, up do barely resisting. He fixes it for you, tightening the ribbon keeping it up. Then, he starts massaging your neck and shoulders.

The pleasure of your bare skin under his hands is undescribable. It’s a luxury he has worked hard to get, and for that, tastes even sweeter. Your sweet little face is scrunched up, in a rare show of pain and pleasure. Daemon wonders if it is the face you would make when he spears you open on his cock.

An annoying hardness begins to make itself known in his groin. He feels like a mere boy, getting excited about the smallest touch. You are driving him mad. And Daemon is enjoying every second of it.

Almost as if listening to his inner monologue, you shift on his lap. Something seems to be bothering you. You can’t get comfortable, and you squirm on his lap more than a seasoned whore. Daemon can pinpoint the exact moment you notice what you are squirming on. Your eyes go wide and you freeze. An embarrassed look takes over your face.

He fights the urge to laugh, wrapping his arms more firmly around you and encouraging to rest against his chest. Daemon could spend years like this. Denial is a fun game. Months have passed, and he has yet to grow tired of it, of taking away your innocence little by little.

You lean in. You give him a playful little smile, and you bite, hard. The pain from your teeth blooms on his shoulder, making his cock throb.

“Impudent little thing.” He chastises, softly. “I should spank the defiance out of you.”

You laugh. You have come to realize that he is not as much of a brute as everyone painted him to be, and that he is too soft to make good on his threat. Ever since your argument, Daemon has never hurt you. He likes you too much for it. He wouldn’t force you to bed him, nor would he willingly do anything to upset you. Not even if you announced you didn’t want him touching you ever again.

Was this what love felt like, he wondered? Being happy with just sharing the same air you did, watching you play with your cat, being honored that he was trusted enough to feed the damn thing?

It probably was. But hell, if he was going to let it stop this corruption of your innocence. No. Instead, Daemon grabbed you by the shoulders and bit down on the hollow of your throat, playfully. You made a small sound, like a caught animal. He could tell you were getting ready to succumb to pleasure once more. His hedonist little wife, always ready to be put in a kiss drunk state. You turned liquid in his arms when it happened, going lax over him.

Daemon could tease you some more. Or… He leans in, breathing in your scent, before blowing a giant raspberry by the side of your neck. You shriek in laughter, squirming on his lap. Water is sent flying everywhere. He peppers your face and neck in kisses as you do, laughing st your squeals and squirming.

“Daemon.” You say, after a while, when the both of you have calmed down. Your head rests on his shoulder, expression hidden.

“Little niece.” He whispers, and you tremble at the endearment.

“I have decided something.” You whisper back. Somehow, your voice feels loud in the cave of the hot spring, nothing but the soft murmur of water being heard.

“You have?” Daemon asks, heart thumping in his chest as if he has just taken to the skies in Caraxes. He pulls you out of hiding, lifting your head towards him.

“I want to marry you right.” You say, shyly. You look deeply embarrassed. “Under my faith. So we can…” You trail off, averting your eyes.

“So we can..?” Daemon asks, feeling a triumphant grin spread over his face.

“Have a child.”

And oh, it is the most wonderful thing he has even heard. He will buy you a cloak, and a couple of ribbons for the hand fasting. He will find the two of you a home. Daemon says all this, as he presses his forehead against yours. Not even his conquest of the Stepstones felt as sweet.

205 notes · View notes

multi-kpop-fanfics · 21 hours

Note

thinking about being fuckbuddies and housemates with cheol who is in a frat and popular af. one night at a frat party he flirts with another girl way too much and reader doesn't like it so she takes gyu back to her room and they fuck VERY LOUDLY cuz cheol is right next door. and that's where my imagination stopped working and i need you to elaborate for me!

tw: fratboy!cheol, fratboy!mingyu, college student fem!reader (an adult and she's wearing a skirt), degradation, jealous sex, rough sex, bulge kink, mean dom!cheol, bratty!reader, unprotected sex (pls stay safe), fwb!au - minors dni.

@wongyuseokie this is all your fault

"Cheol, open the goddamn door!" Mingyu keeps banging his fist on the door, "She doesn't even want you, man, give her back!"

Meanwhile, you're laid on Seungcheol's bed, your shirt wide open and skirt flipped over, panties torn and thrown in the trash - except it was Mingyu who did it.

"Look what you have done with your stupid little games." The red haired man hovers above you, half naked.

"If you hadn't gone and flirted with that bitch, none of that would have happened." You snap at him.

"If you could keep it in your skirt and didn't let Mingyu of all people fuck you, neither of us would be mad."

"What, do you hate him because he's hotter and bigger than you? Is that it, Cheol?" You smirk and he clenches his jaw tight.

He gets up and opens the nightstand, taking out all of the condoms he stores in there. He walks to the door, unlocking it and flinging it open.

"Took you some damn time, asshole." Mingyu attempts to walk inside, but Seungcheol pushes him away, strongly enough for his back to crash on the other end of the corridor.

"Hands off my fuck buddy, Kim. Go find someone else to stick your dick in. Oh, and take these," he throws the condoms at the taller man, "She likes it when I fuck her raw."

Seungcheol slams the door shut behind him.

"Lock it." You tell him with a demanding tone and he does as you say, but you know that's all you're gonna get with this attitude.

"I'm really mad at you, Y/N." He unbuckles his pants and slides them along with his boxers, just enough to let his thighs and cock free, "Letting another man fuck your cunt and tear your panties, while you know we had established some rules."

"Rules are meant to be broken, Cheol." You tease him again.

"Then I guess I have to break you and remind you of your place."

He aligns his tip with your hole and pushes in with a fluid motion, a high pitched whine spilling from your lips.

"He's a good pussy stretcher, I'll give him that - Although I wish I was the one who stretched you out in the first place." Seungcheol groans and puts your ankles on his shoulders, hands gripping your waist.

He angles his hips upwards and thrusts slowly yet with brute force, again and again, until he notices the rise and fall of a bump on your pelvis.

"A-Ah, fuck, Cheol- My tummy-" You whimper repeatedly and he grabs your hand, putting it directly over said bump.

"Your tummy is full of my cock, princess." Seungcheol changes to a much slower, excruciating pace, but with enough force to make you bulge up, "Bet that idiot couldn't even use his big fat dick to do that - all muscle and no goddamn brains."

"As if your IQ is Nobel-worthy or something- Fuck!"

"My IQ isn't Nobel-worthy, but I do have the best stroke in the whole campus." He grins like a wolf.

"C-Confirmed by who?"

He bends his torso down, the ends of his red hair barely touching your face.

"You, obviously."

#svthub #scoups smut #seungcheol smut #svt scoups #choi seungcheol #svt smut #seventeen smut #seventeen #answered✨

332 notes · View notes

mrsparrasblog · 2 days

Text

You're Losing Me Pt.3 POLY 141 x Reader

TW: angst, mentioned rape, mentioned drug abuse, violence, alcoholism, crying, manipulation

prev part first part. next part

Wrapped around with a blanket, you lay on the couch singing all the breakup songs you know, pathetically. You didn't talk to your friends, called in sick at work, and haven't left the apartment since it happened. The only thing you had was Winston, the Taylor Swift vinyl on repeat that Johnny gifted you, and a cheap red wine that tasted like ass. You ordered some pizza so that something else keeps you company. When the bell rang, you didn't bother to put on a nice outfit. You went out with your tangled hair, your puffy swollen eyes, and Simon's ratty t-shirt that you couldn’t bother to throw away; it just smelled like comfort to you.

You were surprised when you saw, instead of the delivery guy, Kyle in front of your house. He looked so unlike Kyle. He didn't have that cheeky smile you loved, and his clean pretty boy aesthetic was gone. His white shirt was full of blood, his jaw bruised, and your heart broke. That was your man - was.

"Do you want to collect your stuff?" You asked, it hurt you so bad to ask, but you needed to be strong. You didn't want to be like your mom who stayed with your Dad despite how often he cheated on her. You were strong and independent before you met them, you can reach this again.

"Babe, please."

"Don't do this to me, Kyle," don't make me love you, don’t make me forgive you.

"Can I see at least Winston?" He asked, and that was a thing you couldn't deny. It was his dog too after all. You remembered how you rescued him together from a dog shelter. Everyone else would have said no, but Kyle loved animals just as much as you do. So you adopted that corgi, and you can regret many things but not your loyal dog.

"Come in," you said, not bothering to apologize for the mess.

When Winston saw him, he jumped immediately on Kyle, and this made you smile for the first time in days. "What happened to your face?"

"Got in some fights around the base."

"Kyle, you never get into fights with coworkers. Look, just because we're not a thing anymore doesn’t mean you need to sabotage your own life. Things like breakups happen, and I'm sure you will find a lovely girl." Your heart ached just thinking about them with another girl, all sharing and loving how they loved you.

"Don't want anyone else."

"Kyle."

"I mean it, I love you, and not just a bit. I know you're the right one. Tell me what you want, and I'll do it. Want me to quit the military? Easy. Want to punish me? Hurt me? I don’t care. Want to never touch me again? Fine, I'll live my life without sex just to have you. Want me to marry you? Done. Why wait? Do you want me to kill that slag? I'll do it. You don’t understand it; there is no such thing as too much for you. There isn’t a thing I wouldn’t do for you."

You were too stunned to speak, but by the look in his eyes, you knew he meant every word of it. He really loved you. But how could you trust him again? And John, you knew Kyle loved John, maybe not as much as you, but you were no one to separate them. That wasn’t fair.

"Let me clean the blood from your nose, Kyle." You stood up, ignoring the things he said, and went to the bathroom, grabbing alcohol and one of Kyle's spare t-shirts, inhaling the scent as you sobbed into it.

"Love—"

"Let me clean you."

He picked you up, sitting you down at the sink, where you slowly cleaned his wounds. Your breath felt heavy every second you got near his lips.

"Tell me you don't love me, and I'll never bother you again."

"Kyle, I can't lie to you."

You cleaned him and gave him his new shirt, but you couldn’t let him leave.

"Kyle, I love you, but I love all of you so much that I can't let you choose between me and John. You love him, I know that, and it's okay. I understand."

"John didn’t cheat on you; it was Johnny."

"Don't lie to me."

"I'd never lie to you. He just knew we couldn’t live without you, and you know how selfless he is."

"I thought he cheated." You started to sob again. "I screamed at him, told him how much I hate him, and he wasn’t at fault." You felt like a monster for your feelings.

"He understands."

"How does he hold up?" You knew John was never someone who shared your feelings.

"Locked himself in the office, drinking for days, doesn’t even speak with me."

"Let me fix this."

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

John thought he was hallucinating when you went into his office with the spare key you had. It was too good to be true to see his angel again, but you weren’t real. He needed to stop drinking.

