#and i could not believe how both selfish and extremely thick that was of him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

milfnearyou · 3 years

Text

𝐨𝐡 𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐧: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥.

“𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮.”

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2.4K | 𝐎𝐇 𝐒𝐄𝐇𝐔𝐍 𝐗 𝐅𝐄𝐌!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: ANGST. CHEATING. BETRAYAL. SUGGESTIVE. THATS PRETTY MUCH IT THIS TIME AROUND. NGL THIS ISN’T MY BEST WORK AND IS A SHORT ONE SHOT, SORRY! CLICK HEADER FOR HIGHER RESOLUTION BC TUMBLR IS STUPID.

VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

“So you just woke up one day and decided you loved me?!”

Your voice was painfully shrill, bouncing against the metal walls and echoing through the elevator shaft. If you hadn't been so furious, you would've cringed at the way you sounded. Considering your behaviour to be completely out of character and rather petty. But it was impossible to think straight. With all the sirens in your mind screaming 'Alert!' causing you to grow defensive. You saw everything as red, wrapped in a series of warning signs. Eager to protect yourself you grew aggressive, fury coursing through your veins and laced with disgust.

The disbelief was evident in your tone, accompanied by the extremely annoyed look plastered on your face. Your eyebrows were contorted together, lightly creasing your forehead as you anxiously chewed on your bottom lip. Your hands were balled into tight fists trembling at your sides as you fought the urge to beat the living crap out of him.

"Fucking answer me Sehun!" You exclaim, throwing your hands in the air. You didn't understand him, not taking any of his bullshit words seriously as a result. Had he been telling the truth, had he truly meant every word he said. Sehun wouldn't have just stood there in front of you with nothing to say. The silence he offered simply adding more fuel to the fire that raged inside of you.

"So now you're silent? You weren't this fucking quiet back when you were professing your so-called love to me?! What's gotten into you now?"

Again, nothing but silence. The tall man simply stands there in front of you with his hands shoved into the pockets of his pants as the elevator continues to rise higher and higher. With every floor, the elevator cabinet passed, the angrier you got and it didn't help that you lived in a high rise apartment. If he continued to act this way you'd be fuming, steam emitting from your body by the time you'd reach your floor.

“Do you even know what it means to love someone? Or do you just throw yourself in any direction that proves beneficial to your selfish well being?” The questions flew past your lips one after another. You weren’t going to hold back either. Pushing yourself towards him, forcing him to explain himself.

You didn't deserve the silence. You deserved proper answers, ones that were absent from the immature man in front of you.

"Answer me right now or I swear to god I'm cutting you off forever," Warning him, you take a step forward to face him closer. Invading his personal space as you stare at him, craning your neck upwards with your arms crossed.

Watching him like a hawk, you attentively wait. Noticing how he seems to take a slight step back, his broad chest heaving up and down slowly. He seems to be nervous or perhaps, flustered? It was hard for you to believe that with all the ways he could've handled the situation this was what he opted for.

Step by step, you get closer and closer towards Sehun until he's got his back pressed against the metal walls of the elevator. It was hard to believe that someone who looked dominant most of the time could be so cowardly.

"I'm not asking again," You state, pressing your index finger roughly against his chest. Physically pushing him around until he's finally had enough. His large hands pressing against your shoulders as he shoves you back, regaining his confidence. Finally, he refutes, silence no longer being an option for him.

“Fuck off! Do you want an answer? Fine, but you don't have to act like such an invasive bitch about things!"

Stunned your eyes widen. You can't tell if you should be offended or impressed with just how much you pushed him but you let him speak. Not saying anything even though he had just called you a bitch.

"No, I didn’t just wake up one morning and decide that I’d fall in love with you! It took me countless days and nights, essentially adding up into months of thinking about nothing except you! Do you know how painful it felt for me? Do you not understand how guilty I felt?!” The tone in his voice is dangerously low as he narrows his eyes at you. It's his turn to match your attitude, fixing his posture and standing tall.

"Oh really? So you only thought about how you felt and not how I would feel knowing about your feelings for me? Sehun, how selfish can you be? You aren't the only person on this godforsaken planet!"

"You don't think I knew that? I know you wouldn't be happy with this but you have to understand that had I kept everything to myself and continued to hang out around you; it would've been both disrespectful to you but also incredibly torturous to me. It was worth gambling my feelings and confessing with the consequence of potentially losing a friend instead of hiding it."

Taken aback, you feel yourself pause and you hate yourself for it. Sehun has a point, he's valid for being upfront about things but there was just one thing that didn't sit right with you. Despite wanting an answer and getting it you curse yourself for falling silent. The hypocrisy of your silence hitting you square in the face but you're not done. You still have one more thing to say.

"What about the fact that you're still dating my best friend? Did you think about how much this would hurt her? No, let me guess, I bet you haven't even mentioned anything to her," Bringing your best friend up seemed to be the major thing standing in between both of you.

Sehun stares at you like he's been frozen in time. His features completely poised and monotone as your eyes scan his face for any sign of emotion. It was still much too hard to accept his words, to trust them and understand that it came from the bottom of his heart. Your anger was now replaced with complete confusion, perhaps even denial as you scoff at him. He was crazy to think you'd ditch your best friend for a man like him.

Sehun only stood there with his shoulders pushed back, his posture relaxed. His orange tufts of hair making him look like a complete clown. His current demeanour was very different in comparison to how defensive he was earlier.

How could he be so hot and cold? None of it made sense with his face being completely unreadable, everything felt bland like a black and white movie. Sehun could scream as much as he wanted but his words would never get through, bouncing behind the screen, staying unheard from the crowd. All these things made it impossible to find the sincerity he had in his words represented in his body language.

The elevator came to a stop with a rather loud ding notifying you that it had arrived on your floor. You take one last look at Sehun battling with yourself on whether or not someone as selfish as him was worth entangling yourself with. But no matter how you thought of it you couldn't accept him. With Sehun came consequences, ones that you weren't willing to risk getting into and that being losing your best friend. Someone who was there for you through thick and thin could never be replaced with a man you'd only known for roughly a year.

He didn't mean anything to you and he wasn't allowed to have any meaning in your life, it just wasn't okay. Betrayal had a greater impact than love, you would be foolish to accept the latter.

Leaving him behind, you step outside of the elevator. Realizing just how much more breathable the air outside the shaft was in comparison to being back inside holed up with your worst nightmare. Your moment of freedom is cut short when you feel his lean arms wrap around your waist pulling you back inside.

He's clinging onto you like a child refusing to let go as he rests his head next to your shoulder. His hot breath brushing against your neck, making you uncomfortable for many reasons that were quite obvious. He just wasn't single nor available and you couldn't let yourself be the other girl.

“Please just—take a chance. I'm willing to cross oceans for you, tear apart anything that stands in my way because I love you. I'll break up with her, she's nothing like you. Why can't you see that I love you?” He rambles, his voice falling soft. Sehun sounds like he's about to fall apart as he speaks into the crook of your neck.

His voice vibrating against your skin, echoing through your mind. Despite his tone being no louder than a whisper, his message came loud and clear. Slowly his plump, soft lips make contact with your skin as you freeze in place watching as the elevator doors slam shut. Moving downwards again you feel like you're slowly descending to hell.

His actions gave you goosebumps as he peppered kisses against your neck. Using one hand to grasp your waist, holding you close to him. While the other cupped your cheek, tilting your head slightly so he could gain better access to your body, his kisses moving down south and landing onto your shoulder. Pushing your shirt slightly aside before gently biting down on your skin causing you to gasp.

Sehun's touch was electrifying and almost hypnotizing, you felt yourself growing dizzy and out of touch with your surrounding. As he continued using his lips to convey how much you meant to him against your screaming mind that yelled at you not to do this to your best friend. But like a fool, you melt into his touch. Lips falling apart, as your chest heaves up and down. The air feels intoxicating as he rotates your head towards him. His lips crashing against yours as you feel like you're about to pass out.

You can't give in, you can't betray your best friend and yet, you feel yourself kissing him back. Your tongue tangling with his, exchanging dirty, secretive kisses. Turning around to face him better you fall into all the places you knew weren't right and that was right into the arms of Sehun's. Intertwining your fingers with his, holding onto him tightly as if the only chance you'd have with him would be taken away.

Now you knew what it meant to be selfish and just how delicious it tasted.

The elevator is filled with the lewd, smacking of the shared kisses between you both. His body grinding into yours as you feel yourself growing heavy. Developing a strong heartbeat where your filthy desires lay. You felt yourself growing wet, shifting your thighs uncomfortably together. Feeling his hand snake down towards the waistline of your skirt, tugging on them.

"You just have to say the word and I'm dropping everything and everyone for you," He says in between kisses as you tilt your head back in pleasure when you feel his fingers slipping past your skirt. Hovering dangerously over your soaked heat. "Do you want to run away with me?" He asks.

You want to say yes. Your body having a mind of its own would rather speak for you but you just can't bring yourself to go through with it. The image of your best friend is hung up in your mind and even though the damage has already been done, you still don't think it's too late to stop.

“I can’t and you know I won’t,” You reply, wincing at how your voice cracks. You didn’t want to seem weak in front of him, you needed to show him you had control over how you felt. That you were sure you didn't want him but it was all a lie. A lie you told yourself and in return had the truth spoken out loud by the actions of your body.

Sehun knew of this and yet, his peppered kisses come to a halt. The grip he's got around you loosening as his hand slips out of your skirt. You step out of his grasp feeling ashamed, not daring to look at him. Turning around and staring at the doors instead. Fixing your shirt you crane your neck from side to side trying your best to calm down. Bringing a shaky hand towards the elevator buttons and clicking for your floor.

You can feel Sehun's gaze boring holes into the back of your head.

"I don't understand. Why can't you just let me love you? It's not that hard to just give me a shot. I can give you the world, give you all the happiness and security you need in life."

"--Let me be the man that protects you, that cherishes you. I know it's hard because of her but...don't we deserve to be happy?" He pleads, his voice wavering. If you had turned around to face him you'd see his lips quivering. His dark, brown eyes are glossy with tears threatening to escape from the tiny apertures of his tear ducts.

But currently, it's your turn to fall silent. All because you know that despite him falling at the seams, begging you to love him you know that he'll only go back to being the same once he's got you twirling around his dainty fingers. His norm being the same silent person as always, emotionally unavailable and confusing as always. Plus, who's to say he won't just ditch you like he's doing to your best friend?

"It's your turn to answer me," He pleads but you ignore him. Thanking the timing of the elevator for opening right at the end of his sentence.

Quickly stepping off you pray that he doesn't snake himself around you again because if he does, you don't know if you had the power inside to fight him off again and thankfully he doesn't. Sehun leaves you alone watching you get out of his view, the sound of your Chelsea boots clicking against the hallway floors until suddenly you're just gone. A wave of heartbreak washing over his feelings as he realizes that he just can't sit here and do nothing.

He won't go back to your best friend, he doesn't love her and in fact, he never did. It wasn't his choice to hurt her like this but he couldn't help but fall in love with the wrong person. So he chases you, chases the love of his life eager to satisfy his selfishness and have you by his side.

The consequence of dealing with your best friend could come later but first, he needed to convince you once and for all that he was the only good thing in his life. Your best friend was to be replaced.

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃: 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐅𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐔©︎

#this was ass: not proofread properly.#oh sehun x reader #sehun angst #sehun x reader #oh sehun angst #oh sehun suggestive #oh sehun smut #exo angst #exo fanfic #exo x reader #i don't know tags: bye!#lmk what you think.#solange is in the mountains: queue!#sehun smut #sehun suggestive

228 notes · View notes

ginanosakka · 3 years

Text

Passed Down Trauma

Masterlist

The War Has Begun | Next

“Why are you attempting to assassinate Eito L/N?”

“I’m not.”

“You’re lying, L/N. We found the notes in your home, we found the gun hidden in your car, and all of Japan has seen the video of you slandering your own father. Why did you do it?” Officer Yuikmara slammed his hands on the table in attempts to strike fear in you.

Without faltering, you said with a smile, “I can’t tell you what I didn’t do. . . but I can tell you that you have twenty four hours to let me go before it all gets fully released, Mr. Yuikmara.”

Katsuki and Kirishima stood in the living room of Katsuki’s apartment on what felt like pounds of questions and anxiety. Everything was going smoothly in the operation to protect Y/N and Ryu — now one was missing and the other was in police custody. The tension in the room was thick and despite Eijirou’s tendency to lighten situations, he made no move to ease his friend’s mind. In fact, deep down he wanted Katsuki to suffer for reasons that he knew were selfish and out of line. The unspoken feelings he had for a woman that he shouldn’t want were not hidden, and could not stay silent forever. Especially when that woman’s life was in danger and he couldn’t help but blame Bakugou.

“I’m going to burn that bastard’s house down, and Icy-Hot can put out the damn flames when I’m done.” Katsuki fumed as he paced the floor to try and calm down to think clearly. It was taking everything in him to follow the law and try to take Eito down the legal way, but with every minute he spent working on the case, he realized just how inbedded that man was in hero companies and the police force.

“That won’t get Y/N home, and you know it. What we need to do is wait for her to post bail and find Ryu, she’s probably worried about him.” Eijirou said, trying to find a way to solve all of this and think of what would help Ryu and Y/N.

Katsuki glared at Eiji, “you think you know everything? Y/N wasn’t even phased when we found out he was missing, you idiot!” Katsuki seethed at him.

“I know that Y/N loves her kid more than anything else, so maybe you were too busy being emotional to understand what she was feeling!” Kirishima bit back, not wavering under Katsuki’s harsh gaze.

“You’re just some sad, lovesick moron,” Katsuki taunted. “Why don’t you just admit the reason you don’t believe that she knows where Ryu is, is because you don’t want to believe that she’s hiding things? You think she trusts you so much that she’d tell you more than me? I can guarantee you that, like always, you’ll never be better than me.” Katsuki finished, both of them standing face to face with clenched fists and locked jaws.

The silence was loud like roaring beasts threatening the other to make the first move; two men who fell for the one they couldn’t fully get their arms around. Their friendship was equally as important to both of them, but how could one swallow their feelings for Y/N, simply for the sake of the other? Neither of them thought the other was worthy enough for such a beautiful tragedy you had written in your very bones. There was no personality, no smile, no heart that could compare to you. Even if they fought, the loser wouldn’t dare accept defeat.

A ringing phone broke through the silence, Katsuki’s pocket suddenly vibrating and taking his attention as he pulled it out. An unknown number was displayed across the screen, and in normal circumstances, he would have immediately sent it to voicemail with no hesitation or concern for who was on the other line. Today was anything but a normal circumstance.

“Hello,” he answered in a clipped tone.

“Mr. Bakugou, it’s Nanami. . I have important information I need to discuss with you.”

Rotting in a holding cell wasn’t how you wanted to spend your weekend, but it was better than being dead — you weren’t sure you wouldn’t be dead soon anyway, so you’re savoring just being in jail. You couldn’t even post bail, so you had to sit on the brick like bed and wait for everything to go through. Everything you built was currently being destroyed while you sat here calmly, waiting for the fire that is your father to be put out so you can remove the remains of his hold on your life and be free. . .

. . .Free to do what?

“L/N, you have a visitor, let’s go.” An officer interrupted your peace and opened the door of your cell, and you followed him without a word.

When you entered the small, dimly lit room, a woman sat there with such a crestfallen expression that you could barely recognize her. Her skin that was always flawless with minimal makeup was bare and her color suggested sickness. The gorgeous and bouncy hair that she did her best to maintain everyday was dull and clearly untouched. She looked like a mess, even in her bright flower patterned spring dress.

“Mom?” You said quietly, feeling a twinge of fear towards her when she was in such an unhinged state.

She looked up at you open hearing that word spill from your lips, and her expression brightened ever so slightly. It settled the fear and allowed you to fully fall into worry as you slipped into the chair in front of her — for the first time in years you offered her your hand for comfort. When her cold hand touched yours, you squeezed tightly in hopes of bringing her some warmth even in the cold room.

“I always knew you were secretly a momma’s girl,” were the first words out of her mouth along with an airy laugh. The joke was strange when it came from her, but for her sake you cracked a small smile. “I have a lot to tell you, Y/N.” She said in the softest tone you’d ever heard, grabbing every bit of your attention.

“You don’t have much time, so just say what you have to say.” You urged her, unsure of when you’d be able to speak to her again once she left this room. She had fallen off the Earth after that phone call, and you didn’t want her to leave you with questions.

Your mother began with a deep breath, “I’ve been married to your father for twenty five years. I did it for the money, never once thinking or caring about what he did and how he acted. . . until you were gone. I realized that he was. . different from other people. One day he was kind and compassionate, the next he was ruthless and cold, like a ticking time bomb that kept going off and shortening the time until it’s next reaction. It was easy to ignore at first, I just left him alone as I always did and made sure our interactions were kept completely secret. . Then he saw you on the news with that Bakugou boy-“

“You have five minuets left,” a man called on a speaker into the roo and you gestured for her to get to the point.

“What I’m trying to say is that there’s something wrong with him, Y/N. If you take him down by just destroying all his business and credibility I’m scared he’ll do something drastic that will hurt a lot of people.” Your mother said shakily, and the fear in her face was chilling you to the core, along with the fact that if you looked back you could tell that she was right.

‘What do I know about my grandparents on his side? I’ve never seen a baby picture from him, or even any picture of when he was young! What happened to him that drove him to become the controlling business man that would step on anyone in his way?’ You thought at a rapid speed, finding too many similarities between your reaction to trauma with how he always had acted. If not then more extreme.

“What am I supposed to do?” You whispered, your eyes falling to the cold metal table between you two.

“You have to talk to him,”’ your mother said. “I know you have a way of getting out of here, and when you do, go straight to him and tell no one. . You are his biggest failure in his eyes, and I know you’re the only one who can get through to him.” She squeezed your hand this time, assuring you that what she was saying was true.

“And what about you?” You asked. “Whether I destroy his business or get him the help he needs, you’re still going to lose everything.”

She smiled, “no. I just got everything I needed.”

A/N: We’re getting somewhere :P

Taglist (Closed) <3 : @fandomgirllover @cloudsgathering @that-bipolar-renegade-romantic @jazzylove @that-chick212 @bonbonthedragon @misssugarless @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @bakugous-bakahoe @pinkykookie17 @animexholic @arielting @samkysnks @simpforeveryone @damnirina @deneuves @tsumuuumiyaaaa @vintage-teddyxo @regalmigraine @samvmgh @iamagalaxy @officialtrashbusiness @xwackk @videogameboiwhowins @marajillana @ellasdilemma @plutoneu @saucey-kneecapzz42020 @thestarsanctuary @dewdropwifu @star-light-imagines @kritiiiii @bakugosbottombitch @the2ndl @candybabey @simply-not-the-same @sam-i-am-1025 @mes-bisous @eternallyvenus @peppytine @chaelysian @definitely-yours @oikawarc @suneaterofthebig3 @m0na-l0ver @nkb0048 @losertsukki @notyourfavorlte @caramelsquares @hikaru-mikazuki

#bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha #bakugo x reader #x reader #bnha fanfiction #bnha angst #katsuki bakugo x y/n #bnha x reader #anime x reader #bnha kirishima #kirishima x reader #eijirou x reader #bnha eijirou

182 notes · View notes

lubdubsworld · 3 years

Text

Dangerously Beautiful. (Seokjin x oc)

Kim Seokjin x OC!!

Genre : Organized Crime AU !

Warnings : AU related violence . Explicit Content. Blood , Gore but not too bad. I’ll see how it goes. Extremely Dubious Consent. Abusive relationships. Unhealthy power dynamics.

