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szasfuckingwife · 5 months

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DESIRE- pt 1

KING!SATORU X QUEEN READER

WARNINGS: arranged marriage, minor misogyny, dysfunctional family relationship

A/N: I am quite excited for this series, lets just see if I don’t give up on it halfway through, lol

series master list —> part two

It was far late from noon when one of your ladies ran into your room. Just when you thought your duties for the day were done, here comes another. Although it may seem easy living in your estate as princess with a thousand maids at your beck and call, you were also being groomed and moulded to be the best queen for your country.

“Your highness, your father writes to you.” She has a white letter in her hands. Knowing her, you wouldn’t be surprised if she opened the letter and read it herself.

A sigh leaves your lips as you hear it’s from your father, the king. Feigning a healthy father-daughter relationship was harder than it looks. In reality, you hadn’t seen your father regularly since he sent you to live in Seymour Manor when you were four. The only times you recall seeing him is during galas and balls where his attention is caught between the fine port being served or being involved in a dance, not you.

Your thumb grazed over the red Royal seal that your father was known for. Reluctantly, you open the letter, reading the words carefully.

To my darling daughter,

I hope the standards and degree of the manor has provided you with the upmost guidance as you reach this new age of womanhood. I wish to see you again as we approach our new season.

However, I do not write you to discuss your wellbeing, unfortunately. I wish to discuss your betrothal to Sir Satoru Gojo of the Gojo clan. His father, the head of the Gojo clan, wishes to see you and his son marry before the year ends.

I will not hasten you, daughter. But, as princess of our great kingdom, I do wish to see what you will do once you become queen. More importantly, if you will produce an heir that will continue our great monarchy. I rest assured knowing the nannies and ladies at Seymour Manor have groomed you into being the perfect wife to Satoru and the perfect queen for our nation.

May God be with you,

Your father.

This is the 5th letter he’s sent about this Satoru Gojo since some months ago. You crumble it up and throw it behind you, like you’ve done before. Who is he to rush you into marrying a man you’ve never met? You’ve hardly ‘met’ with your father.

“Augusta, remind our mailman that I will not receive any more letters from my father-” “But, your highness..” Your maid interrupts.

You look at her softly, “My father must be having you all nervous. Trust me, Augusta, that man is not to be feared. Oh, are you scared? You shouldn’t be. Tell the mailman it is the princess’ direct orders.”

“Your highness…” She sighs. “A carriage awaits you outside from the palace. Along with your bags…”

She sees your features soften as you come to the realisation. The joints in your body stiffened up as you blinked at her a couple more times, trying to spot dishonesty. But, to no avail.

You were getting sent down to the palace, whether you liked it or not.

“My lady-” “Very well.” You purse your lips as you exit the room.

The manor became smaller and smaller as you begin your journey. Memories of you playing with toys when you were a toddler and running around in the outside fields plague your mind.

It was home. No mother. No father. No worries. Just the maids and nannies raising you into the open minded woman you are. They were the mother(s) you never had. It made you fear how quickly your happiness could be snatched away.

“Excited, my lady?” Your father’s footman asked. God knows why he was selected to chaperone your travel. He saw you glare at him before returning your gaze back yo the window.

“Take this as an opportunity, your highness. Soon, you will be married and produce a surplus amount of heirs for your kingdom.” He says, a little too excitedly.

You sigh. “James?”

He sits up, “Yes, my lady?”

“Stop talking.” You sarcastically smile.

As you arrive to the palace, you see your father stand outside the front stairs of the palace. He looks mighty in his royal clothing, a proud smile adorns his face as your carriage comes to a stop, like he raised you.

It was unnerving seeing your father standing alone. It was just last winter where your mother succumb to a terrible illness and met her maker. If you weren’t in this predicament you’re in now, you’d count that as the most depressive moment in your life.

Your father’s footman offered his hand, helping you step out of the carriage. The king speed walked down the steps, grinning from ear to ear. You curtsey in front of him, almost second nature to you.

“Hello, father,” the words leave your mouth bitterly. “How are you?”

“Better now you are here, darling.” His eyes squinted as he smiled. “Please, tell me, how was your travel?”

Another fake smile plasters your face, “A little home sick. However, I was fine.”

His fave dropped, “Well, this is your home now, dear. You are at rest when you are here.”

You watch him as he takes a deep breath in, “That is good. Well, what are you all waiting for?! Accompany my daughter with her things as she settles into her new home.”

You’re left with your thoughts as you sit on your new bed. The only thing that comes to mind is how your freedom is gone and now in the hands of this Satoru Gojo.

Wonders of his appearance come flooding into your mind. What would he look like? He could be some scrawny adolescent. No, your father couldn’t give the title of ‘King’ to a child. Maybe he was an old man. As old as your father. His belly round and his hair fading.

Goosebumps plague your skin as someone suddenly walks into your room.

“My lady, the garments have arrived.” A maid walks in.

Your brow raises, “Garments? I did not send for garments.”

She smiles, “My apologies, your betrothed sent them.” Some more people walk in, holding beautiful dresses. They contrast your everyday dresses you wear back home, where the thoughts of marriage never crossed your mind and days ended when you passed out in the fields.

“My betrothed..?”

“He sent these for you to wear tonight during dinner. It’ll be you, him, his mother and father and of course, the King.” She says merrily. “He must be enamoured by your beauty.”

Your brow rises, the fabric used is clearly expensive and foreign. Silky satin and the brightest purple that has ever met the eye. It was all too grand. A huge contrast from your country-house dresses you grew to love.

But beautiful nonetheless.

Whoever this Gojo Satoru was, he was playing his cards right.

Everything tells you to run out of the palace gates as you head downstairs for dinner. If you took off your shoes, you could make it to the town hall. Or was it the boutique?

It had been so long you’ve forgotten what surrounds the palace. Soldiers would definitely catch you within seconds.

A sound of laughters interrupts your thoughts. It’s your father’s and someone else’s. Before you could even breathe into the room, you are held back as you remember you are to be announced.

“Her highness, Princess Y/N!” A butler announced.

All murmurs stop as you walk in the room. The Gojo clan stood up upon your arrival. You noticed the smiles of the mother and the father and then your eyes landed on a man no other suitor could compare to.

His hair was snow white, it reminded you of snowy days where you cosied up to the fire place. His eyes were cerulean, bright and blue. But his stare made you feel small. The way he looked at you, like he was analysing your demeanour, how you walked, how you carried yourself.

They all bowed as you took your seat. “Pleasure to meet you, your highness.” The head of the Gojo clan grinned. “Your father has spoken highly of you. He’s assured you will be the perfect fit for our son.”

So, this is the infamous Satoru Gojo. The way they spoke of him, as if he is the prize. It was hard to not be egotistical considering you were, quite frankly, the future queen.

“Yes. This is a momentous occasion. We are currently witnessing the start of the of the next generation. I’m confident that Gojo will be a great king.”

You sit there, waiting for your father to mention you and how great you will take care of your kingdom. But your wishes were never grabted, they moved onto another topic swiftly.

Throughout dinner, Satoru kept locking eyes with you. Even with the jokes and banter your father and his were throwing about, his eyes lured you back in.

“We are to discuss the date of the wedding, and then the coronation. It should be quick and around the same time, we don’t want to string this along any more than we have.” The king spoke with a certain dominance that shook the bones of everyone in the room, but you of course.

Gojo’s father nodded, “Of course, your majesty. And may I thank you again for recognising Satoru as capable of being king.”

You clearly have missed a plethora of conversations and rumours of Satoru becoming king. “Yes, I see Satoru as the son I never had. He’s most capable of carrying this kingdom to glory.”

Satoru smiles for the first time during dinner, “I’m sure I’ll do that with the help of your daughter, your majesty. Every king needs his queen.”

You want to scoff.

“Of course. And then, hopefully, we’ll see Princess Y/N withchild very soon.” His father spoke. It made you sick how they spoke about you as if you weren’t there.

Suddenly, you felt something wet on your lap. As you look down, you notice the burgundy red wine staining your blush pink gown.

Gojo’s mother gasped, “Oh no, your gown..” You wonder if she was even worried about you embarrassing yourself or rather the fact her family spent a pretty dime on was ruined by your carelessness.

You take a deep breath in, already frustrated from the lack of communication regarding your own marriage and your father’s lack of awareness. “Pardon my absence for one moment..”

The party watches as you stand up and leave abruptly. Satoru notices as your father mumbles something about you being dramatic and unladylike. “I shall go check on her.” Satoru suggests.

“Satoru, you shouldn’t-” “I’m only to check on her welfare. She seemed conflicted tonight.”

The Gojo parents turn to look at the king who is now slumped over in his seat, “Very well.”

You seek comfort under the stars on a balcony, the atmosphere downstairs was too suffocating. It seemed you were a pawn in this big crown game.

“My lady.”

You gasp as you turn around to see the very man you grew to despise in a short amount of time. “Must you cut up my peace..?”

Satoru walked towards you slowly, “It’s a shame the dress is stained…This is the one I wanted you to specifically wear.”

His attempts at flirting made you sick. “I would thank you for the dress. But seeing its already ruined, I don’t think my appreciation would go far.”

Satoru nodded, “It is alright. Did you like your dresses? Were they a good fit? If not, I can get my men to-”

You hold up a hand, “Leave the other two. They are sufficient for gardening.”

He breathed out a chuckle, “Your highness, did I do something to offend you? If so, I do apologise. My father raised me to be a gentleman.”

Nothing leaves your lips as he responds. No smart remark, No rolling of your eyes, nothing. He was nicer than he seemed during dinner. However, you didn’t know what to trust. But something inside you told you to build some sort of relationship with him, considering you two will rule a nation together.

You scoffed as you remain your gaze on the environment, “Gentlemen? You…You hardly know me, why do you wish to be wed?”

“You are really magnificent, Y/N.” He whispers. The absence of formalities and honourifics threw you off immensely. He was now very close to you. It was only now you noticed how tall he was. “If I was just a commoner, I’d still want you as my bride.”

You blink up at him, “Satoru, if I am to be your bride, you can leave the theatrics at home. I’m not a child, I will not fall for such…dishonesty!”

“Dishonesty?” He chuckles once more, stroking the side of his face with his gloved hand, “Have you been like this with other suitors or just me?”

You look away. You’ve never had other suitors. Only him.

“Pardon me, Satoru, but I must go to my chambers. The sun is resting, and I shall rest with it. You don’t want to stop the future queen from receiving her sleep.” You begin to walk away from him.

