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bbydeathclaw · 7 months

Text

Petulance

pairing: silco x fem!reader (nsfw)

AO3

summary: Silco sends you away to try to get some work done and you decide to be a horrendous little shit about it.

tags: fluff, smut, established relationship, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), good ol' mating press, teasing, bratty reader, simp silco

word count: 5.4k

adorably aesthetic mdni banner by @cafekitsune

a/n: hello! this is my first time writing in a looong while almost 10 years to be exact please don't look at me. but I had to get back into it with this shamelessly self indulgent fic of my favorite brooding king pin. I hope you enjoy!

Silco had thought it a bit odd at first, the ease with which you’d taken your leave from his office tonight. Ordinarily when he’d attempt to send you away in favor of getting his paperwork done in a more timely manner, you’d put up some form of sulky little protest.

An overemphasized pout coupled with a look of feigned sadness, eyebrows furrowed together when you’d offer to assist him with said work. Your reason being that it would ‘probably get done faster’ between the two of you.

A lie, and a blatant one at that. You were, on all counts, absolutely shit at keeping your focus on any tasks he’d try to give you. You knew it. He most certainly knew it. Truly he’d wonder why you’d even bother offering at all if you just spent most of the time trying to distract him anyway.

Still, he can’t say he isn’t amused by your actions. He finds these juvenile acts of yours terribly endearing for the most part, and even starts to look forward to them, knowing full well that he'll give in to just about anything if you’d simply ask it of him.

Which is why he can’t help but feel somewhat disappointed when you don’t do any of this at all, and Silco starts to regret his idiotic suggestion entirely until you throw a cheeky smirk his way instead.

“Alright, I think I’ll go bug Sevika for a bit.”

A single eyebrow quirk, followed by a low hum of approval.

“I’m sure she’ll be positively thrilled by that,” he replies, suppressing a smirk of his own at the thought of his second in command being pestered by someone almost half her size.

He’s still disheartened by your willingness to leave, but ultimately makes peace with it knowing that you’d more than likely return at some point. You give him a small wave with your fingers followed by a wink over your shoulder, and Silco doesn't hesitate to drag his gaze over your body shamelessly as it saunters out of his office.

About an hour passes, and the music coming from downstairs is just starting to pick up for the evening. You enter the room with a fluid sidestep, leaning back against the door once it closes behind you. His good brow raises slightly. “Back so soon?”

You don’t answer at first, instead making your way over to one of the tables in his office, like a cat quietly stalking about until something catches its interest. He watches you methodically as you settle for one of Jinx’s old trinkets that had been long discarded, carefully turning it over in your hand. “Sevika called me a menace.”

This time he makes no attempt to hide the subtle upturn from the corner of his lips. “I’m afraid I’m inclined to agree with her, my dear.”

“She seems pretty cranky tonight.”

“Hm, surely through absolutely no fault of your own.”

You bite the inside of your cheek in what he can only assume is an attempt to stifle a giggle before turning to face him with an adorably giddy expression that makes his chest tighten.

“Whatcha doin’?”

So innocent, as if you were completely unaware of the effect you had on him. Silco doesn’t answer you verbally, merely bringing his forehead to rest against his hand and lifting the piece of paper he’s holding in the air with the other. The sullen face you make doesn’t go unnoticed by him as you turn to put the gadget back down with an airy sigh.

“Well,” you drag the word out. “I guess I’d better let you get back to it.”

“Yes, that would be nice,” he says in turn, though it comes off more teasing rather than the displeasure he’s trying to convey.

You study his face for another beat or two before you finally respond. “Okay, if that’s really what you want.” It’s not. Not even in the slightest. “I’ll go see if Thieram needs any help at the bar.”

“My love, Theiram is more than capable of handling his responsibilities as a bartender alone. It’s why I hired him, in fact.” He pauses. “Have you perhaps considered staying up here and behaving yourself, rather than looking for more ways to wreak havoc amongst my employees?”

For a moment Silco thinks that he may be tipping his hand too soon, fearing that you’ve caught on to the fact that he’s basically been doing fuck all except sitting here and waiting for you to come back to his office. His suspicion only rises with the way you’re tilting your head and downright beaming at him with ill-disguised glee, like you’d been reading his every thought.

“If I stayed up here it certainly wouldn’t be to behave myself.”

The paper he’s holding makes an audible crunch sound, his hand crumpling the edge of it faintly in response to your suggestive remark.

Before he has the chance to reply with some snarky comment, you’re already heading towards the door, making a show of swaying your hips and giving him another view of the delicious swell of your backside before you take your leave again. His chair makes an audible groan as he leans back against it and lets out a lengthy sigh, running a hand through his hair and glancing down into his lap at the result of your seemingly endless torment.

Intolerable minx.

By the third time you make your way back up, only about half an hour has passed, and Silco’s all but given up on the prospects of getting any semblance of work done tonight. His thoughts being entirely permeated by you and the state you’d left him in.

The Last Drop is in full swing now, and the liveliness of everything going on downstairs comes through the open door as you re-enter his office. However this time, he makes no effort to acknowledge your arrival, his chair now facing away from his desk, turned instead towards the large stained glass window that bathes him in a sickly, pale green light. All the noise from the club gets muffled when the door shuts once again, followed by the sound of purposeful footsteps making their way over to him.

“Welcome back,” he states flatly, trying to sound as disinterested as he can manage in his current predicament while he looks over his clipboard in a vain attempt at trying to salvage what was supposed to be a productive evening.

“Hello there, almighty Eye of Zaun,” you chime back with a playful lilt in your voice. “Did you miss me?”

Silco’s eyes tick upwards and stare blankly at the window straight ahead, actively suppressing the urge to let out another heavy sigh. You were going to be the death of him at this rate, there was absolutely no doubt in his mind. How you managed to be both so insufferable and still so unbelievably charming he’ll never quite understand. Before he has the chance to turn his chair with an already fixed scowl, he hears a faint thud behind him, the distinct sound of glass meeting wood only slightly muted by a soft shuffling of papers.

A few seconds pass before Silco finally spins around to face you, seeing that a tumbler has been set down right on top of the paperwork he had been ruminating over all night. He’s also greeted by the sight of you already sitting in a chair directly in front of his desk, grinning from ear to ear. His heart swells at the sight and his scowl gradually melts away, only to be replaced by something more along the lines of skepticism when he takes in your expression fully.

Your smile is accompanied by what appears to be a look of pure satisfaction, though he has no clue as to why. His non-discolored eye narrows at you, like a parent trying to figure out what misdeed their child has committed behind their back.

Silco regards you warily for another moment, taking in every minute detail of your face in hopes of detecting something that might give you away while he reaches for the glass set in front of him. Ice clinks against the sides as he swirls it around before bringing it to his lips, taking a long sip followed by a hum of appreciation. His eyes shoot back up to meet yours, and finds you now biting your lip while trying, and failing, to suppress a huge grin.

You’re definitely up to something, that much he’s certain of now, and the fact that he still can’t figure out what it is causes his previously feigned discontent to turn into more of a bubbling frustration, having just about enough of whatever game you’re playing. A fleeting thought crosses his mind as he glances down at the drink now dangling from his fingertips, then back up to you.

Silco knows you’ve taken in the brief look of suspicion on his face when you let out a laugh that, despite the visible displeasure he's exuding towards you, is still one of the sweetest sounds he's ever heard.

“I didn’t poison you, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you quip, clearly amused at the implication.

“At this point I would be grateful if you did.”

You laugh again, but it comes out more like a short exhale through your nose along with a relaxed grin, taking a sip of your own beverage, and Silco’s good eye narrows at you once again.

“Are you drunk?”

“What? No.”

Silence.

“Then what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

He practically glares at you for what feels like a considerable amount of time before it finally dawns on him that you haven’t left yet.

“Did you need something darling? Or have you just come to find more ways to elicit whatever reaction you’ve been hoping for this evening?” Silco brings the tumbler to his mouth once more, letting it hover there momentarily in order to get the rest of his words out. “Because if the intended reaction was to see how far you can test my patience I can assure you-”

Words die on his lips immediately when you make a move to stand, mismatched eyes shooting down to your waist to see what appears to be quite possibly the shortest skirt he’s ever seen you in, leaving so very little to the imagination.

He’s still holding the glass right up to his face while he watches you make your way around the only obstacle that separates the two of you before hopping onto one of the corners, your butt and thighs jiggling faintly when they make contact with the solid piece of furniture. “I just figured you could use a drink after such a long night of hard work. Is that so wrong?”

Silco tracks your movements with an almost predatory fixation, watching you lean back slightly to rest against your arms, crossing one leg over the other and he has to actively resist the urge to scoff. This thing is hardly covering anything, you’re essentially sitting there with your bare ass on his desk. The realization of that along with the sight of everything you’re showing has his cock hardening at an alarming rate.

You don’t seem to notice, or if you do you don’t say anything, eyebrows knitting together in a poorly disguised attempt at looking genuinely worried. “What’s wrong? You don’t look very happy to see me.”

Silco sets the glass down onto his desk with a bit more force than intended, turning his chair to face all the way forward and bringing his mouth to rest against interlocked fingers. Any moment now he’s expecting you to hop right off that corner and make your way back downstairs, back to a place filled with depraved and perverted onlookers.

Realistically he knows no harm would ever befall you while you were down in the Last Drop. All of his subordinates had been given clear instruction to keep a watchful eye on you at all times, and after a while a lot of them had started to do it less out of obligation and more so out of genuine care, especially Jinx and Sevika.

Plus, he knows you can hold your own in a fight. Growing up in the undercity had hardened you just enough to make you a scrappy but formidable opponent. So logically speaking, Silco knows there's no safer place for you to be, but the thought of anyone other than himself seeing you in that, especially the less than respectable patrons that frequent his establishment nearly every night, makes his blood boil.

“Of course I'm happy to see you, my dear,” he retorts, turning his head to look over at you once more, eyes darting downwards to that indecent piece of fabric wrapped around your waist then back up to meet your gaze. “It's just that I'm seeing quite a lot of you at the moment, and if you go back downstairs, so will everyone else.” His last words come out strained as he shifts in his chair in a poor attempt to alleviate his growing erection.

“Oh, you mean my skirt? Is there…something wrong with it?” You lift your hips to take the tiniest of scoots towards him, and Silco’s eyes immediately hone in on the action.

“Don’t be cheeky.”

Another scoot. “I’m afraid that can’t be helped, especially in this.”

At this point he wouldn’t be surprised if you really are trying to kill him, taking controlled and steady breaths while he attempts to suppress his growing ire in response to such a ridiculous question. Of course there’s something wrong with it. Silco’s sure he’d nearly be able to see the soft outline of your mound if you were to spread your legs, even in the slightest.

He lets out another deep breath before picking up his pen and casually scribbling his signature on one of the invoices strewn about in front of him. “You will not be going back down there like that.”

He’s not looking at you, but Silco can see the movements of you moving closer out of the corner of his unmarred eye.

“Are you..asking me to stay?”

He doesn’t respond, instead electing to take another piece of paper to scrawl his name at the bottom offhandedly. He knows what you’re playing at, the fact that it took him so long to realize it irks him to no end. He wouldn’t mind answering honestly and just telling you that yes, he does want you to stay, but the thought of giving into your bratty little antics this evening doesn’t sit quite right with him.

Which is why he makes the conscious decision to ignore you as you move close enough to where your upper leg is now narrowly brushing his elbow, the shift causing him to mess up the tail end of another signature. Silco chances a glance towards the movement and regrets it almost immediately when he takes in the soft curve of your thigh, his cock twitching painfully at the sight.

