Text
Dating the Hazbin Hotel Residents 😈
Tags: GN!Reader, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mentioned Mature Topics (ie. Suicidal Thoughts, Alcohol Abuse, SA, etc), Spoilers For The Show, etc.
A/N: Ahhh yes, more brainriot for the pile 😌 I was more of a Helluva gal before the show aired, but now I gotta say these blorbos are a dear part of my heart! Hopefully y'all enjoy these as much as I did writing them!
Consider following my main blog @taruchinator for more solid content & feel free to leave a request here for future HCs~
Charlie 🌈
When the Happy Hotel first opened its doors and all of Hell started making a mockery of it, you were probably the only one who took it as a sign to try and improve from the low life that you were. It's not like you had anything else to live for, anyway.
As soon as you enter the building, you're immediately greeted by the bubbly Princess of Hell herself (along with a reluctant Angel Dust) who is more than happy to show you around and welcomes you with open arms.
You've never been shown this much kindness and sympathy for your situation before, so it naturally takes you aback and makes you wonder what the catch is. Turns out there's none and the Princess is probably the only sweet soul to live in this shithole.
As you grow closer, she asks you to drop the title and just call her Charlie. She also shares a bit about her situation and how her mother wanted to save sinners from the extermination each year, and now Charlie felt like it was her duty to continue this legacy until her dreams came true.
You can't help but feel touched over how much she cares, so you silently vow to yourself to help her in any way you can, just like she's done for you.
It doesn't take long before the two of you grow even closer and feelings begin to blossom, but you decide to ignore them since why would a Princess ever like someone like you?
But Charlie proves you wrong yet again, since one day she comes to you a blushing mess and confesses her own feelings, asking if you'd like to go out with her. You can't help but vocalize your shock since she could do so much better than a random sinner. She deserved better, too.
She looks at you with fondness in her eyes. “You've been by my side for so long and supported me every step of the way. Who wouldn't fall for someone like that?”
And thus, you are the luckiest person in Hell because you scored Charlotte Morningstar, and whoever says otherwise can get a knife to their throat.
She's the perfect definition of a sweet and patient girlfriend, never pushing you to do anything you aren't comfortable with (since you really aren't used to such adoration in a romantic relationship), but as soon as you give her the get-go, she'll be sure to shower you with as much affection as she can until the doubts in your mind disappear completely.
You aren't that far behind either. Albeit not as good as her, you do your best to be a comforting partner whenever she needs you. This is especially necessary after an extermination happens, which always leaves Charlie devastated and in need of a hug or words of encouragement because she doubts herself sometimes and wonders if the hotel is even working at all.
You remind her how it brought the two of you together, to which she smiles and agrees that at least something good has come out of it so far.
Vaggie 🎀
Both you and Vaggie used to work in the same legion under Adam with the rest of his exorcists. You knew of each other's existence, but didn't really talk much aside from whatever was needed in the midst of battle.
The day she spares a demon child's life, you're doing your rounds nearby and witness the whole exchange, including Lute coming over and ripping both an eye and Vaggie's wings for showing mercy. You don't know why, but it makes your blood boil.
“HEY! What are you doing?! It was just a kid, why not let it slide?”
And just like that, you become a target of Lute's rage as well, being ripped from your angelic status along with receiving a few nasty cuts, yet surprisingly not as bad as Vaggie herself.
Once the two of you are left to die, you immediately try to tend the girl's wounds with whatever you can. Vaggie can only stare in disbelief at what you'd done and questions why you even did so in the first place—now you were stuck just like she was.
“Guess I just don't like seeing injustice... Who knew Heaven could be so fuckin' shitty?”
You both laugh at the irony of it all, and that's when luck is finally on your side as Charlie finds you in the dirty alley and brings you back to the hotel to heal properly.
For the next three years you two stay at the Hazbin Hotel, helping Charlie in any way you can to try and make her dream a reality since deep down you hope that despite Heaven's corrupt system, there can be a small chance that souls can be redeemed. You hide the fact that you're ex-Anges though, since you don't wanna cause unnecessary drama.
During this time period, the two of you become better friends, having your own inside jokes regarding things you didn't particularly enjoy from your time as Angels, as well as learning more about one another.
You're the one to come to terms with your feelings first and decide to lay them on the table for Vaggie to see—she's always been a straight-to-the-point kind of gal, so if you're about to be rejected, might as well have it be done quick. But of course, she replies with her own declaration and desire to give a relationship a shot, which you're ecstatic about!
It's a bit hard at first since you never got to see much of romantic relationships in Heaven while training for murder every year, but you try and make it work. Both you and Vaggie work endlessly to try and make the other happy, and it only makes you fall for each other even more.
Also Charlie is your go-to wingwoman who will be there to give you the best advice to try and woo your girlfriend. She ships you two so hard.
Angel Dust 🕸
Working at a porn studio under an Overlord who owns your soul can be exhausting. You know this better than anyone since everyone who works under Valentino has contracts that won't let you get far with a leash. This is especially true with your friend Angel Dust.
You know about the things Valentino does to the spider demon—hell, everyone in the studio probably knows, but know better than to say anything about it. You're always there for Angel after particularly rough shoots, doing your best to comfort him in any way you can, though there isn't much you can do given you're in the same spot.
When he tells you he's moving to Princess Charlie's Hazbin Hotel, you're so happy for him! At least that will give him some distance from Valentino and his disgustingly filthy hands when he's not working.
This unsurprisingly doesn't bode well with the Overlord, causing him to throw fits of rage around the studio when Angel leaves for the day. You can't help but make a snarky comment that you definitely regret moments later.
“Can one blame him for wanting space from such an overbearing asshole?”
Without his favorite stress toy around, you end up paying the price for such comments. The kind of pain and suffering he puts you through is completely different from what you're used to. Is this the stuff he does to Angel? He leaves you naked, bruised and bloody in your room, and all you can do is muster what little strenght you have left to head for the Hazbin Hotel.
As soon as the door opens, you immediately tumble forward and start losing consciousness. The last thing you remember is Angel's horrified expression before it all fades to black.
Once you wake up and have been patched up, you explain what happened at the studio, and you could've sworn you saw fire in Angel's eyes as he holds on to you, fearing you might disappear at any moment. He begs you to stay in the hotel with him, and you agree without hesitation.
And so, your new routine of heading to work and then coming back to the hotel becomes blissful, not having to deal with that lunatic mothman more than necessary. You also get to spend time off with your best friend, which is always a plus.
Well, ‘best friend’ might not be the best way to describe it. You'd developed a crush on the spider demon even before this whole incident occurred, and now that you were spending more time with him, it only continued to grow.
With the line of work you two had, romantic relationships didn't seem to be a thing that crossed anybody's mind since why have a permanent partner when you could just go around fucking the hottest people in Hell? But you knew your feelings were far beyond from sexual, but didn't wanna ruin what you already had going for you.
One heartfelt drunken conversation after work however, makes you do a double take—Angel likes you back. And that both scares and excites you. But with both of you going over the pros and cons with each other, you decide to give it a chance.
You make sure to always have Angel's consent when it comes to physical intimacy—anything from holding his hand, to kissing to just cuddling. He jokes about not being a porcelain doll, but deep down you know he appreciates it.
You're also there for the rough nights, when he comes home wanting nothing more than to die again and let the earth swallow him whole. Words of reassurance are spoken and you can only hold him and let him cry as you vow to do anything in your power to stop this from happening again.
Husker 🍺
As one of the first guests of the hotel, like any wayward sinner, you find yourself in the bar more often than you'd like. Alcohol killed you in the first place, yet not even in the afterlife could you seem to pull yourself from its grasp.
It's a somewhat welcome surprise to find out that the bartender is going through a similar struggle. He still serves you drinks and lends and ear whenever he's not busy, but will occasionally drop the words of wisdom to watch your fill.
Eventually you two find yourselves doing this little back and forth and aid each other when you're in your dark places—Husk won't let you near the bottle if he sees you're about to knock yourself out, meanwhile you're there to look after him when he has one too many drinks and can't take care of himself.
Not to say he isn't a good drinking buddy—you've found out most of the gossip around the hotel thanks to this sneaky little cat demon and there's never a dull moment with him around.
You learn about his deal with Alastor during a particularly bad night, when Husk's had one too many and isn't thinking straight. You don't bring it up, but now have an eye open for whenever the Radio Demon drags your friend away.
Angel's the one who brings up your questionable relationship to the surface.
“So... you two like, fuckin' each other, or what?”
Your entire face goes red, and if it weren't for the dark fur you could swear you see Husk looking the same. He's quick to get rid of Angel's nosy ass, but now the seed has been planted in your brain—do you like Husk that way?
After careful consideration, you come to the conclusion that yes, you do. And it's honestly kinda terrifying considering how relationships don't usually work out in Hell, at least from what you've seen. Besides, even if you did try and confess, there was always the possibility of him not feeling the same and just being embarrassed by Angel's comment.
So in an attempt to make your feelings disappear, you stop frequenting the bar. Who knew the best way to stop drinking habits was trying to avoid spending time with your unrequited crush?
But of course, Husk isn't stupid. He sees the change in your behavior and let's it slide for a while, until he eventually corners you and asks what's wrong. You decide to get it all out of the way and tell him how you feel.
To the embarrassment of both of you, he holds your hand firmly between his and darts his eyes toward the corner of the room. “Next time you should ask before going off assuming things, ya got it?”
And so, your glass may have been empty that day, but your heart had never felt fuller.
Sir Pentious 🐍
You meet Sir Pentious when you sign into the hotel, and your immediate thought is just how can this snake man be so adorkable, it should be illegal.
As you greet the other residents and staff, you're quick to strike a conversation with him, which based on his body language he was not expecting. He starts telling you a bit about his weaponry and other contraptions, and you can't help but be fascinated by it.
You're a bit of a tinkerer yourself, albeit you've only dabbled in small scale projects—nothing compared to the massive canons and aircrafts that Pentious seems to be familiar with.
He acts like a kid opening gifts on Sinmas when he talks to you about his inventions, clearly never having anyone show interest before. Eventually he'll even ask for your input on certain smaller projects he wants to work on to help around the hotel, all to thank Charlie for being so kind to him and giving him a second chance. You're obviously eager to help!
You two start spending so much time together that the egg boys have started calling you ‘Boss #2’, much to Pentious' embarrassment and your amusement.
One afternoon once exercises are done for the day, the snake demon seems much more fidgety than usual as he invites you over to his room to continue working on his security system prototype. He's a blabbering mess once he has you sitting down and your heart just can't help but swell at each little syllable.
“Dearest (y/n)... you've, um, well... you are a huge inspiration for my work! A-And I wouldn't have been able to create any of this... without your help. You are kind, and smart and very talented.... and w-well, um I-”
You gotta silence the man with a kiss otherwise you two would be here all day. He's puddy in your hands and you can only giggle in return. “I really like you too, Pen.”
Everyone is either saying they called it or groaning in annoyance because fucking FINALLY, you two were just dancing around each other like idiots. The egg boys are just so happy to have someone else besides Pentious to be in their lives, and will do their best to look out for you just like with their own boss.
So yeah, prepare yourself for some sickeningly sweet gestures from this guy cause he will go above and beyond to get you what you need/want even if it kills him (again). And you can confidently say that you'd do the same in return.
Alastor 📻
After running in the same circles when you were alive, it's no surprise to you to end up in Hell, although you never would've suspected that you'd find yourself in the same place as him. It was honestly a huge relief not having to go through this all by yourself.
As Alastor exerted his dominance over Hell as the Radio Demon, you were powerful enough to be an Overlord yes, but rather liked keeping it on the down low instead of making a spectacle of yourself (Alastor was the one for theatrics anyway). Because of this, only select few knew of your true power and what you were capable of.
Instead, if there was one thing you were known for, it was being the only soul allowed to be close to the Radio Demon without the risk of death.
Yes, Alastor was a sadistic, cold-blooded and egotistical mastermind, but he wasn't a monster. You knew that better than anyone. Although the reactions he had to other demons treating you like a joke or calling you the ‘Radio Demon's Pet’ were not helping his case.
“ł₣ ɎØɄ V₳ⱠɄɆ ɎØɄⱤ ₴ØɄⱠ, ɎØɄ ₩łⱠⱠ ₩₳Ⱡ₭ ₳₩₳Ɏ Ɽł₲Ⱨ₮ ₦Ø₩ ฿Ɇ₣ØⱤɆ ł Ɽł₱ ł₮ ₳₱₳Ɽ₮ ฿ł₮ ฿Ɏ ฿ł₮...”
“Al, chill. You're gonna make them shit their pants.”
After his seven year absence, you immediately noticed something was wrong with him, and wouldn't stop pestering until he told you the truth—A deal he made and how his soul was now bound to someone much more powerful than he was.
You were obviously mortified and started looking into ways to try and find a loophole to this, but alas the Radio Demon would just give you his signature grin and tell you not to worry about it. It was his battle to face.
But of course you're quick to remind him that you've stuck together through thick and thin even in life, so there was no way you were letting him handle this by himself. You work as a team—always have and always will. You engulf him in a hug.
“We're gonna figure this out, Al. I promise...”
The grin remains, but his eyes widen slightly in surprise. He hesitantly returns the embrace, patting your back and wiping the tears you didn't even know you were shedding.
“There there~ To think such a sweet and innocent soul wound up in a gutter like this. I cannot say I complain as long as I have your delightful company beside me.”
And so when he says he has a plan that involves Princess Charlie Morningstar and her new Happy Hotel, you follow along. Whatever fate has in store for you two, you'll be ready.
Also Charlie is a sweetheart who could do no harm. Knowing Alastor, he'll probably do whatever he can here and there to help around for the cause. You also offer your services as an undercover Overlord, much to everyone's surprise when you reveal your status.
The Radio Demon may have a plan, but something tells you it won't involve bloody murder (unless extremely necessary or if someone really pissed him off).
Like you said—he's not a monster.
Lucifer 🍎
You and Lucifer were good friends at the beginning of Creation. While you were stuck with the tedious task of designing blueprints for the new ‘Human Project’ that headquarters had in store, Lucifer's Seraphim status allowed him to bring creations to life with the flick of a wrist, much to your delight and wonder.
His ideas and pitches for Earth were always so entertaining to listen to, and you would do your best to encourage him to show them to the higher ups to get them approved—His mind was just filled with joy and love and wonder that you'd never seen before.
Which was why it was always so disappointing whenever he'd come back and say that he was shut down and even mocked at. How could Heaven shut down such an imaginative mind in the creation of their biggest project yet?
To say you were devastated when you heard about his fall would be an understatement. You mourned the loss of your friend, knowing that he'd done nothing wrong and thinking it wasn't fair to him to receive such punishment just because he cared for the future of humanity.
Thousands of years later, you overhear the plan for Extermination of Hell kind. You didn't mean to walk by, yet here you were, under the direct eye of the Head Seraphims about to be downcast for something you had no control over—just like Lucifer.
“You're all self-entitled pricks! You think you can do whatever you want just because it doesn't follow what you define as good!”
You get a few good arguments before being cast downwards, leaving you in bad shape in a random alley with no wings and no means of escape. That is of course, until destiny seems to be on your side and Lucifer finds you, completely perplexed to see you here at all.
After getting treated, you tell him about the Extermination so he and Hell can prepare. The conversation of you getting cast down by Heaven gets glossed over, but he can feel the fury building up inside him. You were always doing things by the book—how could they do this to you?
Once the slaughter is over, Lucifer gets a meeting with Heaven and secures protection for both his daughter Charlie and you, to which they begrudgingly agree to keep him outta their hair. You can't help but feel touched by this gesture.
He's also quick to offer you a room to stay in, but you compromise by living in a seperate building from him and Charlie so you aren't a bother even though he says you aren't. In fact, ever since Lilith left, he's had to take care of his young daughter all by himself, so he's more than happy when you offer to help.
It doesn't take long for your feelings to start coming into the surface from all those years ago, and you gotta push them away because he's both married and has a child to look after! Besides, why would the King of Hell ever look in your direction?
Eventually though, he brings up the question with nothing but sweaty palms and a customized rubber ducky that says ‘I love you’ whenever you squeeze it. You blush furiously, but can't help but bring up your concerns, not wanting to replace Lilith in his heart. He looks into your eyes and says that he hasn't been as happy as he is now in the past thousand years.
Cue baby Charlie walking in on everything, and she just smiles and goes innocently. “Daddy! Is (y/n) staying home with us now?”
You two can only chuckle at the cuteness of it and you immediately go to hug her. You couldn't believe that you were blessed with such a wonderful family.
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel spoilers#hazbin hotel x reader#charlie morningstar x reader#vaggie x reader#angel dust x reader#alastor x reader#sir pentious x reader#lucifer morningstar x reader#husker x reader#husk x reader
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
Based on research and observation. If it does not apply, let it fly. Copyright Protected. All rights reserved. © 2024 The Siren Isles
“I lay at your feet. Your body is my temple.
Searching for eternity within you.”
aries
FIRESTARTER These natives desire fireworks and a whirlwind of passion in a relationship. Women can be like trap-hunters, rather than warrior-style direct. They'll set the trap for their target and pounce with feral efficiency. With this dynamic, the native can possess a voracious sex drive. This is because when Mars comes into contact with Venus, it is like a kid in a candy shop! Mars asserts and Venus indulges. Inhibitions are of no worry. They are in their element. A blend of the physical and sensual. Sexual attraction, power, and even attention could be factors in the choosing of their mate. But, the power must come with ACTION. They want the spontaneous lover that pops up with plane tickets and a "Surprise! We're going on a trip!" They need high energy, vibrant lovers that are all about them. The rush of adrenaline and desire is a MUST. Being a stick-in-the-mud or boring is the quickest way to turn them off. The problem here is that when Aries does rush in and attain the object of their desire, they are often disillusioned in some way. Sometimes it isn't what they expected or... they get bored and realize it was more about the chase. And there begets the plot. There is much to learn in matters of love in this lifetime with this placement. Ideally, these lovers need someone who will join them on their explorations and keep the spark of youth alive. Motion is vital. Drama is welcomed.
taurus
MATERIAL GIRL Sugar baby indicator. Venus is in her domicile here and the energy is lovely. Lush green gardens, pearlescent royal baths, and water adorned with rose petals. Venusian vibes! This native often has a natural aesthetic, being inherently prideful of their own beauty. I notice that they aim to perfect the "barely there" makeup. Women probably ask you for advice all the time and this placement has the tips! Great skin placement, unless otherwise chart afflicted. Blessed with all of these gifts, they want a worthy suitor. A PROVIDER. This native wants security, both in spirit and the physical. Comfort. Quality. Elegance. You must be consistent to win this lover. They want the man who believes in honoring his word. (Jon Snow vibes) The love needs cannot be met with a flighty lover. In their boudoir, you can expect to have all of the senses tantalized. Good eats (does not mean they have to cook, but they def know the best food spots), soft fabrics, sweet aromas, and tender touches! They are very physically intuitive and their partner must be able to speak fluent body language and love them tenderly. They want commitment ideally. They are the mature princesses, waiting on the one with whom she can spend forever. A stable, mature, and responsible partner. No dusties! Love is just not enough to overcome financial hardship for this native & that’s fine! Adhere to your standards!
gemini
WORDSMITH With this placement, Venus grasps the caduceus and takes flight with Gemini qualities of language, trickery, and a thirst for knowledge. Got rizz? I hope so, because it takes quite a tongue to dazzle this native. Sapiosexual indicator. Party over here!! Jokes. Laughter. Witty Banter. Quite popular, they can often meet their partners among friends and engaging in diverse conversations, sometimes online. These varying social circles create new experiences and the Gemini is more than open to them. (; I imagine this placement with cupid energy! Winged love goddess, fluttering from heart to heart and making people fall in love! This can be online, in person, over the phone, by letter... they're diverse! They leave a string of broken hearts in their wake, often too busy with their laundry list of hobbies to provide closure. "It was fun while it lasted!" The Venus in Gemini native wants to survey their options. In love, they desire an open air of communication and a partner that will never judge or rain on their parade. Being closed minded or vapid is a major turn off. You must be able to hold up your end of the conversation because this native loves mental connection. No dramatic displays of emotion needed. Similar to Aries, there is much to learn here before one can settle down successfully and that’s okay! Get out there and live!
cancer
QUEEN OF CUPS Venus saunters in the sand and basks in the moonlight that beckons the tide that is her tears. Happy tears. Sad tears. Doesn’t matter. She is deeply emotional here, nurturing, and an intuitive lover. Feminine energy is second nature, but in a cardinal disposition. Venus in Cancer has the ability to create safe spaces for their lovers to feel freely. This is perfect because this lover desires, on a soul level, to be needed. They want someone a bit needy and even dependent upon them for emotional security. Cry babies are welcomed. They do not mind the mama's boy, even. This side of either lover may not even be known to others or publicly. But, those who know them personally, have witnessed the crazy displays of passion. They need emotional transparency. Their Cancer claws want to take hold of their lover, console them, and wipe their tears. Venus here is the emotional life guard coming to their lover's rescue, utilizing the moonlight to guide them through the ocean of emotions. Can you even tell if someone is crying in the ocean? No nonchalant or emotionally unavailable lovers welcome! They need an honest and open lover who is unafraid to be vulnerable. EMOTIONAL INTELLIGENCE is key. When young, the cancer can attract the emotionally unavailable types... but they will not fill the cups of this deserving queen. Soul bonds are formed with this placement. and people can become attached to your healing or nurturing abilities.
leo
SOVEREIGN Powerful placement! Venus struts in the rays of the sun for an adoring crowd. Gold exudes from her womanly form. She is proud and fierce. The Sun and Venus collaborate to create a dazzling energy that attracts a sea of suitors. GLITZ. GOLDEN GLOW. GLAMOUR. However, this native desires a lover who equally glows! They are looking for their royal consort.. a king or queen with whom they can rule. The aesthetics or status of their partner matter here and they prefer to have arm candy. The type that will increase their value to the public, thus flattering the Ego (sun). Extravagance. Luxury. Grand gestures of Romance lol. But, very often absolutely stunning! This native desires to be seen and adored while in love. Their coupling can be considered the "couple's goals" type. Definitely posts their love on social media. They may shower their lover with their energy, gifts, talents, and love. (Venus blesses them with an abundance of all.) But, they expect this and then some in return. DIVA. They are your Goddess and their body is the temple you worship. These purring cats demand attention, compliments, and genuine appreciation. These lovers do not desire a shy or reserved partner in matters of romantic expression. No insecurity is allowed! You must be ready to shine with the Venus in Leo native, not hold them back.
virgo
WIFE Venus is a gracious girl boss in Virgo. She brings beauty to daily routines and acts of service and values these activities. These are the hardworking hotties that manage to make it all look so aesthetically pleasing. Fresh-fruit infused water. High-quality skin care. Matching workout fits. Strict exercise regimen. These natives can quite literally spend their lives working to be the ideal Venus. The ultimate maiden. Very natural aesthetic, similar to Taurus. ORGANIZED. MATURE. FEMININE. Venus in Virgo loves to check off her task list. “Finding the perfect partner” is at the top. It'd be a lot easier if she wasn't so picky. A keen eye for detail makes for an unusual journey in love. (Think: Charlotte from SATC. Dumped a guy on the SPOT because his home decor preference was different than her own.) This native often believes that she is not picky at all and does not like to waste time. This is because she feels that these requirements are something every bachelor should have. COMPETENT. STABLE. RESPONSIBLE. She desires a type that completes their daily task list efficiently while managing to be a consistent lover. A PRACTICAL and sensible partner. No overly grand gestures are needed (chart could vary). Small actions hold the greater weight here, because the Virgo notices and appreciates the details. Well-Spoken. Honest. Book Smart. An intelligent, mature, and stable partner is ideal. Someone who can help or assist them in someway, making their lives flow easier. The intense or emotionally heavy relations are not typically for them, unless otherwise influenced in the chart. They want to be apart of something steady and trustworthy, in regards to long term relationships. Being of service & being serviced by a great partner.
libra
PRINCESS Venus is in her other ruled sign here, making for a harmonious placement. Venus in Libra attracts people like flies to honey & takes on the role of socialite here. Blessed with charm, the native impresses others in one on one contact. This opens many doors and begets many opportunities! They are the must-have on the guest list. They will come dressed, classy, and add value to the social atmosphere. They even dress aesthetically going to bed. This energy also begets followers! There is great social media potential here. In love, they desire someone with class or attractive status in some way. CLASS. AFFLUENCE. LUXURY. They like those who can create connections. Open doors. Authorize Purchases. Good manners. Proper dress. INTELLIGENCE. Charm and social skills are a must. Social status is even better. They want to be a wife to a powerful man usually, due to Sun's unfavorable positioning in Libra (in fall.) Marriage could be a foundational value. That means they are a bit picky. No dusties. No boring people. If you're a homebody, this is not the person for you. This placement can also be a bit shallow, preferring a partner that they feel a physical attraction to. Others must find them fine too! This reflects back on the Libra’s ego. They need open and clear communication to establish some kind of balance in their relationships. Equal partnership. Cardinal energy here is all about the pursuit of fine living, EXTRAVAGANT social experiences, and LAVISH settings. The lover must be an asset to this. These are the folks who post from Barbados on a Tuesday. We love to see it!
scorpio
SORCERESS Venus rises from the black waves of the Underworld reborn when in the sign of Scorpio. BOW DOWN. Your Goddess has entered the room. BEWITCHED. SPELLBOUND. Possibly many secret admirers. Many suitors are drawn to this native, for reasons they can’t explain. This native demands abject loyalty. They desire every ounce of affection, love, commitment, and passion within you. Even if that comes with obsessive tendencies or public professions of love and fealty. Venus becomes a savant in the world of sex, death, and regeneration. This native desires intense emotional exchanges. They want you to prove that you love them, but never with just words. This sorceress excels in the transmutation of energy. POWERFUL stuff. The witch is in the room. Screaming. Shouting. Crying. They welcome the emotions. Their love can render you a slave to their whims. They conjure emotion out of you, command your energy, and then proceed to have incredible makeup sex. WHEW. "I can't live without you." -A Scorpio Venus outside your house at 3AM. (the witching hour). These natives need a devoted lover who can offer security and good sex. Match their freak. Someone powerful but lowkey is ideal. The lover is ideally not loud, but commands respect and attention in other ways. Plutonian energy likes those silent, but deadly vibes. They do not tolerate the meek, timid, or disloyal for long. It wouldn't be smart to double cross these natives. One word. Vengeance. There is much to learn here, being in such a heavy sign. They are here to transform in love, while also transforming others. You will never forget this placement!
sagittarius
GLOBETROTTER Venus leaps upon the back of a magnificent stallion and rides through the annals of wisdom collected by Jupiter. She is a collector of wisdom, interesting artifacts, and exhilarating experiences. Venus stationed here is an indication that the native will have to undergo a travel or journey (Sag) in order to find love (Venus). This could be literal travel or mental enlightenment. Both are profoundly powerful and significant to the development of this soul. ADVENTURE. EXPLORING. TRAVEL TO FOREIGN LANDS. STUDYING ABROAD. Venus values learning from experience and expanding the mind here. Their lover must be a student or even teacher of life. Wise. Sagacious. Confident. Venus in Sagittarius brings luck (Jupiter) to the natives love life. They attract those who can seemingly teach them something, that assists them on their life path, and creates opportunities. This person must be incredible and one of a kind. A practical homebody will not cut it. They need a fascinating best friend and adventure partner for their odyssey through the splendors of this Earth. They possess the globetrotter energy. Passport ready. Spontaneous personalities are a plus. Surprise this native with tickets or an activity. Invest in their higher education. Their lovers can often be foreign in some way or attracted in the educational space.. where this native shines!
capricorn
MATRIARCH Venus in Capricorn moves with an air of royalty. She is almost too aware of the cosmic hands of time (Saturn) and she is serious about not wasting a second of it. "Do you have a savings account? Do you have any assets? Do you want to get married and have kids?" This is small talk for this native! You're not on a date, you are on a job interview and you can assure there are prerequisites! Venus here may present in the old money aesthetic, if not a classic look. She is WOMAN. Queen of Pentacles. AMBITION. STABILITY. SUCCESS. MATURITY. These natives desire a steady lover that promises structure and some type of status. They desire to build and create something great. Something ENDURING.Something for others to envy. "The Power Couple." Even if the lover does not have status, they must possess the desire to attain power by any means necessary. CUTTHROAT. BUSINESSMAN. MOGUL. TYCOON. Venus in Capricorn is looking for that fiery ambition in someone and they are attracted to those who show this potential. She desires to be by their side in support, but also adding her own value to the union or "business deal" LOL, These native do not like games or unserious characters that live for "exhilaration". They need physical, financial, and emotional stability to be fulfilled in love. They are looking for their life partner. Saturn tasks them with waiting for the one they desire. But, this will be worth the wait. Quality and true love.
aquarius
PEOPLE'S CHOICE Venus is high above the clouds in her sky castle within the heavens of Aaru. Here, the Goddess has the ability to charm the ENITRE collective at once. Social media potential! This native also has a ton of friends. Possibly several best friends. INNOVATION. GENIUS IDEAS. REBELLION. Uranus and Saturn convene with Venus on the matters of humanity. Venus in Aquarius is in love with humanity, while also being the love of humanity. They desire a lover who does not mind sharing their time when they feel the need to be a humanitarian. This is a true INDIVIDUAL. Their expression of Venus is unique and one of a kind. They may even redefine what the themes of Venus mean to them in this lifetime. In love, they desire a best friend. A confidant. They need a soul partner who is not overly emotional, but cool as a cucumber & light. LAUGHTER. LOGIC. FUN. Friends to Lovers. Someone ready to learn and explore NICHE topics. Someone who they can discuss literally anything with.. from conspiracies to futuristic world ideas. Uranus and Saturn create a very evolved character in matters of creating, but in love... there is much to learn. Love may not be high on the priority list. However, Venus rules balance and this native must learn to balance their lover vs the world. There may be something eccentric or unique about their lover, but this does not have to mean blue hair. It can simply be someone cut from a completely different cloth than they are used to.
pisces
SIREN Venus meets Neptune in a sprawling grotto. The primordial waters of Nun enrich Venus with a knowledge of all the signs. Venus is exalted here and she morphs into the perfect lover. Venus here has the ability to recreate (Primordial) herself into the likeness expected of her (water). SHAPESHIFTER. SIREN. GLAMOURS. Her sense of love is fluid. She inherently understands what all of the signs need. This is the Venus who can be an immaculate lover to every single one of the signs. Venus here is love incarnate. The catch is that Pisces cannot be fulfilled by all types of love. She may flirt with the idea of belonging to extremely different types of people. Venus here is a sensitive, PSYCHIC, and SPIRITUAL soul. She is in tune with the unconscious thoughts of the collective. Water can be soothing with regenerative qualities for this native after being drained. But, they usually willingly give this power up, due to weaker boundaries. This is the lover who already knows what to say, where to kiss, and what hurts. So much energy can be spent on their partner. Their love is potent and transcends the realm of physical feeling. When this person comes into your life, it’s most likely because you truly needed unconditional love. In a lover, this native needs someone to be their rock! They need a steady and consistent lover to bring stability to the waters of Pisces. More importantly, they need a SOULMATE. This yearning for soul connection can lead to rose-tinted glasses. The lover must be sensitive, spiritual, and in tune with the emotions of the Pisces Venusian. Their love must be a fated one, full of understanding. These lovers must beware the energy leeches and manipulators. Venus' energy here is SO potent, that a disturbed few may try to possess or capture it. Fatal attraction and even envy from others is possible.
Thank you for reading!!
Check out my blog for more in-depth astrology and mythology posts!
@thesirenisles | masterlist | venus mythology
© 2024 The Siren Isles All rights reserved.
#venus#venus in the signs#venusian#astrology#astro#astro notes#astrology notes#astrology observations#astro observations#astro community#astrology meme#love astrology#astro blog#astrology blog#astrology readings#synastry#natal chart#natal chart reading#venus in the houses#scorpio venus#pisces venus#leo venus
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
OBSESSED: SHOKO (feat. The Boys)
A/N: This took an entirely different route than I expected when I first started dribbling it. This was a fun one 🤭
C/W: Cuckholding, Mature, 18+
Fact: You are the hottest woman alive.
Fact: Shoko is no better than a man.
Shoko is no better than a man because she has used you — your pictures, your smile, your tight hugs — as her personal spank bank.
Truthfully, she can’t really pinpoint the moment you broke her brain.
All she remembers is that there was an inflection point in time. Before meeting you. And after meeting you.
And the funniest part of it all is that you two have nothing in common.
Shoko is a sorcerer at Jujutsu Tech. You are a normie at University of Tokyo.
Shoko can count on one hand how many people she can tolerate. People flock to you in droves. And you like it.
Shoko is red wine and cigarettes. You are champagne and birthday cake.
So how the hell did a bubble gum, pretty pink, girly girl, princess work her way into Shoko’s life? And take permanent residence in a little (extremely large) part of her brain?
Not to mention the havoc you are wreaking in her heart. Whatever is left of the cold, shriveled plumbing system keeping her alive.
When was it exactly?
Shoko lights another cigarette on her short 2 mile walk home. You have a habit of making her burn through her vices.
Was it the night you went out dancing?
When the dress you wore made Shoko see God?
You grinded every part of your mind-altering curves on her, and Shoko left sopping wet. At home she immediately reached for her vibrator. Unable to look herself in the eye for a full day after that.
Or maybe it was the time you fell asleep curled up in her lap. Wearing one of her old ratty softball shirts, smelling like her shampoo. Small, rhythmic breaths flowing from your lips.
You looked like the missing puzzle piece in Shoko’s life.
No, no.
It’s definitely was the time you came barreling into her apartment with balloons and flowers and cupcakes that were too sweet. All because Shoko had finally mastered her reversed curse technique before the prodigal sons.
You can barely even grasp the concept of curses. And why would you?
A soft, gentle soul like you couldn’t muster enough negativity to form a curse.
You live in the clouds. Among the angels. You can’t see curses and yet — somehow —you’re the most supernatural person in any room.
She’s completely, fully, idiotically smitten with you.
And so is everybody else.
You pretty, unaware little thing. You have the two strongest sorcerers at Jujutsu Tech and their personal medic wrapped around your dainty fingers and you have no idea.
Suguru? He stares. Vision sharper than a hawk. He watches you talk, eat, walk, text, think. Suguru anticipates your next breath and would kiss oxygen into your mouth if he could. Even still, despite how taken he is, Suguru is the best at concealing his puppy love.
Satoru is the absolute worst.
Limitless goes off the second you step into a room. And Satoru rarely clicks off his technique otherwise. Even when it’s just Shoko or Suguru around.
He all but chains you to his body. He’s always lifting you, hugging you, carrying you, holding your hand, holding your hair. Satoru would crawl inside of your body and live there, if he could.
Then there’s Shoko.
Who seethes when anyone looks your way. But also masturbates to the thought of other people touching you.
A fucking mess of a conundrum, right?
The first time it happened was about 8 months ago. Definitely one too many glasses of Cabernet were poured. You two were gabbing on the phone. Exchanging the best and worst sex you’ve had to date.
And you. In that melodic, breathy, gossamer thin voice of yours that belongs in Heaven’s choir started saying the dirtiest things. About how cock-drunk you were. How you begged and pleaded for more. Swallowed cum like it was your only sustenance. And squirted all over your lover, only to kiss it off his face after.
Shoko touched herself until she came right then and there. On the phone. You unknowingly talking her through her one of the most satisfying orgasms of her life.
Since then it’s been a horrible habit she’s given into time and time again.
And who’s to say? Maybe it’s from constantly being in the shadows of Suguru’s Sun and Satoru’s Moon that there’s comfort in watching from the side lines?
Maybe she’s found the sweet pleasure in that pain and it’s manifested as her lust for others having their way with you? And her blind infatuation with you?
No, wait.
Not blind.
With you it’s like she has the Six Eyes. And with you, so does everyone else.
Shoko drags in a long, exasperated breath. Pausing just outside her apartment entrance, stomping out the last of her menthol.
If the time she spent mulling over you in her mind could be converted caloric energy - she’d be a supermodel by now.
Whatever.
Today’s the best day of the week. Friday.
Which means when Shoko opens her door, you’re going to be fussing about the kitchen. Cooking some kind of dessert for Movie Night.
The Boys usually trip over themselves getting to Shoko’s apartment after classes. But there’s always an idyllic 15 minutes where Shoko has you all to herself.
15 minutes in Heaven. Like she’s a damn middle school girl.
Shoko opens her door and nearly flatlines.
You’re evil.
An evil, mean, cruel tease.
You KNOW anyone with eyes would have a stroke at the site of you.
Fully bent over at the waist, rummaging through pots and pans. Not a single blemish on your silky smooth skin. Your lilac boy shorts could not BE any tighter. And of course, they’re just short enough to not cover the plump shelf of your lower ass cheeks.
Shoko’s hands start twitching. Like she’s going through withdrawal.
You pop back up with a triumphant “there it is!” An empty small pot in your hands. And Shoko thinks she’ll have to add a heart attack to her growing list of ailments.
Your matching lilac tank top is egregiously and deliciously small. The sliver of tummy between the hem of the top and waist of your shorts could bring civilizations to collapse.
Not to mention that the apartment is cold. And your nipples are so painfully responsive.
Sin.
You are sin.
Wrapped in the most beautiful frame of a woman.
“Babe!! You’re already home. I let myself in because the icing for these cupcakes takes forever to get right.”
You flash your Colgate smile, ensnaring Shoko in your trap.
“You’re going to give Satoru and Suguru a heart attack.” Her, you’re going to give her a heart attack.
“Hmm? Why do you say that?” So non-chalant. So oblivious.
Shoko gestures to your outfit. Attempting to mirror your nonchalance. But, ironically, she can feel her face tumbling down the descending shades of red.
Genuine confusion weaves though your features and she almost screams.
“Shoko please. You know they don’t see me that way!”
Everyone, gorgeous. EVERYONE. Sees you that way.
Before she could edge another word out, the familiar hum of Limitless buzzing inward splits Shoko’s thoughts in half.
Dammit, they’re early.
“Daddy’s Home!”
Satoru charges straight at you because of course he would.
“Satoru!!!” You’re a plaything in his arms. Legs tightening around his waist.
Shoko would pay an inordinate amount of money to trade places with him.
She watches through an envy-green screen. How easily Satoru spins you and tosses you on the kitchen counter. Situating himself between your soft thighs.
How would your body bounce against his hips thrusting into you?
“You have to taste this, pretty boy.”
Tsk. He’s not THAT pretty.
Both Shoko and Suguru watch through parted lips as you shove half a cupcake into Satoru’s mouth. Neither of you miss how his tongue flicks between your fingers. Or how his hips lean closer to your barely clothed flower.
He lets out an exaggerated groan. “Fucking, perfect. I could eat your cupcake..all night.”
“You perv.”
You laugh and shove Satoru back from between your legs. Then turn in Shoko’s direction.
Silently curving your index finger forward, you beckon. Both Shoko and Suguru start toward you like well-trained, love-struck pets.
“No pouting Suguru, you’re pretty too. And up next.”
And Shoko’s shoulders sink like the child who is picked last for dodge ball teams.
Her eyes trail Suguru’s back - wishing to every God she was born with a technique allowing her to take over a host’s body.
“Me next.” He settles between your legs.
Suguru, the master of subtlety. Everyone but you can pick up on the strain in his baritone.
There’s something so painfully sensual about the way he grips both of your thighs. Your skin is so smooth, so pliant under his large hands. Waiting on your fingers to invade his mouth.
How pretty would your lips look like wrapped around his fingers? Do your cheeks hollow out when you suck on something larger?
Shoko crosses her right foot over the left. As if jamming her thighs together would stop the growing pool of lust between her legs.
“Alright babe, best for last. I have something for you too.”
Suguru takes his time pulling away from the warmth of your core. And Shoko has to strap her mind to her body to keep from sprinting at you.
Eventually, she nestles between your legs and is at eye level with your pert nipples. Immediately caught in a trance. So close to her mouth.
“Blushing so much!” Your thumb pulls Shoko’s focus back to earth.