“Trust me your highness, once wed, I plan to.” He mumbled.

Satoru sees you turn around swiftly staring at him with confusion. If it weren’t for his good looks, you would’ve sent the guards to behead him as quickly as possible. You open your mouth to say something but nothing comes out. Instead, you walk away.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo saturo #gojo smut #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo satoru #royal au

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finisnihil · 4 months

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2.2 Sunday analysis spoilers ahead

I think a scene that perfectly sums up the Dreammaster and his relationship with Sunday is the one where he’s breaking the news to Sunday that Robin was shot.

Sunday has just appointed head of the Oak Family, given a position of upmost power. The Dreammaster leads in by giving Sunday Robin’s letter and then he innocently asks if she mentioned a stray bullet. A stray bullet? Why would she mention a stray bullet? Robin is safe and happy, wherever could she run into a stray bullet?

Well, a war broke out on that planet she sought it out because of it. For the sake of the Harmony and saving lives… she went to the front lines. You know, where stray bullets tend to shoot down innocent birds?

Well, holy shit, is she okay? Of course I mean it only struck her neck directly but I guess because she is doing such glorious deeds Xipe saw fit let her sing a while longer still. You should write to her- oh no, you stupid boy, only after you finish your pressing work now that you're head, hm?

Let's break down the interaction, shall we?

Firstly, this show was meant to sever Sunday's trust in Robin and isolate him. Robin is the person Sunday cares about the most, his life is but a tool to maintain her happiness and he's not quiet about the fact he'd chose Robin over the Family. When Robin didn't want to sing for Ena in the final plan, Sunday betrays the Dreammaster by taking her place as the sacrificial lamb instead. Point being, Robin is Sunday's only real support system and his only access to something that hasn't been rotted by the Family's corruption. The Dreammaster starts the conversation by highlighting how Robin withholds information from Sunday. She didn't mention getting shot, she didn't mention going to a planet because of war, she didn't mention anything. She isn't telling Sunday when she's in danger. Sunday is already terrified of the world around him, of how bleeding hearts like his sister's and his suffer for their kindness. The Dreammaster going about things this way instills a layer of distrust, Sunday can't trust Robin to be honest with him, he can't trust Robin to be safe, he can’t trust her to trust him. Thus, Robin is taken out of the equation and Sunday is alone with only the Dreammaster in his ear.

Next, we drill in a blame of the Harmony. Robin serves the Harmony like a good child of Xipe but it's precisely that which put her in harm's way. Would she have gone into that situation if not for the ideals of the Harmony? The Dreammaster twists this logic in Sunday's head, whispering it was the Harmony that got his sister shot and mockingly noting that maybe the only reason Robin wasn't dead from it was because she served Xipe so well; he implies that if she failed to meet that nonexistent standard next time, maybe Xipe will let Robin die. Sunday can't trust Xipe to protect Robin because it was Xipe's will that almost killed her. Now he's more vulnerable for the ideals of Order to sing their claws in.

Finally, Sunday's lack of control is emphasized. Sunday has just been appointed Oak Family Head but he still has no control over anything. He can't act out of line because those who supported him may stop and if he fails to uphold the pristine image of the Family there will be hell to pay. Still, I think the most sinister thing about his lack of control is seen when the Dreammaster stresses that Sunday can only write back to Robin after he has finished his "outstanding tasks". He was just coldly told the person he cares most about in the world was almost killed without her deigning to inform him, and he can't even talk about it with her and make sure she's okay until he does his paperwork. The position of Family head is nothing but a formality and it isn't enough to save Robin, it isn't enough to save anyone. Sunday has never been in control so maybe... He should create a world where he has it through Order.

In the credits we see the Dreammaster refered to as "Sunday's Servant" but it's obvious the Dreammaster was the one who manipulated and pushed Sunday to this point, intensifying his trauma and pushing Robin out so he could be the only whisper in Sunday's ear, so he could warp Sunday to be the vessel of Order he wants from him.

This entire scene would have gone so much differently if the Dreammaster actually cared about Sunday but we can tell he doesn't. From the start Sunday has been a bleeding heart that bleeds more heavily every time he tries to alleviate suffering. He's trapped in the cage of Penacony and has come to think the buildup of broken dreams and pain he's exposed to is the way of the entire universe. Robin escaped but Sunday can't.

Sunday is ultimately responsible for everything he did but you can't ignore that the path he took to get here reeks of the Dreammaster's malicious influence. Gallagher notes Sunday is just like Misha in a lot of ways and I think that's why the Dreammaster honed in on him so intensely. Sunday had the potential to ruin everything if he took the path Robin and Misha did so he had to have his wings clipped and taught to think a cage means love, that Order is the way, not Harmony.

It's genuinely such a good sequence, the tension of it all makes it work so well. The fact that Sunday is haunted by it and that the Dreammaster so successfully got into his head without him really noticing. He basically did what Aventurine bragged about doing, exploiting Robin's suffering to hit Sunday where he's soft. The Dreammaster functionally set up a bomb and coaxed Sunday into being the one to set it off.

Sunday is a wonderfully written antagonist, but the Dreammaster is a wonderfully written villain.

#honkai star rail #finis analyzes #Sunday HSR #HSR Sunday #He makes me insane #I feel like not enough people are mentioning the Dreammaster and his part in the background #Like that man gave me the ick every single time he was around Sunday and Robin #I wanted so back to chuck that Raven into a wall whenever I saw it #Which is saying something because ravens are my favorite birds #THEY COULD NEVER MAKE ME HATE YOU SUNDAY

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vampvvy · 9 months

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Could I request Blue Exorcist Rin relationship headcanons with a female half angel half human reader? Please and thank you!

Angelic. | R. Okumura.

warnings: none it’s SFW.

A/N: So polite<3 Ofc you can request so. I don’t know of the specific angelic features you wished for but i’ll imagine the reader to have long wings.

Prologue.

Rin had a hard time trusting most celestials, simply because of the horrible experiences he’s gone through with most, but with you he has become quite awestruck.

At first he would simply watch from afar, not knowing of your secret. While training alongside you in True Cross Academy he couldn’t find himself to resist you, as if you were a delicate temptation sent from his grotesque “father”.

After a while he noticed how you never took off your layers of drapes and robes, how you carried around a plain staff made of a pure metal, stronger than one would believe, and soon he vowed to find out what you were hiding.

Long pearly wings slipped out of the simple bind that wrapped around your chest and wings, pressing them together.

Stretching out and fluffing far behind you, losing some feathers behind you as you prolonged the freedom of your luscious wings. The prominent shock on his face as his pointy ears and cheeks flared up like the color of a cherry wine.

“….?…WHAT?????”

Relationship.

Rin would be extremely proud of who you are. A strong being such as you marveling in his own presence left him stunned.

Very protective. Worries about you constantly as if you weren’t stronger than him with your heavy staff and long stamina. He nearly threw Suguru in the fountain for him simply shoving you a little too hard.

Treats you with the upmost of care, always delicate with you.

Helps you pluck and fluff out your irritated or damaged feathers. Soothing your stretched wings as he massages conditioner on the sensitive follicles. (You do the same with his tail.)

Turns to putty whenever you show complete and utter affection to him. Has no problem with PDA but would rather his enemies not know of your relationship so it’s private for the moment.

Poor baby is a sensitive boy, so many things has happened to him in such a small span of time. His heart aches constantly and he confides in you with his troubles. He can’t ever bear having any arguments with you.

Extreme crybaby behind closed doors. His heart is not nearly as strong as his will, and with the constant betrayal of his friends and his own twin his strong facade always strays.

Loves cooking for you, makes bentos and breakfast for you. Always knows you’ll give him the best commentary and suggestions. Making his meals even better than before.

Argued with Yukio once because he believed that you were a bad influence on Rin, saying that you bring out a bad side in him and that he was clearly unstable with you, but in fact Rin was at his best with you. (Rin believed he was simply jealous because of you being so “amazing”.)

Shiemi constantly tries to advance on him with the help of Izumo not knowing of your relationship with him. You trusted Rin with about every ounce of your human and angelic being, but she was very persistent. Of course Rin was loyal to you, more than you could ever believe.

Rin loved kissing you, hugging you, practically merging with your being while doing so. Very inexperienced and constantly bites your lips and tongue with his fangs, might cause you to bleed slightly.. he had no control.. Oops.

Loves to fall asleep with your angelic voice speaking to him. Whenever he wakes up on your lap after falling asleep, he swears he genuinely goes to heaven. The gorgeous light illuminates the deep color of your hair and bounces off of you. He falls in love over and over with you.

©VAMPVVY 2023

#ao no exorcist #blue exorcist #rin okumura #rin okumura x reader #relationship headcanons

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cyjammy · 8 months

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Vox and Valentino: A Display of Trust

VALENTINO AND VOX

Not going to lie, I was the most excited for this dynamic and it just barely beats out Vox and Alastor’s rivalry. For four years they were both the big unknowns only seen for about 30 seconds in the pilot.

There were theories about their dynamic that I hoped to god wouldn’t be true in the show.

Because they didn’t make sense, they looked friendly with each other when they hunkered down for the extermination. And there was no way one sinner (Val) could create an empire alone.

AND I’M SO HAPPY THAT DID NOT HAPPEN.

Valentino being hot headed and brash was not on my 2024 bingo card, but I’m here for it.

(Yes, he’s a bad person. So is everyone else in the show. Alastor hangs out with cannibals and most likely participates. It’s a show about Hell.)

I LOVE HIM. I love everything about him down to the voice, the fluctuating emotions, the drama, the possessiveness — ALL. OF. IT.

I love me some fucking drama and I was LIVING for the back and forth between him and Vox.

Valentino is in charge because of the power he has.

He’s not a words guy, he uses action. He refuses to change his ways because that’s what got him to the top. He’s ready to hunt down Angel just for moving out.

Mind you he still goes to work and fulfills his side of the contract, Valentino just can’t handle not having control.

Micromanaging Angel’s life down to the smallest of details. Controlling who he can talk to, what he can wear.

He wants his plaything back in his sight, he doesn’t want him getting defiant. He wants his leash short so he doesn’t get any ideas.

And the way he gaslights the fuck out of Angel hit hard. Getting away from an abuser and then having the distance you finally need to heal, but being forced to be in contact with them is so restricting that it hurts.

Jesus that was fucking with me.

You don’t necessarily have to be smart to manipulate people, and Val knows that. Val plays the part of the fool so people underestimate him.