He makes his second mistake when he follows the tantalizing trail of your body upwards and is met with the most unabashed, shit eating grin plastered across your face. He has to force himself to look away, the hand not holding his pen coming up to drag his long fingers back and forth across his mouth as he contemplates the idea of sending you away all together, leaving you pouty and disappointed. And for a moment he comes close to doing just that, until he makes the grave error of risking a glance up at your face again.

You’re not smiling anymore, expression replaced by something far more lustful and serious. Silco simply stares as your tongue slides out to pull your bottom lip in between your teeth before gently nudging his elbow with your knee. He doesn’t hesitate in dropping his arm to offer you the space in front of him, and you slide over gracefully. He stays perfectly still while you plant a foot atop each of the armrests of his ornate chair, knees pressed tightly together.

He finally responds to your earlier question with one of his own.

“What would possibly give you that idea?” His voice is light and teasing, all traces of anger gone. “You’ve been nothing short of a nightmare all evening, love. And now this?” Fingertips come up to stroke the side of your calf, humming appreciatively. “What am I going to do with you?”

This earns Silco a wide, toothy grin as you scoot forward. “Whatever do you mean? I’m just sitting here.”

“Don't be coy with me, sweetheart.” He leans forward, breath fanning over your knees as he speaks. “Be a good girl and tell me what you want.”

“I want you,” knees parting just barely, “to answer my question.”

Silco pushes his tongue against his cheek in minor annoyance before sliding both hands up your legs and over your knees, then back down until he reaches your hips. He grips firmly at the supple flesh and yanks you closer towards him, eliciting a sharp squeak followed by a string of giggles.

“I think you might be the most aggravating creature I’ve ever had the displeasure of courting.”

Your face adorns a look of mock appreciation. “Awe, thank you!”

Slender hands travel back up to your knees. “Truly just a tantalizing little menace.” He waits for you to part them further, granting him the access he’s so desperately craving. “One that I’m both drawn to and irritated by all at once.”

Your smile is nothing short of haughty, as if you’re truly taking everything he’s telling you as a compliment. “Well now you’ve really got me hot and bothered,” you shoot back, knees moving further away from each other until you’re spread all the way open for him.

Although spoken in a sarcastic tone, Silco sees that your words are in fact true, his eyes taking in the sight of your already dripping cunt.

“Indulge me, sweetheart,” he says, one hand coming up to trace the backs of your thighs with his knuckles, causing goosebumps to decorate your soft skin. “Why the need to be so difficult tonight?”

You shiver at the touch, bottom lip still tucked between your teeth as he brings a thumb up to stroke lazily over your pussy.

“J-just for fun,” you retort, but your voice doesn’t hold the same conviction. “Wanted to see..how long it would take.”

“How long what would take?”

The laugh you let out is shaky at best, but there’s still a bit of confidence left when you answer. “For you to ask me to stay.”

It only takes about half a second before Silco’s thumb pushes into your core and his tongue cards a long, hot stripe along your folds. The noise you make spurring him on further as his mouth envelopes your clit, giving it a harsh suck before pulling away with a satisfying wet plop sound.

“I don’t recall asking anything of the sort,” he chides, sliding his thumb back out. “If memory serves me correctly, you came into my office several times practically demanding my attention.”

Silco punctuates his last few words by pushing two fingers into you, pulling another sharp inhale from your lips as he turns his palm to face upward and curls them inside of you.

“Has it ever occurred to you,” he starts, bringing his thumb to circle against your now swollen clit, drawing a long whine out of you as you work your hips against him. “..that perhaps I attempt to send you away in order to finish with my tasks quickly, just so I can get back to doting on you with said attention? Selfish little creature.”

Your eyebrows pinch together, speaking between shallow breaths. “You.. could have just.. said that.. you know.”

Silco smirks, watching you look back at him with a pair of pleading eyes. “And deny myself the pleasure of seeing your lovely pouts and open displays of petulance?” He adds a third finger. “I think not.”

“Silco,” you whine, “please.”

His cock twitches in response, and he doesn’t waste any time bringing his mouth back down to your bud and swirling his tongue around it lavishly while his fingers twist and turn inside of you. He watches you throw your head back, one of your hands snaking upwards to grip the edge of the desk above your head, the other coming to latch onto the top of his head hard as you roll your hips against him.

“There, that’s it,” he coos, “show me how eager you are. Use me.”

This draws another string of small gasps and moans from you, coupled with lewd, wet, slurping sounds as Silco continues to lap and suck at your clit, bringing his free hand to grip your thigh and anchor you to him. The strain in his pants grows increasingly more painful when you sigh his name affectionately, followed by a noise of protest when he removes his fingers from you all together in an effort to tug at intricate buttons of his trousers, freeing his aching cock and palming himself to the sight of your ruined state.

Your arousal coating his fingers serves as a welcome lubricant for him to stroke himself languidly, relishing in the feeling of you bucking up into him, using him to chase your own end. His licks are hot and thorough, leaving no part of your heat untouched.

“Yes,” Silco groans into you, “just like that.”

Your other hand comes down to unbutton your top, cupping and squeezing at one of your breasts, and he knows you’re close by the way you’re begging and pleading above him. The sound of your voice feeds into his determination, letting go of his cock in order to wrap both arms around your thighs, securing you in place and devouring you like a starved man.

The way you cry out his name while your walls flutter around his tongue has him reeling, mismatched eyes boring into you, watching your orgasm in complete reverence as your fluids run down his chin.

“Good girl,” Silco sighs, his movements slowing down to let you ride out your climax. “You always make such sweet sounds for me.”

Your legs tremble and the vicelike grasp you have on his hair loosens before you slump back down onto his desk, words barely managing to come through your short and labored breaths.

“Could've been making them a lot earlier if you’d…stop trying to kick me out.”

A hint of a smile creeps up on his face as he presses small, feather light kisses up the backs of your thighs, leaving glistening spots of your slick behind in their wake. “You know, it is possible to keep your unsolicited remarks to yourself every once in a while.”

Yours breaks into a devious grin that tugs at his heart without mercy. “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?”

“Mmm, point taken.”

Silco stands to turn your body so that you’re taking up the full length of his desk before climbing up onto it and bracing himself with a hand on either side of your head. His length bobs thick and heavy with need, bringing it to rest against your slit.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

You roll your hips against him needily, coating his cock with your arousal. “Maybe.”

“You drive me absolutely mad,” he growls, voice dripping with carnal hunger as he pushes your legs up against your chest once again, lining himself up with your entrance. And it’s the way you're looking up at him with your lip tucked in between your teeth in anticipation, the slight inward curl of your eyebrows in an almost pleading expression that has him pushing into you in one, smooth buck forward, making you gasp as he bottoms out inside of you.

Silco sees your eyes roll back, and he has to physically stop himself from doing the same. He wants to see it all, wants to see your blissed out expression while he fucks you, wants to see all the different ways he can make you come undone beneath him.

You make a pitiful attempt at stifling a moan, one that ultimately fails when Silco starts to rock his hips against yours, pulling them back slowly and savoring the feeling of his cock dragging along your walls before driving them forward with a sharp, pointed thrust. But he’s right there with you, exhaling a throaty groan at the feeling of your walls engulfing him so deliciously, the sensation being nothing short of divine.

“Look at you, taking me so well,” he whispers, lowering his head and tilting it to place gentle kisses along your jawline before nipping at your earlobe. “Like we were made for each other.”

The breathy whine this elicits causes him to straighten himself upright again, picking up his pace steadily, and soon the room is filled with the obscene, wet smacking of skin against skin as Silco begins to pump into you with feral-like need. He readjusts your legs so that your calves are hooked over his shoulders, letting him fuck you so much deeper.

You’re a mess of broken pleas beneath him, and he clings to every single one, a symphony meant solely for him and him alone. Silco watches you with wholly, unabashed devotion as your face twists and contorts in pleasure, pleasure that only he can bring you. And though he wants to feel like he’s still in control, he knows deep down he’s equally ruined by what you do to him, maybe even more so. His seafoam eye glazes over, and strands of hair fall loosely around his face as he ruts into you.

You reach up and try to put your arms around his neck, but the position your legs are in only allow you to claw at his shoulders helplessly. “S-silco, please..”

“Oh? I see someone’s finally learned some manners,” he taunts.

The huff of annoyance you let out amuses him more than he’d care to admit, “For fuck’s sake, Sil. Let me hold you.”

“Demanding thing,” he scolds, but gives into your ‘request’ regardless, lowering your legs just enough so that your knees fall to the side and hook over his forearms, letting you wrap your arms around his neck with open urgency. And now you’re pulling him down and holding him there, like the waters he'd nearly drowned in.

Silco’s jaw goes slack as he turns his head and pants in your ear like some wild beast, whose sole purpose is to bring you to your end. Like it was all he was ever made for. Your head turns to meet his lips with your own, and he tries to keep some semblance of restraint while he kisses you, but he can’t, not with you. It’s hungry and sloppy, full of exceeding desperation.

He breaks the kiss reluctantly to make his way down to your neck, lips and tongue moving against the delicate flesh and littering your throat with marks of all kinds, leaving no room for anyone to question who you belong to. “Mine,” Silco snarls possessively in between sucks and bites.

He's about to pull away when one of your hands slides up to the nape of his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair and locking him in place, begging for more, more, more, and Silco’s more than happy to oblige. You’ve got him wrapped around your finger so tightly, and this realization both excites and ruins him as he begins to ram everything he has into you with new purpose.

“Oh fuck, Silco. Right there,” you cry out, voice becoming raspy and hoarse from your continuous gasps in between moans.

"Yes, that's it. Show me how much you want this, how much you need this," he huffs out through gritted teeth, trying to establish some form of dominance once again, but it's no use when he realizes his words are just as applicable to him as they are to you.

He forgoes his hold on your legs, letting them fall to your sides briefly before wrapping them around his waist. Your eyes flutter shut and your head starts to loll to the side, but Silco grabs your jaw quickly and forces you to look directly at him.

“None of that, darling. I want you to look at me when you come undone,” His breath comes out ragged and primal. “You want to be a good girl for me, don’t you?”

You nod frantically in response, eyes drifting downward to stare at his mouth, like a silent plea. He takes the hint without delay, squishing your cheeks together until your lips form a small pout before leaning down to kiss you fervently. His tongue swirls around yours, hot and wanting, before he pulls away just enough for him to pant into your open mouth, his connecting to yours by the thinnest string of saliva.

Silco can sense your second orgasm approaching rapidly, and he brings his fingers towards your lips. You take the hint right away, wrapping them around his digits and sucking on them lavishly. Once he’s satisfied enough, he removes them and snakes his hand down through your intertwined bodies, settling for the bundle of nerves located between your legs.

Your moans increase in pitch, arms and legs squeezing even tighter around him as he works you with skilled flicks of his wrist.

“You’ve endured this so well, my love,” he whispers against your ear, voice laced with unrestrained hedonism and resolve. “Let’s reward all that effort of yours tonight, shall we?”

His question is rhetorical, but you nod so eagerly for him nonetheless as your walls begin to pulsate, clenching so unbelievably tight around him you’re practically pushing his cock out, nearly sending him over the edge himself.

“That’s my girl,” he sighs with heavy grit and worship. “You feel incredible.”