Summary : When you’re caught in a war that has no end, the only goal is to survive.

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

Prologue

“Been a while, huh baby? You’re too fucking tight....” Seokjin grunted, fingers crushing my wrists together with a bruising grip , eyes narrowed as he smirked right into my face as he fucked into me, his hips slamming into mine with a force that made my bones rattle and I had to bite my lips to keep from crying out, tears spilling over my eyes and soaking the fabric of his tie , knotted and stuffed in my mouth.

“But that’s good...at least it tells me you haven’t been spreading your thighs for anyone else, right baby? Not that you would dare....you know you’re mine, don’t you ? Your sexy little body....all mine, huh darling?” He leaned down and made to kiss me and i panicked. I didn’t want him to kiss me.

I closed my eyes, turning my face away but he brought one hand up to grip my jaw, yanking my face back to stare at him. He tightened the grip on my chin and I whimpered when his thumb dug into my skin .

“Open your fucking eyes and look at me.” He demanded. “ What are you afraid of huh? Afraid to admit how much you like this? How much you like having my cock in your cunt?”

I glared at him, hoping he could read all the hatred, all the disdain and scorn and fury I felt for him. He merely laughed shaking his head, his movements speeding up. He stared at me like I was the most precious thing in the world and yet he treated me like I was something he wanted to destroy.

“So you’ve been hanging out with Jihoon again...imagine my surprise doll... Me .... one of the most powerful in the country, “ He punctuated each pause with a thrust that left me wincing in pain, “one of the most feared men in the country and yet....my beautiful wife...out flaunting a relationship with another man.... Don’t make me put a bullet in my own brother’s head, Renae....” He growled, thumb slipping into my mouth, alongside the tie. I closed my eyes, , exhausted as my body went limp to fight the pain.

I hated him. Hated him . Hated him.

“Gonna fuck you all night. Gonna fuck you so hard you’ll be sore for days.....Heard you made plans with him? Let’s see how you run around the city with my brother if you can’t fucking walk tomorrow.” he snarled and I choked on my tears.

The knock on the door made him pause and he swore.

“What the fuck do you want?” He roared and I held my breath.

Please... Please leave... Just, Please.

“Wang’s here, hyung.” Jungkook’s voice carried through the thick mahogany door. “ He’s got the Lee kid. “

Seokjin groaned .

He glared at the door for a second , taking deep breaths to calm himself down and I could see the anger swelling inside him. i held my breath because I did not want to be the outlet for all that rage. I stared , watching his eyes shift to mine, cold and unfeeling.

I winced when he brought his clenched fist down on the sheet with enough force to rattle the whole bed. I exhaled shakily as his fingers came up to brush the sweat slicked bangs off my face, thumb pressing into my lips with force.

“Looks like we’re gonna have to reschedule, princess.” he grunted pulling out, and relief flooded my body so hard, i sagged. He made to move away but stopped when I shuddered.

“What? “ He snapped and I froze.

His fingers reached for the knot at the back of my head and he yanked on it till the tie came undone. I gasped when he pulled the fabric out of my mouth , swallowing to sooth by bruised throat.

“You look entirely too glad that I’m leaving.” He tilted his head thoughtfully and my gaze snapped to his.

“I.. I..” My voice broke, rusty from disuse.

“On your hands and knees.”

I sobbed in disbelief, shaking my head and trying to move away but he gripped my waist, turning me over and lifting my hips till I was on all fours.

“Grab the fucking headboard.” He whispered , sounding unnaturally calm and I felt a chill spread all over my skin.

With Seokjin, the calmer he was, the more reason you had to be afraid.

“I’m gonna fuck you till I cum and then I’m supposed to go kill Lee Jae Hwan’s son. If you stay quiet , let me do my thing... I may consider letting him live. What say, princess? He’s only twenty three years old.... “ He smiled eerily, the sheer beauty of his face a complete contrast to the things he did.

I closed my eyes.

It wasn’t really a fucking choice was it?

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

“You didn’t come to the cafe.” Jihoon’s voice came from the shadows , just as I left the library on the east wing. I felt my heart race, eyes darting up and down the length of the corridor, anxiety spiking as I tried to listen for footsteps or voices. It was mid afternoon and the sun spilled into the open hallways through the open windows, and there was no one in sight.

No one visited the East wing that often especially in the middle of the day but you could never be too careful. The servants , guards and the housekeeper were all loyal to Seokjin. And last night... Seokjin had made it clear that he was watching. I couldn’t do this. Couldn’t put handsome, kind Jihoon’s life in danger for my own selfish desires.

I ignored him, walking a bit faster to get away but he moved faster, stopping in front of me and holding both hands up to stop me.

“Renae....what’s wrong?” He asked softly , eyes warm and worried and brimming with concern and i wanted to sob.

“We shouldn’t be doing this , “ i whispered, shaking my head. “ I can’t convince Seokjin to let me go if he thinks it is you I’m leaving with. Right now I hold no value to him but if you keep following me around..acting like a fool....he will keep me chained to his side.!!!”

Jihoon growled , eyes flashing with frustration and anger.

“He doesn’t deserve you!”

“I know.” I whispered, glancing back up and down the corridor. I was so terrified in my own home and it was so unfair. “ I know but you must remember.... he did not force me into anything. I came here of my own volition. I let him court me and marry me and I am his wife now. He owns me. Unless he lets me go, I cannot escape.”

“Its been five years. How much longer? How much longer must I wait for you to-”

“I never asked you to wait. Your waiting is your own doing. Don’t pin that on my head, Master Kim.” I said coldly.

He flushed at that.

“I just.. i love you. I care for you deeply and I want to give you the life you deserve...does that count for nothing?” He asked, desperately and I looked away, laughing at his naivety.

At twenty five, Jihoon was as naive as they came. He had been raised, sheltered. Away from the family business. He did not know how ruthless his brother was.

How little Seokjin valued human life? How fiercely possessive he was of the things he owned.

How little he cared about what anyone else wanted?

“No..matter what any of us wants, because only the king gets to have what he wants “ I said sharply, “ and Kim Seokjin is the King. This is his empire. You and I , we are pawn in his court, only here to serve him as he asks us to....to give him what he wants...... And as long as he wants me , in his house and in his bed, I am bound to him. You’re risking your life , for something that may not even be real”

“Don’t say that... Don’t you dare say that.. What we have is real... it is real.” He said softly.

I stared at him, shaking my head.

“After four years with your brother I no longer know what is real and what isn’t. “

He stared at his feet.

“You love him. “ I said softly.

He didn’t deny it.

“I love you more.” He said hoarsely.

I laughed a little.

“I’m sure you believe that. But the truth is he will kill you. He told me as much. I can’t have that on my head, Jihoon.”

I turned away, clutching my book to my chest , as I walked away from the only person who had ever shown me any kindness.

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

“She is in love with Jihoon.” Seokjin said casually, taking a sip of his whiskey, eyes trained on the sunset, lavishly beautiful from their position up on one the tallest towers in the estate.

Yoongi hummed thoughtfully.

“not surprising considering you treat her like dirt.”

Seokjin grimaced.

“I don’t have time to indulge all her fairytale fantasies. She is my wife , she is honor bound to serve me and me alone.” He growled.

Yoongi laughed.

“This isn’t the dark ages. You married her. You didn’t buy her love....”

“then why am I still fucking paying for it. “ He snapped. “ Why am I still here, four years later, chained to her but nowhere closer to being what she wants. Why am I here, contemplating killing my own brother....? “

Yoongi shook his head.

“Because you wasted the years when you should’ve been there for her. You left her alone in a sprawling mansion with no one to lean on and it was your brother who offered her the companionship she craved...”

“My father had died!” Seokjin shouted, fists clenched in frustration. “ He died and he left me a crumbling, burning mess of an organization filled with traitors and opportunists. None of them were loyal to me , I had an attempt on my life every day of the fucking week...so forgive me if I couldn’t take time off to play house with a nineteen year old girl .......”

“Its not too late.” Yoongi said softly.

Seokjin sighed.

“Yoongi...”

“ You’re not that man anymore, Seokjin.... You’ve done your part. You’ve built an empire even the Romans would envy and you are the one in control. She isn’t nineteen anymore either..... She’s twenty four. She knows the kind of life you lead, She will be more understanding. She hasn’t left yet so there’s no reason you shouldn’t try-”

“She has been looking for divorce lawyers.” Seokjin whispered. “ She wants me to let her go.”

Yoongi stayed quiet.

Seokjin continued, voice laced with frustration.

“I can’t do that. I... I don’t know what love is but I feel...something for her. Something that makes it impossible for me to contemplate a life without her. So I can’t let her go but if I keep her life this, if I chain her to my side , she is only going farther away from me. i don’t.. i don’t know what to do.” he said helplessly.

Yoongi nodded.

“I think its time to let Jungkook take over as the head of operations.” He said softly.

Seokjin’s eyes snapped to him.

“What?! He’s not ready -”

“And he’ll never be ready if you don’t give him the chance to prove himself. He is intelligent , sharp and ruthless. He knows the in and out of this business like you do and he has stayed by your side since he was sixteen years old. He loves you like a brother and he is loyal to you in a way that I’ve never witnessed in my life. “

Seokjin sighed running a hand over his face.

“So, what? I just hand things over to him and go sit in an armchair fiddling my thumbs?”

Yoongi laughed.

“No... you take a step back... see over everything and offer us your advice when we’re stuck. The way bosses all over the world function. The next time there’s an issue that needs to be dealt with, you trust us to deal with it, instead of turning up at an abandoned warehouse at two in the morning to break some poor college kid’s arm.”

Seokjin nodded, taking another sip of his drink.

“And... Renae?”

“You tell her you want to build a relationship with her. Beg her for a chance if you have to and then you fix things If you want her love, you earn it. “

“Is that how you earned your wife’s love?” Seokjin smirked.

Yoongi grimaced.

“Let’s not talk about that ...’“ He grunted.

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

When I walked into the dining room that evening, the last thing I expected was my husband, dressed to the nines and leaning against the fireplace, staring off into space.

He straightened when he saw me and i froze in place, fear choking my insides.

“Hi.” He said softly.

I blinked, confused.

“I was hoping to have dinner with you.”

He what?

I merely stared at him, completely thrown.

“Unless you have other plans.”

I pinched myself discreetly. Was I having a fever dream? Had I fallen asleep in the library?

“Say something.” He snapped and I got pulled out of my reverie.

I swallowed.

“No.. I.. no i don’t have any plans.”

“Good. Come, let’s sit.”

He pulled a chair out for me and i stared at him in confusion, walking over and carefully lowering myself into the seat.

“Are you going to kill me?” I blurted out when he took the seat opposite to me.

He stared at me in shock.

“What?! Of course not..why would you think that?” he demanded.

I swallowed.

“What are you doing here then.??? ..you don’t do this. Ever.”

“Maybe I’ve changed.” He said casually and I laughed in disbelief.

“I don’t know what sick game you’re trying to play with me but...”

“I’ve been neglecting you.” he said gently.

I froze.

:” I’ve not been the kind of husband I could’ve been. And I think, I need to remedy that.”

He stared at me.

“I don’t know what you mean.” I said shakily.

“I want to make this work. “

“This?” i said, slightly hysterical.

“Our marriage. I want to make it work.”

“I.. no. I don’t want that.. I want a-”

“DON’T!!!” He shouted, fists coming down on the table with a force that made me jump. “ Don’t ask me for a divorce. I’m not giving you one. not now, not ever.”

I stared down at my knees, tears stinging.

“I am trying to be more ....gentle. I want to mend things between us so you wouldn’t have to look for comfort or companionship from another man. “

“Please stop.” I felt sick.

“You’re my wife Renae. And i want you to enjoy it. “

Nausea. Anger. Disbelief. Despair.

Everything warred inside me and my head pounded.

“I ....am not hungry anymore.” I choked out, stumbling to my feet and moving away and for the first time, Seokjin let me leave the room when I wanted to .

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

Author’s Note : Well.... Feedback is appreciated as always. leave a reply here if you wanna be on the taglist.

#seokjin fic #seokjin gang au #seokjin smut #seokjin fics #bts smut #bts au #bts gang au #bst fanfics #seokjin fanfic

61 notes · View notes

rocorambles · 3 years

Text

The Beginning

Pairing: Nekomata x Kuroo

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Yandere, Grooming, Extremely Dubious Consent, Manipulation, Slight Feminization, Virgin Kuroo, Slight Degradation, Undertones of a Corruption Kink, Bottom Kuroo

Summary: Nekomata has always been Kuroo’s favorite mentor and now that Kuroo’s officially entered adulthood, the older man has new lessons for his favorite protégé.

Author’s Note: LMAO I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS IS A REAL THING, BUT HERE WE GO. The first installation of my Yandere Nekomata x Kuroo monthly series. I can’t even defend this other than to say I promise there will be a not as degenerate, perfectly normal (at least by Roco standards) Sakusa NSFW fic also coming out sometime this weekend to help you wash this cursed thing down.

@terushimooo I BLAME YOU FOR THIS

Next Chapter

He hadn’t thought much about the quiet young boy who showed up to his training camp all those years ago and yet, maybe Kuroo had left more of a mark on him than he had thought because he instantly recognizes the tall lanky messy-haired high schooler who steps inside of Nekoma’s gym on the first day of the school year. He certainly left an impression on Kuroo and something flutters inside of him when Kuroo shyly asks to speak to him alone after practice one day, bowing deeply and thanking the older man for his wise words about “experiencing the joy of playing”.

Looks aside, Kuroo isn’t anything like that scared little boy he had met so long ago and Nekomata watches in interest and maybe a little bit of pride at how confidently he carries himself, easily making friends and conversing with the rest of the team, a beautiful smile and glint in hazel eyes. Or so Nekomata had thought. But it seems like you can’t truly change your inherent nature all that much and he sees the little cracks in Kuroo’s act, and as much as he appreciates the man Kuroo is evolving into, he thinks he’s more fond of the introverted little boy he still sees hiding inside.

For someone so mischievous and cunning, Kuroo is ridiculously easy to manipulate and something dark thrums inside of Nekomata as he sees how Kuroo instantly picks up on all his subtle cues, putting all his faith and hope in this father figure he’s never really had. Sure, he has an actual father, one who barely has time for his son, and two grandparents who’re too tired to care for the boy as they should, but it’s not enough, never enough and Nekomata takes full advantage of the empty hole that Kuroo craves to have filled, practically taking the boy under his own tail so to speak.

He’s not thrilled when he sees hazel eyes begin to look at his female classmates in interest, but he’s prepared for the question he knows he’ll get soon and when, as expected, Kuroo quietly asks him why he’s still single, what love is like, what girls are like, Nekomata is harsh, but firm, planting the seeds of doubt in Kuroo’s head as he goes on and on about how girls are just distractions, problematic, how they’ll do nothing but cause pain and heartbreak. And just to drive it home, he cruelly reminds Kuroo of the heartache his own mother had caused him and his family and he hides his satisfied smile when teary hazel eyes bawl into his chest, lanky arms wrapping around his larger figure and rigorously nodding a messy head of hair as he takes all his wise words to heart.

And so Kuroo never dates, never even bats an eye towards the females in his school, ignoring the curious whispers as everyone wonders why such an eligible bachelor is still single, only focusing on volleyball, his team, and his coach.

Nekomata thought that it would be enough to know that he has the boy all to himself for three years, that his selfish greed would be sated, but as Kuroo’s 18th birthday approaches, as his third-year threatens to come to an end, as his departure from Nekoma draws ever nearer, he realizes it’s not enough, it’ll never be enough and wise cat-eyes scheme.

Kuroo hates birthdays, hates the reminder that his family could care less about him and there’s an even bigger pang than normal as his 18th birthday approaches. He should be elated and excited about the prospect of finally being an official adult, a man, but all he feels is indifference and neglect as his grandparents completely forget that it’s his birthday in their old age, as his dad sends a cold two word text, not even an exclamation mark at the end to convey any feelings about the matter. He just wants this day to be over, to forget it ever happened, feeling no different than before even though he’s now an “adult”.

But when Nekomata asks him to stay after practice long after everyone has left and the gym is clean, he can’t help the happy tears that trail down his face when the older man brings out a small cake from behind his back and urges the messy-haired captain to blow out the single lit candle illuminating the empty locker room, blissfully ignorant and naive of just how close Nekomata is to him, their thighs pressed against each other, wrinkled eyes attentively watching Kuroo’s lips as he happily eats a slice of the cake, tongue flicking out to lick the extra cream that hasn’t quite made it into his mouth.

However, Kuroo is all too aware of a rough finger that brushes against his mouth, scooping up some extra cream that he had missed before gently nudging his fingertip past his lips and Nekomata groans at how the athlete instinctively sucks his finger clean even while staring wide-eyed and confused at him.

“Coach?”

“Call me Yasufumi.”

He chuckles at how flustered and adorable the man beside him looks as he tentatively tests out the new name, and he can feel his cock begin to twitch with interest at the way it sounds in that ridiculously attractive drawl Kuroo has.

“Tetsurou, you’re an adult now and when you’re an adult, you can start doing certain things.”

“Coach! I don’t need a sex talk. Plus, weren’t you the one who said girls are a waste of time-”

Kuroo instantly hushes as a weathered hand grasps him by his chin and forces him to lock eyes.

“I said to call me Yasufumi and yes, I did say that, but you don’t need to have sex with just girls. I think sex between men is better anyway. I could show you, teach you. Only if you want though.”

Sex between men? Of course Kuroo knows it’s possible, knows it’s a thing. But for him? Him and another man? How would that-

His rambling thoughts are cut off and he squeaks when lips press against his, too surprised to break away as a tongue slips into his mouth, playfully entangling with his own wet muscle and he moans as he’s pulled into straddling Nekomata’s thighs, his lean body pressed tight against a thicker chest and stomach. He tries to form thoughts, question what’s happening, but he gasps when hands grope his ass, a tiny moan escaping him as his hips and groin grind down on something hard protruding from Nekomata’s sweatpants.

“Come on, Tetsurou. Don’t you trust me? Haven’t I always taught you well?”

And Kuroo hesitates.

It’s true. For as long as Kuroo can remember, Nekomata is the only person he’s considered family, who’s guided him, cared for him, shown him what love, even if it's just familial love, feels like. He’s never led him astray, always treated him like his own son, brought him to his full potential as a volleyball player and team captain.

He cries out as Nekomata gently thrusts up, rubbing their erections against each other.

It feels so good, so different, so much better than when he awkwardly wraps his own hand around his cock late at night. Surely it can’t be wrong if it feels so right, if it’s Nekomata who’s doing this. It’s just another life lesson, right?

So he seals his fate with a shy kiss as he relaxes, helping the man underneath him rid him of all his clothes, bashfully looking away as eyes hungrily roam all over his body. But his eyes are snapping back to attention, wide in shock as a strange pleasure lances through him when a mouth greedily suckles on one of his nipples, his other nipple tweaked and pulled.

“I-I’m not a girl! Stop it! Don’t play with my nipples like that!”

But his complaints are lost between desperate moans and he loses himself in the strange overwhelming pleasure, flushing at the lewd slick sounds of Nekomata’s sucking.

“But doesn’t it feel good, Tetsurou? You have such pretty tits.”

“They’re not tits- AH!”

He whimpers as Nekomata punishes his outburst with a slight nip to his aroused buds.

“Come on. Be a good boy and cum from having your tits played with.”

“I- I don’t think- I can’t-”

But all it takes is a few more rolls of his hips and a few more tugs and bites before Kuroo is wailing, thick white spurts coating both of their stomachs as the raven haired man exhaustedly collapses and curls up in Nekomata’s lap, humming contently as a hand strokes his messy tangled locks.

“Good boy, but we’re not done yet. Don’t you think I deserve to feel good too? I think you need to give sensei a thank you gift for such a good lesson.”

Bleary hazel eyes peer at him before slowly nodding and Nekomata laughs as Kuroo attempts to shimmy to his knees in between Nekomata’s legs, hands eagerly pawing at the hem of his sweatpants only to startle when he’s teasingly slapped away.

“We’ll use your mouth another day. I have something else to show you.”

Kuroo’s an adult now, but there’s a childlike innocence in the way he curiously looks on as Nekomata pulls out a translucent bottle, craning his neck to see what the older man is doing even when he’s coaxed into laying on his back on one of the benches, his legs spread out on either side of the metal apparatus. And Nekomata coos at the confused nervous sound Kuroo makes as he generously coats Kuroo’s pretty puckered rim and his fingers with the clear liquid.

“I need you to relax and take deep breaths, okay?”

That’s all the warning he gets before a finger is pushing at his tight hole and he keens as one knuckle breaches his unused hole, taking in desperate panicked breaths as it becomes two knuckles, and borderline hyperventilating when he’s taken the digit all the way to its hilt. But he desperately listens to the familiar voice as it orders him to keep on relaxing, keep on breathing.

Relax. Breathe. Relax. Breathe. Relax. Breathe.

One finger becomes two. Two fingers become three. The stretch is uncomfortable, but not painful, yet Kuroo still just feels strangely full, can’t comprehend what the appeal of this is-

He screams. Back arching and body twitching when Nekomata’s fingers move inside of him, brushing against a spot that has him seeing stars and his cock hardening once again. He scrambles to sit up, find purchase, register what’s happening, but then those fingers are bushing against that spot over and over again and all he can do is sob, cock pathetically splurting thick drops of pre-cum all over his stomach as his mind breaks under the new delirious pleasure he’s being drowned in.

If he thought he had already been overwhelmed, it’s absolutely painful and agonizing when the stimulation abruptly stops and he’s howling, clawing like an animal to keep Nekomata’s fingers inside of him, sobbing even harder when Nekomata gently shakes him off and leaves him gaping open, cold, and alone like he’s always been his entire life. But he tries to stifle his sobs, gasping for breath when Nekomata is right there with him again, softly kissing his forehead and urging him to continue being his good patient boy and he sighs in relief when something larger begins to refill him, whimpering and moaning at the larger stretch, but ultimately finding peace in the connection, the fullness.

And he relaxes back down on the bench, mewling as Nekomata’s cock drags against his insides, reaching further and further inside of him until the head is pressing against that same spot that has him writhing wantonly underneath the older body on top of him. Words are spilling past his lips, incoherent babbling he can’t even make out himself, but as if Nekomata understands the indecipherable pleas for more, he offers the younger man a weathered smile before beginning to rock back and forth and Kuroo’s head shakes back and forth, eyes rolling back in his head as his prostate is continuously brushed against.

Kuroo has always been attractive, but like this? Vulnerable, lust and arousal clearly painted all over his face and body, pretty noises and tears, a shaky hand wrapping around his own leaking cock? He’s breathtaking and Nekomata feels like a young man all over again as he increases his pace, ignoring the irritating pang in his old hips as he desperately chases his own end, balls feeling full and ready to explode in a way they haven’t for decades. And he sputters and chokes as he empties himself inside of the lithe body underneath him, nearly crushing the younger man as he exhaustedly collapses on top of Kuroo and catches his breath.

But he grumbles when he feels the body underneath him continue to wriggle, something uncomfortable digging into his stomach and he lifts up just enough to see how Kuroo desperately continues to stroke his cock, tears in his eyes from being so close to release and yet unable to find it by himself and he takes pity on him, nudging Kuroo’s hands away and wrapping his own hand around the cock, sloppily kissing the pretty captain. And he smiles when wiry arms wrap around him and hold him tight, swallowing Kuroo’s endearing moans as the raven haired athlete falls apart underneath him once again, coating his hand with his creamy essence.

He holds his cum covered hand to Kuroo’s mouth, fondly smiling as he immediately begins lapping and licking him clean, only a slight wrinkle of his nose indicating his dislike of the salty bitter taste. That’s okay, he’ll let the birthday boy get away with it for now. After all, he has plenty of time to fully train him to be the perfect cum slut, his perfect cum slut.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere nekomata #nekomata x kuroo #tw: dubcon #tw: grooming #tw: yandere #tw: lee's infection #tw: crusty #tw: old #tw: fuckers #haikyuu smut #kuroo smut

125 notes · View notes

stubbychaos · 4 years

Text

Let These Words Set You Free

Chapter 6 of Saviin’ika

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3| Part 4 | Part 5

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x Nurse!Reader

Summary: After finding it impossible to break off your relationship with the Mandalorian, you let him claw his way deeper into your heart as you two spend the night together after he tends to your wounds. Deep conversations ensue and the Mandalorian gives you not one, but two gifts to cheer you up.

Rating: T

Word Count: 7,900

Warnings: There’s really not a whole lot of warnings for this chapter to be honest. Mostly non-descriptive mentions of abuse, tending to wounds, and Saviin’ika struggling with self-deprecating thoughts because of how horribly she’s been manipulated.

A/N: Thank you all so much for the kind words on the last chapter and I absolutely can’t believe that it has over 200 notes?? Like, you guys are all amazing and keep inspiring me to write more and I absolutely love reading all your replies/reblogs/messages/and even the tags!! <3

You’re certain that you must be the most selfish woman in all of Nevarro--in all of the entire galaxy.

Instead of listening to your father’s grave threat against your life, against your Mandalorian’s life, you find yourself letting your fearless warrior stay with you throughout the entire night so he can hold you close to him after a traumatizing week. At one point, he removes his cuirass and the padding that covers his stomach so you can rest your head more comfortably and your heart swells that he’s willing to shed something so precious, just for the sake of your neck not aching, come morning.

You’re half asleep and unaware of how much time has passed since dozing off when you feel him slowly shifting your sore body against him, turning you until your cheek is pressed against his softly defined belly and you bring a hand up to curl into the warm fabric covering his side. You find it slightly amusing that the last time he’d been lying on the medical cot with your hands on his ribs, you’d been absolutely terrified of him and now--

Well, now you’re letting him hold you in such an intimate, vulnerable way and you’ve never felt safer.

As he tenderly caresses your face and hair while you rest your eyes, his cloak wrapped tightly around your pliant form, you realize you’ve never trusted anyone the same way you trust this massive warrior of a man. You’re in an extremely vulnerable position, too lethargic and drained to fight back against anyone who would want to harm you in that moment, but he’s proved to you, time and time again that he couldn’t even bear the thought of causing you such pain.

You’d witnessed it in the way he continuously went out of his way to brighten up your day by showering you with sweet, simple gestures, or how he held no reservations in taking care of you and your injuries. He hadn’t believed you to be a foolish woman for wanting to fiercely protect the sweet crystalline fox that still comfortably sleeps on the flat pillow you had surrendered earlier, nor had he admonished you for being reckless enough to go anywhere near that dirty cantina where the Trandoshan had discovered you.

The faith and confidence he has in you to simply be nothing more than yourself is overwhelming and breathtaking in the most beautiful way, as you’ve never had anyone show you such interest in all the little quirks and personality traits that he believed made you unique, compared to anyone else he’s encountered before.

Your heart soars when you think of the pride that had been prevalent in his praises upon finding out that you had kicked your attacker hard enough to get yourself out of a bad situation. You want to learn how to become stronger, for both yourself and him, but the weight of your father’s threats press down harshly on your thin shoulders and you fear that it is such a weight that not even your heavy-infantry warrior would be able to relieve you of.

You ponder if he thinks you’re fully asleep as he gently removes the metal cuffs from the tail of your braids, skilled fingers working at the tangled locks that your father had angrily dragged you by just a day prior to your reunion with your Mandalorian. The stark contrast leaves your lungs bereft of all air as he takes his time to unwind your long braids, taking great care to not tug at them or cause you any discomfort while you get some much needed rest, and you marvel at how someone who possessed so much strength and such a terrifying reputation can touch you so sweetly, so tenderly.

“You are so pretty--so beautiful,” He murmurs with a soft, dreamy sigh as he tenderly rubs your sore scalp with the utmost precision, “I promise I’ll take you away from this awful place soon--just hang in there, ner cyare. ’M gonna take care of this whole situation you’re in.”

You think you must have simply dreamed the excruciatingly sweet sentiment because of the way he utters the promise with complete devotion, his thumb moving to tenderly stroke your bottom lip. It makes you feel like you’re trapped in a lovely fantasy, rather than the nightmares that typically prevent you from getting a good night of sleep.

You let out with a little hum when you feel him shift a little, fearing that he’s going to leave you, but his hand hastily moves to the spot between your shoulder blades and reassuringly rubs up and down the length of your spine.

“I’ve got you, cyar’ika,” He whispers so lowly that you only hear it from underneath his blue helm, “Always.”

Underneath the care and skill of his hands, you eventually fall into a peaceful sleep, letting the Mandalorian comfort you in the only way he knows how. Before you let exhaustion completely take over, you briefly wonder what cyar’ika means and if it will replace the other names he’s gifted you with.

Only hours pass when you feel fingers tenderly squeezing your nape and you slowly wake with a big yawn against his stomach, your fingers curling into the thick fabric covering his ribs as he coaxes you from your restful slumber. Despite being a little tired and there being a dull throbbing aches in the back of your skull from being concussed, you think it’s the most peaceful sleep you’ve ever had.

“I am sorry for waking you, mesh’la,” The Mandalorian’s voice pulls you completely out of your dreamy state and you groan a little as you rub the sleep from the corners of your eyes, “I was not sure when your father would be back and did not want to cause you anymore trouble with him.”

You ignore how nauseous you suddenly feel from both his words and the promise you had broken to your father, “Wh--What time is it?”

He hums a little, his hand easily sliding down your spine like it’s only natural for him, “About an hour before sunrise.”

“We do not have much longer then,” You reluctantly sit up, letting out another soft groan as you stretch out your arms high above your head, cringing when your hear several bones in your back and joints in your shoulders crack. You hear the Mandalorian sigh behind you as you roll your stiff neck and you both understand that you aren’t sore from the position you slept in, but more so the grueling shifts you’ve been working the past two weeks.

Your Mandalorian voices his concern as you begin to part your hair so you can braid it, “This job takes a toll on you, does it not, mesh’la?”

“Yes, but it is worth it to me,” You murmur, shivering a little when his cape falls from your shoulders, “I wish the people were kinder, but sometimes I get someone who is grateful. Yesterday one of my patients was a little girl who had scraped her knees pretty badly--she was the cutest thing, just a little Togruta, no older than six. She was so upset because apparently her older brother told her that I was going to amputate her legs. I had to reassure her for nearly half an hour I would not be cutting off her legs because of scraped knees.”

The Mandalorian laughs, tilting his helmet as he watches you gracefully style your hair and brush it away from your face, “You like children?”

Something about casually talking about children, all while sitting between his thighs on the cot you two had shared the previous night makes your cheeks viciously flush and you’re grateful your back is facing him. You’re not sure how to change the topic and choose your next words carefully.

“Yes, Mandalorian. I think they are... precious and I admire their curiosity and innocence. It is not often my patients are younglings though.”

“Someone like you must be good with little ones,” He voices his thoughts out loud and you think he sounds amused as he grazes his thumb along the outer shell of your warm ear.

For some reason, an intense pang throbs in your chest and you lower your head a little when unpleasant memories surface to the forefront of your mind, causing hot tears to brim your eyes and you quickly squeeze them shut.

“I could only wish to be better.”

His hand falters at the shakiness in your sad whisper of a voice and instead of teasing your ear, his hand moves to your nape and squeezes in an attempt to comfort you. He doesn’t ask what or who’s haunting you and you’re grateful, for you fear you do not have the strength to confide such horrific thoughts and memories to the massive Mandalorian without crumbling to pieces.

It’s silent for a few moments and you hate that you’ve completely ruined the comfortable atmosphere, so you miserably continue to braid your hair with now shaking fingers.

The Mandalorian, however, is determined not let you feel such dejection and speaks as softly as his helmet will allow him to.

"I wish I could watch you do this every morning."

“I am only braiding my hair, Mandalorian,” You smile weakly, forcing yourself to forget about the topic of children as you lift your elbows high above your head, deftly parting three separate locks of thick hair on the right half of your scalp, “It is nothing special.”

“Yet you make it look like art,” He hums, reaching out to softly stroke the half of your hair that you’re currently not braiding; for a moment, you think he’s going to attempt to style it for you, though he simply continues to trail his hand down your back, “I haven’t really touched someone else’s hair in a long time--I enjoy touching yours.”

“How long has it been?”

His hand freezes against the small of your back and before you can even begin to fear that you’ve asked a terrible question, he answers you in a much softer tone, “At least twenty years, mesh’la. My mother used to let me try to style her hair much like how you do yours, but I was never as good as she was and I would usually give up. She would always tell me that she felt bad for any future grandchildren I would give her because of how terrible I am when it comes to such things.”

The thought of this intimidating warrior being a child, attempting to braid his exasperated mother’s hair makes you smile fondly as you keep forcing yourself to not let your mind wander to a dark place that cause you unnecessary pain.

He sounds utterly nostalgic and you marvel at the images his words conjure in your imaginative mind, “Her hair was a lot more stubborn and curlier than yours, but she always made it seem so easy to braid it--you both make it seem so easy.”

“Then it would be good for you to learn as well, Mandalorian,” You quietly inform him, turning your head slightly to regard him with quirked eyebrows as he reaches out to stroke the thick plait with admiration before finishing it off for you with one of the metal cuffs he had dutifully held onto all night.

He sounds utterly amused when he speaks up again, mirth evident in his modulated voice as he continues to thumb the soft weaves and crevices of your graceful work, “Why would I need to learn such things when braiding someone else’s hair has never been a part of my studies in the tribe? What could hair styling possibly come in handy for if I am in the middle of a battle, little nurse?”

‘Braiding the hair of the future grandchildren your mother spoke of.’

You nearly say the words out loud, though you think them to be too personal and you do not wish to cause the Mandalorian any sadness upon bringing up old memories of a different time.

“I am sure the little ones in your tribe would not mind having their hair out of their faces,” You hum as you cross thick locks of hair underneath one another and gently tug to make sure they are tight enough where stubborn pieces won’t escape; you frown at the way his hand falters against your nape and you think you’ve made a mistake in your words, “Unless there are no little ones that don’t wear helmets? I j-just figured--I did not mean to disrespect your tribe or--”

“It’s okay, you are not being disrespectful,” He chuckles, shaking his head a little as he continues to watch your fingers work at your smooth locks, “I just… I was not expecting you to say that--you never ask about our helmets.”

“It is something sacred and none of my business,” You refuse to meet the emotionless gaze of his visor as you hastily bring your braid over your shoulder to continue the lower you get, cheeks burning as you lower your voice into a sheepish whisper; you feel shameful for bringing up something so personal, “I would never--I don’t ever want to--”

“Saviin’ika--you are far too sweet and precious for your own good,” His chuckles dissolve into laughter at how flushed and shy you’ve suddenly become at something that truly does not seem to be a big deal to him, his fingers squeezing your nape in a comforting way, “Yes, we do have young children in the tribe that have not yet sworn to the creed and we have some that put on the helmet as early as their sixth birthday. It is something that they choose whenever they are ready, not something that is forced upon them.”

You awkwardly shuffle your body around until you’re facing him, his thighs still splayed wide and feet dangling off either side of the cot as he lazily reaches forward to grab the loose tail of your braid. He seems utterly focused as he skillfully wraps the silver cuff around the bottom of your plait, fingers lightly stroking the ends of your hair that aren’t weaved together. You think there must be some sort of comfort and reassurance the warrior gains from helping you tame your own unruly locks and you smile warmly at him when he continues to stroke the soft tip of your braids with great reverence.

Curiosity gets the better of you and despite your better judgment, you find yourself speaking a question that’s plagued you since he first opened up about his tribe during one of your first meetings when he finally began to trust you more.

“Are there people who simply do not wear the helmet at all?”

He makes a small humming noise as you shyly lift your gaze to peer up at him through a thick abundance of eyelashes, “Sometimes uh, people who would not be considered to be foundlings are brought to the tribe, but it is rare that they are accepted by everyone. It is a long process that goes into permanently bringing in an outsider and very rarely are they accepted. It usually ends in an intense fight of some sort.”

“M-May I ask why?”

His helmet tilts to the side and his bare hand comes up to gently caress your healing cheek as he easily quells your curiosity in that comforting baritone that must intimidate so many others, “Because, saviin’ika, we need to make sure that whoever is deemed worthy of joining our tribe is able to provide for us in one way or another--no matter how little or big the job may be. We need to be sure that they will not turn their backs on us or do something that will draw attention to the tribe. It is a very delicate and difficult process, but it is for our own protection since our numbers are now so low.”

“I think it is honorable,” You murmur as you sheepishly tuck your hands between your thighs and gaze up at his emotionless visor, “That you value your people so dearly that there is a long process that goes into joining the tribe. It shows that you have respect and love for one another--it’s admirable.”

He hums, his thick fingers twitching against your healing cheek as he heaves a grave sigh and brings his other hand to tenderly cradle your head between his big hands. He cocks his scuffed up helmet to the side as he curiously strokes your skin and you certainly notice the strange shift in the atmosphere when his chest heaves a little and he simply holds your head up between warm palms.

You nervously fidget with the tail of your braid as he remains deathly still and silent, almost making you think he’s fallen asleep or passed out underneath that blue bucket.

He eventually shakes his helmet a little and clears his throat as he reluctantly releases the gentle hold he has on you, your skin now warmed and tinged pink, "I don't think I will ever truly be able to understand you, mesh'la."

You frown a little, confusion pinching your brows together with worry, "Did I say something wrong?"

He chuckles a little when you move to carefully climb over his thigh to slowly slide off the cot, his hands hastily moving to your hips so he can steady you when you nearly fall face first into the floor.

"No, you just--" He makes a funny noise as he moves so his thick legs are dangling off the side of the cot and you're caged between them; you smile when he brings you closer without having to use much guidance. You think the Mandalorian could guide you through your darkest, scariest nightmares and you would still trust him not to let any harm reign down on you--that he would be able to lay waste to anyone or anything that attempted to cause you pain or discomfort, all while holding your hand.

"I'm just daydreaming, like you always do."

You smile at the slightly wistful tone he manages through his crackly modulator.

"About what?"

He lets out a deep exhale when you bring your hands up to tentatively cup the sides of his clothed neck to hold him in place, though he could easily shake you off if he desired.

"I’m daydreaming about you, mesh'la--always about you."

Your breath catches in your throat when he wraps his arms around the back of your thighs and drops his helmet against your stomach, resting it there as if it's the softest pillow he's ever owned. A small, desperate groan has you nearly giggling and you hesitantly choose to firmly massage the tense muscles in his broad shoulders and the back of his neck. He gently squeezes the back of your legs with gratitude and pulls you impossibly close; you remember with burning cheeks what he had admitted to you last night.

"The things you do to me… The things I would do for you."

You're not used to feeling wanted in any way shape or form, but something about the way he strokes the back of your covered thighs and melts into you makes you think he’s not toying around or jesting with you. Despite never trusting anyone enough to want to pursue some sort of physical intimacy with them, you find that you're absolutely flushed at the sound of every little groan and grunt he lets out as your fingers work at his tense muscles. You’re unfamiliar with the dull ache that’s burning something fierce in the pit of your stomach, but you find that it’s not an unpleasant sensation.

You’re absolutely certain it has nothing to do with your healing injuries, but more so with the way one of his hands finds the small of your back and gently squeezes.

It’s not until your fingers manage to curl underneath the bunched up material that covers his neck that he lets out with a groan so loud and a shuddery breath that you nearly yank yourself away from him, fearing that you’ve somehow managed to harm your Mandalorian.

“You’re good--fuck, you’re good,” He reassures you before you can remove your hand from his warm skin and you fear that your skin will actually be set ablaze, “Feels really nice, is all.”

You glue yourself to that spot and continue to provide him with any relief he’s willing to accept from you. Happiness and dread burns hotter than coals in the pit of your belly when you realize that you are somehow able to reduce the huge warrior to this kind of state. Something about him displaying such vulnerability is humbling and satisfying, but you realize just how accurate your father was when he spoke of being able to hurt the Mandalorian in other ways. Judging by how upset he had been the previous night upon first noticing your injuries, you are certain that your father would wish to cause him pain through your own suffering.

“If he ever hurt you to the point where you could not be healed, I would not hesitate to act so cruelly and I would not let anyone stop me.”

You remember the Mandalorian’s grave promise and lower your head in shame--fear and sadness suddenly threatening to drown you underneath its massive tidal wave. You do not wish to be the reason for your Mandalorian displaying such acts of violence and you realize that the soft words he had spoken in your sleepy state about taking you away from the village was only part of a silly dream.

“It seems as though you need rest as well,” You whisper, hating that your voice shakes from excitement and fear, “I’m sure your own bed is far more comfortable than this dinky little cot. You should go back to your tribe and get some sleep since you didn’t seem to get any last night.”

“I’m sure my bed is comfier than yours as well,” The Mandalorian huffs, completely disregarding the last sentence, and you feel the blood rush to your cheeks and your heart leap at his next words, “Perhaps you would like to test it out sometime?”

Your chest heaves a little at his boldness and you struggle to shrug it off, “I think you just want a body to keep your bed warm at night and I am not that kind of woman.”

“And I am not that kind of man.”

“Yet you would still invite me to sleep in your bed?”

“Did we not sleep together last night?” His shoulders are shaking from what you think is him trying not to laugh and you roll your eyes, though a warm smile stretches across your lips.

“Besides, your skin is always freezing--I doubt you would be doing much to warm my bed, though I don’t think that’s a bad thing, mesh’la,” His voice drops into a deep, low rasp as he slides his hand up the base of your spine, fingers splayed wide against nearly the entirety of your lower back, “I would not mind warming you up every night, especially in my bed.”

“You cannot say these things to me, Mandalorian,” You huff at the tenderness and intimacy of his words and his impossibly tight embrace, “I am not--I’m not used to others wanting me the way you seem to want me.”

“Has nobody--” He seems to struggle with his next words as his hand tenderly squeezes your hip, “Has no one ever told you how beautiful you are? Or how pretty your eyes are? How soft your hair is and how nice it looks when you wear flowers in your braids?”

Your breath hitches at the utter conviction in his modulated voice and you loathe how shaky your voice is when you speak, “I cannot say anyone has said such things to me before, nor do I feel deserving of those kinds of compliments. I know I am nothing special.”

“Is that what he tells you?”

You look away from the warrior shamefully, even when he sits up a little straighter, his visor piercing your soul as you answer him, “It is what I know.”

The tips of his warm fingers curl firmly into the back of your thighs as he moves his helmet backwards to gaze up at you and you think that this kind of skin contact must be so rare for him that it brings more pleasure than anything else. He seems so vulnerable like this--sitting on the medical cot where the two of you had just spent the night together, his helmet pressed against your ribs that had been intensely bruised and aching only hours ago. Though there’s still a small amount of pain that lingers, it is now significantly milder after he used your bacta salve to heal the worst of your bruising.

“Don’t speak lies about yourself, cyar’ika--it hurts me too,” He almost sounds like he’s in pain as he holds you so close to him, “You are by far the most beautiful person I have ever encountered in Nevarro--in the entirety of this galaxy. You are deserving of so much more than my words and I would never stop trying to convince you otherwise.”

“You are too sweet to me,” You murmur, voice still shaking with intense emotions that you’re not used to feeling, “I wish there was more I could give you in return.”

With little hesitation, you curiously burrow your fingers deeper underneath the thick fabric of his tunic as you massage the soft, pillowy muscles of his tense shoulders, enjoying the way he groans and pushes himself closer to you when you rub at a particularly tender spot.

“Being able to hold you is all I could ever ask from you, but having your hands on me like this is a nice bonus,” His voice is deliciously hoarse and low, even through the guise of his modulator and he practically keens when your fingers squeeze the tension away from just underneath his nape, where he carries stress the most between his shoulder blades, “Vor entye--thank you, cyar’ika.”

You’re well aware of the way his hands barely move an inch up the back of your thighs as you reluctantly remove your hand from the heat of his cowl, finding purchase on the hollows of his cold Beskar cheeks instead. He makes a small humming noise when you urge his helmet backwards a little to properly gaze up at you and you can’t stop yourself from smiling from the comfort that the shine of his visor bestows upon you. His hands move to cover yours and you beam when he places them on top of your much smaller ones, carefully squeezing your fingers.

“One day--” He sighs and cocks his helmet to the side as his voice drops, “One day I will feel your hands on my cheeks--on my skin.”

“But your helmet--your creed?”

“There are ways, cyare,” He informs you, his modulated voice crackling a little, “I will show you some day.”

You smile weakly and barely nod at him, deciding it was probably one of those traditions sacred to his people.

A few stray beams of crimson sunlight infiltrate your tiny office through the cracks of the blinds and you reluctantly pull away from one another; you feel the pull he has on your heart, as if beckoning you to remain close to him. You fear him leaving to go back to his tribe will unravel you completely, though you remind yourself that if you rely on him like this, it will only cause more pain when all is said and done.

He stands tall above you, still observing you as you make your way over to the vulptex that is barely starting to wake up, her eyes narrowed in the Mandalorian’s direction.

After checking the state of her minor wounds and hand-feeding her some dried meat--much to her utter dismay--the beautiful creature seems to be in better spirits as she allows you to tenderly pet her rocky coat. You can’t help but to grin and giggle a little when she squeaks happily, letting you tenderly scratch her rocky little chin with admiration.

“What are you going to do about her?” Your Mandalorian questions when you eventually face him, watching with interest as he easily adorns his chest with that scuffed up cuirass before turning to his much larger equipment, “Would he not be angry about you taking in a stray? It’s just a weak runt, saviin’ika, are you sure she’s worth all this?”

“Do not speak of her like that,” You frown, turning to the tiny vulptex that is staring up at the two of you with curiosity, “Of course she is worth it.”

The Mandalorian sighs and shakes his head as your crystal companion clumsily rises from her pillow and quickly hobbles over to you for comfort; you’re quick to reach down to scratch just behind one of her large ears. Her crimson eyes blink slowly at you with adoration and you wonder how anyone could possibly have the desire to harm or kill a creature so beautiful and sweet. You think it must be difficult for your Mandalorian to be able to relate to having feelings of helplessness, what with being a trained warrior and you wonder what it must feel like to be a feared man in a village like this.

You can’t even begin to imagine not feeling like an easy target.

“What if he--?”

“I’ve been able to hide my smaller patients before,” You inform him, grabbing his large hand in both of yours before he can put his glove on; his helmet cocks to the side and you think he must be amused, “I’m sure she will not be difficult to keep hidden.”

“She is not the first stray you’ve taken in?”

You raise your brows at the blue warrior who seems utterly content to let you explore the coarse, calloused skin of his knuckles, “You’re still here, aren’t you, Mandalorian?”

“Funny,” He huffs in an incredulous manner, shaking his helmet at your teasing voice, “I’m being serious though, please be careful. I would rather you not be bruised and broken the next time I see you because of you having such a soft heart.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod slowly, dread creeping through you as you whisper your next words, “When will I see you again?”

“I--” He watches you as you lower your head, not wanting him to see the fear and despair in your eyes that he seems to find so expressive, though he still seems to have an easy read on you as he speaks with anguish evident in his crackly voice, “I am not sure, but I promise it won’t be more than a few days this time. It is for the well-being of the tribe, something that will benefit us.”

“Then that is good,” You murmur, though the ache in your chest still burns painfully and you force a meek smile, one that he easily sees through “They are your biggest priority.”

You wonder what it must feel like to have that kind of intense love for your family--that willingness to walk through flames and the most dangerous of situations, all to protect the ones you love. You find it absolutely beautiful--the dedication that Mandalorians have to their tribe--and you briefly ponder if you’d ever get to meet any of the warriors from his tribe, if he would ever trust you enough to even entertain the thought.

“You both are my biggest priority, mesh’la,” You absolutely loathe how vulnerable and scared you feel as you keep your tear-filled eyes away from his visor and you hear the heavy-infantry warrior grunt a little, stepping closer to you, “Please don’t cry. Stars, I’m not worth your tears.”

“You are worth every single one of them,” You inform him in the form of a breathy whisper, quickly shouldering away a tear that manages to slip from the corner of your eye, “I will wait for you, I just fear that you would not come back for me. I have--I have been abandoned far too many times, Mandalorian. I am afraid.”

“I will always come back for you,” His back straightens and his helmet jolts to the side a little, as though the thought of not returning to you has him feeling distraught, “That is a promise, ner cyar’ika, and I never break my fucking promises to those I care for.”

Your breath hitches at the utter devotion that’s apparent in his deep baritone and you can’t stop yourself from bringing his massive hand up to your face, barely aware of the way he grunts and shifts when your lips find the rough callouses that cover his knuckles. You’re used to dealing with tough criminals and bounty hunters that have no reluctance in displaying their dominance or strength, but as you gently kiss the rough marks and scars that he’s willingly exposed, you think it’s the first time a man has ever been utterly relaxed and pliant under your touch.

“What are you doing--? Saviin’ika are you--?”

He chokes a little when you maneuver his hand until his palm is facing upwards and he’s gently grasping your lightly bruised cheeks, not quite as tenderly as the previous night, but still making sure not to cause you any pain. You think the bruises must linger on your skin like some sort of beacon, judging by how tenderly he squeezes the supple flesh.

A part of you gains satisfaction in the way the massive warrior groans loudly when you firmly press your lips into the warm, bare skin of his rough palm and you’re stunned and lightheaded at the thought of having this kind of power over such a fearless man.

“You said last night that you wished you could kiss me,” You remind him and you swear he shudders against the light hold you have on him, as though you somehow have the same effect he has on you whenever he decides to grow bold around you, “This is the only way I know how to give you one.”

His chest heaves a little upon feeling that warmth of your lips in the valley of his thumb and index finger, “I wish I could give you more. I wish I could show you how precious you are to me--so fucking precious to me, saviin’ika.”

You feel your eyes brim with hot tears at the utter conviction in his raspy crackle of a voice and you want to tell him that he’s already done plenty to make you believe his affection and intentions with you are completely genuine. His shoulders drop as you tend to a rough callous on the heel of his palm with your lips and you think you feel his fingers tremble against your cheek. It is then that you realize just how much you two have in common, both of you not used to the tender touch of another soul and you marvel at the thought of someone so much more powerful and far larger than you being just as touch-starved and vulnerable.

“You took care of me last night and helped with my wounds. You saved me from that cruel criminal and held me all night to keep me away from my nightmares,” You remind the aloof Mandalorian, peering up at him with a soft, kind gaze that seems to only unravel him further, “I have… I’ve never been someone else’s patient before--at least not since before my mother cared for me--but what you did for me was the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me and I could not ask for more from you. You have given me more happiness and hope in the last decade than anyone else."

“I want to give you more,” He pleads, almost sounding helpless underneath all that armor, a thought so ridiculous and shocking to you, “Cyar’ika, I would give you anything you wanted if it meant you blessed me with that pretty smile of yours.”

He seems hellbent on giving you some sort of gift and you wrack your brain for anything within reason your blue warrior could possibly conjure up for you.

For some reason, you think of all the nicknames he’s affectionately gifted you with, along with knowing your real name, and your cheeks flush when you realize the only name you have for him is ‘Mandalorian’. It feels too formal for your liking and you wonder if he feels the same way--if he longs for you to murmur his real name when you’re whispering soft praises underneath the tender care of his hands whenever he’s softly caressing your bare skin.

You don’t know enough about Mandalorian customs or traditions when it comes to their real names and you think that perhaps it’s taboo for him to share his name with outsiders. The last thing you want is to cause any offense or disrespect to his people that he evidently cherishes and you let out a soft sigh against his palm.

“Always thinking so much and never saying what’s on your mind,” He observes thoughtfully, not seeming upset by your quiet reluctance, “Your thoughts are safe with me, always.”

“I would not wish to offend you for what I want from you,” Another gentle press of your lips against the center of his palm has the huge warrior grunting once again and pushing himself further against you, “It would be selfish of me.”

“I would give you anything you wished for--” He breathes as your lips graze across his rough fingertips, “And knowing you, it is something that is not selfish.”

“How could you possibly know that, Mandalorian?”

“Because I know you are not a selfish woman,” He chuckles as your soft lips continue to praise his warm skin with great tenderness, though every time you think of the promise you made to your father and how easily you broke it, you feel like the most selfish woman in the galaxy, “Tell me what it is you wish for, cyar’ika, and I will give it to you in a heartbeat.”

His hand tenderly moves to cup your cheek and you know that he must feel how hot it burns for him--for the promise that his deep baritone carries and you fear that your heart will actually fail its main purpose.

“Even your name?”

“Anything for you, cyar’ika--anything.”

The way he doesn’t hesitate in the slightest almost leaves you in tears and steals the air from your lungs.

You smile at the way he grunts, as though he doesn’t know how to respond and you relish in the way you are able to reduce him to a state of being speechless when you’re certain that there aren’t many who had such an effect on him. For what you think must be the hundredth time in the last few hours, he leans down to gently nudge his forehead against yours and you shiver when he pulls you in close. Something about the way he holds you this close or how he softly rubs his scuffed up helmet against your head makes you think that these gentle headbutts hold more meaning and sentiment than you originally thought.

His hands find their home on your hips and you loathe that his cuirass and all the padding and equipment he wears prevents you from melting into him as he simply holds you close. Carefully, he drops his helmet into the curve of your neck and you hear the way he inhales deeply before releasing it and you think you feel some of his warm breath tickling your exposed skin. You remember him admitting how he oftentimes swore he could smell your hair--your flowers--and you wonder if that's what he's currently trying to do, even though you lack your usual violets.

“Paz.”

His voice utters a single syllable and your heart leaps high into your throat, threatening to choke you with the intense emotions you’re currently feeling.

Immediately, you grin when he reluctantly lifts his helmet to observe you, as though he's nervous of your reaction and you decide you don't mind seeing the Mandalorian act as sheepish as he often makes you feel.

"Paz," You repeat the three-lettered name out loud with a sheepish grin, your voice sounding so soft and quiet compared to the way he says it in that deep baritone; you say it again, a little louder and more sure of yourself, "Paz. I… think it suits you."

He hums, shaking his scuffed up helmet at you and you think he must feel embarrassed, for whatever reason, "What's that supposed to mean?"

You force yourself not to giggle at the terseness in his crackly voice, “It is sweet and sharp, kind of piercing, just like you. It is gentle, but also rough--just one syllable and so short, but no less meaningful. It suits you and I… I love it.”

“My name?” He chuckles, and you almost loathe how amused he sounds as he hunches over to press his forehead against yours, "You love it?”

Your cheeks burn something fierce as you nod a little against his helmet, "Yes, but I also wonder, do you have a last name as well?”

“Yes, cyar’ika,” He hums, his deep baritone rumbling like roaring thunder against your eardrums, “Perhaps one day I will give it to you.”

Your frantic heart instantly falters and your eyes widen as he gently grazes the apple of your cheek with his knuckles that you had previously been praising with your lips. You realize you must be overthinking his words, judging by how calm and cool he sounds as he murmurs soft words in his native tongue that barely make it past his vocoder. Though you've only known the Mandalorian for a few months, the thought of having such a future with him fills your belly with an intense heat and you don’t say anything out of fear of your voice shaking.

Suddenly, he pulls his helmet away and you frown at how frantic he suddenly seems to grow, immediately fearing the worst.

“Shit--I almost forgot after everything that happened last night.”

You watch with utter curiosity as he pulls away from you and makes his way over to where he had left his utility belt on your desk, carefully shuffling through one of the pouches with great intent and precision, “When I was traveling the last few days I saw something and it reminded me of you. I want you to have it.”

Your brows pinch together in confusion and you frantically shake your head when he turns around with a white cloth that’s wrapped around your unexpected gift, “You...? You just gave me something so precious--I couldn’t possibly--”

“It is nothing special,” He chuckles as he begins to unwrap the object, shaking his helmet at your anxious tone, “It didn’t cost me anything other than my pride when everyone in the tribe found out.”

Your eyes widen and you gasp when Paz reveals a beautiful white flower that’s the size of your palm, it’s long petals wispy and curled around the ends. You don’t even realize your eyes are brimming with tears and you can’t remember the last time someone has made you cry out of happiness, your cheeks aching from how big you’re smiling.

“I’m not sure what kind of flower it is,” He explains sheepishly when you don’t say anything, “Underneath the moonlight, the tips of the petals turn blue. I thought it might...”

He turns his visor away from your face when you grin up at him, “You thought what, Paz?”

“That it might look pretty behind your ear.”

“You--” Instead of saying anything else, you launch yourself at him and you’re surprised when he actually stumbles backwards the tiniest amount as you squeeze your arms around his broad shoulders. He chuckles and easily holds you close, his arms wrapped around your waist and you’re too distracted by the beautiful gift to feel any discomfort from his gauntlets digging into your back.

“No one has ever given me a flower before,” You press your face into the crook of his neck and listen to the way he sighs your name when you kiss the bunched up fabric, “Th-Thank you.”

Paz reluctantly lets go of you when you move to tuck the flower safely behind your ear where he thought it would look prettiest and you give him an inquisitive expression, as if silently asking him to confirm his suspicions.

“You are so beautiful,” He reaches out for you and for a moment, you think he’s going to touch your ear or stroke the big flower, but instead, his hand cradles your cheek in a way that steals your breath, “I... I don’t want to leave.”

“You must,” You remind him with a sympathetic smile, understanding his pain all too well, “We both have important jobs to do. I could walk with you as far as you would let me?”

He huffs, the thought of you walking with him no doubt an amusing one, but he nods as you carefully scoop up the vulptex in one arm and grab his elbow with the other, letting him lead the way. You notice that he walks slower, visor dutifully scanning his surroundings and you wonder if he’s always this cognizant of his surroundings or if it’s because of your presence. There’s a slight chill in the air, but not enough to make you shiver and you smile a little when the sun continues to slowly rise and warm you with it’s early-morning rays.

You close your eyes for just a few seconds, pretending you’re elsewhere with your Mandalorian, somewhere far more beautiful, and you’re certainly not aware of the way he stares down at you as he leads you further from the infirmary.

“I could not let you go any further,” Paz finally speaks about twenty minutes later, just outside the marketplace, and you turn to face him with a soft little smile, “Someone else from the tribe has been taking jobs in the village for the past few weeks and it is not safe for more than one of us to be above ground for too long.”

“There is no need to explain--I understand,” You reassure him, giving his elbow a firm squeeze and your heart soars when he taps his helmet to your forehead one last time, “Then I will see you soon again?”

