#the beautiful repose of the end

[oriyamiryu]

New triptych of intaglio prints - pterosaur adjacent skeleton and the usual states of aviary decay (text is blue bc I can’t see what I’m typing in white?? Whyyy)

The beetles crawling beneath the soil of my skin writhe with all the joy of a bag of gummy worms (I don’t actually liek candy, worms though, are amazing)

[cherienymphe]

There Will Be Blood

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Reader x Lady Margot Fenring

Summary: Knowing that you are too afraid to ever find yourself alone with the Harkonnen heir, Lady Margot secures his heart's desire for his celebration day.

warnings: Dub-Con (use of the voice), blood, knifeplay, choking, threesome, mentions of cannibalism, non canon ages, spoiler free

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies 

⭑

“She looks almost good enough to eat,” were the words that reached your ears in that low timbre, head tilted as he gazed at you. “I don’t know whether to feed her to my darlings…”

The feeling of his finger underneath your chin was almost nonexistent as he tilted your head up. You were too anxious to look away—his reputation preceding him—and even if you wanted to, you couldn’t. You felt paralyzed, held captive by that dark blue gaze you swore was actually black as night in certain lighting.

“…or make her one of them.”

You swallowed at that, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes followed the subtle movement.

He was referring to his ‘pets’ as you knew he sometimes called them, the three strikingly beautiful Harkonnen women with an appetite for human flesh. The thought of being killed and fed to the women in question made your heart skip a beat…but the thought of being added to his harem made you shudder.

…and you couldn’t tell if the feeling was good or bad.

Hands slid over your shoulders from behind, making you shiver again, and your lashes fluttered at the feeling of soft lips grazing your throat. You faintly tried to remember how and why you ended up here, and you could only recall staring into enticing blue eyes. Her familiar face was all that stood out in your memory, features soft and lips curved into an even softer smile. With all of that being said though, you couldn’t remember your thought process behind following her perfect figure down the hall.

Lady Margot Fenring—golden-haired and willowy with that Bene Gesserit serene repose about her that you found subtly disturbing.

Usually.

In this moment, her calm disposition and quiet authority made your heart race. She was a comforting contrast to the man before you, his intense gaze and sharp features serving to make your imagination run wild with what he was capable of. He was so different from his brother, vastly so from his uncle, but he still possessed similarities with the two that made you nervous all the same.

Especially with his hand so close to your throat.

“This one isn’t for consumption.”

Her lips brushed your skin as her soft and even tone filled your ears.

“Not in the literal sense, at least…” mirth colored her voice at this remark. “I saw you watching her.”

Those words made your heart sink, and you were sure that the brief stab of fear you felt passed through your eyes.

Feyd-Rautha was psychotic. He was the kind of man that would kill someone solely because he felt like it. He had an animalistic stare that made alarm bells go off in your head, telling you to never take your eyes off of him—to always keep him in your line of sight. He was the kind of man you couldn’t let your guard down around.

He was the kind of man you didn’t want watching you.

As if he could read your worrisome thoughts, a glint passed through the man’s eyes, and he leaned in closer. Not one to conceal his feelings in any situation, his expression twisted into one of amusement, a sight that made your hair stand on end. Those soft hands slid over your shoulders and down your arms, gently caressing them.

Don’t be afraid.

A voice that didn’t sound like your own filled your mind, its influence settling into your bones and deep into the crevices of your subconscious. You felt yourself relax, felt the tension leaving you, and her soft hum had you leaning back into her chest. You didn’t want to be afraid, and you felt confident in repeating those words to yourself, confirming that there was nothing to be afraid of.

“You want her,” her fingers grazed your jaw, briefly touching his own. “…but she fears you far too much to ever find yourself alone with her.”

“I like them afraid.”

Those words made you blink, your lips parting at the sincerity in them. By the way he held your gaze, you could tell he wanted you to know he meant it, but that voice in your mind assured you that you had nothing to be afraid of. Not when he leaned in closer, and not when his hand traveled from your chin and down to circle your neck.

“You get too excited,” the blonde woman steadily told him, a hint of authority in her voice. “You would kill her.”

Her fingers on your jaw forced you to turn your head, making you look at her, and when she kissed you, you welcomed it. It was a comforting kiss, one that relaxed you further, and you couldn’t help but to close your eyes and bask in the feel of her lips touching yours. Your skin grew warm, and you touched her arm.

“I’m here to keep you in line.”

She spoke the words into your mouth, but she wasn’t talking to you.

Feyd-Rautha’s lack of protest or anger at her words gave you the impression that you were being included in something that already existed. He let her kiss you, the heat of his gaze burning a hole into the side of your face as she drew you in closer. The feeling in your chest was both light and heavy, and you felt as if you couldn’t get close enough to her.

Lady Margot had an aura about her that you’d always been ensnared by—the way she talked, the way she swayed when she walked, and especially the way those attentive eyes watched everyone and everything so closely. She smelled fresh and crisp, an airy feminine aroma filling your nose as her hand rested on the side of your throat, Feyd-Rautha’s arm long falling back at his side.

When she pulled away, only the tip of her nose lightly touched yours.

“He wants you to touch him.”

Her voice reverberated in your mind, influencing your thoughts and movements, and you found yourself turning to look at the man in question. Your advance was slow, hesitant in reaching out to place your hands on the black fabric of his shirt. He visibly shuddered at the contact, and despite the fact that you were clothed, you felt vulnerable and naked underneath his intense gaze.

“This one is fragile, Feyd-Rautha,” amusement danced around her words. “You have to play gentle if you want to keep her.”

Almost as if he wanted to defy her, his hand quickly wrapped itself around your throat, forcing you closer. Your heart stuttered at the action, and despite that brief bout of adrenaline—your body’s way of telling you that you were in danger—that influential voice in your mind told you that you were safe. Your breathing was shallow as you looked at him with wide eyes.

His own gaze traveled over your form, his perusal slow and his hand tightening. You reached up, grabbing his arm, and the noise of protest he made was a cross between a grunt and a hum. His nose touched yours, and when he spoke again, it sounded like there was gravel in his throat.

“Do you fear me?”

The thought settled in your mind that he wanted you to say yes, and so you did, barely whispering it.

That pleased him, and he presented you with a terrifying smile. His fingers were pressing into the skin of your neck, and his blue gaze studied yours, eyes flickering between your own. There was a carnal excitement there that told you he lusted for more than just your body, and when you winced at the grip he had on your throat, it only grew.

“Good,” he praised in a guttural tone.

Kissing Feyd-Rautha was nothing like kissing Lady Margot.

It wasn’t meant to be a gentle and comforting experience, but instead one that forced you to face every one of your discomforts head on. His teeth pressing into your lips, his hand cutting off your airway, the lack of warning as he pushed you back. Every action was designed to make you squirm, and despite that feeling, heat still settled in the pit of your stomach as his weight pressed down on you.

Lady Margot’s gentle touch made your leg tingle. She was pulling on it, making room for him while her other hand grabbed your arm, and you shuddered at the feel of her lips kissing a path to your wrist. The contrast in their efforts made your head spin, and Feyd-Rautha’s constricting grip on your throat only disappeared when his lips replaced his hand instead.

Pain blossomed beneath where his teeth were, and you gasped, chest arching up into his involuntarily. His hands on your frame were tense, like he wanted to twist and tear you apart, but something disallowed him from doing so. When he kissed you again, the pain in your neck lingered, flaring from spot to spot, and you didn’t doubt that bruises would be there.

When you were forced to sit up, the soft and thin fabric of your dress was pulled at by two sets of hands. A feminine touch loosened the back, her lips following behind where his once were, soothing the irritated skin there. He, on the other hand, was yanking your sleeves down, and the sound of a slight tear or two in the fabric could be heard.

The cold air hit you for half a second before a warm mouth covered a sensitive bud before it even had time to harden. The sharp feeling of his teeth pressing into the skin of your breast made you shy away, but with Lady Margot at your back, you had nowhere to go. Her lips along your neck and shoulder was a welcomed feeling, a soothing contrast against the pain the Harkonnen man was inflicting. It almost faded to the background completely when her hand found its way between your thighs.

Your lips parted, and your lashes fluttered, and you couldn’t help but to lift your hips. Her fingers were soft against your skin, the appendages sliding between your folds and stroking you. One of your hands reached down to rest on hers, riding along with her ministrations while the other reached up to grip the arm of the man intent on breaking skin.

The feel of Lady Margot’s fingers pushing into you and curving against your walls made you circle your hips.  The pain and pleasure were starting to blend together so closely that you couldn’t tell what you liked and didn’t like. His teeth scraping down your torso had your breath hitching, and the Bene Gesserit woman behind you hummed when you clenched around her fingers. It sounded like a noise of approval, and when she spoke, her tone and words confirmed that suspicion.

“She likes that,” she mused, her free hand coming up to run over your chest. “She’s starting to like the pain.”

She was right.

Almost as if that triggered something in him, the blue-eyed man relinquished control completely, fingers digging into the tops of your thighs as he pulled you forward. The action caused you to collapse, your head resting in Lady Margot’s lap as he finished removing your dress, the fabric falling around you in tatters. There was only a brief bout of alarm when he brandished a small blade from his waist.

There was that voice again, settling and taking up residence in your mind, telling you not to be afraid.

Pain flared along your skin in a singular path as the tip of the blade just barely grazed your flesh. It was so sharp that a thin line of blood followed the weapon’s descent, but it was gone as quickly as it came as his tongue slipped past his lips, ingesting your essence and soothing that sting. Your eyes closed, and you welcomed her kiss as she leaned over.

Feyd-Rautha’s own lips kissed you too…just before he sank his teeth into your skin.

You were given bites and nips between the kisses—along your hip and along your thighs and eventually in between your thighs. Your hips lifted, and your back arched, and you unintentionally bit Lady Margot’s lip. She smiled into the kiss, and you knew that she could taste the same blood you felt on your own tongue.

Feyd-Rautha was a mad man between your legs, tongue and teeth playing with you, the blade in his hand pressed against your thigh. The soles of your feet pressed into the bed, wanting to both run away from the pain and run towards it. Every shallow cut made into your skin was soothed by his tongue almost immediately, and you wanted to be embarrassed by how wet their combined ministrations made you.

When you found yourself on your knees, the blade at your throat and his naked chest at your back, you could see the way Lady Margot’s gaze held his. Her face was serene and thoughtful, almost as if she were having a silent conversation with the man at your back. The sharpness of his blade drew blood, and by the way his free hand smeared it along your skin, you knew that it turned him on.

“Gentle,” she reminded him, standing.

He wasn’t so gentle when he pushed his way into you, making you sharply inhale, but the blade remained light against your throat. You tilted your head back, both to relieve the sting and because the feel of his cock sliding into you had you submitting. His own deep grunts were right at your ear, and his bloody hand trailed down your frame to roughly knead into your skin.

The sound of skin slapping against skin made your ears twitch, and when he roughly pushed you down with a hand on your back, your fingers twisted into the sheets of the luxurious bed. Your head was bowed, forehead grazing the fabric as he fucked you, power and aggression driving every thrust. Lady Margot was right, you were afraid of the Baron’s sole heir, positive that you’d never find yourself alone with him before today.

Even if you doubted it, you would have never guessed this is how he’d choose to spend his birthday celebration. While fireworks were exploding and food and drink was being passed around, Feyd-Rautha was spending his time burying his cock in you. His fingers twisted painfully into your hair, making you yelp, and the sound only made him fuck you harder.

“Are you still afraid of me?” he roughly asked you, and when you started to nod, he pushed your face down into the bed.

Understanding what he wanted, you managed to force out a small affirmation.

“Yes,” you choked out.

The low laugh that he let out was menacing, and he was aggressive in pushing you onto your back. His hand was tight when it found a home on your throat, pinning you in place as he snapped his hips into yours. The force was enough to make you wince, and his brutal treatment didn’t go unnoticed, the blonde woman coming up behind the man.

Her gaze found yours, holding it as she whispered something into his ear that yours weren’t privy to. Her beautiful hands came around to slide along his smooth chest, her lips still brushing against his ear. Her lips traveled to his throat as he pulled away from you, pulling out and allowing the other woman to guide him to sit back.

He was uncharacteristically still as he watched her take his place.

“Come.”

Her simple command was impossible to disobey, and you sat up, doing as she said. With a hand on the back of your head, she guided you towards the man, an imposing urge to touch him descending over you. With your hands sliding along his lithe frame, her fingers applied pressure, and your head lowered.

Your lips stretched around him as you tasted his cock, tongue flat and cheeks hollowed. Feminine hands were gliding over your curves, fingers eventually sinking into you again. You closed your eyes at the feel, relaxing and heart calming at the 180 from Feyd-Rautha’s earlier brutality. At the thought of him, you peeled your eyes open, looking up at him from beneath your lashes.

It amazed you, how he could be so dominant and forceful with you but so obedient and almost subdued with her. With one look into his eyes or the feel of her hands against his skin, he became a momentarily tamed wild animal. The feral glint in his eyes couldn’t be done away with, the desire to cause pain coloring his features whenever his gaze connected with yours.

As Lady Margot gently curved her fingers into you, you found yourself craving that feeling again.

Your neck and torso still faintly stung from where his blade had drawn blood, and you got the feeling that your skin was already starting to bruise from where he’d tightly held you. You recalled her earlier words, about her presence serving to keep him in line, and your mind lingered on the aches you felt from what he’d done while she was here. You wondered what would be in store for you should he ever get you completely alone.

You suspected that she was right.

He would get too excited…and probably kill you.

When his lips curved into a small smirk, you knew then that your thoughts were written on your face—along with your fear. His hand on your head made you nervous, and still you slid your mouth up and down the length of him. You could feel yourself dripping down your thighs, Lady Margot’s soft ministrations stroking that fire deep within your stomach. It made you moan around him, and if possible, you swore Feyd-Rautha’s eyes darkened at both the sound and feel.

“She would make a well-behaved pet,” he haughtily said.

The way he stared into your eyes told you that was meant more so for you than her. They both shifted, leaning in and you heard them kiss above your head.

“I knew that you would enjoy her,” the blonde woman confidently said, her even tone unable to hide her satisfaction. “Provided you don’t break her.”

When she pulled away, she pulled away from you too, and with a hand on your chin, she lifted your head. She guided you to kiss him, her own lips resting against your cheek, her soft voice telling you not to be afraid. You wanted to listen, your own mind agreeing, and so you welcomed the pain when blood bloomed along your lips.

Feyd-Rautha enjoyed the taste, roughly grabbing your hands and pinning them behind you at the small of your back. He didn’t tell you to lie down, instead making you, and you winced at the feel of your hands trapped beneath your own body. His lips were stained red when he pulled away, and your mouth parted into an ‘O’ shape when the head of his cock started to stretch you out again.

You were completely powerless—at his mercy—and you cried out at the rough curve of his hips. He looked vicious above you, focused not on chasing his high but on seeing the register of pain on your face instead. That was what brought him pleasure, watching you wince and squirm beneath him and his intense thrusts. If his hand wasn’t on your throat then it was yanking your hair or digging into the soft flesh of your breast.

He seemed to like the sight of marking you up whether it be with his teeth or his hand…or that blade.

He held it against your throat while he fucked you, sometimes sliding the flat part down your chest, blue eyes transfixed by the metal pressing against your skin. Occasionally he’d turn it, the edge grazing you, making a cut just shallow enough and then he’d lean down to taste you. Spots of his own flesh was marred by your blood, and he obviously didn’t care as he smeared it over both of you with every movement.

With your hands free, you clutched onto the sheets, eyes rolling into the back of your head. His hands were painfully tight on your waist, keeping your hips lifted for him as he thrust into you. Lady Margot—silently and appreciatively watching—slid her hands along the bed to grab your hands. Her fingers intertwined with your own, holding them down, and you welcomed the gentle kisses she placed on your wrists and then your cheek before finally your lips.

The man above you made a noise of disapproval, and after some time, she granted him what he wanted, his own rough lips replacing hers. You panted into the kiss, tasting your blood on his lips, and you felt almost delirious. It was a constant cycle of pain and pleasure that had you chasing him when he started to pull away. The laugh he gave at the sight told you his thoughts on the matter, but you didn’t care how much power you were giving him.

His gaze suddenly lifted, and his thrusts didn’t stop as he faced Lady Margot. You felt hypnotized as you watched them, eyes focused on the way Feyd-Rautha stuck out his tongue, elongating it in a way you didn’t think possible. The willowy woman had let you go, taking his own blade and dragging the edge of it down his tongue.

It was then that you realized the man inside of you enjoyed pain almost as much as he liked inflicting it.

You wondered if that was why he was so submissive towards her, why she could order him around and why she was so confident that she could keep him in line. You were unsurprised when they kissed, the brutal man kissing you after a while when they finally parted. You swore that his blood tasted completely different from your own.

A thin layer of sweat coated your skin, and you felt almost completely spent. You were sure that the celebration of his birth was still being had while he chose to celebrate between your legs. His strength and the knowledge of how easily he could snuff you out played a part in the way you clenched around his cock. You could feel that you were close—and so could he.

His hand completely obstructed your breathing, and you could only hold onto his wrist. With every thrust into your cunt, the heat in the pit of your stomach grew. Your heart was racing, and your eyes struggled to remain open, and your toes curled as he stretched you around him. A noise of appreciation reached your ears, and for a moment you wondered if he was going to snap your neck.

He could do it. The strength in his hand told you so and that he would probably barely exert himself doing so. You felt your neck strain underneath his fingers, and your nails drew blood over his skin. You knew he liked that because he kissed you again. Your shallow breaths hit his face, and just as you were on the verge of passing out, you came.

…and his hold loosened.

The rush of air into your lungs coinciding with the release of pressure inside of you made your world momentarily go dark. All you could feel was the snug fit of his cock—and the way your walls fluttered around it—and his teeth against your lip. You could faintly feel softer hands on your face, and a choked moan left your lips his hips continued to connect with yours.

His hand tightened again just as your vision started to return to you, and the smile you were met with was chilling. So turned on by watching you straddle death, the fearsome fighter came too but much more violently. He practically growled above you, the noise so animalistic and inhumane sounding. Your neck almost cracked beneath the force of his hand, and the overstimulation from the feel of his cock made you want to clench your thighs together.

You were struggling to breathe when he stilled, chest burning, and when he roughly let you go—pushing himself away from you—you gasped for air. You turned on your side, sweaty and bloody and feeling like you couldn’t breathe deep enough. A hand smoothed along the side of your face—a feminine hand—and when you looked up, the blue-eyed man was cleaning his blade with a crooked smile, terrifying teeth on display.

“I think I will keep this one.”

[beefboyandbabygirl]

I ❤️ DILFS / GOOD GIRL (18+)

pairing: student!brother's bff!seokmin x student!good girl!reader

genre: college au, brother's best friend au, smut (MDNI), bit of crack, a small bit of angst but not nearly as much as most of my fics

description: when you head out for college, you incidentally end up at the one your bother's best friend has disappeared to 2 years prior. now, seokmin has promised your brother, vernon, to teach you and take care of you while you're away from home. unfortunately, it seems vernon should have been a bit more specific about what exactly seokmin was supposed to be teaching you.

warnings: vernon is ur overprotective brother, seokmin is not a dilf unfortunately, dirty talk, masturbation (male and female), fingering, slight restraint?, praise (f. receiving), pet names (good girl is so overused), teaching, innocence kink, corruption kink, oral (m. receiving), tiddie play, alcohol consumption, a bit of pining, shame on the readers part, she feels a bit like a slut for a moment, kinda brief mention of miscarriage? for like a metaphor lol, jeonghan is hot in this, giselle is ur bff and i almost gave up my mission and made this whole fic ab her shes so hot, ok i think thats it

quotes my creative director (@joshibambi): "just admit u wanna bang son", "o is for orgasm", "the urge to be the younger sibling for once"

wordcount: 15.9k

a/n: the way this fic took me years to write. i hav been busy :( thank u 2 every1 who liked girl code uve made my whole year :D hope u like this one 2!!

You preferred to remember Seokmin for how he was.

How he was small and young, how he had a swanky bowlcut and how he looked in his school uniform. How he and your big brother, Vernon, had bonded and watched movies together in your living room, and the countless dinners he’d stayed over for, always so respectful to your parents and you. He wasn’t your best friend, he was Vernon’s, and yet he made it so easy to feel comfortable, so easy to feel like you were the one he came over for. 

You crushed on him back then, wrote countless diary entries about him and his stupid, beautiful smile. But it had been so forbidden, you remembered feeling that, because of how Vernon had groaned at you to leave every time you peaked your head through the living room door, masking your insistent eyes on Seokmin with simply wanting to “watch a grown up movie”. Sighing, you’d turn back to your princess pink room, and the boundary - the Vernon shaped boundary - that stood between you and Seokmin grew farther.

It had almost been a relief when Seokmin left for college. That was the most terrible thing, the relief you felt while your brother was grieving the sudden separation with his best friend. But your heart simply couldn’t help but let out a long sigh - years of yearning for him when he was so close by. You felt that cool wash of repose when that border between you and him had disappeared from your view. Years of watching it, wondering whether to pad closer or turn away from it, became a distant memory. For two years you were almost a normal girl and a good baby sister. 

Then it was your turn to head off for college. The nearest, big college to you accepted your application and you still distinctly remember dinner with your parents and your brother, how’d they’d cheered and clinked glasses and looked at you adoringly, because you were growing up right before their eyes. Then under the faint light of the restaurant chandelier, your mom had said something that immediately sent you hurdling back to that old, distant boundary: “Maybe you’ll see Seokmin there!” 

How had you forgotten? You supposed in that time you’d let yourself be more taken with the relief. It was the thought that he would be gone that had distracted you from exactly where to. And there you were with all your moving plans and your packed backs, and your glass raised and frozen in the air and your eyes wide. 

Then came the reasoning: surely, you could avoid him? It was a big college, there were plenty of people. There was no logical reason you’d really have to see him. Except for Vernon, of course. Ever so oblivious, your brother had called up Seokmin to tell him the good news, and to tell him to take care of you and protect you. And Seokmin was so sweet, of course, he’d take care of his best friend’s baby sister. 

And there you were at college. All grown up.

In your defense, you had avoided him skillfully. You’d turned down his request to help you with unpacking, turned down his tour of the school (that you’d actually desperately needed - why is room 240 not with all the other 40’s?!), and most of all, you’d turned down every single message inviting you to a party. 

I guess to him that was a perk; partying with the older kids. He knew you after all. He knew that you were a quiet girl and you stayed within your neatly laid brick walls, and he knew you were shy, and he knew you needed help letting loose. He knew you were a good girl. 

Which is why it wasn’t surprising at all that you turned down his offers - wanting to stay focused on school. At least, that’s what you told him. Truth was even being in his vicinity had put you much closer to that boundary you’d never dared cross. You were afraid even just seeing him would send you hurdling back, like a leaf in the wind. So you didn’t go. 

For a while, at least. 

“This is, like, a once in a lifetime opportunity!” Giselle whined and you shook your head adamantly. “Absolutely not.” 

“Well, maybe not for you, but for me!” she argued. “I can’t believe you’re consistently being invited to parties with hot, sexy men, and you’re turning it down because of one guy!” 