Silco’s face comes back up to hover over yours, looking directly into your eyes while he fucks you through your climax, his own looming closer and closer. He leans down to kiss you, swallowing your labored breaths greedily as his thrusts begin to stagger before coming to a complete halt, his pelvis flush against yours as his cock twitches obscenely within your heat. He lets out a harsh, guttural moan right into your mouth as he spills into you, your walls continuing to milk him with stuttered squeezes, and he has to pull away sharply to exhale a series of delirious gasps.

Your chests heave against one another, waves of pleasure slowly dissipating as your sweat soaked bodies stay interlocked. Silco shifts slightly, bringing his hands to stroke the top of your head lazily with his fingertips. His forehead comes to rest against yours as he places soft, tender kisses along your cheeks, your eyes, your lips, anything within reach.

He’s rewarded with a giggle, followed by a dopey little grin.

“You know,” you say as your breaths finally return to normal. “I just remembered the other reason you try to send me away while you work.”

Silco already knows the answer, but you punctuate your words anyway by wiggling your ass, causing the sound of his paperwork shuffling beneath you, followed by a light yelp as he smacks your bottom lightly.

“Impossible little wench,” he chastises, lifting himself off of you and being greeted once again by the sight of the thing you keep referring to as a ‘skirt’. He grabs the edge of it with his fingertips, holding it up like it was a cursed object. “Where in Janna’s name did you even get this from?”

You bark out a laugh before propping yourself up hastily to look down at it with pride. “Ran let me borrow it.”

“Excuse me?”

“What?”

“Borrow it,” he repeats, “as in you have every intention of giving it back to them?”

You stare at him for a moment, no doubt mulling over your answer.

“...No?”

Silco smirks at your response before leaning in. “Good girl. Besides, I think we may find many more uses for it still.”

Your eyes widen with child-like wonder, but for the entirely wrong reason. “Oh, so you’ll wear it for me, too?”

He stares back at you blankly, blinking several times before rolling his eyes almost theatrically, earning him another small fit of laughter as he finally graces you with a response.

“Whatever pleases you, I suppose.”

#silco #silco arcane #arcane silco #arcane #silco x reader #silco x you #silco fanfic #silco fanfiction #bratty reader #simp silco #mdni

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chrisevansonly · 7 months

Text

𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: charles leclerc x female reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: life is too heavy to carry, thankfully your boyfriend will carry it with you

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: talks of mental health and suicidal thoughts, mentions of depression, heavy topics so please read at your own discretion

𝐚/𝐧: i’ll be honest this is self indulgent and i know i said i wasn’t writing but idk i feel so low and thought writing about how im feeling might help? ive struggled with mental illness my whole life so i find writing it out in a way i can enjoy helps…i hope it helps others that are in need of it too<3

Life is painful, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, it’s dark and gloomy, heavy and hard to carry, life is painful. Okay well maybe not for everyone but for you it was, and it was draining, exhausting really trying to survive each day instead of living like everyone else. Truth be told you’d struggled with mental illness for as long as you can remember. In high school the suicidal thoughts came into play and you had fallen into a place no one deserved to fall.

You’d hear people tell you to smile, cheer up, get outside and take in the fresh air, but they don’t understand. They don’t get the internal pain one feels when they deal with depression and anxiety, unless you live it: you don’t get it.

So yes, life was painful but there was an ounce of sunshine in your life and it came in the form of Charles, your boyfriend of exactly three years. The man who broke through the storm to bring you blue skies and calm waters, the man who held you tightly as you cried for a break, aching for a moment of peace within yourself. Charles was a gift, you were sure of it: he was too.

“my love…?”

His voice was soft, delicate as it filtered through the dark bedroom, eyes filled with concern as he looked at you huddled under the blankets, almost willing them to swallow you whole

“hmm?”

It might not have been a word but Charles would take it

“can I get you anything? do you need something?”

The room fell silent again except for the sound of covers shifting, your head peaking over the duvet

“y-you please”

Hearing your voice break was enough for Charles to promptly move from his place in the doorway, lifting up the covers on his side of the bed before settling down and pulling you into his side, letting you virtually melt against him

“okay, okay i’m here, it’s okay amour..”

“it-it hurts”

“i know baby, i know it does…but it will only hurt for a little, i promise you.”

You wanted to believe him, you really did, but how many years would you have to suffer before it truly felt like you would never know how to feel okay.

“it’s hard to be here”

Now this caught Charles attention right away, having known your past with depression and even suicidal thoughts, he felt his blood run cold at the thought of you being anywhere than right here with him

“listen to me baby, i know it hurts, i know it’s hard, but i promise you i will help you find your sunshine, i will help you find your happiness”

He paused shifting to rest a hand on your cheek, his thumb swiping at a stray tear on your cheek

“i love you with everything in me, and i will do whatever i can to help you through this, if you need me to carry more of the weight, let me, if you need a shoulder to lean on more than usual, do it. you are my entire world baby, i won’t ever leave you out in the dark to take this on all on your own..”

Letting out a soft sniffle you looked up at him, always appreciating just how much love he held for you in his eyes alone

“why, i-i’m so sad a-all the time”

“because i love you. it doesn’t matter if your angry, happy, sad it’s part of you, i love all of you no matter what, and i am not going anywhere”

Charles leaned forward, pressing his lips to your forehead letting you have a minute to just digest everything he was saying

“pinky promise?” you asked softly, holding your pinky finger out which brought a soft smile to his face

“pinky promise baby, always.”

Nothing else needed to be said as you curled yourself further into his side, his arms only tightening on you, as if to keep you from slipping away from him. Charles knew words only helped so much, but he was willing to do whatever it took to bring you blue skies back. Even if it took days or weeks, even months, Charles was going to be right beside you, every step of the way.

Life might be painful, but you never had to go through it alone again.

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leighsartworks216 · 7 months

Text

Moon Blood

Astarion x gn/fem!Tav/Reader

(Basically anybody who experiences periods can read this I just don't know what to tag it as)

Tav is described as having irregular periods and a heavy flow, which I know doesn't really leave it open to everyone. But it's true to my experience, so I'm sure some other irregular-period people can also appreciate this

(Also it's just a really self-indulgent story I wrote for me lmao)

Warnings: blood, blood drinking, period fic, references to sex, swearing

Word Count: 1,210

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

You roll over in your bedroll again, groaning as quietly as you could as you clutch at your abdomen. An aching pain roiled just below your belly. And there it seemed determined to stay for however long it deemed fit.

Your moon bloods were always a shock - you never knew when they would happen and you never knew how long they would last, because the gods seem to think it’s funny to make it so relentlessly inconsistent. Not to mention how heavy they could be. After everything you’ve faced on your perilous journey so far, this was the fucking worst.

The pain rises to a peak. All you can do is curl in on yourself, hugging your stomach as tight as possible to will the pain away. Does it help? No. But there’s nothing else that could… Well…

You feel like an idiot when you knock on the wooden post outside Astarion’s tent. You were pretty sure he already knew of your problem, if the restlessness whenever he was near was any indication. You couldn’t imagine the temptation, but you could admire his resolve. That wasn’t why you were here.

He calls a muffled ‘Come in’ and you push aside the canvas door. You see the change instantly. The way his eyes darken with the scent of blood, his smirk more predatory than usual. You begin to wonder if this was a bad idea.

“Hello, darling,” he purrs, low and seductive. His book is set aside in favor of standing to greet you in the small space. His hands slide around your waist, nails pressing lightly into your spine. He leans down, pressing his nose to your pulse as he whispers, “You smell delicious.”

You clear your throat. “As tempting as that is…” You step back slightly, and he doesn’t try to stop you. Instead, he pulls his face from your neck and rests his hands at your sides. One more step and he would let you go entirely. “I just want to cuddle.”

He huffs, face scrunching in annoyance. “You come in here with a banquet between your legs, and all you want is to cuddle?” The irritation can hardly be read as genuine when his thumbs begin to rub circles into your hips soothingly.

“Mhm. My cramps and back are killing me,” you explain. You gesture back outside the tent. “I could go ask Gale, if you think you’ll be too tempted.”

“Don’t even think about it,” he hisses, but it’s an empty threat.

He pulls you with him back to the pile of pillows he was lounging in before, sitting down and leaning comfortably against the pile. You stopped, standing just before him, even as he nudged your hip toward him, silently telling you he was ready for you to join him.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright with…” You don’t know how to phrase it in a way that doesn’t sound strange. But your need to make sure he is comfortable wins out above everything else. “With smelling the blood all night?”

His eyes soften as he smiles. The tinge of animalistic hunger still lingers behind it, but your dismissal of his preposition has pushed it toward the back, almost entirely hidden. “I’ll be alright. I’m not starved enough to lash out at any moment, I swear.”

You frown. “You know that’s not what I’m worried about.”

He chuckles despite your scolding. “I know.” You give him a pointed look and he rolls his eyes with a sigh. “Yes, dear, I’ll be alright smelling your blood all night. Now are you going to stand there all night?”

Assured in his comfort, you finally lay down, draping yourself over him, legs slotting between each other and arms holding each other close, and your head resting on his chest. The first few times you cuddled like this, you were worried your weight would make him uncomfortable, or worse, remind him of his 200 years of abuse. But he insisted, when he didn’t want to be cradled to your chest, of course.

He rests a hand at your lower back and begins working his fingers into the aching muscles there. You sigh and relax further into him. He doesn’t need air, but his chest still rises and falls with slow breaths. It’s disconcerting without a heartbeat to accompany it, or it would be if it was anybody else. But it’s Astarion, and instead the sound of his breathing alone was soothing.

You rest there for a moment, eyes closed. The position you’ve taken eases some of the pain, hand-in-hand with Astarion’s nimble touch. For now, the pain is a little more bearable.

You lift your head to look at him. He’s already looking at you, soft and at ease, eyes round with affection. “If you want to, you can eat,” you tell him. You jump to add, “From my neck.”

He chuckles. “Thank you for clarifying,” he teases.

“Well, like you said, I’m here with a banquet. I don’t want you to suffer just because I’m not in the mood.”

“I’m hardly suffering, dear,” he assures. “But I will take you up on your offer.”

You smile as you tilt your head, exposing your neck to him. He sits up, shifting you as he does until you’re eye-to-eye, before he buries his face against the nearly-faded marks he’s left. He continues to rub your back as he uses his free hand to cup the back of your head, keeping you in place and steady. He takes his time to press kisses all around his target. Your moon blood makes you taste sweeter; your skin smells so enticing. But he can savor it later.

You only get two warnings he’s about to bite: the hand holding your head tangles its fingers in your hair, holding you more firmly in place, though still being gentle about it; and the flat of his tongue running along the old punctures.

The sharp pain of ice in your veins never lasts. His mouth sucks and tongues at the punctures, drawing your blood out with practiced ease and drinking it down greedily. You close your eyes and relax into it. You trust him. And the odd feeling of your blood being pulled from your veins like liquid through a straw and the dizziness that accompanies it is much more bearable without vision.

Once he’s had his fill, he pulls his mouth off your neck and licks languidly at the last few drops until your blood clots. He slowly lowers himself back into the cushions, careful not to worsen your light-headedness with the motion. You rest your head back on his chest like a rag doll, limp and tired. He cards his fingers through your hair a few times before simply wrapping his arm around you. He mindlessly continues to rub circles into your back, keeping the pain at bay for you to sleep.

You try to speak through half-intelligible thoughts as exhaustion and comfort begins to claim you. Mostly ‘thank you’s, though a heavily slurred ‘I love you’ surfaces once or twice. He gently sushes you. And then you’re fast asleep, as if speaking was the only thing keeping you awake.

