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deakyjoe · 2 months

Text

Absolution

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader (afab, fem)

Category: smut, sex pollen

Summary: Obi-Wan really should have let his curiosity go and avoided that flower.

Warnings: 18+, smut (!!), sex pollen, slight dubcon (because of sex pollen but all consensual), unprotected p in v sex, master kink, slight sub!obi-wan, slight dom!reader, reader talks obi-wan through it basically, suggestions of inappropriate use of a lightsaber, virgin!obi-wan, religious guilt, hints of reader’s past feelings, reader kind of ignores some Jedi rules, kissing, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, a lot of talks of fluids I feel, slight angst I guess, let me know if I missed anything!

Word count: 4.9k

A/N: Happy May the Fourth! Happy Star Wars Day! Wrote an Obi-Wan fic last year so thought I’d keep up the tradition this year as well. It’s not the best thing I’ve ever written, certainly not the best smut, but I did end up rushing it a little to get it posted today so… sorry! This is for @lightwxlker who I told about this over lunch at uni <3 (feel free to read but please never look me in the eye again if you do). Can’t wait to see you later to see The Phantom Menace!!

Consider buying me a coffee :)

Absolution:

(Noun)

Formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment.

Declaration that a person’s sins have been forgiven.

It felt like you'd been trekking through the dense forest for days. Really, it had only been a few hours. But with no end in sight, and Obi-Wan's continuous promise of almost there, you were convinced that the two of you had been lost for about a week.

The Jedi had told you that you were in search of a hidden community that had answers to some questions that the Council had about... something. You didn't know. You rarely paid attention when Obi-Wan explained these things. As much as you respected him, these briefings started to sound the same after a while. It was the thing he reprimanded you for most often.

"Can we-" You wheezed. "Can we stop for just a minute?"

"Soon." He called over his shoulder simply, pushing aside a leafy branch for the both of you to pass through.

You considered pushing him over, tripping him up maybe, and even just stabbing him with your lightsaber. Just to have a break for a moment. It was unclear how he managed to walk through dense forest for hours on end without even a hint of fatigue peeking through. You envied him for it.

Luckily, your prayers were answered when a clearing appeared. It was small, sheltered by the canopy of trees above you, but it was a good place to stop. You didn't even have to say the word, Obi-Wan already knew what you wanted.

"Fine, rest here for a moment." He sighed, pointing at a rock.

You collapsed quickly, thankful for the brief reprieve, and watched as the Jedi made a slow circle around the clearing. He was inspecting every little thing there was to see. If there was one thing you had in common with the man, it was your curiosity and thirst for knowledge.

"Rather fascinating." He mumbled to himself, ignoring the burning of your stare on his back as he moved, poking at a fungus of some kind with the tip of his finger.

"Be careful. It might be poisonous." You warned, stretching out your legs in front of you.

"I know my living organisms." He replied steadily, pulling up and moving on to the next one.

It was a flower. Rather large, with pinkish petals and an indigo centre extending on from a bright green stem. It looked vaguely familiar to you. You racked your brain, thinking about the botany books you'd spent your spare time reading when Obi-Wan had insisted that you should know more about the planets you were constantly visiting.

Nothing was coming to you. Maybe you hadn't seen it in one of those books. Your head tilted as you watched the Jedi stroke gently at the petals with the backs of his fingers, mumbling about how it felt soft, and something came back to you when the flower seemed to move of its own accord.

"Get back." You shot up from the rock you were previously sitting on and took a quick step towards him.

"It's fine." He insisted, not looking at you - too entranced by the flower as he continued to caress the petals. He didn't know this one. He found it intriguing.

You remembered where you'd seen the flower before. A book hidden deep in the archives, where you ventured when you knew no one was looking, part of a collection of things that the Jedi were not supposed to have interest in.

Your pace picked up as the flower curled in on itself, the fleeting look of disappoint clear on Obi-Wan's face, reaching for his shoulder to wrench him back.

"No! Obi-Wan, stop!"

But it was too late.

As you made contact with his robes to pull him away, the flower blossomed open. A bright cloud of purple pollen burst out and coated the two of you, settling itself over your skin and infiltrating your lungs, and therefore your blood stream, as you breathed it in.

You coughed, scrubbing at yourself to try and get it off. But you knew you were past that.

The Jedi turned to you, surprised to see the panic in your eyes. "It's just flower pollen, nothing a little water won't wash away."

Your voice was shaky as you spoke. "What have you done?"

He frowned and glanced back at the plant. It wasn't one he recognised, granted, but he also hadn't been warned of anything dangerous in this area. So he really wasn't concerned. "I don't understand. What's wrong?"

"It's a flos venerem." You whispered. "We need to find shelter."

As you turned around in a slow circle, trying to decide which way you were more likely to find somewhere to figure everything out, Obi-Wan watched you with a curious gaze.

"And what is a flos venerem?"

You scoffed over your shoulder at him. "Do you ever read?"

You knew it was an unfair question considering the place you'd read about the flower wasn't one he, or any other Jedi, frequented but you were angry and frightened. Angry at him for not listening to your warnings. And frightened for yourself since you knew what the flower was going to do to you.

He looked on as you closed your eyes, feeling out with the Force. "Now is not the time to insult me. Tell me."

You whirled on him. "It's an aphrodisiac. A powerful one. And if we don't find shelter soon then you're going to be doing some strange things to these trees."

Obi-Wan frowned, puzzled by what you were saying. "Is there a cure?"

You laughed humourlessly, turning away from him again. "Is there a cure? Is there a cure, he asks. Ha!"

"An antidote?"

"No, there's no antidote." You hissed.

The effects of the pollen were already weighing on you. You imagined Obi-Wan was also feeling something as well, just unaware of it. At least you knew what you were supposed to be feeling. The Jedi Knight had no idea.

Your mouth felt dry, like sand on your tongue, and your skin was hot to the touch. A dull headache was forming at the base of your skull too and you knew these sensations would only get worse if you didn't do what the flower wanted you to. There really was only one way to fix it. But you couldn't find it in yourself to tell your companion the solution. You were ignoring the heavy feeling in the base of your abdomen.

Sensing your apprehension wasn't overstated, Obi-Wan pointed back in the direction you'd come from. "There was a cave a little while ago. We can go there and you can tell me more about this... aphrodisiac flower."

You only nodded, lacking the strength to tell him that you wouldn't be able to listen to his voice out of fear of what bodily responses that would cause in you. Your existing attraction to Obi-Wan would only be increased by the influence of the plant. And you were scared what you'd do, or what you'd suggest, to ease the feelings.

You started marching in the direction the two of you had come from, jumping away from Obi-Wan as he fell into step beside you and his shoulder brushed yours.

"Keep- keep your distance for a while." You muttered, pushing away the lick of heat that had shot through you at his proximity.

He frowned back at you, feeling bad for making you so clearly uncomfortable. "My apologies."

"It's okay. I'm just-" You cut yourself off with a groan.

Obi-Wan's stomach lurched at the sound. "You're just what?"

"The flower is making it difficult to be next to you." You turned your head away from him, desperately trying to breathe in the clean forest air and nothing else. But all you could smell was him. The scent was so strong that you could practically taste him, his skin, and it was making your mouth water.

"You're already feeling the effects of the flower?" He hummed, pondering. "I feel nothing so far."

It wasn't true. But he was completely unaware of what he was feeling. He put the dry mouth and headache down to minor exhaustion, the hike through the forest finally catching up with him. And the stirring he was feeling... down below was foreign. The Jedi secretly believed that maybe he was immune to the flower's influence.

He was severely wrong.

You glanced back at him, instantly looking away when you caught his wide-eyed gaze. His eyes were so blue, so familiar.

You marched ahead of him, ignoring his quiet protests as you urgently sought out the cave. It came into sights quickly and your pace picked up, practically running towards it now. When you reached it, you discarded your top layer of robes, the heat your body was producing making it feel as if you were melting, and left your lightsaber by the entrance to the stone shelter. You feared what you may do with it when the flower's effects got even worse.

Obi-Wan followed closely behind you and watched with curious attention at your actions, slightly puzzled when you made your way towards the back of the cave and sat down facing the wall.

"Sit over there." You pointed over your shoulder to a spot far away from yourself. "I need to think."

"Trying to remember an antidote?" He asked, wondering what there possibly was to think about right now. And without his help as well.

"Sure." You sighed, closing your eyes as you took a deep breath. You weren't thinking about an antidote since you knew there wasn't one. You were considering your options. Even though you knew they were limited. Very limited.

He trusted your word however, which was mildly foolish of him, and took a seat where you'd instructed him to do so. He kept his gaze on you, fixated on the back of your head, as he observed your breathing pick up and then slow back down several times of the course of a few minutes.

What Obi-Wan failed to notice was how his breathing was in tune with yours, increasing when yours did and lowering when yours did.

It didn't escape him though when the flower's influence started to manipulate his body even more. The dry mouth, dull headache, rapid heartbeat, and hardened dick were becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. And Obi-Wan couldn't stay in denial for much longer.

So he called out your name.

Big mistake.

You jumped at the sound, having to bite your tongue to prevent noise slipping from your lips, and glanced at him over your shoulder."Yes?"

"I believe the flower is finally setting in." He decided that was the best way to put it and not that the sight of you was making him think things he hadn't even considered since he was a lot younger.

You looked at him silently for a second too long, eyes flicking downwards before moving back up to meet his again. "Meaning?"

His brows creased for a moment. "You know."

You did. So you turned back towards the wall and stared at it. "I'm thinking really hard about it, okay? I'll work something out."

Lies.

Time progressed slowly, moving at a sluggish pace that had you wanting to claw your way out of the cave in temporary insanity, and you could hear Obi-Wan's condition growing steadily worse by the minute.

You were finding it a lot easier than him to control yourself, probably due to your more extensive knowledge on the subject of simple carnal pleasure. But Obi-Wan was losing it.

You kept your eyes focused on the stone in front of you, desperately trying to ignore the sounds that Obi-Wan was making behind you. The breathless whimpers that were leaving his mouth were heavenly to your ears, creating a pulse that shook through your body regularly. Despite the sounds making you feel good, it was getting harder and harder to stop yourself from giving in and crawling over to him. Especially since you could hear him tearing off at least one layer of his clothing.

"Obi-Wan, please be quiet." You whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.

To the Jedi your voice sounded husky, tempting almost. "I cannot help it. Please help me."

His voice was desperate, almost whiny, as he begged you for some sort of assistance. If only he knew what that assistance was.

You squeezed your eyes closed, resting your face in your hands. "I'm trying."

It was a lie. You knew that nothing could be done. The passage from the book you'd read about the flower had been very clear. Death was inevitable. Unless you engaged with someone... intimately.

It was the only method that would get your bodily reactions to calm down. If not, the next few days would be painful for the both of you. You'd be extremely aroused the whole time, heart racing at a million beats per minute, sweat would pour out of you and cause severe dehydration that would be impossible to remedy, and finally your body would give up from the sheer exhaustion of trying to handle it all. Then, you'd drop dead.

Just how exactly were you supposed to voice that to Obi-Wan, the man who'd boasted about his ability to follow the Order's rules for years, that the only way for the both of you to survive this was to sleep together? And how were you supposed to recover from possibly finally having the man you'd wanted for so long for just one night and then never again?

"I can sense that you're keeping something from me."

Your head snapped up at his statement. He was correct, sure, but you hadn't expected him to pick up on it in his state.

So you turned around to look at him, legs crossed in front of you and back against the wall to keep yourself as far from him as possible.

"There is one solution that I know of." You confessed, still thinking of a way to tell him.

"Just tell me. I know it's troubling you. It's okay." Obi-Wan's tone was soft and comforting.

You took a deep breath in. "You won't like it."

"Do we have a choice?"

You let the breath out again. "Death."

He released a tired and humourless chuckle. "I can assure you that I'll prefer whatever solution you have to death. So tell me."

You debated what words would spook the Jedi less. Were you clinical and informative? Or soft and subtle? The sweat dripping from his temple, begging to be licked away by the tip of your tongue, was telling you to be harsh and raw with him.

Your gaze fixed on his mouth. "We have to have sex, Obi-Wan. Multiple times probably." The last part was added on for emphasis, meant to draw a reaction out of him.

He gave it to you. His already flushed cheeks reddened some more, eyes darting away from yours momentarily. It's not that the antidote was unexpected, he figured that it would lead somewhere like this considering the two of you had been contaminated by an aphrodisiac, but he thought maybe that there would be another solution. Or that you'd at least beat around the bush a little more.

Obi-Wan didn't know how to tell you that he'd never done something like that before so wouldn't even know where to start.

Little did he know that you were already well aware of that fact.

"I'll guide you through it." You paused. "But once we get started I don't think you'll need much guidance. The effects of the pollen will probably lead you."

His eyes snapped back to you, a frown pinching between them. "And what do you know of it?"

"Obi-Wan..." You mumbled, tilting your head down slightly to give him a meaningful look.

He didn't look thrilled at the notion.

You scoffed, annoyance bubbling at his obvious judgement. "We all have a past."

He knew what you meant. Sure, everyone had a past. He just didn't realise you had that sort of past. Still, he realised he had no place to pass judgement against you.

Heat pulsed between your thighs at the sudden wide-eyed apologetic look he was giving you. A groan rumbled in your chest and you squeezed your eyes shut.

"I see that this is hard for you." He whispered and you attempted to hold back a laugh thinking that this probably wasn't the only thing that was hard. "So, how about you come over here and... show me what we have to do."

You looked back at him, surprised by the boldness he was showing. Yes, he wasn't a shy man by any means but you thought he'd have been a bit less confident in this situation. Or maybe the whole thing would just be so meaningless to him that he thought it'd be easy.

Obi-Wan could feel random muscles in his body clenching as you stared at him. He'd never felt like this before. He'd always known that you were beautiful, it was impossible to ignore, but he'd never thought much else of it. But now? He couldn't do anything else apart from think about it.

You slowly pushed yourself up from your seated position and fell onto your hands and knees, too tense to stand up, and made your way towards him steadily. He was surprised to find himself practically buzzing at the sight of you crawling towards him, a ravenous look on your face. You stopped about a foot in front of him, looking up into his eyes through your eyelashes.

A hand reached out for you.

You took it.

With his help, you settled yourself over Obi-Wan's lap, a leg either side of his thighs so you straddled him. You didn't let your weight rest on him just yet, wanting to check in quickly to make sure he was okay. It was taking everything in your power not to start touching him all over despite your overactive brain basically screaming at you to do so.

His eyes moved rapidly, taking you in as he searched across your body. A hand landed on either of your hips, encouraging you to move closer to him. So you did, chest pushing slightly against his and weight pressing into his lap as you sat down. The both of you let out a sigh at the contact, pain eased for just a few moments.

It was then that you noticed you'd sat on something extremely hard.

"Is that a lightsaber in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" You chuckled, about to reach down to remove the weapon from the inside of his robes.

But Obi-Wan's eyes flickered over your shoulder to somewhere behind you. Slowly, you turned to see what he was looking out, a small pinch between your eyebrows, and saw where you'd discarded your own lightsaber earlier. What you were surprised to find was his lightsaber resting up against a rock beside yours.

"Oh." You croaked and looked back at him, eyes shooting to his crotch for a brief moment. "You are just happy to see me."

"The flower." He grumbled lowly.

Your heart fell momentarily, your face along with it, before you recovered and looked downwards towards his chest. "Right, of course."

Realising he'd made a fatal mistake, Obi-Wan placed a finger under your chin and tilted your head up to make eye contact again. "A combined effect of the flower and... you."

Your mouth dropped open for a second, dazed by his statement, before a smile blossomed along your face. "There was one thing I forgot to mention."

"And what was that?" His eyes were fixed on your mouth now.

"The flower's effects are stronger and fast acting if you are already attracted to the person you're with at the time of exposure." You leaned towards him closer, the tips of your noses brushing against each other. "I expected to feel the influence at least an hour or two before you did, Master."

A soft sound, somewhere between a moan and a whine, escaped his lips at the use of the title. It surprised you, you hadn't thought he'd be into that kind of thing. You didn't give him a chance to give you a real response though, the noise he'd just made finally pushing you over the edge.

You cupped his face in your hands and kissed him, thumbs swiping over his cheeks to wipe the purple pollen away. He let out another sound at that, this one more shocked, but equally as unrestrained. Your mouth opened just in time to catch it and swallow it against your own moan at finally feeling his lips melding with yours.

Usually, in the past, you’d have some sense of patience in this situation. But it’s like the feeling of his skin under your palms and his lips against yours, your tongue in his mouth, sent the pollen vibrating in your bloodstream. And before you knew it, your hands were tearing at his clothes, absolutely desperate to get them off.

And while Obi-Wan was a little more hesitant than you, inexperience slowing him down, once he felt how eager you were he could only join in on the action. His hands were soft, almost silky, like they hadn’t ever seen a day of hard labour in his life, and they sent warm bursts of electricity through you as they slid against your skin.

All barriers between you were removed in less than a minute, although time seemed to be flying now that you’d actually gotten beyond just staring at each other and ignoring all feelings your body had been screaming at you to address.

“Do you know what comes next, Master?” You questioned, wondering how out of practice he really was.

Obi-Wan seemed to pause, taking a long thought, before saying anything. “I’ve never done this before.”

“I know.” You said and he seemed both embarrassed and surprised. “That’s not what I was asking. Do you know what happens?”

“I’ve heard things.” He admitted slowly.

Up until this point you’d been trying to avoid looking down at his naked body. Sure, the two of you had been pretty enthusiastic in taking the other’s clothes off but neither of you had verbally stated what you were comfortable with actually doing. That didn’t mean you couldn’t feel every inch of him pressing against you though. Somehow in the tumble of robe removal, you’d slid forward on his lap which had caused your torsos to connect. And you hadn’t bothered to move back again.

You searched his face for any sign of discomfort, finding none. “Can I touch you?”

He sputtered. “You already are.”

“No-“ You took a deep breath. “Can I touch you… down there?”

You were hesitant to say certain words to him, cringing at just the thought of them coming out of your mouth and entering his ears. You shouldn’t be shy about this, having done this countless times before. But now you were doing it with Obi-Wan, someone you admired with the deepest affection, it felt different. A good different but different nonetheless.

“Oh.” The flush he’d been sporting across his face stretched to meet the tip of his ears and you reached up to tuck some hair back away from them. “Yes, you can.”

You could see that the lust the flower caused had taken over all rational thought as his irises, usually so blue and bright, had been consumed by his pupils dilating. Was this a good idea, you silently wondered? Did he truly want this? Or was the flos venerem speaking for him?

Before you had the chance to ponder over that even more, the animal instincts in your brain took over and your hand was wrapping around his, pretty sizeable, cock.

He hissed at the sensation of your warm palm touching him and you observed his reaction with hungry curiosity. You liked the way his eyes fluttered closed and his teeth sunk into his bottom lip, the way his head snapped back against the cave wall and he didn’t even seem to notice that it should’ve hurt. He was too absorbed in the pleasurable way that you were touching him.

You were touching him.

Obi-Wan felt as if he were flying amongst the stars.

Your hand slid up and down his length, taking in every minor reaction he gave you to see what he liked. The answer was: he liked all of it. No matter the pace of your strokes, the pressure of your squeeze, or the angle of the twist, Obi-Wan revelled in it all.

Every sound he made caused what felt like a flood to pour from between your thighs, skin prickling with flames of desire. You increased the speed of the pumps against his shaft, feeling him twitch in your hand. Obi-Wan started babbling to himself, something you couldn’t quite understand but realised were certainly happy mumblings. It didn’t take much more until he was orgasming, cum spurting out of him in hot ropes and coating both of your stomachs.

You weren’t surprised to see that he remained hard. At least the botany books hadn’t lied to you about the multiple times thing.

“Need you inside me now, Obi-Wan.” You whispered, pleased when his eyes seemed to spark with something akin to excitement. Pushing yourself up slightly, you took him in your hand again and aligned him with your entrance. Notching him against you, you inched down onto him slowly, feeling your hips stutter willing you to go faster, and watched his face scrunch up in pleasure.

“Does that feel good?” You asked despite knowing the answer. You just wanted to hear him say something, even a noise of approval would work for you.

He nodded rapidly and whined. “Yes, yes.”

Pleasure rocketed up your spine, walls clenching around him and he whimpered again. His hips bucked up underneath you and your eyes rolled back in your head.

He did it again.

You came.

A shocked laugh escaped your throat as the orgasm rippled through. You hadn’t realised it would be that easy but given that you’d denied yourself any friction and stimulation for way too long considering the situation you were in, it only made sense.

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened. “Did you just-?”

“Yes.” You sighed and rocked your hips against his, thighs still trembling with the aftershock.

“Stars-“ He gasped, head falling forward to bury his face in your neck. You smiled at the feeling of his beard scratching against your skin and moved faster.

Time became a haze, multiple orgasms rolled into a blur, and before you know it you felt like you couldn’t move anymore. Your legs ached, your body dripped with sweat and your breathing was shaky and uneven.

But you were determined for one more.

Obi-Wan gasped about it being too much but couldn’t stop himself from continuing to thrust up underneath you. Which you were thankful for considering you could feel your thighs cramping up and barely managing to support your weight. His arms locked around you, trapping you against him, as he pounded into you urgently like he was chasing something. He was really. And you could understand.

“Come on, Master, just one more.” You murmured against his temple.

It took only those words of encouragement for Obi-Wan to spill inside you once again, the feeling of that setting you off as well. And finally the two of you relaxed, the pollen’s effects wearing away.

The two of you sat against each other breathless for a moment before you eased up off of him and settled beside him. He immediately collapsed against you, sliding down until his head met your lap. You placed a hand in his hair as his breathing slowed down to a normal pace.

Now that the high had passed, guilt was setting in.

“What have I done?” Obi-Wan croaked, burying his face against your thighs.

You froze, knowing you should be feeling this same shame but not finding it in yourself to care. At least not right now. “It’s okay.”

“No!” He almost wailed. “I broke- I broke rules. Sacred Jedi code.”

“You had no choice. It was either that or death.” Tears stung at the backs of your eyeballs, willing yourself not to crack and break down. He needed you to be strong. “There was no other way.”

He knew you were right, a small seed of relief buried deep in his chest. He didn’t have another choice. But then there was another matter…

You continued to try to make him feel better. "The council will forgive you, Obi-Wan. It couldn't have been helped."

The Jedi could only nod in reply. That wasn't what worried him anymore, your logical argument had been enough to reassure him of that. What did worry him is how much he wanted it to happen again.

He glanced up at you. "What about you? Can you forgive me?"

You paused, hand stilling against the side of his head. "There's nothing to be forgiven."

"Please." He whispered against your skin. "Please just-"

It hurt you to hear the break in his voice. A man, usually so confident, reduced to this. All because of something out of his control.

You took a deep breath, stared straight ahead at the cave wall opposite you, tears in your eyes and a hand combing through his hair. "I forgive you, Obi-Wan."

A/N: I listened to Star Wars ambience on YouTube as I wrote most of this. Hope you enjoyed!

#obi wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi fic #obi wan kenobi fanfic #obi wan kenobi smut #obi wan #obi wan x reader #obi wan x you #obi wan smut #obi wan fic #obi wan fanfic #star wars #deakyjoe’s fics #deakyjoe’s writing #ej’s fics #ej’s writing

228 notes · View notes

m0uchie · 2 months

Note

Same person from the fem!Scara question!! I don't want to pressure you much tbh so sorry if I do I really am 😭🙏

Maybe like fem!Scara x fem!reader and you can choose if you want it to be fluff or smut I don't really mind either whatever you feel more confident with!❤️

⟡ you hate her (do you really?), but she’s the only way you can get better grades

— pairing : f!scaramouche x f!reader

— warnings : NSFW; humping; fingering; semi-public?; scara’s a bit degrading (she might say something hurtful but she also calls you “love”)

— a/n : don't worry about it, you're not pressuring me!! ;) ISTG IT WAS GONNA BE FLUFF WITH SOME SMUT AND ANGST AND SLOWBURN, BUT I GOT TOO HORNY IM SORRY!!!

The classroom was a mess again.

Every time it ended up like this, no matter how many different classes the two of you had together, she always managed to make friends in all of them, and her charm attracted people of all genders to her table.

Not that this fact bothered you, since you didn't have many friends in college. But it was different when she always sat next to you and talked in the middle of classes to whoever was next to her.

“Ah… excuse me, do you have a pencil?” You sigh, watching the interaction unfold in front of you. Your left cheek resting on your hand, and a girl with long indigo hair turns with a bright smile to hand the pencil to the colleague next to you.

As always, you were right to assume that it wouldn't end there. Soon the girl starts chattering about her life, exchanging phone numbers with flushed cheeks and biting her lips as she twirls a strand of green hair around her index finger. Scaramouche just responded with a smile and a nod, as usual. She was aware of her attractiveness to both boys and girls, but fooling around wasn't her focus at the moment. That's what she always said.

It irritated you how uncommunicative she was and yet it made her one of the most famous people around campus. Known for her perfect shiny hair, clean and soft skin, big round eyes and lashes that made her look like a doll. In addition to the perfect grades she got in every subject. There was nothing she was bad at, and yet, she still managed to handle her time perfectly to be so social, while also studying to the point of fainting. You don't quite know why though.

But despite everything, you didn't blame her, because deep down you knew it was your fault for not being like her, not being her. She would never know what was going on in your head, nor you in hers. And you’d never expose your dark thoughts for others to hear knowing how wrong you were for thinking that way. You would just have to stay as far away from her as possible. It wasn't that difficult, was it?

So why were you in the library, hugging Scaramouche's arm between your legs like a whore? Begging her to help you with your grades while wiggling your ass and looking at her with those puppy dog eyes like it was just an innocent offer?

To Scaramouche, you were nothing less than an ant. Hiding in the corner and focusing on writing down every single word the teacher said. In any case, your grades always fell and hers went up. Your frustrated expression whenever you received the results of a test and the crumpling of your trembling hands on the paper gave you away. She didn't care enough though, it wasn't her problem.

The different could be said about you, and she could almost feel sorry for those deep dark circles and those teary eyes, accompanied by the wet panties of someone whose pussy hadn’t been touched by an experienced hand in oh so long and someone who was willing to give everything in exchange for better grades and lessons by Scaramouche.

Her silly fingers taking advantage to ghost lightly above your heat, wondering why you wore such short and revealing skirts when you were a complete prude known for rejecting so many guys, almost forgetting your hopeful face desperately waiting for an answer.

Scaramouche's smile makes you swallow hard. She doesn't give you any comfort, despite the words she utters: “let's meet in the study room from now on then. Give me your number so we can choose the days for our meetings.”

You should be relieved, you will no longer need to turn to such low measures to get some alone time with the girl. You thought. But was it right to assume that she wasn’t gonna ask anything in return just because she hadn't responded to your offer to do anything for her? This was too easy.

The days when you were in the study room were peaceful. No one could hear anything from outside, just as you couldn't hear anything happening outside the room. Scaramouche was patient and explained you carefully, you hung on every word and it often left your mind in the clouds.

“Getting distracted, are we?” She said the first time, which made your face blush. Since when could a woman's voice get into your mind like that?

Calm wasn't the right word to describe how she sounded to you, because what your body felt was a hint of anything but calm in those moments.

“I brought some sweets. You like them, don't you? Let's take a coffee break."

And every time you were distracted, she would fill you with sweets and talk to you, keeping the atmosphere easy going and comfortable.

The week for your finals was approaching. Your anxiousness distracted you even more when you met, and Scaramouche tried to be as patient as possible through it. But with things going on at home and having to force a smile on her face at college all the time, she was at her limit.

It happened quite often. She’d put up with a lot of bullshit and the patience you started to grow familiar with, would wear thin the moment you ask her to explain the subject to you one more again. She’d make you be the one to pay for her headache this time.

And you did.

“Getting distracted again, are we?” Something in her voice changed, you couldn't wrap your mind around what. Maybe the hint of cynicism, or the gravity in the gentle tone she always carried in her voice. Something changed.

“‘M sorry… I’ll do better.” You apologized for the nth time in the same day, making Scaramouche's eyelid twitch in irritation.

“Well, I didn’t bring any sweets this time, isn’t that such a shame?” You slowly nod when she doesn't continue her speech and looks at you as if waiting for an answer before getting up and walking around your chair, standing behind it. “I’ll have to keep you busy some other way. Always being a dead weight.” She muttered the last part, but you could hear it anyway. Your heartbeat increasing dangerously when she sighs and holds your face with one hand, squeezing your cheeks and turning it towards the giant mirror that was next to the study table.

“Weren’t you eager at first to give me something in return for teaching you? I want it now.” She demands, slowly releasing your face and reaching down to aggressively squeeze your breast through your clothes, making you gasp in surprise.

“You're so nervous that your nipples are hard all the time. Are you not aware of what a bra is, love?” Her hand makes space between the valley of your breasts. A tight strapless that made your torso so accessible to Scaramouche. Both for her touches and for her lustful eyes to see.

Her finger surrounds your hardened bud, while she lowers her other hand to your belly all the way to your pelvis and presses deliciously down there, making you throw your head back and lay on the girl's shoulder.

“If you eased your frustrations, you wouldn't be so worried about these stupid tests. Do you even touch yourself?” Your cheeks redden and you purse your lips together from embarrassment. “So… do you?” She asks again, clearly demanding an answer from you, and takes it as enough when you shake your head no.

“Too busy for that?” She scoffs, and all you want to do is stick your head under the ground. “It’s our break now, so you’re not wasting any time since we wouldn’t be studying right now anyway.”

She lifts your clothes over your breasts completely and takes off your skirt, leaving you in just your panties wetting the chair with the slick that coats your fabric.

“Look at this delicious tits…” she flicks your nipples between her fingers, getting your hips to press against your seat and your body squirm in need. “Always perk up like this or only when we meet?” She stares at you for a moment before laughing lowly. “You must not know, since you dress like a whore everywhere you go. And you still have to wonder why it attracts so much attention. Naive little thing.” You whine, pouting your lower lip and frowning to feign offense by her words, but it only makes her laugh.

Her hand goes down to caress the soaking area of what would be your panties, marked by your wet pussy, completely disabling the fabric and making you so uncomfortable under your clothes. Still, Scaramouche ignores your hopeless pleas to strip you out of your undergarments and start gently stroking your swollen clit. From time to time, squeezing it between her fingers to hear the sounds your mouth made. Your hand holds hers, trying to press it harder between your legs even though you feel instant shame the moment you see her smirk.

“Someone’s desperate. Go ahead and grind your little clit on my arm like you did that day, sweets.” She reminds you of the day you asked for her help in the first place, rubbing your clothed pussy against her arm when she just wanted to get a book. Likewise, you do as she asks, using both hands to hold her arm still and play with your clit on her soft skin.

The way you scrunch your beautiful face as she goes back to holding your face with one hand tightly so that you are forced to look at your reflection as you cover her arm with your juices, tears running down your face that drives her absolutely crazy to see the results inside your lacy panties. She reaches the limit when she hears you begging: “p-please, wanna cum so bad.” And press your hole to her fingertips in what would be a failed attempt to tear the fabric that separated the two of you.

“Shhh, let me see what you’ve done.” She tells you, kissing your temple and slipping down your underwear to take a look at your clenching walls. It takes her everything not to just fuck you with her skillful tongue right there, but she’s not giving you this time that easily.