You were currently sitting in the library with your roommate, Giselle, and you’d made the unfortunate mistake of telling her about your predicament after receiving yet another invitation to a party tomorrow. Giselle was throwing a temper tantrum because she had never ever had anything as ridiculous. 

You liked Giselle a lot. She was very different from you - she was hot. You weren’t - you were cute. Giselle held boys on leashes and made them do homework for her. She liked partying and sexy, black dresses. You were a fucking nerd, and cute was the highest compliment you had ever received for your looks. Even though you were different, Giselle had immediately taken a liking to you. You had initially feared she would think you were lame, but she was so nice - except for right now.

“Come on, Y/n, there are, like, no cute guys in our year!” she said pleadingly, clasping her hands together and pouting, but you shook your head.

“You don’t understand, Giselle,” you murmured solemnly, trying to regain your focus on the science textbook in front of you. 

“I understand perfectly well,” she said and you eyed her suspiciously. “I understand that you’re a bitch!” 

“Alright, that’s unnecessary,” you said, closing your book. You pinched the bridge of your nose, when she went on. “No, honestly, Y/n. You’re a virgin, right?” 

You snapped your head towards her in shock. Your eyes darted around frantically, before you leaned over the table to whisper to her: “How do you know that?” 

“Don’t embarrass yourself, honey,” she grinned, holding back laughter and you rolled your eyes, sighing. “And what about it, Giselle?” 

“How are you ever gonna get yourself out there if you’re constantly caught up on this guy and trying to keep away your feelings for him? You’ll stay a virgin forever, girl. You need to look him in the eyes and realize you’re above that childish crush!” 

You stayed quiet, slumped in on yourself with your book in your lap. Why was she making sense? 

You’d never thought about it that way. That your infatuation with your brother’s best friend was somehow holding you back from exploring and evolving as a woman. That maybe having him in the back of your mind every time you’d shyly made out with guys in high school, had been the thing that stopped you in your tracks. 

“I can see it on your face, you know I’m right,” Giselle smiled smugly from behind the screen of her laptop. “Unless you’re asexual. In that case, fierce, but if you’re not, like, get out there, queen. Sometimes you need to realize that you have to leave one dick for another dick because the other dick is so good.” 

You furrowed your brows. “Is.. Is this still about me?” 

“No,” Giselle shook her head.

“Okay, yeah, ‘cause- ‘cause that didn’t..”

“Yeah, I know. I was more so, uh, angling-”

“Right-”

“Angling the story to- to my current situation.”

“I get it, yep.” 

There was a moment of silence. You pursed your lips and looked at the message on your phone. Then you started typing.

“Are you telling him you’re coming with your super sexy, hot friend?” 

“Yes.” 

“Y/N, I LOVE YOU.” _____________________________

Regret was a nasty, old demon on your back and it had twisted and tugged at your guts, while you let Giselle get you party-ready. You’d sat on her bed, in her dress, and having her put her makeup on you, you’d sulked and tried to shrug off your back.

“You look so hot when you actually try,” she’d giggled, using a fluffy brush to spread the bake underneath your eyes.

“Thanks,” you’d mumbled, and she’d paused her movements, frowning.

“What’s wrong?” she’d asked, sitting back on her knees. You had sighed, reaching a hand up to run it through your hair, but pausing midway when you realized you would ruin the styling Giselle had worked so hard on. You lowered your hand again.

“I’m not sure about this,” you’d murmured and she frowned genuinely. “Y/n, I meant what I said. I know I talk a lot about boys and stuff, but you really shouldn’t let yourself be held back by him!” 

Before you could speak again, Giselle had tugged you off the floor to stand in front of her mirror. 

“Look at you,” she’d cooed, clapping your shoulders. “You look so pretty!” 

You’d smiled a little shyly, looking at your form in the mirror abashedly. You were pretty. Not cute, not nerdy; pretty. Curves hugged tight by a sleek, black dress from Giselle’s closet, this was a version of you that could actually see having sex - seducing men, gaining from her looks.

“I guess you’re right,” you’d said sheepishly, and Giselle had smiled sincerely and you’d let her take you to the party down the streets in a nearby frat house, and you’d almost not wavered when you stood right in front of it, music blasting out of every crevice. 

But then you were inside and he was right there. For the first time in two years, he was there, and he was so hot. He was wearing a white tee and a fucking silver chain, and, God, when did he start working out, because his arms were so big and so toned. And his hair was fluffy and dark brown, and his face was slim, and the tops of his cheekbones were shining under the kitchen lamp, where he was talking to some other guy, arm flexed, as he leaned against it on the counter. 

If there was one thing about Seokmin that had stayed the same it was that smile. He wore it now, laughing, as he talked to some blonde guy about something, and you wanted to scream because, there it was. The boundary, the ledge, the line, whatever, it was right before you again, right there with him. And all the feelings that came with it, your heart, wet and red in your throat, a brew of anxiety in your stomach. 

Without sparing even a second, you’d clasped onto Giselle’s wrist, tugging her into a herd of anonymous people, and just walking. Walking, walking, pulling her along (she countered only with a “hey!”) only for you to hit a wall or something, just as long as you were far, far away from him. 

“What the hell?” she said, when you finally stopped walking because you’d entered the living room, which was apparently more exclusive, as only a few people populated it, including a couple that was making out on the far end of the couch. 

“He was there,” you gasped dramatically, as if you’d seen a ghost. “I-I can’t do this, Giselle.” 

“Relax, babe, it’ll be fine. You’re away from him now, aren’t you?” Although she was trying to be supportive, you could tell she was growing a little tired of your theatrics. You couldn’t care less though, you were panting, and peering over her shoulder to see if he was somehow coming towards; and, God forbid, smile at you with that angel grin. 

Giselle followed your gaze and sighed, brows furrowing. “How about I get us some drinks? Then you can let loose a little.” 

You nodded absently, following her lead when she pulled you to sit down on the couch. You clambered to the couch rest, when she walked away, swaying her hips to the music. 

You might’ve looked different, but you were still you. The entire scene had you uncomfortable, and you were still the shy, unconfident and nerdy girl. You cursed yourself for letting Giselle’s reassurances fool you - you would never be this type of person, and you would surely never get over Seokmin. She’d been wrong about everything. 

“You okay, darling?” 

You jumped at the voice, eyes darting up to see who it was. 

You didn’t know him. He was handsome, though, but you’re not even sure you’d call it that. He was pretty, and he had long, black hair and big eyes and he was giving you this teasing smile, that was doing nothing to ease your nerves.

“I’m good,” you squeaked, gaze moving to a nearby pair of shoes in the corner of the room. You heard him chuckle, before he dropped into a squat before you. One lean hand came up to your knee, giving it a squeeze. “You just look so nervous, pretty,” he sat down an anonymous cup of liquor. “I don’t think I know you. Can you tell me your name?” 

The hand on your knee burned into you, thumb brushing back and forth over the skin and he was looking at you so intently, it had you sputtering. “Uhm, uh, Y/n.” 

His thumb froze. You looked over at him curiously to find this dumbfounded expression on his face, devious grin spreading on his pretty features. He chuckled and cleared his throat, face dropping down before he moved it back to look at you again. 

“You’re the girl Seokmin’s always inviting over here?” 

You nodded shyly and he smiled at you. “I’m Jeonghan.” 

“Hi.”

A pause. Jeonghan squeezed your thigh, watching in delight at the way you screwed your eyes shut. 

“You know, I just didn’t expect you to look like this,” he said finally and, sensing your confusion, he teasingly added: “The girl who’s always turning down parties to study.” 

You blush deepened, cheeks furiously rosy, as you fiddled with your fingers in your lap. “I borrowed my friend's clothes,” you breathed, pursing your lips. “Ah!” Jeonghan gently patted the top of your thigh, nodding along exaggeratedly, “You borrowed your friend’s clothes! I see!” 

He studied you while you giggled at his antics, still refusing to look him in the eye, really. He was almost suffocating, his hand on your thigh and his eyes boring into your face, and his cologne in a constant stream in and out of your nostrils. But suffocation, you decided, was almost better than being around Seokmin and having him parade his kind heart and his thick arms and his sweet smile, and just how off-limits he was. 

Ripping you from your thoughts, Jeonghan stood up, placing both hands on the tops of your thighs and bending down to your face, so his nose was buried in your cheek.

“Look at me, darling,” he whispered, then pulled his face away from yours, just enough so you could gaze into his brown eyes. His hands were much higher now, squeezing hard at the plush of your thighs, dangerously close to your center and only separated by the thin fabric of Giselle’s dress. 

“There she is,” Jeonghan smiled, voice a whisper. His lashes came over his eyes, when they flitted down to your lips. “Don’t you wanna come with me upstairs, and I can make you feel really, really goo-”

“JEONGHAN! GET OFF OF HER, THAT IS MY BEST FRIEND’S BABY SISTER!”

There’s a voice you know.

From across the room, Seokmin had burst through the mass of people, now power-posing with an extended finger in the direction of where Jeonghan was tilting over you, rubbing your thighs, as you sat innocently before him. 

Jeonghan stood up, taking all of his heat and his suffocation and cologne with him, groaning and throwing his head back. “Seokmin!” he whined and he was suddenly no longer so suave and seductive. 

“No, I won’t hear it, Jeonghan,” Seokmin said and, as much as you knew Seokmin to be sweet and tender and lovely, there was this crystal-clear anger in his voice. He walked over, one large hand pushing at Jeonghan. “Go get any other girl and sleep with her, just not her. Get your sorry ass out of here.” 

Apparently Jeonghan sensed the same thing you did - a rare anger in Seokmin - because he didn’t put up much of a fight at all, only smiled at you apologetically (and then, when he was behind Seokmin, gave you a small, devious wink - he just couldn’t help himself). 

You couldn’t focus much on Jeonghan at all though. Because Seokmin was standing in front of you, all muscle and huge fucking thighs by your head, and when you dared to tilt your gaze up to him, you saw how all that anger simply melted away. 

“Hey,” he breathed, smiling softly.

“Hey.” 

Then his eyes darkened, if only for a moment, as they traveled over your figure, gift-wrapped in that tight, black dress. His jaw clenched and he looked around for a moment. When he looked at you once more, he was giving you that smile - the one you’d fallen in love with - and the chocolate in his eyes was melting.

“Come on,” he ushered gently, one hand carefully guiding you off the couch. “Let’s go to my room where there aren’t any scary, evil, mean men.” 

Despite being so on edge, so jittery, as you followed him up some distant staircase, you couldn’t help but laugh at those words. He was talking exactly like he had when you were kids. That was how you preferred to remember him; all small and young and with a swanky bowl cut, and he’s the exact same way with you, hand warm in yours, as he guides you through the house. 

“Why’re you laughing?” he smiled, and you suppressed your own, trying not to dwell too much on how fast your heart was beating. “It’s just like before,” you quipped and Seokmin’s hand squeezed yours in understanding. 

He lumbered down the hallway and at its very end, preceded by rows of white oak doors, he opened his own with a twist and a turn of the brass-blend knob. When he closed it, the party became muffled around you, as if his room was filled with water, and now the rest of the world was a garbled mess, and you were drowning.

His room was clean. You supposed Seokmin had never been the messy type - not even when infected by the influence of Vernon. He had a half-open closet, where you spotted folded clothes, and a circle rug and purple and green lava-lamp plugged in on his nightstand. 

Seokmin apparently did not think it was clean enough, because he swooped down gallantly to grab a tossed sweater, smiling at you sheepishly when he held in between his fingers. You stared at him.

You felt like a kid again. Felt like just a young girl, creeping through the crack in the living room door, and looking at his silhouette, outlined by some grotesque horror movie playing on the TV. His sharp nose, when he turned to Vernon and laughed, his hair, all poofed and tousled and scruffy, and his smile. 

And you’d let yourself fall into this trap, maybe to some extent you’d even wanted it. Because now he was right in front of you, and so was that damned barrier, right by your outstretched fingertips, and you could almost envision yourself climbing over it - climbing into his lap and-

“I didn’t think you’d ever come,” Seokmin said gently, a permanent, small smile frozen on his lips. You coughed, unready. “Uh, yeah, my friend- my friend thought I should try and.. You know, get myself out there.” 

Seokmin studied you, bemused and fond, fiddling with the baby blue sweater in his hands. You were looking back cautiously, as if assessing a threat, but the threat was the sweetest, kindest boy in the whole wide world. 

“Yeah, well,” he cleared his throat suddenly, ripping his gaze from you to fold the sweater onto his desk chair. “I’m sorry about Jeonghan, he’s.. You shouldn’t, uh..” Now neatly folded, you saw him rubbing the sweater between his fingers. “You should stay away from him.” 

“Why?” you asked, and it was genuine enough that Seokmin let out a sigh. 

“You’re too much of a good girl to be with him. He’s no good.”

A whimper clawed its way up your throat, bubbled from the depths of your belly, but you tamed it and settled on a light hum. You felt your underwear becoming a little sticky, and you wanted to die, because God, this was your brother’s best friend. They still facetimed every Tuesday and still played Fortnite together over Discord every Saturday. 

“College going good?” Seokmin asked, retreating from the sweater to sit down on his bed. He looked up at you brightly and patted the spot next to him. It felt like another trap, where the folds in the blanket curved down under his weight, and would eventually lead you into him. You sat down hesitantly. 

“It’s okay,” you breathed, folding your hands and in your lap and tensing your shoulders. Seokmin, fully relaxed and slumped, noted your posture and slid his hand over the exposed skin of your back. “Hey,” he whispered, so intimate it hurt your heart, “hey, hey, relax, Y/n. It’s just me.” 

His eyes were soft and full of concern when he spoke quietly again, his voice almost a backdrop to the muffled sounds of dancing college students: “You know, Vernon was really concerned about how you would do away from home.” 

“I’m not doing bad!” you said quickly, dismissing it immediately. Seokmin stared at you. “I just- this isn’t really my scene.” 

His hand felt searing hot on your back, where it slid up and down, almost coaxing you further into him. He hummed. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.” 

Then: “I’m sorry if I made you feel like you had to come. Just figured you might want that street cred of being friends with the upperclassmen.”

You snorted and, cheeks rosy as ever, started giggling, eyes still cemented to the floor. Your hair was falling gently over your face, wisps of baby hair tickling your forehead. 

“It’s okay,” you sighed away the laughter, “You were just trying to get me out of my shell. I appreciate it.” 

Seokmin smiled at that. His hand dropped from your back and you both stared into the expanse of his room. A small window to let in the rain, the moonlight separated by the grid, and the curtain blowing in a solemn breeze. You and Seokmin sat, both very small suddenly, like kids, on the edge of the bed and became speckled in starlight, in diamond-dust. 

Then Seokmin was doing it. He was letting you be comfortable, letting you slip into a dazed joy, intoxicated from his presence. He was asking about your teachers, exams, friends, experiences, and you were both laughing together, and once again you were forgetting that Seokmin was your brother’s best friend, and he was not with you for you, but he was simply talking to you out of courtesy to your brother. He let you forget.

“You going home for the break?” he asked then, room quieted down from all the laughter. The fall break, starting tomorrow, you remembered. You’d thought about going home, but had opted to text your parents that you were staying, wanting honestly to stay in your dorm room and work on assignments and organization and just lull in bed, instead of being taken up, down and everywhere in your hometown. You shook your head. 

“Really? Me neither,” he said, brows raised. “Won’t you get lonely?” 

You giggled shyly. “Maybe a little.” 

“We could hang out,” he breathed, and at that you tasted the boundary between you, felt it firm under your fingertips, because you couldn’t discern whether he was protecting his friend’s baby sister or if he actually liked talking to you, and your heart beat and yearned and hoped for the latter. 

“Yeah, okay,” you nodded, melting when you saw his smile reach his eyes. 

“Didn’t you always like, uh, Mario Kart? You always wanted to play with me and Vern,” Seokmin said, but he was looking distantly into the window. You almost wanted to cry because he remembered you, remembered things that you liked. “I got it on my Playstation, we can play tomorrow.” 

“I’d like that,” you said.

Then Seokmin was loaning you his hoodie, and, bathed in his warm, tender smell, he followed you home under the moon, glaring at Jeonghan on his way out. 

“Keep the hoodie,” he’d said, smiling sheepishly when you stood in front of your dorm door. “It’s cute.” 

He patted your head and left, thankfully before he could see how red your face was, and how you were absolutely about to blow up from unfiltered joy. You shuffled into your dorm room and tried to soothe the basking butterflies in your stomach and your burning heart. 

Was he standing right across from you on that line, waiting to cross? _____________________________

Giselle woke up just early enough to catch you switching between different button-up dresses, throwing one on, looking in the mirror, and deciding to try another. She was groggy and tired and somewhat hungover, and needed to catch a train, so she could get back home. 

“What are you doing?” she cried, rubbing her eyes. You scurried back and forth trying on another dress, considering white tights, then white socks, then adjusting the tone and volume of your blush.

“I’m-” you gasped in between your hard labor, “I’m seeing a boy!” 

This caught Giselle’s attention. She shot straight up in her bed and looked at you with huge eyes. “No way!”

“Yeah way!” you giggled deviously. You turned around to face her. “What do you think of this outfit?” 

“You look cute!” Giselle praised, nodding to your red strawberry dress and your knee-highs. You slumped. There it was again - cute. Not hot, not pretty, but cute. That was what you were; like a child, like the kid Seokmin knew years ago, like his best friend’s baby sister. Nothing more.

“Who is this mystery guy?” Apparently Giselle was too busy rubbing sleep out of her eyes to see how her compliment had deflated you.

“It’s Seokmin. My-”

“Your brother’s best friend?!” She gasped. It was one shock after another from you that morning. “I wanna say I’m disappointed in you, but.. If you pull this off you’re way freakier than me.” 

“We’re not gonna have sex!” you groaned, pouting as you hastily shoved on your shoes. “We’re gonna play Mario Kart.” 

“Right, this cute guy just invited you over for Mario Kart and nothing else, I get it,” Giselle said sarcastically. 

“You don’t know him,” you mumbled defensively, shoes on and now staring at yourself in the mirror once more. “Cute,” the mirror spat at you.

“All men are the same,” Giselle rolled her eyes and threw herself back on the bed. You snorted and began to walk out the door.

“Y/n, wait!” 

“Hm?” 

Halfway out the door, a tote bag slung over your shoulder and ready to step into the sunlight, you peered back into the room. Giselle, in her sweats and hair fussed, stumbled blindly towards the door. She reached into her pocket and produced a-

“A condom?!” you shrieked, outraged. And not just any condom: a condom in white packaging with the lettering “I ❤️ DILFS”. You truly did not understand how Giselle managed to be a caricature of herself time after time.

“You need to wear protection, he’s in a frat, right?” she shrugged. You glared at her. “I’m not bringing a condom.” 

“Alright, I guess,-” Giselle pretended to think, “I guess, you’ll just have to get chlamydia.” 

You stared at her for a moment, bristling. Then you snatched it out of her outstretched hand.

“You’re unbelievable.” 

“You’re a prude.” 

“Goodbye, Giselle!” 

The condom slipped into your tote with ease to lay snug with all your other items and then you were out the door and heading towards Seokmin’s frat house. The sun was dulled by a few clouds, but it was still shining. Leaves were turning brown and red and yellow and were falling from trees to crunch underfoot - everything was lovely.

But the expanse, in your head, was much different. In your head you were traveling the soft dunes of a desert, spotting in the brown and red and yellow horizon a cleft in the sand. When you reached it, wide and long, seemingly endless to each side of you, you were standing right in front of Seokmin’s house.

You weren’t sure how long you stood there, knuckles white where you grasped your tote, and eyes big and heart pounding. What if Giselle was right? Did you want her to be right? Would you even be able to please him if she was? Half-heartedly you tried to push away the images of Seokmin pushing into you, arms flexing on either side of your head, that spawned alongside the thought. Maybe you straddling him, his hands on your ass, his head buried in your chest, or-

“Y/N!” 

You jumped, clutching your bag tight, when you snapped your head up to the voice. It was Seokmin and he was waving at you from his upstairs-window, smiling so brightly you swore the sun reflected off of his teeth. 

“What are you standing there for, come inside! Door’s unlocked!” he yelled, body disappearing in the window. You stared at the window for a moment, his presence now absent, before you nodded to yourself in reassurance. You could do this, right? Just Mario Kart and small talk.

Truth was, you couldn’t do this. Not even in the slightest. You and Seokmin sat cross-legged on his bed, TV on the wall before it, drinking soda and crunching on chips. Seokmin was drenched in a green, fuzzy sweater, collarbones peeking over the rounded neck, and fingers peeking through the sleeves, where he held his controller, and God forbid, his hair was all soft and fluffy, and he was wearing fucking puppy socks. 

And he was competitive, too. He was leaned forward, eyes narrowed as he sped through the course. You huffed when he blue-shelled you, and you tried to refocus.

“I thought you said you were good?” he teased, eyes leaving the screen for only a second to look at you - you, dress bunched up to your thighs and tongue peeking through your pretty, subtly red lips. A second was all that was necessary. 

Suddenly, his character (baby Daisy) swerved off-course, falling into the pit below and he screeched, seemingly genuinely sad, as your character (Toadette) overtook him, the little gold badge popping up in the corner to tell you that you were number one. 

“What were you saying?” you giggled cockily when you finished the last round, Seokmin unable to quite catch up to you in the last stretch. He threw himself back on the bed in defeat, groaning into his hand.

“I can’t believe I let you win,” he cried.

“Let me?” you repeated in disbelief. You scoffed and put down the controller, pretending that Seokmin lying all angelic on his bed sheets wasn’t making your stomach pinch with static. “Pretty sure that was just pure skill on my part. Don’t blame me because you’re bad at Mario Kart.” 

A blow to his talents in Mario Kart was a blow to him. He snapped his head up to look at you, playfully angry. “Oh, oh wow, really? I’m bad at Mario Kart now?” 

“Mhm,” you hummed, smiling cheekily at him. Seokmin studied you for a moment, before he shuffled into a sitting position. His gaze almost made you shy. Did he want to kiss you as much as you wanted to kiss him?

Seokmin shuffled closer to you and you almost stopped breathing: “Don’t I remember you being ticklish?” 

You were almost so caught up in your fantasy to realize what he said. Your eyes widened in realization and you most immediately tried to twist your body away: a punishment was upon you.

“No- NO!-” You cried out but it was too late. Seokmin wrestled his body into yours, fingers dancing and prodding into your sides. Drowning in laughter, your face twisted into tortured pleasure, as you tried to bat his hands away. Your attempts were futile - each time you shuffled away, he followed right with you, fingers unrelenting as your torso twisted and turned. 

"Hehehehehehe- NO, PLEASE!- hehehehehehe!” 

Your knees pushed with all their might and you were almost able to drag yourself to the edge of the bed. There, you could gain distance and talk him down from beyond his desk. But Seokmin was smart. He sensed your escape plan when you squirmed away, and without much thought, he pulled his body on top of yours, weight pinning you down. 

You were still giggling and squirming, when his fingers finally let up. You were both panting from the excitement, Seokmin smiling down at you adoringly. Then, both of your smiles dropped.

It was like it took a few moments to realize; he was straddling you. Hips pushed into yours, all his weight rested on your crotch - your crotch, which was now pulsating. To make matters worse, the skirt of your dress had ridden up and most of your plush thighs were now visible to him, and your chest was halfway out of your dress, and your cheeks were flushed and your hair was spread out on the sheets beneath you. Seokmin seemed unsure of where to put his hands, while you both stared at each other, breathing in the thick, heavy silence.

“I’m sorry-”

“It’s okay, I-” 

“I really- I don’t know what-” 

“Don’t worry-” 

You were pulling down your dress again, cheeks literally flaming red and bottom lip caught between your teeth. Silence swallowed you both whole. 

You wanted him back on your hips so bad. It hurt. You were aching in quick pulses, but you couldn’t even look at him. Surely, you thought, surely, he’d seen that look on your face, how your eyes clouded over with lust. Maybe he felt disgusted. 

“I better-” you hiccupped, voice small, “I better go.” 

Seokmin, eyes peeking at you through his lashes, feared he made you uncomfortable.

“Yeah, of course,” he mumbled.

You gathered your things and ran out of there, wetness gushing out of you. You tried to run, tried to create distance, but this time, in your mind’s eye, you ran in place, staying completely still by the cleft separating you and Seokmin. You fiddled with the edge, sand cascading into the empty, endless dark. 

There was no way you could make that jump.

That night you wished Giselle was by your side. You wrote an assignment, trying to ward off the embarrassment that stormed in your brain, when you got a message, that plunged you into rock bottom:

Lee Seokmin: hey you forgot smth at my house lol

Lee Seokmin: *Image Attached*

This was it. You were going to jump off a bridge (or a cleft in a dry, sandy wasteland).

As if your life couldn’t get anymore embarrassing: it was the condom. The white condom with “I ❤️ DILFS” on it. You damned that woman for ever making you bring it. What must he have thought of you? His best friend’s little sister trying to get in his pants? Your cheeks were burning and you threw your head into your pillow and screeched. Your life was over. It had simply ended now. There was no coming back from this. You huffed and removed yourself from its plushness. 

Maybe you could salvage it? Thinking on your feet, you replied:

You: OMG i’m so sorry!!!! i think that’s my roommate’s, she must’ve put it in my bag… :/ 

You: I’ll come pick it up ASAP :(((( 

You stared at your phone at the blatant. It was not a far stretch from the truth, but being caught with your hand in the cookie jar - or maybe more so the I ❤️ DILFS condom in your tote bag - it seemed like an irrationally shitty cover up. 

You gnawed at your lip when the three dots popped up next to his picture, and bit it to pieces waiting for his reply. You almost jumped when your phone buzzed:

Lee Seokmin: hahahahaha

Lee Seokmin: you can come pick it up tomorrow if u want? theres no rush 

You glared at the message. Laughter? Surely he hadn’t bought it. He was just trying to be nice, just trying to avoid you any embarrassment. The thought made you wanna throw up, how he felt this obligation to be nice to you when you had permanently scarred him (were you being dramatic?).

You: ok. im rlly sorry again!! i’ll pick it up tomorrow _____________________________

Tomorrow came much faster than you had hoped. No amount of tossing and turning could slow down the passage of time, and by the time you received Seokmin’s promised “I’m awake”-message, the embarrassment hadn’t faded one bit. 

Every discouraged moment of getting ready was haunted by your current situation, and you stopped to cringe every five seconds, causing an honest and diligent self-hatred to bubble within you. When you knocked on Seokmin’s door, you’d honestly never felt less confident in your life.

“Y/n!” he said enthusiastically. 

“Seokmin,” you said, less enthusiastic. 

He smiled at you sweetly, almost as sympathetically, before stepping aside. You furrowed your brow, not really understanding why he couldn’t just hand it to you at the door, but stepping inside nonetheless. “It’s in my room,” he offered, but could he not just have brought it with him? Did he have to prolong the shame even further? You followed him to his room.

In that moment you hated Seokmin for being who he was; for being sweet, gentle, caring, and gentlemanly. You would feel less pathetic if he yelled at you, if he was genuinely disgusted and wanted nothing to do with you. But there he was all smiling and supportive, and he wasn’t touching you at all, but he still felt like pillars on your back, soothing you and holding you up. 

“It was your roommate’s?” he asked absently as you traversed the halls. “Uh, yeah,” you answered sheepishly. 

“I can tell,” he threw his head back to you, and there was a huge grin on his face. A little bit of hope blossomed in your chest. “Yeah, I saw her at that party, you know? I think she slept with, uh, my friend, Minghao.” 

“That’ll be her,” you were smiling now too, and a huge wave of relief washed over you, as he at least let you believe that he thought it wasn’t your perversion bringing along that condom. 

Finally stumbling into his room, he did indeed pick it up from his desk, handing it back to you. You looked at it in his outstretched hand and blushed sheepishly. “Thanks,” you squeaked. 

Seokmin nodded in response. For a moment the two of you stood, uncertain of what to do and caught in the web of a terribly awkward silence. Seokmin’s eyes darted to the window and yours to the floor. 

“Hey, uh,” he giggled a little, scratching the back of his head. “I feel really bad for losing that Mario Kart game-”

You scoffed in response, but the facade of being peeved was falling apart, as you beamed up at him. 

“Maybe we could do, like, a quick rematch?” 

You shrugged, trying to be nonchalant with an ever-heavy flush in your cheeks: “I don’t back away from a challenge.” 

Seokmin won the rematch. This only spurred on another rematch, and suddenly there was no end to the madness. This time there was no awkwardness, no lingering silences. You were just giggling and strategizing, and throwing heat in the direction of your opponents. 

That uncomfortable, clamoring feeling left you, slowly. It became easy to forget it. That feeling that he was only there with you because of Vernon, that there was always some sort of demand, a twisting hand, forcing him upon you, and that you became a sort of burden on him. That was the thing about Seokmin, though, his ability to make you feel like his best friend; his ability to make him feel like he was there for you, even when he wasn’t.

It was only after an hour and a half or so, when Seokmin paused the game. 

“What the hell, Lee? I was just about to beat you!” you whined, crossing your arms. He nodded along, pushing himself off the bed. “Yes, I agree, which is why I’ve assessed that I need a refreshment.” 

“Oh, you’ve assessed?” 

“Yeah, I’ve assessed that I need a fresh, cooling drink in my gullet.” 

You both laughed a little and slumped back, dropping the controller. Seokmin smiled at you, eyes twinkling. “You want one?” 

“What are you getting?” 

“A beer,” Seokmin said. Rationally, you knew you shouldn’t accept. You were bad with alcohol, and everytime you drank just a little, a little easily became a lot. That was why you took yourself by surprise when your voice left your mouth, chipper and grand: “Sure!” 

One beer turned into another, and Mario Kart turned into talking on his bed, slumped into his fortress of pillows and giggling at his stories. You were a little tipsy, halfway into your second beer and your face was flushed and Seokmin was lying on his side, hand propped up under his head, as he made you laugh again. 

“Your kind of partying sounds… Extreme,” you murmured, rim of the bottle pushed against your lips where your words slightly slurred. Mario Kart and alcohol had gotten you a little out of your shell, and now you and Seomin were talking like friends - as if your brother didn’t even exist. You basked in the alcoholic buzz and in this reality, this hideout, where your lovely brother didn’t exist and the faint ache in your legs at Seokmin’s godly face in the bedside lamp wasn’t so utterly misplaced. 

“I think anything’s more extreme than your partying,” Seokmin mused teasingly. You huffed, putting down your beer and smoothing over your skirt. Everything was so lovely and artificially yellow and his body beside yours radiated pleasant heat. He was beautiful, you thought, looking at how the sweaters pooled on his torso and how his brown hair looked so soft and messy. You almost felt the absence of ground beneath you, when you imagined yourself at the cleft again.

“You don’t know about my kind of partying,” you joked and he chuckled softly. “You’re right, I shouldn’t make assumptions.” 

You looked at him and he was suddenly serious. The smiley, gooey Seokmin was gone and his eyes, although not threatening at all, were prodding at you. Your smile fell. The alcohol at this time felt misplaced and wrong, the lightness felt wrong.

“Were you gonna, you know, go with Jeonghan at the party?” he whispered. The world was suddenly very quiet, as if it were following Seokmin’s tact. You grimaced a little. “No. No, not really.” 

He studied you. You couldn’t bear to meet his eyes, opting to look at your hands in your lap. “Why not?” 

A pause.

You began to pick at your own fingertips, nails digging into the cuticles. Seokmin’s eyes dragged from your face to your hands, and he scooted closer to you, only to cover your hand with his, stopping your movements immediately. Suddenly so close, his voice was whispered right in your ear, so soft and so gentle, it felt like a kiss: “Don’t do that.” 

You sucked in a breath, hands ripping to your sides to lay stiff. “I’m, uh, I’m not that experienced, so I..”

Your eyes flicked up to gauge his reaction. In your worst nightmares, you imagined a laugh breaking onto his face, maybe disgust, but you felt yourself melting. He looked at you so softly, like you were the most precious, fragile thing and his hand had stilled in the air after you pushed it off, as if, like the most enchanting artwork at a museum, he fought desperately not to reach out and touch you. 

It was unbearable - how still the air had become, how heavy you felt, how your chest struggled to expand. You talked again, if only to fill the air with your babbling: “I’ve not had.. I mean, I can hardly get myself off… So. I probably. Couldn’t. Get him off.” 

You realized about halfway through your sentence that you should not have said that. That last half of your sentence was a breathy mess, as your voice became shaky with humiliation. His gaze, a delicate constant, was not helping either. You felt tears welling up in your eyes suddenly and maybe that was the worst part. 

“You have trouble getting yourself off?” he repeated, as if to make sure. “Like masturba-” 

“Yeah, that,” you squeezed your eyes shut. You couldn’t tell if you wanted him to shut up forever, so you’d never have to know his reaction, or if you wanted him to talk and be able to sense how this information changed his perception of you. His voice came, in spite of whatever you had hoped.

“I figured you were a virgin,” he mumbled, voice half muted by the palm of his hand, “but I thought you at least masturbated-” 

“I do!” you defended yourself, voice much louder than his and brows furrowing and tears threatening to spill over your eyes. “I’m just- I’m not that good at it.” 

“Hey,” he said softly, hand landing on your arm. You immediately shut up, lip trembling when you struggled to meet his eyes. “Relax, Y/n. It’s okay. I’m not judging you.” 

You nodded half-heartedly, still incredibly uneasy. 

“If you want…” Seokmin’s voice trailed off. His eyes ventured over your form briefly, licking his lips. “You know, if you want, I could teach you.” 

You looked at him silently. He seemed to snap out of whatever loopy trance he had been sucked into, because he was suddenly very jittery and scrambling through the bedsheets. “Uh, I mean- you don’t- God, I’m sorry- it was only if-” 

“Yes,” you said. His scrambling stilled immediately. His eyes were teacups. 

“You sure?” 

You nodded, not trusting your own voice. 

Seokmin squeezed his eyes shut, gulping as he sat back against the bed. His legs spread apart. “Come here,” he patted his thighs. 

You felt terribly sober. All that buzz and butterflies and blaze and blossom was gone and you felt like a doll, moving each limb individually, as you climbed into his lap, back to him. You were unable to think, unable to truly process what was happening, what it meant, as you felt his form engulf yours.

His hands found purchase on your hips and his breath was warm on your neck, as you felt every ridge of his abdomen on your back. His thumbs rubbed against your hip bone. 

“Okay, now show me how you usually do it,” his voice was a warm hum, a twinge of nervousness laced in it. Your face was lit ablaze and you squirmed in his hold, when one hand left your hip to gently push your legs apart. You sat, all open and held against him, dress keeping you covered.

“It’s embarrassing,” you huffed, being very serious, but Seokmin smiled and nosed your hair gently. 

“We can stop whenever you want, seriously, if you get uncomfortable, we stop” he reassured. 

“It’s just me.” 

It was. It was just Seokmin, your brothers best friend, the sweetest boy in the world, who used to have a swanky bowl cut and dorky school uniform and who was always Vernon’s most respectful friend, but he was hot and whispering into your ear and one hand was massaging the outside of your thigh. 

“Should I take my dress off?” you breathed, face turned halfway back to him. His hands squeezed at you in response and you could faintly make out his tongue sliding over his lips. 

“Only if you want, angel,” he whispered back, rubbing your sides tenderly. “We’re not doing anything you don’t want. Whatever makes you feel good. ‘M just here to help.” 

You nodded, and although the answer was maybe made to make you keep your dress on - a reassurance that there was no need to discard it - you removed yourself from his grasp, hands coming to tug your dress off. You felt a small boost of confidence when you heard Seokmin breathe out: “Shit.” 

Only in your bra and panties (terribly mismatched, your bra was black and your panties were pink), you leaned back into his hold, and you noted how Seokmin’s warm hands were much more careful now, splaying out on your bare skin. 

“Are you comfortable now?” he asked quietly. You nodded. He propped his head up on your shoulder, eyes cast down your almost-nude body, chest rising and falling. Your legs were closed again, he noticed, and his veiny hand reached down to open them again. “Show me how you do it, baby, so I can help you improve.” 

You gummed your lip, breathing in one last time, before your nervous fingers began dancing their way to your panties. They disappeared under the fabric for only a moment, before Seokmin spoke again.

“Sweetheart,” he tutted, hand wrapping around your wrist to stop its track. “Don’t just dive right in, you need to get yourself all hot first.” 

Your brows furrowed and some of the embarrassment you felt from being this exposed and pressed into Seokmin evaporated into genuine confusion.

“What? What do you mean?” you said, somewhat outraged, and Seokmin couldn’t help the laughter blooming in his chest at that. He vibrated against your back, hands smoothing down your arm. You pouted: “Don’t laugh at me, Minnie.” 

He stopped, still smiling as he nosed your temple. “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your head, that had your heart beating out of your chest. “You’re just so cute.” 

Cute. You remembered your disdain for that word, but somehow, when it came from his lips, it made you beam. Everywhere he touched left behind a hot, burning ghost on your skin.

“You just have to touch your body, sweetheart,” he said sweetly. You thrashed in defiance, crying out quietly with red cheeks. Wiggling your body angrily, you felt his dick half-hard in his pants against your lower back. 

“Can’t you do it?” you whined, wanting nothing more than for him to take over and make you feel good. He sucked in a harsh breath behind you, fingers wrapping around your hands to soothe you still. He seemed to debate your proposal, but eventually he kissed your shoulder and spoke: “Okay, baby, but you have to show me you understand, alright?” you nodded feverishly. “We’re trying to get you to learn.” 

The whole thing had you dizzy, warm and gooey in his hands, and grounding yourself on his solid torso. You had tunnel vision, unable to focus on anything but his warm hands and sweet voice, and how fucking hard he was. You leaned your head up to look at him pleadingly. Even upside-down he was pretty. He giggled at your starstruck expression.

“Look at my hands, pretty,” he tapped your nose and you scrunched it, turning down to your own body, where he sat his hands on your waist. “You do it like this.” 

His hands started dragging over your skin, creating constellations of ghosts on your skin. One dragged across your stomach and down your leg, squeezing it along the way, and the other brushed over your bra-covered chest, landing on your shoulder and collarbones. Then they moved oppositely, then diverged from their chosen paths, and you started breathing heavily. Pressure built up in your stomach and your panties, and you felt how slick started leaking out of you. 

“Feel good?” Seokmin grinned against your neck, listening to the melody of your panted gasps. You nodded earnestly, moaning softly. Seokmin furrowed his brows at that noise, pressing kisses to your neck appreciatively. “Good girl. Such pretty sounds.” 

Both of Seokmin’s hands dragged up to your ribs. There, they paused. “Can I touch your chest, baby?” 

“Please,” you whimpered, and earned another sloppy kiss to the cheek. His hands immediately grabbed ahold of your chest, softly rubbing it over your bra. 

“Does that feel good?” he whispered. You hesitated for a moment. “Um, I don’t feel much, honestly.” 

You’d expect him to be a little angry or defensive, but Seokmin only hummed and nustled himself into your hair. “Good girl. Good girl, being so honest with me. So pretty.” 

You whined at his praise and Seokmin smiled smugly, taking notice of how heated you got from his words. 

“The- the fabric is in the way..” you whimpered meekly, and Seokmin nodded in understanding, stroking your sides soothingly. 

“You want to take off your bra?” he hummed, truly as if it would not expose you to him, as if it weren’t a lewd and depraved scenario, but something as simple as the weather. You nodded, removing yourself from the harbor of his arms once more to remove it. You unclipped it and threw it God knows where, before settling back into him. Seokmin peeked over your shoulder at your now bare breasts, groaning a little and covering it up with a cough. This was about you. 

Seokmin placed his hands on your tits again, massaging and rubbing the soft skin, before he brushed his thumbs over your hardened nipples.

You moaned - for the first time it was a clear moan, seething from your throat and puffing into the air. “Sound so pretty,” he muttered in your ear. “You really like that, hm?”

He pinched your nipples between his fingers, your back arching into his warm hands. Then, as soon as the pleasure had begun, it stopped, when his hands came to rest on the bed. You whined, twisting your head towards his, only to be stopped by fingers on your chin, turning you back forward. “Show me you can do it now, baby. You’re learning,” he reminded you.

 “But, Minnie, I want your hands,” you whined and he tutted softly in your ear. “I know, baby, but I need to know that you’re understanding this in that pretty little head of yours. Need to know you’re focusing. Come on, show me now.” 

Huffing, you placed your own hands (they somehow felt more foreign than his now) on your stomach and began to mimic his movements. You smoothed them up and down on your body, squeezing, then placed them on your chest, rubbing and pinching your nipples. 

“There you go,” he praised, and his hands had traveled to your shoulders, massaging them gently. You whimpered and turned your head to him again.

“Can you teach me how to touch my…” you trailed off.

“Your pussy?” he offered, as if it was nothing, as if it wasn’t vulgar or lewd. You nodded vigorously. Feeling him gulp a little, his hands became a little unsteady as they came to hold your waist again. “Can I hear you say it? Baby?” he asked and suddenly his voice was a little shaky, a little breathless. 

“Can you touch my pussy now, Minnie?” you asked, and any shame had been clouded over with lust. You’d never been this burningly bothered in your life, you needed him to touch you. He groaned, and this time he was unable to cover it up. You felt how his hard cock strained against his sweatpants, how it pressed into your back, and you wanted to touch it so bad. 

“Alright, baby, want your panties off?” His sharp nose was pressed into your hair. You shook your head. “Want them on.” 

He nodded. “Alright, jus’ tell me if you wanna stop, okay? I’m gonna touch you now.” 

His hand slipped under the waistband of your panties, disappearing under the pink fabric. As if they were always meant to be there, his fingers slipped through your folds, coming down to circle your slit in impossibly light figurations. 

“Shit,” he panted, grip on your waist suddenly bruising, as he tried to steady himself. “You’re so wet, baby, you like Seokminnie that much?” 

“Yeah, I do,” you nodded blindly, your own hands coming to grip onto his thighs. His middle finger danced upwards and pressed against your clit, and you immediately squeaked and shut your legs around his hand. 

“No, no, baby, don’t do that,” he frowned, hand that wasn’t buried in your pussy spreading your legs again. You felt how his legs, pressed against you, came to hook onto yours, forcing your legs apart with his own strength. He hummed in content. 

His finger pressed onto your clit again, and he felt how your legs tensed, straining against his to close. Your back arched and you moaned, eyes squeezed shut. He began rubbing it, and it was so intimate, how close you were to him, how his hand navigated your sopping wet pussy, fingers just rubbing you gently, and how bare you were, his eyes training over your bouncing tits when you thrashed. 

His fingers moved downwards again, gathering the wetness that was gushing out of you. Then, one long middle finger pushed into you. Canting into his hand, you moaned loudly and turned your head into his neck. Nosing the tan skin and inhaling his faint cologne, you began mindlessly kitten-licking the skin. His Adam's apple bopped under your tongue.

“You’re so tight,” he rasped, beginning to slowly push his finger in and out of you. His other hand had come to wrap around your waist in an attempt to calm the sudden bucking of your hips against his hand. 

His hand moved faster, obscene, wet sounds coming from your ruined underwear, where he worked diligently into your pussy. He slipped another finger in, and you cried from the stretch. It was becoming hard to contain you, thrashing and writhing against his hold, stuck between wanting to move closer and to move away entirely. His fingers tied a knot in your stomach.

“That’s right, pretty, tell me how good Minnie’s fingers feel,” he whispered hoarsely above your ear. You could almost only whine and moan, nipping at his neck a little. “Tell me or I’ll stop,” he warned.

“Feels so good!” you whined immediately, because if he stopped now, you figured you might start crying. “Feel so, so, so good, fuck, Seokmin, I’m-” 

“I know, baby, I know, but I’m teaching you, right?” 

Though your mind was fuzzy, you sensed what these words meant and panicked, hand coming down to grip his wrist in an attempt to hold him in place. “Please, please, please, Seokmin, don’t stop, please, don’t stop!” 

“Don’t talk back to me, sweetheart. I won’t stop, just talk to me. Tell me what you feel me doing,” pushing your head up again, Seokmin pressed his face against your cheek, so hard, you felt his humid pants against it. 

Your mind was so hazy, so transfixed on the feeling in your stomach and his finger in your pussy, you could hardly respond. 

“Tell me or I’ll stop, baby,” he reminded you again, and you scrambled frantically to focus. 

“Nngh! You’re- pushing in and out-” your voice broke, hips stuttering against his hand, that was continuing its remorseless pace. 

“Yeah, and?”

You furrowed your brows, lips trembling. “You’re- you’re curling them- A-ah!” 

“That’s right. Such a good girl. So smart and clever for me,” Seokmin whispered happily, his other hand slipping down your stomach to circle your clit. Both his hands working pleasure into your pussy, you cried out loudly, head pushed back into his chest.

“Just let go, baby, I can feel you clenching on me so hard. Wan’ me to stay in your pussy forever, hm? Just let go, cum whenever you want, wanna see your pretty face so bad,” somehow Seokmin was just as intoxicated off of lust as you, despite staying, hard and untouched, in his pants. But he babbled mindless praise to you, and you came to his sweet voice whispering in your ear.

Your orgasm sent you hurdling over the edge - the edge, the one you’d been standing at hopelessly for years. You flew across it and landed on Seokmin’s territory; in his arms. 

“Seokmin, a-ah!” you cried, releasing all over his fingers, coating them in your cum. Your entire body arched upwards, as you moaned into the night. Seokmin rode you through your high, pressing sweet kisses into your hair.

You fell limp against his body, worn out, when he finally retracted his fingers from your pussy. You snuggled into his sweater with a content hum. 

Seokmin smiled down at you, eyes brimming with fondness, as his cum-slicked hands wrapped around your torso in a hug, holding you into him. “You did so well,” he whispered genuinely. 

You looked up at him with a tired smile. “Thank you, Seokmin.” 

He held himself back from saying he would do that a thousand times over, in fact, he wouldn’t mind never pulling out - he could live with only one hand. Instead, he pressed a kiss to your forehead and whispered: “Of course, darling.” 

Your brows furrowed and you pulled yourself away from him a little, eyeing the tent in his pants worriedly. “Do you want me to-” 

“No,” he shook his head decidedly. “No, I’ll take care of it.” 

You looked at him with big, innocent eyes, that only furthered the throbbing of his cock. Partially, he wanted to give in so badly. The thought of your hand around his cock, all pouty and innocent and confused, and how heavy it would be in your small hand, had made him cum more times than he’d like to admit. But, he reminded himself, this was about you. This was a favor. “Are you sure?” you asked softly.