And in the morning, well, he’s more than happy to take care of you.

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @mheerdraws @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @olitheghostboy-blog @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @cyber-dump-171 @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @phantoms-fandom-blog @thespectacularspaceace @lynnlovesthestars

571 notes · View notes

cryptidghostgirl · 3 months

Note

I had this though on a cute little one shot for Alastor x chubby reader in the hotel I was wondering if you would like to run with it? Where the reader gets some nail varnish that matches their lip color without thinking about it. Alastor becomes rather fond of them wearing the color and eventually it vanishes after Angel points out that it’s almost the exact same color as the reader’s lips.

The reader ends up pouting a bit over it because they can’t find it anywhere in stores anymore. They ask Angel if they borrowed it to Angel’s confusioned response to the tune of “why the fuck would I want to wear your lip color?” And it gets to the point they ask for Nifty’s help finding it while Alastor is trying to avoid the topic entirely. Eventually Nifty DOES find it in the radio tower much to Alastor’s flustered frustration.

A/N oh hell yes i can do this. 11/10. Also I am skipping the fuck around in my request order, I am so nervous about posting cover up pt 4. I promise it will come out soon.

Spicy Sienna and Berry Naughty (Alastor x Gn!Chubby!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Uhhh I got a little suggestive with this one guys. Sorry. Also,, Alastor is a little creepy and stalkery and has a thing about hands. This one just came out all around weird. Also, I named it after my favorite lip and nail polish matching combo so don't judge the fic by its name. Also Alastor sexualizes the reader a bit. Let me know if I missed anything. (guys i really have no idea what happened with this one, i am so sorry. I hope you still like it.) Also,, Alastor is for sure ooc.

Word Count: 3,675

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Alastor Master List

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

"Is that a new color?"

Alastor's ears perked up. He didn't turn to face the source of the sound but he listened. There was only one person in the hotel Angel would direct such a question towards after all.

"Yeah. It's essie, Berry Naughty is the name I think? Nail polish and makeup products always get called the silliest things. Do you like it?"

Y/n was the Hazbin Hotel's newest resident. They had arrived just a few weeks before, brought into the fold by Angel himself. The pair were old friends apparently, knew each other from back when they were alive.

"Yeah, it suits you. A lot more than that blue you used to wear."

There were three things the pair could be discussing in Alastor's mind. The first was Y/n's clothing. They were always dressed to the nines, decked out in some crazy ensemble or another.

At first, it had seemed foolish to Alastor. Anyone who cared that much about what they looked like had no shot at being an enjoyable person in his mind. That was before he had started to get to know the demon, seen the joy it brought them to indulge in fashion, realized the things they wore were for them and them alone. Everything had changed with that. It wasn't about persuasion, getting attention, facade. It was just who they were.

The thing about this first theory, however, was that Y/n almost never wore blue.

"Hey!" Y/n laughed, sounding a tad offended, "I liked the blue and I still might go back to it."

The second option was lipstick. Another little hobby the demon indulged in that had caused Alastor to misjudge their character upon their arrival was the makeup. Every few days, they would come down from their room in one crazy look or another. It was always something dramatic, coordinated perfectly to whatever else they had going on. If Y/n loved anything, they loved a theme.

Alastor had again made the mistake of assuming Y/n's enjoyment of such a thing was a representation of their vapidness when he had first met them. He would not be making that mistake again. The thing was, for all their wild self expression and experimental use of colors, he had never once see them sporting blue lipstick, he couldn't even picture it.

"What! I'm just sayin." Angel teased.

The third and final option, the one Alastor decided was what they must be discussing, was their nail polish. Y/n loved the act of painting nails, called it a ritual of self adoration. The way they talked about it, someone would think they were dedicating sacrifices at an alter to the gods. Every week, like clockwork, they would repaint them. Monday afternoons, four o'clock sharp. Their favorite color of late had indeed been a dark, almost black, blue. Alastor had liked it. The color had made something about their hands shine.

"Rude." Y/n scoffed in reply.

Alastor had always loved Y/n's hands. He had always had a thing about hands. In his opinion, hands were the most telling part of a person, or demon even. They showed nerves, experience, hard work -- went straight through to the core of who a person was. A carpenter's hands were rough, a cook's were scarred, an artists stained with color, a string musician's had calluses on the fingertips. Yes, a lot about a person could be learned from their hands.

Y/n's hands were soft, on the smaller side, and without the bony protrusions of their knuckles so many people seemed to admire now days. Alastor had never understood the desirability of skeletal thinness. It was impractical and uncomfortable. Y/n's hands suited them perfectly, Alastor thought. They were his favorite pair of hands to watch, the way they would flit across the keys of a piano, the way they kneaded the dough when she baked, the way they held a pen.

"I mean, it does match your lipstick now which is kinda a look."

At this, Alastor really did turn around. He couldn't help himself.

Y/n and Angel were lounging on the couches of the hotel lobby. They were dressed down, wearing a pair of jeans that hugged their legs and a crop top that accentuated their body perfectly. They looked soft, they looked comfortable, they looked delicious.

The idea of hunger was a complicated one. When Alastor thought of other demons as delicious looking, it was because he wanted to eat them, to consume their flesh that is. Y/n was certainly delicious but, he had no desire to eat them. Not like that, at any rate.

Angel had been right, Alastor could see it from across the room. The soft ruddy red of their nail varnish matched the gloss coating their lips perfectly. Alastor had always loved the color red.

"Wait, really?" Y/n asked, holding a hand up to their face, by their mouth, their nails turned out towards Angel, "Is it bad?"

"Nah, it's honestly kinda a look."

Y/n hummed, moving their hand from their face and staring intently at their nails.

"Maybe it'll be my new color then... This is the gloss I wear when I'm just doing normal makeup."

"Cohesion is key." Angel noted, "If you have a look to fall back on, people tend to like that in my experience."

Y/n stayed true to their word and Alastor relished in this revelation. Over the course of the next week, nearly every time he spotted them around the hotel, they were wearing that same combination of nail polish and lipstick. It was a secret indulgence of his, a treasure.

They nearly caught him staring one time as they were talking with him. It was nothing special, just one of their average, casual chats about the ethics of one situation or another. For someone who had ended up in Hell, Y/n had a soft spot for moral philosophy. It was clearly spill over from some preoccupation of their mortal self.

Mid conversation, he had drifted off. He hadn't meant to, it was the way they talked. Y/n was an animated conversationalist, always moving their hands to accentuate their words in one way or another. It drew his eyes to their hands and their face equally, their nails and their pretty, dark red lips.

"Hey, Alastor... Alastor!"

"Yes, my dear?" he had quickly replied, snapping out of his stupor.

"Are you alright?"

"Why on earth wouldn't I be?"

"You just kinda... trailed off there."

Alastor tried his best to push his embarrassment to the side, to shake it off his shoulders seamlessly. Miraculously, he succeeded. He wasn't quite sure how, when they were watching him with such concern filling their eyes, a slight pout to their lips.

"Just a little distracted. Lots to do today. My apologies, my dear."

"And here I thought you loved deontological thought." Y/n had teased.

Everything was fine. Alastor didn't mind Angel having noticed, it was a well known fact the spider demon saw Y/n as a sibling rather than a potential partner. The pair had grown up together and when Sir Pentious, one night, had asked whether or not they had ever messed around with each other, seeing how close they were and comfortable with physical contact, the pair had made eye contact before each putting on their own display of disgust.

Alastor was good at seeing through people, he knew it hadn't been a show. What was a problem was when Husk somehow noticed the pairing of their lip and nail color as well.

Alastor had been talking to Charlie about one thing or another as Y/n shared a drink with Sir Pentious at the bar. He was half listening to Charlie, half to their conversation. Alastor always kept an ear out for Y/n's saccharine tones.

The pair had been chatting about how their respective journeys to redemption were going when Husk had cut in.

"Did you match your nail color to your lipstick?" he asked in mild amazement.

Alastor bristled. That fact was his, was for him. No one else was allowed to see.

"Yeah!" he heard Y/n brightly reply, a tinge of pride to their voice.

Though Alastor's back was to them, he could picture the way they must be holding their delicate, gentle hands up now.

"Isn't it cute?"

Husk whistled.

"Damn, Angel is finally rubbing off on you."

"I mean, I guess." came Y/n's hesitant reply.

"You trying to catch someone's attention?"

Alastor could hear his own heartbeat in the silence that proceeded their reply.

"I mean, not on purpose. Not with this. I just like the way it looks... I don't know, it makes me feel... pretty."

Y/n was right. Alastor knew for a fact, had seen it with his own eyes, how irresistible the combination made them look. Now others were starting to notice it as well and, well, Alastor couldn't have that, now could he.

The next morning, when Alastor came down for breakfast, he noticed Y/n sitting at the table, looking uncharacteristically despondent. His back to them as he began to prepare his morning cup of coffee, he smiled.

"What's got you down, my dear?" he asked and Y/n sighed.

"My nail polish disappeared."

So, they had already noticed. Alastor picked the carton of milk up off the counter.

"Don't you have others? You're always a veritable rainbow of color!"

Alastor kept his voice light and cheery. His coffee made, he took a seat at the table across from them.

"Yeah, I guess. I just liked that one. It matched my favorite lipstick."

"Couldn't you try another color? That midnight blue last week was rather nice."

"Yeah, I guess." suddenly, their eyes shot up to his, a smile breaking out across their face, "Wait, Al! You're a genius! I'll just go buy another bottle!"

When Y/n returned from the store a few hours later, their gray cloud had returned.

"Are you alright?" Vaggie asked as they slumped onto the couch beside her.

Alastor couldn't help but note, from his hiding place, the way the act of sitting changed their body. They were beautiful standing, stunning even, but something about the way their thighs spread out over the surface of the couch...

"Yeah." Y/n grumbled, "Just... bummed."

"Oh no!" Charlie exclaimed, walking away from the bulletin board she was planning their next lesson on and joining the pair, "What happened?"

"It's stupid." Y/n groaned, throwing their head back.

"Wrong guy hit on you?" Angel teased and they immediately righted themselves, shooting him a glare.

"No." they pointedly replied, "Just... that nail polish? Berry Naughty or whatever its called? The one that matched my Spicy Sienna gloss?"

"Damn, you're pulling out the color names." Angel laughed, "Yeah, I know. What about it?"

"I can't find my bottle anywhere and I went to like seven different stores today and none of them had it! Not one! You didn't borrow it, did'ya Ant?"

Angel put a hand to his chest dramatically.

"Who, me?"

Y/n rolled their eyes.

"Nah." he waved them off, "You know I always ask before I borrow. I learned that lesson about you the hard way."

Y/n sighed despondently again.

"I'm sorry." Charlie hummed, patting Y/n's knee comfortingly, "I know it was making you really happy."

"It's silly." they shook their head, "It's just nail polish."

"Yeah but, it clearly brought you a lot of joy." Charlie insisted, "What if I ask Nifty to keep an eye out for it around the hotel?"

Alastor almost let the shadows hiding him from the group in the corner of the room dissolve in shock. He hadn't expected that. He had really thought everyone would just let it go. Yes, he knew Y/n would probably be upset about it for a few days but, that just gave him all the more of an excuse to be near them, to comfort them.

"Really Charlie?" Y/n brightened immediately, "You'd do that for me?"

"Of course! I mean, I'm not making any promises but, you know."

Y/n pulled themselves from the couch, throwing their arms around Charlie's neck.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"It's just a nail polish." Vaggie chuckled, watching the interaction warmly.