With a goodbye kiss and perhaps a “see you another day” on your clit, she turns her head away from your intimacy. You don't even have time to reason and be disappointed before you feel her fingers playing with your entrance again, opening you up to the mirror and exposing everything to the two of you. Your essence went from your insides to down your ass, your aching red clit and your hole dying to be filled and she wasn’t gonna keep it from being played with.

You cover her mouth with awe as she circles your entrance with a finger, pushing it all the way in and keeping it there.

“Ohhh, it went right in~” she teases. “Can you take two at once?” And adds another one right after, without waiting for a response.

Your swollen bud remains ignored for a while, her fingers making long, deep back-and-forth movements quickly, only slamming her palm against the button for a second before pulling away. Wet noises were emitted by the amount of essence that came out of your pussy until Scaramouche was satisfied and pressed her palm on your clit to make delicious circles while her fingers explored your intimacy.

“You want to get off that badly, so I’m giving you what you want now.” She says, fresh breath hitting your neck from behind, kissing and nibbling the skin when she can. You moan loudly and turn your hand to hold onto the collar of her shirt, clenching harder around her fingers and biting your lower lip to suppress a scream when you feel yourself getting closer to your peak.

“Don’t hurt yourself like that, love.” She warns you, but your mind is too foggy to even focus on what's going on right now.

Clicking her tongue with impatience, Scaramouche lowers her head in front of your face and collides her lips with yours at the same time she buries her knuckles deep into your hole.

Your moans vibrate against her mouth as she swallows your beautiful sounds with her tongue. The pleasure is so overwhelming that your back arches and more tears fall down your face the moment you cum.

She does not hesitate to get down on her knees and lick everything off of you and her fingers before standing up, despite your strong grip on her shirt that tells her not to go away like that.

“You’ll have to do better next time so I can reward you then.” She fixes her tie in front of the mirror and throws her soft hair back, not knowing how excited for the next study session she was making you.

The question after all is: you wanna be her or do you wanna be hers?

#𝜗𝜚 [ m0uchie posts! ]#꒰ requests ꒱ྀི #+18 content #fem!scaramouche #f!scaramouche #scaramouche au #scaramouche smut #wanderer smut #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin smut

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 5 months

Text

Napoleonville [Chapter 4: The House Of Glass]

Series Summary: The year is 1988. The town is Napoleonville, Louisiana. You are a small business owner in need of some stress relief. Aemond is a stranger with a taste for domination. But as his secrets are revealed, this casual arrangement becomes something more volatile than either of you could have ever imagined.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, koi fish, smoking, drinking, drugs, kids, parenthood, Willis Warning, impractical architecture, angst, Adventures With Aegon, historical topics including war and discrimination, let's all give a nice warm welcome to Christabel! 🥳

Word Count: 7.4k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

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It’s dawn, but you’ve already been up for hours. The sky turns from indigo to embers to flames to a cool, cloudless blue; mourning doves coo, goldfinches chirp, swamp rabbits gnaw on blades of grass glittering with dewdrops like diamonds. As the vanilla bean cake bakes in the oven, you go to Cadi’s room, sit on the edge of her bed, lay a hand lightly on the indistinct knoll that is your daughter curled up beneath her Rambo-themed blanket.

You murmur as she stirs awake: “Bonjour, ma cherie.”

Cadi rolls over, blinking groggily. You don’t call her this often. It’s something you picked up from Willis when you were married. You have a vision—sudden, jarring, though not entirely unwelcome—of him pacing back and forth with Cadi in his arms, one month old, 1 a.m., Willis humming some Cajun folk song to lull her to sleep. “Mom? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I called Cascade Stables, there’s a spot reserved for you.”

“What? Really?!” Her face glows, Christmas lights, the Fourth of July. “But you said…how…?”

You can’t take the credit. You won’t give it to Willis if it’s unearned. “Actually, Aemond offered to pay. So you don’t need to worry about anything. The house is fine, the car is fine. No need to sacrifice your birthday presents.”

Cadi sits upright and ponders you, enigmatic childish confusion. “Mom…is Aemond your boyfriend?”

Well, honey, at first he was just some stranger from a kinky personal ad and then he was a delicious distraction and now I fear I might be starting to want more from him, something not so temporary, something forbidden. But I don’t know who he is. “I don’t think it’s quite that serious yet,” you say instead. “Would you like for him to be around more?”

She shrugs, and you recognize it not as true reluctance but rather as feigned, self-preserving indifference. “Yeah. I mean, I guess so. He’s okay.” Then she adds: “What happened to his face?”

“I honestly don’t know. He doesn’t like to talk about it.”

“Maybe he was in a war,” Cadi says, glancing down at her Rambo blanket, Sylvester Stallone armed and stern and shirtless.

“Um, yeah, maybe.”

“Can I have cake for breakfast?”

“No, you cannot,” you say, smiling. “But you can have some of Amir’s leftover jambalaya that’s still in the fridge.”

“Fine.”

“Get up. Get ready. Amir should be here soon, once he can watch the cakes I’ll drive you to school.”

“If you let me stay home, I could help you bake.”

“You definitely wouldn’t help. You’d just spend eight hours playing that Nintendo.”

Cadi grins. “Probably.” Then she rolls out of bed and shuffles towards the kitchen over the creaking, sinking floor.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh, what the fuck,” you hiss to yourself as you park behind Willis’ sheriff’s vehicle—a Plymouth Gran Fury—which just so happens to be towing a 20-foot jon boat. You step outside into glaring 90-degree sunshine, slam the door of your Chevy Celebrity, and jog into the Assumption Parish Sheriff’s Office. You are carrying a white bakery box full of cherry cobbler muffins.

“Hey sugar,” Willis drawls when he sees you. The holding cells are empty; the electric fans are whirring. Heather Locklear is simpering from where her poster is taped to the wall.

You throw the bakery box down onto his paper-strewn desk. “What the hell is that outside?”

“My new boat,” Willis says proudly. “Picked it up first thing this morning.”

“So you can get a new boat, but Cadi can’t go to horse camp?”

He throws his arms wide, exasperated. Men love to make a habit out of being exasperated by things that should be obvious. “She’s gonna get way more outta that boat than from spendin’ a week brushin’ horses! We’ll be fishin’ in it together ‘til she starts poppin’ out her own babies. If Lake Verret ain’t a puddle of oil by then. You know I’ve had three deputies resign in the past ten days? Three! I’m bleeding manpower. I can’t compete. With overtime, they can make twice as much workin’ security on the rigs.”

“I thought you voted for Reagan and his energy independence.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want them drillin’ in my neighborhood.” He flips open the box, grabs a muffin, and takes a huge, messy bite. Crumbs go flying everywhere.

“Well, Cadi is going to get to brush those horses after all,” you tell Willis. “She’ll be gone from June 24th to July 1st. Just so you know.”

His forehead crinkles as he chews. “Where’d you dig up a spare $300?”

He gave me $400, actually. “A friend offered to pay. Kind of embarrassing that they stepped up instead of you.”

Willis ignores this jab. It is uncharacteristically combative of you; but you’re hot, you’re exhausted, you have a splitting headache, you still have four cakes to finish before noon tomorrow. Sweat rolls in beads down the slope of your neck, the curve of your back. It will evaporate once you’re back outside again, once the sun bakes it off you like nightmares fade in daylight. “A friend, huh?” Willis is more fascinated than annoyed. He gnaws on his muffin, contemplating you. “The only friend I know of is Amir the Queer, and he ain’t got nothin’.”

He does; he’s just squirreling it all away for San Franscisco. “Don’t call him that. Don’t be a neanderthal.”

Willis’ thoughts are elsewhere. If not Amir, then who? Who? He asks, smirking: “You got a petit ami, sugar?”

A boyfriend, he means, a beau, a lover, a partner, a suitor. Do I? “No,” you decide. “No, he’s just a regular friend. Really.”

Willis chomps on his cherry cobbler muffin. His smirk stretches into a grin. “Sure he is.”

“Okay. You called and asked for muffins, and the muffins have been delivered. Now I gotta go. I have a hell of an order to finish for tomorrow. Which reminds me…” You take the folded piece of yellow legal pad paper out of your shorts pocket and open it to read the address of the Targaryen residence. “Where is 1066 Loch Raven Terrace? I’ve never heard of it.”

“Oh, that’s in a brand new development, real highfalutin, mansions and all. That’s where the Jade Dragon folks are livin’. You gotta go way down 401 towards Lake Verret. Turn onto Owlet, then Egret, then Loch Raven.”

You snatch a blue pen out of the mug on his desk—World’s Best Cop, it says—to scribble the directions down on your paper. “Great. Thanks. Why’d they name it that? We don’t even have ravens in Louisiana.”

“Maybe they got ‘em back in England and the Rockefellers want to feel right at home.”

You nod. This makes sense; this is a sufficiently egotistical explanation. You check the clock on the wall; it’s almost time to get Cadi from school. “You’re picking up Cadi tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah. ‘Round 8:00, as usual.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you then.”

Willis asks longingly, looking nowhere in particular: “Remember when we were gonna go to Mexico for our anniversary?”

“Yeah. And I remember when we didn’t.”

He shrugs, perhaps regretful, mourning some hypothetical versions of yourselves. “I got busy. I got lazy.”

“We would have ended up in the same place, Willis. It just might have taken longer.”

“Sure,” he mutters, but he doesn’t sound like he believes it. He’s reaching for his second muffin as you push through the glass door and step out into the sweltering afternoon sunlight.

Twenty minutes later, you’re rolling into your driveway: windows down, cicadas screeching, a flock of pelicans flapping by overhead, Cadi singing along to Jump by Van Halen. But when you cut the engine, you catch a glimpse of something strange in your rearview mirror. You have a visitor. He’s coasting down the driveway in his red Audi Quattro, displacing a grey wave of gravel. You and Cadi climb out of your Celebrity to greet him.

“Aemond?” you say, hands on your hips, a growing involuntary smile. You weren’t supposed to see him until Saturday night, until your talk about the future, a future you both disavowed before starting to get a taste for it. “What are you doing here?!”

“I only have a minute.” When he emerges from the Quattro, he’s dragging his neon teal duffle bag.

Cadi gasps. “More Nintendo games?!”

Aemond chuckles and shakes his head. “Sorry, not quite.”

Cadi groans dramatically and sprints off into the house, probably to devour an ungodly amount of baked goods.

“Don’t eat the Cap’n Crunch Treats!” you shout after her. “They’re for a customer!”

Aemond strolls over to you, wearing jeans, a white tank top, and his Adidas sneakers. His ever-present Marlboro jacket has been forgotten. His hair is a mess, he’s touching his chin restlessly; he really does look like he’s in a rush. “Hey,” he says softly, returning your smile.

You point to his duffle bag. “So you’re not here to tie me up.”

“Regrettably, no.”

“Cadi was really, really happy this morning to learn that you paid for horse camp.”

“I’m glad. Please don’t mention it again.” Aemond glances to his right and spies the alligator sunbathing a few yards away, a deep swampy green and fast asleep. “Oh, fuck!” He grabs your arm, pulls you to him, walks with you briskly towards the house. “You need to get that thing turned into a purse or shoes or something.”

You laugh. “She won’t go after you. She knows you’re bigger than she is.”

“I’m not going to take your word for it.”

In the living room, Aemond tosses his duffle bag on the couch, unzips it, and lifts out a Nikon F3 digital camera. Amir peeks out of the kitchen, flour and powdered sugar dusting his palms, his forearms, his cheeks. “What the…?”

“I need a white wall,” Aemond says distractedly, peering around. The living room walls are pink, the kitchen is mint green, Cadi’s room is yellow, the bathroom is a pale blue. Cadi watches as he darts around the small house, sitting at the kitchen counter and chomping on a ginger molasses cookie. Then Aemond snaps his fingers, remembering. He turns to you. “Your bedroom has white walls.”

“And of course he knows all about your bedroom,” Amir says.

“Come with me,” Aemond orders you.

“Okay…?”

“Cadi too.”

You and Cadi follow Aemond into the bedroom, Amir trotting close behind to satisfy his curiosity. Aemond shows Cadi where to stand against the wall, in a spot where the lighting is good, no shadows, no cracks in the paint, no paintings or photographs. He raises the Nikon and gazes through the viewfinder with his right eye.

“Alright, here we go…just from the shoulders up…yeah, look at me straight-on, just like that…big smile, one two three!” He takes a picture; you can hear the click. “Beautiful! You’re Cindy Crawford! Naomi Campbell! Linda Evangelista! Let’s go again…”

Cadi giggles as she poses: a few respectable smiles, a few silly faces, a few where Aemond asks her to act serious. Cadi says, with an exaggerated grimace: “Look, I’m Mom when Daddy tries to talk to her.” Amir guffaws from the doorway.

“Your turn,” Aemond tells you, waving you over. Aemond directs you like he’s looking for excuses to touch your shoulders, your waist, your face, making minute adjustments that can’t really matter. You’re good at the serious faces, but he’s not satisfied with your smile. “No, a real one. A real smile!”

“I am really smiling!” you protest.

Aemond lowers the camera and raises an eyebrow at you. “You can do better. I’ve seen it.”

And suddenly, effortlessly, you’re beaming.

“There you go,” Aemond says in approval, and snaps a few frames. “Done.”

“What do you need pictures of us for?”

“Just a little project I’m working on,” Aemond says, evasive. He ventures back to the living room without further explanation.

As Aemond zips the Nikon into his duffle bag, you go to the kitchen to see how far Amir has gotten with the Targaryens’ engagement party order. In a dozen different icing colors, he’s painted wildflowers—your favorite since you were Cadi’s age—all over the white buttercream frosting of the vanilla bean cake. You wrap an arm around his waist, rest your head against his chest. “You’re Picasso.”

“I’m a sad, single, four-eyes twink who lives with his Grandma.”

“You’re the love of my life.”

He laughs and smacks a noisy kiss onto your cheek. Aemond watches, amused, thoughtful. He has that same look he had when he walked in on Cadi and Amir dancing to Kyrie, like someone studying a work of art in a museum, something beautiful but arcane, crafted by a foreign stranger who’s been dead for centuries. You start chopping pecans for the hummingbird cake.

“Okay,” Aemond announces with a heavy sigh. “I gotta run.”

“Already?” Cadi says, more disappointed than she’s trying to let on.

“He’s a very busy man,” you tell her. “He’s an engineer. And a historian, too.”

“Just an engineer,” Aemond says, startled.

“Only a historian would think to quiz me about Napoleon to see if I was worthy of his time.”

“You should know something about the man your town was named after.” Aemond leans in close—smoke and cologne, sun and salt—and growls into your ear: “Bye, Cupcake. Taste you later.”

“Bye.” And you watch him leave with his neon teal duffle bag slung over one shoulder, so preoccupied you completely forget about the pecans. Your knife rests on the cutting board, your thoughts are tangled up in what you and Aemond need to talk about tomorrow. I want more than something casual. I do, I really do.

Amir whips you with a dishtowel. “Ho, we’ve got cakes to bake! Let’s go, let’s go!” And then he asks more sympathetically as he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose: “How’s your headache?”

“Oh,” you say, only realizing it when he asked. “It’s gone now.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The driveway is long and meandering, brand new but meant to look old, cobblestones lined with meticulously manicured hedges and beasts carved out of marble: bears, dolphins, horses, dragons. On the shores of Lake Verret, out of sight of the rigs and surrounded by towering gnarled southern live oaks older than the United States, you find the Targaryen family residence—manor? estate? chateau?—and park your Chevy Celebrity amidst a sea of Lexuses, Audis, Porsches, Cadillacs, and Alfa Romeos. There are willowy whooping cranes tiptoeing their way across the lawn. A blue merle Great Dane, gigantic and glaring menacingly, lurks behind the white columns of the wraparound front porch.

“That is not a house,” Amir says, gazing up at it through the windshield. “That is a castle.”

“That is where we’re going to make a lot of money if we can impress the Rockefellers.”

“Whoo hoo!” he cheers, climbing out of the car. “San Fran, I hope you’re ready for me!”

You’re dragging the coolers out of the back seat when you are descended upon by a herd of servants, dressed in black so as not to distract from the festivities, so they can fade into the backdrop, so they can become invisible. You and Amir have missed the memo. Your sundress is from Kmart: white with pink zinnias, a cheap and unextraordinary flower for an undistinguished woman from an anonymous town in one of the most impoverished states in the nation. Amir is wearing neon orange shorts and a (very tight) t-shirt from Queen’s Magic Tour that he found at a yard sale.

“These are the cakes?” the head butler asks impatiently, a grim-faced man with salt and pepper hair and spotless white gloves.

“Yeah, that box has the coconut cake, and that one has the key lime, and there are the Cap’n Crunch Treats, and…hey! Wait!” You watch helplessly as the fleet of servants ferry the boxes up the porch steps and into the house. You and Amir stare at each other as you stand abandoned on the cobblestones. “What do we do now?”

“Do we just…leave…?!”

“You made it!” Alicent cries, sailing out of the doorway and swathed in a flowing cream-colored gown. Her large dark eyes are bright and ever-shifting, almost manic; sunlight shimmers on her auburn hair. There is music pouring out behind her, thudding but indistinct, rumbling bass, heady guitar strums. “Come inside. You simply must come in.”

“Oh, we couldn’t impose!” Amir says, already inching towards the house.

“I’ll hear no more of that. You rescued me in my hour of need and I shall not forget it.” Alicent beckons you closer. Her smile is broad and radiant but tight, like she’s having to remember to keep it that way, like her muscles are beginning to ache. “Enjoy some hors d’oeuvres, at least. We have shrimp cocktail, miniature quiches, vol-au-vents, clams casino, Swedish meatballs, little smokies, deviled eggs with paprika, and lots of champagne! Quickly now. There are some people I’d like you to meet.”

Amir glances back at you as you follow him up the porch steps. “People, huh?”

The Great Dane stalks over to you, sniffs, growls deep and low. You freeze, not wanting to provoke it. Its eyes—muddy greenish-brown and swimming with a cunning hostility—remind you of an alligator’s, not the five-footer that idles on your lawn but one of the true monsters of the bayou, old and grizzled and always hungry.

“Vhagar, no!” Alicent scolds, pushing the beast’s massive muzzle away. You imagine it chomping on her hand until it’s gone: one bite, two bites, nothing left but gristle and blood. “No! Bad dog! Go away, go!” The Great Dane reluctantly retreats, glowering from behind a column. “I’m so sorry about that. I’m utterly mortified. She’s terribly unfriendly, but she doesn’t bite. Usually.”

“It’s fine!” you say, heart still racing.

“She belongs to my son. My children…their obsessions confound me. But as mothers, we’re powerless to stop them, aren’t we?”

“I suppose so,” you reply, thinking of Cadi’s wildness, willfulness; though trying to change her would feel wrong.

“Now I certainly owe you a glass of champagne,” Alicent says, billowing like a cloud into the house, her gold heels clicking on the marble floor.

You pass through the doorway and into a vast, crowded foyer, all white and gold: a massive crystalline chandelier, oriental vases and sculptures of men you don’t recognize, paintings on the wall, servants flitting around with trays of hors d’oeuvres. On one table is a tower of champagne glasses, each with a single red cherry marooned inside. Guests mingle in their sport coats and suits and taffeta and sequins, and oddly, none of them are talking about the couple whose engagement is being celebrated. They talk instead about ski trips, polo matches, oil futures, the Soviets, the Saudis, the godawful humidity in this misfortunate corner of the world that they can’t wait to leave. There are stained glass windows everywhere, scenes of suns, stars, sunflowers, dragonflies, lemon trees, sand on beaches. It’s cold, extremely cold, frigid drafts gushing from the air conditioning vents. A Dire Straits song pours not from a Panasonic boombox but from a stereo system with a pair of speakers as tall as you are, Sultans Of Swing. There is a baffling dual chorus clanging around in your skull: Nobody needs this. I’ll never be able to give my daughter anything like this.

Amir whistles as he peers around, eyes wide behind his tortoiseshell glasses. “This place must cost a fortune to cool.”

“I Teleftaia Epithymia.” Alicent struggles with the pronunciation; she speaks slowly, effortfully. “It’s what my husband named the house. What we named the house, I mean. It’s Greek for The Last Desire. As in, no one could possibly want anything more than what this home can offer. Isn’t that poetic? I’ve fallen quite in love with it.” Still, there is that slight nervousness to everything she does, that over-eagerness to please, that restless rushing fidgeting. She wears large gold teardrop earrings that she keeps touching. “We knew we’d have to build something here for the new project on the lake. My son is overseeing it, and he’ll have to spend the next year here, at least. It’s a big step for him. It’s the first drilling operation he’s been given command of. And he—”

“Alicent!” A man comes striding through the crowd. He has shoulder-length pale blonde hair and is wearing a black pinstripe suit, a business suit, authoritative but not joyful. He doesn’t notice you or Amir. You don’t exist to him yet. “Where the hell is the ice sculpture? You said there would be an ice sculpture.”

“It’s on its way, darling. I already called.”

“It should be here now!”

“Viserys, please.” Alicent’s voice is low, embarrassed. “The driver got lost, you know our address is new. They stopped at a payphone and rang us and I straightened it out. They’ll arrive any minute.”

“They better,” the man grumbles. “It’s her family’s crest, for Christ’s sake. We need that ice dragon.”

“This is my husband,” Alicent tells you and Amir, forced smile, pleading eyes, trying to pivot. “Viserys, do you remember the wonderful people I told you about? From Hummingbird Bakery?”

“Bakery?” He seems to have only a vague recollection and even less interest. His gaze is already wandering to other guests. He flashes a grin and waves at a few middle-aged men in grey suits.

“They saved me. They were able to bake us six beautiful cakes with only two days’ notice.”

“And Cap’n Crunch Treats,” Amir adds.

Now Viserys Targaryen does turn his attention to you, and his forehead knits into perturbed wrinkles. His cool blue eyes skate over your Kmart dress, your forearms still dotted with flour and frosting, your cheap pink flats with bows on the front. “It’s a pleasure.” Then he looks to Amir—orange shorts, too-tight shirt that stops at his navel, dogwood flower in his hair—and seems to startle a little. “Alicent, you didn’t mention…uh…he’s…oh well. Too late now. It can’t be helped.”

You and Amir share a glance, polite smiles pasted on your faces. Alicent is abjectly horrified. “Viserys, he’s extremely professional.”

“There are the Lannisters. I must be off.” And the Targaryen family patriarch unceremoniously departs. You and Amir pretend to admire the stained glass windows. Alicent picks at the beds of her fingernails, her rings jangling against each other, her eyes misty.

Criston appears out of nowhere, wearing a white suit with a zebra print shirt underneath. Today his single earring is silver to match. He glides a hand around Alicent’s waist and leans in so close that his nose brushes her fiery hair. “What? What do you need?”

“The ice sculpture people—”

“I’ll wait outside for them,” Criston says, and departs as swiftly as he arrived.

“Please allow me to give you a quick tour of the house,” Alicent says, recovering somewhat. “I’m so grateful for your help. And things keep happening that only make me feel more indebted.” Then she hands each of you a flute of champagne, spins on her heels, and leads you out of the foyer.

Each room is a different color. The living room is red, furniture of lush velvet and Italian leather, bookshelves tall enough to need ladders, a brick fireplace that they’ll never use. Through a pair of French doors you can glimpse a garden and a pool with a water slide. The dining room is a cheerful butter yellow. The kitchen is teal, and like all the rest of the house has stained glass windows to match; these are shaped like a cathedral’s and run all the way up to the ceiling. Servants have arrayed your cakes on the counter, each with a label handwritten in cursive and a set of knives to cut it with. A plate of Cap’n Crunch Treats has been tucked away back by the stove like something they’re a little ashamed of.

Everywhere she goes, Alicent introduces you and Amir to the guests she crosses paths with. “Have you met these heavenly people from Hummingbird Bakery yet? Yes, they’re local, true Louisianans! I see you’ve already helped yourself to a slice of the key lime cake. Isn’t it just fantastic?! And a gorgeous shade of green! It’s so peculiar, you won’t believe what this sweetheart has living in her yard, a real-life alligator…”

You whisper to Amir: “Are we her pet poor people?”

“You might be. I’m proudly undomesticated.”

“Christabel!” Alicent shouts jubilantly as the girl scrolls into the kitchen. “There you are, dear! Come see your cakes.”

Christabel complies, shy but agreeable, peeking out from under a shock of feathery blonde bangs. She wears gleaming diamond earrings and a very bridal white one-shoulder dress, showing quite a bit of skin; you notice that some of the other guests milling about the kitchen cast her judgmental smirks. Christabel asks Alicent, as if she’s afraid of the answer: “He’s not here yet?”

“You know how busy he’s been,” Alicent says, apologetic. You think, remembering the drunk man from the holding cell: Yeah, busy committing misdemeanors. “Those rigs…the S&P 500…anyway, he’ll be home before you know it. In the meantime, let me get you a piece of cake. You’re disappearing, love.”

Christabel skims a palm down the front of her dress self-consciously. “Alright. Just a tiny one.” Then she acknowledges you and Amir. “You must be the masterminds then. Alicent told me all about you.”

Amir says: “About our excellent service and reasonable prices?”

“Yes.” Christabel isn’t skittish like Alicent, but there’s a sort of pensiveness to her, an impression that she is eternally woolgathering. Now she looks at you in particular with a small, warm smile. “And about how beautiful you are.”

Amir laughs at your stunned expression. Me? Beautiful? And the only other person to call you that in years has been Aemond, tangled up with you on your bed in your falling-down house, and you aren’t sure if that counts. “Oh, um, thank you,” you manage. “I really like your dress.”

“Really? I fear people think it’s too…revealing. I liked it fine this morning when I put it on. I didn’t have any notion it might not be suitable. Now I’m feeling like an idiot.”

“No, it’s so nice!” you say, pained for her, one misfit recognizing another. “I never would have thought there was anything wrong with it.”

Alicent gets a plate from the pile on the counter. “What flavor would you like, Christabel?”

“Whatever this one is.” She points to the vanilla bean cake, adorned with Amir’s frosting flowers. “Isn’t it stunning, with all the colors?”

“Amir is the artist,” you say. “I love wildflowers.”

Alicent asks: “Did you have them at your wedding?”

No one bothered. No one remembered. “I wanted to.”

“Wouldn’t that be lovely, Christabel?” Alicent passes her a slice of vanilla bean cake. “Wildflowers? It would be different. Everyone has roses or lilies or something. But wildflowers? I can’t recall ever going to a wedding with wildflowers. Especially if you’re going to get married here. It would fit with the scenery. This place is so exotic, so untamed!”

Christabel nods, taking nibbles of her cake. “Wow, this is delicious! Yes, wildflowers. We could use them for the bouquet, and the corsages…”

“Now we just need a venue.” Alicent sighs. “We’ve had such a terrible time trying to find a good place. Somewhere historic, but not rundown or unsavory. I mean, you can’t get married on an old plantation or something. Bloody hell. How tone-deaf would that be?”

“Very tone-deaf,” Amir concurs.

“There’s a church across the lake in Belle River that you might like,” you say. “The Chapel of Saint Honoratus of Amiens. It’s a historic site, I believe. It’s not very big, but it would make for nice pictures.”

“There’s an idea!” Alicent chirps, then she is stricken as a woman walks into the kitchen. Her fair hair is tied up in a messy bun. She wears a white t-shirt stained with dirt, denim overalls, and Converse Chucks. There is a bluish-green chameleon perched on her shoulder, goggling at everyone with its rotating, conical eyes. “Helaena, put your dress on.”

“Dreamfyre doesn’t like the silk. She won’t sit on my shoulder if I’m wearing it.”

“Helaena, it’s a lizard.” Alicent is exasperated. “Go upstairs, stick it back in its cage, and put your dress on, now.”

“Fine,” Helaena mumbles before wandering off.

“Oh, is that the ice sculpture?!” Alicent cries, peeking out into the foyer through the kitchen doorway. “At last! If you’ll excuse me…” She scurries off to attend to it, Christabel trailing her like a shadow.

You put your empty champagne flute in the sink. “I need to go find a bathroom.”

“I need some shrimp cocktail,” Amir replies. “Do you think I should try to explain the evils of gentrification to people?”

You giggle. “Yeah, definitely. Start with Viserys.” You part ways, Amir headed towards the foyer, you journeying down a mysterious hallway that adjoins the kitchen. The walls are flame orange and decorated with portraits of grave blonde people, each with an outlandish name etched into the plaque beneath its likeness: Baelon, Alyssa, Jaehaerys, Alysanne, Aenys, another Alyssa, Aegon, Rhaenys, Visenya. “This family is so fucking weird,” you mutter to yourself as you continue down the hall.

You find a bathroom, but there’s already a hoard of glamorous, ornamented women waiting outside of it. They’re chattering about which is the superior place to take a holiday, the Canary Islands or the south of France. They stare at you like you’re vermin, a nutria or a raccoon. You keep moving.

At the top of a spiral staircase, you find another hallway. The first door you try is a home movie theater complete with a popcorn machine, neon signage, several rows of seating and a plethora of bean bag chairs. Behind the second door is a bedroom, but it’s not unoccupied. You are greeted by the sight of the man who must be the groom. He looks much like he did when he was detained in a holding cell of the Assumption Parish Sheriff’s Office: slicked-back hair, unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt, flushed cheeks, tiny shorts, flip flops. He’s hunched over a desk with three lines of white powder on it. There’s an HP computer—something you’ve never seen in person before—in one corner of the room, a television and collection of hundreds of VHS tapes in the other. His walls are black and cluttered with posters of punk rock bands, the Ramones, the Clash, the Misfits, Minor Threat, Social Distortion, Bad Religion. His Akai stereo is blaring Fight For Your Right by the Beastie Boys.

“What?” the man says agitatedly. There’s powder on his fingers and his nose. “What? What? Who are you? What do you want?”

“Um, sorry, I was just…uh…” There’s some kind of rodent running around on his unmade bed. Its fur is a sandy yellow color, its body freakishly long and four legs stumpy. What the fuck. “I was looking for a bathroom.”

He blinks, muddled recollection. “You’re the cake lady.”

“Yeah.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Delivering cakes.”

“Oh. Right.” He points directly across the hall. “There’s a bathroom.”

“Okay, great, thanks.” He starts snorting another line before you’ve even shut the door.

You spend a minute or two in the Targaryens’ lilac-colored bathroom, paintings of the night sky hung on the walls—comets, moons, stars, galaxies—and amethyst geodes on the sink, a stained glass window with a scene of a lavender field. By the time you navigate back down to the kitchen, the man is there. He’s eating a Cap’n Crunch Treat, cocaine still streaked across his pink face and caught in his wisp of a mustache.

“You did this,” he says. “I know you did. It’s too good to be anyone but you.”

With his hand that’s not holding the Cap’n Crunch Treat, he’s cradling the lean rodent against his bare chest like an infant. “What is that? A weasel?”

“It’s a ferret. His name is Sunfyre.” The man nods to a photograph pinned to the refrigerator with magnets shaped like miniature oil rigs. There are two people in the frame, a woman and a girl, their cheeks squished together as they laugh on a pink sand beach of some topical island you’ll never visit. “That’s my dad’s first wife.”

“He’s divorced?”

“Widowed. She died in a car accident.” He taps on the girl in the picture, perhaps Cadi’s age. “That’s my half-sister Rhaenyra. She’s an Olympic fencer. She lives in the Lake District and fucks our uncle.”

You shake your head. You must have misheard him. “She what?”

“Yeah, I know how it sounds. I’m not kidding. She lives in a castle and fucks our uncle and has kids with him. Fucking sick, man. And I’m the screwup? Because I like coke and strippers? I’m supposed to feel bad about that? Bite me, Viserys.” He grabs a second Cap’n Crunch Treat and gestures for you to follow him into the foyer. “Come on. You need some champagne.”

You chuckle. Mental or not, there’s something likeable about him…though you can’t say you envy Christabel. To be married to someone like this man must be hellish. Now, to be married to someone like Aemond… “I’ve already had a glass.”

“Okay, well I need some champagne, and I don’t want to go out there alone.” His flip flops slap noisily against the marble floor as he plods out of the kitchen. He looks back to see if you’re following, and then you hurry after him. The heir to the Jade Dragon fortune weaves through the crowd, ignoring everyone and being ignored in return. In the packed foyer, he plucks a flute of champagne from the tower and chugs it. He eats the cherry and holds up the stem. “You know how to tie these with your tongue?”

“No, I definitely do not.”

“I do,” he announces proudly. He shoves the stem in his mouth, wiggles it around for a while, accidentally swallows it and has to hack it back up. He spits the cherry stem onto the pristine white floor, attracting a few grimaces. “Wait. Wait. Let me try again.” He reaches for another glass of champagne. The opening notes of Asia’s Heat Of The Moment boom from the speakers.

You give him a sympathetic smile. “Pre-wedding jitters?”

He snorts. “I’m not the one getting married.”

“Wait, you’re not?”

He cackles, like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “I already have a wife. Stephanie, she’s a princess from Monaco. Right now she’s in Ibiza or something. I haven’t seen her since New Year’s. This New Year’s? Last New Year’s? I’m not sure. Maybe it was the Grand Prix. I remember a lot of confetti.”

You gape at him. “So who’s getting married?”

“My brother Aemond.”

“Who?!”

He points with his Cap’n Crunch Treat. Across the foyer by the front door, Aemond is grinning and accepting congratulations from a gaggle of men in suits: black, grey, navy, tan. Aemond himself is wearing emerald green, dark and luxurious and striking and expensive, because he’s a Targaryen who’s marrying a noblewoman and he’s an oil tycoon and a millionaire and he is most certainly not single and not looking to change that.

“You fucking liar,” you hiss.

The man with the coke in his mustache peers over at you. “Huh?”

You can’t tear your eyes away from Aemond. You feel scarlet rage soaking into you drip by drip, you feel the blood turning hot beneath your skin. You shouldn’t be this upset over a man you barely know, you don’t understand why you are. Except part of you does, and it’s heartbreaking, and it’s humiliating beyond words. Of course he’s marrying someone like Christabel. Of course he’d never choose me.

Aemond bids farewell to his well-wishers, and as he turns away from them his right eye catches on you. From across the room, his face shifts from disbelief to astonishment to horror. His jaw drops open. The flute of champagne he’d been clasping shatters against the marble floor. Immediately, a flock of servants materialize to clean up the mess. You flee from the foyer to the living room, through the French doors, into the garden. It’s midday and hot as hell, humid, swampy, suffocating to the British aristocrats that fill the house. You don’t see anyone else outside. You run past the swimming pool and through cobblestone trails bordered by blue cardinal flowers, orange coneflowers, coral honeysuckle, resurrection ferns, maypops, white sage, firewheels, magnolias, cinnamon ferns. You stop at the edge of a fish pond larger than your kitchen and glare down into the water, trying not to let tears blur your vision as glimmers of scales—red, orange, black, white, gold—dart beneath the transparent rippling water.

I have to go back inside. I can’t leave without Amir. I can’t leave without formally saying goodbye to Alicent and thanking her for her hospitality and licking the boots of these people so they’ll throw just enough cash at me to keep a roof over my daughter’s head.

You hear hurried footsteps; Aemond appears on the cobblestones. He’s found you, but that’s as far ahead as he’s planned. He holds his hands open, not knowing what to say.

“You told me you didn’t have a girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“She’s your fiancée, that’s worse, don’t you get how that’s worse?!”

“Okay, this looks bad, but it’s not what you think—”

“You’re marrying her, right?” you demand, and he hesitates. “Right?!”

“Yes,” Aemond admits, and it feels like knuckles to your stomach.

“Then you’re a liar and a cheater.”

“It’s not…it’s…” He gestures frantically, not knowing how to explain, how to translate it into words you’ll understand. “There’s not an expectation of fidelity.”

“Does Christabel know that?”

“That’s the thing, that’s what you don’t get, it’s not like that between us. We don’t discuss it, we’re not…” More vague, frenzied gestures. “We’re not…um…” He groans, rubbing his scarred forehead. “We’re not fucking. At all. Nothing close to it. It’s not a physical relationship yet.”

“But she doesn’t know about me.”

“No, God no, of course not.”

“So she thinks you’re…abstinent…?”

He sighs, defeated. “I don’t know. I don’t really care, honestly.”

“Why aren’t you sleeping with her?”

“Because we can’t until we’re married.”

“I’m sorry, are you Pilgrims?! Are you time travelers from the 1400s?!”

“It’s her family’s standards,” Aemond says. “It’s not uncommon for women of her…status.”

“Girl,” you pitch at him. “She’s a girl. How old is she? Eighteen?”

“Nineteen.”

You’re furious that she exists; you’re furious on her behalf. “And she’s planning her fairytale wedding while you collect local women to act out your kinky fantasies with.”

“One woman,” Aemond says softly.

“What?”

“There’s one woman currently. Just you.”

You shake your head, swiping enraged tears from your cheeks. “Why are you marrying her?”

“It’s sort of an…arranged thing.”

You stare at him. “Someone set you up?”

“My father knows her father. They think it’s a good match. Her family needs money, my father wants ties to the nobility. She’s one of probably five people on this planet that he would approve of. And she seems enthusiastic about it, so it’s happening.”

“Aemond, that is an insanely bad idea.”

“I have to do it.”

“You’re marrying her because your dad told you to?!” You explode. “Are you serious?! Everyone with the sole exception of Amir told me to stay with Willis, my friends, my family, my neighbors, my bakery customers, the checkout ladies at the Piggly Wiggly, my goddamn mailman, my father was in the hospital dying of lung cancer saying that his last wish was for me to never get divorced, and I still went through with it because I knew it was the right thing to do and no one was going to stop me!”

“I don’t want to talk about Willis,” Aemond snaps.

“Well, he’s kind of an inescapable aspect of my existence, so if I can get over it I’m sure you can too.”

“I hate that guy,” Aemond seethes, and you have no idea how to respond. You gaze down into the pond and watch scales and fins and tails fly like bullets beneath the surface.

“Those are the biggest goldfish I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“They’re koi,” Aemond scoffs.

“Oh, is that what they teach people about at Imperial College in London? Fancy fucking fish?”

“Don’t be a bitch to me, just…just give me a second, I didn’t think I was going to have this conversation until tonight, this is not how I wanted it to go.”

You say quietly, betrayed: “You’re a robber baron.”

“What? Like Vanderbilt or Rockefeller, that kind of robber baron, that’s who you think I am?!”

“That’s who you are! You hoard and exploit and use and pollute and destroy! I don’t destroy things, I create them!”

“You bake cupcakes!”

“And I don’t hurt anyone by doing it!”

“You are so goddamn delusional, you are completely insane—”

You start counting out crimes on your fingers. “I don’t kill people, I don’t endanger the Earth, I didn’t irrevocably screw up Ketchikan, Alaska—”

“So I’m terrible because I want to bring jobs to your pathetic, dead-end town?! Because I want there to be a few less pregnant teenagers and more high school diplomas? That makes me a war criminal, that puts me right up there with Jaruzelski or Pinochet?!” He realizes what he’s said when he sees the wounded fury unfold on your face. “Oh fuck. Come on, I didn’t mean you.”

“No, you just meant people who are exactly like me in every way.”

“You know what? I take it back,” Aemond says, knife-sharp, wrathful. “I did mean you. Because you are wasting your life here, and you’re too stubborn or too scared or too much of both to recognize an opportunity to have something more. Don’t you think you deserve better? Don’t you think your kid deserves better?”

“I built something here, I made a future for myself and my daughter here, and you’re going to work our people to death and poison the lake and then pack up and leave when it all goes wrong because that’s what oil tycoons do! The opportunity is for you, not us! More mansions, more champagne, more coke, more demented pets!”

“Then leave! Get in your car and drive back to your sad, structurally unsound house and live happily ever after with whatever braindead barbarian you marry next.”

“I will,” you pitch back. “Enjoy being married to your marquess.”

“She’s not a marquess. Her dad is the marquess. She won’t inherit the title until he dies.”

“Enjoy being married to your future marquess, you pretentious prick.”

“Women can’t be marquesses. They can only be marchionesses.”

“Yeah, you’re so smart. I’m really impressed. At least I don’t have to tie people to beds to delude myself into thinking I have some semblance of control over my life.”

You storm through the garden and back into the house as Aemond watches you, violently disappointed. You yank open one of the French doors and slip into the midst of the festivities. Illustrious guests are still mingling, toasting, boasting, scrutinizing you skeptically when they notice you at all. In the archway between the living room and the foyer, Amir joins you, sipping a flute of champagne.

“Hey, ho! Did you get lost? Did you find the cellar where they keep the bodies of their political enemies?” He has eaten so many hors d’oeuvres he’s basically waddling. “You look stressed. How about a nice shrimp cocktail?” He follows your eyeline to where Aemond is trying to sneak covertly into the living room through the French doors. Christabel intercepts him, relieved that he’s finally arrived, beaming, sparkling, entirely unaware of any conflict. Aemond conjures up a smile, fond yet guarded. She doesn’t touch him, and he doesn’t touch her either. He clasps his hands behind his back instead. “Is that…?!”

“Yeah.”

“And he’s…?!”

“Yeah.”

“Oh,” Amir says. “Oh.” He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his dark eyes wide and shellshocked. “We should have made him buy all of us Nintendos and a week at horse camp.”

“I want to go home.”

“You got it, let me just grab a few more of those Swedish meatballs—”

“Amir,” you say, tears brimming in your eyes. “I really want to go home.”

“Okay, okay.” He slings an arm around your shoulder, smacks a kiss against your temple, walks with you towards the front door. “Then let’s go home.”

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x you

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maeby-cursed · 7 months

Text

SOMETIMES I'M NOT MYSELF, I LOOK FOR A BETTER DISGUISE…

𓂃 DANCING TILL THE POWER GOES OUT.

a/n: following with my songfic series, this one is inspired by valiente by vetusta morla (the original lyrics are "a veces no soy yo, busco un disfraz mejor / bailando hasta el apagón") ! this is also an angst fic but the vibe in this one is a bit more pungent. i apologize for making toji like this, i will get back to my soft!toji program soon ♡ (this one is vv weird, btw, and i wrote it while suffering from a headache, enjoy)

✧ synopsis: you met toji seven months ago and since then, the only thing you've both agreed on is how much you cannot stand each other. now it's time to go; even if it means giving up trying, and leaving a familiar warmth behind.

✧ pairings: toji fushiguro x fem!reader

✧ wc: 1.6k

✧ rating: angst ! pure angst, discounted and at a good price ! angst and pain; two for the price of one ! of the richest quality and endless suffering !!

✧ cw: toxic relationship, toji suffers from toxic masculinity, a bit of an age gap (toji is early 30s, reader is implied to be early 20s), mentions of toji's shitty ass economy, heavy cursing.

There’s a storm inside your house and it is made of cries locked within the walls of your lover’s apartment.

You and Toji have been arguing for six months out of the seven you’ve known him.

Apparently, May flowers brought November showers (or better said, downpours), as well as a thick darkness, because since last week, Toji's entire street has been without light, water or electricity.

A desert in the middle of a flood, seems almost biblical.

Both of you are in the kitchen – distressingly narrow and painted in a gloom shade of indigo –, in the midst of your fifth discussion this week. The fridge door is open while you talk, but neither of you cares, all of its contents are already wasted, anyways. The light doesn’t even flicker.

You don't know exactly how this particular fight started.

Toji had arrived at his apartment – his, exclusively – late, with a bag of fast food in hand. An individual order. When he’d arrived, he’d looked at you and asked you what you were doing there, and everything had gotten out of hand from that point on.

After six months of waiting for him in the same place, in the same position, in the same corner of his grimy sofa, you'd thought he might remember you, might remember that you are a constant in his life.

Not the case.

The fight escalates to such an extent that you find yourself shouting and gesticulating aggressively.

What starts badly ends worse, your grandmother used to say.

(And yet, it ends).

So now you stand barefoot, in your white slip, looking at him with all the fire you can fan into your eyes.

"I have no fucking idea what is it that you want, Toji Fushiguro, but you need to stop looking for it in me. Either take me as I am or leave me, it's as simple as that."

He looks back at you, his gaze shallow. He always stares at you like this, as if instead of seeing you, he were trying to evaluate you; like you’re nothing but a mere statue to him and he’s looking for a spot where the artist could’ve slipped his chisel.

But you don’t cower before him. Although his height seemed imposing when you first met him, he now seems ridiculous to you. A child hidden behind a brick wall.

"Could you stop talking in code for two fucking minutes?"

"I want you to stop treating me like shit. You caught on now?"

He laughs unfunnily.

"I think I treat you pretty well, girl."

"Really?" you smile. There's a part of you that cringes at the gesture; he's been souring you since you met. Now you're fed up, but you know you'll never be able to return all of the blows he’s knocked you out with. "You think coming home and taking me to your bedroom for five minutes of grunts and sweat is treating me well?"

"Our bedroom."

That does make you laugh.

"Fuck, Toji, I don't live here! You never asked me to move in with you. And I've waited for you but I'm..... I don't even know what I am. Disappointed, maybe?" Your mood begins to shift as you search for him with your stare. You want to see some sort of reaction, something that isn’t a performance, something that doesn’t act as a mirror.

Something that tells you he cares about you.

"I thought I was dating an adult,” you continue, softly now. “That we could talk about it but... God, you're exactly like all the men I've been trying to avoid. All savages, the lot of you; too barbaric to be able to say you feel anything, even if it’s pure lust."

He raises a brow, closing the refrigerator door with a slam and leaning against the countertop with a click of his tongue.

"You want me to tell you that you make me horny?" he asks, with an ironic smirk.

"I want you to tell me that there's something that goes with the sex. Something that can last."

He doesn't say anything, just exhales loudly, huffing with annoyance.

And for some reason, the gesture takes you back two decades ago, when your father used to do that to you. A puff of air like cigarette smoke whenever you wanted something he didn't feel like giving you; mostly his time.

You don't know where the memory comes from, but it hurts. It burns and coats your throat with bile.

"There’s nothing," he whispers, at last.

Now you really have to make an effort not to vomit.

Silly girl, you say to yourself, you already knew that. But it's no use.

"And I had to dig that out of you with a spoon, baby," you tell him, dripping with sarcasm.

He doesn't notice how you pale, how you grab the skirt of your dress and bite the inside of your cheek. He doesn't smell your despair, nor the copper drops emanating from the wound you've caused yourself by biting on your skin.

Toji's not a bloodhound, no matter how much he resembles one. He's just an asshole.

Your words make him frown and stick out his jaw. You recognize his hint – you’d recognize him by taste alone –, it's the gesture he makes before he fights.

"And what the fuck did you expect? For me to telepathically figure out whatever shit you’re thinking?"

"No, Toji. I just wanted an answer." That’s it, you suppose.

You sigh, unclenching your fists without relaxing your shoulders, and head for the bedroom. Except for your cell phone and a pair of nightgowns, you have almost nothing here. Let him keep the panties, if he gave them back to you, you'd burn them anyway.

He follows when you pass him by on your way out of the kitchen, and, for once, he looks incredulous.

"What? You think we’re done chatting?"

"I don't even feel like looking at that asshole face of yours anymore."

Every word that comes out of your mouth stabs him in the spleen. He's never seen you like this.

You have nothing left to care for, nothing left to protect from the storm, nothing to hope and pray to see bloom. Your land is infertile and all you feel is frustration, so there's no more measuring yourself.

To hell with all this.

"Yesterday it was all about cuddling and today you're leaving,” he says. “What did you expect?" At that, he smiles with malice, one that, unfortunately, is not unfamiliar to you. "That we were going to fall madly in love? That this was about more than sex? Oh, but you're just a little girl. I've been with a hundred of the likes of you."

He's lying. You know he's lying.

This man has never loved a woman in his life – you pity his mother – but he's not a manwhore either. He wears things out until he’s outgrown them.

It's funny — he’s always looked too big on you.

Your head turns around, but you stay frozen where you are, kneeling in front of the bottom drawer of his nightstand. On your knees, you almost look like you're praying, but your eyes condemn a truth that hurts him. It burns and coats his throat with bile.

"I never expected you to fall in love with me, Toji. I'm not that stupid," you look at the drawer again, taking clothes and shoving them carelessly into your bag. "I'm just young."

“I may be young, but give me time.” Those words, the ones you told him when he met you, a little over half a year ago, ring in his ears. “I can take a hundred men like you.”'

He remembers them now, gall climbing up to his uvula. Your smile back then clashes with your current tears. You have aged seven years in seven months.

He can see it in your posture, in the expensive fabric of your dress and the way you tie your hair back. He can see it in the depth of your cupid's bow, in the care with which you hold your hands.

You know how to handle dynamite now, but you can't stop gunpowder from blowing up.

Toji is speechless. He doesn't want you to leave, but he's already worn you out, you've already woken up from your reverie. He hasn’t outgrown you yet.

When you get up, your cheeks are covered with tears. You wipe them away carefully; you would’ve never done that back when he met you.

You were free then; of wild smiles and clumsy hands, of loud cries and smell of freesias. Young with bravado, a shell of the sea.

Seeing you like this, knowing you're going away, turns his stomach. This is the last time, and you don't smell like freesia anymore. You're all orange and lavender, unmistakable and silent.

Toji raises a hand and brings it up to you. For a split second of madness you think he's going to slap you, but he simply catches a strand of your hair; only instead of tucking it behind your ear, he lets it curl around your cheek.

His hand falls to his side – he wasn't raised to be like this. He wasn’t raised to get you to stay.

"Get out," he murmurs, the timbre of his voice low and plangent.

You close your eyes for a moment, just to find his image behind your eyelids; smiling and defiant, with a glass of champagne in his hand and kohl-stained eyes.

The tide inside washes away everything else.

"You don't have to tell me twice."

What starts badly ends worse, you think.

(And yet, it ends).

(reblogs are appreciated !!)

#🎐 𓂃 mae’s typing !#jjk imagines #jjk angst #jjk x you #jjk x reader #toji angst #toji x you #toji x reader #toji fushiguro angst #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x reader

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motelofmermaids · 11 days

Text

kel’s 800 follower celebration!!

— i took heavy inspiration from my good friend @skywqlkergf

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ i would like to start this celebration off by thanking each & every one of y’all for your support! i genuinely never expected to make it this far—to even have tumblr long. i genuinely thought that i’d be writing to a brick wall lmfao!! every like, reblog, comment, ask, and so on, is extremely appreciated. it brightens up my day, motivates me to write, and i get to interact with amazing people. i’ve met some really beautiful and loving friends on here (dippy… literally my third follower. indigo, my star, dorian, dandan, rowan, and my other lovely friends)! i am so very grateful for them. y’all know who you are! 💋 ‘m thankful to the hunger games community that welcomed me in when i wrote for finnick odair… and i’m so thankful to the writers & people who still continue to support me, even if i haven’t written for finnick in a while. i’m extremely thankful to the star wars/hayden christensen community for taking me in after my very long tumblr/writing break (university 😔). it was such a treat to start somewhere fresh when i came back to this godforsaken app. i’m so grateful! i hope to keep improving my writing, and i hope to continue making folks happy. thank you, thank you, thank you. ♡︎

now… let’s get started! (reminder: this is an +18 blog)

guidelines. masterlist. navigation.

characters available for the 800 celebration are listed below:

anakin skywalker, james kelly, kurt matheson, stephen glass, clay beresford, maximus (fallout show), finnick odair, bellamy blake, jon snow

below are some prompts!

smut one & two ♥︎ angst prompts + more ♥︎ fluff prompts

💋 . . . send this with a prompt & character! you’ll get a lil’ blurb!

🎀 . . . send this with a song & character (optional)! i’ll write a scene based on it OR if you do not send a character, i will assign a character to the song!

🐇 . . . let’s talk!!!! you can send me pretty much anything… (vents, brainrot, tiktoks, fanfics, etc etc. the list goes on)

🦢 . . . send me information about you (mbti, likes & dislikes, hobbies, aesthetic(s), and so on)! i’ll ship you with one of the given characters!

💐 . . . game time: fuck, marry, kill… would you rather… cast your mutuals as… never have i ever… most likely to (characters)

🍓 . . . send this with a kink or a trait & i’ll tell you which character is most likely to have it!

🩰 . . . learning time! send this with 3-5 words from a language you natively or fluently speak and i will learn them (meaning, pronunciation, etc). let me know if you’d like the same back! (i speak english, german, and a little bit of serbian, spanish, and french)

💒 . . . (mutuals only) send this & i will give you four pictures from pinterest that reminds me of you!

💌 . . . (mutuals only) send this & i will write you a lil’ love/appreciation note!!

👙 . . . shopping time! send this with your aesthetic (size is optional, of course) & i’ll find 3-5 items off of depop for you. i have an unhealthy obsession with depop.

🍉 . . . send in a character & i’ll create a mini playlist for them

that’s all! again, thank y’all so kindly. i feel so blessed.

‘m tagging some mutuals just for a lil’ boost: @skywqlkergf @dipperscavern @starwarsbian @anisscarletstarlet @dazednstars141 @geekforhorror @st4rfckerz

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anxiefics · 2 years

Note

YOU ASKED FOR PLOT SO HEAR ME OUT!!

if you haven’t watched the new cutscene for scara’s boss: https://youtu.be/1l9FktKnBAU

NOW BASED ON THIS^

reader manages to catch scara in time before he hits the ground and escapes carrying him bridal style (make them stronger than him just bc😁); reader ends up taking care of him (patching up his scars (let’s pretend he has flesh) washing his hair and stuff) but he has that blank stare until we put him in bed and end up hugging him nd thats the moment he violently brakes down like full on meltdown👍

this man deserves so much better😕

: ̗̀➛ ft. scaramouche

: ̗̀➛ warnings: injuries, angst (reverse hurt/comfort), 3.2 archon quest spoilers (also written before i played through it)

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

one step. two. his arm reached out for the heart he craved, the heart he needed, the heart he—

kusanali held the gnosis in her little hand, a determined yet soft look on her face, a silent apology. for what exactly? scaramouche couldn't tell. for ruining his revenge? for taking the one thing that made him feel alive? that made him feel like he had a purpose? or was it on behalf of all the miseries that he endured, the many 'betrayals' he went through?

wind shrieked in his ears, as he was falling, falling fast. he wanted to cry out, to grab hold of something, anything, whether that be a helping hand, or the hem of his mother's kimono. hell, he'd even take one of the many parts of the shouki no kami to stop his fall. instead he was motionless, like a limp doll broken beyond repair. and really, was that such an implausible description of him? he let himself fall, fall fast, and closed his eyes.

"scaramouche!"

you pushed your way past aether, who did nothing but stand there and gawk as you ran to catch him. for someone who was hailed a hero, you'd think that he would do something. but alas, it seemed like you were the only one who cared, just a little, about the indigo-haired man. for good reason too— he did cause unspeakable amounts of damage across multiple regions, not to mention he was just about to murder them. yet something told you he was hurting inside, and the pained look on his face when kusanali extracted the gnosis gave you enough confirmation you needed. it made a part of you want to forgive him of all the crimes he committed, though you waved it off as an irrational thought.

⋆ ★

he felt strong arms grab hold of him, instead of the cold touch of the cracked floor. his eyes flickered open, catching a glimpse of your concerned face, before succumbing to the haven in the back of his mind.

⋆ ★

"i trust you can handle this mess yourselves." you gave them a nod, before running out with scaramouche still in your hands. they had no time to answer as you were already out and on the way to your house.

why? you asked yourself. why were you helping him? perhaps it was because of your 'weak' heart, empathizing with those in need, regardless of their questionable morals. but no, you didn't think that was the case. though you pitied the treasure hoarders you fought, as they were only trying to make a living, it wasn't the same. you felt drawn to him, to his marionette self trying to break free of the electro archon's strings. maybe he reminded you of yourself. of the anemo vision tied securely at your hip, a symbol of freedom.

by the time your musing was over, you were already at the door of your humble abode on the outskirts of sumeru city. you laid scaramouche down on your plush couch, as he blinked awake. his eyes were empty, holding no hatred nor sorrow— the blank slate he wanted to achieve. a perfect puppet, to be used for the safekeeping of his mother, no, creator's gnosis. yet, after all that talk about "scrubbing away every last bit of human emotion," he still failed. he still had the gnosis stripped of him, taken away by the god he was supposed to overtake. he still was the imperfect prototype, abandoned and left to rot.

he let you tend to his injuries, dried blood (was that his or someone else's?) washed away by the soothing touch of water. he let you bandage them gently so that they sat comfortably against his porcelain skin. he let you rinse the specks of dirt out of his hair, drying it until it was all ruffled and soft. he let you give him light, cotton clothes to change into (you were too shy to dress him yourself, not that he would've minded otherwise.)

scaramouche sat back down on the sofa, long, white robes adorning his small figure. he stared blankly into space, focusing on you when you came into view. the both of you blinked at each other for a few seconds, being the socially awkward pair you are. you decided to walk up to him slowly, a tiny smile on your face. your arms enveloped him tenderly, a touch he hadn't felt in centuries. his arms were limp at his sides, before wrapping them around your shoulders. one second. two. the empty shell he once was faded, replaced with bitter tears hidden by rage for who knows how long.

his cries came in heaving sobs that racked his entire body. scaramouche's hushed sniffles and soft breaths echoed through the room. lithe fingers grabbed your back tightly, holding on to you for dear life. a silent plea begging, please don't leave me. you squeezed back. i would never. no words had to be said, the both of your actions spoke far louder than they ever could. he left your shoulder damp, but you didn't care. you offered all that you could, in hopes of lessening the agony of his afflicted mind. you rubbed his back softly, mindlessly tracing circles and swirls to soothe him.

as his tears dried, and as you slowly let go of each other, the close proximity you two shared began to seep into your minds. you jumped back in surprise, and he ducked his head down to hide the growing blush on his face.

"i.. thank you," he mumbled.

you looked up at him in shock, because did the scaramouche just say thank you? is this his character development arc? nevermind that.

you smiled. "anytime."

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

a/n: at first i was avoiding spoilers but i already saw a part of it from a tiktok so i went "fuck it" and watched the whole thing (curiosity got the best of me lmao) also i made kusanali more forgiving here because i feel like she had smth to do with scara's change (i haven't played through the archon quest yet so idk if its said there) that being said i am avoiding the rest of the 3.2 spoilers like crazy now lmao

#3.2 spoilers #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #: ̗̀➛ ro writes #: ̗̀➛ ro's mail

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machiten · 1 year

Text

thats my seat!

academic rival scaramouche x gn!reader headcanons

warnings: scaramouche(bro is a whole warning), foul language(it's scaramouche we're talking about here so), reader is mentioned to have bad eyesight, fights, angst, academic validation, bad parenting

barely proofread lmao im tired, it's 3:15 am and im starving. there will be a chapter 2 ofc i just wanted to post something goddamn my blog has been empty for so long (4 days) didn't have a way to keep track of the word count but it's kinda long. anyways hope u enjoy!!

oh god

when i say rival, i mean full on brawls on the school hallway

so let's say you've been top of your school since day one. your name has always been at the top of the score board every exam, always class representative, and well known as a smart kid ever since you steped on school premises.

you work hard to keep your grades up, your parents pay enough attention to your succesful brother and none for you

having a successful brother plants high expectations on you. i mean, he did very well, so why cant you? you both have the same blood running through your veins. your parent's praise, that is all you've ever wanted. and yet you're not even informed if there's a family outing, leaving you in your house alone

it has been like that for years

not until one day, you enter into the classroom and someone else is sitting in your chair. someone unfamiliar is sitting on your chair.

"hey, excuse me. i sit there." you pointed at what is supposed to be, your chair. "what, i dont see any names on it." Ok, what. when you finally look up to the culprit, my goodness. Fierce purple eyes that looks like it holds the entire universe, his skin as fair as a maiden, lips plum as a springs fruit, a beauty mark at the underside of his right eye, and his hair a unique color of indigo that is cut in a weird jellyfish-ish hairstyle. while yes, he looks ethereal, not gonna lie (if he had longer hair you might've mistaken him as a girl) his personality certainly does not match his elegance. an annoyed look currently adorned his face, as if you disturbed his peace.

"done checking me out? i know im hot, i get that look everyday so dont ever think you're special." and now it changed into a cocky smirk. the nerve! not only is he sitting on someone else's chair but it seems like his head is getting bigger too. "well excuse me, i havent seen your around school until today so im guessing that you're the transfer student our teacher talked about last week. but do you mind finding a new spot, i sit there." you glared at him.

"no i like it here. here's a better idea, why don't you find a new spot. im the new student here, show some courtesy."

"no- what, go away thats my seat!"

"alright everyone, settle down- oh, i see that the new student is here already," the teacher finally came in the classroom, cup of steaming hot coffee in his hand. Everyone sat down on their seats while you are still standing up waiting for this person to look for another seat. Lmao guess what, he didnt move.

"(name), c'mon sit down. i know getting a new friend is exiting but we have to greet the new student properly. now go find your seat."

"wait but sir--"

"sit down, (name)"

"yeah that's right (name), sit down" a voice beside you spoke. you looked over to the new student adorning a triumphant grin at your loss. and so you are now forced to sit at the back, barely seeing what's in front because of your poor eyesight, and wearing a vengeful spirit.

epic first meeting

the seats in the back are okay, its breezy and you now sit next to xiao (his music taste is so good) but yeah, you cant really see the board clearly so you get notes from mona at the front

at first, it was a one sided rivalry. how hated how rude and bratty he was and at that time, he didnt seem too care (like he get those everyday). but then he started fighting back and oh boy he hasn't had this much fun in years!

the way you retort back to his harsh words is so amusing to him. usually, no one would dare talk to him in a degrading manner but then you came into his life, claiming that he's sitting on your chair, and it was never the same ever again.

now, he looks forward to everyday. he rises up earlier so that he can sit at your chair first, he keeps looking at the classroom door everytime someone enters (in case it's you so that he can give that shit eating grin), he loves how your face gets messed up when he wins an argument, he loves how small your hands are compared to his when you have a brawl in the hallways, and most of all, he loves it when you give him the shit eating grin when you win something (he says he let's you win sometimes because he pitied you, but is it really?)

to him, this is fun, amusing, entertaining. but to you? you've never felt this much hate in a human being, ever.

scaramouche is smart as fuck and he demonstrated that loud and clear

he aced the math test that the teacher gave that wasn't even taught to him

in presentations, he speaks loud and clear and you can really understand the point he's making

he doesn't really like group works (you noticed) but if he was put in a group, he does most of the job flawlessly

sports? oh of course. he's really good at baseball (pitcher). he's also good at other sports but not as good as baseball

oh and pray that you don't get him as your opponent in debates, you will be grilled like a brisket

did i mention he sleeps in like 70% of his classes? it's not like the teachers can do anything about it. he excels in everything, at least let him sleep as a gift

the only times he would be awake is when he pulls on your strings

but of course, you're also good in all of these, that's why you both are rivals

you fight almost everyday for the top spot (and for your original seat) to the point where its a daily routine to everyone else to see you both pinching and arguing in the classroom

He doesn't have any close friends (ahem childeahem) and it's either bc ppl are intimidated by him or he just doesnt give a fuck about friends

maintaining grades is one thing, winning against him is another

you are very intellegent, yes, but you work very hard for your grades every night. losing sleep studying for upcoming quizes and making sure your projects are perfect. unlike him who doesnt even try

you havent seen him study once

and it makes you see yourself lower. you're both equally in par with your grades but thats when he doesn't even try. what happens when he takes everything seriously? what if he studies as hard as you do? where will you stand then?

but when you got 2nd place for the 3rd time this year, he took it too far

"what the hell?! this is the third time!" you looked at the results in the bulletin board expecting to see your name in first place. you studied hard, right? so then why,,,

"oh oops, looks like i did a little too well again this time. aw and i didn't even answer some of the questions because i felt bad for beating you the last two times." a snicker is heard behind you and sure enough, piercing indigo eyes is looking at yours in pure pity. "thanks i guess. are you happy now? that's three times in a row!" aether beside you is now having a deadpan expression, expecting the worst. 'alright here we go again'.

"oh yes very, you know what makes me even happier? your declaration that you're inferior to me. why do you even try anyways, it's clear to everyone that im better. you're just wasting your time burying your head in your books and notes when we both already know who's coming at the top. imagine not meeting your parent's expectations." he's now looking down on you, beating you up with words that you know damn well are true. but that doesn't mean you're not gonna fight back.

"what."

"oh you know, maybe if you tried harder, the cost of your education might be worth it for your parents. honestly, if i we're them id--"

before he could finish his sentence, a loud echoing smack is heard all across the hallway, making everyone's attention turn to the commotion. scaramouche head is now turned the other way, his cheeks beginning to flare from the hit as he glared at the culprit, you. "you motherfucking bitc-!" you tackled him and due to surprise, he fell back. aether is now alert, shouting your name trying to get you to your senses.

you gripped scramouche's collar, rasing his head from the floor and slamming it back down. "you're an asshole, you know that?! i try my best everyday and this is what i get?!!" he fights back, hand on your arm that's trying to get a hold of his hair and another on your neck, holding back your weight.

"you don't know what it's like!! you will never know what it's like being compared to your brother everytime they get a chance!! you dont know what it's like going home to nothing but words of disappointment when you did everything you can to get their approval!! you will never know what it's like for your efforts to go to waste!! you will never know the feeling of being kicked out of your own home and live in a run down apartment!! i work day and night, i lose sleep everyday, i barely have anything for myself to live, and now i have to deal with your ass every single day too?!!"

"(name)! calm down, hey-!"

"fuck off aether!"

every word you spat pricked scaramouche's heart and made him struggle from your assaults. this isn't fun anymore. he knew a bit of your situation, kazuha told him. but he never knew it was this bad. all he knew is about your parent's expectations. he didn't even attempt to fight back this time and just defends himself from your blows. 'shit, i took it too far.'

"you dont have to remind me of my incompetence! i already know, i know damn well i will never be enough!! you're right, why do i even try, right?! you're so fucking annoying, doing everything so effortlessly, like school is a nuisance!! can't i take a fucking break?!!" at this point, you cannot control your tears from falling into his cheeks, rolling down his porcelain skin.

"what are you--?!"

"why can't i be a genius like you?! why dont i have everything that you have?!! i did everything i can, what am i doing wrong?!" you are now saying intangible words that no one can decipher because of the mess of emotions you are feeling at that moment. you're about to deliver another blow when someone held you back.

"(name)! you're doing too much! thats enough!!" goddamn she is stronger than i thought, scaramouche deals with this everyday?? aether pulled you away from the tangled mess that you and scaramouche managed to create. you're struggling his hold but after a bit, you slumped down having no more strength to keep going, sobbing quietly. "...(name)?" aether said.

"...i am so tired of everything, why do i even keep trying. i.. i just want to make my parents proud..." sniffles could be heard from where you are being held my aether's arms. aether supported you from the groud and led you away from the scene and the prying eyes of other students. before you both can disappear completely, aether turned around and gave scaramouche a threatening glare. "i know you both bicker a lot but you took it too far. you are an asshole and you better change that attitude of yours or i will send you home even worse than your condition right now." and you both are gone.

scaramouche is still sitting on the floor, his arm supporting his weight, bruises are forming in his skin while he's craddling his cheek that is now very noticeably red and flaring from the slap you served him earlier. he doesn't know how to act, really. should he apologize? should he just walk away and like nothing happened? should he report you for physical abuse? he didn't know anything.

what he does know though is that he fucked up, big time. he knows that you'll never want to see his face ever again, he knows that nothing will be the same again, and he knows thag the feelings he has will never be reciprocated, after what he's done.

he actually just found out recently, when someone from the other class was making fun of you and he didn't like it one bit, he's the only one allowed to make fun of you, everyone back off. scaramouche can see the crowd dissipating, no longer interested since the main action is gone. he sat there on the floor the whole time, rethinking his life choices, wondering if he said things differently instead of those. would he be seeing you tomorrow? will you still argue with him about nonsensical bullshit? can he still hold your hand whenever you pinch him?

he heard footsteps and before he can look up, someone had smacked him in the head.

"what the fuck-!!"

"i want to say 'are you okay', but to be honest you kinda deserved that." a mop of ginger can bee seen hanging from someone's head.

"fuck off childe, and why did you smack me?!"

"because you deserve it. but y'know, it's nice having front row seats seeing you ruin your life because of that toungue of yours. aether's right you're an ass." he helped scaramouche from the floor, dusting his uniform from the filth. "ill take you to the infirmary." scaramouche can only nod, feeling lethargic after all that energy spent.

he hopes to see you the next day, acting like nothing ever happened.

part 2

#genshin impact #scaramouche #genshin headcanons #genshin scaramouche #genshin angst #angst #sumeru #kaedehara kazuha #aether #genshin kazuha #kunikuzushi #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #genshin impact drabble #genshin impact imagines #wanderer #genshin wanderer #wanderer x reader

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things-arent-what-they-seem66 · 2 months

Note

Okay I got more angst prompts, not from the list this time. Consider:

After the final battle, after the hotel is rebuilt, when Lucifer finally gets the chance to go home and rest, it all hits him at once. Adam is actually dead. He didn't feel bad about it in the moment at all but now it's hitting him that Adam is dead and gone and oh no I killed one of the first people I ever loved. (Niffty wouldn't have been able to kill him if not for Lucifer, so he would have enough reason to blame himself) He's struck by grief, that love having never truly left. Charlie finds him, and comforts him.

Mayhaps her reaction finding out that her father loved Adam, their enemy? Mayhaps Luci's reaction when Adam respawns as a sinner? Up to you!

Indigo (struck with the desire to hurt my favourite characters emotionally)

*Sips coffee* Ahhh, after battle angst. Thank you for this! Please send more if you'd like :)

Lucifer hadn't had time to really let it sink in now, in his new room alone. He sat down on his bed, his chest weighed like a ton of bricks.

Adam was dead. He was dead dead as in no coming back. He still remembers the angelic blade going through the angels chest. All that blood.....

Lucifer felt his eyes pool with water. His first love was dead and he let him die. His heart clenched in his chest. Fuck. He thought he was over Adam, but guess not.

At the moment he didn't care. He was still angry that Adam would try and hurt Charlie. But he was going to let him live, Adam may have been an asshole but he was HIS asshole.

Then Charlie's little friend killed him.....

"Fucking hell." He swore as he scrubed the tears from his face. Closing his eyes, Lucifer could still see Adams face. Not the one from the battle field. The one in the garden.

Even then his eyes were bright and golden in color like honey. Soft brown hair ruffled and wild on his head, smile wide and breathtaking. Oh, how Lucifer wished he could go back to those days.

'Will we be friends forever, Luci?'

'Every day is amazing when I'm with you.'

'Luci, I think I lov-'

"FUCK!" Lucifer screamed, he gripped his hair painfully. "I'M SORRY! I SHOULD HAVE BEEN THERE I'M SORRY!!" He sobbed. He was just destined to never save his favorite human was he? Adam was all he ever wanted and now he was gone for good.

"Dad, are you busy there's some- Dad? Are you okay?" Charlie came in and sat down beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"No." Was all he said, the guilt was weighing on him.

Charlie frowned. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I loved him so much."

Charlie blinked and looked at her dad. "Who?"

Lucifer sniffed. "Adam." Not the answer Charlie thought she'd hear. "He was my first love Charlie, I was there when he was made from the dust of the earth. I showed him how to do many things. That man on the battlefield, the one filled with hate for demons. That was my fault. When your mother came into the picture I was blinded by her beauty that I didn't see who she really was." This was not a conversation to have right now. "I broke Adams heart when I chose her. I ruined something beautiful for something extra."

"But, he was the enemy. How could you love him?" She just didn't understand.

Lucifer smiled sadly. "You didn't know him like I did. The beautiful soul I knew he always was." And he was, Adam had a soul that shined so bright it was blinding. He just had up so many walls after Eden.

"What if he's not as dead as we thought?"

"Huh?" Lucifer looked at his daughter. "What do you mean?"

Charlie bit her lip. "That's why I came up here. Adam is here. Downstairs. As a sinner."

Lucifer never ran so fast in his life. Faster than Charlie could keep up, her cries in the distance. He flew down the stairs and stopped in his tracks when he got to the lobby.

There he was. In all his glory. Adam stood with his back to Lucifer, he had long black and gold horns that curved around to the back of his head like his exterminator mask horns. He was looking at his newly formed demon hands, black up to his elbow with claws sharp like knives. His robes were now black and red, slightly tattered and still dirty. He had hooves now and likely a mouth full of sharp teeth.

He was beautiful.

He was alive.

"Adam?"

Adam jumped at the sound of his name and turned to face the devil. "Lucifer." His voice sounded rough but the same. His golden eyes were firey with anger, Lucifer could just imagine how he felt about being a sinner.

"You're here?"

"I know, the fucking shocked too."

Even if he hated him, Lucifer could deal with that as long as Adam was alive and well. "Gonna give redemption a shot?"

"Might as well." Adam crossed his arms, an unimpressed look on his face.

"Swell! Let me give you the tour and get you settled into a room." Lucifer took Adam by the hand and led the way, all while the sinner followed him, grumpy and cursing under his breath. "You know, if you ever need protection down here. I'd be willing to provide it."

Adam scoffed. "Yeah, for my soul."

Lucifer looked back at him. "Would that really be so bad? To be completely safe, always?" His voice echoed around them. "I would never let anything happen to you, Adam."

He didn't miss the way Adam's face pinched pink at his words.

Maybe second chances do happen.

#adamsapple #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x adam #ask

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dipplinduo · 6 months

Note

So happy to see more DipplinShipping!!

Do you have Headcanons for the two?

So you asked this awhile ago, but I wanna personally thank you because I vaguely referenced how I was putting off your ask to give it some thought. And then, I asked the community about their headcanons. And y'all showed up with that and it's become such a fun way to interact with you all and talk more about this ship as a community. So, in essence, you started this Jazzy!!! Thank you!! There's been a lot that others have submitted that I love, and ones that I'll sprinkle into my fic(s). Right now, I just have Sweet & Sour Dipplins up on AO3. So while there's a lot I could potentially say here, I'll keep my answer very general with all things considered:

Kieran falls first and harder. He had a crush on Juliana during Teal Mask. Juliana didn't really know what to fully think of with her feelings, but she later realized she developed feelings for Kieran here, too. She is also oblivious to Kieran's feelings. They had a lot of unofficial dates during Teal Mask.

Kieran assumes Juliana has had feelings for other people/has a dating history - she does not. She may have thought others were cute before, but Kieran's her first true real crush.

Kieran gets taller than Juliana during the time skip between Teal Mask and Indigo Disk. Before he was the same height. He is also stronger and can carry her.

Kieran and Juliana don't get together officially until post Indigo Disk because Kieran needs to have an edgy phase for personal development reasons. Juliana also needs time to grow as a person, too (in general, she's very sweet and dotes for a lot of people, but she leans more into her strength and resolve when her social relationship with Kieran is strained. Her adventures in Paldea also give her a sense of confidence, too.

Kieran actively denies his feelings for Juliana in angsty sleepless phase. He instead sees her as an obstacle to defeat because of his own insecurities, and tries to convince himself that everything she does (whether to him, or in general) is manipulative. Juliana is uncertain on how to approach him because she feels his anger even if he's not fully speaking on it, but gradually recognizes that showing up for him anyway is meaningful. Meanwhile, any time she is sweet to him, Kieran is having an internal crisis with his feelings.

Juliana likes both sides of Kieran but doesn't know what to make of it. She's also somewhat disgusted in herself for realizing she likes Kieran while he's clearly not too well mentally, let alone not getting along with her (or anyone) too well.

Biggest shippers of this ship include Carmine and Drayton. First shippers were Kieran's grandparents. Carmine helps Juliana figure out her feelings for Kieran, Drayton observes and suspects Juliana's feelings for Kieran and Kieran's feelings for Juliana. He has fun with this while also being on team "calm Kieran down and save him."

Everyone realizes Kieran and Juliana are dating before they do. By the time they announce it, everyone's like "well, duh". This especially embarrasses Kieran, who gets red in the face very easily. On the other hand, Juliana isn't really a blusher.

I'm trying to avoid listing headcanons that others have submitted, but I just have to list the whole "Kieran says wowzers after the first kiss" one because it's so funny and perfect. Juliana also likes hearing Kieran say "wowzers" even though he's trying to outgrow it because it's part of who he is at his core (he also still goes "aww man" sometimes).

Drayton can still mess with Kieran even while he's dating Juliana publicly. #Brotherly love (Note: Crispin also tries to tease, but it does not go as well for him LOL)

Post-angst Kieran is very attentive to Juliana and views her as an unconditional love because she never gave up on him. Nothing can ever distort his view of her again. In some ways, he pedestals her a bit for this and might take her side blindly.

Kieran retains his champion title (i.e. Juliana does not retain it because she's not a full time student), but he does so by working his way back up the ranks because he wants to earn it with his true ideals (i.e. channeling love and connection rather than revenge and winning). Juliana offers to help support him in his redemption arc at Blueberry, but he for the most part prefers to handle it alone since he himself was responsible for his action towards others. Drayton is proud of him when he gets beaten and teases him about Juliana's influence on him, which riles up Kieran.

In Teal Mask and angsty Kieran arc, Juliana leads the dynamic more. Post that, Kieran leads. Juliana thought she was more of a physically affectionate person, but then Kieran waltz in and becomes very lovey-dovey in this area once they're dating. Sleepy Kieran is especially clingy no matter what Kieran version we have. They also both love seeing each other's hair down and enjoy playing with it.

Juliana isn't a good cook and really only knows how to make sandwiches because they were useful. She does, however, learn a bunch of apple-based recipes because it's Kieran's favorite food flavor.

Kieran is technology deficient because of the way he grew up and often needs Juliana's assistance. Carmine, on the other hand, quickly adapted and uses technology better than the average person.

Kieran and Juliana trade each other aaplins as a surprise/way to confess love. They're both flustered when they realize they both traded aaplins.

Juliana flirted first, but Kieran made the first real move. He just needed the push/reassurance in knowing she liked him too.

Juliana can fluster Kieran very easily. By indigo disk, Kieran tries to get under Juliana's skin by turning the tables. It works. But he wasn't ready for that. So he flusters himself as a consequence.

I probably have more, but figured this was good enough for now. :) <3

#dipplinshipping #dipplingshipping headcanons #kieran pokemon #kieran x juliana pokemon #juliana pokemon #juliana x kieran pokemon #kieran x juliana #pokemon dlc #juliana x kieran

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koiir · 11 months

Text

TALK THAT TALK

Drabbles based on lyrics from twices “talk that talk”

𓈒࣪ 𐐪𐑂 ─ Pairings; Scaramouche, heizou, Alhaitham x gn!reader

𓈒࣪ 𐐪𐑂 ─ Genre/content; fluff, angst + comfort on Alhaithams, not proofread

“A to Z, you are quite sweet But I wanna skip the more important thing”

He hates this, Scaramouche hates it so much how you can’t seem to take a hint as he has tried to get you to notice these small things. You say you aren’t oblivious, but he begs to differ. How do you not notice it? Notice the way he treats you unlike he does with others?

He feels like his head is about to explode as he watches you chat away with another classmate. Stupid. You’re so stupid for not noticing the glances your classmate is giving you…you really are oblivious.

He’s trying to not make it obvious, yet he friends notice the way he eyes daggers at the classmate. They can only snicker seeing Scaramouche so worked up after only calling you a “friend” and nothing more. But they all know his true feelings, they just wonder if he will do anything.

They believe the indigo haired will just watch, yet his next movements leave them to raise an eyebrow.

He can’t deal with this, Scaramouche thinks to himself. He can’t let that classmate of yours who clearly is into you take what he has been longing for. The male makes his way up to you, completely dismissing the classmate.

“Scara?” He feels his heart beating and wants to smirk at the classmate at how easily he has gotten your attention, your eyes now glued on Scaramouche.

“Cmon, i gotta show you something.” He doesn’t even bother to wait for your response before grabbing your wrist. This is new, Scaramouche has never dared to make physical contact like this before. Maybe it’s a part of him that is possessive and wants to make it obvious. Especially to that classmate.

Here’s his chance, Scaramouche can finally get to the finish line of this. To the important part. With you two out of the classroom, the halls are empty as he stands in front of you. He keeps quiet but he knows you have your questions, he blushed looking away from you.

“I like you.”

He sees the way your eyes widen as your mouth is now agape, clearly not having this in mind. You didn’t expect a confession, much less for Scaramouche. He liked you?

“W-what?” You seem to be in a trance as you stare at him, but it’s anything but that as your mind races with thoughts. How? Why? You start to think back about your time being friends with Scaramouche and seeing if you could find any evidence of these feelings.

“Gosh [name] you’re so…stupid. You seriously didn’t know that I liked you?” “No! Absolutely not!”

He sighs out, but he grins as he sees you getting so worked up about not knowing this…and how he keeps insulting you for not realizing it.

“You actually like me?” He knows you have slight doubts, not expecting someone like him to have these types of feelings since he’s also so…. Himself.

“I’m not gonna say it twice, I actually like you idiot.” He wishes you could have been smarter…but it doesn’t change the fact that his heart beats for you and only you. Scaramouche doesn’t know why but he’s feeling rather bold, he pulls you in for a hug. You didn’t expect this….you didn’t even think he would have done something like this.

Baby, you know the answer, yes or yes / Don’t wanna waste time with the push-and-pull

It’s not exactly push and pull, most likely one sided with how heizou try’s to woo you. How long has it been since he’s…been like this for you? Ah, doesn’t really matter—cause it’s clear as day that heizou will never give up.

It feels like a lifetime with him working by your side, he almost views you as a beacon of hope whenever he has you on the same case as him. Yet he can’t deny that you are definitely the better the detective, yet maybe not with this…cause it seems you don’t bat an eye at his tactics as you wave him goodbye. Your grin making his face light up as he only wants more of this.

“Man alive… won’t you ever let that attitude go [name]?” You have your back turned away from heizou, as you roll your eyes. He actually asked you out…yet he played it off as a “catch up day” since you two have been so caught up in work. But with the way he wrapped an arm around you, it was obvious heizou wanted a date. From you.

“No, I probably won’t ever…” you want to say more, but you can’t voice out what you’re thinking in this moment. You don’t exactly know what to feel as you want to shut him down, but you know that isn’t what you truly want. You’re never doubt your thoughts or feelings, so why now?

“Won’t you say anything [name]? Don’t leave me hanging!” Heizou seems to resemble a lost puppy as he looks at you wishing for you to turn around. You know you should, maybe that would help give you your answer. You turn to see him and see the glint in his eyes, you feel your heart pound seeing him like this.

“I… i don’t know.” “What do you mean you don’t know?!”

He’s a little surprised at your answer, since he thought you would give an actual answer instead of an “I don’t know.” He feels a new idea pop into his mind, one that is bound to make you say yes.

“Well….” Heizou backs away from you, at teasing grin making a way onto his face. “You have two choices…” why is he making this so suspenseful? You feel yourself start to become more nervous, but not in that bad way—almost as if you’re awaiting for his next words as you become more giddy. But of course you don’t show it.

“Yes…or yes?” Huh? Oh. He’s asking about the date…you have two choices…yes or yes….

It was such a cliché thing for him to say, not giving you a choice to say “no.” Maybe that’s what you needed, cause you felt like you had the answer you needed. Definitely not because you didn’t want to admit you wanted to go on a date with him…

“So that’s your move heizou?” You now share a grin as you let your facade wash away as you start to feel true to yourself.

“Well to answer your question….yes.” You see the way his grin grows larger yet more pure as he feels himself filled with joy by your answer. It seems his tactic worked as you gave him the choice he had been wanting for so long.

Talk that talk, just one word / Talk that talk, l-o-v-e

He doesn’t know what to do, Alhaitham try’s to think of what to with this situation. It started with you two enjoying the company of the other, it felt almost perfect. To good to be true. And when those three words fell out of your lips, he felt himself become blank. Everything stopping as he took in what you had told him.

“I love you.”

Now as he sits with the emptiness of the library, Alhaitham wonders why the hell he kept quiet. How he had a battle of doubt with his feelings, he just needed the time to think about this. It’s not because it was early to say those words, but he thought if he should say it back. Is he capable of your love?

He feels stupid, so stupid for not talking it out with you. Cause now he has left you to avoid him and he knows he only has himself to blame. Alhaitham knows the answer, he wishes he could have known this earlier. When you spilled your heart to him.

It feels like time has gone slower, he doesn’t bat an eye at anyone as he thinks of the way back to you. And thankfully he is able to find you, your back facing him as alhaitham watches the way your gaze is fixated on the clear view of flowers.

He feels his stiff body now become more relaxed seeing you so peaceful, but h his heart breaks as he watches you notice his presence. It’s evident your hurt as you see him, and Alhaitham wants nothing but to fix that.

You stay still as he walks closer, he just hopes you don’t shut him down.

“Why are you here? Aren’t you busy?” He would expect you to be irritated, but your tone is soft. It’s almost as if you’re nervous to see him especially after what happened.

“I love you [name] and I’m sorry I couldn’t say it when you told me.” He feels like he should say more, he had almost all day to figure out the right words, yet love is difficult. Especially when trying to find the right words.

He knows you find peace whenever he holds you, so he hopes it can help you understand how he truly feels. As he pulls you in for the hug he hears you mumble. You mumble about how you’re sorry, and how you should have waited.

“Don’t say that, you should never hide how you feel. I was stupid for not telling you that I felt the same, I…I just was shocked that you loved me.”

Alhaitham almost felt doubt when he heard you tell him those words, why would you love him? But he should have know that you were honest, you always had done everything for him. Yet he didn’t believe you in that moment, and that is what hurts him most.

You don’t say anything as you feel his heartbeat against you, you have a natural instinct to hold him closer. You know how Alhaitham would get, and you knew he would do anything in his power to replace your pain with joy.

“…i love you okay?” You want to make sure he knows this, because you never want him to doubt your love for him.

“Please remember that.”

And he will. Alhaitham makes that promise to you and himself to always trust your word, because he knows you wouldn’t ever lie to him about.

A/n; wish I added more characters but I wanted to get something done so might do a part two…

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makeitmingi · 11 months

Text

Cause Baby You’re My Muse [Chapter 5]

Genre: Romance, Idol!AU, Music, Slight angst

Pairing: Mingi x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Producer!Reader, IdolLyricist!Mingi, IdolProducer!Hongjoong, Idol!Seonghwa, Idol!Yunho, Idol!Wooyoung, Idol!San, Idol!Yeosang, Idol!Jongho, cameo(s) by other celebrities

Summary: You always preferred producing underground, having an unknown face and governed by your own rules. But when you start freelancing for idol groups, you say goodbye to your lone wolf lifestyle as you learn to work with idol producers and lyricists.

Word count: 3.3K

[A/N: I know the Ateez members don’t stay in one dorm anymore but for the sake of this story, let’s assume that they do. Their old arrangement of Matz in one room, Mingi in his own room, San & Yunho in one room and the other 3 in one. ]

After you were finished, you left with Mingi and Hongjoong for movie night at their dorm. But of course, the others demanded that you make a quick pit stop to get snacks before going to theirs.

“We’re here.” The van stopped in the basement carpark of the apartment complex and you all climbed out. Hongjoong held his hand out to you to help you get down. Mingi didn’t say a word, taking your laptop bag for you so you wouldn’t have to carry it.

“Thank you.” You smiled at him. You rode the lift with them to the house. Mingi couldn’t even finish putting in the passcode when the door opened.

“Indigo!” Wooyoung yelled excitedly, throwing himself at you to hug you tightly. You caught him, surprised by the sudden attack.

“Shh, Wooyoung! You’re going to disturb the neighbours. Let’s go in.” Hongjoong scolded. Wooyoung let go of you but held your hand to lead you into the dorm.

“Glad you could make it.” San smiled.

“Thank you for inviting me.” You bowed your head. Wooyoung pulled you further into the dorm.

“Are you okay? Didn’t get chased by paparazzi?” Wooyoung asked, worry suddenly written all over his face. You knew he was referring to the article with Dean. You were a little surprised that they all knew about it.

“Oh, that. Don’t worry, I’m fine. I just went out for some drinks and people were probably excited that Hyuk had emerged again. No one has recognised me so far. Except those who know what I kind of look like, like you guys. Producer Indigo is still a ghost, I’ve not been photographed anywhere else.” You assured him. He let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank goodness. I thought someone would have recognised you or started some fake news about you.” Wooyoung smiled.

“Thank you for your concern.” You gave him an eye smile.

“Of course, we were all worried for your safety, even asked Eden hyung about it. But he said you’ve been at the studio the whole day with no disturbance.” Yeosang added as he walked past.

“I’m sorry if I’ve inconvenienced any of you with this. I’ll be more careful in the future.” You turned to whoever was around and bowed.

“Inconvenienced? What are you talking about? Never.” Yunho scoffed.

“Let me go wash up first since I’ve been at the studio to whole day.” You told them, a little flustered by their affection. Wooyoung led you to one of the bathrooms in the dorm.

You locked the door and removed your mask to wash your face. Since you were not outdoors, you removed your beanie to put your hair into a loose bun, not wanting your hair to be in the way. Before exiting, you put your mask back on.

“Wow, you really look like Hongjoong hyung.” Jongho stated.

“What are you talking about? Indigo is pretty, don’t keep comparing her to me. It’s insulting to her.” Hongjoong snorted.

“But hyung, you’re good looking!” Wooyoung chased after the captain to the kitchen. You chuckled and walked to the living room area. Yunho and Seonghwa parted to make space for you on the couch. Seonghwa asked you about the progress of the producing today and you gladly shared with him how it was in the studio with Hongjoong and Mingi.

“I’m excited to work with all of you in the studio when the time comes.” You said to the two.

“We’re... not the quietest group, if you haven’t noticed. It will not be different even while recording. The chaos is just as bad. That’s why the captain tries to split us up into smaller groups.” Yunho warned.

“Like that ever works. He puts Wooyoung, Mingi and Jongho together. Might as well send the whole group.” Seonghwa snorted.

“I’m guessing those are the troublemakers?” You asked with amusement.

“Even ATINY knows. Me, Yeosang and San are the good kids.” Yunho smiled proudly while nodding his head. Seonghwa rolled his eyes, everyone in Ateez had their own kind of chaos.

“Is there anything I can help with?” You stood up when you saw those in the kitchen preparing the snacks and drinks.

“Nonsense, you’re our guest. Besides, we can handle it. Now go relax in the living room.” Wooyoung placed his hands on your shoulders, turning you around and gently pushing you out of the kitchen. You turned back to look at the kitchen with uncertainty.

“They say they’re handling it but I swear I smell something burning.” You scratched your head. Seonghwa burst out laughing, patting your shoulder before going to check on those in the kitchen.

“You can help us pick a movie.” San and Yeosang said from their spots on the ground. They reminded you of kids, it was quite adorable.

“Sure.” You nodded and headed over, sitting with them.

“We would give you a tour of the dorm but the rooms are too messy.” Yeosang said, a little too honestly, making Yunho hit the back of his head. San also slapped his arm.

“Why would you tell her that?” He hissed.

“I don’t know about you guys but my room isn’t messy.” Hongjoong shrugged, emerging from the kitchen, having been kicked out by Seonghwa.

“Because you room with Seonghwa hyung. He would never let your room get messy.” Jongho said. Soon, Mingi, Wooyoung and Seonghwa came out with trays of snacks and drinks.

“Can I have an iced tea, please?” You requested, sitting up on the couch. Mingi reached out to take the bottle, pouring it into the glass with ice cubes. What you didn’t expect was for him to take out a straw and put it into the glass, making it easier for you with drink with your mask on. Then he carefully handed it over to you.

“Oh, thank you...” You said, touched by his actions, receiving the glass with two hand and a bow of your head.

“You’re welcome.” He smiled and turned back to the snacks. Instead of sitting on the couch, Mingi sat himself on the ground, in front of you.

“Am I blocking?” He turned back. You shook your head with a thumbs up.

“Can I sit with you?” Wooyoung asked. You nodded, patting the space. He grinned and sat down, draping a blanket over you and himself. The movie that was picked was a Studio Ghibli movie.

“Everyone comfortable?” Hongjoong asked.

“Yes!” Everyone replied. Hongjoong went to turn down the lights while San started the movie.

Throughout the movie, you would sneak snacks under your mask. Wooyoung would sometimes help you lift the blanket to cover the lower part of your face for you to eat, while his eyes were trained on the television screen. It was so comforting you hadn’t realised you fell asleep.

“That was a good movie.” Seonghwa stretched his arms as the credits rolled. Mingi sat up and looked behind to see you and Wooyoung fast asleep against each other. He reached out to adjust your mask first.

“She’s asleep.” Mingi said to the others.

“Jongho ah, go to bed. Go.” Yeosang gently woke his roommate. The youngest groaned, frowning slightly at being disturbed.

“Come on.” Yeosang pulled Jongho up by his arms and moved him to the room, bidding everyone goodnight at the same time. Seonghwa moved the sleeping Hongjoong to their shared room as well.

“Should we leave them? Rather than move them and risk them waking up.” Yunho asked.

“It’s okay if Wooyoung wakes up, not her. I’ll let her sleep in my room. There’s more privacy.” Mingi offered since he was the only one that had his own room.

“I’ll carry her.” San said. The other two nodded, trusting their member’s strength more than their own. You must have been in deep sleep because you didn’t even flinch as San slipped his arms under you.

“Careful.” Yunho cautioned. Mingi opened his room door and San gently placed you down on the bed.

“Let’s go.” San ushered everyone out. He draped the blanket over your body and they turned off the lights before closing the door. After that, Yunho retreated to the room while San went to wake his best friend to move him back to his room as well. Wooyoung whined, grumbling as San lifted him up and guided him to his room.

“You can sleep in my bed, Mingi. I can bunk with Wooyoung or Jongho.” San told the taller male, who sat on the couch.

“It’s okay. Sleep in your own bed. I’ll stay up for a bit more and sleep here.” Mingi patted the couch. San stopped, uncertainty written all over his face but Mingi just waved him off.

“Go on, I’m fine. Goodnight~” Mingi wished. San nodded and bowed before shuffling to his room.

You jolted awake, looking around at your unfamiliar surroundings. Your hands went to your face and realised that your mask had fallen off in your sleep. While reaching for it, you saw something on the nightstand beside you.

‘Here’s a new, clean mask.’

You saw the note beside the new mask but no one signed off. Putting the note in your pocket, you wore the new mask. The room had some merch with ‘Song Mingi’ over it so you guessed that you were in his room. But the tall male was nowhere in sight. Opening the door, you poked your head out.

“Ateez?” You whispered but the dorm was pin drop silent. You quietly tip toed out to see Mingi sleeping soundly on the couch, the blanket you shared with Wooyoung last night covering his body.

‘Thank you for letting me use your room and sleep in the living room, as well as the new mask. I owe you one! - Indigo’

After placing your note on the back of Mingi’s phone, which was beside his head, you carefully wore your shoes and left the dorm to go home.

“What time is it?” You checked your phone as you entered your house.

‘Thanks again for the movie night, Ateez. It was really enjoyable after a long day of work. I’m sorry I fell asleep, I promise to try to stay awake until the end the next time! - Indigo’

‘Next time?! Does that mean you would come again? - Wooyoung’

‘If you’d have me over. - Indigo’

‘Of course! And don’t apologise for falling alseep, we know how hard you’ve been working in the studio. - Seonghwa’

‘Plus your lack of a sleep schedule. - Jongho’

With a chuckle, you put your phone aside. You removed your clothes and jumped into the shower since you didn’t get to shower after work. Your intention was to come home after the movie and shower but you feel asleep at Ateez’s dorm. While your hair was drying, you made some breakfast food for yourself, which was french toast.

“Thank goodness there are off days.” You fell face first onto your bed. Tucked under the blankets, you scrolled on your phone, glad to finally have some time to relax and not need to think about work.

Mingi was the last one to wake up. He sat up, momentarily forgetting that he was sleeping in the living room.

“Oh, Mangi, you’re awake.” Wooyoung said, cup of coffee in his hand as he came out of the kitchen.

“Indigo still sleeping?” Mingi asked, stretching his long limbs.

“Nah, she went home while we were all still asleep. She texted that she was home when we just woke up.” Wooyoung explained before going back to his room. Mingi blinked and picked up his phone, seeing your note.

“Owe me one?” He laughed. Putting the blanket aside, he went back to his room to see the bed perfectly made. Even he doesn’t make his own bed so neatly when he sleeps there.

“Mingi, want breakfast? The others want eggs and sausages.” Seonghwa poked his head into the room.

“Sure, hyung... Just save me a plate. I think I’m gonna get a bit more sleep.” Mingi replied to the oldest’s question. Seonghwa nodded and closed the door. Mingi yawned and dove under his covers to get comfortable, hoping to get few more hours of sleep. Luckily there was no schedules today.

“Hmm~” As he scrolled on his phone, he found himself humming the tune that you and Hongjoong were producing yesterday. Chewing on his bottom lip, he opened his notes app and began typing away.

“Captain, breakfast.” Seonghwa called. Hongjoong sat up, ruffling his hair as he stared into space blankly for a few seconds. He came down from his bed and went to wash up.

“Indigo?”

“She went back way earlier, hyung. We were all still asleep when she left.” Yeosang said as he set the table. Hongjoong nodded his head.

“I’m glad she got home safe. I hope she enjoyed her time here yesterday.” He asked as he sat down.

“Yeah. I think she did, even if she fell asleep. She mentioned a ‘next time’ so that’s a good sign right?” Wooyoung asked, taking his seat beside San. Hongjoong nodded in reply.

When you woke up, it was slightly after noon. Thankfully you didn’t spend your day off sleeping. You went to the bathroom to wash up and change your clothes. You grabbed your bag, adjusting the cap over your head and the mask over your face. Checking the time once again, you left your house and made your way to the train station.

“One ticket for the 2:30 train, please.” You went to the counter. The lady nodded and handed you the ticket as you slipped the money under the glass.

‘You’re welcome, I just hope my bed was comfortable enough. No need to owe me. - Mingi’

‘Also, no one saw your face. I made sure to adjust it. - Mingi’

‘Come on, let me at least buy you coffee next time or a meal. And thank you for doing that. I removed my mask in my sleep at some point and wasn’t sure if anyone saw. - Indigo’

‘I want to assure you that the others and I have no intention of ‘un-masking’ you or taking advantage of you to remove your mask. - Mingi’

‘I know, I trust you guys. - Indigo’

With a soft sigh, you put your phone down and leaned your head against the train seat to look out the window. The train ride wasn’t too far away, it was only a hour’s journey. You took your laptop out to do some work.

“Hello?” You picked up your buzzing phone.

“Indigo! I heard you left early this morning.” You heard the captain’s voice.

“Oh, Hongjoong. Yes, when I woke up, everyone was still asleep. I didn’t want to disturb anyone so I let myself out.” You replied.

“Ah... Don’t worry about that. We can sleep like logs. I hope you enjoyed the movie night with us yesterday, as chaotic as the boys are.” He chuckled, much to the shouts of protest of people in the background. You couldn’t help but laugh, Hongjoong probably had you on speaker.

“After knowing you guys for two weeks and seeing how you are, I think it would be weird to see you guys not chaotic and energetic. It is practically a norm now.” You smiled.

“Thankfully we didn’t scare you off then.”

“It’s going to take a lot more than that to scare me off. And thank you for having me over, I had a great time with all of you.” You said.

“We’ll do it again some time-”

“Are you out now? I hear a train!” Wooyoung must have snatched the phone from Hongjoong. You could hear Hongjoong scolding the mischievious boy while Wooyoung ignored him and laughed playfully.

“Mhmm. I’m on a train.” You nodded, even if he couldn’t see you. You didn’t give too much away as to where you were or where you were going.

“Stop disturbing her and let her enjoy her day off! And give me back my phone!” There was the sound of a tussle and Wooyoung screaming before the call cut. You looked at your phone in shock. You couldn’t help but laugh, covering your mouth with your hand over your mouth to prevent your laughter from being too loud and disturbing the other passengers.

When the train announced your stop, you got up and exited the train. Although you didn’t get to work during the train ride like you intended, you were grateful for the call with Ateez.

“Ahjumma.” You greeted as you pushed open the gate. The old lady that was sweeping the ground looked up, a slight frow on her face. But she never said anything more, turning to head into the house.

“Haneul?” You called out. There were little footsteps and giggles from behind you. Bending down, you caught the little girl in your arms, hugging her tight and lifting her up. As she wrapped her arms around you, you inhaled her scent.

“Hi, baby.” You whispered.

“Unnie!” She grinned, both hands reaching out to pull your mask down. You didn’t stop her, just continuing to smile softly at her.

“I missed you.” You pushed her hair away from her face. From the back of the house, you heard a lot more children laughter but decided against going there. You were here for Haneul and Haneul only, she was your priority. You straightened up and held her hand.

“Hold on first, yeah?” You told her to wait as you went into the house. The old lady from earlier sat in front of the television, a bored look on her face.

“Here is Haneul’s living expenses.” You bowed, holding the envelope of cash in front of you. She wordlessly sat up and took the money, stuffing it into her pocket before waving you off.

Haneul was your cousin, who you decided to care for in their stead. They were going to give her up for adoption but you stuck a deal with the orphanage owner.

While you worked, the lady that owns the orphanage helps you to take care of her. In return, all you have to do is give her money for Haneul’s living expenses and her schooling. Unlike the other kids, Haneul goes to public kindergarten.

She doesn’t care much but at least she continues to hold up her end of the deal, using your money to care for Haneul and not putting her up for adoption with the other children.

“Are we going to your house today?” Haneul looked at you.

“Not today, baby. I’m sorry. Next week, you’ll stay with me for two nights.” You promised. Her eyes lit up as she nodded excitedly.

“Can we go to the zoo?” She requested.

“Of course, we’ll do anything you want.” You said. When Haneul came to the stay with you, you always made it about her. You brought her to a nearby park and brought her ice cream.

“Do you like it?” You asked. The 4 year old nodded her head happily. Haneul was your world, she was the only thing that motivated you to continue doing what you do. Soon, you hope to get her out of the system and have her live with you like she’s supposed to. But your job needed you to work 24/7, it would be unfair to her if she was with you and you couldn’t be there for her.

“I love you so much, you know that?” You smiled down at her. She held up her ice cream to you to share it with you.

“I love you too, unnie. Even if I don’t see you every day, I like that we can still video call! And I like staying over at your house with you.” She giggled while you wiped the ice cream off her lips.

Series Masterlist

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yostresswritinggirl · 1 year

Text

Pagtingin

"I'll just wait for the wind to sweep away my words."

Scaramouche/Wanderer x Fem!Reader.

Fluff; keeping your feelings secret; glimpses of Wanderer before he got his memories back; classic Scaramouche behavior; feel good story.

Heeey, @monicahar, guess I'm your secret santa uwu you know how much I love angst so know how I tried my very best to make this as fluff and kinda crack as you wished! I have FOUR retakes of this because I'm writing for the Scaramouche master writer (first one got rejected cuz it's quite angsty but I hope you liked it!)

"Mr. Sandman, sand me a saaand," you take a sighing pause, breathing in, and starting again. "Dendro archon, send me a siiiign -"

"What the hell are you singing about?"

"Wanderer!" And there he was in all his glory, arms crossed and stare full of judgment yet stuck to you as you stumbled across the room to reach the windowsill, opening the window to see that - yep, he's floating in mid-air.

The high rising moon behind him framed his ethereal form so beautifully, as if he was a messenger of Celestia ready to take you to the skies above.

You cough to your hand.

His squint lightens, descending to sit on the windowsill so you wouldn't have to crane your neck awkwardly to maintain eye contact.

"There's that Wanderer I know."

The sweet lost foreigner that first stepped foot into Sumeru City with eyes filled with innocent wonder. As a proud citizen and a strange sense of responsibility, you approached the then stranger for an impromptu tour around the humble place, something that he seemed to have needed desperately.

You still remember when he asked about where the sunsettias and harra fruits could be found, in case his employer needed to restock his stall. Of all the beauty that no other nation could compare, he wanted to know where the fruits are.

Safe to say your sudden guffaw had him spooked for a bit, but are you really to blame for how adorable he is for being so new to the world like he is?

It was a nice surprise too when you stumbled upon his fabled stall in the Grand Bazaar one day while he was tending to customers, flustered from the rush hour and his lack of training. Despite not needing it, you willed yourself to buy a watermelon just to talk to him again and give him a better customer service experience.

"Thank you for your purchase - ah, and come again sometime!"

You had to eat watermelon slices for a week because of that impulse buy, but his shy smile was worth the diet change.

But then his overall demeanor changed when you found an anemo vision hanging near his chest, at the same day that he left his merchant work with a blonde traveler. The Wanderer you knew didn't glare like that, talk like that, act like that. It was so quiet between you two, and it felt like he was sizing you up, unsure what to do with you.

"Hey!" His indigo eyes watched you place your hands on your hips with an annoyed huff. "You can't act like this just cuz you got a vision now, getting one doesn't mean you have to change up on me. We're friends still!"

And while his huff and eye roll are baffling to see on your sweet Wanderer, you can't deny his smirk suits him perfectly.

"Look who's the lonely one now." He clicks his tongue, mockingly, yet there were no apparent venom in his words. Back when he asked why you were hanging around him, you told him that he looked lonely too.

("Why are you doing all this? For me? Someone who's -" his Adam's apple bobbed so harshly as he gulped. "A stranger." The way he said those words sounded strangely strained.

"I just thought you looked quite lonely," you settled with no double meanings or deep words those scholars in the Akademiya tend to use. There's no need to beat around the bush with him. Leaning over your stall, you dipped your head under his hat to level his gaze more clearly. "Lonely and a lil confused, like you needed a friend.")

"Yeah, I missed you." He's always seemed like the type of person who wants the blatant truth.

"I -" And his actions had always been honest with you. What with the way he paused and avoided your stare, how he turns his head away and tilt his hat down to hide the expressions he's making. Perhaps your honesty doesn't just come from his preferences. "I suppose that's expected what with you being locked up here for - what? Eight days?"

"Almost nine." Heaving another sigh, your arms hang over the platform as you slump on the spot next to him.

Stuck in your dormitory room because of a flu you caught while out collecting data. While it's not life-threatening for anyone whatsoever, it's still contagious enough for the Akademiya to force you to self isolation until you got better. You haven't had contact with others in days, at least, that's what the Akademiya knows.

Wanderer stares at you with a look that screams out 'why the hell are you looking at me like that?' as you feel a smile force its way to your face, unable to hide it even from him. How could you when the man in front of you, no matter how many times you warned not to get close because of your flu, would only scoff about how ironic it was that you're the one saying those words.

You're thankful that he's confident of his immune system to keep visiting you like this.

He didn't have to visit every day the hour before your assigned bed time, but he's always here on the dot.

Despite the sudden change, Wanderer is still just as easy to read no matter how hard he tries not to be.

"Right, I almost forgot." You watch as he pulled out something wrapped in a beautiful blue furoshiki, the sweet smell already betraying the surprise before he unwraps the baklava for you. "You asked for some yesterday and I didn't want you to whine again."

"Pastries! Oh I love you so much!"

He can remember it so clearly that he could recreate every frame of the scene: The overwhelming feeling in his chest with the tightness in his throat, him opening his mouth before pressing his lips together before the first word could even come out.

Wanderer felt physical pain from the battle in his mind while you happily indulge in the pastry, blissfully unaware of the things you do to him.

Why was he here again after he got his memories back? Why does he keep coming back to this student that showed him around the city when he first arrived?

Lesser Lord Kusanali proposed to keep this connection instead of wallowing in self pity now that the world has forgotten him (that was his own doing), yet it was something that locked him in ball and chain despite having the conscious mind to get away.

Yet the way you immediately turn to him with an amused smile, "Something on your mind?" Easily defeated the clashing virtues debating in his mind. "You want a baklava?"

There was a pained expression on his face as he clutched his hand over his chest, he knows you've seen it no matter how he tried not to look like it. The Wanderer had always been so honest with you that's true, because it was so easy to just be him with you.

But that's not really him, is it?

Puppets like him don't need to breathe.

Yet at that time, perhaps Nahida was right that there really wasn't any difference between a human and a puppet.

"Do you think I deserve a second chance?" He let slip in front of the archon one day when his thoughts raged like the fires of a faraway furnace, too slow to bite his tongue and too frustrated to cover up with a 'forget it.'

Nahida, in contrast, takes time to think things through and watch his body language. From the way he avoids her stare and how his crossed arms looked more defensive of a different insecurity. The god of wisdom doesn't need to read minds to know this is an entirely different case.

"Let's put it this way, what's stopping you from thinking you don't deserve it?" Deserve her, more like.

And his old self would have said nothing, that he deserves everything he desires for all the efforts he had done to get to where he is now. But he's better than that now, no, he's better than that because of you.

Why must he be awkward around you?

Why must he be so hang up on every detail about him and you?

Why must he be so insecure of who he is and who you are?

"Because I'm not human," yet he uttered those words as if he was baffled by his own answer, eyes wide with confusion as he clutched his head. "Yet these days I feel like I'm one."

He practically all but shoved the poor pastry into his mouth, biting down with just a little too much force than intended. Fuck, he hates sweet things!

And so the puppet known as a human does his best to ignore your snickers with how his face contorts into irritation and disgust as the layers melt stickily in his mouth. Oh, he hates you, hates how much he loves you.

He hopes you don't blame him, it's hard to take a gamble with the only chance he's ever getting.

"How's your research going?"

"My proposal is ready, when I'm out of here, I wanna try and get funding to go conduct research in the desert."

"Mhm."

"Then I'll take you with me and tour you there too, I promise the views are worth it!"

"Alright, I'll hold you to it."

So for now, he will keep his peace until he's ready. He only hopes that when he confess his secrets, your opinion of him won't change.

He only hopes... when he reveals his feelings, your opinion of him won't change.

Maybe tomorrow, you'll be his. He can only hope.

This is loosely based on a song called Pagtingin, with English translations here! That's the vibe I'm going for where the singer is hesitating to confess his feelings because he's afraid that the person he loves would treat/see him differently if they don't share the same feelings.

Tagging: @maehemthemisfit @ireallylikehamsters @chuusposts

#gixrsecretsanta2022 #monicahar #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #exile.flower #genshin impact fluff #sumeru arc #fem reader

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acesw · 6 months

Text

new year, new angst

happy new years yall, if there is information that i never dropped here its the fact that im highly biased towards vertin and sonetto's relationship and i feel like i should drop a little scenario i wrote for the sake of it. its how i celebrate as an angst dweller :)

questions and questions. - A.D.

I didn't understand back then. I did not see you much after the incident, after Ms. Z had brought you back from the outside, drenched in rain. I would have gone to you if it were not for the guards that swarmed you both. You were the only one that came back. Why? Where did the others go? Did something happen to them? To you? What did you see in the outside?

I got the answer to my first few questions the following morning. When you came back, you did not talk for days; Did the things you would normally avoid. It was unlike of you, and I could not tell at that time if I felt relief or remorse. You didn't come up to me until the last night we saw each other up close.

On the night you left, you asked me to fix your hair, which was also an odd request. You normally didn't like doing this, but didn't exactly hate it either. (Perhaps I noticed too late that the reason you didn't hate it was because I was the one doing them.) I helped tie it into that rough and messy half-bun you only began to warm up to; I know you did, as it was the only way you could ever really stay still. You would talk about the frogs and the bugs you found near George the Oak, but you didn't. Not that night. Not in a time of wounds forced to be left unrefined by the white hands. When I made sure that the half-bun looked like the flowers you drew on your papers, you got off my bed and left with most of your things.

Why did you have to leave the dorm in such haste? Even left the toffees and pebbles on your night desk. I kept it for you when I thought you'd come back sooner. The frog was here, too. It croaked and whistled, jumping around the dorm and scaring the other girls. Then the janitor took it out the day after you left. And eventually I hid away the pebbles, ate the toffees. I accepted that I wouldn't feel the warmth of rough hands, showing me pieces of the outside for a long time to come.

There were no answers to the rest of my questions until graduation, and I saw you for the first time in a while. Your hair is fully tied to a side bun, the tiny freckles had faded, your hands rested on the hat on your lap. You wore an intricate suit that even I would have never guessed fitted you. You stood out amongst the black and white crowd as an indigo pawn. You looked far older, mature for our age; As if you had graduated years before. But I still saw the softness in your face, the baby face still made you look like the reckless child you were long ago. You looked…elegant and mysterious. Were you the same deskmate I grew up with all these years?

You graduated with us. A "special student'" like the principal called you once. They announced that you had become the first "Timekeeper" in the Foundation, a title of reverence and importance. You tipped your hat forward and placed your closed fist on your chest, finally speaking. "May the peace be with us." Those were the first words I heard in your low, gentle, and firm voice.

After that, you disappeared. Worked diligently, but left no trace around the Foundation until you came back to report weekly. We never spoke to each other until that fateful week in London, and the time that passed after that. Back then I did not understand what that title meant, but I do now. It sparked new questions full of wonder. And that wonder came with its concerns.

What did you really see outside? In the "Storm"? How much more did you lose? What will it take to break from the weight of the world on your shoulders? When will you realize it's okay to be vulnerable again?

More and more questions arise the more you shroud yourself into melancholic mystery. Perhaps, as time passes, all these will be answered and land into place.

But for now, I just want to spend more time with you, and rebuild what we lost. Make up for what could've been and discover new things together again.

#reverse 1999 #vertin #sonetto #vernetto #i wrote this roughly a month prior to today #angst #sonetto just wondering #pondering and reminsicing

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borathae · 1 year

Text

↳ Index [Chapter 07 - Chaleur]

• Chaleur (French, warmth)

Pairing: Taehyung x f.Reader

Warnings: there is angst in the beginning but then it’s cute and smutty, Tae and OC finally talk!, this is a spoiler but they fuck :), switch!Taehyung, switch!Reader, shower sex, oral sex (f.receiving), body worshipping, breast & nipple worship, he kneels for her, strength kink (he carries her as they fuck mgfm), feet (she traces his pecs with them and then kinda steps on his face), degradation (she calls him slut a few times), possessiveness (she calls him her property and Tae’s into it), praise (she calls him good boy/puppy), he calls her Empress, rough hair pulling, scratching, multiple orgasms (f.receiving), creampies, squirting, Tae is so needy for her and fucking loves to be stepped on fjasdj, the aftercare is so :(

Wordcount: 12.2k

a/n: you asked for it besties and you know me, i will deliver :-)

Hoseok clears his throat loudly, making you and Yoongi look over your shoulders.

“Oh Hobi, you came just right. We just finished cooking dinner. Do you want some?” you tell him.

Hoseok runs his eyes up and down your bodies. You are wearing different clothes than you did when you arrived here. A green cardigan adorns Yoongi’s torso, indigo sweats cover his legs. Comfortable and colourful. Hoseok knows that this means he had a good time with you. Yoongi’s hair was messy in the back, tied into a bun. You seem to wear one of Yoongi’s shirts and his shorts. Hoseok knows exactly what happened, lips curling into a dirty smirk.

“Did you guys fuck?” he coos, wiggling his brows.

“Why are you so inappropriate?” Yoongi asks, pursing his lips in distaste.

“No judgement here”, Hoseok lifts his hands, “I like that you did.”

“Shut up”, Yoongi murmurs and turns to you, “no, princess what are you doing? Let me take that, it’s hot”, he whines in a pitched voice, reaching for the pot you are carrying. He fails in doing so, waddling behind you with a big pout and grabby hands.

“It’s okay, I can do it”, you assure him, hurrying to the dining table, “can you get the dishes?”

“Fine, I’ll get the dishes. Didn’t you promise me to stay safe?” he says as he sets the table.

“Okay dramatic much?” you chuckle fondly, “I didn’t even burn myself, look.”

Yoongi takes your hands, turning your palms to him so he can inspect your skin. He runs his thumbs over your perfectly fine hands.

“Mhm”, he hums, nodding his head in contentment.

“See? I’m okay”, you say, leaning in to peck his cheek, “you worry too much, my prince.”

“Yeah, yeah whatever”, he dismisses you even if he leans in for another kiss.

Hoseok, who watches the whole scene with a grin, finally talks again.

“Where are the others?”

“Still upstairs”, you explain, “they’re talking.”

“Really?” he stays quiet for a while, “oh yeah, they’re definitely talking”, Hoseok says, tapping his ear, “talking with their dicks.”

You roll your eyes while Yoongi sends Hoseok a look.

“Just get your pasta and be quiet, you creep”, you tease, scooping out Hoseok’s portion.

“What did you make?”

“Pasta arrabbiata.”

“Waaah that sounds amazing. I can’t say no to that”, Hoseok says, closing the distance between him and the table. He sits down opposite of you, accepting his bowl of pasta with a happy thanks on his lips. He shoves some of it into his mouth.

“Careful it’s hot”, you warn.

He squeaks and exhales loudly, opening his mouth to fan air into it.

“I warned you.”

“It’s totally okay. I can barely even feel it melting my mouth”, he says, panting loudly.

You chuckle, “that’s what you get for being greedy.”

He swallows his bite and sticks his tongue out at you, earning himself a fond chuckle from you. You eat a bite each, sharing in the comfortable silence while Yoongi kind of stares at you from the kitchen, rubbing his own tummy in awkwardness. Hoseok and you seem to get along so well. He doesn’t know how to include himself, scared that he will ruin the mood. So he stands and stares. Stares and stands. Stands and stares and feels overwhelmed by the situation.

“Mhm”, Hoseok announces that he wants to talk, “it’s still wild to me that those two are a thing now. I always thought Kook hated Tae’s guts, but I guess there’s something about him that he likes.”

“Tae’s a really sweet and lovely person if he isn’t hanging out with idiots. I know why Kook likes him.”

“I guess”, Hoseok tilts his head to the side, “I think it’s also because his dick is huge.”

“Why are you going there?” you say, widening your eyes.

“Just so. It’s because Tae’s talking about stuffing Kook’s ass with his massive dick right now.”

“Hobi”, you hiss, reaching over the table to slap his arm, “stop being such a perv. They’re having a private moment. Why are you always listening in?”

Hoseok cackles, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I can’t help myself. My senses are so heightened that it just happens naturally and then I want to keep listening in because it’s interesting to know how other people fuck.”

“You’re just a voyeur, nothing more.”

“Maybe I am. Loud and proud”, he says, sending you a wink.

“Tch so stupid. One day you’re gonna listen in on the wrong people and get yourself into trouble, I’m telling you.”

“Yeah probably. But I have you guys to defend me. Hey hyung, where are you going?”

You look over your shoulder at Yoongi, who just this moment stopped in the threshold of the kitchen now that he was caught in the act of sneaking away. He is gawking at you with widened eyes and parted lips, rubbing his own tummy.

“I don’t know”, he says quietly, fumbling with his own ear.

“Don’t be like that, sit with us and eat”, Hoseok offers to which you pull out the empty chair next to you.

Yoongi shimmies from one foot to the other, sneaking a glance at you again. You give him a fond smile, patting the empty pillow of the chair. With his left hand on the side of his neck, Yoongi waddles to the table and sits down next to you.

“Do you want some pasta?” Hoseok offers.

“No I- ah”, his voice cuts off as you place your hand on his thigh under the table. It startles you, making you pull your hand away.

“What’s wrong?” Hoseok gasps.

Yoongi fishes for your hand again, holding it tightly.

“Nothing”, he obviously lies.

“Talk to us. What’s wrong all of a sudden?” you ask him, “you’re basically breaking my hand under the table.”

“Sorry, I just”, he lets go of you, even goes so far as to push your hand away, “it’s silly, just eat. I don’t eat human food either way.”

He wants to stand up, but you pull him back down.

“Sit and talk. What’s on your mind?”

“Will you let off? Geez. I said it’s nothing”, he hisses, but widens his eyes instantly, “sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

“It’s alright. Do you want a bite?” you offer in hopes to relax him a little.

Yoongi shakes his head.

“Okay”, you say, placing your hand back on his thigh and continuing to eat afterwards.

Hoseok reaches over the table and pats Yoongi’s arm brotherly, taking a bite of his pasta afterwards. He knows exactly not to probe right now. Yoongi will open his mouth if he feels ready for it, right now all he and you need to do is give him his time.

“Do you think Seokjin’s already reached Gordes?” he asks you.

“I don’t know. I hope so. Do you think that he found Emma already?”

“I really hope he did. I’ve seriously never seen him so happy before.”

“Me neither. It was really cute when he danced on the plane.”

Hoseok snickers, “yeah it was adorable.”

“Are you mad at me!?” Yoongi blurts out.

You and Hoseok look at him in confusion.

“Huh? Why should we be mad at you?” you ask.

Yoongi widens his eyes, “j-just because I,I uhm- uuh, because of what I, I did to Fringella on the, the plane.”

“You mean when you ripped her hand off and then threw it at my face?” Hoseok says, painting great embarrassment onto Yoongi’s features.

“Of course we’re not mad at you because of that. Fringella was being a bitch and you did it to help Seokjin”, you assure him, caressing the back of his head.

Yoongi exhales loudly, sagging his shoulders as if he lost a million pounds of burden with that sigh.

“Yeah seriously and you protected ___. Fringella was making really creepy threats. Next time try not to throw the limbs you dismember at my face though”, Hoseok says.

Yoongi chuckles, shaking his head.

“I’ll try”, he whispers, lowering his head to hide the giddy grin he is sporting.

Not that he is doing a good job. Both you and Hoseok see it, finding it beyond adorable. You tug Yoongi closer with his chair, draping your arm over his shoulder and flustering him in the process. You press a quick kiss to his cheek, flustering him even more.

“Don’t you dare flee from me again, hear me?” you say, playing with the short strands of hair which slipped out of the bun.

He nods his head, looking at his lap in giddiness.

“Good”, you kiss his cheek, “do you really not want to try the pasta? We worked so hard on it and it’s so, so yummy” you offer him, ruffling up his hair at the back of his neck.

He sneaks a shy glance at you.

“Fine, just a little.”

“Awesome”, Hoseok springs to his feet, “say seated hyung, I’ll get a bowl for you.”

During the time Hoseok needs in the kitchen to get everything, you do nothing more than stare at Yoongi’s face and play with his hair.

“What?” he asks quietly.

“Nothing, I just think you’re the most handsome”, you tell him with a pretty eye smile.

“Oh”, he lowers his head, but gets it tugged back up with your hand twisted tightly in his hair. His entire body tingles because of it.

“I keep thinking about the thing Fringella said today. You know, about what you did in the past”, you begin.

Yoongi’s eyes light up in fear.

“You really changed so much, my prince. I’m so proud of you”, you say, tugging him closer by his hair to press a deep kiss to his lips.

Yoongi makes a little sound, getting it swallowed by you. He squeezes his eyes shut, exhaling shakily out of his nose. You break the kiss by sucking on his lower lip.

“So sweet”, you whisper, “you taste so good. Mhm”, you add, pecking his lips.

“___”, he breathes, lowering his head, “we’re not alone.”

You sneak a glance at Hoseok. He is in the midst of preparing a portion of pasta for Yoongi.

“Don’t mind me”, he says, “it’s actually kinda fun to watch you guys.”

Yoongi puts distance between you and him in embarrassment.

“You’re a creep”, he says dryly.

“Don’t come for me. It’s just that Jin and I had a bet going on about you guys.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Yeah, when you guys were fighting all the time back in the days we had a bet about how long it would take for you guys to realise your feelings for each other.”

“Why would you even make such a stupid bet?” Yoongi gasps.

“Because it was really entertaining to watch you two be so obviously smitten for each other.”

“We weren’t smitten for each other”, Yoongi insists with a frown.

“Sure, that’s why you always pressed each other against every goddamn wall you encountered or had your faces this close”, he shows the smallest distance with his fingers, “when you yelled at each other.”

Yoongi sneaks a shy glance at you, noticing the excitement in your eyes. It confuses him because he thought that you would be embarrassed by it as well.

“Just for your information, I won. Jin said you guys simply hated each other. He was so wrong. But you can’t hide from me, Doctor Love”, Hoseok says.

“Doctor Love, for real?” you say, having to chuckle.

“Mh-hm, that was also my porn name in the nineties, just saying.”

“You starred in porn?”

“Obviously”, Hoseok grins proudly, “I still have my entire collection at home if you wanna come over for a movie night. I can show you some of my tricks too”, he says, winking at you.

Yoongi places an arm around you, squinting his eyes in jealousy.

Hoseok who notices, gives Yoongi a wink too, “you can join too, hyung. I know how to handle dick. Doctor Love doesn’t disappoint.”

Yoongi breaks eye contact instantly, looking to the side in flusteredness.

“You’re so weird”, he mumbles.

Hoseok grins, pushing Yoongi’s plate of pasta over the table.

“You should eat before it gets cold.”

“Should we keep some for the others too?” you ask.

“Oh trust me, those two are very well fed right now”, Hoseok says.

“You’re not actually listening in again, are you?”

“Course I am, it’s funny. You two and Kook were funny too in the gym.”

“Oh my god Hoseok”, you gasp.

“You’re seriously such a creep the hell, that was private”, Yoongi hisses.

Hoseok snickers, shrugging his shoulders, “it was worth it. I won a bet, that is all that mattered.”

“Can I smack him?” Yoongi asks you.

“Huh?” Hoseok gasps.

“What? No of course not”, you say, shaking your head.

“Just a little please?” he whines, giving you a pout.

“No”, you laugh, “just eat your pasta.”

Yoongi huffs out air and sticks his fork into the delicious pasta rather aggressively.

“Thanks, bro”, Hoseok says.

“I didn’t do it for you, idiot. You deserve a smack for being a creep”, you say, chuckling when this makes Hoseok gasp in offence.

Hoseok gets a call from Seokjin once dinner was finished. You and him were in the middle of washing the dishes when his phone rang.

“Oh crap, that’s Jin”, Hoseok gasps, “hyung, can you get it for me?”

Yoongi lifts his head from the stovetop he was cleaning thoroughly, waddling to Hoseok in small steps.

“Where’s your phone?” he asks.

“Booty pocket”, Hoseok says, wiggling his butt.

“Tch, the things I do for you”, Yoongi mumbles, fishing the phone out of Hoseok’s back pocket with his nose scrunched up in distaste. He picks up and puts the phone on speaker.

“Hey there!” you and Hoseok yell instantly.

“Oh guys? Hey there”, Seokjin says.

“We’re washing the dishes, that’s why we’re both here. Yoongi put you on speaker.”

“Hey”, Yoongi says.

“Hey there, wow it’s so great to hear you guys’ voices.”

“Did you arrive safely?” you ask him.

“No, I’m still on the train. It’ll still take a few hours. I just wanted to let you guys know that I boarded safely.”

“That’s good to hear. I’m so excited for you, hyung”, Hoseok says.

“Me too”, Seokjin lets out a breathy laugh, “if I’m being honest with you guys, I’m really nervous.”

“That’s understandable. You are meeting Emma again, that’s huge.”

“It’s so huge. I think I’m breathing manually, I’m so nervous.”

“Don’t be, she’ll fall back in love with you instantly”, you assure him.

“I seriously hope that you are right. I don’t wanna mess this up.”

“And you won’t. We believe in you.”

“Thank you, you guys. I seriously needed to hear that. You know, I didn’t want to say anything on the plane because of Fringella, but Emma’s all I’ve been thinking about. I want to ask her so many things once I meet her. How has she been? Was she happy? Did she have a good life? I want to know her so well.”

“That sounds lovely, Jinnie”, you say.

“It seriously does”, Hoseok agrees.

“It does? God, I don’t know. Doesn’t it make me sound like a complete idiot?”

“No it’s doesn’t. She will love your interest in her life, trust me”, you assure him.

“You think so?”

“Yes, I do. Trust me.”

“Okay, I will trust you then”, he says and exhales loudly, “seriously though I think I’m going to shit myself, I’m dying in nervousness.”

“I get it, but don’t be. I’m sure everything will be alright”, Yoongi assures him.

“Yeah? You think so too?”

“Yes. And if Emma changed too much, at least you know that you tried.”

Seokjin sighs, “I guess. God, I hope that this won’t happen.”

“I’m sure it won’t. Yoongi’s just saying”, you assure him.

“Yeah”, Yoongi agrees.

“That’s good to hear”, he says and then for a few moments you hear the background. The purring of the train, the chatter of people and someone speaking louder than the rest, “okay guys I gotta go, someone’s checking our tickets”, Seokjin tells you.

“Yeah sure, give us updates once you know more.”

“I will, I will. Thank you for cheering me up, you guys.”

“That’s what we’re here for”, Hoseok says and moments later Seokjin hangs up.

“It’s so nice of him to call”, you say.

“Yeah totally”, Hoseok agrees, sticking his butt out for Yoongi to put the phone back.

Yoongi does so with squinted eyes.

“Who called?”

You turn upon hearing Jungkook’s voice in the doorframe. He is wearing grey shorts and a baggy shirt. Taehyung is next to him in slacks and a button-up, having his hair styled into his face. Their faces glow just a little from what they did before.

“Seokjin. He said that he boarded the train safely”, you tell them.

“Wow really? That’s so good to hear. Does he know more about Emma already?”

“Not yet. He’ll give us updates once he does.”

“Mhm okay”, Jungkook nods his head. He hurries to the fridge and opens it, bending down to look, “that’s disappointing, I wanted snacks.”

“Yeah right?” you agree, “I think we should go grocery shopping later. I need more food.”

“We could go”, Taehyung throws in.

The room is silent for a moment, all eyes are on him, the air is tense. He touches the side of his neck, stuttering nervously.

“I, I mean I think, I guess. Maybe we could, I would like that. I don’t know.”

“I mean”, you begin, fumbling with your own thumbs, “I guess we could. We don’t really have food, do we?”

“Are you truthful?” Taehyung gasps, looking at you as if he didn’t expect you to agree.

You nod your head, looking to the side nervously.

“Wow, I”, Taehyung laughs breathily, “I would love to go. Shall we go right now?”

You shrug your shoulders, “yeah sure.”

“Oh darling”, he giggles, “darling, this makes me happy. I’ll wait for you outside!”

And with that he hurries out of the kitchen to get ready. You look at Jungkook. He seems happy with the situation.

“What did you say to him?”

“Just that he should talk to you.”

“I see. Uhm. Thanks.”

“Of course”, he smiles sweetly, “I hope you guys can talk it out.”

“Mhm me too”, you agree and look at Yoongi.

He has his arms crossed in front of his chest and squints his eyes.

“Are you okay with me going out?” you ask him.

“I don’t trust Taehyung.”

“You can”, Jungkook assures him, “he just wants to make things right.”

Yoongi clicks his tongue, “fine. But keep your phone close, call me if something happens.”

“I will”, you say, hurrying to him to kiss his cheek, “you worry too much, my prince.”

“No, I don’t worry enough”, he corrects you, making your snicker. You pinch his cheek.

“Okay”, you whisper, kissing him once more, “I’ll see you later, you cutie”, you say, breaking away from him.

Except that Yoongi doesn’t let you. He pulls you back in to steal one more kiss from you, running his thumb over your lower lip afterwards.

“Two isn’t enough”, he whispers.

“You’re so cute”, you say with a fluttering heart.

“Mhm, you’re cuter”, he says, kissing you one last time (promise it’s the last kiss), “be careful, my princess.”

“I will and I’ll call you if something happens.”

“Mhm yeah, that’s my girl.”

You leave the kitchen with a happy skip in your steps. You like it so much when Yoongi is touchy with you. It makes you feel so incredibly good.

You hurry upstairs to put on some pants and then after saying your last goodbyes to the others, you finally leave the apartment.

Taehyung – just as he promised – is waiting outside, prancing from left to right nervously. He lifts his head when he hears the door close, eyes locking on you.

“Darling”, he says, hurrying up the three steps to offer you his arms, “may I?” he asks.

You hesitate for a moment, but decide to accept the gesture in the end. It makes you feel good, but it also makes you feel nervous. You haven’t talked yet and you don’t know how to feel about him yet. All you know is that you want to talk it out with him. You haven’t given up on him yet, hell you didn’t even come close to giving up on him, but you can’t deny that his behaviour lately hurt you. It feels just a little wrong to hold his arm like this and so you break the touch after a few meters down the pavement.

Taehyung notices and lowers his gaze.

“You uhm”, he begins, “do you have any specific wishes?”

“What do you mean?” you ask hopefully.

“Do you crave certain food?”

“Ah”, your hope sinks again, “yeah I guess. I made a list.”

“That’s good to hear. We shall see that we can get all of it.”

“Mhm yeah.”

Taehyung touches the side of his neck nervously, forgetting everything he wanted to say. You are so distant with him and he can’t even blame you.

The remaining walk to the grocery store is silent. You were the one to initiate it and Taehyung was too nervous to dare and break the quiet. It weighed heavy on both your hearts. You wanted Taehyung to speak up. Perhaps giving him the silent treatment was childish of you to do and maybe you could have said something too, but just for once you wanted him to act. To take the first step. To make it seem as if you are still worthy enough to fight for. You already told him that he hurt you, you already told him that you still see him worth fighting for by telling him “hey your behaviour hurts me, let me show you how you can love me better again because I want this to work”. He should have said something on your walk, but he stayed silent and it made you so incredibly sad.

Talk in the store wasn’t any better. Taehyung offered to drive the cart for you and you allowed him. He tried to talk to you about the grocery list and you showed it to him. He tried to joke about a funny looking apple and barely granted him a smile. You didn’t want him to talk about groceries and funny food, you wanted him to talk about what was actually important. You wouldn’t even have minded if he started a scene in the middle of this stupid store. He could yell at you, beg you to stay, scream until he can’t anymore and you would have thanked him for it. At least it would have been better than distant, disgusting small talk. At least like this, it would have felt like he still cared.

But Taehyung didn’t. He talked about stupid groceries and offered to pay for everything and helped you load the groceries and then carried the heavy bags for you, but he didn’t actually say what you needed him to say.

“Are you angry at me?” he asks once he couldn’t bear the silence anymore. The roads are empty. It’s just you and I. You are almost home.

You stop and take a deep breath. Finally. But it feels like it is coming too late. You have already given up on talking to him today. His questions almost feels like mockery to you.

“No, I’m not”, you say and it was the truth. You aren’t angry, just hurt and disappointed.

“Are you certain?”

“We should get back to the others. I think it’s gonna rain”, you tell him.

Taehyung looks up at the grey sky. The air smells like rain and the trees are loud in the sudden wind shaking their branches. He looks back at you. You started walking again.

“Darling”, he calls after you, increasing his steps to close the distance between you and him. Distance. There is so much distance between you and him. “Darling please talk to me.”

“About what? The weather? It’s getting cold, we should hurry.”

“You’re angry at me.”

“Of course I’m angry at you”, you blurt out, whipping around to send him a dark look, “I’m so fucking pissed at you that I want to curse.”

Taehyung stops and nods his head.

“Finally you are honest”, he says.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means…” he studies your features. He could tell you a million things and yet right now he has no idea what he should say, “it means thank you.”

“Thank you?”

“Thank you for finally saying it how it is.”

“Stop talking in riddles. I’m too tired to figure out what you’re trying to say.”

“I hurt you so much, didn’t I?”

You close your mouth, studying his features. Deep regret burns in his eyes.

“I hurt you so much with my awful grief, didn’t I?”

You take a deep breath and exhale loudly.

“No you”, you begin, shaking your head, “I know you’re grieving, it’s alright Tae.”

“Please be honest for once.”

You falter. Hesitate.

“Please?”

The wind picks up, sending cold shivers down your spine. The sky is dark. Barely any sunlight hits the ground. It feels fitting. The darkness.

“Of course I’m hurt”, you finally confess what you didn’t dare to speak for months, “I miss you.”

Taehyung draws closer. Just one step. His eyes never break contact with you. You falter again, look away as if you feel shame.

“But why should this matter?” you dismiss him, visibly closing up again, “you lost so much. I understand, Tae.”

“It matters to me, because you matter to me”, Taehyung says.

You gasp as if his confession surprised you. You look at him with widened eyes.

“I look at you and I feel sick in guilt”, Taehyung confesses.

“Why?”

“Because I stopped loving you the way I loved you in the past.”

You blink to get rid of the burning in your eyes. You look away. You touch your own arm and caress it.

“It’s okay, I understand. You have a lot going on and I get that the grief is making everything hard”, you say and Taehyung wants to scream at you for being so understanding.

“But you shouldn’t have to understand”, he insists with his voice slightly raised in emotion.

You look at him again, gnawing on your lower lip. You look unsure and nervous.

“You shouldn’t have to be so understanding. I feel so guilty and, and angry.”

“Angry?”

Taehyung furrows his brows and nods his head.

“Yes. Angry”, he says, “angry at you for pretending as if you are fine with this situation. Stop being so considerate for my sake, ___. It angers me.”

“Well, you anger me too”, you throw back with your voice slightly raised in emotion, “you anger me with, with this childish self-pity trip you are currently on and you anger me when you tell me that I shouldn’t understand your grief. I want to understand your grief, Tae!” you hit your own chest, “I want to understand that you can’t be the romantic, cheesy lover you were in the past because you are grieving too much. And I want to understand that you are a little distant because you are confused and hurt and overwhelmed. I want to understand, alright?”

“But why?”

“Because I’m in love with you, you silly idiot.”

Taehyung closes his mouth.

“And because I want to believe that what we share is more than just superficial, purely physical attraction”, you confess and tear up, “and that this means that times will be hard and sometimes we will be more distant than other times, but that we won’t ever pull away because what we share is, is…is actual love.”

Taehyung touches his chest.

“I can understand all the grief in the world Tae if it means that what we have is real to you. But what I can’t understand is being pushed away for it. That I deserve to be pushed away for being there for you. That I can’t understand.”

“___”, he says, stepping closer.

“I want to know that you feel the same as me. That we share love and not just occasional desire”, you say and whimper, hating your lower lip for trembling.

“___, of course this is love”, he says, reaching for you.

You meet his hands in the middle, intertwining your fingers with him and allowing him to tug you closer.

“Oh, you silly woman don’t you dare doubt my feelings for you”, he speaks softly, looking at you with blinding love in his eyes.

“Yeah well, it’s been a little difficult not to lately”, you say, looking up at him, “I don’t blame you for being a little distant because I understand, but I…” you hesitate.

“Tell me”, Taehyung encourages you.

“I know that we aren’t by any definition traditional and I like that we aren’t. I like to be together, but to feel secure enough that we can see other people as well.”

“I like that as well, my darling.”

“But I don’t like it when you turn into a douche.”

“A douche?” Taehyung gasps, widening his eyes

“Yes. It hurts me a lot when you give me the feeling that I am replaceable or as if I’m nothing more than one of your countless fucks.”

“But you aren’t. You’re my ___”, Taehyung says and tries to kiss your knuckles.

You pull away before he can however.

“I didn’t feel like this lately.”

Taehyung furrows his brows in seriousness, caressing your knuckles for now. He knows that you need to be listened to right now and he wants to do that.

“I felt replaceable and invisible and ugly at times.”

“Is this about what Fringella said to you?”

“Yes. Yes, it is. She called me a dull, human blood bag and said that I’m not your type and that you couldn’t ever see as more than just your easy-to-take cum dump.”

Taehyung scowls, tonguing his cheek.

“And I guess it just verified all the doubts I had lately.”

Taehyung widens his eyes in surprise.

“You made me feel unwanted lately and as if I was replaceable and hearing Fringella say that I am indeed not your type and just easy food, everything I feared got confirmed.”

“Don’t believe her. She lied, you’re not just replaceable food to me. You’re my partner and my darling.”

You hesitate, gnawing on your lower lip again.

“You also have to know that Fringella has no emotions and therefore speaks without empathy. She never cared about humans. They are mere blood bags in her eyes and she thinks that every vampire shares her sentiments, which isn’t true. I don’t share her sentiments.”

“Then I don’t understand why you spent time with her and why you did all this awful stuff like drain humans and have blood orgies and do stuff I don’t even want to imagine.”

Taehyung lowers his eyes in shame.

“Because I needed to feel something other than grief”, he confesses, “I am sorry, I know my reasoning isn’t enough, but it is the truth. She made me feel numb and far away and for once my grief didn’t suffocate me.”

“Do you really want to feel numb so badly?”

“Of course I do. I’m breaking under the pain and all I want is to feel nothing.”

“And she made you feel that way?”

“Yes.”

“Did you…did you turn off your emotions?”

Taehyung meets your nervous gaze.

“No. I played with the idea, but in the end I couldn’t.”

“Why?”

“Why?” he repeats, “because I told you, I couldn’t bear the thought that this would hurt you.”

“Oh.”

Taehyung draws closer. Rain finally begins to fall on the world. It feels cold on your skin, but Taehyung’s touch keeps you warm.

“I love you, ___.”

“Really?”

“Yes, of course I do. I know that I didn’t show it as much as I should have lately and I regret it immensely, but I truly love you. Most ardently.”

It feels so good to hear those words from him. Your heart beats so much easier again.

“I love you too, Taehyung”, you say with a shy smile, “I understand why you couldn’t, but I’m also asking you to change some of your behaviour.”

“Of course, tell me what hurt you. I want to fix this.”

“Please don’t talk about how beautiful and wonderful and amazing your one night stands are. You can tell me that you had a fun time, but when you practically swoon over them I feel hurt.”

“I understand. I will refrain from being too specific in the future.”

“And can you refrain from graphically making out with strangers in front of me? It just feels a little shitty because I didn’t consent to seeing you behave that way.”

“I understand. I shall ask you in the future.”

“No just, try not to do it at all please.”

“Okay. I won’t kiss other people in front of you.”

“No, just strangers. I don’t mind it if it’s Jungkook.”

“I understand. I can change that.”

“And one more thing.”

“Tell me.”

“I don’t want to prevent you from having sex with whoever interests you, but I would like to have a warning first. It feels shitty to go to an event, thinking that we will spend time together, only to be dumped five minutes into it. I want to know if you plan on seeking out sex with someone other than our poly family.”

“Of course. I will talk to you about it first from now. Shall I also talk to you about it whenever I want to seek intimacy with Jungkook?”

“No, it’s okay when it stays in our poly family. I just don’t like it when you disappear with a stranger and I don’t know whether you dumped me or I should wait for you.”

“I understand. I will talk to you about it from now on. I promise, whenever we go out and I plan on meeting someone, I will have a thorough conversation with you beforehand. And you are also allowed to tell me if you don’t want me to meet someone, I hope you know that.”

“Thank you for telling me this. I needed to hear that I am”, you say.

“Don’t. I want to do whatever I can to make you happy”, he confesses, finally kissing your knuckles. The rain makes his hair stick to his forehead. You are shivering like crazy, but you don’t mind because Taehyung is kissing your knuckles and that feels nice to receive.

“Also stop fighting with Yoongi”, you whisper, “it hurts me when you say stuff like nobody wants to be your friend to him. He’s important to me and from I’ve heard, he was there for you when you grieved. Stop saying such mean stuff to him because he may not show it, but it hurts him too.”

Taehyung lowers his head in shame.

“I know”, he whispers, “I’m sorry. I never should have said something like this. Especially because I attempted to defend Fringella with it. Oh, I was a fool and Yoongi was correct. She is a cunt and I never should have pretended as if she wasn’t.”

“Thank you for finally seeing it that way.”

Taehyung dismisses you with a shake of his head. He runs his hands up your arms, massaging your shoulders softly. It is a silent request and you understand. You close the distance between you and him, hugging him tightly with your cheek resting against his chest.

Taehyung engulfs you in his strong arms, shielding you from the cold rain this way. The hug is tight and it is honest and feels good. You haven’t held each other like this in so long. You spill tears because of it. You forgot how wonderful Taehyung hugs.

“You are shivering so much”, Taehyung whispers into your hair, rubbing your back in an attempt to warm you up.

“I’m so cold. The shirt isn’t enough.”

“The rain surprised us both, didn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Shall we move this elsewhere? The apartment isn’t far anymore.”

“Yes, I’d like that. I’m so cold.”

“I can’t take this, oh my darling we should hurry so you can warm up again”, he says dramatically, making you giggle. You missed his silly side. It is so good to hear it come out again.

You and he pick up the soaked bags from the bench and together, you hurry back to the apartment. You hold hands and it felt nice to do.

The others are in the living room when you come back. They are watching a sports event on the television. From what you can see, it seems to be basketball. They turn their heads simultaneously.

“Hey there.”

“Hey.”

“We got wet” you say, presenting your soaked body to them in a defeated pose, “I’m so cold, it’s awful outside.”

“No I’m sorry”, Jungkook whines and pouts.

“It’s okay, I’ll just take a warm shower and then I’ll be okay.”

“Did the groceries get wet too?” Hoseok asks.

“Just a little, the plastic bags shielded most of the rain. I don’t wanna unload them.”

Hoseok gets up from the sofa, “give them to me, I’ll do it. You should take that shower asap before you catch a cold.”

“Thanks Hobi, you’re an angel”, you say.

Hoseok dismisses you with a nod of his head and disappears in the kitchen.

Taehyung appears behind you.

“Hello.”

“Hey”, Jungkook greets him with a smile.

Yoongi just kind of stares at him with a cold expression.

Taehyung walks past you with a clear goal of getting to Yoongi. The latter watches him with weary eyes. Taehyung places his hands on Yoongi’s shoulders.

“The fuck are you doing?” he hisses.

Taehyung lifts Yoongi by his shoulders and presses him against his chest, placing his hands under his butt to support him.

Yoongi yelps up in surprise, stiffening up like a board.

“Let go of me, you cold fuck. The fuck are you doing?” he complains, trying to push at Taehyung’s chest.

“I’m sorry hyung”, Taehyung mumbles into the crook of Yoongi’s neck, “it’s not true when I said that nobody wants to be your friend. I want to be your friend and many other people want this as well.”

Yoongi stops fighting him, gawking at you with widened eyes. You look surprised as well, but more than anything you look moved by the situation.

“Okay?” Yoongi says, glancing down at Taehyung.

“Can you forgive me?”

“I guess…”

“Oh hyung”, Taehyung bounces Yoongi in his arms so wildly that Yoongi’s hair flop up and down vigorously. Yoongi grunts in surprise, digging his thumb into Taehyung’s shoulders, “I’m so happy.”

“Set me down”, Yoongi complains in a whine, “you’re wet and it’s disgusting.”

Taehyung listens, setting the Creator down carefully. Yoongi, who avoids eye contact at all cost, runs his hands down his soaked front.

“You’re such a brat, now I gotta change my clothes”, he complains with a pout.

Taehyung snickers, nudging Yoongi’s arm.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Tch, so stupid”, Yoongi mumbles and pushes past Taehyung to flee from the scene. He lingers beside you when he passes you, studying you with worried eyes.

“I’m okay”, you assure him and Yoongi understands.

“Good”, he says, giving you a little smile before he sends Taehyung one pretend annoyed look, “you’re such a brat, fuck I hate being wet, this is the worst. Why did you hug me, you weirdo? I’m gonna miss the whole game”, he complains as he leaves for upstairs.

You and Taehyung exchange a look. You have to giggle, drawing closer to him and touching his waist. He smiles, finding great happiness in your giggles.

“Shall we go upstairs and dry off, mhm?” he suggests.

“Yes”, you giggle.

“Have fun”, Hoseok calls after you as you leave, snickering with Jungkook about how you two seemed to get along splendidly again.

You won’t see them or Yoongi for the rest of the night and you are content with that fact because you will be with Taehyung instead.

You follow Taehyung into his bedroom. He turns, studying you.

“What are you doing here? This isn’t your room”, he asks in a playful tone.

“I’m following you”, you answer him just as playfully.

“Following me?” he smiles, “for a specific reason, mhm?”

“Mhm yeah” you say and close the distance, placing your hand on the nape of his neck to pull him down to you.

He stumbles, finding support by gripping your waist. Your lips find each other in a hungry kiss, your bodies melt together. This is to make up what you missed out on lately. You are greedy and just a little selfish. You need him to kiss you. This is what he should do if he wants you to truly forgive him.

“Kiss me”, you beg.

“Darling”, Taehyung chokes and lifts you easily. Your weight feels like nothing to him, your warmth however makes him shudder. Your pussy presses against his tummy, your fingers lace themselves deep in his soaked hair. The kiss deepens. Your moans tickle his lips, your hands cup his face and hold him willing hostage. He feels lightheaded, kissing you back with eager hums leaving his throat and his tongue allowing you to guide the movements. He missed your kisses so very much. You taste like sweet heaven.

He walks with you in his arms, finding the way easily. The bathroom. The door stays open. You both don’t mind. You want each other too much to care. It’s been too long since you last kissed that deeply.

“Tae”, you sigh, “don’t stop.”

“I want you”, Taehyung moans into the kiss.

“I want you too”, you answer him, gasping when he sits you down on the countertop of the sink. Your pants stick to your legs. They feel cold against your skin. You don’t mind. Not when you have Taehyung kissing you.

“I want you unbearably”, he chokes out.

Your legs open for him willingly, “don’t hold back.”

He claims the emptiness between them, rubbing his growing bulge against you. Electricity shoots through your veins, your fingers twist the front of his shirt. It is so wet and soaked from the rain that his flushed nipples shine through it. You touch them, rub them over the fabric and Taehyung moans.

“Sensitive”, he keens, shuddering under your touch.

“Mhm, so cute”, you purr, pinching them playfully.

He squeaks and giggles, sucking on your lower lip. You giggle as well, feeling oh so good. It’s so adorable when he is so reactive to your touches.

“You’re a tease”, he sighs, lips tickling yours.

“Want you shirtless.”

“Take it off”, he says and kisses you deeply. You moan and sigh, fumbling with the buttons to finally get him naked. Oh, you can’t bear it any longer. You need to feel his skin under your fingertips.

Taehyung helps you with getting the shirt out of his slacks, moaning into the kiss because the thought of bearing himself to you messes with his head.

The shirt slides off his shoulders and hits the floor in a wet squelch.

He breaks the kiss, “the shirt felt so uncomfortable”, he confesses and grins, “so wet and cold.”

“Yeah, it’s really cold”, you agree and giggle, “you look so handsome when you’re naked.”

He blushes, lowering his eyes. Adorable. Oh how your heart races for him.

“Tae”, you plead, pulling him closer with your legs around his waist, “Tae darling, I want to touch you.”

“Do it, please. Touch me.”

“Touch me too.”

“May I undress you for it?”

“Yeah. Don’t rip it though, it’s Yoongi’s.”

He chuckles, “well then, lift your arms.”

You do so gladly. Taehyung pulls the shirt off your body and throws it into the sink.

“Mhhm so much better. I was so cold too”, you purr, arching your back as you get comfortable. You glance at him when he doesn’t answer you. His eyes run over your chest obsessively, his pupils are widened.

“No brassiere?” he croaks, licking his lips.

“I didn’t feel like it”, you say and pose sensually, “do you like what you see?”

“You are…wow..I, I love it”, he says with sparkling eyes, “oh darling, allow me a touch. Just one please.”

“You can touch me more than just once.”

“You make me the happiest man. Look at you. Look how perfectly sculpted you are”, he says and cups your breasts. His palms feel warm and soft, his thumbs circle your nipples. The touch makes you sigh and arch your back.

“This feels so good”, you breathe, closing your eyes. He touches you with tenderness. It makes you shiver.

“Oh darling, my beautiful darling”, Tae whispers and lowers his hungry lips to your chest. All he wants to do is worship you. Worship every inch of your body as if it was the prettiest art. And to him it is. To think that Fringella made you feel dull and ugly hurts Taehyung. It angers him. And fills him with the unbearable desire to show you that you are the most beautiful woman in his eyes.

“So beautiful. I feel so blessed. Oh darling, thank you”, Taehyung sighs and sucks on your left nipple, massaging your right as he does, “thank you, I feel so blessed.”

Your body is shivering constantly. His warm mouth makes you burn in pleasure. It feels so good to hear how smitten he is for you. It makes all those nasty words Fringella spoke finally feel like lies.

“Don’t stop please…”

You want to live in this moment forever. To have Taehyung worship you with his soft lips and eager tongue, to have him touch you and caress you with his tender hands and to feel him adore you oh so honestly sends the greatest happiness to your every inch.

Taehyung trails kisses down your tummy once your breasts are tender and soft in worship. His fingers guide his lips, your skin prickles. You open your legs wider for him. Oh, how you hope that he will go further.

“My beautiful”, Taehyung sighs and runs his tongue over your lower tummy. Right where your pants meet your skin. It tickles and makes you throb around nothing. So wet and warm, “you are my beautiful”, he whispers, licking your skin. It aches.

“I want your mouth”, you confess, chasing him with a buck of your hips, “my pussy hurts, I wanna feel you…”

You can feel him smile against you with his fingers massaging your hips.

“So needy”, he teases.

“Tae”, you whine, “don’t tease. I can’t help it. It’s been too long.”

“Mhhm”, he hums, giving your waist a tender caress, “I’m not”, he rasps and does the unthinkable of teasing you by flicking his tongue over your skin.

“Tae”, you warn, bucking your hips up,

“Heh”, he chuckles, “lift yourself for a moment, darling”, he orders and you follow, allowing him to take off your pants. He drops them on the ground, falling on his knees before you.

“Oh?”

He looks up at you with his dark hair hanging into his face in wet, messy strands. The sight churns your stomach in the hottest arousal. He is so sexy when he is like this.

“I’m weak”, he says, pressing his legs together, “oh my darling, you have me weak.”

“I do?”

“Yes, oh you could do anything you wanted to me.”

“Anything you say?”

“Anything”, Taehyung says and presents his throat in a sensual roll of his head.

Giggling, you place your foot on his chest, giving him a confident smile. Taehyung moans, arching into your foot.

“Step on me, yes”, he pleads, “I like it so much.”

“You’re so sexy”, you rasp, running your foot up his chest and neck. He tilts his head back, revealing his vulnerable throat to you. You trace it with your foot, tingling as you feel Taehyung’s deep moan against your toes.

“I’m yours”, he lulls, “all yours.”

“Are you really, mhm?” you say and dare to lift your foot to his face. You rest your toes against his forehead.

Taehyung is breathing heavily, looking at you with half-lidded eyes. His cock throbs in his slacks, hips chasing air as he writhes under your foot.

“I don’t believe you”, you say, giving him a gentle push.

“I am”, he moans, tilting his head back and closing his eyes.

“Why should I believe you, mhm?” you taunt, pushing him again. A little harsher than before. The rush of power and confidence this gives you makes you feel alive, “you’ve been flirting with god knows how many perverts lately. Why should I believe your slutty little mouth, mhm?”

Taehyung mewls, chasing your foot with parted lips. The pressure you have on his forehead feels exhilarating to him. He knows that this is supposed to be his punishment, but he loves it so much that it very well could be considered a reward.

“Because I’m your slut”, he keens, arching his back, “only you get to step on me.”

“Is that so, mhm?” you taunt, running your foot down his face until you can rest your toes under his chin. You force him to look at you that way, feeling him gulp heavily.

“Yes”, Taehyung croaks and pouts devastatingly cutely, “please believe me, Empress. I’m your property.”

Your stomach flutters, your pussy throbs.

“Fuck”, you press out, “fuck, Tae stop talking like this and use your mouth for good instead.”

Taehyung understands instantly, closing the distance between you and him to bury his face between your legs.

You grip his hair and push him closer. You don’t want an easy entrance into the sensation, you want him to choke and struggle and moan. Taehyung does exactly that. He moans and suffocates on your sweet scent and struggles with holding back. Your grip on his wet hair aches, but he loves it. Your pussy smothers him, but he wants it harder. Your taste is addicting and he can’t stop.

He flicks and swirls his tongue through your soaked folds, gripping your hips for support. If he wouldn’t hold you, he would probably pass out. Your cunt tastes like heaven.

“Fuck yes”, you groan, rolling your head back and closing your eyes, “don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop.”

You are truly spoiled. Just hours before you had Yoongi between your legs, worshipping and licking your cunt until you were satisfied and now Taehyung does everything in his power to give you the best fucking head ever. He slurps and groans, licks and moans, sucks and growls and you feel yourself arching your back and clawing at his hair. You are so spoiled and you fucking love it.

You forgot how talented he is. It’s really been way too long since he last tasted you with such passion. He is fast and sloppy. Spit covers his lower face and your juices drip from his chin. He loves it, using his tongue even better to taste more of you.

“Fuck Tae, seriously”, you moan, placing your foot on his shoulder. Taehyung moans and touches your ankle, running his big hand up and down your leg in a caress. This is to tell you that he is there for you. That you can always count on him to give you support. No matter what happens, he won’t ever let you fall.

You twist his hair and pull him away from you. He mewls, looking up at you with pleading eyes. His lips are puffy and wet, his cheeks flushed in arousal.

“You’re the best”, you rasp, “don’t you dare stop”, you say and control his movements.

Taehyung accepts his fate with his eyes rolling back. He begins eating you out again, doing so messily and full of desperation. He fucking loves to be control that way. Your pussy is the sweetest reward to him, so when you took it away, he felt his heart ache in yearning. To know that you decide for how long he can have you sends burning heat between his legs. He is nothing but your toy right now. A willing mouth to get off on. And he loves it, moaning around your clit as he sucks on her eagerly.

“Yes…Tae….”, you groan, grinding your hips against him as you use his shoulder for leverage and keep a painful grip on his hair, “that’s it…yes…”

By the taste of you and the change in your heartbeat, you won’t last long anymore. Taehyung moans and whimpers, trying his very hardest to help you reach your climax with eager licks.

“That’s it, puppy, that’s it”, you lull and moan loudly, “so fucking good. Such a good toy.”

You don’t mind that you have to orgasm soon. On the contrary, it feels empowering to know that you are close. Because right now, you are deciding that you will cum. You are using his pretty face to get off. You forgave him, you really did, but you can’t deny the fact that deep down you wanted him to remember who can get him off so good. That only your pussy can taste so good and that only your orgasms will leave him feeling high.

You press him closer and grip the edge of the sink. Taehyung flicks his tongue and moans.

“Tae! Yes!” you call out and fall into the fire with an arch of your back. You keep him pressed against you as you shake, twisting his hair and digging your foot into his shoulder. You don’t care that your hips are chasing his mouth and therefore stealing him of his air. It’s what he deserves. He should remember who decides if he gets to breathe or not.

You do. You decide it. Because you fucking own him.

“Yes puppy! Fuck yes!”

Your orgasm is strong and burning hot. The surge of power makes you feel that way. His helpless little whimpers and panicked licks only add to the madness.

You only really slow down once you feel too sensitive to continue. You drag him away even if he complains in a loud mewl for more.

“Please”, he begs, looking at you with glassy, ruby eyes.

“That’s all you get”, you say, “make me a priority again and you’ll get more. Understood?”

“Yes, Empress”, Taehyung croaks and gulps, “I’m dizzy.”

“Mhm and I’m done with you”, you say, slipping your foot off his shoulder and jumping off the counter.

“What?” he gasps, following you with widened eyes. He grasps for you, hugging your waist, “please don’t go yet.”

“Why not? I got what I wanted”, you say, staring him down with darkened eyes. His hug feels so good, but you need to pretend just a little longer. He should beg more. He sounds so sweet when he does.

“Please”, he begs, burying his face in your stomach, “I’ll be good, please.”

“So cute”, you whisper, running your fingers through his hair, “it’s a pity that I have to deny you.”

“Please Empress”, Taehyung pleads and buries his face between your legs instead, hoping that this will convince. If he does a good job, if he sucks and licks your pussy like a good puppy you won’t be able to deny him. Taehyung is sure of it. He just has to do a good job, eat your pussy like he means it and moan around your swollen clit until you have to gasp.

You gasp and stumble, twisting his hair. Taehyung moans, furrowing his brows in bliss. There it was. That sweet gasp of yours. He wants to do an even better job because of it, running his wet tongue through your folds in languid, strong flicks. He puts enough pressure on your pussy that you have to gasp again.

“Ah, fuck”, you choke out, feeling your knees buckle. You expected anything but not for him to wrap his mouth around your sensitive, swollen pussy.

He sucks and licks you, mewling loudly as he looks up at you with big puppy eyes. Everything inside you tells you to let yourself go, to let Taehyung bring you to another orgasm, but you shouldn’t. Denying him is too much fun.

You tug him away even if it hurts, “did I allow you to do that?” you spit.

“Please”, Taehyung begs, drooling all over his lap, “I’m begging you, don’t go. I can make you see heaven again, please.”

You stumble as he presses himself closer. Your back hits the glass door of the shower.

“Ah, cold”, you gasp, arching your back. Taehyung takes advantage of your vulnerable state, connecting his mouth with your soaked pussy. He takes hostage of your clit instantly, sucking on her until your knees truly buckle.

“You- fuck ah”, you furrow your brows, writhing against the glass, “Tae ah, hah”, you laugh panickedly, twisting his hair, “Tae s-slow, oh god.”

Taehyung growls, sending a jolt through your legs. So he does it again, making your legs shake.

“Fuck, you stubborn bast…fucking hell yes”, you moan, accepting your fate. Fine. He gets one more orgasm. You’ll be crazy if you pulled away now. His mouth feels like paradise. Truly, there is nothing better in this world than getting head from a vampire. Your sweet cunt is their feast and they are all too eager to show you their gratitude. Not one second feels less amazing than the other. You are being worshipped and it’s fucking glorious.

“Faster”, you order, throwing your leg over his shoulder, “don’t be lazy, slut.”

Taehyung mewls and releases your pulsating clit to flick his tongue over her. He uses his supernatural powers for it, making your body convulse and writhe all on its own.

This right here is another reason why head from a vampire is the best shit ever. They can use their powers to get you off better than any toy ever could. Their wet warmth never leaves you while strong vibrations run through your pussy. Truly, it’s life changing.

“Faster”, you moan, arching off the glass. You grab his head with both hands, pushing him closer.

Taehyung obeys, moaning into you as you suffocate him with your sweetness. Sinful wet sounds fill the room. He is so fast on your clit that it gets hard to breathe.

You are close again and it’s sacrilegious. You don’t feel bad about it. On the contrary, you are so goddamn lost to the sensations that you can’t wait for your climax to hit you.

“Now”, you call out and fall into him, “Tae!”

Taehyung presses the flat of his tongue to your clit and grinds it against you to help you ride out your soul consuming high. His cock hurts so much, throbbing in his slacks with way too little room to move. He whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut. This is all he exists for. Knowing that he can make you moan and shake like this.

You tug him away again once sensitivity gets too much. Your leg slips from his shoulder, you stumble with a groan.

“Damn”, you get out, dropping against the glass. You release his hair to run it through your own instead. The heat of the bathroom and your own rising body temperature managed to dry it at the very ends, “that was intense.”

Taehyung stands up and takes off his pants with trembling hands. You watch him with half lidded eyes and a hot fire in your stomach. He is so handsome.

“What’s that supposed to be?” you ask, staring at his terribly hard cock.

Taehyung steps out of his pants and pulls you close with his hands on your hips. His face is messy with your cum and his hair is disheveled. Like this, his cock rubs against your stomach, smearing his slick everywhere.

“Please don’t let this end”, he begs, “I’ve only gotten started, please it hurts so much.”

“Mhm”, you hum and wipe away some of your creamy pleasure, “you got dirty.”

“I’ll wash it away”, he dismisses you and lifts you.

You allow it to happen with a smile on your face. You know what he was insinuating with that question and you can’t wait. You wrap your limbs around him, massaging his scalp as you pull him close.

“This is so much fun”, you giggle.

“It is, oh darling I’m so obsessed with you. You’ve got me so hard.”

“Mhm Tae”, you say, pulling him into a kiss.

Taehyung enters the shower with you, kissing you back hungrily. The water turns on moments later, hitting your skin like cold lighting.

“Fuck, Tae. Cold”, you gasp and shiver.

“I’m sorry”, Taehyung whispers and kisses you. He pulls you against him to make up for the cold, grinding his cock up into you in needy movements of his hips, “how is that?”

“Don’t tease.”

“Darling”, Taehyung whimpers, throbbing against your clit. You ache for his cock.

“Tae”, you break the kiss and twist his hair, “I’m not fucking asking.”

“I-I”, Taehyung gawks at you with submissive eyes.

“Is that clear?”

“Yes Empress”, he whimpers.

“Then do it.”

Taehyung lowers you onto his cock. He glides into you easily, bottoming out with a sigh of your name. He grips you, pulls you close, inhales your scent. He is shaking uncontrollably, whimpering.

“There we go, puppy. That’s my puppy”, you sigh, massaging his scalp, “mhm you feel amazing”, you purr, tensing around him.

“So warm”, he chokes out, rolling his hips into you, “so soft”, he sighs, squeezing your tenderness, “so perfect. So goddamn perfect.”

“Tae”, you moan, closing your eyes and gripping his shoulder. His length fills you out so perfectly. Warmth engulfs you each time he bottoms out. “Tae, don’t stop puppy, that’s my good boy.”

“Empress, I’m yours”, he whimpers, chasing you desperately, “oh god, you feel so good.”

Taehyung didn’t grow tonight. He holds back willingly because for once, he wants to love you without his fucked up nature taking a hold of him. He feels charged in pleasure. You feel like heaven around his cock, making him forget about every single bad thing in his life. This is his heaven. You are his paradise. The only thing which makes him feel good. So good.

“My beautiful darling, oh my beautiful darling”, he chants, “I can’t stop. I won’t stop. Oh my beautiful darling.”

You like that he didn’t grow. His supernatural length feels exciting and perfectly overwhelming, but it feels so nice to have him fill you with something more natural tonight. Now, Taehyung is still very gifted even with his human cock and he knows exactly how to use it to make your toes curl, but it feels nice to not be pushed to the perfect limit. You are floating on the warm pleasure he gives you and it’s the most perfect sensation.

You run your fingers down his back and up again, pulling him flush against your chest. The water ripples and searches for new paths to rake, tickling your skin as it loses to gravity and drips onto the ground. It feels so warm, steaming up the room gradually.

Taehyung pants and gasps against the shell of your ear, pressing himself closer as his hips pick up speed. Not much, just enough to send electric pleasure through your veins.

“Hold me”, he moans, “you feel like heaven.”

“You feel like heaven”, you sigh, kissing his shoulder.

Taehyung falters and lifts his head. He gazes at your eyes then your lips.

“Darling”, he whispers and kisses you. His hips continue where they left off, his lips move against yours in a passionate yet gentle kiss and you feel yourself falling.

You moan his name and pull him close, hooking your legs behind his waist as tightly as possible to make sure he doesn’t leave you. Taehyung stumbles and presses you against the shower wall.

“Cold”, you gasp, squirming in his arms.

“I’m sorry”, he whispers and silences your squeaks by kissing you deeply. The new support the tiled wall gives him, allows his hips to move even more passionately against yours. His cock graces your most favourite spots with each thrust, the muscles in his arms and back tense.

You barely feel the cold. He fills your every fiber with addicting fire and makes you melt. His mouth was heaven, but this right here is the endgame. His cock will always make you shake. And tonight it fills you with unbearable flutters of happiness as well. You missed this type of sex with him. Kinky, romantic and honest sex. He is so addicting when he acts this way, when he makes you feel so beautiful and sends you over the edge too many times to count.

“Ah”, you moan, breaking the kiss to throw your head back, “ah Tae, ah.”

Taehyung keens desperately and attacks your neck with open mouthed kisses. He is so starved for you. He knows that you can’t kiss him because you need to fight for air, but oh how he wants to kiss you, taste you and burn your sweetness into his memories. He licks and sucks on your neck until your skin feels tender, he nibbles and kisses your shoulders until you feel dizzy and he makes sure that not once his hips falter, fucking you just how you deserve to be fucked.

“Tae”, you sigh, closing your legs in search for friction, “Tae, that spot feels…ah.”

“Do you like it there?” he asks, rocking his hips in the way he did before. Like this, his tip grinds right against your g-spot while his lower tummy rubs against your clit. The combination mixed with his warmth and his kisses feels maddening to you.

“So much”, you moan and whimper, squirming in his strong arms.

“You are so perfect”, he moans, burying his face back in the crook of your neck, “so perfect. The most perfect. Oh, the most perfect”, he chants, chasing your pleasure with eager hips. How he loves to know that what he does makes you feel good. Oh, how he gets off on the feeling of your pulsating warmth and knowing that he was the reason for it.

“I won’t last long”, you confess, dimpling his shoulders from gripping them in desperation.

“That’s okay, let go my darling let go”, he encourages you and nibbles on your jawline, “but if you do, you have to know that I won’t stop.”

“W-what?” you stutter, gasping for air as he rolls his hips into you and stays buried deep inside you. He gives you deep and slow strokes, enabling his length to rub against your g-spot in a constant rhythm. This is going to throw you over the edge. To have him pay such precise attention to where it feels the best feels way too wonderful. Oh, every inch of you is burning up. You can’t get enough of him.

“I won’t stop, my darling. Oh, I’m going to fuck you until you are climaxing again”, he rasps, flicking his tongue against your neck, “so let go my darling, if you dare.”

“Tae, you fucking-”, you fall silent and break apart. His cocky nature was way too exciting to witness. You orgasm, scratching his shoulders as you grasp them for support. He’s got you shaking and writhing with your pussy convulsing all around his throbbing cock.

“So good”, he croaks, hips stuttering because of how intensely you clench down on him, “this is….ah…so good.”

“Holy shit, don’t stop”, you moan, “serious, don’t stop you’re making me- ah!”

Taehyung whimpers, trying his hardest to keep the rhythm going. Maybe he doesn’t even have to wait for your second orgasm for too long. He just has to fuck you hard enough, good enough, deep enough and he’ll have you squirting around his cock.

Black veins cover Taehyung’s cheeks, his cock grows just the slightest bit.

“Don’t hold back”, he growls, bruising your flesh from gripping you. He grinds his tummy into your clit, fucks your deepest spots with expertise, holds you as you tremble.

You writhe uncontrollably, squeezing down on his cock.

“Fuck!” you yelp, “fuck. now!”

Taehyung can barely feel it under the warm water, but he knows that you are squirting all over his legs and feet. He does feel how tight you get, how uncontrollably you spasm and throb and how your nails leave bloody scratch marks on his shoulders. You made sound once, but can’t anymore. It feels too good. Way too good.

This right here is another reason why you won’t ever grow tired of sex with them. This right here. This moment where you shake and cum and squirt until you physically can produce anymore.

“I’m cumming”, Taehyung moans and slams his hand into the tiles beside your head. He shatters them, because if he hadn’t, he would have shattered you instead, “___ darling”, he growls, fucking into you roughly and without coordination.

You moan right with him, hugging him close as he pumps you full of his hot seed. You knew that he couldn’t hold back once you started squirting. There must be something in your scent during those moments, but not one of your deliciously addictive vampires is able to withstand you during those moments, thanking you with masses upon masses of creamy, thick cum. Quite frankly, you are obsessed with them whenever that happens.

Taehyung finishes with a graphic curse. His hips still with a stutter, his cock throbs rhythmically in the aftermaths of his intense high. He is matching your breathing, leaning into you as he hugs you against him.

He can’t speak. Neither can you. This ruined you. The water trickles and rushes as it washes over your bodies. It feels comforting to be rained down on by the shower. You feel so ruined and tired that the warmth of the water feels like a nice and long hug.

Or perhaps it only feels that way because Taehyung is holding you close. You give him a squeeze.

“That was nice”, you whisper.

“Yes. Yes it was nice”, Taehyung breathes, lifting his head. He gives you a tired yet happy smile.

You retort it, caressing his cheeks.

“We should probably leave the shower, shouldn’t we?”

“I don’t want to yet”, Taehyung says and lifts you off of him to set you down. He makes sure that you stand before he lets go of your waist. Then he cups your face, tilting your head to pull you into a kiss.

It is a sweet kiss, filled with gratitude and honest love. You sigh into it, melting into a puddle of adoration. This is the type of kiss you so dearly missed from him.

He breaks it only because he wanted to look at you.

“Allow me to wash your hair and soap your body”, he says.

“Only if I can do the same to you”, you allow him and he nods his head.

You wash each other that night. You take a terribly long time doing so because you hug and kiss and slow dance under the warm water. Afterwards, you help each other dry and you giggle doing it because of how nice it was to share such a mundane yet incredibly bonding moment with each other.

The bathroom and bedroom are filled with warm, humid air once you finish and so Taehyung ends up opening the bedroom window to let in fresh air. You cuddle up under the blanket, sharing warmth that way while the room cools. It felt so good to do as Taehyung kept stealing sweet kisses from you.

You read each other stories that night and you giggle and laugh and hug way too many times.

“And as he…”, Taehyung falls silent upon hearing you make a small sound, “sweetest?”

He lowers the book he was reading out of. You have fallen alarmingly unresponsive in his arms. Your breathing is slow and your body softer than usual.

“Sweetest?”

No answer from you.

“Mhm”, he hums and reaches for the bedside lamp, turning it off by its string. Then he settles into the heap of pillows, pulling you into his chest, “good night”, he whispers, kissing the crow of your head, “I promise you, I will heal and relearn how to love you like I did in the past. Please be patient with me.”

You shift in your sleep and for a second, Taehyung was worried that you were awake. Your head tilts up, your sleepy eyes meet his gaze. His nervousness grows. You weren’t supposed to hear his stupid confession.

“Don’t be too harsh on yourself”, you say in a barely there voice, “okay?”

“Okay”, Taehyung chokes out.

“I love you too, darling Tae”, you whisper and hide back in his chest. You wiggle slightly. Just once and then your body grows the softest it has felt tonight. One huff of air and you stop moving. You have finally fallen asleep.

That night, Taehyung falls asleep without feeling the need to cry. For the first time in forever, Taehyung felt at peace. Not with what happened, but because you made him see that there was something other than cruelty waiting for him on this earth.

221 notes · View notes

hongcherry · 1 year

Text

Just for Me || k.hj (m)

"Hongjoong was never overly fond of your cam girl activities, but he didn't want to seem controlling and force you to stop them. Instead, he does the next best thing: he joins you during one of your steams to show everyone you're his."

🎥 Pairing: boyfriend!Hongjoong x camgirl!Reader (afab)

🎥 Rating/Genres/AUs: M(18+); Smut, fluff, angst if you squint?; Cam girl au, mainly pwp, established relationship, non-idol au

🎥 Warnings: dom!HJ, sub!reader, reader has she/her pronouns and is referred to as girl sometimes, hj's a lil mean at times, possessive!HJ (but wbk), choking, name-calling (slut) + pet names, sir kink, oral (f rec.), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, spit kink, dirty talk, marks/hickeys, use of a sex toy, fondling, breast play, spanking (ass, pussy), multiple orgasms, degradation, light cum play, exhibitionism, punishment (spanking)

🎥 Word Count: 9.9k (how i did this w a mainly pwp is beyond me)

🎥 Credits: Thank you Panda & Dae (@toikiii) for beta'ing this! Thank you Indigo (@playmetheclassics) for giving me advice on the banner! And thank you Syd (@justaaveragereader) for helping me figure out a few details, which you probably weren't even aware you were helping me w this LMAO but thanks anyway. You're all so amazing and I appreciate your help and time! 🥰

🎥 Author's Note: Please disregard anything that's not accurate in the life of a cam girl as I, spoiler, don't have any experience in that field 🫠 (cue Harry Styles' voice: Or do I?)

ateez masterlist | main masterlist

Hongjoong would admit he’s a little possessive. He is selfish, and he certainly doesn’t like to share what is his.

You were aware of this. Even though that trait might be annoying for some, it wasn’t for you—for the most part. There were sometimes when it became too much, but Hongjoong was trying to not be so possessive. Keyword: Trying.

When he became aware of your side job/hobby of being a cam girl two months into your relationship, he wasn’t overly thrilled. At first, he was slightly mad; his clenched jaw at the time told you so. Though, that emotion soon transpired into guilt. Was he not treating you right? Was he not making you happy enough? Were you struggling to make ends meet, and he didn’t know? You were quick to reassure him that you’d been doing it before you met him and were completely satisfied with him both in and out of the bedroom. It was just something you had tried out and ended up enjoying.

Hongjoong didn’t like knowing strangers were seeing you in such intimate ways, ways that he felt should be kept between him and you, but he also didn’t want to be the one to force you to quit doing something you liked. Even though he really, really wanted to.

There was a split second where he considered ending the relationship when you confessed. He wanted someone that was his and his alone. However, his feelings for you were strong. He didn’t want to leave you; especially, when the thought of someone else calling you theirs and touching you emerged in his mind. It was difficult to have two conflicting thoughts.

He guessed the one good thing with the streams is that you were the only one touching yourself, edging yourself, pleasuring yourself. Thus, you both came to an agreement. As long as you didn’t bring any “guests” onto your shows, he would make do with it and wouldn’t throw, what you liked to call, his “mini tantrums.”

When he had given in, you smiled—one that always had his heartbeat stuttering. You were pleased to have gotten his acceptance with your streams. You weren’t sure what you would’ve done if he hadn’t since you didn’t want to quit your shows or lose your relationship with him. You offered him the chance to be in one with you, but he declined. He stated he’d rather save those moments when the camera was off.

Weeks went by as you continued your streams. Hongjoong was never present during them, but he did watch one to understand what you were doing. He had gotten hard while viewing you on the screen—how could he not have? He always got aroused seeing and hearing you in such ways.

Usually, for your streams, only your lips and below were showing. Though occasionally, he would spot the end of the half-mask you wore. He remembered you had told him it was in case you accidentally showed your entire face. He got himself off that night watching you play with yourself.

Hongjoong didn’t keep track of your stream schedule too much. He didn’t want to seem controlling, and honestly, seeing some of the comments in your chat had him feeling that green demon lurking in the shadows. He had to stop himself from typing a warning, realizing no one knew who you really were; therefore, no one knew who he was. He doubted that would’ve stopped the comments anyway.

What really was the tipping point was one day on the way to Seonghwa’s room to hang out, Hongjoong overheard a familiar noise. The door had been ajar, so he couldn’t see much but the sound could be heard through the gap. Hongjoong was quick to recognize the noise. You had made them many times when he was buried deep in your heat. But why were your moans coming from Seonghwa’s bedroom?

Hongjoong had felt a sudden pang of betrayal in his chest. He was just about to storm out of the apartment, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave. Some masochistic part of him needed to see it for himself.

Hongjoong slowly pushed the door open more to see Seonghwa, not in his bed, but at his desk with his back to him. Seonghwa’s computer screen lit the dark room, which caught Hongjoong’s attention. He recognized the bedroom on the screen. You had shown it to him a few times, and he’s seen it through his own screen as well. It was a spare room in your home. Since you were both still fairly new to the relationship, you remained living separately for now.

Hongjoong recalled how you didn’t want people seeing your personal belongings, so you had arranged your other bedroom as a set. You would change out knick-knacks and covers for different ones occasionally. This time, you had pink covers with dainty objects in the background. It was pretty, but not as pretty as you were with your legs parted to expose your bare pussy.

Your moans were ringing out in the room as you pumped two fingers in your entrance. Hongjoong had inhaled sharply, realizing Seonghwa was unknowingly watching his girlfriend get herself off.

The noise was loud enough to have finally caught Seonghwa’s attention. Hongjoong had been staring at Seonghwa’s screen with wide eyes.

The older man quickly tucked himself back in his pants while he scurried to shut off your stream.

“I’m s-sorry!” he had exclaimed as he turned to face Hongjoong once the tab was closed, face growing red with embarrassment.

Hongjoong wasn’t sure what to say at that point. Part of him had wanted to scold him for watching the stream, but it was on a public platform. Anyone could see you if they wanted. Though it felt strange that someone he knew was watching you. Sometimes he wished he stayed blissfully unaware of your viewer’s identities.

However, that seemed not to be the case.

A week later, he found himself in the same scenario, but instead of Seonghwa, it was Yunho. Hongjoong’s initial feelings of treachery were absent this time. He had carefully pushed Yunho’s door open more so he could confirm his suspicion. Just like before, your stream was displayed on Yunho’s screen. Your pretty moans were playing through the speakers. Between your sounds, Hongjoong could hear the faint sound of Yunho touching himself. Even though he was relieved to know you weren’t cheating on him, he couldn’t help that possessive nature coming up again at having discovered his friends were seeing you in such a way.

He wondered what they were thinking. Did they want to have you in their beds? Were they imagining their dicks inside your dripping cunt? Did they wish you were moaning because of them? Of course, they were. What else could they be thinking about?

Hongjoong had left the place irritated. He didn’t even bother interrupting Yunho; he couldn’t stop him from watching you. Not unless he explained the reason as to why, but it wasn’t his place to disclose your secret hobby.

You’re not sure what had overcome Hongjoong when he came to you one day declaring to do a stream together. Although you weren’t opposed, you found it strange how determined he was since he was against it at first. Sure, he could change his mind, but you figured he would be a little hesitant if he did so. However, after asking him multiple times if he was really okay with it, and him declaring yes, you set a time and date for him to come over. You had gone over a few things to ensure the stream would go smoothly with him. He decided he didn’t want his face shown, nor did he want his voice heard. He just wanted the attention to be on you. You respected his wishes and assured him he’d stay anonymous.

“Are you nervous?” you asked while you checked your equipment. Hongjoong sat in the chair in the corner, a leg bouncing up and down absentmindedly. He stopped when you asked him the question.

“No,” he said. You glanced at him incredulously for a second before turning back to the tasks at hand.

“It’s just a little stressful to know people are watching me… us,” he sighed after a moment of silence.

Once you were done, you moved to him. You leaned down and raised his face to see him better.

“Baby, you always make me feel so good. Just be yourself,” you soothed.

Hongjoong closed his eyes for a second as he collected himself, inhaling deeply before releasing his breath gradually.

“That’s it, Joong. Just breathe,” you comforted and rubbed at his shoulder.

Hongjoong raised a hand to your face and guided you down until your lips met. The kiss was gentle and brief, but it had your heart fluttering in your chest nonetheless.

“Go get dressed, love,” he instructed gently. You were wearing sweats and a random shirt, having been too lazy to dress up before he arrived.

You smiled at knowing he felt ready. Nodding, you left the room to get dressed. You liked dressing cute in bright colors when you did your streams, but you knew Hongjoong liked darker shades. Though you’re sure he would’ve liked you in anything, you wanted to please him more tonight. The lingerie you wore was a mix of black and red while your layered clothes on top were simply black. You added a choker that had draping chains with a matching earring set, along with some knee-high socks.

When you came back, Hongjoong donned a black mask and a baseball cap. He was making sure his face was covered. He appeared so attractive in his fit, yet you couldn’t help but giggle at him.

“Why are you laughing?” he huffed playfully.

“You look cute,” you shrugged and shut the door. Hongjoong tore his cap off to see you better, hair falling around his face. His lips parted at your body. Your low-cut top paired with your skirt had him freezing in his seat.

“Do you like it? It’s nothing special,” you asked, a little nervous now that you were in front of him.

Hongjoong stood from the chair and stalked toward you. “It may not be on someone else, but you make it special. You’re beautiful.”

He quickly pulled the mask down before giving your cheek a reassuring kiss and then planting another on your lips.

“We better get started soon before I take you right now,” he murmured when he pulled away. His hands rested on your hips, pulling you against him to feel you.

You giggled at his eagerness. “Let me go and we can,” you replied.

“If I must,” he sighed dramatically and slowly released his grip on you.

You walked over to your setup, waking up the monitors and doing a double-check on everything. You had a monitor to read the chat and another to check what was being shown. There was also a microphone on the table to capture the audio better.

Hongjoong stood in the corner as he fixed his cap and mask. You had told him during a previous conversation to wait until you cued him in, and you were glad to see he remembered.

After checking the time, you started your stream. You moved away and sat on your bed, legs crossed and arms resting on either side of your body. You leaned forward to read the chat, and the act had your breasts pushing together.

“Hi everyone, welcome back,” you said with a smile, seeing various greetings flood your chat.

“A new color, I know,” you said after seeing several comments about your darker attire. “It’s different, but hopefully you like it.”

You jumped down from your bed to give the camera a twirl.

Hongjoong watched silently, hands clasped in front of him while his eyes roamed your figure. The spin had your skirt rising to get a sneak peek of your undies.

“See? Simple, but pretty,” you continued and sat back on the bed. You waited a few more minutes to let your audience grow before you peered up at Hongjoong. He was watching you attentively. So much so that it had a chill running down your spine in excitement. It was hard to see his face, but just the way he was standing had you ready to get started.

“Yes, today’s the day,” you smiled at the camera.

You had announced you were going to have a special guest join you for a stream. You never disclosed who it was, but you wanted to inform your viewers of the slight change to your regular activities.

“I have someone joining me today. I hope you guys don’t mind.”

You reached out to Hongjoong. He took that as his cue and placed his hand in yours. You gently pulled him into the frame. He stood next to you by the bed, part of his upper body out of view of the camera.

Your eyes scanned the chat for a second, seeing mostly excitement but a few comments that were against your guest. You disregarded them, though.

“Is he my boyfriend or husband?” you read aloud.

You weren’t going to disclose that information, a little worried people may find you in real life or even stop watching if they knew you weren’t single. However, you knew Hongjoong wouldn’t like it if you lied. He had told you earlier it was up to you if the question arose, but you knew how he really felt. Even if a few people dropped your stream, you cared about Hongjoong’s feelings more. Plus, you figured people could find you regardless of knowing your relationship status.

“Yes, he’s my boyfriend,” you answered and tilted your head up at him. He glanced down at you. Despite not seeing his grin, you knew from his eyes that he was happy. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze in case his eye smile wasn’t enough.

“How is he okay with me doing this? Because he’s understanding and respects my decisions,” you said when you read a few worried comments.

Your lips dipped in a frown when you saw people tease Hongjoong for not being good enough between the sheets that you had to resort to streaming yourself. “He treats me just right in bed. I do this because I want to, not because I need to. You’ll see how good he fucks me soon,” you giggled.

You stayed silent as you continued reading the chat.

“Hm,” you sighed sadly and quickly messaged your moderators. You were lucky enough to have a few of them to make sure the chat wasn’t too creepy. You knew you were going to get a few strange comments as your streaming content was mature, but you were still human. You weren’t going to tolerate anything overly sexual or degrading. If anyone were to degrade you, it’d be Hongjoong in bed.

You didn’t realize Hongjoong had sat on the edge of the bed until you accidentally backed into him. His hands came up to your hips to keep you balanced.

“Oh! Sorry,” you said.

Hongjoong stayed silent but rubbed your sides to let you know it was okay. He pulled you back slightly, so you were leaning more into his body. He nuzzled his face, as best he could without disrupting his cap, against your neck. You rubbed his arms gently as you focused on your stream again.

“Alright chat. If I see any more comments disrespecting my boyfriend, you’ll get kicked. This is going to be an enjoyable night, so be kind and let’s have fun, okay?” you instructed. Hongjoong hummed quietly behind you, and you knew he was appreciative of your action.

After your chat was mainly in agreement, you smiled. “Good.”

You glanced behind you to look at Hongjoong. He peeped his head up when you moved.

“You ready, baby?” you asked sweetly. He nodded, hands squeezing your hips more from nervousness.

You turned around in his grasp and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Can I take that off, so I can kiss you?” you asked quietly enough for it to not be picked up by the mic.

Hongjoong glanced behind you at the monitor. Your body was covering him well enough to keep him hidden.

“Okay,” he whispered and carefully pulled down the mask. You gave him a smile seeing his handsome face before leaning in to kiss him.

Hongjoong raised a hand to grip the tip of his hat, making sure it was low enough to cover his eyes. Through the kiss, you could feel he was nervous. His movements were tense—not as smooth as they usually were. You hoped as time went by, he would get more comfortable.

You ran your tongue along his lip, and he granted you access quickly. Hongjoong widened his legs as he pressed your body against his with his free hand. You smiled into the kiss when you shuffled closer, gently climbing onto his lap. Hongjoong’s hand trailed to your ass. He lifted you up, so it was easier to get settled. Once you were perched, you began to gradually grind against his crotch. He let out a small moan and pulled away from the kiss.

You reached forward to push the mask up his face carefully. While you did so, Hongjoong’s eyes drifted to the screens behind you. His hand on your rear caused your skirt to partly ride up to show a hint of your pretty ass. He let go of his cap to cup both your cheeks, giving them both a rough squeeze to see more of your skin.

You hummed contently as he did so, diving down to trail kisses up the column of his neck.

The soft feeling of your lips had Hongjoong smiling behind his mask. His head tilted slightly as you sucked a mark on his neck near the mole you loved so much. When you licked and nipped at his skin after, he released another moan.

“Keep moving, baby,” he told you lowly.

Not realizing you had stopped, you adhered to his wish and rolled your hips against him. Mewls escaped your lips when you rubbed your clit with each glide.

Hongjoong stared at the screen as you did so, loving the way your clothed pussy could be seen slightly when you pushed your ass back a certain amount. His eyes moved to the other screen that was showing the chat.

Some comments were about how they wished they had someone to do the same, others were saying how they wanted to see more of your body. At first, Hongjoong wanted to do the opposite—to take the covers from the bed and wrap you like a burrito so no one could see you. Though he knew that was just him being selfish again. After all, most of these people have already seen your body, but none of them had touched you. No one has been in Hongjoong’s position. That thought stirred something inside his chest. Something akin to cockiness.

You lifted your head to peer at him when you noticed he had stilled.

“What’s wrong?” you frowned, hand coming up to avert his gaze to you instead of behind you.

Hongjoong looked at you, eyes flickering from between your eyes as his mind raced. He was stuck between wanting to turn off the stream and wanting to show everyone just how pretty his girl was.

Not needing to hear his inner turmoil, you spoke, “We can stop,” you reassured, “or you can show everyone how good you fuck me. How good I can take it.”

Your words had Hongjoong’s eyes darkened with lust.

He hated sharing. He really did. Part of him still wanted to keep all parts of you to himself—your body, your sounds, your thoughts. But something in him also wanted to make everyone watching jealous. They could crave you as much as they’d like, but they’d never be the one pleasuring you. They’d never be him.

For some reason that boosted his ego.

People wanted what he had, and that made him feel powerful. You were his special gem. He never wanted to let you go.

“Joongie?” you called out softly to him when he didn’t answer.

“Turn around,” he instructed, voice a little husky and eyes sharp with authority. You bit your lip at his commanding attitude and climbed off his lap to do as you were told. Your heart was thudding in anticipation. You were glad he decided to keep going.

Hongjoong slipped his mask down and placed kisses against your neck that weren’t covered by the choker. You moved your head to give enough space for him and his cap, watching in the monitor as he kept his face hidden. He was nipping at your skin while his hands started to roam your body. You placed your palms on his muscular thighs to keep you steady.

Hongjoong’s mouth parted on a place against your neck and began to suck. You could tell his goal was to leave a mark. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s done so, but his actions felt more determined than ever.

Your eyes watched through the screen as his hands trailed up your legs. They caught on your skirt, lifting the hem to expose your panties for a few seconds before letting the material fall. They continued upward until they reached your chest. You moaned when his strong hands grabbed your breasts—palming them steadily, but roughly.

The comments were a mix of complaints and praises; some said the action was too slow, and others said how sexy it was to see Hongjoong touch you. The negative ones didn’t bother you as you were enjoying yourself with your boyfriend and that’s what mattered. There was no need to rush.

Hongjoong’s mouth moved from one part of your neck to another, repeating the actions until your skin was littered with small marks. You could see them blossoming through the screen.

He slipped his mask up before his hands moved beneath your top and began to lift it up. You raised your arms to help him remove it.

“So pretty,” you heard him whisper behind you, causing you to smile.

He admired your body for a second, taking in the way your breasts filled the bra beautifully, and soon, his hands cupped your chest again. After a few more squeezes of your flesh, he took off the material. Your torso was now completely exposed to him and your viewers.

Hongjoong eyed the chat for a second. There was still a feeling of possessiveness when he read how sexy you looked. He agreed, but he was still trying to get used to having people see you bare. He reminded himself you were his. He was the only one who could touch you. He had a feeling this would be repeated in his head later.

His hands found your breasts again, and his fingers twisted your nipples, causing you to gasp and clutch his thighs. He gently pulled on them while he watched your face. Your eyebrows knitted together at the slight pain, but your moans told him you liked it. Hongjoong released your nipples and spread his hand across your breasts. When he started massaging them again, you began grinding against him. He let out a small groan at the feeling.

Your eyes shifted to the chat as you moved your hips.

“Thank you, ‘chilly mangos’, for the donation,” you said as a notification appeared. “‘Fruity juice’ as well.”

You heard Hongjoong snicker behind you, and you pinched his leg in a warning. The usernames were always a little funny to say out loud, but what were you to do about it? It was just something you had to get used to.

“Hm, his hands look good on my boobs?” you read with a small laugh. “I agree.”

At the comment, Hongjoong pushed up your breasts and squeezed, giving your viewers a good look at how round they were. He released them after a second, and you watched as they bounced back in place.

You smiled at the comments that flooded in. Various messages were about how they wanted Hongjoong to do it again or wished he would fuck your breasts. There were other requests, which you normally took into high consideration, but you wanted today to be more natural—not tending to others’ needs.

“I appreciate the donations and the requests everyone, but I probably won’t read chat too much today,” you informed.

Hongjoong slid his hands back up your body. You didn’t realize you had been leaning forward to interact with the chat until he pulled you back with his hands on your chest again. He played with them as you continued to talk to your viewers for a bit. He would switch from pinching your nipples to bouncing your breasts in his hands. Eventually, his ministrations moved downward, and his hips started to move against your ass. You could feel himself getting harder the more he rubbed himself. One of his hands went between your legs, but his fingers spread so he wasn’t touching your folds. It was a teasing action, and you needed to feel more.

“A-alright, guys,” you stammered, “I’m going to tend to my boyfriend now. I think he’s getting a little needy. Isn’t that right, baby?”

You glanced at Hongjoong. Even though you couldn’t see his pout, you knew it was there. You smiled, leaning down to press a kiss through his mask.

“I’m all yours,” you said.

Hongjoong took the green light to shuffle farther up on the bed. He patted the space between his legs to call you over. Before you followed him, you quickly zoomed the camera in a little. Hongjoong’s neck and face were out of frame, but that was fine. You situated yourself on the bed quickly after. Your back was pressed against his chest, and you let Hongjoong hook your legs over his. He lifted your skirt and tucked the ends in the waistband. With your legs wide and clothed pussy on display, Hongjoong slithered a hand south.

Your body jerked slightly when he grazed his fingers over your clit then your slit. He could feel the dampness of your panties, and he hummed in satisfaction, pleased to find that you were already wet. He pressed his fingers harder against you, slipping between your folds through your underwear. You mewled at the feeling, hips rolling upward to feel more of him.

“Stay still,” Hongjoong instructed you quietly.

You nodded and stilled your body. Though when he glided his fingers up and to your clit, you bucked your hips again. Hongjoong didn’t say anything to that and slowly circled your bud. His speed increased, causing you to jerk in his grasp again.

“You’re not being good,” he commented.

“C-can’t help it,” you whined. Your legs tried to close when he pinched your clit carefully. You heard Hongjoong make a condescending noise at seeing your failed attempt. You weren’t able to bring your legs together due to them being forced open by his own legs.

Hongjoong’s eyes rose to the monitors. The sight of you spread between his legs, bare torso resting against his, had him getting harder. He then turned to read the comments. There were a few complaints that they couldn’t hear your voices and others that were making certain requests. He saw a couple of donation notifications pop up as well. One request caught his eye. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be told what to do, but something in him wanted to fulfill this request.

Hongjoong’s hand suddenly left your clit, only to bring it down against your folds in a light smack.

You gasped at his action; your hands came to hold onto his arms that were in front of you.

Happy with your reaction, Hongjoong repeated the action. Your body jumped, and your legs pressed against his in another attempt to close.

“Your chat is very naughty,” he murmured in your ear.

“S-sometimes,” you stuttered.

He chuckled, not believing you. He’s seen the comments when he’s watched your streams, but it was a little different considering he was the one being asked to do things to you now.

“They want to hear your voice, baby,” he continued and brought his hand back to your pussy. Though this time he pulled aside your underwear. His eyes glanced down at your slickened folds, now bare for everyone to see.

His fingers rubbed between your lower lips, coating his digits with your arousal. “I’ll make sure they hear it.”

His additional comment had your heart thudding in your chest.

Without notice, he slipped a finger inside, making you lean your head against his shoulder. He pumped it unhurriedly. He loved seeing how just one finger had you whining. At the second finger, you wiggled against him. Your hips were bucking up as you tried to grind against his hand.

“You’re really just misbehaving today, huh? Why is that?” he questioned. Usually, when you did, he would stop what he was doing and make you apologize until he felt you meant it. You were scared he’d do that now, but he didn’t. Instead, he inserted another finger.

“I-I don’t know,” you mumbled, hands tightening their hold on his arms.

Hongjoong glided his digits in and out a couple of times before spreading them on the way out. The stretch had you crying, legs squeezing against his.

“They liked that,” he said after he checked the chat.

Hongjoong dove three fingers into your pussy again and slowly parted them, making a show of how well you could be stretched. You were moaning against him; your eyes were glued on the monitor showing the both of you. He abruptly retracted his hand and reached to the side. You were forced to sit up slightly, legs untangling from his, as he retrieved something from the nightstand.

Donations were coming in more now, and you read the chat briefly before turning your attention to Hongjoong.

He leaned back up with one of your dildos and a small bottle of lube in his hands. Your thighs pressed together at the sight. His lips quirked up at your position, staring at you for a moment while he decided what he wanted to do.

He climbed off the bed and strolled to the end of it again, gesturing for you to follow, so you did.

“Take them off,” he demanded, finger pointing to your skirt. You started to remove it, but Hongjoong tsked and shook his head. At his disapproval, your hands went to your panties instead. When he didn’t say anything, you continued their descent until they were off completely.

Your eyes watched his face while he gently situated you in the position he wanted. Your legs were spread, feet perched on the mattress and your body leaned back on your arms. Hongjoong placed the object by you as he moved to your setup. You stayed silent as he adjusted the camera’s view. He made sure the focus was solely on you before sitting next to you sideways and angling his body in front of you. With his back turned to the camera, he shifted his mask down and captured your lips with his.

His tongue slipped inside your mouth, meeting yours quickly. As he did this, he picked up the dildo and spread some lube over it. The sound of the cap opening had your body tingling with excitement. One of your hands rose to grab the back of his head. Your fingers tangled in his hair that wasn’t covered by the cap, tugging on it when he nipped at your lip playfully.

Your body jolted slightly when he brought the toy to your pussy. Steadily, he pressed it inside your entrance. You moaned into the kiss, clutching the sheets with one hand and his hair with the other. Hongjoong pulled away to look down. You carefully put his mask in place before leaning back again. Your eyes stared down, watching with an open mouth as he pushed the object farther. When it was halfway in, he started to thrust it gradually.

“Shit,” you panted loudly when he started to speed up. You recalled how Hongjoong had informed you your chat wanted to hear you more. Although you weren’t sure if they were only referring to your moans, you still decided to speak up. You were used to it anyway.

“You look so pretty being stuffed,” he hummed, “but you’ll look even prettier on my cock. Isn’t that right?”

You nodded quickly, gaze moving to his eyes. “Want your cock instead.”

“I bet you do, but I want you to come first,” he said and put his attention back to pumping the toy quickly. He shifted on the bed and then moved his other hand to rub your clit.

Hongjoong couldn’t stop glancing at the chat.

It appeared he spoke a little too loudly. He had forgotten he was closer to the mic when he was at the end of the bed. Although he could be heard, it wasn’t audible enough to decipher. They had simply heard a hint of what he sounded like. You, on the other hand, could be heard better as you were speaking louder.

“C-close, Jo—baby,” you stammered, walls clenching around the toy that was gliding in and out of you.

“Go on,” he said, eyes moving back to your body in front of him. A few more rubs of your clit and thrusts of the dildo had you moaning out as you came.

Hongjoong pulled the toy from you, tossing it back on the bed before he kneeled between your legs. He quickly twisted his cap, so it was backward and yanked the mask down. He dove into your pussy, tongue licking up your dripping folds.

“Fuck,” you cursed again, head lolling back as you placed a hand against his head. Hongjoong’s hands rested on your bucking hips, trying to still them. You knew he could hold you down, but he wasn’t putting much effort into doing that.

Hongjoong glanced up at you. The tip of his tongue was circling your clit for a second before he went back to gliding it up and down your slit.

He loved the way you tasted against his tongue. He slipped the wet muscle inside, and you pushed your hips against his face more. He savored your juices as he pulled away, chin coated in your wetness. The sight was heavenly, and you moved your hand to the back of his neck to bring him to you.

You smiled when you tasted yourself against his tongue. The kiss was brief as Hongjoong pulled away shortly. He adjusted both of you, so your mouths were in the frame. His hand rose to grip your chin, gently tugging it down to open your mouth. Your eyes were glued on his, even though they weren’t captured on stream, while you waited for his next move. What he did next, however, shocked you as he’s never done it before.

Hongjoong gathered saliva in his mouth before spitting it into your own. A corner of his lips curled up in a smile as you swallowed with wide eyes. Unexpectedly, you stuck your tongue out again as if asking for more.

He scoffed, a little meaner than you expected. “I knew you would like that,” he tutted quietly to you. “I saw a request asking for it.”

Instead of granting your wish, he pulled you up and met your tongue with his in a sloppy kiss.

“I-I saw a comment I wanted to try, too,” you confessed breathlessly after the kiss.

Hongjoong let you go as he adjusted his cap. He wiped the remnants of your arousal from his chin with his shirt before moving the mask up. He raised a brow in curiosity. “Yeah?”

Placing your hands on his chest, you guided him, so the back of his knees hit the mattress. He sat down and placed his hands on your waist.

“Can I call you sir?” you asked softly, a little nervous about his answer.

Hongjoong’s eyes turned into half-moons, indicating his hidden smile. “I told you your chat was dirty.”

“Joongie,” you pouted lowly so no one but him could hear.

Hongjoong’s hands came to rest on your ass beneath the skirt. He massaged the flesh, causing your body to move toward his.

“Go ahead, baby,” he chuckled. “I’m willing to try it.”

You couldn’t stop your eyes from lighting up at his permission. “Just tell me to stop if it makes you uncomfortable.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

You smiled down at him but before you could do anything, he spun you around to face the camera again. He leaned down to your ear, voice dropping lower.

“You really thought you were going to take over now?” he laughed haughtily. “You’re lucky I’m letting you get away with shit right now.”

Your body stilled at his words, teeth coming out to bite your lower lip.

“Sorry, sir,” you replied. The word was foreign, but it excited you.

Hongjoong didn’t reply quickly as he digested the word. It was certainly different from what he normally heard, yet he didn’t hate it. He still favored when you called him by his name instead, but since you weren’t allowed to do that now, sir would have to do. Plus, he liked the air of superiority that came along with the title.

“I think I could get used to that,” he whispered in your ear, causing goosebumps to rise along your skin. “Help me take off my pants?”

By that, you knew he wanted you to do it all, but you didn’t mind. You started to turn to face him, but he held you still.

“No, do it from here,” he instructed. “I want them to admire what they can’t have.”

You’re not sure what had come over Hongjoong since you knew he wasn’t a big fan of you exposing your body to strangers. In spite of that, you had to admit his words had arousal drip between your legs. You loved when he reminded you that you were his.

You nodded, reaching behind you to find his belt buckle. Your hands brushed against his bulge, and you took a detour to palm him through his pants. He hissed lowly, fingers digging into your waist. Your legs squeezed together when you felt how hard he was. While the dildo felt good, Hongjoong would always feel better.

“You better take off my pants now, pretty girl. You’re already on thin ice,” he said in your ear.

You’re not sure what his words meant. You knew you were doing stuff he usually wouldn’t allow, but he hasn’t punished you for them. You figured he was just being more lenient tonight. You didn’t think his words held any weight. However, he sounded a little sterner, so you adhered to his command.

Once you unclasped the belt, you hurriedly unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. Hongjoong’s eyes were on the monitors, switching from the one showing the camera’s sight to the one displaying your chat. The feeling of possessiveness was still lingering in him, but now he wasn’t so caught up in trying to hide you.

Hongjoong’s hands glided across your body, playing with your breasts for a moment before moving down your tummy and between your legs. They never stayed in one place for long—always making you crave more.

Your hands shoved at his pants, hinting at Hongjoong to lift his hips so you could push the material down. You slid down both his underwear and pants as best you could from your position. When Hongjoong saw you couldn’t pull down any further, he moved them down the rest of the way and kicked them to the side.

You began to glance back to see his cock that you loved, but a hand came up and forced your face to look at the camera.

“Read the chat,” he commanded.

You whined when he denied you. You felt his hand brush your back as he pumped himself, so you pushed your ass against him, trying to feel him better.

He pushed you forward suddenly, a loud smack resounding in the room. The spot he had hit on your ass stung, and you reached back to grip his knees for balance.

“What did I say?” he questioned.

Your eyes moved to the chat screen. When you didn’t say anything, Hongjoong spoke.

“Out loud, baby.”

You cleared your throat as you started reading some of the messages.

“T-thank you, ‘daddy for you’ and ‘baby doll ninety-two,’ for the donations. Along with—”

“Not those,” Hongjoong chided as he peered over your shoulder, hand no longer touching his dick. You saw on the screen that he had rested them on the bed. There was a small amount of disappointment that his hands weren’t on you instead.

“Look at that,” he said. “They wish it was their cock instead of that stupid toy. They want to suck your nipples until you’re crying their names… Spit in your mouth and on your face until you’re covered in it.”

You had ignored those comments as you didn’t want Hongjoong to feel jealous, but you should’ve known those messages would catch his attention. Though, he didn’t seem as upset at them as you had anticipated.

“Do you want that?” he asked. “You want one of your viewers to touch you instead?”

You shook your head frantically. “I only want you, sir.”

“Is that so?” he hummed.

“Yes.”

“Yes what?” he prompted.

“Yes, sir,” you corrected. Hongjoong has always been controlling in the bedroom, but this was slightly different, and it thrilled you.

“Hm. Are you sure? Look at all those people wanting to ruin you,” he replied. You could see his eyes had moved to your face through the screen. You caught his fiery gaze. God, you wanted him to touch you again. You wanted to bring his hands on your body, but he didn’t seem to be in the mood to be controlled.

“But they’re not you, sir.”

Hongjoong scoffed as if the thought of one of them in his place amused him. “That’s exactly right, baby. Who’s the only one who gets to ruin you?”

Your thighs were rubbing together as Hongjoong stared at you intensely. “You, sir.”

“So, what does that make you?”

Hongjoong finally touched you.

He had you take a few steps forward as he stood behind you. He gently pulled your arms behind your back, holding them there as he adjusted his length to rest against the cleft of your ass.

“Answer me,” he said when you didn’t reply.

“Yours. It makes me yours,” you stuttered, feeling him glide the tip of his cock along your folds. You had forgotten his title, but he didn’t seem to care about it for now.

“Say it louder. I want them to hear you clearly.”

“I’m yours,” you repeated, raising your volume to ensure your mic picked up your voice. “I’m only yours.”

Pleased with you listening to his directions, Hongjoong buried himself in your warm heat.

Your mouth fell open in a lengthy moan when he slid all the way. Your legs quivered ever so slightly at being a little sensitive from your previous orgasm.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good,” he rasped.

Hongjoong looked at you in the monitor, loving the way you were pushing your chest toward the camera as your ass pressed against his pelvis. The sight was enticing, and he saved a mental picture of it.

Hongjoong slowly slid out of you before thrusting back in, a small smirk on his face when he watched your chest move. He continued this motion, letting the sound of his skin slapping yours roughly echo in the room. Upon reading the comments, he moved a hand to your throat. He squeezed the sides of your neck to give you enough pressure to make your eyes roll back and a whimper escape. The act wasn’t new to you both, but you always loved when he did it.

“Your chat is right,” he huffed. “You do look like a slut right now.”

Your walls squeezed around him, and Hongjoong grunted lowly behind you. He eased the pressure on your throat, allowing air to flow better as he adjusted both your bodies, so you were sideways to the camera.

Seeing more comments spurred his quickened pace. He wanted them to feel jealous they weren’t the ones fucking into you, but some of the comments were criticizing him. Saying they bet they could fuck you better. Make you scream louder. Maybe he shouldn’t be letting the comments get to him. After all, he was the one with you. However, the idea of you leaving him for someone better had an almost animalistic feeling overcome him.

He pounded into you, holding your arms behind your back and watching his cock disappear between your folds. You were moaning, trying your hardest to keep your footing as he jolted you forward. It helped that he had secured your arms.

Hongjoong pulled out suddenly, causing you to whine loudly at the empty feeling. He moved to lie down on the bed, carefully pulling you on top of him. You straddled his body and pushed his shirt up. He quickly removed the material, mindful of his cap. Your hands instantly glided up his torso. Hongjoong let you touch him while he aligned the tip at your entrance again. He wasted no time in pushing your hips down, engulfing his hard cock with your pussy.

He groaned at the feeling, leaning his head against the mattress as you started to roll your hips.

You hooked a finger on his mask and waited for his approval before pulling it down. You kissed him hastily, hands coming up to cup his face since you couldn’t tangle them in his hair.

Hongjoong held your waist firmly, guiding your body up and down. Although you were doing a lot of the work, you let him set the pace—which was rather speedy. Your mouth moved away from his. Breathing heavily, you used your energy to bounce on his dick, moans and whines leaving your mouth. You loved how full you felt as he slid against your walls. The stretch of his girth had you feeling a familiar pleasure.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured, watching you from below. His words encouraged you to move faster, however, you couldn’t keep the pace you set for long. Your legs started to become sore, but you needed to keep moving. You needed to come as did he. The idea of not being able to continue much longer had you crying out.

“What is it, hm?” he asked, though he had a feeling what your whine was about.

“N-need your help, Joongie,” you pouted, voice low.

“But you’re doing so well,” he cooed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You stared down at him, finally able to see his full face. He looked so handsome staring at you, mouth slightly raised in a smile.

You shook your head, slowing down your movements. “You’re better. Please?”

“What are you asking for, pretty girl?” His arms trailed up and down your sides, not caring that you had now completely stilled on his lap.

“Need you to take over—to f-fuck me,” you pleaded, eyes blown out and needy.

He grinned and put his mask back in place before sitting up. He wrapped one arm around your body as he adjusted the position. Your lips pulled into a lazy smile, and you draped your arms over his shoulders, so your body was pressed against his.

Once he felt stable, he started to buck his hips up. You gasped at the feeling of his skin hitting yours; the sound had you squeezing around his cock.

His thrusts slowed to a stop when he felt your arousal drip down his dick, a gravelly moan slipping from his mouth.

“Shit, you’re leaking down my cock, baby girl,” he hissed, hands dragging your body up until just his tip remained. He loved seeing how wet he made you. He eased you back down, earning him a beautiful sigh from your lips.

He paused his movements to look at the screen, mentally reminding himself to have his way with you in front of a mirror in the future. He wanted you to see yourself take him—to see your face morph with pleasure.

Hongjoong then unhooked your arms and guided your hands on your ass. “I want them to see how much of a slut you are.”

You mewled at his words, understanding what he wanted as you spread your cheeks to give the camera a better view of Hongjoong sliding in.

“Of course, they like that,” he growled and then continued his movements; however, he didn’t gradually reach a quick pace, he just started there. His hips slammed up to yours, forcing your body to jolt up and down his chest as you laid there and took what he was giving you.

“Look at you take my cock like a good girl,” he praised through clenched teeth, his gaze on the monitor. He eased his speed for a moment. The steady roll of his hips felt delightful. “I bet you love having people watch you get fucked. Hm? Am I right? You want them to see how I split you open?”

You nodded, whimpering, “Yes, sir.”

Hongjoong hummed while he continued to push into you. He moaned, feeling your cunt suck him back in. Not only did your audience like this view, but he did as well. Seeing your pussy stretch to fit him made him go faster, needing to see you leak his cum.

“Wanna’ come, sir,” he heard you cry into his shoulder. “Need to come.”

“Go ahead. I want to see you fall apart on my dick, baby,” he replied, hands moving from your body to get a sturdier position. He began slamming into you. Each movement had you nearing your climax.

Soon enough you came with a loud whine. Your legs shook, and your hands grabbed his shoulders for support.

Hongjoong came after a few more rough thrusts. His breathy moans were next to your ear as he held you still against him. You clenched your walls around him, wanting to milk him for everything he could give you. You soon slumped against his chest.

He smiled behind his mask and wrapped his arms around your body. You did the same to him, letting both of you take a breather. The stream was forgotten momentarily as you basked in the feeling of your boyfriend’s touch. Hongjoong caressed you gently, massaging your body in various places.

After a few minutes, he carefully pulled out and laid you on the bed, face down.

He raised your hips slightly and spread your ass to watch as his cum dripped from your spent cunt. While it was mostly for his pleasure, there was a small part of him that wanted the chat to see how well he fucked you.

“You’re mine, love,” Hongjoong whispered. You nodded in agreement with a hum, too tired to concur verbally.

He dipped a finger in your entrance, causing you to squirm from sensitivity. He chuckled softly and scooped up some of his cum on his fingers. Hongjoong slipped his digits in his mouth, sucking the substance off as he moved to your setup.

He watched the messages come in quickly. A smirk appeared on his lips seeing the majority of them were about how they envied him. They wished they were the ones who just fucked you.

His eyes flickered to the screen capturing you. Your hips had fallen on the mattress, and your breathing was calming down. You were simply laying there, tired.

Seeing your exhausted state, he raised a hand in front of the camera. He gave a wave before ending the stream. After triple checking it was truly off, he removed his cap and mask. He shook out his hair a few times and then strolled to the bed.

“That was fun,” you murmured sleepily.

Hongjoong rubbed a soothing hand up and down your back. You smiled at his comforting touch and hauled yourself into a sitting position.

“Did you have fun, Joongie?” you wondered. It was difficult to tell as his face was beginning to rest in a frown.

“I did,” he started as he sat on the edge of the bed. You tilted your head in confusion since he didn’t look like he had fun. “But I think you deserve a punishment for how you acted during the stream.”

That woke you up a bit.

“W-what? But I was good,” you sputtered, a pout appearing on your features.

He chuckled darkly. “Were you? Moving when I told you not to? Touching me when that’s not what I asked for? That’s you being good?”

Your shoulders sagged as he recalled your previous actions. “I-I thought you were okay with it.”

“You know I shouldn’t have to tell you things twice. Now come here,” he instructed, patting his lap. You hesitated for a second but quickly laid down at his narrowing gaze.

One of his hands flipped up the skirt you still wore. He rubbed your ass, pleased to see his cum still between your legs. Then suddenly his hand came down on one of your cheeks, which had you yelping.

“Count.”

The next time Hongjoong met up with his friends, there was an awkward tension in the air. Seonghwa and Yunho had a difficult time looking at him. It got even worse when you accompanied him. Hongjoong wasn’t sure what was up with them until it dawned on him as he walked by their rooms. Moaning and grunting came from their rooms, but instead of seeing you on screen, it was another woman. They must have watched your stream when he guest-starred. There was no doubt that they had figured out who he was by how they were acting. Part of him wondered if they got off on it even after they discovered who you both were.

There was some relief knowing that they weren’t watching your streams anymore, or at least if they did, he didn’t know. However, a darker side of him was disappointed they stopped. Hongjoong wanted to gloat in their faces about how he was able to feel your tight cunt around him instead of them. Maybe even have you wear skimpy outfits around them to just increase their jealousy.

It sounded extremely wrong and entitled when he thought of it, but ever since that stream, he couldn’t help but have an extra boost of confidence. Though he hasn’t come on your show since. You were a little upset, worried even, that he didn’t like it. However, he simply wanted to not feel pressured into fucking you a certain way. Yes, he did like feeling smug at that moment, but he didn’t expect it to last well after the stream. He wasn’t sure how healthy that was, so he kept his distance from that world.

When Hongjoong came by your home a few weeks later, you had just finished another live stream. There was a slight sheen of sweat covering your skin, and you were wearing a robe. You greeted him with open arms and a loving kiss.

“I didn’t know you were going to have one so early,” he observed, realizing it was a little earlier than usual. You shrugged.

“I was horny and thought, why not?” you replied.

Hongjoong frowned. “You could have called me.”

You giggled and grabbed his hand, leading him to the bathroom as you started a bath. “I don’t want to just have sex with you, Joongie. I want cuddles, movie nights, dinner dates,” you listed off.

You checked the water’s temperature before plugging the drain so it could fill. You added some soap, watching bubbles begin to form.

“We can still have those,” he replied.

“I know,” you said with a gentle smile.

You slipped off your robe, letting it pool on the floor before sinking into the warm water. A sigh left your lips as you felt relaxed. Hongjoong came and sat on the edge of your sunken tub. He took your hand when you reached for him.

You continued, “But I want to focus on building our relationship without having sex involved.”

“You’re saying you’re tired of having sex with me?” he asked, a little offended. You shook your head as you leaned forward to turn off the water.

There was the tell-tale sign of another mini tantrum. His mouth tugged down, and his shoulders slouched. For such a tough guy in bed, he sure was a big brooding baby. However, you dealt with it all because you really liked him.

“No, silly,” you answered, sitting back against the edge and resting your head on the pillow you kept there. “I just don’t want you to feel like you always have to do the two-person-tango with me every time we hang out.”

“I don’t feel pressured too. I like it. You feel good,” he murmured the last part. He brought his other hand to yours, lifting it up as he gently massaged your palm.

“You’re cute, Joongie,” you commented. “I guess I’ll keep you around.”

Hongjoong huffed, eyes rolling at your teasing. “What are you talking about? You’re never getting rid of me now.”

“I’m okay with that,” you smiled widely at him.

Hongjoong’s heart pounded in his chest as you stared up at him with adoration. He leaned down and gave your lips a soft kiss.

When he pulled away, you chased after him. He chuckled at that and granted you one more kiss before moving away completely.

“I’ll always be here for you, love—whether that’s sexually or not. I like you for your personality, not only your body,” he said.

“What about my face?” you playfully asked.

Hongjoong let out a teasing sigh. “Your face’s alright.”

“Ass,” you gasped, flicking up some water at him.

He laughed, shielding his face from your attack. “Kidding, baby. I think you’re the most gorgeous human to walk the earth.”

“Now you’re just kissing ass,” you replied.

Hongjoong smiled, going back to massaging your hand. He gave you a wink when he said, “I’ll gladly kiss yours.”

“Shut up, Kim,” you laughed as you hit him playfully on the arm. “Now sing me a song as I prune.”

Your eyes drifted close, and you let yourself enjoy the calming sensation of his fingers pressing into your skin combined with the warm water against your body.

“You always want me to sing,” he whined.

“Because you have a nice voice. Now, sing, please?” you asked.

He sighed as he relented. “What song?”

“Wannabe by the Spice Girls.”

He snorted, hands pausing in his ministrations to stare at you. He remembered how you would sing it around your home—hell and even his, dancing and using a spatula as a microphone. Needless to say, he (unfortunately or fortunately) knew the words.

“Seriously?” he questioned.

You peeked an eye open at him.

“Yes.”

Upon seeing your earnest expression, Hongjoong began singing. He felt extremely silly and embarrassed as the lyrics left his lips. However, the happiness that spread across your face made it all worthwhile. He would sing ten more cheesy songs if it made you smile. That’s not something he foresaw changing in the future.

A/N: Thank you for reading! 🥰

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