“Yes,” He sighs gravely when you two reluctantly pull away from each other, “I mean it this time too. I am hoping the next time I see you, I will have good news, cyar’ika.”

You beam and cradle the vulptex securely to your chest with both arms. Though you don’t know exactly what kind of news he could possibly have that will affect you in any way, shape or form, you’re still excited to hear more about his tribe--his people--and you give him a frantic nod. After saying your goodbyes and blushing when he gives your chin a little tap and a reminder to keep your head up, you make your way back to the infirmary, a bittersweet sensation lingering like a dark cloud over your heart.

“It’s okay, little one,” You gently shush the vulptex when she lets out with a sharp whine, as though your downtrodden disposition is affecting her also, “At least we have each other, right?”

You give her a soft smile when her eyes slowly blink up at you and even though you should feel ridiculous for talking to an animal, it doesn’t stop you and you continue to tell her of your hopes and dreams for the future--your wants and desires pertaining to your blue Mandalorian. A part of you realizes there’s something cathartic about speaking to someone or something that doesn’t actually know what your saying, perhaps because you know that your crystalline companion won’t judge you.

Before you can tell her that you long to run away from all this, you freeze when you look away from your confidante to check your surroundings, only to be met with the sight of a figure storming towards you with a blaster trained on your vulptex.

You’re not sure what fills you with more fear--

The fact that you’re already going to lose your precious companion, or the familiarity of the t-shaped visor that’s pointed directly at you.

Ner= My, mine

Mesh’la=Beautiful

Saviin=Violet

Cyar’ika=Darling, sweetheart

Cyare=Beloved, loved, popular

Taglist *If I missed anyone or anyone wants to be added, please let me know!*: @parabatai-winchester @auty-ren @theocatkov @oloreaa @talesfromtheguild @blindedbyyourgrace17 @datmando @dartheldur @miscellaneous-mando @karpasia @ben-is-a-hoe @the-feckless-wonder @whatababeleia @maybege @aeryntheofficial @corrupt-fvcker @lackofhonor @phoenixhalliwell @crazy-kat-in-the-hat @roxypeanut @mandolovian @honestlystop @teaofpeach @macabrefaerie @acynicalcat @spaghetti-666 @readsalot73 @lanatheawesome @absurdthirst @anakinsittinginsand @yes-music-is-my-religion @tangledlove27 @justrunamok

#paz vizla x you #paz vizla x reader #paz vizsla x reader #Paz vizsla x you #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #PLEASE DON'T HATE ME FOR THAT LAST LINE #OR THE OTHER QUESTIONABLE PART #I HAVE MANY THOUGHTS #OKAY #my writing

379 notes · View notes

your-eternal-muse · 4 years

Text

To hold on, To let go.

Heather Bonus Chapter.

Summery: In which you get to sneak a peek into the life of Dr. Spencer Reid, and one Aaron Hotchner.

Words: 1.7k because I have absolutely no self control

Warnings: Mentions of cheating, light swearing, and the fruition of an opinion of mine that is kinda controversial in the fandom, but I said what I said, and I ain’t backing down from it

A/N: Hi. So, I thought I would have both this chapter and chapter 9 ready to go to post at relatively the same time, but I was up for 18 hours straight and crashed before I could. I woke up because I was hungry and decided to finish this. That being said, hopefully, I can get chapter 9 up for you guys at some point tomorrow. I’ve just been really tired is all, but I’ll push through because I love this series so much. Anyway, enjoy! Oh, also, I didn’t name this one after a lyric because it didn’t really fit, but its a bonus so its fine.

~~~~~

45% of marriages end in divorce.

Spencer knew this.

He knew the odds of his marriage to Heather ending badly.

He just didn’t think it would be this soon.

He had expected it to be years down the road, when his hair was turning gray and his time at the B.A.U was in the past.

He hadn’t expected it to fail in mere months.

He expected it to be because of his job, or the fact that no matter how hard Heather tried, she never could quite get him to open up about the demons residing in his head.

Not because she had been cheating on him.

He felt like an idiot.

The signs were all there.

The sudden disappearances, the nervous tics whenever he asked a question she could never quite answer.

What kind of profiler was he if he couldn’t even tell that his wife was cheating on him?

He sat at his desk, alone in the bullpen, the only noise in the room coming from the video playing on his phone before him.

He couldn’t stop playing it, even though it killed him to watch.

He paused and played back the very beginning over and over again, watching her kiss that man in a way he thought was only meant for him.

He felt sick.

Knowing her lips had been on that man's hours before coming home and kissing him.

Knowing they had sex, and than having her come home and beg to be fucked by him.

He started the video again, watching Heather, the way her hands balled into his shirt, the sound of her laugh at the person behind her.

Then, his eyes start to drift.

He starts it again, this time watching the anger radiate off of y/n.

It was almost palpable.

He couldn’t help the warmth swarm his chest, circling his heart before squeezing tightly.

She was fiery.

The way the words came from her chest, how her shoulders were straight and her chin was raised, filled his stomach with a sense of pride.

When she said she loved him, she meant it.

“I found your letter. I was right about you.”

His eyes shift to the card currently laying on top of the stack of divorce papers laying on his desk.

He knows he should have hidden it better.

Stuffed it in a thick book and placed it on a high shelf, somewhere she never would have thought to look.

He shouldn’t have even kept it.

With his memory, he could read it over and over again in his head, and Heather would be none the wiser.

But there was something about tracing his fingertips over the ink, feeling the indents of her words in the paper.

It was physical evidence, that after all these years of thinking she didn’t feel the same, that he was wrong.

She loves him, as he loves her.

Yes, loves.

Not loved.

Spencer Reid, is in love with y/n y/l/n.

However, he can’t say he doesn’t love Heather.

He had convinced himself that y/n hadn’t felt the same, and had all but given up hope. So when a pretty girl offered her number to him one morning at a coffee shop, he accepted, forcing himself to move on.

And for a while, he believed that he was happy.

But it doesn’t work like that.

There were too many sleepless nights, too many words unsaid that kept him from fully committing to Heather, even if on paper it looked like he worshiped the ground she walked on.

He shouldn’t have proposed.

He had hoped y/n would say something, call him a fool, be selfish and kiss him in the middle of the banquet hall, not caring about what other people thought because it was only them existing at that moment in time.

But she didn’t.

So he did.

It was selfish of him.

To want another girl, while one who had claimed to love him hung on his arm.

He shouldn’t have danced with her.

He should have just smiled and thanked her for coming, ignoring the pain registering in her eyes.

She was intoxicating though.

And even though it was his wedding, he needed to let her know.

Let her know that he loved her, and that even if he didn’t have a choice, he would always choose her.

He would go and catch her without a thought's hesitation.

Last week, he found out she understood.

God, this is a mess.

He rubs his face, resting his chin on his hand as he reads through the papers again. Should he sign them? Should he give themselves another chance? Or should he say fuck it? Heather had her chance, and in the process broke him. He didn’t think it was worth it.

A door above him opens.

“Reid, can I speak with you?”

It wasn’t weird for Hotch to stay late.

It was for Spencer.

But he didn’t want to go home, where Heather would be inevitably waiting to try and plead with him to not go through it, where another fight is waiting to be fought, and going to the one place he truly wanted to, felt wrong.

It would put y/n in a position he never wants to put her.

So he stayed, and rewatched the video, and reread the papers, until he felt his eyes droop, and his heart rate slow.

Hotch had spent the last few nights watching him.

He could relate to how Spencer was probably feeling, and he wasn’t about to stand back and watch like he did y/n. He was going to help before it got to the extreme.

So Spencer set down the papers, put his phone in his pocket and walked up to meet Hotch in his office.

When he enters, Hotch motions for him to take a seat.

Spencer sits, curious and kind of anxious about the conversation that was about to be had.

“I just wanted to let you know, that I know what you’re going through. And that I sympathize with what you’re feeling. If you need to take any personal time, any at all, you can.”

The next statement pops out of Spencer's mouth before he can even think.

“You didn’t.”

Hotch doesn’t even blink, not the least bit fazed by the observation.

“I should have. And I wish I did.”

He takes a breath.

“I loved Haley. A part of me still does, and will always love her, even now. But I want you to know that I sympathize with how you feel on more than just the divorce.”

Spencer furrows his brow.

What?

Hotch had wanted to keep this from the team for a very personal reason.

He didn’t want anyone judging him for continuing to love her, even after she hurt him.

He didn’t want them to hate her after her passing.

He didn’t want Jack to grow up to despise his mother.

“I didn’t realize it at first. I’m sure my line of work didn’t help much. I was gone often, and for long periods of time, during which I have no clue what she did.”

Spencer couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

Haley cheated on Hotch?

“But when I was home, she was distant. I again blamed it on the rift my job created, which I think is what drove her to do it in the first place.”

Hotch has never really talked about it out loud before now.

Was it bad, that he felt a little relieved, to finally get it out into the air?

“How did you find out?” Spencer's voice was soft, quite. He was afraid that if he spoke too loud, Hotch would back down, stop telling the story.

Hotch takes another deep breath, bringing forth the painful memory.

“It was a rare night where I was home. We had been arguing over an offer I had gotten here. It would have given me a 9-5 schedule, allowed me to be home for dinner and on the weekends, a shorter commute. She wanted me to take it, said it was a no brainer. I told her it was more complicated than that.”

Spencer is leaning forward onto his knees, hanging on to every word.

“We were talking about it, when our landline rang. When I picked it up, no one answered, so I hung up. Not ten seconds after, her cell phone started ringing.”

Why hadn’t Hotch told anyone?

Spencer was beginning to realize they had more in common than he thought.

“But what solidified it for me, was the fear in her eyes. She was petrified. I stared at her as her phone rang, and while she didn’t make a move to grab it, she crossed her arms, subconsciously telling me not to ask.”

He rubs his nose, and looks down at the files on his desk. “I did a little more research after that and found that I was correct.”

He folds his hands in front of him, the words becoming harder to say as he continues.

“What I’m trying to say, is that even when I loved her, even when I wanted it to work out, it didn’t.”

He was hoping Spencer would understand what he was implying. Hotch knew he was smart. It was getting to do something for himself that was the hard part.

Spencer’s head felt clear for the first time that week.

It had helped, hearing Hotch's own experience.

Hotch fought because he loved Haley, and he wanted to hang on to that as long as he could.

Spencer couldn’t wait to let go. That was the difference between the similarities.

Spencer nods, moving to stand up, his mind picking up speed as he did.

“If you ever need to talk about anything, and I mean anything, Spencer, please don’t hesitate to call me.”

A small smile graces Spencer’s lips. “I won’t.” He walks towards the door before pausing, and turning back around. “And Hotch,”

Hotch looks up from his paperwork.

“Thank you.”

Hotch smiles, soft and rare. “You’re welcome.”

Spencer makes his way back to his desk, sitting down, picking up the papers once again, digging a pen out of his satchel.

He flips through the papers, finding where x marks the spot.

He signs his name.

Permanent Tag List: @criminalcow @pinkdiamond1016 @eternityofaxiom @you-had-me-at-hello-dear @marvels-gurl @theamuz @write-from-the-heart @sungieeeeeee @mjloveskids666 @chococeral @itzsoff @gia-kerks @doctorspencereid @imsuperawkward @andreasworlsboring101 @itsmoony @cielo1984 @heistmaster69 @nevvvv @theseuscmander @complementaryvacuum @waywardswain

Heather Tag List: @drsoftboyreid @lindaze @urie-bowie-mercury @racer-parker @avaholcombe @rodgertayloroof @stephanieisgay330 @swiftspaperings @rainsong01 @darthseph @liaabsurd @tracyn910 @kxllyxnnx @holypicklelightnickel @pianofirepirate @radtwinkie @madcrazy50 @bweakmybonez @constantlywishingonstars @l0ve-0f-my-life @expressiodepressio @flannelpjpants @x-midnight-violets-x @kwyloz @todaynotseen @caitlin-f @mylovehes @spencerreidsimptime @yoongi-holland @vamp-army @realimbo @stardream14 @magicbeanssss @jessaminelovelace @darthvadersturd @nikkilikewoah @mellifluouswildbluebells @lex-rodgers-sheild @crist1216 @voguekristens @doctorspencrreid @girlwithcrocs @harryscherrymoon @cherriesnwatermelons @heyitssomegirl101 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @colorfulsunflowerx @falcon-arrows @hereforbeebo @legallyplatinumblonde @thatsonezesty13

#spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid series #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x female!reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds series #cm #mathew gray gubler #song fic #heather #conan gray

390 notes · View notes

orenjixstrider · 4 years

Text

Bittersweet Jealousy (Tsukishima Kei x Manager!Reader)

Word Count: 2,104 words

Summary: As one of the Karasano managers, it only makes sense that you’d be close to some of the players. However, Tsukishima isn’t all too thrilled with the idea of you being friendly with the King of the Court.

Warnings: Some potty words, I think?

A/N: I’ve written a lot of fanfics, but this is the first one I’ve decided to publish (thank you to @the-broken-halo-writer specially for the encouragement). Writing Haikyuu fics is still new to me, but I’m very proud how this came out on. Originally, this was written using my OC as the main character, so the reader is female. However, in the future, I will be using a gender-neutral reader (although bear with me, I do make a lot of mistakes when I try to write using gender-neutral characters). Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy!

Arguments were nothing new to Tsukishima and Y/N. They had been dating since their second year of middle school and had been going steady ever since. She would hope by now that they both knew each other well enough that simple disagreements could not shake or tarnish their relationship.

However, as they stood out in front of the school gate entrance, Y/N was beginning to think otherwise.

It had started out as a little comment, “You seem to be a little too chummy with Kageyama.” Y/N didn’t think much of it at first; it was a part of her job as manager after all.

Halfway through the school year, Kiyoko had approached Y/N and her friend, Yachi, about the manager position for the school’s boy volleyball team. Due to Yamaguchi and Y/N’s encouragement, Tsukishima had joined the team earlier that year. She knew how much he actually enjoyed the sport and she was proud that he was willing to give the club a chance. However, as a result, their schedules began to conflict with one another, making it hard for them to see each other as regularly as they did in middle school.

The idea of being able to see Tsukishima more made the position appealing and it wasn’t long before the two girls both agreed to give it a try. With the job, Y/N had become more acquainted with the club’s members and considered them all to be close.

“Of course, he’s a good friend,” Y/N shrugged nonchalantly as she typed away at her cellphone. It was obvious Tsukishima didn’t see eye to eye with Kageyama, but she figured that he was smart enough to know that their relationship was purely platonic. Tsukishima was not pleased by her response and stopped at the gate’s entrance. It took Y/N a couple of seconds to notice that he wasn’t following behind her anymore, causing her to shoot him a concerned look over her shoulder, “What’s wrong?”

“You don’t think there is anything wrong with your relationship with Kageyama?” Tsukishima asked, his eyebrow raising as if he asserted that there was a correct answer.

“Is this a trick question?” Y/N laughed. It didn’t take long for her giggles to die down when she noticed that Tsukishima’s expression did not falter; as always, he was completely serious. She crossed her arms and met his grimace with an equally displeased stare, “Wait a minute, are you jealous of Kageyama?”

“No way, I just don’t like it when you spend more time with him than you do with me?”

“That’s jealousy,” Y/N rolled her eyes. This was new; she never took Tsukishima for the jealous type. He seemed too stuck up for such a petty emotion. It made her a little happy that he cared, but she tried to reassure him, “I see you every day and I spend all my free time with you, Kei. I’m literally walking home with you right now.”

“You’re still too close with Kageyama,” Tsukishima retorted.

As refreshing as it was to see him caring about her attention, the act was quickly getting old and Y/N was not having it. They had been together two years and he didn’t seem to trust her enough to talk to someone that wasn’t him. Still, Y/N attempted to contain her anger in attempts to reason with her boyfriend.

“What am I supposed to do? Not talk to him?” Y/N asked.

Tsukishima didn’t miss a beat, “Yes.”

“Why?” Y/N was more than shocked. How could he have said that with such confidence. Yes, Tsukishima could be haughty at times, but this was way more than usual, “He’s just a friend.”

“You seem pretty close for just friends,” Tsukishima said suspiciously. Y/N had no clue what he was getting at. The glow of the streetlamps offered very little light on the situation before her and it was only going to get worse, “Sure you’re not cheating on me?”

That had done it. Y/N could understand if he was not too please with her friendship with Kageyama but implying that she would dare cheat when she was nothing except loyal was crossing a line. Did he really have so little trust in her to believe such a notion? Now, Y/N was angry.

“How could you say something like that!”

“You’re not denying it,” Tsukishima scoffed, crossing his arms. He almost seemed like a little kid throwing a tantrum and Y/N was beginning to believe that to be the case.

“I shouldn’t have to!” She exclaimed, “What kind of bullshit are you on? Kageyama is just a friend, like everyone else on the team. Of course, I’m going to be friendly with them because that’s what they are: friends.”

“You don’t act that way with me.”

Of all the excuses he could’ve given, that was by far the worse thing he could have said to her. Although they were only standing six feet apart, Tsukishima could feel the anger that radiated from her. He knew he was pushing her buttons, but he refused to back down.

“That’s because you hate it when I joke around with you,” Y/N said, her clenched fists shaking with anger.

“I never said I hated it,” Tsukishima said defensively, only to have Y/N cut him off.

“Yes, you have!” Y/N shouted over him, her voice breaking the silence that had fallen over the school, “I once tried to tell you a dad joke and you told me to go away because I was being ‘annoying’.”

She wasn’t wrong; in all the years that he’s known her, Tsukishima was never one to entertain her terrible jokes.

“Well, just because you don’t do it with me doesn’t mean you should do it with another guy,” Tsukishima pointed out.

“Unbelievable,” Y/N let out an irritated sigh. Most of the time, she was extremely patient with him. People often complimented how well she dealt with Tsukishima and it was something she often prided herself on. But at this moment, she had reached her limit and the mere sight of him made her want to punch something.

Y/N refused to let her emotions get the better of her and attempted to walk around Tsukishima. If he wasn’t going to try and see her perspective, maybe he needed some time apart to think about what he was saying before making wild accusations.

“Don’t walk away from me,” Tsukishima grabbed her wrists, but she wrenched herself out of his grip as if he had touched her with a flame.

“What am I supposed to say to you?”

“Why can’t you just admit that you’re wrong?”

“Because I’m not!” Y/N cried desperately in hopes that it would get through his thick skull. For someone who she admired for being so logical and cunning, he was being completely irrational, no matter how much sense she tried to talk into him, “You don’t actually believe that I shouldn’t be friends with other boys, do you?”

“I would prefer if you didn’t,” Tsukishima admitted and Y/N’s temper flared.

“Tsukishima, you have to accept the fact that I’m going to have friends who are male,” Y/N sighed, rubbing her temple to soothe the headache that she could feel forming, “I don’t understand why it’s so bad if I get along with your teammates.”

“That’s the problem, Y/N,” Tsukishima interrupted, “It’s the fact that you get along so well with them that I don’t like.”

“But why?” Y/N had never seen him so frustrated before and her curiosity kept her from letting out a snarky comeback. Tsukishima wasn’t looking at her, but the moonlight lit up his troubled expression. For the first time, he seemed to struggle with his words, which was different from the witty boy she had come to know. After a long pause, he spoke again.

“I know I’m not the best boyfriend; I’m painfully aware that you could do so much better than me,” Tsukishima began to close the distance between them, reaching up to grasp her cheek, only to instantly pull his arms back tightly to his sides, “I can’t change the fact that this is the way I am. I’ve tried to act differently, believe me, but I always revert back to who I am because it just feels natural.

“And I’m scared that one day you’re going to finally notice how much better off you’d be with someone like Kageyama.”

Silence once again engulfed the couple. Y/N refused to meet his gaze, almost as if she was refusing to acknowledge his presence. He could tell by the intensity of her stare that she was trying to contain her emotions, but it was useless when she wore them on her sleeve. The anger and frustration were evident, but Tsukishima could see the sadness and pain that peaked out from underneath. For a moment, Tsukishima had realized the magnitude of his words’ effect on her, which caused guilt to swell painfully into his chest.

He knew this was his fault. In reality, Y/N had done nothing wrong and he was just being selfish. However, he was extremely prideful, one of the only flaws that Tsukishima would ever admit about himself. It prevented him from doing a lot of the things Y/N expected of him as her boyfriend. Why wouldn’t she look for someone else when anything they could give her was much more than what he had to offer and Tsukishima painfully considered the idea that maybe she’d be better off without him.

“Maybe…” Tsukishima whispered, almost under his breath, “Maybe it would be better if we broke up…”

“Tsukishima, wait,” Y/N looked up at him. Shock painted her beautiful features and it took everything in him not to reach out to her. She inched a bit closer to him as if testing the treacherous waters that lay before her. The space between them was almost non-existent, but Tsukishima still did not move.

Y/N took a deep breath, her eyebrows furrowed as she chose her words carefully, “I know you can’t change. I know you’re a stubborn asshole who hates giving affection almost as much as he hates to admit that he’s wrong.”

“Wow, thanks,” Tsukishima instinctively muttered, but shut his mouth when she shot him a look that dared him to interrupt her one more time. He raised his arms in mock surrender and motioned for her to continue.

“But… I’m not asking you to change how you act,” Y/N insisted, placing her hands on his chest while she drew random shapes into his uniform, “If I didn’t like how you acted, I wouldn’t have asked you out in the first place.”

“Actually, I was the one who asked you…” Tsukishima didn’t need to look down at Y/N to feel the heat of her glare, “Sorry, I’ll shut up.”

“What I’m trying to say is,” Y/N stated a bit louder, “I like you for who you are and I always have. You can be an insufferable prick, but you’re my insufferable prick. You sometimes suck at this whole “relationship” thing, but I know that doesn’t mean you don’t love me.”

That was true. No matter how mean he was, it never changed how much he appreciated her. Besides Yamaguchi, very few people were as persistent at remaining at his side as Y/N and that was something he loved about her.

What had been a very sweet message was ruined the next time that Y/N opened her mouth, “Your pride is also bigger than your dick, but size doesn’t matter.”

“Okay, I get it: I’m terrible the majority of the time. Can you get to the point?”

“My point is that I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Y/N stated matter-of-factly, “My goal is to make friends, not find someone to replace you. You should know that.”

“I know,” Tsukishima admitted bitterly before snaking his arms around her waist to pull her closer.

“And if you want this relationship to last, you’re going to have to get over yourself and accept that. Jealousy is not a good color on you, Kei,” Y/N teased.

Tsukishima rolled his eyes and pressed his lips softly to her forehead to hide his face, “Maybe if you stopped making me jealous…”

“Kei,” Leave it to Y/N to make a threat out of his name. He let out an exasperated groan, but the corner of his lips rose into an adoring smile.

“I get it already, stop nagging me,” Tsukishima scooped her small hand into his own and began to tug her in the direction of the way home, “Let’s get going, maybe we can get ice cream from the coach’s shop.”

“Only if you pay.”

“Yeah yeah, I already know.”

#haikyu #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#x reader #oneshot #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu oneshots #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #kei x reader #tsukishima oneshot #manager!reader

504 notes · View notes

thevikingtales · 3 years

Text

Telling the Truth

Ivar was selfish, of course he was. And possessive. Deep inside he knew the reason he was so mad at Bjorn and didn't want Kori to leave was because he feared Nana would leave too. Of course she would, she had the kindest heart. Pure, loyal and good, she was everything he was not, and everything he wanted. The only woman who'd ever been able to look through his condition and love him as he was, besides his mother. But his mother didn't really count. So now that he'd found such a woman, he couldn't afford to lose her. Even if it meant trying to put some sense into Bjorn's thick skull. Or using his best charm to convince Kori to stay. And Odin help him, he would succeed.

Meanwhile, Nana stood before Queen Aslaug and gulped as the woman addressed her. "Y-Yes, my Queen. Thank you." She answered, politely bowing her head. Where Nana came from, she was a daughter of Njord and she didn't bow before anyone. But here she was just a common girl and owed the ruler of this place her respect. Plus, Aslaug was Ivar's mother, so that was another big reason for Nana not wanting to be rude or impolite in any way. The sea princess threaded carefully. "I'm happy to know that. Please have a seat. Would you like some mead?" The Queen offered, already pouring some for Nana without waiting for her answer. Smiling, the girl did as she was told, sitting upon the wooden stool and accepting her horn. "You may be wondering why I summoned you here. The truth is... I've seen how my beloved son Ivar looks at you, and how you two grow closer everyday." She paused, gesturing towards Nana's armring. "But... I don't know you, Nana. Or what your intentions are. I'm sure you've noticed my son is not like the other men around here..." Much to her surprise, Aslaug's words were interrupted by a little giggle from Nana. Feeling the monarch's cold blue eyes on her, Nana rushed to explain. "Of course he's not, he's most special."

Aslaug just sighed. "What is it you want, really? Marry a Ragnarsson for power? Status? Ascend from that wooden bench to the throne one day? Is that why you chose him out of all his brothers? He seemed like an easy target to you?" By now Nana felt utterly offended, digging her nails into the palms of her hands as she tried to keep her composure. At least she hadn't accused her of being a sea witch, so she probably didn't know of her origins just yet. "With all due respect, my Queen... I believe we both know your son Ivar is not an easy target... he's not dumb nor weak. He's quite the opposite in fact – extremely clever and a very skilled warrior. And where I come from, we don't value our men for the strength of their legs." The princess smirked. "But we do value intelligence, ambition and fearlessness. And I find that in Ivar. And I know you do too. You favor and protect him above your other sons, my Queen. Because you see that he's special too. Hundreds of men can run and fight in the battlefield, but it takes someone really ingenious and bright to plan their battles beforehand, and to lead them to victory. And I'm sure Ivar is capable of that. I believe in him, as much as you do. And I want nothing more, than for him to be recognised as a great viking warrior and king, one day. With or without me." There, Nana spilled her thoughts. She wasn't sure if this was the proper way to talk to the Queen, but at least she was honest. And to her surprise, Aslaug smiled.

"I like you, girl. And I know my son does too. So you shall move here, to the longhouse and be my lady in waiting. You'll be protected and taken good care of." The Queen informed and Nana looked most surprised. "T-Thank you, my Queen... That is most generous." It was all she could mutter, and Aslaug chuckled. "What are you waiting for? Go get your things." Nana nodded and excused herself. She was still processing everything that had happened and wanted to tell her sister everything. Then she remembered, Kori wasn't happy. Where was she anyway? Nana walked around Kattegat, trying to find her.

12 notes · View notes

jstlikemagic · 4 years

Text

nsfw alphabet: jeff wittek

hiya everyone! so someone had asked if i could go in-depth on my bdsm breakdown of jeff but i had already gone through the acronym. SO! i remembered that the nsfw alphabet existed and thought it’d be put to great use on this blog. please reblog or like if you enjoyed! :)

a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

jeff is definitely very caring after sex. if he knew he pushed you and went a little too rough on you, i could 100% see him getting an ice pack for your welts or putting some cream on them just to make sure you’re okay. i also feel like after sex, he would check in to see if you enjoyed yourself because he believes he has to have a top performance. imagine he went to rough on you and you were having trouble walking, so he picks you up bridal style and carries you to the bathroom to make sure you pee (no uti’s in this bitch) and to make sure you’re cared for. then he’d carry you back to bed and tuck you in:,)

b = body part (their favorite body part of their partner’s)

i believe jeff is an ass guy. some may debate on this BUT even if you don’t have the thiccest of the thiccy, he would love it regardless. with or without the sex, he seems like the type to always have his hands on your ass no matter what. doing dishes? his hands smack your ass. y’all are kissing? his hands are on your ass. if you’re riding him, he would most definitely guide you with his hands on your probably already bright red cheeks. / if you wanna read a little bit more about this, read my bdsm breakdown!

c = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

he’d def want to finish on your ass or all over your tits. if he’s fucking you doggystyle and is about to come, he’d pull out and release his cum all over your ass. if he was finishing while y’all were in missionary, he’d instruct you to sit up on your knees and push your tits together. you’d put your tongue out just to see if you’d get a little taste of his cum and he’d jack himself off and aim at your tits.

d = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

sometimes he’d like to pick fights with you because he knew the makeup sex would be BOMB AF. or even if y’all didn’t make up, the angry sex would be so rough and fulfilling. he’d love to have the chance to wrap his hand around your throat or manhandle you but you didn’t mind it at all because it was CONSENSUAL and you knew he wouldn’t push the boundary.

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

i’d say he’s very experienced. he lost his virginity at the age of 12 so he’s had about 18 years of practice. plus his last girlfriend is spicy as hell so i wouldn’t surprised if they fucked all the time or had $picy sex :)

f = favorite position (this goes without saying)

doggy.

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

not really. not to say y’all would never be goofy but i’ve always thought that like if something went wrong during sex, you would laugh it off and he’d get embarrassed. imagine you and the vlog squad are taking a trip in an rv. so you and jeff are trying to get it on in the bunks, i could 100% see him fucking hit his head off the top bunk and you’re just laughing his ass off and he keeps on saying that it isn’t funny and to shut the fuck up lol

h = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

he is 100% a ken doll down there. he cares a lot about his image so i’m sure he’s well maintained under there.

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

“as far as making love, i can see him as extremely passionate but soft at the same time? like i feel like he would be soft in the way of talking to you. like i can imagine him gassing you up and just calling you beautiful and telling you how much he loves your certain features. like he’d just be a complete softie! his strokes would 100% send it home and he’d probably be gripping the headboard while thrusting into you passionately.“ (taken from one of my blurbs)

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

if you went on a business trip or a vacation, he is def relying on his hand. if you’re around, i can’t see him doing it often. maybe you had somewhere to be and he caught a glimpse of you and got horny. so while you’re gone, he decides to masturbate and you realize that you left something. so you walk back to the apartment and nerf comes tapping to you. hearing moans coming from the bedroom, you turn to nerf and say ”hey nerf, what is daddy doing?” you inch closer to the door and the moans become more prominent. slowly opening the door, you’re met with a naked jeff, abs well defined, and his hair sticking to his forehead due to all the sweat. “woah woah woah, y/n, what are ya doin’?” he’d panic. getting all shy, you’d tell him to continue and pretend you’re not even there as you search for the item you left behind lol

k = kink (one or more of their kinks)

“some kinks that i see jeff would have are: double penetration, dirty talk/degradation, and candle wax play. when it comes to double penetration, i don’t mean in the typical way of two people filling both holes. i don’t think jeff would want to share his partner so i envision more of his partner (who has a vagina) wearing a butt plug while he fucks his partner’s vagina. another kink we can explore is dirty talk with degradation. just like david, i can see him saying stuff like ‘can you take daddy’s cock like a good girl?’ (hehe daddy kink) and ‘do you like it when daddy fills your holes like the slut you are?’ dirty stuff like that ya kno?“ (taken from one of my blurbs)

l = location (favorite places to do the do)

it depends. if y’all are at a hotel for example (like the one in miami), it’s the balcony. i could see him fucking you from behind while pulling your hair and nipping at your neck. if it’s a casual day in the life; the bed, the couch, or maybe even the barber chair? when i think about having sex in the chair, i think of his partner first giving him head while he’s sitting in the chair, then transitioning to riding him in the chair, and maybe you’re holding onto the arms of the check and fucks you from the back. :,)

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

what turns jeff on? every part of your being. as corny as it sounds, he seems like you could just make a funny joke and everyone laughing would turn him on????? that maybe sounds weird but he’d be so into you that something as simple as that could get him going. also when he catches you dancing at a party and just exuding confidence all over the place!

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

probably roleplay and every that’s too taboo. i could see him not enjoying roleplay because he’d think it’s “too cheesy”

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

i believe he prefers to receive other than give. and no one come for my neck for saying that. it doesn’t make him selfish because his stroke games seems a1.

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

it depends. if y’all are making love, it’s slow and sensual. if it’s a hookup or just fucking, y’all are going fast and rough. (here’s a blurb where i talk about both of these)

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

they wouldn’t happen often but if you did it, it was in a public place. i can totally see jeff and his partner hooking up really quick in david’s bathroom during a party because y’all literally couldn’t wait till y’all got home. other than that, i feel like he really wouldn’t like to rushed so quickies didn’t happy as often as with someone like david.

r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

i think he’s down to experiment but it depends. i don’t see him as OUTRAGEOUSLY kinky but say one night you’re like “hey wanna try anal?” he might be hesitant at first but try it after you beg him. i feel like if it’s what his partner wants, he’ll do it because he’s a sucker for them.

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

he’s a pretty healthy guy so i’d say three rounds TOPS. and as far as how long does he last? i’d say 30-45 minutes!

t = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

the only toy i could envision him wanting to try on you is a butt plug. due to the fact i’ve stated that i think he’s an ass guy, i think he would go nuts to see his princess with a pink and glitter butt plug in all its glory. :,)

u = unfair (how much they like to tease)

i don’t think he’s into teasing that much during sex. i think he’s clear, concise and to the point. however, i believe he’d be the biggest tease before sex. like imagine sitting on his lap in david’s tesla after leaving the club. and his hands are just stroking the inner part of thighs and he’d lean into your ear and say something like “can’t wait till we get home mmmm-” and then kiss your neck

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he’s definitely loud. matt king said he was loud when he masturbates and i believe it. i feel like he has more breathy moans and low moans???? definitely a grunter as well

w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

he’s definitely against threesomes with a male partner. he may be willing to share you with a female friend but i could see him still getting jealous over sharing you. if there was a threesome with you and another woman, he would be the one to dictate the situation. like telling you two to kiss and or feel each other’s tits or get the other woman off.

x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

this has been a topic of discussion many of times on my blog but i’ve come to the conclusion; he may not be thick but he’s long.

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

he definitely has a high sex drive. y’all remember that jeff’s barbershop episode when matt said he could hear jeff masturbate a lot? joke or not, i believe it. due to his flirty nature as well, i could see him definitely down to fuck 24/7.

z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

i feel like he would knock tf out. this guy gets up early in the morning and powers throughout the day so if y’all have sex late at night, he’s knocked. but if it’s early in the mornings, that’s just one way for him to start the day. he would probably lay in bed for like 30 minutes then take a shower and start his day.

#jeff wittek smut #jeff wittex imagines #jeff wittek blurbs #jeff wittek x reader #vlog squad smut #vlog squad imagines #vlog squad blurbs

356 notes · View notes

rein-ette · 3 years

Note

Hi!

I was inspired by your asks, so I wanted to hear from you! What do you think of Canada as a country? I had a bit of a Canadian phase long ago and I tried to consume as much literature and history as I could, but reading about a place and living in it are very different experiences, so is there anything you'd like to share about Canada, about the culture or the people? Do you like living there? What are some of your favorites things? How do you survive the winters?

And also, as a character, what do you think of Matt?

(´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

Aaaaaaaaah okay okay *ahem*

If you’re not here for a Ted talk the exit is to your left, have a great day!

I do love Canada very much! I was born and pretty much grew up here, and as I’ve grown older I’ve become more and more grateful for everything that my country has provided for me! I remember my history teacher in high school said once that by being born into the middle class and as a Canadian, you’ve already won the lottery of life. That was not to disparage other countries, but to remind us of how remarkably privileged we are and how much we take for granted.

One of the first things you hear when you ask people what does it mean to Canadian is the word “multicultural.” I find this word realllyyyyyy cringeyyyy and not really reflective of reality, but I suppose it’s a good starting point for more in depth discussion. People often say Canada is a “cultural melting pot”, but the indigenous poet Marilyn Dumont pointed out in her poems that in some ways it’s more of a mosaic — there are many cultures, but they don’t always meld together. To say it’s a melting pot is ignoring the fact that racism and discrimination certainly have and do still exist here.

But I would argue that in some areas it is a “melting pot”, even if I kinda hate that word. I prefer to think of where I live as cultural delta — a place where many mighty tributaries meet as they thunder into the sea. (It is also literally a delta, funnily enough) Here, I grew up absorbing Canadian ideas, studying British history, reading American literature, learning French — but I also grew up listening to Kpop, watching Ghibli, eating rice. When I meet up with friends, we don’t grab a coffee, we grab milk tea. If you ask people here where they would like to visit or live, they will most likely say New York, London, Hong Kong, or Seoul — which tells you a bit about both how powerful and diverse the cultural influences here are.

Perhaps the thing most indicative of Canada’s “multiculturalism” and what I am most grateful for, however, is that I grew up here without fear. I didn’t even know the words “chink” or other words existed until I could access the internet. Recently, the beatings of Asian immigrants in the UK and US brought this home for me — how lucky I am to have such a privileged childhood. And I know this kind of privilege is hard won; in my research of WW2 I found that one of the amusement parks that I used to frequent as a child was built on land that once housed a Japanese internment camp. How fragile our lives are!

But enough about the serious stuff. I can’t really answer your question about how to survive winters in Canada lol, except to say that where I am in Canada it is absolutely necessary everyone own at least 3-4 umbrellas. That’s because this side of the Rockies in BC, the temperatures are pretty mild year round — the coldest it gets is usually 0, and the hottest around 25. But, by god, it rains. I did go to Ottawa in the winter though, where it was -13 one day, but honestly? Everything below 0 feels pretty much the same. Once it gets that cold, you can’t even tell anymore. I wore a skirt and tights that day, with a good, thick winter coat. And I survived :D

Besides not being heckled on the street for being Asian, my favourite things about Canada are probably the amazing diversity of good food and how tremendously beautiful the wilderness here is. And I say this as someone who loses her mind when a mosquito flies past (ie. I am not a nature person). You can kinda tell from these photos here, but the trees and water and whatnot here, are like, real. Maybe I just find that amazing because I lived in Tianjin, but it just feels like this is a city built among the trees and the sky and water that was always here, and not a city where humans have brought in nature for our amusement.

Okay, gotta move on to your other questions or I’ll go on forever. As a state I think Canada does a fairly good job of providing for its own people, but I wish we had a greater global influence. A lot of youth especially express the view that Canada is kinda...boring if your career doesn’t have to do with, like, sports, nature, or medicine, and I would tend to agree. We have great universities, but as someone who studies international relations I often wish Canada would like? Do more? On the global scale. The only thing we really have under our name is the UN peacekeeping, which PM Pearson started after the Suez Canal Crisis. I mean, I’ve heard that many people abroad identify Canada with peace and like ofc I’m not complaining about that, but I just wish our history was a little spicier, ya know? We did kick Americas ass that one time in 1812 and that was amazing. No regrets.

So that brings me to Matt. A lot of Canada’s existence has just been dominated by trying to carve a way between the US and the British while not being swallowed by either. Britain gave us the protection and strength and diversification of identity to not be annexed by the US, but at the same time it hobbled Canada’s relation with our only neighbour. One of the very first treaties Canada negotiated alone, if I’m recalling correctly, was a trade contract with the US over fishing (?) in BC and Alaska, where London was like no you can’t and Canada was like uh we gotta make money too, bro. So yes, while I do believe Mattie is just a very loyal person in general, he was also loyal to the empire because he needed to survive. A lot of Canadian identity was solidified around our prompt assistance of England and the sacrifices made in the two world wars, especially the campaigns in the Low Countries and Italy. Essentially, Canada has historically differentiated itself from the US through its loyalty.

Uuuuh just realized that has nothing to do with my opinion of Matt. Um. I like him? He’s real best friend/big brother material, and I do hc him as far more cunning and capable than canon portrays him to be. However, sometimes he’s just...too nice. He doesn’t have that edge that England has that makes me wanna slap him tf up and sob and call him my baby at the same time. Also, as oumaheroes mentioned here, that kind of selflessness can get pretty toxic. After all, by consistently not voicing or examining your own needs, you make it incredibly and unnecessarily frustrating for the people who care about you to help you, and that creates a relationship just as one sided as one where the person is extremely selfish. Actually, now that I think about it, my biggest gripe with Mattie as a character and Canada as a country is in that word: selfless. Without self. Perhaps because Canada is still so young, but it feels a little lost, a little like it doesn’t know quite know yet why it exists.

TLDR: If you’re under 18 or over 60, Canada is the place to be. If, however, you’re like me and wish you could touch a building that’s over 150 years old and maybe visit a square somebody’s been guillotined in, perhaps try someplace else. Personally Portugal’s golden visa is lookin especially tempting lately

#I’m not on my laptop and I don’t know how to add a cut on my phone #so I’m really sorry if this takes up ur dash #I will fix this as soon as I get home #it’s reining again #thanks for indulging me needcake #ask #also rip i was gonna give book recommendations but tbh does Canada even have literature #I mean we do we DO but #uh have you tried Margaret Atwood? lmfao #i mostly read American and European lit and I feel kinda bad about that #Canadian history is...kinda dry tho idk #maybe it’s cuz I learned it in school

12 notes · View notes

clarebtw · 2 years

Text

I wrote something lol

According to Webster’s Dictionary, immortality means, “the quality or state of being immortal”. Which a lot of people believe to be an enchanted blessing, living to see all of history's greatest achievements. I saw sliced bread become a thing and all of Betty White’s discography unfold right in front of my eyes from start to end. And before that I saw America literally become America. My father was in the Revolutionary War as was my eldest brother. Our mother died when I was just three years old of Scarlet Fever, which is just sick to think how curable it is in the twenty-first century.

I’m not exactly sure when my immortality began, I just remember turning thirty and still looking twenty years old. People would see my birth certificate and hear my birthday and get extremely startled, asking me for my beauty routine, seeing what my diet was, all of that jazz. By the time I was sixty, I had outlived all of my dear family members and was still looking like my younger counterpart. My younger counterpart who was excited to grow old with her partner, find love and have children. Maybe get an education like some other progressive women from her youth. But as I got older, the lonelier and smaller my circle had gotten. I had lost all hope, and had stopped counting the years. My birthday was March 28th 1722, but as the years went by, I had to change the year of my birthday every once in a while. I was over three hundred years old, in a twenty year olds body. Of course it was a complicated situation, I had a fake id made every couple of years, a remote job so I could move around whenever I needed too, and no close connections. Except one in particular.

Augustus Samuel Winn. A tall man, with a head full of lucious, thick, dark brown curls, and caramel colored skin. He was my one and only close connection. We had met in the 1960s, when big hair and mixed race relationships were controversial things to have. I had met him when I entered college to get my tenth degree, I was going to Columbia this time though. I believed a degree in women's studies would be interesting to have on this go around. I met him in one of my elective classes, sculpting I believe. And let me tell you, there is nothing more erotic than a man sculpting and carressing wet clay with his fingers. I would see him almost every Tuesday and Thursday just sculpting. Whether it was a fish coin bank or a very elaborate cereal bowl, I was mesmerized. I finally worked up the courage to talk to him after a couple of weeks of just staring and admiring, nothing gets accomplished when you just stare. But then something remarkable happened. He came up to me and asked me out, telling me that I had the most gorgeous hazel eyes he had ever seen. He then showed me his latest sculpting project which was a man and a woman dancing. Both figures represented us, the woman with a long flowy golden brown braid and the man with those big curls. At that moment, I was gone head over heels. There was no going back. Until three years later when I called it quits due to “commitment issues” when really it was about my immortality.

How would I explain to him that I was immortal and would eventually outlive him? How would I explain to our children that mommy would see her kids pass away before her? It was selfish I know but I did it to protect him, I just wanted him to be safe and happy. He deserved love with someone who could also grow old with him. Unfortunately I couldn’t give him that just because of my weird quirk. So we broke up in 1964 and I haven't seen him since. I went on to Grad school and he went on to become a wonderful journalist for the Washington Post. I hadn’t even thought of him until I was in Trader Joe’s this year. The year was 2022 and I swear I saw him in the cereal aisle. It couldn’t have been him though, the Post published a memorial edition of the paper when he died three years ago. Of course I stayed informed with whatever he was doing, he was my first and only love for god sakes. Besides it was impossible, I was just seeing things. Until he laid his eyes on me and had the same pale look on his face. With the same dark brown curls and gorgeous toothy smile. He hadn’t aged a day, neither have I and now I am left with a mind full of questions and a glass vase to pay for.

lol this was a au where the female protagonist is immortal and is shocked to find out her lover from long ago was also immortal. give me some feedback if you'd like lol

- this is clare btw

#books #fantasy #immortalau #immortality #storyprompts #writing #story #bookish #Internet Diary #diary on the internet type beat #my personal diary

3 notes · View notes

whetstonefires · 4 years

Text

mcu ethics bad

The thing is that, while I was angry at Tony during Age of Ultron, particularly when he rode over Bruce’s compunctions about building a giant combat super-robot and pressured him into the project like a very very bad friend who happened to also be wrong...

...and when he equipped Hulkbuster armor and fought the Hulk in the middle of a city rather than attempting de-escalation or attempting to haul the Hulk out into the giant adjacent desert....

(And my suspension of disbelief snapped like a frayed cable when he brought down a skyscraper that had had no time to be evacuated on a street full of fleeing people and the only reason we were given to believe he hadn’t just cold-bloodedly created massive civilian casualties was that he told his AI to find the impossible magic angle where doing this wouldn’t kill anyone...)

While I was angry with him then, and unspeakably relieved that he recognized his own damage and retired at the end, haha psych, I was revolted by him during Civil War.

It’s supposed to make us sympathize with a character more, spending so much time with them, getting into their heads, being shown their emotional drives and reactions to things, and we spent so much time with Tony during that film, understanding his point of view. And...I did understand him. He’s not complicated. I even sympathized with his emotional state.

But in the context of his actions, throughout the film, I gazed into that understanding the way I did into Kylo Ren’s face in the seconds after he first unmasked. I see you, I know you, everything you are is written here, and the lines of your shame and self-revulsion are so thick upon you, and you should be ashamed but your self-destruction does not expiate or justify one jot of the harm you do.

Because everything Tony did in Civil War came from a place of selfishness. He was selfish all throughout that movie down to his very spine.

And selfishness isn’t itself necessarily bad--you need a little, to get through life, you have the right to your own portion of it. Your boundaries and your needs. But the type of selfishness that is forcing other people pay dearly for your emotional comfort and sense of control: no.

That is tyranny. That is not acceptable.

And you know how I know he was being selfish? Because his motive for pushing the Sokovia Accords was his personal guilt for the destruction of Sokovia.

But the Accords didn’t address that at all! They were tangential to the issue! None of the terms of the Accords would have saved Sokovia--in fact, the existence of them could easily have prevented the evacuation and harm-reduction the Avengers managed there, without saving a single soul.

The Ultron crisis was something Tony did, not as Iron Man but as Tony Stark, with Bruce Banner’s help, and which Wanda as criminal fugitive later helped exacerbate, and which all the other Avengers were involved in only to mitigate harm.

Legislation, or...treaties, idk, the UN isn’t actually empowered to pass laws so who knows what this thing was...aimed at preventing another Sokovia would mandate constant ethical oversight of billionaire science man’s mad science. At the very least! He never has to run things by ethics boards because he’s self-funded, at the very least let’s invent a mechanism to make up for that.

That would address the actual Sokovia issue, both in terms of risks and in terms of Tony’s personal guilt feelings.

But no one suggests that! It’s not even on the table! Because no one, certainly not any government, can tell Tony Stark what to do unless he lets them, that’s been a clear matter of record since Iron Man 2.

And because no one writing this legal instrument of whatever description was actually motivated by wanting to avoid another Sokovia, or even another ‘Wanda tries to neutralize a suicide bomber but merely gives him a different, smaller victim pool’ incident.

They didn’t care! They blatantly didn’t care! The entire thing was a ghoulish use of the dead to gain enough political leverage over the Avengers to put a leash on them!

(Which might not be a bad thing in principle, everything needs its checks, but when the last quasi-governmental organization you worked for turned out to be Nazis who were only prevented from staging a mass slaughter of undesireables by the skin of your teeth, I think you’re well within your rights to be very choosy about who you agree to obey, and to be firmly against pledging your honor to follow people whose first move was dishonest coercive tactics.

Actually you’re well within your rights to demand to negotiate the terms of even a much less sweeping contract, even without the Nazis. The whole approach to this thing stank to high heaven.

The fact that it was written by the UN like a treaty, expected to be signed by private individuals like a contract, and then enforced like a law except not because 1) laws are for everyone 2) if you break a law you get a trial not extrajudicial incarceration and 3) being pressured to consent to a restriction and then punished for refusing consent is hypocritical circular logic and in fact police corruption at its finest, all continues to show it was a bullshit nonsense franken-document.)

The whole movie is people ghoulishly using the dead to manipulate Tony into making bad decisions in response to his emotional pain. That’s. The plot of the film.

Then Zemo staged T’Chaka’s assassination and framed Bucky for it to raise the tension, ramp up the pressure, and prevent any sitting-down and talking reasonably through this, which might have allowed for the recognition of how extremely bullshit the entire concept was.

Tony was being used. Tony was a tool of bad people for most of that movie, and while Zemo banked on using his wrath for it, the politicos were leaning on his guilt.

And there’s honestly little I hold in deeper scorn than going out and hurting other people to assuage your own guilt and treating this as having the moral high ground. No. You don’t have the moral high ground on account of your guilt motivation. You have it if the actions you took were just, or at least could reasonably be assumed to have been so at the time.

And Tony fucking knew they weren’t. He didn’t even last to the end of the movie before recognizing that he’d been manipulated and fucked up, and doubling back.

That he then walked into a different manipulation, turned on a dime, and had to be stopped from doing a murder doesn’t unwrite that.

And it drives me nuts that people will say Tony was acting out of principle while Steve was acting out of personal attachment. Because sure, the Bucky thing was important, was the reason he was walking forward against all opposition instead of standing still to argue, but it wasn’t the reason Steve said no, while...

Tony wasn’t acting out of principle. Tony isn’t...very good at having principles. That’s not even a criticism or condemnation, it’s just how he functions. Since Iron Man he’s been substituting good intentions and emotional investment, which has worked out to varying degrees. It works best for huge, difficult, very straightforward decisions like ‘ride the nuke through the portal and save my hometown.’ It works less well for nuanced situations.

Tony was, as usual, acting out of emotion. And some awful shitheads who’d figured out where his levers were had calculated how to jiggle his emotion switches in the right places to make him do exactly what they wanted.

And you can tell he wasn’t acting out of principle because, for example, someone who was trying to get the superhero community under outside control for the sake of harm mitigation...

...well, firstly wouldn’t have chosen to stage a massive battle? But it’s possible someone in the UN specifically told him to do that, and in theory they at the very least signed off on it, presumably for its PR value of making Captain America look deranged and violent since it’s a deranged decision from every other angle, so yay, he can pass that responsibility up the chain and not have to angst about it, as promised.

But I was going to say would not have approached a minor who (this timeline takes pains to show us) had no prior experience of battle or even, somehow, serious violent crime, to recruit him to go be a government child soldier on another continent, without his guardian’s knowledge or consent. There were overtones of blackmail in Tony’s approach, before it turned out Peter was such a big fan he didn’t need that. What the fuck frankly.

That is not the action of someone who wants to start doing things by the letter, scaling the violence down, keeping within the law and putting the power of decisionmaking in other people’s hands because he’s realized he can’t trust his own.

And frankly even if he did act like that I wouldn’t necessarily support his choices, in particular his snap decision to behave coercively toward other Avengers with vastly less social power and security than he has.

And that’s the other thing! Everything about ‘Tony + Accords BFFs’ rings so hollow because he has never thought rules applied to him, and he knows perfectly well the entire time he’s fighting to force this surrender of agency down other people’s throats that he is going to be practically immune.

This man was technically a terrorist, proabably the most prolific single terrorist in world history until his rogue android exceeded his body count, but he was immune to prosecution because he was in tight with the United States military-industrial complex and basically untouchable due to his status within capitalism, and pursuing their international goals anyway. In the time between Iron Man and Iron Man II he was basically a one-man upgrade of the US drone program, and so good at it that the crest of blood he carved through the Middle East allowed him to announce he had ‘privatized world peace.’