Y/n let go of Charlie, who shrugged back at her girlfriend.

"It makes them happy."

Two weeks had gone by with no sign of the bottle of nail polish. Y/n still went to the stores every few days, checking for the color, but had yet to have any luck. Nifty too had come up empty handed.

Alastor was very pleased with himself. The trick of using his shadows to empty every store in the surrounding area of the color before Y/n went shopping was something he was particularly proud of.

Of course, all along, he knew where the missing item was. It was in the top drawer of his night table on the right hand side of his bed. Nifty only went in to clean his room maybe once a month or so and she knew better than to snoop. It was all going off without a hitch, even the comforting aspect. Alastor had had the absolute pleasure and honor of showing up at just the right place, at just the right time (imagine that), so as to be included with Angel when Y/n had the bright idea to see if she could find any other matching colors between her vast collection of lipsticks and lipglosses and even larger collection of nail polish. He wasn't sure how their hands could sustain that much acetone, or their skin that much makeup remover, but he was grateful for it nonetheless.

Alastor was in his studio, fixing one of the control panels, his mind filled with spinning memories of the past couple days (Y/n had even hugged him! The feeling of the cushion of their waist against his arms, their stomach, was not one he would soon forget), when he heard a knock at the door. He straightened up, eyeing it suspiciously.

The guests of the Hazbin Hotel, as well as its staff, knew better than to disturb him while he was at work. It's owners, on the other hand, were much more foolhardy. He ran a hand over his hair, straightening it a bit so as to make himself presentable, and called for the knocker to enter.

The door creaked as it swung open, just like Alastor wanted it to. A creaky door was a good thing, it made sure most people couldn't sneak up on him when he was at his most vulnerable, most distracted.

"You'll want to grease that." Y/n hummed as they stepped into the dingy space, "I think we have some WD40 in the basement, if you want me to bring it up for you."

They had never come to visit him up here before, never dared even come near the rotting wooden door. Alastor walked forward, shutting the door behind Y/n now that they were fully in the room. He was close enough to feel their breath on his skin as he smiled down at them.

"No need, my dear, although, I do appreciate the offer."

A silence fell between the pair as Y/n took a few steps further into the room, their eyes running across every surface available before them. Alastor noticed their hands were clasped behind their back. It wasn't an unusual position for them but, something seemed different about it this time.

"What can I help you with?" he cordially asked and Y/n turned to face him.

"Well... I... um..." they locked eyes with Alastor, finding their words at last, "Nifty found something today. While she was cleaning."

Alastor was glad Y/n's demon form was not all that powerful in this moment. If it was, they would have heard his heartbeat spike. His voice, his demeanor, even his expression were easy to control but his heart? Not so much.

"Oh?"

"Yeah... I..." Y/n trailed off.

With a sigh, they brought their hands forward, opening them to reveal the source of Alastor's anxiety. Nestled there, in the softness of their palm, was the nail polish.

"She found it! Congratulations, my dear. You must be thrilled."

"Yeah." Y/n replied uncertainly, looking away.

Alastor knew why they were so uncomfortable, but his hope was stronger. There was an uncanny sense of optimism in him, one that was unfounded and unfamiliar. It drove him to pry, to see how much they really knew. For all Alastor knew, there could be something else entirely going on.

"Where was it?"

"I..." Y/n looked back at him once again, "That's the problem, Alastor. Nifty said... well, she said she found it in your room."

"In my room?" Alastor repeated, feigning confusion, a hand to his chest in mock surprise.

Y/n nodded.

"In your night table drawer."

They must have known him better than he thought, have seen the flash of sudden anger in his eyes or something like that, maybe he had tense his body. Whatever had ticked them off, they continued.

"She didn't open it. Nift said it was open and went to close it and just... spotted it in there so don't get mad at her, she didn't do anything wrong."

Alastor stood in silence, watching Y/n carefully.

"I just... Look, I'm not mad, I am just confused. Why was it in your room, did you take it from me?"

A shock of nerves fluttered in Alastor's stomach. The heat rushed to his cheeks and he looked away, a hand flying instinctually to his collar and tugging at it just the slightest bit, as if the room was too hot. It was all the answer Y/n needed.

"Why?"

Alastor turned back to Y/n and nearly stumbled back a few steps when he realized how much closer they had brought themselves to him. Nearly every other time, he was the one to bridge the distance, to step into their personal space. His breath caught in his throat, a sort of thrill flooding his mind.

"I... I..."

He had stuttered. Alastor didn't stutter. He had never stuttered, not even when he was alive.

"You..?" Y/n prompted, leaning forward slightly.

His mind was reeling. He couldn't tell if that was their goal, secretly, if they had finally realized the effect they had on him and begun to use it to their advantage. Alastor looked away again.

"It was..."

"You knew it was my favorite. Why did you take it?"

Fuck.

They were upset, maybe even angry. Alastor had seen them mad before but it had never been directed towards him. Normally, he would relish in the wrath of another but Y/n's wrath? Fuck. He realized right then and there, he would rather die.

"Husk." he admitted at last, his hands now fiddling with the cuffs of his jacket, his face flushed.

Alastor dared a glance at Y/n. Their brow was furrowed.

"Husk?"

"Yeah. Husk."

"I... why Husk? Did he dare you? Did he... I... what?"

Whatever feelings they had previously held had been replaced by pure confusion. Alastor could handle confusion. The situation at large was still unwelcome and rather untenable but, at least there was the confusion.

"He..." Alastor cleared his throat, brave enough to meet their eyes again at last, "He noticed."

"Noticed.... oh."

"Yeah."

They fell silent. This wasn't a thing Alastor had felt since he was very young. There was a wild animal in his chest. In this moment, he didn't just look like a deer, he was one and Y/n was the hunter with their gun trained on the spot between his eyes.

"It wa-"

"Did you also take it off the shelves all over the neighborhood?"

They had always been smart, smarter than he gave them credit for. Alastor grimaced, nodding slowly.

"Alastor, why did it bother you so much? Is it illegal to match my nails to my lips? Does it go against your... your weird ass deontological code?"

"No, it's just... it was... fuck!"

Y/n had never heard him curse before. A hand flew to Alastor's head, he took a deep breath.

"Alastor, I-"

"It was for me, okay? I... I didn't want anyone else noticing. It was just for me."

Y/n looked somehow even more confused as he lowered his hand once again. The releif that had accompanied the admission was greatly outweighed by his anxiety as he waited for their response.

"But Angel noticed too? Before Husk?"

"That's different." Alastor sighed, "He... You... I..."

"Alastor, what's going on?"

There was concern now, lacing their voice in its gentle vines. It almost made everything worse.

"I like you, okay!? There. Are you happy now!?"

He didn't know why he was yelling. Y/n's eyes went wide.

"You... like me? Like, like like me?"

He glared at them and they put their hands up in surrender.

"Just trying to clarify the situation!"

Alastor rolled his eyes, crossing his arms protectively over his chest.

"Yes. I... like like you or... whatever nonsense you just said. Are you happy now?"

It was a stand off, each training a metaphorical pistol at the other. Y/n was the one to finally break.

"Yes." they curtly replied, crossing their arms to mirror his position, "I'll... I'll let you get back to work now."

Someone had driven a nail right through Alastor's chest and into his heart. He watched their retreating form as they opened the door and slipped out into the hallway. Just as it was about to fall shut, they miraculously stuck a foot between the closing door and its frame, peeking their head back into the room.

"Just so you know: if you asked me out on a date," they began, their eyes flicking up to his from where they had previously been fixed on the floor, "I'd say yes."

-----

A/N Ant is a pretty common nickname for Anthony in NYC (where I am from and where I'm pretty sure Angel is supposed to be from). Yes, I will be using it in another fic I am working on too (its part two of Unexpected (Vox x Reader). Also,, deontology is when you have a strict set of ethical rules/maxims you stick by no matter what (Kant is a deontologist).

TAGS:

@willowshadenox @i-love-jafar @elfyeet @reader3 @lazygirlfanfic0-0 @kahlan170 @wendyphan01203-blog @fairyv-ice @clarakainda @lunaramune @mcueveryday @luxky-aish @peterpankat @corvid007 @juskonutoh @simpingsohard @sethianaa @gabile18 @slytherin4ever @skyeliteratures @zombiesnips-blog

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commander-rahrah · 8 months

Note

Here's my idea that I would love to hear your opinion! Just to let you know this is quite self-indulgent XD What if GN!Reader knew that he was trying to use them from the start? They knew because they're quite familiar with people only talking to them because it's either because they can do something for them or they have something they need! They would still help him since they believe it's something he shouldn't need to go so far to have it. What do you think of it? I'm curious :3

UMMM YESSSS ANON YES! This is definitely something I have considered as well!! Tav isn't a naïve little target like Astarion is used too!

I imagine that Tav/Reader would probably admit to knowing about his plan not long after his own confession scene from Moonrise Towers in Act II. I think it would go something like this ♡♡

P.S.: I absolutely LOVED doing this, and my inbox is literally always open for stuff like this friends! :) It may just take me a hot second to reply!

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“I still can’t wrap my head around this,” Astarion’s voice was a hushed whisper in your ear, the two of you laying next to each other in his tent. You were close, but not touching — you were affording him space, allowing him to make the first move to initiate any kind of touch.

The intimate setting of laying across from each other in his tent was more than you had even expected. The candle stumps sat carefully around you basked everything in a gorgeous, orange glow.

“What do you mean?” You asked gently, your eyebrows furrowed.

“I’d imagine confessing to you in more ways than one… and never once did I imagine it would end like this.” He motioned to the two of you, running a finger tip across your knuckles before withdrawing. His voice was thick with emotion.

A soft chuckle escaped you, “What you thought I’d stake you?”

“Well… yes!” He said exasperatedly, before letting out a breathy laugh himself. Then he shook his head, turning serious, “I was manipulating you. Plotting against my master, with you as my shield.”

Your mouth twitched as you admitted, “I knew.”

“No, I don’t think you understand—“

You interrupted him, your face earnest, “No, Astarion. I do. I knew.”

Realization set deep in his features, his mouth hanging open just enough you could see his fangs, “How long had you known?”

You gave him a half smile, “Since the night you invited me to the woods.”

Your first night together.

“I— that was ages ago!" He sat up abruptly, his red eyes wide, "Why didn’t you say anything? Or better yet— gut me?!"

You sat up slowly, resting on your knees. “People have been using me for my entire life, Astarion. I know what they see when they meet me — a pretty face and nice clothes. Someone who is too friendly, too eager. People have been knocking on my door to ask for gold or sex or an invitation, anything they can get from me… as long as I can remember. Long before I met you."

Astarion was well aware of the mask you could so easily slip on when interacting with others. He hated it when you wore it. But now he understood you had been donning it to protect yourself, as much as he it did for himself too. But he still wanted to stalk and haunt every person who ever made you feel like you were a thing to be used, a means to some end.

Including himself.

Your voice snapped him back to the present, your voice hesitant, "But I had seen through your flirtations for a while now. It’s a force of habit for you, isn’t it?"

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, "Yes, it is."

Your expression crumbled, "I may have realized you were using me, but I didn’t realize how sex made you feel. I’m sorry I didn’t realize, I shouldn’t have indulged in that way."

The vampire waved off your apology, but curiosity got the best of him. "Why did you ‘indulge’? If you knew I was using you… if you knew that I'm... this."