He feigns impulsiveness.

When asked for strategic advice he plays dumb.

That’s calculated, and it may just be written off as idiotic, but that’s probably what he wants.

He has to be playing dumb, there is no way he has survived this long by pure luck.

Vox makes do with him by his side because Val can gain trust and place sinners under his spell.

That makes him a valuable asset. Vox supplies the equipment and Valentino supplies the merchandise.

Because that’s all he considers those who are under his employ.

They’re things to be sold to an audience.

But Vox might not see the subtle ways Val messes with him.

Val’s a bratty, unsympathetic, monster that will do anything to get his way. With the guidance of someone with a more grounded personality removed from his issues is when he is able to see reason.

And Velvet can’t even do that, only Vox.

That shows respect and trust.

Even when Vox was spelling it out for him slowly it wasn’t a slight against him, it was a reminder and it held no malice.

If it did, Vox would have lost his temper as he did with Alastor. He kept himself measured for Val and reigned himself back in.

He may know that it won’t get him anywhere after dealing with him for so long. If Vox didn’t see Valentino as a worthwhile investment, he wouldn’t even go through the effort.

Vox knows the best way to get Valentino to listen.

Valentino is extremely self centered. Vox speaks in a way that makes Val want to care, while still making sure it benefits him as well.

“OUR brand”

“Any idea what YOU would look like chasing random whores around town”

“OUR image”

Their partnership is of the upmost importance. Vox needs to make sure the empire remains, that the Vs have their power. That they’re on top.

And that’s a goal Valentino can get behind.

Valentino backs off with disappointment, because he enjoys violence. And he wanted there to be a show.

So instead he throws out something that could really get under Vox’s skin.

Alastor.

Val could have used this information to cripple Vox, make him vulnerable during a time where he needed to stay focused.

But instead, he uses it now.

Val was bored, he knew how Vox would react, and he wanted a show.

And a show he received. Pressing all the right buttons to see his partner go mad.

I want to see more of Valentino. So far his actions could be read as surface level — dumb and erratic — or strategic.

As of now, I’m assuming he knows what he’s doing.

Anger clouds your judgement and both Vox and Val were subject to that effect within a few minutes. That doesn’t necessarily mean Val is a fool and that Vox calls ALL of the shots.

Val acts idiotic around his colleagues because he knows they won’t take advantage of him. Until I see how he is around Angel Dust outside of those voicemails or around his other employees is when that can be settled.

I’m hoping this is a strategic play, because that would be an amazing use of misdirection. All the signs are there, and it could be so.

I also love how Vox is never fearful of Val and vice versa. They both would take steps toward each other that would be misconstrued as advancing toward violence.

Neither flinch. They look a bit surprised, sure, but never scared.

The respect is there and I love the relationship Val and Vox have.

#hazbin hotel #posted before episode 4 #on my twitter #@cyjammy #vox #valentino #i love their dynamic so much #The Vs #Overlords #attention wh0r3 #manipulation #playfulness

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sukunasdirtylaugh · 4 months

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tags: merman! gojo x human f!reader, sadness, angst, people growing, signs of aging, topics of death, satoru calling reader his ‘star’ and reader referring to him as ‘moon’, reader has a house by the coast that was her grandmother’s, sad Satoru, I hc’d that in this au mermen can visit every seven years but due to Satoru’s cold features he can visit every year. readers daughter is named kairi (meaning: majestic sea, or song/melody in other cultures).

a/n: guys I don’t like this 😕

You tried to tell your daughter that true love exists. even if the marriage with her father no longer worked out, you swore to gift it through stories, paintings, and artifacts; all related to that white haired individual. the ‘man’ you’ve known for years.

“Every seven years, mermaids return to this coast,” you remember telling your child, now 7, “but some return sooner than most.”

You hold the small bundle of joy between your arms, a white blanket wrapped around her body with embroided seashells along the edges. “she’s three months old, Satoru.”

“she’s so small,” he marvels, in awe as his brows furrow. “they’re that small?”

“they’re smaller before they’re born,” you smile. “but they’re adorable nontheless.” at your side, your acquaintance slightly sighs, turning to you.

“you think ours would’ve looked like that?” there’s a small pang to your heart, feeling as if you’ve betrayed him.

“Satoru,”

“I wasn’t...” he exhales then turns to the sea, “you know what I mean, star.” your heart aches at the name, a bittersweet name he gifted you early on in your relationship.

“are you gonna...?”

“she’ll know about you, some bits when she’s young. But once she’s older... I’ll leave her to decide. I’ll write it all down for her.” at your words, Satoru lets a moment pass, hesitantly bringing up an item in his hands.

“I brought you something,” he says, “I didn’t know... even if it was the last time I’d see you,” there’s almost a pained expression to his voice, eyes avoiding yours as he looks down at your daughter. then, to the ring on your left.

“can I give it to her?” there’s a slow nod.

“of course. she’s a piece of you.”

He returns again when she’s three, awestruck at her growth. you let him carry her, of course you trust him with your life. he treats her with the upmost care as he swims, having her sit on the plain of his back. your daughter giggles. this time, he gifts her a shell shaped like a whistle that actually makes a noise while he gifts you a pair of pearlescent earrings.

On your daughter’s 7th birthday, you notice a scar upon his cheekbone. while your daughter plays along the shore, you turn to cup his cheek. An act of affection you’ve long missed. “you’re still the same as ever,” you whisper, not paying mind to his scar though he makes it well aware how much he hates it.

“you shouldn’t be touching another man,” he almost bitterly reminds you, “you have a husband. I don’t think he’d like you touching someone else.”

“ex-husband,” you correct softly, embarrassment in your cheeks. “we didn’t work out.” there’s a sadness and glimmer to his eyes as he turns to your daughter, watching and overlook so as she won’t slip from a nearby rock. the waves today are calmer than most days.

Your daughter stops visiting him after that. You don’t really know how it happens; if she either grew up too soon or she lost interest, but you write. you paint. for him or her, you mask it as a personal hobby (which it was), you suddenly feel the need to prove something.

Years pass and you’ve grown a few wrinkles along your eyes. body not quite as before, worried he might miss today.

you see satoru’s white head from the distance. It takes him far longer to approach you. you think he might consider you a stranger until he’s close enough for you to call, “moon!” a love name you’ve blessed him by; in honor of the pale skin of his features.

“you’ve grown,” there’s a slight sadness behind his eyes and voice, knowing well that this means another era for you. a reminder that you’re not forever, “but you’re still as beautiful as ever. come here, star.” his arms feel like home. they always have. you’d like to think this is what heaven should be like. the soft, tender kiss against your lips reminds you that maybe there is something to look forward to.

a few years later, you return. a headscarf adorning your top, loose clothing around your figure as this time, you lay low by the rocks. It’s too difficult to climb.

“the doctors think I’ll be okay,” you smile, bony hand clasped with his muscular one. you can tell he’s holding back a sob as he glances at every feature life has thrown at you, as subtle as he tries you can still feel it.

“you’re dying.” he points.

“I still have time,”

“but not enough.” a silence passes between the both of you. you tell him of your daughter.

“I told kairi about you.” you tell him, “I wrote everything down so she’ll know.”

“I don’t think she ever wants to see me.”

“Of course she does,” you gently squeeze his hand, “just give her time, she’s...” you struggle with your words, “grieving.”

“I can’t loose you,” his voice breaks, and you’re afraid to meet his eyes. “I’ve barely had you, it’s not fair.”

“Satoru,” your voice cracks, but remains soft, “I’ve been lucky to have known you...”

“No,” he grits his teeth, “don’t speak in past terms. you’re not dead, star.”

“I promise this won’t be the last time you see me.” you squeeze his hand with what strength you have left, “I’ve moved here, to the house by the coast.” you speak, “I’ll see you everyday if I have to, I won’t go, Satoru.” it takes a lot of reassurance that night for Satoru to be at peace, even though there is no complete peace in knowing the love of your life is dying and you can’t do anything about it, he’s with you every minute he can take. Satoru stays for months, expanding his visit along the waters as it’s nearing winter.

“You should go,” you tell him, “you’ll die if you stay in these cold waters. I’ll be fine.”

There is such reluctance in that conversation from him. His eyes and body betray him, unable to leave you. “No,”

“Satoru, you’ll die.”

“I don’t want you to die.”

“I won’t,” you tell him, “I’ve made it past the time doctors said I’d...” you nod, “I’ll be fine Satoru. It’s just 4 months. I’ll actually die if you don’t go though. Please, go. For your own health.” There’s hurt and hesitance in his eyes, longing and self betrayal in the way he kisses you, though he’s so in love with you by the way he holds you and whispers sweet nothings to your ear. the last thing he does is press a kiss to your forehead before he turns, leaving.

It rains for the first time in 20 years on the beach 26 days later. your daughter sobs that day, looking ahead from the hospital view as she stares out into the ocean.

she doesn’t have the guts to see him (satoru) that year. not daring to step a foot in the sand for a whole entire year. she reads your journals a few months after your death, learning of a man that saved you from another, saving your life. he’s become your rock, she can read. and you write about him in ways that you’ve never expressed about her father. it is then that she realizes that you loved him, or he loved you. likely both sides loved, but she still doesn’t visit the sea.

it is only when she turns 21 that she decides to finally meet the man again. fresh out of a heartbreak, she realizes how excruciatingly painful it is to lose someone you love, reflecting and opting that it is only fair she gives you the news. but she decides to do more.

Satoru recognizes her almost instantly, she looks so much like you in your youth. kairi is almost afraid, holding on to the bag tightly over her shoulder.

She didn’t think her soul could break ever the more when she tells him the news. In front of her, she sees a man who truly loved. who if given the chance to be human, would’ve kissed the ground you walked on, loved you more than her own father. her heart breaks, seeing how someone who held so much love for you had, resulting in the greatest tragedy she’s seen in her 21 years of life.

“She wanted me to give you this,” it’s a waterproof heart necklace with a picture of you on one side and the other is a picture the both of you took. Satoru holds the necklace as if it’s made of glass.

for the remainder of the day, she talks to you as if you would have wanted. showing him a photo album of your life, reflecting on her best memories of you. it is only then when Satoru cries when you pull up a video of you on your birthday.

your daughter learns that Satoru loves videos.

“I remember when you were barely born, you were this small.” he makes a motion with his hands, “you were... so beautiful, your mother loved you.” there’s a sense of sadness yet pride to his words.

“I know she loved you too,” kairi speaks, moments later as she wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. “she always told me about you when I was little. always pained this beach, even you at times.” your daughter chuckles, “sometimes, even when I was little, I wondered what it’d be like to have you as my dad. the both of you really loved one another. more than my dad.”

and there, there is a piece inside your daughters heart and Satoru’s that slightly mends. the two of them bond their love over you, keeping your memory alive as they meet every year to remember you. both souls uniting, thinking of a life where things would have been possible.

#okay maybe I need to rewrite this #I kinda hate it though?#maybe delete later #gojo #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #Satoru #gojo jjk #jjk fanfic #jjkedit #jujutsu kaisen satoru gojo #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru hcs #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru x oc #gojo satoru headcanons

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quimichi · 8 months

Text

warnings: NSFW - MDI, cock sucking, slight hair pulling, head grabbing

summary: One thing you're used to do, is kissing his wounds after a fight. But that's not the only thing you'll be kissing...

characters: Childe x f!Reader

word count: 2.698

It happened again, while fighting again and just like the usual, you sit in his lap and you kissed his wounds with upmost care and love. "This one hurts too," he fake whined and puted and you gulped when he took your hand over the huge bulge of his gray trousers, dragging it along his waistband, which for a second you hesitated to pull down. But a quick look in his eyes made you forget all the worries and you pulled his waistband down. Your eyes widened as his hard cock popped upright. The sight alone has you drooling.

"Hm, no kiss? But its aching so much it hurts." He whispered under a sleazy grin. He fucking knows what he's doing, of course he is. But what did you expect, this happens every single time you decide to kiss his wounds. At some point you WANT to kiss his wounds so bad because you know what is promised to come next. You.

"Which lips do you want?" You breathed desperately out and you surely saw him get a tad bigger. He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, slightly pulling it to the side as he stares in your needy eyes. "Are those ready to take me?" He asked while he had the best sight before him, you rubbing your thighs together... "Fuck..." He hissed, seeing how quickly he made you feel aroused. "Just the sight of my cock and you're this needy already?" He couldn't contain his smirk, you could hear it too. "Please..." You begged as you rolled your hips against his thigh.

He couldn't help but chuckle, "Go on, do as you please." He leaned back in his chair and watched as you clumsily go down from his lap, just to kneel down before him. Eagerly you start to lick and suck at his cock, the taste of his all so known pre-cum hits your taste bud's. It didn't take long for Childe to grow impatient with your doings, and so he grabs the back of your head, and with a fistful of your hair, he slowly but surely pushes your head down.

you try to protest at first, eyes wide as his calloused hands grip your hair and head firmly, controlling your every move now. “my sweetest girl,” he coos, “don’t you trust me?” he brushes a stray hair out of your face with his other hand, wiping the tears streamed down furiously, your eyes squeezed shut. He laughs and lovingly rubs his thumb against your upper cheek, “You’ll be a good girl for me, right?” You find the strength to nod as good as you can with his lenght in your mouth. Your small and pathetic "mhm" send shivers down his spine, making him groan. “That’s it baby, you got this. Doin' so good, fuck-" his fat cock inches his way in and out, you feel the stretch, but you want more. You hold onto his thighs and you start to work against his hand. You wanna do this alone. He shushes you, “don't hurt yourself girly”...

A/n: I'm sorry I'm not the best at smut--so I hope this was good-

♡ TAGLIST ♡

@junejunejun

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #childe x reader smut #childe x reader

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lollipop-writes · 2 years

Text

Hunter x Hunter Men as Boyfriends

Characters: Chrollo, Feitan, Hisoka, Illumi, Pariston.

Warnings: Gender Neutral, no pronouns or characteristics used to describe reader. Mentions of some characters being possessive, controlling, and suggestive. Otherwise no content warnings.

Chrollo

He is a gentleman and treats you with the upmost dignity. Whatever you don't want to do, he respects and works around that, finding common activities the two of you can enjoy.

A lot of library dates, early morning coffee dates, and snuggling during rainy weather with the fireplace going. He enjoys small moments of intimacy like this.

He steals and buys for you a lot of expensive things he thinks will look nice on you. Also, he steals anything related to your hobbies.

"This reminded me of you, y/n" he sweetly smiles as he gives you his present.

Feitan

He's surprisingly a very casual dude to date. He takes you to a lot of casual and relaxing venues, unless you guys stay indoors. Theaters, watching horror movies on netflix, and eating a lot of takeout.

But he's a VERY possessive boyfriend. I wouldn't say he gets jealous easily since he trusts you. However, he still sees you as his, and doesn't like it when people encroach on what's his.

Not as considerate as Chrollo when it comes to where you want to go since he kinda just. Has you follow him around wherever he goes, even on his outings with Phinks.

Speaking of Phinks, expect to see him a lot during outings and to have him tag along on a lot of dates.

Hisoka

If you're strong, he'll want to fight you a LOT. He loves testing your limits and abilities.

Expect spicy times after fighting, training, or "playing" since that really riles him up. He figures he's already in action so may as well get some more.

He's pretty goofy and likes to make you laugh. Expect a lot of jokes and inappropriate behavior, even during spicy times.

Hisoka REALLY loves to tease you and make you blush by saying obscene and gross things. If you're not blushing, he'll try harder and up the level of obscenity to get a reaction out of you.

Illumi

Illumi has heard of dating but doesn't really know how it actually works. By this I mean he's never officially dated and doesn't have a clue where to start.

He begins courting you by like, declaring that he wants you as a spouse and just outright stating that you two are dating now.

He buys you a lot of expensive gifts, not always to your tastes since he can be somewhat oblivious in other people's wants and feelings, but it's the thought that counts.

He watches over you like a hawk, making sure nobody lays a finger on you or even looks at you a certain way.

Pariston

Ok so you know how I said in some of the other men's HCs that they will buy you nice things? Pariston does that but up to 11. He loooooves buying you really gaudy, tacky objects and clothing. Extra points if they're revealing or suggestive.

Takes you out to fancy dinners and public functions quite often, and these make up most of your dates together.

Wants you two to appear as a perfect couple, in looks and appearance, in behavior and manner, and in dynamics and relationship. He has to uphold an image so the pressure is on to be absolutely perfect.

Not really very intimate behind closed spaces, unless he's in an uncharacteristically good mood. And even then it's more as a way to taunt you and hold more control over you. He'll be more affectionate out in public for sure, though.

#chrollo lucilfer #chrollo #chrollo x reader #hxh x reader #feitan #feitan x y/n #feitan portor #Hisoka #hisoka morrow #hisoka x reader #hisoka x you #illumi zoldyck #illumi x you #pariston hill #pariston x reader #hunter x hunter #hxh headcanons #; my writing #; headcanons

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thefanficmonster · 6 months

Text

Piss off your parents pt.2

PART 1

PART 3

Colby Brock x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Drinking, Swearing

Genre: Angst, Friends to Lovers, Fake Dating, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Turns out, LA is packing way more surprises than you were prepared for.

He's still nursing the same drink he started the night with. Not by choice - he just knows that he might make some serious mistake if he indulges in anything more or stronger. The beer is treating him well.

Then again, if he sees Nate and Y/N making out one more fucking time he might steer to the whiskey.

He feels like a terrible friend, unsure of who he's being more unfair toward of the two. He should be happy for them. Like Sam. He can't take a page from his book, though. He can't be openly supportive and encouraging of the blooming romance between his friends. The most he can do is plaster on a strained fake smile and try to enjoy his night, keeping himself away from them. If he can't be a proper friend, the least he can do is not let his displeasure - and borderline selfishness - swim up to the surface.

Although his features are definitely giving a clear glimpse into the warzone that is his mind. Hard glare, set jaw, gritted teeth, furrowed brows. If Sam wasn't already several rounds deep he'd probably pick up on it instantly.

Thing is, he already has picked up on it. The avoidance, the cold shoulder, short-spokenness. He's been picking up on the clues for months but dared not bring it up. In his head, it makes no sense. To him, it always seemed like Colby and Y/N were the rom-com waiting to happen. Stolen glances, gentle touches, subtle affection, their own love language. All trademark Colby-Y/N stuff. Where Nate came into the equation is unclear to him.

Truthfully, nothing is clear to him right now. Which is why Colby is currently helping him off the table he can't remember climbing onto.

"Come on, dude. You're gonna break something important." He says, steadying his best friend when he hops down too enthusiastically for someone in his state.

Sam slurs a response but is grinning from ear to ear so he can only assume he's enjoying himself enough to not mind Colby gentle-parenting him. But also enjoying himself too much to be trusted and left to his own devices.

Scoping out the hotel club with a quick glance, Colby's gaze thankfully finds Corey. Who it doesn't find is the main culprits responsible for his deteriorating mental state. Where's a shot of whiskey when you need it?

"Mind watching over him for a bit? Imma go get a drink." He yells over the music directly into Corey's ear, nodding to the inebriated blonde who's swaying to the beat of the music without a care in the word. Colby aspires to be him in an hour, the risks of it be damned.

Corey accepts the duty, earning himself a grateful pat on the back from Colby who disappears into the crowd the same instant. He's heading toward the bar, eyeing the bottles lining the wall behind it greedily. He's sees the amber liquids as a sea he's about to drown his worries in.

That is if he can shake them, though.

And, try as he might, he can't.

Surveying the venue a couple more times, he feels a sickening pit settle into his gut at the absence of his two best friends. He can't remember when he lost sight of them nor how, especially since his eyes were glued to her the whole night.

Others would be a lot less concerned with this predicament. I mean, when two people like each other veryyy much, have had several drinks throughout the night and have disappeared from the party, it's pretty clear where they might be and what they might be doing. But Colby doesn't even wanna let his train of thought travel that way. Neither his heart nor his liver can handle that.

But that's when he spots Nate with Sam and Corey. Yet still no Y/N in sight.

Colby decides this calls for a search party.

He checks each and every corner of the club with upmost diligence. She's wearing a little black dress that is for sure to help her blend into the blur of the party with the minimal lighting and packed crowd. It's not a problem for him though, he could spot her from a plane. Which makes his lack of findings all the more concerning.

He eventually takes his search outside the club and into the hotel lobby. Then out on the sidewalk, then in the parking lot. He has soon scoped out the entire perimeter around the hotel without finding a trace of her. He's all out of places to search and chock-full of sickening worry. It's as if she's disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Speaking of smoke...

As he's making his way back to the hotel entrance, he catches something out of the corner of his eye. A small plume of smoke emanating from the cracked open window of one of the club bathrooms. That's when the idea pops up in his head.

He never checked the ladies' room. For obvious reasons, of course.

But his rationality and reasonability were checked clear from his system ten minutes ago when his body entered full panic mode. So...

Still he tries to reason with himself: Play the drunk card. Just accidentally stumbled into the wrong bathroom, that's all. 'I'm not a creep I swear, I just mixed up the doors'. That could work, yeah....

And so, with a quicker pace to his step, he steps out of the humid LA air and into the chillier and more pleasant hotel lobby. He stops for a second under the cold AC breeze to take a breath. Collect himself.

What if it's not her? What then?

That depressing train of thought is interrupted by a slight ping coming from his back pocket. He nearly drops his phone he takes it out so damn fast. He'd sent Y/N a string of messages and even tried calling her a few times, all attempts with no success. Therefore, for a split second, he's hopeful that maybe she's finally replied.

Much to his dismay, it ends up being wishful thinking.

Much more to his dismay....

"Hello Cole. How is Y/N?"

...it's her mom.

It's been eight months since the incident, six since they moved to LA. In that time, Y/N's mom has come around approximately half an inch closer to tolerating him. Mostly because he's her only intel on her daughter since she's so adamant on being stubborn and not talking to her. And Colby is more than happy to be of service, he just wishes....

What exactly?

Wishes they could mend their bridges? Wishes he didn't have to lie on both his and Y/N's behalf? Wishes he didn't feel s fucking guilty?

Wishes it wasn't all a ruse?

Mrs. Y/L/N checks in once every couple of days, often with texts at odd hours like this. She has a lot of night shifts to handle at the hospital so, when she gets downtime is when she stops to reach out with a message to Colby - who she believes is her daughter's boyfriend, mind you - to ask about Y/N.

And he's always been instant with the replies. 2AM, 4AM, 7AM, you name it. Never once has he taken more than a couple minutes to reply. He can't remember sleeping more than two to three hours a night if any since they moved here. He'd blame it on the weather change. Then again, he knows better.

His correspondent noticed this too...

"Why are you never asleep? Is something wrong?" She'd asked him at one point, showing genuine concern which truly warmed his heart. And then broke it right afterwards when he remembered he can't tell her what's wrong. He wishes he could tell her for whatever reason. He has a feeling she'd understand, maybe even like him better because of it. But how could he tell her? The charade needs to be upkept, the show must go on, and he'll just...well, suffer, really.

With a quick confirmation of Y/N's well-being, he continues his venture back into the club, making a quick beeline for the dark hall leading to the bathrooms. And yes, he feels like a creep but no, he can't turn back now.

So, he pushes the door to the women's restroom open.

Thank the heavens, he thinks to himself. For two reasons.

Firstly, because it's a single stall bathroom.

Secondly, because on the sink counter outside the stall sits Y/N and suddenly he's getting deja vu.

Mascara is staining her cheeks, a cigarette is hanging between her lips, her hair is a mess. But she still gives him a smile when she sees him come in. "Hey." She greets him, voice barely above a whisper, "You're not supposed to be here."

Colby quickly locks the door behind him, approaching her with a newfound shake in his knees. Given her state, he's quick to assume the worst. "Jesus Y/N, what's wrong? Did something happen? Talk to me."

She shakes her head, a few more strands of her disheveled hair going awry, "Nothing happened, nothing's wrong. I'm just...having fun." She sounds bitter. Not sad, not angry. Just bitter, regretful almost.

For some reason he chucks up to human nature, he feels anger start boiling in that lingering pit in his gut, "Where have you been?"

She motions to the counter below her nonchalantly, slurring a little "Here" in response.

"Where'd you get that?" He asks, nodding at the cigarette between her fingers.

She laughs, whether drunkenly or genuinely he's unsure. "Some girl gave it to me when she heard me crying in the bathroom."

Alarms start goin off once again. She's unaware she's playing him and his sanity like a yo-yo with each spoken word, "Why the fuck were you crying? What happened?!"

Y/N finds the audacity to roll her eyes at him, "Nothing! For fuck's sake, Colby, nothing happened!"

"How can you say that and expect me to believe it? Look at yourself! You're a mess!" He tries subduing his anger but it's impossible. He doesn't know where it's stemming from. Maybe it's all that pent up adrenaline from twenty minutes ago coming loose. Maybe his worry is mixing with the relief and melting into frustration. Maybe he's taking out his bitterness - piled on for months, mind you - on her. Even though she doesn't deserve it. And he knows that.

She deserves the world.

He just doesn't deserve her. And he's yet to come to terms with that.

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you." She sasses him, taking the last puff of her cigarette before tossing it out the window.

"You're mascara is running down your face, your hair is all over the place, your lipstick is smeared as fuck. There's a party going on out there but you prefer sitting on cold marble and smoking in a bathroom. You can't tell me there's nothing odd about that." He's losing it, he can feel his sanity slipping from his grip and he can't get a better grasp on it. All he can do is watch as it leaves him.

Y/N, in her usual fashion, is quick to clap back, "You're the odd one! You're fully sober at your own party, angry for whatever reason. You're standing here lecturing me instead of being out there having fun. Oh, and need I remind you, you're in the ladies' room."

He laughs humorlessly. Exhaustedly. "I haven't been on a wild goose chase the whole night for you to...."

"He doesn't want me."

Her words cut him off and cut him deep. The confusion is brief but the pieces fall into place almost immediately.

Nate

"There's no fucking way. You've been all over each other..." He stops himself when he realizes how upset he sounds recollecting all the instances he caught the two in their own world. The pit rattles, a sickening feeling climbing up his throat.

She scoffs, "Yeah, well that's all there is to it. It's all physical. And always prompted by alcohol." A long sigh escapes her lips, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "I'm just disappointed I didn't notice it sooner."

Colby Brock, for once in his life, has been rendered speechless. But he's aware staying quiet isn't an option. So he makes a weak attempt at a consolation, "Y/N, I-"

"Did you know?" She thankfully cuts him off before he can continue word vomiting.

He quickly shakes his head, "No. I swear I didn't. I would've told you."

"Yeah, I know. I know you would've. I just don't know why he told you he liked me when you asked him..." She sighs, picking at the hem of her dress, thankfully oblivious to the sudden paleness of Colby's face.

The sickness gets worse as he remembers his huge mistake. A lie he told months ago.

Y/N had asked him to fight this one battle for her and he still didn't do it, for utterly selfish reasons. She'd asked him for something so simple - ask Nate about his feelings for her, if there were any. And what did he do? He kept his tongue behind his teeth and quietly hoped she'd forget about it. Such a foolish thing to expect from someone completely head over heels in love.

So, when she inevitably checked in to find out the response, he had to lie. Lie and give her false hope he didn't even know was false at the time. There was a devil on his shoulder telling him to tell her the complete opposite but he could never be that evil.

He'd rather drink and sleep his way into coping through it all than watch his best friend be brokenhearted.

In the end it seems he somehow swerved the situation into hitting both those nails on the head. And he completely and utterly hates himself for having done that to Y/N.

The least he can do is come clean.

"I never asked him."

Silence. Fucking crickets. They can hear each other's heartbeats. And he can't bring himself to look up at her, let alone meet her eyes.

It feels like forever before words are spoken between them. She's the one to break the silence with one simple word: "Why?"

He can't tell her why. He doesn't know why.

Actually, you know what, fuck that. He knows exactly why and that's the reason he can't tell her.

"I don't know." He feels like such a coward. But the consequences of the truth terrify him.

"Why did you lie to me?" She doesn't sound angry. He wishes she did. Because the hurt he can hear in her voice is far worse than any furious wrath she could unleash upon him.

"I don't know."

"Fuck that, Colby. You're my best friend, for fuck's sake. You're the last person I'd expect to lie to me and you-"

"You don't wanna know why, Y/N." His restraint is growing weaker. He regrets the words as soon as he says them. He's aware she most definitely not leave it alone now. They're both stubborn, so fucking stubborn. Mules, if you will. Legends say they still reference something they bickered about a decade ago today.

"Yes I fucking do, Colby."

"It could ruin a lot of things."

"It won't."

"I don't wanna lose you."

"You won't."

"You promise?" He feels horrible asking for a promise from her after having revealed the biggest lie he's ever told her.

Well, second biggest anyway.

But she doesn't second his opinion because her response comes out faster than a bullet, "I promise."

In this moment of honesty, raw and bare honesty, how could he lie? How can he look her in the eyes and not tell her the truth? How can he even look at her? He owes her that much but doesn't know if he has it in himself to do it.

Forcing himself to look up, Colby swears he can feel a sharp pain in his chest. Her eyes are dry of tears by now but the shine remains, accentuated further by the fluorescent lighting. He swears he can feel himself fall for her all over again, even deeper.

"Because I'm in love with you, Y/N."

The crickets are back. The silence is eating away at him. He can feel her slipping through his fingers. Their decade long friendship flashes before his eyes. It feels like he's saying goodbye. To the memories, to the friendship. To the love of his life that never was.

The weight of the realness knocks his head back down, his gaze fixated on the black tiles beneath his feet. Shame, pain, dread and fear are all battling for first place, causing a whirlwind in his brain that nearly knocks him off his balance.

It's astonishing how much it hurts losing something you new you didn't deserve all along.

Tagging: @benbarnesprettygurl @beanredacted

#sam and colby #colby brock #colby brock imagine #colby brock x reader #colby brock x y/n #colby brock x you #colby brock fanfic #colby brock smut #colby x reader #sam golbach #nate hardy #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #enemies to lovers #fake dating #x reader

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 years

Note

aemond x reader: the reader reacting to aemond showing his sapphire eye

The subject of Aemond’s eye was ever a sore one, an Achilles heel one might say. There was nothing more unbecoming of a future king or warrior then to loose an eye to their kid nephew. Granted he was no more then a child when it happened. Yet there were certain people within the realm, who no doubt take the upmost pleasure in reminding the young prince of the day he’d rather forget. Making him feel as though he was lesser then a man, then a human being like his brother and nephews did when they heard that he had not claimed a dragon. Aemond could barely look at a pig, alive or dead, ever since without being rudely reminded that despite the amount of victories he’d later claim for his house, he’d still be viewed lesser then a man.

His torment only grew when he became old enough to wield a sword, visualising that the straw stuffed dummies in the courtyard were Lucaerys, Jacaerys and Aegon as he hacked away at them brutally; Refusing to take a break until he was satisfied with the disfigured state they were in. Yet the fire of vengeance burned ever brightly within him as it’s haunting voice called for blood. However those ill demands would have to be forcibly silenced for a time as it was Aegon’s coronation day and Alicent had made it apparent that nothing were to disrupt the usurpation of the throne. Aemond could care less for had his mother took the time to heed Aegon’s desire of not wanting to be king, they wouldn’t be running after his older brother like headless chickens.

“Aemond?” Your voice pierced through the fog that clouded his mind. Even though he claimed that everyone looked down on him for losing his eye, you however were the exception. You didn’t stop him from claiming Vhagar as you knew the importance a dragon of her stature held, you didn’t squirm away when seeing his slashed eye nor looked at him with pity. Instead you held his hand as the maesters stitched his wound close, tended to him when it would become aggravating during the healing process. Not once had you forfeited the facade Aemond believed you had put up in his presence. You didn’t see him less then a whole person but more so for bearing an injury that most would’ve cried at.

“I’ve been looking all over for you, Aegon, he’s-“ “missing, I know I’m more then aware, given how his disappearance has sent everyone tits up.” Aemond said, abruptly cutting you off from finishing your sentence as he sheathed his sword. “Is that all you wished to tell me? If so then you may take your leave.” ‘He was doing it again.’ You thought to yourself, Aemond would act like an uncaring, cruel hearted bastard when old wounds were picked away at until they bled once more. Which lead to him lashing out at those he claimed to care the most for merely existing. His attitude had started to chip away at your patience with him overtime that you started to become as prone to anger as he was. “You can pack that attitude up right now Aemond Targaryen, I’ve already proven enough times to you that I am to be trusted, that you can rely on me to keep a secret. However, what I will not be as complacent of being is someone you can take unjust anger out on as you please.” You snapped, uncaring of whoever overheard as it was none of their business to eavesdrop in.

You’ve grown tired of the same old routine you and Aemond has built up until now. At first you couldn’t bring yourself to blame him but after a time it became an scapegoat for him to pass the unbridled anger he felt towards Lucaerys onto someone else. You didn’t have a backbone then but now you’ve forged one out of steel, one that didn’t break or bend as easily as the young prince wished it would. “Have care how you speak to me,” Aemond began, “for I am your prince-“ “a prince is nothing but a title that you could easily be stripped of one day Aemond!” Your cries cut him off, forcing him to be silent as you continued, “all I ask is that you treat me with the same respect that I have treated you with when no one else would but I guess that’s too much of a tall ask, even for someone like you.” You finished, not bothering to stay any longer then you would like to hear his venomous words as you departed back into the red keep. Leaving Aemond on his own in the courtyard to mull over the consequences of his actions today.

Aemond knew deep down that you were right, his actions were uncalled for and his treatment towards you was unsavoury at best, cruel and harmful at worst. Heaving a heavy sigh, he ran a hand over the side of his face that was concealed his eye behind an eyepatch before a thought darted across his head like a pesky fly. You claimed that he hold no respect or trust towards you but if the heated words you spoke were to be true, then what he was planning on doing shouldn’t come as much of a shock to you. Though that would sadly have to wait later tonight as he had the obligation to search the city for Aegon with Ser Criston Cole. Aemond could only hope that you were willing to wait that long.

The coronation was everything Alicent didn’t want to happen. Many innocent civilians died upon Rhaenys’ intrusion before she left, assumably to Dragonstone, with the warning roar of her dragon, Meleys. A declaration of war as many have chose to interpreted it, despite having the advantage of bathing the opposing family in a downpour of Dragonfire whenever she desired. In the end however she chose to spare them, whether or not that was the smartest decision was ultimately left for fate to decide. With that put aside for a later date, Aemond was already in your chambers by the time you gotten there. “What is it Aemond, haven’t finished chewing me up and spitting me back out yet?” You said, wanting nothing more then to rest your psyche for the mayhem that tomorrow would surly bring. Aemond didn’t say anything at first as he moved himself in front of you, holding your hands in his as he rubbed his thumbs back and forth gassing the skin there.

“I wish to apologise for my unsavoury treatment towards you earlier this morning,” he said, his singular eye darting across your face for any signs of repulsion but found fatigue instead, licking his lips, he continued, “I shouldn’t have dared snapped at the one person who had been nothing but of help to me when everyone showed me their backs. If I could spend the rest of my life making up for my wrongdoings, I would but I have high doubts that I’ll be living that long.” Aemond confessed as he pulled away from you, secretly smiling when you hands instinctively went to reach for him. “However in proposition, I wish to bestow upon you the biggest form of trust that I can come up with.” You were confused at first but when Aemond reached behind his head, you realised what he was going to do and without thinking your hands grasped his arms.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” You asked, not wanting Aemond to put himself in an uncomfortable situation just to make amends. The prince stared at you with steadfast determination, “I wanted to do this for a long time but wasn’t certain when the best possible time to do it considering the bases of our current situation.” He replied with his hands still poised at his eyepatch. You breathed a heavy sigh before letting go of his arms, “okay, whenever your ready.” Aemond only hummed in acknowledgment as he undid his eye patch, bringing a hand to the front of it as he removed it slowly to reveal that where his eye had once been was replaced by a beautiful blue sapphire. It’s stark contrast to the rest of him was hard to ignore but there was a beauty behind it like no other.

Your brain hadn’t the time to catch up as your hand had reached up to gently run your thumb just beneath it. “It’s beautiful.” You whispered softly, finding it hard to tear your eyes away from how the flames reflected within the sapphire as though to show you Aemond’s soul. “You don’t have to lie to save my feelings y/n.” Aemond muttered, knowing how he looked but as he was about to move away and put the patch back on, you stopped him by hold his face in your hands. “I’m not lying Aemond, I truly think it looks beautiful on you.” Aemond’s gaze softened as he brought his hands to yours, leaning his forehead against yours, closing his one eye whilst the sapphire reminded glued on your face. “Doesn’t that scare you?” He asked, not wanting to ruin this perfect moment. You smiled, rubbing your nose against his, “your beauty never, ever scared me Aemond, not even one bit.”

#hotd fic #hotd x you #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd imagines #house of the dragon x you #house of the dragon fic #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon imagines #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen x reader

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tenderlyrenjun · 1 year

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7Dream and bouts of some relationship insecurity

I don't really know how to title this, but yeah ...

includes ... making out, suggestive/implied sexual content, light swearing, references to fist fights, alcohol mentions, food mentions, jealousy/insecurity, vague choking; Juyeon cameo, hey babe ... also, I got carried away with one of these because I originally had it as part of a fic but I just deleted the fic instead so, yeah, sorry, you can ... really tell which one it is ._. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. YOU GET BLOCKED AND REPORTED.

Mark Lee

"Hey, man, come on. That's my girl."

The single sentence took less than a minute, but the conversation ended with Mark's fist through the guy's jaw and with security escorting all five of you - you, Mark, Jaemin, Renjun, and Yeein - out the back door. Everyone else opted to head home, since the entrance fee was, like, ₩50,000 to account for weekend tax.

Mark barely managed a quick good-bye over the driver's door before you slammed your own door shut. You probably should have driven, since his knuckles continuously cracked along the steering wheel, but driving relaxes him, something he needed, especially after that incident. Some guy kept chatting you up, standing way too close, borderline touching your ass, even though you redirected away from him, several times. And Mark knows, and trusts, that you would never leave him, much less cheat on him; he has the upmost faith in you, if his constant words of affirmation are anything to believe, but that does not mean he has to trust everyone else, epsecially when alcohol comes into the mix, heightening emotions too much. And he didn't blame you - doesn't blame you. You look hot, something on which he commented ... very enthusiastically before even going to the bar, with your satin mini-dress, a small (literally) article he bought while thinking about you on a work trip.

But as he sped down to your apartment, you - his passenger princess - pointed your knees at the window, just generally looking away from him. He cramped his fingers on the steering wheel that time, flooring the gas pedal. Then, you, silently, guided him into your apartment, sitting him down in the bathroom, where you, now, wrap his knuckles.

Mark watches you take a salve, applying it via cotton swab over the dried blood, accidentally reopening the would, much to his grimace. Though, he says nothing. The frown embedded between your brows and the heavy breathing in the room prevents him from opening his mouth. So, he lets you paw at his hand, only letting out soft grunts when you overextend his thumb (it got caught on the guy's jaw after Mark went in for a third punch). Eventually, you finish with the salve, wiping away the excess with toilet paper, and you get up, walking out the small half-bathroom.

"I'm sorry," Mark calls softly. He half hopes you don't hear him, over the blaring air vent, because you still have yet to even look at him, in the eye, since you got in his shiny, red car. But, still, you return; eyes trained on the ground though, waving a beige roll of adhesive tape. And he repeats it, even gentler, saying your name this time, "Babe?"

"Hmm?"

"I said I'm sorry."

You stare at him, for awhile. He sees your eyes scan his face, probably lingering at the one or two cuts from when that guy landed a blow, and your fingers slip, accidentally fastening the bandage around his abductor muscle. And Mark resets his jaw, with his prettier hand, just thinking about the bar incident all over again. But then, your face drops, into your lap, and his face drops.

"No, yeah, I heard," you return, sighing, then unwrap his hand to fix your mistake. "I," you swallow thickly, licking your lips, refocusing on his fingers. Gingerly you turn them over in your polished hands, grazing his purpling skin comfortingly. "You don't have to be sorry," you say softly, "I just ... I didn't ..." You pause, dropping his hand back in his thigh, and kneel between his legs. "I didn't know you could be that kind of hot," you confess, smile fighting its way onto your face. You let out a breathless chuckle, cutting it short when you bite your lip. So, Mark pulls it from your teeth, palm brushing into your cheek. "You ... were really ... sexy." You run your hand up and down his inner thigh, and his knee twitches. "Normally, you, um, you use your words." You look up at him through your lases, teetering on your knees, still wearing that short, satin dress he bought, the loose neckline swaying teasingly. "And you're really good with your words."

Mark bites his lip this time, shifting his hips down the toilet seat on where he sits. "Gotta - Gotta defend my girl, yanno?"

You stand on your knees, taller, and Mark gets even closer, the two of you a magazine-width apart. His palm lowers down your cheek, down your jaw, settling above your collarbone. He presses, gently, at first, then squeezes around your neck, entire upper body shuddering. You breathe upward, on his lips, seam of your mouth breaking with each gasp, then move first, straddling his legs, drawing closer - yet so far - to his face.

"Well, you got your girl," you whisper. And his hand squeezes again, holding you at a distance to hear what you say, even though he keeps tilting his head across your pretty collar. "What are you gonna do now?"

Huang Renjun

You take off your couple bracelet, leaving it in the key dish by the door, before heading to work, and Renjun found it, an hour later, when he was running late to the office. He said nothing, that night, collapsing in bed before you even finished your evening skincare routine. Then, you changed your phone case to some new otterbox, replacing his matching universe one, as you both went out to dinner with Juyeon and Jun. Still, Renjun said nothing, holding the elevator door open for you and a few older ladies. The following weekend, he plucked up the courage, before a brunch date, to bring up another couple accessory before you could show him its absence:

"Are you going to wear your ring today?"

You pause, in front of the vanity mirror, steel makeup spatula a hair away from your cheek, and look at him through his reflection. Renjun gnaws inside his bottom lip. He stands at the foot of your shared bed, his coat strewn over the neatly pleated duvet. Oppositely - as oppositely has you have been from him this week - you sit across the room, at the small dressing table, still wearing your bathroom, hair wet in the front where you have yet to blow dry. Eventually, after an eternity, you turn to face him, placing the spatula, elevated, on the open foundation cap.

"I don't know," you confess slowly. "Should I?"

Renjun inhales sharply. "It's your choice," he emphasizes. But he shows you his silver ring on his right hand, the accessory pinched before his pinky. "I'm wearing mine."

You turn back to the mirror and finish applying the sunscreen, simply nodding at him, acknowledging his statement - neither confirming nor denying your own end. He thinks you might continue like that - passive aggressive - for the rest of the day, through the entire date even, but you surprise him, rotating again. You sigh, once, breaking the seam between your lips, then close them again, tongue cleaning your teeth, obviously. He waits another second, giving you the space to organize your thoughts. And you finally speak.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, staring at the ground. You swallow thickly, just once, then look at him, repeating, "I'm sorry, Junjun." You swallow again, blinking more rapidly, and Renjun crosses the room to hug you, your hands instantly climbing around his waist as he cradles your head against his stomach, your tears ruining his button-up shirt. "I know that I've been impossible lately," you confess, "I just ... Seeing someone else hit on you last week didn't ... It didn't feel good."

"I didn't know," Renjun admits, "that you felt that way."

"I didn't want you to know," you muffle, pawing his shirt.

"But you have to tell me," he says, "when I do something that makes you feel bad, especially if I don't catch on in the moment. I love you, only you." He kisses the top of your head. The hostess, at dinner last week, hit on him when she thought he came alone, but he was just reserving the table for you two; then, she persisted through the dinner, only stopping 30-minutes later, after you and he stayed later than her shift. But still, she left her number for him, much to both your annoyances. Though, it seems as though his annoyance wasn't evident enough. "Next time, I'll stop it sooner, I promise." He detaches your face from his shirt and cups your cheeks, thumbs brushing away loose tears. "Do you still want to go to brunch?"

You shake your head, no, and apologize, "Not really. Sorry."

"Don't apologize," he whispers, pecking you quickly. "I'll order us some fried rice from the restaurant across town and make it up to you in bed."

Lee Jeno

It happened a couple days ago, last weekend, but Jeno has been ruminating - through all the car rides to work, all the mundane chores around the apartment, all the lonesome meals he has to eat while you work from your office - about that barista who asked for your number.

You didn't hand it out, obviously, only shooting a raised eyebrow until you got your card back. And Jeno ... he kinda just clung to you the rest of the date - making you sit in his lap, head on your shoulder, arms tight around your waist, which had you asking to use the bathroom. He knows that his behavior persisted home, over, essentially, the week, creating this ... this distance between the two of you - during drama marathons when you would otherwise cuddle; during dinners alone together in your apartment, during sex, but he can't help it: he got in his own head about it. Not even rebuilding his LEGO bonsai tree could mediate his thoughts.

And he tried.

Jeno ended up going through the motions, blindly attaching turntables to tyres, while he stared more at the coffee table than pieces. Then, you came home, as he finished assembling the cherry blossom stems (he did the green foliage, too, not yet having a preference for either), and sat on the floor with him, leaning your cheek on his shoulder, nuzzling into his hoodie.

"I missed you."

Jeno shrugs, not enough to shove you off though because your cheek rolls a little further on his chest, immobilizing his left arm. "You saw me this morning."

"Yeah, but -" You slide into his lap, resting your head over his thighs. He lifts his elbows a little higher, as you squirm around, nudging your face toward the ceiling, though you stare at him, only him. It gives him some comfort, and his hand moves automatically, coming down to caress your face. "- I don't know," you confess, "I guess I just felt a little ..." You scrunch your nose, and he rubs away the lines in your cheeks, making you grab his wrist, dragging him onto your stomach, twiddling with his long, nimble fingers. "... insecure? Lonely? Maybe?"

"Is that a question?"

"No," you shake your head. You turn on your side, burying your face in his abdomen. Jeno drops the remaining LEGO pieces and threads his free hand in your hair, matting it backwards. You sigh, deeply, "I guess I might just need some extra support, or something, right now. I love you, you know."

"Mmhmm," he nods, because he does know, that you love him. "I love you, too." It's just that Jeno doesn't like the idea of someone occupying your time the way he should. So, he lays down on the ground, too, scooting back a bit until you're face-to-face, albeit upside down, like a Spider-Man kiss. And he blinks up from your lips to eyes, seeing you watch him. "I'm sorry," he apologizes first.

You offer him a small smile. "You don't have to be sorry. It's not your fault." Tentatively, you stutter a hand toward his hair, only digging your fingers in his scalp after he nods an okay, though he also confirms that he thinks it's his fault, from how much he has been pulling away this week. "I just need some extra support, if you're able."

"And if I'm not?"

You tilt your head to the side, and Jeno frowns.

"If I'm not enough?" he clarifies.

"Then," you kiss him quickly before he can respond, elongating it for another moment, "we can support each other." You hold his chin still, staring him in the eyes. "But you are," you enunciate, "enough, more than enough."

Lee Haechan

You should have stayed home.

Really.

Haechan didn't even want to go out, didn't even want to come to the restaurant. He was content staying at home, drinking wine from tumblers rather than these elongated goblets; he already bought you flowers. You don't need to hold a glass stem and drink wine over an unreasonably exorbitant dinner. He has the same wine at home(!), the exact same Boudreaux you ordered, and he can make a steak just as well.

Okay, maybe not, but he can have Jaemin make a steak for you just as well as the chef at this restaurant, or he could order it to home. Or you could eat the really good lobster that his mom made him take yesterday. And you could pop open the rosé, over rose-scented candles, instead of the cheap taper candle - a single one - decorating your current tablecloth. There are people, too, sitting so much closer than he would like, preventing him from having an actual conversation with you.

Oh, and it got worse when the waiter started flirting with you.

At first, neither of you noticed, focused more on the menu, debating between steak or mushroom bruschetta to pair with the Boudreaux you love. Then, you laughed at some stupid joke, politely, probably, if Haechan were more level-headed, less peeved, and the waiter started flirting more enthusiastically.

"Babe?"

"Hmm?" You tilt your chin at him, still swirling your wine, reading off the drinks list.

"Baby," he tries again, whining the last syllable further. And you toss him a short glance, smile extending longer than your gaze. "Baby," he sighs, "can't you pay attention to me?"

"I am," you answer, and finally put down the small menu, but you stay there, far away from him. So, Haechan stands up, halfway, pulling your chair next to his until he sits down with his arm behind your shoulders. Haechan touches his forehead on yours, making you maintain eye contact, noses brushing together. "What's wrong, my love?" you ask him, rubbing his free arm.

In lieu of an answer, he drops his hand down your knee, curling under your skirt.

"My love?" you try again.

And he stops moving his hand up your dress, stopping as far as your thighs separate, fingers itching toward your underwear. He exhales once, twice, breath shaking, then looks at you through his glasses. "I like it when you call me that."

"What? My love?"

Haechan nods. "Makes me feel like I'm yours," he mumbles.

You giggle at him, patting his arm. "Because you are, dummy." You peck his lips, falling back into your chair before he has the chance to deepen the kiss. He feels like he lost you again tonight, or like he has the potential to lose you, so he tenses his fingers between your thigh, opposite hand incidently rocking your chair up so high that you slide into his lap. "My love," your breath hitches again.

And Haechan nods, kissing your neck a little longer, tongue tracing his name in your skin.

"Yours." ♡

Na Jaemin

Honestly, he shouldn't be staring. But Jaemin could burn a hole in your head, or obliterate that guy you're with - Juyeon, or Juhyon, or something.

It was a coincidence that Jaemin even sees you here, at this nightclub, with an absurd ₩70,000 entrance fee. Mark only convinced him to go after promising to do his scut for the weekend.

That, and Jaemin may or may not have been stalking your Instagram; especially after you removed him from your close friends story - he knows, because Renjun is still on your list. You pushed him onto some other list with more people he couldn't see, not that he knew anyone on your following; you're not even really friends, just met through Renjun at some hookup party. And you do hookup with him, whenever he calls, which isn't as often as he thought, evidently, he considers now, since he apparently doesn't know what you do the other days of the week.

Like wear that black mini-dress while dancing on Juyeon, of all people.

Jaemin rolls his eyes and sips his beer, wincing in the same second when it touches his lips (Haechan is a liar, and he is not taking beer recommendations ever again). He has been waiting for about 15 or 20 minutes, for you to notice him, just acknowledge that he is here, in the same space as you, but you remain oblivious, sliding your arms in the air, shimming in front of Juyeon, who keeps trying to bring your waist close. It takes another ten minutes before he slams his empty glass on the bar, spinning around to trudge the dance floor.

Except, as he spins around, narrowly missing a line of Kamikaze shots placed a little too close to the edge, he bumps into you, literally. His arm swerves over your head, and he takes a step back to avoid making the both of you fall down. And you catch his waist, with both hands, a short leg stepping between his, for balance, his spinning head tells him.

"Jaemin?" you call, standing on your toes to whisper in his ear. Instinctively, he steadies your waist, toppling your heels down to the ground, leaning his ear to your lips. "Did you hear me?"

The Jaemin in question pulls back, slightly, his nose grazing yours. He flickers his eyes up and finds you staring at him, granted less intense than he had been, breath hitched at the back of your mouth, slowly scanning his entire face. Jaemin brushes your hair behind your ear, needlessly, most of it tied up. The glitter stickers highlight the actual makeup high on your cheekbones, under the blue false lashes mixed in with brown ones. His hand lingers over your face, wrist tilting head back, chin up, long fingers making you stand still, gaze dipping back and forth between your lips and eyes. And fortunately, all the other couples - whether they came together or hooked up - blend you two with the rest of the crowd, little bubbles of intimacy keeping everyone separated. You all ignore each other, per atmosphere, so Jaemin takes the opportunity to kiss you.

"No," he confesses, pecking you quickly, once, twice, three times, dragging your neck along with every move he does to deepen it. "I wasn't listening." Jaemin breaks first, squeezing your waist tighter, because you might have to get back to Juyeon on the dance floor. And he closes his eyes, leaning in again, lips ghosting a breath over yours. "Come home with me," he asks, and he squeezes again. "Just ... come home with me."

"Jaemin ..." you start, but he kisses his name off your lips, even quicker, replacing it with a soft moan. He bumps you against the bar, his knuckles taking most of the blunt force, against the wood, holding you steady as he waddles impossibly close. You seem to respond, fingers dipping into his bicep, puckering back. Then, you shake your head, knocking him away. "Jaemin, I'm here with someone else."

"Don't be. Come home with me." Jaemin's voice cracks, "Please? Just be with me, not him." He squeezes you again, stuttering down your lips, slotting his leg between your knees. Jaemin peeks both his eyes open, just a crack, and finds you nodding at him.

"Okay, let's go."

Zhong Chenle

"Your shirt looks so nice," the girl at his left compliments, fawning over the empty seat, even though she probably can't see the full Go, Go, Power-Rangers logo under both his bomber jacket and the dim club lights. The sole light source comes from the shelves behind the bar on which Chenle leans, only his brown hair shining obviously as he nods, slowly, eyes trained on the path to the bathroom. "I'd love to see it more," she tries, leaning even closer, almost touching his arm.

Then, he raises his hand, sliding further down the bar.

And you walk toward him, waving, "Hey," all the way until you take the stool he saved for you on his right. You also grab the glass of wine he kept not-so-subtly hidden behind his elbow and eye the meniscus without looking at him. "Have you been drinking my wine?"

Chenle just smiles at you. His arm snakes under your arms, high on your torso, as he nuzzles into your neck, chest prepped to laugh, but you smack him.

"You can order your own!"

He kisses your jugular, just once, briefly, giggling more animatedly than he had been talking to the girl, who is still there (!) by the way.

"I did," Chenle answers, "but I think the bartender likes you more. He didn't pay any attention to me while you were gone those whole ten minutes," he pouts.

"Umm," the girl interrupts, "Excuse me?"

"Mmm," you swallow the remaining ounce of wine and put it back behind Chenle on the table, tapping the rim twice at one of the bartenders for a refill. You extend your arm for a handshake, across your boyfriend's chest, but she just stares at it, at your fingers, at the matching, dainty watch adorning your wrist, until you retract, both hands now resting on Chenle's shoulder. "Did you want to drink with us? We're just waiting for our table." You lean in closer, like giving away a secret, and Chenle laughs into the air, catching your waist before you fall off the stool. "We got here early for the cucumber martinis because they stop serving them at 7, and this one -" You point at Chenle. "- can't mix a drink for shit."

"Hey!" He pulls you upright, standing full in front of you, back toward the girl as he fixes the straps of your dress. "I spike your lemonades just fine." The bartender, who ignored him earlier, gives him a suspicious look, to which Chenle tries to wave off, showing that you are his girlfriend who frequents his home and has sex with him willingly. And he brings you down the stool, under his wing, incidentally flashing his inappropriate-for-a-Michelin-restaurant Power Rangers t-shirt. "Plus, I don't have to mix the Sauvignon Blanc when I cook you dinner."

"No," you crinkle your nose, pushing his face away, laughing at his pout. "You just make me wash the dishes." In the minute beat, you look back, over his shoulder, and see the girl finally gone, then you settle back onto the stool, pulling Chenle, by his open jacket, between your legs. "Oh, no," you feign, pouting and running your hands down his sides, "Your new friend left. Do you think it was my fault?"

Chenle kisses the top of your head, giggling into your hair. "Were you jealous?" he teases. You don't answer; you just bite your lip and trap him tighter, heels almost making him plié before you, fists wrinkling his shirt. "You don't have anything to worry about, princess," he whispers and pecks you quickly. "You're my one and only. I wouldn't do anything to create a misunderstanding like that." He kisses you deeper, attaching his hands down your waist, rubbing circles with his thumbs, as you wrap your arms around his neck, half standing off the chair to kiss him better, the sweet red wine taste staining your tongue. "With anyone," he clarifies, palm caressing your cheek, to stop you from jumping his bones in this very public bar-restaurant. "You know you're my girl."

He kisses you again, pressing your back into the bar, folding your neck 90-degrees against your spine. Your chin rolls around, letting out a silent open-mouthed moan, and Chenle slips his tongue down your throat, dissipating that sweet, dry flavor off your lips, gently breathing life back into your mouth. He rubs the hair in front of your ear, thumb growing outward to draw his three-letter initials on your cheeks. You kick your leg up, inner thigh resting on his outer one. He feels your dress slip up, shorter, over his pants, and whimpers a small praise about your soft lips.

Then, the bartender who shows you a little too much favoritism comes back, tapping your cup on the counter, and Chenle, panting, shields you away from the new glass of wine, frowning at all five ounces.

"On second thought, maybe we should just go home."

Park Jisung

Jisung pulls you into his chest, around your shoulders, spinning you until your back faces that bartender, the one at whom he glares.

"How's your drink, baby?" he asks through shaky breath, teeth gritted. Jisung puffs out his chest too, while you finish another sip, nearly moaning, and pushes his thumb into his pocket, readjusting the front of his leather pants that you hide.

"Mmm, fresh,." you answer, obliviously, wiping the corner of your mouth with your index finger, platinum couple ring shining a few digits down under the colorful changing lights. You smack your painted pink lips together, loud enough for him to hear above the club music. "Can't even taste the vodka, really, and -" You raise the small glass to his lips, prompting him to sample your free drink, too, which he does, tongue pushing back on the rip before you spill all over his white shirt. "- the cucumbers are still crisp."

Jisung nods, a slice hitting his top lip. He has to hold your wrist still when you start trembling, splashing a drop of alcohol on his chest. You do nothing about it, simply curling into his torso, an arm belting behind his waist, feet waddling around his, resting your cheek between his open jacket zippers.

"Better be," he mumbles, chest vibrating.

"What was that?" you ask, almost innocently, staring at him through your eyelashes, cucumber martini glass finding your hand behind his back. And he wonders whether you looked at that guy - the bartender - like this, wide-eyed and pouting, tongue poking through the seam of your lips, when you got this free drink, never mind tonight's sample offer over the experimental martini. "Ji...sung," you hiccup between his name, placing a hand over his chest, his heart.

But he frowns, even deeper, and takes down your hand. A little too forcefully, given the way you step back, on your own, wobbling backwards over your heels. You tilt your head to the side, not-so-subtly checking him out, and raise an eyebrow. Jisung doesn't bother to look at you, simply inhaling, raising his broad shoulders taller. He rolls his eyes to the right, incidentally at the bar, with the bartender. And he glares again.

Jisung tightens his arm around your waist. And he knows - he knows how this looks: possessive, possibly overbearing, protective, which is what he half-wants. He also knows that he indirectly tells you not to touch, despite holding you closer, his fingers clenching into a fist that pushes you deeper into his wide chest. You hand balances over his pec to keep you both balanced upright without anything behind him to catch either of you from falling.

But he mumbles, "Don't touch," teeth nearly scraping each other, individually, and, again, he takes your hand down, making you frown as equally deep, though your brows furrow as high as your gaze. You wrap all your fingers around your cup, and he curls his hands into your dress, digging toward the hem, incidentally pulling the material up, just below your underwear. "I don't like you flirting with other guys," he confesses, eyes fluttering shut.

Jisung's hands grab you simultaneously, in the same way, one at your waist and the other at your neck; your own hands bracing your cup against his chest. He sighs, dropping his chin down your cheek, pressing a kiss behind your ear. Your drink is still an inconvenience. So, Jisung takes it, placing it on a random table, then drags you into a private room and jostles you against the door, accidentally increasing the distance. He just moved too fast, and you still comply, not touching him. In the wait, you lick your lips, chest heaving high. And he pushes you backwards again, slower this time, by your hips, guiding you onto a firm surface as he descends. He stops halfway, drawing back a millimeter on his next breath, flickering his eyes at yours. They're already closed. So, he leans in.

"You should only be flirting with me."

And he almost closes his eyes, too, pausing halfway again to watch you anticipate his kiss, teetering on your toes, fingers twitching toward him. The urge to blink forces him to look away before he sees you pout, equally. But he feels it.

Jisung feels the way you roll around your head as he opens his mouth wide, searching for the best angle to kiss you. He puckers his lips sideways, simply pressing on your mouth, almost cutting off your response (if you were going to say anything). And when you gasp, silently, letting him sneak his bottom lip between your teeth, he cracks open his eyes, only slightly, enough to make sure that you're enjoying this, enjoying him, only him. You bite him on a close, barely using your teeth to keep him from leaving again, and he runs his thumb along the side of your face, outside your ear, long fingers supporting your head when you falter.

But you don't pull away.

Instead, you fist his shirt, incidentally pulling it from his pants. And he drives you into the wall, changing the slope of his nose, reflecting it over yours on the other side, brows falling further. Jisung catches you right as you lick your lips and sucks your tongue in his mouth. You mewl, breathless, something audible - although incoherent - finally escaping. And he returns it, moaning an mmmh. His hand at your waist, hits the wall, bracing himself from going too far, moving too fast. You drag him closer, one thigh between your legs, fingers touching his Adonis belt.

And he has to pull away first.

"I don't like you flirting with other guys," he repeats, more winded this time.

"You're the only guy I want to flirt with, Jisung."

#nct dream fanfic #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct suggestive #nct fanfic #renjun x reader #mark lee x reader #park jisung x reader #jeno x reader #jaemin x reader #haechan x reader #nct dream reactions #nct reactions #nct dream drabbles #nct drabbles #mia.txt

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