(You are never going to get a world peace worth anything on the basis of a giant flying gun, okay.)

He went to war as a private individual, against non-state actors who were not directly threatening him, which is very much defined as ‘mass murder’ in all domestic and international law, and the US army in response sued him for control of his weapon. And lost! Lost.

No one attempted to press charges. No one. Because Tony Stark is above all that. And he knows it.

And like. I’m willing to accept the mass murder under the heading of ‘superheroing’ within the terms of this setting! Even if, after his vengeance rampage on his specific kidnappers, this violence was kept strictly off-screen for a reason. I did that! I bent that far! Genre convention!

But this history is kind of vitally important to any analysis of what he thought he was doing, and what he actually was doing, when he decided to become the iron gauntlet of the Sokovia Accords.

The currently active member of the Avengers who needed muzzling most was very manifestly Iron Man, and he knew even as he jammed the muzzle on all his comrades to make himself feel better that it would affect him the least, even if he didn’t finally retire for real this time. You don’t force Tony Stark. Not if you want anything out of it but blown up. You persuade him.

And once you have...oh, look at what he can do.

#hoc est meum #mcu #tony stark critical #i am so angry with this man and i will never stop #i throw salt #an ocean of it

371 notes · View notes

amazingorangedangantrash · 4 years

Text

Last night i really really couldn't sleep (tfw you've been an insomniac since you were like 9-) so I thought I'd do the trick by writing about kamuegi sleepless nights headcanons! Unfortunately that turned out to be counter-productive as I ended up with a semi-drabble and passed out before I could post it >:"D (the world works in mysterious ways ig-)

Staying up late

• Naegi has trouble sleeping often- he doesn't seem the type, but he's an insomniac

• Kamukura too

• Kamukura doesn't find it as much of a problem- after all, he's superhuman; he doesn't need as much sleep to be fully recharged anyway.

• Naegi... does

• They stumble upon each other once. Naegi is making his way out of the kitchen, and bumps into him, accidentally spilling his glass of water all over the other's shirt.

• He's extremely apologetic, and insists on accompanying Kamukura, to make sure he changes his shirt.

• Kamukura asks him why he's still awake, and, flustered, he makes up a lie about having drank one cup of coffee too many, caffeine still in his system.

• Kamukura sees right through it.

• "You are thinking about her, aren't you?"

• Naegi flinches.

• "How'd you know?"

• He recognises the momentary look of despair that flashes across Naegi's face when he thinks he isn't looking- it's one familiar to anyone who's crossed her warpath, guns blazing, despair dialed up to eleven. Naegi's unusually powerful optimism and his hope is his shield, but even he is not completely immune to it- he is only human, after all, even he must lose sleep to the nightmare known as Junko Enoshima.

• For reasons he can't quite explain, the thought... bothers him.

• "Would you like to see the stars?" He asks, the question leaving his lips before he can properly process it.

• Naegi looks at him, a surprised expression on his face, before he suddenly lets out a laugh- looking a little embarrassed at letting it slip. "Ah- no- sorry-" he smiles, "it's just- you mean, right now-?"

• "Yes."

• His amusement turns to confusion, "Wait, really-?"

• "Indeed," and without elaborating further (he doesn't like to waste time on boring himself with explanations, when his actions are easily enough to speak for him), gently takes ahold of Naegi's wrist. He only feels the slightest hesitation, before the other lets him lead the way, and they've made it to the rooftop.

• There's a gentle breeze, and it softly sweeps Kamukura's locks into the air, strands of smooth inky blackness swaying in the wind.

• Naegi fights the urge to reach out and run his hands through them.

• To his surprise, there's already a blanket, pillows, and even a lawn chair and umbrella waiting for them.

• "Do you... come out here often?" He asks. He wasn't even aware this was a part of the rooftop. It's fairly secluded, one that lets you see the open sky above them without a problem, but is hard enough to spot from the ground, unless you really knew what you were looking for.

• "Yes," Kamukura replies, sitting down. He doesn't gesture for Naegi to follow, or pat the ground, like some of his other friends would, but he looks at him and tilts his head ever so slightly, which Naegi can tell is enough for him to encourage him to follow, so he does.

• "Wow..." He simply gazes up above them, revelling in the sight of hundreds upon thousands of stars above, the way they sparkle majestically amongst the vast sea of outer space, like diamonds laying atop thick, rich-hued velvet of pink, purple and blue, blanketing the sky.

• Kamukura watches him, and the sight of the stars reflecting in Naegi's eyes, the light in them mirroring the sky, that twinkle, unique to Naegi, and Naegi alone, makes something in his chest twinge.

• It's an unfamiliar feeling-

• How exciting.

• He shall have to bring Naegi out here more often.

• Naegi turns to him, and his breath catches in his throat.

• "Thank you," he says.

• It is uneeded.

• "Why?"

• "For bringing me here," the other replies. "I know this place must mean a lot to you. Ah-," he scratches his cheek, a gesture Kamukura finds... oh- is this what they mean when they say, 'endearing'?

• "Sorry. I know the others can be kind of... loud and stuff at times." Why is he apologising on their behalf? "And, well, this is all new to you, isn't it? That can probably be kind of... overstimulating sometimes, right? And I guess you'd want a space to yourself, to get away to and be in peace at for a while. To think. You're pretty smart, after all. You need your 'thinking time'. I know you need a breather now and then to process everything," he chuckles, the sound is light and sweet amongst the cool summer air, "I mean, they're my friends, and even I need a break from them once in a while, so-" he smiles again (always smiling, doesn't he ever get tired of it-?), "thank you. I'm sure this place must mean a lot to you. I'm really glad you feel comfortable enough to bring me here! I appreciate it."

• He's smarter then he looks- this is something Kamukura has come to realise from the time that they've spent together, and yet, still, he's found himself surprised by it. Naegi's intelligence, his skill, comes from a place elsewhere then his books or his hands- it comes from his heart, his emotions, something Kamukura was never able to fully understand, was never programmed to-

• They always deemed emotions unnecessary. Believed it would hinder his talent, that the key to success, to hope, lied in absolute mechanical operation, and the unwavering pursuit of more, more talent-

• Looking at Naegi now, he wonders how they could have ever been so wrong.

• "Oh- um- sorry, I didn't mean to get all excited there for a second," He trips over his words a little, eager to fill the silence, and yet, Kamukura does not mind. The sound of his voice is not grating upon his ears like that of others, it's less like a fly buzzing around his ear, and more like the flapping wings of a bumblebee, a gentle thrum that is strangely soothing, a sound sweet like honey.

• "You overestimate the importance of a place like this to me," his words aren't cold, merely the simple truth. "It's somewhere for me to stay. That's all."

• Naegi shakes his head softly. "Nah, that's exactly my point Kamukura. It's your place- your spot. The fact that you can call it your own, that makes it special. Especially since, ah, um-" he looks to the side, "I'm guessing they never really let you have anything like this before, huh?'

• His... 'spot'. He tries out the word in his mind. What a crude, and simple way to refer to it.

• And yet... he thinks he might like it.

• "Yes," he answers honestly. "I had no need for personal belongings or even... 'spots'. They weren't needed to cultivate my talents."

• "Geez," Naegi mumbles to himself in exasperation, running a hand through his hair. Kamukura knows the frustration isn't directed at him, and yet that makes it all the more intriguing to witness.

• "I still can't believe- that- that they treated you like that," he mutters angrily, more to himself then the other, "like you're- like you're not even a person! Like... like you can't have thoughts or feelings of your own. Like- like you don't deserve to be treated like everyone else-!"

• "I don't deserve to be treated like everyone e-"

• "Don't," Naegi softly warns him, though they both know it's more for his sake than Kamukura's, "please. I know that's what they told you but- you do. You're still... a person. You're still human."

• Kamukura isn't really sure if he still qualifies as even that anymore, but, for once, he deems it better to not speak that thought aloud.

• The breeze picks up, turning into a sharp gust of wind. It causes Naegi to shiver a little, goosebumps rippling along his exposed skin, already cool against the night air. He starts to wonder if it's time to regret wearing a short-sleeved shirt and shorts to sleep, when he feels a warm material envelop his shoulders, and a weight shift next to him.

• "Kamukura-?" The other has pulled a blanket over them, and shuffled closer, so that it wraps neatly around him also.

• "You were cold. I thought this to be the best course of action," he says, though, even in the pale moonlight, Naegi can't help but notice the (very faint, but still there-) rush of pink lightly dusting his cheeks. Kamukura's sharp red eyes pierced his own, and yet, their gaze was... hesitant.

• Naegi blinks a little, before his expression softens, exhaling with the slightest bit of amusement. "Of course," he hums. The sudden intimacy between them hasn't gone unnoticed, but he... doesn't mind it. "Thank you."

• They sit in silence for a while.

• Naegi doesn't often see the stars. Sure, he would try a few times back home, on cloudless, sleepless nights, not entirely unlike this one. The light from streetlamps and nearby houses would drown it out, however, the city's constant glow in favour above the natural visibility of the stars.

• They're as beautiful as he'd imagine, out here, away from it all.

• Occasionally Naegi will point to a group of stars, and ask which constellation it is. Kamukura will take his hand, and, (to his embarrassment) redirect it to the actual constellation. He'll then explain, it's origins, the story that is behind it's conception. It's 'useless' knowledge, but it's knowledge he has nonetheless, and Kamukura is... happy, he supposes, to finally have someone to share it with, not for the sake of a test or practice, but because someone just... wants to talk to him about it. (And as selfish as it is, Naegi is secretly glad to be that person-)

• Naegi talks, about his parents, his sister, his friends, about the life Kamukura never had, and never thought he wanted to. He knows it's not much, but it's all Naegi's known, and he's content with it. Kamukura never thought there would be any point to a life like that, but if it's the one that made Naegi the way he is now... maybe it wasn't such a bad thing after all.

• At one point, a shooting star suddenly soars across the sky, and Naegi gleefully points it out (he wonders what it's like to be delighted by such a simple thing...), "Kamukura! Did you see that?"

• "I did," he replies, and just as the words leave his mouth, another one follows.

• "Woah! Two shooting stars in a row! Talk about lucky," and Naegi is so happy, so pleased by this small event, it's as if it spills into Kamukura himself, and he's...endeared by it.

• "Yes, it is." His voice is... fond.

• Naegi insists that they both make a wish. Kamukura knows that it's impossible, and Naegi does too, that an act as insignificant as wishing upon a 'shooting star' (not even a star, really, but a lump of space rock falling through the atmosphere, hitting it at a high speed and burning up in a rather aesthetic display of combustion) can possibly change their fate in any way, but-

• He makes one anyway.

• It's an unusual feeling. Wishing for something. It's wanting for something... a desire...

• It's not all that different from hope.

• How funny, he thinks, that the two are so connected, and yet the people who expected hope from him never asked, never expected him to want or wish.

• (Unbeknownst to the two of them, their wishes are exactly the same.)

• Naegi tells him his favourite flower. "I don't really know why, but I've just always found hydrangeas to be my favourite. I'm not sure why," he laughs. "They're pretty I guess? Especially the blue ones."

• Kamukura briefly considers telling him the meaning behind the flower, but decides against it.

• Naegi asks him for his own favourite flower- but he cannot think of one. He can acknowledge and recognise which are considered more "beautiful" or popular, but in terms of personal preference... he has none.

• "What are those red ones... ah... um- carnations! That's it! Those kind of remind me of you... ah, because of your eyes," Naegi smiles bashfully at him.

• (He decides against mentioning the meaning behind those, as well-)

• They stay there until the morning comes, watching as the sky blends from black, to purple, to pink, to orange, to yellow, and then finally, blue. The stars slowly fade, dimming like nightlights in the sky, being turned off as if to fall asleep themselves.

• Naegi yawns, stretching. "Aw man... I think I'm gonna sleep in a little today..."

• When he returns to his bed, he promptly blacks out, all thoughts of a certain Ultimate Despair having been vanquished entirely.

• If anyone asks that day, why Naegi seems so tired, or why Kamukura is even more quiet then usual, the two will share a knowing glance, and return to what they were doing, with a small smile (or twitch of the mouth).

• The next night, Naegi finds himself needing a glass of water again. Kamukura is in the kitchen. They walk.

• It's not at all uncommon for the two to be perched upon the rooftop. Rain or shine, day or night. They'll often be nursing a drink in their hands too, a hot cup of tea, or an iced one, a glass of water, a smoothie, a milkshake, a hot chocolate- as they talk. Or they'll sit and stare out at the grounds, or the sky. They might fiddle with papers, completing work, or sit comfortably in each other's company, Naegi braiding Kamukura's hair, weaving little flowers into it that he collected from the gardens.

• Their insomnia is still there, refusing to disappear or remedy after one night.

• But, at least, if they are doomed to the life of an insomniac, they're happy to do so.

• (together).

Flower meanings-

Hydrangeas: (one of my own personal favourites ahhh-) their meaning varies a lot. Pink is said to represent heartfelt emotion and even love (some say the individual petals are shaped like a heart-). Purple hydrangeas represent a desire to deeply understand someone. White hydrangeas had very negative connotations, especially in Victorian society, representing boastfulness and vanity (but also purity)- they were even considered unlucky, and leaving a hydrangea to grow outside a woman's door was said to be a way to ensure she would never wed (how cruel!). Blue is the most intriguing colour- there's a Japanese story of an Emperor who gifted blue hydrangeas to the family of his beloved, in apology for neglecting her. Because of this, blue hydrangeas are associated with apology, forgiveness, gratitude, and even frigidity (which makes me think of how a certain Mr Kamukura acts-). Ironically, blue hydrangeas are considered the 'luckiest'.

A lucky unlucky flower (befitting, I'd say, to be the favourite of a certain person).

Carnations- apparently white ones symbolise good/pure luck! Now isn't that something? Ah, but Naegi didn't say white carnations, did he? He meant red, like Kamukura's eyes. That's where it's interesting- light red carnations can symbolise admiration and affection. But dark red carnations symbolise a deep love. (Ironically, for a flower of love, carnations are also frequently associated with death (especially, apparently, in France). It's almost like, in order for Kamukura to exist, for Naegi to have feelings for him in the first place, someone first had to die for him to come into existence... but that's just a thought-)

(I'm no flower expert- all of these came from our overlords, Google themselves, so if anything about that is wrong... blame them not me-)

Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'm going back to sleep-

Image by: https://borrego-tan.tumblr.com/post/186229592018/hinaegi-festival-2019-day-4-comfortcomfy

#if you want to know what song i had on repeat for this #Staying Up- the neighbourhood #insomnia #its a pain but at least it's motivation *wheeze*#headcanons #writing #my post #kamuegi #izuru kamukura #makoto naegi #drabble #kind of-?#flowers #flower language #just for that lengthy bit at the end hshshs-#im sorry im getting excited over plants lmao

73 notes · View notes

every1studio · 4 years

Text

REQUESTED: “a secret within a secret” [ateez: seonghwa ft woosan]

(do not read if you are UNCOMFORTABLE with this type of content)

genre: SMUT

ficstyle: bulletpoints + series [PART 1] [PART 2] [SPECIAL]

request: “ ARE YOU GONNA MAKE A PART THREE FOR THAT WOOSAN SMUT it’s ok if u don’t im just curious but wHEN I TELL YOU I LITERALLY C A C K L E D SO FUCKING LOUD BECAUSE I WAS NOT EXPECTING THE END LMFAOOOOO I WAS LIKE WHAT THE FUCKKKKK FJDJSBAJDNKSKAKS i was so surprised but it was so good !!! i rly rly enjoy that fic, i wasnt expecting a part two hhhdhdb “

note: THIS IS ALL A WORK OF FICTION AND ISN’T MEANT TO BE PORTRAYED IN ANY OTHER WAY + THIS WAS HIGHLY REQUESTED SO I THOUGHT I WOULD INCLUDE IT AS A SPECIAL + I’ll try to get to the requests in my inbox as soon as I can more ideas for them!!!

you didn’t know how to enter into your classroom the next day

was it because you couldn’t look at your teacher’s desk knowing what you did San and Wooyoung?

or was it because your young and hot teacher found out that you were fucking with other guys on HIS desk?

all of the above; would be the right answer

you were usually the first one in class but you couldn’t be alone in the same room with your teacher after what he told you yesterday

you stood outside the classroom waiting for more of your classmates to walk into class before entering

San and Wooyoung cocked a smile when they saw you

“hey there, kitten”

“hey there, baby girl”

they both said at the same time, causing them to look at one another

“kitten fits her better!”

“Y/N told me that she likes baby girl better than kitten!”

they started to yell; causing everyone to look outside to where you were, including your teacher, Mr. Seonghwa Park

you tried to quiet them down before your teacher could step outside your classroom

Mr. Park placed his hands on their shoulders, “I’m sure you don’t want the whole school knowing what you call Ms. Y/N, right? you should get to your class on time~”

the boys rubbed the back of their necks in embarrassment

San pinches your cheek before leaving, “see you after school~”

Wooyoung had to 1-UP San so he pecked you on the cheek before dragging San by the arm

“polyamory relationship, Ms. Y/N? you don’t strike me as the type..” your teacher speaks softly only for you to hear as he shoos your classmates back into class

“I’m not in a relationship...” you murmured; it was said out loud but you weren’t expecting your teacher to be so interested in your love life

Mr. Park turns to cock a brow at you, “interesting..”

and with that, he started class and you had to push any unnecessary thoughts aside to focus on school

every time that your mind was clear from all distractions, you would catch your teacher staring at you

you nervously look away when he would lick his lips as he kept eye contact with you; he’d pull out his chapstick so other students wouldn’t suspect any reason for him to constantly lick or bite his lips other than having “dry, irritated” lips

it was like you were ready for that bell to ring for lunch; the moment you heard it you tried to bolt out of your seat and out the door

“Ms. Y/N, please come meet me in my office please,” Mr. Park announced

you furrowed your brows as you sighed in compliance

Mr. Park’s office was on the third floor at the end of the hall

you had 60 minutes of lunch; it took less than 2 minutes to get there

you felt chills sent down your spine as you heard your teacher lock the door behind him

his room was dim from the curtains that shield the place from the light outside; it was fairly organized

“so, Ms. Y/N, what will you do for me?” he asked as he grazed his hands on his desk

“I-I’m not sure what you mean, Mr. Park..” you lied

your teacher waves his phone in your face, “you know exactly what I mean..”

you tried to take it from him but he raises his phone over his head, way to high for you to reach without getting on the table

“we shouldn’t even be doing this.. you’re my teacher...” you couldn’t hold eye contact with your teacher

true; it was extremely good-looking and you weren’t the only one who had secret fantasies with him

but he was a well-respected teacher; one of the youngest teachers in the country; he was at most only a couple years older than you

he leans forward so that he’s face to face with you, “so are you saying that you’d be okay with it if you weren’t my student?”

...

you couldn’t help but keep silent

“I guess I’ll just turn it in to the board then..” he shoves his phone in his pocket before walking to the door

you grabbed onto his sleeve with teary eyes, you were scared, “please don’t..”

Mr. Park sighed before turning to you, “maybe I’m just being selfish.. I grew up too fast, excelled in academics without living through school for the experiences.. so when I saw those heartbreaking troublemakers take you away from me, I just got jealous....”

you couldn’t believe what you just heard, “take me away from you?”

your teacher kept his eyes on you as he cleared his throat, “I’ve always noticed you..I was the one to notice you first.. but you always saw me as a teacher and only a teacher..and you know..”

he closes in the distance between you and the wall behind you, “I’m not that much older than you.. and if any of this really bothered you, you would’ve made a scene against me..”

he tips your chin up to look at him, “can I show you how much I’ve wanted to be with you?”

you didn’t know what to say or do; you started to tremble with confusing fear

“I never want to make you uncomfortable, I just let my jealously cloud my-” you interrupted him by pulling his lips onto yours by his tie

he was quick to return the action by pushing his tongue into your mouth

neither of you frantically wrestled to take off any clothes that were in the way

your teacher peppered a constellations of kisses from your lips down to your faint love marks from Wooyoung as he took the time to unbutton your uniform

“M-Mr. Park-”

“Seonghwa,” he said, returning his lips onto yours, “call me Seonghwa..”

“Seonghwa,” you mewled, “ we don’t have a lot of time-”

Seonghwa smirks at what you were trying to get at, “I bet I can finished what I started.. if not, I still have all the time in the world after school~”

he picks you up and places you, back flat, onto his desk

he pushes you skirt up, leans into your pulsing heat

at this point you were impatient for any attention for pleasure, you were sure that he was going to rip off your panties and dive his tongue right into your pussy

but he catches you by surprise

you could see his bare his teeth to nip your panties

you could hear him take a big whiff of your essence as he pulls off your panties, by the teeth

he lets the panties fall from his mouth and shoves it into your mouth

“you’re gonna have to try to be quiet if you don’t wanna get caught,” he leans in next to your ear; not taking the time to warn you that he’s going to shove his fingers into you at a rapid pace

your sounds were kept to a muffle because of your makeshift gag

your hands held onto his wrist to at least slow him down, but he wouldn’t budge by your touch

his fingers were scissoring into you as he uses his thumb to apply pressure to your clit

the moment Seonghwa catches you throw your head back and clench around his fingers, he pulled away

you started to tear up from the dissatisfaction of not being able to cum

Seonghwa licks your tears off of your face, “you’ll get there, I promise you..”

he looks up at the clock, “I got more than enough time to get you there..” he sucks on his fingers that were covered with your wetness, “okay?”

you nodded, but you were still impatient, so you pulled him into you by wrapping your legs around his waist

Seonghwa unbuckles his belt and leans forward to tighten it around your wrist, “I know how much you love to act like you’re in control, but that’s not what I’m gonna let you do today. you’ve been quiet a tease, kitten.. or should I call you baby girl?”

you shivered at your pet names as Seonghwa pulled out his cock

if it weren’t for your gag, your drool would’ve been escaping the corner of your mouth

it was a heavenly combination of San AND Wooyoung’s cock combined; long, thick and veiny

you could feel your eyes roll back as he pushed his way into you

“I should call you a slut for all those guys that you used for pleasure, huh?” he grunted as he gained speed, filling the room with repetitive, lewd sounds

Seonghwa didn’t give you time adjust as he began rut in and outside of you

he didn’t even falter when you began to clench around him

it caused to you cum before he did; your body shook as waves of orgasm hit you and rippled through every nerve of your body

but Seonghwa didn’t stop, causing you to wring by overstimulation

he saw that, he truly didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, so he leans into the crevice of your neck as he continued to jackhammer into you

“ju-just hang in there.. I’m almost-” as if he couldn’t go fast and harder, hitting your g-spot every. single. time, he went past that point you thought was his limit

you clenched around him once again; felt him bring you over to another round of cumming

Seonghwa pulls your panties from your mouth and latching his lips onto you, “you’re so perfect, princess.. you’re everything a man ever needs-”

you tear up from cumming quickly for the second time

Seonghwa was so distracted by pumping his overflowing cum into you to realized that until he opened his eyes

he slows down his heavy breath as he rides out his orgasm; smirking as he sees the damage he’s done on you, “you want to tell me, princess, could San or Wooyoung satisfy you like I do?”

you bit your lower, swollen lip as you shook your head, no

“so,” he pulls you up so that you’re sitting upright; he’s still inside of you, “what do you want?”

you drew small circles on his chest, not being able to look up at him, “I don’t know..”

Seonghwa scoffs

“how about this,” he pulls out of you and walks to the drawers of his desk, pulls out a pair of panties, “you wear this, since your other ones are completely soaked, and tell me what you want after school, in the classroom?”

you compliantly put it on; you felt like there was something different about the panties but you didn’t think about it

Seonghwa helps tidy you up; making you look like the perfect student everyone thought you were

“I’ll see you in class, Ms. Y/N..”

and you were right

the moment Seonghwa returned back to the classroom after lunch, you felt volts of vibrations coming from your panties

you had to lean on one side of your chair to keep it from vibrating against the chair

Seonghwa had his left hand in his pocket for the whole duration of class; fluctuating the levels between low and high, keeping deprived of a release

you would look up at him with desperate, teary eyes but he wouldn’t even take a glance at you

you looked up at the clock and cursed under your breath, “you’ve got to be kidding me..”

somehow you managed to pull through to the end of the day without getting any sort of release

“see you later, Y/N! hope you feel better!” your classmates waved good-bye as they knew they had to leave you to do classroom duties

that was when the vibrations stopped; you were finally able to catch your breath

“kitten~ did Seonghwa-hyung play with you too roughly?”

your eyes widened, you knew that voice

you looked up to see Wooyoung sit in the seat right in front of you, “I knew I chose the right toy to use on her, Seonghwa-hyung..”

you shook from fear as you looked up at Seonghwa, “wh-what’s going on?”

Seonghwa tosses the remote to San, who turned it up the a relatively high level, “Seonghwa-hyung caught us fucking you on his table over there and got jealous~”

“and so we told him that, we’ll share you..” Wooyoung wipes the drool coming from your lips

“even though I saw you first,” Seonghwa announced as he wrapped his arm around you

“okay but we fucked her first!” Wooyoung snapped back

“w-wait ho-how did you all-”

San turns up the level up to the highest setting, as he smirks at Wooyoung and Seonghwa

“you wouldn’t know this but.. we’re all brothers,” Wooyoung’s lips traces over yours

“we’re okay with sharing you, but are you alright with being with all three of us, kitten?” San holds you hand and starts to kiss each and every finger

Wooyoung pulls away to glare at San, “she likes baby girl!”

Seonghwa furrows his brows at the younger kids, “she’s a princess and that’s that!”

you were irritated that all of their attention wasn’t on pleasuring you

you pouted as you spoke up, “you guys talk too much...”

they took that as a cue that you were willing to be shared as long as you were satisfied

End.

[ masterlist + guidelines ]

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez san #ateez smut #ateez scenarios #ateez series #ateez smut reactions #ateez hard hours #ateez suggestive #ateez dark hours #ateez wooyoung #ateez seonghwa #san smut #wooyoung smut #seonghwa smut

602 notes · View notes