You took a deep breath, before looking him in the eye. “Because I also recognized that what you were doing was a routine, a defense mechanism that you had been doing for longer than I’ve been alive. Because you were manipulated and used for your whole life too, weren’t you?"

Tears formed in the bottom of his eyes as he listened to you, but he willed them to stay back. His red eyes blinked furiously as he listened to you, his fingers intertwining together on his lap.

He wished you would hold them.

"You aren’t like your master, Astarion. And you aren’t what he made you to be either. You are a survivor. And when you were thrown off that nautiloid ship and found yourself in this merry party of misfits, you did just that — survive.

So… I let myself play mouse and get stuck in your trap. Just as I turned a blind eye to Wyll's sending stone. Or didn't ask Gale to explain what in the heavens he was doing with the amulet we had found. Because I trusted you, even back then. Cared for you far more then I should admit. But I knew you needed time."

His bottom lip trembled as you continued your own confession. He let his tears slip free as he saw your own break free. They stuck to your lashes and dripped down your flushed, freckled cheeks. Gods, even crying you were beautiful.

"But I regret that I laid with you — if I had known it caused you such pain I wouldn’t have done that. I knew that sex was apart of your repertoire, but I didn’t realize the anguish it caused you." Your face was pained as you admitted that, he could feel the self-loathing radiating off of you.

“It wasn’t all bad — those times with you were some of the most unexpected moments of bliss I’ve had in centuries." Astarion confessed as he grabbed your fingers and held them tightly. "But it still feels tainted, marred from my past with Cazador..."

“I know." You squeezed his fingers back, another silent understanding. "And we do not need to do such things until you are ready, Astarion. I mean it.”

He nodded, keeping his head down as he stared at the blankets you both sat on — willing himself to get his emotions under control.

You tucked your head to look up at his tilted face, "May I?" You asked softly, your hand hovering between you.

He swallowed as he nodded. You reached out slowly with your hand, before your thumb gently swept under his eyes and down the sides of his face, wiping away the tears that lingered on his pale skin. A sigh of contentment left him at your soft, simple touch. No one had ever touched him like that before.

He caught your hand as you went to withdraw it, your hands intertwined with his between you as you kneeled in front of each other.

Astarion was afraid to ask the next question on the tip of his tongue. But curiosity got the best of him. “So if you knew about my plan this whole time… when did you realize you— you’d fallen for me?”

Your entire face brightened as he asked, your eyes shining as you spoke, “Oh, from the moment you held a knife to my throat and barred your teeth.”

His heart soared, climbing up his throat as he almost choked from the happiness spreading through him.

“You masochist.” He laughed, grabbing onto the sides of your face.

“A romantic fool," You murmured as he placed his lips softly onto yours.

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If you enjoyed this, please feel free to check out more of my Astarion x GN!Reader on my masterlist!

#bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion #astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfic #astarion/gn!reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x reader #astarion/reader #astarion x tav #astarion/tav #commander-rahrah answers

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gimmethatagustd · 1 year

Text

who's your bias? | kth

Everyone says idols shouldn’t date their fans. Little did you know the crazy sasaengs aren't the ones who might ruin your relationship. It might just be your boyfriend's best friends.

» pairing: idol!taehyung x music producer girlfriend!reader

» wc/date: 12.6k | January 2023

» notes: this was entirely self-indulgent 😂 i hope my taehyung whores enjoy my first idol au oneshot. also i wrote 80% of this while i was high and with no beta so if it's bad, now you know why

» masterlist | ao3 | join my taglist

» what was jai listening to? impatient - jeremih ft. ty dolla $ign

“Y/N, stop it right now.”

Your boyfriend breathes the command faster than you can even open your mouth to greet him. With a roll of your eyes, you put your phone on speaker and sit it on the floor beside you. Rummaging through the cardboard boxes littering your apartment is easier done with both hands.

“Why hello, Taehyung. What a pleasure to hear from you.”

“Are you seriously mad at me right now?” From the whine in his voice you’re positive he’s wearing a deep pout, bottom lip jutting out as far as it can. You love kissing his pouts away.

But not this time! And not just because you’re on opposite sides of the world.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep? It’s so late there and I’m sure you’re very tired from displaying your dick to all of America for three hours.”

The cardboard box in front of you has “BEDROOM” scribbled in your father’s handwriting on the side in thick, black Sharpie. It’s full of little trinkets and random decor. A Shooky plushie is crammed into the corner in between a cracked Army bomb and a small framed photo of you with your parents. You smile to yourself despite your boyfriend’s huffing over the phone. Your father had given you a strange look as he helped you pack the items as if to ask, Really? Do you really need these?

Just because you’re dating a member of BTS now doesn’t mean you can’t cherish your old BTS merch! It’s not weird, in your opinion. It would only be weird if you made it weird. And you weren’t making it weird.

“I did not display my dick!”

You roll your eyes for probably the fifth time while you ponder where to put Shooky. You'd kept it on your dresser in your old home in the States. Something tells you Taehyung won’t appreciate the lack of a Tata beside it.

“You were thrusting and throwing it around! And pointing at it while doing it, too!”

“Y/N!”

“Don’t Y/N me! I have my TikTok evidence!”

With your cracked Army bomb in hand, you open the app in question, scrolling through your favorited videos until you get to the one. The one uploaded only a day before. The one you’d texted to Taehyung which prompted his immediate phone call.

“And what does the caption say?” you ask but then cut Taehyung off before he can answer the question. “It says, and I quote, ‘I will never forget Taehyung doing this. I looped this for hours. Kim Taehyung lives in my head rent-free.’ Hashtag Taehyung. Hashtag HipsDon’tLie. With the woozy face emoji. And do we need to discuss the music choice?”

“Y/N, can you please-”

“Slut Me Out,” you deadpan in a monotone voice. “That is the song they chose for you.”

The other end is silent for so long you start to feel bad. Every time your jealousy spikes, you seem to act on impulse rather than thinking through how you might make Taehyung feel. Yes, he sometimes plays his part in the group a little too well, but you also knew that this was his job. It’s his job to make people get excited - excited for the music, the group, and himself as an idol.

Still, your opinion is the most important to him, and you know that.

“Jagiya…” Taehyung sniffles and you feel your heart shatter.

Fuck, you really are a bitch, aren’t you?

“Tae, I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I just… I don’t know, I didn’t really think anything of it. It’s just an act, y’know?”

You did know. Away from the stage and the cameras, Taehyung is quiet, almost shy. He’s happy to be a silent observer of whatever chaos his members create. He gifts everyone with puffy cheeks and boxy grins, sometimes a boisterous laugh that manages to make your heart soar every time. But the soft-spoken soul you listen to old school R&B with while you smoke strawberry swisher blunts on the balcony late into the night, and convince that yes, the apartment is soundly built and no, the balcony will not randomly fall out beneath you… That person is different from the person you see wearing a resting bitch face in interviews or the person who chews away at imaginary gum during concerts.

You find all versions of Taehyung endearing, although the fake gum chewing is kind of embarrassing if you wanted to be perfectly honest.

“I know, Tae. I’m sorry I’m being judgmental for no reason,” you insist and you hope he believes you. Complaints about his idol status typically resulted in red eyes and sniffles, yet sometimes you couldn’t stop yourself from pushing his pressure points despite his sensitivity.

Your apology puts Taehyung in a better mood because his following comment is cheekier than you expect.

“You get jealous a lot, jagi.” His smug tone is close to bringing back your irritation.

“I am not jealous of some fans in a stadium, thanks.”

“Good,” he says more cheerfully. “‘Cause I only have sights for you.”

That makes you laugh and you feel your earlier heaviness disappear. “You mean, you only have eyes for me?”

“Isn’t that what I said?”

You shake your head as if Taehyung can see you. A few photo strips are beneath Shooky in the cardboard box. You silently curse your father (respectfully and endearingly) for casually placing something so fragile in the bottom of a box. The photos are of you and Taehyung in a photo booth at a birthday party for an idol you didn’t know. An actor, you think. You thumb at one of the corners of the photo strip that has curled inward. Taehyung’s hair was straight then, and short, falling just above his ears. You much prefer the thick waves he wears now.

“You’re so cute.”

“Only for you.”

“Oh shut up, now you’re being corny.”

You’re not sure why, but you try to suppress the smile Taehyung’s light flirting coaxes out of you, even though he can’t see you. Accepting his teasing affection has always been hard for you. All the boys are too caring; it makes you uncomfortable, but not in a bad way. You’re just not used to men acting like that. They’re all very different from the men you’ve been around growing up. There’s a reason Taehyung can’t listen to you talk about your ex-boyfriends without getting pissed.

“Mmm, maybe. I’m also sleepy,” Taehyung slurs. His voice is so soft you almost can’t hear him, so you lift your phone to your ear rather than use the speaker setting. The smoothness feels like a lullaby gentle enough to carry you to sleep, even though it’s still daylight in Seoul.

“Goodnight, Kim.” You decide for him, knowing he would stay on the phone if you let him.

Confirming your thoughts, Taehyung grumbles when he speaks next. “I love you, jagi.”

“I love you, too.” People always talk about the “honeymoon phase” when the butterflies disappear and couples no longer feel the exciting draw toward each other anymore. It’s been less than a year since you started dating Taehyung, but you’re confident that your heart will always flutter when you hear those three words so confidently spoken. Taehyung had been the first to say it; something about that makes you even more sure of your relationship.

“Can’t wait to see you soon so I can slut you out.”

“... please go to bed and never say that ever again.”

In the distance, you hear someone start yelling. The noise is accompanied by a rather aggressive ruffling sound, as though Taehyung’s phone is being rubbed against fabric.

“Are you two having phone sex?” The second voice accuses, this time sounding much clearer.

“Hyung, leave me alone,” Taehyung whines. “Y/N, tell him to go away.”

You let out a long sigh, but the grin finally cuts through the hardened expression you try to maintain. “Goodnight, Jimin.”

It sounds like the two boys start physically fighting each other before Taehyung lets out a breathy, “Goodnight, baby,” accompanied by Jimin screeching something you can’t understand before the call ends.

With a shake of your head, you leave your phone on the floor and get up to position Shooky and your Army bomb on your dresser. You’ll figure out what to do with it later, you decide.

Later ends up being three more days of you giving a half-assed attempt to sort through the boxes. Your bedroom is mostly organized by the end of the week with only one more box remaining, shoved into the corner of the room. It’s a bunch of family keepsakes that will make you cry if you start looking at them.

Right now you want to make a beeline to the kitchen.

It’s hard not to trip over all the boxes that litter your apartment, most of them already torn open and half-empty. The kitchen hasn’t been fully unpacked, either, so you opt for instant ramen in the microwave rather than dig for utensils to cook a proper meal. It’s pretty bad. You and Taehyung are a terrible match; you both have no idea how to cook. There’s no point in all the fancy kitchenware your parents bought you. You’ll never master any of it. It’s not because you don’t put in any effort, like Taehyung. You’re genuinely shit at cooking.

And baking? That’s even worse.

You stand in the middle of your living room while you shovel ramen in your mouth. It’s too hot, so you inhale loudly through your teeth to cool the food off before it scorches your throat. There’s so much you need to do, and it’s making you nauseous thinking about it. Somewhere in the mix of boxes are your Hangeul textbooks that you should be studying in your free time instead of playing video games and video chatting with your friends. It’s only been a week and a half, but you already feel lonely without the constant presence of your friends and family. The boys have been on tour the entire time. Namjoon decided you moving to Seoul while they’re on tour would make your arrival less suspicious, and everyone would be more focused on the tour than whatever an unknown American music producer is doing.

In your opinion, Namjoon was overthinking the whole thing as he is wont to do. But you let him be bossy because you know his heart is in the right place. It’s not like the public knows you’re dating Taehyung. There hasn’t been any press or rumors about you at all. You’re genuinely unknown.

You prefer it that way.

Your fork scrapes the bottom of the bowl and you realize you’ve scarfed down the ramen without much thought. You suppose it’s easier to do that when you aren’t using chopsticks. (You’ve managed to master them, for the most part, but you prefer to fall back on forks when you’re alone at home.)

You place the bowl on top of the large cardboard box in front of the couch. It has the pieces for your coffee table inside, but you haven’t had the energy to put it together yet. The part of you that allows your feminism to leave your body whenever the boys are around is kind of hoping you can get one of them to build it for you. Maybe Yoongi. He’s into that kind of stuff.

With a sigh, you flop onto the couch and slip your phone out of your back pocket. A few Whatsapp and KakaoTalk notifications light up the screen. You used to be terrible at responding to texts, but moving halfway across the world has made you a better texter. It’s a way to fill the loneliness.

[Alex] hey bitch

[Alex] this 15 hour time difference sucks ass

[You] I’m sorry

[Alex] its fine. i’ll forgive you for chasing money and dick

[You] I’m not chasing dick omg

[Alex] dont lie

[Alex] whats that tiffany pollard meme

[You] Stop

[Alex] i know his dick is big. i know it! i know it’s big!

[You] I hate you

[Alex] you didnt deny it. anywayyy did you see this?

As much as you adore Alex, she’s an expert at getting under your skin. You remind yourself that it’s all harmless as you click on the link she texts you.

BTS' V woos fans with his casual rockstar visuals on his return from world tour

Kim Taehyung, also known professionally as V of BTS, was spotted at John F. Kennedy International Airport on Friday. The singer is reportedly returning early to South Korea ahead of his band members after completing the final performance of their…

You don’t know why you read the shitty k-pop tabloids. You figure it’s the same reason why people make a hobby out of watching bad movies. There’s a weird itch in the back of your brain that can’t be scratched unless you open the link Alex texts you— teasingly, of course, because she thinks she’s being funny. Your friends don’t understand the nauseous feeling you get when you scroll through the article and accidentally click on a link that takes you to an external website flaunting doctored photos of your boyfriend with Jennie Kim.

BTS’ V and BLACKPINK’s Jennie Spend Romantic Weekend in Paris

You know it’s a lie because the weekend in question was the same weekend Taehyung flew you to Seoul to do a final walkthrough of your apartment before you signed off on it. Taehyung spent every second of that weekend by your side.

The article makes you sick anyway.

You’re so caught up in trying to craft a text to Alex to explain why she needs to leave you the fuck alone that you don’t hear the sound of your apartment’s front door open over the music you’re listening to.

“I’m gone for a few months and I come home to you listening to some other band?”

“Holy shit, Tae, you can’t do that to me,” you yelp when Taehyung leans over the back of the couch to hover over your shoulder.

“Explain yourself.” His voice is warm honey and milk even when his strong eyebrows point downward in mock disappointment. The expression is almost convincing, his naturally sharp features making conjuring up a dark appearance easier.

“You can’t tell me Stray Kids’ new album isn’t good.”

“Jagiya, I just got home,” Taehyung whines. “Kiss me and stop thirsting over Australian boys.”

He touches your chin to tip your head backward. You lean your head against the back of the couch and look up at him. The position makes you think of the iconic Spiderman kiss, seeing Taehyung’s face upside down above yours.

“Y’know, I worked on a few of their songs. Before I met you.”

The confession is meant to tease him for making fun of your music choice. Of course, words’ impact often diverges from intent. It’s in the twist of his face and the way he pulls back slightly just before his lips brush against yours that you know you’ve made him jealous.

“Oh did you?” His hair hangs around his face as he leans over you.

“Mhm, Bang Chan’s accent is really cu—”

You shouldn’t be shocked when strong hands squeeze your waist and Taehyung hauls you off the couch to stand in front of him. He wraps his arm around your waist to pull you tightly against his chest.

“You didn’t work with any other groups before us, okay?”

You purse your lips to hold in the laughter that threatens to explode from your chest. All you can do is nod in agreement. It reminds you of girls getting upset when they remember their boyfriends dated other people before them.

“Good.”

Taehyung dips his head down to connect his lips with yours. The closeness of his body forces you to inhale his cologne and feel goosebumps travel down your arms. It’s been months since you’ve so much as held Taehyung’s hand and you feel like you’ve been starved. Your body trembles so severely that you dig your nails into his biceps to hold yourself upright. You moan into his mouth, already open and ready for you because Taehyung is nothing but giving.

The kiss isn’t bruising, not yet. It’s slow and deep. Taehyung takes his time reminding himself of your taste. You grip the nape of his neck to pull him down as you meet him by standing on your tiptoes. His height has always been one of your favorite aspects of his physical appearance. Dark, watchful eyes that pierce into your soul might be at the top of the list.

His tongue swirls around yours, only retreating to suck your bottom lip into his mouth. His teeth graze along the plump skin, each nibble making you dizzy in the head. You normally hate wet kisses, but there’s something satisfying about seeing Taehyung’s lips pink and shiny with your spit when he finally pulls away. Pride thrums in your chest; you did that. You made his tan skin flush pink. You made his eyes dark and sharp. You made his breathing ragged and desperate.

And, fuck, does it feel good.

You run your fingers along his sharp jawline and watch the muscles flex beneath his taunt skin. “Don’t clench your jaw like that. It’s not good for you,” you muse, allowing your fingers to skim over his Adam’s apple.

“I’m trying to stay calm.”

Your eyebrows fly up with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Wanna bend you over the couch and fuck you until you can’t walk,” Taehyung says with such a gentle tone that the stark difference between what he says and how he says it has your body trembling once again.

You inhale sharply and let your hand fall from his throat. Instead, you reach for the lapels of his leather jacket and squeeze them.

“Why don’t you?”

You can’t look at him when you ask. Even though you’ve been dating for almost a year, Taehyung still intimidates the hell out of you sometimes. The darkness of his eyes when he gets horny sends you reeling. You’re sure if you look up, you’ll see The Look. He stares at you unabashedly with an expression of desire so strong you feel like he might consume you just by looking at you.

“You haven’t eaten yet and I need to take a shower.”

“How do you know I haven’t eaten yet?” With a pout, you finally dare to look your boyfriend in the face. The way he gapes at you is judgmental and doesn’t make you feel devour-worthy at all.

“I know you,” he scoffs. “You’re just like Jimin. I bet you haven’t even been awake more than two hours.”

Barely a year into your relationship and he’s already reading you like an open book. You can’t stay salty about it when his bread cheeks come out and he’s giggling at the frustrated “hmph” you let out.

“I’ll be fast,” he promises with a smirk that collapses into another fit of giggles. The hearty slap on your ass encourages you toward the kitchen while Taehyung makes his way to the bathroom.

You did already eat, but today is an outlier. Normally, you are like Jimin, staying up too late and sleeping in longer than everyone else. And sometimes you’re like Yoongi, too. You get so caught up in the songs you’re working on that you forget to stop to eat or pee or look somewhere other than at a computer screen.

The move to Seoul threw you off your usual work schedule. Everything you need to get done is looming over your head like a dark cloud. If Namjoon comes back before you finish editing the English lyrics of his upcoming single, you might die of embarrassment, no matter how many times Taehyung insists that Namjoon won’t be disappointed.

Taehyung wasn’t lying about being quick. He’s wearing a white cotton t-shirt and grey sweatpants when he returns, hair damp and swept away from his face. You’re still standing at the fridge, painfully aware of how little food you have. Plenty of grapefruit soju, though. Priorities.

“Do you want ramen?” You eventually ask. When Taehyung doesn’t respond, you turn to give him a sheepish smile. He probably thinks you’re ridiculous.

Taehyung is sitting at the kitchen table with your phone in his hands. His eyebrows scrunch together and he turns to you with narrowed eyes.

“Why were you looking at this?”

He lifts your phone in your direction. The doctored photos of him and Jennie glare back at you. You feel your heart drop into the pit of your stomach.

“Tae, I didn’t—” You snap your mouth shut because, honestly, it looks bad. It looks bad no matter how you explain yourself because Taehyung’s bottom lip is already quivering and you know you’re both replaying the stupid TikTok phone call in your heads right now.

The two of you stare at each other for only god knows how long. You’re the first to break; not many people can hold their own in a staring contest with Kim Taehyung. Yoongi is probably the only one. Jungkook would give a valiant effort, but he’d ultimately crumble in a fit of nervous giggles. Taehyung is scary when he wants to be.

Dating Taehyung started as an unbelievably exciting experience. You had your brush with fame before meeting the boys, but Taehyung was the first idol to give you genuine attention beyond whatever job needed to be done. Not that you’d ever sought it out; you had more dignity than that. No, Taehyung pursued you. Who could blame you when you fell head over heels for the sinfully gorgeous man who seemed larger than life? The long legs, big hands, and chiseled features were dangerous enough. Throw in a glowing personality, quirky sense of humor, and a big-hearted desire to care for others and you had a man who was too good to be true.

And who are you? Some dumb American kid with average looks, a standoff personality as a result of having a bit of social anxiety (and trouble acclimating to a new country), and a penchant for fucking things up. Maybe it was your fault for not seriously considering how hard it was going to be to date an idol.

“C’mere, jagi,” Taehyung murmurs, beckoning you.

You expected waterworks— hell, you’re ready to start crying yourself. Instead, Taehyung wears a tired but soft smile. He holds your waist as you climb into his lap, straddling him. He wiggles a little in the chair to adjust you more comfortably on his thighs.

“Koreaboo, really?” He gathers your face in his hands, thumbs running across your cheeks. His hands are soft and you regret not washing your face when you woke up. Sometimes it’s not fun to date someone as beautiful as Taehyung.

“It was an accident.”

You avoid his gaze, but Taehyung coaxes you back to look him in the eyes. It’s hard. There’s so much passion swimming in them. He blinks up at you with an earnestness that makes your heart ache because you’re always the one causing problems.

“They could have at least used better pictures of me,” he complains with an exaggerated pout.

“Maybe I’ll send them some from my private collection.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Taehyung grins as he threatens you, so you grin back.

“Oh, I dare.”

Quick fingers dig into your sides and you let out an embarrassing squeal. Taehyung doesn’t let up on tickling you until you’ve got tears in your eyes and your threats to elbow him in the face start sounding a bit too real.

“Please don’t torture yourself with shit like that, okay?” He mumbles the request into your neck because your arms are thrown around his shoulders.

You slide your fingers into his hair to cradle his head against your chest. When you dig your nails into his scalp he lets out a low groan. Nothing about the position you’re in is sexual, but you’re quickly reminded that this is the most skin-on-skin contact you’ve had with your boyfriend in months. With that fact in mind, you don’t feel bad when you scoot further into his lap and squeeze his thighs with your own.

“Tae?”

“Hmm?” When he tilts his head back to look up at you, he’s got that spacey, blissed-out look on his face.

“Tell me you love me.” You place your finger against the little freckle on the tip of his nose.

The slow, boxy grin is almost better than hearing the words. Your finger migrates to touch the freckle on his lip.

“I love you with all my heart.” He punctuates the confession with a kiss on the tip of your finger. “Your turn.”

You roll your eyes, but it’s the reaction he’s looking for.

“I love you, too. You dork.”

“So romantic,” he laughs, but the amusement doesn’t reach his eyes. Instead, he watches you with lust darker than what consumed his expression earlier.

You sit with your breath burning in your lungs as Taehyung slips his hands beneath your baggy t-shirt. His smooth palms slide up your rib cage until he reaches your tits, palming one in each hand. The tilt of his chin tells you he wants another kiss, and who are you to deny him what he wants? You dig your nails in his hair harder while you kiss him, tugging to angle his head in the direction you want. Small moments like this give the appearance that you’re in control. And Taehyung loves domming while you both pretend you’re the one in charge.

He pulls back with a wet smack. If it was anyone else, you’d be ashamed of the whimper that sounds from your throat as Taehyung removes his hands from your shirt. You grip his hair tighter, but Taehyung just chuckles.

“So needy. What am I going to do with you?”

You could give him a couple of ideas. There isn’t time, though. Taehyung is already grasping your chin and tilting it down.

“Open up for me, okay?”

Your cheeks grow hot as you open your mouth. You already know where this is going, so you stick out your tongue. Still, it’s difficult not to squirm when Taehyung presses his index and middle fingers flat against the wet muscle.

“Suck.”

You swallow around his fingers, sucking as best you can as he begins to thrust them into your mouth. It’s vulgar, the wet suctioning sound of his fingers dragging against your tongue. In and out, a steady pace that doesn’t go too fast. Taehyung has such long, gorgeous fingers. You quite enjoy when he wrecks your insides with them until you’re on the brink of tears. Which you’ve come to find is something Taehyung thoroughly enjoys doing.

“You miss having your pretty mouth stuffed?”

You know any attempt at a spoken response will come out as a garbled mess. You whimper, eyes fluttering closed as you swirl your tongue around his fingers. You push your tongue in between his fingers and curl around them.

“Gonna suck my cock like this, jagi?” He purrs the question, ending it so breathy it’s almost a moan as he eases over the term of endearment. “Show me how much you miss me, hm?”

Maybe it’s the deep, sensual way he purrs jagi with heavy eyelids and that crooked smirk on his face. Maybe it’s because he bites his lip when he says it or that he lets his lip go with such slowness that you can see the way his teeth scrape across his plump bottom lip as it falls back into place. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s shoving his fingers just a bit deeper into your mouth. Maybe it’s all of these things that make you shift so that you can press your clothed pussy against Taehyung’s thigh.

He flexes the muscle as you start rutting against it, rolling your hips to the rhythm of his fingers gliding in and out of your mouth.

“Look at you.” His lips brush against the curve of your ear, sending a shiver down your back. “So desperate for me that you’re going to get off on only my thighs?”

You’re not the type to be able to orgasm just from rutting and friction like this, but Taehyung has managed to learn your body faster than you ever expected. He slips his free hand beneath the waistband of your leggings and underwear. It’s the quick circling of his thumb against your throbbing clit combined with the rutting of your hips that sends you over the edge.

“That’s it, baby, you did so well,” Taehyung whispers praise against the skin his lips have access to on your collarbones as you shudder in his lap. “Love seeing you cum, fuck, doing this shit over KakaoTalk fucking sucked.”

Taehyung finally removes his fingers from your mouth when you stop moving. Seeing the string of spit that connects his fingers to your lips makes you feel weak, but you’re riding the high of his praise and skillful fingers, so you don’t care.

He wipes your spit onto his sweatpants and gently holds your chin with his other hand. He gives you a soft smile and rubs his thumb over your bottom lip. You can taste yourself when you flick your tongue over the trail his thumb left.

“I missed you so much,” he admits with a gentle kiss on your lips. “And not just because of this. I missed all of you, everything about you, just being with you.”

“I missed you, too.”

It’s meant to be a confirmation of your mutual love, but it comes out like a whine. You know Taehyung doesn’t mind from the way his eyes zero in on your tongue running along your bottom lip. You don’t have to say anything more for him to know what you want. He nods once and you’re almost immediately on your knees between his legs.

“Fuck.” He leans back in the chair and lifts his hips so you can tug his sweatpants down his thighs. “Gonna be good for me, baby?”

You quickly nod your head, though you’re focused on gently taking Taehyung’s cock in your hand. Alex isn’t wrong. Taehyung’s dick is big, but that doesn’t mean you have to go around talking about it. That’s for you to know and for others to wonder about.

You had to sign an NDA before you were allowed to see it, anyway, but you’d keep your mouth shut even if no legal action would be taken against you for gossiping.

“Kiss it first.”

He tongues the inside of his cheek as he watches you. His eyelids droop lower when you plant a puckered, open-mouthed kiss on the head of his cock. You press the tip of your tongue against the slit to lick at the precum already leaking from him. The buck of his hips isn’t unexpected, but you feel like you need to remember how to do all of this after being away from him for so long. Not to mention how tired your jaw is about to be.

Taehyung seems to sense your hesitation because he allows his body to go slack beneath you. The hand that has reached down to dig into your scalp doesn’t let up, but he doesn’t push your head down like he normally would when you finally slide his cock down your throat.

He doesn’t buck his hips again, even when you drool so much that the inside of his thighs become just as wet as yours. You squeeze the base of his cock, twisting your wrist to the rhythm you’ve established when you can’t take all of him into your mouth.

You reach down to gently roll his balls with your free hand. His cock twitches against your flattened tongue and you hum with satisfaction.

“God, your fucking mouth–”

You make eye contact with Taehyung as your hand ventures lower. There’s nothing more beautiful than the way his face crumples with pleasure when you massage his perineum.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop,” he whines.

You ease up slightly but still suckle on the head of his cock for longer than Taehyung wants. Why not have a little fun? All you’ll end up doing is riling him up even more, and that can only be a good thing for you.

Taehyung digs his fingers into your hair and yanks you up. It stings, but the pain might as well be white-hot pleasure once Taehyung is praising you with a gravelly voice.

“You’re too fucking good at that.”

You don’t even like sucking dick, but you’d do it all day, every day if Taehyung asked you to. But since he made you stop, you have other priorities to take care of, like the fact that there are way too many layers of clothes separating you from your boyfriend. While you were on your knees for him, Taehyung removed his shirt. The white cotton is discarded on the floor beside the chair and his half-dry hair is tousled around his head in a messiness only he could successfully pull off.

After wiggling out of your leggings and underwear, you climb back onto Taehyung’s lap. His broad chest shudders beneath your touch as you run your hands down to meet his soft tummy. His responsiveness strokes the ego you didn’t realize you have.

“Y’know, you never gave me the chance to ask you how travel went.”

“Seriously?” He knows you’re teasing, but you like the mock-irritated tone of his voice. It makes his chest rumble.

You use your grip on him to stabilize yourself as you grind into his lap. You scrape your nails at the nape of his neck and suck on his bottom lip. Taehyung moans into your mouth, low and throaty, when his cock glides through your wet folds as you roll your hips. He lets you pull his hair, head falling back to expose the smooth plane of his throat. Your lips leave his to latch onto his throat instead. The kisses you give him are slippery and biting and hot.

“No hickeys, Y/N.”

Taehyung’s scolding is deep and sharp; you both know he’s not fucking around. It’s a command he has had to throw your way more than once. The idea of marking him up is just so appetizing, but you know you can’t. Sure, makeup can make just about anything disappear, but it’s annoying to deal with and Taehyung isn’t particularly a fan of the side looks the makeup artists give each other when they see dark bruises littering his neck and collarbones.

Maybe you’ll give him just a tiny one and suffer the consequences later.

You cling onto him tighter when you feel two of his fingers slip inside of you. Spreading your thighs as wide as you can without throwing off your balance on the chair, you roll your hips into Taehyung’s hand to take his fingers deeper.

“Please,” you moan against his neck. You can smell your shampoo and body wash on him. Something about him smelling like you makes you feel overwhelmingly possessive. He’s yours. Kim Taehyung is yours.

He turns his head to the side to capture your lips with his own as he snakes his arm around your waist. The position allows him to pull you tightly against his chest. He holds you in place as he starts thrusting his fingers into your pussy just as he had thrust them into your mouth.

Taehyung grunts as he keeps his legs spread in the chair, which in turn forces your thighs open when you try to squeeze them closed around his hand.

“Stay still.”

“Can’t.” You shake your head and thread your fingers through his hair, tugging the strands harder.

It’s too much; Taehyung lights a fire against every inch of your body each time he touches you. If he was anyone else, you’d be singed, but Taehyung takes such good care of you. You’re not singed. You’re ignited.

“You have no fucking idea,” Taehyung takes a deep breath, “No fucking idea how badly I’ve been craving you.” He warms you up with each thrust of his fingers, adding a third until you’re clawing at his shoulders.

“So, ahh fuck, fuck me,” you gasp, your mouth hot against the corner of his jaw. Your teeth scrape against his skin and he merely lets his head fall back to give you more.

“No please?”

You bite his cheek in defiance and get a slap to the ass that only makes you want to bite him more.

“Don’t be mean to me,” you whimper.

Taehyung’s steady rhythm against your front wall has your orgasm burning so hotly in your core that you feel like you’re going to cum if he even so much as turns his head to look at you one more time.

Your thighs are already sore by the time Taehyung removes his fingers from your pussy. He uses your sticky arousal as lube to stroke his cock and you don’t want to think about how excited you are about this.

“Hurry up.”

Taehyung raises his eyebrows at you just as he grips the inside of your thigh with one hand. The other he uses to line his cock with your body. You can feel the head press against your entrance, and you try to push your body down to swallow him whole, but Taehyung holds you up to stop you.

“Impatient cockslut, aren’t you?” Taehyung chides.

His previously spacey look is sharpened by the sparkle of mirth in his eyes. Your body tenses when he spits the insult at you, and he knows it’s making your clit throb even harder.

“Tae.” You bite your lip because you’re close to begging at this point.

Luckily, you don’t have to. Taehyung presses down your hip and you quickly take the lead, easing yourself onto his cock until you’re fully seated on his firm thighs.

Your body burns from the stretch it has to make to accommodate him, but you knew it would. Even when you’re fully adjusted to him, there’s always a bit of a stretch. He also knows he has to let you ease into it to avoid slamming himself straight into your cervix. The first time it had happened, Taehyung genuinely thought he’d broken you. You kind of thought so, too, if you were going to be perfectly honest. The struggle of having a big-dicked boyfriend.

“Okay?” He’s watching you with those lustful, dark eyes.

“Mhm,” you hum because you’re afraid of the way your voice will quiver if you try to say real words.

You’re so full, it’s a bit overwhelming. Not just physically, but emotionally, too. You missed Taehyung a lot, but holding onto each other in such an intimate position is making you realize just how lonely you were without him.

“I’m gonna move, okay?”

He waits until you silently nod your head before he adjusts in the chair, scooting down slightly to spread his legs better. You allow him to adjust your legs, bending them at the knee and hooking them over the arms of the chair. With a tight grip on your ass, Taehyung pulls you down onto his cock at the same time he thrusts up into you.

The pace Taehyung sets is desperate, but you don’t care. Your second orgasm is approaching at an alarming speed. It feels like it’s taking all of your energy to simply stay grounded with reality as Taehyung squeezes you and your hips crash into each other. You don’t even try to do anything, just let him take over your body as he pounds into you. For the most part, you’re a pillow princess and you both know it. Besides, how can you possibly keep up with someone so athletic? Taehyung’s stamina is ridiculous. