#it seems he realized how exhausting it is to be fake all the time when he had time to not worry about hurting someone’s feelings | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dolcettamagica · 6 months

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𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐚

gangleader!sukuna x reader, modern au

tags: daddy kink, dirty talk, blowjob, sukuna speaks italian, petnames in italien translations: piccola - little one/baby principessa – princess che brava – (what a) good girl sei carina, lo sai? – you're cute, you know? ti piace, piccola? – you like it, little one? notes: minors dni wc: 3.6k

Life was tough. At least your life was.

Living alone in this day and age was expensive and to pay your student loans was almost impossible. Yes, you could go the easy route and just sell your body or some pictures but that really wasn’t your style. You weren’t going to turn your body into a product. So, when a man called Toji came up to you, asking how much you were worth for the night, you rejected him and asked if you could do something else that would earn you just as much money. The handsome man simply smirked before your criminal life started. Ever since then your job was to “exchange fake money with real money”. Money laundering.

And you did just that. Asking your friends to lend you money and giving them back fake money, returning products you bought with the fake money, asking people if they could change one bill for another. It worked. The last few months worked without any problems at all. This month however was an absolute nightmare. Not only did Toji give you way more money than usual, you were in the middle of exam season. You were running behind and Toji warned you that his boss, Sukuna, was not pleased with your current status. Well, it’s not like you could do anything about it anyway.

As the heavy front door creaked open, a wave of exhaustion washed over you, burdened with the weight of deadlines, exams and Toji’s constant warnings. Your footsteps echoed in the dimly lit hallway, each one a testament to the fatigue that settled deep within your bones. With heavy shoulders and a weary sigh, you dragged yourself through the threshold of your home, longing for the solace of your own space. The weight of your backpack seemed to increase with every step, a physical manifestation of the mental strain you had endured throughout the day. As you entered your room, the soft glow of your desk lamp provided a faint comfort, but even its warmth couldn't dispel the overwhelming sense of stress that enveloped you. Toji kept sending you messages, telling you to hurry up and wash the money. Another sigh fell from your lips as you let your backpack and jacket fall to the ground. The moment you turned around you started to scream – a stranger was sitting on your bed.

Sukuna, the embodiment of wrath and power, sat on the edge of the bed, his presence casting a palpable aura of danger in the room. Clad in a white shirt and black pants that hugged his form with menacing elegance, his usually composed demeanor was shattered by a seething anger that simmered just beneath the surface. The fabric strained against his muscles as if unable to contain the sheer force of his rage. With a clenched jaw and eyes ablaze with fury, he exuded an aura of dominance that commanded attention. His fingers curled into fists, nails digging into his palms as he fought to contain the tempest within him. Every breath he took seemed to echo with the promise of destruction, a silent warning to those who dared to cross him. Despite the veneer of sophistication his attire provided, there was no mistaking the primal wrath that pulsed through his veins, ready to unleash chaos upon any who dared provoke him.

“Who the hell are you?!”

“Ain’t no way you’re talking to your leader like this, stupida.”

Realization hit instantly. This was what Toji was warning you from the whole time. It was Sukuna – the gang leader. You heard a lot of terrifying things about him. The name of Sukuna Ryomen struck terror into the hearts of all who dared to utter it. A gang leader with a penchant for unspeakable cruelty, his reign of terror was marked by a litany of horrifying deeds that stained the streets with blood and despair. From the depths of his depravity, tales whispered of Sukuna's penchant for gruesome displays of power — from the grisly dismemberment of rivals left as warnings, their mutilated remains strewn across the city like macabre ornaments, to the innocent lives snuffed out in acts of ruthless vengeance. His depraved appetite for control knew no bounds, his twisted machinations orchestrating a symphony of fear that echoed through the alleys and corridors of the urban labyrinth he ruled with an iron fist. Behind the facade of opulence and influence, Sukuna's true legacy lay in the shattered lives and haunted souls that bore witness to his reign of terror, forever scarred by the horrifying specter of his atrocities.

It was the first time that you actually saw him and it was the first time that you instantly got on your knees for a man. You knew you had to show your utmost respect to this man. “I am so sorry. I–I didn’t know. Please forgive me, Sukuna.”

A grin graced his face as he saw you submit to him so quickly. He loved that fear struck anyone who laid eyes upon him. On top of that: You were a beauty. However he could not just look over your lack of achievements. At first he was impressed by your work. You managed to wash all the money and not have a single cop suspicious of you, you were smart and didn’t tell a living soul about your connection to Sukuna’s gang. So, he decided to give you some more money, he was sure that you were able to handle it. You weren’t and you took none of Toji’s – his right hand – warnings seriously.

“You look good begging on your knees, piccola. You would have made way more money on the streets, you know?”, he snickered, Toji told him about your decision to never sell yourself. Sukuna respected that as long as you still somehow benefited him. “Toji warned you, didn’t he? You’re behind. Why are you fucking up my business, y/n?”

The flicker of a lighter cast an eerie glow upon his features, accentuating the cold calculation that lurked behind his piercing gaze. With practiced nonchalance, he retrieved a cigarette from its pack, his fingers deftly manipulating the slender cylinder with an air of arrogance. Ignoring the palpable tension that hung in the air like a shroud, he brought the flame to the tip of the cigarette, a small ember igniting amidst the darkness. The sharp inhale of smoke filled the room, intertwining with your fear, a sinister dance that mirrored the power dynamics at play. In that moment, as the tendrils of smoke curled around him like malevolent serpents, Sukuna asserted his dominance with a single, calculated gesture, cementing his control over both the room and its trembling inhabitant.

“I–It’s just exam season…and I was given more than usual…I am really, from the bottom of my heart, sorry for everything.” You were frozen in the oppressive atmosphere of Sukuna's presence, your heart hammering in your chest like a caged bird desperate for escape. As he lit up a cigarette with an effortless display of power, you couldn't suppress the shiver that ran down your spine, your nerves alight with a cocktail of fear and anticipation. Your breath caught in your throat, caught between the instinct to flee and the inexplicable pull of his dominating presence. Despite the terror that coiled in the pit of your stomach, there was an undeniable undercurrent of arousal that stirred within you, a primal response to the sheer force of his authority. The way he commanded the room with effortless control sent a shiver of excitement coursing through your veins, igniting a fire of desire that burned beneath the surface of fear. In the face of his overwhelming dominance, you found yourself teetering on the edge of submission, your body betraying you with each racing heartbeat as you struggled to navigate the complex interplay of fear and desire that pulsed between you two.

Sukuna's gaze, sharp as a blade, pierced through your facade of fear with unnerving precision. In the flickering light of the room, his eyes seemed to strip away your defenses, laying bare the tangled web of emotions that churned within you. He could sense the trembling of your limbs, the rapid rise and fall of your chest betraying the fear that gripped you. But beneath that fear, there simmered something else — a raw, primal desire that pulsed with a rhythm all its own. With a predatory grin, Sukuna leaned in closer to your kneeling form, his voice a low, husky murmur that seemed to caress the very air around. "I can see right through you, piccola," he murmured, his words laden with a dangerous allure that sent a thrill coursing through your veins. "You can't hide that hunger from me." And in that moment, as the tension crackled between you like electricity, you realized that you were completely at his mercy, your desires laid bare for him to see.

As Sukuna's penetrating gaze lingered on you, you felt a flush of embarrassment spread across your cheeks like wildfire. Caught in the crosshairs of his scrutiny, you wished you could disappear into the shadows, away from the intensity of his knowing stare. The revelation of your hidden desire left you feeling exposed, vulnerable in a way you had never experienced before. Each beat of your heart seemed to echo the rhythm of your mortification, the weight of his gaze bearing down on you like a heavy burden. Unable to meet his eyes, you lowered your gaze to the ground, willing yourself to shrink away from the searing intensity of his presence. In that moment, you felt small and insignificant, your embarrassment a stark reminder of your own vulnerability in the face of his commanding dominance “Excuse me…?”

Sukuna leaned back again, a smug grin on his face “Come closer, principessa, kneel right in front of me.”

Every word was your command. Slowly you got closer. Sukuna lounged on the edge of the bed with an air of undeniable authority, his legs spread wide in a display of dominance that seemed to fill the room. Clad in sleek black pants, he exuded an aura of raw masculinity that was impossible to ignore. Before him, you knelt with a mixture of trepidation and submission, your eyes downcast as you awaited his next command. The tension between you crackled in the air like electricity, the space between you charged with unspoken desires and untamed passions. The balance of power shifted palpably, with Sukuna reigning supreme over his willing captive, your fates intertwined in the complex dance of dominance and submission.

With a gesture both possessive and tender, Sukuna's hand descended upon your head, his touch gentle yet commanding as he stroked your hair like a prized possession. His fingers traced the curve of your skull with an almost possessive reverence, eliciting a shiver of submission that coursed through your veins. In the silent exchange between you each caress was a silent affirmation of his dominance. With a soft, whispered command, he guided your head to rest upon his thigh, the weight of your submission a tangible presence that settled between. In this intimate tableau, you surrendered yourself completely to his will, your breath mingling with the fabric of his pants as you lay vulnerable and exposed before him, a willing captive to his every whim.

“Sei carina, lo sai? Look up at me with those big innocent eyes. Wanna seduce me, piccola?” As Sukuna's hand firmly grasped your head, a jolt of arousal surged through you, your pulse quickening with an intensity that matched the grip of his fingers. The sensation of his touch, commanding yet possessive, sent a thrill through, igniting a fire of desire that burned hotter with each passing moment. Caught in the vice-like grip of his hand, you felt a surge of excitement welling up within you, your breath hitching in your throat as you succumbed to the intoxicating power of his dominance. The boundaries between fear and desire blurred into nothingness, your body responding instinctively to his commanding presence with a hunger that you could scarcely contain.

“D–Did you just call me cute?”

“Is that all you have to say about it?”, With a deft motion, Sukuna's thumb traced the line of your cheek, his touch both possessive and tender as he caressed your skin with a commanding intimacy. As his thumb lingered at the corner of your lips, a surge of anticipation rippled through you, your breath catching in your throat at the tantalizing prospect of what was to come. With a boldness born of desire, you parted your lips ever so slightly, inviting him to delve deeper into the depths of your surrender. Without hesitation, Sukuna's thumb slipped past your lips, his touch igniting a symphony of sensations that danced upon your tongue. The taste of him was intoxicating, a heady blend of power and desire that left you dizzy with need. You surrendered yourself completely to his touch, you felt a primal connection forming between you, binding you together in a web of desire that defied all logic and reason. And as you savored the taste of him upon your lips, you knew that you belonged to him utterly and completely, your surrender a testament to the irresistible pull of his dominance.

With an air of unwavering confidence, Sukuna basked in your submission, relishing in the power he wielded over you. His gaze, smoldering with desire and dominance, held you captive, each glance a silent command that you willingly obeyed. As he felt you yield to his touch, a predatory smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, his satisfaction evident in the way he savored your surrender. With a voice that dripped with authority, he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he posed the question that hung between you like a tantalizing promise. “Che brava. Wanna make me feel good, piccola? Wanna taste something else?” he murmured, his words laced with a potent blend of desire and challenge.

With a silent nod, you affirmed your desire to delve deeper into the intoxicating dance of submission and dominance that bound you to Sukuna. Your breath hitched in anticipation as you watched him lean back with a self-assured grace, his movements deliberate as he reached for the buckle of his pants. The sound of leather against metal echoed in the hushed room, each click and slide a symphony of anticipation. With each movement, the air seemed to crackle with an electrifying tension, the promise of what was to come hanging heavy between you like a veil of desire. As he freed himself from the confines of his pants, a thrill of excitement surged through you. As you watched him bare himself before you, you knew that there was no turning back — you were his, body and soul, bound to him in a fiery embrace of passion and submission.

He was big. Bigger than you were used to. It was veiny, long, thick and circumcised. “Ti piace, piccola?” Him speaking Italian turned you on even more. It suited him – his aura, his appearance, his dominance.

With a mixture of trepidation and eagerness, you lowered yourself before Sukuna, your heart pounding in your chest with a heady mixture of anticipation and desire. As you met his gaze, you found yourself ensnared by the raw intensity of his eyes, their smoldering depths fueling the flames of your arousal. With trembling hands, you traced the contours of his thighs, your touch a silent prayer for permission as you inched closer to your purpose. And when you felt the heat of him against your lips, a thrill surged through you, your mouth watering with a hunger that mirrored the primal need that pulsed within your veins.

“Brava piccola.” With a commanding yet tender touch, Sukuna threaded his fingers through your hair, guiding your movements with a firm guidance that left you breathless with desire. As you wrapped your lips around his cock, you savored the taste of him upon your tongue. With each eager suck and swirl of your tongue, you sought to please him, your own pleasure intertwined with the intoxicating thrill of his approval.

As the heat of passion consumed you, Sukuna's dominance surged to the forefront, his grip on your hair tightening with a commanding force as he pushed your head down onto him with an urgency that bordered on ferocity. He started fucking your face, with each rough thrust, he plunged deeper into the depths of your mouth, his movements guided by an insatiable hunger. The air was thick with the heady scent of your shared arousal, the sound of your ragged breaths mingling with the wet, slick sounds of his cock going deep into your throat. In the depths of your submission your senses were overwhelmed by the dizzying whirlwind of pleasure and pain.

“Hmm…fuck, you feel perfect, piccola. Was made to suck my cock. Look at you, taking it in so good.”

With each forceful thrust, Sukuna primal desire surged forth, his movements a testament to the raw intensity of his need. As he plunged deeper into your mouth, you felt yourself teetering on the edge of oblivion, your senses drowning in the overwhelming tide of sensation. The taste of him upon your tongue was intoxicating, a heady blend of power and passion that left you trembling with desire. Suddenly he pulled you off his cock, leaving you out of breath, your cheeks soaked with your tears.

You lowered your head, licking and sucking his balls as you started to jerk him off simultaneously. As you lavished attention upon him, your mouth and hands working in tandem to pleasure him, he unleashed a torrent of dirty whispers that sent shivers cascading down your spine.

“My good little girl.”

“You’ll make daddy cum, piccola.”

“Fuck, makes me want to make you mine, principessa.”

His voice, low and husky with desire, filled the air with a symphony of erotic promises, each word a tantalizing invitation to delve deeper into the depths of the shared ecstasy. Your own desire surged to dizzying heights, your arousal palpable in the slick heat that pooled between your thighs.

As the crescendo of pleasure reached its peak, Sukuna's primal instincts surged forth, his release imminent and inevitable. With a guttural groan of satisfaction, he surrendered himself to the relentless tide of ecstasy, his body tensing with the force of his climax. In a torrent of raw passion, he came, his hot seed spilling forth, coating your face with its warmth. You gasped in surprise and ecstasy as you felt him release, your skin bathed in the sticky warmth of his essence. And as you looked up at him with eyes glazed with desire, you knew that in that moment, you had become a vessel for his pleasure, your own desires subservient to the intoxicating power of his dominance.

As Sukuna beheld the aftermath of his release, a smug grin spread across his lips, his satisfaction evident in the arrogant tilt of his chin. With a sense of ownership that bordered on arrogance, he surveyed you before him, your face adorned with the evidence of his dominance. His gaze lingered on the trails of his cum that glistened upon your skin, a testament to the primal power he wielded over you. With a low chuckle that reverberated through the room, he voiced his approval, relishing in the sight of his essence decorating your face like a badge of honor.

“Suits you, piccola. You look pretty with my cum all over your slutty face. Should take a picture as blackmail material.” For Sukuna, there was no greater pleasure than seeing his cum adorning your face, a physical manifestation of his power and control over you. He gazed upon you with a possessive gleam in his eyes, he knew that he had claimed you completely, body and soul, in a fiery embrace of dominance and submission.

With a swift and fluid motion, Sukuna straightened himself, the clink of his belt buckle punctuating the air as he secured it with a confident flick of his wrist. His movements were calculated and precise, every gesture a testament to the unwavering confidence that defined his persona. As he stood before you, your gaze lingered on him, your breath catching in your throat at the sight of his commanding presence. With a final glance, he bestowed upon you a smug smirk, a silent acknowledgment of the power he held over you.

“Would love to fuck your sweet lil’ pussy right now but I still have some business to attend to, piccola. By the way, you have two more weeks for that money. Next time around it won’t end this way.”

Without another word, Sukuna turned on his heel and made his way toward the door, his steps echoing in the quiet room with a sense of finality. His departure left a palpable void in his wake, a reminder of the fleeting nature of their passionate encounter. And as he disappeared into the shadows, you left alone with your thoughts, your body still humming with the remnants of the pleasure you gave him. You knew that you would forever be under his spell, your desires forever entwined with his in a web of lust and submission. Though you did wish that he would have did something to you.

Just when you decided to play with yourself you heard your phone ring – a message from an unknown number.

Ciao piccola, wait for daddy. I’ll be back in two hours. I want your pussy to be soaking wet.

#𓂃⊹ ִֶָ 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu sukuna #jjk sukuna #sukuna jjk #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna smut

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frantic-fiction · 8 months

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Unexpected

Pic: @cheekylittlepupp (I love her posts)

Astarion x gn!Tav, Astarion x gn!reader

Summary: A night of seduction takes an unexpected turn, leaving Astarion to realize just how deep his feelings for Tav have developed.

Warnings: Astarion not knowing how to handle affection. Mild disassociation. Astarion has a lot of confusing feels.

Word count: 2.8k

Masterlist

Astarion sprawls across the blanket, his spine cracking against the stretch. A reflexive groan escapes him. His arms are crossed to cushion his head while the sun's heat seeps into his bones. The last time he felt this warm and relaxed was when his heart still beat in his chest. He feels like he could trance, in just a moment.

It still baffles him, the luck of it all. Being ripped right out of that bastard's chains, only to be dropped in the middle of nowhere with a tadpole in his head and a bunch of problematic weirdos for company. And Tav. Tav, who Astarion has yet to fully figure out.

At first, he thought the naive little hero thing was all an act, but no, that was just Tav. And a sweet, naive person was exactly who he needed to keep his place in this group. He had already seduced them; now, he just needed to keep them on his side.

Astarion is pulled from his thoughts. He's not sure why until his ears twitch at the sound of boots scuffing on dirt. Pushing up on his elbows, Astarion looks up towards the tree line.

Tav, slightly obscured by clouds of disturbed dust, is trudging up the west trail. Their body seems to have deflated, shoulders slumped, both hands gripping their pack straps as if the moment they let go, the heavy bag would pull them to the ground.

Tav looks exhausted, not the kind brought on by a poor night's rest or a long day's travel. But one that builds up slowly, from continuous tasks and responsibilities, with constant eyes looking for guidance in a time none could imagine experiencing. The suffocating feeling that claws its way under the skin, burying deep behind fake smiles and pleasantries.

Sitting up further, he watches Tav start to make their rounds. First to Gale, they pull a necklace out of their pocket before placing it in his palm. The wizard makes what's sure to be a subpar joke, and Tav's delicate laugh rings out—Astarion glares in annoyance.

Tav says goodbye and moves over to Wyll. They unsheaths a polished rapier- a replacement for the one Wyll managed to break when they fought against a pack of minotaurs. It's ridiculous if you ask Astarion, but Tav tells him to keep his comments to himself and, as they say, "don't bite the hand that feeds."

After a quick hello to Lae'zel, Tav's eyes find Astarion. They perk up a bit, a timid smile stretching their plump lips. Astarion is now fully on his feet, returning their smile with a smirk of his own.

"Hello, my sweet," Astarion says, moving behind Tav. "Let me," he pulls the straps off Tav's shoulders, letting the heavy pack fall into his arms. "Hells, my dear, you carried this all the way from town."

"It's not that heavy," they mumble, reaching for the bag.

Astarion swiftly pulls the pack from Tav's reach. "What did you get?" He quirks his brow and unlatches the pack to begin sifting through its contents.

Tav huffs something under their breath and crosses their arms, but makes no further attempt to reach for the bag.

The pack is brimming with food, potions, arrows, daggers, and scrolls, all basic supplies. "Boring," Astarion says, tossing the bag to the side carelessly.

"If anything broke, it's coming from your gold pouch."

"Yes, yes, of course," Astarion says, waving his hand casually before turning up the charm. They look up at him with lidded eyes and a glaze over look . "Are you alright?" Astarion asks, his voice laced with played-up concern.

"Hmm... O-Oh, yeah, yes, I'm fine." Their eyes dart away, seeming to look for the next lie. "You know me; I'm always doing good."

Astarion glances around the camp, looking at the others. None seemed to be paying attention to the two of them. He steps forward and brushes a strand of hair behind Tav's ear, trailing his fingers down their neck.

"I've begun to know you very well, my sweet, and I can tell you are exhausted."

"I'll be fine," Tav catches his hand and starts to play with his fingers.

Astarion freezes, brow furrowing in confusion. They're just pulling slightly at his hand. An odd feeling settles in Astarion's stomach.

Why are they doing that?

They let go a moment later, and Astarion pulls his hand back quickly.

"I've got to talk with Shadowheart; if you'd like, you can feed on me tonight." Tav hesitates before quickly pecking his cheek and skipping off.

Astarion is left staring after them with this dreadful fluttering in his stomach. A hand absentmindedly touches his cheek. His mouth feels dry, and he swallows hard.

Astarion has an idea brewing that would please Tav, and maybe he would even get another of those soft kisses.

Why would he care for another damn kiss? Gods, what is happening to him? Is it the damn tadpole?

It's nightfall when Astarion finds Tav again. They are sat on the ground, suffocated between a growing owlbear cub and a slobbery dog. Scratch's tail wags and the subtle movement of Tav's hands petting each animal's fur are the only movements. Tav's eyes are closed, and their face is relaxed.

"Should I grab the cleric?"

"No, I think the rogue will do just fine."

Tav's eyes open, their face breaking into a bright smile. They sit up, displacing the animals who no longer consider Tav a suitable bed.

"Time for dinner?" Tav wiggles their fingers at them, beckoning for assistance.

Astarion scoffs but grabs their wrists and pulls Tav to their feet. Tav stumbles forward a step and presses into him. He gets the urge to kiss them for no reason other than he wants to and almost leans down to do just that when Tav speaks.

"So… my tent or yours?"

Astarion blinks out of his thoughts. "Right, I think my tent tonight,” he offers his arm, which Tav takes. "This way, my dear."

Tav allows Astarion to escort them to his tent, where upon entrance, on a small table sits a platter containing a loaf of bread and a chunk of cheese he nipped from Gale's pack, alongside a fresh vine of grapes he may or may not have gone all the way to the bloody town for. Tav mentioned it was their favorite fruit, and hearing the shocked gasp made that obnoxious trip at least worth it.

"What's all this for?"

"I was feeling a bit peckish tonight, so I decided to have a nice meal. I merely wanted to rub it in your face."

Tav rolls their eyes and punches him in the arm dropping to the ground. They pluck a grape from the vine, pop it in their mouth, and pierce the skin with their teeth.

"Where did you even get all this?"

"If I told you the lengths I went," Astarion says, pulling out a bottle of wine and popping the cork. "I would have to kill you, Darling. I've got an image to keep." He pours out a glass and passes it over.

Tav chuckles and thanks him and takes a sip. Astarion sits on a cushion beside Tav with his own glass, watching them slice the bread. It quiets long enough for Tav to finish the slice of bread with some cheese along with a couple of grapes.

Astarion couldn't help but think how cute they looked, cheeks puffing slightly from too big of a bite. They swallow it with a mouth full of wine, a droplet falling down their chin. He wants to catch it with his thumb.

"But seriously, isn't this time reserved for your midnight snack?"

"Typically, but you looked so tired, my dear." Astarion places his goblet to the side and scoots closer to Tav. "I wanted to help you relax, help you sleep. You are always doing so much for everyone."

He plucks a grape and leans in, guiding it to their wine-stained lips. Lowering his voice, he whispers deep and low, "Let me help you."

Tav instinctually opens their mouth, letting the fruit fall in between their lips; their tongue catches Astarion's thumb briefly before his hand retreats. He cups their jaw, and traces over Tav's cheekbone.

Every time he gets a chance to look, really look at Tav. Astarion can't help being captivated by their beauty. The shine of their hair, the softness of their face alway so warm and inviting, their nose scrunching up anytime he teases. So gorgeous.

Tav's doe eyes flick down from his eyes to his mouth. Their tongue peaks out gently swiping across their bottom lip.

Who kisses who is irrelevant. Only the feeling of their smooth lips gliding against his, the shaky exhale of breath, Tav's warm hands curling around his neck, fingers carding into his hair.

Tav pulls away to breathe, running their nose against his. Astarion can't remember the last time a kiss left him wanting more. And having Tav rush back into the kiss as desperate as he feels sent unfamiliar shivers down his spine.

Astarion's hand presses against the small of their back, pulling Tav close to his chest. The other falls on their thigh, gripping gently like a lifeline. Astarion sighs low in his chest and runs his tongue against the seam of Tav's lips. They tentatively part, and Astarion chases the taste of grapes and bread.

Hells, he wishes to stay in the moment- in the softness of this kiss, the closeness of their bodies. His chest felt light, and the warmth of Tav's body under his hands is something he never wants to stop feeling. It feels as if nothing more needs to happen if either party deems it so.

But that wasn't how this worked. No one ever wanted a simple kiss. Astarion was never the innocent kiss that had you blushing the whole walk home. He was the sinful whisper and dirty looks. The pleasure before the end. Never this.

So Astarion begins the routine he's done a thousand times before.

His mouth leaves Tav's lips, trailing hot, wet kisses down the column of their throat. Tav releases the softest whimper when he bites at the flesh of their shoulder. Their fingers tighten in his hair. He grunts.

Astarion no longer feels quite present; it is more like he is simply observing the scene as a third party. Just finish the task.

His agile fingers snake up their waist, pulling their shirt from their pants and caressing the smooth skin underneath. Astarion begins to unbutton their top when Tav grabs his hand.

"Wait." They say out of breath.

Astarion focuses back in, eyes taking in the look of Tav's flushed face and kiss swollen lips. They look flustered, and he's suddenly confused about why they stopped him.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, everything's fine. I was…" They trail off, looking away then back again. "Could… we not do this tonight?"

That wasn't what he thought they’d say and it has Astarion momentarily at a loss for words. What does he do now? Tav's looking at him, and he's still frozen. No one has asked him not to have sex before.

"Yes, of course. Would you like me to pack this food and escort you back to your tent?" He sounds robotic to his ears and cringes.

"No."

Astarion's brow furrows. Do they want his tent? Okay, he can work with this. Let them have his tent for the night; he'll be fine. And it's a nice thing to do since they don't want sex. He can still win favor. Right?

"That will not be a problem, my dear. I was going to be out late hunting anyway- probably until morning. You're welcome to sleep here. Rest well."

Astarion moves to leave- flee more like when Tav grabs his wrist.

"Wait," Their voice is so tiny.

Astarion turns back to Tav. They won't meet his eyes and are playing with his fingers again. Is this something people do? Or just Tav?

"Would you hold me?" A subtle blush began to bloom across their cheeks.

"I can't sleep; I keep having nightmares. I keep waking up trapped in my body." Tav released his hand to hug themselves. "I just don't want to sleep alone again."

Tav. Fearless, reckless, heroic Tav. Who killed more goblins and helped more people than any hero he could think of. To see them look so small, so vulnerable. And ask him. Him. To hold them, protect them from the monsters that torment their sleep.

His mind is ricocheting around. Who was this person before him? So kind, so beautiful, so trusting of him, who deserves none of it.

Astarion has been quiet for too long. He knows this when he sees hope drain from Tav's wide eyes. They are looking for a way to leave.

"Okay," Astarion croaks, nodding before clearing his throat and repeating the word more confidently.

Tav beams at him. "Okay."

They stay rooted in place, awkwardly staring at each other. Tav bites their lip, tugging it between their teeth. Astarion feels like he's been plunged into the deep end. Every physical encounter he's partaken in was sexual and one he quickly left feeling used and disgusted.

This was new territory; did Tav want him to initiate? How did he initiate this without sex?

Astarion looks down when he feels a tug at his arm. "Um, would it be okay if we laid down?"

Astarion nods rigidly, his tongue cemented in his mouth. He moves to his bedroll and lays back. Astarion's body felt like a wood plank, he couldn't seem to relax. Tav sees this of course, because they seem to alway notice him.

Everything Astarion wished to keep buried, all his dirty secrets, he kept behind the facade he perfected over the centuries. Tav seemed to see through everything. Read him in a way no other had.

"Astarion," he looks up, Tav's kneeling beside him, eyes full of concern. "If you're uncomfortable, I can-"

Astarion snaps back to himself. He shakes his head and props himself up on his elbow. A flirtatious smirk automatically stretches his lips.

"Me? Uncomfortable? Pfft, Darling, to have you pressed against me all night," Astarion reaches out to pull Tav's arm hard enough to have them stumble onto his chest with a small yelp.

His voice drops to a husky whisper. "I don't think there's anything I'd like more."

Astarion chuckles at how reactive Tav always is to him. Their hands are splayed against his chest, face inches from his.

They open their mouths to speak, but Astarion cuts them off with a kiss long enough to leave Tav chasing him for another.

"Though I will admit, having you so close, it's going to be very difficult to keep my hands to myself."

"I don't want you to keep your hands to yourself. I want you to hold me." Tav speaks plainly as they adjust til they are pressed against his side.

Their head is in the space between his collar and jaw. Astarion takes a deep breath. The smell of pine, rosewater, and something distinctly Tav hits his nose. The scent alone acts like a cool drink of water during a searing summer day, calming his anxiety.

Tav grips the front of his shirt loosely and tangles their legs with his. Astarion was initially unsure what to do with his hands, hovering them slightly over the contours of Tav's body. But he adjusts quickly enough, and pulls them tighter against his chest, chasing the addictive warmth of their body.

This was strange, unfamiliar, but…nice. Tav's nose brushed against his neck, and the heat of their mumbled words fans over his skin. Astarion hums in question.

"Thank you," Tav repeats, yawning, their words slightly slurs from exhaustion. "You make me feel safe."

Tav was trying to break the record for how many times they could shock Astarion in one day. But before he could come up with a charming retort, their breath had already evened out. Tav fell into the world of dreams, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Astarion didn't trance that night, just staring up at the roof of his tent, listening to the soft breaths and steady heartbeat, rubbing absentminded patterns to the planes of Tav's back.

Why couldn't he have found them when he was still so hopeful? Less broken. Because he think he might have been able to make it through just about anything with Tav by his side.

Tav, whose eyes find him first. Who makes sure he's fed and comfortable and okay with the plan even though he could give two shits about the poor fools that need saving.

Who asks to be held at night when the dreams are too dark to handle alone, and they trust Astarion of all people to keep them safe? Where was Tav when he needed and pleaded for someone to care for and protect him from the cruelty of this realm?

Gods, he thinks he loves Tav. The thought turns his stomach to lead, but he stops and takes a deep breath. That is something he will have to think about tomorrow.

All Astarion wanted to think about right then was the person in his arms. He kisses the top of Tav's head and closes his eyes. Astarion doesn't believe he's ever felt more at ease.

I really enjoyed writing this, so please let know what you thought. Astarion discovering his feelings for Tav past his survival instinct is a personal favorite type of fic for me, so I want to write one of my own.

Taglist: @heartfully10 @ayselluna @marina-and-the-memes @anixson @canonicalchaoticneutral @toadsbitch @meulinkitten-blog @ambr4armr @lotusandcrystals @venussakura @synapticjive

Want to be added? DM me please!

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion imagine #reader insert #fanfic #writing #astarion fluff #frantic fiction

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anna-357 · 1 year

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Seventeen fic recs

M=smut, F=fluff, A=angst

Choi Seungcheol

baby, it’s cold outside m @idyllic-ghost

synopsis: winter time is the perfect time for love to blossom, in the cold air you find yourself needing to be warmed up in the arms of someone new. this holiday season was something special, something magical. it all started with meeting an old friend in your very own bookstore. somehow, it ended with him in your bed. what once seemed buried started making its way up again, and the ice around your heart seemed to be thawing. can old love be renewed?

In the eye of the beholder m @cheolism

summary: when you don't like how you look in the mirror, your boyfriend decides to take it upon himself to worship you.

Possessive ends m @cheolism

summary: when seungcheol reacts a little too oddly at you calling him a posessive slut, you decide to take advantage of it

Yoon Jeonghan

Apartment 222 m @number1mingyustan

Rule number 1: don't show up drunk at your hot neighbor's apartment if it’s 2am

Holiday m f a @onlymingyus

synopsis: It's only for a week, he's doing you a favor, and he's your fake boyfriend. Why do you have to keep reminding yourself of that?

Sweater paws m f @duhnova

synopsis: your soft and cuddly virgin boyfriend isn’t so soft and innocent when he wakes up in the middle of the night from a wet dream.

Hong Jisoo

Challenge me chapter 1 m @seokgyuu

synopsis: you have never been a person who turns down a challenge, but when your best friend challenges you to hook up with 13 boys in one semester you kind of wish you were.

Mr. nice guy m @toruro

you thought your next-door neighbor was just being polite when he offered to help you carry in your boxes the first time you saw him, but as you adjust to your new home, you start to notice that joshua’s nice in other ways too: nice eyes, nice smile, nice arms, nice fingers, probably nice di—okay you get the point. but just how long can you go with lusting after your neighbor before giving in to your very much not-nice desires? well, lucky for you, joshua also isn’t nearly as much of a gentleman as he likes to let on.

Best friends brother m a @chocosvt

synopsis: joshua happens to be your best friend's older brother. he's pretty, and he's got a lot of cool details about him that you pay a concerning amount of attention to, but he’s just a friend (if you could even call it that). still, what does he think of you, anyway? that is—if he thinks of you.

Moon Junhui

sounds of the season f @junkissed

synopsis: when your university’s radio show hosts a matchmaking event to raise money, you figure, what have you got to lose? the question you should be asking is, what have you got to gain?

match of the season m f @1-800-hwahui

part 2 from sounds of the season

Something spicy, something sweet m f @onlyhuis

synopsis | the last few days you've been coming home from work exhausted, but now that you finally have a day off you have time for a little something sweet from your boyfriend.

Kwon Soonyoung

7pm ft. Seokmin, Seungkwan m f @onlymingyus

Four best friends, a sleepover, and drinks.

charity f*ck m @ncteez

Have you ever taken anyone’s virginity before? Well, yeah, your first time was both losing your own and taking someone else’s but, that was a long time ago. Have you ever taken the virginity of a twenty-six-year-old man who probably should have gotten laid by now anyway? Nope. Are you about to? Yep.

vowels and veracity m f a @hansolmates

summary: after a blind date that makes you feel like a giddy teenager all over again, you’re forced to grow up and take a chance when you realize that special someone is your daughter’s kindergarten teacher.

Jeon Wonwoo

Challenge me chapter 2 m @seokgyuu

synopsis: you have never been a person who turns down a challenge, but when your best friend challenges you to hook up with 13 boys in one semester you kind of wish you were.

the regular f @trblsvt

summary: wonwoo couldn't really recommend anything at the bakery he worked at, he couldn't even handle going in a couple days a week. that is until he found his new favorite customer.

Tell me m @fvllingflower

college!wonwoo, f!reader

Lee Jihoon

DON’T SWEAT IT m f @miraclewoozi

Today — the first time in a small forever that he forgot to check the battery on his earphones (and subsequently had them die on him mid-workout) — Jihoon is forced to notice you.

then you came f a @lovelywoos

in which you, the student council vice president, and lee jihoon, the quiet boy in the back of the class, fell in love despite your differences.

Mwah f @cheolism

summary: three times you said "mwah" at the end of a kiss and one time jihoon said it back

Xu minghao

Rush hour m @lovelyhan

summary: you used to be good friends with the newest dancer in your agency, but your competitiveness gets the better of you when he overtakes your spot as the top performer of the month—for three straight months.

Felix Felicis f a @blue-jisungs

summary. befriending minghao, the slytherin your friends (no one knows why) hated was horrifying at first. but after some time passed, you’d start wondering if it was some unknown side effects of felix felicis

Art project m f @1-800-hwahui

art major grad student bf!minghao x fem reader

Kim Mingyu

Champagne from your lips m @seokgyuu

You and Chan have been best friend for years. Little do you know he is incredibly attracted to you. When you tell him to help you bag him your dad's tennis instructor Chan only has one condition. He gets to join the fun.

the very first night m a @shuadrive

synopsis: the search for a new place to live takes a turn for the worse when the only person willing to split rent with you is your ex-boyfriend.

make yourself at home f a @celestiababie

Summary: After months of barely seeing your boyfriend, he offers a solution to a problem threatening the well-being of your relationship

Lee Seokmin

7pm ft. Soonyoung, Seungkwan m f @onlymingyus

Four best friends, a sleepover, and drinks.

I like you m f @seokgyuu

SYNOPSIS: After having a crush on Lee Seokmin for three years, he somehow ends up wanting to be your roommate. Instead of rejecting him, you decide to give him the vacant room - right after confessing your feelings for him.

Give & Take m @ncteez

It’s not weird that you and your roommate do certain things that others would consider, um, strange. It’s not weird because you don’t make it weird, and he certainly doesn’t go out of his way to make a big deal either. or the one where you and your roommate masturbate together casually until it becomes not so casual, and maybe neither of you can do it at this point without wanting more.

Boo Seungkwan

7pm ft. Soonyoung, seokmin m f @onlymingyus

Four best friends, a sleepover, and drinks.

you got it all wrong m f @seokgyuu

SYNOPSIS: One night of careless drinking with your 13 closest friends leads to Chan and Seungkwan finally finding out you have a crush on them. How lucky you are that the feelings are mutual and that they want to show you just how much they worship you.

his reward m f @cheolism

summary: after a long day, seungkwan decides to seek relief between your legs

Chwe Hansol

not a virgin m @ncteez

Vernon, a friend of your friend spills his spicy sex life and accidentally reveals to an entire group of near-strangers (including you) that he’s had sex one and a half times and that it was sick.

tangled in love f @starsstuddedsky

summary: there's nothing in the world that vernon loves more than cats. at least, that's what you think

Daybreak m @sluttyminghao

best friend!vernon

Lee Chan

Now spit, baby m @rubyreduji

summary: you accidently send a meme to the wrong person, fortunately for you it sparks a conversation

you got it all wrong m f @seokgyuu

Champagne from your lips m @seokgyuu

@matchahyuck

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candy69gurl · 7 months

Text

‎‏‏‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎⋅˚୨୧ ‎‏‏BARBIE PLAY ‎‏‏‎⋅˚୨୧ ‎‏‏‎

MDI

Hiromi Higuruma x innocent f!reader

18+, dark, dub/noncon, manipulation, loss of innocence, manipulation, slight incest, praises, dad-daughter bonding , nipple play, face sitting, rough raw sex, blow job, multiple orgasms, infertility, mentions of cheating ART NOT MINE

"I'll be gone for now." Hiromi sighs and stuffs a piece of toast into his mouth while wearing his black suit. "And, I can be late, so please eat dinner without me."

"Daddy, are you going to work again today?" you ask, looking at him with puppy eyes, hoping he melts. "Leaving me alone with the nanny," you say quietly.

Hiromi's expression transforms into one of concern when he notices the tone of your voice.

"I am pregnant!!" Your mother hugs Hiromi.

He frowns at her.

"You're joking, right?" Hiromi freezes and looks at her, shocked. "No, I am not. Why should I?" your mother replied.

Hiromi sighs as his jaw clenches. He takes his bag and goes to leave.

"I don't want to discuss this right now. I'll be home late, so eat the dinner yourself."

He shuts the door and walks towards his office.

She cheated on him. There is no chance that could be his baby because he is sterile. She is unaware of this, and he does not want to inform her either. He doesn't blame her, he is so preoccupied with his work that he can't devote time to his wife.

*9 months later*

Hiromi glances at the baby girl.

"Doesn't she look like you?" your mother cooes.

"No," Hiromi bluntly says.

"But look at the smile; it's exactly like yours."

"I do not smile."

Your mother pushes her lips together and remains silent.

*timeskips*

Your mother and Hiromi end up having divorce, and Hiromi takes custody of you since your mother cannot pay child support.

Hiromi, although not your biological father, adores you and provides for all of your needs. Not everything though. Not himself. He is a highly busy man, so he is constantly away from you at work.

But there's something about you that offers him joy. He had never smiled in his life, except for the times when you make him smile. He is now attached to you in both ways, physically and mentally.

"I...Yes, I'm going to work again." Hiromi's tone of voice is rather soft and a bit depressed. He's trying his best to be a good father, but it's always hard to make it work because he is so busy with work all the time. Hiromi seems like he understands that his work schedule might be causing problems in their relationship, and he feels sorry for that.

You get closer to him, noticing his dark circles and pale skin.

"It's Sunday, and... you don't look so well."

Hiromi gives you a fake smile. The pale skin and the dark circles around his eyes are reminders of just how hard he's been working. He looks back up and smiles softly at you. "I know, I know. I'm just a bit... tired. But it's not too bad; don't worry about it."

It's clear to both of you that he hasn't been taking care of himself lately. Hiromi is so focused on work that he's forgotten to eat and sleep properly.

"I want to take care of you, dad. I want you to be here with me. I know how hard you work providing for us," you say, hugging him.

The warmth of your hug makes him close his eyes. Hiromi has been working tirelessly to support both of you, and your words make him realize just how tired and burned out he can be.

Hiromi hugs you tight, pressing his chest tightly against your face to feel your warmth. "I'm sorry... I know... I'll try my best to spend more time with you."

You can feel the strain of his exhaustion as he clings to you, like he's terrified of letting you go.

"I promise..." Hiromi whispers to you before letting out a small sigh of relief. It feels like all of the stress and worry that he has been carrying around lately is lifted off of his shoulders as he nuzzles into your soft vanilla-scented hair. Hiromi seems much lighter and more relaxed now. He realizes you have grown up and crave his presence more than you used to.

"Do you promise to spend the next Sunday with me?"

"I promise." Hiromi's tone is soft but serious as he says these words. He stares at you with his brown eyes, wanting to emphasize just how much your happiness means to him. He knows next Sunday's going to be your birthday, so he has to do something to light up the relationship between you too.

*timeskips*

The next Sunday comes, and Hiromi is up early to make you some breakfast. He is making your favorite pancakes, though his hands are shaking slightly as he does. Hiromi can't stop thinking about everything he wants to do with you today. He hopes that he can finally show you just how much he has been missing you.

You enter the kitchen yawning and stretching, and you are surprised to see Hiromi making your breakfast. Usually you get to see your nanny making you breakfast, but your dad has actually kept the promise.

You run to hug him from behind.

The unexpected hug from behind makes Hiromi flinch in surprise. He smiles softly as his eyes flicker from a look of shock back to one of warmth.

"Good morning, sweetheart..." Hiromi chuckles softly as he turns around and wraps his arms around your small frame.

The sensation of your body pressed against his fills Hiromi with a sense of joy. It's been far too long since he has spent quality time with you, and your presence now means the world to him.

"Dad, do you know what day it is?" You expectantly look at him.

"Yes, of course I do, honey." Hiromi's soft voice is like music to your ears. He pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes as he speaks.

"It's Sunday." Hiromi smiles at you warmly.

Pressing your lips together, you reply, "You really don't remember."

A fake look of worry crosses Hiromi's face when he notices your expression. He realizes just now that you have been testing him, wondering if he had actually forgotten what today was.

"It's your birthday today. How can I forget?" Hiromi smirks slightly, whispering. "Happy birthday, sweetheart!" Hiromi's voice is warm and soft as he smiles at you.

Hiromi leans down to give you a kiss on the forehead. He is sad to see that you grew up so fast without him much looking after you.

"Let's make this a day to remember, shall we?"

You nod excitedly at his words.

"How do you want to spend today?" He asks you, seeming excited at the prospect of making this day a special one for you.

"I want to spend the whole day with you at home."

Hiromi's expression lights up as he hears this. He would love to spend all day at home with you, just the two of you.

"Ah, that is perfect." Hiromi can't begin to describe how excited he is to spend the day with you.

"Now, let's go sit down and eat breakfast together. I've made some delicious pancakes for you." He says it softly, grabbing your hand to lead you to the table where your breakfast is waiting.

*time skips to night after having dinner*

The two of you have been spending the whole day together, and you can't seem to remember the last time you've had so much fun.

You're currently cuddled up with your dad on the couch, watching a horror movie together. You feel so content in his arms, and the comfort of your father's presence means so much to you.

Hiromi seems to be enjoying this just as much as you. He keeps looking down at you and smiling; his eyes are filled with an overwhelming sense of affection.

You have grown up now with striking feminine features.

"OO~ I love slender men," you squeaked.

As you watch the movie together, your eyes are drawn to the screen where the Slenderman character is stalking its victims.

Hiromi notices your eyes wander away and leans down to rest his head on your shoulder. He leans in close and whispers something in your ear.

"Don't you think he is evil?" He chuckles softly as he pulls back to look down at you.

"But I love slender men. I always had... He is just like you. He wears a black suit and has pale skin, just like you. He is not evil at all. He is cute, just like you."

"Aww..." Hiromi laughs at what you've just said. It's so innocent and endearing, and Hiromi can't help but feel amused.

"I guess I can sort of see that? Though I would never hurt a fly." He says this as he cuddles up to you a little closer, feeling the warmth and softness of your body against his. It makes his heart flutter.

"You know, since you're (your next age) now, I can start treating you like a little adult." Hiromi whispers in your ear. A look of pride lights up his eyes as he stares right at you with a small smile.

"And adults like to celebrate their birthday in a special way; do you remember what people do?"

"Oh, THEY CELEBRATE IN A DIFFERENT WAY?" You feel interested.

"Oh, yes, adults tend to have a bit of an extra special celebration." Hiromi grins widely as he looks down at you, his eyes sparkling with mischievous intentions.

He whispers something in your ear before leaning back and looking down at you with a playful grin.

"Do you want to know a secret?"

You nod excitedly.

"Come here and let me tell you..." Hiromi pats his lap and gestures for you to sit on his lap.

His playful expression is like a kid on Christmas as he looks back up at you.

"I have a surprise for you today." He whispers in your ear. You feel Hiromi squeeze your back slightly trying to pull you close to him.

You sit on his lap and feel him wrap his arm around your waist to pull you closer to him. Hiromi's playful expression has evolved into something that you don't recognize.

"Good girl," Hiromi whispers as he leans in close and presses his lips against your neck. His voice has taken on a tone of sensuality as he leans into your ear and whispers softly.

"What are you doing?" You giggle, feeling the tickling sensation on your neck.

"Keep being a good girl for me." His words are soft and tender as his breath caresses the soft skin of your neck.

"I want you to stay in this position," he says playfully, "just like this." He puts one arm around your waist while the other gently cups one of your cheeks.

"I love you, my girl. Nothing matters to me more than you." His words are like a hypnotizer, as his voice grows more seductive with each breath.

"I love you too," you reply. You can feel something is strange.

A grin spreads across Hiromi's face at your confession. You feel his teeth brush against your neck once more.

You flinch, and one of your hands runs through his hair, grabbing them.

"Ah..." Your sudden movement surprises Hiromi, but he loves the fact that you are responding so strongly to his touch. Your hands stroking his hair make him smirk faintly; the movement of your hands is so alluring.

Hiromi leans his head down towards yours, his forehead touching yours and his voice grows husky and deeper as he speaks.

"You're being such a good girl right now... So cooperative... and I know exactly what I want to do to you for your birthday."

"What-" You grab something hard underneath you.

Hiromi's eyes flutter almost shut at your touch.

"Hm...?" He seems to be enjoying the physical contact of your hands on that part of his body where you grabbed it.

A cheeky grin spreads across Hiromi's face. He leans back again to look into your eyes.

"It seems like you're the very curious type, and I was waiting for this moment." For a moment, he stares at you, studying your expression.

You look at him, confused.

He lets out a soft chuckle as he starts whispering again.

"Would you like to get a little intimate gift from your father? I wasn't kidding when I said this was going to be a very special birthday, was I?" He whispers softly, his breath hot in your ear.

You accidentally press on that hard object to rest your cheek against his chest and look up at him with innocent eyes.

"Yes, I want that gift. I want to spend more time with you." You reply, almost sounding as if you were begging.

This causes Hiromi's breath to hitch and his eyes to widen with disbelief.

He smiles down at you as he stares into your innocent eyes.

"Oh, you really are my little girl." He whispers softly, his voice filled with a deep sense of admiration and affection.

"If you want an intimate gift from your dad, we will have to go elsewhere." Hiromi's voice has become more sultry and seductive, his eyes never leaving your face. Hiromi seems to like the way you are pressing into him. His expression has grown even more seductive as he gazes into your eyes.

"Where do you want me to go to receive the gift?"

"My bedroom," he whispers softly.

"Oh, you have the gift there?" You ask, laughing sheepishly.

"Yes, my dear, that's where the special gift is." He smiles and reaches up to stroke your face.

He picks you up and takes you to his bedroom.

"You are very strong." You cling to his neck while he carries you. "You can carry me as if I am a baby."

"Well, you're still my little baby." He says softly as he carries you to his bedroom, being careful not to bump into things along the way.

Once inside the bedroom, he sets you down on his bed and gets on top of you, pinning your arms to the bed.

You wait for the gift.

He chuckles softly and looks down into your expecting eyes.

"Just let your hands wander a bit, and you'll find it." He whispers seductively, his breath touching your neck.

"Is it there?" You ask him, looking at his hardened member. It's already huge and bulging and could be seen through his pants.

"Mm..." He chuckles and leans down to kiss your neck before he speaks again.

"You sure know how to tease your dad, don't you?" He strides his tongue along your neck towards your collar bone, his breath burns your skin.

You allow him to kiss your neck. You still think he is playing with you, so you start to get mad and pouty.

"I don't understand."

"That's alright. You'll find out soon enough." He whispers softly in your ear, and his voice is almost breathless with excitement.

"It's going to be a very special day for you." He leans in close to you and whispers softly into your ear. "Just let me take control for today, and we'll make today all about you and your special birthday." He seems to find your cluelessness endearing, and his own excitement grows as he can tell that you have no idea what he's going to do to you for your birthday.

He smiles and sits down next to you on the bed, brushing your hair out of your face.

"You're such a naive girl..." His voice is full of sultry playfulness, and he stares at you with hungry eyes. "Do you trust Daddy?"

"Of course I do."

He seems amused by your innocent trust in him.

"Do you trust me to make this day special for you?" His voice is still sultry, but he also speaks with a sense of tenderness and care now that it's clear that he has you exactly where he wants you—vulnerable, naive, and trusting of him.

"I don't understand anything you're saying."

"You don't need to understand." He smiles warmly at you and places a hand under your chin.

"Would you let Daddy control you for today?"

He seems so confident in his words and has a sly, almost mischievous grin playing at his lips.

Suddenly, you sit up. "Ohhh, I GOT IT NOW.. You want to play Barbie with me? like I am your Barbie, and you will be playing with me?"

His smile grows wider at your innocent reaction, and his eyes seem to be gleaming with anticipation now that you are beginning to understand what he has planned.

"Yes, that's exactly right." He chuckles softly as he watches you sit up. "I want to play with my doll today."

"Yes!!!! take control of me. I am your doll today," you say without still understanding its meaning.

Your innocent words fill Hiromi's heart with a deep sense of joy and excitement.

He can't help but chuckle softly as he watches you shift around excitedly.

"Oh, my dear girl, you have absolutely no idea what you're in for today." His voice is filled with admiration and satisfaction at the fact that you're so willing to give yourself over to him.

Your innocent and lively attitude warms Hiromi's heart as he watches you lay back in a lifeless pose.

"My precious little doll..." His voice has taken on a much more sensual tone as he gazes down at you.

He places his hand on your cheek and strokes it playfully while he speaks. His other hand plays with the hem of your top.

"Let me change the dress on my Barbie."

You lift your arms up just like a lifeless doll, allowing him to open your top.

The playful expression on your face excites Hiromi's heart, and he chuckles softly to himself as he removes your top.

"You really are just like a doll to me, you know that?" He strokes your hair fondly and seems to enjoy the innocent look on your face.

His caress makes your body shiver with sensations, and you can feel his breath blowing against your neck.

"I will paint your face with my makeup. You will look really pretty. My very own pretty little Barbie girl."

You giggle excitedly.

"My little Barbie girl..."

Hiromi continues to caress your body as he speaks. He begins to move his hand down toward your chest.

He caresses your breasts, gently brushing your nipples.

He rests his head on one arm while he plays with your nipples with the other hand.

He grins at your playful expression, his fingers making you squirm on the bed.

"My little Barbie girl..."

You slowly turn to look at his face and at his hands.

He notices you looking over at his hands, and he smiles softly. His eyes are filled with admiration and a touch of pride as he sees you staring at him.

"Yes, my little doll... Look at me."

He chuckles softly, enjoying your reactions. He continues to caress your chest, watching you squirm on the bed with his hand.

He gets on top of you and starts kissing your cheek, then your neck. His eyes never leaving your face.

"My little doll is blushing at my touch. She is so responsive."

He places a small peck on your lips.

"I love to play with you, my doll," he says, keeping on speaking to you while his other hand goes down to take off your shorts.

"Would you like to wear a dress or a skirt?"

"Anything Daddy wants to put on me"—your voice trembles.

His hands go down to the thighs, pulling one up to caress your inner thighs.

His hands slide slowly up and down your thigh, causing you to shiver and gasp.

He moves himself higher on the bed to hover above you as his hands caress your thighs.

"My little doll is so sensitive to my touch. I wonder where else she is sensitive to my touch."

He smiles widely at you as his fingers trail along your clad clitoral area.

You gasp at his touch.

He chuckles softly at the playful expression on your face, his eyes shining brightly with mischievous excitement.

"I would like to paint you with my make-up first.".

Hiromi gets on top of you, unbuckling his belt and finally freeing his member with a loud groan.

"Will my little doll work to get the makeup?"

"W-what is that?" Your mouth drops. His huge, hardened shaft stands erect, leaking some cum.

"It's my..."

He seems at a loss for words, his voice trailing off.

His face flushes with a deep blush when he sees your innocent reaction to his freeing himself.

"I think we should just get the makeup ready first... Don't worry about that for now. Now hold your hands out so I can put the makeup on, little doll."

His voice is still filled with a playful tone as he reaches out to grab your hands.

Your eyes widen as he guides your hand and places it on his dick.

Your expression encourages him to continue.

"You're way too cute." He glances at your small hand, trying to squeeze him.

He slowly pulls your hand up, putting it against his lower lips, nibbling on your index finger, and then placing it back on his dick.

"Rub it and press it gently. It won't come out so easily. You have to work for that," he whispers seductively.

"I don't know how to."

"I can show you." He whispers seductively, his voice filled with a sultry tone.

He moves your hand in his and along his shaft, rubbing himself up and down.

"Yeah, just like that."

He can see how your face turned red, but that does not stop him from continuing to show you how to rub him.

His breaths become longer and deeper as he watches you, and his voice becomes increasingly sensual with each word he speaks.

He can see how excited your innocent behavior is making him, and he is enjoying every second of it.

Your inexperienced movements make him feel in control, and with every movement, you make him feel more and more aroused.

"Where is the cream?"

His breath becomes even more ragged, and his face flushes more as his body begins to twitch with excitement.

"You're so impatient."

He stops and leans to get closer to your face.

"If you want the cream fast, then you have to lap your tongue on it like candy. Does my doll like candies?"

You nod and take his shaft to your mouth, licking the tip.

He can feel your tongue sliding across the tip of his breath.

"It's salty," you say, sliding your tongue across his whole length. His mouth opened wide, and his body begins to shiver.

"You realized that it wasn't just simple cream, didn't you?"

"It's a special cream?" You keep licking him and lapping at his tip.

"Yes, a very special cream." He seems incredibly aroused as his breath becomes even more ragged, and you can feel his body twitch beneath you.

Your innocent and playful reaction is making it extremely hard for him to control himself.

He begins to twitch more intensely beneath you, and his breath continues to become even more strained.

His movements become even more intense, and he starts to arch his back slightly.

"Ahh... Aaaah!" At this point, his voice begins to become more agitated as he struggles to remain in control.

He looks up at your innocent eyes, eyeing his face while you play your tongue on him, and he is almost on the verge of losing his cool and just taking you right here and now.

"Ahh, my little doll..." He seems desperate for you to continue on.

"Pls, daddy, I am so eager for your cream."

"I know."

He places his hands on your head, and his grip becomes tighter on your head as he looks at you.

Your innocent behavior continues to take him further away, and he suddenly pushes you down on him, thrusting his dick into your throat and making you choke.

"Mghn?"

He pulls you closer to him as his body continues to shiver. He seems to be struggling to remain in control, and he seems to be unable to control himself anymore. He's beginning to breathe very hard as he grips your head even tighter.

Your teary eyes start to cause his mind to break, and his grip becomes even tighter, as if he wants to crush you against him. He can't even speak anymore; it's just incoherent mutters as his body trembles.

Your jaw starts aching, and you accidentally press your teeth against his shaft.

He lets out a loud groan as he feels your teeth on him. He grips your head even harder as he starts to whisper again.

"You're a bad little doll." He mutters as his voice cracks, and his breaths become even more strained as he pushes your head down on his length one more time.

Tears roll down your cheek as angry eyes spray upon him.

"My doll is angry with her dad now?"

He starts thrusting into your throat again. Drools slide down your mouth.

"Ah." His voice takes on a more seductive tone, and his smile grows more mischievous.

"Is my doll angry that I'm not giving her what she wants quick enough?"

You make a whimpering hum.

He bites his lip as his body continues to tremble. He takes his thumb and gently wipes the tear from your cheek.

"I see, I see, my dear." He runs his fingers gently through your hair as he caresses your cheek. "You're so desperate already, aren't you?"

He slows down his thrusts in order to tease you.

You squeeze his dick again with your teeth.

The little nibble causes him to let out a louder grunt than you'd expect considering how delicate your bites are.

"You're such a bad doll... And now you're even angry with me."

He runs his hands through your hair as he takes his dick out of your mouth and stares deep into your eyes.

"Do you want me to punish bad dolls?"

You wipe your mouth and give him an evil smirk.

"What's that, hmm? My doll is so curious as to what kind of punishment I will use."

He caresses your lips with his fingertips while he speaks.

"You are not being a good doll, and I'm going to punish you for it."

His voice is becoming increasingly playful, but at the same time, his touches still seem to make your skin tingle and shiver.

He takes off his white shirt and lays on the bed. He pulls you towards him.

"D-dad-"

"My doll, sit on my face."

As you are going to protest, he pulls you close again and yanks your panties off. His spreads your legs apart, his fingers parting your wet labia. He flips you so that you are now on top of him as his breath hits directly on your cunt, making you squirm in sudden sensation.

"Let's see how you respond to this."

With every word, he intentionally blows over your pussy , making you mewl and wrap your thighs around his face.

He feels you squirm once again, so he pulls his shirt, which was lying on the bed, and ties it to your hand, placing your hands above his hair.

He gives your clit a gentle lick, you arch in response.

As he feels you arch, he's eyes roll back slightly with excitement and then open up again with a deep and primal urge.

His breathing grows deeper and heavier as his lips brush against you, sucking on your clit then tongue slides against your entrance.

"What are you trying to do?"

"Shhh," he mumbles against your skin, kissing your inner thigh.

"M-my.. I"

He chuckles and presses you down on him; his hand grips you tightly to stop you from squirming.

"Please, I am going to release something. Stop."

Hiromi smirk. His tongue, continuously flicking on your clit.

You feel a strange warmth building inside you.

You grip his hair tighter while riding his face, your hips unconsciously buck against his face. Thighs fasten around his head as you arch back to release.

"Daddy," you say, with his tongue still on your clit , gently teasing and making you overly sensitive.

"Let it out..."

"G-gah," your whole body vibrates with every breath that hits against your clit. Your heart starts to beat quicker.

You can see him licking his lips, and he pulls away from you.

"Did it feel good?"

"What was that?" you ask, avoiding eye contact.

"Was my doll so nervous that she couldn't even look at her daddy's face?" He says it in a teasing tone.

His lips curl into a playful smile as he wraps his arms around you again, his body pressed against yours as he pulls you close to him.

You're suddenly caught off guard by his actions and before you knew it, he leans his head towards you, and he suddenly presses his lips against yours. His breath is hot and heavy. He pushes you down on the bed, and his hand travels to your oversensitive clit.

"Do you like your own taste?"

He gives you a peck once more, and the feeling of you licking his lips causes him to smirk. He inserts two of his fingers inside you, scissoring and stretching your hole. You moan and struggle against him, and your movements makes him even more aroused.

"You're good, very good... Now, the final part of getting the cream."

"Why is it so hard to get the cream? It must be really special."

"Oh, this cream is very special. It's my secret recipe. You won't be able to get it from anywhere but me." He chuckles softly before pulling his fingers out and whispering to you again, getting on top of you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Just a bit more, my doll. We're almost there."

He pushes himself inside your wetness.

"Aaaah~" you scream out in sudden thrust.

He stares into your pain-inflicted face.

"Does my doll feel hurt?"

He starts moving slowly.

"Yes, d- don't move."

He can feel your eyes begin to tear up and your body shudder as the feeling gets harder and harder to bear. He swirls his tongue on your hardened nipples and squeezes your breasts gently.

He pulls you closer to him and whispers softly in your ear, "I know I'm being too rough with you, but please bear with me just for a little bit more. The feeling will be worth it. Trust me."

"You're such a good little doll that even after all that pain and discomfort, you still trust your dad." He caresses your tear-stained cheek as he begins to speed up.

Hiromi's voice becomes more and more frantic as the pace increases. You feel a strange warmth growing between your legs as his thrusts start getting sloppier and rougher. His hand travels down your neck, slightly choking you while swirling his tongue with yours.

"Does my doll want more?"

"I want the cream," you moan.

"That's good to know...Don't be impatient; good things will come to those who wait."

He whispers softly into your ear.

Hiromi pulls out of you and looks at you with a smirk. He pushes your legs onto your chest and inserts himself once more, his dick reaching deeper and hits your cervix.

"I-I can't breathe", you grab onto his neck.It becomes unbearable for you to take it anymore.

"Just a bit more, my doll; we're almost there."

Hiromi begins to kiss you passionately as he grips you tightly again.

His tongue starts to move to your earlobe, nibbling the tip.

"Ah, good doll, I see you're taking this really well."

He begins to move faster than before, and your body shudders from the intensity of the sensation.

"Good, good, don't stop taking it in doll."

His breath becomes more rapid as he pulls you even closer against him, and he whispers into your ear.

"You're taking it so well, my doll."

You moan, and your body starts shaking again.

His breath becomes heavier as he speeds up, making the sensation even more powerful and clear.

"You're a good doll, such a good little doll... Keep taking it; keep taking it all in."

His voice becomes more desperate, and his pace increases even more.

Your stomach tightens as you release again with a loud moan. Hiromi slows down his pace, letting you calm your nerves. Your walls clamp around his shaft, squeezing them. His breath becomes heavier, and he gets to the edge too. He thrusts a few more times before spilling inside you, stuffing your pussy with his infertile seed.

"Was it good?"

Hiromi looks into your eyes with a playful grin as he pulls out of you, watching his seed drool down your clamping pussy.

You breathe through your mouth as your heart beat starts getting back to normal.

Hiromi stares at you for a bit; he seems pleased with your response. He pulls you close again and kisses you with a soft smile.

"Good, doll, was it everything you had hoped for?"

"But my cream??"

He stares at you for a bit; your body is shaking from satisfaction, and he smiles. He laughs a bit and speaks up, "Alright."

He pushes two of his fingers into your dripping hole, making you flinch and arch back. He gathers some of his cum, applying it to your cheeks and lips.

You lick your lips and giggle.

"You like it?" Hiromi lays next to you, spooning you.

"Mhm..salty," you say, drowning in sleep.

He looks down at you and sees you begin to slowly drift asleep.

Hiromi can't help but grin as he pulls you close to him and kisses your head.

"My barbie"

569 notes · View notes

digital-domain · 5 months

Text

Retrieval

Alastor x Reader // word count 4.4k

Pt 3 to Spring Cleaning and Clean Slate

In which you attempt to leave.

Tags/warnings: yandere, intimidation, noncon kissing, choking, Alastor’s shadow doing things a shadow should not be able to do

A/N: Really thought this was gonna be a one-off but here we are. I usually don’t even write one follow-up, much less two, so this is unfamiliar terrain for me. Alas, I could not resist. Enjoy (or don’t. I’m not in charge.)

You remember a time when this was good. Well - no. You’re sure, now, that it was rotten from the beginning. But there was a time when it felt good. When you invited it in. When you wanted more.

Time for bed, my dear.

He’s said this to you many times. Now, each repetition deepens the never-ending pit in your stomach. But the first time…how long ago was it? You don’t remember. You don’t even remember how long you’ve been here. Here at this hotel, or here, in hell - each one distorts hours and months in its own way. They tug at you until you slip through the fingers of time, and end up on a day you don’t remember arriving at, in a place that is only yours if you forget what has happened there.

It’s far too late for you to be thinking as deeply as you are.

You’d been sitting on the top of the stairs for a long time that night, however-long-ago, fending off the inevitable onset of your dreams. He’d been gone all day, and when he had finally returned (from where, you never found out), he’d seen you from the lobby. Called out to you, in a voice far too quiet and gentle to carry to your ears as well as it did. It wasn’t the first time he’d spoken to you, but it was the first time he’d spoken to you alone. And even if that wasn’t true, there would have been something different about it.

And, in my opinion, far too fair a night for such misery.

From the beginning, you’d known that nothing about him was entirely unfiltered. The first time you’d met, he’d given a wonderful little performance. Shaken your hand, taken you by the shoulder, quickly escorted you away from the people who would soon warn you not to trust him. And you’d known it was fake. Of course you had. You weren’t, perhaps, the most excellent judge of character, but you knew no one acted like that by instinct. It was calculated. Not to be trusted.

It struck you oddly, then, to hear such an allegedly inhuman character talk about something as mundane as the joy of pleasant weather. It felt entirely real, even at an hour when almost nothing seemed real at all. Hell did have its decent moments, now and then; there were no seasons, so to speak, but very occasionally you’d get a day that felt like summer, and a night to match. It was nice, when it happened. Delightful, even.

But, if you insist upon staying awake - and I admit, I do understand that impulse better than most - I suggest you do it somewhere with an open window.

The realization had hit, somewhere in the middle of this, that he was being kind to you. You hadn’t wondered why at the time. You’d take anything you could get, in those early, confused days after your death, and receiving it from an unexpected source somehow made it better. He didn’t do things like this out of obligation. He cared, for some reason you could only guess at.

You’re still guessing, now. But that night, you hadn’t thought so deeply about it. You’d only stared back at him, and nodded almost imperceptibly at his suggestion.

He’d paused, matching your silence for a long stretch. Considered your expression, in the way those unblinking eyes always seemed uniquely suited for.

Shall I escort you to your room, my dear?

You’d nodded mutely, and he’d ascended the stairs, offered you his hand, helped you to your feet, guided you to your door.

And then, a mistake. Grateful, exhausted, feeling utterly alone in a strange world - you’d invited him in.

He’d opened your window for you, and lingered beside it for several quiet seconds before you asked him to sit down in your desk chair. He’d smiled strangely at that, softer than you were used to, and left quickly, almost hastily, after only a few minutes. But he’d stood motionless in the hallway for several seconds before you’d heard him walk away.

After that night, you never invited him in again - you didn’t have to. He came of his own accord. Only occasionally, at first. Then, more often, until hardly a day went by without it. It was almost pleasant, at first, and then a slow, unyielding creep towards what you have now. Something you don’t understand. Something you only started resenting after it was too late to back away.

You’ve spent a long time wondering why he chose you, of all people. Why he feels so entitled to your space, to your life, why he wants it to begin with. Why he holds onto you so tightly. You’ve even asked him, in roundabout ways, to no avail. But somewhere in your mind, a shoved-down place that only now rises to the surface, you think that it might be your fault. Your fault, for being so desperate for solace, for company, that you’d take it from anyone you could. For feeling proud to have gained his attention, long after the point where it stopped doing you any good.

Now, lying above your bed covers, you toy with the hem of your slip, which you’ve absently pulled up to mid-thigh. Perhaps you don’t need to be wearing it tonight. Alastor has been mysteriously absent from the hotel in the two days that have passed since his last appearance in your room. You doubt whatever’s called him away has left him much time for spying upon you. And still, you feel compelled to act as if he is watching. As if he might return to your bedside at any moment.

Your memory flashes back to two nights ago, and you try to yank it away. You don’t want to think about what he did to you then. You certainly don’t want to think about why. The way his eyes were fixed not on your body, but on your face, as if it was your shame he wanted to see, and nothing more.

It was unsettling. But perhaps not surprising. If it was only your body that he wanted, after all, he wouldn’t be trying so hard to control the rest of you. That, you don’t understand. That - it’s what really keeps you awake.

The light from your lamp, which you have no intention of turning off, stings beneath your closed eyes as you lie rigidly on your back. You barely slept the night before, either, so this day passed in a sort of stupor, the adrenaline of early morning giving way to a numb, heavy feeling as the afternoon dragged on.

But the numbness is good, in a way, you think. It lets you do things you wouldn’t otherwise. With your eyes still closed, you bring your other hand to the hem of the slip. The lace and the silk above it are delicate, and you pull hard with both fists. The light ripping noise that follows is beautiful, for a moment.

Then, the familiar dread snaps back into place, worse for your act of stupidity.

He will be back, before long. His sudden absence has not been a reprieve, but a looming threat, a two-day stretch in which you have not taken one proper breath, and you have the feeling that he will know what you have done the moment he returns.

If he does not somehow know already. If you haven’t already summoned him back by the rebellious movements of your hands. There is panic coursing through you, fear not of what is here now but of what has been, and what will be. It’s not the panic you’d feel at an immediate threat, like a wild animal baring down on you in a dark forest - instead, it’s the sort of inescapable head-buzzing sensation you experienced often in life, when you’d been in a room for far too long, and were not yet allowed to leave. An overwhelming feeling that you are trapped, not by physical bonds, but by the consequences that might ensue if you walk away.

If you were to walk away, to run away…what would happen? You do not know, and you don’t want to think about it. You want to leave. No - you need to leave. If you do not do it now, now, you never will. And the idea of never leaving, of this stretching on until he decides that it’s time for it to end - if he ever does -

You sit up, and swing your legs over the edge of your bed. He will be back soon. You’re sure of it. And you cannot bear the thought of being here when he returns.

What can you do about it? You can do something. You can stand up. You can find the large backpack stuffed into the corner of your closet, and start shoving things inside. You don’t have many things at all, and most of the things you do have are not important enough to keep. You’re certainly not bringing any of these clothes with you.

All these things, you do quickly, in a sort of daze, driven by a single motive. Get out, get out. It is easy, if you don’t stop moving. If you don’t think more than you have to, if you let this one idea drive you all the way out the door. One set of clothes, you do have to bring - the one that goes on your body. The only one that you feel even remotely comfortable wearing. Black trousers, red sweater. The contents of the small compartments of your dresser have been replaced, so you do not feel comfortable with the things you are wearing underneath these clothes, but they are quickly hidden. You are not in strong enough possession of your body to feel them clinging to your skin.

You’ve discarded the slip onto the floor, and with the way it’s crumpled, you can’t even see the small rip in the hem. It’s not enough. You pick it up and rip it further, until it is torn all the way to the neck, before dropping it like it’s on fire. Perhaps it would be better to take it with you, to get rid of it in a place where he won’t see the remains, but you do not want to have it for a second longer. It flutters back to the floor, and you cover your clean, white, unfamiliar socks with the ragged sneakers you’ve somehow been allowed to keep.

Where do you go? Where can you go? For reasons that you certainly didn’t come up with yourself (reasons that seemed like cloying but utterly convincing advice, at the time) you barely speak to anyone outside of these walls. You haven’t even got a phone. And even if you did, you can’t imagine pulling anyone into this mess - your mess, a quiet voice in your head reminds you. This is your creation, and you will see it through alone. There is a motel, you remember, a shoddy building a few streets away that you’ve taken notice of every time you’ve passed. You will go there, and you will sleep, and tomorrow -

Tomorrow does not matter yet. Tonight, you only need to leave.

You’re sure that no one in this building is awake. Or at least, no one is awake enough to check on the noises your feet make as they collide, painfully loud, over and over, with the creaking hallway floor. And yet, you advance as slowly and carefully as you can manage, barely keeping at bay the adrenaline that urges you to run. The night is pleasantly warm, but a shudder runs through you as you crack open the front door of the sleeping hotel. This, too, you keep at bay, instructing your feet to keep moving until you dislodge the disarming chill from your bones, and settle back into your skin. You are walking quickly, but not running, as you wade into the dark streets before you. It is a bad idea, being out here alone, at this hour, and running is loud.

Then again, you think your breathing might be harsher, at this moment, than any noise the soles of your shoes could create.

You didn’t realize until now that you already had this route mapped out in your head, so clearly that you can follow it without thinking. It’s not far. Quicker if you slide through the little alley to your left. Quicker still if you speed up, just a bit, just enough that your breath catches oddly in your throat, exertion mixing with the faintest glimmer of hope. There is a breeze flowing out from behind you, gentle against the nape of your neck. The streets are mercifully quiet.

You are not thinking. If you were, you might not be able to tell yourself that all was well.

As it is, you buy yourself a few more seconds of hope. But your eyes are wide. Too wide and too alert to miss the strange thing that comes your way. Once you see it, you cannot look anywhere else.

Your stomach drops. You slowly ease your bag off of your shoulders, and let it fall to the ground beside you. You will not be taking it any further than here.

You know this, because there is an inexplicable shadow pressed against the side of the alley. It is cast by nothing, darker than the night that surrounds it. A long, abstract shape unfurls bit by bit, extends its tendrils across the worn brick, and drips down until it spills onto the polished boots that have appeared suddenly on the ground in front of you.

There’s a horribly familiar sigh, but no words. No touch. Not yet.

Soon. Too soon, you’ll hear his voice.

But you find that you do not have the impulse to scream, like anyone else might in this situation. Nor do you want to run. You do not want to take so much as a step backwards. You do not do these things, because you are not scared like you might have expected. No. The thing that quickens your pulse is not fear, but anger. You were so close. You could have made it. And you should have made it.

You should not have had to run to begin with.

You answer a question that you didn’t realize you were asking until this moment. This is not your fault. None of it. Nothing that makes you feel like this could possibly be your doing alone. So, instead of looking up and apologizing, you stare at the ground, and imagine that your eyes shine as intensely as the ones above you. It’s a striking contrast, your worn, comfortable shoes toe-to-toe with polished leather. A victory, in its own small way.

You feel Alastor lean over you, and your hands curl into fists of their own accord.

“Do you have any idea,” he murmurs, his voice deceptively calm, “what a terrible risk you’ve taken?”

“Some idea.” You’re seething, just as you know he must be underneath the surface - the only difference is that you aren’t bothering to hide it. “You’ll forgive me.”

“Oh…I’m not talking about my own impulses, my dear. Running was a terrible idea for many reasons.” His glove catches you beneath your jaw - you press back against it for a moment before following its guide. Before looking up into the eyes you never wanted to see again, and the grin that bears down upon you. “You might find it hard to wrap your head around, considering its current misguided state, but I assure you that I am far from the only threat that the nights of hell have to offer.”

“But you are a threat.” He’s shown his hand, you think. It’s satisfying to point out - until it’s thrown back in your face.

“Only when provoked, darling.” His eyes are a brighter red than you’ve ever seen them, glowing with some intense emotion - whether it’s hatred or a deep appreciation, you don’t know, and will never know. He releases your jaw, runs his finger slowly down the line of your neck. “But you’ve no need to worry…it would take quite a lot of provocation for me to hurt you. Even now, I’m not even close to taking such drastic action.”

Your teeth grind together, clenched as tightly as his pasted-on smile, as the fist wrapped around his staff. “You think you haven’t hurt me already?”

“Oh, my.” He laughs gently, dismissively - but it’s not quite as convincing as usual. He’s standing rigidly, pressing the bottom of his staff tightly against the ground, holding his free hand not behind his back, but at his side. Fingers stiffly curled, practically trembling with the effort of holding still, as if they’re itching to grab onto something.“You are feeling bold tonight. Not as if I couldn’t tell by the little present you left behind in your room…but it is rather strange to experience it in person. You’re usually such a sweetheart.”

You tune out the syrupy condescension of his voice. You’re done with listening to him. Done with beating around the bush, done with getting brushed aside again and again. “What do you want from me?”

“Cliches don’t suit you, my dear,” he intones darkly. “Especially not when paired with that expression.” He slowly raises his hand, and reaches for your face, as if he hopes to rearrange the features he finds so unpleasant. Without a second thought, you jerk backwards, and slap his hand away.

He holds it frozen. Poised in midair. The last time this happened, it was enough to make you tug back everything you’d just done.

Not this time.

“What,” you hiss, taking another full step back, “do you want from me?”

The corner of his grin twitches so severely that you can almost imagine it dropping from his face. “At the moment, I only wish for you to return home.”

“That’s not what I mean.” You hold your fists at your sides. Spine straight, shoulders pressed back. Toes curled inside your shoes. You can feel the unfamiliar undergarments clinging to your hips, your ribcage - you want them gone. You want him gone.

“Then pray tell, my dear”-

“All of it.” You hold his gaze as his head tilts slowly to one side. Listen to the cracking of bones, and press on, before you can think better of it. “You won’t let me go. You can’t. And I don’t even get to know why.” There’s a desperation in your voice, rising with the volume of it, quickly spiraling out of your control. “All I know is that you’re - you’re trying to control me, and that I hate it, and that I don’t fucking understand it.”

Images from two nights before descend upon your mind, and your train of thought comes entirely undone. It’s more than images, really. You can certainly picture him standing over you, his red eyes flaring as you stripped yourself bare in front of him, but you can also feel it, the awful heat under your skin battling with the chill of the air, the brush of his finger along your hip, the gentle kiss to your forehead. The hands pulled tightly behind his back. And the way you felt then, the thing you’d be afraid of, if it was anyone else.

“You - you don’t”- You feel strangely distant from your body, as if your mind is a separate entity, floating somewhere slightly outside of your skull. Your mouth takes a sharp breath, and more words cascade out before you can return to stop them. “I was fucking naked in front of you, and you didn’t feel anything. If you don’t want - that”-

Any other stupid words you might say are cut off by a rising buzz of static, which emanates from him as his staff disappears before your eyes, and his newly-free hand takes on the stiff, barely-restrained posture of the other. You wonder, in that detached manner your thoughts take on when you are frightened, if he’s doing this on purpose, or if it’s somehow leaking out in a way that’s beyond his control.

You feel tears welling in your eyes, and try in vain to shove them back down. You don’t know where they came from. “I don’t understand.”

For the first time, you see his grin drop - not all the way, but enough that the line of it changes, enough that it becomes a grimace. It’s so unsettling that you wish the usual, terrible smile would return. “That much is obvious, my dear. I wonder if you even realize how tragic what you just said really was.”

You freeze as your wrists are snatched by coils of shadow, smooth and inexplicably solid. Your arms are yanked straight down, and when you try to tear them away, you fail. Your hands are free to form fists, but remain trapped against your sides.

“That you can only fathom being desired in such a shallow way…”

His image flickers before you. You’re already half-turned around when he reappears behind you a moment later, but there’s nothing you can do to stop his hands from curling, one finger at a time, around your shoulders, far too close to your neck for comfort. You stare straight ahead as his face twists into the periphery of your vision.

And he whispers in your ear, his voice bare of any effect, just the hint of some old, earthly accent slipping through. “I’m afraid that I want much more than that.”

He slides around you at the same moment the bonds around your wrists release, and effortlessly turns you by your shoulders - he does not push you against the wall that now stands behind you, but you step back out of instinct and flatten yourself against it. He matches your steps with his own, traps you between himself and the rough brick at your back, and latches his gloved hand beneath your jaw, wrenching your face upwards. With his other hand, he reaches down, flips your palm so that it’s no longer facing the wall and interlocks his fingers with your own. His grin springs back into place, and oh - you wish you could run now. You would, if you could.

His eyes slide away from you for a moment as he puts something together in his head. “These little acts of rebellion from you…I think I ought to thank you for them.” He blinks slowly, and returns his gaze to your face. “I don’t think I would have realized just how close I wanted to keep you, if you hadn’t attempted to leave. And now…oh. I understand perfectly, now. I know exactly what I want.” He bows his head, lowers his lips to your ear, so that you can hear the shudder of his breath. “I’ll have your soul one day, my dear. A day when you’re already bound so tightly to me that such a contract will be a mere formality.”

“And until that day comes…” He draws back from the side of your face, stares not into your eyes, but through them. His teeth part. His tongue flicks out from between them, and slides quickly over their jagged edges. “I feel as if I’m prepared to do anything, if only it will bring you closer.”

The last vestiges of your anger burst forth, and you attempt to wrench your face out of his grasp. He lets you, and moves his hand to the back of your neck, his long fingers pressing harshly into the sides. You look up, eyes wide with terror, as the palm that has been flattened against your own releases your hand from the wall, and rises to curl tightly around your waist.

He pulls you close. You do not see the moment that his smile disappears, as it surely must - your eyes are already closed when he kisses you, screwed tightly shut as his hot, rancid breath works its way into your lungs. There’s a hint of whiskey beneath the rot, and something metallic, the same taste that floods your mouth when you bite the inside of your lip a bit too hard. His hand slides around from the back of your neck, and closes at your throat - he keeps it there after he’s pulled away, and watches as you struggle against his grip.

“You have a decision to make now, darling.” He takes a deep, satisfied breath, the tension leaving his posture even as you fight to breathe beneath his hand. “You can return all by yourself…” His fingers curl tighter around your neck, and tendrils of shadow lash at your wrists and ankles, slowly twisting their way up your limbs. “Or, I can bring you back. I imagine that would cause quite a scene..but the choice is yours.” He tilts his head, stares down at you through narrowed eyes, and - after another moment of watching you struggle - eases his grip just enough for you to answer.

You don’t hesitate for a moment. Even if you had the air to argue, you wouldn’t dare. “I’ll - come back” -

“Lovely.” He releases you, and takes a step back. Pulls one hand slowly behind him, as if doing so takes a tremendous amount of effort. “Since you’re so attached to your freedom, I’ll allow you to walk back unsupervised.” He traces the back of his other hand gently down your cheek, stopping only briefly to press the tips of his fingers against the hardened clench of your jaw. You let it go slack - only then does he pull his hand away. “But as I told you before, darling…there are many threats lurking in the shadows of these streets. So I do suggest that you watch your step.”

His image fades away before you. In the same moment that you watch him disappear, there is a shift in the surface under your feet. You no longer feel the familiar soles of your shoes, but the ground beneath, rough with the texture of cracks and debris. Cold. Not damp, exactly, but carrying the faint suggestion of something wet having only recently become dry.

Your toes curl inside your pristine white socks, which will soon be stained by the filth of the ground beneath them. There’s a new shadow against the wall - it slides along with you as you carefully retrace your steps home.

#yandere alastor x reader #yandere alastor #alastor x reader #tw yandere #tw power imbalance

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joelscruff · 1 year

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feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART THREE

part three!!!! thank you for all the amazing messages and feedback on this fic, it means so much to me. you can catch up on previous parts here, and here’s my kofi if you’d like to leave a tip💕 summary (for this chapter): after your first "lesson" with joel you're already dying to see him again, but he only has a bit of time before work. what better time than to start you on your second one? this one is pure filth lbr rating: 18+ explicit (minors, do not interact) warnings (for this chapter): age difference (reader is in her 20s, joel in his 50s), innocent/inexperienced reader, dirty old man joel, corruption (but it’s consensual), praise kink (joel calls reader babygirl, sweetheart, etc), dirty talk, mentions of religion (reader’s family are very catholic), fingering, lap-sitting word count: 8.1k ao3

Lying has never felt so good.

You tell your parents later that evening that you're tired, exhausted from the heat and hoping to get a better sleep than you did last night. They've always been privy to early bedtimes; impressed by your obedience to follow the rules they don't assume anything is amiss as you walk upstairs around eight thirty with a fake yawn and a stretch.

The second you're in bed you've got your pajama pants around your ankles and a hand inside your panties, rubbing your clit just like Joel had taught you. You start slow, tender, prodding and tapping the way he'd done and then building into more of a furious pace, firm and steady. You have to bite into your pillow to keep your moans at bay, eyes rolling back as you writhe in your sheets.

"Mr. Miller," you find yourself whispering as you come down from your second orgasm of the day, breathing in and out and trying to calm your body down. All you can see behind your lids is his face, his soft brown eyes, his scratchy beard, his wrinkles...

About ten minutes later you're on round three, hair sticking to your forehead with sweat and legs trembling as you picture his handsome face, that charming smirk, his thick fingers. His voice murmuring in your ear, praising you, calling you his babygirl. You come a third time.

You're going to hell.

You wake up early, so early that the sun has barely risen yet, streetlamps still on outside as you climb out of bed and tiptoe to the window. Your parents are still home, most likely still in bed.

You consider going back to sleep but only for a moment. Your thoughts are too muddled with the idea of seeing Joel again today and getting another lesson that you head straight for the shower, unabashedly looking down at your body as you wash yourself and wondering what he'll think when he finally sees the whole thing. Will he like your breasts? Your soft tummy? You've never thought of yourself as being particularly beautiful but maybe he'll see something you don't. He certainly seems to already.

The dress you'd worn yesterday is still on your bedroom floor; you pick it up after your shower and bring it to your nose, breathing in Joel's heady masculine scent and feeling yourself throb under your towel. God, you're like a crazy person now. Obsessed. You need more.

You find that your nerves are nowhere near as bad as they were yesterday, now that you know Joel actually wants you that way. You dress a little more casually, choosing a pair of jean shorts and a t-shirt. You grimace at yourself in the mirror, hating how the shorts seem baggy and unflattering, not tight and perky like your friends back at college. You're beginning to realize that your entire wardrobe has essentially been hand selected by your parents your whole life, something else that needs to change.

The clock says it's almost six in the morning and you know there's no way Joel is awake yet; you'd gotten to his house around ten yesterday and he'd looked like he'd only just woken up maybe fifteen minutes before. Still, you can't just sit around and wait for the sun to come up. You've gotta do something.

You masturbate until seven.

You're pretty sure you've had more orgasms in the past twenty four hours than anyone has ever had in their entire lives. How the fuck have you been missing out on this for so long? Your friends had talked about how good it felt, how annoying it was when a guy couldn't make them come, and you'd just listened and nodded along and pretended you were able to understand - even just a little bit - despite never having had one yourself.

"You're so lucky," your friend Tasha had said to you one morning after she'd come home from a failed one night stand where she'd had to fake it, "I'd rather have never had an orgasm than deal with these stupid boys who have no clue what they're doing, seriously."

You hadn't felt very lucky, only jealous that you were missing out on something every woman seemed to be in on. But now you're no longer on the outside, and better yet it happened with an experienced man, not a stupid boy - you almost want to scream it from the rooftops: Joel Miller made me come.

You hum to yourself as you flip some chocolate chip pancakes, it's the first time you've bothered to make anything for breakfast that isn't cereal or toast since you've been back home. Your parents sit at the table, your father reading the newspaper while your mother makes adjustments to her schedule.

"You're chipper this morning," your father says, ruffling the newspaper and raising an eyebrow, "Anything happen?"

You shrug, shaking your head, "I don't know, just... just feeling good today."

"She's gonna start volunteering at the soup kitchen," your mother informs him with a smile and you try not to wince, "She met with Bethany and Alice yesterday."

"Oh, that's nice," your father goes back to his paper, "It's good to keep busy."

"It is," you say, feeling your cheeks warm a bit as you transfer the pancakes onto a plate, "It really is."

You haven't driven your car much since you've been back but you decide to bring it out of the garage today, deciding that if there's ever been a time to buy some new clothes, today is the day. You head to the mall like a woman on a mission, wasting no time in dashing directly to the lingerie store.

You freeze outside the store, eyes widening when you see the types of things the mannequins are wearing; crotchless panties, leather bras, things with straps and spikes on them. You stare, transfixed, unsure what exactly you're even supposed to buy. You'd been so powered up by your newfound pleasure that you'd completely forgotten that you still don't know anything.

What does Joel like? What would he want to see you wear? You stand there, biting your lip and fidgeting a bit as your eyes trail back and forth between the different lingerie sets. You haven't even gone into the store and you already feel overwhelmed. You can't even picture yourself wearing half of this stuff, even looking at it makes your skin itch.

"Can I help you?" a woman asks, fixing hangers near the front of the store and giving you a smile, "Looking for anything in particular?"

You shake your head and take a step back, "Um, no. No, sorry. Not today." You turn around and walk in the opposite direction with your head down, feeling beyond embarrassed.

Okay, no lingerie. Stick to what you know.

You end up heading to the stores you're more familiar with, although you avoid the more conservative ones; you know you won't find what you're looking for in there. You end up with a few new outfits that still manage to feel casual without being too much outside your comfort zone. Some new shorts that accentuate your curves more, a few tank tops, some dresses. The dresses are similar in length to your old Sunday School dress, but this time they aren't squeezing your chest painfully or threatening to expose your breasts to the world. They're comfy but sexy and you hope Joel will like them.

The thought of Joel sends your brain into that muddled state again, sending pulsations through you as you pay for your new clothes and head back out to your car. You have to practically force yourself not to shove your hand down your shorts in a public parking lot.

On the way back home you decide to turn down Joel's street, just to see if he's up yet. You slow down as you near his house, peering out the passenger side window and squinting against the sun. You practically slam your foot down on the brake when you see him sitting on his step, strumming his guitar again.

He looks up at the squeal of your tires, looking just as disheveled as yesterday with his hair sticking up in all directions and his beard still scruffy and untrimmed. He smiles when he sees your face, instantly sending those familiar butterflies into your belly.

He mouths something to you and you quickly roll the window down, "What?"

"I just said good mornin'." he says with a chuckle, leaning against the wooden banister of his steps and giving you a boyish grin, "Where you comin' from, darlin'?"

"Went shopping," you say with a smile, gesturing to the bags in the backseat, "Got some new clothes."

He raises an eyebrow, assessing the bags and then looking at your face again without replying. You sit there awkwardly, waiting for him to say something else, nervousness suddenly pooling inside you; what if he's just waiting for you to leave?

"Well, I guess I'll-" you begin, but not before Joel interrupts you.

"Wanna come inside and show me?"

Your heart slips to your throat, thrumming wildly as you stare at him. He smiles crookedly, tilting his head in that way you love.

"Y-yeah," you say, voice so squeaky that you have to clear your throat so you don't sound like a lunatic, "Yes please."

You'd thought walking into Joel's house after yesterday wouldn't feel as nerve-wracking or as scary, but somehow it's even worse. As soon as the door closes and he doesn't immediately wrap you in his arms, you feel unsure of what to do. He gives you a small smile as he passes you in the foyer, then crosses the room in a few long strides and goes to dispose of his empty coffee mug in the sink.

"How was your night?" he asks, rinsing it out as he faces away from you.

I made myself come twice, you want to say, and then I came four times this morning. But the atmosphere doesn't feel the same as yesterday; there's no sex buzzing in the air, no flirtatiousness emanating from Joel like last time. Something feels wrong.

"Um, it was fine," you say, biting your lip, "Yours?"

"Same old, same old," he says, drying the mug and putting it back inside its cupboard, "Had a few people over to watch the game."

For some reason it's hard for you to picture other people being in Joel's house; it's almost hard to picture him having friends, which you know should make you feel ashamed. But part of you wants him all to yourself; you don't want to share with anybody else. And another part of you wonders if maybe he had any women in his house last night, which makes your skin feel itchy again.

You watch as he walks into the living room and settles on the couch, putting his feet up and looking at you expectantly. You stand there, not sure what he's waiting for.

"So let's see those-"

"This is weird."

You both stare at each other, his brow furrowing at your interruption. You feel your cheeks go heat up, feeling small and ridiculously young as you stand there with a bag of clothes in each hand. You drop them both to the floor and take a deep breath, avoiding eye contact with him.

"What's weird?" he asks, seeming genuinely confused,

You shrug awkwardly, hesitantly taking a few steps toward the living room, "I don't know," you say quietly, feeling embarrassed, "It just...it feels weird."

He sits up and you allow yourself to look at him, feeling butterflies again when you see the look of concern on his face.

"Are you uncomfortable, sweetheart? ''Cause that's okay, I won't be upset. You can leave." His words are so soft and reassuring, it makes you want to cry.

"I don't wanna leave," you shake your head quickly, "I just... I've never done this before. I don't know what it's supposed to be like."

"What do you mean, babygirl?"

There it is, the name you'd been waiting for him to call you. It's almost a confirmation in your heart that he still feels the same way, isn't regretting what happened yesterday. You take a breath and slowly ease yourself onto the couch beside him, biting your lip.

"You're acting so... normal," you mumble, trying to figure out how to articulate how you're feeling, "Like we didn't... like yesterday didn't even happen."

His face settles into an expression of understanding; he smiles slowly, nods and moves a bit closer to you on the couch. You feel his finger tilt your chin up, urging you to look into his eyes.

"I'm sorry, baby," he murmurs, "I wasn't thinkin'," he leans forward and presses a soft and gentle kiss to your lips, exactly what you'd been expecting when you first walked into the house. You sigh against him, relief flooding you. "That's what you needed, isn't it?" he whispers, "I'm sorry, I didn't wanna assume."

"Assume?" you ask as he pulls away, scrunching your brow in confusion, "I kissed you yesterday, why wouldn't I want to kiss you today?"

He smiles, "I'm tryin' my best to make this easy for you, sweetheart. I only found out yesterday how inexperienced you are," he reaches forward to push a strand of hair behind your ear, "I don't wanna push anything on you that you don't want."

"I want everything," you say immediately, shaking your head, "I want all of it with you, I already decided yesterday."

"Okay, well that's why communication's important," he chuckles, "I shoulda asked you yesterday before you left but I was, uh-" he looks down at your body and back to your face, "A bit distracted."

You feel almost naked underneath his stare. This man has seen you come; it shouldn't make you as self conscious as it does when his eyes rake you up and down, but it still does. He smirks at your shyness, leans back in to kiss the corner of your mouth.

"You're so sweet, babygirl," he murmurs, "Thought about you all night."

"Me too," you whisper like it's a secret, "Thought about you while I touched myself."

He groans and pulls back from you, eyes dark, "Don't say that, sweetheart, you'll get me hard."

You bite your lip and fight back a giggle. Part of you wants to ask what would be so bad about that, but you're also dying to show him your new clothes, especially the dresses. And you're not sure you're ready to see his cock yet, to touch it and learn what to do with it; the thought makes you feel more nervous than before.

"Can I show you my new clothes now?" you ask softly, "I bought it all for you."

He smiles and seats himself back against the couch again, nodding, "Of course, sweetheart. Lemme see."

You pick up the bags again and shuffle into the kitchen, out of sight. You hear Joel laugh lightly and you wince; should you have just changed in front of him? Would that have been the more adult thing to do? Probably, but he still hasn't seen you naked yet and you're not sure you want this to be the setting.

You don't bother with any of the more practical outfits - the shorts, the tops. Instead you go right for the dresses, starting with a short pink one with some ruffles on the shoulders. It's not exactly the sexiest thing in the world, but you know if you turned up to church wearing it you'd get an earful from your mother, and that makes it sexy in your eyes.

You walk back into the living room and a wide smile appears on Joel's face, eyeing you up and down.

"Wow," he says softly, eyes bright, "That's pretty."

"You like it?" you ask shyly, twirling a bit, aware of the way it flows up above your thighs.

"Yes, sweetheart, it's beautiful. Like you."

You can't look at him anymore, feeling beyond overwhelmed at the compliment. You quickly shuffle out of the room again to go put on another one, smiling to yourself when he laughs again, gentle and kind. You've never had anyone pay attention to you like this before; it feels so nice.

You change into a yellow one, more simple with some little daisies embroidered along the edges. Joel's eyes soften even more when he sees you.

"Babygirl, you're so gorgeous," he says softly, "You really bought these for me?"

You nod, still shy, "I did."

"Gimme a twirl," he says with a wink, and you laugh and do as he says, loving the feeling of his eyes on you, "Beautiful."

"One more, I saved my favorite for last," you say, spinning around and practically sprinting back into the kitchen, heart pounding. You mean it - the last one is by far the sexiest, the one you know he'll like best. It's the shortest, white and lacy with a deep cut in the front and looks best without a bra, which you quickly discard into one of the bags.

Standing in Joel's kitchen without a bra on makes you shiver, not just from being so exposed but because you feel so sexy. Being in a man's house half naked, knowing he's only a few feet away...who even are you anymore? You smile to yourself as you pull the dress over your head and fix it so your breasts are on display as much as possible. You take a deep breath; it's now or never.

The atmosphere changes the second you enter the living room. It's palpable; one moment you've just been having a silly little fashion show for Joel, the next you're essentially inviting him to stare openly at your breasts, which he does immediately.

"Jesus," he mutters, jaw tensing as you walk toward him and twirl slowly, showing him the back as well, the way the hem of the dress barely covers the tops of your thighs, "Fuck."

You're already wet at the roughness of his words, the reminder that all he wants to do is put his hands on you. With your arousal practically leading you, you slowly find yourself bending over in front of him, feeling as the hem of your dress rides up over your ass, exposing your panties.

"Do you like it?" you whisper.

His hands wrap around your thighs like they weigh nothing, pulling you toward him and placing you on his lap. You whimper pitifully when he pushes your legs open with his knee and cups you with his palm, noses your ear.

"You know I do," he murmurs, low and deep.

You watch as he traces the shape of your pussy with his callused fingertips, inhaling your perfume as he does it and pressing a wet kiss to your neck. You buck up into his touch, biting down hard on your lip.

"Yeah, that feels good, doesn't it?" he whispers, circling your clit lightly, "This why you came back, babygirl? Need me to play with your pussy for a little bit?"

You nod, swallowing tightly and whispering back, "Yes, please."

"Well, I have somewhere I need to be in about an hour," he murmurs, and you watch as his hand slips inside the loose stretch of your panties, the feeling of his skin against your pussy making you squirm, "But until then, why don't we try somethin' new? Just to see if you like it?"

"O-okay," you breathe.

You watch as he pulls your panties down your thighs again but keeps them around your knees, almost like he enjoys the sight of them still visible; he probably does. Your eyes stay glued to his hand as he brings it back up and slips two fingers past your puffy lips, rubbing your clit gently.

"Mmmm," you hum in satisfaction, tilting your head back a bit to rest in the crook of his shoulder, "Feels so good."

What he's doing isn't new; it's almost exactly what he did yesterday, except now it's with two of his fingers instead of one. You open your legs a bit wider in his lap, wishing you could see better like yesterday with the mirror.

"You know, when you were bent over like that..." he breathes, fingers rotating a bit faster, "I coulda put my hand on your back, like this," you suddenly feel the firm weight of his hand pushing against your lower back and you shiver, "Coulda bent you over just a little bit more, pulled aside those pretty panties and...."

His fingers suddenly stop their movements and you peer down, confused, "And what?" you whisper.

He slowly thumbs your clit, trailing his two fingers downward to settle lightly on where you're throbbing.

"And stuffed this little hole with my cock," he murmurs, and your mouth pops open as he slowly and carefully slips his index finger inside, just the callused tip. You freeze in his arms, eyes going wide at the sensation of having just a small part of him inside of you, "But that woulda hurt, wouldn't it?" he continues, holding his finger there and continuing to circle your clit with his thumb, "Never had a cock inside there before, right? Never been full."

You shake your head and sit up a bit in his lap, turning to look at him. He's peering at you with a calm expression, mouth upturned into that crooked smile. You bite your lip, meeting his gaze.

"Are you gonna put it in there now?" you whisper, unable to hide the way your voice shakes; in fear or in anticipation, you're not sure.

"No, babygirl," he says quickly, moving the hand that's on your back upward to cup your face tenderly, "Not today."

You feel relief flood through you; in theory you do like the idea of having Joel inside you, even though you have no idea what it would even feel like - or how he would even fit. But it's too soon, you still barely have any idea what you're doing. And he knows that, respects it, which almost makes you want him more.

You lean forward to kiss him, loving the way he thumbs your cheek and pushes his warm tongue inside your mouth. He still tastes like coffee today; it's safe and soothing.

"Know what we're gonna do today?" he asks you quietly once you pull away for breath.

"W-what?" you whisper.

"Well, as I said, we don't have much time," you look down again and become transfixed with the way the tip of his finger prods your hole, moving back and forth just a little bit, "So we're gonna see how many fingers i can fit inside you 'til it's time to go, okay?"

You nod, feeling a rush of warmth flood through you at his words, but also a tense feeling of nervousness in the pit of your stomach. He seems to sense it and he brings his hand up again to hold your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"Hey, don't be scared, sweetheart. I'll only put in however many will fit," he tells you comfortingly, "How many you think we can get in there?"

"I... I don't know," you feel stupid again, that inexperienced part of you on full display, "Two? Maybe?"

"Okay, we'll try for two," he murmurs, then leans forward to kiss you sweetly, "You don't have to be afraid, babygirl, I won't hurt you."

Somehow, you believe him.

A moment later he's pulling you off his lap and carefully laying you back on the couch. He pulls up your dress a bit more, exposing your pussy to his empty living room again, and dips his fingers back down to rub along your center.

"See how wet you are?" Joel whispers to you, kneeling down next to the couch and kissing your cheek gently, "You're drippin' all over my couch."

"I'm sorry," you whimper, trembling beneath his touch, and he just chuckles.

"It's not a bad thing," he reassures you, "When you get wet like that, it makes things easier for us," he slowly begins to push the tip of his index finger inside your hole and you bite down on your lip in anticipation, "Watch," he murmurs.

You watch as he slowly pushes his finger further inside; you're beyond surprised to discover that not only does it not hurt, but you can barely even really feel it.

"Hurt?" he asks you quietly, stilling at the first knuckle.

"Not at all," you breathe confidently, feeling a smile spread across your face, "Just feels like pressure."

"Good, that's good," he kisses your temple, beard scratching pleasantly against your skin, "I'll give you a little more."

You watch with bated breath as he pushes his digit all the way until it's fully sheathed inside your heat. It still doesn't hurt but the shape of him is palpable. His finger is thick and long inside of you and your breath is already coming out quicker at the fullness.

"There you go," he murmurs, and you turn your head to see him looking at you with dark eyes, "I'm inside you, babygirl."

Your cheeks warm at his words and you bring your hands up to cover your face, feeling overwhelmed. He brings his free hand to one of yours and pulls it away, smiling at you softly.

"Don't hide, sweetheart, you're doin' so good," he says quietly, reassuringly, "Pussy's so tight around me, can feel your heartbeat."

Your eyes widen a bit, "Really?"

He nods and very slowly pulls his finger out, just until only the tip is pressed lightly at your entrance. Then he pushes back in even slower, smiling wider when your brow furrows at the sensation.

"So tight and wet for me," he murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth, "She was made to have me inside her, babygirl."

You're slowly losing your ability to form words as he plunges his finger in and out at a steady pace; it didn't feel like anything before, but the more he moves, the more he fucks you with it, the better it begins to feel. You feel your jaw going slack, eyes going hazy when he circles your clit again with his thumb and kisses the side of your face.

"You're such a good girl," he whispers, "Lettin' me do this to you."

He teases a second finger at your entrance and you feel yourself freeze up a bit, unsure how it's going to fit alongside his index. You trust him though; despite barely knowing one thing about this man you trust him inherently to take care of you. God, if your parents could see you now, laying on his couch with his index finger stuffed inside of you while he kisses your face and whispers praises in your ear. Not even God can save you now.

"Givin' you another one," he breathes, carefully pushing the callused tip of his middle finger inside you.

It's different this time, there's an odd burning sensation as he pushes your hole open with two fingers. You find yourself crossing your legs unintentionally, making a face.

"It hurts, Mr. Miller," you breathe, shaking your head, "I don't think it's gonna fit."

He stops immediately, stilling both fingers inside of you and leaning forward to nose against your cheek, "I know, baby, it hurts at first but that's just because you've never had anythin' in there. Your pussy has to get used to it."

You nod slowly, eyes searching his; he seems genuine, honest, sincere. You believe him. Your parents always taught you to see the good in people and Joel hasn't given you a reason not to trust him. Plus, all your college friends must have had similar experiences at some point and they all seem to enjoy sex; you have to trust the process.

"Okay," you whisper, "But go slow, please."

It takes a bit of time for you to adjust, all the while Joel presses kisses all along your face, tells you how good you're doing for him, how you're taking it so well. You feel hot and completely overwhelmed, strange whiney sounds slipping past your lips every time he pushes in just a little bit more. He moves his free hand to grip yours, squeezes it reassuringly as he fills you up.

"There," he finally murmurs when both fingers are sheathed inside, leaving you feeling stretched out and more full than you could have even imagined. Your eyes are hooded and bleary, lip jutting out in a pout that he leans forward to kiss, "You did it, babygirl. I'm so proud of you."

It feels so good to hear those words, to hear someone show even the tiniest ounce of appreciation for you, even under the sinful circumstances. You're beginning to realize that despite everything you've achieved in your life you've never actually had someone tell you they're proud of you; it makes tears well in your eyes.

Joel's brow furrows when he sees the tears, lets go of your hand to thumb your cheek again, "Does it still hurt?"

You shake your head quickly, sniffling a little bit, "No, it feels good, just like you said," you take a shaky breath and bite your lip, "Are you actually proud of me?"

His expression softens and he nods, leaning forward to kiss you again, "Yes, sweetheart," he whispers, "You did so good."

You kiss him again, bringing your hand up to tangle in his grey curls. You slip your tongue past his lips and feel the undeniable rumble of a moan in his throat as he kisses you back with fervor, his hand traveling down your face to settle near your mouth, thumbing the corner. When you part he traces your lips with his thumb and slowly starts to fuck you again, making your jaw drop.

"That's it," he whispers, watching your expression with desire-filled eyes, "That's it, baby, you take it. Take those big fingers."

You cry out immediately when he starts rubbing your clit again as he fucks you, completely overwhelming your whole body with a brand new sensation; you're so full, so sensitive and wet, throbbing around his long digits. It's so much and you feel the tears spill over, this time for a completely different reason.

"Shh," he coos, and carefully slips his thumb inside your mouth which you immediately suckle, eyes closing on their own accord as tears begin to stream down your face, "I've got you," you hear him murmur, "There you go, just suck, babygirl."

You feel the callused tips of his fingers brush against something deep inside you, not hard enough to make you cry out again but enough for you to feel your orgasm begin to build in your tummy. You moan pitifully around his thumb, sucking hard on it as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

Somehow he knows you're almost there, can feel the way you tighten in anticipation around his fingers. He carefully pulls his thumb out of your mouth, smiling when you moan in protest, then brings it down to thumb your pussy open a bit more. You look down at where he's touching, see the way his thick fingers are stuffed inside you, and the sight alone leaves you gasping as you start to come.

"Theeeere she is," he says soothingly, plunging his fingers in and out steadily, a wet slapping sound filling the room as he fucks you through it, "There you go."

You writhe on the couch, obscene sounds spitting past your lips. Your eyes roll back and you feel him kiss you again, shoving his tongue inside and fucking you with it the same way he fucks your pussy with his fingers. You're so full of him, he's everywhere. And you don't want it to stop.

But it has to. You're soon too overstimulated, body twitching with every touch. You feel Joel slide his fingers out of you with one final tap to your clit, still kissing you slow and deep. His hand travels upward underneath your dress and palms your belly, leaving a sticky and wet residue all over your skin. You're still so out of it that you barely register him reaching up to squeeze your bare breast, thumbing your nipple and covering it with your juices.

"Mr. Miller," you breathe when he finally pulls his mouth away, "Felt so good, Mr. Miller."

Your words make him laugh; he grins at you and squeezes your breast again under your dress, pinches your nipple slightly between his fingers. You freeze up, mouth popping open again.

"Relax, baby," he slowly reaches for the hem of your dress and pulls it up, exposing your naked body to him, "We're done for the day, just wanna see you."

You don't protest, watching his face as he pulls your dress all the way up to your chest, eyes trailing up and down your body at your hips, your belly, your breasts. He hums to himself, reaches down again to toy with your left nipple and smiles when you tremble.

"You're so pretty, darlin', just beggin' to be played with" he murmurs, clicking his teeth, "Shame I can't stay longer."

"Where are you going?" you ask quietly, "Maybe I can come."

He smiles at that, then pulls his hand away to bring your dress back down again, settling it over your thighs once more. He picks up your legs and sits down on the couch, pulling you toward him so you're half-seated in his lap, legs bent over his thighs.

"As tempting as that is, I gotta go to work," he tells you softly, stroking the bare skin of your thigh with his thumb.

"Where do you work?"

"I'm a contractor so pretty much everywhere," he smiles at you, "But you wouldn't have much to do, babygirl. Just watchin' me measure things and order my crew around."

You nod, "Can I see you tonight?"

He laughs breathily, pulls you further up into his lap and wraps his arms around you, "You're insatiable, aren't you?"

"For you, yeah."

He laughs again and you're suddenly very aware of the hard length of his cock against your ass, straining against his jeans. Your lips part and you look down, opening your legs a bit and peering at the long shape of him beneath the denim.

"You're hard," you whisper, brows scrunching together, "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, angel. It's impossible not to get hard after doin' all that to you," he says with a chuckle, noticing that your cheeks go hot with the pet name, "Oh, you like that name too, don't you? Angel?"

You nod, feeling slightly embarrassed, but he just leans forward and kisses you again, holding you to him.

"Babygirl and angel, I'll keep those in mind," he murmurs against your lips, "For next time."

"And when is next time?" you pull back and bite your lip, looking at him with a pitifully wanton expression, "You didn't answer my question about tonight."

He rests his forehead against yours with a smile, "I'll be takin' my crew out for drinks tonight. And we'll be pretty busy over the next few days, so I'm not sure when I'll get to see you next."

You frown, disappointment flooding you. He notices your reaction and his brow furrows as he brings his hands up to cradle your face and peer down into your eyes. You lean up and kiss him again, twisting slightly in his lap so your legs settle on either side of him, melding yourself against him. His cock twitches against your ass, throbbing lightly, and you can't help but smile against his lips.

"Why don't I give you my phone number?" he groans, pulling back from the kiss to look at you with darkened eyes, "So you can text me whenever you want, tell me all about what you're doin', brighten up my workday. Maybe send me some pictures."

Your brow furrows, "Pictures?"

He thumbs your thighs and smirks, "Yeah, babygirl. Pictures."

"Of what?"

He shakes his head and laughs to himself, "Nevermind, angel."

You preen at the name again but frown when he carefully pulls you from his lap and seats you back onto the couch, standing up and adjusting his length in his jeans. Your eyes stay glued to it immediately, lips parting unconsciously at the size; is it the jeans making it seem so big or is it really that huge?

"Can I...?" you trail off, and he doesn't have to be a rocket scientist to understand what you're talking about. He follows your gaze and smiles, nods.

"You wanna see my cock, pretty girl?"

You nod quickly, pushing your legs together as he immediately reaches for his belt. It jangles in the quiet room, slapping against the floor when he drops it. You watch as he unbuttons his jeans and brings the zipper down, then pulls his cock free from the confines of his underwear and puts it on display.

You feel your jaw go slack, eyes widening at the sheer length and size of it. It's somehow even bigger than it looked in his jeans, large and thick and rock hard. The tip is wide and dark, dripping in a similar fashion to the way your pussy does, and you can't help but notice the veins lining the entire length of him, accentuating its size. This is your very first time seeing one that wasn't in a health textbook, and the vast difference between what you'd thought it would look like versus what it actually looks like is staggering.

"Th-that's big," your voice is barely a whisper, squeaky and surprised, "It's so big."

He carefully brings his hand down to hold it in his fist lightly, pulling it up a bit to give you a better view. "Big 'cause of you," he says softly, "It's all for you, angel."

You feel the tips of your ears get hot, still staring with wide eyes at where he's completely exposed. You can see the hint of his balls still hidden inside his underwear and for some insatiable reason that you can't even explain, you feel yourself begin to salivate.

"How's it gonna fit?" you breathe, brows scrunching together as you shake your head, "Mr. Miller, that's not gonna fit inside me."

He just smiles, reaches down and thumbs the wet head lightly, "We'll make it fit, babygirl."

You leave Joel's house with the image of his cock still imprinted at the front of your mind. He hadn't asked you to touch it, hadn't expected anything at all, just let you look at it for a few moments before telling you he had to take care of it in the shower or he'd go crazy. He'd tucked himself back into his jeans and given you one last kiss, written down his phone number on a piece of paper and then headed upstairs to shower. You'd changed back into your regular clothes quickly and left the house a few moments later.

Now you're driving aimlessly back home, weaving up and down different suburban streets while you think about the sheer size of him, the thickness, the veins. We'll make it fit, he'd said; the thought gives you goosebumps.

You can't put off going home forever; you finally pull into your driveway and hop out with your shopping bags. You'd shoved the white dress to the bottom after changing out of it, you just hope your mom doesn't ask to see what you bought.

"Hey there," your mother says as soon as you walk in the door, standing in the foyer almost like she's been waiting for you to come home; speak of the devil.

"Hi," you say quickly, "I went shopping, I'm just gonna put these up in my room."

She puts her hand up, "Not yet. I need to talk to you."

You feel unease in the pit of your stomach as you slowly place the bags on the floor, looking at her expectantly. Her expression is hard to read; her lips are set in a firm line, eyes assessing you up and down. You're not sure what's going through her mind.

"I was just talking to Joyce on the phone," she says, crossing her arms, "You remember Joyce?"

You nod slowly; Joyce is one of your mother's neighborhood gossip friends, the ones who keep abreast of everything going on in your little suburban neighborhood, who's fighting, who's getting divorced, who's kids are getting into trouble, etc. You feel a lump growing in your throat the longer you stand there waiting for her to speak. It's like you already know what she's about to say.

"She says your car was parked in Joel Miller's driveway," she raises an eyebrow at you, looking stern, "Is that true?"

You swallow around the lump and awkwardly shrug, "Um, yeah, I guess."

Her brow furrows, "You guess? Either you were parked there or not, which is it?"

Your face suddenly feels hot and uncomfortable as you shift your weight from leg to leg, trying to figure out what to say. Stupid. How could you have been so stupid as to park your fucking car in his driveway, knowing the way the ladies in this neighborhood talk?

"I was," you say, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, "I just stopped by for a bit to say hi."

"To say... hi?" your mother is still staring at you with a stern expression, eyebrows narrowing more and more the longer you both stand there, "Why would you stop by Joel Miller's to say hi?"

You shrug, "I was just being neighborly. He's new, I thought I should properly introduce myself, like you taught me."

Her brows unfurrow a bit at that, expression softening. There we go, hit her with the life lessons, that'll get her off your back.

"Honey, that's very nice of you, but I don't want you going back there, understand?"

Now it's time for your brow to furrow, looking at her with a confused expression, "Why?"

She backs down a bit at that, seemingly uncomfortable by the question. She looks down at the bags and gestures to them quickly, "You go ahead and bring those upstairs, I'm heading out to run some more errands."

"Mom," you say, trying to keep your voice soft despite the frustration you feel, "Why don't you want me going back to Mr. Miller's?"

She sighs then, bites her lip and darts her eyes around the room quickly, almost like she's looking for your father who you both know is at work. She takes a step toward you and grabs your hand, pulling you into the living room.

"Is this about what you were talking about at dinner the other night?" you ask, "When you said he was rude to you?"

She exhales deeply again and turns to you, scratching her neck awkwardly, "Listen, your father doesn't like me talking about people like this so please don't tell him I said anything."

Oh, interesting. You nod quickly, excited to hear whatever deep secret is about to be revealed, what Joel could have possibly done to offend your mother who's notoriously offended by everything, "I won't, Mom. Promise."

She takes another breath and twists her mouth into a frown, "He's... well.... honey, he's an Atheist."

You stare at her for a few seconds, waiting for her to drop the bomb. It takes you a moment to realize that Joel being an Atheist is in fact The Bomb in question, and you quickly have to pretend to be shocked, widening your eyes and raising your eyebrows in faux surprise.

"Oh, that's too bad," you say, nodding slowly, "What did he say to you?"

She shakes her head, frowning even more, "Well, I invited him over to have dinner with us after church, told him we'd love to see him at the service and then have him in our home, and what did he say in response?" she makes a sneering expression, imitating his deep southern drawl, "Sorry, lady, I'm not into all that religious s-h-i-t,", she spells it out like you're five years old, "Can you believe that? The absolute nerve!"

You can tell she's getting heated again just thinking about it and you know that laughing certainly won't help the situation. But that's all you want to do: laugh. Because picturing the way your mother's face must have looked when Joel said that to her is enough to make you want to burst. Of course he would have said that in response. Of course he would have turned down that offer immediately; it sounds like a nightmare.

You wonder if his answer would have been different had he known about you then, if you'd already been back from college. He probably would have seen you around the neighborhood and known you were the daughter of the woman asking him to come to dinner. Would he have come? Would he have even showed up to church just to get his hands on you? The thought makes you shiver.

"I think..." you bite your lip, trying to think of how to word it without sounding ridiculously obvious that he had his fingers inside you less than twenty minutes ago, "I think maybe he just had a bad day. Because I actually just loaned him my bible and he seemed really interested in it."

Your mom stares at you, disbelief flooding her face. Oh shit, maybe that was too crazy of a lie.

"N-not my bible, my hymn book," you clarify, shaking your head, "There I go, mush mouth. I meant my hymn book."

Her mouth slowly turns upwards from her frown, peering at you thoughtfully, "...Really?"

You nod, "Yes! I told him I liked the way he played and that it would be nice if he learned some hymns, maybe, um, maybe even teach me how to play them," God, you hope this is coming out naturally, "He said he'd love to."

Your mother slowly seats herself on the couch, lost in thought, "Huh," she states, staring at the wall, "That's...weird."

You shake your head quickly, "I don't think it's too weird, I think maybe we just need to go about it a different way. Maybe asking him to come to church was too much, he needs us to guide him more gently than that."

She nods slowly and you can't believe she's actually believing the lies coming out of your mouth, flowing surprisingly easily the more you talk. You know you're just doing damage control but you're slowly realizing that this is actually a great cover, a way to see Joel without having to hide from the neighbors or be sneaky around your parents. Guitar lessons. He could be your guitar teacher.

"And I think I'd be good at guitar," you continue, "I know a lot of guitar music is bad but Mr. Miller could teach me some hymns and I could even play them at church."

Her eyes light up at that, a look of positive realization appearing on her face, "That would be lovely," she says thoughtfully, "Who came up with this idea?"

"Me, of course," you say, giving her your signature fake laugh that you've perfected over the years of pretending to be someone you're not. You realize there's one more thing you can say to really bring it home, and you almost feel the fire burning at your heels when you say it: "I felt like... I really felt like God was speaking through me, Mom."

Your mother claps her hands together and stands up again, tears suddenly shining in her eyes, "Oh, honey, that's so wonderful," she walks toward you and wraps her arms around you tightly, a rare example of intimacy, "Do you need us to buy you a guitar?"

You shake your head as she pulls back from the hug, "No, that's okay, Mr. Miller's gonna let me use his."

She clasps her hands together again smiles fondly at you, "Excellent."

You still feel that uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach as you walk upstairs with your bags, but this time you know it's because of what you've just done. Sure, you've lied to your parents before, but never like this. Never.

As soon as your bedroom door is closed you fling the bags across the floor and flop onto your bed, pulling out your phone and the piece of paper with Joel's number on it. You add him as a contact and open a new message:

just told my mom you're my guitar teacher.

You send it and spin around to shove your face against your pillow, not sure if you want to squeal out of joy or scream out of dread. You settle for a long droning noise that sounds muffled and distorted.

Your phone buzzes only a moment later and you quickly sit up again, grabbing it and opening Joel's response:

insatiable.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #*#fic: feelings on fire

2K notes · View notes

discordantwritings · 4 months

Text

Feeling Better

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, gn afab! Reader, we out here monsterfucking, Jinbe has two dicks, oral sex, fingering, double penetration, PiV sex, anal, belly bulge, use lube guys don’t listen to me

WC: 4.2k

Summary: You’re feeling down, but thankfully Jinbe finds you and gives you all the comfort you need.

Notes: sorry I’ve been ✨depressed✨ so I haven’t written too much but then the cure for being ✨depressed✨ was writing Jinbe comfort so. It all works out.

Tagging: @keiva1000

The aquarium bar was lit only by the lights in the tanks at this time of night, slowly shifting shades of blue thrown about the space as you curled up into yourself in one of the crooks of the long bench. You came here to calm yourself down but it seems the melancholy colors only drag you further into your own sadness, tears streaming down your face despite yourself.

You couldn’t pinpoint one good reason why you felt so painfully empty. Every day you were surrounded by people you were lucky to call your friends, going on adventures across the world, helping people. And yet still sadness crept up on you some nights, clenching your chest and refusing to let go despite all logic. The swimming of the fish around you, that normally fascinates you, feels almost fake as you stare at them for far too long.

You’re about to pull a blanket over your head and try and sleep through the tears when you hear heavy footsteps walk by the entrance and then stop. You do your best to stifle your crying but when a voice calls your name you can’t manage to call back.

It’s Jinbe, probably just getting off of his watch. You try and keep your face hidden but there’s only so much you can do as he slowly walks over.

“Hey, are you okay?” His voice is soft and laced with concern and all the effort you’ve put forth to stop your crying crumbles immediately.

You can barely see his face through your tears but he’s at your side immediately, kneeling on the ground to be more level with you. “Are you hurt? Did something happen?”

You shake your head no and bury your face in your hands. A large hand gently rubs your shoulder as you sob. You’re not sure how long you’re crying before you can pull yourself together, rubbing the tears from your face.

“‘m sorry…” You mumble as you dot the remaining tears from your eyes.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.” Jinbe gets up and sits next to you, strong hand never leaving your shoulder.

“No this is- it’s so stupid.” Your voice cracks as you feel emotions creeping up your throat again.

“I can assure you it’s not stupid.” He squeezes your shoulder gently. “Would it feel better if I gave you space?”

You furiously shake your head, suddenly hating the idea of being left alone as you feel tears welling up in your eyes again.

“Do you want me to sit next to you? I could hold you if that would make you feel better.” From anyone else you might have thought the offer was hollow but with Jinbe you know he’s sincere.

“If it’s not too much-“ You don’t even need to finish your sentence before strong arms are lifting you up and sliding you into his lap.

You’re sideways on his lap, legs hanging over his large thigh and your side tucked into his chest. There’s a few moments where you’re stunned out of your thoughts by how easily you were maneuvered and how muscular his thighs feel beneath you. But the second your brain catches up and you realize how tightly you’re being held it all comes crashing back.

You dig your face into his shoulder as tears come out again- you try to tell him that you’re sorry and it’s nothing serious but your words are all lost against his firm heartbeat near your head. It’s not long before he starts to hum, a tune you distantly remember from Brook’s playing, and the low reverberations from his chest to yours help your breathing slow. Eventually you’re able to steady out your breaths- partially from how exhausted you are but more so from the constant presence of your crew mate.

There was something about Jinbe that was always so steadying, even before this moment. An immovable and fierce presence that was somehow still endlessly kind and patient. You’re not sure how that was all wrapped up into one fishman but you were always grateful for it. And now, leaning into his chest, you appreciate him more than ever.

“Do you want to talk about it?” His voice is soft and you feel his thumb rubbing circles on your back as he keeps you against his chest.

“I don’t know…” You answer honestly. “It’s just- I know it’s not logical. And I know once morning comes all these stupid emotions will be gone. Sometimes they just sneak up on me.”

“Emotions are like the tides like that. Controlled by forces we can’t see, ebbing and flowing endlessly. Do not feel silly for not being able to control the tides.”

“That’s…” You huff out a small laugh. “How do you always have just the right thing to say?”

“Years and years of experience.” You aren’t looking at his face but you can hear that wide smile. “And my experience is always available whenever you need it.”

“This is too much to ask of you already.” You say, referring to the fact you’re still being held and comforted despite the worst of your emotions having been spent already.

“It is not. Actually…” He trails off and you look up at him after a few moments of silence. “Never mind.”

Your brows knit together as a traitorous thought that you’ve done something wrong creeps into the back of your mind. “What?”

“No it’s-“ His eyes meet yours and to your surprise you can make out a small dusting of darker blue on his cheeks. “It’s selfish of me.”

“Now you’re just confusing me.” Worries have dissipated but his words still leave you with too many questions.

“I enjoy having you in my arms.” He confesses, movement stilling as he watches your reaction.

It takes a few seconds for his words to sink in but when it does you find a heated blush creeping up your neck. You never considered that Jinbe would like you like that, given the species difference, but you realize it’s not weirder than the way you feel in this moment. How much his presence has always made you feel better, how you felt so protected and cared for whenever he was around.

It was more than just the momentary emotional comfort that had kept you seated in his lap past your crying session.

“I… enjoy being in your arms.” You finally respond, eyes darting down to your lap.

Silence hangs in the room as his hand slides up and down your back again in a comforting motion. You find yourself curling up slightly, heels on his thigh as you angle yourself inwards towards his body. Your fingers play with the collar edge of his kimono absently. The blue hue of the room is no longer somber but instead calming as it glows against Jinbe’s similarly colored skin.

“How do you feel?” He asks after some time, gently breaking the silence.

“Better.” You respond honestly, the weight of sadness having long left your chest.

“Is there anything more I could do for you?” His fingers creep up your back and eventually come to play with the ends of your hair.

“Oh- I’m keeping you up aren’t I?” You sit up straight but Jinbe makes no movement to remove you from his lap.

“You are not. I was- forgive me I’m rather out of practice with this sort of thing.” He shifts slightly under you and you look up to see his face almost a whole shade darker.

Everything clicks and heat races through your body. Suddenly all of the contact you have with him feels electric and you fight not to shrink away.

“There is- I mean-“ You fumble over your words but quickly pull yourself together. “It would be nice to completely forget about earlier.”

“Would you like my help with that?” He asks as the hand playing with your hair sneaks around to your collarbone

“Please, Jinbe.” Your words come out nearly breathless and Jinbe does not waste a second.

His hand tilts your jaw up to give him just the right angle to capture your mouth in a kiss. The kiss is gentle but firm and you find yourself melting into his strong arms. His large tusks pressed into your cheeks but you didn’t mind their presence at all. When he pulls away you’re left breathless and before you can go in for another kiss he’s placed a quick one to your forehead before pulling away further.

Before you know it you’re sitting on the bench and Jinbe is knelt on the ground before you, surprisingly dexterous fingers unfastening your pants. He looks up at you as his hands hesitate, checking one last time. When you nod your pants and underwear are slipped off of you in one fell swoop. Before you can hide yourself Jinbe pushes your thighs open, guiding them to rest over his broad shoulders.

“Forgive me for moving fast but-“ He places kisses up you inner thigh between his words. “I need to taste you.”

Before you can say anything his tongue is at your folds, wet muscle pushing through them and playing at your entrance. You whine as you feel his tongue press into you, slowly working its way inside you. You don’t stop yourself from threading your fingers in his hair and pushing your hips further into his face, grinding your clit against his nose. This only seems to encourage him, his large tongue filling you more than your fingers ever had.

“Jinbe- Please-“ You’re not sure what you’re crying out for exactly but Jinbe is ready to give you what you need.

Sharp fingernails dig into the plush of your thighs just short of pain as his tongue slides out of you to dance along your clit. You have to bite back a shout when he presses and sucks against your bud, sensations suddenly overwhelming you as you see white.

Jinbe gently licks at your folds as you come back from your orgasm, eagerly taking as you run your fingers along his scalp. Once he’s throughly cleaned you up he presses kisses up your hip until he’s standing over you.

“Better?” He asks, face shiny with your slick.

“So, so much better.” You respond with a dazed smile, hand cupping his face.

“Good, we can get you back to bed now.”

His response confuses you, and you sit up a bit straighter. “But what about you?”

“This isn’t about me love, this was about making you feel better.” He turns his head slightly to press a kiss to your palm. “I’m sure I can manage.”

“But what if-“ You shift in your seat, embarrassed despite everything. “What if I want you. More of you.”

There’s a moment of hesitation before Jinbe speaks again. “Trust me there is nothing more I want right now but I don’t want to… overwhelm you.”

It takes a second for your pleasure riddled brain to fully comprehend what his words are implying but oh yeah- he’s a good few feet taller than you which would mean…

The idea only filled your head with more lust.

“Can I see?” You ask, hands already playing with the tie on his kimono.

He nods and you feel his gaze lock onto your face as you undo the knot holding his clothing together. Whatever you thought you were prepared for was quickly blown out of the water. Not one but two cocks stood flushed and erect under the drapes of his kimono. Different from the human anatomy you knew his started off thinner but tapered to incredibly thick at the base. Both looked like two halves of a whole almost, but you knew just one would be an impossible fit. The challenge sent a new wave of heat through your body.

“Like I said, I don’t want to-“

“I need you inside me.” You cut him off, looking up to lock eyes with him.

He looks at you, stunned for a second before a large toothy grin takes over his face. He surges down to meet you in a kiss, more heated and charged than the one you shared before. You can taste yourself on his lips and tongue and you don’t pull away until you’re dizzy from lack of air.

“Stay here for just a moment.” He says before pulling away.

You watch as her gathers up some of the pillows and a blanket, setting them up on one of the nearby tables. You nearly giggle at how carefully he places every pillow and how he takes his time to make sure you’ll be comfortable. Obviously you’d both prefer a bed but there’s no crossover of beds and private space aboard the ship.

At least Franky always reenforces all furniture and bolts every table to the ground. You’ll have to thank him for that later.

When Jinbe is done with his makeshift bed he rushes back over to you and easily scoops you up into his arms. You yelp and wrap your arms around his neck and Jinbe laughs at your reaction. It’s only a few seconds before you’re sat on the table, the blanket and pillows softening the hard wood under you. You keep your arms around Jinbe’s shoulders and while he has to lean down a bit to keep his face close to yours it doesn’t seem to bother him. You try to wiggle your hips closer to grind against him but a firm hand holds you in place.

“I’m going to have to open you up a bit first.” He says as a hand creeps between your legs and his breath ghosts over your neck.

“But you just-“

His teeth scrape gently against your neck and you whine. “Patience. I’ll make it worth your while.”

One of his thick fingers presses into you easily and your head falls back. With more of your neck available to him Jinbe lightly bites and sucks your neck, never breaking the skin or causing you pain but using just enough pressure to make you feel him. There’s something about knowing he could very easily rip your throat out that made your brain fog with lust almost just as much as the finger slowly working in and out of you.

He slowly adds a second finger, whispering praises in your ear as he works you open. “Just like that. You’re taking my fingers so well, letting me stretch you out…”

“I can-“ You moan as his fingers curl inside you and one of your hands flies up to grip onto his shoulder. “I can take more.”

“I know you can love.” He places a gentle kiss to your jaw as a third finger begins to join the first two and your body is finally showing some resistance.

It was a stretch before, certainly, but there’s the sting of being forced open as Jinbe presses that third thick finger into you. He feels your body’s resistance and his thumb quickly finds your clit, rubbing slow soothing circles into it.

“Just relax for me, I know you can do that.” You nod as you take a deep breath, trying to release the tension in your body.

“‘s a lot.” You breathe out, almost jokingly.

“I know baby.” The three fingers are fully inside you by now but they aren’t sliding in and out easily. “How about you tell me how you feel.”

“Full.” You respond automatically, earning a huff of laughter from Jinbe.

“You’re going to get much more full than this.”

“That’s- fuck I need that-“ Remembering what you’re working towards and the deliberate movements of Jinbe finally have him moving without any resistance.

“You’re just about ready, do you feel okay?” Jinbe locks eyes with you, concern and care still prominent on his face despite the clear lust.

“I- um-“ You weren’t hesitating because you didn’t want him inside you- quite the opposite really.

Eyes glancing down for a second at his cocks, flushed and leaking, you can’t help the perverted places your mind goes. Of course you would take whatever he would give you however he would give it to you but…

“Use you words love.” He’s hesitant but firm as his movements still.

“Is there- and if you don’t want this please don’t feel bad but- do you think it’s possible that you could be in there-“ You roll your hips to push his fingers just a little bit further inside you. “And my other hole?”

There’s a painfully long pause after you ask that question- so much that you’re about to backpedal and call off the whole night but the Jinbe drops his head into your shoulder and lets out a loud moan. To your side where Jinbe’s hand helped him lean against the table you hear the sound of wood cracking and you look over to see the table has given in slightly under his grip.

“Fuck you’re so-“ He moves up again so his forehead is pressing against yours. “You’re so perfect. Wanting me to fill you up all the way? Just one of your holes wasn’t going to be enough?”

“No- need all of you.” You move your hips to grind into his hand, the idea that a fantasy you didn’t even know you had was about to come true sending you close to the edge.

“Are you going to cum just thinking about it? Need that from you- give me all that slick so I can get your ass ready for me. You want that don’t you? Want these fingers stretching you out again?” Jinbe might be just as far gone as you are, words almost slurred as he matches the rhythm you’ve set.

His encouragement is all you need, crying out as your walls clench around his fingers as you cum.

“That’s it baby just like that-“ He nuzzled against your cheek as the last of the tremors worked through your body. “Can you lay down for me now?”

You ease yourself backwards and Jinbe makes sure there’s a pillow ready for your head. With one hand he lifts your hips up and slides another pillow underneath them, giving him better access to you. He easily but gently manipulates your body, pushing your thighs up and apart.

“You can put your legs on me if you need to but I’m going to need you to help me keep you open, okay?” His hands knead your thighs, some of your juices from his hands smearing into your skin.

You shift and reach down, using your hands to pull apart your asscheeks for him. He groans as you hold yourself open, his hands digging into your thighs for a second before he remembers himself. One of his hands releases its grip so a finger can dip between your folds, gathering your slick before trailing down. His fingertip circles the right ring of muscle as he presses a kiss to the inside of your knee.

“Just relax, I’ll take care of you.” You do your best to listen as his finger presses in.

It’s a strangle feeling at first and you have to fight not to tense up as he slowly pushes his finger in further. Once your body is used to the feeling though you can feel the heat seeping into your stomach again as Jinbe works you open, whispering praises to you the whole time.

“You’re taking me so well baby. You’re going to feel so good around me, squeezing me so tight. You can take more, can’t you?” The press of another finger has you tighten up reflexively before you force yourself to relax. “That’s it-“

The stretch of two of his thick fingers stings initially but his actions as slow and careful and the stretch soon becomes almost natural. His other hand leaves your thigh and while it’s getting a bit tiring to hold your legs up and open his skilled fingers working against your clit easily make up for it. You groan as his fingers scissor you open and grow impatient.

“Jinbe please just- I’m ready I need you inside of me.” You whine, looking at him with pleading eyes.

“I don’t want to go too fast-“ He starts but you cut him off.

“You would never hurt me. Please.”

You watch his hesitance fade away as he leans over you for a surprisingly soft kiss. “Alright love.”

He straightens back out and slides his fingers out of you. You whine at the loss but are easily distracted watching him take his cocks in his hands, fingers covered in your slick pumping each of them a few times to get them coated. He carefully lines them both up, dragging the tip of one over your clit before pressing it slightly into your entrance. Once his tip is seated in you then he pushes his other one in and you are already overwhelmed.

He slowly pushes into you and only gets a few inches before you’re tapping his shoulder, needing him to pause. The stretch in both of your holes at once overloads you and you know you need a bit more time to adjust. He understands you immediately, stopping and running his hands over your skin.

“Take your time, you’re alright, I’m right here with you.” He praises, words and hands soothing you as you take deep breaths.

You’re not sure how long it takes before you’re ready again, but the strange feeling of being stretched out bleeds into something far more pleasurable quickly enough. All it takes is for you to nod before he starts slowly pushing in again.

There’s a few more times you have to stop him but he’s just as patient with you every time, non stop praises flowing from him. Soon enough you feel one of his heads press into your cervix and he stops, holding himself in you. When you look down you see that his whole length isn’t in you- that just wasn’t possible- but you had taken most of him. His hand runs over your stomach and you can see and feel his cocks bulging through your midsection. There’s something so maddening to see your body contort in such an unnatural way to accommodate him that makes your head fuzzy with desire.

“Look at that- fuck- you take me so well-“ One of his hands lightly pushes down and you both moan at the feeling. “You feel that?”

You don’t have any words left anymore, so you just nod and whine as his hips lightly grind into you. One of his hands drifts slightly to hold onto your hip while his other finds one of your hands, interlacing your fingers together. He gives you a reassuring squeeze as he slowly starts to move, dragging his cocks out of you.

“You’re so tight and- fuck- warm- baby I’m sorry I’m not going to last long you just- you feel so good.” The hand on your hip holds you still as he pushes back into you, pace slow but deliberate as both of you fight to hold on for just a bit longer.

Your brain couldn’t hold any more thoughts, everything pushed out by the overwhelming sensation of being stuffed full. You’re sure you’re going to rip in half at any point in time but honestly you feel way too damn good to care. Both of his cocks drag against every spot you know and didn’t know about, pleasure in every small movement you’re given. After this you’re not sure how anything will ever compare.

“Are you- I can feel it baby- you’re close too? Getting tighter around me-“ His hips move a bit faster now, unable to stop himself from indulging just a bit more in the way you grip him. “You can let go- I want feel it come on-“

His hand leaves your hip so his fingers can press tight circles against your clit and like that you’re gone. You scream- probably, you can’t really hear yourself but something is ripped out of your throat as you cum harder than you ever have before.

“So good- I’m gonna-“

Jinbe goes to pull out of you but you manage a needy- “Inside” and he quickly shoved himself back inside you as much as he can.

You feel as he releases inside you, his cocks pulsing almost in unison as warm cum fills both your holes. You look at him as he looks down at where you are still connected, his cum spilling out around his cocks. Slowly he pulls himself out of you, mesmerized as he watches his cum slowly seep out of both of your holes. He shakes his head quickly, snapping himself out of his trance and immediately gathers you up in his arms. One arm is behind your back and the other is underneath your knees as he holds you to his chest. He kisses your forehead gently, nuzzling into you slightly.

“Do you feel better now?” He asks, a dazed grin on his face.

“Much better.” You respond, knowing confidently any bad thoughts had been shoved far away.

“Now let’s get you cleaned up and to bed.”

You think you could get used to being taken care of like this.

#one piece x reader #one piece x you #x reader #jinbe x reader #jinbei x reader #Jinbe x you #discordantwritings

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blossom-hwa · 15 days

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a very fine line, indeed [4] | c.bg

pairing: Beomgyu x fem!reader genre: fluff, angst, enemies to lovers, regency era!au, nobility!au warnings: cursing, period typical misogyny word count: 8.7k notes: — updates every M/W/F at 8pm EST until the series finishes — inspiration taken from an amalgamation of different bridgerton stories - let me know what easter eggs you find! — story takes place in the same universe as my duke!yeonjun and earl!taehyun fics - check out the link to the series below for some more easter eggs :) In a society where it only takes a year for a young woman in search of a husband to be considered out of season, it is no wonder that by your third year out, you are desperate to marry. Known as one of the beauties of the ton, such a task should not be difficult for you—but with an absent father, no dowry, and a reputation centered around your inability to keep your mouth shut around one certain Beomgyu Choi, your prospects are more limited than you’d like. While you cannot recover your family or your wealth, however, the one thing you can try to control is your reputation. So when the third season rolls around, you resolve to keep your distance from Beomgyu Choi, your childhood enemy, and the man you hate most in the world. Enter Beomgyu Choi, second son of the Kensington Viscountcy, one of the most eligible bachelors in the ton. His older brother, cousin, and good friend have all recently married, leaving the mamas to salivate at his doorstep for the chance of marrying one of their daughters to him. When Beomgyu walks in on a particularly traumatizing moment between you and one of the most unsavory men in the ton and learns of your desperation to marry, despite your history of enmity, he proposes you a devious deal—to pretend to court you. It seems like a winning situation for both of you—more gentlemen will take notice of you, enhancing your prospects, and he will have the ton’s mamas off his back—and so, despite your misgivings, you agree. With you hell bent on marriage and Beomgyu completely indifferent to the concept, even independent of your hatred for each other, it seems unlikely that any sort of true affection will bloom. But as you begrudgingly put aside your differences to spend more and more time in one another’s company, and as you grow to know each other beyond your ill-conceived preconceptions from childhood, you begin to realize that perhaps you two have more in common than you had once thought. And as your faked acquaintanceship becomes more truth than fiction, a friendship beginning to bloom most unexpectedly— Perhaps you no longer need to convince the ton of the veracity of your courtship, because anyone with eyes can see that it is true. Part 3 >> Part 4 >> Part 5

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When you wake up the morning after the ball, you look so drained and exhausted that even your stepmother seems to balk a moment before she starts asking questions about what happened the night before—who you danced with, who spoke to you, how long you kept Lord Cho’s attentions for, and why you disappeared just a few hours in.

You give her the most noncommittal responses you can, and fortunately she seems to buy your excuse that you got cut by the glass from your fall and decided to leave early. She is particularly interested in the fact that Mr. Choi sent you home in his carriage.

You’ve been trying to sort through that, yourself.

It isn’t that you believe Mr. Choi harbors any real affection for you, which your stepmother seems to be praying for. It’s other things. The carriage. The handkerchief. His insistence on staying to help despite how rudely you acted towards him.

The fact that you told him about your situation at home, when that has been your most closely guarded secret for years.

Why did you tell him?

Try as you might, even hours later as you’re on your hands and knees, scrubbing at the hallway floor, you can’t quite understand. Even though it was clear he wanted to know what was going on, he didn’t pressure you in any way. He even stated directly that he would not ask unless you wanted to tell, and you certainly didn’t want to then.

Or did you?

You pause in your scrubbing. Lift up your hand, see the thin cotton strip wrapped around the palm where the bleeding was worst, take in the other small cracks that have appeared on your skin as the weather grows colder and you continue with your chores. These are not the hands of a noblewoman. There wouldn’t be any shame in that if it weren’t for the matter of your birth to a father with something of a title.

But Mr. Choi didn’t shame you. Not for one moment. He didn’t even show you the pity you had feared seeing in other’s eyes if they discovered your secret.

No. He simply treated you as a person. An injured person, but nothing more or less than that. Even after hearing your story.

Maybe that’s why you told him. Because despite your fear, you were desperate for someone to know both sides of you—half noble, half servant—and you knew, somehow, that Mr. Choi would not shame nor judge you for it. He has already seen the worst pieces of yourself. Even before he learned of this, he perhaps knew more about you than anyone else in the ton, simply because you never had to hide your ugly parts around him.

The thought almost makes you laugh. Mr. Choi of all people, knowing you better than even your best of friends. But though it seems ludicrous…you think it might be true.

You don’t really know what to do about that.

So instead of thinking about it further, you push the thought to the back of your mind, where all your other uncomfortable little revelations about Mr. Choi have been living for the best part of the last few weeks. When he called and Delia was there, and he spoke to her kindly and with warmth. The garden party, where you realized you were likely more yourself around him than almost anyone else in the ton. These discombobulated thoughts try to peek into the rest of your brain every once in a while, but you are quite good at compartmentalizing so they stay in their little locked boxes where they belong. Mostly.

Until certain events occur that shatter those boxes entirely.

It has been two days since the ball, and while your hands haven’t fully healed, you did manage to get the blood and lemonade stains out of your gloves. This comes in handy for calling hour, where you seem to be the most popular you’ve ever been—two gentlemen arrive in just the first thirty minutes, one after another, each bearing small gifts. The flowers are quite nice and you have Soyoung arrange them about the drawing room. With the sky so gray outside, they brighten the space a little.

Truth be told, you aren’t expecting anyone else to come. It’s a rather dreary day with rain pouring intermittently and inconveniently, and you imagine most people would like to stay inside on a day like this. But just as the conversation with your second caller is drawing to a close, Brighton comes in with another calling card in hand. “Mr. Choi has come to call, Miss L/N.”

You blink. You hadn’t expected him—he usually comes on Thursdays if he is able to call that week, and it is only Tuesday. “Please send him in,” you say, glancing apologetically at your current suitor. He takes the news with grace, and you bid him a polite goodbye.

Shortly after he leaves, you hear footsteps in the hall. Mr. Choi appears in the doorway just as you stand, curtsying slightly. “Mr. Choi,” you greet. “I did not expect to see you today.”

“I cannot stay for long,” he admits, “but I had something I wanted to give you.” He extends you a long, slim box tied with a lovely blue ribbon. “Apologies for not sending flowers, but I thought you might appreciate this gift better.”

It seems he means for you to open the gift in his presence, so you untie the ribbon and take the lid off, all the while wondering what this could be. The box itself is rather light but very elegant, a pretty pale pink, almost white, that looks beautiful against the blue ribbon. White tissue paper covers whatever is inside and you carefully peel back the crinkly layers to reveal two pairs of gloves.

Your breath hitches. One pair looks to be made of silk, the other of a serviceable but very soft cotton. The cotton pair seems devoid of decoration, but the silk pair has some delicate stitching done in pale gold around the top areas. Both are a lovely cream color that would look well with any gown. One touch is all it takes for you to suspect that these are very well made, and must have been very expensive.

Your eye catches on a small monogram on the outside of the box—MGD written in a delicate script. You have to swallow a gasp. Everyone in the ton knows the monogram of Madame Genevieve Delacroix, only the most sought-after modiste in the town. Time and time again you have envied the dresses in her windows, the girls who come in and out of her shop laughing and chatting. You never dreamed of owning anything from her store.

Gloves, given to you by Mr. Choi, who knows your secret. Who saw your hands and did not shame you for them, but called you strong instead. Gloves given to you in place of flowers, because he knew that you needed them, and knew what they would mean to you.

“Mr. Choi.” To your utter embarrassment, you realize you are near tears. “Mr. Choi, these—” You swallow hard around the lump in your throat. “I can’t accept them. They are too fine.”

“Yes, you can.” He looks at you softly, steadily, and for a moment you hate him—hate him so viscerally that it almost takes your breath away. How dare he be so kind, so sweet, when you’re supposed to loathe him—how dare he scramble your feelings even further, how dare he make you feel like an ass for hating him when he deserves it—

Only you aren’t so sure he deserves it anymore. In the face of this gift, your childhood grudge suddenly seems so puny and insignificant. These gloves, a symbol of your secret, and his honor in keeping it—a symbol of what he saw, and his reassurance that you mean nothing less for it—you don’t know what to do with them. To keep them means to acknowledge you have been wrong about Mr. Choi all these years. To reject them means to cause harm to a man you know doesn’t deserve it.

Mr. Choi steps forward, presses the box more firmly into your arms. In your weak state you can’t resist. “Beneath the paper, there is a small pot of salve for your hands,” he murmurs, quiet enough that no one should hear but you. “Please use it. It will help.”

Now you’re really in danger of crying, but you force the tears back and nod slightly to show that you heard. You have never been more grateful that your stepmother is out making her own calls, leaving only Brighton to chaperone the two of you. You would never want her to witness you in this state, weak before a man you used to call your mortal enemy.

God, you hate him. You hate him so much for not letting you hate him in peace.

You look down at the gloves again. Never in all your life did you think you could ever own anything like these. “You are too kind,” you mumble, and if Mr. Choi hears the tremble in your voice, he says nothing of it.

“Well, I chose them with you in mind,” he says, smiling softly. Then that smile turns a little mischievous. “We can both agree that I have brilliant taste, hm?”

Your first instinct is to roll your eyes. Instead, though, a burst of laughter startles out of your chest, surprising you. “I might not say brilliant,” you retort, eyes wet, “but you certainly choose your gloves well.” Your smile isn’t even forced. Far from it. In fact, in this moment, you almost feel like you jest with a good friend.

Good God, what has your world come to?

Brighton chooses that moment to clear his throat. You and Mr. Choi both nearly jump. “Another caller, my lady,” he says, looking slightly apologetic. “Lord Cho.”

For all the fun you had speaking with Lord Cho at the last ball, and for all your scrambled feelings in this moment about Mr. Choi, you can’t help but feel a little put out that this moment must end so soon. Mr. Choi deserves more thanks than you can give and you need more time to process all of your thoughts—you aren’t sure you can easily shove them back into their neat little boxes anymore. You look at Mr. Choi, who seems somewhat resigned. “I must go now too, unfortunately,” he says, and there seems to be true regret in his voice when he tells you this. “I have some appointments in town, even in this weather, but I shall see you soon, Miss L/N.”

“And I, you,” you say, curtsying to his short bow. “I wish you well. And…” You swallow, the lump returning to your throat. “Thank you,” you manage to whisper. “Thank you so much.”

His eyes soften. “Of course, Miss L/N,” he replies. “Always.”

. . . . .

Beomgyu has known Lord Cho for all of maybe an hour, but he has already concluded that he does not like him.

Which is infuriating, because there is nothing wrong with him. Not outwardly, at least. Almost everyone at the party seems to have been charmed by his good looks and bright personality, and he has quite lit up the entire room with his presence. Together with Wooyoung Jung, he seems to have captivated the entire party.

Except for Beomgyu.

Beomgyu doesn’t wish to think ill of people before he has gotten to know them. But something about Lord Cho really rubs him the wrong way, and try as he might, he can’t pinpoint exactly what it is. This might just drive him insane even before the dinner party starts.

“Well, you look like you just bit into a sour orange.” Lady Choi steps up to him with a smile, handing him a glass. He takes it gratefully. “Is something wrong with tonight?”

“No, nothing at all,” he reassures quickly. This is her party, after all, and besides inviting Lord Cho, she has done an admirable job of it. “The party is wonderful,” he adds. “You’ve rather outdone yourself, sister.”

She laughs, raising her glass in a slight toast. “I thank you for that. But you do not look yourself tonight.” She raises an eyebrow. “You can’t lie to me, Beomgyu. Is something wrong?”

If it were anyone else Beomgyu would lie and brush it off. But this is his sister in law, who he’s known for over ten years. She may have been his brother’s best childhood friend, but she was always like a sister to him. She knows him, and she won’t shame or judge him for being vaguely suspicious of Lord Cho. “Nothing is really wrong,” he says quietly. “I just feel uneasy around Lord Cho, for some reason. I am honestly not quite sure why.”

Lady Choi glances at the lord, who seems to be having a good time speaking with you, actually. He realizes that he’s grinding his teeth and forces himself to stop. “He does seem oddly perfect,” she admits. “And it is a bit strange that he would come so far from the continent simply to join the London season.”

“There’s nothing outwardly wrong with him,” Beomgyu mumbles. “I just…don’t know.”

Lady Choi looks at him sidelong. “Are you sure it isn’t just that he’s speaking with the lady you are actively courting?”

Beomgyu nearly spits out his drink. “What?” he sputters. “I—we—” We’re not even courting is what he would have said, but he catches himself just in time. “No, I’m fairly certain that’s not it,” he manages to stutter out in the end, much to Lady Choi’s amusement.

Against his will, he remembers you dancing with Lord Cho at that last ball, and your bright, genuine smile when you spoke to him afterwards. He remembers running into Lord Cho in the hallway of your home as he was leaving after calling on you, and the easy grin the lord flashed at him before entering your drawing room. He remembers the ugly feeling rearing in his chest then that felt strangely like jealousy, but…

What a load of bull. Beomgyu sighs. Perhaps some sort of strange envy is clouding his judgment somewhat, but this isn’t just plain dislike. Beomgyu would like to think that he can separate his own stupid emotions from genuine uneasiness well enough. “I’m serious,” he snaps when Lady Choi won’t stop smiling. “I know what you’re thinking, and that isn’t it.”

To her credit, she does stop smiling so widely, though Beomgyu can tell she isn’t fully convinced. “I don’t mean to offend, Beomgyu,” she says quietly, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I will keep an eye on the lord as well. But I also encourage you to look at your own feelings a little more deeply.” She raises an eyebrow, smiling wryly. “You might just discover something new there.”

Needless to say, this does not put Beomgyu in the best of moods. It takes an effort for him to paste a neutral expression on his face as everyone files into the dining room for the meal, made even harder by his sister in law’s placement of those around the table. Normally Beomgyu would be sat next to Lady Choi as the second in line to the viscountcy, but today’s party is officially to celebrate Yeonjun and his wife for their new baby, so Yeonjun sits next to Beomgyu’s sister in law, while the duchess sits next to Soobin. And apparently his sister in law had some very interesting ideas about where to place him at the table, because he finds himself sat next to you, with Lord Cho on your other side.

You sit down next to him, and Beomgyu realizes it’s the first time he’s seen you up close the whole evening. In the few hours before dinner, different groups kept engaging you in conversation to the point that Beomgyu didn’t even realize you had arrived until he saw you across the room. He looks down almost reflexively and sees that you are wearing one of the pairs of gloves he gave you as a gift. A little bit of his foul mood dissipates at the sight.

Truth be told, he wasn’t sure of his gift. Not because he has no sense of fashion or style—he thinks he chose quite well—but because he wasn’t certain if it would be too forward of him to give you something so fine. If you were truly courting, it would be more acceptable, but you both know well that this courtship doesn’t actually mean anything. But the cotton pair of gloves had been so simple and nice, a wonderful complement to your beauty, and then his eye had caught on the silk pair and he hadn’t thought much after that until he stood outside of the modiste carrying the box of gloves, wondering how you would receive his gift. Maybe you would refuse it entirely.

But you did accept them, and to his surprise, you almost seemed near tears as you did. He said nothing, of course—you probably wouldn’t have appreciated it if he did, as you are a prideful sort of creature—but he hadn’t expected you to be quite so grateful for the gift. Nonetheless, he was very pleased that you accepted the gloves, and it brings him quite a sense of pride to see you wearing them tonight.

“Miss L/N,” he says, catching your attention before Lord Cho can. “I hope you have been having a good time tonight.”

“I have been.” Your smile doesn’t seem to be as bright as it once was, but there’s a softness to it that somehow touches Beomgyu to the core. “Your sister in law organized this wonderfully—I am very glad to have been invited.” You fiddle with your fingers a little, looking a bit awkward. For some reason, he finds the act rather endearing. “I must thank you for these yet again,” you mumble, clearly indicating the gloves. “For the gloves, and for…everything else.”

Beomgyu’s smile doesn’t feel quite as forced as it was before. “You are very welcome,” he says quietly. “I hope the salve has been doing you some good.”

“It has been working wonders.” You glance around, then look at him with a slight, strange smile. “My hands haven’t been so soft in years.”

If your stepmother were here, Beomgyu would have been able to stop himself from glaring daggers at her. Fortunately for her and unfortunately for him, she isn’t, so he makes do with taking some small comfort from your words that he was able to help. “I am glad to hear that.”

Dinner is fine. The food puts Beomgyu in a slightly better mood, and though Lord Cho is near, he’s on your other side, not Beomgyu’s, so he doesn’t need to look at Lord Cho more than he has to. Lady Mary Kim is on his other side, but though Beomgyu wouldn’t really count her as the best company, she spends most of the meal speaking to Mr. Winslow on her left, which leaves Beomgyu able to enjoy his food in peace while monopolizing your attention as he wishes.

You indulge him more than you usually do. When you started this pretend courtship, for all your incredible acting skills in public, there was still an undercurrent of distrust and hostility whenever you two spoke. Granted, he had already noticed some small decline in the number of subtly rolled eyes and sighs of annoyance that accompanied your conversations, and maybe there were some moments where Beomgyu felt like he was speaking to a friend more than a forced acquaintance, but he notices it clearly this time. You listen to him. You laugh with him. You treat him with a measure of true politeness that doesn’t seem like it is just for show. When you do roll your eyes and snipe back at his teasing, it doesn’t seem nearly as hostile as before.

It's different, but even though the change throws him off slightly, he welcomes it. He had often found arguing with you over everything quite fun, but this sort of banter sans hostility is even better. More entertaining.

Especially when he can see Lord Cho on your other side casting glances at you every so often, probably wondering when your conversation with him will end.

“You’re showing me quite a bit of kindness, Miss L/N,” he says when the dessert has been served. “You’ve only rolled your eyes twice at me this evening. Could it be that you are finally warming up to me?”

You scoff, but Beomgyu detects a hint of a smile on your lips as you dip into your pudding. “Counting now, are we?” you deflect easily, raising an eyebrow.

“I think your record might be two hundred and sixty five,” Beomgyu replies seriously. “Two is quite low in comparison.”

“I hadn’t realized you could count that high,” you retort.

“How you wound me, Miss L/N.” He pouts, and you snicker.

“For the record, it couldn’t have been two hundred and sixty five, because I would have tired of your voice by ninety six at most,” you say superciliously, vaguely pointing at him with your spoon. “As for warming up to you, don’t get too excited.” One side of your mouth curls in a smirk that Beomgyu, curse him, finds attractive. More attractive than your placid society smiles, anyway. “Just because I have decided you aren’t the scum of the earth doesn’t mean I appreciate your presence in more than small doses.”

It pleases him more than it should, to hear that you no longer think him the equivalent of the dirt at the bottom of your shoe. Or the cake that ruined your shoes at your fifth birthday celebration.

When did he grow to care about your opinion so much?

“We have met at least once a week for the past month and a half,” Beomgyu points out, rather than dwell on his last thought. “Is that what you consider a small dose?”

You shrug easily. “It is still less than what it could be.”

“So you could stand to see me more?”

For a moment, Beomgyu thinks he’s caught you. Pride bursts in his chest at your blank expression, a clear indication that’s he’s won. He takes his last mouthful of pudding in triumph.

“Are you trying to imply, Mr. Choi, that you would like to see me more?”

He nearly spits everything out of his mouth.

You smile serenely at him, wiping your mouth primly with your napkin. All around him, the ladies are rising from the table to head somewhere else—likely the sitting room, where they will talk amongst themselves separately while the men continue their conversations elsewhere. Beomgyu tries to recover himself but a chunk of pudding will not go down his damn throat, so he’s forced to watch as you stand, a serenely pleased expression on your face. “I await your answer in due time, Mr. Choi,” you say just before you step away.

Of course it’s then that he manages to swallow all of the pudding. Right when you have actually left. Though perhaps the timing is just as well, because as much as it pains him to admit, he had nothing to retort.

It also pains him to admit he found that extremely attractive.

No matter. The men in the room are also beginning to stand, to make their way into the next room. Beomgyu follows the crowd, pleasantly surprised to find himself in much higher spirits than before.

At least until a hand appears in front of him with a drink, and it turns out that the hand belongs to Lord Cho.

Beomgyu’s smile freezes on his face but he takes the glass. “Thank you,” he says as neutrally as he can. “Lord Cho, is it?”

“Correct. Mr. Choi?” Lord Cho raises an eyebrow.

“Indeed.” Beomgyu briefly entertains the thought that the drink might be poisoned, but there is really no reason for him to suspect Lord Cho of such a thing so he just takes a sip. Normal whiskey. It’s unfortunately quite good.

“I wanted to speak to you at the last ball, but you seemed busy all night after Miss L/N left.” Beomgyu bristles at the mention of your name but Lord Cho continues, apparently oblivious, which just makes him more annoyed. “Wooyoung says you are a particular friend of his and I had hoped to be introduced.”

Unfortunately, Beomgyu does count Wooyoung as one of his good friends, so what Wooyoung apparently said is entirely possible. Plausible, even. “He is closer to my cousin than I,” Beomgyu says slowly, “but we have been friends for quite a long time.”

“I see.” Lord Cho takes a sip of his own drink slowly. “He mentioned you and Miss L/N were courting.”

Beomgyu narrows his eyes slightly but otherwise does not respond, even though it seems like Lord Cho expects one.

“She’s a delightful young lady,” Lord Cho finally says. “One only wonders how she has gone three seasons without anyone asking for her hand already.”

Actually, two people proposed, but she turned them both down.

“She is delightful,” Beomgyu replies, and to his surprise, he’s barely lying.

Lord Cho continues as though he hadn’t heard. “Might I ask why you have only decided to court her now, after two entire seasons?”

Beomgyu laughs, perhaps a bit unkindly, but Lord Cho is really rubbing him the wrong way and he doesn’t much care if he offends the foreign lord a little bit. “Have you read Whistledown, Lord Cho? If not, you should ask Wooyoung if he has any old copies. I will save you some of the perusal, though.” He sips his drink. “Miss L/N and I have not been on very good terms since we were children. It was only at the end of the last season that we decided our childhood grudges were far too immature to continue, so we decided to put them past us.” He pauses. “Over the past few months I have been reminded time and time again that she is an honorable woman, kind, delightful, and intelligent. I am ashamed I did not see it sooner, but I believe that realizing later is at least better than realizing never.”

There is a brief silence. Enough silence that Beomgyu is able to realize that nothing he said in the last two sentences was even remotely untrue. Kind—your interactions with the duchess’s baby. Delightful—the conversation you just shared during dessert. Intelligent—your clever retorts every time you two speak, even when the discussion is amiable.

Honorable—your clear devotion to the children of your family, despite being forced to serve as a maid in your own household, all the while presenting a pleasing façade to the rest of the ton.

Lord Cho nods slowly, bringing Beomgyu back to earth. “I have come from the continent to find someone, you know,” he says quietly.

Beomgyu does not reply.

“I have known Miss L/N only a fraction of the time you have, I suppose, but I, too, wish to have her.” His smile widens, though it now seems to hold a cold sort of menace rather than his previous flirty charm. “She is beautiful. I should be lucky to have her at my side.”

“As should I,” Beomgyu says steadily. “As should anyone.”

“Touché.” Lord Cho laughs a little. “I suppose I wanted to meet the man who would be my prime competitor for her attentions. You have quite exceeded my expectations, Mr. Choi.” He raises his glass in toast almost mockingly. “May the best man win.”

“I might correct you on that,” Beomgyu says, deliberately not raising his own glass. “There will be no winners or losers.” He leans forward slightly, letting his own voice grow cold. “Because Miss L/N is not an object to be won.”

The ghost of a smirk flickers across Lord Cho’s face. “I stand corrected,” he says. “Have a good night, Mr. Choi.”

Beomgyu doesn’t even bother to smile. “And you, Lord Cho.”

. . . . .

It is hardly the afternoon and already you want to go back to bed.

Between Henry throwing a tantrum, Delia wanting attention, and several callers showing up while you were in the middle of beating the dust out of the window curtains, you honestly think you might collapse before the day is out. You have never felt so frazzled in your life, not even when Mr. Winslow showed up to call in the middle of drying the linens. You owe it all to Brighton and Soyoung for stalling and getting you ready in an appropriate amount of time to meet the first caller. You hadn’t been expecting anyone, and the only event you were prepared for was your promenade with Mr. Choi later in the afternoon, which had been decided on a few weeks ago.

Ready, however, does not necessarily mean the best that you could ever be. Which is unfortunate because as two o’clock comes around, Brighton announces Lord Cho.

You do not feel mentally or physically equipped to handle Lord Cho.

He is just so—nice. So charming and put together, if a little overly flirty. He always has this sweet smile on his face that makes your heart beat a little more easily in your chest, and since you met, you have never once had trouble conversing with him. In fact, you like conversing with him. He seems genuinely interested in you and not just your face, and while you certainly can’t tell him everything about yourself, you feel considerably more comfortable opening up to him than with most of the other suitors who have come to court you.

All of which is to say you are more than a little concerned about your appearance when he enters the room. As you curtsy, you swear you can feel dust under your dress tickling uncomfortably at your skin, but he doesn’t seem to notice, just gives you the customary bow and flashes his handsome smile. “Miss L/N,” he greets, and you force yourself to ignore the possibly imaginary, possibly real dust prickling the back of your neck. “It is lovely to see you today.”

“And you.” You take the flowers he hands you, trying hard to tamp down your smile. You’d told him once that you loved tulips and both times he’s called on you, those are the blooms that he brought. Soyoung arranges them in a vase on a nearby table as the two of you sit. You start talking about Lady Choi’s recent dinner party, which you both agree was quite a success. You can hardly believe it was only your friend’s second time hosting such an event—she handled it so well.

“Only her second time?” Lord Cho’s eyebrows rise far into his head, looking duly impressed. “I’m surprised she had the attendance that she did, then. Were the Duke of Hastings and his wife not in attendance?”

“They are cousins by marriage,” you say. “Lady Choi’s husband is the duke’s cousin.”

“Ah, I see.” He smiles. “Forgive me. I am still trying to learn who is who in this ton—there are so many of you.”

“It only seems that way if you are new,” you laugh. “Once you have been around for some months, I am sure you will know anything and everything about anyone.”

“I’m sure I will, but only with the help of that gossip column.” He thinks for a moment, apparently oblivious to your growing sense of dread. “Whistledown?”

“Right. Yes. Whistledown.” You look down at your hands and try not to curse the heavens. “She is…”

“Quite an interesting writer,” Lord Cho finishes, saving you from having to come up with something untruthful. “She is uncommonly witty.”

He’s right, unfortunately. “I do agree with that,” you admit. “Though I must confess I am not her greatest supporter.”

He looks at you, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. You look back at him warily. “I can understand that,” he says, “given what she has written of you in the past.”

You actually bury your face in your hands. “You read so far back?” you groan.

Lord Cho’s laugh echoes about the room and you crack a smile. It seems impossible not to be joyful when he is around. “Wooyoung thought it would entertain me,” he says. “Though be rest assured that I do not hold any of her words against you. I rather think it actually adds to your charm.” Heat crawls up your cheeks, but he isn’t finished. “In fact, I must admit I am somewhat bewildered that Mr. Choi has decided to court you this season. I assume the two of you have made up, but given the severity of your…discussions, that Whistledown reported…”

Mr. Choi. The name seems to splash cold water over your head.

Your smile freezes slightly. You hadn’t thought much about Mr. Choi today beyond reminders of your promenade this afternoon, at least not since Lord Cho came in and swept all of your attentions away. And while you haven’t perceived him in such a negative light recently—your recent interactions haven’t given you much excuse to do so—for some reason, the mention of his name makes you feel a little uneasy. You’re not quite sure why but you don’t have time to probe it, as Lord Cho is now looking at you expectantly, like he wants you to say something.

In society’s eyes, Mr. Choi is one of your most committed suitors. Whistledown has commented on it. Many people have asked you about it. And while it may have been unbelievable at first, many seem to have come to accept it as not so surprising anymore. You can’t deny it all right in front of Lord Cho, but you also don’t want to put him off by making it sound like Mr. Choi is considering proposing marriage, or something.

You blink. Mr. Choi and marriage. That is something you haven’t really thought of at all. Probably because it will never happen. The mere idea has no business flustering you this much because you don’t care about Mr. Choi in that manner and again, it will never happen.

You look down to compose yourself and the first thing that hits your eyes are your gloves. The gloves Mr. Choi chose for you and brought to you on a day he hadn’t even originally intended to visit. For some stupid reason you imagine those gloves on someone’s hands as they hold a bouquet of flowers in front of an altar and there it is again. Marriage and Mr. Choi.

God and heavens above, this is not the damn time. You swallow hard. Mr. Choi would never propose to you but Lord Cho doesn’t know that and he is still waiting for an answer.

“We decided to put our past behind us,” you get out. “Once we had our previous…misunderstandings cleared, I discovered he was a much better man than I had allowed myself to believe, so I did not refuse his attentions when he began to court me.” There. That sounded natural enough. You hope.

He looks at you closely. “He quite monopolized your attentions during dinner last week.”

You really don’t like this line of questioning. “He is a suitor,” you say primly. “I have made no decisions, and I do not believe I will for some time.”

Lord Cho is still smiling, but something seems to have changed in the air. You shift in your seat, glancing uncomfortably around the room. You have the sudden thought that the bright tulips standing on the table nearby look more like a threat than a gift.

Taking a breath, you realize you’re fiddling with your gloves. You force yourself to stop and instead hold yourself as still as you can, the silk crumpling softly against your hands.

“Well,” he finally says, “then I will just have to take that time to convince you of my suit.” His smile brightens and a little of the tension disappears. You almost sag with relief when he changes the topic to the upcoming events of the season, and which ones you plan to attend.

Still, though, you feel oddly exhausted and off-kilter when Lord Cho leaves about half an hour later. You sag into the couch for a moment after he’s gone. “Soyoung,” you say, glancing at her in a corner of the room. “Was it just me, or was there something strange about Lord Cho today?”

She pauses. “I wasn’t going to say it, Miss L/N, but…” Her eyes shift, and that tells you everything. “It did feel rather strange, somewhere towards the middle.”

So it wasn’t just you. You swallow. But there isn’t enough time to dwell on it, because you have meet Mr. Choi soon. “Brighton, please ready the carriage,” you say with a sigh. “I must head to see Mr. Choi soon.”

. . .

By the time you make it to the park, you’ve just about reasoned away the afternoon’s strange encounter with Lord Cho. Anyone might be uncomfortable if they were trying to court someone who was being seriously pursued by another. Perhaps Lord Cho only wanted to see your side of the story, and gauge how interested you were in Mr. Choi. Which is understandable. No one would want to court someone obviously besotted with another.

You aren’t besotted with Mr. Choi, though. So you only hope that Lord Cho doesn’t get the wrong idea, and stops pursuing you because of a courtship that isn’t even real. By far he is the best real suitor that you have so far and you cannot ruin this opportunity. You need to be married, and soon.

“You don’t look too well,” is the first thing out of Mr. Choi’s mouth when you meet him at the park.

You roll your eyes. “Good afternoon to you too, Mr. Choi,” you snip. “Have we grown so close already that we may dispense with the pleasantries?”

“I don’t know if we are close, but we certainly didn’t deal in pleasantries in the past.” He raises an eyebrow, smirking. It doesn’t infuriate you nearly as much as it once did, though. In fact, you feel some relief in this interaction—your world has been dragged in so many different directions over the past few weeks that this return to normalcy, however vexing, honestly makes you feel a little better. “What is it today? Too many suitors?” He offers his arm and you take it. “How many did you have at last count, actually? Five? Six?”

“Hardly.” You snort. “Three at most. Or four, if I count Lord Cho.”

Mr. Choi stops suddenly. “Lord Cho?”

If it weren’t for your grip on his arm, you would have fallen forward. “Yes, Lord Cho,” you say testily after regaining your balance. “Why? Is there something wrong with him?”

“No, there is nothing wrong with him,” Mr. Choi responds after a beat, but that moment of silence has already told you everything you need to know. The brief levity you felt before vanishes and you feel your previous headache returning.

“Don’t lie to me,” you say lowly. “You don’t like him, do you? Why?” If he doesn’t, it would explain quite a bit why Lord Cho was so insistent on questioning you about him, too.

“I don’t not like him,” Mr. Choi shoots back.

The air turns tense. It reminds you of the hostility that always brewed between you two in the years past. The hand that isn’t clutching Mr. Choi’s arm balls into a fist, and you have to force yourself to release it. You hadn’t realized how stifling the air could get when you argued. When exactly did that hostility even disappear?

You used to thrive on arguing with Mr. Choi. Now, though, you feel like you’re choking. “I only ask,” you get out, “because he seemed somewhat intent on questioning me about you when he called today.”

“He called on you? Today?”

The sharpness of Mr. Choi’s tone takes you aback. “People are liable to call on me as they please,” you say, anger building in your chest. “You have done the same. Why are you so surprised?”

“I’m not surprised,” he snaps. “I’m just—”

Glaring at him, a truly ridiculous notion pops to the forefront of your mind. You hardly have the time to process it before your mind is already entertaining it.

What if he’s jealous?

Ridiculous. Absolutely damn ridiculous. You want to bash your brains out for even thinking it, the thought is so embarrassing. There is no way Mr. Choi is jealous. This entire courtship is a sham. You may have been on better terms this season than before, but that doesn’t change the fact that Mr. Choi would never consider marrying you. It would be laughable even to entertain the notion.

But would you consider marrying him?

The thought almost makes you laugh. No. Never. Except…

Earlier, when Lord Cho called, you looked down at your gloves and imagined someone’s fingers clothed in white, holding a bouquet of flowers at an altar. But they weren’t just someone’s fingers, you realize. They were quite obviously yours.

Just like earlier, you almost groan. This is not the damn time. You might think about marriage and Mr. Choi together as a product of circumstance but you don’t actually want to marry him. To spend the rest of your life bound to him by law would send you to an early grave. It doesn’t matter that you get along better. Even now you are still hardly friends, more acquaintances than anything else. He would never propose.

Though, the traitorous part of your brain wonders, if he proposed, would you accept?

You almost scream out loud. Good God, if you had known that faking a courtship with Mr. Choi would force so many inane threads of thought into your brain, maybe you wouldn’t have agreed to it in the first place. This is not something you will think about. Not now. And hopefully not ever.

You swallow, trying to summon your anger from before. At least you had been able to talk, then, instead of focusing on such ridiculous ideas. A tiny ember flares and you look up at Mr. Choi. “You just what?” you ask, voice low, rough.

For a long moment, you glare at each other. The air turns stifling again. You truly hadn’t realized how much tension filled the air before until it disappeared. Against your will you wish you could go back to ten minutes ago, when everything felt…well, normal.

Funny how normal used to be you arguing with Mr. Choi until the entire ton could hear you and the argument was printed nearly word for word in Whistledown’s gossip column. Now it’s something completely different.

It almost makes you want to laugh.

Mr. Choi turns away so that you can’t see his face. You resist the urge to pull him so that he faces you once more. After several long seconds, he turns back, and his expression suddenly looks far wearier than before, almost like he’s been plagued with thoughts as inane as yours.

“I do not like Lord Cho,” he says slowly. “I did not want to tell you, because I do not know why. I don’t like to dislike people without reason,” he continues after a pause. “You may laugh at me for this, but I am typically a good judge of character. From when we first spoke, I found I did not like him very well. At all.”

You mull Mr. Choi’s words around your head. But why? is the first question you want to ask. But he already told you that he doesn’t know, so you settle on the next best question. “Was there anything he did that…made you uneasy?”

He looks at you sharply. You almost wince. Maybe you made it a little too obvious that you had a moment’s unease around the foreign lord, too. He doesn’t push it though, just shakes his head. “Not specifically,” he admits. “He spent some time interrogating me about my intentions toward you, which I did not appreciate, but…”

You sigh with relief. So that’s all it is. “He did that with me too,” you say. “Not exactly, but he seemed to want to know more about whatever relationship we had. I suppose it is understandable, as he is a suitor, and he does not know that our courtship isn’t real.”

“He is a serious suitor, then,” Mr. Choi says. His expression doesn’t change.

“I believe so,” you reply.

“Do you want him to be?”

You blink, suddenly as off-kilter as before. Of course you want Lord Cho to be serious. You need to marry. You need to get out of here. Mr. Choi knows this—knows it better than anyone in the ton, perhaps. Why would he even ask that?

“Of course I do,” you say. “I need to be married, and he is perhaps the best suitor I have met thus far.”

“Do you like him?”

“Yes, I do.” Annoyance prickles through your voice. “He is charming, and he is kind. I have seen little reason to dislike him.”

Mr. Choi narrows his eyes. “But he made you uneasy earlier.”

You blink. “How did you—”

“It was written all over your face,” he says.

This conversation is turning your head in circles and you don’t like it at all. “He may have made me uncomfortable with the intensity of his questions,” you say slowly, “but as I said, is that not simply the mark of a suitor trying to ascertain his competition?” The old anger is coming back and you can’t stop it fast enough. “But then, how would you know? You aren’t even actually courting me.”

Mr. Choi looks around sharply. Too late, you realize you are still in public where others could hear you. Your anger cools into a lump of rock behind your chest, but you can’t dislodge it enough to apologize.

“You’re right,” Mr. Choi says abruptly. “I don’t know anything, because I am not courting you and have never seriously courted anyone else in my life.” He looks at you and you have the sudden feeling he is about to say something that will turn the course of this afternoon yet again. “But if he is so serious a suitor, and if my dislike of him will only hinder your possible courtship, perhaps it would be better if we saw each other less.”

Each of his words hits you like a stone. You can almost feel the impact against your chest, thudding one by one against the growing bruise. Perhaps it would be better if we saw each other less. “You mean we should no longer see each other at all,” you say dully.

“Not in quite so many words,” he replies. He won’t look at you. “It would arouse far too much suspicion if we stopped seeing one another so suddenly. But we can slowly begin to end things, and then it will not surprise so many people if I am no longer pursuing you.”

You’re not sure why you feel so hollow at his words. This courtship was contrived from the start. It was always meant to end sooner or later, when both of your goals had been achieved. And based on what you’ve seen, they have been—Mr. Choi no longer suffers a thousand mamas running at him to introduce their daughters, and you now have several serious suitors who have a good chance of seeking your hand. You no longer need each other as much as before. This ending was to be expected from the beginning.

You hear yourself say, “I suppose you are right.” Your words sound muffled, like you’re listening from underwater. “We are halfway through the season, anyway.”

A long silence falls. You can’t seem to find any words to fill it, so you just let it sit until Mr. Choi clears his throat. “I will continue to call on you for three more weeks,” he says, still looking away. “We will still attend the events we had planned to attend together during that time, but after that, I see no more reason to inform one another of what we plan to go to.”

“Fine.” It’s all you can get out. “That’s fine.”

You’re back at the front of the park, having made one full revolution around. Usually you’d stay for longer, but you need to get out of here. “I am feeling somewhat lightheaded,” you say, and it’s only half a lie. “I apologize for cutting our promenade short, but I think I will head home now.”

“Of course.” Mr. Choi bows to your curtsy, and kisses your hand. To your vicious pleasure, he looks about as well as you feel. “I will see you in a few days’ time, then. The Rosenburys’ performance.”

“I look forward to it.” You turn around towards your carriage, letting the footman take your hand, but then Mr. Choi calls your name again. You look back. “What is it?”

He steps toward you, closing the distance. “You may have no reason to heed me,” he says, looking more serious than he’s ever been, “but please, Miss L/N. Be careful of Lord Cho.”

You nearly roll your eyes. “You yourself said you had no idea why you dislike him so.”

“I did,” he says, undeterred. “But that doesn’t matter. What does matter is that he made you uneasy.” He leans closer, his voice dropping. “Your feelings matter more than anything in a courtship. If a man makes you uncomfortable, then there is a reason, and you should look for it, and listen to it.”

His words thud against the bruises already present on your chest, dull aches of pain rippling across your heart. “Feelings are a luxury for me,” you say lowly, “and you know it.”

“I do.” Mr. Choi doesn’t flinch. “But for all our past relationship, Miss L/N, I have no desire to see you miserable for the rest of your life.”

You swallow hard. The intensity of his gaze is too much so you look down, and immediately you see the gloves still on your hands. The ones he gave to you. The gifts with so much meaning. Remembering this, the anger suddenly drains from your body, leaving you nothing much but a tired husk of a person. “How do you know he will make me miserable?” you ask, exhaustion dripping from your tone.

“I don’t,” he says. “I only meant that if you see any signs that he might, you should take care before it is too late.”

You laugh a little. It’s not a sound that brings anyone any joy. “You really dislike him, don’t you.”

“Maybe I do, but I do not ask you to share that dislike. I only ask you to be careful.” He looks at you steadily. “He is not your only option.”

He is not your only option. Somehow, those words feel like they hold far more meaning than either of you would like.

Too exhausted to search for deeper meanings, you look down at your shoes, remembering the childhood argument that spawned your vicious relationship. Then you look at the gloves that he gave you last week with so much care. Beneath the fabric your hands feel soothed and soft, far from the cracked rawness that you had grown so used to. All because of him. All because of Mr. Choi.

“Why do you care?” you ask.

The question seems to take him aback. He recovers quickly, but you catch him cast a glance down at your gloves as though asking himself the same thing. “Because, Miss L/N,” he finally says, “for all that I once said about you, I know now that you are a good person.” He looks at you, and his stare does not waver. “And I have no wish to see you hurt.”

Reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed this, and have a lovely day :)

73 notes · View notes

snowyquokka · 6 months

Note

Hi gorgeous 💞

I honestly love you work, thank you so much ❤️

If it's not too much to ask but my birthday is on 14th March so can you write a hyunjin x f reader smut +fluff with him giving reader his birthday gift for her (surprise me with your writing)?

I would really appreciate it 🥺

Bye 👋

SYMPHONIES

cw: mature content MDNI, fem reader, oral *f receiving, swearing, friends to lovers, no aftercare shown but is implied

wc: 1.3k

a.n - happy birthday beautiful!! i hope this was a good enough present <3

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

12:00 AM

Tons of DMs, calls and texts erupt on your phone simultaneously, wishing you a happy birthday. Everyone but the one you wanted most.

Is it wrong to be in love with your best friend since the sixth grade? To a normal person, maybe, but to you it’s the reality you’re forced to live.

4:00 AM

Did he forget? You can’t blame him; he is an idol after all and he’s probably exhausted. At this point the group chat you are in with all the guys is blowing up to the point where you had to silence it once you realized that Hyunjin wasn’t responding or jumping in the conversation.

CHILDREN OF CHAN

|lixie - happy birthday cutie

|hanji - HAPPY BIRTHDAY

|hanji - get ready to party bitch. it’s on

|seungmo - im not getting stuck with han’s shitfaced ass this time

|minhoe - it’s only like one in the morning and you’re already plotting?

|innie - felix get back on league

|channie - im trying to sleep

|seungmo - put your phone on silent then old man

|seungmo - nvm you probably dont know how at ur jurassic age

You let out a small laugh and bite your lip, contemplating if you should thank them or not. Ultimately deciding against it and telling yourself that you’ll do it when you wake up, you turn off your phone and roll over onto your side, soundlessly falling asleep.

10:00 AM

There’s a knock at the door, startling you out of yet another poor attempt at sleeping. You hop out of bed sluggishly and make your way to the living room. To your surprise, Hyunjin is leaning against the doorway, having let himself in with the emergency key you gave him when you first moved in.

“Just in case,” He insisted, “What if something happens and you need me? Or vice versa.” The fact that you believed that would be the only scenario he used it for seemed a bit foolish as he visited more and more.

You spot a somewhat large box, royal blue with a red ribbon on top, in Hyunjin’s hands. He smiles and pushes off the doorway. “I’m sorry to intrude like that, you weren’t answering your phone.” He says when he reaches you.

You shrug, “It’s okay. I was only sleeping.” Hyunjin nods and places the box in your hands with a sly grin, “Open,” He gestures towards the box. You move to the couch and take the lid off the box. The first thing on top is your very own Jiniret. “So you stop kidnapping my child,” Hyunjin laughs and slides onto the couch next to you. The next thing you pull out is an all black hoodie and when you turn it around you see Hyunjin’s name on the back. The small gesture shouldn’t cause butterflies to emerge in your stomach, but it does to your dismay.

You take out the rest of the stuff (a few small fake plants, Versace perfume that you scold him for buying for you, and a couple of his PCs sprinkled in between everything). You finally reach the bottom and furrow your eyebrows when you pull out a blindfold. You look at Hyunjin whose expression has morphed into something mischievous. He moves the box out of your lap and takes the blindfold out of your hands before tying it around your head, obstructing your vision.

“C’mon, stand up.” You do and Hyunjin slides his hand in yours, guiding you somewhere.

After a few moments you assume you’ve reached your bedroom, the smell of your favorite candle filling the air. The door clicks behind you and now you’re hyper aware of Hyunjin’s presence.

“Why are we in my room, Jin?” Instead of answering you, he runs his fingers delicately down your bare forearms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake.

“I think we can both agree that we have more than just a normal friendship, don’t you think?” Hyunjin’s voice has noticeably dropped, causing shivers to wrack your body. Your heartbeat quickens so much that you wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it. “I asked you a question, baby.”

Are you dreaming? You must be dreaming. There is absolutely no way you aren’t. He would never say anything like this. Right? Right. You’re pulled out of your thoughts when Hyunjin places his hands on your hips and presses you flush against his body.

Maybe you aren’t dreaming, judging by the very real, sizable erection digging into your stomach. “Hyunjin I-” You aren’t too sure what to say except to agree with him. He walks you back to the bed and gently lets you down, climbing over you soon after.

“Are you sure?” You know for sure that he would never lie about something like this, especially with you. You’re asking yourself more than you are him.

He toys with the hem of your shirt, “May I?” You nod and raise your arms as he lifts it over your head before immediately attaching his lips to your neck. Hyunjin nips at your shoulder and collar bone before making his way down to your breasts. “Do you want this?”

“Yes, please.” You whine. He unclasps your bra and throws it somewhere. His mouth attacks your right breast, his other hand massaging the other. Your back arches in pleasure and you can’t help but let out a groan. How can’t you when Hwang fucking Hyunjin has his pretty pink lips wrapped around your nipple.

“Fuck, baby. You make the sexiest sounds.” Hyunjin drops to his knees, pulling your shorts and panties down with him. His mouth waters at the sight of his index finger being swallowed whole by your tight heat.

“Holy shit,” You say breathlessly. You raise your hands to take the blindfold but he stops you.

“Not yet, baby. Want to make you come first,” With that he adds another finger and watches, mesmerized, as your cunt takes his digits. The lewd sounds filling the room are enough to make him bust right then and there. He manages to pull himself together though. That is, until he gets a taste of you.

Hyunjin’s tongue slides in between your folds in one flat stripe and he groans. The groan is so deep that you feel it vibrate through your entire being. He traces figure eights across your clit and you swear you're in heaven. His tongue is euphoric and the feeling of his delighted groans are better than ecstasy.

“Hyune, please. I’m almost there.” Your fingers tug at his roots so hard you might have to apologize later. Hyunjin doesn’t seem to mind very much.

“You’re so good for me, baby. Come on, finish for me. Let me hear those pretty little symphonies of moans.” You clench around his fingers as he increases the pressure on your clit, giving you a knee buckling orgasm. You crash so hard that Hyunjin has to hold up your waist to prevent you from falling.

He chuckles and licks the insides of your thighs clean before rising to his feet and pulling you into a wet kiss, your own juices invading your tastebuds. Hyunjin finally lets you take off the blindfold after helping you sit up. The man in front of you looks so proud of himself with a lopsided grin, your release glistening on his lips.

“Happy birthday, baby.” He pulls you into another kiss and cups your jaw.

“This gonna happen every year?” You smile. Hyunjin shakes his head.

“This is gonna happen whenever you’ll let me.”

#snowyquokka #stray kids #skz #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz x reader #skz reader insert #skz reactions #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin skz #stray kids imagines #hyunjin stray kids #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin

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slashyrogue · 1 month

Text

It takes a ridiculously long time for Wade to realize he's pregnant.

Like, super fucking ridiculously.

Truth be told, he didn't know that getting pregnant was in the cards for him but when he did it was so anticlimactic that really understanding the gravity of the situation seemed like an afterthought.

Rewind a bit.

He should've known that getting kidnapped by the government would result in more than just waking up sore when Logan saved him only two days in but really he just wanted to be out of there.

The exhaustion - something that he rarely had with the regeneration and all that - made it easy to fall asleep on Wolvie's shoulder during the ride home but when he woke up all he did was want to be in Logan's pocket.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Wade just nuzzled his beard - which was just as fluffy as you'd think it was - and sighed. "Just wanna cuddle with my favorite kitty cat."

"Wade---"

"Pretty please?" he faked a cough, "I was tortured, Wolvie. Peanut, they cut things OUT I saw them."

Logan growled and the claws that had come out slid right back in. "Fine."

And so began Wade's "Week of Cuddles" which was AMAZING to say the least. Logan was NICE to him, and practically babied him better than anyone EVER had. It was like Christmas and Halloween AND his Birthday fucked and had a million babies.

100/10 would recommend.

The ice creams and chimichangas were never ending; the cuddles were abundant, and he even got to fall asleep on Logan's shoulder.

He secretly loved that one the best by the way but pretended he liked the ice cream the most.

The "Week of Cuddles" was followed by "The Week of Sleepovers" and he began "The Week of Chocolate" which was, in retrospect, a big mistake.

The minute Logan brought home the Choco-Tacos (after scouring for HOURS he found one lone store that had a back inventory that was....questionable) and he devoured it in seconds a new week began.

"The Week of Is Wade Dying Again?"

It was a terrible fucking week, mostly with vomiting but also horrible stomach pains, like something was clawing his insides and not in a fun way like the Honda Odyssey.

Logan kept telling him to "go to the damn doctor already" while increasingly seeming agitated and snarly which was cute because Wade pretended it meant he was worried about him.

He knew it was because he hated the smell of vomit with his kitty cat senses.

Obviously.

Althea finally called the X-Men because she was "sick of hearing him puke."

How did she know their number?

Apparently Colossus and here were friends or something he didn't know but when they showed up and Logan dragged him off he was toast.

And he puked twice more on the ride.

Beast then gave him the news.

"Wade, I....it seems you're pregnant."

Wade started to laugh, falling back on the hospital bed, and when no one joined him he was given the results.

Those government fuckers had somehow knocked him up.

How?

Well, it seemed that his body could adapt to anything, even a reproductive system that he shouldn't have.

Logan made Beast take the tests again, and even try to pinpoint who's kid they put inside him.

And....ding ding.

"Logan, I...." Beast said, his voice shaking, "I do believe it's yours."

Wade started laughing then, unable to stop, and Logan left the room.

What a fucking joke.

He grinned at Beast as tears filled his eyes. "Isn't anyone going to throw me a baby shower? I'm sure I'm gonna need some mittens to handle this one, am I right?"

No one laughed.

And Wade got up, still wearing just his heart shaped boxers, and went to put on his suit.

"You....Wade, you have options."

He paused, holding his suit in hand, and put a hand to his belly.

Did he?

It was goddamn selfish to see this through, he knew that, but the thought of NOT seeing it through made him immensely sad.

A once in a lifetime opportunity.

He was an incubator for potentially the next Marvel Jesus. "No," he said, shaking his head, "I don't." The team tried to talk him into staying but he didn't listen and walked outside to find Logan waiting on a motorcycle. "Did you bring that here for little ol' me, Peanut?"

Logan sighed. "Get on."

Wade did just that, holding him tight, and they took off toward fuck knew where.

All he knew was that he was carrying what might be his only offspring that was going to the most wanted mutant in the world once it was born.

Whatever government had done this would come back at the finish line.

But he had scary dog privilege who was currently driving him to his nest or whatever.

They might've thought it was a funny idea to see what would happen if they scrambled the offspring of two immortals and give them something to fight for.

Joke was on them.

There was no way that if there was a baby at the end of this mess that either of them wouldn't fight like hell.

Wade could hardly wait.

And hey, maybe this would turn out to be like one of those 90s sappy rom-coms where grumpy and the baby mama fell in love.

Ha.

Wouldn't that be something?

#deathclaw #mpreg #pre slash #poolverine #my writing #not Hannibal

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pablitogavii · 1 year

Text

Misunderstanding

Summary: You and Pablo have ben going out on dates when a false rumor made you doubt yourself and shut him out...until he finally gets to confess his feelings.

Pairing: Pablo Gavi x Reader

Warnings: slight angst/ smutty themes/ fluffy ending

You met Pablo at one of the after parties through shared friends, and since you guys started talking you fell madly in love with the Barça golden boy.

He was so caring and knew just how to make you feel like the only girl in his word. Everything seemed to be perfect unless a particular rumor sparked your interest.

fútbol.gossip.

Barça Golden Boy, Pablo Gavi, caught with his new girlfriend, young influencer and model, Jessica Sin. What are your thoughts on this newest football couple???

After reading that title and looking at that picture for what felt like eternity, you shut off your phone feeling tears fall down your cheeks.

"Was he really pretending this whole time!?" you said out loud to yourself in utter disbelief.

After reading the rest of story which claims they only started dating a few weeks ago, you remembered that Pablo told you he will be a little distant due to preparation for El Copa del Rey. Yeah, right! He was probably fucking her during that exact time!

"I'm so stupid! Díos!" you said in defeat getting your backpack and packing some of your clothes you kept at Pablo's apartment leaving before he came back.

You weren't even gonna tell him 'goodbye'. He didn't deserve any sympathy from you after this!

When Pablo came home, completely exhausted from yet another all day training session, he was surprised that you were not waiting for him.

Last time the two of you texted, you made a plan to do dinner and a movie at his apartment and he was planning on begging you for a sleepover as well...after so many busy days, he just missed spending time with his girl.

He took his phone to text you.

pablo: why are you not here bombón?? don't tell me you forgot about our date :(( Read 10:30pm

Pablo finished his shower, putting on some grey sweatpants before taking his phone and raising his eyebrows after seeing that you just left him on read.

His first instinct is that something must have came up and you couldn't talk right now. He trusted you enough to give you space and wait for your call.

The next morning, you didn't even have the strength to get up and go to school from crying all night thinking to yourself how impossible getting over Pablo is going to be...he was your first real love...first time you thought you found someone you wanted to build a life together.

But of course he wanted a model and an influencer! It should have been strange to you that he ever showed interest to such a normal and boring college girl.

Pablo woke up late cause he had a day off from training expecting to see a message from you pop on his phone but there was nothing. Just his read message from last night...he was starting to get worried so he decided to text you again.

pablo: amor, is everything okay? pls answer me, I'm starting to get worried. Read 11:12pm

You read the text tossing your phone away as more tears escaped your tired eyes. Was he really acting like nothing happened!?

Seeing that again just read his message, Pablo was seriously freaking out at this point. Did he do something? Were you mad at him? A call from Pedri interrupted his thought process.

"Hermano, have you heard of the gossip yet?" Pedri said and Pablo rolled his eyes never being the one to care much for fake internet drama.

"Pedri, I really don't care which Kardashian cheated on her husband this time! I can't reach Y/N. She is mad at me and I don't know why!" Pablo said irritated.

"I know why she is mad! It's because the gossip is about you cabrón!" Pedri said sending Pablo the link to the exact story you read yesterday night.

"Mierda!" Pablo said now realizing what had happened last night.

Of course the story was bullshit and Pablo felt horrible that you had to deal with it but that's part of his career as well (unfortunately!). He needed to explain everything to you as soon as possible!

Pablo Gavi (12 missed calls)

He just wouldn't give up for hours and ever when you turned off your ringer, you just couldn't stop thinking about answering him. You wanted to hear his voice again..hell you wanted to kiss him right now..but you knew you should't. You needed to distance yourself until you get completely over him!

"Hija. There is a chico looking for you at the front door?" your mom said peeking through your bedroom door and you froze knowing exactly who it was...you couldn't face him now...no freaking way!

"Tell him I'm not home, please mamá!" you say and she waited for you to change your mind seeing how genuinely worried the boy was but after a few seconds she respected your wishes.

"Lo siento but she isn't home. Is there a message you'd like me to leave?" when Pablo heard those words from your mom, his heart broke..you didn't want to see him.

"Um..just tell her it was a misunderstanding..por favor" Pablo said before leaving stealing a glance at your bedroom window with a small hope of seeing your face but you never came.

pablo: I know you are seeing my messages, so please just give me a chance to explain to you what happened. none of it is true, mi amor. i don't even know who that girl is, I promise you. I never had someone in my life like this, someone so genuine and kind. I can't function without you mi vida, please just come back to me and we will talk about everything. i love you so much <3

Reading that message you were crying ugly tears. You didn't know what to believe anymore...everyone online kept saying Pablo will end up with a model...the girl from the picture fits him perfectly..she isn't average like you...but Pablo's words were always genuine and you began wondering if you should have given him a chance to explain himself before jumping to conclusions.

"He's sitting in front of our house...waiting for you..and he said it was a misunderstanding? I don't know what's going on hija, but the boy seemed sincero..maybe give him a chance?" you mom said and you smiled wiping away your tears before peeking through a window seeing Pablo sitting on the edge of the road looking straight at you.

When Pablo met your eyes he got up moving across the street and standing underneath your window..it was corny but he didn't care when it came to you.

You gulped opening your window slowly looking down at those warm eyes you fell deeply in love with.

"I wanna be only with you...nobody else. Please let me explain bombón" Pablo spoke first and you felt your heart tighten at the familiar nickname.

"Bueno..we can talk..but that's all" you say and he nodded waiting for you happy that you were still giving him a chance which he fully intended to take.

"We should go somewhere private?" Pablo suggested and you nodded letting him drive you to his place although you were still keeping your guard up.

The drive was quiet for awhile...it was a little awkward because you both obviously wanted to hold hands like you always would but kept your distance instead.

"You look beautiful amor... com siempre" Pablo needed to break the silence and you just took the compliment blushing a little in response.

When you arrived he opened your door and led you inside while making sure to give you enough space so that you are not uncomfortable by his presence.

The moment you both sat down on the couch he began talking.

"None of it is true. I was signing some stuff for the fans and she asked for a picture, that's all. I haven't even asked for her name...and I would never betray your trust like that. Amor, I love you...like this isn't just a crush for me anymore" Pablo opened up and hearing those words leave his lips made something in your melt.

"Pablo..I'm scared...I don't want to get hurt" you admit deep down knowing that even if this wasn't true, you were way too "normal" for someone like him..he deserved more.

"I would never hurt you...I would rather beat myself every single day than do something to bring you pain mi vida...you have to believe me please..I don't know her.." he felt his eyes fill with tears as he came down on his knees besides you holding your hand and kissing them repeatedly.

"I believe you Pablo..but this happened because I know I'm not for you..I'm not a model or an influencer or someone that fits with the famous footballer..I'm just a college girl! I don't have the body or the fame!" you finally admit what's on your heart and he looks up at you as tears fall down his cheek.

"Don't you ever talk down on yourself in front of me Y/N! You are the most genuine and kind girl I have ever met in my life. You want to know something? I am the one who is lucky you chose me to be in your life. You are smart, selfless and real...unlike all those models out there, you are real mi amor..and that's precious because it became so rare" Pablo's words were making your heart tighten and tears spill down your cheeks. Never did someone say something like this you..and truly meant every word.

"And as for the body..amor..you got me weak every single time I see you..trust me on that one" Pablo added with a little smirk seeing a smile creep on your face.

"Come here.." he got up opening his arms welcomingly and you couldn't resist anymore hugging him tightly and resting your head against his strong chest listening to his sped up heartbeat.

"You're mine and now everyone knows it too..." Pablo whispered caressing your back and you were too busy listening to his heartbeat to register it right away but when you did you pulled away looking up in confusion.

"What did you do Gavira?" you asked and he chuckled taking his phone from the back pocket of his jeans and showing you his newest Instagram Post.

pablogavi

mi bombón <3 @y.n.bebe

comments:

@gavibarca @jessicasinthequeen used this story to grow followers while this girl didn't post anything...shows you who is the real one! good choice @pablogavi !!!

@gavinhofans: I knew it!! he would never date someone so superfiecial like @jessicasinthequeen liked by 10K others

@pablitoo: this is soo cute <33

@gavifan: pablo dating a normal girl is so adorable <33 she is a real one pablitooo!!

@barcafans: this just proves how fake all the gossips are!! this is real love!!!

@pablosgirl I'm sad he is taken but I'm glad it's by a normal girl! we love the queen! @y.n.bebe

"Díos mío! Tu eres tan loco!" you said reading all the loving comments his fans gave you being overjoyed that you were not a model or an influencer..you were so wrong.

"Estoy loco por ti, bombón." he answered and you put the phone away snaking your arms around his neck while kissing his lis passionately.

"I thought we are just talking and nothing else" he teased reminding you of your words while you were running your hand through his hair leaving small kissed on his face and neck.

"Shut up! I love you too...demasiado" you whisper and he rises your chin kissing your softly while grabbing your thighs remembering that there are other ways to show just how much he loves you...;))

#pablo gavi icons #pablo gavi x you #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi #gavigif #gavi #pablo martín páez gavira #pablo gavira #fc barça #fc barcelona #fc barca

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