"I'm so sorry, John," you said over and over again, walking towards him, where you sat in your reserved place, on his lap, and slowly removing the glass out of his help. "I'm sorry, John. I don’t hate you, I’d never hate you."

"Cheated on you, deserve it."

"I know it was Johnny."

"Lie."

"Kyle told me."

"Oh."

"Can you forgive me, John?"

"Of course, lovely," he laled and smiled.

"Let me get you in your room, okay, and sober you up." He nodded, and you brought him to his room. You still weren’t sure what to do. Will you forgive them? Will you forgive Johnny?

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

"Lea mah room, slag," Johnny screamed at the medic. He had enough of her and her manipulative acts, how she went into his room and touched him in training. It was enough.

"Don't be so harsh; I'm your girlfriend, after all," she smiled. She was sick fucking delusional.

"Youre nae mah burd ah tellt ye this often enough," he pressed his hands together, his knuckles white from rage. If he was a worse man, he’d kill her on the spot. But he needed her to make a mistake, so there would be proof of her lying.

"Not so aggressive, Johnny, this isn’t good for our baby."

"Are you mental? There is no fucking baby. You raped me three days ago. Aren’t you supposed to be a medic and know how this shit works?"

"There will be, and then we'll be happy."

"You're sick. This will never happen."

"Oh, there will, or you know I could tell anyone how you raped me and dared to kill me after your girlfriend found out."

"No one will believe you."

"They will."

And there was a knock on the door. He left her in the room, telling her it was probably only a rookie. He was surprised when he saw you. Even though you looked broken, you were still the most precious thing in his life. He wanted to hug you, tell you the truth.

"I know it was you, Johnny," you started to cry you never thought Johnny would do such a thing to you."

"Hen, please."

You hugged him tight, which caught him by surprise, but he held you through it. "Tell me why, Johnny. Please, let me know what I did to deserve this." His heart broke with every word you said. He desperately wanted to explain to you that you could never do anything wrong in his life, but the shame ate him up. Would you understand? Would you believe him?

"Tell me you won't do it again, Johnny. Tell me you regret it, that it didn't mean a thing. I'll forgive you, please, Johnny."

"Look, hen—" But before he could finish his sentence, the medic left the room wearing only one of his shirts.

"What are you doing here? I thought you’d broken up with that bore."

You noticed the shirt, the ruffled hair, and the bracelet you gifted Johnny that she wore. "Johnny, why is she wearing your shirt? Why does she have my bracelet?"

"Love, don't believe—"

"Oh, you're not only a bore, you're also dense, aren't you?"

That was enough to finally break you. You walked away, screaming at Johnny that he should leave you alone, running into Simon on your way out.

"Luv?"

"Stay away from me, Si," and he respected your wish, giving you the time to heal you need. He finally found Johnny in a screaming match with the medic. When she saw him, she gave Johnny a peck on his cheek and left with a sly smile.

Johnny was never a man to cry until that day. He didn't know how his life went so downhill in a few days.

"Johnny?"

"Go away, Lt."

"Johnny, tell me what's wrong."

"You wouldn't believe me. No one would."

"Let me decide that. Let's get you in your room and talk." His heart broke seeing Johnny like that, and he knew whatever it was, he would fix it for him.

274 notes · View notes

myimaginarywonderland · 1 day

Text

I truly want Eddie and Buck to fight.

Mainly because I have wanted Buck to blow up at someone from the 118 for years. I get that apparently there were off-screen apologies but the way every single member treated Buck when he got a lawyer, the way everyone has dismissed Buck's trauma before that, the way Buck was literally punshed by Chim, the way Buck's has (nearly) died multiple times and the trauma of that is never really acknowledged, the way Buck was sexually assaulted and everyone joked about it, the way Buck has had so much shit just put on him unknowingly sometimes by them, yes, I want Buck to snap.

I want Buck to finally stand up to someone and tell them that it's not okay, that what he went through wasn't okay and that he needed his family with him when they weren't.

I need Buck to finally see "I deserved better" and have someone show him he deserves better (aka Tommy.)

I need someone to finally be in Buck's corner, to tell him that what he went through wasn't okay and that he doesn't need to get over it because you just don't get over some traumas.

I need Buck to finally have a moment where he is allowed to be angry, where he is allowed to feel his emotions, where he is allowed to hurt and someone is immediately there to catch him, to be beside him.

I need Buck to finally be allowed to be proud of his work, to finally understand how much he has done as a firefighter when he didn't even have to, to understand that he can be more, that he is allowed to want more.

I need Buck to finally be allowed to go on a pathway up the FD ladder because he deserves it, he has earned himself the opportunity to get a chance to prove himself.

I need this season to finally lay the groundwork to Buck's full potential as a character, as a love interest, as firefighter. I need this to be the start of his true growth where he is finally allowed to want things and to get the things, the happy ending, that he always wanted for himself.

I need this to be a turning point for Buck where we finally see him settle into himself and I truly believe that for that to start he needs to let go of some unspoken things, he needs to be allowed to feel and to be angry at his family without knowing if he will have support.

And I need Buck to be the one to finally make Eddie realise how incredibly toxic and dangerous his behaviour is because no one else will probably get through to him. I also need Buck to understand that healing Eddie, that helping Eddie, can only go so far and that this is something that he can't fix because it's not his to fix.

I need Buck, the one person who always wants to help, who does everything to help, who will do anything to try to fix something, I need that Buck to be held and to be told that not everyone can accept his help. I need that Buck to be loved while someone tells him that Buck matters too, that Buck can not destroy himself for someone who might not even be ready to heal. I need Evan, the kid who always felt like something was wrong and that he had to make up for it, to be looked at and to be promised that he is enough, that just being him is enough and that he doesn't need to be more than that.

And yeah, if I think that Tommy can do that, then yeah, I need Tommy to be there while Buck is slowly realising that he matters too, that he deserves to be happy too.

#911 abc #evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #kinley #tevan

175 notes · View notes

catmiemy · 2 days

Text

Another Chance to Live Part 1 (Ana Maria Crnogorčević x Reader)

Summary: Ana and you are both struggling with unwanted transfers, but maybe you can at least find happiness off the pitch.

A/N: This is the first part of a story I've been working on for a while. I guess my way of processing my emotions about Ana's transfer. I've been in the denial stage for a long time 😅

The next two chapters are already written (just need to edit them) and so far it's a total of about 13k words. I'm now at a crossroad which will decide how long the story becomes. So I thought I'd publish the first part and see how much interest there is in a story like this to help me decide.

It felt like a cruel joke of the universe that now, now when you had been forced to leave, the woman you’ve had a crush on for years, joined your team, or well your former team. Words that made your heart crack a little more every time you thought them. Never in a billion years had you expected your team to become your former team.

Ever since you had first laid eyes on Ana you had been dazzled by her, not necessarily only by her looks, although you definitely enjoyed them, but also by her personality and her aura. She always radiated so much kindness and positive energy. It was impossible not to be drawn to her.

Sadly your paths didn’t cross all too often and when they did, Ana was always somewhere in the heart of whatever group you were part of, while you were lingering on the edges, looking in. So the Swiss woman was probably only vaguely aware of your existence, while you soaked up every detail you could find about Ana. The more you learnt, the more you liked her.

And yes, sometimes when you lay in bed at night you made up little scenarios how the two of you would meet. One of your favorite ones was Ana coming to Atleti, not really knowing her way around Madrid yet, so you take her under your wing and show her everything. And of course she starts falling for you as you spend so much time together. It was your imagination after all, so you could day dream all you wanted.

Now part of this little fantasy was actually coming true, Ana really was joining Atlético, and it frustrated you to no end that now that she came, you were gone. Although perhaps it wasn’t the universe being cruel towards you, maybe it was protecting you because even if you played for the same team there was no way the Swiss woman would ever go for someone like you.

Still, you spent a good amount of time fuming about it in your apartment. Possibly also because it was easier to focus on that rather than on the fact that your childhood club had just dropped you like you meant nothing. Every time you remembered the conversation with the club’s managers you felt like throwing up, hiding under the covers for the rest of your life, and ripping off your ears so you didn’t have to listen to one more word from them. So yeah, it was comforting in a weird way to think about your missed chance with Ana, especially since it never had been much of a chance anyway.

It was harder to hold on to that strange comfort when training actually started and you had to go to Real Madrid’s training center every day. Most days were spent attempting to do your best and keep your negative emotions in check, while thinking nonstop about how much you hated this, how much you wanted to return to Atelti, how much you wanted to leave Madrid altogether.

So all in all you weren’t having the best time, barely getting by was actually a more accurate way to describe it. Then a few weeks after the season started you got a call from Lola.

“Sooo I heard you’re doing a lot of moping these days,” she teased you.

However there was an underlying note of worry in her voice. You had done your best to pretend as if Atleti’s decision hadn’t hurt you, that these things happen in football, and you were completely fine with it, but Lola had seen right through it.

“I’m not moping, I’m just quiet and focused like usual,” you quickly defended yourself. It was only partially true, you hated every single second you spent at the training center of Real Madrid.

“That’s not what I’ve heard, but how about you convince me over a cup of coffee. Maybe tomorrow afternoon?”

You didn’t even question how Lola knew that you had the day off tomorrow, apparently she had some spies at Real. As much as you didn’t want to continue talking about the misery that was your new club, you did want to see your friend, so you agreed.

“I might ask some other people if they want to tag along. Everyone misses you,” Lola continued, making you happy and sad at the same time. It was nice to be missed, but you wished you weren’t in a position where you could be missed.

Before you could hang up, Lola told you to bring “your moping buddy Misa”, then she ended the call with a cackle, not giving you any chance to retaliate. In all honesty there was some truth to it, both you and Misa were unhappy at Real, so it wasn’t surprising that she was the only person you had really bonded with so far.

Going by Lola’s words you expected a big group the next day when you entered the café you had agreed upon. What you found however were merely three people, Lola, Misa and no one other than Ana.

Suddenly your stomach was filled with butterflies flapping their wings wildly, making you somewhat nauseous as a result. You hadn’t expected this and you weren’t prepared for it at all. If it wouldn’t have been incredibly rude you would have walked right back out of the café.

Instead you walked over to the small group, doing your best impression of a friendly smile. You could have sworn you saw a knowing glint in both Misa’s and Lola’s eyes. There was no way they knew about your crush though, right?

Lola jumped up when she saw you, hugging you tightly. “It’s good to see you, chica, I’ve missed you,” she told you.

You had to blink a couple of times to chase away the tears burning in your eyes. There was no denying that you had missed her too, all of your former teammates really. You longed to be back at Atlético, and not only because Ana was there.

Right, Ana.

You extracted yourself from your friend and smiled at the blonde. Should you hug her as well? Or greet her with kisses on the cheeks? That’s exactly why you should have been informed that Ana would be there, so that you could think this over beforehand. Or, well, over think it.