Blushing so much because she wants to watch her best friends fuck you. Then lick your cunt clean after they’re done.
“I’m not, what’s my surprise?”
“So demanding.” You giggle. Your palm takes away Shoko’s view of your perky, hard nipples.
“Open.”
Shoko’s jaw hangs at your command. Cold glass hits her lips before the full bodied, decadent Cabernet does.
Red wine. Because she hates sweets.
You’re as thoughtful as you are beautiful and everything you do is a turn on.
“Mmmm,” Shoko hums and you gift her vision back.
“Amazing, right?” You take your own sip, maintaining eye contact.
Shoko’s eyes fall to your lips. And how you roll the wine over your tongue. Savoring each drop.
How would your tongue feel rolling around her mouth? Her neck? Her nipple? What kind of sounds would you make if her tongue rolled around your petals? Your clit? What do you taste���
“Movie time?” You break Satoru, Suguru and Shoko’s daze.
All three of them scramble around you. Grabbing your cupcakes, snacks and wine to settle in on Shoko’s huge sectional couch.
You drape your body over Satoru and Suguru’s lap. A little loose limbed kitten. Shoko situates herself on the long arm of her chair.
Far enough to drown into her own spiral. Close enough to register everything you do in the the most permanent part of her mind.
You nuzzle your cheek into Suguru’s thigh. His forearm immediately drops in front of his crotch. Undoubtedly to avoid spearing you with his manhood.
“Play with my hair, Suguru?”
“Yes. Of course.”
His free hand weaves into your hair. The soft, decadent moan you exhale sent visible shudders down their spines.
Shoko’s eyes laser to Satoru’s hands. His eyes haven’t touched the screen since the movie began. His grasp encompasses your entire back thighs. Slowly gliding them up to the delicate mounds of your ass.
“God that feels amazing.”
Satoru’s Adams Apple drags along the column of his throat. “Yeah?”
“So good.”
You deepen the arch in your back and the physical restraint Satoru imposes on himself is visible.
The only person watching the movie is you.
And the room tilts on its axis the moment you melt deeper into the boys’ hands. Their names, quiet praise, seep from your lips.
Satoru and Suguru exchange hooded gazes.
As if to commiserate about how fucking hot you are. And how it’s taking active awareness of every single muscle to not do vulgar things to you.
Not even a backward glance Shoko’s way.
Again.
Leaving Shoko out of the conversation. Again.
She angrily tosses a blanket over her lap. Frustration bubbling up her throat. Her fingers clumsily fumble with her zipper. She’s pissed. Angry. Fucking jealous.
And so turned on she might crawl out of her skin if she doesn’t touch herself this goddamn second.
Shoko’s fingers are ice cold against her warm, wet clit. It’s agonizing. How incredible the pressure feels.
You look delicious. So small between their laps. Far too tiny to handle them both.
But God it would be so hot.
It would be so fucking hot. To watch you choke all over Suguru’s cock. Slobber into his lap. All while Satoru bullies his length into your soft, dewy pussy. Helpless. Overstimulated.
Getting used like the pretty Barbie doll you are.
And the way they touch you, so brazenly, in front of her.
Like Shoko’s presence isn’t even remotely threatening. She isn’t any competition for their big hands and broad shoulders. Masculine frames. That’s why she’s just sitting there. Pathetic. Rubbing herself dumb just watching.
She would be so happy, so fucking eager to lap you clean. Pet your swollen, abused folds when they’re done with you. Hump a pillow while she sucks your nipples. You’d moan and whine and squirm under her touch.
Would you beg? Or laugh at how pitiful she is? Getting off to remnants of you when the Boys have had their way?
Shoko accidentally choking on her own drool draws almost everyone’s attention to her. The hand that was molesting her sensitive bud freezes.
Suguru’s eyes flicker back down to you, sleeping beauty.
Their coordinated touch lulled you to bed. Satoru’s eyes linger on Shoko long enough to make her simmer under his gaze. She blinks back to the movie, credits now scrolling up the screen.
How long was Shoko day dreaming?
“Let’s get her to bed.” Suguru gently pulls you onto his chest. You sleepily drape your arms around his neck.
Satoru follows close behind him into Shoko’s room. Because putting the smallest little kitten to bed is a two person job.
Shoko scrambles to zip up her pants and swipe the last of her arousal on the blanket. She gets to the doorway and watches the Boys dote over you in a way that makes them slightly more endearing.
You wake up long enough to murmur goodnight. Floating your arms in the air so the boys can bring their hugs to you. Both of them place quick pecks on your forehead. Leaving you with the cutest, most content smile on your sleepy face.
At least Suguru can hold it together. He weaves out of Shoko’s room quickly.
Satoru, however, keeps stopping along the 10 foot pace to the doorway to just stare. As if a monster from your nightmares will pop up the second he leaves you alone.
Shoko snorts, arms crossing her chest. “Put it back in your pants, yes?”
“Look who is talking.” Sly grin pulls across Satoru’s perfect, blinding teeth. Shoko could punch him right now.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Ieiri. I have the fucking six eyes. What do you think I’m talking about.”
Satoru wires around Shoko’s stunned body.
He and Suguru are out of her apartment before she can bat her eyelashes 5 times.
Shoko all but sprints to the kitchen. She gulps the rest of her red wine. Something. Anything to burn Satoru’s comment out of her mind. And to put out the desperate flame between her legs.
You’re in her bed.
She’s just been masturbating watching her two best friends touch you.
One of her best friends is FULLY aware of this all.
Her hands shakenly pour another, head sized glass of Cabernet. Which is doing absolutely nothing for how lusty she feels right now. And everything to destroy her self control.
Why does she have to sit on the sidelines?
Why do they get access to you that she doesn’t?
She downs the last few drops of red wine. Storming back to her room. She’s going to confront this once and for all.
You’re strewn over her bed like a silk scarf. Rolling, tender hills of flesh. Valleys of feminine curves. Shoko grips both of your dainty wrists. Tossing you onto your back.
Sleepy groans bubble out of you. Your eyes lazily slide open. Not an ounce of concern on your face. Full of trust. Even though Shoko is glaring down at you like she wants to crawl in your skin.
“Bad dream?”
“No.” Shoko is kurt. Angry. Jealous.
“What is it?”
“I just…” Moonlight is kissing your face in the way Shoko wants to.
“T-The boys,” Your eyes flutter expectantly. Nose crinkling in fuzzy confusion.
“The-the boys always get to touch you. And pick you up. And tuck you in. And kiss you. And-and I-im just…”
“Do you want to kiss me?”
Shoko hears her heart stop beating.
What did you just ask? So casually. As if you didn’t just catapult her into another dimension.
“H-huh? What?” Shoko didn’t hear you right.
There’s no way.
“I asked if you want to kiss me.” Something other than innocence lines your voice. And it pets Shoko’s flame
“I—I uh. M-. Yes.”
“So kiss me.”
Only one second of shocked hesitation passes before Shoko crashes her lips into yours.
Of course your lips taste like this. Marshmallow soft. Cotton candy sweet. Mini explosions of pleasure surge in all directions of her body.
“God,” Shoko groans, bringing the back of your head impossibly closer to her.
Melting into the soft hills and rolls of your sweet tongue. Shoko whines into your mouth like the desperate puppy she is. She’s drunk. Intoxicated. And it has nothing to do with the wine.
Do you know that?
Have you always known?
How does anyone ever make it out of their embrace with you with their wits about them?
“Baby,” you sigh into Shoko’s swollen lips.
Her hands tremble against your waist. Twitching to explore. Dying to map every inch of your body.
She lets out little, staccato moans of protest when you pull away.
“Feel better?”
Your starry eyes sparkle between Shoko’s. Sleepy, pretty smile playing on your puffy lips.
Shoko nods wordlessly. You’ve already stolen her logic and her heart. Might as well add her voice to the list.
You place a chaste kiss on Shoko’s lips before cocooning underneath the sheets.
Like you didn’t just make her fall in love.
“Goodnight, baby.”
PART. II
#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#sashisu x reader#sashisu#shoko x reader#shoko ieiri#shoko smut#gojo smut#geto smut#jjk geto#jjk gojo#jjk shoko#jjk fanart#jjk fanfic#jujutsu kaisen x reader smut#gojo x reader#geto x reader#jujutsu kaisen shoko#jujutsu shoko#smut#jjk x you#jjk satoru#jjk suguru#gojo satoru#geto suguru#jjk x y/n#jjk#gojo satoru x reader#jjk season 2
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
The Do-Over
Summary: Everyone deserves a second chance, including jerks like Bounty Hunter, Ari Levinson. Takes place directly after the events in Hello, Duchess.
Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Bucky Barnes, A Deep Love of Clark Bars, Light Groveling, Bickering, Discussions of Grief, Threats of Violence, Gentle Manhandling, Brief References to Negative Body Image, Cursing, Minors DNI
A/N: Special thanks to my creative consultant, @curls-and-eyeliner. Part my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!
An annoyed Ari takes a pull from his cigarette as he listens to his friend and fellow combat vet give him shit all the way from his office back in New Mexico. As soon as this was over, he was going to ditch this empty parking lot to find himself an ice cold beer and a goddamned steak.
He was officially ready to put this day behind him. But first he needed a decent dinner.
“So let me see if I’ve got this right.” His friend begins, now that he’d finally stopped cursing up a blue streak. “Do you really mean to tell me that you took our best lead, which just so happened to be the perp’s girlfriend, and fucked it all to hell?”
Okay, but just because that’s what happened doesn't necessarily mean that it was actually his fault. He’d just been a little off his game.
“Hey Buck, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re beginning to sound as dramatic as Rogers.”
“Steve would never fuck-up something this big for us.” He could practically hear the man flipping him off.
“I’m telling you this girl would’ve cut off Golden Boy’s balls and fed them to him for breakfast, okay?” He takes another puff, flicking some of the excess ash out his driver-side window. “Trust me.”
“Hold on.” An exasperated Bucky sighs into the receiver before placing the phone on his desk to speak to whoever had just walked into his office. He hoped whoever it was had better news than he did, otherwise he feared his old war buddy might have an aneurysm.
Sometimes he got the impression that Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes was wound a little too tight.
The silence drags on as Ari contemplates getting out of his car to stretch his legs. It’s another several minutes before Bucky is back on the line, and this time he sounds positively exhausted.
“We can’t afford to lose this one, man. Westbrook might be a piece of shit, but he’s an expensive piece of shit. So while I don’t care how you feel about the girl, you need to make things right. She could have some valuable intel.”
“Yeah, I know.” His mood darkens as he flicks the cigarette onto the pavement. As he watches it hit the ground, he finds himself wondering if it was finally time to quit the cancer sticks altogether. It’s not like he hadn’t thought about it before.
“Besides, what do you care if she was Westbrook’s fuck buddy?” Ari’s treated to the sound of his friend unwrapping something that sounded suspiciously like a candy bar. There was only one person who was known to keep that stuff at the office.
Which meant that shit had better not come from his personal stash, otherwise Bucky Barnes was a fucking dead man.
“I don’t.” Ari growls, sucking on his teeth. “And that had better not be a Clark Bar you’re eatin'.”
“Hate to break it to ya, pal. But based on what you told me earlier, it kinda sounds like you might.” There’s an unmistakable sound of a grin in his voice, which irks the bounty hunter to no end.
“And I think it’s finally time you got your hearing checked, old man.” He growls back, although his words lack any real fire.
“As for your precious Clark Bars,” he continues. “See, normally I’d pass on ‘em. But Pixie’s been on a health kick lately and she threw out all the junk food. So, I’m desperate.” Bucky gives an exaggerated groan. “Plus, she has no idea about your stash.”
“Jesus.” Ari grumbles, firing up his engine with the intent to head back to the house he was currently renting. “I really wish you two would just suck face already and get it over with.”
“Mind your fucking business, Levinson.”
“Then keep your filthy hands off my fuckin’ Clark Bars, Barnes.” There’s a heavy sigh on the other line, prompting Ari to roll his eyes. All he wanted was for this conversation to fucking end.
“Look.” Bucky grunts. “You bring down this Westbrook fucker and I’ll buy you a goddamned case of those stupid bars. Alright?”
“You got yourself a deal.” Turning on his truck, Ari slowly heads for the exit as his stomach begins to rumble. Maybe he’d track down some shrimp to go with that steak.
“And fix whatever it is you fucked up with that bookstore broad while you’re at it.”
“I’ll do my best.” He grimaces as his mind treats him to images of you threatening him with your taser. “But if that little spitfire puts me in the hospital you’re footin’ the bill.” And with that, Ari hangs up the phone.
As of now, he was officially done for the night.
A Few Days Later…
You’re sitting on the floor of your stockroom when you hear the tinkling of bells signaling the arrival of a customer. Groaning as you rise to your feet, you wipe your palms on the fabric of your pants and head to the front of the store.
Business had been unusually slow today, so hopefully this patron - whoever they were - would be in the mood to buy something. As you were driving in this morning, you’d briefly considered holding another sale. Maybe it was time for another book fair. That seemed to be pretty popular the last time you’d done it.
You���re in the middle of making a mental note to reach out to the local librarian when your eyes land on the absolute last person you wanted to see standing in your lobby: Ari Levinson.
Not this guy again.
“Yeah, it’s me.” He says, offering up an unapologetic shrug as he takes in the sight of you in your form-fitting yoga pants.
Apparently you’d spoken out loud. Perhaps if you kept doing it, the man would eventually get offended enough to leave. Wishful thinking at its finest.
When the intruder realizes you don’t plan on speaking again, he decides to take advantage of the silence by doing something completely unexpected.
“I just dropped by to, uh…” He takes a deep breath, rocking back on his heels. “Apologize for how our last meeting went. While it wasn’t my intention to insult you, I know that I did.” One big hand comes up to massage the back of his neck. “Just wanted to offer that, for whatever it’s worth.”
“Oh. Wow.” You reply dumbly, crossing your arms over your chest. For whatever reason, you got the distinct impression that he didn’t make apologies often.
“You’re right, sweetheart. I don’t.” His lips turn up in an awkward grin as he takes a step toward you. “But a real man knows how to own up to his shit, which is exactly what I’m doin right now.”
“Okay.”
Mouth suddenly dry, you go to take a step back, only to find that your legs no longer work. Next thing you know, Ari is in your space, his boot clad feet are now mere centimeters from your well-loved sneakers as he towers over you.
He holds out his hand as a gesture of goodwill, silently imploring you to take it. Your eyes lock with his as yours moves on its own accord – almost as if you’d been entranced.
Your hand feels so small and delicate in his grasp. And for a second, you wonder what it might be like to lace your fingers together. How it would feel to hold onto him so intimately for just a few seconds longer. You sneak a glance up at Ari, only to watch as his pupils dilate, his nostrils flaring just slightly. It’s enough to let you know that you’re not the only one affected.
“You think we might be able to try this again?” His deep baritone washes over you like a balm. “You have my word I’ll do a much better job of, uh, keeping myself in check.”
Yanking your hand away, all you can do is nod. Part of you almost wished the man would go back to acting like an asshole. At least then you would know how to handle him. This so-called charming and apologetic Ari was a different beast entirely.
“I–” You swallow thickly. “Yes, that’s fine.”
“Thank you for your kindness.” His easy smile has the nerve to do funny things to the butterflies in your belly. “And while I would hate to do anything that might spoil this good will, I would like to ask you a couple of questions right now.”
Instantly suspicious, you open your mouth to deliver a curt “no”. However, having already anticipated this, Ari is quick to amend his request by promising not to be too invasive. He also insists that he’ll follow your lead.
“If at any moment you want to stop, we’ll stop. You have my word on that too, darlin’.” He surveys the room, absentmindedly scratching at his jaw. “You good with me ensuring we have a little privacy?” Again you nod, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible.
Because at this point, it just didn’t make sense to kick the man out. Especially not when he seemed to be taking great pains to be respectful. You could only hope that he’d appreciate your cooperation enough to go bother someone else when you were through.
Maybe it might be worth leading him back towards someone who’d actually appreciate his attention. Someone like your would-be frenemy, Charline Marshall.
Seemingly encouraged by your response, the invasive bounty hunter hustles towards the door so that he could flip your sign from open to closed. And, unbeknownst to him, it also gives you a chance to begrudgingly appreciate just how good his ass looks in his Levi’s.
Alright. So maybe you’d hold off on feeding Ari Levinson to Charline and her disciples – at least for right now.
“You know.” You cough, needing to give yourself a moment to recalibrate before you said or did something dumb. “I actually just remembered that I needed to fix a couple of things around the shop during my lunch break.”
An unruffled Ari simply smiles and winks back at you. “Thought you said you believed in your ability to multitask?”
You resist the urge to stick your tongue out at the smug bastard. Because he was right. You absolutely had said that. And then he’d had the gall to fucking listen.
“Fine.” Shooting him a glare, you head over to the counter and toe-off your shoes.
“Appreciate it, darlin’.”
Just like last time, out comes his pen and tiny notebook. He flips it open to a new page before giving you his full attention. Meanwhile, you’re now hellbent on acting like he doesn’t exist.
“How long have you owned your shop, Baubles & Quills?”
If you were to look in his eyes at that moment, you would’ve seen them shining with genuine inquisitiveness. Almost as if he actually wanted to get to know you.
“A few years.” You reply, bracing your hands on the flat surface of the desk. “I spent a large part of my childhood here, buried amongst books. My uncle left it to me when he passed. But I’m sure you already knew that.”
Taking a deep breath, you send up a silent prayer to the Lord asking him not to let you fall before hefting yourself onto the counter with all the grace you can muster.
“Maybe.” Ari concedes while jotting something down on his notepad. “But it’s different coming from – just what the hell are you doin’ woman?!”
“Checking out this light fixture.” You huff as you work to steady yourself.
“Any reason you couldn’t do that from the ground?” The bounty hunter surprises you by sounding more than a little stressed.
Confused by his response, you manage to spare a quick glance in his direction. Although your unlikely companion looks less than happy, you fail to fully grasp the nature of the problem.
“Because I couldn’t quite tell if this whole panel was out, or just the one little section.”
“Alright, well…” He drags an agitated hand through his already messy brown locks. “Now that you’ve seen it, how about you come on down from there?”
“Oh my goodness, Levinson.” An exasperated chuckle bubbles its way from your throat. “It’s just the counter. Save the freakout for when you find me on the flippin’ roof or something.”
“You’re standin’ on the damned thing wearin’ nothing but socks. It’s like you’re askin’ to fall.”
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic.”
“How the hell is my expressin’ concern about your safety bein’ dramatic?”
“Next question, buddy.” You have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing at the affronted look on the bounty hunter’s gorgeous face.
Ari forces himself to take a breath before attempting to return back to the task at hand. “I have it here that your Uncle is the late Lenny Barstowe. He was, by all accounts, an upstanding pillar of this community.”
“He was.” You agree, bending down to grab the duster resting near your feet.
“You say he was your uncle, and yet you two don’t share the same last name.” He frowns when he notices your slight wobble.
And for the tenth time in almost as many minutes he finds himself wondering why the fuck you didn’t hire someone to take care of shit like this for you? Hell, give him a ladder and a free afternoon and he’d handle things himself.
“Wow. Nothing gets past you.” You sniff, trying to fight back a sneeze as dust goes flying. “They teach you those observation skills in private detective school?”
“Sure did.” Ari snorts without missing a beat, tucking the pen behind his ear. “First thing on the syllabus, in fact.”
“Thought so.”
“So glad we cleared that up.”
You can’t stop the small thrill that courses through you when you notice the newfound tick in his jaw. If you weren’t careful, you could find yourself growing addicted to that little zing in your blood. To that tiny spike in your pulse you felt every time you two sparred.
“But if we could go back to your uncle, I’m sure losing him had to be hard – what with him being your only family.” He takes a turn fanning himself with his notebook. ”Was your friend, Martin, there for you during that difficult time?”
That particular question actually makes you pause and reflect. You’d been so lost in grief back then, which is part of the reason it had taken you so long to claw your way out of that dark hole. And, if memory served, you’d done that majority of that clawing on your own.
“I’m sure he was around, Mr. Levinson.” Your answer sounds cagey, even to your own ears. “But I pretty much wore my grief like a sweater back then. And if I’m being honest, those first few months after losing him were nothing but a miserable haze.”
“I know the feeling.” He murmurs as he scribbles on the page.
“Look.” You blow out a breath as you attempt to gauge the distance between the desk and the ground. As of this moment, you officially regretted not grabbing your step stool. “I don’t know where Martin is or who he’s running from. All I know is that he was scared, but he refused to tell me anything more, okay?”
“Did he ask you for money?”
“Yes.”
He’d also called you too. And while you choose to keep that little detail to yourself, you figure there was no harm in telling him about the money. At the time you’d had no idea you were potentially aiding and abetting a criminal. Or maybe you just hadn’t wanted to believe it.
“And did you give it to him?” The intense look in his beautiful blue eyes has you suddenly feeling foolish.
“Yes.”
It’s that one word, spoken barely above a whisper, that leaves Ari shaking his head. His gaze drops to the ground as he works to rein-in his temper. You have no idea what a struggle it is for him to do so – because he’s not upset with you.
If anything, you’d just given him one more reason to run that slippery motherfucker into the goddamned ground.
“How much did he get you for?” Even though Ari has calmed himself considerably, his tone still comes off harsher than he intends.
“Almost $500.” You tell him, your face hot with embarrassment. “I suppose I should’ve asked more questions. You probably think I’m an idiot for –”
“It’s okay, darlin’.” He swiftly interjects, not wanting you to get upset. “You’re doin’ so great bein’ honest with me right now.” Unsure of what else to do, he tosses his notebook aside in favor of reaching for your hand. “I know this shit ain’t easy.”
“I think I’m done for now.” You tell him, doing your best to avoid looking at your now joined hands. God, he really needed to stop doing that. “Please.”
“Okay.” He readily agrees as his thumb strokes along the ridge of your knuckles. “Then we’re done.” You watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows. “Are you gonna let me help you down off the counter before you kick me out?”
“It’s okay. Don’t want you to hurt yourself.” You mumble as you busy yourself with trying to figure out the easiest way to sit and scootch your way out of your current situation.
The last thing you needed was this man accidentally throwing out his back over some misplaced chivalry.
To his credit, Ari decides to ignore your feeble protests. “C’mon and let me help you.” He repeats, gesturing for you to step towards the edge of the counter so that he can grab you by the waist. “And then I’ll be on my way.”
“Really, I’m fine.” You attempt to swat at his hands, which doesn’t actually work.
“C’mon, darlin’.” He assures you gently. “Just trust me.” The next thing you know, you’re suddenly being lifted into the air. “I got you.”
“Ack – I’m too heavy!” You squeal, immediately caught off guard by the way your legs briefly dangle in the air. Try as you might, you honestly could not remember the last time a man had picked you up.
Your heart speeds up as he effortlessly sets you down on your feet, allowing your body to slide down the solid wall of his chest. Instinctively, your hands fly to his biceps in an effort to steady yourself.
“Thank you.” You’re suddenly having a hard time breathing around this man. “But you really shouldn’t have done that. You could’ve hurt –”
“Sweetheart, you ain’t nothin’ but a feather.” Ari rumbles, his hands still resting firmly on your hips.
“Somehow I doubt that.” You whisper, knowing that you should demand that he let you go. Except your body is too busy buzzing to actually cooperate.
“Happy to prove you wrong any time.” While you suspect that he hadn’t really meant to say that, his smile is full of promise. “But right now, I’m afraid I’ve gotta head out.” Although it still takes another second for him to release you.
Not that you’re complaining any. Which deep down you know could spell trouble for you.
Before he leaves, however, Ari reaches into the front pocket of his jeans to hand you what looks a lot like a business card. “What’s this?” You mentally smack yourself in the forehead the moment the question leaves your mouth.
“My card.” He responds as he now heads toward the door. “That’s my cell, just in case you need it.”
“Oh.”
“Call any time, day or night.” Ari’s gruff, no-nonsense tone goes straight to your core. “You remember somethin’ about Martin? Call me. You lookin’ for someone to stand guard while you lock up at night? Call me. You need to hear a friendly voice in the dark? Fucking call me.”
His offer takes you by surprise. So much so, that you’re temporarily rendered speechless as you clutch the stiff piece of paper in your palm. While you weren’t sure if you’d ever take him up on his offer, you could certainly appreciate his generosity.
“Thank you.” You rasp, your teeth going to nibble at your bottom lip.
“Any time, Duchess.” His head dips politely as he exits through the front door. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
And just like that he was gone, which meant you could finally breathe normally again. Strange butterflies once again fill your belly as you take your time examining the card your bounty hunter had left behind. While you weren’t sure if you’d ever call him, you decide it’s worth tucking into a zippered pocket in your purse before getting on with the rest of your day.
Little did you know that you would come to need that tiny piece of paper sooner rather than later…
END
Sweet Renegade Series Tag List
@katymae12344
@identity2212
@hisredheadedgoddess28
@blackhawkfanatic
@jamneuromain
@queerqueenlynn
@pono-pura-vida
@daykrisr999
@jamneuromain
@ninacutebee16
@whiskeytangofoxtrot555
@emerald-writes
@gh0stgurl
#cevansbrat0007 fics#cevansbrat0007 sweet renegade series#chris evans imagines#ari levinson imagines#chris evans fanfiction#ari levinson fanfiction#chris evans x you#ari levinson x you#chris evans x black!reader#ari levinson x black!reader#chris evans x woc!reader#ari levinson x woc!reader#chris evans x black reader#ari levinson x black reader#chris evans smut#ari levinson smut#chris evans x reader#chris evans x female!reader#chris evans x girlfriend!reader#ari levinson x reader#ari levinson x female!reader#ari levinson x girlfriend!reader#chris evans x poc!reader#ari levinson x yn#chris evans x yn#ari levinson x y/n#chris evans x y/n#ari levinson girlfriend!reader#chris evans x curvy!reader#ari levinson x curvy!reader
457 notes
·
View notes
Note
I've been thinking about this for several days and I'd really love to know your opinion:
What do you think is the ideal type of each of the Slytherin boys?
Slytherin boys – Their ideal types
Warning: Toxic boys alert! (Not that bad though)
A/N: Ooh, this one was hard! Honestly, I had never really thought about that – or wanted to think about it … but here it goes:
PS: I didn't want to write about ideal body types, so I left that bit out – hope that is alright!
Mattheo …
… doe eyes – does not matter which color (although brownie points for brown eyes) – he’d spend hours just staring into your eyes. If you know how to use your eyes to your advantage, you’ll have him wrapped around your finger.
… pouty lips with a defined cupid’s bow. He’d always have to kiss you whenever he glimpsed at your lips – which was quite often. Be prepared to be kissed all. The. Time. Even during classes – which got you both detention for inappropriate displays of affection.
… he loves long hair, especially curly or wavy hair. Whenever he’s bored, he’ll twirl your curls around his finger.
… he needs a loving, affectionate, soft partner. He’s quite needy and possessive, so he’ll need someone who’ll constantly reassure him without judging him for being overly possessive.
… however, he’d bee head over heels if you also have some sass to you: Sweet, loving but make it spicy.
… loves sneakers and his hoodies on you. Especially if his hoodies still smell like him. The thought of his smell marking you makes him want to go feral.
… would love someone who is inexperienced ... because let’s be honest: the thought of you having been with other people would drive him mad and rob him of his sleep.
Theodore …
… loves long hair as well. He’d try to braid your hair for you – he’d lowkey be possessive over your hair and get angry whenever someone else touches it.
… thinks he wants a more sultry-seductive-siren-like partner, but I think he’d simp for a golden-retriever-type-of partner.
… would secretly wish for you to cook and bake for him – especially Italian dishes and pastries.
… he loved his late mom but she was taken too early from him, which is why he needs someone nurturing, mature and someone who tells him when he’s in the wrong – he won’t like his partner telling him what to do though, especially if he isn’t completely in love with them.
… has a corruption-kink, that he still has to recognize/accept, which is why he’d be crazy about an innocent partner – even if it’s a facade. Bat your lashes at him, and bite your lips and he’s gone
… loves – absolutely adores – milkmaid dresses on his partner
Lorenzo …
… loves a good struggle – so, someone with an attitude – a diva!
… although he wants sass, he’d be mad if his partner refused to listen to him – but as mentioned above: he loves a good struggle, so challenge him.
… adores long hair, especially if worn down.
… wants a partner who always dresses up prettily – just for him!
… play hard to get and he’ll be running after you like a starved dog – but don’t let him grovel for too long, otherwise he’ll be fed up.
… he wants someone who’ll take care of him and praise him, someone who radiates warmth, someone who lets him be the little spoon once in a while.
… wouldn’t want his partner to be taller than him.
… wants someone who only shows their true self to him – to people that they are close and intimate with.
… otherwise, he’d love for his partner to be more introverted.
Draco …
… wants someone he can pamper.
… needs someone who will pamper him emotionally.
… loves lighter hair.
… adores the dark academia style on his partner.
… needs someone who’ll listen to him – someone who is honest with him if need be.
… he’d need someone more goofy – a good-natured partner (that he can easily manipulate if he has to)
Blaise …
… loves long hair.
… is drawn to out-going and playful personalities – someone he can have fun with.
… if his partner does not shy back from telling people to fuck off he’d be on his hands and knees for them.
… would absolutely freckles and/or siren-eyes – he’d be simping 24/7.
… thick thighs for days for this boy.
… someone who is shorter than him.
Tom …
… wants someone smart, witty and strong-willed – but someone who will submit to him (although I believe the dark side of him would enjoy if they put up a fight once in a while, he’d enjoy the putting his partner in their place)
… would hate a clingy partner – but they would have to be ready to give him affection whenever he wants.
… does not care about hair length, but he’d like darker hair.
… needs (not wants) a caring partner, someone who’ll stubbornly tell him to finally eat or get some sleep.
A/N: What do you think their ideal types would be?
#slytherin boys#slytherin boys imagine#slytherin boys headcanons#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott fanfiction#theodore nott imagine#draco malfoy#draco imagine#draco malfoy x reader#draco x reader#lorenzo berkshire#lorenzo berkshire imagine#lorenzo berkshire x reader#enzo berkshire x reader#enzo berkshire#mattheo riddle imagine#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle x reader#blaise zabini#blaise zabini x reader#tom riddle#tom riddle x reader
566 notes
·
View notes
Text
50 NSFW-QUESTIONS FOR HUBBY!
Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator
Some time ago, I asked @rivnedell if I could use her 50 questions for everyone's favorite husband Javier. She was so sweet and encouraging, so I got right to them.
These are (funnily enough) +18, so beware and MDNI.
1. Biggest Turn-On?
When you show how much you want him because of how much you love him. He goes crazy when you take initiative to sex, play a little dirty and touch him up when it’s inappropriate because you just cannot help yourself. It’s nice to see that he isn’t the only one who is crazy about the other.
2. Biggest Turn-off?
He doesn’t like for you to play stupid, girly or young. He is most turned on by your confidence, maturity and the fact that you’re a strong woman who gave birth to his children. Sure, he likes the occasional daddy/papí but only if you’re mommy/mamí.
3. Quickest way to get horny?
Whisper in his ear what you want to do to him or what you want him to do to you. He’ll walk around half-hard the rest of the day and then absolutely ravish you when he gets the chance.
4. Top 3 places to be touched?
Face, neck and chest. He loves your gentle hands caressing him slowly until he is completely under your spell. He’ll never get enough attention, able to both get hot for you or fall soundly asleep.
5. Does he like the idea of a threesome or a moresome?
Javier probably has had a threesome in his life but he likes giving all his attention to a single partner. After meeting you, he would never dream of needing a third party in the bedroom.
6. Sex or Masturbation?
Sex. Javier likes the connection he has with another person. However, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like masturbating and letting his mind drift to what he’d like to do to you.
7. Spit or Swallow?
He won’t lie. Swallow. Unless, of course, you make a show to drool with it, letting it drip down your chin.
8. Rough or Romantic sex?
Why can’t rough sex be romantic? He’ll tell you he loves you while you’re arching your back and saying fucked-out nonsense because of how deeply he reaches inside of you.
9. Loud or quiet partners?
Loud, holy shit. He wants to hear how good he is making you feel, wants to make you scream until there are noise complaints.
10. How much foreplay?
He likes to wring out a few orgasms from you before you get down to business but with a house full of kids, he’ll take what he can get in the moments you have to yourselves. If you are alone, he loves getting you hot and bothered so you’re dripping wet and begging when he slides into your heat.
11. How much teasing does he like?
Javier doesn’t like to tease you, is usually too impatient to do it, but he relishes in getting teased by you. Stolen glances, dirty whispers, bending over to show off what he cannot have yet. He’ll feel lightheaded, worked up like a dog who isn’t allowed his treat yet.
12. Hook ups or only partners?
Hook ups are a thing of the past. Now it’s only you.
13. How much kissing during sex?
If he can reach your mouth, he’ll kiss you breathless. Otherwise, he’ll have his mouth on your skin as much as possible. It’s his way of cherishing you, letting you know he just can’t get enough of every square inch of you.
14. Favorite place to have sex?
Javier actually really likes having sex in the kitchen or the bathroom because he can flip you around and shove you down onto the counters. However, some of the best sex he has had has been in a bed even if it’s less adventurous.
15. Would he have sex in public?
To some extent. He likes the idea of getting caught but he wouldn’t actually have sex with you if there were others around. On an abandoned street, in a field, in a locked public bathroom is very much something but it would take something special to make him lose it where people could actually see. Like that one time in the taxi, remember?
16. Last place he had sex?
In your bedroom, doors locked and all the kids in their beds like usual. One hand over your mouth to keep you from waking up everyone and your brows furrowed as he slowly drove his cock in and out of you.
17. Where would he most like to have sex?
On a child-free holiday. Non-stop and all over the hotel room.
18. Spontaneous sex or does he need to be in the mood?
There is not lots of spontaneous sex when you have kids but he tries to find moments during every day chores where he can take care of you quickly. He is never not in the mood for you; one wink and he’s ready to go.
19. Would he go for a hookup at a stranger's house?
Sure. He’s done it a million times when he was young and single.
20. Biggest kink?
Javier saw you and instantly, his breeding kink came out of its hiding. He won’t accept coming anywhere else but in the warmth of your ripe cunt. That and calling you any version of mom, e.g. pretty mamá, mommy, mamacita? He is done for. You’re the mother of his children and that is so fucking hot. Can we make one more, mamá? We can handle another baby… Please let me come inside.
21. Is he ok with name-calling?
No. He doesn’t like calling you vulgar things.
22. Would he do BDSM?
He’d try something more extreme if you like but the harshest thing he’s done to you is give your throat a squeeze or two.
23. Would he prefer to tie you up or be tied up?
There’s something in both things that he likes but being the one getting teased by you is his favorite. If he had to tie you up, it would be to keep your legs spread open for him so you can’t get away.
24. Does he like orgasm denial?
He doesn’t use it as punishment or even just to be mean. Instead, he uses it to make you absolutely shatter when he finally lets you have it and you know this, know that he’d never leave you unsatisfied because you get a little cuckoo if you don’t orgasm. This goes both ways.
25. Does he like overstimulation?
He doesn’t like it much on himself but if he has a chance to see you twitching and crying from being touched too much, he’ll take it. He knows how much you like it too.
26. Does he like pain being involved?
He likes when you grab him, squeeze him, smack him, bite him but no more than that. He does, however, love spanking you.
27. Does he like dirty talk?
Fuck yeah, the man has got a mouth on him. He likes whispering things in your ear or talking as he hovers above you, telling you how good you feel around his cock and how gorgeous you are as you moan and groan, right up until he lets you know you’re about to make him come.
28. Does he own sex toys? How many?
Javier owns a cockring but not much else. Do handcuffs count?
29. What does he masturbate to?
Whatever floats around in his brain. Sometimes it’s just to release some tension and he’ll think of nothing. Other times, it’s because you have done something to get him worked up and he’ll imagine you with your hands or mouth wrapped around his cock. He will admit that he’s thought about stupid porn scenarios too.
30. Multiple rounds or will he settle for one orgasm?
If you have time, he’ll send the kids off to his Pop’s and fuck you six ways till Sunday. Once is never enough and he’ll stock up on electrolyte-drinks and pre-workout protein bars to go all night and day.
31. Does he enjoy giving oral?
He could spend hours between your legs if he had the time. It’s his favorite way to get you soaked and ready for him. God, when your thighs twitch and your voice cracks as you gush all over his face, he knows heaven is a place on Earth.
32. Does he prefer giving or receiving oral?
He has no preference.
33. What makes him orgasm the fastest?
You begging for another baby whilst crying from your own orgasm. He can never hold back when he knows that you want him to finish, especially inside.
34. Does he like/do anal/pegging?
Pegging? No. Anal? He’s allowed on special occasions.
35. Favorite position?
Anything where he gets to be close to you, his nose in your neck and feeling your groans vibrate underneath his lips as he molds you with his cock. Some intense missionary has him seeing stars but fuck, he loves lying down right behind you to cage you in the one arm that stretches across your tits.
36. Does he use protection?
Yes. In his youth, he did have condoms lying around. However, he used to have a lot of unprotected sex back in Colombia which he has been scolded for by you but he was often drunk, sad, angry or scatterbrained by the strain that was on him. Does he use protection with you? No, not really anymore. He’ll probably set money aside for a vasectomy when you’ve had the twins.
37. Does he masturbate with clothes on?
Clothes or no clothes is not really a big deal for him. However, he mostly jerks off in the shower, so without?
38. How does he prefer your hair/grooming?
However you want.
39. What does he wear to bed?
Just his boxers. He’d like to wear nothing but it doesn’t work with kids jumping into bed on a Saturday morning.
40. What does he like you to wear?
Javier doesn’t like to dictate but if he had to choose, he’d like you to wear something that accentuates your waist and ass. It makes him want to grab onto your hips. You in a sundress and he’ll bend you over the nearest surface to put a baby in you. In terms of wearing something to bed, he’ll go insane if he sees you in those cute little sleep shorts or panties and one of his own t-shirts.
41. Does he like his balls played with?
Yes! You better have a hand cupping them as you suck him off.
42. What is his sexuality?
Javier considers himself straight but there have been a few instances of too much alcohol, an eager guy and a messy hookup in his car.
43. Does he have any extreme or unusual kinks?
I would not say anything extreme or unusual, no, but Javier does have an intense lactation kink and it makes him come so fast to see you drip with milk. Go on, let him have a sip.
44. How often does he masturbate?
He’s okay with once in the shower. Just to take off some pressure in the morning.
45. Favorite toy?
Javier cannot remember the last thing that impressed him as much as using the rose toy on you.
46. Does he like roleplay?
To some extent but mostly, he just loves getting down and dirty with his wife.
47. Any fetishes?
Like I said: GIVE THAT MAN A GODDAMN SIP!!
48. Aftercare?
Obviously! He’ll get the warm flannel or carry you to the bathroom, kiss you for a long time and caress your used body. You okay, baby? Wasn’t too hard on you?
49. Does he ever go commando?
Very rarely. It happened more often in his youth.
50. Phone sex?
He’s not going to say no to that but he isn’t much of a texter, so it better be a call so he can hear your tiny cries for him.
.
.
If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️
#pedro pascal characters#javier pena smut#javier pena fanfiction#javier pena fluff#javier pena imagine#javier pena fic#javier pena narcos#javi p#javi peña#javi pena#javier peña#javier pena one shot#javier pena x you#javier pena x reader#javi p x reader#javier pena x y/n#javi pena x reader#javi pena x you#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal smut#my writing#husband!javi#narcos fanfiction#narcos
285 notes
·
View notes
Text
Random Mini Astrology Observations: Vedic Edition
Warning: This is just a string of random thoughts lol, don't compare it to my best work on here. It's a bunch of stuff I've had in my drafts and I'm trying to clear it all out
Before I get into this, I just want to say, that whether my observations are positive or negative, it won't apply to every individual who has these placements. 8 billion people exist on this planet, and not everyone will exhibit the same good or bad qualities. I hate having to put this PSA because some people don't get it but yeah "not all Lunars/Venusians/Nodals/Solars/Jup/Sat are going to be the same".
