#I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping And I Don't Regret It | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

holybibly · 3 months

Text

ℂ𝕣𝕒𝕫𝕪 𝔽𝕠𝕣𝕞 | 𝕄𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕚 𝕩 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕣𝕖: smut, idol!Au, s2l, fragment of life

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 12,9k

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: Seven times you've been lucky, on the eighth Song Mingi from Ateez shows you a side of himself that his fans will probably never get to know.

𝕎𝔸ℝℕ𝕀ℕ𝔾: Pervert Idol! Mingi, Unprotected sex, stomach bulge, fingering, degrading, pet names, size kink, face fucking, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, explicit language, squirting, pussy slapping, oral, overstimulation, somnophilia, multiple orgasms, сreampie, sexual audio recording, rough sex, praise kink and more.

𝔸/ℕ: Wrote this overnight, it's really crazy. Gosh, I am so excited to show you the handsome Mingi who has become a favourite for an overnight train ride poll. I hope it lives up to your expectations. This is one of the 4 pieces I've been working on. It brings us closer to a tender and sensual smut with Seonghwa (I'm still suffering from the idea).

I'll make a masterlist this weekend.

Comments, reblogs and questions are always welcome. I'm completely open to communication, so don't be shy bunnies. We have a safe space here.

Lots of love to you all. Have fun on your night train ride with Mingi.

dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

"Take care, darling; you never know what may happen. Especially in the night." Asa's voice was soft, but with a note of insistence.

"Asa, you don't have to worry so much. It's just a night train; I've done it a thousand times." You sigh tiredly, knowing it was pointless to argue with Asa, and yet, in a way, she was right. You never know what might happen at any given moment in your life.

"There's always a first time, Y/N. Take care, and be sure to text me when you get on the train."

"Sure, I will see you soon." You pull the sleeves of your shortened jumper tighter as you press the call disconnect button.

The night air is cool and fresh, dancing on your skin like a light breeze, crawling under the hem of your short skirt, tickling the soft, milky skin of your bare thighs. The sensation sends shivers down your spine, and you begin to regret your choice of clothing. It's too open and too revealing, both for the time of day and for the situation.

But it doesn't matter; the train is warm and cosy in its own way, and soon you'll be relaxing on the soft seats of the dark compartment under the peaceful rhythmic rocking, but most importantly, you'll be alone without the noise and bustle. Travelling to Tokyo is great, and you enjoy every second, but the crowds get tiring and the incessant noise starts to stress you out.

That is why an overnight train journey is a nice and relaxing change of pace.

It's a spontaneous trip to another city, just for a few days—a place quieter and more secluded than the never-sleeping Tokyo. Asa is waiting for you to finally join her, having travelled there the day before yesterday. Rumour has it that this is also the town where you're most likely to find the most Korean idols, who have come to relax in the luxurious hot springs.

They always come here to spend their long-awaited holidays without the constant camera surveillance and screaming fans. You didn't care if you met any of the celebrities there. Seeing a pretty face here and there was a nice bonus, but the main purpose of your trip was the hot springs and a few gourmet restaurants with high user ratings.

It's not that you were totally ignorant of idols; you were aware of many groups thanks to Asa and her crush on pretty boys, but you were a realist, and it was just stupid to have rosy dreams for a guy who had never seen you in his life, and if he had, he probably wouldn't remember you. That's why it didn't matter to you at all whether or not you met any of the pretty idols along the way.

You always thought night trains were the best way to travel. Travelling during the day is too hectic, too noisy, and too impractical. Instead of sitting in a stuffy metal box on wheels and wasting precious time, you could be doing something useful. There's always the chance of a night's rest, even if it's just for a few hours, and the next morning you'll be somewhere else, full of energy and good humour.

This was the seventh time you'd travelled by overnight train, and so far you'd considered yourself lucky. You were so grateful that you'd never had to share the confined space of your compartment with anyone else. The prospect of sleeping next to a stranger wasn't the most appealing one, and it would no doubt make you very nervous.

You cross your fingers in the hope that your luck will hold this time around. As you walk down the aisle of the train, you shift your gaze from your ticket to the small numbers on the tightly closed compartment doors. You try to find your seat. When you finally find it, you exhale with relief and push open the heavy sliding door. You are glad to be able to sit down and stretch your legs, taking off the most uncomfortable shoes in the world. It's first-class. The door opens silently and smoothly, allowing a thin strip of light from the narrow corridor into the secluded compartment, illuminating it with a bright yellow glow.

You've never thought about sharing your space with anyone else because you're so used to being alone. Except for a few passengers who seem to share your point of view, most people prefer to travel during the day, so the night trains are usually almost empty. Once your eyes get used to the changing light, you can't help but gasp at what you see.

"Oh!"

You're not alone. There's someone else in the semi-darkness of your compartment.

Someone from whom it seems impossible to take your eyes off, no matter how rude it might be of you to do so. There's a man sitting on the seat directly in front of you, with his legs spread wide open and his mobile phone held loosely in one hand. He is an incredibly attractive guy. You quickly look away, embarrassed that you're openly checking him out, as your eyes slide down his body. He's dressed in a black suit that hugs his thick thighs. God, this is embarrassing. His jacket is folded beside him, leaving him wearing a single black shirt and a few buttons undone on his chest, contrasting beautifully with his smooth golden skin.

For the second time that night, your eyes met his, and you gasped. You somehow know who those eyes belong to, and who doesn't? Two puddles of melted milk chocolate, the soft, sugary look of puppy dog eyes—Song Mingi, a gorgeous, cheeky rapper from Ateez. Oh, boy.

You swallow loudly at the realisation that your eyes aren't the only ones analysing the stranger in front of you.

"Good evening." You bow and lower your head as you realise that you've clearly been staring at the idol all this time. Suddenly, you feel so ashamed that you can't even imagine meeting his gaze again. In return, you get a small hum of approval from him and a polite nod of the head from him.

You finally decide to go inside and close the door behind you after a few seconds of awkwardly shuffling from foot to foot. The lights inside are rather dim, a bit of a nuisance despite the fact that they hardly illuminate your compartment at all, and you wonder if he would mind if you asked him to turn them off completely at some point. Eventually, it starts to make your sensitive eyes ache, but you don't want to make Mingi feel uncomfortable by asking for it.

The atmosphere was already awkward and strange, and you didn't want to make it worse. He must have decided to take the night train for the same reasons you did. And here you are, the two of you, strangers, although can you really call a guy the whole world knows a stranger? In the semi-darkness of a night compartment, without prying eyes or cameras.

The situation seemed to be stressful, and that's why you were so grateful that up until now you hadn't had to share your space with anyone else on overnight journeys. Even so, there was something strangely intoxicating and exhilarating about the whole thing.

Does it look like your luck has run out, or have you managed to grab it by the tail?

You take your bag off your shoulder and tiptoe up to put it on the luggage rack with your back to him. Unfortunately for you, you can't get to it. Right now you're cursing your short stature for looking utterly ridiculous in front of a good-looking guy, and not just any guy, but Song Mingi himself. You can feel the muscles in your legs tense up in pain as you try to stretch yourself up, and you have the feeling that the bag in your hands is getting heavier and heavier the more you try to put it on the shelf. It's so embarrassing that you let out a muffled, awkward laugh.

"I'll give you a hand with that." The unexpected touch of the palm of your hand against your lower back upsets your balance, and your body jerks.

Your head jumps up, goose bumps running up your arms and creeping down your back as you realise that Mingi is now standing next to you, too close to be considered decent. The scent of his woody, tart perfume fills the small space between you, and you long to bury your face in his broad, muscular chest and take a deep breath of him.

He easily takes the bag from you and sets it on top of the top compartment, the touch of his other hand still palpable—hot, confident, and somehow possessive—as it slides down, almost to the curve of your butt.

You look down and suddenly realise how far your skirt has been pulled up. It now exposes most of your milky thighs and barely covers your bottom. Trying to look as decent as possible, you pull down the hem of your skirt with a soft squeak to get your clothes back in place. Your cheeks are flushed with shame and embarrassment. Looking up again, you realise that Mingi is watching you intently, watching every move of yours.

"You're so tiny." He says this, tilting his head to one side and letting the corner of his soft, plump pink lips curve up in a smirk.

Your heart flutters at the thought, perhaps a little more than it should be doing. You would never have thought that you would feel a strange mixture of emotions—something between excitement and extreme embarrassment—over something so trivial, perhaps even offensive.

"Maybe you're the one that's too tall." You realise this and immediately feel sorry for yourself, desperately wanting to put your hand over your mouth. God, can't you just make yourself look even stupider in his eyes? You shouldn't have said that aloud.

In response to your words, Mingi hums and raises an eyebrow. There is a gleam of amusement in his beautiful brown eyes; your comment seems to amuse him. Your cheeks heat up from the blush that is spreading over them, but you're grateful for the playful reaction; it makes the situation a little less weird and awkward.

You really should sit back in your seat and shut up so you don't say too much, something along the lines of, "You look absolutely stunning in that suit; can I sit on your lap?".

Eventually, you turn your attention to the hand still on your hip, and the sight of his long fingers adorned with massive rings makes your knees tremble more than you'd like to admit.

When he pulls away, you find that the loss of his touch is making you feel as cold as ice. You quickly come to your senses and sit down on the opposite side of the idol, who follows your lead and settles down in his own seat.

You take out your phone and text Asa, as promised. God, you'll have so much to talk about when you meet. Awkwardly crumpling the hem of your skirt, you wait for the train to depart. For a long minute, there is silence in the compartment—an utterly awkward, embarrassing silence.

Every time you cast a quick glance towards Mingi, you notice that his eyes don't seem to leave you for a second. He presses the tip of his tongue lightly against the corner of his plump, beautiful lips, as if analysing your every move.

It makes you nervous to be in your own skin.

"I'm Mingi." Your ears perk up in an instant as soon as he starts to speak again.

When he says his name, his voice sounds so soft, soothing, and confident. You can't remember the last time you've been so attracted to another man's voice. It makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter, and maybe, just maybe, it makes you squeeze your thighs a little harder than you should.

This is messed up.

"I know." You answer quietly. This is a fucking embarrassment. You decide you've humiliated yourself enough in front of him, so after a moment, you add. "Y/N, nice to meet you."

"Ah, so you know, eh?" He smiles brightly, and you somehow melt. "And here I was thinking' we were just strangers to each other. That's not a problem for you, Y/N, is it?" The way he says your name takes your breath away from you. It's something in his nature—a hidden but imposing dominance, so deep with a quiet note of authority. There were darker layers lurking beneath that image of sweet charm.

You have no idea why he has such an effect on you, but it's safe to say the overwhelming feeling is not entirely unwelcome.

"No, no, it's fine." You wave your hands in an awkward manner. "It should have been my turn to ask if it was OK. At a time like this, I guess you didn't expect anyone else to be using the train." Your cheeks flushed, and you nervously bit your lower lip.

"How cute."

You bring your hand up to your face and press it against your hot cheeks, trying to cool them down a little. Cute! It's a real miracle that you manage to stop yourself from squealing enthusiastically.

"Are you going travelling, Y/N?" He tilts his head to the side in an interested way, like a curious puppy, and you can't help but smile in response to that.

"Yes, to the hot springs." Looking anywhere but at Mingi, you reply humbly.

"Ah, I see. Takayu Onsen?"

"Tamagawa Onsen, actually."

At your words, the idol nods understandingly, and a dazzling smile appears on his lips. God, can he get any more handsome?

"Of course it's Tamagawa. Somehow I can't imagine you anywhere else; this place is your kind of place. Then you're stuck with me. I'm going there too; the boys and I have to spend a few days there before the concerts." He says it in such an easy and casual way. As if you've known each other for a long time.

"Um, it's quite a long trip. Are you sure you'll be comfortable?" You ask Mingi, vaguely hoping that you'll be able to sneak away from him and find yourself comfortably alone again. For some reason, his presence makes you feel very uncomfortable and makes you tingle. There's something special about him, but you can't quite put your finger on it.

"It's fine. Really, don't worry." Mingi settled himself more comfortably in his seat and spread his long legs a little further apart, causing the tight fabric of his suit trousers to stretch and outline the contours of his gorgeous, muscular thighs. His whole posture seemed to say, "You're not getting rid of me that easily." "Actually, I'm the one who should be asking if your boyfriend is upset that you will spent the night with another man." There is something about the way he says it that makes you tense up inside, but you ignore it completely and answer quietly instead, crossing your legs shyly.

"I've no boyfriend." And without knowing it, you give him exactly the answer that Mingi wanted. "I'm just on a road trip with a friend." Shying away from making full eye contact with him, his gaze so intense and focused, your fingers play with the hem of your skirt as you speak.

When he speaks again, you can almost hear the smile in Mingi's deep voice.

"Then I hope you'll enjoy it fully."

Silence falls over you once more. You keep looking at your shoes, desperately wanting to take them off and curl up on the soft seat. But Mingi's presence prevents you from relaxing completely. As the train sets in motion, you give a slight jerk. Midnight, it's now. It will take about eight hours to get to Tamagawa, and you should arrive at the station in the morning.

You let your eyes slide down from your shoes to Mingi's legs in stealth. His thighs are so muscular and strong that he could probably squeeze you between them, and you wouldn't be able to move an inch, trapped as you were under his tall, strong body. You feel warm between your legs, and you bite your lower lip, hoping Mingi is too busy phoning to notice you're staring at his thighs. And you have to push away the thought of how nice it would be to ride one of those beautiful, thick thighs and rub your pussy against it.

"This is a beautiful pendant. It looks good on you." The sound of Mingi's voice makes you jerk, and you raise your eyes to him fearfully.

Instinctively, you press your fingers against the gleaming heart of crystal that sits on your chest. It's massive—heavy on your chest, glimmering cold, hard to miss.

"Thanks; it's my favourite too." The compliment takes you completely by surprise, but at the same time, it brings a slight, sweet pout to your lips.

Mingi can't help but think about what that pendant is going to look like between your naked tits while you're being scolded like there's no tomorrow. He can bet that it's going to be fucking amazing. His plump lips curl up in a smirk.

"Do you always wear it?" Contextual question: When you get fucked, do you take it off?

"Yes. It's my lucky charm." As if to warm it up, your fingers wrap around the large crystal, rubbing it a little. "It always brings me good luck."

"How appropriate." Mingi observes, chuckling grimly.

For an idol, Mingi seems inordinately interested in learning more about you, but you naively chalk it up to a trivial lack of social contact and a limited opportunity to see the world without the constant scrutiny of managers and the attention of cameras.

You're too enamoured with his sweet, playful personality, reminiscent of a big, soft puppy. You'll fancy yourself under his scrutiny and answer all his questions, even the ones that make you blink in confusion or blush hotly. Mingi is a real sweetheart, and you can totally agree with his fans: He's such a nice, nice guy. Little do you know about him...

He does it almost mechanically, moving his hands so you can't take your eyes off them, twirling the massive silver rings on his long phalanges, touching his plush, juicy lips with his fingertips, and noticing the beautiful gel on his nails. Your body reacts to his every move; your lower abdomen feels pleasantly tight, and you can feel a faint throbbing between your legs every time he smiles at you, making you squeeze your thighs together and squirm nervously in your seat.

"Sorry for asking so many questions. You know it's not always easy to talk to someone." He lowers his eyes shyly and bites his plump lip. You immediately try to put his concern at ease.

"I get it; being an idol must be hard, having to be in control all the time."

Damn, you were so right; you'd run away from him as soon as you opened the door to the compartment if you only knew what dirty, lustful thoughts he's having about you and how his sweet smile hides a passionate desire to push you into the padded seat and fuck you so hard you can't think or walk.

But Mingi was good at it. He could control his face and body very well, thanks to Seonghwa's great example. He had taught him only the best.

"You must be tired; if you want, we can turn off the light and you can go to bed." Mingi said, noticing that you were rubbing your eyes more and more, stumbling over your own words, and yawning all the time. "You can trust me; I'll take care of you, Y/N." The tone is so sweet, too sweet, to hide the true meaning of what he's saying: Sweetheart, I want to jerk off to your sleepy, pretty face as you relax in my presence—so seductive and vulnerable.

That deep, honeyed tone inevitably makes your thighs clench, but with it comes a flood of guilt as you feel your panties get wet, and dirty thoughts put you in such an uncomfortable position that you have to fidget awkwardly on the seat, praying by all that is holy that your embarrassing arousal goes unnoticed and you don't leave a wet spot on the seat.

"Are you sure?" You're terribly tired from the day. The offer is so tempting, and Mingi is so charming and respectful. A real gentleman.

Mingi smiles softly, but it is a smile that looks a little predatory at the edges as his big, hot palm comes down on your bare knee. It sends a shiver down the length of your skin.

"Sure, go to bed, doll."

You feel yourself blushing again, but you can't tell why—the heavy, hot touch of his hand against your skin or the caressing nickname. God, this guy is a threat. You give a slow nod and turn your gaze to the dimly lit wall sconce on the wall. Mingi follows your eyes and reaches up to turn it off, plunging the entire compartment into a pleasant darkness. The faint, diffused light of the moon through the window is the only source of light that allows you to see each other's faces. A smile of gratitude is on your face in response to his actions.

"Thanks, I had no idea how much my eyes were hurting."

"You're welcome, doll."

You try to ignore the way his voice seems to sink lower. It takes on such a velvety, dark tone that it makes you even wetter between your legs. You pull back. Mingi has been so sweet and polite to you all this time; you should be ashamed of these feelings.

As you lean back in the empty seat beside you and close your heavy eyelids, the touch of his hand fades. You feel a strange comfort in Mingi's company, despite your earlier apprehension at being so vulnerable in the company of a stranger. Despite being a world-famous star and just a damn gorgeous man, he really is so kind and attentive to you. You do not dare to doubt what he says. Mingi has promised to take care of you, and you are strangely comforted by the thought. In fact, he really is a very caring man. You begin to suspect that this is true for all of them.

Before you close your eyes again, you look at Mingi. His dark gaze is fixed on you, and there is something raw in the depths of those chocolate-coloured irises of his. The moonlight falling on him makes his chiselled face look sharper and sexier, and there is no longer the sweet smile and adorable puppy-dog expression on his handsome features. It makes you take a sharp breath before your fluttering eyelids stay closed, weighed down by sleep. Your whole body relaxes, and you let yourself drift off to sleep, lulled by the peaceful rocking of the train and the calm presence of Mingi.

Mingi just can't take his eyes off you. You look so tiny, so soft and juicy with your plump arse and the most delicious pair of tits he's ever seen. They're perfect to hold in his hands and his hands are just itching to squeeze them into his palms, feel their weight, pull on those pink nipples until you start wriggling and sobbing. Oh, how he wants to hear the sweet sounds you make as he fills you with his cock, or even better, as you moan out his name.

For tonight at least, he just wants to have you. Mingi isn't at all picky about where he wants to get laid; a night train isn't the worst option. He's been fucked in more uncomfortable places than this. But that wouldn't be very nice of him. Would it? He said he'd look after you while you slept so innocently in front of him in that seductive little skirt. He wonders if you're wearing lace or silk knickers. It's probably silk, because you look as if you're enjoying the light and soft touch of the silk fabric against your sweet pussy. You must also be very sensitive.

Y/N. He is absolutely mesmerised by you. Everything about you is so enticing. The way your round cheeks blush, the beautiful way you smile, and especially the way you squeeze your thighs together every time he turns to you. You are a little slut. Mingi is absolutely delighted with how he's making you feel. He makes you nervous. He wants nothing more than to get under your skin even more.

But if Mingi has learned anything by now, it's that despite your best efforts, you're not a very subtle person. In fact, you're easy to read. Your petite body gives you away all the time. Your teeth bite your plump lower lip until it's swollen and red. Your eyes never leave his hands as he deliberately plays with his rings, causing you to lose your train of thought. You're probably thinking about him using his fingers to stretch your tight hole or using his fingers to fuck your soft, wet mouth. Mingi's sure he'll have to spend enough time getting you to take three fingers in your cunt before lowering you on his cock, and maybe you'll even let him play with your virgin arse. Hell, he'll beg you if he must. Fuck his pride at the prospect of being the first to fuck your plump arse. He's going to have to make a video of himself fucking you so stupid and so deep. San is going to go mad when he sees your juicy arse blushing under the palms of his hands and and jiggling seductively every time he enters you up to your balls.

You are definitely something special.

That's what Mingi tells himself over and over and over again. He's just reaching out to you. Nothing more than that.

Just like he promised, he'll take care of you. You'll feel good, and getting his dick wet will be a nice bonus for him.

He takes another good look at your beautiful face as he leans forward in his seat. Your lips are wet, plump and parted, and he can't help but imagine how beautiful they would look stretched around his big cock. You're going to have to practise getting yourself to swallow his dick whole, you probably won't get more than a quarter of him the first time. The thought of it is the cause of the salivation in his mouth.

Your eyelashes are touching the top of your cheeks, your soft dark hair is beautifully curled up in ringlets, and Mingi wants to mess it up and pull it out. You look absolutely angelic. A real doll. Mingi has never seen an angel before. He can't be blamed for his desire to have a touch and to defile.

Idol or not, Mingi is just a man.

It all begins with a small movement of his fingers over the kneecap of his knee to the top of his thigh. He can feel how his touch raises the goose bumps on your skin. Mingi feels bolder and lowers his palm all the way down to your thigh, letting it rest gently on your body, and then gently reaches up to the inside of your thigh, making you shiver. At the sight, Mingi licks his lips. It would be easier if he came closer. Would it?

As he kneels down, he places his other hand on your leg, now touching both of your thighs. Your skirt rises with each touch of Mingi's eager hands, lifting the fabric higher and higher each time. He glances over your voluptuous body, his gaze lingering on the spot where your sweater has risen, exposing the soft skin of your stomach and the peeking lower half of your bra. Fuck. He can't quite make out what it is in the dark, but he knows it must be the creamy silk that covers your full breasts. That makes him dig his fingertips harder into your skin.

You move in your sleep, shifting until you're on your back, giving Mingy full access without even wanting it. It's as if you want to make it even easier for his dirty hands to touch your chaste, tantalised body. When he sees an opportunity, Mingy never says no. Carefully, he slides one hand under your skirt while the other continues to massage your thigh in a soothing way. Confirming his earlier thought, his fingers are impatient and run briefly over your panties. They're silk, and they're wet as hell. You're soaked through, and he's already decided that he's definitely taking your panties with him. He'll be sure to jerk off in them when he has a bit of free time later.

"Oh, dolly, you're so damn wet." Mingi moans hoarsely as his fingers slowly slide over the wet material, rubbing it. The furrowed brow quickly disappeared, and the doll's lips parted in a perfect 'o', a short sob escaping from them. "Precious little one."

Your legs twitch in an attempt to squeeze Mingi's forearm, but he quickly calms you, spreading your thighs with his free hand and smiling carnivorously at the soft squeal that escapes your lips as you feel long fingers play with your plump clit through your underwear. If the fans knew what their adored idol was doing, they'd be going crazy. But they probably already knew. Considering the number of female fans they've fucked over the years, the information has leaked out somewhere in the tight circle of their fandom.

Mingi decides he doesn't like the silk barrier. He slides his hand under the silk of your panties and touches the wet warmth of your cunt, making his trousers suddenly feel too tight around his crotch.

As if he'd just discovered a new toy that he wanted to touch and explore before playing with it, he let himself explore the wetness. You are soaking wet, and Mingi can feel that he is gradually losing all self-control and all control over himself. He wants to taste you; he wants to feel you on his tongue; he doesn't even mind rubbing his face against you like a dog. The pressure of his thumb against your throbbing clit finally seems to wake you up. You gasp and begin to open your sleepy eyes. You look around in confusion. Then you let out a startled cry as you noticed Mingi crouching beside you, one hand between your thighs.

"Shhhh." As your legs begin to convulse, Mingi quickly reassures you. "It's all right, doll; it's just me. You can go back to sleeping if you want to. I'll take care of the rest." He whispers it in a velvety, soothing voice, as if he were trying to lure a kitten into his arms.

You still seem to be very disoriented; your eyes are not quite open, and you are whimpering in despair and shame at finding yourself in a situation for which you were totally unprepared. Mingi kneels before you. Song Mingi is kneeling before you with his hand pressed against your pussy.

It is Mingi's wish that he could do away with all your worries and nerves. He knows he could, if only you would stop squeezing your legs so tightly around his hand.

"M-Mingi, what..." There's a sharp exhale from you at last, as if you're coming to terms with the situation. "What are you doing?"

The idol gives you a seductive smile.

"You looked like you needed help, doll. So needy and restless. Let me help you, huh? Let me take care of you, Y/N." Mingi leans down on your thigh to plant a wet, open-mouthed kiss on it. When he lifts his eyes up to you, they're bright and languorous, but with that adorable puppy-dog expression that's so well known to his fans.

"I'm going to take good care of you."

You resist, still stunned by the sight and situation you woke up from, and bring your hands to your chest, unconsciously wrapping your arms around the heart-shaped pendant for reassurance. Mingi allows her fingers to continue doing what they were doing before, slowly circling over your clit, causing you to catch your breath. Your small hand reaches out for Mingi's palm, which is still gripping your thigh tightly, the nails digging into his skin. "Y-you shouldn't do that. You...you can't act that way; what if?"You sob in a convulsive manner, your glassy eyes meeting Mingi's. Sexy, gorgeous, and lecherous Mingi, the sweet image of him completely shattered, towers over you even in this position. Despite your words, your body has its own opinion: your lower lip is caught between your teeth, and your breasts are rising and falling rapidly. The way your thighs are still trying to squeeze together and the way more and more moisture is dripping onto Mingi's fingers is a clear sign of approval for his actions to continue.

You're so easy to read. Mingi loves it. He's always liked the more responsive and sensitive type better. For him, what a pleasure it is to fuck them, dumb and docile.

"And why shouldn't I be, huh?" Mingi says as he intertwines his fingers with yours and leans forward to run his nose along your thigh, too close to your pussy. He takes a deep breath. Fuck, you smell delicious and his drool starts to flow. "Because I'm an idol? Is it because I have to be good and obedient? Or is it because you don't want me to, because it seems like that's all you ever think about? Have you had a dirty dream about me? You used to moan so much in your sleep, Y/N."

You hesitate, closing your slanted cat eyes and letting the feel of Mingi's touch envelop you, your lips pressed together to hold back a loud moan. He can already feel you giving in, even though you haven't answered him.

He's good at cajoling. Again, thank Seonghwa for that.

"We shouldn't..." You whine as one of Mingi's long fingers teases at your wet entrance, and the thought of that finger plunging into you makes you shudder.

"We can do what we want to do, or don't you want to do that? Don't you want me?" He purses his lips, pretending to offend. "You like me. Don't you? I'm your favourite boy, right?"

You nod, feeling more depressed by the second, unable to form a coherent thought. How could that have been the case? You must be dreaming. Dreaming that Mingi of Ateez is kneeling before you.

Oh my God!

"Use your words, doll. Say, "I want you." Speak my name." The idol continues to coax you, and you give in, much to the delight of the Mingi.

"I want you, Mingi." You do your best to keep your eyes on Mingi as you speak, but his gaze is too intense and too strong, and you feel terribly embarrassed. He looks almost predatorily.

Mingi grins fiercely and slowly licks his lips. His finger slides lightly into your wet cunt. In response to this, he hears an intermittent sigh of pleasure from you.

"What a good girl."

You sound so precious as he bends his finger inside you, feeling your velvety walls. Wetness drips down his massive silver rings to the base of his fingers. Mingi wants to record your sweet sounds and include them in the next track so everyone can hear how well he pleases you. He should do it, damned. Hongjoong will be burning with envy when he hears about you. The captain has a weakness for sweet little girls who moan and groan. Fucking pervert.

Mingi lets go of your hand to pick up his forgotten phone from the floor, still finger-fucking you. He quickly opens the audio recording application, hits the 'record' button, and drops the phone on the floor next to him, giving his full attention back to you.

You are so in need of his touch. You can't deny your desire for him. Your body speaks for itself.

"Come on, baby, moan for me. Let everyone hear what a dirty girl you are. Come on. What do you say we put some of your beautiful moans and groans on our new track? Mmm, you're going to hear it all over the place; every time you will remember how good it felt when I fucked your little, tight cunt."

"Oh God, that's... You can't say that." You whimper.

"Don't be embarrassed, gorgeous. Let's get you out of those pretty little knickers so you can sing even more sweetly for me." You nod impatiently, breathing heavily as Mingi helps you to lift your hips and pull your knickers off, quickly slipping them into his pocket. He was quite serious when he said that he wanted to take them with him.

Now that your pussy is fully exposed, Mingi takes the liberty of spreading your legs wide open and stares intently at the clear liquid that oozes out of your hole, causing you to whimper and cover your face in shame. He leans down to leave a hot scarlet and purple hickey on the inside of your thigh.

"Look at how wet you are, fuck." Mingi moans in a guttural voice as his fingers push your folds apart so that they are completely covered in your slick, glistening juices. "You've had a dirty dream, haven't you, baby?"

Your eyes are closed, and your long lashes are fluttering. Your plump lower lip is trapped between your front teeth. You're such a spectacle; oh, how he wants to fuck your brains out. In response to his question, you nod your head shyly.

"Y-yes."

Your embarrassment excites Mingi even more as he slaps your pussy, finally giving in to his perverted desires and feeling the moisture splash against his palm. You let out a shrill squeal, your hips shaking uncontrollably.

"Must have been something fucking satisfying, getting your little cunt that wet, huh?" He grins lecherously as he looks at you. You look tasty enough to make him want to eat you alive.

He should really thank the manager for getting him a ticket on that special train.

Your legs twitched, trying to close, but Mingi's hand stiffly stopped them before letting them close around his forearm. You're so overwhelmed by all the sensations, but you're not at all ready for them to stop.

"I... I don't remember. Maybe I was thinking of you. Or maybe someone else." Having heard from Asa about the jealous nature of the group, you say this deliberately. All of the members were very possessive of their fans and very aggressive towards them. Why should they look to anyone else when they are right here, ready to make all their fans' dreams come true?

Mingi bristled. Sinking his teeth into your thigh and forcing his finger into you, making his ring stick to the sensitive rim of your used hole. Fuck. The pain and the pleasure mix together and turn your thoughts into mush.

"With my fingers fucking you like this, don't you fucking dare say that." He growls, the deep sound of it vibrating against your skin. Mingi slides a second finger inside of you, the two of them gliding through the wetness with ease and a loud slurping sound. "You will think only of me all the time. There is no one who can be better than me, doll."

You throw your head back, your chest rising and falling in a quick motion. The velvety walls of your pussy clench around Mingi's fingers. The sound of your moaning rises as the idol runs his fingers along the plush and tantalising walls of your vagina. They seem to just suck him in. You're so tiny all over, and he wonders if you can take all his cock.

"It's only you, Mingi." The way you howl out his name is all the answer that Mingi needs to hear.

The idol can't resist the temptation to lean forward and put his face between your thighs. His lust takes over; the sight is too exciting. All he had to do was find out if you tasted as sweet as you looked. The reaction is immediate: his tongue is licking a flat line from your slit to your clit, which he is circling greedily in between his plump lips. Your soft thighs tremble, your breath gets stuck in your throat along with a long moan, and your little hands cling to his shoulders.

"Oh, oh, God!" You let out a gasp, a barely audible whimper, your nails digging into the hard flesh beneath your tight-fitting shirt. Mingi is hoping that you are going to scratch him to a bloody pulp. Hell, he's in need of it.

You drive him crazy with your cuteness. Your juices are flowing in abundance all over his tongue. It tastes amazing, just the way he imagined it would, and Mingi thinks that he could get drunk on you. Fuck, he'll be bragging about you for days to come, rubbing it in the faces of the members. What a sweet thing he's managed to get his hands on. He could probably sit there and do that for hours, even days, licking that pretty little cunt of yours until his jaw hurts and his whole face is wet. He may have oral fixation, but that's not something he's going to want to put on his profile.

He sucks furiously on your swollen clit as his fingers begin to penetrate your tight hole, the wet, squelching sounds drowning out the sound of a train rumbling down the tracks. You're just perfect—too perfect for Mingi to ignore and not fuck. You literally taste heaven, and your voice sounds like sin—hot moans of uncontrollable pleasure.

"I...will...ahhh...M-Mingi..." You whimper, pressing your hand to your own mouth, and Mingi passionately wants to stop you and tell you that there's no better sound for his ears than your moaning. But the rational part of his brain, which sounds strangely like Seonghwa, tells him that it's for the best and that it's wise not to attract the attention of outsiders. "Please!"

You beg, and it's beautiful, your words muffled by the small palm of your hand but still clearly audible to him. Your back arched as you pushed your hips forward, forcing Mingi's fingers to dig deeper into you. You squeeze them so hard that the idol can barely move them inside of you at all. You squeeze them so hard that Mingi's chest vibrates with a rather low purr, which only drives you more wildly and adds to the pleasure, finally taking you to an unexpected peak as you cum profusely on Mingi's waiting tongue and fingers. You are flowing everywhere, and Mingi is greedily drinking it all in, insatiable in his quest to bring you to yet another orgasm, to make you so silly and submissive in his hands. He will take it all and more from you.

Mingi is so hungry for you, and you are so juicy and ripe, perfect for eating.

The second orgasm makes your whole body shake, and the stimulation is almost painful. Your hips jerk in Mingi's tight grip as he digs his fingertips into the plush, creamy skin. He simply can't get enough of you. He marvels at how dishevelled you look, lifting his dark gaze. Your head is thrown back, your eyes are closed, your skirt is pulled up high over your hips, and your cropped sweater almost completely exposes your bra. But it is your sweet mouth that beckons him to you completely. Beautiful, plump lips, slick with saliva and bite marks. They have been opened to let out gorgeous moans of his name and heavy, puffed-up sighs. He will crawl up your body like a predator until his face, soaked with your juices, is hanging over you.

Mingi is a big man—tall, strong, and nicely pumped up—his stunning figure completely covering you and trapping you underneath him.

You gasp for breath, still in a hazy post-orgasmic stupor, your glazed eyes meeting Mingi's, and you whimper as big, rough hands slide down your sides. He easily encompasses your boobs with ease, squeezing them with a force that causes them to fall out from under your bra.

"What big, juicy tits you have. Mmm, you can't be a better doll." Your embarrassed squeal is swallowed whole as Mingi kisses you passionately. Your tongues meet in an exchange of saliva and heavy breathing. On his lips, you can taste your own slime. It's rough, but you like it that way.

He slides his hands under your bra and massages your breasts, pinching your nipples with his fingers in a teasing way that makes you moan loudly into his mouth.

"The most beautiful and seductive pair of tits, so soft and heavy in my hands, I could just fuck them, couldn't I? Would you like that doll?" He whispers as he bites down on your lips and sinks his teeth into the soft, tender flesh. To be honest, he'd like to tear your lips into a bloody mess, but that's probably for another time.

Right now, he wants to use you. He wants to finally get his cock inside you and fuck you into a stupor. As if you could read his mind, your trembling hands reach out for his crotch.

"You want my cock, darling?" He moves his hips gently, and you feel his huge, hard cock pressing against you through the fabric of his trousers.

"Yes, yes, I want your cock so badly, Mingy." You're not as shy as you used to be; your desires are overpowering your modesty. And you don't have to ask twice as Mingi leans back and quickly unbuckles his belt, and you reach out for it, drawn to his sensual lips.

You would never admit it, but his lips were driving you crazy—those gorgeous, plump lips—moist and inviting, making you want to suck on them like a leech and never let go. You wanted to feel them all over your body.

Mingi quickly unbuttoned his trousers. Your tiny hands grabbed his shirt collar, trying to pull him as close as possible, and you licked his neck with your soft tongue. He's never met anyone so desperate to be touched. The way you whimper into his neck, kiss him randomly, and smear saliva over his lips and chin drives him wild. You're definitely his favourite—the best girl he's ever fucked in recent times, if maybe ever. He should tell the members about you; he should let them hear your beautiful, needy moans with the endless repetition of his name; he'll shove your wet panties right in their faces, damn it.

With one firm hand, Mingi holds you by the waist while the other pulls his boxers down until they are low enough for him to pull out his thick, aching cock. Running his thumb over the swollen, wet head, he squeezes the heavy length into his palm. You whimper and look up at him with your eyes wide open as his fingers grab your chin and pull you away from his neck. So perfect you look—dishevelled, tits bulging from your bra, skirt crumpled, and gathered around your hips as you desperately grab his shirt, trying to pull him as close as possible.

Mingi's desire is to destroy you completely.

"On your knees, dolly."

You are so relentless in your desire to please the man who is in front of you. As you obediently lower yourself to the carpeted floor—rough enough for your delicate knees—Mingi's hands run through your hair. You're too mesmerised by the sight in front of you—a gorgeous man, a world-famous idol, by the way—stroking his big cock lazily, looking too amazing to remain indifferent.

"Do you want to try it?" You drool. The only answer you can give is an impatient moan that tells Mingi all he needs to know. You're so desperate; you've never wanted to take someone's cock in the mouth so much. It would probably be so hard on your tongue because Mingi looks so big.

You're not quite sure if you can take the whole thing or just half of it. You know it'll bulge out of your throat if you do. You're so focused on thinking about it that you only come when the hot head of Mingi's cock begins to circle your smooth, swollen lips. He lets out a deep, low moan and the sound is pure porn. You can bet your bottom dollar that Mingi can make an entire concert hall cum at once just by moaning into the microphone. Fuck, their concerts must be wild.

Your mouth falls open in impatience as you look up at him with your eyes glazed over.

"You are such a good girl." Mingi whispers, holding back a moan as your tongue sticks out to lick the drop of pre-cum that is leaking from the head of his cock. He's sure that you've only been made for sucking his cock.

It's so easy to lead you; you're docile, submissive, eager for pleasure, and desperate for the praise that comes with it. The further your mouth descends onto his cock, the bigger and brighter your eyes become, full of pleading as you look up at Mingy, watching how he reacts, wanting to know if you're doing well. Mingi knows that if he were to send your picture to the members right now, it would cause a universal heart attack. They're absolute wimps for obedient little girls that they can scold and use at will.

"Look at you." He takes a sharp breath and runs his thumbs over your pouting cheeks. You look wickedly adorable, and perhaps Mingi is tempted to shove his cock even deeper down your throat, so that you choke on it and begin to sob. "You bruised your knees just so you could suck my cock. How did I get to be so lucky?"

The stifled moan that you let out is accompanied by a thrust of your hips that makes you feel like you are starting to choke. You try your best to relax your jaw as much as possible, holding back the coughing that starts to bubble up in your throat and forcing yourself to calm down. You look at Mingi through the protruding tears and blink your eyes slowly, waiting for the idol to start to fuck you down your throat. He takes no more than a second to realise what you're proposing.

"Want me to fuck your mouth, baby?" Your strangled moan stops momentarily as Mingi moves his hips again, pushing further into the enveloping wet heat, throwing your head back as you accept his heavy, massive length without complaining. "Damn beautiful, such a pretty cock slut."

Your lips tingle around the suggestive girth, and your cheeks are warm from the praise and effort you've put into his pleasure. You look so dishevelled right now, saliva dripping from your chin down your neck and between your heavy tits falling out of your bra. Your knees are red from rubbing against the rough carpet, your eyes are wet and red from unshed tears, and a small puddle of your secretions is also collecting underneath you, dripping freely from your quivering cunt. You haven't even been fucked yet, and you probably look as fucked as you feel. Even though you have every hope that you will be soon.

When Mingi suddenly yanks you by the hair and pulls you away from his cock, you make a half-squeaky sound and look at him with a crying, hurt look on your face, as if your favourite toy has just been taken away from you. Mingi leans down and pulls you to him for a dirty kiss, his tongue thrusting into your mouth and licking it from the inside to the outside as he tastes himself.

It may be disgusting, but your moans are enthusiastic, and you enjoy every second of it.

"You're so beautiful, dolly. What am I going to do with you?" His words are breathed in through searing kisses, the lips sliding together at random, smearing saliva and mucus all over. Damn, this is unrealistically hot—all of his fantasies coming to life in a beautiful girl who just happens to be sharing a compartment with him on the night train. "Maybe I should have you with me for an introduction to the other members? How would you like it if I were to fuck that obliging mouth of yours off in front of the whole group?"

Enjoying his praise and such a tantalising prospect, you whimper again. Being their whore isn't such a bad option, to be honest; as long as you're fed and well fucked, it's enough to have fun.

"I can't seem to keep my hands off of you, sweetheart. You're literally a pollination." Mingi's deep, velvety whisper tickles your ears. He reaches out to take the palm of your hand and cradle it against his cock.

It's a heavy, hot length, resting perfectly in the palm of your hand, and you long to feel it inside of you. It's big, big enough to send you to heaven with every thrust, and the big head hits you right on the cervix with every thrust of those skilled hips. God bless his dancing skills, because, as you know, dancers can fuck like gods.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" You gasp as Mingi's big hand glides over yours, both of them sliding up and down his hard cock in a confident manner. "With your beautiful eyes and the beauty of your face, Perfect, sweet lips, perfect for the sucking of my cock." He bites down on the torn lower lip you have bitten and kissed and pulls it into his mouth, then pulls back to give you a chaste kiss on your swollen mouth. "All of this is just for me."

Leaning completely on Mingi in front of you, your weak legs have long since stopped supporting you. Your beautiful mouth is open a little, a small whimper escaping from the depths of your throat as you savour the praise that is pouring down upon you. It makes you feel so damn good.

"You are such a delicious girl." Mingi moans as he bites down hard on one of your lips. He turns you around and pushes you in front of him until you find yourself pressing your face first against the fogged-up window. You look out, eyes wide open. There is nothing on the road, just wide fields whizzing by in a fast, blurred image. But something about the thought of somehow seeing how Mingi is fucking you stupid in front of windows makes you wet. Your pussy clenches against nothing. You arch your back and your plump, soft arse, trying to rub against Mingi's cock.

His commanding hand pulls one of your buttocks back to reveal your wet cunt and virgin anal opening. Fuck, you look so delicious. He thinks about pushing his face into your pussy once more and licking you until the morning comes. Next time, he says to himself, shaking his head in the hope that the urge will go away. His hair is falling down over his eyes, giving him that same vicious look that makes their fans go crazy for them.

"I'm going to fuck you like this." Mingi whispers, clenching the lobe of your ear with his teeth. "You'll be a good girl, and you'll be quiet for me so that nobody else can hear how good and how deep I'm fucking you. Do you understand me?"

The rough, big palm slapping your mouth muffled the impatient moan you made as the head of Mingi's cock pushed your sticky folds apart from behind.

"What I told you, doll. If you want to feel me inside you, you need to hear it. I can tease you all night long and play with your lusty little pussy if you are naughty." His words are disapproving and you do a quick nod of understanding. You're going to be good for him. You know you can. You will do everything Mingi asks of you and fulfil his every wish.

Mingi continues to tease you, enjoying the stuttering moans that are muffled by his hand as his cock slides between your folds, rubbing against your clit but never penetrating you. The bulging head of his cock clings to the edge of your throbbing hole and you want to start begging for it. It's agonising, and your eyes fill with tears of frustration at how much you want to feel the thick, long Mingi's cock inside you.

"Have I upset you, doll?" Mingi cooed at the sound of your sobs. "You want my cock so badly. Don't you?" Confirming his words, you nodded mindlessly. "Baby, you know how much I love you; I can't upset my fans." One second you're empty, needy, and throbbing with anticipation, and the next Mingi's thick cock is shoved deep inside you, your oozing hole struggling to get used to his massive size.

A wheeze bursts from your lungs at the intensity of the thrust, your breasts pressed against the window. Your nipples are hardening from the cold of the glass and are becoming even more sensitive than they were before. It's so painful and so good that you're on the verge of tears.

"So perfect, if only you could see the way your beautiful cunt is taking my cock in. I thought you'd have to be stretched for that, but what a pleasant surprise; you don't need it." The sultry purr makes you roll your eyes. His voice is a damned aphrodisiac, making you dumber and wetter, your juices squirting around his cock with every sinful move he make of his hips. Mingi fucks like a god; you were right about him.

You whimper weakly as your nipples rub against the cold glass of the window. Rationality has left you completely. Drool flows freely into Mingi's palm, which is still clamped over your mouth. Your legs turn to jelly as Mingi holds you with a strong arm around your waist, sliding hard in and out of your wet cunt, causing your eyes to roll back in your head. Somewhere far away, your mind is foggy. All it can think about is how good you feel and how much you want this to never end. It's like you're addicted to a drug and you need more Mingi—more, more, and more.

The narrow, velvety walls of your vagina close in over Mingi's dick, pulling him inside and holding him in what feels like a soft vice. Mingi's low, deep moans, the slapping against skin, and the loud, rhythmic squelching echo around you. It's so damned loud, even when he's holding back, and you can't help imagining what it would sound like elsewhere. This must be in their dorm; the rooms are soundproof because he's a terribly loud, whining, moaning mess.Two long fingers slide into your mouth and onto your tongue. You gurgle around them, sucking hard, the cold of the rings burning you, and it's so erotic.

"The best for me." That's all Mingi has to say to you before his thrusts get faster and faster, becoming almost aggressive as he presses you up against the window, his muscular thighs slapping against your plump arse.

All you can do is take what you're given and lick his fingers deep into your mouth as his massive cock fucks the life out of you. You throb and whip your juices around him. As your orgasm hits you, you rest your head on Mingi's shoulder. You arch up and shake with your whole body. Mingi's cock is still thrusting into you. He is having a hard time moving because you are squeezing him so hard. He doesn't stop hitting you, he moves his hips in a calculated way, hitting that special spot that makes you want to see the stars. It's almost mocking. The intense stimulation is searing, almost maddening, as if you're stuck somewhere between heaven and hell.

"That's it, doll. You look so beautiful when you cum so hard. Maybe I should fuck you on stage before all the fans, so they can see what a pretty face you make when my cock is so deep inside you." Teeth sink into your shoulder, and you give a weak whimper. "Or maybe you want me to film it so that I can jerk off any time I feel like it? Tonight I'm going to watch you cum over and over and over again."

Mingi seems to really mean what he says, because it's pretty clear from the way he keeps moving inside of you that he won't be satisfied until he's gotten a few more out of you. His endurance is something rabbits would envy. Mingi fucks like an animal, but it's fucking splendidly.

You squeal in overexcitement and run your hands over the window in front of you, leaving a trail of fingerprints all over the glass. You moan loudly as Mingi comes out of you, your used-up, reddened hole shrinking in the emptiness as you instinctively try to close around the hot, massive length. He has literally broken all the men in your life. How the hell are you going to be able to have sex with anyone else after this?

You'll be in need of rehab for the rest of your life.

He pulls you by your waist like a real doll. You find yourself on the lap of a cheeky idol. Your hips are shaking, and you are trying to hold on to him, clutching at Mingi's broad, muscular shoulders with your hands. He stares at you with a lustful, wet gaze, his eyes gliding over every curve and every mark he's left on you. And Mingi isn't finished with you yet.

"Now let's plant you properly, baby." As he pushes you onto his cock, his hands grab your arse and spread your cheeks. The squelching sound is loud and sickening as you sink down onto him completely. Mingi presses his hand on your belly as the head of his cock protrudes from under the thin skin of yours. "That's right, you take me so well. Your cunt is the perfect place for the warmth of my cock to be. Don't you think so, dolly?" He's almost purring like a fucking cat, and you're not thinking anything; you're just mindlessly nodding along to everything he says. You moan longingly as he circles your hips, and you settle comfortably on his cock. You're so full that he presses against every sensitive spot inside you, making you gasp for air. With Mingi's help, you begin to rise and fall, slapping your arse against his muscular thighs, your mouth ajar, your eyelashes fluttering, and your chubby cheeks wet and hot. You're pure sin. Your legs are too weak to ride Mingi properly, but the idol doesn't care; he's doing fine on his own, guiding your hips as he pleases and driving his cock into you with powerful, deep thrusts.

As he hits you in all the right places, making your toes curl, you see stars behind your closed eyes. You sob openly, your slippery lips pressing against Mingi's neck in an attempt to muffle your moans. You whimper about how good it feels, how deep it goes, and how he never wants to stop. With each thrust, the round, wet head comes to rest against your cervix.

You shudder and squirm in his hands as Mingi presses his fingers against your swollen clit. You can feel it; you're so damn wet. You're flowing like a waterfall, all the way down the length of Mingi and probably all the way down to your balls, forming a puddle on the seat beneath you. You don't want this moment to end; you feel so full and satisfied.

He can collar you and drag you all over the world if he wants to, just so you can keep feeling that gorgeous cock inside you.

"Now! I'm going to cum now, Mingi!" You squeal, pressing your hand to your mouth and bouncing up and down in spite of the tension in your thighs, your tits jiggling with every move you make. Aydol leans forward and catches one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his hot, silky tongue around it as he licks it. Are all rappers that good with their tongues, or is it just something that Mingi does? So you come for the third time that night, your head thrown back and your muscles burning as you continue to be fucked mercilessly. You contract and throb relentlessly all over the thick length that has been pushed deep inside you.

It's a lot, so damn much, but Mingi is still insatiable. To be honest, you wonder where all this sexual appetite comes from with such a constant workload. He could probably go at it with you the whole night through, changing position after position until you pass out. Mingi isn't enough; he isn't full enough to be finished with you.

He turns you over on your back, and you slam your back into the uncomfortable seat. Mingi is still so hard; the head of his cock is a fierce shade of red; his balls are throbbing; one more orgasm from you, and maybe he'll finally let himself come and make a real mess of you. The prospect of flooding you with his cum would be heavenly for him; you would look so beautiful with thick white jets of cum flowing all over your face. It was definitely an unforgettable sight.

Your walls are on fire as Mingi's cock struggles to get back into the nice velvety warmth, and you shake your head underneath it, visibly shaking your whole body and letting out the most beautiful wet sobs.

"It's too much; I can't! God, Mingi, I can't." Mingi kisses you lovingly to calm you down, and you breathe heavily, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"That's OK, baby; you're OK. You can give me another one, right? I know you can, beautiful doll. Come on, make me cum."

"Just one more time." Your voice is barely a whisper.

"Yes, just one. And you can get some rest. I promise." It's something between a promise and an assurance; the words are little more than reassurance, but you're in agreement.

If you had another member with you, you can't even imagine what it would have been like. You wouldn't have survived. And you wonder how fans keep referring to the idols as cute prince charmers with big innocent eyes. Never again.

Mingi squeezes your plump breasts in her hands and bends her head down so that she can take one of your nipples in her mouth. You're too sensitive right now, and even this action makes your hips tremble slightly. Her tongue swirls around the hard bud until Mingi begins to suck tangibly. You tangle your fingers in the surprisingly soft hair, your breasts rising and falling rapidly as you slowly recover from the hypersensitivity of your last orgasm. Mingi's cock is still warm deep inside you.

His hips begin to move gently, in a slow, erotic rhythm, as his teeth graze your nipple, making you whimper. It is this kind of change that almost gives you whiplash. You wrap your legs around Mingi's slender waist and scratch his back with your nails; it hurts, but in a good way. Deep down, you always knew you were a bit of a masochist.

"Look, baby, you're doing so well. You look amazing." The deep, gentle movements of his hips hit the right spot in you. You jump, and you see white spots in front of your eyes. "You need this, don't you? You need to be fucked until you can't take it any more, you little slut."

You nod desperately. It's exactly what you've always needed. A fuck on the edge of your life is exactly what you need after a string of unsatisfying, disappointing partners, after work and endless errands, after the weariness of the day and the noise of the crowd. And it seems that Mingi does too.

You never expected to intentionally meet an idol, and you certainly didn't expect him to remember your face, let alone your name, but here you are with Mingi's cock from Ateez deep inside you, and to be honest, it's the best thing that's ever happened to you in your whole life.

You're so lucky.

Your eyes are closed, your mouth is open in a silent moan, and your breasts are shaking with every thrust. And just as Mingi expected, the crystal pendant looks amazing between your bare tits.

You are being fucked so well that you can't find the right words to describe it. The contrast between you and Mingi is striking: you're completely dishevelled, shattered in every sense of the word, shivering, your clothes half hanging off your body, while Mingi has only drops of sweat on his forehead with long strands of fringes clinging to them, his trousers still on his hips, unbuttoned just so his cock can slip out, his shirt sleeves rolled up, and his hair slightly dishevelled.

In a selfish desire to cum, you are pressed mercilessly into the seat, fucking the rest of your life out of you.

"Cum inside." You whisper, barely coherent. "Please, Mingi."

Mingi growls at this request, losing all self-control at the thought of him filling you with his cum, forcing you to keep it inside you so that all you can think about is him. Feeling him inside you with every step you take. He rubs your swollen clit hard with his thumb, making sure he squeezes the last orgasm out of you. His hips set a frantic, jagged rhythm as he enters your pussy that still flows around him, wet squelches and slaps echoing between you. It's the final orgasm that finally brings Mingi to his own release. He lets his head drop low as he bites the back of your neck to stifle a loud, prolonged moan, both of you lost in their own pleasure. Mingi's orgasm is so intense that you can feel his cum running down the sides of your cunt, filling you to the brim. The intensity causes him to go blind for a few seconds, and it takes him a while to come to.

This is new. Even for him.

Mingi finally pulls back to look at you. He coos softly as he notices how broken and completely fucked you look.

"That's my girl. You did great, doll." He whispers in a low voice and leaves soft kisses on your bitten skin. His lips are like soft, fluffy clouds—very soft and delicate.

Your vision is blurred and your mind is a mess, and you don't seem to be able to function properly anytime soon, but the only thing you're sure of is how content and satisfied you feel right now. You whimper pitifully as Mingi comes out of you, trying to squeeze your hole to keep the cum from leaking out. But it's inevitable; a small amount leaks out of you anyway in a thick, creamy mass.

"Let's get you cleaned up, doll, so you can get some rest afterwards."

Despite the sperm leaking out of you, your head tilts helplessly to the side as Mingi helps you put your clothes back on. He seems to be enjoying the sight, making no effort to wipe it off. Disgusting, yes. He doesn't give a fuck. Nobody ever said he was a nice boy.

You cringe at the sensation. But the knowledge that it's Mingi's cum gives you endless perverse pleasure. You're tired, too exhausted to want anything more than to sleep. You still have hours of travel ahead of you; you must rest before Asa meets you at the train station.

Mingi notices your condition. He has already straightened your clothes and picked up your mobile phone from the floor. The recording is safely stored in a private folder. It is protected by a complex, multi-digit password.

"Y/N, you can sleep now. I'll keep an eye on you." He laughs as he says that, because that's exactly what he said before he started fingering you. But this time, he really means what he says.

"Whatever you want to say." You reply with a smile and finally take off your shoes, which are uncomfortable as hell, and curl up into a ball. "I think, thank you, Mingi. You know, for the sex."

"Don't thank me; I'm kind of totally into you."

"Good night, then."

"Dream about me, Y/N."

By the time you wake up, the train has already arrived at Tamagawa Station. As you would expect, Mingi is nowhere in sight, but your duffel bag is on his seat opposite you. He's not a complete bastard, after all. You pack quickly and fly off the train, straight into Asa's warm embrace.

"Hey girl, you're finally here. God, you look tired and exhausted." If she only had a clue...

"Long night," you reply simply with a shrug of your shoulders.

"Well, let's go. The hot springs are waiting for us, and I hear there's a famous group staying at this resort right now. Maybe we'll meet some of the idols." Asa is terribly excited and is dragging you by the hand in the direction of her car.

You vaguely remember what Mingi had said about him and the boys coming here to relax before their concerts. But you don't even know if they stay here or not, and this is a big resort. What are the chances?

When you get into the car, the only thing you can think about is Mingi's dried semen on your thighs and where the hell your knickers have gone.

On the next day.

"This is it; I can't stand it any longer. How can you stand it??"Asa whined as she climbed out of the big hot tub with the bubbling hot water. She was all flushed, the pretty pink bathing suit clinging to her body like a second skin, until she changed into a fluffy white dressing gown.

"It's hot springs, Asa. That's the point.."You rest your head on the padded side and laugh at her pained expression. It's a beautiful resort, after all. "Go on. I'm going to be here for a while."

"Yes, don't get boiled alive; there's no one to save you. We're the last ones here tonight; you can sit here alone all night." You realise that Asa has already left, her voice coming from somewhere far away.

The hot water relaxes you, and you feel so good, warm, and comfortable. While enjoying your own moment, you close your eyes.

The next time you open your eyes, there will be a piece of fabric dangling in front of your face, or rather, is it a pair of panties? Cream-coloured silk with a delicate ruffle around the edge—it's definitely a pair of panties. It's your panties! Oh, shit. You turn sharply around and sail away from the edge to look into a face full of a seductive grin and the most gorgeous cat-like features.

"These are yours, aren't they?" The voice sticks to your skin like a kiss of love, so honeyed and sweet. Shocked by the situation, you nod your head stupidly, not knowing how to choose your words. "Oh, I finally found you. You know, Mingi has told us a lot about you, y/n." The man slips easily into the hot tub, unfastening his white dressing gown, revealing a chiselled, gorgeous body. For your taste, too close. He corners you unceremoniously, putting his hands on either side of your face, his wide shouders completely blocking you from seeing. "I'm San. But you already know that, don't you, baby?" He literally whispers the last word in your ear, sending a shiver down your entire body and hardening your nipples, even though the water is warm. "You know, we're resting here before the concerts start. It would be really nice to have a pretty kitty like you to keep us company."

Belatedly, especially when San's lips begin to trace a light path down your neck, you understand the meaning of his words.

"Us? I don't understand." You give him a slight push away from you, but he doesn't move an inch.

"To us, of course, you silly kitty - Ateez. You see, our leader is very interested in making a personal record of all your cute little sounds." He leans over to you and whispers in your ear in a conspiratorial manner. "We had a lot of fun listening to how you cum, kitty."

This is a big resort. You remind yourself. What a possibility, you say. You see a satisfied, anticipatory smile on Yunho's lips as he waves sweetly at you from the other side of the hot tub. He is such a sweet boy. Yeah sure, you absolutely believe it.