Unlike you Ana knew exactly what to do; she got up, greeted you kindly and gave you a quick hug. “It’s nice to see you again, Y/N. We’ve never had much of a chance to talk, so I’m glad we get one now.”

For a few seconds too long you started at her. You were torn between awe, and a little bit of envy, at how easily the Swiss woman had navigated this greeting, and shock. She remembered you? She was happy to see you? Once your heart slowed down from a wild canter to a moderate gallop and your brain was working more clearly again, you realized that this was probably just something Ana had said to make the situation less awkward, not something she truly meant.

“So, do you want to sit down?” Lola suggested with a smirk on her face. Thankfully she left it at that though and you quickly sank down into a chair. You felt too embarrassed to look at Ana, so you completely missed the reassuring smile she sent your way.

After that things went much more smoothly, mostly because Lola and Ana carried the conversation, allowing you and Misa to remain in your preferred role, attentive listener. Your former teammate as well as your crush tried valiantly to draw you out of your shell, but out of fear of saying something stupid, you kept your answers as short as possible without being weird or unfriendly. If only you could think of something witty to say!

On the bright side your relative quietness gave you a good opportunity to study Ana. She was stunning as always, but you could easily spot the signs of the toll this move to the Atlético had taken on her; her smile wasn’t quite as wide as usual and didn’t reach her eyes, her voice was a little duller, there were badly covered up dark bags underneath her eyes and she was a bit more subdued than normal in general. Man, you really had spent way too long looking at any video of her you could find to notice things like that!

Then all of the sudden Misa let out a gasp. “I completely forgot I promised my neighbor I’d let in her daughter today. I need to leave right now to make it.”

You frowned at your teammate; it wasn’t like her to forget something as important as that. Was something more than her unhappiness with being stuck at Real bothering her? You made a mental note to ask Misa about it the next day, remind her that you were always there if she needed someone.

Misa’s departure didn’t really change anything in the dynamic, she hadn’t contributed much just like you. But then Lola got a phone call from her girlfriend who apparently needed your former teammate urgently. She looked at the two of you apologetically, however you could swear that there was some glee shimmering behind her regretful front.

“You girls should stay here and enjoy the rest of the afternoon. Really I’m so sorry about this, don’t let it ruin your day,” Lola babbled, pressing a kiss to both your and Ana’s cheek before dashing out of the café.

You looked after her with confusion. The confusion however was short-lived, quickly drowned out by panic once you realized that you were now left alone with Ana. No more hiding behind other people, no more safety net. You weren’t ready. However leaving also wasn’t an option, there was no way you could do so without offending Ana, so you had to pull yourself together.

“I’m sorry about that,” Ana apologized, bringing your confusion back. As far as you were aware the Swiss woman had absolutely nothing to apologize for.

“They probably planned this because they think I need to be more social again. I wouldn’t be surprised if Jenni put them up to it, she’s been pretty worried,” the Swiss woman specified, leaving you reeling because you didn’t know how to deal with that much honesty.

“Oh,” you replied, praying that some more words would enter your brain. “Maybe they also did it for me. They think I’m pretty antisocial in general,” you finished, kicking yourself for making yourself look even more pathetic than you already did.

To your surprise Ana didn’t seem put off; on the contrary she chuckled and said, “Well we can be antisocial together then.”

The Swiss woman using the word ‘together’ in reference to the both of you made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, you could definitely get used to that.

In an attempt to take control of the situation and not end up blurting out something stupid if Ana asked you a question, you inquired how she was liking Madrid so far. It seemed like a normal thing to ask someone that had just moved to a new place.

However the Swiss woman didn’t answer right away, which was atypical for her who always seemed to have a reply ready. That combined with the guarded look in her eyes made you realize that this wasn’t a safe and easy topic for her. In your rush to make sure nothing that would be complicated for you came up, you had totally forgotten that Ana’s own move to Madrid had been anything but a happy occurence. Way to be selfish!

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Forget I said anything, that was such a stupid thing to say,” you apologized frantically

“No, don’t worry, it’s fine,” Ana quickly reassured you. “I just don’t really know what to say. Obviously I didn’t want to come here, I miss Barcelona. Both the city and the team. So I’m not having the best time to be completely honest. Then again I also haven’t given Madrid much of a chance yet. So…”

The Swiss woman’s openness left you stunned once again. This could never be you, sharing your thoughts and feelings so freely. At the same time you noticed with a surge of excitement and dread that Ana’s explanation gave you a good opening, not unlike your daydreams in fact.

Your fear of being annoying and overstepping was battling hard against your longing to get to spend more time with the blonde in the future. In the end you decided to go for it, maybe Ana would appreciate it and if she didn’t want to hang out again, she could just say so. Of course there was still the fear of rejection holding you back, but you shoved that to the back of your mind. If you didn’t ask the answer would always be no, right?

“If you want to I could show you around Madrid sometime. I’ve lived here all my life so I know the place like the back of my hand and know some nice places. Totally fine if you don’t of course, I’m sure there are many other people that could show you around.”

You spoke in record speed, making it hard for Ana to follow, which was why it took her a moment to answer. These few seconds were some of the most horrible ones in your life. If she said no now all your hopes would be shattered once and for all. Everyone always said it was important to know so you could move on, but honestly if the Swiss woman didn’t want to spend any time with you, you didn’t want to know.

“That sounds great, I’d love to,” Ana replied once she had enough time to process your jumble of words.

“Really?” You double checked, the words out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

“Yeah, definitely,” the Swiss woman confirmed with a gentle smile. A smile that you returned happily. You hadn’t felt this excited in a while, it was a nice change from the bleakness that had become your constant companion.

The rest of your time together was spent chatting easily. You weren’t a great conversationalist, however with Ana it came much more natural. The blonde definitely did the heavy lifting, but you were happy with your own contributions. You even made her laugh a few times!

Later that day when you were back in your apartment you were much more critical, taking apart every single thing that you had said and coming to the conclusion that you must be the stupidest person on the planet. Thankfully you were going to get another chance in a few days and this time you would be better prepared. You would say interesting things and you would make sure Ana had a great time. The blonde deserved some joy and happiness and you would do your best to give her that.

Before your next meeting with Ana you actually made a plan; you would make a list of her interests and think of possible questions, some jokes and interesting facts you could mention. You spent one evening on it, working furiously and then you realized what you were doing, feeling very foolish all of the sudden. You scrunched up the piece of paper and threw it into the trash with some force.

This was pointless and unnecessary and totally embarrassing! Maybe you weren’t the best at coming up with things to say on the spot, but rehearsing everything like this was a role in a play was stupid. The urge to do absolutely everything to get Ana to like you was huge, however is she only liked this carefully crafted version of you that wasn’t any better than her not liking you at all.

Also, you shouldn’t even attempt to get the Swiss woman to like you. Just like you should keep your own crush in check. Ana’s life was complicated enough at the moment, you didn’t need to add your infatuation into the mix.

Unfortunately your noble plan to ignore your crush failed miserably. Whenever you spent time with Ana you fell a little more for her. It was simply impossible not to when she was the kindest, funniest, most interesting and on top of that most beautiful person in the world.

Like when you were out and about on one of your strolls to the city and a young couple approached you, asking if you could take a picture of them. As was typical for you, you hesitated for a moment; not necessarily because you didn’t want to, but because your mind was already working in overdrive, supplying you with every possible negative outcome.

Ana on the other hand smiled at them. “Of course! Where do you want to take it?”

And then she proceeded to take several pictures of the two, showing them to the couple, and when they weren’t completely satisfied yet, she even offered her own suggestions on how they might turn out even better.

All the way you were just watching them, well mostly Ana, with a goofy smile. You loved how much she cared, how much effort she put into random people she didn’t even know. No wait, you didn’t love that, you liked that, admired it.

Or when Ana convinced you to go into a tiny café. A place you would have never frequented on your own because the intimacy of it freaked you out. Not the blonde though. Within seconds she began chatting with the owner, a middle-aged woman who was thrilled someone showed so much interest in her small establishment.

The cake you got was very tasty as was the coffee and the homemade ice tea. You were quick to admit that Ana had made a good decision by forcing you to go there.

However what really pulled at your heartstring was that the Swiss woman went up to the owner afterwards and asked if it was okay to post about this place on Instagram. The poor woman almost started crying out of happiness and thanked Ana profusely, while the blonde kept insisting that this was nothing and really it should be her thanking the owner.

So it was safe to say that you fell deeper and harder every time you saw Ana. But it was okay, you had a foolproof way to make sure that the blonde didn’t figure it out and therefore her life didn’t get disrupted because of you. Whenever you echoed a statement Ana had made about how much she liked hanging out with you or that she thought you were a great person, you always added ‘friend’ into the mix; “I enjoy hanging out with you too, you’re such a great friend.” and “Aw thank you. You’re one of the best people and friends I know too!”

Sometimes when you were feeling particularly hopeful you wondered if the lack of specification on Ana’s part meant that she liked you as more than a friend. You always discarded the idea quickly though. It was much more likely that the thought of being more than friends was so ludicrous to the blonde, something that had probbly never even grazed her mind, that she didn’t feel the need to explicitly state it.

Despite having to resign yourself to the fact that Ana didn’t like you like that, it still made you happy that she was usually in a good mood when you were hanging out. Something you were secretly very proud of. Still every once in a while her sadness shined through, for example when she heard someone speak Catalan or when she saw something that reminded her of Barcelona.

One time a group of fans came up to her. They were friendly and excited and the Swiss woman matched their energy effortlessly. But then one of them mentioned how sad they were that Ana wasn’t playing for Barça anymore. You were forced to watch the blonde deflate slightly after that thoughtless statement. She was good at pretending though, so the fans were none the wiser.

When they were gone you gathered all of your courage. Up until now you had stayed in the shallows of easy conversation so this was a first and once again you worried about overstepping. But when you saw Ana’s sad eyes and the forcefully pulled up corners of her mouth, you couldn’t stay silent.

“Do you want to talk about it? I mean your transfer from Barça? I know we haven’t really talked about that or othe serious things yet, but I’m always happy to listen. I’m actually pretty good at that.”

The Swiss woman sighed, rubbing a hand over her face.

“That’s very sweet but honestly I’ve been talking so much about it lately. Sometimes it feels like it’s the only thing anyone wants to talk about anymore. So if it’s okay with you could we just continue like before? The distraction has been helping a lot.”

You had been helping! Happiness flowed through you and your smile was maybe a bit bigger than was warranted for a situation like this. However unless Ana was studying you as intently as you always studied her, you doubted that the blonde would notice.

“Yeah, of course. I’m happy to help in anyway.”

Ana and you kept seeing each other regularly and it was the undisputed highlight of your current life. Honestly it was a little worrying how few other things brought you any joy, but you didn’t allow yourself to dwell on that.

So when you were put into a situation where you had to cancel on Ana you were devastated. It wasn’t an appropriate reaction to something so small, but you had a ten minute crying session until you could even begin to function properly again. Calling the Swiss woman was out of the question though, you were still chocked up and sniffling.

Instead you texted her, apologizing multiple times and explaining that you were roped into doing all sorts of things last minute for your father’s birthday tomorrow. You could have slapped yourself for not seeing this coming. Sure, your parents had assured you time and time again that everything was taken care of, but you should have known better. Then you could have done it before today and weren’t forced to cancel on Ana.

Only minutes after you had sent the text your phone started ringing with a call from the Swiss woman. With wide, panicked eyes you stared at the screen. In the end your desire to at least hear Ana’s voice if you couldn’t see her won out. Hopefully she wouldn’t notice anything.

„Hey I just saw your text and wanted to ask if I can help out with anything.”

You smiled at your phone, your heart warmed by Ana’s kindness. There was no doubt in your mind that she would actually follow through on your offer. Not that you would ever take it.

“Aw thank you so much, Ana! But it’s okay really. Most things I have to do at my parents place anyway. You know help them clean and decorate. So I’ll be out most of the day, and then in the evening I’ll have to bake the cake. Who knows how that’s going to go.”

You chuckled, even if you were feeling slightly panicked at the idea of baking. Normally your mother was in charge of that, but she had broken her arm a few weeks ago, so that was out of the question. Moments like this made you wish that you had some siblings or some cousins for that matter, just anyone to help you out.

“Not to brag, but I’m actually a great baker. So if you want some help, I’m happy to come over in the evening and help,” the blonde offered.

It would be nice to have some help, and you always wanted to see Ana. Plus she had brought up the idea of her own accord, so surely it was okay, right?

“That would be great actually. Thank you so much,” you replied, not giving your mind any more opportunity to drive yourself crazy.

Ana and you quickly planned everything out before you hung up and left to do everything else. With the prospect of seeing the Swiss woman later today you were a lot more cheerful than before.

“What’s got you so happy?” Your mother asked you while she supervised the decorating process.

It was incredibly frustrating since she kept criticizing everything you did. Every few minutes you had to step away for a moment, take some deep breaths and visualize how your evening with Ana would be, full of laughter and fun conversation.

“Not this, that’s for sure,” you muttered, low enough so that your mothers whose hearing wasn’t the best anymore, couldn’t here you.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you said louder, “I’m just in a good mood, I guess.”

There was no point in bringing up Ana. Nothing would ever happen between the two of you and even after knowing about it for almost ten years your parents still struggled with your sexuality. To avoid unnecessary conflict and awkwardness you never spoke about women you liked unless it was something serious. So never.

“You should focus on decorating and not smile so much. Maybe then we would get somewhere.”

You rolled your eyes, but kept your mouth shut. No point in pointing out that most parents would be happy if their child was happy. And it wasn’t like your mother wasn’t happy about it, she just wasn’t good at being pleasant around you. Somehow she always felt the need to criticize you.

Hours later you got into your car, quickly drove away and as soon as you were a decent distance from your parents’ house you let out a loud scream, releasing all of the built up frustration. Then you set your focus on the near future, on the fact that you would be meeting Ana in half an hour at your apartment. Baking wasn’t really your thing, but baking with the Swiss sounded like a lot of fun. Anything was fun with her really; just being around her made you so happy.

When you got to your apartment Ana was already waiting for you, leaning against her car. A big smile appeared on the blonde’s face when she saw you and she waved at you happily. It warmed your insides, swept away any remnant of frustration from the long day with your parents, seeing how excited Ana was to see you.

You got set up quickly, putting out all the ingredients and opening up the recipe you had settled on. Then you turned to the Swiss woman expectantly.

“So any baking pro tips from you before we start?” You asked teasingly.

Ana looked at you sheepishly.

“To be completely honest I don’t really know that much about baking. I usually only bake once a year to make some Christmas cookie,” the blonde admitted, scratching her nose.

You frowned at her in confusion. This didn’t really make any sense to you, but you didn’t want to make Ana feel bad about it.

“So why did you say you did?” You asked carefully. „I mean only if you want to tell me, it’s totally fine if you don’t. I’m sure you had your reasons.”

The Swiss woman blushed a little as she explained herself, “I really just wanted to spend some time with you today.”

Your heart started racing at this confession, your hopes going through the roof. It didn’t take long for the logical part of your brain to bring you back to earth though. Surely this didn’t mean what you wanted it to mean. Most likely Ana was just struggling today and didn’t want to be alone.

“Oh I’m sorry you’re having a hard time today. You know you can always tell me that and if it’s possible at all I’ll always make time for you. You don’t have to make up reasons to hang out.”

Ana stared at you with a pained expression. It hurt your heart to see her in pain and it made you wonder if something had happened today, perhaps something that reminded her of Barcelona?

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked when the blonde stayed quiet, but then you thought better of it. “Wait no I’m sorry, you already said that you’re tired of talking about it before and that you prefer a distraction. So let’s bake!”

You put some extra excitement into your voice and made sure to keep up a stream of easy chatter as you got to work. For a while Ana remained a bit distant and quiet, but before too long her smile returned and she began talking and joking.

When the blonde laughed loudly at a joke you had made you felt very proud of yourself for giving Ana what she needed, a distraction. If you continued to be helpful she would keep wanting to hang out with you and that was also very much in your interest. Even if the knowledge that it meant something else to you hurt somewhat every time you thought of it.

However it was all worth it to get to spend time with Ana. Everything was worth that.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #ana maria crnogorcevic imagine #ana maria crnogorcevic x reader

202 notes · View notes

literaila · 3 days

Note

do you ever think reader would storm out of the house after a fight between her & satoru? (referring to ur keeping secrets fic.) i feel like part of her wouldn’t bc she’s also thinking about the kids and she just can’t leave them, but she also seems a lot more grounded than satoru in general. i think the other part of her would also need a minute to step out for a bit bc i just know satoru drives her to insanity. i don’t knoww, satoru’s reaction to her storming out just infects my brain, but i know she couldn’t do that to megumi and tsumiki </3 i’m such a sucker for your hurt/comfort fics

“where are you going?”

“not sure,” satoru says, barely mumbling. “i didn’t ask.”

“you didn’t ask?”

he looks at you, just a glimmer of teasing in his eyes. but the rest of him is apprehensive—he knows what you’re thinking.

he always does.

but he looks back down, shoving shirts into a suitcase in the worst possible way.

“does it matter?” he asks, dryly. “it’s just another work trip.”

“how long are you going to be gone?”

“however long it takes to—“

“can i come with you?”

satoru pauses, and his eyes trail to you.

to you, where you’re standing in the doorway. you only know he’s leaving because of the suitcase, you only know that you can’t deal with him being gone again because of that feeling.

it’s reminiscent of packing your own bag at fifteen. of never returning home.

“you want to come?” satoru’s voice is too smooth, too unserious. “you hate planes. and what about work? you want to take your students too?”

“how long are you going to be gone?”

satoru sighs. he finally relents, walking over to you. his smile is a little irritated, tired. “it won’t take long,” he says, rubbing your shoulders. “you’ll get the bed all to yourself.”

“this is the fourth trip in the last three months.”

he tilts his head. “it’s the same amount as always.”

“it’s—“ you stop.

it’s different.

and your heart is racing, because you’re used to this feeling.

really, satoru has taken regular work trips for as long as you’ve known him. his passport is well used, his suitcase replaced almost once a year.

but it’s different.

because it used to be you, satoru, and the kids. it used to be you and the kids waiting at the door, talking about him behind his back, going to the airport to pick him up.

and even if you missed him, you knew that tsumiki missed him just as much. you knew that megumi was waiting for him to come back just the same—getting restless without someone there to mess with constantly.

it used to be you and the kids, when satoru was gone.

but now…

megumi is at school all week—and even when he comes home, it’s only to keep you happy. so that he can take a break from jujutsu, and sleeping in a dorm right next to yuji’s.

and tsumiki—

you stop thinking about that almost immediately.

it’s just not worth it.

when satoru leaves, you’re all alone.

“i wish you could come. you know how the higher ups are about—“

“why don’t you tell them no?”

satoru is wearing his blindfold, so you can’t see his eyes. but you see it as he leans back, looking at you curiously. “what?”

“tell them no. they’re scared of you, aren’t they? they’re not going to make you—“

“what other special grade sorcerer are they going to send?” he asks, shaking his head. “i hate them too, but if they need me—“

“i need you.”

satoru stops. you want to see his eyes—you want him to stay here.

you don’t want to walk around the house and chat with ghosts. you don’t want to be the only one left behind—the only one who has nothing else.

what about you? what’s supposed to happen to you when satoru leaves you behind?

he’s done it before, and he’ll do it again.

“what?”

“i don’t understand why you have to go,” you say, and you’re angry now. “i’m tired of your work trips, and i hate that you don’t even care, and i hate being in the house all alone—“

“what? what do you mean i don’t care?”

you pull away from him. just to do it first. “you don’t even try to get someone else to do it, you just leave—“

“why are you blaming me? i didn’t ask for this.”

“because you’re always gone! and i’m always alone, and you haven’t even asked me how i feel about it—“

“it’s not like i enjoy doing it,” he says, frowning. “i don’t like leaving you or the kids, it’s just work—“

“i think you do enjoy it,” you spit. and you know that you shouldn’t but, “you like being the only one that they can call. being the strongest. that’s why you haven’t told them no, that’s why—“

“what?”

“is it fun to leave the house? to escape for a week or two while i’m here to take care of everything?”

satoru scoffs. “are you kidding?”

“what? you can admit it. go on and leave. you’ve done it before, satoru.”

his jaw clenches. “if you don’t like being here,” he says, so soft—but you can feel it. the impending blow. “then go somewhere else.”

immediately, your body flinches back. you fall inwards, wanting nothing more than to fall back against him.

but it’s too late.

“i can’t help that im the strongest, i don’t enjoy leaving you—but ill do it because it’s my job. if you hate being alone, then find something else. go see megumi, or nanami, or—“

you take a step back, almost stumbling into the wall.

“you’re putting words in my mouth and i—“

but you don’t hear the rest of that sentence.

and maybe this is your fault. you shouldn’t have picked a fight, you shouldn’t have even said anything.

satoru isn’t to blame for your loneliness. he isn’t to blame for anything.

you turn around. and you walk out the door with shaking hands.

go somewhere else, he said.

and you will.