“Yes, baby, go to bed. I’m gonna go get you some fresh clothes.” 

You snuggled into bed while Seokmin scurried away to fetch a shirt and some boxers, and when he came back you cooperated limply in taking off your panties, and putting on what he’d given you. You fell asleep in his bed, cuddling his duvet, and surrounded by his scent. 

Seokmin watched you in adoration. How peaceful you looked, chest rising and falling, and a little pout on your lips. 

He wandered through the house, trying simultaneously to get as far from you as possible, and also trying to decide which of his housemates he currently hated the most. He landed on Jeonghan, slipping into his empty room and settling himself on the bed.

There, he fisted his solid fucking cock and bucked into his own hand, eyes squeezed shut to remember how you looked under his hands, how you begged for him, how well you listened, what a good girl you were for him. His moans were trembling and muffled by his own hand, and when he came, he felt momentarily smug, looking at how it dripped over Jeonghan’s sheets (served him right). Then, post-nut clarity sank in, as he reentered his own room and cuddled into you on the bed. 

He felt almost despicable. He felt gross and evil and perverted and lewd, not because of you, but because, as if it were his first time realizing it, he remembered that you were Vernon’s sister. He remembered that he had promised to protect you from manipulative guys and always watch over you, and help you if you needed help, and report to Vernon if you were acting weird. Yet here he was, letting you cum on his hand and groping your tits, as if he was still that teenage boy with that swanky bowl cut. 

After an hour of chewing on his lips and frowning, Seokmin let your sweet perfume lull him to sleep. He dreamt of you. _____________________________

There’s a blissful instant that morning when you wake up, curled into Seokmin’s arms, head nuzzled in his chest. There’s a blissful instant when you tilt your head, staring at his sleeping face, and he’s so beautiful, features all soft and breathing rhythmically. There’s a blissful instant where you see him, and your heart weeps in your chest because he’s so gorgeous.

Then it’s gone.

A panic button is pressed in your head, and your nerve-endings, each one resting on him, begin burning. What had you done? Yesterday feels like a faraway dream, but he’s still wearing that sweater and it grounds you in the reality of what had happened. 

You’re lost. What did this mean for the two of you? Was Seokmin just lusting after you? But that couldn’t be right, you thought, because he’d insisted on only helping you, refused your offers to help him, which now was making you rot in his arms with guilt. Was this genuinely an attempt to help you? To be diligently by your side at the request of your brother? But surely this had been outside of the realm of what was acceptable to help your best friend’s baby sister with? Did that mean he liked you? 

Seokmin awakened from your sudden squirming, as if, with enough shaking and turning, that feelings and thoughts would just fall out of you. They didn’t, they stayed right where they were, and all you were given in return was Seokmin’s eyes fluttering open. 

You watched him go through that same process; the bliss came first and then the panic. Seokmin’s eyes went from adoring to wide and grave and suddenly he was shuffling away from you on the bed, creating a cool distance between you on the landscape of his mattress. You didn’t miss the pink dusting his cheeks.

“Uh- good morning,” he mumbled, and he could only look at his hands. Your throat was unbelievably dry. “Morning.” 

You’re not sure how you both managed, but you went through that morning without mentioning the previous night even once. The air was thick with tension, fleeting glances, and shaky hands, while Seokmin made you both bowls of oatmeal. You stood on the other side of the counter in his shirt and his boxers. 

You ate in his bed. It was silent and heavy and each clink of spoons against the bowl-rims had you both wincing. He put on a TV-show and you sat across from one another, chewing wordlessly to some drama in the background. Your belly was pooling with tension and light cascaded onto you, revealing your pores and flaws. Were you a bad person?

Finally, finally, Seokmin put down his spoon with yet another clink, fingers catching the bridge of his nose and eyes squeezing shut. He huffed into the palm of his hand, swallowing the oatmeal hard. 

“Uh-” he began and his voice cracked, “Y/n. About last night-” 

But you cut him off, and he couldn’t ever, even in his wildest dreams, have imagined that these words would come out of your mouth:

“I want to return the favor.” 

The words were almost spat and discarded, as if they’d been sitting on the tip of your tongue all morning with a foul taste, and you’d only now been able to rid yourself of it. Seokmin snapped his head towards you, a genuine surprise on his face, but he soon wished he hadn’t looked at all. 

You were so pretty, sitting cross legged in his shirt and a blush creeping up your neck and cheeks all shiny in the morning sun. And there was this innocence to your eyes, big lashes shadowing it only a little; this earnestness that told him you really, really wanted to do this for him.

“I-” he chuckled a little, heart clenching at your sweetness, “I can’t ask you to do that.” 

“Well, it’s good that I’m asking you then,” you said, and though the comment was witty, when Seokmin looked at you again, he saw how careful you looked, and how unsure you were of yourself. 

“Listen, N/n,” he reached out to grab your hand, and it was burning into yours, each area of adjoined skin screaming at you with reminders of last night. “You don’t have to do that. I just wanted to make you feel good, I was happy to just be of service to you-” 

“But I want to make you feel good,” you pouted, almost brattily. Seokmin’s gentle expression and tone faded into something darker, as his eyes flitted down to your exposed legs and your heaving chest. He swallowed, putting away his bowl of oatmeal and collecting himself. 

“Are you sure? You need to be absolutely 100% sure-” 

“I’m sure, Minnie. I want to-” you broke off your own words with a squeak, face becoming bright red. You leaned in self-consciously, as if to tell him a secret: “I want to suck your dick.” 

Your whispered admittance had him groaning, groaning at how sweet and innocent your voice was, how you couldn’t even say it loudly, you had to whisper the dirty word to him. He wanted you so badly, wanted to be the one to take away your innocence, to make you all dirty and beg for him, to make you thrash and whine and to teach you how to really feel good. He wanted you.

It’s like a switch had flipped, when Seokmin put his hand on the back of your head, and suddenly you were kissing again. The tension from before was replaced with something wholly different, something hot, something laced in the eye contact he gave you, before he leaned it again. 

And Seokmin was kissing you with a fervor that you recognized from yourself - you both wanted to forget. Wanted to forget Vernon, who, although a great brother and friend, had become a heavy strain on your relationship with Seokmin. So you kissed him and let his tongue in your mouth when it swiped over your bottom lip, and you sucked on it, and you let him and yourself get lost in each other.

The sound of smacking lips and saliva was so lewd too, especially when Seokmin’s hand pulled you from your spot on the bed and into his lap, hands roaming your body, while you tangled into his hair. He was half-moaning into your mouth by the time he pulled away, face flushed and eyes darker and lower and lips swollen red. 

“You gonna let me use that pretty mouth, baby?” he whispered against your lips, one hand palming over his cock through his boxers. You nodded, almost desperately, one hand reaching out to his in his lap. “Can I touch it?” 

Seokmin smiled fondly, looking down at where your small hand was outstretched towards his cock. “Yeah, baby, go ahead.” 

You were a bit clumsy at first, but soon enough you found its outline in his black boxers and you squeezed it a little. Seokmin crooked over, groaning into your shoulder. You felt him get harder and harder against your palm, a small smile at the desperate noises he was making. 

Seokmin had laid his cheek on your shoulder, neck twisting to stare up at you, while you focused solely on touching him, and he hated himself for getting even harder because it was you - you, who he had wanted for so long, who he was hugged into and lying on, while you touched his warm cock.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispered, breathing heavily, and then smiling brightly when you became all sheepish, smiling and looking away, so that you had to pause your actions. He nosed into your neck, regaining some semblance of control over the situation, now that you weren’t touching him, and his breath was warm and humid on your skin. He pressed small kisses up to your jawline, nose flattening against you.

“So, so pretty. Fuck, imagining you with my cock in your mouth, all drooling and shit. Fuck, baby, you gonna let me fuck your mouth?” he rambled, hands finding home on your tits again. You whined and nodded, trying to pry him off of you. Immediately (forever struggling with a little concern that you might’ve changed your mind) he pulls away, looking up at you worriedly. 

“Don’t- don’t touch me, I don’t wanna get.. All hot,” you whispered those words that he had said last night, biting your lip in worry. “I want to do it now.” 

Seokmin melted completely, and in a complete inability to contain his adoration, brushed hair out of your face and pressed a million kisses to your cheeks and your nose. “Okay,” he said in between kisses, and you felt his smile on your skin, “okay, baby. But if it gets too much, tap my thigh three times, okay? If you need anything, if you feel uncomfortable.” 

“Yes, yes,” you huffed, pushing yourself away from him and hopping onto the floor, sinking to your knees before the bed. 

It felt completely unreal - to both of you. How you were suddenly on your knees and how he settled in front of you, bare, thick thighs on either side of your head. Everything was all light and all the places he’d kissed and touched had become holy and glowing on your body. He shimmed his boxers off and you gaped at the sudden exposure of his dick. 

He was hard. Apparently the kissing and groping had been enough, because it slapped against his sweater, leaking silky white liquid from the tip. And he was big - you didn’t exactly have a good point of reference, but you vaguely sensed from Giselle’s words that this was quite a feat. 

And actually seeing it brought a wave of uncertainty on you, not as to whether or not you wanted to do it, but how. So, you blinked up at him with a small frown, voice small when you spoke: “Seokmin.. How- how do I do it?” 

Seokmin practically glowed with adoration, when he petted your head and rubbed your cheek, seemingly so comfortable despite being totally bare. “You just put your lips around it and suck, baby, it’s easy,” he said softly, then added, a little panicked: “And be mindful of your teeth.” 

“But it’s so big,” you marveled, eyes trained on it, and he almost groaned at it, because you sounded so genuinely amazed, so disbelieving. 

“Just put your hands around the parts you can’t reach. I’ll be gentle, baby, don’t worry,” he said. You nodded hesitantly, leaning forward towards it, but his hand in your hair suddenly clenched and pulled you back. You looked up at him and saw his eyes brimming with worry. “You do want this, right?” 

“Yes, please, stop being so- so gentle with me and let me suck your dick!” You whined, fed up with being treated like glass, and tugged his hand out of your hair. Seokmin visibly relaxed at your insistence, nodding. 

Finally, fingers grabbing the base of it, you wrapped your mouth around the tip. You were met immediately with the taste of his pre-cum, licking over where it leaked curiously. Seokmin’s hand found your hair again, gripping it tight to steady himself, as he groaned loudly. You slowly sank down, basking in the whimpers you ripped from his mouth.

“Fuck- you’re- you’re doing so good, baby,” he cried, face twisted in pleasure and head thrown back. You looked up at him and he was so pretty and glowing, panting into the air. 

You sank down as far as you could, feeling the tip sit snug against the back of your mouth, and your hands wrapped around the base of his dick. You looked up at him, experimentally squeezing, and pursing your lips around his dick to suck it carefully.

“A-ah! Fuck!” Seokmin cried, hand that wasn’t in your hair squeezing the edge of his mattress. His thighs were flexing on either side of your head. “You’re- you’re so good at this, sweetheart. Good girl, fuck, such a pretty girl for me, letting me use you like this.” 

You whined at his words, squeezing your thighs together. Seokmin’s hips bucked upwards at the vibrations, hitting the back of your throat. The sudden intrusion was unexpected and you let out a garbled moan around his cock. He panted regretfully: “S-Sorry, baby, d-didn’t mean to do that, you just feel so good. Can- can you bob your head up and down it for me?” 

You did, started moving your head up and down his shaft, and breathing hard through your nose, while your hands squeezed the base of his cock. Looking up at Seokmin, you felt confidence that you were doing something right. He was in heaven, face all scrunched up and breathing as if he’d just ran a marathon. 

And when he peeked his down to you, he could’ve cum immediately. Your pretty lips wrapped around his cock, head bopping with tears in your eyes from the pressure in your throat, and how curious and sparkling they were, gauging his reaction. The groan that clawed its way up from his heart, through his throat and out into his room quickly turned to a whimper. 

“I’m- I’m gonna cum, sweet pea, can I-” he swallowed hard, because even the thought had him close to release. “Can I cum down your throat, pretty?” 

You nodded, a little too preoccupied to answer, but Seokmin got it, and with just a couple more bobs, and the feeling of your wet tongue pressing against the underside of his cock, he spurted into your mouth in long ropes of white, whining at the top of his lungs, and pulling hair from the roots. 

It was, admittedly, a little gross and sticky in your mouth, but it was also hot and you felt proud you’d made him feel good. He was panting, trying to recover, when you pulled off his dick, a satisfied smile on your face. His hand wandered to your face, caressing your cheekbone, before moving down to your puffy lips. 

“Can I-” he was almost embarrassed, “Can I see baby? Can you open your mouth for me?” 

A little confused, you did as told and opened your mouth, sticking out your tongue that was still covered in his sticky release. 

“Fuck,” he groaned at the sight, squeezing his eyes shut and willing himself not to get hard again. “C-Can you swallow it for me, beautiful?” 

Still confused, you nodded and gulped it down, trying not to look like it felt as gross as it did. If Seokmin noticed, he didn’t remark it, because he only groaned again, and pulled you by your face into a sloppy, heated kiss. 

“So, so, so good for me,” he whispered, not letting you out of the kiss, even when saliva dripped down your chin. “Such a good girl, letting me use her mouth, such an obedient, good girl.” 

You whined into his mouth at those words, bothered by the aching in your core that his moans and his blissed out face had caused, and now those words repeated over and over: Good girl.

He grinned into your mouth. “Yeah? You like being my good girl, right? Like doing your best for Seokminnie?” 

“Yes,” you murmured breathlessly, too lost in the feeling of his mouth and his hands rubbing your waist to come up with anything better.

Seokmin pulled away with a warm smile, both hands coming up to cup your cheeks. “You did well,” was all he said, and you could genuinely cry, because that was it - you just wanted to know you did well. 

“I’m gonna go clean up, okay?” he said, waiting for you to nod in response before he pushed himself off the bed, snatching a new pair of boxers from a drawer on his way out of the door. 

You threw yourself on the bed, closing your eyes contentedly. 

He liked you. You were sure of it now, when you thought back to how his eyes had balked at you so wonderfully, how careful and attentive he’d been. You were certain, and your heart smiled and you smiled and your hair was sprawled out on his sheets and for the first time, that desert wasteland in your head welcomed you and took you in, and you were right where you were supposed to be. 

Until your phone started buzzing. 

It was dancing across the sheets violently at someone's call and you peeked open one eye tiredly to pick it up. And when you did, the desert turned on you. Caught in a sandstorm, you held your phone between your fingers and felt your heart drop, lowered into the acid bath of your stomach.

It was Vernon.

Vernon, who was Seokmin’s best friend. Vernon, who was your brother. Vernon, who had always yelled at you to leave his room whenever he had Seokmin over. Vernon, who didn’t like when you talked to any guys at all, who had recruited his best friend to watch over you and take care of you. Vernon, whose best friend had just had his dick in your mouth. 

You heard the shower running distantly when you clicked accept, hoping to God that you didn’t look too disheveled. 

“Hi, N/n!” Vernon cheered immediately on the other end. His face popped up on your screen, a bright smile on his face. You smiled too - you missed your brother - but it was half faded, and Vernon noticed immediately. 

“Hi, Vern,” you said softly. His brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?” 

Of course, he could read you like a book. Of course, he knew that you were distant and nervous. You sighed heavily, trying desperately to collect yourself, to remember how you usually behaved, but for some reason, that you was far gone, and you had to be splayed on his screen, like a person replaced by something peregrine. 

“I’m a little stressed out,” you mumbled. “Got a lot of papers and stuff, that’s why I’m not home.” 

“Come home next break, okay? We miss you and you need to get out of that place every once in a while.” 

You nodded. 

Vernon’s eyes narrowed suddenly, and you saw him lean closer to the screen (which would have been funny, were you not suddenly wondering if there was leftover cum on your face). “Hey, where are you right now?” 

“My friend,” you said quickly - too quickly. “Her name’s Yunjin, we’re working together in chem.” 

Vernon hummed, seemingly content with your answer. “Your friend has the same bed sheets as Seokmin.” 

Shit, yeah, they facetimed every week, you remembered, cringing at yourself for not thinking of it earlier. You tried to play it cool, shrugging: “Weird.”

“Yeah, anyway-” 

Vernon rambled on and on about something or other, but you were unable to focus, watching the door to Seokmin’s room with a worried frown.

Moreover, you felt like a whore. Realistically, you hadn’t even lost your virginity. But sleeping with your brother’s best friend suddenly felt way more real now that you were talking to said brother, now that you were lying to his face, and you felt dirty and gross and you wished you could stand before Vernon, as the same baby sister that you had been before. But you weren’t. You were disgusting.

“Vernon, I gotta go,” you cut him off, and you hadn’t heard a word. Vernon’s excited expression dropped and he furrowed his brows. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, and you thanked the pixels for concealing at least a bit of the worry on his face. 

“Yeah, I just- I really need to get going,” you said. “Bye, Vernon!”

“By-” 

You disconnected the call and gathered your things, put your own clothes back on. Throwing Seokmin’s clothes onto his floor felt like shedding a second skin - a skin that had made you ugly and greedy and lustful. You only kept his boxers on, lumping the dress over your shoulders to drape over you in an unsightly and unorganized way. 

You spared a glance at the wrapped condom on his bedside table, long lost and forgotten by now. You could leave it. You could leave it and have a reason to come back, a reason to slip across that ledge again and fall into his arms and his mouth and his warmth. You almost did. Almost left it right there, where it begged to belong. But you snatched it off the counter, ignoring the way your heart clenched when you did, and slipped it into your tote bag. And you left, jumping across the border that separated you and back into your own wasteland. And it was so cold and so empty. You were alone again.

Seokmin came out of the shower, expecting to see you cuddled up in his bed, all soft and beautiful. But you weren’t there. Seokmin understood immediately. The condom was gone and so were you, only the perfume in his sheets remained, willing him to remember. And he cried. He sobbed into his own hands, because what had he done? 

You did not see each other the rest of that day. Or the next day. _____________________________

Seokmin wanted to let you disappear. He wanted you to slip away and he wanted to forget it had even happened - like a burning star dies out and leaves only a faint warmth behind, lasting years. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t let you go, couldn’t bear knowing he’d never hold you in his arms again, never see you laugh again, never see you cum again. And he couldn’t bear knowing that maybe he’d read it wrong; maybe he’d made you uncomfortable, maybe you’d felt obligated. 

So he texted you. For two days his texts came in sporadically and unsuccessfully. Questioning and pleading, he wanted to know it wasn’t true. 

Lee Seokmin: why’d you leave? 

Lee Seokmin: can we talk??

Lee Seokmin: i miss u

Lee Seokmin: i need to know i didnt hurt you

Lee Seokmin: can you please answer? 

Each text came more painful than the last. Each text came more pleading. You sat alone in your room, in the dark, having only his one sided chats to light up your tear-streaked face. 

Eventually they stopped coming. You thought they would. You thought, you knew, eventually he’d give up. But what hurt the most was knowing he wanted you too; knowing he liked you as much as you liked him. You’d seen it in his eyes, when his hand slipped between your legs, and you’d seen it when he came staring down at you.

But you preferred to remember Seokmin for how he was.

How he was small and young, how he had a swanky bowlcut and how he looked in his school uniform. How he and your big brother, Vernon, had bonded and watched movies together in your living room, and the countless dinners he’d stayed over for, always so respectful to your parents and you. You preferred to remember when he didn’t love you back. 

The pain that had been tethered to your youth and to him, back when he was unreachable, just a figure you could marvel at, was so much duller compared to this pain, the one pulsed in your heart now: the pain of him loving you back, but still being off-limits. Something that could be, but was destined to die out. And it did, when he stopped texting you, you felt that unborn child’s soul leave your own. Alone again.

And then suddenly, you weren’t. 

A stern knock on your door. You flinched at the sound, fearing the worst. You were in your bed, in your sweatpants and your sweater and that condom was on the bedside table, watching the door with you. 

Another knock.

“Y/n, I know you’re in there!” 

Seokmin. Of course, it was Seokmin. No one else would come for you. But it was all too painful. You feared the worst - feared that seeing him, you would collapse into him again, and that this time you wouldn’t be able to find your way back. 

“Open the door, Y/n,” his voice was serious.

“Go away, Seokmin!” you yelled, voice breaking halfway. 

A pause. When Seokmin spoke again, he was not angry anymore; he was vulnerable.

“Y/n. I-I know you don’t want to talk to me, but-” he paused, wincing at himself and you knew there was tears in his eyes. “But I need to know that I didn’t make you uncomfortable.” 

You thought that you could handle the self-blame Seokmin omitted - maybe that’s just because it was words on a screen. But hearing him crying outside your door, and how real he was when his hand knocked vigorously, it tore down each and every one of your last defenses. 

“I need- I need to hear that you’re okay and that I-” 

“I’m opening the door,” you interrupted him, and sure enough you padded to the door and swiftly unlocked it. 

And then you were standing before one another. It was like time stopped, how the air stilled around you, and how the world quieted down. He was all crumpled paper hearts, all deflated and broken, and his hair was messy and his eyes were dark, but they sparkled again, just at the sight of you, and yours at him. 

“It’s not your fault,” you whispered, breaking the enchantment cast upon you. The real world came crashing down, the people in the streets and birds in the trees and wind coursing through the leaves. The light that you’d shut out with a firm tug to the curtains was dancing on your linoleum floor. “It’s my fault. It’s- I talked to Vernon and I- I feel like shit, Seokmin. I feel like a slut.” 

“You’re a virgin!” Seokmin scoffed, but it did nothing to calm you. 

“It felt wrong! Because I- because you’re Vernon’s friend. Because Vernon never likes when I date guys, and because now I’ve been fooling around with his best friend,” you defended yourself, biting your lip when tears stung your eyes. Seokmin softened. “I just felt guilty. And gross.” 

“You’re not gross, you’re in love,” he said softly, and your eyes locked. Everything about him was pleading - he was just short of literally falling to his knees, begging for you to hear him out. “And- and with me, of all people!” 

“Seokmin-” 

“And I’m in love with you too,” his voice was an urgent whisper, not daring to let you speak again, to let you try and steer him away. 

“Of all people,” you mumbled, a small smile finding your lips. Seokmin smiled too. 

“So.. I’m tired of hearing you talk about yourself like this. I’m tired of Vernon being the one keeping us apart. I want- I want you to know that Vernon would understand.”

You shook your head dismissively. He wouldn’t. 

“I know him too! You know? Maybe better than you,” he pouted a little, and it made you laugh, and everything was becoming lighter, and for better or worse you really did want to jump into his arms again. “He shouldn’t be the thing stopping you from dating me- or- or anyone, really. But especially me.” 

You giggled again, and Seokmin’s heart palpitated in his chest at that sound - and at being the source of it. Then the laughter trailed off and your smile tightened and your heart tightened: “I just don’t want to sneak around-” 

“Okay! Say no more!” Seokmin interrupted, hand held out as if to calm a mighty beast. He casually pulled out his phone, tongue in his cheek, as he called your brother. Vernon.

It rang for a few seconds, put on speaker. You couldn’t help the nervousness. Couldn’t help the pinch in your nerves, building up from your stomach and into your heart. Then he answered. 

“Hey, dude, what’s up?” Vernon’s voice glitched on the other end of the line, utterly oblivious (as always). Seokmin spoke, hand on his hip: “Hey, just curious, how would you feel if me and your sister started dating?” 

There was a moment of silence. On Vernon’s end, you imagined it was simply puzzled, but on your end, you stood with your heart all big and floaty, like a balloon in your hand, waiting for him to say that he’d hate it, that he’d kill him, and pop your heart with a simple word to prick. That wasn’t what he said though. Vernon said:

“I mean, yeah, man, I’d prefer you over any of those other college douchebags. I at least know you’d take care of her for real, man, not like that Jeonghan guy you were going on about.” 

Your heart balloon took off, and the boundary between you and Seokmin filled itself with sand. Had it been imaginary? This whole time? You couldn’t help the wheeze you left you, overwhelmed with relief and joy. 

“I know, man, Jeonghan’s the worst,” Seokmin said casually, but he was grinning from ear to ear at your reaction. You’d buckled over in silent laughter, unable to contain the glee. It seemed to dramatic now 

“The worst,” Vernon repeated. Then he pursed his lips and spoke again: “So you’re dating my sister?” 

“Uh, you know, I think we’re making it official in a second, yeah,” Seokmin said and even Vernon could hear the smile in his voice. 

“Cool, man, yeah, I kind of figured, she facetimed me with your ugly ass bed sheets in the background, and I thought, no way, a girl would buy those bed sheets.” 

“Lay off my sheets, man.” 

Both of the men laughed and you did too, crying laughing and covering your mouth to contain. Your chest was fluttering with butterflies and light and love.

“Hey, man, for real, if you hurt her, I know where you live, bro,” Vernon was suddenly serious. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it, man,” Seokmin responded, equally as serious now. He eyed you, then spoke into the phone again: “Hey, I gotta go make sweet love to your sister.” 

“Ew, dude, don’t say tha-” 

And the phone was hung up and Seokmin was laughing with you, eyes crescent and smile wide and toothy, and cheeks all red and shiny, he doubled over and took your hands in his. “I told you, didn’t I?” 

“Shut up, Lee,” you said, pulling him by the hand and letting him kiss you. Letting yourself kiss him. Letting yourself back into his arms, and this time Seokmin had crossed the border, and had fallen into you, and you stood there together and you were in love. 

So, so in love, your lips entangled and danced together, and your hands dragged up the back of his neck and his up your waist. 

And you realized, his tongue in your mouth, this was how you preferred to remember Seokmin; completely and utterly in love with you, and dancing with you in your room, and smiling into the kiss, and hands running up your body. You preferred to remember him as yours, and yourself as his. 

Seokmin guided you to your bed, pulling your body into his lap. Then he pulled away, completely out of breath, and smiling at you like a twinkling star. 

“Think we can finally break open that condom now?” 

“Fuck yes,” you said.

And then you did.

[poppyflower-22]

His Girl.

Part 1

Summary: Lando loves his rich, girl boss, girl. Though he doesn't really know what she really does underneath. Until he does.

or

In which Lando finds out his girlfriend is not who she said she was.

Side note: I'm using names for reader, and spelling and grammar errors. I've had this in my head for a while and while I write on Wattpad normally, I'm taking a brake because of some nasty things said to me about my writing.

Masterlist

2020

Lando was on another high from another podium that weekend in Australia. He was at the bar ordering another drink, when he looked across the bar, he saw the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life.

She was wearing a short black dress. Her makeup and hair were just right, and she was wearing a silver chain necklace. She was sipping a Vodka Cruiser. Not a care in the world.

He thanks the bartender and makes his way over to her. He sat down bedside her. She didn't even give him a glance.

"Not interested." She spoke. And God Lando fell in love her voice. It was British. But her voice was so soft.

Lando clocked an eyebrow, "I didn't even say anything." He chuckled.

She sighed and turned to look at him. "You were going to hit on me and hoped I would end up in your bed by the end of the night. No?" She bluntly spoke with her eye raised.

Lando just stared at her in aww. Because maybe that was the case but not now. He could tell she was interesting person already. There was a spark in her eyes, of mystery and fun. She interested him very much. "Okay maybe your right." He smirked at her. "But how about I just buy you another drink?" He asked.

She wouldn't say it out loud, but he was handsome. "Fine." She sighed and Lando flagged down the bartender. The bartender gave her a nod as he left to get her drink.

"So, what's your name, love?" He asked turning his seat to face her.

She copied him. He was interesting. Mostly when she said no, the guy would walk away or start being aggressive. But not him. "Bonnie." She smiled.

"No last name?" He asked with a curious look. He watched as she brushed her black hair out her face and smiled at him.

"Salvatore." She reposed with a small smile. "Yours mystery man?" She asked taking a sip of her drink.

"Lando. Lando Norris." He spoke. He watched as she studied him.

"The formal one race driver?" She asked, already knowing the answer.

Lando nodded, taking a sip of his drink. "Did you watch the race?" he couldn't but ask.

Bonnie shook her head, "Oh no, my father loved F1." She smiled. She loved her father and talking about wasn't a sad thing. Despite the life they lived.

"Oh sorry."

"No, it's okay. It was a long time ago." She reassured him with a hand on his hand. "But he was a Ferrari fan." She teased knowing he is a McLaren driver.

"Oh." He teased placing his hand on his heart. "Not Ferrari." They both laughed. Bonnie's hand was till on his and Lando started cresting without knowing. "Who's your favorite team?" He couldn't help but ask.

Bonnie smirked, "Red Bull." She told and watched with a beaming smile as he fakes a hurt look.

"Now that hurts. Right here." He spoke in fake sadness as he pointed to his heart. They both giggled with each other. "I'll get you to change your team at the end of the night." He boldly told her.

Bonnie shook her head with a smile. "Tell me something about you. No race talk. I can tell you don't want to talk about it." She said to him.

Lando chuckled, that was right he didn't want to talk about his driving right now. He wanted to know this girl right in front of him.

"I hate sea food." He told her and couldn't help but wrinklie his noes up at the thought of it.

Bonnie chuckled. She liked it. Not her favorite but she could have in curtain things. "Really. Why?" She rested her elbow on the bar and her chin rested in her hand to look at him.

Lando shook his head, "Just don't. Don't like the texture." He explained. "Do you?"

She hummed. "I can have it in curtain things, But not all the time." She told him and took a sip of her drink.

"Tell me something about yourself." Lando spoke as he watched her.

"I can speak Five languages." She smirked and watched his eyes widen.

"Wow. What are they?'

"Dunch, French, Russian, Latin and Japanese." She smiled

Lando leaned back in aww. "Wow I can't even learn a new language. Never mind five." He spoke impressed. She kept getting better to him.

She was everything he ever wanted in a girl. And not in a cocky way. in a more, he has found the one for him way. She was witty and he could just tell that she would be fun to have around.

Bonnie shrugged, "I was a homeschooled kid. My father was traveling everywhere, and I guess I just picked it up." She told him.

"You might need to come with me to my racers, you can be my spokesperson." He teased. Bonnie chuckled.

"Let's not get ahead of our self-Mr. Norris." She teased with a smirk. Their hands were still together.

Lando giggled with her. He watched in aww as she giggled. "Your very beautiful." He couldn't help but blurt out.

Bonnie blushed. She never blushed. She looked down and when she looked up Lando was smiling at her. Not smirking at her, like he was happy with his comment. No, he smiles like he was admiring her and her beauty.

And he was.

"You're not bad." She shot back with a smile. And it widened as she saw him blush.

They both sat there with blushing cheeks. That night they talked all night. They had found themselves at ease with each other. It was easy to just talk and not be judged.

Bonnie couldn't help but be attracted to him. And not just by his looks but by how he talked about his family. His hobbies and generally. He was the life of the party but deep inside there was a whole different side to him.

Lando was in love by the end of the night. He had found she was a businesswoman, running her own company and traveled for work. He had found her easy to talk to. He had found she had a poodle dog and loved him more than anything.

That night they had formed a connection that would make and break them. For better and for worse.

But no matter the outcome maybe love can overcome it all. After all, if you love someone you love all of them or not at all.

This is going to be a short series. You can request other things as well.

[silverflqmes]

Okay hear me out, may I request Cloud x reader fluff where we spend lovely spring morning together? Nothing nsfw just pure comfort, our cat laying in bed with us, laziness at it finest.

Off the topic I really adore your work! I'm quite new to ffvii, basically I've just started playing, but your work made me fall head over heels for Cloud haha. Anyway have a good day!

໒⦂ 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐄𝐖.

notes. hello! thank you so much for the request and the kind words akajsks i’m still fairly new to ff7 myself, but i’m glad to have amplified your love for it and cloud<3 the cat saga continues✨ i did something experimental here so it’s a little shorter, but i hope it’s okay :’)

genre. fluff + comfort

disclaimer. before any confusion arises.. sora is the name of your cat, who was first mentioned in this post if you are eager to see more of her!

cloud strife x gn!reader.

sora’s purring joins the gentle whistle sung by the breeze that swept through the bedroom window, chiffon curtains dancing to the soft tune like delicate petals.

cloud couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a taste of spring weather — of bitter cold melting into tender warmth.

the change of seasons was hardly ever noticeable without trees to flourish the busy streets with life, lakes to freeze over at the gradual drop of temperature, and flowers to splash the otherwise monochrome edge with color in the spring.

perhaps, it made the planet worth saving after all. to have been rewarded for his efforts at the very end with the beauty of the world, along with his beloved partner.. and a feline friend.

your chest rose and fell with breath, quietly, but surely, eyes fluttered shut. an unspoken trust, which your boyfriend treasured more than he could verbally express.

it was too early to even be up right now for most people.. but cloud, unfortunately, had to represent his little company as its only delivery guy and employee within the next two hours.

he fought back an annoyed sigh at the mental reminder of it.. only to remember that you had still been fast asleep.

any indicative sound that threatened to portray his irritation and spill from his lips all but melted away, falling completely silent on his tongue. because how could he possibly ruin the serene image of you all bundled up and cozy.

the exasperated exhale died all together in the stream of his windpipe as his features relaxed once more in repose.

normally he preferred taking up long distant deliveries by himself, but on this particular occasion, the client happened to live in your seaside hometown — costa del sol. a place that was untouched by the unpleasant smog of edge, and instead painted in a kaleidoscope of vibrant coats.. rather than a trillion shades of gray.

a shift in movement made his mako tinted sapphires flash just briefly before sliding to your stirring form.

his ears caught a jumbled, almost incoherent murmur ( were it not for his amplified hearing ) and cloud wondered to himself for a moment what dreams had joined you in your slumber. something lovely, he hoped, a gentle caress to your conscience.. and not the nightmares that haunted him until dawn on some evenings.

moonless nights when cloud thought too hard for comfort, let alone decent rest.

although, those had been few now. infrequent, thankfully, all because of your solace-filled presence — pressed into his chest.. and the light nuzzling of your calico kitty tucked into his side.

a silent, meow-less request for breakfast.. or maybe not. maybe it was just to ask cloud to stay a little while longer, and enjoy that which he could not back in edge.

waking up to unsullied air- a mixture of floral aromas and the soft, but welcome dripping of morning dew traveling from petal to petal, was.. sadly a rarity, the former infantryman realized.

which is why he found himself sinking into the pillows and duvets in submission, allowing darkness to greet his eyes for another round of sleep. two hours were more than enough to get dressed and to his destination. so truly, all he needed was thirty minutes to be dressed and out of your childhood home.

the hour and a half remaining could blissfully go to cuddling you a little while longer, all else drowning into background noise as he would slip further and further, deeper and deeper. surrendering himself completely to your warm company, the serendipitous quiet, and spring morn.

notes. okay this is way shorter than what i normally write, but i hope it’s still good😭 not much dialogue, just cloud being soft and at ease for a change ahaha

↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask

[sugarprincessbitch]

Targaryen men x Targ! Wife Reader

(Reader suffers the same death as Laena)

Warning ⚠️ (Angst).

Maegor Targaryen x reader, Aegon Targaryen x reader, Aegon II Targaryen x reader, and Aemond Targaryen x reader

Aegon II

The king's council was pressuring you and Aegon to give the throne a heir, despite being pregnant three times none of each were a boy, instead you had three beautiful daughters.

Now you were in your fourth pregnancy. Wanting to be near your mother, princess Rhaenyra, in your labor, your little family decided to move to Dragon stone.

The labor started early than expected, but that wasn't saw as a problem because the pregnancy developed normally.

Your mother and the maester were inside the room with you, meanwhile Aegon was walking impatiently outside your birthing chambers with the fear of something going wrong. Daemon and the boys tried to calm him down, reassuring him that you were at the hands of the best maester and midwife's they could found and you where going to be fine.

Hours passed and you were still fighting in that room to bring your child to the world, wrenching screams could be heard in all Dragon stone, but none of a child, only yours.

Suddenly the door open, and the pale face of the master came into view, he told Aegon that the baby was stuck inside of you and the only way of get it out was to cut you open.

Angered by the maester words he was ready to strangle him right there, but your anguished callings stop him before doing something.

You were bedridden, pale as a ghost and sweating a lot, the baby was slowly killing you each passing hour.

Rhaenyra was at one side of the bed, trying to calm you down by whispering sweet things in your ear, but by the look of her face she was also deeply worried by your state.

when he was finally at your side you told him to help you get up, and ignoring the pain you stubbornly start to walk outside the room despite the pleadings of the others.

Aegon start to follow you, calling and pleading that you will be fine and there will be another way. You still didn't want to listen to him and continue walking.

He found himself outside, inside the dragon pits he found you. You were in front of your dragon saying something that he couldn't comprehend, his panic calls were covered by a roar and you were engulf by flames.

Aegon started to scream horrified by the view as his legs gave out and he stumbles against the hard floor. He felt his heart tear apart. A river of tears run along his face at the sight of your body, your burnt body.

After that horrible night Aegon was not the same, he was a shell of the man he was with you. For his family pity, he returned to his old habits, ignoring all his responsabilities in court and as a father, neglecting your daughters.

His mother and grandfather force him into a new marriage, saying that he still needed a heir.

Poor the unlucky woman that married Aegon, because the shadow of your memory will be always there to haunt her.

Maegor I

You were the only wife that had given him children and pure blooded too, due to being his half sister. Because of that you were the most dear and important wife of Maegor, treating you with a fondness that was rare of him.

The maester had warn him to not try for more children, your health was fragile since having many children without repose, another pregnancy could cost you not only your life but also the one of the baby.

Maegor didn't listen to it and stated that his wife should do their duty to him as a woman without caring if she wanted or not. That was the end of the discussion.

The new pregnancy developed progressively worse as months passed, debilitating the mother day after day.

Visenya was the only one that had permission to attend the pregnancies of the queen, due to the fact that Maegor wasn't fond of maesters, believing them to be useless for caring correctly of her sister-wife.

In the middle of the night you went in labor, Visenya and the midwife's were the only ones present with you. Maegor was on one of his campaigns battling the faith, so he couldn't be present.

It passed a long time and the baby didn't wanna come out, there was blood everywhere and the women in the room shared with each other worried faces.

Due to the pain pleadings of the queen, Visenya decided to call a maester. The maester tried without effectiveness, stating that the only way the baby would come out is by cutting you open.

Knowing the end was near, you pleaded to Visenya that if you were going to die you wanted to do it at the hands of your dragon, not of the maester "From fire I was born, from fire I will die" you said.

When Maegor landed in kings landing the news of the torturous labor and death of his wife reach his ears.

He immediately saw red, mad with fury he grab his sword and went to search for the one or ones guilty of your death.

That day it was told that the fury of the dragon rain upon the people of kings landing, no one was saved from Maegor's want for blood.

He burned, tortured and killed everyone that was in charge of your well being. When no one was left to appease his Mad pain, innocents were also slay. But no killing or torture could fill the hole in his wrenching chest, the one you and your unborn child left behind.

Aegon I

They say that Aegon married his three sisters for different reasons. He married Visenya for duty, Rhaenys for love and you for devotion.

You were his twin, the half of his soul, the mother of his only daughter. His sweet Daenerys.

Your second pregnancy came as a glad surprise for the two of you and the kingdom, after the tragic death of your little sister at the hands of Dorne, in the castle there was only days for mourning or sadness. So the unexpected new was a ray of hope for everyone, specially Aegon who desperately needed a little hope to grab on to.

All different types of maesters were pestering you day and night all along the duration of the nine months, this was a direct order of their king and their queen, your older sister Visenya. The two of them worried about the fragile state you were in.

Because of you being a little pass your prime, the announce of you being pregnant was a miracle on itself, and the dangers of having a baby at your age was of their over protectivness.

You were now two days in labor, since your contractions starting in the early morning of the first day and continuing in the night of the second day, you haven't stop pushing.

Everyone was in distress and the tension was burdensome in the air, Aegon vigilant gaze and your sister angry commands were not helping at all.

That second night Visenya nor Aegon could be with you, an important meeting regarding the next attack to Dorne was held, and you found yourself all alone in a room full of strangers.

The pain was now unberable, each passing day with your baby stuck in you was agonizing, you knew death was in the horizon although Aegon didn't want to acknowledge it, extending your suffering.

In one of your moments of consciousness you got up of bed. Shoving the maester and servants aside, you got out of the room.

A terrified servant abruptly interrumpt the meeting and told them about your current disappearence. For a second Aegon was shock in place by the horrifying news, that hesitation was enough time for Visenya to start screaming commands to the guards to inmediatly find you.

They found you in the dragon pit, screaming to your dragon, pleading him for mercy. Aegon was the last one to get to there. Seeing you in just a dangerous situation send him on edge and without thinking it he tried to run to you, but the fire was quicker and reached you first.

A part of Aegon died that day in the fire with you, his hope was lost, everything was lost without you by his side. He attached himself to the only part of you that was left, your daughter.

Your loss was the final drop for the strain relationship between Visenya and Aegon to broke beyond repair. Dividing the family, creating resentment not only between the parents but also, between the children.

When Aegon's last days were near, he went in and out of feverish deviations, the only thing that calmed him was the milk of the poppy that the maesters gave him.

In his death bed his last words were pronounce again and again with a trembling and a voice full of anguish "My sweet y/n, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." Until he finally took his last breath the prayers didn't stop.

Aemond I

Your family, specially your mother, wasn't fond of your sudden marriage with Aemond, she had other plans for her younger's. Being Haelena and Aegon the ones married as the Targaryen tradition dictates, she didn't needed more than one. But love seal by fire couldn't be stop.

For the first time Aemond felt joy, the gods heard his and his wife prayers and gift them with a child, the one that were dessesperately hoping for.

The pregnancy went normally without much of a fuss, the two of you were expecting with excitement the day your baby will come into the world. Aemond didn't care if it were to be a girl or a boy, as the second son, he didn't have the burden to produce a male heir.

During the later stages of your pregnancy the tensions between the blacks and the greens grew increasingly dangerous. When the high septon crowned your brother as king everything explode. Due to this, Aemond had to fly away to Storm's end as a negotiator for the greens, leaving his much pregnant wife at home.

An urgent letter from her mother came in the second day he was staying there, telling him to come home as soon as possible, his wife started labor hours ago.

Only one thing retain him for some time before going back to his dear sister, the bastard that took his eye, Lucerys.

When he arrived at the pit in Kings landing the storm had long passed. Without changing his wet clothes he inmediatly went to the birthing chambers, in the rush he didn't notice the commotion of the servants and guards of the castle.

Entering he found the room empty, except from his mother who was in the floor, with her hands covering her face, crying unconsolable. Ameond silently reach her, and with a pang of fear in his chest ask "Mother, were is y/n... Were is she?".

Alicent gasp and cried more, he grew desperate and ask in a more forceful tone this time "Mother, stop crying and answer me, were is y/n?" Finally she answered him "I'm sorry Aemond, I'm so sorry I couldn't stop her... Oh god how horrible!" For a moment everything went silent, the pang in his chest grew and stab him with more force this time.

His mother rose her head and look at him with tears in her puff eyes "Th-the pregnancy went wrong, the baby, the baby wouldn't come out"

She stop and shed more tears "She killed herself Aemond, she command her dragon to kill her..." Stoping for a moment she screamed "OH GOD HOW HORRIBLE!"

Upon hearing this Aemond block himself out of the room, unfocusing his gaze he hug his mother that continue to cry in his shoulders. His face was still as a rock, solid, without a feeling. Only a treacherous tear falling slowly from his good eye, showing the emotion behind the empty gaze.

[yuyinesque]

DEVIL AND ANGEL | 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄!𝖿𝖾𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋.

⚘ précis. = why would the conniving duo enjoy a pretty black woman so much, and why are you so embedded within their attention?

⚘ disclaimers. = usage of fem-aligned prns, chubby!fem reader/reader has an afro/reader is shy, sub!y/n, manipulative praise, dirty talk, edging, fingering, exhibitionism, (for dazai); fem!reader, gifted!reader (y/n can bring back the dead including herself), sub!y/n, insinuated darker skin tone, mentions of religion, insinuated m!oral receiving, heavy degradation/condescension, choking, hinted obsession (for fyodor).

⚘ category. ≡ sfw headcanons, nsft drabble (separately).

⚘ wc. ≡ 1.8k.

OSAMU DAZAI.

𖤥 The devil’s poison: your hair, reticence, and firmness.

𖤥 Dazai stated it himself—he adores all women, so it wasn’t much of a surprise to end up with someone like you. Someone who was coy yet assured in what she desires, one who was guileless but knowledgeable, one who was flush-faced around him but platonically sweet to others. Surely there are a few African American tourists, but… primarily in Tokyo, so when he does see a beauty in Yokohama he’s all like yippieeee >_<! and hurraaaay :DDD! Then he just scares them off since he can get a bit pushy at times, so it’s like …??? But he just thinks you’re soooo cute! Sitting there in the ADA’s café every morning before you move on with your day, oblivious to the agent gazing at you from afar with a puppyish, moon-struck smile on his face.

𖤥 He loves how coy you are, and how easily flustered you are around him, but you were far from weak-willed. You were more than capable of asserting that you didn’t crave a simple one-night stand with some random, or make him listen to your boundaries on not wanting to be touched. He understands this completely, and the fact that you’re not easy makes this so much more exciting. He loved how your corpulent cheeks puff with the sweet confectionery that he purchased for you, how your chunky hands pick at the tight coils of your pretty afro when you’re nervous, or how you tittered in your palms while rejecting his advances while knowing that the both of you desired each other on an amorous level.

𖤥 Who would’ve guessed that you’d look much prettier with your back pressed against the windowsill next to the booth you’ve occupied, inundating his bandaged palm in copious amounts of squirt?

“Ah~ Bella… look at you! Covering the booth in such a lewd liquid after it just opened, how adorable… But, you do know that it wouldn’t be remote for long, right?”

🧷 Dazai cooed with feigned, unadulterated shock as he leaned in closer to your cherubic facial features, which were already concealed with the way you covered your face with the utmost shame. He was still a bit startled that you actually consented to him fingering you in one of the booths of the café, especially considering how close the chosen booth was near the door. His teasing was relentless; how could it not be? There was no way of confirming that such a pure woman was into the idea of getting finger-fucked by a man who she’s known for a few months in a public place? Her left calf propped on the wooden table with her right heel reposing on the upper head roll? Sniveling out needy muffled moans as he pumped into her salivating hole at an egregiously slow pace?

“Mmh, you make it so hard for me to hold it in… you wouldn’t mind if I put it in now, do you?” The cacodemonic being tempted you breathlessly as his other maimed hand began to fiddle with the buttons of his pants, feeling your inundated walls clamp onto his fingers to disclose how much you needed him inside of you right now. Though, given the setting, you were too nervous to go that way, especially knowing that the gentle chimes over the door will soon enough indicate that someone has entered. Once you, with a reasonable remnant of consciousness within you to weakly shake your head no, he whined diaphanously in protest. You’ve been forbidding him to fuck him for the most obvious reasons, and as a result, he’s been forbidding you to cum until you give in. Give into those pretty, glimmering, puppyish eyes that were imbued with a whirling sense of devise.

“No? Why not, Bella? You don’t want me imprinted in your tummy? Holding me so lovingly with this pretty pussy of mine? C’mon, Bella… I thought I was yours..?”

His words permeated your mind immediately, disrupting the bits of self-possession that you grasped oh-so tightly in order to keep preserved. His hand that was on his pants was now slipping past your waist to reach your lower back, pulling himself closer to you in order to nuzzle against your cheek only to let out a needy “kudasai” against the plushness. That there knocked away your senses, considering that you were quick to let out a string of soft, mindless pleads, grinding yourself against the fingers that were threatening to slide out of you due to his lack of inconsideration. With a victoriously impish grin, he sat back up in order to quickly grip on both of your thighs in order to keep them apart. Once you closed them shut yet again, he sighed with subtle disappointment, tilting his head subtly, scrutinizing down at you as if you were an unidentifiable package that he possesses little interest for. Then, he patted the top of your afro in a rather condescending manner; his moods are definitely the tides…

“Nono, keep those pretty thighs open for me, gorgeous. A slut like you should know how to follow basic protocol, hm? C’mon, do it with me—open…? That’s a good girl…! Don’t squirm too much now, otherwise the agency is bound to see your true nature…”

FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY.

𖤥 An angel’s weep: your devotion, intelligence, and skin.

𖤥 Fyodor is a man who (canonically) enjoys a person with a “good complexion”, and what is better than a woman imbued with melanin, intelligence, and wiliness? As we may know however, what he feels towards you is a twisted obsession rather than pure love. Let’s be so forreal, though… ain’t no black people in Moscow, Russia, BUT… considering that he’s so ancient, he’s definitely seen a plethora black individuals. He probably owned slaves, but we’re not gonna get into that… He likes older, traditional women, ones that embody modesty, servile tendencies, and motherly patience. He likes natural women as well; while he doesn’t necessarily care enough, he’d prefer you without the meretricious “fake hair” or excessive “face paint”. It’s disrupting God’s image. Your body is a temple, not a wall to vandalize.

𖤥 Excessive submission is simply pathetic, and at this point, you’re no better than the rest of his nameless underlings. You need to have enough spunk to catch his interest, but you also need to acknowledge that only he takes full initiative of this relationship. That said, no bitches with a high self-worth for Fyodor!!! He likes that you know a lot, finding you even more valuable for his plans, and he enjoys your philosophical views, not to mention that you both are Christian. How did you guys get together? Well, you guys aren’t… but the relationship surely is questionable. His obsession towards you is quite lethal.

𖤥 He’s definitely a “sex after marriage” kind of man, so at times, he does get a little pent up, and he doesn’t need penetration just yet…

🧷 A perfect little pawn with the amenity of a queen was bound to make him announce “check” sooner or later, though he’d never announce “checkmate” due to your unpredictability. He knows your every move, and each one was just as abrupt as the previous, which puzzles him even if it’s slight. He has to move surely with you, even if you were nothing but a mere pawn.

Varnishing his cello after spending the time detangling the excessive cords in his office caused by his monitors, reposing on your mocha-drenched knees as you occasionally gazed up at his baleful, empurpled glower, and offering a tepid cup of honeyed chamomile tea to ease his muddled mind from the lecherous thoughts that he struggled to keep at bay. Frankly, your subservient nature was worse than Ivan’s on an internal level; you were much capable at subduing your emotions when the time was perfect. However outside of his clutches, you were a woman of high dominance and command, not to mention that your wily nature has outsmarted quite a few individuals. So, he can’t help but wonder why you gave in so submissively.

“Myshka,” Your silver-slicked tongue alerted him with that ludicrous sobriquet of yours, and while Fyodor’s expression remained unchanging, you were well aware that he was attentive. He always will be; a seraph is almost all-knowing as their creator. Though, what you’re unaware of, given your position and the blockage of the cello between his scraggly legs, his pallid palm was resting on the invasive bulge pressing against his pants, impatiently stroking himself with his thumb for a scintilla of stimulation. He could have his way with you in a plethora of positions, but… such a sinful act will forever be unforgivable. In fact, he planned to pray after your early dismissal, which was something you’ve been receiving for quite some time.

“You’re not ticklish, are you?”

A question just as ridiculous as your audacity, and yet he twitched harder beneath his ivory slacks. How one could be so audacious will stay a mystery. Then, his expression softened uncharacteristically as he extended his hand out towards you, offering you (or likely demanding) you to take it. Because of your Gift, which completely contrasted his, you felt a sense of confidence delve into your senses, so you went in for the bait. Swiftly, he grabbed you by your throat instead prompting a harsh gag to elude your replete lips, though that simply fueled his lasciviousness by tenfold. After gently moving his cello away with his free hand, he guided you closer, potentially between his legs, so you could have a generous view of the dick you were about to swallow. You will swallow commendably if you wish to avoid punishment as well, right?

You’ll die sucking him—you’ve done it once before, and even with your Herculean recuperation and resurrection prowess, the blood trickling down your nostrils followed by your unamused grin was enough for him to conclude that he’d be edged tonight. How could one be so weak will stay memorable. After all, you’re simply his favorite pawn. When he feels as if you’re out of line, he won’t hesitate to take you off the board to conquer you relentlessly before seeking you as one of his favorite men. The thought drew a small, barbaric smirk to graze his frigid lips as he finally let you go, ignoring your minor coughing fit as he glanced down to undo the buttons of his pants with a now bored expression.

“Won’t you come closer and find out for yourself, pchelka? If you’re capable of mollifying my needs for the night, perhaps I’ll take the time to satiate that droll tongue of yours. Although, in this pathetic state, I highly doubt you’ll even elicit a singular grunt. Now, go on. Thank me for my patience by doing what you know most.”

yuyinesque | translate with permission & peruse without theft.

[immediatebreakfast]

Well, the consequences for Jonathan's disobedience were quite terrifying, on top of destroying an aspect of Jonathan's beliefs as a character.

We already have seen plus noticed how Jonathan identifies with what femininity, and women represented in the 19th century. He is a male character that expresses so much love for the ideas of safety, and comfort that the feminine entails without the narrative trying to paint this in a derogative light anywhere.

So, it's not wonder that the visit from the Weird Sisters (a.k.a. the speculated brides, and housemates of Dracula) left him totally traumatized. Nothing that Dracula has done so far has gained such huge reaction from Jonathan.

Great God! merciful God! Let me be calm, for out of that way lies madness indeed.  ... for now, feeling as though my own brain were unhinged or as if the shock had come which must end in its undoing, I turn to my diary for repose. The habit of entering accurately must help to soothe me.

In his journey as a gothic heroine as he is trapped in the castle, Jonathan has been surviving by employing the same ideas used by fictional heroines he admires and looks up to in dire times, and he has comforted himself with Mina's memory, and his undefying love for her. Everything that Dracula represents regarding masculinity means danger for Jonathan, he is scared how the power that the Count holds over him; not as a man towards another man, but as a man towards a conceptual woman within Jonathan's mind that is part of his being.

All of this concludes in Jonathan taking a nap in the ladies' chamber room, away from Dracula's aggresive masculinity in his tainted designated room, and inside what he now deems a safe space because women lived there.

Then the Weird Sisters appear in their ethereal, beautiful glory, and as Jonathan recalls the incident in his diary, the feeling of angry loosing sanity is written with an underline tone of pure defeated betrayal. It feels as if Jonathan keeps asking himself "why did they do that to me? Aren't they in the same position as me?"

The feeling of what Jonathan calls repulsion cut through the sexually charged scene like a knife. All of the soft adjectives to describe the Sisters' appearance, Jonathan's attraction to them as he shames himself for thinking like that because of Mina, the emphasis of voluptuos charm laced with danger, all of it gets cut when Jonathan realizes what the Weird Sisters are planning to do.

There was a deliberate voluptuousness which was both thrilling and repulsive, and as she arched her neck she actually licked her lips like an animal.

The ladies that he thought were a dream at first are there to use him the same way that Dracula has been doing... the only difference is that the vampire ladies made very clear that they will kill him. So out it goes the kind language to describe women, and what enters is the language that Jonathan uses to describe the Count.

The femininity that Jonathan felt comfort in to shield himself from the horrors he has seen is now fractured to incorporate the monsterhood of the Weird Sisters. It's a realization that shatters him, not all women are soft, and kind, these women would have killed him if not the Count arriving, and if Jonathan cannot go to the Weird Sisters for safety against Dracula, then it means that the only being who stands between his death and life is the Count himself.

The man who is keeping Jonathan as a prisoner in everything but name is who he has to run to if Jonathan wants to keep living... What a nightmare indeed.

[lullabyes22-blog]

[Farnsworth voice] Good news everyone! The Zaun crew has been invited to a week-long excursion to a Demacian farm for [unintelligible] reasons! How will these city slickers fare in a rural environment? The rolling fields, the wide open sky, the stench of manure, the straw hats, the vaguely Arthurian Camelot backdrop! Hell yeah, random Farm Episode!

How did this happen? Who was responsible for the invitations? How did the Zaunites agree to this???

Whatever the case, there they are in the rolling Demacan plains.

The first thing everyone does is complain - vociferously - about the lack of smog, the wide open spaces and the beautiful, bright sunshine.

They all agree, as a whole, that country living is a horrid bore and they should return home immediately.

Dustin heads to the nearest tavern to see whether the hooch is any good. Said excursion ends in a bloody bar-brawl, after Dustin meets the bright-eyed daughter of the local blacksmith, and takes great delight in debauching her thoroughly in the alleyside - before her brothers stumble upon the scene and dispense their own brand of justice. He gets thrown into the pokey, where his cellmates are none too pleased by his abrasive Zaunite attitude and his willingness to engage in casual shit-talk with the rats. He gets roughed up pretty bad before his teammates come to bail him out.

All in all though, he rates the experience 10/10. Highly recommend.

Lock is intrigued by the local cuisine. He samples the fried chicken, and declares it 'okayish', though he thinks there's not enough pepper. He is intrigued by the cornbread, but has difficulty eating it without cutting it into squares. He's not a fan of the apple pie, because he's never tasted an apple in his life. He does, however, like the local hooch.

Filling up a flaskful, he finds the closest portion of quiet woodland, then reclines under a shady tree for a nap. He wakes up hours later to the melody of singing birds - a soundtrack he finds at first alien, then downright unsettling.

He hurries back to camp to demand that someone do something about the creepy racket.

Ran stalks off to the nearest pasture and watches the ponies graze. They're very pretty, and Ran decides they want one. They attempt to bargain a price with the ranch owner, only to be shut down. Ran shrugs, walks off, then waits until sundown when the owner's gone to bed. They creep back to the stables and steal the prize filly. The rest of the crew demand to know how the beast will acclimate to life in the Sump. Ran suggests setting up a stable in the Promenade, spray-painting the pony black with neon streaks, then unleashing it periodically into the streets to terrorize the chem-barons whenever they step out of line.

The others are intrigued, if not completely sold on the idea. They all agree it's a pretty piece of horseflesh, though.

Sevika has no patience for pastoral pursuits. She hits up the nearest saloon, and demands to know if there's a good underground fighting pit around here. The locals are wary, but she wields a very persuasive glower and a more compelling left hook, so they point her towards the barn at the edge of town. Inside, there's a huge circle of hay bales, and a chalkboard for wagering. The local champions are a pair of milk-fed farm boys who think their biceps make them kings of the ring. Sevika is more than happy to knock their blocks off in five minutes flat.

She walks away with a cool six hundred, and the satisfaction of a job well done. The rest of her days are spent fleecing the locals in card games and racking up a small fortune in winnings.

Silco is mildly amused by the jaunt. Then mildly bored. The fresh air and reposeful quiet have their charms. But the lack of industrial din has a stultifying effect on his mind, which hinges on the constant stimuli of schemes and machinations and intrigues. He spends the first few days catching up on his reading and taking leisurely strolls with Jinx through the countryside. But soon, the restlessness sets in, and he begins to long for the familiar embrace of his city, its dark alleys and back-door deals, and the siren call of danger around every turn. He's got a nation to liberate, goddammit, and the vast openness of the fields makes him feel small and insignificant.

His ambitions are bigger than this. And the alcohol is way weaker than what he's accustomed to.

So, as is his habit, he entrenches himself in the county hall and quietly sets to work learning all about the local politics. The sheriff, the mayor, the aldermen, the land-owners - everyone is observed closely. By the week's end, he's got a map of their families and associates, the skeletons in their closets, and a handful of names he can use to blackmail them at his leisure.

After a fortnight, he's extorted all the cash from the mayor's coffers and funneled it back to Zaun, where it'll be put to better use than funding the upkeep of some faux-medieval village. He's also convinced the aldermen to rezone a section of farmland into a commercial district. This, he points out, would bring much needed income to the local economy, as well as alleviate the current housing shortage. He even convinces a couple of the locals to strike out and try their luck in Zaun, where the payoff is better, the beer is stronger, and the company is far more exciting.

The feather in his cap is bedding the mayor's wife - and sweet-talking her into convincing her husband to retire early.

By the end of the excursion, Silco has the township in his pocket, and the farm has a brand new mayor, with a brand new set of loyalties.

Long live Zaun.

Jinx is in heaven. There's plenty of wide open space, no shortage of wild critters, and no one's likely to arrest her for roughhousing a bear or a putting bow-ties on a deer. Also: have you seen the size of the shotguns they're packing in this joint?

Boy, oh boy, she's gonna have a ball.

She sets up a shooting range with a dozen tin cans, and proceeds to blow them to hell with a sawed-off double barrel. The unwieldy thing's not as clean a shot as Puff-Puff, but the sheer concussive force of the blast is an intoxicating rush.

She's got her eye on a prize: the cracked bronze bell in the clock tower. If she can shoot it right off the top, the reverberation of the ringing sound will be enough to drive the townspeople insane, and the cacophony will summon every spook, spirit and spectre in the local vicinity. It will also temporarily deafen the bank tellers and the local clergy, leaving the door wide open for her to raid the safe and steal a bunch of gold bars to give to Silco, 'cause it's his birthday next month, and Silly deserves to spoil himself.

And spoil her, too.

She wants a brand-new set of glow-paints.

The only real obstacle to her plan is the town's one and only sheriff. She's not intimidated, because the sheriff's a portly, balding man with a lazy eye. But he's got a pretty nasty dog. It's a huge, vicious-looking Rottweiler, and reminds her the tiniest bit of Vi, which makes her sad and irritates her in equal measure, because why can't Vi stop following her around and just let her destroy public property in peace?

In any case, it's no biggie, because she has a trick up her sleeve: a sackful of raw ground meat, a rubber ball and a length of fishing twine.

She waits until sundown, when the streets are clear, then ties the ball to the twine and lobs it into the sheriff's backyard. The bait is too good to resist, and the dog comes bounding down after the bouncing ball. When it stumbles upon the ground-meat, it digs in like a pig in muck, and doesn't even notice when Jinx shoots a tranquilizer dart into its flank.

With the hound subdued, she slips into the house, and ties up the sleeping sheriff. She then steals a bunch of pricey family heirlooms, and takes a bunch of silver candlesticks for good measure. She also helps herself to a few bottles of wine and the keys to the sheriff's truck. Then she hops behind the wheel, drives into town, and parks outside the belltower.

It takes a while to hoist herself up to the perfect vantagepoint, but when she's done, she can see all the way down to the main street.

She sets her sights on the bronze bell and lets her shotgun rip.

The ensuing clang is deafening, and the reverberations ring all the way to the outskirts of town. She cackles madly, as the townsfolk begin to pour out of their homes: screaming and clutching their heads. The whole scene is straight out of one of those cheesy old-timey movies Silco likes so much. She takes a moment to admire the chaos.

Then she slips down and into the emptied bank, and makes a quick score of gold bars, before slipping away.

She's feeling generous, so she drops by the town bakery and buys fifteen cake-pops, twelve cupcakes and three dozen doughnuts. She also snags a a cherry strudel for Silco, because she knows it's his favourite.

Happy birthday, Silly.

And now for her next trick.

She's gonna make the pigs in the barn fly.

(Jinx succeeds in the endeavour. None of the pigs survive the ordeal, though, and eye-witnesses are traumatized. The local authorities are baffled, and are unable to pin the crime on anyone. The entire incident is blamed on 'The Cursed Bell' - which had rung of its own accord, and caused untold damage to the local psyche and economy.)

(Not to mention compelled the sheriff to quit his post, and move across the country to seek professional help.)

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Seeing as you’ve (mostly) given us a tour of Croz’s jockey shorts already, I’m going to stand up on behalf of the Ladies Who Brady™️ and request your speculation on John Brady?

*Inhuman and decidedly girlish screeches of delight and trepidation*

nsfw (AF!) under the cut:

Oh my darling, beautiful Brady, how I love him, an all American boy excelling at a man’s job, he’s my husband number…I dunno but he’s up there and he can arm wrestle Croz for top billing. 🤭

Now to business. Speculations regarding the charming attribute (singular) of this lovely human.

Cock-versations || Brady edition (credit to @pearlparty for the genius name and to @suraemoon for being the doll I screamed to regarding this and who helped canonize the below theory)

Hear me out to the end, I beg but to begin: a perfectly substantial, nicely proportioned, beyond adequate and decidedly moderate dick. Justice for the moderates!

Initial extracurricular observations on colouring: pretty pale pole tbh, very veiny, weirdly pretty pube pattern, with coco-rose-blush accents and sack, special treat being when he’s excited his lower belly blushes too and matches his cheeks 🥰

Details of the piece: length is a good, nice, average or a little above. girth is quite substantial and a little more added to that, possessing that extra oomph that makes a difference! with those lean hips it’s plenty impressive to look at when in the act but be ready -he’s massive grower. you might meet him and it’s an adorable, sweet lil thing pillowed on a huge sack (biggest balls in the 100th? maybe, and it’ll make you think the cock is smaller than it is in comparison) when in repose and then voila!!! Six inches or more: at your disposal ma’am. And he does call you ma’am from time to time.

Personality of the user to be considered: this is the sorta post-war husband where you can go round after round and it’s bliss because your cervix isn’t bruised up or indented by cock, so -indulge in all the bouncing and railing to your heart’s content, it’ll feel great but it won’t put you in the hospital or wheelchair. Wahoo. This however, is just taking the member into account, not the attitude of the man attached to it who will, 100% use what he has at *his* disposal to have you limping all through Lent. And you’ll love it, and you’ll have to make up excuses as you shift in your seat at the Brady family table and tardily pass the gravy to his mama…ain’t your fault you’re distracted.

I think he could get quite rambunctious, both in good fun and to wind up a argument, but the Brady cock won’t have you sobbing because you had to take an elephant trunk up you, ya know? *SIDE EYES EGAN* So you could get quite wild rather safely. For instance -I put him down as #1 most likely to lovingly choke you with all due respect.

Or, if that’s not your thing -he’s at least gripping your jaw, squishing your cheeks in one hand as he goes in and out, “look at me, -look at me, keep those pretty eyes open”.

Don’t let the word “moderate” lull you into thinking it’s easy to keep eye contact, hard to do in fact when your eyeballs are taking a tour of the back of your skull because this boy *hasn’t stopped in ages and it’s still pummeling that spot right.there*

But Brady does love a little switching and he’s very tuned in, very intuitive, utterly caring in the end. You have all his attention at all times and he has a goal in mind -and wow will he get ya there.

We love a good all American moderate man of extreme capabilities

[zablife]

Windflowers

Tommy Shelby x Lily Shelby (OC, Tommy's wife)

Summary: A continuation of my fic, Lily, where we revisit Tommy and his wife a year after the death of their daughter. As Lily wakes from a nightmare Tommy is there to comfort her and they have a break thru in her recovery.

Author's Note: Requested by @jomarch-wannabe who wanted to read a fic about Tommy comforting someone after a nightmare. I decided to use my OC. I hope that's ok!

Warnings: drinking, PTSD, mention of child death

“You’ve brought her those every day for months. Why?” Tommy gestured wearily toward the white and black flowers, thinking how much they reminded him of funeral flowers. They were nothing like the cheerful pink tulips and red roses his wife had kept in the house before their daughter was taken from them. Why must the color be stolen from every corner of their lives, Tommy wondered. 

“Where streams his blood there blushing springs a rose and where a tear has dropped, a wind-flower blows,” Ada mused softly as she arranged the blossoms carefully in a vase. Turning to face her brother she explained. "These flowers only close at night and open in the morning. Like an anticipation of something soon to arrive.”

“What are you on about, eh?” Tommy asked, stamping out his cigarette in frustration. His head throbbed with a fresh headache, the first whisky of the day not doing enough to quell his growing fears about his wife’s condition.

"I thought Lily should have something to remind her of her strength," she said, holding Tommy’s gaze for a moment before reaching forward to give his hand a reassuring squeeze. 

As his sister’s hand slipped from his calloused fingertips, Tommy called out, “Ada, what if…”

But she interrupted, knowing all too well what trepidation he held close to his heart. “She’ll come back to you, Tom. Give her time,” she said quietly.

“She will,” Tommy agreed quickly. He paced toward his desk, stomping the thought out like burning embers of weakness he didn’t dare let catch fire.

There wasn’t anything anyone could do except wait for Lily to reemerge from the dense forest of her mind. She seemed to wander aimlessly about Arrow House as though in a dream, but when she slept she seemed to be fully conscious elsewhere, her facial expressions changing in her sleep. 

While she lay in repose, Tommy kept careful watch over her, noticing these small shifts of movement, wanting nothing more than to reach for her and stroke her cheek. He wondered in those moments if she might awaken and speak to him as she used to, looking up through heavy eyelids and smile when she realized how adoringly he gazed upon her. Would she blush and giggle as she did when they were first married, hearing him compliment her natural beauty?

That night as Tommy watched Frances gather his wife’s nightgown and slippers, he stared at the flowers on the bedside table. 

“The windflowers are lovely aren’t they, Mr. Shelby?,” she asked, making pleasant conversation. 

“Windflowers? Is that what they’re called?” he responded. 

“Yes, sir. Only open when the wind blows. Or as my mum used to tell us —fairy folk hid in the petals and closed them up when it threatened to rain,” she added with a chuckle, heading toward the bathroom to help Mrs. Shelby dress for bed.

Tommy smiled at the children’s tale, having heard similar stories in his youth of fairies and their world of twilight. For a moment he thought of sharing it with his daughter, a funny little bedtime story, and then he remembered her empty room at the end of the silent corridor. It was moments like those that made him lose breath, the unbearable ache taking him from joy to grief so suddenly he felt nauseous. Sitting forward on the bed, he placed his head in his hands to keep the room from swaying, waiting for his balance to return before descending the stairs in a panic.

It wasn’t until hours later, he returned to bed, properly numbed by the alcohol and stacks of paperwork. Lily slept, though he couldn’t quite tell if it was a peaceful slumber. She often moved about the mattress at night and currently she was laying across it so there was little room for Tommy. He didn’t mind, taking up a place in the armchair across from her to keep watch. He had only just sunk into the deep cushions when her lips parted in a shallow cry and Tommy lurched forward in fear, worried tonight might be a rare occasion for the doctor. 

Tommy placed a hand on the duvet to be closer to her, though he didn’t  dare touch her directly. In the early days that had sent Lily into a panic, setting off screaming and thrashing that could only be calmed by sedatives. Now Tommy was more cautious in his approach. However, tonight would be different. To his surprise, Lily’s demeanor was calm and contented as she seemed to be having a  pleasant dream. Her hand reached for something in the darkness and Tommy observed with awe, enchanted by her beautiful smile.

Then suddenly she recoiled and her body began to shake uncontrollably. Tommy froze, unsure what to do. Should he wake her or allow the dream to continue? Uncertain what she was seeing, he debated for a fraction of a second. When Lily began to toss and whimper painfully, he could not restrain himself any longer. He hadn’t been there when the Changrettas tortured his wife and daughter, but he was here now and he could comfort her. He had to try.

Sliding into bed beside his wife, he took her in his arms, smoothing back her hair as he hushed her. “Lily, darling, it’s me. You’re home. You’re safe,” he whispered to her as he rocked her. To his surprise she clung to him, fingers gripping him with brutal strength he didn’t know she possessed. Then her eyes opened, wild and frightened at first. 

Suddenly, she focused on him, seeing him for the first time in months. Eyes glistening with tears, her lip trembled. “T-tommy?” 

“Yes, yes,” Tommy replied, overwhelmed by the sound of his name on her lips once again. 

“I’m here. You’re safe with me,” he repeated as he kissed the top her head. “I love you, Lily,” he said, feeling tears stinging his eyes. Feeling her in his arms was a revelation, the solace he had been seeking all that time without knowing it. Had she really said his name or did he imagine it?

As they sat huddled together, the sun began to rise in the distance. For the first time Tommy noticed what Ada and Frances had told him. The flowers were opening slightly and leaning toward the light. As Lily stroked a hand down his chest, he felt hopeful. She had let him comfort her and she had said his name. He was sure of it now more than ever, she would return to him.

-----------------------

Tag List:

@peakyswritings

@evita-shelby

@shelbydelrey

@alanadetigy

@severewobblerlightdragon

@lovemissyhoneybee

@theshelbyslimited

@kittycatcait219

@callsign-fangirl

@christinasyellowflowers

@theshelbyclan

@areyenotfondofmelobster

@polishcrazyone

@elenavampire21

@little-diable

@lyarr24

@jomarch-wannabe

@the-fangirl-diaries

@kmc1989

@everythingelseisextra

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@cillmequick

@look-at-the-soul

@runnning-outof-time

@dandelionprints

@rangerelik

@babayaga67

@babaohhhriley

@callsign-shark

@raincoffeeandfandoms

@trixie23

@mythos-writes

@padfootdaredmetoo

@moral-terpitude

@dearshelby

@anonymooseforever007

@thegreatdragonfruta

@peakyltd

@brummiereader

@kmhappybunny240

@pherelesytsia

@toms-cherry-trees

@l1-l4

@mrs-bellingham

@duckybird101

@gypsy-girl-08

@murderousginger

[prettyundeadgirl]

For All Eternity

Summary: Severus takes you on a date to a cemetery.

Pairing: Severus Snape x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.0k

Tags: Fluff

A/N: This may or may not have been inspired by Morticia and Gomez Addams

AO3 Link

Walking atop the flat cobblestone walls fenced around the cemetery, you held hands with your stoic lover, who stepped alongside you on the sidewalk.

The crisp air exuded an intense petrichor and the fragrance of resilient and unbidden wildflowers that had sprouted in the crevices of the masonry and grew among the freshly cut wands of grass dappled with dew. At your unforeseen approach, a startled squirrel dropped its acorn and latched onto the tree's fissured bark, scurrying up into the unfurled russet leaves. You observed the sacred grounds comprised of the deceased and the still trees that formed a cathedral-like canopy overhead and, in the past, witnessed a plethora of tears and interments.

Though an unconventional choice for a date and what most would find creepy or macabre, you deemed it hauntingly beautiful and… very Severus.

He glanced over at your figure, and nature faded into an insignificant blur as he traced the contours of your face in deep reverence. He struggled to fathom your arrant devotion to him and often pondered whether it was a trick or a long dream. But your undying love proved his moronic beliefs to be entirely false, and a small half-smile formed as his compelled gaze traveled over your physique and gradually made its way to your legs, watching your careful steps and savoring every detail of your exterior like a captivating painting one viewed in a museum.

If not for reaching the iron gate embellished with ornate patterns and remnants of patina from exposure, his eyes would have remained fixated on you, lost in complete admiration.

Severus, hands placed at either side of your waist, helped you down, and the dead leaves scattered asunder crinkled at your light contact. Smiling, you interlocked your arm with his, letting your fingertips brush against his coal-black sleeve.

You both furthered into the sepulchral realm, where between the rows of stone memories and desires reposed. You viewed the sun-blanched gravestones, some standing tall, adorned with intricate carvings and beautiful angelic sculptures—sullenness chiseled on their expressions forever, and marble cracked by the dejection burdened upon them. Other gravestones leaned precariously, their inscriptions weathered into obscurity by countless detrimental precipitations.

There was a strange sense of peace within the center of the cemetery—a place where the living and the dead coexisted and the delicate veil between worlds grew thin. Each crunch of gravel underfoot echoed and broke the palpable silence, along with the transient caws of ravens resting on jagged branches, some taking off to begin or continue their adventures. As the warm sunlight lifted the thin layer of fog hovering over the ground, the early autumn leaves broke off and fluttered gracefully to the ground, ready to rest and decay like the dead beneath.

You each took turns guessing the lives of each person and their ultimate tragic demise. Of course, his were far more detailed and structured with copious amounts of emotion, as if the stories had been his own experiences. You found yourself unable to resist the allure of his low, vibrating tones falling from his lips as he shared his conjectures. His voice was woven with threads of raw authenticity, seamlessly blending each word with passion, and you were in love with and drawn to it.

After some tales, trodding the endless path as graves whispered of love, loss, and sorrow throughout, you skimmed the engraved names and dates, some years being unfortunately close to one another. Suddenly, a particular headstone caught your eye. One grave. Two names. Lovers. Died on the same day. You imagined yourself and Severus with the same end: to never even let death do you part and lay tenderly beneath the dirt, side by side, rotting away together for all eternity. And even after all of the stages of decomposition, your love remained transcendent, as it did when life still coursed through your veins.

“There isn’t anything I’d want more.” He mused softly, his hand reaching to the small of your back. You smiled and scoffed playfully at his sudden use of legilimency. That was how he initially discovered you took a liking to him, and he found it somewhat amusing when you’d act calm and collected, destined to keep your feelings sealed away in the chambers of your love-filled heart. But the inside of your mind betrayed your guise, and it didn’t take long for you to confess.

Your face soon fell flat, and an unintentional seriousness enveloped your voice. “Do you swear it?” You awaited his answer, to which he replied with a slight raise of his brow.

“That you won’t ever leave my side?”

The question hung for nothing more than a moment between the two of you, and then he began with your name like a prayer beneath his breath.

“If you were to die,” his hands rose, cupping your face as his unwavering eyes stared deep into your glossy-coated ones. His touch, gentle and sure, allayed your foolish worries. “I would not spend another second on this miserable earth. The only reason I still tolerate it is because you make life worth living.”

Although you hadn’t replied, your look said it all, and for a moment, you both shared an intense gaze, exchanging sentiments that could not be expressed with words. The close contact never failed to send a swarm of butterflies inside you, and you reminisced on every moment that caused it. 

His eyes soon broke contact to flicker elsewhere, and without hesitation, he connected his lips to yours. The earth felt as if it had paused, granting you a moment beyond the constraints of time. Shared desire drew both of you closer, and the space gradually disappeared. Your hands traveled to the nape of his neck, and he angled his head to deepen the kiss. This action alone ignited a spark within you, setting your heart ablaze at the intensity of his affection.

And when you pulled away, something neither of you truly wanted to do, your breaths mingled, leaving an imprint of your profound endearment on the land. As contradictory as it seemed, the graveyard teemed with life, and you spent the rest of your date conversing with one another, relishing in each other’s company.

The cemetery, once a symbol of endings, became a place of beginnings for the both of you, and it was an enchanted time that you would forever cherish and take with you to your grave.

[death-of-the-flowers]

WHAT GIFTS WILL JUNE BRING ?

•

Pile 1 - Two of Wands

||You have adventures awaiting you. Recent hopes and aspirations will reveal themselves in the forms of new options or areas of expertise. Make sure you have time on your hands to accept these new callings. This may be a good month to write down your goals and musings. A sweet, soft, and lavish reward awaits you at the end of June. Allow yourself to embrace a bold, courageous persona so you can look back and relish in the narrative you are creating.||

•

Pile 2 - Nine of Pentacles

||You have been working tirelessly, and June will provide you the release you seek. A spark of positive energy and light will find you during this month. Though life may seem to be just one burden after another, if you keep reaching for deeper meaning you will find the pleasures you seek. Trying again and redoing things is not just a mistake or loss: it is an opportunity to be fully present in that moment. Being attuned to your body is essential for energy and mental clarity. Search within your dreams, and don't be ashamed of what brings you joy.||

•

Pile 3 - Four of Swords

||Now is a time of repose. You may be facing burnout or sleeping more than usual. The beginning of June will bring you the calm you need to gather yourself. Little moments of beauty have been pushed aside and they are waiting to be welcomed back. Invite self-care and adornments into your daily rituals. Allow yourself to partake in things you might usually withhold from yourself, or save for a "special occasion". June has space for you in it, and you have every right to take up that space.||

•

$1 tarot readings || more pick a pile

[zhongliologist]

Simply Yours | Kaveh

Pairing: Kaveh x fem!reader

Genre: SMUTTTT!!

Words: 4.7K

A/N: phew i was projecting on this to the high heavens. im just basing my characterization of Kaveh from the small snippets and descriptions of him. still i am down bad for this man, so you might see more of him here lmaooo also thank you @yostresswritinggirl​ for showing me those leaks of Kaveh >,<

THIS IS AN 18+ FIC. BY CLICKING THE READ MORE BUTTON, YOU HAVE UNDERSTOOD AND ACCEPTED THAT YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED AND LIABLE FOR THE DECISION YOU MADE.

You watched the arms of the clock turn in precise increments. Every second, every minute, every hour—time passes by without mercy, without consolation. As the night grew deeper, nilotpala blooms glowed like gems of the Sumerian forest while padisarahs danced at the sway of the summer breeze in long-lost tunes of the ancients, yet this desolate beauty offered you no repose.

As you silently regarded the forest canopy at the balcony of your room, your mind and your heart were at odds. Why is it that most objects have simple machinations? Clocks are mere arrangements of gears, springs and rods, while flowers are just petals, leaves, stems and roots. Yet, if anyone peered right into your heart, all they will see is a dark amalgamation of fear, self-loathing and weaknesses. Why can’t you be as simple as a flower? Or as straightforward as clockwork?

In the end, human emotions are complex and inexplicable. You could only wish it wasn’t.

The clock finally struck midnight. You leaned against the limestone guardrails decorated with rosettes, vines and lilies, mimicking Sumeru’s lush flora. This was the only place heavily—or you could say, lovingly, adorned with artistry like no other compared to the rest of the building. It was intentional, of course. He was just that type of guy.

Amidst the cacophony of forest noise, you heard the trapdoor opening, yet you didn’t even bother to look. After all, there was no point in knowing when there was only one person who would care to enter that way. Eventually, his footfalls grew nearer until you sensed him standing in front of you. You concentrated well on staring at the sleeping dusk bird perched on a nearby adhigama tree, yet all of it was wasted when he gently brushed a finger up your cheek towards your ear. You mulishly suppressed a shiver.

“I never thought you’d become some forlorn princess brooding on her balcony window while I was away,” he teased, his scarlet eyes twinkling like rubies in the moonlight.

You finally turned towards him—unimpressed was written all over your face. With brows raised and lips tight, you glanced at the hand that was still cupping your cheek, and then stared back at him.

“Kaveh.”

“Yes, love?” His voice was sweet; annoyingly sweet for your taste.

You sighed heavily. “Are you even supposed to be here?”

At your exasperation, Kaveh only chuckled and sat beside you on the wide guardrails. Taking one of your hands, he softly caressed each of your ink-stained fingers, as you watch his ministrations with a heartbeat as loud as thunderous lightning.

“Of course not, yet I simply had to see you,” he replied with a smile.

“There’s nothing simple about that,” you grumbled. “We could get caught by my parents.”

Kaveh smirked. “In that case, we’ll just say I’m yours and you’re mine, and be done with it.”

His words—and you meant everything that came from that smart-ass, yet pretty mouth—made you want to run away and hide under the covers, not because you didn’t like it, but because it was just so overwhelmingly incomprehensible to your logical mind for anybody to like you that much.

You snatched away your hand and covered your warming cheeks. There was no way you can face him after that.

“Please refrain from saying those kinds of things,” you reprimanded, yet he only hummed in amusement.

“Denied,” Kaveh leaned against the stone post behind him. “I like seeing you flustered. You look so adorable.”

His comment irked something in you, earning him a glare. “Go home.”

Before he could do anything, you turned away and got up from your place. Yet still, he was swift enough to stop you on your tracks.

“Fine, I’m sorry. I won’t tease you anymore,” he said with a defeated smile as he held both your arms in a way that was careful and measured. Even so, you regarded him with an eye of incredulity. “I’m not your source of entertainment,” you said with an air of finality.

“Yes, yes, I understand,” he replied, tucking a strand of stray hair behind your ear. “But I’m serious about what I said earlier. I would like to officially meet your parents. Not as Kaveh, the one who designed this house, but as someone seriously thinking about being with you for the rest of my life.”

“Wha—! You…!” Your voice immediately got caught in your throat. Of all things, this was the least you’d expect out from him.

Standing on the balcony’s edge, you could hardly hear the incessant chirping of crickets or the lonely hoots of owls against the violent thumping of your heart. There was nothing simple about this. Matters of the heart were not your specialty, in fact, you never thought you’d need it in your skill set, yet when you met him a few summers ago, you were suddenly thrown into a world you knew nothing about.

Silently, gently, Kaveh coaxed you into his arms; allowing you to bury your face on his chest. It was cute for you to be this way—the ever-composed, all-achieving poster child of the Akademiya all flustered underneath his embrace; only for his eyes to see. While he did wish to monopolize you like this, Kaveh guided you through this unknown territory patiently; unraveling not only you but also himself in the process.

“Have you calmed down yet?” he whispered, his hand soothingly patting your head for a while now. “Sorry if I caught you off-guard.”

“No, I just—“ You stuttered. “I just don’t know how to deal with all of this.”

“That’s fine. Take your time to digest it,” Kaveh replied as he began to sway the both of you gently without letting you go.

With a deep breath, you swallowed the lump on your throat and hesitantly wrapped your arms around him. Though you were still hiding your face, his scent and the warmth of his embrace had your heart racing again.

“You know, sometimes I wonder how you’re able to wait for me. I know you’re holding my hand through all of this like you promised. But I’m sure…somehow, you’d want to take things to the next level, and I feel like I’m holding you back. All I do is take from you and I don’t give anything in return. It makes me feel so inadequate, compared to what you do for me,” you confessed, voice muffled by the fabric of Kaveh’s shirt.

It was true though. Until now, there were times which you cannot comprehend what you were feeling. It was easy to distinguish anger, sadness, disappointment or joy, yet love was as ambiguous and complex as the roots of Irminsul. You were afraid that perhaps one day, you will realize that this was not love after all.

Knowing you wouldn’t want him to see your face at that moment, Kaveh settled with burying his nose in your hair. You may not know it but your words could easily play with the speed of his heartbeat. Ever since that summer years ago, his perspective has deepened, his rigid heart has softened and he had found his sanctuary in you. With you, he had become a better person—less temperamental, more soft, patient and understanding. Most importantly, you were the much-needed peace in his soul.

Kissing the crown of your head, Kaveh finally replied after allowing his heart to calm down.

“My dear, I may be an extravagant man, but being with you is all I’ll ever need. And it breaks my heart if you think you are not good enough because to me, you are already everything I need.”

Kaveh could feel you squirming in embarrassment between his arms, which made him chuckle a bit. You wouldn’t like those bold declarations of love.

“Allow me to put this in another way,” he continued, “please forgive me if I placed unnecessary pressure on you. That was never my intention. I truly don’t mind waiting, because I do not wish to force you into doing things you are not comfortable with. Like I promised then, we can take things slow.”

This time, his words gave you enough courage to look up. Somehow, you wanted to hear his response as you gazed right into his scarlet orbs. There are often things that go unnoticed if not seen by one’s very own eyes. As delicate as roses from Mondstadt, as brilliant as rubies from Liyue, as ephemeral as maple leaves from Inazuma—his eyes held strength and sincerity. Just by looking into him, you can read exactly how he was feeling.

“Can I trust you?”

You finally asked the question posed by your intrusive thoughts at midnights. Kaveh smiled warmly at you; it made you feel at home.

“If I may have the honor to have your trust, I will treasure it with my life.”

You flushed, but then grumbled petulantly. “You really have your way with words…”

He grinned at you as he cupped your cheek. “If I didn’t, would I have been able to worm my way inside your heart? Surely not.”

Dragging the both of you inside your room without ever letting you go from his arms, the blond continued talking playfully. “Who would’ve imagined that genius architect Kaveh would end up with little miss goody-two-shoes here?”

“Oh save me from your dramatics, we both know you were practically chasing after me,” you scoffed. “And speaking of genius architect Kaveh, you were kicked out of the house by Alhaitham again, weren’t you?”

On your question, your lover tossed the both of you on top of your bed. You knew he was avoiding answering.

“A matter of semantics. I was locked out of the house, not kicked out. Haitham took both keys with him when he skedaddled somewhere else,” he defended as he settled on top of you. “Besides, you were gone for a month, and I had to finish a project while you were away. I missed you terribly.”

“You’re not very convincing, Kaveh. I’m sure you’re after something else as well,” you remarked, twirling a strand of his blond hair between your fingers. With him hovering above you as you laid beneath him, both your positions were definitely setting up the mood.

He grinned, bringing his face closer to your ear. “You wouldn’t be Vahumana’s star student for nothing. You definitely saw right through me.”

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, already beginning to remove the fancy accessories in his being.

“Nah, I’ve been with you for so long, I just might be able to read your mind.”

“Oh, could you now?” Kaveh asked amusingly as he arched a brow. “Tell me what’s on my mind then.”

Smirking, you slipped his cape right off together with all the jewelry and tossed it next to the bed. “You haven’t been laid for some time, and now you’re horny and want a bit of my attention.”

“Well, if I may?” he asked, kissing the knuckles of your hands; his eyes shining excitedly.

Smiling, you replied. “You may.”

In the next several moments, you did give him your attention, but not as much as how Kaveh practically worshiped you. His lips first found purchase on yours, tentatively at first yet evolved into a hungrier and rougher sort of kiss. He would dive deep, tongue and all, as if trying to fit every ounce of his love for you in one kiss. Of course, that would never be enough at all.

Kaveh can easily take your breath away. He was the sort of man who openly expressed his emotions; often extravagantly but it was genuine and in your opinion, rather endearing. His love making was no different. His hands would gently caress all your curves and flats, as he expertly removed your clothes without much thought.

“I missed you, Y/N…truly,” he whispered as his lips left rosettes from your neck down to your collarbones.

You could only whine, clinging to his white shirt which was already draped messily over his body. Eyeing his physique, you wondered how he was able to maintain such a toned body after so much studying in a desk all day, but still you appreciated it and ran your hand over his pectorals down to his abs.

At your ministrations, Kaveh stopped and gave you a knowing look. That look irked you to no end, yet it was hot at the same time, making you unable to hold onto that annoyance.

“If you want to touch, just say so,” he said with a grin as he placed your hand over his chest. He knew you had the tendency to run away if you get embarrassed, so he held you tightly in place without anywhere to go to.

Without a choice, you pursed your lips and began touching him. Kaveh’s muscles were sturdy yet soft at the same time; each muscle prominent to your touch. Sneaking a glance at his face, you saw him flushed red from ear to ear with half-lidded eyes and lips parted slightly. It was obvious he was trying his best to hold on.

“Alright, enough of that.”

He suddenly seized your hand and kissed you once again. If Kaveh was honest, your observations were definitely not far off. If he hadn’t stopped you then, he might’ve popped then and there, and it will be all over. He at least wanted this moment to be a little longer.

It had been a while since he had you between his arms, and he was more than eager to savor you from head to toe. With both hands, he fondled your chest as gently as he could while he played with your sensitive nubs. Kaveh eagerly lapped on one while he teased the other with his fingers. He was a tactile sort of person and he definitely loved the soft heaviness of your chest on his palms.

As he moved from your chest to your stomach and down further, you on the other hand, was rendered into a moaning mess. There was no part of your body which was not touched by Kaveh’s lips, and he definitely left evidence of his touch with dark splotches whenever he can. Beside your belly button, on your inner thighs, down to your knees and even on your feet—he kissed them all as if they were all sacred.

Suffice to say, the foreplay was driving you insane. He hadn’t even touched your core yet you knew you were drenched. This is how Kaveh would make love—slowly, deliberately and meticulous to a fault. He can withhold his own satisfaction, saying that the wait made the reward more delicious. That’s why even before the main event, he had you already trembling and shivering in pleasure.

“Kaveh…please…I need you now…” you moaned, unable to bear his incessant teasing any longer.

Your lover only grinned at you as he placed a small peck on your lips. “Don’t worry, dear. I’ll make you come right away.”

Without any warning, Kaveh plunged two fingers inside of you; your juices enough to accommodate his digits effortlessly. You immediately arched your back at the sudden penetration, clinging onto the sheets for dear life.

“Kaveh, you little shit…!” you cursed, almost drooling at how his fingers easily found your sensitive spot.

“Yes, love?” He teased. You knew he was aware what you truly wanted, and yet he was enough of a jerk to withhold it from you. He liked it when you were slightly mean to him, as if he had some twisted satisfaction in your act of defiance. Thus, Kaveh will make sure that you come with his fingers until you could no longer tell what was right from left.

“F-Fuck…fuck…!” You repeated as he kept pumping his long fingers inside of you, his palm often brushing against your sensitive nub.

Taking it up a notch, he placed himself between your legs and began lapping on your juices spilling from your cunt. His tongue would often circle teasingly around your clit and suck on it without warning, earning a load groan from you. You were getting closer. He knew it as well as he felt your walls tighten around his fingers. It was at this moment that he added another finger and pressed against your spot over and over again.

“Oh gods…Kaveh…! Please!”

In your head, your body felt like a huge bundle of nerve endings; spasms hit you over and over again in waves of pleasure. It was as if you were burned and electrified simultaneously. In no time, something inside you snapped and you came moaning his name on your lips.

Still recovering from your massive orgasm, Kaveh pulled out his fingers and licked them one by one as he had his eyes on you.

“Never had appetizer as good as you, my love. Perhaps, we shall move on to the main course.”

In your deliriousness, you noticed the large tent on his pants, yearning for attention. He had noticed your stares too and a smirked formed on his lips.

“Are you curious?” Kaveh asked as he crawled on top of you. “You haven’t tried it before.”

“I—“ you began. Yes. You were indeed curious. You wondered how it would feel to have it in your mouth; learning that other couples do it as well.

Gazing into his maroon eyes for a moment, you then nodded tentatively. He nodded back wordlessly and sat on the bed; coaxing you to come nearer.

“Are you a hundred percent sure about this?” he asked, now back to his serious, more protective self as he supported both of your arms.

“Yes,” you immediately answered. “I want to see you feeling good as well…”

“Alright. But know that we can stop anytime if you feel uncomfortable.”

Nodding once more, you settled yourself between his legs as he finally released himself from the restraints of his pants.

Now that his cock was right before your face, you had never realized that Kaveh was more well-endowed than normal even though you had him inside of you several times. You began to doubt if you had made the right decision. Yet, you had already decided not to run away and finally see things through.

Tentatively, you gave the tip a peck and watched how Kaveh would react. You were slightly disappointed that he only gave you a reassuring smile. But that only made you more determined to have him at your mercy.

Slowly, you took him, allowing yourself to adjust to his length and girth. When you finally bottomed up, you began bobbing your head up and down his length, making sure there were no teeth involved.

"Y/N…" he growled breathily, making you glance up at him.

There you saw him bright red, holding onto the sheets with force enough to rip them apart. He was struggling, prompting you to doubled your efforts to make him come apart. In his view, Kaveh knew he was a goner when he looked down at you, eagerly trying to make him feel good. He wanted to force your head down and move at his own pace yet he held back, allowing you to pleasure him as much as you wanted.

With lips parted and head thrown back, Kaveh felt his climax nearer than expected. While a little clumsy, your mouth felt so good with your tongue wrapped around him. He was in an unimaginable amount of pleasure when you sucked the tip as you pumped the rest of his shaft.  He could feel himself stretched over thinly. Anytime now, he would surely climax.

"Fuck…Y/N…! Wait…!" He exclaimed, yet it was already too late.

The moment you gazed up at him as you hummed, the vibrations from your mouth sent him to high heavens. Ropes of hot white cum filled your mouth down to your throat as Kaveh rode out his climax. You were of course, surprised, coughing as the amount spilled from your lips.

"Y/N—! I’m so sorry, I should have said—" he was hurling apologies at Mach speeds, so you held your hand to stop him.

“It’s…fine,” you replied, still struggling to regain your voice. It was truly fine though. You got want you wanted. The way Kaveh looked so uninhibited, with his shirt open and muscles contracting at every wave of stimulation—that was enough fodder to fuel your lonely nights. Moving towards him, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and cupped his still flushed cheeks.

“I understand it now,” you placed a peck on his lips. “I like how you look when you’re drowning in pleasure.”

Kaveh blinked for a moment and then chuckled. “Really now?”  

Placing his arms around your waist, Kaveh pressed his face against your bare chest. Breathing in your scent, his clear mind became heady again; just truly addicted to your presence. There was nowhere in the world he wanted to be than in your arms; head hazy and drunk in lust and pleasure. The Kaveh of years ago would balk at how lovesick he was acting for a single girl. Now, that would be hilarious.

Littering pecks and bites down your abdomen, he just couldn’t get enough of you.

“I love you. I love you so much, you couldn’t even imagine.”

“Wha—“ you paused, “Please give me a warning next time you say something like this. I don’t think my heart can handle it anymore.”

Kaveh smiled as he placed a peck on your stomach. “Then, you better get used to it, because I have all the intentions to marry you.”

“Settle your debts first and we’ll talk,” you replied with a smirk, yet it was easily wiped away when he pushed you down on the mattress.

“Aww…is that non-negotiable?” he asked, feigning disappointment as he attacked your face with numerous kisses. “I was hoping you’d help me out.”

“Don’t give me that,” you laughed, “I’m sure the genius architect can figure something out.”

“What a way to stroke my ego.”

Raising your brows, you glanced down on his pants and his now erect member. “How about that? Want to do something about it?”

“So you’re still up for more? I was trying to be considerate.”

“Oh please. Knowing you, you’d probably be up for a few rounds after.”

“I’ll take that as a yes then,”

With those words, Kaveh pressed his lips against yours, easily melding with your tongue. He nibbled at your lower lip, gently at first, and then bit hungrily in a bout of lust. There was an immediate flurry of haste—the rest of his clothes thrown away to some part of the room, while his hands caressed at every part of you he could reach. At this point, your skin was filled with splotches of color; his masterpiece he would call it.

“Kaveh…hurry up…” you mewled, your hands on his tousled blond hair as he gave your thighs more pecks and love bites. He could easily get lost in his ministrations.

“So eager for me, huh?” he grinned. Listening to you this time, Kaveh kneeled in front of you, his large cock on one hand. He spread your legs apart; your cunt glistening with all the juices you had accumulated because of him. Placing his shaft over your slit, he rubbed himself against you—the head of his dick touching your clit, easily making you squirm underneath him.

“You look so adorable this way, Y/N,” he remarked, eyes feral and deadly. “Makes me want to fuck you senseless.”

You groaned impatiently. “Then fuck me! Fuck me already Kaveh…! I want you now…please—!”

That was enough to drive Kaveh wild. “As you wish.”

With gritted teeth, he pinned both of your hands with one hand and gazed right into your eyes, waiting for your word. When you nodded, he positioned himself and plunged into you in one move, making you arch your back at the sudden stimulation which sent electricity up and down your spine.

“Oh gods…” you whimpered; allowing his size to stretch you out in the best ways possible. It had truly been a while since you last had him inside of you; you almost forgot how immaculate it felt.

Unbeknownst to you, Kaveh was trying his best to rein himself, with brows furrowed and eyes tightly shut. It felt so good to have you around him that he forgot how to breathe, only allowing himself to relax when you reached out to him for a kiss.

“Just stay like that for a bit,” you muttered, savoring his warmth and his scent.

“Y/N…I don’t think I can…” he choked out, burying his face on your neck to distract himself. “Please…I…”

“You’re such a lightweight,” you teased him, nibbling his already red ears. “Fine, you can move now.”

Not wasting another moment, Kaveh growled and pushed himself deeper into you, earning a surprised yelp from you. Steadily, he built up his pace until you were muttering his name over and over again. With hands tightly gripping your waist, Kaveh thrusted into you ruthlessly, the tip of his cock pressing against your g-spot.

“K-Kaveh…! Wait…!”

“Who’s the lightweight now, huh?” he snickered between gritted teeth.  To be honest, he was no better but he couldn’t help but poke fun at you.

One thing you noticed about Kaveh over the years was that he can be gentle if he wanted to, but often, he liked it when you were writhing underneath him, unable to think, unable to control yourself. The image of you—hair messy on the sheets, lips swollen from all the kisses, and body filled with his marks—was enough to push him to the brink of ecstasy.

“Come here,” he commanded, pulling you to sit on his lap. You keened at how he sank deeper into you, the stimulation driving you into deliriousness. Yet Kaveh continued to fuck you mercilessly, ever-determined to see you drunk in lust and ecstasy.

“Yes…fuck! That feels so good…! Kaveh—”

“Y/N…are you close…?” he asked, mouth lapping at your nipples.

“Haaa….yes…! Just keep going…”

Kaveh groaned as he felt your walls tighten around him. He knew you were close to snapping at any moment, yet he further encouraged it by rubbing circles on your sensitive clit. The sudden intensity sent you spiraling towards your orgasm, nails digging on his bare back as you tightened around him.

Yet that didn’t stop Kaveh from thrusting roughly into you, his pace becoming bold and erratic as he neared his climax. Overstimulated, you could allow the mind-numbing pleasure to wash over you as it coursed through your nerves; with eyes half-lidded and mouth drooling.

“Fuck…! I want to fill you up…” Kaveh growled breathily, sucking and biting the skin on your neck. “YN…I’m coming!”

In a matter of seconds, you felt Kaveh bury himself in you to the hilt. You could feel his hot cum filling you up, spilling out of you. At the same time, your screams filled his ears as he sent you to your second orgasm; your body shaking and trembling at the intensity of your climax. Still riding the spells of pleasure, Kaveh captured your lips once more, now gentler and filled with love. His lips sensually moved against yours, prompting to open your mouth to let him in.

“Kaveh…” you whispered. Your hands brushed his long blond hair, now tousled and messy from all the lovemaking.

“Let’s stay like this for a little while...” he replied, taking in your scent as he allowed his breathing to catch up.

And so, the both of you sat motionless for a moment until Kaveh released you from his grasps and gently laid you down on the bed. He did groan as he pulled out, but he only repositioned himself closer beside you.

It was in these moments that Kaveh seemed truly vulnerable. The way he clung onto you, relishing on the afterglow, made it obvious that his words were no lies. He loves you, and he would take any opportunity to show it to you. You still wondered how this man was able to adore you, unconditionally and often times, dramatically. Yet you guessed it was just him genuinely expressing his love in the way that he knows.

Brushing a strand of blond hair away from his face, you saw a smirk creep up from his lips; his scarlet eyes flutter open.

“Shall we go for round two?”

[seraphiism]

𓆩 ღ 𓆪 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞

( i wish i could be everything for you. family, home, watchtower, lighthouse. i am sorry for every way i've ever hurt you, including this. )

chara : clive rosfield fandom : final fantasy 16 quote cr : mabel podcast a/n : ngl someone may have forgotten some of the plot in ff16. not me though

── IT WAS ONCE SAID THAT THERE ARE THREE UNIVERSAL TRUTHS IN THIS WORLD :

ONE : GRIEF IS A DEAD MAN WALKING. it will overcome you, destroy you, devour you, drown you beneath the waves of sorrow. IT WILL HURT. it always will. but it is ultimately you who deems your survival. do not forget that.

TWO : YOU WILL KNOW LONELINESS LIKE IT IS YOUR DEEPEST COMPANION. you will find familiarity with the emptiness, and it will turn into nostalgia turned to mourning twisted into an anguish. in the end, you won't know the difference between friend or foe in the coexistence of your own solitude.

THREE : THE WEIGHT OF THE WORLD IS A TERRIBLY HEAVY THING, DEAREST. make sure you do not carry it alone.

it is almost amusing, you think, gaze boring into the dying embers before you, how convenient it is to forget said truths. how it slips from the mind in the most foolish of times when the truth is spoken to you ; how obnoxiously it echoes into memory when you speak of it to someone as means of lessons learned.

the truth is a very miserable thing sometimes, this sobering reminder of humanity, but it is also something so excruciatingly tender.

you shiver. the air is cold and unwelcoming. the embers burn bright, then nearly fade into nothingness : a distant flux and flow, the reignition of something that wants to survive.

what a profound sight it is, clive thinks, almost breathless at your beauty beneath the moonlight, it is a mere glimpse to the serenity that settles in the depths of your heart, almost forgotten, and in the weariness of your features, it serves as something hopeful. you must be searching for a shooting star ; you always are, and maybe he's searching for one tonight, too. how lucky you would both be if granted a wish fulfilled. perhaps it would spare you from the pain to come on this endless journey, this path to redemption and salvation.

he looks to the sky, too, hopes to remember this moment for a long while, this time in which you find repose beneath the stars.

it is not long before you feel him shift beside you, his hands gentle as he drapes his cloak over your shoulders. you do not say anything, but you smile in silent thanks, and he wonders how he can do this. how he can say this. the destruction of oneself is much easier than the destruction of another. he returns the smile, but it does not reach his eyes, and you know that something is wrong.

he averts his gaze, focuses on the fire. dying, dying, dead. fire is such a horrific being, he has learned, and what a tragic way he has discovered it so. how it burns and burns, consuming everything in its path. it is ruthless in nature-- a terror that seizes anything it can, burning it into damnation and ruin until there is nothing but ashes meant to be forgotten.

such fire runs in his blood, and with it, a quiet violence. he does not know why, doesn't know how, and he begs the question to the divine a thousand times over. there is no answer. there never is, never will be. the only thing he knows is that there is blood on his hands, and he cannot afford to shed yours. he will not.

even if it means going your separate ways, even if he means breaking your heart, even if it means carrying out an act of betrayal to the trust that has bound you to each other.

"i..." he cannot even bring himself to speak. what a coward he is. "there is something i wish to discuss with you."

you still look to the sky. the subtle curve of your lips does not falter, even with the words he does not expect to hear.

"you plan to leave, don't you?" you wonder if there is a shooting star somewhere out there, wonder if it will be kind enough to visit in times of despair. "you think this is all your fault, that you were the one who killed what you thought to be most precious."

the smile has faded. your gaze shifts to the ashes, then to him, seeing that heartache in those blue eyes. something feels like it's tightening around your throat. you suspect it is grief. you speak again, anyway.

"you think... that your existence should be void, that you should be punished for what you believe you did. that if you stay-- if you stay here, if you stay with me, then it'll happen all over again."

he does not speak for a long while. what can you even say to that? how can he tell you that you're right, that he's afraid he could hurt you to the point of no return and not know it? that he's going to leave you because he loves you?

you turn towards him, your hands reaching for his. your hold is tender, careful, but he feels the way you tremble ever so slightly. it is his fault.

"the things i've done back then--" he pauses, uncertainty in his eyes, a grief of some sort, "i didn't know it was me. i thought i had been chasing after the one responsible for my pain, but i've been chasing a ghost all along." his hands squeeze yours, and maybe they're shaking, too. "i failed my duty. there's only one path that lies ahead of me, and that is one where you are safe."

he doesn't know what to expect-- your anger, your fury. that's what he almost wants, because it is much easier to end things that way. but he doesn't expect your expression to soften, doesn't expect to feel the way your hand cups his cheek, thumb tracing over his scar. he is already on the verge of break, but this may be the one thing that pushes him over the edge, and a sorrowful smile finds its way to your lips at the tears that threaten to trail down his face.

"you don't want to go, clive." your voice is barely above a whisper, quiet, almost forgotten in the wind.

no, he doesn't. he doesn't want to leave, doesn't want to leave you, doesn't want to lose you. he wants to stay. he wants to think that there's hope somewhere, but the truth of it all is that there's just not.

"no, i don't." he places his hand over yours, instinctively leans into your touch. "i don't."

"so stay. stay with me. i know you are in despair. i know. but the truth runs deeper than any of us suspect. you can't give up, not yet." this time, your voice almost breaks. you lean forward, your forehead pressed against his. you are afraid to speak. "we are not meant for solitude, you know. the path you take is the only one i know. i will not leave you, clive. not now, not ever."

he doesn't--

he feels his heart waver, feels like his thoughts are a mess, mind a haze in the midst of mourning. he cannot help but close his eyes at your words, at your warmth. he doesn't know if he can believe you, not yet. to grant himself forgiveness is an act of selfishness, and it is not one that is deserved. not now, maybe not ever.

"you've always bested me, haven't you?" even now, he's unsure of what to say, what to do. you've always been right, always known the best course of action. even in the darkest nights of ruin, you've always managed to find the light. for that, he is grateful. "...you have my heart, always. thank you."

you smile, but this time, it is a quiet sadness, yet almost hopeful. your lips meet his-- brief, but more than enough.

the journey ahead is a long one. it will be difficult. it will be harsh, cruel, and it will push both of you to the point of break. but so long as you have each other, you will make it.

"of course." you answer, and you kiss him once more. "you have my heart, too. our paths will always be intertwined, clive."

he laces his fingers with yours, lips ghosting against the back of your hand in an act of reverence.

"yes," he murmurs, and maybe there is something holy in the way he speaks to you, looks at you, "always."

[ihatealimore]

Kurta Valentine’s Day

(Fluff, fluff, fluff. Happy Valentine’s day everyone!)

(word count 1,666)

February 14th. Valentine's day. The day of love that you're spending without your partner.

Luckily, for most of the day, you were able to spend some bonding time with your lonely friend, Leorio. The daylight has faded away and a starry night sky has taken its place. You now find yourself sitting alone on your couch, watching horror movies.

Your eyes are eagerly glued to the screen of your tv as you shove another handful of popcorn into your mouth. Just as the main character is about to die in a horrible and disgusting way, a knock echoes through the room from your front door.

You sigh and stand up, wondering what the hell Leorio could possibly want at this time of night.  Your eyes widen when you open the door and you find a familiar blonde man standing in front of you.

"(Y/N)," He's out of breath, clearly having rushed here, "I'm-I'm so incredibly sorry that I could not make it on time."

Instead of seeming upset in the slightest, the corners of your lips curl upwards to form a bright smile, "Don't apologize, Kurapika. I'm so happy to see you."

He lets out a breath of relief, reposed to find that you're not upset with him. He pulls his hand out from behind his back and offers you a single rose, along with a soft smile, "I know it's not much-"

"I love it. Thank you," You take the flower from him and bring it to your nose, inhaling its sweet scent giddily.

"I knew you would," Under his other arm, he carries a flat gift box decorated in intricate wrapping, however, he's not ready to give you this gift yet, "May I come in?"

You quickly step aside for him to enter your house,  "Of course, my love. Was today a really busy day for you? Stressful?"

He closes his eyes for a moment and nods, "Unfortunately. You can always read me so well."

"It's my job," You retort back to him.

"You're very good at it," He looks around the room now, taking in your movie-watching setup, "I suppose it's already too late to go out and do anything together," A sigh escapes his lips, "I apologize for not arriving sooner."

"No worries, I'm sure you already rushed here," You reach out to caress his cheek lightly and he melts into your touch, "There's no need to stress, my love. I understand that you're busy and I support you always."

The blonde-haired man reaches out to place his hand on top of yours, "You are far too kind to me. I'll never understand what I've done to deserve you."

"You didn't need to do anything," Your hand falls from his cheek, and you interlace his fingers with your own as you lightly pull him, "Now, come with me."

You lead Kurapika upstairs and to a window leading out to the roof. You crawl out the window onto the roof first before beckoning him to follow you. He hesitates for a brief moment before going along with you.

The beautiful night sky hangs above you two as you sit next to each other and enjoy one another's presence. His hand rests on top of yours as you look up at the sky and chat together.

"I apologize that you had to spend your Valentine's day with Leorio. I wouldn't wish that curse upon my worst enemy," Kurapika chuckles.

You shrug in response, "It could have been worse. He could have been drunk and crying about being lonely. Instead, he was sober and whining about being lonely."

The Kurta shakes his head playfully, "That's really not much better."

You chuckle as you end up agreeing with him, "Yeah, it kind of wasn't actually."

There's a comfortable silence between you both as you look up at the dazzling stars littering the night sky. You bring your knees to your chest and wrap your arms around them, seemingly deep in thought before you speak up, breaking the stillness of the moment.

"Hey, Kurapika."

He hums in response.

"You're not injured or anything, are you?" You ask him without turning your eyes away from the sky.

Kurapika turns his head to glance at you, "Not at all. Why do you ask?"

"Just checking in on you. I just worry about you sometimes when we haven't been in contact for a little while. Not that I mind," You turn to face him with a sheepish smile on your face, "I miss you so I can't help but worry."

Kurapika finds himself unable to look away from you at this moment, the sparkle in your eyes rivaling that of the stars in the sky. He knows you care about him deeply but he finds himself speechless when you show how much you truly care about him.

"I...I miss you always," He admits to you, "I often find myself worrying about whether you're doing well or not in those moments when I'm unable to contact you. However, I apologize for making you worry."

You wave him off, "No need. I'll always worry so there's no way around it. But I trust you. I know you'll always reach back out to me when you can."

He almost completely freezes, your words echoing over and over again in his mind. He only snaps out of his thoughts when you tilt your head at him curiously. His hands move to pick up the intricately wrapped gift box sitting beside him and he holds it in his lap.

"What is that?" You wonder.

"It's a gift for you. It's something incredibly meaningful to me that I want you to have," The Kurta carefully passes the box over to you, handling it delicately as if the item inside must be fragile and breakable.

You study the detailed wrapping for a moment before tearing it open, almost feeling guilty about ruining the paper. Your movements are gentle and cautious as you worry you might break whatever is inside the box. Finally, you remove the lid from the box and let out a gasp in surprise,

"Kurapika, are these-?"

Your lover gives you a short nod in response, inching closer to you as he gazes at you intensely, "This is a part of me that I want you to always have with you. You will always be in my heart and in my mind through these very articles of clothing. Please wear them proudly, and treat them with all the love you can give them."

"Are these actual traditional Kurta clothes?" You question him as you reach down to run your hands over the fabric."

"That's correct," He starts, before explaining, "I had these specially tailored for you. I hope that you like them. I know it may be a little odd-"

You're quick to cut him off, "Not at all. I'm honored, Kurapika. This is so unbelievably sweet of you. I'll take very good care of them."

Kurapika's eyes glow with adoration for you as he watches you peer down at the piece of clothing with nothing but love and warmth etched onto your facial features. He closes his eyes and smiles, "I know you will."

He reaches out to cup your cheek with one of his hands and you turn your head to face him, "(Y/N), I trust you with every fiber of my being. You are the most important person to me. I love you more than words could possibly explain."

"I feel the same way, Kurapika. I love you endlessly."

The blonde-haired man looks up to the stars again, his palm still resting on your cheek, "Truthfully, I never thought I'd find myself in such a position. I never knew I could care for and trust someone as much as I do you. I didn't believe I would ever have a home to return to."

"But you do."

"Indeed," He turns to look at you again, "You are that home," His grey eyes reflect in yours as his face inches closer to you, his hot breath on your cheeks. He just watches you for a moment before saying, "You mean so much to me. You have given me more than I could ever give you."

"You mean the world to me, my love," You're frozen in his gaze, unable to look away from him.

He finally closes the distance and presses his lips against yours in a sweet and soft kiss, hoping to convey just how much you mean to him. When he pulls away, his cheeks are flushed and he can't help himself from kissing you again, longer this time.

After spending a few more hours together, stargazing on the roof, you and Kurapika finally decide to head back inside. He insists on you trying on your gift as he's curious to see how the clothing fits you. You change in your bedroom before looking at yourself in your mirror.

Before you can even leave the room to show Kurapika, he's already at your door, knocking lightly to see if you've changed yet. You beckon for him to enter the room, however, he halts in place when he sees you, feeling a mix of several different emotions: awe, adoration, and surprise being the main ones. Clearly flustered as his cheeks are an obvious red tint, he reaches up to cover his mouth with his hand as he simply watches you.

You offer him a bashful smile, "Does this look okay?"

Kurapika slowly nods, as he approaches you, wrapping his arms around you and holding you in a tight embrace, "You look absolutely beautiful."  He pulls away from you for a moment to look you up and down again, "Wear this garment with pride and know that I consider you an honorary member of my fallen clan, and I trust you completely with this piece of my being."

"Kurapika-"

"I mean it, (Y/N). With every fiber of my being," He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, "Consider this as a promise to you. A promise that I will never leave your side. A promise that I trust you completely. And a promise that you will always have a piece of me with you. My heart is always with you."

February 15th. The day after Valentine's day. The day Kurapika has given himself over to you entirely.