Jupiter influenced men are known for being introverted cutie pies who kinda have that mature-dilf-y vibe.
Obviously, another category of Jupiter men are often loud, extroverted and very outgoing but I've noticed these placements heavilyyyy in celebrities "known" for being private and introverted. They are also often known for being generous and kind hearted.
Prabhas, Vishaka Stellium (Moon, Mercury and Venus)
He is known as "darling star" and brings food that he has prepared at home for everyone on set (he is an actor). He is known for being very shy and introverted but also super sweet, generous and kind.
Sidharth Malhotra, Vishaka Moon
Sid is known for being extremely lowkey which is RARE for a Bollywood actor. He's also quite gentlemanly and charitable
Ratan Tata, Vishaka Moon
He is an Indian billionaire entrepreneur who lives in a small 2bhk apartment and has donated most of his personal wealth to charity. He is known for having led his company in a very humane way (there are lots of controversies and im aware of them but compared to the work culture and quality of life that most other indian companies offer its employees, TATA is in a different league).
Keanu Reeves, Punarvasu Moon (and stellium)
i dont have to explain but Keanu is the king of kindness and generosity
Mads Mikkelsen, Vishaka Moon
unlike his characters, Mads is actually a sweet guy and very private
Adam Driver- Vishaka Sun
he's so private that nobody even knows he's married with a kid
Tom Hanks, Punarvasu Sun
known for being a gentleman and quite modest. the OG nice guy and obviously very private
Ethan Hawke, Vishaka Sun
another lowkey, private guy who is known for being nice
2. Rashmika Mandanna and Surbhi Jyoti, Swati Moon
I find their eye area to be kinda similar?? I know they don't look alike but there are some overarching similarities between them and I think its bc they have the same moon nak.
3. I came across a comment that Akshay Kumar made about Asin and her CEO husband Rahul Sharma.
“He is madly in love with his wife, his child. It’s like he treats her like a goddess.
and guess what?? Rahul is a Purvashadha Sun 🥺😌😌
4. Ashwini natives often have post-apocalyptic dreams
Since its the first nak and is ruled by Ketu and is in complete darkness, symbolically representing the stage before creation (which happens in Bharani), the subconscious mind is susceptible to having really strange, fcked up, war-like dreams/visions. Also bc Aries rashi is ruled by Mars, God of War.
5. every Venusian man I know kinda has a voice kink
6. Many Punarvasus crave for a simple, rustic, relaxed type of life. In fact many famous Punarvasus live on a farm
Kaley Cuoco- Punarvasu Moon
Bretman Rock - Punarvasu Sun
MS Dhoni- Punarvasu Sun
Dennis Quaid, Punarvasu Moon on his ranch
7. Jupiter and Venus are 'Brahmins' or priestly, the Sun and Mars are 'Kshatriyas' or warriors, the Moon is 'Vaishya', or a trader, Mercury is a 'Vaisya', Saturn 'Shudra', or a lower caste and Rahu and Ketu are outcastes.
This is not an observation but just an astrological fact that I thought I'd mention
8. Magha girls are often the spoilt daughters or come from very bougie families where they're the princesses. They might emotionally suffer but materially and otherwise, they're very comfortable
Shruti Hassan- Magha Moon
she has spoken about how rough her childhood was bc of her parents' tumultuous marriage and subsequent divorce but that doesn't change the fact that she's the daughter of Kamal Hassan, one of the biggest stars in the history of Indian cinema
Kiara Advani- Magha Moon
Kiara is from a very wealthy and illustrious family, and she grew up as a much loved, spoilt ish daughter<3
Wonyoung- Magha Sun
Wonyoung is from a filthy rich family and she has said that she grew up very pampered. And that she didn't have an allowance bc whatever she asked for she got. However she became a trainee at 12yrs of age and that journey could not have been easy. Despite being born rich, she's had to go through a lot in life to be where she is today
Aditi Rao Hydari- Magha Moon
she's of actual royal lineage so she's a real life princess but her parents divorced when she was a kid and she grew up with a single mom in delhi and not in a palace
9. DMX- Mula Sun (dog yoni) was obsessed with dogs
The late rapper DMX's relationship with dogs, which seems almost mythical. He was born in 1970 - the year of the Metal Dog, and in his teens he ran away from his abusive household and befriended stray dogs while vulnerable on the streets. He began to gather dogs for protection, intimidation and family, and was sent to prison for stealing a dog (a neglected dog chained up in a scrapyard). In prison, he wrote a lot of his early songs, in which he came up with his "dog" mythology, in which he imagines himself as a monstrous dog-themed gangster who barks and howls. He had a huge tattoo of his favourite dog Boomer on his back. In 2008, his 12 dogs were taken from him by cops after there were reports of animal cruelty - DMX had paid a negligent caretaker to look after the dogs while he was on tour. (The dogs lived out the rest of their lives as therapy animals in a women's prison)
I think its interesting how our yoni animal influences our life
10. As Vighati graha, male planets are: Sun, Mars, Jupiter, Rahu; female planets are: Moon, Venus, Ketu whilst two eunuch planets are Mercury and Saturn. All the standard rules for determination of the sex of the child are applicable, female signs are: Taurus, Gemini, Virgo, Scorpio, Capricorn and Aquarius; male signs are: Aries, Cancer, Leo, Libra, Sagittarius and Pisces. Exalted planets indicate male issue and debilitated planets indicate female.
11. Mercurial men and Jupiter men are soooo flamboyant, sassy and gender non-conforming
RuPaul- Vishaka Sun & Moon
Elton John- Jyeshta Rising
Jeff Goldblum- Jyeshta Moon
Prince- Vishaka Rising
Jimi Hendrix- Mars in Vishaka atmakaraka
#astro observations#vedic astrology#astro notes#astrology notes#vedic astro notes#sidereal astrology#astrology observations#astrology#nakshatras#astroblr
166 notes
·
View notes
Text
LOGAN HOWLETT - BONDING MOMENT
A/N: Here I am, once again, with another chapter. Chapter 8, my friends, is here and it is still sweet. I will not spoil anything, just read and enjoy.
Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant female reader
Warning: explicit thoughts?
Summary: The students get to know Y/N a little more.
Please, do not read if you are under 18. This story is suitable for mature audience.
Words: 3700+
Important note: Again, Logan is a tall MF, because they fucked up in the movies. Also, Hugh Jackman!Wolverine. This is set in AU.
A TOUCH OF HOPE MASTERLIST | Chapter Seven
LOGAN HOWLETT - BONDING MOMENT
Nothing interesting had happened since that night at the bar. Logan helped Y/N get back to the school and to her room. He laughed at her silliness, which caught him by surprise. Logan wasn’t the guy to laugh around. He was usually stoic and grumpy. But there were some lingering touches here and there. And yet, their bodies were like two opposite magnetic poles, pushing away. The moment she closed the door, he sighed - relieved he didn’t do anything stupid but also sad that the night was officially over.
The days went by. Logan and Bobby joined the Professor in Washington for another conference. The President wanted to meet Charles during a banquet. They were gone for a few days. Jean and Scott were still away with Remy and Hank. The school got quieter when some students went home for the weekend. There were only some kids that had a supportive system back home. Many of them were alone in this cruel world.
On Sunday, the day before Y/N became a teacher, she and JJ were sitting outside on a bench near the pond. She took him out to spend some time with him. He snuggled closer to her side. The weather got colder. Heavy clouds appeared in the sky. Halloween was approaching, and the students were excited about the celebration.
“It’s going to be so much fun,” Jerome said with a wide smile. “I’ve heard you have to make your own mask. It’s a contest, you know?” he was ecstatic. “Everyone does it. The best masks will get some rewards. It’s mostly candy. That counts as a prize.”
“Wow,” Y/N said with a chuckle. She was glad that the boy was happy at the school. “Have you been thinking about what you want to become? Or would you like some suggestions?”
He shook his head. “No, I think I know what I want to be. I’m not telling you. It will be a surprise.”
“A surprise, you say? Alright, don’t tell me anything. I want to see what you will make,” she patted his head. “Otherwise, are you happy here? Do you have everything? Do you need anything?”
He thought about it for a second. “I have everything. They gave me clothes and school supplies. Jean told me to ask for anything. But I can always come to you, right?”
“You can always come to me, Storm, Kitty, or Logan,” she said. “You can even see the Professor and talk to him. He’s the one who created this school. He’s a good man.”
JJ nodded. “Listen,” he turned his head to look at her face. “A few nights ago, I think I heard you giggle in the hallways in the middle of the night.”
Y/N blinked, and she bit the inside of her lip. “Yeah,” she nodded and cleared her throat. “I went out with some of the teachers. We had a lot of fun that night.” It was half true. She omitted the part where she got drunk.
He poked Y/N into her shoulder. “I’m eleven, I’m not stupid,” he said. “You were with Professor Logan. I heard you talk. Well, you laughed more than you talked.” That was true. Logan walked her back to her room. They talked, she giggled, and then the night was over. “By the way, he’s awesome.”
“Yeah,” she smiled, nodding. “Does Logan teach you something?”
“We have one history lesson a week with him. I like the subject a lot. History is fascinating. Plus, he knows so much about the First and Second World Wars. He gives us so much information and details. As if he was there. He’s strict, and we cannot misbehave, but I enjoy the lesson.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” she said with a smile. A shiver ran down her spine. The wind got colder. “Let’s head inside and have a cup of tea. I think it’s going to rain. Or Storm is having a bad day, and she changed the weather to fit her mood.”
JJ laughed. He stood up first, grabbed Y/N’s hand and helped her up on feet. He held her by the forearm as they walked inside the school. When she scanned his face again, she noticed the bruises were healed and almost invincible. He looked healthier. It made her heart warm.
As they walked down the hallway, Y/N heard a whimpering sound. It was soft, girl-like. She frowned. Instead of going to the kitchen, she followed the sound. The boy was confused. He opened his mouth to ask where she was going, until he heard it too.
Y/N walked to the lounge room, where she found a young girl sitting on the window still, silently crying. She was JJ’s age. She had curly hair and glasses on her nose. Her skin was light brown.
Carefully, Y/N approached her. She didn’t want to scare her. “Hi,” she used a gentle voice. “Are you alright?” The girl's puffy brown eyes looked up. She shook her head and continued to cry. “Oh, come here, sweet angel,” she said. Her arms spread, and she waited for the girl to accept her hug.
Surprisingly, the girl was immediately hidden in her arms, weeping into Y/N’s leather jacket. Y/N stroked her curly hair lovingly, letting her take her time. JJ took a seat on the couch and silently watched.
“You can talk to me if you want?” Y/N said after another minute. “Did something happen? Has anyone been mean to you?”
The girl's tiny fingers brushed away the hot tears. “My parents haven’t visited me for three months now,” she confessed. That broke Y/N’s heart. “They brought me here, and I never saw them again.” Her voice was low, sad. “They hate me for what I am.”
That statement broke Y/N’s heart. She understood the girl’s pain. Her loved ones gave up on her because she was a mutant. “What’s your name?”
“Nova,” she said. Her arms were tightly wrapped around Y/N’s torso, holding her close.
“Nice to meet you, Nova,” Y/N said with a smile. She rested her head on top of the girl’s. “Tell me, what is your mutation?”
“I, uh,” she hesitated. “I can scream very loudly,” she said. “It can damage your hearing.”
Y/N tilted her head to the side, thinking. “Sonic screaming,” she said out loud. “That is an interesting mutation, Nova. You have powerful vocal cords, and I’ve never met a mutant with this ability.” It wasn’t a lie.
Nova lifted her head and finally looked at Y/N. “You think so?”
“Yes,” she said with a brighter smile than before. “Every mutation is unique, and so is yours. With learning and more information, you will master your ability and know how to properly use it. All you need is time, patience and practice.”
Y/N’s goal was to shift the girl’s attention to something else. It was evident that Nova was agonising over her parents’ neglect. That’s why Y/N wanted to gain her trust, and maybe she’d feel more comfortable around her.
“What is your mutation?” she asked.
“I can create protective forcefields,” Y/N explained. “I am still trying to learn more about my mutation. I’ve heard the term Flyrokinesis, but some call it Flyrogenesis.”
“Is there a difference?”
“Yes,” Y/N nodded. “Flyrokinesis means you can only control force fields. When you can create them, it’s called Flyrogenesis. I can do both.”
“That’s so cool,” Nova sighed. “You can do so much good with your mutation. I only hurt people,” she said. Nova pushed away from Y/N but remained sitting by her side.
Y/N chuckled a little. “Well, it’s not as it seems. I hurt with my ability, too. It was unintentional, but it happened. That is why we need to practise and learn about our mutations. So we won’t hurt people again. We can use our abilities to do good.”
“My mutation is elasticity,” JJ joined the conversation. He picked the right time. Nova’s eyes turned to him. “The people that fostered me thought it was disgusting,” he said. “Now I think my mutation is unique.”
Y/N’s eyes moved to the boy. This was new information. He had never said anything about his parents before. Now she knew why. He didn’t have parents. He was in foster care. Even there, he wasn’t loved. Y/N wanted to run to him and hide him in a tight, loving hug.
“My parents have sent me here and never came to see me or take me home for the weekend,” said Nova. “I deafened my father in one ear,” she confessed. “He never looked me in the eyes again.” And she started to cry again.
“Nova?” another soft voice said from the entrance to the room. “Are you okay?”
Y/N found three other girls standing at the door, watching them. The oldest girl could be thirteen. All three were different. One of them had cat-like irises. The mutation must have caused it.
“Yeah, I’m just talking to…” she turned to Y/N, not knowing her name.
“My name is Y/N. This is JJ,” she pointed at the only boy in the living room. “Would you like to join us?” she showed at the empty couch.
The girls walked inside and sat together. They introduced themselves, too. Jamie, Olivia and Kyra were friends with Nova. They all shared a room on the second level. At least these girls were the support Nova needed.
Y/N and Nova moved to sit next to JJ. “You are the new professor?” Olivia asked Y/N.
“Oh,” it caught her by surprise. Did the Professor announce it already? “Yes. I’ll be teaching English and Literature starting tomorrow. I got a few classes a week.”
“Really?” JJ’s eyes brightened. “That is so awesome!”
Y/N nudged his shoulder. “Thanks, buddy. I’ll be teaching you too, you know? We’ll have literature together on Tuesday and English on Thursday.”
“You haven’t been here long, have you?” Olivia asked. Her long blond hair was braided from the top of her head. She had colourful bracelets on her wrists. “I’ve been here for a year and noticed you a couple of times these past few weeks.”
Two teenage boys walked into the lounge room. They stopped in their tracks when they found the place occupied. “Sorry,” one of them said. “We thought we’d be alone here at this hour.” Before he could finish it, another two boys walked in.
Y/N raised a brow. Already ten people in the room. “What time is it?” she asked no one in particular. It took another five minutes, and another six children entered the room.
“You’re the new teach’,” one of the older boys pointed a finger at her. “Cool,” he smirked.
“I guess the word is spreading faster than you know,” Y/N mumbled under her nose.
“No, she’s the one who saved Jerome,” a girl said as she sat in an armchair. She was at least fifteen years old.
“I guess you have a reputation, Y/N,” JJ laughed when the kids around them started to talk about Y/N as if she was not there.
The woman raised her hands into the air to stop the debate. “If you want to know more, you need to ask the source - that’s me. Please, stop discussing me as if I was not here, okay?” One after one, they nodded their head. “Great. Let’s start again. My name is Y/N. Do you have any questions?”
“What is your mutation?”
“Is it true you will be our new teacher?”
“Did you throw Professor Summers out of the window a few days ago?”
That last question made her laugh. Obviously, they knew something happened. This was the perfect opportunity to talk to the students and know them better. She lived there for some time now. It would be nice to be part of their lives, be there for them. As she kept looking at it, she realised all these children stayed at school for the weekend. Some of the faces were familiar to her. They never left the school the whole time she lived there.
They all had one thing in common - their families gave up on them the moment they discovered how different their children were.
A frown appeared on her face. “Do you ever go home?” she asked gently. She wanted to know how many of them still had their parents.
They all shook their heads. “No,” said one of the oldest boys present. “Some of us have families on the other side of the states. Most of us are here all the time. They gave up on us.”
“I’m so sorry,” Y/N sighed. “I know how it feels to be pushed away from your family. Mine got rid of me, too.”
“Sure,” one of the girls scoffed.
Y/N’s eyes found hers. “They locked me in an insane asylum because I… I killed my own little sister with my mutation,” she admitted out loud. “It was the first time I used the ability. Until that moment, I didn’t know I was a mutant. My mutation is forcefield manipulation. Even though it is a protective ability, I managed to kill my sister with it.”
It was hard to admit it in front of a group of children. Y/N concluded it was better to tell the truth than to lie. What if Scott would open his big dumb mouth, and the kids would fear her? No more lying.
“My parents put me into an insane asylum because of it, and they never came for me. Well, I believe they’d rather see me dead. I escaped the asylum and joined a group of terrible people. My decisions were not the best. I’m not proud of that part of my life.”
“Y/N was locked with me in a lab where they experimented on us,” JJ chimed in. The kids turned their gazes at him. He sounded like a grown man. “She was already there when they brought me in. I helped her escape. Later, Profesor Logan and her came for me and saved my life.”
The silence that surrounded everyone was heavy. Some kids lowered their eyes to the ground, others closed them. They didn’t know what to say or if to say anything at all. The topic was heavy. Some could relate, and others were lucky to not experience anything tragic.
“I get how you all feel,” Y/N said. “I know what it is like when the people you love get rid of you like you’re an old, used toy. I understand you feel betrayal and pain, even anger.” Her hand found Nova’s hand, and she squeezed it reassuringly. “But look where you are now. You all ended up in a school for mutants, where you’ve been given a second chance for a better life. This place is your home. People here care and want the best for you. I dare to say that this is your new family.”
More silence followed. “I know I’m still a stranger to you, and you don’t trust me. That’s okay. Teachers like Storm, Jean or Kitty will be there for you. Please, just know you can talk to me, too. I want to help in any way that I can and know.”
Once Y/N finished talking, Nova wrapped her arms around Y/N’s waist and hugged her tightly. When JJ saw it, he did the same from the other side. The woman wrapped both arms around each child and smiled. The love she felt was immense. Before she knew it, more children approached her. They all huddled together in a big, warm hug. It was a beautiful gesture.
Storm walked around the school, checking on the students. She stepped into the lounge room. Her eyes landed on the scene before her. She had to smile. Storm was lucky enough to witness the group hug.
“What’s going on?” she asked softly.
Slowly, the children moved from the huddle. They went back to their sitting spots again. JJ kept his arms around Y/N while Nova grabbed Y/N’s hand and held it tightly.
“Just bonding,” Y/N said with a smile.
Storm’s lips reflected the smile. “That’s nice. I’m glad you are finding a way to their hearts.”
Later that day, The Professor returned with Logan and Bobby from the banquet. They were back after a few days away, and both men couldn’t be happier about their return. Bobby missed Kitty. They’d been texting here and there throughout the time. Logan didn’t have the guts to call or text Y/N. He rarely used his phone. Also, he thought it would be weird. Charles could feel Logan’s faint anxiety crawling around him. He knew the reasoning behind it. The man’s thoughts weren’t quiet.
They drove to the school, glad this ‘mission’ was over. They didn’t expect to hear loud music roaring from the building. Logan tilted his head to the side, frowning. “Is that coming from the school?” Then they heard singing. It was like a live concert. “What’s going on?”
Logan parked the car in the garage. They helped Charles out of the car and into his wheelchair. The singing got louder. It echoed around the garage. The students were singing a familiar song. Charles smiled and chuckled. When was the last time something like this happened?
All three went from the garage and got to the main level. The song changed. After a brief silence, the singing began again. The students were crammed in the lounge room, dancing around and singing as loud as their voices let them. When some kids noticed the Professor, they made a passageway for him and the other two teachers.
Logan’s eyes widened in surprise. He found Storm, Y/N and Kitty in the middle of the room, surrounded by students, jumping and screaming words to the song playing.
If you could see that I’m the one who understands you. Been here all along, so why can’t you see? You belong with me.
It seemed everyone knew the words to that song. All three women swayed their hips to the music, jumping around like all the students. They were happy, enjoying the moment. Y/N grabbed JJ’s hands when she started twisting him around. Her face was bright and cheerful. Even the boy was thrilled.
She wears high heels. I wear sneakers. She’s cheer captain. I’m on the bleachers.
This part was powerful. As if everyone wanted to scream the chorus as loud as possible. No one cared that the headmaster was present. But Charles had a big smile on his face. Yes, they organised events for the students, but this happened out of nowhere. It was special. It was a bonding moment for everyone.
“I love this song!” Bobby shouted, bobbing his head to the song. He started to sing the lyrics.
Storm draped an arm around Y/N’s shoulders while Y/N wrapped an arm around her waist as they sang the song. One of her hands remained on JJ. They laughed at their silliness. Kitty found Bobby walking to her. She got excited and ran into his arms, and they swayed together to the song.
Storm discovered Bobby a few seconds later. She stopped dancing, and her eyes found Charles and Logan. Her arm fell from Y/N’s shoulders, and she made her stop dancing.
Y/N gasped. Her face heated up, and she quickly turned around to turn off the music. She had a remote control to the stereo. When the song was abruptly stopped, the students whined. It was evident they were displeased by the interruption.
“Professor,” Storm said his name nervously. “I’m sorry for this. We got carried away.”
Charles laughed. “Oh, Storm, no need to apologise. I like that you all have so much fun on a Sunday afternoon. You should continue to have more fun.”
Y/N was breathing heavily. Her chest was rising and falling visibly. It was quite a cardio. Her eyes met Logan’s, who had a grin on his face. He leaned against the nearest wall, crossed his arms over his chest and kept staring. When he licked his lips, Y/N’s eyes followed his every movement.
“Well, the magic of the moment is kind of gone,” Y/N said. “But we had good two hours of this fun, right?” she turned to see the kids. They shouted affirmations. Some of them whistled.
“Okay, everyone, it’s time for us to end this session,” Storm raised her voice so everyone could hear her. “Thank you for being here and having fun. It’s time to get to your rooms and prepare for tomorrow.”
Logan watched as Y/N hugged a few younger kids. First, it was JJ, which wasn’t surprising. Then, it was two other girls. That sight made his insides tingle. He felt love radiating out of her. It made him smile. When they separated, Y/N’s eyes were back on him.
He took a few steps forward while greeting some of the kids. “Are you trying to bribe them to like you?” he mocked her.
“Are you jealous I’m giving my attention to them and not you?” she poked his bicep when Logan was close enough. “Or should I bribe you too?”
“I’m not that easy, princess.”
“What if I tell you I sneaked in some beer?” she raised her brows.
He was impressed. “You got me. Wait, you want to get drunk again?” he asked. “I won’t be taking care of your ass next time.”
Y/N squinted. Her body was ready to jump at him. Not because she was angry at him. She wanted to kiss that smug smile off his face. Last night, she imagined what his hands would feel on her body, how he would taste and feel. She pictured his hands exploring her naked body, his lips between her legs.
“I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself,” she said. There was a teasing smile on her face. She walked past him and found JJ talking to one boy. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders.
Logan watched her leave the lounge room with the boy. His mind was spinning. His eyes lowered and remained on her ass, watching it move with each step she took.
A hand tapped his shoulder. Bobby grinned at Logan. “You got it bad, my friend.”
“Shut up.”
#Logan Howlett x reader#Logan Howlett x female reader#Wolverine#Logan Howlett#Wolverine x reader#Wolverine x female reader#Marvel fanfiction#X-men fanfiction#Logan Howlett x mutant female reader
418 notes
·
View notes
Text
Back to my nalu brainrot years later so here are my headcanons on how nalu should develop if Mashima actually writes them properly:
Lucy sees Natsu as her best friend but does think there could be potential for more. She just actively pushes the idea away because it doesn't seem possible. She doesn't want to wait around for him and waste time, so she's long accepted how they currently are. It's not so bad anyway, cus their friendship is just as valuable to her. She doesn't need anything different as of now.
Natsu doesn't really think much about romance, relationships, etc. But he's not an idiot (canon you have no power here). All he knows is that Lucy is different than his other friends. Aside from Happy, he likes being around her the most. He doesn't really think about kids, but finds himself daydreaming about having one with Lucy, which he does not do with the other FT girls. He's scared to lose all his friends, but the thought of losing Lucy sticks around the most. She's different to him, he knows that, but struggles to figure it out because it's all new to him
Idgaf what the manga says. Natsu still likes pranking Lucy but has grown considerate of her. Lucy, however, learned from him and pranks him back. It has become a game now of who can tease the other better. Lucy likes playing around with her best friend, while Natsu just loves seeing her smile.
Happy has seen a change in Natsu in his treatment and feelings towards Lucy but doesn't know how to bring it up. He also sees Lucy's lingering looks of longing that she adeptly cuts short whenever someone notices. He'd rather they figure it out for themselves.
Their development would be gradual (but not nonexistent as it is in the damn manga). No dramatic confessions, just a bit of pushing from Lucy and a bit of opening up from Natsu. Lucy finds herself wanting to be closer bit by bit despite her earlier reservations, as Natsu's slowly figuring out how he feels for Lucy. Fortunately, Natsu doesn't need to say much for Lucy to understand what he means.
Their dynamic stays the same, just more mature and emotionally intimate. It comes to a point where they don't really need to verbalize it to know they're both it for each other, their first and last, forever.
At this point, the pda really begins. How Natsu teases Lucy now is outright flirting and dirty jokes, which flusters Lucy every time, especially when they're with the team. Lucy soon discovered that the best way to get back at him was through physical flirting — running her hands across his chest and stomach, playing with his hair, touching his neck. It drives him absolutely crazy and she loves it.
Natsu's protectiveness now bleeds beyond their fights against enemies and into simple social encounters with other people who so much as look at Lucy weirdly. This annoys her, but inside, she finds it sweet and attractive. On the other hand, Lucy tries to act nonchalant whenever she's jealous in order to save face, but the team can clearly see through her facade. Natsu, unfortunately, constantly misses all the hints, so Lucy ends up conceding anyway.
If they were attached at the hip before, they're absolutely glued to each other now. Natsu outright refuses to go anywhere without Lucy, and only she can convince him otherwise. The two now always share a bed/sleeping mat. Whenever they walk around, their hands are always intertwined. The most shocking of all, Natsu shares his food with Lucy; lets her take a bite from his plate all the time.
He tried to get into reading for her but quickly got bored of it, so she thought of reading to him instead. This seems to be much more effective, to the point the two often discuss their thoughts on what they're currently reading. This almost always turns into heated debates, with Lucy repeatedly trying to explain her point with solid evidence from the text, and Natsu just not getting it.
In that same vein, Lucy offers to spar against him. What Lucy lacks in physical strength, she makes up for with tact and sheer magical prowess, so they're often evenly matched, with Natsu winning the most by just a small margin mainly due to his stamina. Regardless, what matters most to him is how much fun he has with her. Also, their sparring helps him with his impulsiveness and temper since he has a safe outlet for his pent-up energy now.
It took a while for their teammates to adjust to their evolved dynamic. They're mostly shocked that Natsu had the brains to even make a move, but they can see how the two have matured with each other. Hence, they're truly happy for them.
Years down the line, Lucy moves into his house, which he spent months renovating to accommodate her. The first few months are pure chaos as they adjust to sharing the same space, with Natsu increasing his pranks and Lucy trying to avoid every single one, and Lucy constantly wanting to rearrange furniture and Natsu grumbling as he mostly does the heavy lifting, but both cannot express enough how happy they are to share a home.
The thought of proposing just suddenly comes to Natsu one day. After pondering on it for a few days, he asks her out of the blue as they're idling in the house. Lucy is shocked, stares at him, then laughs out loud when she realizes he's 100% serious. He gets flustered and self-conscious as she's doubling over, but before he can ask what is so funny, she kisses him and says yes. He grins and hugs her tightly as they laugh and kiss.
They have a simple ceremony near the guild, but things quickly turn chaotic as their friends from all over visit to witness the ceremony. Their honeymoon is spent traveling and adventuring. They pull a Sasuke and Sakura by coming home with baby Nasha OR with Lucy heavily pregnant because she wants to give birth in the guild. Either pushes the entire guild into absolute chaos, but the two wouldn't have it any other way.
Will add more soon! Feel free to comment and add your own
#fairy tail#nalu#natsu x lucy#nalu headcanon#fairy tail 100 yq#fairy tail 100 years quest#natsu dragneel#lucy heartfilia#hiro mashima
272 notes
·
View notes
Text
Learn to Love Again (m) | myg
Summary: People always leave. They become beautiful stars shining bright in the night sky. When life hands you lemons, you’ve been told to make lemonade, but that is hard when your soul and heart is breaking apart. When you rescue a tiny cat and meet a handsome stranger in the cafe, you finally feel yourself healing – but when they too leave, how are you going to learn to love again?
Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female, mainly called pet names so no ‘Y/N’).
AU + genres: Hybrid!au (shapeshifter!yoongi), strangers to lovers, slice of life, heavy angst, a lot of sadness and grief (I’m sorry!), dark vibes, smut and fluff and some humor sprinkled in there too.
Rating: Mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.
Word count: 19,4K
Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸
Warnings (general) + triggers: Heavy angst, extreme heavy sadness and grief, death of minor characters, mention of previous character death (parents and siblings), mentions of su*cide, mention of m*rder, su*cidal thoughts. Mention of past car accident. Mention of past domestic abuse. Mirrors 👀👀
Warnings (explicit): unprotected sex (please stay safe!), choking, oral (female receiving), nipple and breasts play, one-time use of a degrading word (otherwise petname), hair pulling – I guess it’s pretty vanilla with a slight sprinkle of spice 🤭
Author’s note (1): I know it sounds hella sad (and it is), but it is also very sweet and heartwarming too 💜 I wanted to venture into the darker stuff again, and embrace all the feelings and sadness that I felt a few weeks ago (I’m fine, well I’m getting through it at least).
If you are triggered by any of the warnings, I suggest that you skip this. It’s not that explicit though, but the heavy subjects are still there and they feature in it a lot.
Also, the quote “people always leave” features a lot in this and I only now realize why I find it so familiar – it’s a famous quote from Peyton Sawyer from One Tree Hill.
Author's note (2): It’s only partly edited, so I’m so sorry about any mistakes or weird wordings (English is also not my mother language). When I read it again, I felt sad and like the whole thing is crap (why do I also feel like this adgadfjkhs), BUT, I still like it, it’s a piece of my heart in there… I can’t just let it sit in my docs to collect dust. So – I’ll just post it early and never look at the thing again (expect for the cover, because damn I’m so happy with how that turned out 🥹).
Taglist: @keshiadeija @viankiss @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad If you prefer to read on AO3 you can also find it there 🙂
The heavens are weeping again, unleashing a torrential downpour that drums heavy on the windows. Just like the heavy beating of your heart and the tears that just won’t stop falling down your cheeks.
For days now, the world has languished in this disquiet, a foreboding atmosphere that has draped itself over every moment, casting a shadow even before the haunting ring of the call that echoed through the silence.
A searing, heart-wrenching call that etched itself into the fabric of your existence, standing out as one of the most agonizing moments life has ever dared to deliver.
Caught off guard by the unexpected twist of fate, it blindsided you, sending shockwaves through your core and leaving you utterly rattled, as if the very ground beneath your feet had shifted without warning.
Your conviction in her well-being crumbled as swiftly as a sandcastle against the tide.
In your last encounter, she radiated joy—her infectious happiness casting a brilliant glow over her words as she spoke about her new job, her blossoming romance, and her boundless love for life.
A tear, heavy with the weight of the contrast between then and now, traces a lonely path down your cheek.
The echo of her laughter, the sparkle in her eyes, and the unbridled excitement that made her hands tremble with anticipation haunted your memories.
It's a heart-wrenching juxtaposition between the happiness she projected and the sorrow now etched into the fabric of your own emotions.
She wasn't just a friend; she was your confidante, a steadfast companion through the labyrinth of years and experiences. Your best friend.
In the tapestry of your friendship, she emerged as the resplendent thread, the one who consistently outshone the rest.
Even on her darkest days, she radiated a brilliance that surpassed the ordinary, a celestial glow that left an indelible mark on your heart. To you, she wasn't just a friend; she was a luminous star, a breathtaking celestial entity whose untimely descent felt like a cosmic supernova, casting a blinding light that left everyone in its wake awestruck and forever changed.
Like a thunderbolt from a clear sky, the day she chose to end her own life blindsided everyone.
The abruptness of her decision, the finality of calling it quits, left a haunting question echoing in the hollow chambers of your soul—why?
The puzzle remains unsolved, the enigma of her despair a perplexing maze you can't navigate. Outwardly, her life seemed like a canvas painted in hues of contentment, yet the invisible struggles eluded comprehension.
Despite the deep conversations that usually wove through the tapestry of your friendship, the darkness she harbored never surfaced in her words. Her choice to shroud her pain in silence remains an unfathomable mystery, a tragic paradox that still elicits a profound sense of bewilderment.
The haunting ‘what if’ lingers, an elusive specter of regret—what if she had shared her struggles with you?
The possibility that your words could have been a lifeline is an uncharted sea of sorrow. The uncertainty, the unfulfilled potential for intervention, claws at your conscience like a relentless tempest.
In the wake of this unanswered plea for connection, tears cascade down your cheeks, each drop bearing the weight of unspoken conversations. The dampness on your collarbone, where your shirt clings uncomfortably, is a tangible reminder of the storm within.
A mere few days have crawled by since that fateful call, the kind that alters the very fabric of reality.
The echo of your friend's voice reverberates through your memory—a seismic revelation that shattered your world. As the words unfolded, you crumpled to the floor, the phone nearly slipping from your trembling grasp.
A gasp caught in your throat, a palpable surge of emotion crashing over you like a tidal wave.
In that harrowing moment, your heartbeat quickened, each thud resonating with the weight of sorrow and anger. The air itself seemed to constrict, tainted with the bitter aftertaste of an impending storm. The onslaught of emotions clawed at your chest, a tumultuous dance between sadness and anger, each one vying for dominance in the chaotic symphony of your soul.
Powerlessness wraps around you like a suffocating shroud, the absence of your brightest star leaving a void that seems insurmountable.
In this moment of staggering loss, the future unfolds as a vast expanse of uncertainty. How do you navigate a world without the radiant glow she once brought to your existence?
Yet, as the weight of grief presses down, a resilient ember flickers within. Acknowledging the inexorable march of time, you realize that her memory, like a cherished constellation, will be a guiding light in the night sky of your life.
In the tapestry of your emotions, she, alongside your parents, becomes one of the celestial beacons you look up to during moments of sorrow or when life's burdens become too overwhelming.
You step out onto the balcony, enveloped by the velvety embrace of the dark blue sky.
The resplendent moon takes center stage, surrounded by a constellation of bright companions that twinkle in the vast expanse of the night. The beauty of the cosmos is a bittersweet solace, a celestial dance that captivates your gaze.
The night sky has always held a captivating allure for you, but in the wake of the profound loss of your parents, it transcends mere beauty.
It becomes a sanctuary, a cosmic tapestry where memories linger among the stars. Each celestial beacon now carries the weight of cherished moments, transforming the night into a sacred canvas where the brilliance of your loved ones continues to shine, casting a radiant glow that lingers in the quiet moments of contemplation.
The subtle hum of your phone reverberates in your hand, a clandestine messenger that disrupts the tranquility of your thoughts, setting loose a cascade of emotions.
The screen lights up with a message from a friend, its arrival like a seismic tremor in the landscape of your contemplations, shaking loose the delicate balance you've tried so desperately to maintain.
Yuna [20.31]: Iseul’s funeral is on Saturday. We’re all going. U coming?🌹
Dread settles in the pit of your stomach like a heavy anchor – the thought of attending the funeral feels like navigating a tempest of emotions you're not sure you're prepared to weather.
The prospect of confronting tears, raw emotion, and the grieving presence of her family looms before you, casting a shadow over the already somber occasion.
Yet, duty intertwines with reluctance; you were her best friend, after all.
The expectation to pay your respects becomes an unspoken mandate, tugging at the seams of your resolve despite the storm of discomfort that brews within.
Tears have become an unwelcome torrent on your phone, transforming the smooth surface into a slippery terrain that complicates every attempt to type.
The screen blurs beneath a watery veil, mirroring the tumultuous cascade in your own eyes. Distraction clings to each droplet, making it not only challenging to navigate the phone but also to see through the emotional downpour that clouds your vision.
But against the deluge of sorrow and the weight of grief, you summon the strength for a brief reply, a fragile lifeline tossed into the turbulent sea of emotions.
You [20.46]: Yes🌹
With a heavy sigh, you gently lay your phone face-down on the nightstand, as if shielding the illuminated screen from the weight of the world you've just momentarily set aside.
How do you navigate this desolate landscape that life has become?
The void feels more palpable now, a haunting echo of emptiness that had lingered even before.
It's as if the very essence of existence has been drained away, leaving you grappling with the profound question: What is the point when the world around you continues to crumble, and people around you just keep dying?
At Iseul's funeral, you navigated the somber scene alongside your friend group, bracing for the emotional maelstrom that awaited.
The atmosphere unfolded exactly as you had anticipated — a tableau of tears, grief-stricken family members, and the embrace of mournful hugs. Conversations echoed with memories of Iseul's radiant spirit, each word a bittersweet tribute to the bright and bubbly soul that once graced your lives.
Amidst the collective sorrow, the air hung heavy with the weight of loss, weaving a tapestry of emotions that spoke to the indelible impact Iseul had left behind.
It was agonizing, bidding farewell in the harsh reality of acceptance. The harsh truth of life unveiled itself – an unrelenting cycle of departures.
Yet, amidst the crushing finality, you find solace in the enduring promise that even though everyone leaves, the stars above will forever bear witness to her presence, a cosmic constellation of memories that will continue to illuminate the canvas of your nights.
Work persists in its mundane rhythm, the monotony punctuated only by the forced smiles you offer customers as you brew their coffee or recommend delectable treats in the cafe.
For you, work has forever remained a sterile landscape, devoid of passion or purpose. The unfulfilled yearning for a meaningful career tugs at the edges of your consciousness, a persistent ache exacerbated by life's unrelenting cruelty—your unfinished degree in astrophysics stands as a testament to dreams deferred. Maybe you’ll go back to school – you don’t know.
Your thoughts are abruptly shattered by a brash intrusion, a man’s voice slicing through the ambient noise with an unwarranted familiarity. “Hi, pretty,” he drawls, snapping your attention to the present, “can I get a black coffee, a muffin, and your number, please?”
The audacious request hangs in the air, leaving a charged pause that crackles with a blend of amusement and annoyance.
You stifle a silent scoff, a careful veil to conceal the simmering irritation within, though the indignation is palpable.
This flirtatious interlude is far from novel—far from the first time someone has attempted to weave charm into the fabric of your workday. Yet, a discomforting truth lingers beneath your composed exterior: you disdain these unwarranted advances, a sentiment you've carried with you each time such encounters stain the ordinary canvas of your work.
Forcing a smile that feels more like a fragile mask, you locate a muffin, navigating the familiar routine with practiced efficiency.
As you approach the coffee machine to craft the requested brew, you gather both items and, with a subtle sigh, slide them across the counter.
Your words, delivered with a polite cadence, carry a hint of firmness as you say, “Here you go. Apologies, but my number isn't on the menu.”
Turning men down has become a skill honed through the crucible of experience, a necessity etched into the fabric of your being, especially after the wreckage of your last relationship.
It wasn't just a breakup; it was a tempest that left you bruised, not only on the surface but also in the recesses of your soul.
To declare a dread of relationships, despite the quiet longing that flickers deep within, would be an understatement—the mere thought evokes the echoes of a tumultuous past, a cautionary tale etched in both physical and emotional hues of black and blue.
Despite the man's disapproving frown, he begrudgingly parts with his payment, snatching his coffee and muffin.
As he vacates the space, you extend a tight-lipped greeting to the next customer, the forced smile a delicate masquerade concealing the intricacies of emotion churning beneath the surface.
Day after day unfolds in this relentless routine, a relentless loop where, despite the suffocating weight of depression, you muster the strength to haul yourself into work.