#to answer your question #i doubt reader would ever leave the house as long as the kids were there #and also the series might not make this very evident #but i don’t think they actually fight much #only when one of them is avoiding their feelings 🙄#even this fight feels kind of… unnatural? for them #and i think satoru would always leave first #because he’s definitely the meaner one when it comes to his anger #i mean in general he’s nicer #but i know he’s got a vicious fury to him #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #a typical family #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #jjk gojo

276 notes · View notes

cockaiine · 2 days

Text

“What are these for?”

“Happy Mother’s Day, sweetheart,” he says it blatantly, a casual smile on his face like this is the most mundane thing ever. Despite your confusion, your face beams with happiness and gratitude; that is all Suguru could possibly ask for. He only wanted to see you happy.

“Suguru—” You feel yourself grow emotional, eyes flickering between him and the large bouquet of flowers he’s gifted you for the special day. Well, it’s not really your special day. You’re not a mother, not by any means. You just take care of your boyfriend’s little girls. “This… oh my god, Sugu’ this is so sweet, and I–”

“Just take it,” you’re too predictable to him. He leans it to kiss your lips in an attempt to stop the words you’re about to say. “The girls insisted. You deserve it.”

There’s sentiment in his tone, blunt and honest. Suguru sees your effort with the girls. Taking care of two tweens is no easy work. He didn’t realize how much he needed your help until you offered it, gracing him with your presence and carrying the weight with him. While the world stood against him, the ‘worst’ curse user needed a break.

“Thank you,” you whisper softly, smiling giddily at the arrangement of roses in your arms. It’s beautiful, a set of your favorite colors. Suguru remembers every detail, and your preference is no exception.

“Thank you,” he insists, pushing the flowers to the side to bring your attention to him. “For everything. You make me– no, you make us so happy”

You feel the heat seeping into your face at his words. He’s always nice to you, but today there’s a different ring to his words—one that makes you feel like you’re falling in love all over again.

“Actually… I was thinking and…” he takes a step back, fiddling with his jacket. You cock your head in curiosity at his motions as you wait for him to stop fighting his pockets.

“So…” he mutters, calling your name softly. You watch as he lowers himself, confusion turning into disbelief once he’s steady on one knee with a black box in his hand. “Would you be—”

“Yes—!!” You gasp before he’s done, leaping at him and hugging his head to your chest. “Oh my god, Sugu– yes!! Yes, a hundred times yes!!”

Suguru’s lips curl into a smile when you pull away and cradle his face in your fingers, only to lean in and kiss his cheek once, his forehead twice, his other cheek that’s a three and you continue with your assault on his face, kissing his face over and over until you can’t feel your lips anymore.

Slim fingers reach for your hand, bringing it to his lips before pressing a soft kiss to it. He slips the ring on, and it’s a surprise to no one that it fits your finger perfectly.

He then stands up, engulfing you in his warmth and burying his face into the crook of your neck. “I love you”

“I love you too,” you hum into him as your arms wrap around his neck on instinct. “So much.”

wrote this literally half asleep ++ thank u @satoruwiki for the idea

#✧˚₊‧𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #geto #geto x reader #geto fluff #suguru geto #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto fluff #geto suguru #geto x y/n #geto x you #geto x reader fluff #suguru fluff #suguru x reader

166 notes · View notes

reverie-starlight · 22 hours

Text

{the proposal- kuroo}

on today’s episode of “rev accidentally disregards the polls she made”, we have this fic :3 I actually adore this one, it was so fun to write!! hope you enjoy <3 also… thank you sm for 1k followers 😭🫶🏻 that’s huge, I appreciate everyone sm 🥹

gn!reader, no physical descriptions. fluff fluff fluff. alcohol mentions, drunk reader. dialogue heavy at the start.

“You need to propose to me.”

Kuroo, who is enjoying his drink, begins to choke. “I what?”

You roll your eyes with a barely concealed smile.

“Not for real, silly, just a fake one.”

He looks at you like you’ve gone insane. “I’m not following.”

“We’re broke university students, do you really think we can afford to pay for more than two drinks tonight? If you propose, I bet people would make a drunken mistake and offer to buy us a celebration round.” You wiggle your eyebrows at him as he continues to give you that same incredulous look.

“That’s-“ he cuts himself off before he can finish that thought and starts with a new one. “I doubt that would work. I mean, maybe at a restaurant with free dessert, but a bar? Really?”

“I’ve seen it done in stranger places!” You defend yourself. “Besides, you’ve been sipping on your drink for the past 25 minutes. If the ice had poison in it, you’d be dead by now,” you lean back and cross your arms.

Your boyfriend just shakes his head. “Your mind is a very interesting place. Alright, fine. We’ll do it, but if it doesn’t work that’s going to be really embarrassing. Hand me your ring, I’ll do it when more people are around.”

You only have to wait another ten minutes before a group of business men having a meeting a couple of tables over appear to be drunk enough to invest in young love.

Your boyfriend nods once to signal that he’s going to do it and soon enough he’s on one knee, fake tears forming at the corners of his eyes and a dusting of pink on his cheeks that make you want to kiss them.

(Your heart jumps that the thought that he could do this for real one day).

“You’re the love of my life,” he begins, and you make a mental note that he either has a bright future in acting or his drink really is too strong, despite his insistence that he could handle it earlier.

A lady one table over gasps and draws more attention to the performance in front of the customers.

“And I absolutely adore every single thing about you. I had a whole plan for this, but with the way you’re looking tonight, I can’t wait a second longer. We’ve managed to get many years together already, and I’d be honoured to spend the rest of our lives just like this. Will you marry me?”

You’re genuinely touched at his words and the sincerity in his tone almost makes you forget it’s fake.

Not wanting to make your audience wait much longer, you make a big show of nodding your head and jumping into his crouched form with a loud “yes!”

Drunken cheers are only background noise while you press against his chest. His heartbeat eliminates the chance of you focusing on anything but him.

Kuroo tips his head down to whisper, “think we pulled it off?”

You nod against him and start to get up. He looks over to see one of the drunk business men coming over to greet you.

“Congratulations on your engagement! Let us buy the happy couple some drinks!”

The man’s face is flushed and he gestures to his table. “Order whatever you’d like, it’ll be put on our tab.”

You fake surprise. “Oh my goodness, that’s very generous of you, but we could never take advantage of your kindness like that!”

Beside you, your ‘fiancé’ stifles a laugh but the man doesn’t notice. “No, I insist! You should celebrate.”

This time Kuroo takes over. “Ah… well, thank you, sir. Rest assured we won’t go too crazy.”

The man laughs and claps him on the back. “What a polite couple of kids you are! Reminds me of me and my wife,” he winks before heading back to his table, whistling some tune.

You spin around and look up at your boyfriend with a smug grin. “So what are we getting first?”

A couple of hours later, you’re both stumbling into your campus apartment, giggling and trying to shush each other despite not having any other roommates.

You somehow manage to get through your night routines and fall back into your bed soon after. You’re a far more wasted than Kuroo is (he always drinks less than you to be able to take care of you), so he tries to get you to sip on some water.

He watches you with a silly grin as you fiddle with your “engagement” ring. You’ve since slipped it back onto your index finger where it originally was this evening, but you move it back to your ring finger and fiddle with it.

“I think…” your words are slightly slurred and laced with sleep. “I mean, I know… that I don’t want my real engagement ring to be diamond.”

His grin widens so much his cheeks begin to hurt. “No? So what will it be, baby?”

You form your own smile. “I’m sure I’ll love whatever you come up with. You know me best after all.”

He forces you to take another sip of water when your words don’t get any less coherent. While you drink he thinks of the ruby ring tucked away somewhere at Kenma’s house. You’re far too good at sniffing out clues and he’s never been good at keeping secrets from you.

You’re still in university, it’s far too soon to get engaged for real- you’ve both always said you wanted to wait until you’re done with school- but he’s been saving up for that ring since high school. he’s always knows you would be the one for him.

So when the time comes he’ll be ready. With a speech much better than whatever he said tonight.

“Alright, let’s get some sleep. You’re going to have the worst hangover tomorrow, you haven’t had that much to drink in a while.”

You tug at his wrist before he can shut the lamp off. “Wait, don’t you want to celebrate our engagement?”

“Sleep, baby.”

You pout a bit. “Don’t you think we celebrated enough tonight?”

You stare at him and he sighs. “There’s plenty of time for celebrating our fake engagement some more tomorrow,” he shuts the lamp off and wrangles you down with him. “Now it’s time for sleep.”

“‘m not tired,” you mumble, obviously lying. “I could go all night.”

You settle onto your pillow and he strokes your cheek. “I know, sweetheart, you’re a fighter.”

You nod as you begin to doze off.

He notices the ring still on your finger and he smiles softly.

The hangover you’ll be sporting tomorrow will definitely have been worth it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ty for reading!!! i hope you enjoyed <3

tagging: @emmyrosee @luvring @dira333 @tetzoro

#kuroo x reader #kuroo x reader fluff #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo fluff #kuroo tetsurou x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader fluff #haikyuu x gender neutral reader

159 notes · View notes

a-dauntless-daffodil · 1 day

Text

Charlie: "Sorry- sorry Husk! I know my text said I was on my way, but I had to do something reeeeal quickie- QUICKLY- and-"

Husk: "Your girlfriend?"

Charlie: "HOW DID YOU- ahem. Um. No."

Husk: "Oh yeah? You've got lipstick marks all over your jaw and a fucking grey feather in your hair."

Charlie: (carefully removing feather) "I, had a makeup accident?"

Husk: "Uh huh. And the feather?"

Charlie: "I tripped and fell on some lipstick. While... dusting."

Husk: "You're as shit a liar as she is."

Charlie: (dreamily) "Not as good a kisser, though..."

Husk: "Eugh. You sure got over the murder thing pretty fucking fast."

Charlie: "Hm? Which murder thing?"

Husk: "The 'her doing more murder than all assholes in this place combined' thing. Thought you'd be more. Y'know. Fucked up over it."

Charlie: (laughing) "I mean, it doesn't really change much does it? When we started dating I thought she was a sinner anyway, probably down here for multiple murders, and in way I wasn't even wrong about that! So..."

Charlie: "....."

Charlie: "You think she's got the highest kill count?"

Husk: "Fuck yeah she does."

Charlie: "H-uh."

Husk: "Shit- you ever SEE those Exorcist bitches at work? Ever see HER when SHE'S got something that needs doing? She's like a fucking machine. A glaring, relentless, strict as hell bitch who won't stop for one fucking second until she gets the job done."

Charlie: "That's, true. That's a... very evocative point. It's."

Charlie: "Hmm.."

Husk: ".... you wanna go do more fucking 'dusting' don't you."

Charlie: "I think I missed a spot- let's reschedule for half an hour? An hour? Two give me two hours and I SWEAR I'll be right with you to talk about- about the uhhhh-"

Husk: "You have no fucking clue."