Looks like you got lucky. After all, what are the chances of getting to meet not just Mingi, but the whole of his group?

2K notes · View notes

e-hv · 2 months

Text

Why II

This is a repost cause i deleted all my fics

Major warning if you have mommy issues or daddy issues or parental neglect issues pls do not read this

and if you do read this pls don't blame me for anything, including but not limited to excessive crying/sobbing, a depression slump/ wanting to kill someone or anything else

Or if you're name Sarah

part 1

Alexia Putellas X Child!Reader

Tw: Negelct, Angst

Summary: Why did she not try

Why didn't I make the effort to acknowledge you, or even offer a simple greeting, when all you wanted was a moment of recognition?

Alexia was back from Elena’s high school graduation when she saw the Envelope on the dining table, mark with her name on it, she was going to open it when she realized it was your handwriting. She rolled her eyes thinking it was one of your notes, asking her to spend time with you or something similar. She threw the envelope into the bin and started looking through her email. The sky soon turned dark, she realized she hasn’t seen you since she came back which was unusual since you were always clinging to her like a lost puppy. She was going to order take out for both of you, when she recieved a text from Elena asking her if she wanted to celebrate her graduation with dinner, she texted her back saying yes, and called you to come down so she could give you money for your dinner. When you didn’t reply her or rush down she just left the money on the counter and went out for dinner. When she came back the lights were still on, she thought nothing of me until she saw that the money she left you was left untouched. She walked up stairs and open the door, noticing your barren room. She decided to call you, but all she heard was,

"Thank you for calling. The number you have reached has been disconnected or is no longer in service. We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause. Please check the number and try your call again. Thank you.”

Since when did your number change she thought, she wanted to ask your friends if they knew where you were but she realized she didn’t even know who they were. Then she remembered the letter that she envelope that she threw to the bin,

When she opened the envelope and read the letter, she felt empty she didn’t know why, she thought would be happy wouldn’t she after all she had been pushing you away all this time. So she set the letter down, change into her evening gown and went to sleep. But as the weeks past, she felt the empty feeling grow into a pit in her heart. She started missing the notes you left, the way you would smile when she talked to you, the warmth of your presence in the house. She missed the little moments that she had taken for granted.

As more a month flash by she started trying to look for you after all you couldn’t have gotten that for right. She decided to go to your room trying to find anything that could lead her to where youu went instead she found, a book, she then remebered that in your letter you wrote that you were excited that you made it into the school's football team. When she first read it she was confuse as she never remembered you even taking an intrest in football. But after she saw the book she realized you did indeed tell her you make it to the football team, it was also the day she was supposed to fetch you from school as you had been begging her to for a long time, so she just said yes. Hoping you would stop pestering her, she didn’t fetch you that day, and instead of giving you an explanation, she just ignored you when you told her your exciting news, and told you she would talk about it over dinner, which she also missed.

She then remembered all the other times you tried talking to her, yet she just regarded you as a pest, wanting you to just stop. How she regrets it now, as all she wanted was for you to come back through the front door and hug her telling her you change your mind. And she would make up for all the times she dismissed you. However it didn’t happen you didn’t walk in, the house was still missing your presence, and the emptiness lingered in every corner.

Alexia couldn't shake off the overwhelming guilt that consumed her. She realized how she had neglected you, how she had failed to offer even a simple acknowledgment of your existence, let alone celebrate your achievements and share in your excitement.

As she sat in your barren room, holding onto the book that held a piece of your excitement and dreams, she couldn't help but feel the weight of her own shortcomings as a mother. She wished she could turn back time, to undo the hurt she had caused you, to be the supportive and loving mother you deserved.

But no amount of regret could change the fact that you were gone, that she had lost the chance to make things right. The realization hit her like a wave, crashing down on her with a force she couldn't bear.

Tears streamed down Alexia's face as she clutched onto the book, her heart aching with the longing for your presence, for another chance to show you that she cared.

Why did I neglect the most fundamental tasks you asked of me, yet expect you to readily assist me in my every request?

She was still trying to look for you when she, reread your letter for the hundred time, she read the part where you said that you asked if you could go to the arcade with your friends and that you’ve always bent over backwards to fulfill her every request. She recalled the times, she would asked you to help her buy things before and during team building and didn’t even ask you if you wanted to join, instead reminding you that you had to help her clean up after it ended. She then remembered all the times you ask her if she could go to the beach with you, or attend your concert or events and she said she was busy.

She remembered how she always seemed to prioritize her own needs and desires over yours, expecting you to readily assist her in every request without considering your own wishes and feelings.

The weight of her negligence and selfishness hit her like a ton of bricks. She realized how she had taken you for granted, how she had failed to see the love and effort you were pouring into your relationship with her, only to be met with indifference and neglect in return.

Alexia's heart ached with the realization of her own hypocrisy. How could she have expected you to be there for her when she couldn't even spare a moment to acknowledge your needs and desires?

Why couldn’t she had just try to make time for you maybe then you would still be here with her, she thought as she was holding back tears telling herself she didn’t deserved to feel sad as it was all her fault.

Why was I consistently absent from your most significant moments, offering nothing but hollow excuses in return?

Alexia now had a routine go to training or a match and comeback home to try to look for you. The only times it ever change was when she had an away game even then, she checked the camera that she installed in the front door ( incase you came back and she wasn’t there) religiously. When she checked her phone she saw a message from Elena, she ignored it as now every time she saw it she saw a message from her she only remembers the fact that she missed your primary school graduation even though she promised you. Or the fact she always said that she had to help Elena with something and missed your milestones and important moments. She remembered all the reasons she thought was good reasons that now she realized was pitiful excuses.

All the times she said she was busy, and the way your eyes dimmed but you still hugged her and said it was okay. She wondered how much she hurt you but didn’t realized or more accurately was to busy to care.

And you... why didn't you question me when I stopped paying attention to you?

She found a photo album titled 2019 summer road trip, she didn’t remember going on any road trip before, when she opened the album she saw a photo of you in a car, she then remembered of the week she didn’t see you at all. And when she did you asked her if she wanted to ask you anything and she just ignored you thinking it was one of your antics. Turned out you had gone on a road trip for a week, and she didn’t even realized. She wondered why you didn’t ask her if she notice but you did in fact try to, as she vividly remembers you trying to tell her something but she just tuned it out and focused on her phone.

The weight of her neglect weighed heavily on Alexia as she flipped through the album, each photo a painful reminder of the moments she had missed, the moments she had failed to share with you.

She recalled the times you had tried to reach out to her, to question her absence, but she had brushed you off, too preoccupied with her own affairs to spare a moment for you. The guilt gnawed at her insides as she realized how much she had hurt you, how much pain she had caused with her indifference and neglect.

Alexia couldn't understand why you didn't push her more, why you didn't demand her attention and question her absence. She knew deep down that you deserved so much more, that you deserved a mother who would be there for you, who would prioritize your needs and desires above all else.

But instead, she had failed you time and time again, offering nothing but hollow excuses in return for your longing for recognition and acknowledgment.

As she sat there, surrounded by memories of the moments she had missed, Alexia couldn't help but feel a profound sense of regret. Regret for the time lost, for the moments she could never get back, for the love and attention she had failed to give you.

What actions of mine led you to accept the disdain from me , your own flesh and blood, to endure such neglect?

What exactly crossed my mind when I opted to engage with her instead of you, my own daughter?

Alexia couldn’t help but ask herself what exactly did she do to make you accept her negelct like it was normalcy, and maybe it was to you. Her mind settled on to the memory where she believed Elena over you, and scolded you for something you probably didn’t do. She then recalled the fact she had took the necklace back from Elena planning to give it back to you when you apologized. You never did, and that was a blessing in disguised. She rummaged around her drawer for the necklace and when she found it, she knew she didn’t give it to you that’s when she remembered in your letter it stated that you found someone that treated you like her own daughter, who was there for you when she wasn’t. She shouldn’t feel sad, angry or jealous that you relied on that women instead of her but as she held the necklace in her hands, engraved with the word "Princesa" and signed by someone named L.W., Alexia couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy towards this mysterious figure who had seemingly filled the void in your life that she had left gaping open.

She realized that she had pushed you away, prioritizing her own desires and relationships over nurturing the bond she had with you. The memory of scolding you based on Elena's words instead of listening to your side of the story haunted her, knowing now that it was a pivotal moment where she had failed you.

And as she sat there, clutching the necklace that symbolized the connection she had failed to maintain with you, Alexia couldn't help but wonder why she had chosen to engage with others instead of prioritizing you, her own flesh and blood.

She knew that her actions had led you to seek comfort and acceptance elsewhere, to find comfort in someone who treated you like their own daughter when she had failed to do so.

But even amidst the guilt and regret, Alexia realized that she couldn't change the past. All she could do now was acknowledge her mistakes, learn from them, and strive to be a better mother to you, even if it meant starting from scratch and earning back your trust and love.

And as tears welled up in her eyes, Alexia made a silent vow to herself – to never again neglect the most fundamental task of being a mother, to always prioritize you above all else, and to make up for the lost time and opportunities she had squandered in the past.

And despite the pain and letdowns I've inflicted, why did you persist in holding onto hope that I would come through for you

Despite the pain and letdowns she had inflicted, Alexia couldn't help but wonder why you persisted in holding onto hope that she would come through for you. It was a question that haunted her as she grappled with the realization of how much she had failed you, how much she had neglected to be the mother you needed and deserved.

When a parcel labeled for you arrived, Alexia couldn’t resist the urge to open it. Inside, she found a medal inscribed with the words "Copa Juvenil Estrella" – "Star Youth Cup." Confusion washed over her as she struggled to understand why you would receive a medal from one of the most competitive under-21 tournaments in Spain. It was then that the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place.

She remembered the day of the tournament finals, the same day you had asked her to attend your football match. She recalled how she had brushed you off, claiming to be busy with her and Elena's training. It was a moment of realization that hit her like a bolt of lightning – she had prioritized her own interests over yours once again, and it may have been the final straw for you.

As Alexia connected the dots, she felt like burying herself six feet under. She couldn’t believe she didn’t know you were playing football much less knew you were playing it at such a high standard.

She wondered just what else she didn’t know about you. But she knew she could only hope that she’ll find you and that you’ll be able to forgive her so that you could build up your relationship again.

I just wish that one day I'll gather enough courage to ask for your forgiveness, and to find the strength to accept that you may never be there for me, regardless of how much I now yearn for your presence in my life

As Alexia was sitting down looking at her computer, a picture came up with you in her arms the day she adopted you and promised you she would love and take care of you forever. However all she did was the opposite, she remembered all the conversation’s or missed opportunities you had hinted at in your letter and, memories came rushing back to her,

“Mami, I made it into the school’s football team.”

The words barely registered as she mumbled a distracted response.

“But you promised you'd pick me up today.”

Your disappointment was palpable, "I know, sweetie, but something came up. The helper will take care of you," she said, barely sparing you a glance as I tried to focus on my task at hand.

As she watched you retreat to your room, she couldn't help but wonder why you seemed so upset. Didn't you understand that she had important things to attend to? Why couldn't you just be patient and wait for her to finish?

“Mami, can I go to the arcade with my friends? It’s the last day of school.”

She thought that you should help her with her teambuilding since you were her daughter after all.

"But I finished all my work."

Your insistence only added to her frustration. "I said no. End of discussion," I declared, my tone final as I brushed off your request. Didn't you understand that she had more important things to worry about than your petty desires?

"Why does she always choose someone else over me?"

As she watched you resign yourself to another night at home, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance. Why couldn't you just accept that she had my own life to live, her own priorities to attend to?

"Mom, why can't you come to my graduation?"

Your hurt was evident in your voice, but she couldn't afford to dwell on it. "I have a work commitment, sweetie," she replied, her words hollow .

"I didn’t do anything wrong, Mom."

Your protests fell on deaf ears as she refused to listen. "I don't want to hear it," she cut you off, her disappointment palpable as she struggled to come to terms with your perceived shortcomings.

All the things she thought about you and everything she said was what pushed you away. Each dismissive remark, each broken promise, each moment of neglect drove a wedge between you, widening the gap in your relationship until it became insurmountable.

As Alexia sat there, reflecting on her past actions and the impact they had on you, she couldn't help but feel a deep sense of regret and remorse. She wished she could turn back time, to undo the hurt she had caused, to be the mother you needed and deserved.

But she knew that she couldn't change the past. All she could do now was acknowledge her mistakes and strive to do better in the future. She realized that she needed to confront her own shortcomings, to learn from her mistakes, and to prioritize you above all else.

With tears streaming down her face, Alexia made a silent vow to herself – to gather enough courage to ask for your forgiveness, and to find the strength to accept that you may never forgive her, regardless of how much she now yearned for your presence in her life.

As she sat there, clutching onto the memories of the moments she had missed, a notification from Instagram interrupted her thoughts. The post was from Arsenal, and the caption read:

"Welcome to Arsenal, our new signing Y/N Williamson”

#angst #liquidation writes #woso soccer #woso fanfics #woso #woso community #fc barca femeni #womens football #woso imagine #alexia putellas angst #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia x reader #alexia putellas

270 notes · View notes

nrdmssgs · 7 months

Text

How your first kisses with Nikto and Gromsko would feel

Masterlist Part 1 (Gaz, Soap, Ghost) Part 2 (Price, Nikolai, König)

Never wrote for these two, but... hey, why not? Maybe I got too carried away with Niktos drama.

Nikto

A few saw the fear in this man's eyes. But here you are: looking him deep in the eyes and witnessing panic taking over Niktos mind.

The only time, he takes off his mask with you around is when you are sleeping. No matter how much reassurance you gave him - he only allows himself to spend a few hours without disguise, strictly when you can't see him.

Sometimes you wake up, feeling him sliding under your blanket, pressing his chest against your back. But he never lets you turn back to face him. Any attempt of yours ends up with Nikto hugging you tighter, burying his face somewhere between a pillow and your hair, muttering 'Spi krepko, moy svet*'.

You are his light, so he is determined to never darken your life with the sight of his face. So imagine his horror when he wakes up from the touch of your fingers on his cheek. He must have relaxed too much, didn't notice you shifting in your sleep. And now it is too late: you see, even worse - you feel his ugliness on the tips of your fingers.

He freezes, but something unkind awakes in his eyes. Guilt, self-hatred, doubt.

"We must go." Nikto snarls raspy and sharply pulls away from your hands. He must disappear from your sight, stop harassing your soft soul with his face right now.

You know, how bad it is when this 'we' appears instead of 'I'. This rarely happens, but when it starts - he abandons you for weeks, sometimes for months, hiding somewhere from the entire world. And you can't let this situation escalate.

With one swift motion, you catch his hand and pull it to your face. His name, not a call sign, his real name escapes from your lips and that catches his attention.

"Look at me. Stay close and look at me, love." You talk to him, as if you are guiding him through all his terrors towards a solace, he usually finds in your eyes.

As his fingers trace your features, you mimic his movements, letting him feel, how his touch feels against your skin. Slowly, his breath steadies.

You don't rush it: you let him calm down and get comfortable before you lean closer and plant the softest kiss at the corner of his lips. Nikto doesn't lean back, doesn't push you away, but he presses his lips firmly together and slowly shakes his head in silent refusal.

I can't.

You learned to understand him, even when he doesn't let some thoughts out. It wasn't the easiest thing to do, but you learned to read it in his eyes. And now you see regret and sorrow. His face stays calm, but his eyes scream 'I would give anything to be able to dare, but I can't'.

So you do it for him: dare to cross this line instead of him. Your first kiss is left unanswered, but as you brush your lips against his again and again - he closes his eyes, lowers his head in a final attempt to regain control over himself, but fails and catches your lips in a short, but desperate kiss.

His answer to your caresses is like a distant storm - abrupt touches to your lips resemble lightning dancing over the horizon, his hands slowly bringing you closer shatter your mind like a thunder. Never have you ever felt so much from so little contact. This man has such a power over you - it should scare you. But you feel like you want more: you want his lips to linger on yours for a longer time, you want his hands running all over your body.

You allow yourself just a taste - a tip of your tongue lightly traces just a few millimeters of his Niktos lips, and he groans quietly. As he pauses for a moment to look you in the eyes and maybe find there regret or disgust, you can barely calm down your deepened breath and ask, plead to keep kissing you.

He traces his fingers over your jawline and deepens the kiss, gradually leaving sorrow and fear of scaring you away behind. For who is he to deny his light's wish? Nobody. Nikto.

Spi krepko, moy svet* - sleep well, my light

Sobieslaw "Gromsko" Kościuszko

Two main things, you've learned about this big burly loud guy over the years of your friendship are his incredible hospitality and absolute forgiveness. Those, who don't know him, may be afraid of Gromsko the first time they see him, but you know the guy too well for that. He is a giant softie, when it comes to you.

So there were no allegations, when you not even offered, but straight presented him with a fait accompli, that you are cooking a dinner at his place the next time, you visit him. You didn't tell him, but you were afraid, that if he cooks once again for you - you are not leaving his house, you are rolling out of it. His eagerness to feed you could compete only with your granny`s. Maybe it was a cultural thing, maybe he genuinely was worried about you being too small - but Gromsko saw it like his top priority mission.

"Sobieslaw, stop it right now, or I'm chopping your fingers off!" You laugh, maneuvering a kitchen knife, so that it touches only carrot. It's impossible to shield a cutting board from him, as Gromsko practically envelops you, laying his chin on the top of your head and stealing a bite of every single ingredient, you use.

"I'm helping, słoneczko*!" You like the feeling of his voice, reverberating in his broad chest. It is like a purring cat, pressed against your back.

Maybe you lean back on him too obviously, because at some point he smirks and asks if you need more space.

"I'm fine, So. Just... just try to not eat our dinner before I even cooked it, ok?" You are still giggling and don't even notice, how he drops his face into your hair and just stands like that, drowning in your scent.

"Good. It is good, you feel fine, when I'm around." Suddenly his voice is much softer, and you hear him right above your ear.

He brushes your hair off the side and plants a small warm kiss right behind your ear. You freeze, not sure, how to interpret this sudden shift in your friend's behavior.

"I should stop, or you're chopping my fingers right now?" He is so close, yet he doesn't touch you anymore. Not until you let him.

You slowly turn to him. "I should, if you didn't mean, what you just did."

His face lights with the happiest, widest smile.

"Oh, but I do, słońce. I certainly do."

His kiss on your lips is incredibly soft, his warm breath tickles your skin, as he cups your face. Sobieslaw is caring in every his motion, helping you to relax and just live in this moment. He smiles into your kiss, gives you a complete freedom to do whatever you feel like, only showing you, that there is nothing, he wouldn't do for you. As his tongue brushes against yours, warmth ignites deep in your chest and feels you with a sensational feeling. Feeling of becoming his.

słoneczko and słońce - sunshine

#gromsko #gromsko x reader #sobiesław kościuszko #sobiesław kościuszko x reader #call of duty #call of duty x reader #cod #cod x reader #mw2 #gromsko mw2 #mw2 x reader #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod headcanons #cod nikto #nikto #nikto x reader #mwii nikto #nikto x you

644 notes · View notes

luvfy0dor · 6 months

Text

"You Are In Love!!" - BSD x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

╰┈➤ Fyodor Dostoevsky, Chuuya Nakahara ♡

Warnings; none pure fluff and sweetness

Description; Drabbles (I actively attempted to make these shorter than the timeless ones but I clearly have a yapping issue) of Chuuya and Fyodor based off of You Are in Love by Taylor Swift in honor of 1989 (Taylor's Version) today. This one had a lot of cute little prompts for small scenarios so I thought I'd take the opportunity.

A/n; yawning is contagious you guys I proved it because I wrote about yawning and then I yawned, also I have so many 1989 TV thoughts now so im gonna write them while writing asks at the same time, so im sorry for those of you guys who dont like Taylor, that's totally valid. Hmu w/ music themed requests if you wanna see a different song.

Fyodor Dostoevsky ੈ♡

“Coffee at midnight”

You sat on your boyfriends lap, facing him while he typed away, working on God knows what. You didn't ask what it was at that very moment, too sleepy care. You breathed in his scent, your arms tightly hugged around his torso. Any time he took a break from typing, his left hand immediately went to stroke your back, his lips moving and ghosts of whispers slip out from between them as he read over the text. You nuzzled into his neck, pressing sweet, chaste kisses to his pale skin every now and again.

You were playing with his hair softly when you could hear him yawn. "My dear, do you mind getting up? I'm going to make some coffee for myself." He murmurs, his head turned a bit in your direction. You nod and get off of his lap, standing up and rubbing your eyes a bit. "Yeah, sure, but coffee? It's midnight.." now you were yawning. He nods, standing up and heading straight for the kitchen. You trail behind him, drowsily following along. Luckily, the lights of your kitchen were dimmed rather than being at full brightness. He stood against the counter, starting the coffee machine and grabbing a mug for himself while the drink started to brew.

"Do you want some too?" He asks, noticing your stare before you yourself even could. You shook your head, holding your upper arms for the warmth that Fyodors body had previously been providing to you. You yawned again, making him smile ever so slightly in amusement. You leaned against the counter with your eyes closed, almost starting to nod off. The two minutes it took to make the coffee passed within the blink of an eye, you being woken from your sleepy and dazed state by Fyodors thumb caressing your cheekbone.

"Moya Lyubov, you don't have to stay up with me. I appreciate it, but if you're tired you should sleep." He softly murmurs while looking into your eyes. "No, no, it's fine, don't worry." You say, standing straight up and walking with him back to his little work space. He sat right back down on the chair, opening his arms for you to crawl right back onto him. He sipped on his coffee, and the aroma made you regret your decision to reject a cup for yourself. You moved your head to rest on his shoulder sideways instead of upright so you could get a better look at him while he drank from the ceramic mug.

He glanced at you while he did so, sighing into the glass and handing it to you without even needing to hear anything from your mouth; he just knew you that well. Perhaps it was your predictably, or maybe it was his attentive habits regarding your body language and every expression. You took the mug, bringing it to your lips and drinking a small amount, making sure that you didn't chug it and leave nothing for him. You handed him back the glass, wiping your top lip off before you pressed a kiss to his cheek, making him smile a bit.

"So much for not wanting any, hm?" He teases quietly, leaning his head against yours. You just roll your eyes at him. "Well I changed my mind a little." You mumbled, your hands rubbing up and down his sides gently. Your eyelids felt as if they had weights attached to them as it became harder to keep yourself awake. Fyodor had taken notice of this numerous times, before getting coffee, while getting coffee, and even after you had taken a sip. If the caffeine had any effect on you it clearly was not immediate.

"That's alright, I don't mind sharing it with you." He says quietly. You hum in response as a thank you while you drifted off into a calming sleep. Fyodor noticed you fully knocked out after about a minute or two. He smiled and kissed the side of your head, whispering to you. "Goodnight, my love, sleep well."

Chuuya Nakahara ੈ♡

“You kiss on sidewalks”

You looked up at the stars in the night sky while you walked down the streets of Yokohama with Chuuya. Late night walks were never something you found enjoyment in before Chuuyas presence in your life. Not only did Chuuyas ability and profession absolutely make you feel safer, but he was someone to talk to while you walked. It wasn't silent, but filled with conversation about your day, passions, etc.

His hand was holding yours while he listened to you rambled on about a book you had started reading, explaining the plot to him. Chuuya wasn't an absent listener, he didn't just nod and "ohhh" every now and again, he actually asked questions about it and commented on the actions of characters and what not. Chuuya didn't ramble much, but when he did you offered the same undivided attention. You loved watching his eyes light up whenever he talked about something that excited him; he specifically got riled up about his missions, explaining what he did with as much detail as he was allowed to.

And that's what was happening. You walked along the path, holding your boyfriends hand while he told you about how he acquired a new small cut on his cheek. You asked him about it and he got so worked up, it was almost funny. The amount of slandering he put on the name of some random guy he had to fight was a little much, but it was his opponent and enemy, so you didn't comment on it. His other hand was moving around very quickly while he passionately told you about the encounter, annunciating every word and speaking clearly.

"He was so annoying. Obviously I dealt with him real fast, but now I've got this cut on my face." He says while rolling his eyes. You snicker a little. "Oh yeah, I totally get that. He sounds like he sucks, but I think the scar is kinda hot, to be honest." You laugh, standing in front of him and brushing his bangs out of his eyes. He scoffs and places his hands on your arms. "Ofcourse you do, doll, you're...well, you're you." He says, rubbing your shoulders a bit.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Your eyebrows were furrowed as you stare him down. "I know you like the back of my hand, I knew you'd find somethin' like that attractive. It's like, your thing." He says, the street light you stood under casting a yellow glow overtop the two of you. The shadows that projected onto his skin because of the angle hid the blush on his face relatively well. "I pay attention to you, ya know.." he murmurs, making you grin and gently cup his face.

"Oh I know you pay attention to me; everytime you bring up some random small detail about me it makes my heart flutter." You say, looking down at his lips through the black veil of darkness on his face. "I'm glad I can make ya swoon, darlin'.." he mutters, both of you leaning into each other, your hands interlocked and giving each other soft squeezes as your lips gently collided with one another. You pulled away after a couple seconds, but you felt yourself pulled right back in as the two of you softly giggled with one another, his gloved hand pressed against the back of your neck.

Your lips moved against his, soft hums of approval coming from his throat. When you did finally part, the both of you looked into the other's eyes for a second before breaking the stare and grinning. "I love you a whole lot, y'know?" He says, sliding his arm around your waist. You did the same and nodded. "I know, I know. I love you a whole lot, too." You say, kissing his cheek while the two of you walk home to retreat for the night.

A/n; I have a couple of things to say; 1- this is not a theme switch, it's only blue and white for 1989 TV, 2- I know these aren't the most obviously related to the song, but I felt inspired. 3- I was gonna do more characters for this but I don't wanna in this moment, would y'all wanna see that?

337 notes · View notes

weirdkpopgirl · 28 days

Text

Pain | Jaemin Imagine #11

Title: Pain

Genre: Angst, slight fluff

Warnings: description/mention of period cramps -- i'm sorry

Word Count: 791

Author's Note: I mean the title and warning makes it pretty obvious, but I wrote this while I was on that time of month. Although I do have a group post for NCT Dream about periods, I wanted to write a little more about it for awhile now. Especially when my experience has been kinda excruciating lately lol. Anyway, please don't read if this topic makes you uncomfortable.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

It was 10 a.m. on a Saturday, and you regretted not sleeping in (you didn’t even know how you got out of bed, honestly). Instead, you were hunched over your laptop, typing up the third body paragraph of a research paper that was due next week. However, you found it nearly impossible to concentrate due to the stabbing pain shooting through your abdomen. Lucky for you, your lovely period came knocking at your door the day before. Now you were trying to endure the second day, where the amount of pain only seemed to increase.

A soft groan escaped your lips as you clenched your fists on the desk, willing yourself to push through the agony. But the dull ache in your stomach only seemed to worsen with each passing moment. It was driving you insane, seriously.

Then just when you were on the verge of breaking, Jaemin entered the room carrying a mug of hot chocolate because he knew you preferred it over coffee. His brows furrowed with concern when he noticed your tense figure, and he immediately caught the pained expression on your face.

Crossing the room to carefully place the steaming ceramic mug on a coaster near you. “Hey, you don’t look so good,” he said softly, locking eyes with you. “Are you okay, baby?”

Typically, you liked to keep your emotions guarded. The thought of your boyfriend seeing you in such a vulnerable state was the last thing you wanted, especially at a time like this. Despite your efforts to offer him a reassuring smile, it faltered as a new wave of cramps surged through you.

“It just hurts,” you muttered, firmly pressing your knuckles against your forehead.

Jaemin frowned, realizing this was serious if you weren’t even trying to hide your discomfort from him. He calmly scanned the room in search of anything that might help you.

“Why don’t you take some medicine? I can grab you some painkillers.”

But you quickly shook your head in rejection. “I’ll be fine. I don’t like taking those unless I have to.”

You heard Jaemin sigh before he moved to stand behind you. Then you felt his hands start to gently knead your shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension. On any normal day, your body would’ve stiffened immediately and you might have withdrawn. But right now, you were grateful for his touch and it did help a little.

“Maybe you should put your essay on pause for now,” he suggested, stealing a glance at your screen. “You’ve already done more than enough today. Come lay down with me and rest for a bit?”

Though you hesitated for a moment, your fatigue overridden any inclination to protest. After giving him a weak nod, you allowed Jaemin to lift you from the chair and guide you to the couch. With a deep breath, you sank into the cushion and curled up against your boyfriend’s body. He happily wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer.

Yet, the pain persisted, even in Jaemin’s comforting embrace. You had to bite your lip to stifle a whimper, as you felt tears prick your eyes. He picked up on your distress fairly quickly, his heart breaking at the sight of your pain. Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead in hopes of bringing you some sort of comfort.

However, the sweetness of his gesture prompted the first tear to stream down your cheek. Perhaps it was a mix of embarrassment, gratitude, and frustration swirling within you. Regardless, Jaemin kept you in his arms and peppered a few more kisses atop your head.

“Shh, it’s okay baby,” he murmured, his deep voice barely above a whisper. “Just let it out, you don’t have to keep it in.”

As if on cue, you closed your eyes and buried your face in Jaemin’s chest. Tears soaked helplessly into the fabric of his white t-shirt, as you clung to him tightly. You weren’t the type to cry in front of others, but the relentless cramps from your stupid period had pushed you to your limit.

Though it stung to hear your sobs and feel your body tremble against his, Jaemin was mostly grateful that you weren’t bottling up your emotions. Holding you close, whispering soothing words of comfort, and his fingers lightly stroking your hair were all things that were second nature to him.

If he could take all your pain away from you, he swore he would in a heartbeat.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

previous masterlist -> current masterlist

#nct dream #nctzen #kpop #czennie #nct dream imagines #nct #jaemin #nct dream fluff #nct dream scenarios #na jaemin #jaemin imagines #jaemin scenarios #jaemin x reader

82 notes · View notes

riality-check · 11 months

Text

more daisy jones-adjacent things. this time, they're finally starting to hate each other a little less.

parts 1, 2, and 3, for your reading pleasure. less drugs this time around, but way more talk about steve's ptsd. part 5. part 6. part 7.

ao3

Steve has never co-written anything before. All of his songs are his, from start to finish. Every note, every chord, every syllable is his invention, and he takes them all very seriously.

That's not to say that he doesn't accept help. He wouldn't be himself if he wasn't constantly bouncing ideas off of Robin and Dustin and Lucas, and he always has other people look it over and offer suggestions.

But the initial creation? That's all him. Steve likes that kind of control.

Writing with a band is very different. Eddie declares it, the song Steve pissed him off enough into writing, done after they've got lyrics and a lead guitar part.

"They'll write the rest," he says, like it's that simple.

Steve can't imagine letting go that much. In all honesty, he's scared shitless. He's never been good at being nice. Charming, yes. Nice, no. And he doesn't know how he'll be nice if the drum, bass, and rhythm guitar parts suck.

It's his song. Well, his and Eddie's, which is weird to think about, but still.

Steve has never co-written anything before.

And, to make matters worse, he fell asleep last night.

He knew it was coming. He's never made it past seventy-two hours, no matter how hard he tries or how high he gets. He knew it was coming, and he prepped as best as he could.

That didn't stop him from sleeping in three hour bursts, at max. Torn between the nightmares and the exhaustion and the crash, he freaked out, passed out, and repeated the cycle until he had to get up and go to the studio.

At least this time, last night, he was back in the Byers house. Scary as shit, with the initial confusion never fading, but it's the best of the nightmares he gets. Between the dogs and the torture, Steve's brain has plenty of worse things to torment him with.

Maybe he should be grateful, but he's never been good at dealing with what he's given.

This morning, he doesn't need to take anything. He's tired, but not that tired, and he's trying to give himself breaks when he can.

He doesn't want to die. He just wants to stay awake.

He has a coffee, though. That's mostly for the taste. His tolerance is shot to hell, so it's not like caffeine makes a real difference.

Steve walks into the studio, coffee in hand, and sees the band setting up and tuning their instruments. Jeff gives him a little wave, Gareth nods absently as he tightens his snare, and Archie positively beams.

"Steve, you're a saint," he says, a little mischief in his eyes. "Different chords, finally. I could kiss you."

Steve laughs and promptly cuts himself off when he sees Eddie staring at him.

"Do I have something on my face?" he asks once the silence has stretched on for too long.

"Why are you here?" Eddie asks bluntly.

Steve, notably, doesn't flinch back. He doesn't snap. He doesn't do anything that he would regret later.

He just says, steadily, "I can go if you don't want me."

He stands there, and he swallows back his hurt. He thought Eddie was finally warming up to him. He took Eddie's fighting words as an improvement from being ignored. And, as usual, Steve thought wrong.

"Hang on a sec," Jeff says. He sets his guitar down and stands between Steve and Eddie. "I said I wanted Steve on backing vocals for this."

"Is Steve not on backing vocals?" Gareth asks from the other side of the room.

"Far as I know, he is," Archie says with a pointed look at Eddie.

Eddie turns to look at Jeff instead. Steve watches their intense staring match and thinks about just walking out.

Before he can take the first step, Eddie says, "Fine."

"Fine what?" Steve can't help but ask.

"Stay."

Steve nods, but he turns to Jeff. "Are you sure? It's fine if-"

"I'm sure," Jeff says. "I think you wrote this song more for your register than mine."

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry-"

"Don't be," Jeff says. "I changed everything I can't hit, but I just want a little more support, you know?"

Steve looks around the little studio space, around at all the cables and amps and mics and instruments, and he counts. Then counts again.

"There's only four mics," he says.

Jeff picks his guitar back up and gives it a little strum. "Share with Eddie."

"What?" Eddie says, looking like he would rather walk out than do that.

"Nothing against you, Steve," Jeff explains, ignoring Eddie. "I'm just a big personal space guy. Can't focus otherwise."

Steve looks over at Eddie, still sitting, still scowling.

"Fine," he says, because he'll be professional, even if Eddie won't.

"You guys are fucking killing me," Chrissy says, and Argyle, the audio engineer next to her, nods in agreement. "Can we get this show on the road?"

Gareth gives them a little salute, one that Chrissy rolls her eyes at. "We all ready?"

"As we'll ever be," the rest of the band choruses.

Steve shrugs. "Yeah."

"You warm up?" Eddie asks, walking toward his mic.

Steve follows. "Never do."

Eddie rolls his eyes, but then Chrissy gives them the all-clear, Gareth counts them off, and they start.

And something switches.

Steve knew this would be higher energy. Different genre, different sound, whatever. But there's something fucking electric about playing with a band instead of being by himself in an iso booth, drilling vocals until he has a take he's happy with.

Recording with a band brings a different sort of energy. It creates a feedback loop, getting them higher, playing faster, sounding better.

Steve tells himself to back off. He's not the star of this show. He's been invited, and a quarter of the people in this room don't want him here.

But filling in the gaps has always come easy to him, and he gives the backing vocals his all.

And somewhere between the guitar solo and the end of the song, Eddie smiles at him for the first time.

It's quick, but it's blinding. Steve didn't think Eddie could smile until he does. It's quick as a flash and wide and feral and a little mean, but it's there, and it's directed at him.

But just like that, the first take is over. It was messy and imperfect, and as soon as it ends, Eddie is back to scowling at him.

But it's not as harsh. And that's how Steve knows that he wasn't imagining that little bit of something.

"Holy shit," Archie says, as soon as they're done. "This is gonna be a good song."

"It's gonna be a great song," Jeff says.

"I want more from Steve," Gareth adds, and the rest of the guys agree.

Even Eddie, however begrudgingly.

"Alright, boys," Chrissy says. "You've got the fun out of your systems. Let's focus and make some music."

Steve looks over at Eddie, who nods, however slightly. And he thinks, because he has never been able to kill hope a day in his life, that they could make a good team if Eddie could stop hating his guts.

#ria writes #dja au #eddie munson #steve harrington #chrissy cunningham #corroded coffin #steddie #steddie ficlet #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #st #st ficlet #rockstar eddie munson #tw drugs #tw substance abuse #tw ptsd

402 notes · View notes

angelstate · 1 year

Text

You Shouldn't (PT. 1)

Pairing: Peter Parker x fem!reader

Genre:, Angst, Fluff? (Not finished ending)

Warnings: low self-esteem, depression, negative and pessimistic mindset, mention of eating disorder, suicide attempt.

Please do not read if you're sensitive to those topics or if you're easily triggered by them.

Summary: You could no longer pretend to be happy, your boyfriend peter notice but you were too far gone into your own head.

Words:4.7k!

(sorry for being gone! I wasn't doing well mentally and i wrote this throughout that so this is super sad and maybe a little heavy to read)

you were ok, you had to be, everything in your life was great, you were studying to become a psychiatrist just like you wanted, you had a loving boyfriend and you were writing a book about a tragic love story.

How could you not be happy? You had no reason to be unhappy but..you are.

you were so unhappy it was maddening, you couldn't eat or sleep because of how tired and suicidal you felt since the moment you woke up to the moment you would fell back asleep.

you tried to blame the final exams, because of course they were super stressful, but you have aced all of them. you tried to blame the pressure you felt about finish writing your book because of course that was super stressful too, but you had all the time you wanted to write it.

maybe it was the fact you went low contact with your parents because of how against they were about you studying psychiatry but you did that for your own good 2 years ago and you never regretted it.

maybe it was seasonal depression? it could have been it if it wasn't for the fact you have had clinical depression since you were 8 years old.

it was so infuriating. Because why, why right after you had finally put your life together you were drowning again in the ocean of depression you had fought so hard to get out of? It was like the universe wanted you to fail and fall deep into your feelings.

you knew the moment you stopped eating breakfast and dinner that you were spiraling back into your unhealthy cycle; your pride didn't let you pay attention to that though.

you held too much pride into the fact the you finally had control over your life to stop and accept you were going into your depression again.

maybe if you had gotten up one day and told your therapist that it had gotten bad again you would already been out of this horrible state.

instead you chose to fake it till you make it, stupid decision because even if you fake your not depressed that doesn't change the fact that you were. Being in denial about it was just going to harm you in the long run.

and it did. it harmed you so fucking much you stopped pretending you weren't depressed. What was even the point, nobody even noticed the first time you were depressed so they wouldn't the second time.

_______________

"you have to get up" peter said and looked at you.

you were laying on your bed, blankets covering you till your neck, hair messy and full of knots because you haven't brushed it in 3 days.

"i don't want to" you answered and closed your eyes pretending to sleep right in front of peter.

"you have to" peter pressed and sat in your desk chair.

"no i don't" you said, today you didn't have classes so you had no reason to get up.

"you do, when was the last time you ate something?" he asked and pointed at you with a look of worry in his face.

"i don't know, like 4 hours ago?" You lied and pressed your lips in a thin line.

"really? because I've been here for the last 8 hours so how didn't i saw you at the kitchen?" He Said with a tone of disbelief, questioned you.

"i had food here" you lied again.

"ok, then what did you eat?" Peter crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow waiting for you to answer, maybe this time with the truth.

"i ate a Snickers and a protein bar" you answered after 10 seconds of silence.

"where are the wrappers then?" He knew what to ask. You were cornered because what lie could you possibly say now.

"i don't know" you pouted and looked down.

"don't lie to me, flower. tell me, why have you not eaten?" peter said softly, worry dripping from his eyes and voice.

"i haven't been hungry" you answered.

"ok...are you hungry now?" he asked, ready to get up and bring anything you felt like eating.

"not really" you whispered and closed your eyes again, you felt so tired.

"are you ok flower?" peter stood up and walked towards you, sitting on the bed and moving the covers do he could see your face fully.

"yes, just tired" your voice was shaky, you were the furthest thing from ok.

"alright, then sleep, tomorrow ill pick you up so we can go eat breakfast at the new coffee shop" he said before giving you a little kiss on your forehead.

"good night, flower. I love you" peter whispered in your ear.

"bye pete. I love you too" you whispered back and let yourself fell back asleep.

________________

you pulled away from peter two weeks after he caught you lying about your eating habits.

you were ashamed and embarrassed. Not just for getting caught lying but because no matter how bad you felt for doing it, you still believed that stop eating wasn't a bad thing.

You were losing weight, you actually had lost 11lb in the span of 4 weeks. it's not like you needed to lose weight, you were underweight now.

But who didn't liked to be underweight? That meant you didn't have to worry it you gain weight because that meant you would enter into your perfect weight.

It was different with you, you had anorexia nervosa when you were a teenager. You punished your body by not eating everytime you weren't good at something.

you punished yourself a lot at the time, not because you weren't good but because your parents always told you that you could be better.

It didn't matter if you were good because you weren't the best.

now, 2 months have passed since you slowly pulled away from peter. You didn't cut him off or broke up, you talked to him, you spent time with him but you no longer could be by his side all the time.

you wanted to be left alone, in the dark of your room, in the hole you dig to hide your feelings. You just wanted to pretend you weren't in pain with no people around you to show you how obviously you were lying to yourself.

"can i have uhm...a water with strawberries toppings" you said.

"what size the drink?" the girl behind the register asked with a kind smile.

"a venti please" you answered.

"do you want ice in the drink?"

"yes."

"ok, it will be 2 dollars and 50 cents" the girl said and you gave her a 5 dollar bill.

after she gave you your change you sat down on one of the empty tables to wait for your drink.

you had a lot of things to do today so you forced yourself to get up early, brush your teeth, shower and brush your hair.

now all you needed was breakfast, what you just ordered was your breakfast.

you felt guilty about even coming to Starbucks and buying it.

you should have just brought a water bottle from your department but you didn't thought about it before you left.

you were on Instagram seeing your friends posts when suddenly peter called you, sighing you decided not to answer.

thirty seconds later he called again, you picked up this time. Maybe it was something important.

"hello?"

"hi, flower. how are you?"

"i'm great, what about you?"

"i'm good, what are you doing?"

"im at starbucks, uhm..eating breakfast"

"really? That's great. i called you because aunt may want you to come and have dinner with us today"

"today?"

"yeah, are you busy?"

"uhm, a little but i can make time"

"great! i can go pick you up at 7"

"you don't have to, I'll just go after i finish my errands"

"are you sure?"

"yeah, I'll be at your house at 7"

"ok, i love u"

"love u too"

"I'll see you later, flower"

"see you"

you hung up, your body already felt tired and drained. All the energy you had for the day was already gone after that phonecall.

when did putting effort in your relationship began to feel so tiring? why were you becoming such a shitty girlfriend.

you loved peter since you were 14, you became his friend and spend months of your life with peter by your side till he finally became your boyfriend and now you couldn't bring yourself to putting the effort even though you're mind was screaming at you to do so.

"i'm a shitty person" you whispered and walked out of Starbucks with your drink.

_____________

"why didn't you show up?" Peter was in your front door, face filled with frustration and anger you knew you had provoked.

"im sorry" you said, that all you could say to be honest. you weren't capable in going on a full rant about how suicidal you felt yesterday to the point you just went home without even finishing your errands and then fell asleep crying because of how tired you felt.

the thing about the depression is, you can't tell people why you're depressed. sometimes you don't know why. And when you do, you can't bring yourself to tell anyone. you didn't want for people to think you felt entitled to receive help.

"i knows you are, what i don't know is why you didn't show up" he said loudly, stepping inside of your apartment and closing the door so this conversation would be private.

"something i ate made me sick" you lied and hugged yourself, looking up you saw how peter face had a expression of disbelief.

you saw how his eyes scanned your figure, throwing daggers at the way your "skinny jeans" were baggy on your figure, how your shirt seem oversized and how your skin was pale and dull.

"don't lie" he finally answered and looked at you with worry, his voice still filled with frustration.

"im not lying" you weren't exactly lying, you did felt sick, you had thrown up but you didn't ate so no food made you sick.

"you are, i know you're not eating. There's something wrong and you're not being honest with me. I can help you if you don't talk to me" peter stretched his arms out, reaching out to you but waiting for you to walk into his arms.

"i don't need help" you took a few steps back until the back of your legs made contact with the couch.

"i know you need help, if this is like when we were in high school i can help you. I know how you just need to let me in" peter pressed and walked closer to you.

"this isn't like high school, pete. I'm not sick i don't need your help or any help at all." you lied.

you needed his help, your body and mind were screaming for it. for him to save you from drowning in this ocean of depression. to give you his hand so you can take it and see the sun again and felt nourished by the sun rays.

"don't do this, please." peter suddenly begged you.

"don't do what?" you asked unsure of what to do at the sudden change of mood in the room.

"don't shut me off again. I want to help you and be by your side, you can't give up on yourself. You can expect me to give up on you" peter whimpered at the last sentence, his eyes slowly began to form tears.

your heart broke, and your emotions began to explote in your mind, how sorry you felt for peter, for feeling sad about your unhealthy state and for how miserable being with you was making him be.

you needed to be comforted and yet you broke the boy in front of you to be point he needed it more than you at this moment.

you were a shitty girlfriend.

"in sorry, ok?" you whispered and closed the distance between peter and you before hugging him.

you were sorry, you were really really sorry about not showing up, about lying, about pulling away and not putting effort in the relationship.

You hated the fact that even feeling extremely sorry you couldn't bring yourself to speak to him about how it had gotten bad again and this time you really believed you wouldn't be able to get out.

"please don't push me away" peter whispered in your ear and hugged you back hiding his face on your neck, breathing in your smell and realizing how his frustration didn't left his body.

"i won't, your stuck with me forever" you answered but didn't what you said didn't felt true

of course you wouldn't push him away again, but 'forever'? would you really be here for him forever, alive? you weren't sure that was a promise you could keep. Sooner or later you would give up.

"forever" he whispered back.

____________

forever: adverb

meaning: for All future time; for always.

you shouldn't have used the word forever, not then and not now. In the ending of your suicide letter.

you shouldn't be promising to be stuck by his side forever in the after life or on all the other lives you'll have to live until you can finally rest.

you shouldn't be whispering to yourself forever now, promising yourself and eternal bed of rest.

you shouldn't be laying on your bathtub with your clothes on, filled to the brim with hit water, so hit that it's making your skin sting.

you shouldn't be eyeing the blade in your right hand like your past lover from another life, finally reunited after such a long wait to kiss again.

you shouldn't.

you shouldn't but you were.

you had love and fear tattooed on your eyes, your mouth tasting the bitterness of fake acceptance of the ending.

your hands shaking with excitement and fear; with anticipation and hesitation.

you shouldn't be doing this if half of your body is drowning on sorrow and hesitation but you were doing this.

it had been way too long, you used too much time to feel your feelings so now you were acting on them. your pain was acting his most desired fantasy.

you were screwed from the moment you picked up the red inked pen and wrote on that white sheet of paper that was laying on your desk, waiting to be used, waiting to be stained with your tears.

you wanted to pick up your phone and cry for help to your peter, tell him you were about to do something you shouldn't and to save you like the super hero he is.

but you couldn't, you couldn't, you couldn't.

you couldn't and it that was about to kill you.

"god please forgive me" you whispered, running the blade deeply in both of your wrists, cutting a long line across your upper arms.

the pain took your breath away, like when you were a kid and almost drowned in your uncle's pool, the same pain and breathlessness the water inside your lungs created.

the sound of your blood dripping into the bath made you feel nauseous, like when you were a teenager and the smell of food when you starved yourself for to long made you throw up.

the smell was slowly getting stronger to the point in got overwhelming to your tired body, like the first time you took this same desition.

This was too much.

you shouldn't, you shouldn't, you shouldn't.

but you did.

and god how good it felt.

wow.

everything went black, your mind filled with peace, the silence was comforting and you were wrapped in a bed of comfort. Slowly sinking more to the point you couldn't breath.

your skin felt warm, like your head was disconnected to your body, your thoughts finally leaving your mind like a running tap, nothing stopping the flow of your most secrets and suicidal thoughts.

there was nothing and there was everything around you, all the things that filled your soul with experiences was happening around you, memories flooding the endless space you were floating so carelessly.

this was paradise, until your mind started to rant about the way hell was here

hell was you

hell was waking up

hell was taking deep breaths

......

wake up and take a deep breath; look around you and accept your alive in between disasters out of reach of your fixing hands.

wake up and take a deep breath; look beside you and take in the features of who's laying beside you, in the same bed of pain. Suffering differently but in the same level as you.

wake up and take a deep breath; look at your body laying in a bathtub of pain filled with red water, realize is the same as the bed of pain, only lonelier and eternal in your dying body.

wake up and take a deep breath.

________________

you woke up and took a deep breath, looked beside you and found the familiar features of who just like promised, was laying beside you, this ion a uncomfortable chair, head resting on the hospital bed your tired body was resting on.

his hands was holding yours, touch warm and comforting, just like the last thing you remember.

he moved, slowly. Bringing his head slightly closer to your body, searching for the warm your tired body wasn't able to provide him anymore.

he just found your waist, bringing his free hand to rest on the new found skin, searching for a trace of past memories.

the ones his bedroom walls witnessed.

you took a deep breath, filling your lungs with the air you desperately tried to get rid off, you body slowly fighting to bring your warm back.

to bring you back to life in the spiritual way, the one you died long ago.

you took a deep breath.

this time he woke up, eyes adjusting to the light of the room before falling on your face.

your eyes wide open, lips and skin pale but screaming silently about the minuscule life it held.

slowly, his expression filled with realization of your not so lifeless body, his eyes grew wide and desperate, his lower lip quivered and his hands that held you began to shake.

"your alive" he said in disbelief, voice shaking and out of breath.

you couldn't say anything, there were no options going through your mind, everything was empty. no words sounded appropriate in your mind.

so you just stared at him with your clueless and death doe eyes, no light inside of them to show him a peak of your bruised soul.

"why are you alive?" your eyes went completely empty, how can you answer that?.

"I don't know'

.......

(to be continued)

#peter parker #peter parker fic #peter parker fluff #spiderman #tom holland spiderman #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x reader #spiderman fic #spiderman angst #spiderman fluff #spiderman sad #the avengers

440 notes · View notes

guilty-pleasures21 · 2 months

Text

Another one?! Ugh, I get bored at work, okay?!

Might try to finish this one up soon, because I got an idea for another fic (🥲), but I don't want to make the ending too abrupt.

1. Ergh, I don't really know if I want to write this ...

2. I wrote it

Part 1 - the towel

Part 2 - the next morning

Warnings: um, well, they're naked?

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

She woke up the next morning to a heavy weight on her waist and a solid presence behind her back. It felt nice. She snuggled deeper into her warm cocoon and Miguel slid his hand over her- Wait. Miguel? Miguel! She twisted her head back to get a glimpse of the man lying behind her, then turned back around when she’d confirmed that yes, it was Miguel. As in her boss Miguel. As in ‘holy freaking shit, she’d just slept with her boss’ Miguel! X clutched tighter onto her quilt, then began discreetly trying to wriggle herself out of his grip - maybe she could sneak out. Of her own house. And then call in sick or something and send him her letter of resignation once he’d left.

“¿Cariño? (Sweetheart?)” Miguel’s deep voice rumbled through her bones, still rusty from sleep, and a shiver ran down her spine. Miguel chuckled and cuddled her closer to him so he could lean over to press a kiss to the crook of her neck. The crook of her neck which was bare because she was naked in bed with her boss! “¿Qué pasa, arañita? (What happened, little spider?)”

She tried not to react as he continued to press soft and appreciative kisses along her bare shoulder. But then his fingers were brushing across her nipple and his thigh was slipping in between her legs and it took everything in her to bite down on her lip and muffle the squeak that fell from her mouth. “Um, nothing! Go back to sleep, Miguel! This was just one crazy dream …”

Miguel let out another snicker and X shuddered again. “Mmm, if this is a dream, then I don't want to wake up, mi arañita linda. (... my lovely little spider.)”

Holy shit! Did his morning voice have to be so hot?! Did his everything have to be so hot?! He squeezed her breast gently and she sucked in a breath, her body stretching so that her p*ssy brushed up against his leg. Shit! “M-Miguel!”

She grabbed onto his arm and lifted it off of her body so she could wriggle further away from him. Miguel sat up, confused. “¿Arañita? What's wrong?”

She was acting differently to last night, less playful, less affectionate, and he didn’t know what had happened to prompt the unexpected change.

X pulled the quilt all the way up to her eyes, then let her gaze trail over his body: his broad chest, his tanned skin, his defined muscles - all of which she now knew the feeling of against her. Against her naked body. She gulped at the thought.

“Um, is this … okay?,” she asked him softly. “Like, is it going to be awkward at work … or something? I just … I'm just kind of nervous because I've never done this before, and I don't really know how things work, and, I mean, you're also, like, my boss and … and oh my God. Please don't fire me! I'll quit! I’ll just, like, hand in my resignation or something! That's okay, right? It won't look bad on my resume or anything? But I really like this job! And I'm good at it! And I've still got quite a while left of my contract. Oh my gosh. Should we just have waited? I dunno. Would you still like me if I wasn't here?”

“Arañita,” Miguel stopped her, leaning over her to catch her attention. “Breathe.” He could feel her nervous energy rubbing off on him as she’d continued with her rant - did she regret it? He definitely didn’t, but maybe he’d rushed her. Maybe he should have sat her down and talked to her and then taken her for dinner or something. And then he could have f*cked her to sleep. X took in a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself down.

“I'll like you wherever you are, arañita,” Miguel assured her, his fingers aching to reach out and touch her. He clenched his fists instead, trying to focus on soothing her concerns first. “But … do you regret it? Do you want us to wait?” ¡Dios, por favor! (God, please!) Say no, please say no! He didn’t think he could go another day without touching her - not now that he knew what she felt like in his arms.

“No!” X replied immediately, not even waiting to process his sad eyes and his nervous grimace and the anxious furrow of his brows. “I don’t regret it!” Miguel breathed a sigh of relief at her admission.

“And I don’t want to wait,” X continued, pulling her quilt back up over her mouth and nose. “I really like you, Miguel. But … do you like me?”

She blinked her eyes up at him, her voice riddled with insecurity, and his heart cracked at her sight. Of course he liked her! He’d liked her ever since she’d raced into that meeting room and scribbled her ideas all over the board in a way that had made sense only to him - the day he’d given her that nickname everyone in the office now knew her by.

“Of course I like you!” he exclaimed incredulously. “You think I'd have had sex with you if I didn't?!”

“I don’t know!” X sat up, raising her voice to match his. Her expression turned uncertain again as she considered his words. “Maybe you just wanted sex … or something.” Her voice softened as she said the word and she lowered her gaze, embarrassed.

“I mean, isn’t that what good looking guys do?” she finished. She winced at her own words, hearing herself how stupid the argument sounded. But she just wanted some reassurance from him - a confirmation that he wouldn’t just get bored of her and then leave her to go chase after the next pretty thing. Not that he’d ever done anything to make her think that he would do that. But … Miguel fixed her with another disbelieving look.

“¿Qué p*tas? (What the f*ck?)" Miguel narrowed his eyes at her, completely and utterly bewildered as to how she’d possibly come to that conclusion. She thought he’d wanted sex from her just because he was ‘good looking’? ¿Qué mierda? (What the hell?) How the f*ck was he supposed to respond to that?! “Wait. So you think I just wanted to have sex with you … because I’m ‘good looking’? ¿Qué mierda, arañita?”

“No, I … I mean … Like …” X waved her hands around, trying to come up with a response. But then her quilt slipped down to her waist and Miguel's eyes fell to her breasts immediately, his pupils dilating with desire as he took her in. X rushed to pull the material back up over herself and Miguel shot her a guilty look.

“Uh …” He waved one hand at her body and rubbed the back of his neck with the other. “I mean … I've already seen … all of it … arañita.”

He snuck a glance at her again and his lips twitched at the ends when he saw the glare she was giving him. She was so cute when she was mad.

“Miguel!” She grabbed a pillow and whacked him over the head with it, too quick for him to block her attack.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, giving her a questioning look once she’d set the pillow down. “¡¿Arañita?!”

X huffed in irritation. “See! You're just … You're all ‘sexed up’ right now! You're not going to listen to anything I say.”

‘Sexed up’? How did she keep coming up with this stuff? He had to admit that she might have had a point though, considering the direction in which his thoughts had been headed when she’d exposed herself before him again. But it wasn’t his fault she was just so f*cking delicious! Miguel forced his features into a frown.

“¡Arañita! I have been listening!” he insisted, taking offence at her accusation. Then he sat back and gave her a serious look. “Okay, okay, I'm listening. What is it? What's really bothering you?” X fidgeted with her fingers, thinking.

“I just …” She tucked her hair behind her ear, not meeting his gaze as she spoke. “You're just, like, so amazing and everything and I … I'm just me, you know? There's … nothing special about me or anything. I just … What if you got bored of me one day, you know? And then someone way prettier and way more cool comes along? What do I do then?” Her voice cracked as she finished the thought and Miguel felt his own heart breaking at her words. How could she think that about him? How could think that about herself? Not when she was so pretty and smart and sweet. Miguel grabbed her face, cupping it in his hands so she was forced to look at him.

“¡¿Estás loca, arañita?! ¡¿Qué diablos?! (Are you crazy, little spider?! What the hell?!) How can you say that about yourself?!” He released his hold on her, getting more and more upset with each passing second. “You are special; you’re so special, arañita. I don’t want anyone else but you! You’re pretty and cute and so smart! I mean, even in your interview, that first day, when I saw you! I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about how pretty you were! With your … your beautiful eyes and your cute smile and your …” His eyes fell to her body - to her small form and her mouth-watering curves and her-

“Not that that’s the reason I hired you!” Miguel assured her quickly, dragging his gaze back up to her face. “You’re really smart! You’re brilliant! And … And that was just an added bonus … to … to the … what you’d contribute to …”

“Miguel,” X stopped him, snickering at how frazzled he’d become. “You’re rambling now.”

He relaxed, the tension easing from his shoulders when he saw the gentle curve of her lips.

“I can’t help it, arañita.” He shrugged. “That’s just what you do to me.” X bit her lip, giving him that shy smile that drove him crazy.

“Okay.” She readied herself to lower the quilt, her body heating up in anticipation of his reaction if she did. But then she stopped, suddenly realising how out of her depth she really felt. “But, um, Miguel?”

“Hmm?” Coño, it was like the f*cking towel all over again! Why wasn't she lowering the damn quilt?!

“Can we … take this a little slower?” X asked him carefully, completely oblivious to his thoughts. “I just … I’ve never been in a relationship before, so …”

¡Mierda! (Shit!) Of course! How could he have been so insensitive?!

“Yes! Yes, of course,” Miguel agreed immediately. “We’ll go at your pace, arañita. Whatever you want to do, just tell me.”

“Hmm.” X paused to think about it, her expression much more relaxed now that they'd resolved her insecurities. Then her eyes lit up with an idea. “Should we go on a date?”

She looked so excited, her lips stretched into a hopeful smile as she waited for his response. He liked seeing her happy - and he absolutely adored being the reason for it. He leaned forward to tuck her hair behind her ear and give her a mischievous smirk. “I'll take you on a date, arañita. Where do you want to go?”

She bit her lip as he began brushing lips along her neck and shoulder, his warm breath tickling her skin and causing a shiver to run down her spine. “Miguel …”

He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him. “Tell me where you want to go, arañita. I'll take you wherever you want.”

She reached up to grip his shoulder, then pushed him back slightly so she could start thinking again. “Hmm, a movie?”

Then they wouldn't have to worry about anyone seeing them. Smart. Miguel cupped her cheek in his hand. “What time do you want to go?”

He leaned forward to press his lips to hers and she sank against his chest, kissing him back. Finally, he pulled away and she treated him to a sweet smile before replying. “We can go in the evening? Then you can go home and get changed too.”

Right. He had a spare set of night clothes he kept at her place - for when he was injured or too tired to go home after a mission. But he'd always get up before she awoke and put on his suit to swing through the city back home - a task that was probably going to be a little more difficult now that everyone was awake and going about their day. But that could wait for later.

“Can I take a shower here first?” Miguel asked, his voice low and thick with desire. Her stomach flipped at the look in his eyes, but she swallowed it down, wanting to tease him a little.

“Sure!” X agreed happily, hopping up and heading over to her closet. “Let me just get you your towel.” His eyes followed her as she walked across the room and stretched onto her toes to grab the towel he'd use when he stayed over. Joder, she was beautiful: her long limbs and her soft curves and her tanned skin and curly hair. He couldn't wait to get her into the shower with him. X handed him the towel, then turned around to start walking in the wrong direction.

“¡Arañita!” Miguel called after her, unable to keep the hint of panic out of his voice. Where the hell was she going now?! X stopped and twisted her head back to look at him, a questioning expression on her face. “Uh, we could … we could save water … if we showered together …”

He looked so guilty as he said it, she had to bite down on the inside of her cheek to stop herself from bursting into laughter. Her eyes drifted down his towering form, lingering on his handsome face and his rapidly stiffening cock and her stomach fluttered at the sight.

“Oh, it's fine.” She waved away his concerns nonchalantly. “I'm just gonna go put my breakfast first.”

Miguel clutched onto his towel, his heart thudding with panic as she began walking away from him. Another excuse - he needed another excuse!

“¡Arañita!” he called out to her quickly. X turned back to give him a questioning look and he hesitated. “Uh … Don't you need to brush your teeth first?”

“I can wait,” she replied, fluttering her eyelashes knowingly as she took a step back towards him. “Besides, I can always just brush my teeth while you're showering. Then we can switch! Let me get you a toothbrush.” She started making her way to the bathroom and Miguel seized the opportunity to race after her.

“After, after: I can brush my teeth after I take a shower.”

Tags: @heubstr

66 notes · View notes

babbling-idiot2 · 1 year

Note

Greg house please

You had come into the clinic for a simple case of the flu. You had a mask on and stayed away from most people as best as you could. All you need was for them to prescribe you some meds to make the course of getting over it more pleasant. You had been told a doctor would be in in at least a few minutes. When the doctor walked in, you expected the nice white coat, but instead, you got a man with a limp and cane and a look that told you he hated this job.

"Hello, I'm doctor house, what's your problem Ms..." He says, looking at your file a bit longer than he should have been. He then looks up to you, and for a moment, you gasped at how blue his eyes were. 'Holy shit.' You said internally. "L/n?" "I just need something for this damn flu. I have no clue on what to take without screwing myself up even worse." He nods his head "Well usually you can kind of look it up without coming to the clinic, but I understand if wanting a doctor's suggestion is more desirable." Man, you might regret this. "Yeah, especially if the doctor is also desirable." He smiles a bit and looks at you for a moment. "The best thing I can suggest for you is rest, lots of liquids and perhaps some Tylenol. And if you have trouble sleeping, then some NyQuil can help. Also, flirting with your doctor can be a bit of a problem as well." You raise an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? How?" "Well, if the doctor likes you back, then various symptoms might occur. Like feelings, and the unnecessary want to get to know each other." You smile at that. Looking down at your shoes. He looks at the counter, stands up, and writes something down. When he hands it to you, you see Tylenol and Nyquil wrote down on it. "All can be found in the pharmacy or the general store. Have a nice day." He says as he walks out. You look at the paper, and for a moment, you don't notice, but finally, you do and turn the piece of paper over and see a number. And next to it is 'Call me if you still have feelings for me.' Smiling, you stand and walk out of the room. As you're walking over to the door to the clinic, you spot the doctor looking at you. You hold eye contact for a moment before you walk right out the door.

After you were long gone, he smiled down at the file in his hand before placing it on top of the rest of the files. Cuddy walks up next to him, and before she asks him about taking Wilson on an outing tomorrow, he stops her. "I've got a date tomorrow, can't do it." She scoffs. "You've got a date? With whom? And is she sane?" He lets that linger for a moment but shoots back, "I think so, but something must be wrong if she's going out with me, right?" He says as he walks away to go find his team and a case to make his day worthwhile.

(I hope you enjoy this! Have an amazing day/night!)

#gregory house x reader #gregory house headcanons #gregory house #house md #hugh laurie

295 notes · View notes

gffa · 7 months

Text

As an update, I have gotten some sleep, I spent some time with family, I talked with a lot of people, I opened some windows for some fresh air, I spent some time tooling around on the internet, I even put the clothes in the dryer (UGH!!!), and I'm feeling a lot better. I want to say that I really appreciated how many people were angry with me (you guys should have seen the nuclear option response I wrote and how poor Moss had to talk me down off the ledge of it, because she knew of course I'd regret it later!), but even more I appreciate that you guys were kind and offered me connection and sympathy. More than anything, what helped me is remembering that there's so much good in this world through people saying you were thinking of me. It would have felt really good to sic a bunch of people on someone who was cruel to me, believe me, there's a part of me that would have loved it because of course I wanted to lash back out at her. So, I understand that urge, I appreciate the protective place that it's coming from! But ultimately I needed to handle this my own way, even if it was making a post about her that wasn't a call-out per se, but an exploration of my own boundaries. And ultimately I have to stick to my morals about how I can't sic people on someone, that's not what friends and fellow fans are for. I don't want to fight more with her, I want to go back to ignoring that she exists. When I'm grieving, this is not how I want to spend my day, no matter what she does or doesn't deserve, I deserve to have the space to process my grief instead of having to deal with her in my most painful moments. So, I appreciate everyone who wanted to march over to her and give her a piece of your minds, that anger helped soothe the hurt in me, but in this instance, I wanted peace even more, not a fight with whatever nonsense she would have thrown back. And because of that, tonight I feel a lot steadier and more stable again, I feel warmly connected to all of you, and ready to read some Star Wars comics and yell about deep diving into the obscure stuff again because I love that shit and I love happily yelling about it with you guys, if you want to wander by and read it. Or just laugh about how Anakin is The Most Character Ever, can you guys BELIEVE how lucky we are to be in a fandom of a story that centers around THAT guy? The one who is the most terrifying murder cyborg ever, but is also the sweetest boy ever, but is also the most dumbass genius you've ever met, but is also a genuinely complex and interesting character?? Guys, how can I stay down for too long when we get to talk about Anakin Skywalker's EVERYTHING???

#lumi.txt

136 notes · View notes

ruishusband · 16 days

Text

᧔ ˖ ࣪ 💋 ࣪ ⤹kiss the homies

⤷Rui Kamishiro and amab!reader are zesty AF. Just a silly thing sleep deprived me wrote!! NOT PROOF READ

Being Rui's best friend was amazing at first, but over time it became harder to just be friends.. you two would constantly flirt, trying to make the other blush. 'Its just a homie thing, guys flirt with other guys all the time as a joke' you swore, you SWORE you wouldn't get attached, that you wouldn't yearn for something so unattainable, but you did... the worst part? You didn't even regret it. Deep down you enjoyed imagining yourself holding his soft hands, kissing his face aggressively, resting your head against his chest as if it was a pillow... your thoughts consumed you, haunted you no matter what you tried to do to stop your feelings. But yet again, you didn't regret it.. you regret not regretting it, foolish you, using your heart rather than your brain...

You felt your chest burning up, it's so cold and yet you're so warm.. it was embarrassing you were overheating because of a crush. A faint notification sound, followed by more notifications, each getting louder and more aggressive. Your hand is slightly shaky and sweaty, but you presist to look at the multiple texts Rui spammed you. A faint giggle manages to escape your lips, a slight distraction from your previously overwhelming thoughts.

purple guy (theater kid edition): hi just finished practice lol, wanna meet up at the nearby cafe? lmk

Oh, that's right... he had practice. You felt bad for not coming to watch, even though Rui would always assure you that you didn't need to pressure yourself to go to every single practice. You replied quick, not wanting to make him wait any longer.

rizzmeister69: oh? my-my, THE Rui Kamishiro is asking me out? It's a date 😘 be there in 15 minutes

purple guy (theater kid edition): take your time my prince, no need to rush! I'll wait for you ;)

You chuckled, the voices in your head having a conflict of their own. 'God y/n pull yourself together you idiot! Stop getting so flustered over a text' 'OMGOMG OMG HE CALLED ME HIS PRINCE :3!!1!1!1'

You put on a somewhat lazy outfit, but you made sure to look at least somewhat presentable. You took your wallet, heading to the little cafe at the end of the street. You looked for Rui, and he wasn't there, which is ti be expected as the cafe was closer to your house than his. You took a seat, waiting a few minutes. You scrolled on your phone, mindlessly looking at tiktoks untill.. "My sincerest apologies, I didn't keep you waiting for too long, now did I darling~?" he took a seat beside you, slyly putting his hand on top of yours, rubbing circles in it. You had felt slightly sleepy these past few days, so his comforting touch made you yawn slightly. "Nah I've only been waiting for five minutes" you mumbled, slightly tired. "You should really be getting some more sleep, you know?" "Pfft, ironic considering thats coming from you" you tease, he faked being offended, playfully scoffing. You talked a lot, your feelings just became stronger.. fuck.. you were deeply in love with him.. "You okay? You zoned out, are you sure you want to talk, maybe you should sleep instead, it's fine honestly I don't mind-" you snapped out your thoughts as Ruis words hit you like a brick: "Hm? Oh- oh no! I, I'm sorry I just.. got lost in my thoughts I guess" he was about to speak, but the waitress came and took your orders, so he forgot what he was going to reply. You two kept glancing at eachother, awkwardly laughing when you both looked at eachother at the same time.

"Thanks for the date, pretty boy, I'll see you later" Rui winked at you, you forgot you joked about this being a date, so you just stood there dumbfounded.. he giggled, giving you a kiss on your nose. He left, but you stood there, shocked.. 'kissing your homies is normal, right?'

#⤷ಇ.sfw writing #gay mlm #mlm #mlm blog #mlm post #mlm yearning #male reader #amab reader #masc reader #transmasc reader #project sekai #pjsk #rui kamishiro #writing #mlm thoughts

15 notes · View notes

george-weasleys-girl · 1 year

Note

Could you write an angsty George fic where shortly before he and Fred leave hogwarts to open thier shop he dumps you because he feels like he owes it to fred and his family and basically everyone to give 100% of himself to the joke shop seeing as everyone could use thier spirits being lifted and maybe also part of the reason he dumps you is cuz he's a little pessimistic and depressed about the future because of the impending war

Thank you, dear anon, for requesting this. It took a twist that I wasn't intending when I began. I had so many false starts. Nothing I wrote seemed to work. Then I listened to The Pretenders, "Back on the Chain Gang" and "Time After Time" by Cyndi Lauper. Once I set it in the future, with them looking back, everything fell into place. I hope it doesn't disappoint.

~•~

Time After Time

Warnings: angst, couple of curse words

Summary: George broke up with Y/N the night before he and Fred left Hogwarts. Four years later, after zero contact, she walks into the joke shop.

~•~

"You're as beautiful as the day I lost you." George said, his eyes locked on to her face as he traced the lines on her palm. He still remembered their patterns even after all this time.

Y/N's eyes rose to meet his. "You shattered my heart that day. There are pieces of it still missing." She sighed, pulling her hand from his. "And I still don't fully understand why you did it."

George's breath caught at the sudden loss of her touch. Four years of regret and longing punched him in the gut. So many nights, he'd cried himself to sleep yearning for her. Her soft breath against his cheek, her sweet voice whispering 'I love you,' into his ear over and over. He was desperate to gather her up in his arms, tell how sorry he was, how stupid he had been, how much he still loved her and that if she just gave him a second chance, he'd never, ever let her go again.

But he didn't. Instead, he poured himself another hefty glass of wine and downed all of it in one swig.

"I didn't deserve you," he said, eyes cast down at his empty hands. "I guess I still don't."

"Yeah, you drilled that into my head the day you broke up with me," she snapped. "That still doesn't explain why you did it."

George said nothing, continuing to stare downward, unable to meet her gaze.

Y/N closed her eyes for a moment. "Even now, after four years, you still can't tell me the truth." She stood, beginning to regret accepting his invitation to come upstairs to his apartment. "I--I shouldn't have come here. I should go."

She turned to grab her jacket, but George stood, clasping both her hands in his. "Please, Y/N, don't go. I--I'll explain. Just--please, just stay a little while longer." The words, 'I love you,' were on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed them whole, afraid they might be too much.

Y/N stared into his eyes for a long while, then she nodded. "Ok."

~•~

They moved from the kitchen to the living room. Once they were sitting face to face on the sofa, with fresh glasses of wine in hand, George took a deep breath and began.

"You were my world, Y/N. I loved you so much it hurt sometimes. The two years we were together were the happiest of my Iife. I woke up everyday feeling like the luckiest son of bitch to ever live. I couldn't believe that someone who was so beautiful and kind and smart and funny as you could love me." He pointed to himself, lowering his eyes. "Me. Fred Weasley's sidekick twin."

The sharp pang of remorse stabbed into her heart at the mention of Fred's name. She should've come back for the funeral, but after her and George’s relationship imploded, she didn't know if she'd be welcome. The last thing she wanted to do was cause a scene at the funeral of one of her dearest friends.

So, she stayed away.

Y/N swallowed hard, forcing down her guilt. "Tell me, George, what happened to all that love?" she asked. "Did it all just fade away?"

George's head snapped up at that, eyes wide. "What? No! How could you think that? It's just--" he paused briefly, chewing on his lip. "It's just that Fred and I were ready to open up the joke shop. I owed it to him, to my family, to put everything I had into making our dream come true." His brown eyes locked onto hers, pleading for understanding. "And there was so much darkness then. So much fear. People needed something to help them forget, you know? Forget that the war was coming. If only for a little while."

"So, I no longer fit into your grand dream? Is that it?" Y/N's chin trembled when she spoke.

"No, love, no," he said. "It wasn't like that. It--I couldn't be the boyfriend you deserved anymore. You deserved someone who could give you their all. Someone who wasn't working all hours of the day and night. Someone who would be there. And I knew I couldn't be that person for you anymore."

Y/N placed her glass on the table, then looked him dead in the eye. "You're a damned fool, George Weasley. We'd talked so many times about how it would be when you and Fred opened up the shop. I supported you and the shop and everything that came with it. I gladly accepted it all because I loved you, and I wanted your dreams to come true. I would've done anything to help that become a reality. So don't go there, George. Don't you fucking dare pretend I didn't know what I was signing up for."

Y/N rose abruptly and crossed the room to gaze out the window.

"It's not that, Y/N." His words were barely above a whisper. "I know you understood, but I'd thought about it alot, and it wouldn't have been fair to you, love. You deserved so much more than an absentee husband."

Y/N rounded on him. "That was my choice to make! Mine! And you took it from me without my consent."

George flinched as if she'd slapped him. "I didn't mean--I didn't think-‐"

"You're damned right you didn't think!" Y/N interrupted, running a shaky hand through her hair. "What are you not telling me, George? There's more to this, I know there is." She sighed and her voice grew soft. "Was there--someone else?"

George rose to stand before her, cupping her face in his hands, his eyes unflinching. "No, Y/N. There was no one else. There never has been. You were and still are the only woman I've ever wanted."

"Then why, George?" Y/N pulled away and walked back to the sofa. "Why?"

He remained silent for several long moments. "I was afraid," he said finally, refusing to turn and face her.

"Afraid? What do you mean? Afraid of what?"

"The war."

"I don't understand." Y/N said. "Everyone was afraid. What did that have to do with our relationship?"

George whirled around, eyes brimming with tears. "I didn't want you to die, ok?!"

Y/N stared at him, taken aback by this revelation. Of all the things he could've possibly said, she never expected this. "Why were you so certain I would die?"

"I wasn't. But it was a war. People die in wars." His voice trembled. "Fred died. He died, Y/N! And it damn near killed me. If you'd died too--" George shook his head, burying his face in his hands as he broke down.

"Oh Georgie." Y/N crossed the room, her open arms wrapping around him.

He melted into her embrace. "I-I'm sorry. I was stupid." She could barely make out his words through the hiccupping sobs. "I th-thought if I pushed you away, you'd go back to your muggle family. Y-you'd be safe."

Y/N squeezed him tighter. His plan had worked. It'd worked so well that she took a job at Beauxbatons teaching Charms.

"Of course, you would do that." Y/N wept into his shoulder, finally understanding. "How did I not see it? Merlin, that was such a--you thing to do."

George chuckled through his tears and pulled back to look at her.

"I never stopped loving you," he admitted, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

"Nor I, you."

Before either of them realized what was happening, they closed the distance, their lips touching for the first time in four years. It wasn't this deep, passionate reunion as they both imagined it would be, but tremulous and gentle. They were suddenly those two fifteen year old kids again. Nervous, eager, yearning, and so desperately and madly in love. It was their second first kiss.

~•~

"I'm so sorry, George. I should've come back before now." Y/N confessed once they rested on the sofa again. "I was angry at you for a long time, and when it finally faded, I didn't know if you'd still want me around."

George moved closer to her, placing his hand over hers. "I've missed you so bloody much, Y/N. I can't tell you how many times I wrote to you, but never had the balls to send the letters." He smiled sheepishly. "Because I was afraid you wouldn't want me either."

Y/N snorted. "I bet if we looked up the word idiot in the dictionary, there'd be a picture of us."

George chuckled and nodded. "So, what now?" he asked.

"Well, I have three months until summer break. I've been debating for a while whether to continue my teaching job at Beauxbatons. And I think I've finally made my decision."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm. I think it's time for me to come home and when I do, I'd like for us to try again."

George's smile put the sun to shame. "I'd like that too." He raised her hand to his lips, leaving a lingering kiss on her palm.

"Are you hungry?" He asked.

"Yes, I'm famished!"

"I happen to know this great place, just a short walk down the hall. The chef is superb. Makes the best spaghetti and meatballs."

"Ooh, my favorite!"

George smiled and offered his arm. "I remember."

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley angst

230 notes · View notes

leanderfields · 7 months

Text

kintsugi ch. 02⦂

prev ← series masterlist → next

SYNOPSIS: Life as a Highborn noble can be as lavish and extravagant as one makes it out to be. After all, money talks in these parts of Eridia. Every interaction is transactional. Even relationships, a horrible realization that you had when turning down one too many marriage– or rather, business– proposals. But when all hope in love is lost, a thief breaks into your bedroom in the dead of night. He’s charming and easy on the eyes, but is your heart the only thing he’ll take?

C/W: vague mentions age gaps, but nothing too detailed or gross; see series masterlist for general warnings

A/N: Enter Elyon!! This chapter is mostly focused on introducing him and setting up the plot, but don't worry Leander is still mentioned ♡

Sunlight poured into your bedroom, illuminated the crevices of your bedroom and pried your drowsy eyes open. You reluctantly sat up and rubbed your eyes, catching a glimpse of the sun peeking out from Eridia’s horizon. You grimaced as a knock graced your ears. Staying up late and rising early was a routine at this point, but it was not often that you regretted the choices made the previous night. Whenever you would wake up after sleeping at an absurd hour, you felt tired. However, today was a bit different. Today, you felt like death. You were on the verge of collapsing. You were seated far from your vanity, but you did not need to look into a mirror to know that the bags beneath your eyes were dark and heavy.

“Come in,” you called.

On cue, Adaline swung your bedroom door open. She beelined towards your balcony window and drew the curtains, letting the daylight flood your room. A few other ladies in waiting followed her inside your chambers like little ducklings, wheeling in racks of dresses. You yawned while she put her hands on her hips.

“Good morning, my lady.”

“Good morning,” you replied sheepishly, shrinking deeper into your sheets. It was apparent that she was eyeing the flower vase beside you. And how could she not? Leander’s gold work shimmered and shined now that the sun was out. Many things in your room had gold accents, but Adaline had seen that vase for years. It was different to say the least.

But the dreaded question never came. Instead, Adaline presented you with the usual: “Did you sleep well?”

“I suppose,” you said nonchalantly.

She sighed, “You can take a nap when you are done with the Duke of Cromwell.”

You pressed your lips together. He almost slipped your mind. Almost, that is. He was always on the back burner, a thought you did not want to acknowledge until it came back to haunt you. To remind you of your place in high society. To remind you that love was a prospect not a promise.

Your father described this meeting as a simple luncheon except for the fact that it was everything, but a simple luncheon. He was a passive man in all regards. He never arranged anything with anyone, always letting them come to him. This was the case even for the Duke of Cromwell. He personally reached out to your father unlike your other potential suitors who wrote directly to you, piquing the interest of your father. And who would be a fool to turn down a Cromwell?

The Cromwell’s were a distinguished family with a status much higher than yours— or most families in Hightown for that matter. The duke was their pride and joy, a young man that ran the most esteemed brothel in Eridia. Well, as esteemed as a brothel run by nobles for the nobles could be. Lords and ladies would come to get away from their loveless marriages. One single night full of bliss and then it was back to normal. One single night and the Cromwell’s were able to rake in thousands of dollars. Those nights happen every night without fail.

‘What would the duke know about love?’ you mused as the maids helped you into a dress.

One fluffed out your petticoats. Another cinched your waist with a corset. Your father probably had the dress tailored for today. You had never seen this dress before. Moreover, the maids typically asked you what you wanted to wear, letting you pick from the racks they wheeled into your room that day. Suppose they wanted to give you the illusion of choice. You could not blame them though. Your father’s words were absolute despite them being your ladies in waiting. You held your arms out as Adaline ushered the sleeves up your shoulders. She then spun you around, allowing you to face your reflection in the vanity mirror.

The dress was a lovely royal blue color with delicate black lace trimming around the neckline, but when Adaline collapsed a silver necklace adorned with sapphires around your neck, it was not as lovely as you thought. Beautiful as your ensemble was, you could not help but frown. You were a walking Cromwell crest. The duke was the one that proposed this meeting yet it seemed like you were the one trying to win him over. Or rather, your family were the ones trying to win him over.

From a business standpoint, having a relationship with the Cromwell’s was fruitful. The pros outweighed the cons. Well, technically, there was only one con— you and your feelings. Other than that, there was truly nothing to lose for both families. Only things to gain.

Your family, the Sciarra’s, were tycoons of the Eridian perfume industry. The Cromwell’s brothel was located by the outskirts of the Amaryllis District which was glazed with sweet, floral fragrances. You did not need to know the specifics of whatever your father and the duke talked about in order to know that a union would benefit both parties. You were certain the Sciarra’s would take a slice of the Cromwell’s pie all while their profits would skyrocket as they would have access to the finest artisan perfume in Eridia for dirt cheap. Or perhaps access to your factories?

Adaline put a hand over your eyes, spraying a touch of perfume behind your ears. You resigned yourself to today’s schedule when she tilted your chin downward, forcing you to look your reflections in the eyes, and just like that, you were ready for your outing with the duke.

“You look lovely, my lady.”

“All thanks to you.”

She smiled and took your hand, “You will do just fine.”

You squeezed her hand, allowing her to guide you towards the door and down the hallways of your estate like a child on her first day of school. Not a single word was exchanged between you and your maid as you waltzed your way towards the foyer. You bit your bottom lip.

Though it was the crack of dawn, it was still too quiet for your liking. You had so many things to say, so many thoughts to voice, but none of them came out. What was Adaline supposed to do if you cried your eyes out and threw a tantrum, demanding that you marry for true love even though you hardly left your manor to meet– let alone love– anyone? Console you with lies? Tell you it will be alright? Tell you that the one for you is out there somewhere? There was nothing she could do for you. She was your servant and you were her lady. Lady… Lady Cromwell… you shuddered at the thought. It was too soon to be thinking about such things. Even if they were inevitable.

Adaline held your hand a little tighter as you descended the grand staircase that led to the foyer and the front entrance of the Sciarra estate. At the bottom of the steps, there stood a man with the most peculiar pair of eyes you had ever seen. His irises were a piercing electric blue, but his sclera were pitch black. Your breath hitched as he smirked at you.

“Forgive me, your grace, but I thought you were going to wait outside,” Adaline quipped, letting go of your hand.

He chuckled and extended his hand towards you. “I realized that it would be improper to let a lady be escorted by a maid while I twiddle my thumbs in a carriage. First impressions are important, mind you.”

You took his hand without a second thought, allowing him to press a chaste kiss on your knuckles, searing your skin hot with his lips. Albeit, it did not leave the same impression as the kiss Leand– you frowned.

“Then, I will leave you to it.” Adaline turned to you and brushed off the sides of your sleeves, “Take care, my lady.”

Her back was facing you before you could reply and bid her farewell yourself. You turned your attention back to the duke.

“Shall we get the formal introductions out of the way?” he asked.

“We shall.”

“Then, ladies first.”

“Greetings. I am Lady (y/n) of the Sciarra household in the East of Hightown. Delighted to make your acquaintance,” you said with a curt curtsy.

He returned the gesture with a bow, “And I am Duke Elyon of the Cromwell household in the Southwest of Hightown. The pleasure is all mine.”

You smiled. He smiled. Then, you both walked outside to the carriage in silence. Your footsteps were loud and echoed throughout the front yard. The heels of his boots clicked and clacked against the cobblestone. As you got closer to the carriage, the coachman hopped off the driver’s seat and opened the door for you both as you. He lowered his head and closed his eyes, a hand over his heart like a knight swearing an oath. His head was perpendicular to the ground.

Elyon hummed, almost as if he acknowledged the coachman’s bow and climbed in first. He then turned around and then held a hand out to you. You gathered your skirts in one hand and took his with the other. He squeezed your hand as he pulled you to your seat.

You smoothed your petticoats out while the carriage shook slightly as the coachman climbed onto the driver’s seat. With the crack of a whip, the horses started trotting. You folded your hands together, feeling his stare on you. Or perhaps he was not staring. The carriage was small. He was seated across from you. His only options were to look out the window or straight at you. You opted for the former, leaning against the window. You held back a sigh as you watched your estate get smaller and smaller in the distance. You hardly lived a life and now you were doomed to marry a man you hardly knew. Your eyes flickered to Elyon.

To your surprise, he was not staring at all. His eyes were closed. His lashes were long, brushing his cheeks ever so slightly. His hair was as long and dark as night with the tips dyed a chestnut brown. He wore a single silver earring on his right ear, a stark contrast to the rest of his royal blue and black outfit. He sported a suit-like ensemble though the dress shirt was a little odd. It was left open around his collarbone and there were two ribbon chokers around his neck. He also donned a cloak with an enormous amount of fur trimming. Your brows are knitted together. It was summer. Eridian summers were sweltering and unforgiving. Even the early mornings were hot. You pursed your lips and looked down at your sumptuous dress. No matter. Aristocrats adored flamboyance one way or another.

You turned your head back to the window. Your fingers found their way onto the black lace of your dress and ran their way across the dainty fabric’s bumps and grooves in a smooth back and forth motion.

“You should rest, my lady. It will be a while before we reach our destination,” Elyon said as you jolted up from your seat.

“Is your manor really that far from here?”

“No it is not. It is only a thirty minute carriage ride, but we are taking a detour.”

“What for?”

His eyes fluttered open. His black sclera held the carriage atmosphere with an iron grip. He crossed his arms.

“Have you not heard?”

“Heard what?”

He chuckled, “There is a thief running around Hightown as of late. The city police have been pursuing him, but to no avail. All anyone knows is that he only steals from manors and caravans like this one. Your neighbor, the Earl of Sinclair, was his most recent victim. He was robbed last night. I’m not sure of the details, but my social circles have been saying all that he lost was a few magical artifacts in his antique collection.”

You blinked. That must have been Leander. The one who said he was not looking for trouble…

“So we are taking a detour to avoid this thief?” you asked, trying not to let your voice waver.

“Yes.”

“But would a thief really strike in broad daylight?”

He chuckled again, “Who knows? It is better to be safe than sorry, no?”

“...You have a point.”

Elyon closed his eyes again as the conversation ceased. However, unlike the silence that occurred during your walk to the carriage, this one was comfortable. It felt natural. Less awkward. A little more peaceful.

You would like to join him and rest your eyes but you were ruminating again. Leander. Leander. Leander. You shifted in your seat. What to do? Turn him in? He was a thief. One that targeted aristocrats. He stole from your neighbor and possibly many other families. But… Elyon never mentioned anything gruesome. So was it safe to assume that Leander was only a chivalrous thief with no blood on his hands? You dared not to press Elyon for more details. The last thing you wanted was to be a criminal’s accomplice. You could already imagine the headlines already: Lady Sciarra Aids the Hightown Phantom Thief’s Great Escape and is Now on the Run! The Sciarra Family Name is Now Forever Tarnished! Oh the Tragedy!

“My lady?”

“Yes?” your voice cracked.

“Is this carriage not to your liking?”

“Not all, your grace.”

“I see. Forgive me then. You seemed rather skittish,” Elyon said, eyes fluttering open once more. A stern expression crossed his face.

“Nerves, I suppose.” You tried your best to make your smile reach your eyes.

“I do not bite, Lady Sciarra.”

“How reassuring.”

“But it is true.”

“That it is.”

“I am not looking to trouble you, my lady.”

Your posture stiffened. Did all the men in Eridia say that whenever someone appeared to be distressed? Or was it your cursed luck? First Leander. Now Elyon.

“I am not troubled by you, your grace.”

He sighed, “This outing is not a marriage proposal if that is what you are concerned about.”

“And what makes you say that?”

Were you that obvious? Your brows furrowed. No, you were thinking about Leander just now. Not that Elyon would know. Still… for someone so far off the mark, he hit the nail on the head.

“Call it an educated guess. Like I said, you seemed rather skittish around me.”

“I apol–”

Elyon held a hand up. “I am not offended, my lady. Your feelings are reasonable. I made my debut into society nine years ago. Ten years in a couple of months. Yours was fairly recent if my memory serves correctly and I am no manther. So please rest assured– I have no intention of marrying you.”

You opened then closed your mouth. You did not even know his age prior to this conversation. Your father kept every bit of information about Elyon away from you aside from his name and title. The rumors about the Duke of Cromwell spoke for themselves, but none of them ever described him as the type of man who would jump to conclusions so quickly. Admittedly, the conclusion he presented before you was rational. Sensible, even. If it were not for the fact that your mind was plagued with thoughts about your encounter with a certain thief instead of the situation at hand, Elyon would be right. You were concerned about marriage. And if you knew he was almost a decade older than you, perhaps you would be alarmed too.

“So this outing is…?”

“A date,” he said.

“Your grace! You just said you had no intention of marrying me!”

“I do not, but I have a contract to uphold.”

You rested your head in your palms, “My father put you up to this, did he not?”

“Your father and my father.”

“Are you not the Duke of Cromwell?”

“I am more or less the Acting Duke of Cromwell. I may handle affairs and such, but my father is still the Duke of Cromwell on paper until he passes.”

“So this contract…”

Elyon tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, “You seem well-educated. Would you like to take a gander?”

Your breath hitched. You were indeed educated and you did have a guess, but your blood boiled. He raised a brow in turn as you exhaled slowly.

“Your brothel and my family’s perfume. A union between us would profit both parties in terms of business as well as smooth out any legal proceedings with this joint operation. ”

“Yes, that is correct.”

“But that is assuming we are to wed, your grace. You expressed no desire in doing so, but if that is the case, then what were the conditions our fathers proposed?”

A wry laugh slipped through his lips as he leaned against his cushioned seat. “I initially reached out to the Earl of Sciarra about business proceedings between my brothel and the Sciarra’s perfumery. There was no marriage in the first few versions of our business contract. That is… until my father suggested a union. From there, my contract was profusely revised by our fathers. ”

You pursed your lips. “Would it not be beneficial to proceed with the original deal and use your status as a bachelor for another contract?”

“Beneficial, yes. However, I have been using that excuse for years now. I have not courted since my beautillion ball. My father meddled with my affairs in order to find me a bride. I suppose he grew weary of my ‘schemes’ while your father grew tired of you turning down every suitor that came your way,” Elyon said with a strained grin. You stared at his forehead. A vein could pop at any moment.

“Perhaps he wants you to find something else to love aside from money,” you jested, ignoring that last bit about you.

“So I’ve been told.”

“...Do you believe in love, your grace?”

“Pardon?”

“Love. Like true love. Courting someone because you love them. Marrying someone because you love them.”

He gave you a sideways glance, “I suppose I could believe in it. Like how children believe in Saint Nicholas.”

A pout formed on your lips as heat rushed to your cheeks. You were a fool. Of course, he did not believe in such things. Love was only reserved for the storybooks.

“If you were wondering about the reason I have stopped courting, all you have to do is be direct, my lady.”

Elyon was right, but also a tad bit off the mark yet again. You assumed that love was the reason he did not court after his debut like the hopeless romantic you were, but you were more so curious if there was someone out there who was just like you, someone who believed in fairytales and fantasy novels. Not in some measly piece of gossip.

“Forgive me, your grace. I did not want to pry,” you replied coolly. Nonchalantly.

“It is quite alright. I have nothing to be ashamed of. To put it simply, I am bored.”

“Bored?”

“Yes, bored, my lady.”

“Bored of what?”

“Why, courting, of course.”

You blinked. He was beaming. Glowing, even. Almost as if he believed his answer would earn him a gold star. You opened your mouth, but Elyon beat you to it.

“I am kidding, my lady.”

“I am in tears,” you muttered.

“Humor me a little, Lady Sciarra.”

You hummed in response, allowing a silence to make itself known. The chirps and whistles of birds were audible from inside the carriage now that your shallow heart-to-heart with Elyon came to an end. You stared out at the window, catching a glimpse of the cityscape and the ashy blue sky. Was the Cromwell estate near the metropolitan area?

“Do you ever feel like courtship only ever demands pieces of you, but not all of you?” he mused, breaking into your brief moment of solitude.

“I would not know, your grace. This is my first time courting.”

The carriage halted. You planted your heels onto the floor, bracing yourself should you fall. A faint click rang through your ears. You turned your head towards the carriage door and the coachman who stood by the entrance, bowing with a hand over his heart. Elyon rose from his seat and hopped off the carriage.

“Well, perhaps after today, you will go on many more outings and come to know what I mean when I say that,” he said with an outstretched hand.

“I will be the judge of that,” you quipped as you took his hand, allowing him to help you step off the carriage.

Once your shoes hit the pavement, you were quick to let go of his hand and turned your attention to smoothing out any wrinkles on your skirt.

“I thought we were going to your estate.”

“Changes of plans,” Elyon shrugged, “Unless… you want to visit my estate?”

You shook your head.

“I thought so. I would like to believe that almost anyone would prefer a bustling town plaza than a manor with empty halls.”

“You may be right, your grace.”

This time, your smile reached your eyes without you making any attempts to do so. It had been a while since you went downtown. You hardly had any time for leisure after your debutante. In fact, you hardly left your bedroom– let alone your estate. You paused. Ah, but Elyon was here with you. Bookstores were automatically crossed off your to-do list.

“Have you ever been to the Amaryllis District, Lady Sciarra?”

“This is the Amaryllis District?”

You took a deep breath, letting the strong floral fragrances fill your nostrils. Of course. There were only two places in Eridia that smelled this pungent– the Sciarra perfumeries and the Amaryllis District. You scanned your surroundings. You never ventured to this part of Hightown. This district belonged to the “cleaner” side of the river, but it was also too close to Lowtown for your father’s comfort. But despite his warnings, the arts district was not too shabby. It was colorful and lively as any other plaza in Hightown if not more. The only difference was the pink curtains and… your eyes fell on a noticeboard by a building you assumed to be a brothel.

There were many flyers tacked onto the weathered wood, but there was one that stuck out to you in particular. It had a half-body portrait of a man drawn on it. A man with deep, emerald eyes and a dark trench coat. A scar ran down from his cheek to his crossed arms. You squinted. His nose was a bit crooked, but you were certain that was Leander. Something was not right. Elyon said that the authorities could not find the thief yet there were posters of him in the Amaryllis District. You brought a hand under your chin.

“Something on your mind?”

You flinched and Elyon’s eyes widened.

“No,” you said, “Not at all.”

“Come, then. Let us go. I have a reservation at one of the restaurants here. Best not to keep the staff waiting.”

You watched as Elyon’s walk away from the carriage. You turned around to see the coachman crack his whip and the horses trot off. The duke was several paces ahead of you at this point, but your gaze still lingered on that poster. You glanced at Elyon’s figure which became increasingly smaller the more you stared at him then you glanced back at the poster once more. You looked left then you looked right. Then, you tiptoed towards the noticeboard and tore Leander’s portrait off with a clean rip.

You inhaled sharply, looking over your shoulder. Everyone around you seemed to be preoccupied with something or someone. You nimbly tucked the paper into the pockets of your skirt and made haste to catch up with Elyon.

‘You are not an accomplice,’ you chided to yourself, ‘He will clear it up with you this evening as promised and all will be well.’

#touchstarved game #touchstarved x reader #touchstarved leander #touchstarved elyon #leander x reader #elyon x reader #series:kinstugi

35 notes · View notes