The struggle is an unspoken battle, fought in the silent recesses of your soul, and each morning becomes a victory against the persistent darkness that threatens to engulf your spirit.
You maintain a lifeline to your friends, weaving a narrative of your somber mood and emotional tumult, acutely aware of the significance of vocalizing your feelings rather than succumbing to the perilous grip of silent suffering.
Recent conversations with your friends have taken an unexpected turn, steering into the realm of your dating life or, more accurately, its conspicuous absence.
Their fervent advocacy for you to reenter the world of romance echoes in your ears, their well-intentioned pleas urging you to cross paths with someone great and amazing.
However, you find yourself standing at the crossroads of uncertainty, unsure if you're ready to navigate the labyrinth of love once more.
Despite your reservations, you indulge them, allowing their words to wash over you like a waterfall of unsolicited advice, all the while steadfast in your understanding that a man is not a prerequisite for happiness or the completeness of your life—you've long recognized your ability to stand firm and flourish on your own terms.
An entire season has unfurled its tapestry, and while the vast void persists within the caverns of your heart, there's a subtle transformation underway. Amidst the lingering shadows, a sliver of the sun's warm rays threads its way through, gently illuminating the emptiness.
The caress of warm weather and sunlight manages to coax a faint lift in your mood, a subtle thawing of the emotional frost.
Yet, amidst the burgeoning warmth, there's a yearning for the crispness of cold, the kind that invites the comfort of wool sweaters and socks, beckoning a desire to cocoon on the couch and lose yourself in the embrace of solitude.
After withstanding the relentless onslaught of your friends' persistent prodding into the realm of your love life, you've yielded to the chorus of their well-meaning badgering. With a mixture of trepidation and curiosity, you've made the bold decision to reenter the intricate dance of the dating game.
The prospect of discovering 'the one' remains shrouded in uncertainty, a delicate balance between the promise of profound connection and the potential peril of heartache from those who might not treat you right.
However, the ambiguity of the journey doesn't deter your resolve. To remain passive is to forfeit the chance at something extraordinary.
The echoes of Iseul and the silent encouragement from your departed parents reverberate, urging you to embrace life with all its intricate hues. Their unwritten wish for your happiness becomes the compass guiding your path, compelling you to take the plunge and give it your all.
You yearn for a life where the pursuit of happiness isn't punctuated by the haunting inevitability of departures and loss. You grasp the harsh truth that people leaving or departing through death is an inescapable facet of existence, a relentless current in the river of life.
Yet, the recurring tide of sorrow that washes over you each time someone departs feels burdensome, a weight that anchors your spirit. It would be a cherished reprieve if the ebb and flow of life's transitions didn't carry with it a relentless undertow that threatens to drag you down each time.
Your dating escapades have unfolded like a series of misadventures, each rendezvous more perplexing than the last.
One suitor wielded an aggressive tone that eclipsed any potential connection, while another was so absorbed in self-interest that your voice seemed but an echo in the conversation. Then there was the one who sought solace in your company to mend a broken heart, an unwitting participant in their quest for emotional repair.
With every disappointing encounter, your hopes wane like the dying embers of a once-bright flame. Yet, undeterred, you persist in the pursuit of connection, a resilient soul navigating the unpredictable seas of dating with unwavering determination.
Amidst the tumultuous sea of advice from your friends, the suggestion of a night out clubbing emerges as a potential remedy to jumpstart your dating life—a one-night stand, a shortcut to reclaiming agency over your love life.
However, the proposition fails to align with the essence of who you are. The neon-lit allure of the club scene doesn't resonate with your soul, and the idea of a fleeting encounter doesn't hold the promise you seek.
Nonetheless, you find yourself engulfed in a pulsating sea of sound, the music in the club roaring, the bass reverberating through the floor and into your bones.
The atmosphere is a maelstrom of heat and sweat, a suffocating embrace that intensifies your regret for being there.
Yuna, exuding an air of confidence, takes charge and orders a round of drinks for the group. Meanwhile, Nari's eyes scan the lively chaos of the club, a vigilant matchmaker on a mission to uncover potential matches for you.
Her finger extends with a pointed certainty toward a mysterious figure—a dark-haired man sporting a sleeveless shirt, the canvas of his arm adorned with an intricate tattoo sleeve. His dark eyes, scanning the crowded expanse of the club, carry an enigmatic intensity, hinting at a captivating allure that goes beyond the surface.
Your laughter carries a blend of amusement and skepticism as you dismissively remark, “Nah, he's giving off major fuckboy vibes.”
Amidst the cacophony of pounding music in the club, Nari practically shouts in your face, her words punctuating the beat as she insists, “Maybe that's exactly what you need!”
The intensity of her proclamation, a fervent plea for spontaneity, reverberates in the air, a challenge thrown into the whirlwind of the night's possibilities.
You shake your head, a firm yet polite rejection lingering on your lips, “No, thank you.”
Just as the tension subsides, Yuna appears with a tray of drinks, a timely distraction. Gratefully, you accept your drink, savoring the sweet and sour concoction that dances across your palate, momentarily providing respite from the charged atmosphere of the club.
The night unfolds in a rhythm of measured indulgence—a few drinks to chase a gentle buzz, steering clear of the edge of intoxication. Your gaze scans the crowd in search of potential matches, but amidst the pulsating lights and swirling music, none captures the elusive spark that ignites a genuine interest.
As the night deepens and the rhythm of the club starts to fade, you bid farewell to your friends, the weight of the evening settling in your bones.
Stepping out into the nocturnal air, you're greeted by the relentless cascade of rain, a torrential downpour that catches you off guard. Damn it, you realize, a surge of annoyance coursing through you, you didn't bring an umbrella.
Embracing a sudden burst of defiance, you make a split-second decision, a resolute ‘fuck it’ echoing in your mind.
Stepping onto the sidewalk without the shelter of an umbrella, you surrender to the unrelenting rain. In mere moments, your hair clings to your skin, and your clothes succumb to the downpour.
As you navigate the labyrinth of alleys and pass by numerous apartments, a peculiar low noise infiltrates the ambient hum of the rain. What is that sound?
It's a subtle yet persistent calling that arrests your movements, compelling you to strain your senses in an attempt to decipher its origin.
It's not just your slightly tipsy mind, is it, playing tricks on you?
The cadence of the noise feels like a desperate plea, an ethereal call for help that beckons you into a mysterious dance between reality and the unknown.
Undeterred by the absence of street lamps, you navigate a shadowy alleyway nestled between looming apartment complexes. The darkness cloaks the path ahead, but you press on, an intrepid explorer drawn to the mystery that lies beyond the veil of obscurity.
As you draw nearer, the enigmatic noise crescendos in intensity, a haunting melody that pierces the quiet of the alley.
Your steps quicken, and with each stride, the source becomes clearer. Could it be emanating from the depths of the dumpster?
A sense of déjà vu wraps around you, as if this eerie scene has been lifted from a cinematic reel. The dilemma tugs at your curiosity, tempting you to peer into the abyss of the dumpster, a choice that hangs in the balance.
Yet, before you make a decision, a glimmer of relief washes over you.
Nestled snugly beside the dumpster, a small ball of fur captivates your attention, its presence a stark contrast to the ominous shadows.
A silhouette emerges from the darkness, and as you inch closer, the mystery unfolds into a shivering, meowing figure—a black cat.
The frailness of the tiny creature tugs at your heartstrings, and you find yourself hunching down, extending a tentative invitation with soft calls, coaxing the small, ebony bundle to bridge the gap between its vulnerability and your outstretched hand.
The black cat fixes its gaze upon you, eyes mirroring a blend of uncertainty and wariness, as if it's attempting to decipher the intentions behind your outstretched hand.
The black cat stirs from its initial hesitation, uttering plaintive meows that seem to echo its distress. As it rises, the stark reality becomes evident—malnourished and shrouded in fear, it moves tentatively towards you. Each step seems to echo a history of abandonment and struggle. With aching slowness, the feline inches closer, navigating the wet ground with trepidation.
Softly, you beckon the malnourished feline closer, the words “Come here, you poor thing” carrying an invitation laced with compassion.
As the tiny creature inches nearer, its pitch-black eyes become an intense focal point, a gaze that transcends the physical realm, peering into the depths of your soul. In that poignant exchange, a silent pact forms—an unspoken promise of comfort and understanding between two beings, each seeking solace in the other's company.
As the fragile black cat draws near, an echo from your past resurfaces—the cautionary words of your mother reverberating in your mind. ‘Black cats bring omen and death,’ her voice, etched in childhood memories, had warned.
Yet, confronted with the stark vulnerability of this shivering, lost creature in the cold summer rain, you find your resolve tested.
Against the weight of your mother's superstitions, compassion prevails, and you make a conscious decision to offer refuge. You haven’t got anything else to lose, but yourself.
The cat's purrs resonate in the quiet alley, a melodic response to the tentative connection forming between you. Meows become a symphony of trust as it finally caresses your hand, a delicate dance of vulnerability.
With a newfound intimacy, it leans into your touch, climbing up your arm to find refuge in your lap. Despite your jacket's damp embrace, you pull the shivering creature closer, enfolding it tightly against your chest.
“I’ll take you home and get you some food.”
Rising from the damp alley, you cradle the tiny black cat in your arms, an intimate embrace that transcends the physicality of the moment. As you navigate the journey home, each step becomes a testament to the newfound connection—its fragile heartbeat resonating against your chest.
As you finally reach the sanctuary of your home, both you and the shivering cat are thoroughly drenched from the relentless rain.
With a twist of the key, you unlock the door to your small apartment, ushering in a breath of warmth that contrasts sharply with the damp chill outside.
In a choreography of relief, you kick off your sodden shoes, the cat nestled at your feet. Unburdened by the weight of the rain-soaked coat, you hang it on the rack, a visual symbol of the transition from the stormy world outside to the comforting refuge within the four walls of your home.
��I'll find you a towel and dry you off,” you promise to the cat, your words a tender reassurance before your feet. With a sense of urgency, you hasten to the bathroom, a quest for a towel becoming a mission to provide comfort to your newfound companion.
As you return, traces of wet footprints mark the path from the entryway to your living room, leading to the sight of the cat perched regally on your couch.
The unexpected image elicits a sense of awe within you, a silent marvel at the fortuitous encounter that has unfolded. With the fluffy towel in hand, you join the tiny creature on the couch.
With gentle strokes, you tenderly dry the cat with the fluffy towel, the rhythmic purrs and meows resonating like a melody of gratitude.
In this intimate act of care, a bond forms between you and the feline, its response a testament to the shared understanding that has quietly blossomed.
The dampness of the storm may linger outside, but within the confines of your home, a warmth permeates, forged through the simple yet profound act of offering comfort to a fragile soul.
Persistently, the cat continues its chorus of meows, its nearly obsidian eyes fixed on you with an intensity that transcends mere feline curiosity. In the silent exchange, a profound question lingers in the air—what does it want?
The gaze carries an almost pleading quality, an unspoken plea that invites you to unravel the mysteries hidden within those enigmatic eyes, and in doing so, embark on a journey of connection and understanding with this small, mysterious soul.
A revelation flickers in your mind like a sudden burst of light—food!
The realization washes over you, and a spark of understanding illuminates the unspoken hunger behind those pleading eyes. “You're starving, ain't ya?” you murmur, the words a bridge between the two of you, an acknowledgment of shared needs and the beginning of a silent commitment to provide not just shelter but sustenance to this small, hungry soul.
In a hurried dance between care and necessity, you dart into the kitchen, swinging open the fridge door to unleash a blast of cold air.
The realization that your wet clothes might lead to an impending cold nudges at you, urging a brief pause for self-care. As you contemplate changing into dry attire, the cat, now a nimble companion, weaves around your feet, a symphony of meows echoing its anticipation of the impending feast.
As your gaze sweeps across the contents of the fridge, a flurry of questions dance in your mind—what do cats like?
In a moment of culinary improvisation, you spot the remnants of yesterday's fish. A hopeful assumption takes hold—cats like fish, right?
Without a second thought, you snatch the container, crack it open, and ceremoniously place it on the floor.
The cat descends upon the fish with a voracity that borders on desperation, consuming it in a whirlwind of seconds.
You observe in silent fascination as the cat devours the fish with an almost primal fervor, each bite a testament to the depth of its hunger.
As the cat lifts its gaze, those dark, fond eyes fixate on you, a silent expression of gratitude that transcends words, forging a connection that lingers in the air like the sweet aftertaste of an unexpected bond.
You retrieve a bowl, fill it with water, and place it on the floor. The cat, having satisfied its hunger, wastes no time. It immediately dips its tongue into the water, each lap a testament to the thirst that had accompanied its hunger.
In the quiet aftermath of the cat's meal, you find yourself engaged in a one-sided conversation. While it laps up the water, you speak to it with a hint of longing, as if expecting the feline to reveal its name with a mere glance. “I don't know what your name is…” you muse aloud, your words hanging in the air like a silent plea for connection.
In the exchange, a profound yearning takes root—a desire not just to care for this creature but to unravel the mystery that shrouds it, beginning with the revelation of a name.
Hmm... A whimsical idea takes shape in your mind, and with a voice full of hope, you share your musings with the feline companion. “I don't know, maybe I'll give you one!” you exclaim, the words tinged with the excitement of a newfound connection.
Testing the waters, you propose a couple of names with a hopeful lilt in your voice. “Shadow?” you venture, eyes fixated on the cat, seeking any flicker of recognition.
Yet, met with a stoic demeanor, you playfully offer another option, “Licorice?”
A soft chuckle escapes your lips, but the cat remains unfazed, engrossed in its culinary pursuits.
Embracing a sudden surge of inspiration, you think of a name that dances on the edges of whimsy and mischief. “You look like a 'Loki,' like a God of Mischief!” The words tumble out with a playful chuckle, a nod to the elusive charm that shrouds the feline.
To your surprise, the cat interrupts its feast, casting what seems like a dumbfounded expression your way.
A moment of shared acknowledgment hangs in the air before the cat resumes its meal, leaving you to wonder if, in that fleeting pause, you've glimpsed the spark of recognition in its enigmatic eyes.
An impromptu burst of enthusiasm seizes you, and with an abrupt yell, you christen the cat in a moment of whimsy. “Kitten!”
The exclamation is so sudden that it startles the cat, prompting a small leap in surprise. “That's your name. You're so small, like a little kitten,” you playfully jest, mimicking the affectionate cooing one might give to a baby.
In the imaginary realm where cats understand human whims, you half-expect a hypothetical eye-roll, as if the creature were a miniature human indulging in the theatrics of a quirky naming ceremony.
In the wake of your spontaneous naming ceremony, Kitten darts away, a streak of fur and energy leaving you in its playful wake. A fleeting attempt to follow its swift movements reveals the futility of keeping pace with this agile companion.
An earnest plea escapes your lips, “No, don't run away, Kitten!” A plea that halts not far from your bedroom, where a sudden idea takes root. “We're going to bed, and you can even sleep in my bed.” The promise hangs in the air, an invitation that sparks the cat's curiosity.
Without hesitation, Kitten races back to you, weaving through your legs and darting into the bedroom. It watches itself in the mirror in front of your bed, before it in a graceful leap, lands on the bed, transforming this impromptu offer into a shared moment of warmth and companionship.
A soft chuckle escapes you as Kitten, with a graceful twirl, transforms into a snug, fluffy black ball. It settles onto the bed, a picture of contentment and trust, the rhythmic rise and fall of its breathing echoing in the room.
In the sanctuary of your bathroom, the day's residue fades away as you delicately remove stained makeup and indulge in your nightly skincare rituals.
With a sense of quiet reverence, you return to the bedroom, mindful not to disrupt Kitten's serene repose. Nestled in bed, you prop yourself up, the rhythmic routine a prelude to the tranquility that envelops the room.
As you surrender to the embrace of sleep, the ethereal presence of the black cat becomes a silent companion in the journey between waking and dreams, a guardian of the night's secrets.
In the intimate company of Kitten, you find solace in the honesty of your own reflection. “He wasn't really for me, Kitten. I don't know why I keep going on these dates. They amount to nothing.” A sigh punctuates your admission, a subtle echo of the unspoken search for connection that seems elusive in the realm of human encounters.
As you delve into a shared meal with your newfound family member – Kitten, you stuff your face with delicious food in an attempt to keep your minds off your failing romantic life.
Kitten responds to your words with a series of gentle meows, a seemingly agreeable chorus that resonates in the room.
Over the past few days, he has transformed into an impeccable listener, absorbing the tapestry of your thoughts with silent grace.
In the quiet moments of your soliloquies, a yearning surfaces—a desire for more than a feline confidant, for words that echo back with advice and wisdom.
Yet, despite this unfulfilled wish, Kitten's silent companionship remains a source of profound comfort, his presence weaving seamlessly into the fabric of your daily life, a testament to the unexpected connections that emerge in the quiet interludes of solitude.
Consistent as the rhythm of a heartbeat, Kitten is there, a patient sentinel awaiting your return from the hustle of the day.
His presence becomes a cherished routine, an embodiment of comfort that transcends the mundanity of the everyday.
As you settle in front of the television, Kitten gracefully claims his place in your lap, his form snuggling into the contours of your warmth.
The scene unfolds like a silent ballet, a dance between two beings finding solace in the quietude of shared moments—a testament to the profound bond that has blossomed in the intimate spaces of your daily life.
On a day marked by what you'd deem a successful date, you decide to bring the guy home to your apartment.
Kitten welcomes you with joyous meows, but the moment his obsidian eyes lock onto the man, a palpable shift occurs.
The cat's once-hospitable demeanor morphs into a display of territorial assertion—he hisses, claws unsheathed, a guardian of the sacred space that has become both haven and sanctuary.
Unfazed by Kitten's display of discontent, the man follows you into the bedroom, a trail of unresolved tension lingering in the air. However, as you attempt to navigate the fragile balance between human relationships and the silent protests of your feline confidant, Kitten stalks in with palpable anger.
Kitten's claws assert their protest on the man's pants, a silent plea echoing through the room. “I'm so sorry about my cat. He's not usually like this,” you hastily apologize, attempting to navigate the tumultuous intersection of human connection and feline territoriality.
In the midst of the uneasy dance, the guy gently guides you down onto the bed, a kiss bridging the gap between words left unsaid and the uncharted landscapes of desire.
In an unforeseen twist, Kitten catapults onto the bed, launching a surprise attack on the poor man's back with unbridled ferocity.
The room erupts with a sudden commotion as the guy yells in pain, Kitten swiftly retreating to the shelter of your startled embrace.
Frustration and pain tinge the man's voice as he vehemently declares, “Fuck this. This isn't worth it! Your cat is a fucking psycho!”
The words hang in the air, a bitter testament to the unexpected turbulence that has unraveled in the wake of Kitten's feline intervention.
With an angry storm, the man storms out of your bedroom and through the front door, leaving behind a charged atmosphere and the unresolved echoes of a connection unraveling at the seams.
As the storm of emotions settles, Kitten finds solace in your lap, a contented purr resonating through the room—a feline sovereign basking in the aftermath of his territorial triumph.
Meanwhile, you remain seated, mouth agape, an image of stunned disbelief etched across your face.
You address Kitten with a scolding tone, attempting to impart a sense of reprimand into the air. “You can't do that, Kitten!” you assert, a firmness in your voice attempting to breach the language barrier between human and feline.
Amidst the aftermath, a hesitant chuckle escapes your lips, a soft attempt to diffuse the tension that lingers in the air. “Also, you're gonna leave me single forever if you do that,” you jest, the words bearing the weight of both humor and a subtle unease.
In the ambiguous space between laughter and contemplation, you grapple with the conflicting emotions stirred by Kitten's unexpected display of protectiveness—a complex blend of gratitude, amusement, and the uncharted territories of understanding the intricate dynamics of companionship with a creature whose language transcends the boundaries of words.
A solitary figure with raven-black hair occupies a corner table in the cafe, his presence shrouded in an air of quiet mystery that tugs at the edges of your memory.
Intrigued, you've stolen glances at him, an unspoken connection sparking curiosity within you.
The man, seemingly lost in a world of words and sketches within the pages of his journal, emanates a strange familiarity that dances on the fringes of your consciousness.
As he sips on his coffee, a poignant picture of solitude and anticipation, you can't help but wonder about the untold story woven into the fabric of his contemplative gaze. Perhaps he's a poet awaiting inspiration, or maybe, like you, he's caught in the delicate dance of anticipation, waiting for someone who may never arrive.
His long, pitch-black hair cascades in soft curls, framing a face adorned with dark, expressive eyes. The fair and creamy complexion of his skin, paired with lips tinged with the aftermath of fervent bites, adds an air of mystery to his features. His hands, adorned with prominent veins, move with purpose across the pages of his journal, translating the thoughts within his mind into tangible strokes. Clad in a black leather biker jacket and ripped jeans, he emanates a ‘bad boy’ allure that might not align with your usual preferences, yet there's an undeniable handsomeness that transcends the surface. As you observe, the truth unfolds—looks can be deceiving, you know.
As the hands of the clock inch towards the conclusion of your shift, you notice the enigmatic man with the pitch-black hair has vanished, leaving only the echo of his presence lingering in the now vacant corner.
The air is charged with the unspoken allure of an encounter that slipped through the fingers of time.
Packing up your belongings, you carry the weight of curiosity with you as you embark on the journey home, where the enigmatic enigma of Kitten awaits.
Kitten, sensing your return, greets you with a symphony of affectionate meows. Your hand instinctively reaches out, weaving a tapestry of gentle pats and strokes, an unspoken language shared between human and feline. With a contented sigh escaping your lips, you murmur, “Happy to be home.”
In the quiet sanctuary of your apartment, you find yourself recounting the day's enigmatic encounter to Kitten, the words lingering in the air like a shared secret between kindred spirits. “I saw the loneliest guy today, Kitten. It felt like he was waiting for someone, but destiny stood him up.”
As the words escape your lips, Kitten's attentive gaze reflects an unspoken understanding, a silent pact shared between you and your feline confidant.
Your fingers delicately dance behind Kitten's ears, a gesture that elicits a symphony of contented purrs, resonating within the confines of your quiet haven.
The next day unfolds like a familiar scene, the cafe's atmosphere steeped in the aroma of coffee and the rustle of pages turning.
Once again, the mysterious black-haired man graces the corner with his presence, accompanied by a steaming cup of coffee and the enigmatic dance of his pen across the pages of his journal.
Your curiosity, a flame flickering in the recesses of your thoughts, draws you to the edge of decision — to approach and unravel the mysteries that cloak him. Yet, an invisible barrier holds you back, a silent pact with yourself not to disturb the solitary poet whose verses remain unread.
The elusive man, shrouded in the mystery of unread words, remains a realm unexplored, as each coffee order becomes a bridge guarded by your coworker.
As the day unfolds, the mysterious man persists in his corner, a captivating enigma that draws your attention like a moth to a flame.
The rhythmic ballet of your daily routine continues, an intricate dance of serving customers while stealing glances in his direction.
In the quiet recesses of your mind, a burning question simmers – who could possibly stand up this captivating soul, adorned with the allure of dark hair and an air of mystery that commands the room?
After days of observing the silent saga of the man and his solitude, a week of unbroken routine, your empathy swells like a rising tide.
A magnetic force compels you to bridge the distance, and against the backdrop of the cafe's ambient hum, your feet, as if guided by an invisible hand, carry you to the table where he patiently awaits an absent companion.
With a mix of curiosity and compassion, you settle into the chair opposite him, breaking the invisible barrier that held you apart.
As your presence disrupts the solitude he had grown accustomed to, his intense gaze, reminiscent of a predatory feline, lifts from the pages of his journal to meet your own. The sharpness in his eyes feels like a calculated assessment, causing a subtle tremor to course through you. You gulp.
“Hi,” you start, the uncertainty palpable in your voice. Attempting to mask your nervousness, your fingers run through your hair, a feeble defense against the anxious tide.
“I’ve noticed you here alone for the past few days, and I just—” Your words stumble, caught in the rush, but before you can continue, he interjects with a voice sharp as a blade, his eyes piercing through you like he can unravel your deepest secrets.
“Are you stalking me?” The question hangs in the air, and his gaze feels like an X-ray, laying bare your darkest thoughts. Your body seizes, frozen in the penetrating gaze that seems to pry into the very recesses of your soul.
Why does his voice carry a hint of familiarity, resonating through the air like an echo from another time?
His very presence, too, feels like a distant memory, even though you're certain you hadn't laid eyes on him before he entered the cafe a week ago.
A subtle smirk plays on his lips, a realization dawning on you that he's asked a question. As you attempt to gather your thoughts, you find yourself choking on air, grappling to string together a coherent response.
“I'm kidding. I know you work here,” he chuckles, and you release a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. Your shoulders ease, and in an instant, you respond with a soft smile, a subtle connection forming in that shared moment of relief.
“Are you waiting for someone?” you inquire, and a smile graces his face, revealing gleaming white teeth and pink gums. He looks cute. Dangerously so.
“Nah. She just arrived.” Your eyes light up. Finally, his date has shown up! You start to rise from your chair, eager to make space for his companion. He looks up at you, a curious expression on his face, and asks, “What are you doing?”
“Making room for your date?” you quip, utterly dumbfounded.
“Date?” he asks with a raised brow. You nod, adding, “The one you’ve been waiting for.”
“But I’m already looking at her.” Your mouth hangs wide open; did you just hear him right? Is this a pickup line? And why on earth is it working?
You chuckle nervously, the sound a stark contrast to his calm and cool demeanor.
You ease back into your chair, and the conversation flows so naturally that you feel like you've known him for years.
Upon returning home, you excitedly share the details of your day with Kitten, recounting the encounter with the handsome man with his curly hair and piercing eyes. While you stroke Kitten and he purrs contentedly, you express your perplexity about the strange sense of familiarity the man emanated, despite being certain you've never met him before.
Kitten twirls and purrs in your lap, savoring the gentle strokes as you recline on your couch.
“I can't help but wonder if he'll be there again tomorrow,” you muse, your voice a soft melody to the room, accompanied by Kitten's content purrs.
He returned to the cafe the next day, and the next and the next turned into weeks.
He dedicates every moment to his secluded corner, and during your breaks you find solace in the cadence of your conversations. His name, Yoongi, resonates with the soulful poems that he breathes life into with his well-worn guitar. You’ve never heard him play or sing, but you look forward to the day you might.
His question pierces through the hum of the café, abruptly pulling you from your reverie as you delicately nibble on your muffin. “Are you heading home for the summer break?” he inquires, the unexpected interruption leaving a sweet and curious taste lingering on your lips.
As his question hangs in the air, you lock eyes with him, realizing he might not grasp the gravity of his inquiry.
There's a momentary sag in your shoulders, a silent acknowledgment of the pain that lies beneath. Gathering the strength to respond, you share a piece of your past, “No. My parents died when I was young.”
Regret casts a shadow over his striking features in an instant, and you witness a profound apology escaping from his lips.
“I'm holding up okay. It's a tale from a while back. A car accident took my parents, leaving just my little sister and me as survivors,” you share, a poignant sadness threading through your words, your eyes misting with the memories.
He tenderly offers words of comfort, a soothing balm for your weary soul, and you allow him to lift the heaviness that clings to your spirit.
You beam at him, grateful for the warmth that radiates from his kind soul, a presence you've grown to cherish over the past few months. “And you, any exciting plans for the summer?”
“I might have to go home to my parents for a bit, but I’m not sure yet,” he shares, absentmindedly running his fingers through his soft black locks, a gesture that makes you yearn for the touch of your own hand in that sea of darkness.
“I'm telling you, bitch!” Nari slaps Yuna's thigh, a bit too enthusiastically, causing her to flinch in pain, as Nari adds with a sly grin, “She's head over heels in loooove.”
You roll your eyes at both of them, their playful banter fading into background noise as you savor the drink that Yuna ordered for you.
You've navigated downtown, finding refuge in a cozy establishment where the ambient tunes, board games, and drinks create the perfect backdrop for reconnecting with your friends.
“I swear, I'm not head over heels or anything,” you insist, batting away their teasing with a playful smirk, all the while sipping on the drink that Yuna ordered for you.
“He’s just nice,” you add with a soft smile.
“You sure do talk about him a lot,” Yuna adds in a chuckle as she rubs her thigh.
“Well, he's an interesting person, and the conversations just flow,” you reply with a grin, downplaying the significance, but your friends exchange knowing glances that hint at their suspicions.
Nari takes a sip of her drink, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Speaking of crushes, your little companion, what's his name again? Kitten?”
You passionately defend Kitten, your eyes sparkling with affection. “Don't bring Kitten into this! I adore him,” you gush, wearing your love for the little furball as a badge of honor.
Nari shares her romantic wisdom, her words dripping with affection. “Cats are fine companions, but you should find a man who can bring you warmth and happiness,” she says, her eyes practically turning into hearts if this were a cartoon. You can't help but chuckle at her earnest advice.
Yuna playfully nudges your shoulder and suggests, “You should totally ask out this Yoongi guy. I mean, come on, you practically light up every time you talk about him.”
You pause, a moment of uncertainty hanging in the air. “Maybe,” you finally reply, your words carrying the weight of contemplation.
Nari's enthusiasm rings in your ears, a bit too loud in the cozy ambiance. “You don't have anything to lose, only more to gain!” she almost shouts, her excitement reaching its peak. Her words, fueled by a touch of intoxication, linger in the air, leaving you to ponder as you consider whether it's time to call it a night.
“Okay. I’ll ask him tomorrow.”
As you step into your apartment, Kitten greets you with an extra dose of affection, weaving himself between your legs and trailing you with heightened attention. Tonight, he appears more attuned to your every move, purring and twirling around your legs with an endearing neediness. Settling down, you can't resist his charms and find yourself seated, offering gentle strokes to his fur-covered frame.
As you wrap up your nightly routine and slip into your comfortable pajamas, you turn to Kitten with a question that has become a familiar part of your routine.
“I'm heading to bed, Kitten. You joining?” Kitten promptly leaps onto the bed, taking his customary place by your side.
However, tonight, there's a lingering sense of affection in his actions. He showers you with gentle licks, a gesture that brings a smile to your face. As sleep gradually claims you, your dreams are adorned with vivid images of obsidian eyes and a dark, star-studded sky.
As you awaken from a restful sleep, the absence of Kitten by your side strikes you like a sudden jolt.
Your initial response is to sit up, calling out for him, yet there's only silence in return.
The quietness, once comforting, now carries an eerie weight as you realize the profound impact Kitten has had on your daily life.
The room feels emptier, and a sense of unease settles in, disrupting the peace you've grown accustomed to.
A wave of melancholy washes over you, creating a heavy ache in your chest as you scan the familiar corners of your apartment, desperately searching for any sign of Kitten.
The unanswered questions pile up in your mind, a torrent of worries threatening to drown you. Did he, too, decide to leave, slipping away like others from your life?
The uncertainty gnaws at you, pushing you to venture into the quiet streets, hoping against hope to uncover the fate of your feline companion. Each step is a mix of trepidation and determination, a journey into the unknown to retrieve the missing piece of your daily existence.
A sense of desperation tightens its grip as you scour every nook and cranny, but Kitten remains elusive, leaving you with the bitter taste of vanishing hope.
The echoes of your unanswered calls hang in the air, blending with the growing unease that clings to you like a shadow. The once familiar spaces now feel like a maze, and you can't shake the sinking feeling that your luck is slipping away, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. The haunting question persists: where could he be, and what could have taken him from your side?
With a mixture of determination and trepidation, your feet instinctively carry you back to the cafe.
The familiar chime announces your arrival, drawing the attention of your coworker, who casts a puzzled look your way. The early hour has caught them off guard, their raised eyebrow mirroring the questions that dance in your own mind.
As you scan the cozy confines of the cafe, a subtle panic begins to creep through your veins. The absence of Yoongi creates an uneasy knot in your stomach, but you reassure yourself, clinging to the hope that he might stroll in later, as he often does.
The hours drag on, each passing moment heightening the anticipation. As the door chimes with every newcomer, a flicker of hope dances in your chest, only to be extinguished when it's not Yoongi.
The day becomes a symphony of disappointment, and the subtle hope you clung to begins to dissipate, slipping through your fingers like elusive grains of sand. The cafe, once a haven of warmth and comfort, now feels eerily empty without the presence of his familiar silhouette.
As your shift draws to a close, a heavy sadness settles over you like a thick fog. The absence of Yoongi, who always brought a touch of warmth to the cafe, leaves an emptiness that echoes through the familiar surroundings. The unanswered questions linger in your mind, and a nagging worry creeps in — what could have kept him away?
The air is charged with uncertainty, and you can't shake the feeling that something might have happened to him.
A sudden realization hits you like a wave, as you recall Yoongi mentioning the possibility of traveling to his parents for the summer break.
The initial sting of disappointment transforms into a pang of concern. Questions swirl in your mind like a tempest – did he leave without saying goodbye? Why didn't he share his plans with you?
The uncertainty gnaws at your thoughts, and you grapple with the unknown, desperately seeking solace in the memories of your time together.
A disquieting sensation twists in your stomach, an ominous premonition casting a shadow over your thoughts. The unease tightens its grip, leaving you with an unsettling sense that something may have befallen Yoongi.
Your mind races through various scenarios, each more distressing than the last, as you grapple with the haunting uncertainty that looms over his absence.
Regret echoes through your thoughts like a haunting refrain. The absence of contact details with Yoongi leaves you grappling with the repercussions of a missed opportunity, a seemingly insignificant detail now carrying the weight of your uncertainty.
A sense of loss and yearning wraps around you, intensifying the void created by the absence of a farewell. The realization dawns that in the midst of budding connection, you failed to secure a bridge to traverse the distance that now separates you.
Each step on the journey home feels like a weighted march, the heaviness of unspoken goodbyes sinking into your bones.
Sorrow, like a relentless tide, floods your heart, consuming it with an ache that echoes through each footfall. Familiar pangs of longing claw at your chest, constricting breaths into fleeting gasps.
It's as if the very air you breathe carries the weight of an unfinished story, leaving you to navigate the foggy terrain of uncertainty, the poignant residue of an incomplete connection lingering in the spaces between each step.
A tempest of thoughts unleashes in your mind, a whirlwind of self-doubt and abandonment. The notion that he, too, might have slipped away like others before him wraps around your heart, squeezing it in an unforgiving grip. The ache is palpable, resonating through every fiber of your being. It's an anguish that cuts deep, a symphony of hurt orchestrated by the haunting possibility that echoes in the chambers of your wounded heart.
In the intricate tapestry of your time knowing him, he wasn't just a passing figure; he had etched himself into the mosaic of your life, becoming a fragment that held the essence of friendship.
You step into the sanctuary of your apartment, liberating your feet from the constraints of shoes, and collapse onto the couch, surrendering to its plush contours that cradle you in a cocoon of solace.
In the midst of trying to regain control of your racing breaths, a subtle vibration resonates from your pocket, drawing your attention like a lifeline. Retrieving your phone, you cast an intrigued glance at the illuminated screen, revealing an incoming call from Yuna.
With bated breath, you answer the call, the familiar cadence of Yuna's voice instantly arresting your senses.
An unexpected wave of emotions surges through you, freezing you in the moment as her words weave a narrative you weren't prepared for.
The weight of her words hangs heavy in the air, a heartbreaking tremor in her voice as she struggles to regain composure.
“Babe,” she utters, the tearful plea slicing through the silence like a dagger.
You can feel the gravity of the situation intensify as she reveals, “It's Nari,” the name echoing with a sense of foreboding that pierces through the air, leaving you breathless.
Dread hangs thick in the air as you muster the courage to ask, your voice trembling with fear and concern. “What about Nari?”
The words escape your lips, each syllable a hesitant step into the unknown, and as you sit up on your couch, a sense of urgency grips you, rendering you more alert than ever before.
The weight of Yuna's words crashes over you like an unrelenting wave, drowning your senses.
“She's gone,” Yuna sobs, her cries echoing in your ears.
A sudden chill grips your entire body, and the world around you blurs as your vision turns white.
Tears well up, threatening to spill over, and an indescribable ache settles in the core of your being. It feels as if the ground beneath you has shifted, leaving you suspended in a surreal and devastating moment.
Your voice quivers as you manage to break through the numbness, the question escaping your lips like a fragile whisper.
“How?” you repeat, the word catching in the tightness of your throat. Tears cascade down your cheeks, each drop carrying the weight of an ocean, a torrential release of the overwhelming emotions within you.
Your friend's voice wavers with sorrow as she delivers the painful revelation. “Apparently, she was sick and didn’t tell anybody…”
Each word, heavy with the burden of the unspoken, echoes in the emptiness of your apartment.
The truth, a bitter pill to swallow, lingers in the air, and you find it hard to comprehend the reality of the situation.
The walls of your sanctuary, once comforting, now press in on you, transforming your home into a claustrophobic cage of grief. The world outside seems to blur, and all that remains is the weight of disbelief settling on your shoulders.
The longing to share your grief with Yoongi intensifies, yet the barrier of not having his contact details becomes a painful obstacle. Your emotions, already tumultuous, now surge like a tempest within.
Frustration and sorrow intermingle, a chaotic dance that you try to contain.
As the weight of the news presses down on you, your nails unconsciously dig into your skin, seeking an outlet for the overwhelming emotions that threaten to consume you. The physical pain becomes a tangible manifestation of the emotional turmoil churning within.
The abruptness of Nari's illness and passing hits you like an unforeseen storm, leaving you grappling with disbelief.
Memories of her last moments flash vividly, and you question the cruel twist of fate that snatched away someone seemingly healthy. The sounds of inconsolable sobbing echo in your ears, and only then do you realize that the mournful cries tearing through the air belong to you.
“Are you alright?” Yuna asks you in sobs.
The weight of grief presses down on you, suffocating and relentless.
As the tears stream down your face, each one carries a piece of the pain that now resides within you.
“No,” you whisper, the word a feeble attempt to encapsulate the magnitude of your despair.
Your body curls inwards, seeking solace in the fetal position, as if you could fold away the anguish.
The phone lies beside you, a lifeline to Yuna's distant sobs, but it offers little comfort compared to the absent warmth of Kitten, whose presence could once bring solace to even the darkest moments.
The weight of Yuna's words hangs heavy in the air, a shroud of truth that you're forced to confront. “Babe, she had cancer and didn't want us to know… She wanted to live a happy life until the end,”
Yuna sobs again, and though her intent is to offer solace, the revelation feels like a cascade of heavy stones on your already burdened heart. The bitter sweetness of her desire for a joyful life juxtaposed with the pain of her silent struggle adds another layer to the grief, leaving you to grapple with the complexities of Nari's hidden battles.
“Yuna…,” you cry, the anguish in your voice echoing the profound pain that seems to squeeze the very life out of your heart.
“Why does everyone leave?”
The question hangs in the air, more rhetorical than expectant, as if you're not seeking an answer from Yuna but grappling with the cruel patterns of departure that life has woven into the fabric of your existence.
Each departure, like a thread pulled from the tapestry of your world, leaves an unraveled piece that never quite knits itself back together.
“I–, I don’t know,” she stammers through her tears, the weight of the unknown echoing in her voice, mirroring the uncertainty that now shrouds both of your lives.
“Promise we’ll be there for each other,” you declare, the weight of the words hanging in the air. It's a poignant plea, an acknowledgment of life's unpredictable twists. You understand that you can't ask for an eternity, but in this moment, you're determined to hold onto each other as tightly as time allows.
“Count on it,” she vows, her response flowing effortlessly, a testament to the unspoken bond between you two.
Despite the tightening in your throat, a glimmer of happiness sparks within you at the assurance she just gave.
Why must life be so fucking cruel, robbing you of everyone you hold dear?
An overwhelming urge to reconnect with your sister washes over you, a deep yearning fueled by the ache of prolonged silence between you.
“I want to call my sister,” you manage to say through your sobs, a desperate plea lacing your words. “Will you be alright, Yuna?” you ask, your concern breaking through the waves of grief that surround you both.
“Yeah. I mean, I'm fucking sad, but go ahead and call her. Can I come to your place tomorrow?” Yuna's voice carries a subtle plea, a shared understanding that neither of you wants to be alone in the midst of sorrow.
“Yeah, I'd love that,” you respond, your voice carrying the weight of grief and the faint glimmer of gratitude for the companionship that awaits tomorrow. As you attempt to dry your tears with a throw blanket on the couch, the room feels emptier than ever, and the ache in your heart persists.
“See you tomorrow,” she says before the call ends.
The hollowness in the room deepens, and you draw in a shaky breath, your gaze fixed on your phone. The background image captures a moment frozen in time, featuring you, Nari, and Yuna.
God, the ache of missing her intensifies, and you can't shake the heaviness in your chest.
You tighten your grip on the phone, each tear that escapes your eyes a silent testament to the pain in your heart. Determination wells up as you locate your sister's number, fingers tracing the familiar digits, ready to bridge the gap that time and distance have carved between you.
The rhythmic ringing echoes through the emptiness of your apartment, each tone a reminder of the solitude that now envelops you.
Anxiety gnaws at the edges of your thoughts as you anticipate the warmth of your sister's voice, a comfort you desperately need. Yet, the unanswered calls amplify the distance that separates you. With a heavy heart, you decide against leaving a message, the weight of unspoken words settling as you slump back onto the couch.
The sudden vibration of your phone startles you, and as you glance at the screen, the sight of your sister's name sparks a mixture of relief and anticipation. With a soft sniffle, you muster the strength to answer, “Hey, sis,” your voice laced with a blend of vulnerability and longing, reaching out across the digital expanse to bridge the emotional gap that separates you.
A chill courses through your body, rendering you motionless, as a deep, resonant voice resonates through the phone, catching you off guard.
“Hey,” his voice echoes through the phone, sending a shiver down your spine.
Your trembling hand clutches the device, and you find yourself holding your breath, caught in the sudden intensity of the moment.
“I'm Detective Kim,” he introduces himself, his voice echoing through the line. It carries a calm demeanor, yet beneath its surface, you detect a subtle undertone of sadness, adding a mysterious depth to his words.
This can't be good, you murmur to yourself, the words barely escaping your lips as a chill courses through your veins, turning your blood to ice once again.
“Are you Jiho's sister?” The detective's voice remains steady and calm, but beneath the surface, you sense an undercurrent of gravity and anticipation.
“Yes,” you reply, your voice catching in a sob as you struggle to contain your tears. The ominous feeling intensifies, and you can't shake the sinking realization that a detective is the one answering your sister's phone.
The air becomes heavy with uncertainty and fear.
“I'm deeply sorry to be the bearer of this news,” he begins with a sympathetic tone.
You inhale sharply, bracing yourself for the impact of the words that follow.
“Your sister has passed away.”
The world seems to shatter around you as the weight of his message settles in, leaving you breathless and heartbroken.
In that devastating moment, it feels as if the very foundation of your existence crumbles.
Your body and soul plummet through a void, each passing second an agonizing countdown to the inevitable impact that will shatter you into a million irreparable pieces.
The weight of grief bears down on you, and you're suspended in a free fall of despair.
You become acutely aware of your breath, or the lack thereof, as if the air itself has turned into a suffocating force, triggering a torrent of violent inhalations, each one a desperate attempt to grasp onto a reality that has just slipped through your fingers.
A heavy silence envelops the room as the detective imparts the devastating truth, each word landing with the weight of a sledgehammer on your fragile emotions. “She was killed,” he utters, the somber notes in his tone resonating like a funeral dirge, casting a pall over the already dim reality of your world.
A suffocating wave of panic crashes over you, rendering your extremities numb and your breath caught in the grip of invisible hands.
The room seems to close in as the detective's voice on the phone becomes a distant echo, his words lost in the disorienting whirlwind of your own mental tempest. It's a struggle to comprehend the standard condolences and procedures he details, as if reality itself is slipping through your trembling fingers.
Fucking hell. Is this hell?
In the wake of your parents' departure, you believed you had tasted the bitterest sorrow, yet today eclipses that agony without a shadow of a doubt.
You cast your phone aside on the couch, retreating to your bedroom, collapsing onto the bed. The anguish within erupts into violent sobs, an unrelenting torrent of tears flooding from your eyes, your entire frame convulsing with the weight of your grief.
You bury your face into the softness of the pillow, muffling the guttural scream that tears from your lungs.
The sound, a primal release of anguish, reverberates within the confines of your room. Screw the neighbors; right now, the universe needs to bear witness to the rawness of your pain.
What the fuck is up with this world? Everyone around you dies! Everyone leaves!
You can’t take it anymore.
As you surrender to the torrents of grief, you hope that tears might offer solace, a fleeting relief that could pave the way for much-needed sleep. Yet, despite your desperate attempts, the embrace of slumber eludes you, leaving you trapped in the clutches of your sorrow-soaked thoughts.
In an impulsive surge, you opt for a nocturnal stroll. Snatching your jacket, you step into the silent night, the residue of dried tears blending seamlessly with the ones that refuse to cease.
The moon above, a silent witness to the turmoil within, as your footsteps echo the rhythm of a heart weighed down by grief.
As you traverse the familiar streets of town, a magnetic pull guiding you to a cherished park, your sanctuary. Swiftly, you arrive and gingerly settle your weary frame onto a weathered bench, the cool night air offering a gentle caress to your battered soul.
As your gaze ascends to the enchanting tapestry of the night, a celestial dance of stars unfolds above. Tonight, the cosmic expanse seems to cradle the spirits of your sister and Nari, their luminous presence illuminating the vast darkness, a celestial reunion among the constellations.
As your tears persist, you fix your eyes upon the star-lit canvas above. Each gleaming star appears like a radiant jewel, casting an ethereal glow across the night. The beauty is undeniable, yet a poignant sadness lingers in your heart.
Compelled by an unspoken yearning, you embark on the solemn task of counting the stars, each one a celestial tribute to the cherished souls who now adorn the heavens.
The question echoes in your mind: Why?
Why do they blaze with such brilliance, akin to a dying star igniting in a final, magnificent burst before consuming everything in its cosmic embrace?
Your heart pounds violently against your ribcage, each beat echoing through your chest, and the air feels elusive, slipping away as if you're caught in a suffocating grip.
Life reveals its cruel nature, leaving you to grapple with the relentless question: Why does everyone leave? Why does the world around you crumble, stealing away those you hold dear?
An emptiness envelopes you, a void so profound it swallows every ounce of light. Darkness creeps in, and an irresistible urge emerges, coaxing you to surrender to its consuming embrace.
Perhaps it's time to release your grip on reality and join the celestial dance of those who have departed before you?
As the tears flow, perhaps this haunting void within will dissipate, bringing an end to the relentless ache that permeates every fiber of your being.
As the weight of loneliness bears down on you, an insidious desire to surrender, to slip into an eternal slumber, creeps through your shattered heart. The yearning for an endless sleep, where the fractured pieces of your soul find solace, consumes you. It's as if the very essence of your being is crumbling into irreparable fragments.
The fragments of your soul lie scattered, and the daunting question echoes in the hollow chambers of your despair—can you summon the strength to mend them once more, to piece together the shattered remnants of your being?
In the depths of your despair, a resolute realization surfaces — a quiet but unwavering knowing that, despite the relentless cruelty, you're not ready to surrender to the void. Life, as brutal as it may be, still holds threads of resilience within its intricate tapestry, and you find an ember of strength glowing amidst the shadows.
You divert your gaze downward, focusing on your hands nestled in your lap, choosing the tangible reality of your own existence over the distant allure of the star-studded night.
You harbor too many aspirations to surrender to despair. Your desires paint a vivid canvas of dreams: to find solace in the embrace of a kind-hearted partner, secure a fulfilling career, and relish the simple joys that life offers. Nari's silent battle with illness inspires you to embrace life with the same gusto, celebrating its moments without the need for validation.
In the midst of your fragmented existence, amidst the shattering pain, you crave it all. Yearning for the entirety of life's tapestry, even when it feels like it's unraveling.
Despite life's cruelty, there's an undeniable allure in its intricate beauty, compelling you to seek solace and embrace the stunning contradictions that define your life.
Amidst the tear-stained path, your resolve solidifies.
The decision made, you tread back to your apartment, the silent witness to your inner turmoil. Each step echoes with the weight of your emotions, a symphony of sorrow playing in the background.
The sanctuary of your home beckons, promising the respite that only sleep, albeit restless, can bring. Sleep, like a long-lost friend, embraces you swiftly this time. Grateful for the solace it brings, you sink into its comforting arms, the reprieve from the turmoil of the day unfolding like a gentle lullaby.
The chime of the doorbell resonates through your apartment, and you're roused from the depths of sleep. Yuna, true to her word, stands on the other side, a beacon of support in your time of need.
Embraced in a tight hug, tears stream down both your faces, the shared weight of grief transforming the silent embrace into a powerful testament of mutual understanding and shared sorrow.
Seated on the couch, you engage in a heartfelt conversation about the unpredictable journey of life—its highs and lows.
As a comforting silence settles between you, you reach for the remote and, with a flicker of distraction, decide on a mindless show. Wrapped in the embrace of shared grief, you find solace in the soft glow of the television, its images casting a gentle veil over your weary souls.
That night, Yuna stays over, a comforting presence that feels like a blessing in the midst of your overwhelming grief.
In the vulnerable hours of the night, you pour your heart out to Yuna.
Tears flow freely as you share the ache of losing your sister, the void left by Kitten's absence, and the fear that Yoongi might be gone forever. In the solace of shared sorrow, you find a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows.
In the tender embrace of Yuna, you find solace. Her comforting presence is a lifeline in the storm of grief, holding you close as tears cascade. Though she's often your pillar of strength, tonight you yearn to reciprocate, to be the support she's always been for you. It's a quiet understanding, an unspoken pact between friends navigating the unpredictable currents of life.
In the quiet depths of the night, as you share your pain with Yuna, a flicker of determination ignites within you. You yearn not just for solace but to become the architect of your own joy. The realization dawns that your happiness lies in the unwritten chapters of your own journey, waiting to be explored and embraced. It's a moment of self-discovery, a commitment to forge your path to happiness, independent and resilient.
With the dawn of a new day, you decide to embark on a journey of self-discovery.
Despite the weight of sorrow lingering in your chest, you resolve to savor life in all its transient splendor—embracing its beauty, acknowledging its ugliness, and reveling in every nuanced shade in between.
Each moment becomes a canvas, and you are determined to paint it with the vibrant strokes of resilience and newfound appreciation.
With unwavering determination, you approached your boss at the café, advocating for a shift in your work hours. The goal? To rekindle the pursuit of knowledge, to step back into the world of academia and reignite the spark of astrophysics that had once fueled your passion.
As the prospect of returning to school looms on the horizon, you recognize that the journey ahead is both a challenge and an opportunity—a chance to sculpt a future that you can genuinely be proud of, with each completed course marking a triumph over self-doubt and a step closer to the constellations of your dreams.
In the wake of that poignant night where two cherished souls departed, a few months have quietly slipped away.
In a tender gesture of support, Yuna encourages you to embrace the prospect of love once more. Unlike before, hesitation has no place in your heart this time.
With newfound courage, you step into the realm of dating, a journey tinged with both vulnerability and hope, as you navigate through the tapestry of emotions woven by the threads of the past and the promises of the future.
Life, a relentless journey, doesn't yield to simplicity, yet within its intricate folds, a subtle transformation occurs. It doesn't unravel swiftly, but with each passing day, it stitches together a mosaic of improvement, a gradual emergence from the shadows into the dappled light of a better tomorrow.
With each sunrise, a symphony of healing orchestrates within you, crescendoing into a melody that resonates louder, and you find solace in the fact that every dawn gifts you a version of yourself stronger and more resilient than the preceding day.
As winter unfurls its icy embrace, you find solace in the familiar touch of your cherished wool coat, the cozy sanctuary of fluffy sweaters enveloping you like a hug from a dear friend, and the softness of warm socks cradling your every step.
With a steaming cup of tea in hand, you dive into your studies, the brisk air outside contrasting with the warmth that courses through your veins.
Embarking on the journey to reclaim an unfinished chapter of your life, returning to the hallowed halls of academia, you revel in the triumphant echoes of resilience as you strive to complete the narrative you once set in motion.
As you tread homeward, the city draped in the melancholy hues of twilight, a fleeting silhouette dashes through the alleys, a phantom of darkness.
For the briefest moment, memories of Kitten's playful escapades dance in your mind, a bittersweet symphony of nostalgia.
A sigh, heavy with the weight of longing, escapes your lips, yet you trudge forward, navigating the shadows toward the warmth of your home.
In the intimate glow of your kitchen, you conjure a culinary masterpiece, a symphony of flavors orchestrated only for yourself. The sizzle of ingredients harmonizes with the rhythmic beat of your heart, a ritual of self-love that has become your refuge.
Many a time, you've crafted these delectable creations, some shared in the company of fleeting dates whose presence, like autumn leaves, brushed briefly against the canvas of your life, but leaving no lasting imprint on your heart.
Midway through the mundane task of stowing away dishes, a subtle and mysterious hum reverberates through your abode, originating from the vicinity of your door.
The air is suddenly filled with a familiar, distant melody—a soft and rhythmic meowing that sends a jolt of excitement through you.
Abandoning your chores, you rush to the door, fingers fumbling with the lock, and there, in all his glory, stands Kitten!
In a flurry of warmth and relief, you scoop up the cold, shivering Kitten into your embrace, quickly closing the door behind him. His meows echo gratitude, and a tender lick against your cheek seals the unspoken bond that time and distance failed to break.
In a million moments, you never fathomed seeing him again. Now, as he rests in your arms, elation courses through you like a celestial symphony, leaving you over the moon with sheer happiness.
His return is a testament to a bond beyond time, a friendship that defies the measure of days. It's not about the duration of his absence; it's about the joyous truth that he returned to you, stitching the fragments of your heart back together.
You rush to your cabinet, your heart pounding with both relief and excitement. Grabbing a can of cat food, you swiftly prepare a feast for Kitten, watching as he eagerly devours the meal, his hunger echoing the void his absence left in your life.
As you stroke Kitten's fur, you can't help but ponder on the mysteries that shroud his disappearance. His body, while not emaciated, carries the silent tales of his adventures.
You yearn to unravel the chapters of his feline escapades, wishing you could converse with him, share the unspoken hardships, and assure him that he's found a forever home in the warmth of your embrace.
In a breathless whisper, you confess, “I've missed you so much,” the weight of your longing carried in the tenderness of your voice.
A solitary tear, a testament to the emotions flooding your heart, escapes and dances down your cheek, mirroring the joy of a reunion long yearned for.
As the echoes of your affectionate words linger in the air, Kitten responds with a gentle purr, a harmonious melody that intertwines seamlessly with the sound of him relishing the meal.
Amidst the soft cadence of Kitten's purring, you find solace in the familiar presence of your feline companion. With a sigh, you decide to share the intricacies of the tumultuous journey you've undertaken since his absence. “So much has unfolded, Kitten,” you whisper, your voice a gentle reassurance, “a lot of shit, but also a lot of good.”
As Kitten finishes his meal, he responds with a symphony of content purrs, gracefully padding over to where you crouch. With a playful nudge against your legs, he seems to convey a silent acknowledgment, a shared moment of warmth and connection between old friends.
In the span of a few days, the void that Kitten's absence left has been filled with the comforting rhythm of his presence. You've poured out your heart to him, recounting the events and emotions that unfolded during his time away, as if catching him up on the chapters of your life.
Kitten, with his attentive eyes and soothing purrs, seems to understand more than most, providing a silent anchor in the storm of your experiences.
As you sink into the soft embrace of your couch, a contented smile plays on your lips. With Kitten nestled beside you, you share a profound realization that has taken root in your heart: ‘I live, so I love.’ The words hang in the air, a testament to the resilience you've found in the face of life's unpredictable twists. The TV hums with background noise, but in that moment, the simple joy of companionship fills the room.
In the quiet solitude of your apartment, you confide in Kitten, the loyal companion who has witnessed both your joys and sorrows. “I don't think he's coming back,” you murmur, a tinge of sadness lingering in your voice. As if attuned to your emotions, Kitten responds with a gentle meow, a feline reassurance that transcends words.
In the rhythmic cadence of your words, a sense of vulnerability emerges. “I know, I know. I don't need a man in my life. I get that,” you confess, your voice carrying the weight of self-awareness.
The clinking of utensils against pots and pans provides a subtle percussion to your thoughts as you continue, “But Yoongi was special, you know? Like he just got me... and I just wish for him to be happy doing whatever he's doing.” The aroma of dinner fills the air, mingling with the unspoken sentiments swirling in the room.
As you delicately feed Kitten some steamed broccoli, the notion of reuniting with Yoongi lingers in the air. “If he comes back, you should meet him – I'll introduce you!” The words spill from your lips, carrying a hopeful melody.
As you reminisce about Yoongi, a fond smile plays on your lips. “He's such a wonderful person. And handsome? Oh, his hands,” you begin, tracing the air with your fingers as if you can feel the texture of his presence. Memories flood back, each detail etched in your mind like a cherished photograph. “Long fingers, veiny hands,” you murmur, the words infused with a hint of admiration that even surprises you. The love for this man reverberates in your voice, a quiet confession to the depths of your feelings.
Kitten's melodic meow serenades the room as he gracefully weaves between your feet, his tail coiling affectionately around your calves like a comforting embrace.
“If you meet him, please don’t claw his back out like you did with that other guy. Yoongi is nice.”
With a heavy heart, you confide in Kitten, the weight of your worry evident in the rhythmic tapping of the spatula against the sizzling vegetables. “It's been nearly half a year, and I can't shake the feeling that something might have happened to him,” you murmur, the crackling sounds of the kitchen offering a somber backdrop to your uncertainty.
As the warmth of the meal envelops you and Kitten, you sit together, a silent companionship settling over the room. The simplicity of this moment strikes you, and a quiet realization unfolds – you love your life just as it is.
In the shared silence, you feel a sense of wholeness, a testimony to the goodness found in life's simplicity. Though your heart may still ache at times, you've come to accept that, too, as a part of the beautiful complexity that makes life what it is.
You're keenly aware that time is the remedy for healing, a gentle but persistent force that gradually eases the ache until one day, the pain will be a distant echo of what it once was.
Your weary limbs protest against the demands of a full-time class schedule and cafe shifts, revealing the hidden challenges of your daily grind. Fatigue clings to you like a shadow, and an involuntary yawn escapes.
With a wearied sigh, you address Kitten, your loyal companion in fatigue. “Ah, Kitten, today's been a battle. I'm going to bed early today,” you murmur, dragging your exhausted body to the bathroom in a nightly ritual.
Upon returning to your sanctuary, you find Kitten, already nestled in his customary spot, a comforting presence in the silent embrace of the night.
Sinking beneath the cozy duvet, you surrender to its tender embrace, the fabric cocooning you in a haven of softness. With a gentle pat, you acknowledge Kitten, “Thank you for being here,” you murmur before succumbing to the enchantment of dreamland.
As consciousness tiptoes back into your awareness, the remnants of dreams linger like elusive whispers in your mind. Gently awakening, you open your eyes to find the absence of Kitten.
Your eyes widen in astonishment, and your body tenses as you absorb the scene unfolding before you—a man, peacefully lost in the realm of dreams.
Your gaze follows the cascade of long, slightly curly, obsidian hair that drapes over his shoulders, tracing the contours of his creamy white skin. The play of morning light reveals a well-defined back, drawing your eyes down the elegant curve of his spine until they come to rest on a small, soft, plum-like ass. The realization hits you like a bolt— he's completely naked!
Why is your heart orchestrating a rapid symphony, each beat echoing in your ears like a thunderous drumroll? And what in the world is a naked stranger doing sprawled across your sheets as though he belongs there?
He slumbers in serene oblivion, emitting soft, melodic sighs that weave through the air, his chest gracefully ascending and descending in rhythmic dance with each tranquil breath.
Wait.
He seems familiar.
A gasp escapes your lips as you take a closer look, and the realization hits you like a bolt of lightning – it's Yoongi!
Shock and disbelief intertwine in your chest as you stare at his peaceful slumber.
Confusion and a hint of panic surge through you as your mind races with questions.
Why is Yoongi in your bed, and why on earth is he naked?
How did Yoongi end up here, and where is Kitten?
A myriad of questions spins through your mind, a turbulent storm of curiosity. As you ponder the mysteries, you belatedly notice Yoongi stirring, gracefully shifting to lie on his back.
Your face burns with embarrassment as the realization dawns that he's still completely naked. Heat rises to your cheeks when his half-erect dick brushes against his stomach, prompting you to instinctively shield your eyes, flustered by the unexpected sight.
You wrestle with the dilemma of whether to disturb his serene slumber or let him continue resting peacefully. The soft innocence in his sleeping form makes the decision more challenging, and you lean towards allowing him to bask in the tranquility of his dreams undisturbed.
Gently, you drape the comforting warmth of your duvet over him, a shield against the chill of the room. With nimble movements, you extract yourself from the bed, careful not to disturb the delicate balance of his slumber.
Confusion seizes your thoughts as you grapple with the surreal scenario—Yoongi peacefully nestled in your bed. You wrack your brain, questioning every sober memory, desperately trying to unearth the missing pieces that would explain his presence.
You step into the kitchen, a fleeting sense of unease prickling at your skin as you scan the room for Kitten, but he remains elusive, leaving a trace of uncertainty in the air.
A twinge of melancholy washes over you as Kitten remains elusive, but you console yourself with the hope that he might return, his absence merely a temporary void in your otherwise comforting routine.
You embark on the simple yet intimate act of preparing two steaming cups of coffee—one for yourself and one for the unexpected visitor who occupies your bed.
You seize a handful of aromatic coffee beans from a vintage jar, letting the rich fragrance envelop you as you crush them under the steady hum of your machine. With precision, you measure out the perfect amount, combining it with hot water, allowing the concoction to brew into a comforting elixir.
While the coffee brews, your mind races with bewildering thoughts about Yoongi's unexpected presence in your bed. Puzzlement clouds your senses as you contemplate every conceivable scenario.
Did he let himself in? Was there some mysterious way he could have gained access?
With a touch of anxiety, you even venture to your front door, checking for any signs of unauthorized entry, only to find it securely locked, shrouded in an eerie silence.
You're grappling with the perplexing mystery of Yoongi's appearance in your bed, as if he materialized out of thin air, defying all logic and reason, leaving you spellbound by the inexplicable magic that seems to have woven its way into your ordinary reality.
In the quiet chaos of your thoughts, Yoongi's presence offers more questions than answers, an enigmatic puzzle that seems to defy the ordinary. The absence of Kitten only adds another layer of mystery to the unfolding scene.
As the coffee machine dings, disrupting the contemplative silence, you're left grappling with the surreal conundrum before you, seeking clarity in the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee.
With the warmth of freshly brewed coffee in your hands, you reenter the bedroom to discover Yoongi, now alert, draped in your duvet, a captivating silhouette in the soft morning light.
Your greeting falters as you nervously stammer, “H–, Hi,” setting the two mugs of coffee on your nightstand. Yoongi's gaze, sharp and feline-like, traces your every move, creating a palpable tension in the air.
An unfamiliar nervousness grips you in his presence, an unusual sensation considering your usual ease around him. Perhaps it's the fact that he's naked, his gaze akin to a predator eyeing down its prey, intensifying the air with an unspoken tension.
“Hey,” finally breaking the silence, he greets you with a low grumble, scratching his head and letting out a lazy yawn.
His body exudes a captivating blend of softness and defined muscles, a captivating sight that—
His voice, laced with a teasing smirk, breaks the tension. “Can't stop staring at my dick, huh?”
Your throat tightens as you realize you've been caught in the act, silently observing him. Panic sets in – does he think you're a freak now? Fantastic.
You let out a nervous chuckle, deliberately shifting your gaze away from the obvious bulge in the duvet around his lap. “What are you doing here, Yoongi? And why are you naked?” you inquire, genuinely puzzled.
He chuckles, a low sound that sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't help but feel a tinge of unease. “You haven't figured it out yet?” he teases, his words hanging in the air, leaving you in suspense.
You must resemble a walking question mark, because his chuckles only intensify. It's as if he finds your confusion amusing, and you're left standing there, desperate for answers in the midst of his enigmatic laughter.
In a soft tone laced with a smirk, he utters, “Kitten.”
Your gaze fixates on him, bewildered. Kitten? Is he referring to your cat?
Your jaw drops as he gracefully emerges from the bed, the duvet cascading off his frame. In his unabashed nudity, he strides toward you.
He inches closer, the proximity almost causing your lips to collide. A surge of warmth courses through you when he delicately tucks a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.
“I’m a shapeshifter,” his revelation hangs in the air, the weight of it palpable, and as he locks eyes with you, searching for any flicker of discomfort, the truth settles. Before you can process it fully, he leans in, capturing your lips with an irresistible surge of passion.
His lips, soft and inviting, embark on a slow yet passionate dance, as if reuniting with a long-lost lover. Responding eagerly, you part your lips, allowing the kiss to deepen, and in that electrifying moment, your entire body succumbs to a sensation akin to melting butter.
You yield to his touch, molding your body to his as you sense the undeniable hardness of his arousal intimately pressing against your core.
Fuck.
In the midst of the heated moment, you draw back slightly to meet his gaze, the question hanging in the air, “So... you're Kitten?”
He offers no verbal response, just a low, affirmative hum, before plunging back into another intoxicating kiss.
You surrender to the sensation, feeling the firm grip of his hands on your waist as they journey upward beneath the fabric of your well-worn shirt.
His touch ignites a trail of sensations, tracing a path across your body, sending electric shivers as he lifts your shirt, gently grazing against the contours of your breasts.
Under the intensity of his gaze, your body responds, a flush of heat spreading through you, your nipples hardening in response. He emits a low, satisfied hum, as if relishing the effect he has on you.
Effortlessly, he works to level the playing field, swiftly undressing you as if in a race against time. With a purposeful tug, he eases your shorts down, a silent declaration of his desire.
Bare before him, clad only in a simple black panty adorned with delicate pink hearts, you can't shake the vulnerability coursing through you. A sudden urge to conceal yourself washes over, a reaction to the raw exposure in this intimate moment.
“Don't shy away, you're stunning,” Yoongi murmurs, his firm grip on your hips drawing you closer to his naked body. The undeniable heat of his arousal presses against your core, a tangible reminder of the desire smoldering between you.
Gratitude escapes your lips in a hushed tone, your cheeks tinged with a warm blush.
“Now, let’s get these off you, yeah?” with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he hooks his fingers inside the fabric of your panties, teasingly tugging them down. He pauses, seeking your consent, before sensually sliding them all the way down your legs.
As he slides your panties down, a sudden awareness of your arousal hits you, intensified by the cool rush of air against your heated core.
As they fall to the floor, Yoongi swiftly snatches up your panties, bringing them to his face to inhale the intoxicating essence of your arousal, his eyes darkening with desire.
Why does that look so utterly sinful, setting off a delicious rush of arousal coursing through your veins, leaving you breathless in its wake?
As the intoxicating scent of you envelops him, he murmurs, “Damn, you smell good,” his eyes dilating with an unmistakable hunger.
“I wonder if you taste as good as you smell.”
In the raw vulnerability of your shared nakedness, he guides your body back to the bed, gently laying you down, his presence a magnetic force, hovering above you.
He immerses himself in the expanse of your neck, a symphony of sensations unfolding – a delicate ballet of tender kisses, followed by the electrifying nip of his teeth grazing the juncture between your neck and shoulder.
You moan in unabashed pleasure, your hands instinctively seeking refuge on his chiseled pectorals, anchoring yourself amidst the rising waves of bliss.
Yoongi's gaze shifts to the mirror positioned strategically in front of your bed. “I've been meaning to ask,” he smirks, locking eyes with you, “why do you have a mirror in front of your bed?”
You squirm beneath him, breath catching.”'It's part of my wardrobe panels,” you admit, your voice a fragile melody.
He chuckles, a low and enticing sound, his smirk dancing on his lips. “I don't think that's why the whole panel is mirrors,” he says, sitting up slightly. His finger traces a slow, teasing path from your collarbones to your breasts, sending shivers of anticipation racing through your body.
He leans in, his breath sending a shiver down your spine, and in a deep, low voice, he murmurs into your ear, “You're a dirty one, aren't you?”
His degrading words make your breath hitch instantly, and you involuntarily clench your thighs together. As you shake your head in disagreement, he just smirks, unconvinced.
His chuckle resonates in the room as he asks, “Do you enjoy watching yourself in the mirrors?” Sitting up, he moves to the foot of the bed, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous spark.
He gracefully steps out of the bed, casting a predatory gaze as he hovers over you, an aura of irresistible allure surrounding him.
With unwavering determination, he declares, “You're going to watch yourself in the mirror as I fuck your pussy with my tongue.” In a single, fluid motion, he seizes both of your thighs, pulling you to the foot of the bed, sending a thrilling jolt through your senses.
Despite the heat coursing through your entire being, a light chuckle escapes your lips. However, the mirth dissipates as you lock eyes with the intensity in Yoongi's dark gaze.
“Sit up,” his command echoes through the room, and as he gracefully lowers himself between your legs, a thrilling anticipation courses through the air.
From your elevated position, you admire the tousled chaos of his hair, a disheveled masterpiece that only enhances his captivating allure. His eyes gleam with a mischievous spark, a silent promise of the intensity that is about to unfold.
You seize his cheeks with urgency, your voice dripping with desire, a fervent plea escaping your lips, “Fuck. Yoongi, please eat me out.”
He moistens his lips with a teasing chuckle, descending eagerly towards your already soaked center.
He expertly widens the gap between your legs, creating a perfect haven for himself before delving into your pussy with fervent devotion.
With a tantalizing finesse, he starts with a subtle stroke of his tongue along your folds, gradually ascending to the apex of your clit, eliciting a fervent moan that echoes in the room.
As waves of pleasure cascade through you, your fingers instinctively entwine in his tousled locks, gently pulling as he skillfully devotes his attention to the exquisite dance of his tongue and lips on your pulsating core.
Gasping for breath, your anticipation mounts, every nerve tingling with pleasure, as Yoongi's rhythmic strokes across your intimate folds propel you toward a climax, your toes curling in ecstasy.
Pausing momentarily, he murmurs in appreciation, “You taste even better than you smell, Kitten,” his words sending a shiver down your spine.
You're on the verge of asking him about the nickname ‘Kitten,’ but his tongue explores your folds, leaving you breathless and unable to form words.
Your question dissolves in the heat of the moment, the building climax taking center stage as you lose yourself in the pursuit of pleasure.
Lost in the waves of ecstasy, you can't resist the urge to surrender, closing your eyes as Yoongi works his magic with undeniable expertise.
“No, no, no. Look at yourself in the mirror, Kitten.”
“Why do—” before you can finish your question, it fades away on your tongue as Yoongi plunges back into pleasuring your core with a renewed intensity, leaving your thoughts swallowed by the whirlwind of sensations.
As you glance at the mirror, you catch a glimpse of your own blissful expression, framed by Yoongi's tousled black hair nestled between your thighs. The sight is nothing short of breathtaking, a sight of pleasure that leaves you utterly captivated.
The provocative scene unfolding in the mirror intensifies your arousal, your breath hitching in tandem with the escalating desire pulsating through your veins.
“Yoongi, I’m—” your plea catches in your throat as Yoongi skillfully responds, his hand finding your pulsating clit, heightening the pleasure while he continues to ravish you with his insatiable tongue.
His fingers dance in rhythmic circles over your throbbing clit, coaxing the tension from your core. As the knot unravels, a wave of blissful release washes over you, leaving you breathless and trembling in its wake.
Ecstasy courses through your veins, your toes curling, muscles tightening, and in that moment, an unexpected surge of pleasure hits you like a sneeze that never comes. You release a symphony of moans, surrendering to the intense climax that Yoongi skillfully orchestrates with his talented tongue.
He continues to suck, savoring every drop of your essence, an insatiable thirst in his eyes matching the fervor of the intimate dance between your bodies.
As the intensity peaks, you gently tap his shoulder, signaling him to withdraw. He complies with a sensual slurp, leaving you breathless and tingling with the echoes of pleasure.
A mischievous grin stretches across his face as he licks his lips, “You're incredible, Kitten.”
You arch an eyebrow, curiosity coloring your tone, “Why do you keep calling me ‘Kitten’? You’re Kitten.”
He erupts in laughter, a symphony that resonates through the room, his chest rising and falling with the melody of mirth, and in that moment, he's a captivating masterpiece.
“Do I really look like a Kitten to you?” he inquires, a playful glint in his eyes as he gently nudges you back onto the bed.
Your words stumble as you search for a response, “Not really,” you admit, offering him a small yet tender smile.
“But you look cute and sweet, like a good Kitten,” he murmurs, his hands exploring the curves of your breasts.
A low moan escapes your lips as he teases your nipples with a playful twist, igniting a fresh surge of desire that pools in the growing heat between your thighs.
As you ache for the feel of his throbbing length, you attempt to grab hold of him, but like a fleeting mirage, he skillfully eludes your touch, leaving you yearning for the intimate connection that inches away with each evasive movement.
“Nah. I just want to fuck you silly,” he rasps, eyes tracing every bead of sweat on your flushed skin, reveling in the primal rhythm of your hurried breaths.
“If you want to, that is?” he teases, his voice a sultry whisper, as he takes control, guiding himself between your legs with a confident hand that promises a morning full of pleasure.
As you feel the weight of his gaze, you gulp, wondering how, in that heated moment, he could question what you crave. It's undeniable – you want him, and the intensity of your desire hangs in the air between you, palpable and unspoken.
Your breath catches as you respond, the words tumbling from your lips in a heated rush, “Fuck, yes, Yoongi. I want you inside me, now,” the urgency in your voice betraying the intensity of your desire.
A low, rumbling chuckle escapes him, the sound sending a shiver down your spine as he replies, “Please” with a teasing glint in his eyes.
“‘Please’ what?”
“Say ‘please’.”
You huff, incredulous at his audacity. The desire in his eyes is undeniable, and he seems to enjoy the game. Part of you rebels, tempted to be a brat just to irk him, but the need for his touch overrides any resistance. You crave his intimacy, aching for his dick despite the defiance lingering in the air.
“Fuck this,” you grumble, frustration evident in your voice. In that fleeting moment, you catch a glimpse of Yoongi pulling back, as if reconsidering his stance.
“Please! Don’t leave,” you plead desperately, your sincerity laid bare. The smirk on his face deepens, as if savoring the intensity of your plea.
“Please fuck me, Yoongi.”
His satisfaction evident, he rewards you with a swift kiss before aligning himself with your eager entrance, anticipation humming in the air.
Your arousal has reached a point where there's no discomfort, just a perfect fit as he slides into you, your wetness welcoming and enveloping him seamlessly.
He hisses as he eases into your warm, tight walls, and you can feel him doing his best to restrain himself.
You release a breathy huff as he fully penetrates, his balls gently meeting the warmth of your folds.
He lets out a guttural groan as he steadies himself, withdrawing only to plunge back in with an intensity that sends shivers through your body.
In this intimate position, with him above you, every nuance of his pleasure is on full display—the way his nose scrunches in delight, his soft lips occasionally nibbling the bottom one in sheer ecstasy.
Between each thrust, he can't help but express his amazement, his voice low and husky, “Damn. You're so tight.”
You know. It’s been awhile.
As he moves within you with an increased rhythm, his hands find your breasts, skillfully massaging them in sync with his fervent thrusts, creating a symphony of pleasure that courses through your entire body.
Ecstasy courses through you, and in the midst of your fervent pleasure, you can't help but release a breathless exclamation, “Fuck, Yoongi!”
Every skillful thrust seems to find its mark, synchronized with the enticing dance of his fingers on your hardened nipples. Pleasure envelops you, clouding your thoughts in a haze of ecstasy.
Your pleasure intensifies as Yoongi skillfully pinches your nipples, eliciting a symphony of moans that harmonize with the rhythmic dance of his passionate thrusts.
Sensations ripple through you, and the desire to reciprocate Yoongi's pleasure builds within you. You yearn to give him the same ecstasy he's generously bestowed upon you.
Amidst the rhythmic cadence of Yoongi's thrusts, a bold request escapes your lips. Your gaze, laced with desire, meets his, and with a subtle plea in your eyes, you softly murmur, “Yoongi—, I want to ride you. Please.”
With a devilish grin, Yoongi withdraws from your embrace, reclining on the bed, his eyes ablaze with anticipation.
His voice, laced with desire, sends shivers down your spine as he commands, “Then you're gonna watch in the mirrors as you fuck yourself on my dick,” reclining with his head angled towards the mirrors.
Mounting him, you position yourself strategically, both of you reflected in the mirror—a tantalizing image of entangled limbs, the intensity of the moment etched in your heaving, sweat-glistened bodies.
Grasping his throbbing dick, he hisses in anticipation as you deftly align your eager entrance with his cock.
With a fluid motion, you descend onto his rigid cock, your velvet walls enveloping him in a tight, intoxicating embrace.
From below, Yoongi savors the view, his gaze lingering on the contours of your face, as if committing every detail to memory.
You guide the rhythm, your hands finding stability on his sculpted chest, setting the pace as you ride him with a mix of determination and desire.
Your movements cascade, a slow dance that gradually builds momentum, each rise and fall carrying a symphony of pleasure and anticipation.
As you gaze upon your reflection, the flush of arousal paints your cheeks, your disheveled hair framing your face like an unruly halo, and your breasts dance in perfect harmony with the rhythm of your passionate movements.
The person in the mirror seems like a stranger, a sensual revelation you never knew existed within you. The mirrors, always present but never before utilized for sex, now reflect a version of yourself that’s both thrilling and new.
Heat courses through your veins, an intoxicating blend of arousal and empowerment, as you observe your own uninhibited reflection. With newfound vigor, you escalate the rhythm, riding Yoongi more vigorously. His appreciative groans and tender gaze mirror the intensity of the moment.
Unbridled desire takes over as your hands instinctively find their way to Yoongi's neck. Without a conscious thought, your fingers glide over the warmth of his skin, gently encircling his throat.
An electrifying jolt courses through you as you sense Yoongi's involuntary twitch within you, and you catch the ragged rhythm of his breath.
Panic courses through you, and you hastily retract your hands, realizing with a shock that you had unintentionally exerted pressure on Yoongi's throat. “Oh my God! I'm so sorry!” you blurt out, your apology a mix of concern and embarrassment.
“It's fine, Kitten. I like it,” he reassures you with a devilish grin, seizing your hands and guiding them back around his neck, his eyes sparking with a hint of mischief.
You shoot him a concerned glance, pausing your movements to ensure he's okay. Once he reassures you with a nod, signaling his approval, you dive back into the rhythm you had before.
With a newfound boldness, you tighten your grip around his throat, drawing out another satisfying twitch from him. His reaction sends a surge of pleasure through you as he hits that sweet spot, causing a kaleidoscope of sensations that make you see stars.
Your unrestrained moans fill the room, a symphony of desire that intertwines with the rhythmic sounds of your bodies colliding. The sight of Yoongi unraveling beneath your touch fuels a primal arousal, and you revel in the raw passion that courses through every fiber of your being.
“Fuck!” you pant.
“I’m gonna come,” you confess, the words escaping on a ragged breath, as you impale yourself on his dick. You’re body trembling as you hold the moment, savoring the anticipation before the inevitable plunge into ecstasy.
With a tender touch, you withdraw your hands from his throat, leaning down to kiss him. Your lips meet his in a dance of passion, tracing a path from his mouth to the very spots your fingers had claimed on his neck moments ago.
His low, guttural groan harmonizes with the rhythm as you ascend, reclaiming your perch on him. The dance begins anew, your body moving with purpose, riding the waves of pleasure set in motion by each calculated bounce on his throbbing length.
Yoongi's hands eagerly envelop your breasts, his fingers dancing with the rhythm of your fervent movements. With each descent onto him, you feel a surge of pleasure building, the shared pursuit of ecstasy driving you both towards the brink of blissful release.
His fingers deftly find your sensitive nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. The sensation is so intense that a fractured, high-pitched man escapes your lips, your back arching involuntarily in the exquisite dance of pleasure and pain.
As your walls instinctively clench around his pulsating dick, you witness the pleasure etched across his face, a delightful scrunching of his features that mirrors the ecstasy coursing through both of you.
“Yoongi, I’m com—,” you gasp, a desperate plea laced in your voice. Your words are unnecessary; the vice-like grip of your walls and the erratic cadence of your breath already convey the impending release that hangs thick in the air.
“Come all over my dick,” he smirks through a groan, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Watch yourself fall apart in the mirror.”
How can this man ignite such an intense flame within you? The knot in your stomach tightens once more, and as you surrender to it, a primal, drawn-out moan escapes your lips, echoing the depths of your desire.
With unyielding eyes, you lock onto your own reflection in the mirror as ecstasy courses through you, marking the moment you climax on his d*ck. Your rhythmic bouncing falters, but Yoongi, sensing your need, seizes your hips and propels the pace, driving you deeper into the intoxicating whirlwind of pleasure.
Your mouth hangs open, breaths rapid and erratic, akin to the aftermath of a sprint, while every inch of your body throbs with the residual heat of a fervent blaze.
“So beautiful—FUCK!” he moans, powering into you with an astonishing velocity, sending shivers down your spine.
His hold on your hips tightens, your hands finding refuge on his sculpted chest for support. Your body teeters on the edge of weightlessness and grounding, as if you'd unravel if Yoongi's firm grasp on your hips faltered.
Despite the fatigue washing over you, a surge of determination courses through your veins. Summoning the last reserves of your strength, you entwine your fingers around his neck once more. You sense the impending release in Yoongi's every movement, and you're determined to be the catalyst that propels him over the edge.
The moment your grip tightens around his throat, a powerful surge reverberates through his dick within you, sending intoxicating waves of pleasure coursing through your body. It's an electrifying sensation, making every touch between you more intense and satisfying.
With an intense squeeze, you lock eyes with Yoongi, a plea in your gaze. “Fill me up, Yoongi.”
In a primal release, he surrenders to the moment, thrusting into you with an erratic rhythm, coating your walls with the warmth of his climax.
“Ahh,” he pants, the rush of air filling his lungs as you release your grip on his neck, both of you engulfed in the aftermath of shared release.
You watch him in amazement as his fervent thrusts subside, and he eases into the embrace of your bed, a portrait of passion painted across his beautiful face.
As he gradually softens within you, you take the initiative to lift yourself off him, both of your essences clinging to your skin, a residue of your shared passion that you welcome without reservation.
As you recline beside him, a soft chuckle escapes your lips, a shared breathlessness enveloping both of you. The air in the room is charged with the echo of passion, leaving a tangible energy that binds your entangled forms together.
Breathless and sporting a satisfied grin, he turns to you, his eyes filled with a post-passion glow. “Fuck that was incredible,”' he murmurs, capturing the shared intensity of the moment in the curve of his smile.
An undeniable contentment colors your voice as you respond, “Yeah,” savoring the echoes of pleasure that linger in the air.
Suddenly, a spark of realization ignites within you, propelling you to move with swift purpose. You crawl back on top of him, a burst of energy that startles him, like a surprise in the midst of shared afterglow.
“Why did you leave me?” you inquire, a tinge of accusation laced with the bitter notes in your voice. “Without a word or a farewell. Why did you disappear without a trace?”
His eyes widen momentarily before giving way to an expression of anguish and sadness. A tug at your heart intensifies, as his face alone tells a story you fear can't be good.
He begins with a heavy admission, meeting your eyes with earnest sincerity, “My brother died.”
Your words stumble out in a rush, “Oh, God! I'm so sorry!” The unexpected revelation leaves you fumbling for the right response.
His words flow, carrying a weight of anger and grief, “It's alright. ButI felt so much anger and grief, you know?” he explains, “so much so that I couldn't shapeshift and was stuck in my cat form.”
You exhale a soft ‘aha’ at his words, and the realization washes over you— he was grappling with his own demons, just as you were.
“When I'm consumed by intense emotions, I lose control of my ability to shapeshift, and, and—” You witness a tearful welling in his eyes, prompting you to gently cup his cheeks, reassuring him that it's okay.
“I just wanted to be alone and I didn’t want to burden you…” A few tears spill from his eyes, and you tenderly catch them with your gentle fingers.
You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, finding solace in the curve of his neck, where his soft minty scent envelops you like a comforting embrace.
“I am so fucking sorry you had to endure that. I understand, truly. But you would never be a burden to me,” you express, gazing into his eyes with a tenderness that echoes your sincerity.
“I want to be there for you,” you declare, your own tears mirroring the empathy in your eyes.
“Ah, shit. I didn’t mean to cry. But, you know, I understand,” you say, your words accompanied by a wry smile as tears trickle down your face and onto Yoongi’s cheeks.
“I’m sorry, Kitten. I know. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”
He seizes your cheeks, tugging you into a tender and unhurried kiss. Time loses its grip, and you're oblivious to the remnants of his seed mingling with your essence, creating a slippery trail between your pussy and his still-slick pelvis.
Lost in the rhythm of your kisses with Yoongi, you surrender to the moment, where every touch feels like a missing puzzle piece seamlessly falling into place.
The two cups of coffee are long forgotten.
Authors note (3): Thank you so very much if you have made it this far 😭 I know this story is a lot – I’ve been dealing with a lot of different stuff for many years, and some of it just got to be too much a few weeks ago, and this story popped into my head. It was therapeutic to write. I don’t know if people will like it or not, but in the end, that’s not what it’s about. It will just exist here.
If you struggle with any of these subjects or emotions, you’re always welcome in my inbox – I’m not a trained psychologist or anything, though! But sometimes it is better to voice your feelings, than struggling in silence. Everybody’s welcome 🫂
I hope you’re doing well. Thank you for you 💜
#yoongi x reader#myg x reader#yoongi smut#bts x reader#bangtan x reader#bangtan smut#yoongi fanfic#yoongi fic#min yoongi smut#min yoongi x you#min yoongi x reader#yoongi x oc#yoongi x you#yoongi x y/n#myg x you#myg fic#myg smut#min yoongi fanfic#yoongi fanfiction#yoongi fluff#yoongi scenarios#suga x y/n#suga x you#suga x reader#suga fluff#suga fic
320 notes
·
View notes
Note
prompt #30: “are you jealous?” with matt rempe? love your work btw :D <33
matt rempe x fem!reader | request post
you’re too sweet! tysm!
you watched matt across from the arena corridor. he was clad in a new york rangers sweatshirt and shorts. your teeth sunk down into your bottom lip as he animatedly talked to a woman. she looked older— maybe he was into that sort of thing. she looked more mature than you with her long blonde hair and captivating smile.
it wasn’t like matt was yours. he was merely a friend you made after accepting the job as the rangers’ social media admin. but the pit of fire in your stomach told otherwise.
“whatever.” you muttered under your breath, turning around and pacing down the hallway of the arena.
the echoes of your heels clicking caught matt’s attention. his gaze moved away from the woman in front of him and towards you as you walked away. quickly, he bid his farewells to his new friend and chased after you.
“y/n!” he called out, jogging behind you. “wait! i thought we were doing videos for the social media accounts before the game?” he slowed down to a walk as he took his spot next to you.
“well you seemed busy, so i can just ask braden to do the content.” you simply stated, not bothering to look at the tall boy besides you.
he furrowed his brows, “busy? what do you mean?”
you rolled your eyes— not that he noticed. “with your blonde friend over there. go talk to her, i don’t need you to do anything anymore.” your tone was harsh.
“are you jealous?” he asked, putting his hand on your shoulder and halting your movement. now you were forced to lock eyes with him. you wanted to laugh because it sounded ridiculous when he said it out loud, but you couldn’t.
maybe it was true.
“no, what? i’m not-” you stuttered, the words getting caught in your throat.
“oh my god, you are.” he smirked. great, he found this amusing. frustration and anger painted your features. your brows were furrowed and your hands were balled into fists. “don’t get mad, i don’t care. just think it’s cute ‘s all.”
“spare me the pity.” you groaned.
“maybe we can discuss your jealousy over dinner. tomorrow maybe?” he proposes, catching you by surprise.
“you know what,” you blushed, “i’d like that.”
282 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐿𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝒟𝒶𝓉𝑒
Kim Seungmin/Female Reader
wc: 11k
rating: mature/explicit ಇ
comments: thanks everyone for the likes and reblogs and feedback! (´︶`) knowing someone is enjoying my fics makes writing seungmin so much easier. technically this is the last part, but not really...
⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。 ⋆ ⋆。 ゚。 ⋆
→ Blind Date
→ Second Date
→ Third Date
Part 4 of 4
Seungmin goes quiet after that, relaxes against the arm of the couch. You’re on the opposite side, doing the same. You watch each other carefully , but nobody makes a move, and nobody starts to speak.
You wonder if there was something you could have done to avoid all of this drama. Four and a half months of wondering; of being so down you can barely make it to work some days. Both of you have been really bad at this.
“Yes, I know it’s complicated.”
-
Counting the days and weeks until Seungmin comes back to you has been excruciating, sometimes anxiety inducing, and the only thing really keeping you together.
As of today it’s been 136 days since you spent the night with him. Twenty weeks, almost, since you looked at him face to face—touched him, kissed him, desperately wanted to confess how you’ve already fallen for him, and you never want to leave his side again.
But he did text you three days ago.
A part of you feels like giving up, because maybe this has gone on for far too long.
It’s nothing that Seungmin has done. He hasn’t said anything to you about things likely not working out. He talks to you in the same sweet, cheery way he always has when he actually has time to text, or call. You don’t resent him for his lack of communication, ever, because you know his lifestyle is worlds away from yours.
But the part of you that’s crazy about him sits and thinks: he can call for a five minute conversation, ask me how I am before I completely fall apart. You think…why hasn’t he messaged back? It takes a few seconds.
You hate having these thoughts. But you’re only human, and you have so much empty time to think about him.
It’s just not the same for him. It might never be the same for him.
Right now you’re staring out of your classroom window, completely lost in thought. The kids are working quietly, and it’s honestly the first time all day where you’ve been truly alone in your head.
There’s a loud knock on the door, and it makes you, and your students, jump.
“Come in…”
The door opens slowly, and the face that peeks through the door is a familiar one.
“Hey,” Choonhee waits a moment, then enters and closes the door behind her. She grabs a chair and finds a spot to sit directly in front of, across your desk.
“Hi, what’s up?”
“I’m on my way out, but I wanted to see you before I left. I keep missing you, and you’re not answering my messages.” The look she gives you is a little bit questioning, and a little bit irritated.
“Sorry, I’ve just had a lot on my mind. I’m trying to get out of this slump.”
“Slump? The same one you’ve been in for the last…” she gestures vaguely at nothing, “month? Maybe longer, I don’t know.”
“Yeah,” you manage, but it comes out shaky. You feel your throat tighten, and the air is pushed out of your lungs. Your eyes sting with tears. You can’t do this here.
“Hey hey, I’m sorry.” Choonhee starts to stand, “go pull yourself together, I’ll watch the class.”
You inhale deeply and make your way to the restroom. Luckily you have it to yourself, because when you catch sight of yourself in the mirror, tears are starting to stream down your cheeks. The result of bottling up until you explode.
Talking to Choonhee about this was always an option, but you haven’t. For some reason, you didn’t want her know how deep the cut is that Seungmin has made in you.
Her blind date was probably never supposed to turn into this; something serious, something you want, maybe more than anything you’ve ever wanted. You feel stupid and childish about it, because you know who he is. Sometimes you have to remind yourself that it was him that initiated date number two, and three, sort of, otherwise you’ll convince yourself you somehow forced him into all of this.
It takes far too long for you to finish crying and clean yourself up, but she’s still sitting there waiting when you return.
“I’ll be over tonight, and we’re going to talk it out. Okay?” She says.
You nod, eyes still red, makeup probably giving you two black eyes.
“I have to get going, I’ll see you later. Your phone went off while you were in the bathroom.”
You watch her as she walks out, then look to your students. In a few minutes, they’ll be dismissed. And you can go home and finish the crying that you’ve started.
First, you sit and poke the screen of your phone. It’s just a text message.
No, it’s not just a text message. It’s Seungmin. Choonhee probably looked, but all she would’ve seen is the contact name for him; SM.
Weeks ago, you almost changed it to Minnie, but you didn’t. The impersonal, secretive SM remained. You unlock your phone and open it.
I hope you had a good day. You’re just leaving work, I think…if I have my time right
And just like that, he pulls you back up, and back in. He says the right thing at just the right time. Although today, he he did miss it by a few minutes.
Now you battle with whether or not you text him back immediately, or wait until you get home. Neither feels like the right thing to do. You stare down at the message until it’s time for you to dismiss your class, thinking of what to say to him.
It’s personal. He took note of the time, and remembered when it is you usually leave.
Part of you feels like crying again, but your heart is fluttering. You hate this.
———
“I got your favorite!” Choonhee starts unloading the bag of food she brought with her. “Don’t look so defeated over there.”
She let herself in while you sat folded up on the couch. You’re still looking at your phone, trying to figure out what to say to him. Should you keep it casual and tell him your day was alright? Lie?
No, you could tell him the truth; that it was a rough day, and you’ve had a lot of days like this lately because you haven’t seen him in such a long time. But you have no idea how he’d react to that. Maybe he would feel guilty about not texting more, or feel bad because he’s been too busy to see you when he is in Seoul.
Or maybe he would feel overwhelmed by it, and decide enough was enough.
Seungmin—the Seungmin you know, at least, has always come off very laidback. Open when he needed to be, but not overly so. He’s a little bit reserved, but so many moments with him have been…cute.
And Chicago. It’s been so long since Chicago—long enough that the memory is fading a little. You have to think back on it and keep yourself there, in that moment, to remember all the detail. It’s all still there, in your head.
Finally, you start to type.
“Hi Minnie. I had a rough day today…I hope I get to see you again soon.”
You stare at it until Choonhee clears her throat in an attempt to get your attention.
You read it once more, then send it.
“Okay, dinner is served. Eat and tell me what’s been bothering you.”
You set your phone face down on the table and take a few bites before getting into it. Starting the conversation will be the most difficult.
So you just start.
“This is a little bit my fault, isn’t it?” Choonhee listened quietly, but you could tell she wasn’t expecting this to be about him. “I pushed this on you. I knew he spoke to you back in…June? I think it was June. But I didn’t know you saw each other again after the first date.”
“Yeah, there was a second date. And a third. And, well…ya know.”
Her eyebrows raise, “what? Fourth, fifth?”
“No, we slept together.”
She’s silent for a long moment, but her eyes remain fixed on you.
“When I went home in July. Remember?”
She’s still silent.
“I haven’t seen him since then.”
“Seungmin doesn’t like opening up to people. He doesn’t do that. Or he didn’t, at least. Are you sure you didn’t just…dream it?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I didn’t dream about having sex with him and then convince myself it really happened.”
Choonhee throws her hands up and waves your remark away, “okay I’m sorry, I’m just…surprised. I mean, even the multiple dates is a little surprising.”
“Then why did you even set us up?”
She shrugs, and then struggles to find the right words, “I don’t know…you were both here, and alone. I didn’t want you to spend the holiday by yourself. I thought you’d like him…I guess I was right. I’m not usually good with matches.
“So…are you saying I should just move on?”
“No, absolutely not! Text him right now, and tell him you want to see him when he gets home. He doesn’t get to fuck and run. I don’t care who he is.”
She goes quiet for a few seconds, but you can tell she’s frustrated and deep in thought. “I knew you’d like him. I’m sorry, I made this mess. If he doesn’t get himself together and talk to you like he should, I’ll go find him myself.”
———
By the time your text message gets to Seungmin, he’s home, undressed, and about to hop into a very hot shower. He smiles when he reads Minnie, because in the far too few messages exchanged, you’ve mostly called him Seungmin. His smile fades when he reads the rest.
He knows he’s been bad at this. Not just bad, actually—he’s been pathetic. He’s ghosted you, and strung you along for weeks.
No, he thinks. It’s been months of sporadic texting. Every time he was home, or close to home, he ignored you. Not maliciously, of course, and ignored is a strong word. He messaged you, but it really was the bare minimum. Especially after the last time you were together; you gave yourself to him, and Seungmin took all that he could.
Now he can’t admit to you how much it scared him.
He sets his phone down for now, and climbs into the shower—because once again, his mind, body, and everything in between is tired.
He’s so tired, he feels like he could cry. Maybe if he just let go, let himself wrap around someone and cry into their chest, he would feel better.
———
“When did he text you last?” Choonhee is cleaning up the table, throwing things into the sink, and generally doing a terrible job of tidying. But she means well, and you let her at it. “Has it been a while?”
“Three days ago, before today. He sent a message while you were in my classroom earlier.”
“Oh, is that who the buzz was? Did you answer back? Maybe you should just make him wait around.”
“I replied right before we ate, only because it took me a while to figure out what to say.”
You’re back on the couch now, phone in hand, eyes staring at the stagnant message thread. Figuring out his schedule is tough sometimes, and you try (and usually fail) to stay off of Twitter and fan sites. Right now you’re sifting through them, though—looking for anything new.
You pull up a few airport photos from earlier today. Seungmin is hidden behind a mask and a hat, but you can see his eyes. He looks tired.
It makes your heart sink. You return to your message thread again and read through the last few texts; they feel more and more impersonal as time goes on, and that makes your heart sink, too.
Maybe he is pulling away from you.
“I know saying this won’t help, but do not let this take over. Don’t let him get into your head like this.”
“It’s too late for that.”
Choonhee grabs your arm and shakes it furiously, “he’s just a guy!”
———
Seungmin is flat on his back, covers fluffed up all around him, a pillow under his head, another under his feet. No matter what he does, he’s uncomfortable. He desperately wants and needs to fall asleep, but it’s alluding him. His brain won’t shut up.
The room is chilly, and that’s usually what does the trick. Cold room, warm bed, and he’s out like a light.
He picks up his phone and reads your text again.
Hi Minnie. I had a rough day today…I hope I get to see you again soon.
If only he could figure out what to say back to you. There are so many things he wants to say, and so few ways he can think of to type it out.
Even if he were to see you face to face, he’d be lost for words. Seungmin is not one to let people in, but he has already let you in.
And now he’s stupidly pushing you away.
He pulls up a photo of you and stares at it. This wasn’t the way he planned on relaxing, but his hand is finding it’s way under his shirt anyway, touching his stomach, slowly moving downward until reaches the waistband of his sweatpants.
Thinking of your one night together, somehow still vivid in his head after all this time, is enough to get him hard. And looking at you…he runs his hand down the length of his cock, grabs tight, and strokes himself slowly. The breath he lets out is shaky. He has to be quiet.
———
“Is he?” You look at her, only slightly defeated. “…just a guy?”
“You slept with him, you should know.”
“He’s not.”
The look she gives you is almost enough to make you rethink what you just said.
“I promise you, beneath everything, he’s like any other guy you’ve dated who got too close, freaked out, and disappeared.”
You shake your head. Then your phone buzzes in your hand, and the feeling makes your heart jump to your throat, and your stomach sink all at once. You don’t immediately move your eyes to the screen—you can’t.
“Was that him?”
Now you look. SM. You nod.
you still want to see me?
You will see him again, and you’ll tell him exactly how you feel.
“What did he say?”
You turn your phone so Choonhee can read the message. She rolls her eyes.
“He sounds like a guy. I’m sorry I got you into this…but, you are going to see him again I assume.”
“Yeah, of course.”
———
It’s not until you’re in bed, hours later, that you open his text in an attempt to answer. But it might be better to do this in the morning, because sending one and waiting for his reply is going to keep you up all night.
You stare anyway, trying to get your thoughts in order; your words, your feelings. Do you want him to know how you really feel now, or when you have him in front of you? Can you even get the right words out when he’s in front of you?
You open your notes app and begin working on a reply.
You know I want to see you, Seungmin. I’m trying to be patient and understanding, but it’s so hard when you’re on my mind every day. I hope you’re getting some rest, and I hope you’re doing well. And I hope I can see you before you leave again.
You fall asleep writing. And in the morning, there he is again. One text message sent at 5am.
I’m so sorry. I should have made time for you in October, but every time I wanted to ask you, I froze, I don’t know why, I have no excuse
For a moment, you think you accidentally sent the rough draft of your text in your sleep. You didn’t. This was just him, awake before dawn, finally giving you something sincere. Now you have to rethink your reply.
The typing notification pops up while you’re reading over his message again. Still awake at 6:45.
I remember you telling me you wake up at the same time every morning... Good morning
You feel like crying again. But not like yesterday.
“Good morning” is the best you can come up with this early. He’ll have to wait.
———
Seungmin falls asleep, eventually, but not comfortably.
He gets up from bed to clean himself up, change (he’s warm now, so he opts for less clothes), and hopefully he’ll still be a little bit tired by the time he hits the bed again.
At 4:45am, his body decides he’s had enough. Now he’s awake, eyes still closed, bed far too warm. He throws off the blankets and flips onto his back.
Immediately, and not surprisingly, Seungmin’s thoughts turn to you. You’re sleeping soundly, he hopes, unlike him. He imagines you in the bed he’s never seen; curled up, tucked in. Maybe if he was there with you, he could sleep.
Every time he gets back home, he tries to push himself again, and he fails. He did it in October, and then again in September, right before his birthday. He knows he can’t keep doing this to you.
He pulls out his phone and opens your message thread.
…I hope I get to see you again soon
Seungmin stops thinking and just types:
“I’m so sorry. I should have made time for you in October…”
He stops and reads it. October. He was busy with the album release, but if he looks back in his messages again, he can count the number of texts he sent on one hand. You sent just as many…well, one more than him. That last message he didn’t even reply to. You must have been fed up with him and his lack of communication. And you had every right to be.
“…but every time I wanted to ask you, I froze, I don’t know why, I have no excuse.”
This part is true. Seungmin is almost freezing again right now.
“I don’t know how to explain…”
Now he thinks.
“…how all of this is making me feel. Maybe I’m…”
Seungmin backspaces the last sentence before he even finishes it. And then he hits send.
At 6:45, he’s still wide awake. He remembers you telling him your alarm is always set for this time, so he sends one more message.
And you reply. He was right, you were awake. Just a good morning, though. He’s sure it’s far too early for you to deal with his wishy-washy bullshit.
———
When he doesn’t text again by lunch time, you decide he’s waited long enough. And you can’t waste time, really. He might not be in town for long.
“I want to see you, and I will see you. Today, tomorrow, it doesn’t matter. But I need it to be soon. Neither of us are allowed to be nervous anymore.”
It’s better, you decide, than whatever you wrote last night.
He’s silent as you drift through the rest of the school day (you assume he’s having trouble thinking of a reply to that), and right as the class is gathering their things and leaving, another teacher sneaks in and approaches you. Then you realize it’s not a teacher, but you recognize her. She’s a secretary you’ve spoken to a few times before.
She nods to you and smiles. “I know you’re on your way out, but there’s a visitor for you, a parent who insisted I bring them right to you. It seemed important.”
You have very specific times for parent/teacher visits, and this is not one of them. And there is nobody else who would visit you. You’re confused. “Okay, send them in…I guess.”
You look down at your phone—you doubt it, but maybe you missed a text message or a call. No, nothing.
“Hello.”
The way his voice floats over to you almost knocks you out, and when you turn to meet his eyes, your throat refuses to let you release the air in your lungs.
“Your last text was very insistent. I know this probably is not the best approach…but I haven’t been doing a very good job of anything lately.”
Still you just stare at him, lost for words. You look around your classroom, then down at yourself. This is not how you wanted to see him again, but do you have any room to complain?
He takes a few steps toward you, “was this a bad idea?”
You manage to shake your head and swallow. And then you realize your legs still work, with some effort. Two steps later, your arms wrap around his waist, your face disappears in his sweatshirt, and you squeeze.
His tiny, relieved laugh is music to your ears, and then his hands slide across your back until he’s fully embraced you.
You keep him there for a long time, and he doesn’t protest or try to pull you away. When he does speak again, it’s a question.
“How was your day?”
You slowly release him, but making eye contact is a bit of a challenge. “It’s better now.” So you fall apart when he does show up; no strong words, no looks of disbelief at his absence. You knew this would happen.
“Where can I take you? Home? Or…anywhere you want.”
“Home is good.”
“Okay, there’s a ride waiting for us.” He moves his hands up and over your shoulders, and he rests them on either side of your neck. “I understand if you’re angry with me, and if you stay that way.”
“I am. I don’t want to be.”
Seungmin leans closer, and he moves painfully slow, but eventually he makes it to your mouth. His kiss is light and short, but he keeps going back to peck at your lips, over and over, until you open up and hold him there.
Finally, clear memories of Chicago fill you up. His scent and his touch pull you right back, and you hope he remembers it like you do.
———
It feels like your first date. A quiet car ride, a slow ride up the elevator, an awkward, unsure walk down the hallway to your apartment door. Then walking into your messy living room.
“Are you hungry? I can order something for us,” he says as he’s carefully removing his shoes. “And we can talk while we wait.”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea. I’ll make some coffee.”
Seungmin doesn’t follow you to the kitchen, like he’s done a few times before. Instead, he sits on the couch, situating himself so he can still see you.
You try not to look at him as you work, but you fail, several times. He smiles every time your eyes meet, but it’s a sad smile. It’s not one you’re used to seeing.
“No small talk,” you tell him as you hand him his coffee. “I’ll lose my mind.”
“No small talk.” He nods.
“Where have you been?” You start, staring down at your mug. “Not physically, I know that already. I mean…in every other way.”
“Uhm—“ Seungmin thinks. His face twists a little, probably in confusion. “Where have I…”
“Mentally,” you can’t take your eyes off of him now. “Emotionally.”
“Oh, okay I understand.” He clears his throat, adjusts himself. “It’s been hard to keep my thoughts organized lately. It’s not just that I’ve been busy with work…I haven’t been sleeping well.”
“I’m sorry.”
Seungmin shakes his head, “I could’ve fixed it, I’m sure. If I would’ve just talked about things with you a while ago, I probably would have slept easier.”
“I kept you up?”
“Yes. Well, thinking about you. I do think about you, all the time, even if I haven’t kept in touch. But I’ve been over complicating things, I think.”
“Talk to me now. Please.”
You think you can see his cheeks turning pink. His eyes are wide and shiny, but he’s unsure.
“I know, Seungmin…it is hard. It’s been hard for me, and I feel like it’s been a little more difficult for you. I kept everything to myself all this time, up until yesterday.”
He gives you another questioning look.
“Choonhee forced it out of me.”
He nods, sets his coffee down, and swings his legs up on the couch. Something about him making himself more comfortable puts you at ease. You remember him mentioning before that he felt relaxed being here, alone with you. "I don’t feel any pressure here." You hope he still feels that way.
“Tell me what you told her.”
“She did most of the talking.”
“Then what did Choonhee tell you?”
“That you’re just a guy, and I shouldn’t let you get to me like this.”
Seungmin actually nods at that—but he’s not looking you in the eyes now, so maybe he’s just…thinking about it. Or maybe he’s agreeing. You don’t know where this is going yet.
“I am just a guy, she’s right. I don’t want to be just a guy, though. Not to you.”
“Oh…”
“I thought I knew what was going on when we were together in Chicago, and I thought I knew what I wanted. I’ve been thinking all this time that if this couldn’t be a normal, traditional relationship, you would not be happy, not satisfied. And you’d tell me you weren’t interested in me anymore. I thought you would tell me you couldn’t do it.”
You almost interject; tell him that’s never what you expected of him. You wouldn’t never do that. Why didn’t you say that before? Instead, you used the hypothetical “if you weren’t who you are” question on him. You remain quiet, though, hoping he continues.
“…what I’ve been doing isn’t much better than what I’ve been afraid of. But you’re very smart, and I always knew that.���
You just smile at him, waiting for more.
“That’s why you were so worried when you found out who I was. You know this is much more complicated than that.”
Seungmin goes quiet after that, relaxes against the arm of the couch. You’re on the opposite side, doing the same. You watch each other carefully , but nobody makes a move, and nobody starts to speak.
You wonder if there was something you could have done to avoid all of this drama. Four and a half months of wondering; of being so down you can barely make it to work some days. Both of you have been really bad at this.
“Yes, I know it’s complicated.”
He’s biting his lip. Tapping his foot. It’s almost touching you, and you want to stretch your leg out until it does, but right as you tell your brain to do it, his leg slides back. He sits up and leans forward, falls to his knees, and crawls across the couch.
Before you can squeak his name out, he’s straddling you, arms on either side of your waist. And then the full weight of his body is on you. Seungmin sets his head down gently against your chest and relaxes.
You freeze for a few seconds. You have fallen asleep on this couch with him before, but this feels like much more.
He doesn’t say anything, not even when you set your hand on his head—rake your fingers through his hair, wrap your other arm around his shoulders. He sighs, though.
When it feels like you’re drifting off to sleep, he finally speaks. It’s muffled against your shirt.
“You just want me, right?”
“What?”
“Even if nobody is allowed to know. And we can’t go out in public, and I have to pretend you don’t exist.”
“Seungmin, I know that we can’t have a normal relationship. I just want you…and to know that you want me.” You say the last part under your breath.
“I do.”
“You do?”
“Yes. I promise I’ll be better. And that I won’t be afraid to talk to you, and tell you too much.”
“You can tell me whatever you need to.”
“I don’t usually talk much…to anyone.”
It never occurred to you that he didn’t have someone to talk to when he was feeling down, or having a bad day. A bad week. He’s been bottling everything up, just like you have. Maybe for a very long time.
“You can talk to me about your bad days, Minnie, or when you can’t sleep. And about your good days. I would like to be that person.”
“Am I the reason you had a rough day yesterday? Have you had a lot of those?”
“Yeah, I have had a lot of bad days because I missed you.”
“You can tell me about your bad days, too. Even if they were bad because of me.”
“Don’t worry, I will.”
Seungmin laughs, and it shakes your whole body. “Good.”
☾⋆⁺₊⋆
The next morning is almost normal. Your alarm goes off at its regular time—6:45, and you’re tired, which is also normal. The room is chilly, and it’s so warm under the blankets that getting up is nearly impossible. An ordinary morning. The one thing that makes it different is that Seungmin is there when you open your eyes.
The alarm doesn’t even make him stir, but when you finally turn it off, he groans.
“I’m sorry, go back to sleep.”
“Are you going to work?” He asks, eyes closed, voice raspy with sleep.
“No, not today. I found someone to cover for me.”
He smiles and reaches his arm toward you, and he feels blindly around where he thinks you might be. “Why are you so far away?”
You move closer and grab his arm, “I’m right here. Go back to sleep.”
“I’ll try.”
…
Sleep eventually finds both of you again. When you wake back up a few hours later, he’s still there, breathing deeply, melting into your bed. You need to get up, but you wait a little longer. You really don’t want to wake him right now.
When he eventually wakes up on his own, he’ll feel better.
You close your eyes. And again, you fall asleep.
…
Something warm against your forehead wakes you up for a third time. Your eyes open and all you see is skin; Seungmin’s neck, his shoulder. The collar of his shirt is loose enough that you can see the start of his chest.
You pull him closer and push your face into him. He smells good. He smells like sleep and sweat and whatever leftover cologne is still stuck to him from yesterday.
Part of you still wants to keep your guard up. He’ll be gone soon, and then you’ll have to wait and see if his confidence and trust in you remains, and if he’ll really feel comfortable telling you the things he doesn’t tell anyone else.
“I can start,” you say, face still in his chest. You move up toward his neck and set your lips against his skin.
“Start what?”
“After we were together last, in Chicago, and we didn’t…use a condom. I did get a morning after pill, and I took it.”
He pulls you away so he can look at you.
“My period came really late after that, so I thought it didn’t work. And I was really scared. But I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t tell you because we hadn’t talked very much that week, and you didn’t need that on your mind anyway.”
“I’m sorry you had to deal with that alone.”
“Everything turned out okay.”
“You can talk to me any time you need to, even if I’ve been quiet.”
You nod, and you really want to believe him.
“Too soon for babies.” He whispers, just loud enough for you to hear him. He has a little smirk on his face, but he’s avoiding eye contact and staring at the little bit of space between you.
“You want them?”
“Hm?” Now he makes eye contact, and his ears are slowly turning red. “Uhm…yes, I always have. Do you?”
Having kids isn’t something you’ve thought about much (aside from the scare you had in July), because you haven’t met anyone you would want to have kids with. Well, until now, because looking at Seungmin and the sweet smile on his face is making you want them immediately. But you know that’s not possible for him.
“With the right person, yeah.”
“I’m sure someday I’ll be able to do that. Have the time to be there, for both of them. You and baby. I couldn’t be gone all the time and leave you alone.”
He stops for a second. You wonder if he’s even hearing himself speak.
“…Seungmin?”
“It was my turn to tell you something personal.” He brings his hands up to his face and rubs his cheeks, then his eyes. “Just in case I’m the right person.”
The conversation feels like too much, too soon. But you like it. He’s only been open with you like this once before: on your second date, when he admitted to being worried you’d like his friends more than him. You thought that was silly then, and now…you’re not sure you could like anyone more than Seungmin.
“…and if I’m your right person.”
Seungmin smiles and hides his face in the pillow.
———
As the day goes on, you wonder how long he’ll be here with you. Every time he looks at a message on his phone, you assume that will be his cue to get going—to start saying goodbye. But he’s still here, and he seems content.
It was his idea to stay, and he insisted on making breakfast.
“What do you normally do on your days off?” is what he asked as you sat and ate.
So it’s been a regular day off, aside from the fact that Seungmin is also here with you…eating, cleaning, sorting laundry, watching tv, and eventually, catching up with schoolwork.
He sits down next to you on the couch when you open your binder and pull out a stack of papers. He watches quietly as you shuffle though them, putting the pages in order before you start to look them over properly.
He picks the next one up before you get to it. “How old are your students again?”
“They are eight…a few are nine.”
“I don’t remember my English classes being this complicated when I was…older than them.”
“You should see their math homework.”
“Oh, I was very good at math!”
“Yeah?” You look at him, give him your full attention. “There’s so much I don’t know about you.”
“Not even what’s on the internet?” Seungmin leans back against the couch, and pulls you with him.
“I’ve read a few things. But I’m sure you’re a lot more complicated than your fun facts.”
“I hope so.” He grabs you around the waist, “what were you good at in school?”
“English…” you laugh. “And I did pretty good in my German class, and history.”
“Do you speak German, too?” He’s holding you tight, head resting on your shoulder.
“No, I’ve forgotten almost all of that.”
“Why did you come here, to Korea?
You turn yourself to look at him, disturbing his resting head. But he keeps his arms around you.
“So close to Samseong-Dong?”
“I felt like I needed to start over after I graduated college, and this seemed like the perfect way to do it. I actually almost went to Japan.”
“Why didn’t you? Where did you go to college?”
“Northwestern University. And I missed a deadline. Luckily, I already had applications submitted to a few different programs here and nearby.”
“And you chose here?”
Seungmin’s hands wander throughout the entire conversation, stopping when they reach just below where the hem of your shirt hits.
“They chose me.”
“That’s very lucky.” They slide underneath and up your back, “maybe we were meant to meet each other.”
“I’m not sure I believe in things like that.” You move yourself closer to him, until your face is inches from his.
“I don’t either, really. Fate, and soulmates. I’ve been called a…uhm, I don’t remember the English word. A negative person.”
“A pessimist?”
“Yes. Maybe sometimes I am, but…not always. I can be positive. I just like to be realistic.”
“A pragmatist.” You lean in and kiss the corner of his mouth.
“Mhm, both of those P words. I did get lucky, though.” He pushes forward, gently coaxing you to your back.
“Was it there before?” You ask. He’s hanging over you, studying your face. “Before Chicago, after I asked if you would date me?“
“Was what there? You mean, did I like you?”
“Yes, but…more than that. Or was it spending the night together?”
“It was before that. That’s why I wanted to spend the night with you.”
You nod, trying hard not to beam up at him. But his hands are on your sides, and his fingertips are moving so delicately over you, you can’t help but smile.
“When was it there for you?”
Your heart starts beating a little faster. You have no answer ready for him except the truth.
“When you gave me Pochacco.”
“On our first date? At the coffee shop?”
You throw your hands over your face and nod, “yeah, at the coffee shop.”
“I felt kind of silly giving him to you, I thought you would think it was silly, too.” He pulls your hands away so he can see your face again.
“It wasn’t.”
“So PuppyM wasn’t silly either?”
“No, I love him. And your denim jacket you left, that’s hanging on my bedpost. I love all of your gifts.”
“Oh, I forgot about that jacket!”Seungmin comes down and settles himself against you, face in your neck, hands wondering more.
“You can have it back, if you want.”
“No, you keep it. But I do need something of yours to keep with me.” His hands slide under your shirt and across your stomach. He tickles your side again, then stops when he reaches your hip.
You’re surprised at his restraint.
“I’m sure I have something for you.” You set your hand over his and slide it up his arm. Then back down.
His fingers twitch and push under your shorts. As ready as you were, and as much as you wanted him to make that move, your breath still catches in your throat.
He props himself up with his other arm and looks at you. His fingers touch lightly over your underwear, taking his time, getting himself where he needs to be.
But you’re not taking your time. And it’s Seungmin touching you, so your body is already on fire. You push your hips up and push his hand harder against you.
His fingers slide up and sneak beneath the fabric. He moves slowly, and he’s watching you carefully, as if you might protest.
But of course you don’t. You grip his arm and slide your hand from his bicep down to his wrist, moving with him as his fingers slip inside of you.
“Am I doing okay?” He leans closer and whispers. He doesn’t wait for an answer before pulling out and sliding back over your clit, making you choke on your answer.
You manage a shaky mhm and Seungmin giggles into your ear. His fingers stay put, making soft circles around you, keeping his touch as delicate as possible. Then he takes them off again, and he pushes back inside.
The reach of is fingers is enough to hit just the right spot, and when you jump from the pressure, he does it again and again until he gets a moan out of you.
You lift your hips into his touch and pull him down for a kiss. Your grip on his arm tightens and he eases up, but barely. His mouth is working its way across your neck now, leaving you free to moan.
“Do you do this a lot?” He says as he nibbles across your ear and cheek. When he gets to your lips, he hangs above you and holds your gaze. His thumb slides over your clit again, like he wanted to remind you of what he was talking about.
“Uhh…hmm?” You slide your hand up and grab a handful of his hair. “Yes.” You laugh and knead your fingertips into his scalp—it makes his eyes roll back. He’s in your neck again, savoring his little massage.
“Do you think about me when you do it?”
His question sends another wave of pleasure through you. His fingers slip inside again, pressing hard. His thumb is on your clit, wet and sliding easily and hitting everywhere you need it to.
There’s hot, heavy breathing in your ear, and a sweet whisper, “do you think about me, hm?”
“Every time,” your climax hits fast, and Seungmin knows he’s succeeded by the way you’re pulling at his hair.
He holds himself up just enough to watch you squirm beneath him. His touch softens even more as you start to relax, and when you stop and stare up at him, he comes down and kisses across your forehead and down the side of your face. He lets you catch your breath before moving to your lips.
“Really?” Seungmin blushes and tries to stifle his laugh in your neck.
You nod slowly, “that was…very good.”
“Thank you.”
“Too good, maybe.”
“I did some research.”
“You did not.” But when you think about it for a second, it does seem like something Seungmin would do. “Did you?”
“Just a little. In case I’d get to try it out on you someday.”
———
Seungmin looks carefully across your desk, touching the books stacked there, the loose sheets of composition paper, the notes and pencils. He sits in your chair and opens the drawer—inside are a few notebooks, all used and full. He shuffles things around a little, searching every inch.
Now he gets up and moves to your bookshelf. It’s more of a trinket shelf, though. Seungmin only runs his eyes over this, until he catches sight of a snow globe. He picks that up and shakes it. Inside is the Chicago skyline.
He stares at it for a long moment, then returns it to his spot. His attention turns to you, on the bed.
You just smile at him. He keeps looking around.
The next stop is your bedside table. You sit up when he sits down on the edge of the bed, run your hand down his back. As soon as he opens it, he whispers an ooh, and reaches inside.
“What did you find?” You laugh.
“Me,” he holds up three photocards with his face on them.
You take them from him and fall back on the bed, “you”, and look deeply at paper Seungmin.
“Hey, I’m right here…” he pushes your hand away and bends down to kiss you. “Real me.”
The next thing pulled from the drawer is a journal. He looks it over, but doesn’t open it.
“That’s you, too.”
Seungmin points to it, and his head tilts, “this is me?”
“Yeah, almost every page.”
His face goes from confusion to understanding, and then it falls a little.
“You should add one more page.”
“I will.”
The journal goes back in, and then his fingers close around something small. When he pulls it out, it catches the light and throws a reflection across the room.
“Oh, I haven’t worn this since last time.” You sit up and Seungmin hands you the bracelet. It’s only a tiny gold chain, but at the very end of it is a star charm.
“This.” He says, and he watches as you unclasp it, wrap it around his wrist, and close it again.
☾⋆⁺₊⋆
An hour after Seungmin left your house the last time, he sent you a text that just said “I’m home”. That was a first, and it felt like a good omen. But only time would tell. He never really had a good start with keeping in touch.
But he also said goodnight. And then he said good morning. And sometimes he called just to tell you instead of texting.
Actually, this morning, almost two months later, he called early in the morning, when you were still asleep. You caught his name on the lock screen before you picked up, but you still lacked the energy for anything more than a groggy morning Min.
Luckily, he can make up in enthusiasm what you lack some days.
“I’m sorry, you’re still asleep,” he whispers.
“No, it’s okay. I’m just being lazy. What are you up to this morning?” You also caught sight of the time before answering: 10am, way too late for you to sleep in.
“Catching a flight home, from Thailand. Waiting around.” Now you can hear the sleep still lingering in his voice.
“Oh right. I forgot you were there…I did see some photos. You looked very handsome in your safety glasses.”
“Thank you,” he laughs. “I was calling to…uhm, say good morning, and also to see if you would be home tonight.”
“Minnie, I’m always home.”
“That’s true, but it would still be rude to just show up unannounced.”
“I give you permission to show up unannounced.”
“Can I have a key, too? Oh, that reminds me…uuh, well, actually I’ll just talk to you about it later.”
“Okay, don’t forget. And yes you can have a key.”
———
This is the first time you’re not nervous about Seungmin coming over. Well, not as nervous as you typically would be. You’re still a little on edge—a little worried about how you look and about how your food is going to taste.
He didn’t mention anything about coming over hungry, but you’re taking the initiative anyway. If anything, he’ll have something to take home with him.
A soft knock at the door. You know his soft, steady knock, and you never have any other visitors, so it’s him. But for some reason you stand there stupidly, not moving, not saying anything, because you know it’s really him on the other side of your door.
Finally, after a few seconds, you take a breath. “It’s open.”
The door swings open.
“Hi,” Seungmin closes it quietly, takes off his shoes and looks at you from across the room. “It smells very good in here.”
“I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten so…”
“No, nothing since lunch.” He takes a few long strides toward you. Big blue sweatshirt, matching sweatpants, a big smile. “So I’m very hungry,” he embraces you and squeezes you tight against his chest. “How have you been?” He relaxes, but he doesn’t let you free.
“I’ve been okay...I’ve been good.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t visit around Christmas—oh!” He bends down and kisses you.
He kisses for a long time—long enough that you think you might end up in bed before you even eat dinner. But he slows down, and then releases you.
“Happy new year! A little late.” He comes down again for one more kiss, and then makes his way to the kitchen. “What did you make? Something American? It smells like something American.”
“Yes. It’s very American.”
“Should we eat first, or talk?”
“I’m sure we can manage both.”
———
The two of you stare at each other from across your tiny kitchen table. Seungmin sips his tea. You just watch and wait, because this is his conversation.
“Do you want me to start? Something about you having a key to my apartment?”
“Ah, yeah. Yes, I should have a key, but I was thinking of a different apartment.”
“Oh, like yours? No, you don’t have an apartment. Or do you?” You lean a little closer, “secret apartment?”
“No, no secret apartment,” he laughs. “But I thought it would be nice if you lived closer. Closer to the city, and closer to me.”
“That would be nice, but I’m not sure something closer is in my budget.”
“I know,” Seungmin smiles—there’s always something so clever and knowing about his smile. “I figured you might say that. I could help.”
“You want to help me with rent? Expensive rent. That’s kind of serious.”
“I do! It is serious. I am serious.”
“You are?” You sit back in your chair and study his face. He’s still smiling and nodding at you.
“Yes, I’ve been thinking about it for…almost two months. And I found somewhere I think would fit very well.”
“Closer to you?”
“Much closer. I could walk to you.”
You’re thinking, but you’re not really thinking. The obvious answer to this is yes, even though it’s hard to just come out and say it. The idea of someone else helping with rent, or helping with anything, is foreign to you. “I would like to be closer to you.”
Seungmin looks at his phone, pulls something up on it, and then slides it to you across the table. “How is something like this?”
You trust Seungmin’s taste and judgement, but you still want to look it over thoroughly. Distance, yes, but also the size, the layout. And you do not have enough windows in this apartment. You’d like more windows. If he’s as serious as he looks, it might as well be worth whatever money you’re both going to put into it.
“How about this one?” You pull up a different listing.
He looks it over, “still very close. Oh, two bedrooms. Maybe the extra space would be nice.”
“It is a little more, sorry (Seungmin shakes his head when you say that), but it has a bathtub instead of just a walk-in shower. And it’s own laundry.”
He laughs, “I could do my laundry faster if I bring it with me. And the kitchen is nicer.”
“I miss having a bathtub.” You hand him his phone back. “But are you sure this isn’t too much? I know you said you were serious—“
“I am…I want you to know that I’m very serious. I think this is a good way to show you. And it’s also very practical.”
“You seemed so unsure before. I just want you to be…good. I want both of us to be good.”
“I’m very good.”
“This is a little crazy, isn’t it? All of this.”
“Yes, it is. I’ll call about it tomorrow.”
“No, I can. Let me do that, at least.”
———
“Minnie?”
Mmhm?
You sat on the couch after dinner, and it didn’t take much time before he had you on your back. He lifts your shirt as far as this position will allow, letting his fingers dance over you—making you squirm a little from how soft his touch is.
Forming the words you want to say is much harder than you thought. They’re dancing around in your head; you’re moving them back and forth, but every way it comes together feels like too much or not enough. Maybe right now just isn’t he time.
“What’s wrong?”
You pull your shorts down, open your legs for him, then shake your head. “Nothing.”
Seungmin reaches down and feels you, slips his fingers inside, then slowly pulls them back out. He smiles against your mouth and pushes in again, just to feel how wet you are. “Are we okay here…are you comfortable?” He asks sweetly. His fingers are still inside, moving delicately.
You nod, but suddenly you remember that you are not good, and you’re not ready. “Shit, no we’re not good. We need a condom this time.”
“Oh right, we should be safe. Tell me where they are,” he adjusts his sweatpants and very carefully lifts himself off of you.”
“In my black bag, under my bed.”
You listen as he slides it out and digs around. The contents of that bag are a mystery, but the condoms you bought back in Chicago, both boxes, have to be in there still. You’re not that bad at unpacking, but if it’s something you don’t use, you’re definitely going to forget I’m about it under there forever.
When he comes back in, he has one in each hand.
“I’m….not sure which one is for me.” His voice seems a little dejected. He’s looking down at them as he approaches you.
“Oh Minnie, they were both for you. I bought these a while ago, when I didn’t know which would fit you better.”
“Oh,” he finally makes eyes contact again. His face softens a little. “Sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“It’s okay, come here.” You spread your legs again and wait for him, “I’ll put it on for you.”
He crawls back onto the couch, settles between your legs, and opens both hands, palms up, in front of you.
You take the right one and rip it open. Seungmin looks like his mind is suddenly full. His eyes are big and soft.
“Min, what’s on your mind?”
His hands are already on his sweatpants, pulling them down his hips.
“You are.”
You touch him, slide your fingertips down, and then back up. The condom goes on easily. “Does it feel okay?”
He nods and adjusts, makes himself comfortable, and lifts your legs until he has more room. He pushes in a halfway, then leans over until you’re almost nose to nose.
“Minnie?”
“Hmm?” He sets his forehead against yours.
“There’s only you.”
“Just me?” He pushes his nose into yours, “only me?” Pecks at your lips.
“Just us.”
“Only us.” Seungmin pushes the rest of the way in, waits a moment, then begins to fuck you slowly and deeply, “you’re all mine.” He whispers in your ear as he drags his lips over it.
It takes you a second to pull yourself together. Each thrust sends you upward and knocks the breath out of you, but you manage a nod.
“Tell me,” he quickens his pace. The couch shakes the end table, and you can hear the clatter of things falling to the floor. “Tell me you’re mine.”
“I’m yours.”
It comes out shaky, and it’s not good enough for you. But Seungmin is still smiling. You try again
“I’m yours,” you grab the back of his neck and hold him still, “I only love you.” Your hand grabs hair and pulls—lips close on his before he has a chance to speak.
But he sighs into the kiss. He slows down, and it feels like he’s melting into you more and more with each thrust. What little skin is exposed between the two of you slides together, damp with sweat, and Seungmin kisses every part of you he can get to in the position he’s in.
He tries to get rid of your shirt, but he can’t stop, and he has to stop to make any progress—so you clumsily lift it, and your bra, until you’re free.
His hand slides up your ribs and his fingers graze over you, but for now he just watches how he’s making your body move under him. He seems hypnotized, but eventually he blinks, and then his eyes are fixed on yours again.
The room is quiet—no ambient noise from the tv, no music, nothing. The only sounds are the heavy breaths and soft moans you’re sharing. The condom is slowing him down, keeping him here much longer, and everything feels good in this position; good enough that you’d be satisfied staying like this as long he needs it.
He made you come last time, and now you want to do the same for him.
You lift him off of you until you can see him better.
He looks you in the eyes again, satisfied and smiling. “You feel so good,” he’s back down again, mouth on your chest, kissing down until he can close his lips around your nipple. He licks and works his way back up, stopping at your throat and staying there, his warm breath hitting you. “You love me?”
Your heart jumps. It was already racing, but now you feel it everywhere. In your throat, your chest, your head. You don’t think you’ve ever told anyone that before; not so soon. It’s been a year, but tonight is only the sixth time you’ve seen him and touched him. Everything else has been texts, phone calls, video calls.
It doesn’t matter. You said it because it felt right, and it still feels right.
“Yes.”
Seungmin slows his pace. His exhales turns into a string of soft, dulcet moans. He lifts himself upright and holds your hips as he rolls into you. He comes quietly. You wouldn’t have even realized if you weren’t looking right him.
The satisfied look on his face makes your stomach swirl. You watch Seungmin smile before your eyes close, and you can hear him whisper something to you while you’re coming down from your own high.
He pulls out and carefully brings your legs together.
“What did you say?”
“I didn’t say anything, love.” He sits you up next to him and pulls your t-shirt over your head, “I was just…” he pulls you close, “nothing, it’s not important right now.”
“Will you stay here tonight?”
“Yes, I’ll stay.”
———
It’s been a long six weeks. You’re a little stressed out, but you’ve been holding yourself together very well, you think.
This apartment has been your only home for more than three years, so packing your things up and preparing to leave has been a little bit emotional. Almost everything is out of here and all that’s left are a few things you’re taking along on the last car ride.
Before this, everything was moving in slow motion and it was killing you. Now, it won’t slow down. You’re happy, and you’re grateful for everything that Seungmin has done for you…and it’s still sometimes hard to believe he’s doing it all just for you. But it’s so much all at once.
He told you he would stay tonight—your first night there. You haven’t received a text telling you otherwise, so you’re hoping he will be there when you arrive. You do have to remember that you’ll be there alone most of the time, though.
Some things will remain the same.
———
The elevator ride up is long, and you think back to you and Seungmin—your first date, bringing him home with you to your 5th floor apartment, thirty minutes out of the way, just to have him to yourself.
That was probably a good indication that he liked you. You just didn't realize it at the time.
You finally stop at the 17th floor.
The original apartment you looked at was unavailable when you called the next morning, so Seungmin insisted on taking everything into his own hands while you were at work. He knew what you were looking for, but he went overboard.
This apartment has the windows, the bathtub, and laundry room, but it also has double the space—and three bedrooms. When you asked what you were supposed to do with all of the extra room, Seungmin shrugged and said we’ll figure something out.
You don’t even own enough to fill up half of it. Everything that required any sort of muscle; the bed, the living room furniture, it all stayed behind. Most of the things in this apartment are new, or they will be new.
Before you have a chance to explore any further than the kitchen, you hear a very faint, soft knock on the door. You know it’s him and you run to open it, but he punches in a code on the doorknob, turns it, and peeks in before you get there.
“I tried to beat you here.” He smiles.
“You almost did.“
He closes the space between you and pulls you into a hug. “How was your day? Did the movers get everything here?”
“It was alright, and…I think so, but I haven’t gotten any further than this.”
“Just alright? I know it’s been a lot lately.”
“I’m better now that I’m here, and you’re here.” You take his face in your hands and squeeze his cheeks, “let me see, smile.”
Seungmin smiles widely and dramatically, and then bends down to kiss you. “How do I look?”
You pull him back for another one, “still handsome.”
He picks up the bags he walked in with and sets them on the kitchen chair. “I brought us dinner, and a few things to make you feel more at home.” Seungmin is pulling the food out of the bag, piece by piece. “So you didn’t see the bedroom yet?”
“Not yet, why?”
He shakes his head and smiles, “we’ll see it later.”
“What did you bring me?”
“Oh, let’s see!” He starts digging in the other bag.
You watch as he carefully places an assortment of things along side the food. There’s a candle, two candles, a small picture frame, but you can’t see the photo from where you’re standing. A stuffed dog. Another stuffed dog. One of them is Pochacco, the other is a mystery, but he does look familiar.
“That’s all for now but I do have more stuff to bring.”
“Well, we have plenty of space to fill.”
He beams at you, grabs one of the stuffed dogs, and pulls you against him. “This wasn’t mine, but I have one just like it.”
“I like him, he looks like you.”
Seungmin laughs and looks at Daengmo, “yes, he kind of does.”
———
When the sun goes down, and you’re both full and relaxing, you begin to feel even more nostalgic for the conversations you had and the memories you made with him at your old place, on your old couch. You have to work on new memories now.
He’s facing you on the new couch, eyes closed, slow, steady breaths. The flicker of the tv is hitting his face, making his cheek and the soft brown of his hair glow.
Very slowly, you reach your foot out and touch his.
Seungmin’s eyes open, and he gives you a sleepy smile, “how was dinner?”
“Good.” You sit up and move closer to him, “we should go to bed while you’re still sleepy.”
He groans and shrugs his shoulders.
“We gotta go see the bedroom, remember?” You grab his hand and pull a little, and he immediately gives in.
The bedroom is warm and cozy, like it’s already been lived in. You know Seungmin came in at some point and made it this way; the curtains are pulled, the soft amber lights are clicked on, and one of the candles he brought is lit on the bedside table. Both of the stuffed dogs he brought, and your PuppyM, are already laying on top of the pillows.
The bed is made, but not too made. The blankets are loose and fluffed up, ready to crawl into.
“How does it look?” He sounds a little more awake now.
“It looks perfect, come on.”
He shakes his head, “If we don’t brush our teeth now, we will never get back up to do it.” He smiles and kisses you softly.
“Yeah, you’re right.”
———
The lights are off, the candle is out. Seungmin is facing you in bed.
“Are you awake? Did you lose your sleepy?”
“A little.”
He scoots closer until his arm can drape over you. The bedroom is bigger, and the bed is bigger, too. You’re sharing one side just to be close to each other.
“It will come back soon.”
You set your forehead against his chest and feel it move steadily with each breath. It's quiet for a long time, and now sleep is really escaping you. You should be able to relax like this; you’ve shared a bed with him a few times before, and you haven’t slept as well since. And you’re tired—too tired. Maybe too exhausted for sleep.
You wonder if he’s awake, or if he’s quiet because he thinks you’ve finally drifted off.
You run your hand gently over his arm, waiting for a reaction. At first, he doesn’t make a move or a sound, but when you slide your hand back up, he moves his leg against yours.
“Can’t sleep?” He whispers
“Did I wake you?”
“You didn’t.”
“Then no, I can’t sleep.” You prop yourself up on one arm and look down at him. It’s dark, but you can just make out the details of his face.
He flips onto his back and pulls the covers away. “Are you uncomfortable?” Seungmin asks and places his hand on your cheek. He’s warm, his eyes are warm. His mouth parts slowly and turns into a smile. It’s a tired smile. “New bed.”
“New everything.”
“Except for me.”
Your hand closes around his, then you turn your head to place a kiss on the inside of his wrist. “Thank you for being here. I know you’re on a tight schedule.”
Seungmin pulls you down on top of him. His face is in your neck, kissing playfully and lazily, but the way his hands are exploring you is anything but lazy.
“You’re cold,” he stops, wraps his arms around your waist, and holds you there. “You need to be warmed up.”
You get your hands underneath his shirt, “you’re warm enough for both of us.”
“I can share.”
“Can I ask you something stupid?”
“Yes, I would love that,” he laughs softly and disappears in your neck again.
The stupid question bounces around in your head. His warm lips on you are starting to make your head fuzzy, and you wonder if you should just forget it. But now he’ll get it out of you somehow.
“Will you sing for me?”
He pulls back to look at you. Seungmin’s face lights up. It could light up the entire room. “You want me to sing for you?” If he was sleepy at all before, he’s not now. You’ve managed to wake him the rest of the way with a simple, stupid, request. But it wasn’t stupid at all.
“I always have, it just never seemed like a good time.”
“Right now? Should I sing now? Maybe it’s too quiet, and the walls might not be very thick.”
“In the morning?”
He nods, “yes, I’ll sing for you in the morning. What should I sing?”
“Surprise me.”
“We talked about singing together before, remember?”
“I remember,” you wrap around him and pull the covers back up in an attempt to get him sleepy again. “But I’d rather just hear you.”
☾⋆⁺₊⋆
#kim seungmin#kim seungmin x reader#kim seungmin x you#kim seungmin x y/n#seungmin x reader#seungmin x y/n#seungmin x you#skz seungmin#seungmin smut#seungmin fluff#kim seungmin fluff#kim seungmin smut#skz fluff#skz fanfic#stray kids fluff#stray kids smut#stray kids fanfic
348 notes
·
View notes
Text
An Afternoon with Minerva
Summary: Ari finds himself finally ready to admit the truth about his feelings for you...
Warnings: Mature Themes, Slight Angst, Ari Being A Menace, Mentions of Death, Cancer, Dead Mothers, Brief Mentions of War, Cursing, Minors DNI
A/N: This story is part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Not beta'd. Not beta'd. All mistakes my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.
Somewhere Four Hours Outside of Bell’s Creek, Texas
“Shit!” Ari hisses when he almost slips in the middle of trudging up the muddy hillside. It had been raining pretty much non-stop since he’d made it out of Dallas and it hadn’t shown any signs of slowing down.
But that hadn’t been enough to stop Ari Levinson – not today anyway. Today he was a man on a mission. And that mission involved a meeting with a very special woman. The very first love of his life, and he’d almost missed it.
What kind of son forgot about his own Mama’s birthday? Not him. Otherwise he would’ve never heard the end of it from Evelyn and Marcia.
He knew without having to call them that his sisters had already been by with their families earlier in the day. And the last thing he needed was them throwing a fit over his absence, no matter how justifiable it might’ve been.
The Bounty Hunter nearly stumbles again as he weaves his way through the numerous memorials and monuments. He tries to move carefully, doing his best not to disturb the tributes dedicated to others’ loved ones who’d all gone too soon, regardless of how much time they’d spent on this earth.
And his sweet Mama was no exception. She’d left him just shy of his 21st birthday. He’d been by her side, holding her hand as she took her last breaths. Which seemed only fitting since she’d been there holding him on the day he’d taken his first.
Cancer had done his Mama dirty. But while it had robbed her almost everything – her hair, her ability to walk, and ultimately her life – her fighting spirit had remained. Minerva “Minnie” Levinson had gone out swinging, leaving him behind to see after his two younger siblings.
A sixteen-year-old Evie had been so angry back then. So small, but so unbelievably pissed at the world. Meanwhile, sweet baby Marcie had clung to him so tight he’d damn near had a fight on his hands whenever he wanted to take a piss by himself for longer than two minutes. That ten-year-old might as well have been his second shadow.
He’d honestly had no idea just how much he missed her following behind him until he’d been deployed overseas during his first tour. But they'd needed the money and the benefits. And he’d needed an enemy – someone or something that could help him channel all of the rage and anger and hurt that had been simmering beneath the surface.
So he’d left them behind to help fight another man’s war. But not before entrusting his sisters’ care to his friend, Vicky Gunther. And at the time, the fact that she’d also been his highschool sweetheart had felt like an added bonus.
It hadn’t necessarily mattered that his mother had never been too crazy about the woman. But what had mattered was that the girls had someone he knew to look after them while he was out risking his life.
Ari’s grip tightens on the flowers in his hand as he finally finds himself nearing his Mama’s grave. Evie and Marcie had picked it out, all he’d done was sign off on the check. They’d assured him that it was exactly what she would’ve wanted, right down to the quote etched into the granite, which read: “Always keep them guessing.”
That had been Minnie Levinson’s favorite phrase whenever they pulled up in a new town. When you’d grown up being on the run, staying one step ahead of your opponent was an absolute must. Especially when that opponent happened to be your own damned father. Growing up the son of Rex Levinson meant always having to look over your shoulder.
Because you never knew where he might be lurking. He could be states away or, more likely, right around the goddamned corner. Waiting to strike when his poor, terror-stricken family least expected it.
So they’d had to learn to always expect it. Even now, the only reason Ari felt any peace was because his Daddy was currently enjoying an all-inclusive, taxpayer funded 15 year stay at the James Crabtree Correctional Center in Helena, Oklahoma.
Thankfully, Rex still had a few years left on his tab before society deemed his debt to them finally repaid in full. Once he was released, he’d deal with it then. But right now…
Now it was time to see about his Mama. And this chat that they were about to have was long overdue.
A smile finds its way to Ari’s lips once he’s finally standing in front of his mother’s memorial. He pauses briefly before crouching down to place the bouquet he’d brought with him next to the offerings left behind by other members of his family. Although he wasn’t surprised, he was happy to see that they’d all brought daylillies, which had been her favorite.
“Hey. Happy birthday, Mama.” Ari whispers, allowing his fingers to brush along the cool granite. “I made it. Just like I told you I would.” His eyes flutter closed as a light breeze blows by, gently ruffling his chestnut locks.
It was a sign from Minerva herself, letting him know that she was there with him too. Just like she said she would be. And his Mama had never been one to lie to him. Not even in death.
“I see the girls have already been here. I’m surprised they haven’t blown up my phone.” He stands then, grimacing when his left knee cracks as a result of the movement. It seemed like that old injury only bothered him when it rained. Shit sucked.
“I’m sure Evie brought by baby Micah for his first visit. He’s cute ain’t he? Little chubby-cheeked shit machine.” Ari chuckles at that, scrubbing a big hand over his heart. “And I’m not being rude. First time we met he had a blowout in his diaper that was so bad we both needed a shower.”
He laughs harder at the memory of him desperately trying to hand off his incredibly messy nephew to first his own Mama, and then his sister. They’d swerved him so fast, claiming that it was about damned time he learned how to change a diaper.
He’d been mighty pissed at the time. But even so, he and baby Micah had stomped off to the bathroom, determined to handle the stinky situation like a couple of real men. And when they’d emerged from said bathroom forty-five minutes later, they’d been the ones to have the last laugh.
Okay, not really. Micah’s mother, Evie, had been too busy napping on the couch to notice much of anything, her body buried beneath a sea of half folded laundry. And Marcia was playing Go Fish with their four-year-old niece Isobel. But Ari hadn’t allowed the lack of fanfare to take the wind out of their sails.
He’d just grabbed a bottle of milk from the fridge and retreated to his sister’s bedroom, intending to teach the kid about the importance of football until they’d both dozed off. And he still had the picture Evelyn had taken of them both that afternoon, fast asleep in the bed. The baby rocking a Dallas Cowboys onesie, and him wearing her lavender bathrobe.
“They were just jealous, Mama. There I was being a good uncle, bonding with my nephew, and they were playing paparazzi.” That breeze kicks up again, the smell of wet earth filling the air.
“But I’m sure you already know that. You were there. You saw everything. Those two were picking on me like they always do.” Ari pouts then, jamming his hands into his pockets. “There’s just something not right about those girls. Everytime I’m around ‘em, they pinch and poke and prod. Always asking if I’m seeing someone.”
“It’s annoying is what it is. Makes me feel like a damn pincushion or somethin’.” The Bounty Hunter grumbles, nudging a tiny weed with his foot. “How am I supposed to tell ‘em anything if I haven’t run it by you first? Especially when it’s…when it’s…” He trails off as he searches for the right word.
“Real.” He sucks in a breath as his head dips to his chest. “It’s real and it’s right and it’s new. It’s all those things, Mama. And I don’t know what to do with any of it because it’s like I spend half the damn time fightin’ with myself and the other is spent fightin’ her wanting to fly away on me.”
One hand leaves his pocket to rest on the back of his neck. “And I know what you’re probably thinking, Mama. But that ain’t the issue. This woman, my little Bird…she ain’t Vicky.” He rocks back on his heels, careful not to slip in the rain soaked grass.
“And I know you didn’t much care for Vicky. I already told you that I made a mistake with that one. I thought I was doing a good thing leaving the girls with her…” A harsh sigh leaves him as a fresh wave of bitterness rises in his throat. But he swallows it down, refusing to let it choke him.
Because there was more to be said about the woman in his life today. His woman. His sweet Bird.
“Bird is everything I thought Vicky was. But it’s more than that. She’s the best part about that godforsaken Bell’s Creek. And something tells me that she’s wading knee deep into a pile of shit with this fuck, Martin, and these assholes, the Prescotts. It’s all one big mess that I normally would be chompin' at the to get rid of…”
Ari’s head drops again as he prays for another gust of wind, wanting another sign from his Mama to let him know that she was still listening. He doesn’t speak again until he feels it on his skin. This time it’s a loving caress, a gentle reminder that he’s not alone.
How could he be when he had Minnie Levinson by his side?
“I haven’t had a single nightmare since I met her. I’m not saying I’m fixed or anything…” He shrugs his broad shoulders. “But maybe I’m not quite as broken as I thought I was. At least she sure doesn't seem to think so. She just tells me I am an ass.”
The sound of squirrels playing in a nearby tree is enough to distract him, albeit briefly. Once they settle down he quietly forges on.
“Ma, I swear this girl is really something special.” Ari whistles, running a hand over his beard. “Sweet, funny, absolutely gorgeous – and did I tell you she runs a bookstore? Can’t go and leave that part out now can I?”
By now the rain has stopped, with the sun finally beginning to emerge from behind the clouds. He welcomes the warmth it brings. His Mama deserved to enjoy a little sunshine on her special day.
“She – we fight like cats and dogs sometimes - my Bird and I. But that’s not really my fault. I mean I consider myself to be plenty damn agreeable with most things. But my woman…let’s just say I’ve met mules less stubborn than she is. But even so, it’s…it’s like I can’t get enough of her.”
Ari blows out a comforting breath before closing his eyes, his fingers going to the bridge of his nose. “She’s…she’s making me wanna stay. Got me wantin’ to plant roots and build her a house, complete with the white picket fence.”
“I’ve been lost since the moment I laid eyes on her, Mama. And nothing feels right unless I’m with her. When she’s not around it’s like I can’t think – I’m off balance and…” He swallows thickly. “Like even now, I’m here with you and there’s a part of me that is just itchin’ to get back in my truck and haul ass all the way back to Bell's Creek. I mean, I suppose I could’ve brought her with me.” He cocks his head to the side as the thought strikes him. “She would’ve come, but I couldn’t...”
Ari goes back to awkwardly bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I couldn’t bring her here because I needed to talk to you about her first. Introduce her properly so that I could tell you myself that I…” He swallows again, fighting the lump in his throat.
“I love her, Mama.”
There. He’d gone and said it. Not in his head. But out loud to the air. To the world. To his Mama.
“And that sweet little spitfire makes me work for it every day. I’m telling you right now that she needs a damn keeper. And I need her to keep me…balanced.”
A grin spreads across his features as he feels the weight he’s been carrying suddenly lift from his shoulders. “I’m gonna introduce her to the girls, okay Ma? I know they’ll love her like I do. But can you do me a favor and tell ‘em to be nice? You know they never do anything I say.”
Ari bends down to let his fingers graze over his mother’s headstone one last time. “And when the time is right, I’ll bring her here to meet you too.” He murmurs, wishing for a moment that they were actually speaking face to face instead of like this. But unfortunately, that couldn't be helped.
“Until then you rest easy, alright? Because me and the girls are doin’ just fine.” He takes a tentative step backwards. “I love you, Minnie Levinson. And I’ll be back to see you real soon.” Ari turns on his heel, preparing to navigate his way back to his truck.
Halfway through the maze he pulls out his phone, thumbing through his contacts until he lights upon your name. He taps the entry before holding the device to his ear. The sound of your voice on the other line is enough to ease the subtle ache in his chest. At least for now. But he also knew from experience that it wouldn’t go away until he had you in his arms again.
Just four measly, lonely hours until Ari Levinson felt whole again.
END
Unofficial Tag List
@katymae12344
@daykrisr99
@identity2212
@hisredheadedgoddess28
@blackhawkfanatic
@jamneuromain
#cevansbrat0007 Sweet Renegade Series#chris evans imagines#ari levinson imagines#chris evans fanfiction#ari levinson fanfiction#chris evans x you#ari levinson x you#chris evans x black!reader#ari levinson x black!reader#chris evans x woc!reader#ari levinson x woc!reader#chris evans x black reader#ari levinson x black reader#chris evans smut#ari levinson smut#chris evans x reader#chris evans x female!reader#chris evans x girlfriend!reader#ari levinson x reader#ari levinson x female!reader#ari levinson x girlfriend!reader#chris evans x poc!reader#ari levinson x yn#chris evans x yn#ari levinson x y/n#chris evans x y/n#ari levinson girlfriend!reader#chris evans x fem!reader#ari levinson x fem!reader#ari levinson x poc!reader
542 notes
·
View notes
Text
—back to december.
as selfish as it was, breaking up with the man you loved seemed like the best way to free yourself from the inner demons created by the shadow of your mutual friend.
until time kept passing and life kept going on without him, and you realised how bad you wished you could turn back time to the night you left, not to leave at all.
pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader
genre: written series, angst, fluff, friends to lovers to exes to lovers, she fell first but he fell harder, yearning, mutual pining, non-idol au, baker!y/n, movie producer!hyunjin.
warnings: y/n has self-sabotaging tendencies, cursing, mentions of alcohol, eventual smut, mature content, MINORS DNI!!!
status: on hold
updates schedule: there's none!! i will update whenever i have the time and inspiration to.
tag list: open. send me an ASK to be a part of it, otherwise i might miss it. i will only be adding people who are willing to reblog the chapters and/or comment on them, because it does take time out of my day to tag everyone and likes or straight up cricket noises do nothing for me in return if i'm honest.
a/n: hellooo! here i am once again with a series bc i cannot control myself apparently lol. it is obviously inspired by taylor swift's back to december (thank u to my tiktok fyp for not letting me escape the taylor x taylor edits) so go listen to that song if you wanna get a better look on what the story's gonna be about.
this series is gonna be a little different structure wise ig. i've taken certain verses of the song and rearranged them so they could tell the story before and after their break up the way i want it. you can get the hang of it by taking a look at the masterlist. i reckon there will be around 12 or 13 parts, but i didn't wanna list them all down to kinda keep the suspense going (as much as you can keep suspense going in a cliché ass plot lol).
i'll announce when i'm posting the first part beforehand, since i'm not done with it yet. but for now i hope you guys enjoy! feedback is always greatly appreciated<3
↬part one
"these days, i haven't been sleepin'
stayin' up playin' back myself leavin'"
↬part two
"then i think about summer, all the beautiful times
i watched you laughin' from the passenger's side"
↬part three
"and realized i loved you in the fall"
↬part four
"i miss your warm skin, your sweet smile
so good to me, so right"
↬part five
"and how you held me in your arms that september night
the first time you ever saw me cry"
↬part six
"and then the cold came, the dark days
when fear crept into my mind"
more to be listed...
#skz#stray kids#hwang hyunjin#skz imagines#stray kids imagines#hyunjin imagines#skz fanfic#stray kids fanfic#hyunjin fanfic#skz scenarios#stray kids scenarios#hyunjin scenarios#skz reactions#stray kids reactions#hyunjin reactions
504 notes
·
View notes
Note
possessive!Carlos is one of my absolute faves, so no. 27 for him pls?
27. “i'm not jealous, you're just mine.” rating – mature 18+ (smut, swearing, possessive language, google translated spanish because i'm an uncultured swine) word count – 1.3k a/n – look, i love carlos - think he's gorgeous, but i struggled ya'll. i've learned a lot from writing this so that's something! hopefully you enjoy it x masterlist
The softest giggle you’d been suppressing slipped past your tightly zipped lips, your body completely betraying you as you read over the text you’d just received – a stupid but insanely cute dog meme from your new work colleague, who just happened to be a man.
The reason you tried to quash your amusement was sitting right beside you, huffing every time your phone vibrated between the two of you on the lounge, completely taking you away from him and into your screen. And you sympathised. If the tables were turned, tables would’ve physically been thrown upside down.
You and Carlos were fiery and the passion had been palpable from the moment you locked eyes at a mutual friends wedding – he could blame it on his Spanish heritage but you had nothing. Nada. You were hot headed, strong willed and stubborn, which was why you couldn’t just ignore someone because he didn’t like it. Hell, you almost wanted to do it more whenever his thick eyebrows furrowed and he peeked over at your phone silently. Nosily.
“That better not be the work friend again,” He murmured under his breath, eyes now back on the mounted television that was lighting up the dark room.
“He’s just being silly, darling – relax and watch your game,” You soothed in response, hands still cradling your phone as Carlos grumbled and turned his eyes back to the Real Madrid vs Man City match filling the now awkward silence.
That was until your phone started ringing, your mystery friend’s caller ID in bold letters spelling, Cameron popped up and caught the full, undivided attention of your otherwise sweet, unruffled significant other. And he wasn’t happy – you could almost say he was seeing red. Before you could decline the call and salvage the situation, Carlos lunged over the discarded bowl of corn chips and snatched your phone, eyes black and uncompromising.
Hello? No she’s busy right now having dinner with her boyfriend. Yes she has a boyfriend… Carlos’ eyes narrowed, fuming that you'd failed to mention him and you shrugged, the one sided conversation giving you way more entertainment than the football playing in the background. No, you cannot call her back. Call ended.
“You done?” Your question came out a little more vexed than intended. Carlos’ head snapped your way, eyes darker than the night sky above as he flipped your phone back into your lap with a scoff.
“I think he got the message, no?” He muttered, arm slinging around your shoulders and resting on the couch behind, closing the gap between you. Possessively.
“And I think you’re an arsehole.”
“Ahh, I’m not an arsehole. I’m just making him know what’s what. No worries.” He replied, nonchalantly as if he hadn’t just totally crossed the line with your co-worker and made you feel like an idiot.
“You making him ‘know what’s what’ makes you look like a possessive dick, baby and I know you’re not like that normally so what the hell? Is it because you’re jealous? You’re jealous aren’t you!?
Carlos was beyond exasperated now, hands flailing about expressively as he tried to conjure some kind of response – but coming up short as his temper started to take over. He wasn’t possessive by nature but he didn’t like people taking what was his, especially not the woman he’d chosen to spend the rest of his life with. Not on his fucking watch.
“No soy!” I'm not was all he could come up with and you were unconvinced, wickedly grinning as you slung your leg over his lap, straddling his hips and literally pinning him down for an answer.
“Yes you are – I can see it in those dark, mysterious eyes,” You teased, cracking his stoic façade little by little.
Carlos huffed and toyed with the hem of you skirt that was mocking, eyes glued to the dip of your waist, begging to be gripped. And so he did, firmly, holding you in place and ever so slightly rocking you forward, tauntingly. The mood had shifted – you both knew that but you still wanted him to admit that he was envious of not having your full attention, it turned you on thinking that he’d ruin any man who ever put a move on you. On his.
“I’m not jealous, mi amor.” Carlos started, fingers skimming down your inner thighs, “It’s just you’re mine – and I’m yours. Simple como eso.” Simple as that.
It was hard to hide the smirk tugging on the corners of your lips, internally cheering your small victory but he sounded so genuine, too sweet to gloat and he was speaking truth. “All yours.”
Carlos hummed in agreement as you felt the pad of his thumb brush over your clit – the rough, sudden circles causing your mouth to fall open in a moan. You fell forward and rested your forehead on his, trying to form a coherent thought but coming up with absolutely nothing except soft moans, the only noise you could muster before your lips were seized, captured by his. Soft kisses turned to desperate ones, deeper ones as you freed him from the confines of his shorts – the Ferrari logo looking better on the floor than on his thigh.
“So pretty on your knees for me.” Carlos’s husky voice rang through your ears, mouth watering from the anticipation, “Where you belong.”
Mmm-hmm, you hummed, mouth full and eyes watering as you took every inch he had for you, tongue wagging. A hoarse moan tumbled from his throat as he occupied yours, loving nothing more than watching Carlos unravel and succumb to the pleasure that your lips were so graciously giving him. Sharp panting, fingernails digging into your skull and the tight grip on the crown of your head were all tell-tale signs that he was right in that sweet spot. Ascending to heaven.
Mutterings of thick Spanish tumbled from his parted lips as he fucked your mouth, chasing his high, head banging back against the lounge. Mierda, he whispered, spilling all over your tongue before he slid down your throat again, now pushing you to the limit. You gagged, and looked up through hooded eyes, observing the man you loved completely under your control.
One last languid snap of the hips and he was done. You could tell he satisfied with his work as he peered down and watched as you licked your salty lips, mascara and sweat staining your flushed cheeks. You were fucked and you looked it as his fingertips brushed over your tensed jaw, Gracias.
Carlos tenderly interlocked your hands in his and carefully tugged you back into his lap, desperate to taste himself on your tongue. And you happily obliged, snaking your arms around his shoulders and sinking into his warm embrace, lips intensely locked.
“I have a secret to tell you,” You finally mumbled, pulling apart and taking a deep, revitalising breath. Your fingers were entrenched in his thick locks of hair – combing them back into place after all the tugging he’d done during his frenzied high.
Carlos hummed, eternally eager to know all of your secrets, “We’re having dinner with Cameron and his husband next week so that'll be interesting now, won't it?”
It took Carlos a couple of seconds and a flurry of blinks of his wide eyes to process your words. Husband. This man had a husband. His typically sharpened jaw slacked in shock and his grip around your waist took your breath away, again. “No, no, no! Mi amour! Why didn’t you tell me before I did what I did?"
“Because I like it when you lay down the law and I like it even more when you show me that I’m yours… How could I resist?” You cooed, smoothing your hands down his thumping chest with a smile that was mirrored on his handsome face. Head shaking.
“Give me your phone so I can call him back, plēz.”
Carlos wasn't defeated. He sounded more relieved that he could scratch one person off his hit list, wishing it was that easy to fight off the rest of the men who crossed your path. He trusted your judgement, always, but that didn’t mean he sat back, by standing while they made their move. And you loved how protective he was, how loved you were by a man with such integrity. Even if it was a little silly from time to time. But that's what you signed up for.
You were his and he was yours – for life.
let me know what you think!
#carlos sainz#carlos sainz one shot#carlos sainz imagine#carlos sainz smut#f1 one shot#f1 x reader#formula 1#f1#monzamashmasterlist#smut prompts#monzamashrequested#f1 smut#formula one#carlos sainz fanfic
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
SHE
Jenna Ortega x G!P Reader
New York was a city full of opportunity and possibilities. It was a place where people could come to pursue their dreams and make their mark in the world. It was vibrant and alive, and it was a place that gave people hope. You and your best friend Ross decide to move to the big apple, and you meet a woman who drastically changes your life. That woman being Jenna Ortega.
This oneshot includes mature themes such as foul language, sexual activity, acts of violence and etc.
Jenna and any other celebrities in this book are not famous unless said otherwise.
This is also very rushed, I wanted to get something out, so I’ll be revising it soon. Also this is inspired by that one Netflix show, I can’t say which one because then it’ll spoil a lot of stuff.
WORDS; 8.6K
"Bro. Please, just please go to the store." The blonde-haired boy basically pleads from the couch. You throw your head back dragging your feet against the white tile floor that leads to the kitchen. You take a deep breath and grab your keys off the kitchen table. You look back with a sigh and say, "Alright, I'll go," before heading out the door.
You walk to your car, still not entirely sure why you agreed to go. You get in, start the engine, and drive off toward the store. You live in the less busy part of New York, free from the loud noises of cars honking and random arguments of people on the street.
Ross Lynch, your best friend who just got accepted to his dream job of working at a tech company, just moved into a new apartment with you. With Ross being at work and you decorating and buying appliances, you didn't have time to go grocery shopping.
The two of you have been ordering takeout every day for the past two weeks. Ross's complaining and along with your stomach eventually convinces you not to avoid the task any longer. Now at the supermarket, you grab a cart and browse the shelves for the items you need. It was late, so the store was nearly empty.
At least that's what you thought. Your head turns toward the sudden voice, "Excuse me." The brunette girl smiles, and you find yourself mesmerized by her beauty. Her dark hair was tied into a messy bun, and her bangs fell into her face.
She reaches up and brushes them away, revealing her deep brown eyes. And also showcases the large amount of freckles that danced across her face, she was breathtakingly beautiful. You find yourself staring, unable to look away.
"I uh, I can't find a worker and I also can't reach this stupid bag of popcorn. Could you help me?" Your heart skips a beat as she speaks to you, her voice as sweet as honey. You can feel yourself blushing before you dumbly nod in response. She smiles and lets out a small laugh before thanking you. You feel a warmth in your chest as you approach the aisle she was in. She points to the white bag of popcorn and you reach it with ease.
"Here you go." She takes the popcorn and looks at you with a grateful smile. "Thank you so much." You nod, "Happy to help." She turns to leave but you stop her. "If you need anything else you know where to find me."
She furrows her eyebrows and you mentally slap yourself for being unable to talk to pretty girls. Her head tilts slightly and you swear your heart rate just increased. "You're going to be in the same aisle... until I leave?"
She gives you an alluring smirk and you feel yourself blushing. Your hands sweat as you mumble a response, barely able to believe this is happening. "Uh? No, but maybe I could just join you until you leave. You know, just in case you need anything else."
You watch her eyes glance around your face, almost as if she's having a mental battle with herself. She breaks her gaze and smiles. "Sure, why not? I'd like that." She replies, her voice a low whisper. You take a deep breath, feeling a wave of relief wash over you as you follow her.
"Wait. I have to grab my cart really quick." She hums in acknowledgment and waits outside of your aisle while you quickly retrieve your cart. "I'm Y/N by the way." You introduce yourself and your face feels like it's on fire. She smiles in response, "Jenna."
"Bread and peanut butter. Not a jelly kind of person?" She says, her eyes scanning the few items in your cart. "I actually like to make my own jelly." You admit proudly.
She raises her eyebrows in surprise. "That's a cool idea. I've never thought of that. Is it difficult to make?"
"No, not at all," you reply. "It's actually quite simple. You just need a few ingredients and a bit of time." You smile and start walking toward the dairy aisle. She glances at you, her curiosity piqued. You start to explain the process in more detail, pointing out what ingredients you need and how to put them together.
"Hm... I might give it a try." You encourage her to do so, assuring her that it is easy and the results will be worth it. She grabs a bottle of sour cream, holding it in her right hand as she holds the bag of popcorn under her shoulder. "Are you making something?" You ask, curious at the different items in her hands.
She nods with a smile and replies, "I'm going to make cheesecake. I've been craving it for the past week."
You grab a few random stuff off the shelf, tossing it in your cart just so Ross can't say you didn't shop. Jenna's a few steps ahead of you, not noticing you've stopped. You quickly jog back up to her, sending her a smile. She smiles back, unaware of the random shopping you had done. "I love cheesecake,—"
"—It's a superior dessert." Jenna laughed. "I'm glad you're so passionate about it." She started walking again, this time more slowly, and you followed her. "Why are you shopping so late? If you don't mind me asking that is." Jenna asks, brushing her bangs out of her view of sight again.
You tap the handle of the cart, puckering out your lips. "Uhhh, I actually just moved here and I've been avoiding the task of going grocery shopping. My roommate— Ross, had to beg me to go." Jenna's eyes scan the shelves, and then they meet yours again with a small laugh falling from her lips. "Where did you move from?"
"Los Angeles." You inform her. She gasps in surprise. "Wow, that's a big change! I'm sure it's been a bit of an adjustment." She smiles. "Well, at least you have Ross to help you get accustomed."
You shrug your shoulders turning left at the end of the aisle. "Yeah, I guess. He's been busy though, with a new job and all. Which is the reason we moved." She nods in understanding before saying, "Well, it's still good to have a friend. Especially when you're in a new environment." You smile in agreement and the conversation drifts to other topics.
"Wait? What? You met Obama and got a photo of him?" Jenna asks in disbelief. You laugh as you nod your head and tell her the story of how you met the former president. Jenna shakes her head in disbelief, still astounded by the story. "Here look," you pull out your phone, scrolling a bit before showing it to her.
"Holy shit." She glances at you and then back at your phone. "You were telling the truth. How on earth did you manage to meet him?" You smile, "A legend never tells." She shakes her head in even more disbelief. "Well, you certainly have some impressive secrets." You begin unloading your cart which was filled with a bunch of random items.
You had a whole pineapple, a loaf of brioche bread, butter, peanut butter, a bottle of ketchup, a jar of pickles, and a bunch of other things. She looks at you curiously and asks, "What do you plan on making with all this?"
You pause, "I—" and you honestly cannot think of anything you could make with it. "I have no idea." She laughs and says, "Ross is going to kill you." You wave her off while the cashier finishes ringing up your items. "He'll live." The cashier begins typing on the screen before finishing bagging up your last item, the price showing on the mini screen in front of you.
"Off of that food? I don't think so," Jenna jokes. You laugh pulling out your card and swiping it. The cashier hands you your receipt and you thank him before you turn to Jenna. "You're funny." Jenna grins and places her two items on the belt. "I know, I should become a comedian."
You switch the bags to one hand. "I'd pay for every stand-up." Jenna laughs and slightly pouts her lips. "Aw, my number one supporter." She takes her bag from the cashier and you begin walking out of the store together. "Of course. You're going to see me in the crowd with a t-shirt with your face on it."
Jenna laughs and you start to smile wider at the sound. "I'd call security right away", she says in a jokingly serious tone. You smile continuing to walk to the girl's car. Once you arrive your smile fades.
Jenna unlocks her truck placing the singular bag down, turning to you. She gives you a tight-lipped smile and looks into your eyes. "Take care of yourself," she says. "It was nice meeting you."
You nod in response, not able to find the words to thank her. She gives you one last smile before getting into her car and starting the engine. You stand there for a few moments, watching her drive away until she disappears from sight.
You turn and walk toward your car, feeling grateful for the moment you shared with her. You take a deep breath and let out a sigh, feeling a wave of warmth wash over you. "I should've got her number." You mumble to yourself.
You shake your head putting your bags in the passage seat and get into your car before starting the engine and driving away. When you arrive at the parking garage, you spot an empty spot and pull in.
You sigh in relief as you turn off the engine and get out of the car. You take a moment to stretch before heading inside. Humming a random song, you make your way to the elevator. A person beats you to it and you furrow your eyebrows. She looked so familiar—wait. It was Jenna.
You speed up your movements to the elevator arriving faster. "Jenna?" She jumps at the sound of your voice, a very confused look on her face. "I live here as well," you say, hoping to help her relax. She looks around, realizing the situation and a small laugh escapes her lips. "Oh wow. I didn't expect that."
"Me either," the elevator dings, the doors opening soon after. You two step inside and Jenna reaches for the button. "Could you press eight—" Before you could finish your sentence another ding is heard. She had already pressed the button. Your mouth forms an "o" in surprise. "I guess we live on the same floor."
She smiles slightly before chuckling, "This is starting to scare me." You smile back, "Yeah, it's like fate brought us together." She nods, stepping out of the elevator as the doors open. "See you around," she says. You both begin to walk in the same direction, causing even more confusion. If that was possible.
She stops, turning to you with a puzzled look. "I think we're going the same way," she says. You both share a smile before continuing on your way.
Shit, you two were next-door neighbors.
You felt embarrassed that you didn't know earlier, but you were also glad that you were neighbors. You figured it would make things easier since you'd be seeing each other again. "Shit, how didn't I connect the dots?" Jenna mutters. "Well, at least we know now." You say and smile back in understanding.
Jenna smiled back. "Yeah, now it all makes sense. Tell Ross that he's in my prayers." She jokes. You both laughed, and the awkwardness between you melted away. You both said your goodbyes, and Jenna promised to keep in touch and you both went back to your respective apartments.
As you place the bags down in the apartment, Ross makes his way to the kitchen. "Took you long enough." He mumbles under his breath, and you roll your eyes. "What the—" He searches the bags, a strong furrow in his brows. "Y/N? What the hell is all of this?"
You smile sheepishly, "I got distracted." Your mind begins to flood with images of your brunette neighbor that you'd introduced yourself to at the supermarket.
"I'll just DoorDash groceries." He sighs out, turning to walk to the living room. "You should've done that in the first place!" You yell out after him.
"THE APP IS DOWN!" He shouts back, a loud groan following after.
It's the next morning and you're sitting at the kitchen island, Ross walks through the door, multiple bags in his hands. You raise your head from your phone, giving Ross a confused look.
He places the bags on top of the counter and you can feel the tension in the room, and you can see the light irritation on his face.
"Woah, Mr. Grumpypants. I told you I was going to get the groceries today." Ross sends you a look, taking a few items out of the plastic bags. "Really?" He tilts his head and you nod, "Because last time you said you would and ended up getting distracted."
You frown at the tone of his voice, "Dude. I'm sorry, I was going to go once you went to work."
Ross apologizes letting out a loud sigh, he shakes his head waving you off with his free hand. "Shit, sorry. I've just been stressed lately."
You mumble an, "It's okay. I understand." Before getting up and helping him put away the groceries.
Ross didn't know it but the day you moved into your new apartment you had been applying for jobs. Ross was making more than enough to cover for your new apartment, but you didn't want to live off of your best friend.
Today you had three interviews lined up, one for a bookstore, one for a restaurant and one for a local flower shop. You were getting very desperate, the pays weren't a lot but it would have to do until you found a full-time position.
You hadn't seen your neighbor. Well, you have seen her. You were walking around the neighborhood and saw Jenna pulling up, she rolled down the window and say her hello's before entering the parking garage.
Then you had seen her again, she exiting her apartment as you were entering yours. She greeted you with a squeeze on your arm before going about her day. Every time you'd see Jenna her hellos would get more touchier, but never taking it too far.
You were exhausted and your mind was on a spiral. Having done three interviews back to back, and the horrible traffic of New York had made you feel like you were going to collapse at your door.
You fumble with your keys, attempting to unlock your door, but they drop from your hands. "C'mon, man." You mumble to yourself letting out a dramatic sigh as you reach for your keys.
You didn't even notice the brunette that passed you, taking out her own pair of keys until you heard them jingle. You look to your left seeing Jenna already looking your way, a playful smile on her face.
"You look nice. Had a date?" You give a small smile shaking your head. Jenna's eyes roam your face taking in all of your features, you were so damn attractive. From your eyebrows to your eye, to your nose and even your alluring lips.
But while she shamelessly checked you out she noticed the tired look in your y/e/c eyes, her lip slightly turning downwards. "Oh, date went bad?"
Inhaling a breath you shake your head again, "No, interview actually." Jenna steps away from her door, coming closer to you. "You look stressed." Her hand rests on your forearm, and you glance down at her touch before meeting her dark and brown sincere eyes.
"I made a cheesecake, come try it." Cheesecake? You really did love cheesecake. You remember back in sixth grade your entire social media account was based on your love for cheesecake.
It had become one of your favorite desserts after your mom replaced it for a birthday cake.
"Uh," You hesitate. You didn't wanna intrude her personal space. But god did that cheesecake sound tempting. "Sure."
Jenna flashes a smile at you, giving your forearm a slight squeeze. You pocket your keys following behind Jenna who holds the door open for you, "Don't mind the mess." She mutters, picking up the empty water bottle off of her kitchen island and throwing it in the trash.
Her apartment was the same size as yours, the decorations modern and bright, white everywhere. There were white walls with sleek and elegant furniture, natural lighting shining through as her white curtains are pulled apart. "Your place is nice."
"Thank you," You sit down on a white bar stool, and she reaches into her fridge pulling out the cheesecake. You swear your mouth began watering at the sight.
"That looks so delicious." She grins at your reaction scooting the dish closer to you. You watch as she pulls a plate and fork, platting your slice of cheesecake.
"Enjoy," She says, sitting down next to you and resting her head in her hand. You glance at her with a smile before picking up the fork and taking a decent bite of the New York-style slice of dessert.
Her eyes watch you intensely, searching for your reaction. Swallowing the piece of cheesecake you nod, twisting your bar stool to face Jenna completely. "Can I keep the whole cake?" You joke Jenna's face breaks out in a smile and she leans into you, holding your bicep.
"Only if you give me a jar of your jelly." You pursed your lips, pretending to think. "Okay fine, deal." You say, taking another bite of your food and she lets go of you.
"Is it not tight?" Jenna asks, your forehead creases in confusion from the lack of context. Her mouth twitches upward as she gestures to your tie.
"Your tie. Is it not tight?" You glance at the black tie around your neck, shrugging. It suddenly felt tighter than before, "Now that you're saying something, maybe a bit."
You reach for your tie but her own hands beat you, loosening it up. "Better?" She asks, her eyes glancing around your face. Staring a bit too long at your lips, you slowly nod sparing a glance at her pink lips. "Mhm," you hum quickly looking away. Her hands slip away, but her gaze remains. You take a deep breath, but your heart is still racing.
"So, what's the story? Why do you love cheesecake so much?" You breathe out a laugh, "Can people just not like cheesecake anymore?" She puckers her lips, tilting her head. Cute.
"Yeah, but not as much as you do." You try to fight back a smile but fail miserably, "Well, it was my fourteenth birthday... and my mom was working overtime, so she had to get my birthday cake late." You glance at Jenna who nods, paying attention to every word you're saying.
"And the store didn't have any left, so she ended up settling with a cheesecake which I absolutely devoured. Ate the entire thing by myself and then proceeded to lie about it and say I dropped it on the floor and had to throw it out." Jenna laughs, holding a hand over her mouth attempting to silence her laugh. "Did she know you were lying?"
"Yes." You simply say, turning back to finish your slice of cheesecake, Jenna begins to talk about another topic, and you find yourself freely discussing and sharing your thoughts without hesitation. It felt like you had known her for years.
You couldn't help but smile as you thought about how easy it was to talk to her. You felt a connection with her that you had never experienced before. You knew that she was someone special and that you wanted to get to know her better.
You could tell she felt the same way, and you were eager to see where the friendship would go. "My friends are going out to this club tonight, do you wanna join?" Jenna asks out of the blue, Jenna smiled, waiting for your response. You were taken aback by the invitation, but excited at the same time. You hesitated for a moment before saying, "Uh, sure."
Jenna's face lit up with a smile and she said, "Great! Let's meet up at 8 o'clock and go together." You agreed and the two of you made plans to meet up later that night, ready to see what the night would bring. When 8 o'clock came around, Jenna was already outside your door waiting for you. She had a big grin on her face, clearly excited for the night ahead.
You, on the other hand, had your jaw dropped to the floor at her beauty, though it already established she was gorgeous when you first saw her. You managed to regain your composure and walked out the door, flashing her a big smile. She smiled back, and you could feel your heart racing as she locked arms with you, making your way downstairs and into her car. You drove to the club, talking and laughing the whole way. When you arrived, you couldn't help but feel like you were walking on air.
You felt like you were in a dream as she opened the door of the club and you stepped inside. You looked around, amazed at the beauty of the place and the vibrant atmosphere. The night had only just begun, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation. "Jenna!" A man's voice calls.
You both look over and see a friend of Jenna's waving them over. As they make their way to the table, Jenna turns to you and smiles. "Ready to have some fun tonight?" She asks.
You nod, feeling the energy of the club around you. Taking her hand, you walk to the table, ready to make the most of your night. "Hey, everyone! This is Y/N, we're neighbors." Jenna introduces you, and you wave timidly.
Everyone smiles and welcomes you, "Hey, I'm Mason." A handsome brown-skinned man says to you, "This is Mikey," the woman waves at you shyly, a small smile on her lips. "Jack," he nods his head a you smiling. "And Melissa." She waves at you with two hands, muttering, "Hello."
You take a seat next to Jenna and the group starts talking, laughing and joking. You smile, feeling welcomed and accepted. You feel a sense of belonging like you have always been part of the group. You relax and enjoy the conversation, talking about random things.
The conversation drifts to more serious topics and everyone shares their unique perspectives. You feel energized by the exchange of ideas and the group's willingness to listen and learn from each other. This is the kind of environment you want to be in.
"I'm going to get us some drinks," Melissa says, standing up. Everyone eagerly agrees. Melissa goes to the bar and Mason follows behind her to help. "So, Y/N." You hum in response, turning your head to Jack. Jack continues, "What do you think of everyone so far?" You smile, "Everyone's really nice. I'm glad I came," you reply. "Me too," Jack says. "I'm sure we'll have a great time tonight."
Jenna squeezes your thigh and your eyes nearly bulge out of your head. You laugh nervously and glance at Jack, who seems oblivious to Jenna's gesture. She grins and removes her hand, the corner of her mouth turned up in amusement. You take a deep breath and turn back to Jack, trying to focus on the conversation.
"We got the drinks!" Melissa and Mason shout, raising the drinks in their hands. Everyone turns to the two, cheering. You glance at Jenna, who is smiling and clapping along with everyone. You smile back at her and turn back to Jack, who furrows his eyebrows when he's not handed a drink.
"No can do Jack, you're too young." Mason says, wiggling his finger in a 'no' motion. Jack scowls and crosses his arms over his chest. "But Jenna has one more year to go!" Jenna laughs sipping on her drink. "Yeah, but she gives off Wednesday Addams vibes and I don't wanna end up dying," Mason says, smiling at Jack.
Jack sighs and shakes his head. "Fine, I guess I'll just have to wait 'til I'm older." He says, disappointed. Mason puts an arm around Jack's shoulder and they all laugh. The night goes on and everyone is enjoying themselves, you especially. Their group felt like a big dysfunctional, but happy family.
Before the night was over, you excused yourself to get another drink. You head to the bar and order your drink. As you wait, you scroll through your phone, reading emails to see if anyone has emailed you back about a job.
You sigh and put your phone away. "Ex didn't text back?" A voice says, catching you off guard. You turn around and are met with green eyes, "Job didn't text back, I've been looking for quite a bit." You say, flustered at the beauty of the woman in front of you.
She laughs, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Don't give up too soon, you're in New York! There are opportunities everywhere." She takes a step closer, her hand outstretched. "I'm Ana, by the way. What's your name?" You take her hand and smile, "Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N."
She shakes your hand firmly. "Relax. This isn't a job interview, no need for the full name." She lets out a thunderous laugh, and you can't help but smile at the sound. "Let's go," she says. "I'll show you the city." You hesitate, glancing over at Jenna who's laughing with her friends.
You take one last look at Jenna and then nod at Ana. She smiles and takes your hand and leads you forward, the bright lights and bustling streets of New York ahead of you. You feel a thrill of excitement as you step away from the shelter of the alley and into the vibrant city. Together, you and Ana start to explore all that New York has to offer.
A large slice of pizza is in your hand and you and Ana walk down the streets of New York, asking questions about each other. "Ana de Armas? That's a pretty fancy name," Ana smiled. "It's Spanish," Ana said. "My family is from Cuba. I'm actually named after my mother." You hum, nodding your head before taking a bite out of your pizza.
Ana grins. "It's nice to have something that connects me to my heritage." She takes a deep breath and looks around. "This city has a lot of history, doesn't it?" You look around with her, "Yeah... and a lot of interesting people."
She pauses and looks at you with a faint smile. "Are you trying to call me interesting Y/N?" You laugh and smile. "Yes, of course." She gives you a playful shove, and you both keep walking, admiring the city around you.
You talked about the sights and sounds of the city and shared stories from your past. You both felt a connection that was growing more and more with every step. She looked at you with a twinkle in her eye and said, "Maybe we should do this again sometime."
"Yeah." You sigh out, taking your hands out of your pocket. The two of you stared at each other in silence. You smiled, realizing that you were both thinking the same thing. You leaned in and kissed her, your hands landing on her waist as she wrapped her arms around your neck.
You both were lost in the moment, enjoying the kiss and the feeling of being together. You pulled away, still looking into each other's eyes, and smiled. There was no need for words; the moment said it all, but she spoke anyway.
"I don't want this night to end." You leaned in and kissed her forehead, taking a few moments to savor the moment. You grab her hand, intertwining your fingers, and say, "Let's go somewhere we can be together a little longer."
That's how you ended up in her bed, waking up in the morning to a phone call. You sit up tiredly, glancing at the unknown number before answering it. "Hello?" You rasp out, getting up from the bed completely. "Yes, is this Y/N speaking?"
"Yes, this is me," you reply, picking up your clothes from last night. "Hi! This is Zoe calling from Mooney's. I believe you applied for the bartending job here." "Yes, that's me," you say, feeling a bit embarrassed. You take a deep breath and try to sound confident. "Yes, I applied. What can I do for you?"
"Well, we looked over your resume and we think you're a good fit! Could you come in today for training or...?" "Yes, of course!" you reply. You quickly jot down the details of the training and hang up the phone, feeling a wave of relief and excitement. Fucking finally! You got a job.
The training wasn't as difficult as expected, pretty simple actually you just had to listen and follow instructions. Zoe leans against the bar. "Y/N Y/L/N," she begins, looking at you with a smile. You nodded in agreement before taking a sip of your water. Zoe continued, "See, that wasn't so bad."
You smiled and nodded again, relieved that the training wasn't as hard as you thought it would be. "Why the full name though?" Zoe chuckled and shrugged. "Just to make sure I have it right," she said. "No one wants to be mislabeled, right?"
You quickly tilt your head, shrugging. She laughs, "My full name is Zoë Isabella Kravitz, if it makes you feel any better." She gives you a wink before turning and heading back to the other side of the bar. You smile, "Much better." You take a sip of your drink and watch her as she moves away. You can't help but admire her confidence and easy grace.
You continue to observe her as she talks and laughs with the other patrons; she seems completely at ease and unbothered by the chaos of the night. She catches your eye and smiles at you before turning away. You smile back, putting back on your apron before helping her around the bar.
You pass her her drink and she thanks you with a wink. She takes it to the customers the old regulars, who welcome her with cheers and applause. She takes a seat and begins to talk and joke with them as if she had known them for years. You watch with admiration as she fits in so easily, making the customers feel at home. It's clear to you why they all love her.
Once the bar is closed you help clean up as well, hanging up your apron before taking a seat with a loud sigh. "Uh oh, that sounds like a first day and I'm already about to quit type of sigh." She jokes, hanging up her apron as well.
You laugh, shaking your head. "It was a long day, but I'm actually really glad I decided to take this job." She smiles, nodding in agreement. "Me too. It's been quite busy the past couple of weeks, it was nice to have a helping hand."
You both smile and the atmosphere suddenly lighter. You chat for a bit before saying goodbye and heading home, feeling a sense of satisfaction with your first day.
"There she is!" Jenna smiles, walking beside you to her own door. You smile at her, "Hey, Jenna." She smiles back, taking out her keys before speaking, "I haven't seen you since last night." You just disappeared. "I uh, had to do something," you reply. She shakes smiling, "Well, I'll talk to you later." She unlocks her door and waves goodbye before entering her home.
It's been months since that interaction, months since you've worked at the bar. Everything was falling into place. You helped Ross with rent, and you talked to Jenna daily, having your moments every now and then. You were on your way to surprise Jenna with a jaw of your homemade jam.
You knock on her door which she opens in a matter of seconds, only in a robe and slippers. "Oh? Is this a bad time? I can-" She smiles and steps aside. "No, come in. I just got out of the shower. I'm glad you're here."
She takes the jar from your hands and sets it on the counter. "This looks amazing. Thank you for thinking of me." She turns to you and hugs you. "It really means a lot to me that you'd do something like this for me." She pulls away and smiles.
"Yeah, of course. It's just a thank you for the cheesecake." She laughs. "You're too sweet. I appreciate it." She looks around the kitchen. "Here, let's try it together."
She sets two spoons on the counter and you open the jar, sitting down on the bar stool. You both take a spoonful of strawberry jam, staring at each other for a reaction. Her eyes widen, and she smiles. She takes another spoonful, and you do the same. You both savor the sweet flavor of the jam and the moment of connection.
She reaches out and takes your hand into hers. You can feel the warmth of her skin and the electricity of the moment. "How do you rate--" You're cut off by a pair of lips attaching to yours. She pulls away and looks into your eyes. You can feel your heart racing as you realize what just happened. She smiles and says, "That's how I rate it."
You bring her into another kiss, standing up from the bar stool as her hands get tangled in your hair. You break off the kiss and gaze at her in wonder. She smiles again and you can feel yourself falling for her. You move closer to her, your heart beating faster with anticipation as you bring her in for another kiss. She responds eagerly, her body melting into yours. The kiss deepens, and you know that you will never be the same.
Her hands move to your jacket, peeling it off of your body. She pulls you closer, her eyes never leaving yours as you move to the couch, your lips never breaking apart, you lower her onto the couch. You lightly brush your hands against her skin as you take in her beauty, and gosh, was it amazing.
Her eyes close as you move your lips to her neck, she lets out a soft moan and grips your shoulders. "Fuck, Y/N. I want you so bad." You smile as you feel her desire. You start to kiss her again, this time more passionately and with more intensity. You both forget everything else as you melt into each other.
"I want you too," you whisper back, sitting up to take off your shirt. She follows suit, eagerly taking off her robe and reaching for the zipper of your pants. You reach down and take off your pants, taking off your underwear as well.
She bites her lip as she leans forward and kisses you intensely, her hands exploring your body. You feel yourself growing at her touch, falling backwards as she straddles you. She smiles, her eyes filled with desire, and she takes your hand and guides you inside her.
You close your eyes as you feel her warmth envelop you. "I've been wanting you for so long," she sighs, moving her hips slowly. "Do you feel how wet I am?" You can feel her heat radiating through her, and the passion rising. You nod and pull her closer to you, letting your hands roam her body. Your lips meet in a passionate kiss.
You grip her tightly as you move in unison, her moans getting louder with each thrust. "Jenna." You moan, throwing your head back in pleasure. She cries out in pleasure her moments becoming faster and more needy, "Say my name again."
You whisper her name in her ear, she shudders and tightens her grip, her back arching as she cries out in pleasure. "I'm about to cum, shit..." She whines, gripping your bicep.
You bite your lip as you thrust one last time, feeling her body tense around you as the waves start to crash over her. She clings to you, her fingers digging into your skin as the pleasure washes over her. "Y/N!!!"
You groan, "Jenna. I'm about to cum." She bites her lip, "Cum inside me, c'mon baby fill me up." You let out a low moan as you release, feeling her walls contract around you. She wraps her arms around your neck, her lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss. You wrap your arms around her, holding her close as you both come down from the high.
"Round two?" She smiles, her eyes twinkling. She takes your hand and leads you to the bedroom. You both laugh, feeling the thrill of anticipation.
THREE MONTHS LATER
It was your birthday and Ross and Jenna decided to throw a party for you, a small one at least. Jack, Melissa, Mason, Mikey, and everyone came to celebrate. You had also invited Zoe, but she was running late as you anxiously bounced your leg on the couch.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang and you sprang up to open the door. To your surprise, Zoe had finally arrived and was standing at the doorstep with a big smile on her face.
"Isabella!" You jokingly shout you've been teasing Zoe about her middle name for a while now. Zoe laughed and shook her head in mock exasperation. She hugged you and stepped into the house. "It's so good to see you. Happy birthday!" she said.
You smiled and thanked her, and as she walk beside you, placing her arm on your bicep.
Ross looked over at Jenna who watched the situation with a blank face. "Who is that?" he asks, approaching Jenna, watching the scene in front of him. "Her co-worker." She answers, her eyes never leaving the two of you. Ross furrows his eyebrows, confused. "Why would she invite her co-worker to a birthday party?"
"I don't know." Jenna harshly says, jealously burning throughout her body. Ross looks back and forth between Jenna and the situation. "I mean she is cute." He says, shrugging as he takes another sip of his drink. Jenna rolls her eyes and looks at Ross. "Want me to ask if she's interested in idiot for you?" He lets out a laugh, shaking his head.
"I think I already know the answer because she's definitely interested in your girlfriend." Jenna scoffs in response, "It's not mutual."
"I never said it was." Jenna looks away, her expression unreadable. "Or maybe it is... a bit." Ross raises an eyebrow as Jenna continues, "I think Y/N's not fully... satisfied with our relationship."
Ross thinks for a bit before realizing where this is going. "Ugh, no Jenna. I do not wanna have this convo with you." Jenna grunts in frustration. "Too bad you are."
"No, the hell I'm not." He says before walking away. Jenna follows Ross, her voice rising in volume. "Ross, I'm trying to talk to you about something important." Ross lets out a dramatic groan, "I don't wanna talk to you about how you're not fucking my best friend right."
Jenna stops in her tracks, "Fine." Ross thanks her gratefully, before leaving to retrieve your birthday gift. Jenna does the same, leaving your apartment to go to hers and bring you the cheesecake she had made. When she returns she sees you hugging Zoe tightly before pulling away, a silver necklace in your hands. Jenna quickly walks away, upset and sad.
"You got her a cheesecake for her birthday? Really?" Ross says from behind her. "Yes." She replies blankly with an eye roll. Ross looks over to you, watching Zoe put the necklace around your neck. He then glances back at Jenna, sighing. "Don't worry, she doesn't even like wearing jewelry."
Jenna laughed, shaking her head. "At least I know what she likes." Ross smiled and the three of them shared a moment of understanding. Jenna smiled at Ross before turning back to you. She began walking over proudly, showcasing the cheesecake to you.
It read "Happy Birthday" with a red heart on it. "Aww, thank you, love." You smile, giving Jenna a quick peck. Jenna blushes, looking away bashfully. Ross chuckles, happy for the two of you as you all miss the frown on Zoe's lips. Zoe quickly looks away, pretending to be busy with her phone. Jenna notices and her smile widens.
It's been two more months since your birthday. Your life has been going okay. You're still working at the bar to help Ross and you're still dating Jenna, but you're so busy you barely get to see her. You miss her a lot and you want to make more time for her, but it feels like you're stuck in a rut. You've been thinking about making a change, but you don't know where to start. You sigh out, unlocking Jenna's front door and greeting her.
She quickly gets up from the couch, arms crossed. As you lean in for a kiss, she leans back. She looks away, and you can feel the distance between you. You take a deep breath, "What's wrong?" Her jaw clenches, "Where were you?"
You avoid her gaze and reply, "I was at work." She looks away again and shakes her head. "I don't believe you", she says. "Well, that's where I was!" She looks at you skeptically, "I don't believe you. You've been avoiding me for weeks."
You take a deep breath. You were so tired and you didn't wanna do this right now. "I've been working, Jen. You know this? I was doing overtime so Ross could have some days off."
She scoffs, uncrossing her arms. "Do you think I'm stupid?" You look away, not sure what to say. You don't want to argue, and you're telling the truth! "No."
"Then why the hell are you lying to me?" You take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. "I'm not lying," you insist. "I'm honestly telling you the truth! I was WORKING." You say, raising your voice. She looks at you incredulously. "You expect me to believe that?" she says, shaking her head.
"Yes? It's the truth."
She shoves you, "Fucking liar!" You barely move at the shove.
"It IS the truth!" You reply angrily. She looks away, her face filled with anger and disbelief. "I don't believe you," she repeats. You grit your teeth, but take a deep breath. You know she won't believe anything you say, so you don't bother trying to defend yourself. "Okay, then, I'm done."
"Oh? You're done with me?" You sigh, running a hand down your face. "I meant with this," you motion with your hands. "I'm done with the argument. Or! Maybe I should be done with you. Maybe I'll be happier."
She doesn't say anything, and the two of you stand there in silence. After a few moments, you turn away and walk off without another word.
"That's all you remember?" The cop asks, writing on a notepad. You nod, sniffling. "Yeah, that's all I remember until I woke up." The cop finishes writing and looks up at you. "Are you okay to tell us more?"
You nod immediately, "I can tell you the rest." You take a deep breath and start speaking again. "The rest was fuzzy, blurry, and worrying. I wasn't scared," You shake your head, staring at the table for a second before locking eyes with the cop in front of you.
"I was worried. I wanted to know why I couldn't remember anything. When I woke up there was a bright light and glass surrounding me. I remember thinking... what happened? Where was I? Why wasI here?"
You sit up, breathing heavily. Glass, four walls, just pure glass. What the fuck was going on? You lift your hand to the back of your head and feel a bump. You slowly stand up and make your way to the glass wall, pressing your hands against it. You look around the room, searching for an exit.
There was a door. Locked. A small department to pass things through. Locked as well. You search for any other possible way out, but to no avail. Frustrated, you slam your fist against the wall. You were trapped. Suddenly, you hear a creaking sound of a door opening, you stare into the dark shadows, and suddenly someone appears from it.
"Jenna?" You whisper, tears beginning to form in your eyes. She steps forward and the look on her face, is terrifying. She wasn't going to let you out. She takes a step closer and you take a step back. You can see the determination in her eyes. She won't let you go.
She places a hand on the glass wall. "Don't be scared, Y/N." You take a deep breath and try to remain calm. You can see her eyes soften, but you know she still won't let you go. You press your hand against the glass, knowing you won't be able to get out.
"Please... please let me out, Jen." Jen slowly shook her head and said, "I can't, Y/N. I'm sorry." She looked away, letting out a sigh. "It's just... I do so much for you... it hurt to hear you say those words to me." You look away, a tear rolling down her cheek. "I was angry Jenna! I didn't mean it."
Jenna removes her hands from the glass, "You're just saying that. You don't care about me the way I care about you." You shake your head, "YOU HIT ME JENNA! AND—AND THEN YOU TRAP ME IN A CAGE? SOMEONE WHO CARES WOULDN'T DO THIS." Jenna looks away, silent. You take a deep breath and turn around, running a hand through your hair.
"Y/N. Y/N!" She shouts at you, and you turn around pressing your hand on the glass. Her brown doe eyes stare at you, taking in every detail of your face. "I love you." She presses her hand against the glass, mimicking your own. "And loving someone means you'll do anything for them."
You stare at her, unsure of where she's going with this. "Everything good that's been happening is because of me, Y/N." You shake your head, "What?"
"Ross getting his dream job, that was me playing with a few strings. You moving next to me, that was me as well. You getting that stupid fucking job, that was me as well! There have been things that I've done that I held out from you. Like killing Ana... she was going to ruin us, Y/N. I had to do it for us. We can be together now, without any worries."
Your eyes widen at the girl in front of you. Is that why Ana never reached out to you? Because she was dead? You take a step back in shock, not able to believe what you were hearing. You felt the tears come to your eyes as you take in the full situation. You were speechless. "Say something!" Jenna shouts, startling you out of your trance.
"Where—where's Zoe?" You whisper. Did she kill her too? Jenna's face falls at your words, removing her hand from the glass a second time. "Dead."
You shake your head in disbelief and your vision blurs as tears stream down your face. You sink to the ground, feeling a crushing wave of grief wash over you. You feel numb, unable to process the news. You try to take a deep breath, but it catches in your throat. You feel a sudden emptiness in your chest and a sinking feeling in your stomach. You slump against the wall, trying to make sense of what you just heard. "You're sick, Jenna! You're a fucking murderer!"
Your mind starts to think of the worst, "Are you going to hurt me? Oh my god, fuck!" Jenna rushes over to you, crouching to be eye-to-eye with you. "I'd never hurt you, Y/N." She presses both of her hands against the glass, watching as you look at her in horror.
She stares at you a bit before getting up and leaving, noticing this you stand back up. "JENNA! WAIT!" But she doesn't stop.
She returns the next morning with breakfast. You apologize for your behavior the night before and thank her for breakfast. She smiles and tells you that it's all right.
You had some time to think, to calm down, and to take everything in. Your girlfriend was kidnapping you, and she was doing it out of fear that you were going to leave her. If you want to escape this you know you have to tell her what she wants to hear.
That you forgive and you understand completely on why she was doing all of this.
You take a bite of your bagel and Jenna watches you, a small smile on her face as she sits in front of the cage eating her sandwich.
You look up and meet her gaze, offering a kind smile. "I used to eat bagels every day when I went to middle school," you tell her. Her face lights up. "Really? Isn't that kind of unhealthy?"
You laugh with her and nod, "Yeah, but I didn't care. I always thought only rich and privileged businessmen ate bagels so I begged my mom to buy some."
Jenna laughs, shaking her head before her smile begins to fade."I'm sorry. I know how much you miss her." You smile and shrug. "It's okay. We all just have our own way of coping." Jenna nodded in agreement smiling at you.
When you finish breakfast Jenna walks up to the cage, pressing her hand against the glass. You quickly stand up, mocking her movement. "Do you forgive me?" She whispers, and you can barely hear her.
"Fully. I had some time to think, and I understand that you only want what's best for me. I don't think anyone has cared for me the way you do." Jenna smiles, her brown eyes glistening with tears. She reaches into her bag, pulling out a pair of keys. Yes. Yes. Yes.
She opens the cage and you slowly walk towards her. Jenna wraps her arms around you and holds you close. When you pull apart you push her onto the ground, searching the room for a weapon.
Jenna stares up at you in shock, as you grab a knife from the table. You raise the knife above your head, ready to strike, but she runs away, tripping on the rug inside the room.
You straddle her, pinning her down with your body. She cries out in fear as you raise the knife to deliver the final blow. "NO! I'M PREGNANT!"
You pause and look into her eyes, realizing the truth of her words. You drop the knife as her chest weaves up and down. "I'm pregnant." She repeats, tears forming in her eyes. You take a step back, shock and disbelief gripping you in its grasp.
You can feel your heart beating rapidly as you process the news. You look at her, uncertain of what to say or do. "I couldn't let you walk out on us, Y/N. I couldn't let our baby grow up without their mother."
She takes your hand into hers and brings it to her stomach. You feel a rush of emotion overwhelm you, and you look up into her eyes, now filled with love. You know in this moment that you will do whatever it takes to make sure your child is safe in the arms of her.
"I was so scared." You tell the cop. He stares at you, and his expression softens. "That's why Jenna killed Zoe. To protect me and our baby." He nods slowly, understanding. "I know," he says. "You did the right thing." He helps you to your feet and leads you away and outside the integration room.
He guides you back to the station's lobby, and you watch as he disappears down the hallway. You take a deep breath and close your eyes. Ross stands up from the bench, bringing you into a tight hug. Jenna appears from behind him, kissing you softly before rubbing her belly. "It's okay, baby. We're safe now." She whispers to you.
#reader insert#jenna ortega x reader#jenna ortega#wattpad#jenna marie ortega#jenna ortega x y/n#jenna ortega x you#jenna x reader#jenna ortega x g!p reader#jenna ortega smut#jenna ortega x fem!reader#jenna ortega imagine#jenna x g!p reader#jenna x y/n
914 notes
·
View notes