Charlie: "-exactly, yes! We'll reconvene about the thing once I'm done getting her off- Getting off on h- GETTING THE DUST OFF."

Husk: "Save my fucking ears and just fucking go."

Charlie: "Thanks Husk love you too gay you later BYEEEE~"

Husk: "Ugh."

Husk: (drink)

Husk: "Fuck my life..."

Charlie: "IM TRYING!"

Husk: "I SAID FUCK MY LIFE NOT FUCK YOUR WIFE! AND YOU'RE NOT EVEN FUCKING MARRIED TO HER!!!"

Charlie: (distantly) "Yet~!"

#hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #chaggie #husk hazbin hotel #incorrect quotes #silly nonsense #the husk #he suffers #charlie “these are new. they're nice~” morningstar making a very hands on study of her gf's wings

173 notes · View notes

nyashykyunnie · 2 days

Text

˗ˏˋ E-rank(?)! Jinwoo x E-rank Witch! Reader ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

‼️[ TW: Yandere Jinwoo, Violence , Manipulation]

꒰ Reader's Powers are inspired by the beautiful manga titled "Witch Hat Atelier". Please give it a read if you're into otherwordly art and adore fantasy! ꒱

╰┈➤ ❝ [ Let Me Tear Apart Everything that Touched You ] ¡! ❞

You really don't know when exactly it had started, all you knew was that Jinwoo suddenly had a second puberty and his height doubled or maybe tripled. His lanky body turned from noodlesticks to buff and solid muscles seemingly carved out of stone with how sturdy they are. His muscles would in fact, even hurt you even as you try to inflict pain on him.

You wanted to ask him about it really, but maybe it's just Jinwoo having not reached full puberty in his teens so his hormones decided to finally pop-in and say hi in order to compensate for their lack of action during his supposed growing days.

Either way, you're proud of him.

Jinwoo's growth spurt had inspired you to work even harder. Thus, you started entering more and more gates much to Jinwoo's dismay.

You two had even argued over it several times but it ends with Jinwoo sighing in defeat and begging, begging, you to immediately leave the gate should anything weird transpire.

It's not that he doesn't have faith in you or he is underestimating you, it's just that he knows all too well the dangers of the gates. Still, he steps aside and lets you be on your way.

Your powers aren't really too great to be honest, consuming even. You needed to draw various symbols on the papers you carry around in order to cast spells. Sure, they could be intimidating sometimes since you can cast spells that are big— But otherwise? It's really just for show and doesn't do much damage.

Oftentimes you are ridiculed along with Jinwoo, two jokes of a hunter dating. Birds of the same feather really do flock together. Just like Jinwoo, you had your fair share of mockery and on more brutal days— Your fellow hunters would beat you up when a raid goes unsuccesful.

You never told Jinwoo about those days, you could never have the heart to make him worry more when he is already busy providing for his family and especially for his mother who is stuck in eternal sleep.

Swallow it done and smile whenever you're with him.

That's what you always do, praying so hard that your deceitful grins could fool him and mask the pain you're desperately trying to hide from his pretty grey eyes.

But... Now.

Maybe you should have listened to Jinwoo earlier when he said you shouldn't go out today.

What a big mistake was it.

You foolishly signed a contract with a raid team and did not thoroughly read the terms and conditions just like Jinwoo had strictly instructed you to do so.

Now you're here, absolutely horrified as the group of burly and violent men inched towards you, bloodlust evident as they inched closer and closer— Backing you up on a corner.

You wanted to cry, you wanted to scream, but your fight or flight instincts instantly turned into freeze.

Not a single muscle in your body would obey the hammering demands of your heart and mind to move— To run.

As your fear-stricken eyes glanced back at those animal-like men, you started to silently curse yourself too.

You should have been good and listened to Jinwoo, because that man's intuition had always been right. You shouldn't have argued with him when he pressed you to stay, you should have been goo.

You should have.

Now who's the fool cornered like a frozen rabbit in the den of lions? Who's the idiot about to piss their pants from sheer fear?

You shouldn't have cussed out Jinwoo before you left the door.

You should have said that you love him.

You should have told him how proud you are of his progress.

You should have told him that you would always be by his side.

You should have given him goodbye kisses.

But now, the last memory Jinwoo would have of you is your prissy face spatting out how nonesensically overprotective he is of you and that he should be worried about himself instead.

You closed your eyes, accepting your fate until you felt a shift in the air around you. The winds suddenly whistled an eerie tune and you stumbled on your feet as the shadows beneath you quivered and rose to be black flames.

In that blaze formed a man, a distinctive blue fabric popping out of nowhere and a shade that you instantly recognized.

Jinwoo.

His back was turned towards you, his hand shielding you away from the preying bastards.

"Fuck..." One of your kidnappers cusses, grinning maniacally. "I almost shit my pants there buddy, you tryna fucking film a movie or something?"

"He's got quite the pretty boy face, bet it'll be prettier once we rough him about. huh?" Another cackles, flaring Jinwoo's temper even more.

"Sarang," Jinwoo's deep voice calls out, causing your heart to tremble at the dangerous tone. "Close your eyes."

You obey his orders and close your eyes immediately. After having learned your lesson, you're not taking any chances after hearing that dangerous tone in his normally gentle and loving voice.

The next thing that happened was a cacophony of tortured moans and wails. Maybe you could hear some other things snapping, a sound you pray to never know since along with those sounds comes with the chorus of tortured cries for mercy.

Eventually, the brutal sounds would come to an end and you feel someone towering over you.

"Babe," Jinwoo calls out and your eyes would flutter open as you feel gentle fingers caressing the side of your cheek. "Look at me."

And so you do, your gaze falling on his blood-splattered features that looked hauntingly handsome.

Your sobs would eventually come out, both from being struck by fear from the earlier events, to feeling bad about how you yelled at him earlier, to feeling remourseful that this man had to put blood on his hands because of your recklessness.

A series of sorries would spill out from your mouth and Jinwoo only comforts you by pulling you to his chest.

"It's fine, it's fine" He says, kissing the side of your head affectionately as he runs a hand on the back of your head. "It's alright, don't cry, don't say sorry. I know it was scary. I know, baby."

His words would fill you with a sense of relief, not knowing the malintent behind it.

Truthfully, Jinwoo already knew of your predicament and had been aware since you first made contact with those bastards. But he needed you to have a glimpse of the horrors, he needed to make you afraid so that this wouldn't happen again.

He hoped by doing this, you would become traumatized and never dare to step in a gate ever again.

Reckless. Yes.

But he would do anything to keep you out of danger.

Again, and again, he kisses your pretty little face, whispering words of comfort in your ears and subtly manipulating you into never stepping inside these horrible places again.

All you need is Jinwoo.

You wont have to worry about money any more.

So don't step into these places, just be a good doll and stay home.

Let him do all the dirty work.

Or else Jinwoo will have to do this again. You don't want that, do you, dear?

You wouldn't want Jinwoo to cut off everyone's necks, do you?

Good.

A/N: Whoopsies, I made another Yandere Jinwoo fic... Hahah... Sorry guys.

#sung jinwoo #solo leveling #sung jin woo #only i level up #solo leveling headcanons #sung jinwoo headcanons #solo leveling x reader #sung jinwoo x reader #sung jinwoo x you #solo leveling fics #sung jinwoo fics #ore dake level up na ken #yandere jinwoo

118 notes · View notes

wooahaes · 2 days

Text

a healthy change of mind

pairing: non-idol!hoshi x fem!reader

genre: domestic fluff. established relationship au.

warnings: food mention. mentions that reader didn't enjoy her bday growing up. skinship.

word count: ~1.0k

daisy's notes: domestic fluff i love u i love u i love u-

There was always an odd sense of intimacy in tying someone’s apron for them. Soonyoung liked it most when it was you, because he could always press a gentle kiss against your neck when he was done… and you would do the same, giving him butterflies in his stomach all over again.

Today was your birthday, and Soonyoung was happy to greet you when you finally came home from spending time with your friends. He liked being the person who saw the way you melted a bit with exhaustion, the person who snuggled with you on the couch as you recharged your battery. He understood how that felt, too: sometimes after he spent his days with his friends, he just needed to rest in your company. There was always something so easy about being around you. He felt special that you could just snuggle up with him and relax. He’d watched you remove your makeup and take off the jewelry (all little things your friends had bought you over the years), and he stole a kiss from you after you’d shed your shirt to change into sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt.

“I don’t wanna go out tonight,” you had sighed against his shoulder. “Soonyoung?” You lifted your head, meeting his gaze. “Can we cook?”

Soonyoung was not a chef. Hell, he didn’t really cook much at all. You’d taught him a little before, but he never felt any good at it. His food never tasted anywhere near as good as yours (although, strangely enough, you said the same when he made you scrambled eggs one morning to surprise you with how much he’d been practicing), and half the time he ended up burning something… But if you wanted him to help you, he would happily help you. It wasn’t the first time you’d ask him to do that anyway. He’d always stay by your side, chopping ingredients and preparing whatever it was that you needed him to do.

Unfortunately, it did call for a visit to the grocery store. Soonyoung held the basket in one hand, and your hand in the other as you guided him around the store. Another day, you two would do a proper grocery store visit… But that was for another day, definitely. He carried the bags home, still keeping his fingers intertwined with your own. And then he tied your apron, and kissed your neck before you did the same for him. That was what led to now, as you passed him a pair of gloves and asked him to dice chicken for you while you started to work on a sauce for your pasta.

“You know,” you’d been measuring out heavy cream when you spoke up, “I like my birthday now.”

He glanced up from where he was carefully cutting chicken. “You do?”

“Mhm. My birthday always kinda sucked when I was growing up,” you shrugged. “I mean—It always kinda felt like they were about other people than just me. My cake always had to be something everyone liked instead of something I liked.” For a moment, you paused, and then looked up, waving a hand. “Not that I didn’t like it! I like vanilla cake just fine,” you shrugged. “But… I dunno. Ice cream cakes are nice. Cupcakes are nice. I just kinda wish it was my decision more often, y’know?”

Is that why you told him not to worry about a cake…? He just watched you for a moment, trying to gauge your thoughts. “It can be your decision now.”

For a second, you just stood there, processing that. “Soonie?” You looked up, voice so small now. “Can we order cake? It can just be two slices for delivery, but—”

He laughed, warm as ever, and nodded. “I’ll pull up the app when I’m done and we can look. Tell me more about your birthdays.”

You shook your head. “Nah. I mean… I never really liked being ‘the birthday girl’ with all the attention on her, y’know? I like what I can do now. Going out with my friends, and then just… getting to come home to you and do something laid-back.” With a blissful sigh, you continued to make the alfredo sauce for your pasta. “I like that I don’t have to pretend to be someone I’m not.”

Something ached in his chest at that. You hadn’t told him everything about your past, sure, but you’d told him that you did hide things about yourself growing up. Your interests, your personality, all wrapped up in a tight package of anxiety that you’d say the wrong thing or do something and be hated. It was all irrational, and you knew that now, but as a child with anxiety? Soonyoung couldn’t fault you for struggling so much with it growing up. Yet something softened inside of him as he realized the implications of what you said: you felt safe being yourself around him.

Good, then. He liked being himself around you, too.

The gloves crinkled as they came off, and he tossed them into the bin before making his way over to you. You turned right as he wrapped his arms around you, pressing a long kiss against your lips before drawing away.

You smiled at him. “Hi?”

“Hi,” he giggled. “Happy birthday. I love you.”

You kissed him back, soft and sweet, before pulling away. “I love you, too, you dork.”

Soonyoung drew away, already going for his phone to start looking up dessert places. He would have done this for you a thousand times over if it meant he could see that pretty smile on your face. And he knew he’d kiss that smile again when the night was over and you were back where you belonged in his arms.

Hopefully, you two could spend your next birthday just like this, too.

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @synthetickitsune @staranghae @porridgesblog @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @laylasbunbunny @bewoyewo

#wooahaes.fic #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt imagine #svt x you #hoshi x reader #hoshi fluff #hoshi x you #kwon soonyoung x reader #kwon soonyoung fluff #kwon soonyoung x you #wooahaes.24

82 notes · View notes

cinnibelle · 3 days

Text

I’m going to vent. Sit tight for an artist’s reflection on the acotar fandom!

I was going to use tumblr to strictly post art (at least on my end) and engage with the wonderful ppl here as well. Except what I’ve been seeing as of late is a lot of abuse (across platforms) and it’s very jarring. As an artist, I understand to make the most of your experience in a toxic fandom is to say nothing and do nothing that bothers those a bit **too** passionate about their opinions. I get it, I’m used to being content fodder from other fandoms. So I am not new to this.

But this fandom is *so* toxic that I immediately understood why artists choose to stay neutral or entirely avoid making art for this fandom at all. I have several art friends interested in the books but won’t touch the fandom with a ten foot pole from what they’ve seen. What I’ve personally witnessed the past few months is genuinely disgusting. The only reason I’m here after being FLAMED on twitter is because 1) I began posting BECAUSE people were so kind and encouraging and I don’t want to leave them and the possibility of befriending others 2) I was fully prepared to be dragged for the smallest offense.

I didn’t want to believe people would be downright atrocious to me for Elain, being starborn, holding the sword that reflects her (as I’ve stated when I paralleled quotes) but that’s what they were: awful. And what I got in turn was: why are you victimizing yourself this is what other artists deal with! Ok?? And!? Why is it appropriate AT ALL. Why is it fine for you to do that? I don’t care what anyone ships, why do you feel entitled to comment nastiness under someone’s art. To directly be in their mentions mocking the concept and the way it looks or how you hate the character. It brings me and others joy.. why are you being ruthless? For a fictional character??

It’s too much. And you know, this is my first fandom experience where the shipping is so extreme. I would’ve loved multi shipping as I’ve done it in other fandoms, I really don’t care for what sort of crack ships people make up (though I have my limitations, I think everyone does. “Notp”.) But you know what I DON’T DO as an adult? Ridicule artists for their work. They are providing content FOR FREE. And if they aren’t, they are gifting you with their expertise and talent. You are scaring people away.

I was afraid of joining and just stayed on the sidelines for months just enjoying arts in peace. I only gave in because I showed some friends some of my sketches and they ADORED it. And pleaded that I post. So I did, and I found many others really wanted me to continue posting. So I do. Were it not for the toxicity, I would’ve drawn all types of ships because I’m genuinely someone that does not care about the ship and if it’s canon or endgame or not, if I like the characters and the vibe- cool. Draw it. That’s the beauty of fanart.

But people are acting diabolically UNHINGED over it. And treating artists like they’re players and they’re revoking sponsorships. Fandom should not be a competition. That is exhaustive and tiring. I shouldn’t have to be fearful of the engagements on my posts. I don’t even have 500 followers yet on ANY of my platforms. And still, I am treated like filth. I need people to reflect on their behavior, recognize if they don’t like something ignore it or block it or what have you and be at peace. Stop giving into negativity and using artists as some pawn- they have feelings TOO! And you really turn them off to a character or a ship or a fandom in general with the way you act.

I have my comments off where I can keep them off because I simply don’t want 1) people arguing in my comments and 2) comments that are generally unhelpful or just shaming me for what I post. But twitter I really can’t help what happens. And tumblr too there’s some limits I can take and a filtering system I can take advantage of but even here people lack etiquette. I don’t understand where people get off acting like mean girls over things people made.

This is the most extreme, unhealthy fandom I have ever been in and I’m really not all shocked when I hear an artist quit and doesn’t want to partake. This is not a competition of who has it worse. Stop bullying artists because they don’t make content that pleases you. Just drop it. I can’t believe I am being called TOXIC for defending myself and my art. And I know who these people are, I know exactly the type of content they themselves post and it’s COMEDY to be telling ME I’m toxic for standing up for myself.

Most artists leave or go silent. That’s what you want, right? Or to antagonize them to the point they really lose patience with you. This is me losing patience: a call to being better. Be the change you seek. It’s funny I have people going at me and in their bio it says “ spread kindness not hate” Pardon??

Seriously, I would’ve liked to explore any theory and a variety of arts despite my preferences but the way people act with what I DO put out, I’m just sour. I don’t even want to expand beyond the two characters I really like because I have a headache already with the “you don’t really care about-“ takes that I’ve seen other artists get when they expand what they draw in this fandom.

It shouldn’t offend you that an artist has a preference and wants to share the things that they found intriguing or makes them happy. And if it does, cry about it in private at minimum. Stop dumping your grief onto the artists. That’s all. Maybe then you will see a resurgence of artists that do content for free (and frequently) or a return of artists who left.

#sorry I’m just shaken and tired #acotar #small artist #bookish

75 notes · View notes

harmonicakai · 2 days

Text

Midas Touch

Part 2 of the "Somebody Else" series

Pairing: Soobin x Reader, Yeonjun x Reader

Summary: As you and Soobin work on becoming a more believable fake couple, you both realize your initial impressions of each other aren't as accurate as you thought.

Tropes: love triangle, unrequited love, fake dating, frat boy!yeonjun, nerd!soobin, roommates, college AU, childhood best friends

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: sexual TENSION (mdni!), swearing, yj is an asshole, mentions of masturbation and sex

A/N: Yeonjun is barely in this sorry guys :-(

"The look of you when I open my eyes So bright that I couldn’t dare to approach My heart that wants to be like you Gets colored, filled with you" —New, Yves

Your room is much nicer than Soobin’s, albeit messier. There’s clothes scattered all across the floor, and your twin sized bed is covered in stuffed animals.

“Sorry,” you apologize, piling things onto your desk chair. “I didn’t think anybody would actually be coming over tonight. I mean, not like anybody is here any other night, either.”

“That’s okay,” Soobin reassures you. He’s relieved to hear that you don’t tend to have any late night visitors. You grab one of your favorite throw blankets and chuck it at him.

“Hope you’re okay with the floor,” you say. “If this actually becomes a regular thing, I’ll work out a more comfortable sleeping arrangement.”

“I’m good with whatever,” he says. Really, he thinks that if you let him sleep in your bed with you, he’d probably explode, so this is a good thing.

“Here,” you say, handing him a spare toothbrush. “Let’s get unready.”

Soobin is mesmerized at watching your nighttime routine, but he’s especially interested in the way you remove your makeup and layer on a complex combination of skincare products. You’re even nice enough to share and guide him through each step.

“This one brightens your face,” you explain, “And this one helps with texture.”

Soobin’s never considered any of these issues before. He kind of just rinses his face with water and things work out okay for him.

You watch him to make sure he goes in the right order, and he can’t help but notice how you’re equally as beautiful without makeup. You’ve got a silly plush headband pushing your hair out of your face, and you’ve given him one to match.

It all feels a bit too real standing at the bathroom sink together.

“All done?” you ask, snapping him out of his daydream. He nods, and you lead him back to your bedroom.

When you get back, your roommate, Jia, is sitting in the common room eating a tub of ice cream and watching TV. She’s cool with you bringing Yeonjun around all the time, but isn’t used to seeing new faces pop up.

“Hi,” you greet her, before gesturing to your guest. “This is Soobin. Soobin, this is my roommate, Jia.”

“Hi,” he says, giving an awkward wave. Jia gives a half grin, her mouth full, before waving and shooting you a look that says she’s going to need every detail later.

“We’ll be in my room,” you say, grabbing Soobin’s hand and dragging him along.

While things felt blissfully domestic in the bathroom, they’re as awkward as can be in the bedroom. The two of you really know nothing about each other, except for maybe the classes you take.

Soobin wonders if you’re just tired or you just don’t want to talk to him. For his sake, he decides on the former, watching as you switch the lamp off and turn to face the wall.

“Goodnight, Soobin,” you say, hoping he’s comfortable enough on your floor.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he replies. His heartbeat is still racing, and he spends a good portion of the night listening to the way your breathing becomes slow and steady, willing himself to match its pace. That night, all he dreams about is you.

—————-

If things were awkward right before bed, they’re even worse when you and Soobin wake up to a fire alarm.

“Soobin,” you say, crawling out of bed and shaking him. He must be a heavy sleeper. “Soobin, get up.”

His eyes flutter open and he’s got a dopey smile when he sees you. “Huh? What time is it?”

“It’s only six, but there’s a fire alarm. We have to go outside.” You offer a hand to help him up, but he looks at you funny. “Is something wrong?”

“I can’t get up,” he gulps, glancing at his crotch. “Morning wood.”

“Nobody will care,” you huff, covering your ears in an attempt to dampen the siren. “I’m sorry. I just—I can’t stand loud noises.”

A little embarrassment is nothing compared to making sure you’re comfortable. In an instant, Soobin is up, your blanket wrapped around him like a cape as you file into the crowd of evacuating students.

“Hold my hand,” you whisper, and he doesn’t need anymore convincing before lacing his fingers into yours. To everybody, you look like a real couple. People mostly know you around campus as Yeonjun’s friend, so hopefully they’ll start to talk when they see you with another guy for once.

Soobin notices how you’re shivering in just a t-shirt and sleep shorts and wraps the blanket around you too, pulling you in to share his body heat. He’s so cozy, and his chest feels more solid than you expected.

“Thank you,” you say, peering up at him, your arms finding their way around his waist. His hair is messier than you’ve ever seen it, but it somehow works for him. He smiles back at you, and you note his dimples and the way his eyes light up.

Choi Soobin is cute. He might not be your type, but any girl would be lucky to have him.

Even though he doesn’t really want to, Soobin heads back to his own room after the fire alarm is over. It was really sweet of him to keep you company while you waited, you think to yourself.

When Soobin gets back, Yeonjun is sitting in the kitchen, nursing his hangover with a huge spread of breakfast.

“Look who’s back,” Yeonjun slurs, wearing sunglasses indoors. “Have fun with Y/N?”

“I did, actually. She showed me her skincare routine.”

“Is that all she showed you?” He’s lifted his sunglasses up now.

“Yes.” Soobin knows if he says more, it’ll be too obvious the relationship is fake.

“So the girl of your dreams took you to her bedroom and you didn’t hook up with her?”

“It’s not like that between us,” Soobin asserts. “I want to take my time. Treat her right.”

“Soob,” Yeonjun starts, a grin plastered on his face. “You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

“And what if I am?”

“I knew it!” Yeonjun leans into the couch, clapping.

“I’m going to shower,” Soobin says, walking towards the bathroom.

“Don’t take too long jacking off to Y/N,” his roommate calls after him.

“You’re gross!”

“Maybe, but I’m right, aren’t I?”

Yeonjun is right. As soon as Soobin steps under the hot water, he can’t get you off of his mind. The way your fingers felt laced through his hair, or the taste of your lip gloss. Your cute moles that your foundation usually covers up and the way you snuggled into him to keep warm.

He’s got it bad, finishing after he’s barely even touched himself. That’s the kind of effect you have on him, and he knows that if he’s going to be around you more and more, he’s going to have to learn to control himself.

When he gets out of the shower, you’re sitting on the couch, looking as beautiful as ever. Soobin stops dead in his tracks, blinking back the water that’s dripping from his hair. In an attempt to cover up his bare chest, he almost drops the towel from around his waist.

“Y/N! Hi–hey!” he stutters, his eyes wide. What were you doing here and why were you so dressed up?

“Hi, Soobie,” you smile at him, standing up and hugging him. “Ooh, bad idea. You’re getting me all wet.”

“That’s probably the only way he can,” Yeonjun chuckles. You turn and shoot him a dirty look.

“Hurry up and put some clothes on,” you tell Soobin. “I don’t want to lose our reservation.”

“Right, yes. Sorry,” he says, walking past you and into his room.

“Please tell me you’re not just messing with that poor boy,” Yeonjun sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t think he’d ever recover.”

“No, Yeonjun,” you cross your arms. “Unlike some people, it matters who I bring home with me.”

“So, you actually like him?”

“He’s sweet,” you reason, refusing to elaborate any further.

“Am I not?” You couldn’t tell if you could sense a tinge of jealousy in his voice.

“Why don’t you ask one of the other girls you kissed the other night and get back to me?” Your anger catches both you and him off guard. Usually, you’re Yeonjun’s doormat.

You stare at each other in silence before finally looking away. It feels like hours before Soobin comes back out of his room, wearing his glasses and a white button down. It’s nerdy, but in a cute way. It’s quintessentially him.

“Ready?” you ask, holding out your hand for him.

“Yeah, ready,” he says, lacing his fingers into yours. “Bye, Yeonjun. We’ll see you later.”

“Bye,” he mutters, eyes locked on his phone screen. “Have fun.”

You close the door behind you without a word.

—————-

“This isn’t what I was expecting when you said we had a reservation,” Soobin says, eyeing the study room in the library that you’ve rented out for the next couple of hours. “I could’ve at least brought some homework to do.”

“This isn’t a study date,” you clarify. “Well, technically it is, except we’re studying each other. If we’re going to be a couple, we need to look and act like one.”

“Agreed.” Soobin’s palms are already starting to sweat. He had always thought of you as quiet and sweet around Yeonjun, but you seem so confident when it’s just you and him.

“I brought a game for us to play to get to know each other better,” you say, opening up your tote bag and digging out a deck of cards. “We’ll start with level one. What was the first thing you noticed about me?”

“You’re beautiful,” Soobin blurts out. His wording sticks in your head. Usually, people call you cute or pretty, but beautiful has a whole other meaning to it.

“Thank you,” you say, hoping he can’t see you blush. “I noticed how nice you were.”

“Or you didn’t notice me at all,” he says, staring at the floor.

“What do you mean?” you ask, looking at him in confusion.

“We’ve technically met twice. You were drunk the first time, and you didn’t really remember, so the second time we met, you thought it was the first. I had to reintroduce myself.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that.” He thought you were beautiful even when you were blackout drunk.

“It’s okay,” he shrugs. “It gave me a second chance to make a good first impression.”

“And you did,” you assure him. “All of Yeonjun’s friends are dicks, so it was really nice to meet one who isn’t.”

“I don’t think me and Yeonjun are friends,” he mutters.

“You don’t?” It had never occurred to you that Soobin didn’t like Yeonjun.

“Does it seem like we’re friends?”

“Well… no, I guess not,” you say, looking back at the deck in your hands.

“He’s kind of an asshole,” Soobin laughs. He’s right, you think to yourself, but it’s not something you’ve ever been willing to accept.

“He wasn’t always like that,” you quip back. “He used to be really sweet. I don’t know. Something just changed between highschool and college. He wanted to be cool and went on this whole journey to reinvent himself.”

“So, he’s completely different, but you’re still in love with him?”

You have no idea how to answer that question. Soobin knows he shouldn’t have asked it.

“Let’s skip to level two,” you change the subject, digging through the cards. “What's the most attractive thing I do without realizing it?”

Soobin swallows hard. He thinks everything you do is attractive. Even the way you’re looking at him right now, the corners of your mouth slightly upturned, makes his heart beat faster. He weighs his options. “You’re bossy.”

“You like that?” you laugh. There were so many other things he could have picked about you.

“Yes. You know exactly what you want and you aren’t afraid to tell me. It’s–it’s very attractive.”

“Fair enough.” You lean back in your chair, eyeing him up and down. “You have nice hands.”

“Really?” he says, looking at them. “Nobody’s ever told me that.”

“Dude,” you say, taking one into your grasp and comparing it to yours. “They’re huge. It’s hot.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, pulling his hand away and hiding his face.

“Did I say something wrong?” you ask him. He looks up at you, surprised.

“No! I’m just, I’m not used to being complimented. Especially not on my appearance.” It’s never occurred to you that some people don’t get showered with comments on how good they look all the time, especially someone as handsome as Soobin.

“Soobin,” you say, locking eyes with him. “You are very attractive. From one pretty person to another, okay?”

“Okay,” he laughs awkwardly. “It’s hard to argue with that.”

“You know what?” You set the deck of cards down on the table. “Fuck the game. Let’s do something more fun.”

“Like what?”

“Kissing lessons,” you grin.

“What!?” Soobin looks terrified. He checks behind his shoulder to make sure the room’s blinds are shut.

“If we want to make Yeonjun jealous, you’re going to have to look like you can kiss me better than he can. That’ll really get on his nerves.”

“Was I… bad at kissing the other night?”

“No, but you were a little desperate,” you explain.

“Sorry.” He’s looking away again.

“Stop apologizing to me. I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

“Oh. Then why do I need lessons?”

“Listen, I’m all for my fake boyfriend seeming obsessed with me, but if you keep kissing me like it’s the end of the world, it’s not going to seem like we do it on the regular.”

“Makes sense.”

“Exactly. So, let’s practice. We’ll start easy with cheek kisses. Don’t flinch.” You lean over and place a quick kiss on Soobin’s cheek, and he does his best to stay still. “See, was that so hard?”

“I guess not,” he breathes out.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “You guess?”

“It wasn’t,” he clarifies. “What’s next?”

You grab both of his hands and pull him to his feet. “Hug me like you missed me.”

He doesn’t need much more instruction, wrapping his arms around your waist until there’s no space between the two of you. “Now what?”

“Kiss the top of my head.” Soobin places a gentle kiss at the crown of your head, your shampoo smelling like citrus. You look up at him with a smile.

“Good job,” you say. “Now my forehead, and then my cheek, and then my nose.”

One of his hands moves to cup your face, following your instructions carefully. Once he’s placed a kiss on the tip of your nose, he doesn’t pull away. “And your mouth?”

You nod, leaning in until your lips connect. He’s more cautious this time, making sure it doesn’t seem like he’s trying to swallow you whole.

“How was that?” he asks, breaking away.

“It was nice,” you say. “Maybe a little too gentle.”

Instead of replying, Soobin pulls you into another kiss, his grip on your waist tightening and his mouth open. “Better?”

“Better,” you affirm before kissing him again. Your hands slip into his hair, tugging on it slightly. Soobin leans further into you until you’re pressed against the blackboard.

His tongue finds its way into your mouth and to your surprise, you whimper. And just like that, Soobin is hard, all of his nervousness melting away to focus on pleasing you. He pulls away, his lips kissing their way down your jaw and onto your neck.

“Does this feel good?” he asks you, sucking on the sensitive skin. The best answer you can give him is a strained moan. You pray he doesn’t leave a mark.

“You—you’re a fast learner,” you stammer. One of his hands brushes the hemline of your shirt, prompting you to snap into reality and push him away. “That was good. You did good.”

Soobin steps back, his body no longer keeping you upright. You both do your best to regain your composure, wiping your lips dry and fixing your hair.

“I have a good teacher,” he says, suddenly feeling awkward again. He prays you don’t notice his hard on, even though it was just pressed up against you. Except it’s all you can think about.

If it were anybody else, you’d probably laugh and tease them about it, but not Soobin. You had no idea how much you’d enjoy this. Sure, kissing him while drunk and heartbroken at the party was fun, but this was different.

“Well, I think we’ve had a successful day,” you say, quickly gathering the cards off the table and shoving them into your bag. “I have to run. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Oh. Yeah, okay,” he smiles, his stupid dimples showing. “I’ll see you later, Y/N!”

And with that, you’ve slammed the study room’s door behind you, willing yourself to think about literally anything or anyone else on the way back to your dorm.

—————-

Taglist: @orangesodafoam @deezbutz28 @ur-mother-realnotclickbait @internet-folks @darlingz99 @foxyjun @stardustmooncakes @giaalorine @niningtori i @goquokka @csbenthusiast @moarmyjkhk @lizdevorak @sooberryworld @lonelybutterflytae @midnight-mochii @theresawtf @nowadays56 @jjklvr9 @baekberrie @philijack @lixpixstix @reiheis @thewintermer @yoseicour @matcha-binz @choizzn @amoryeonjun

P.S.: Please shoot me an ask or a reply if you’d like to be added to (or removed from) the taglist! Also, I struggle to keep up with different lists for individual members, but if you really don’t want to be tagged on all of my works, just let me know and I will do my best to keep things separate <3

118 notes · View notes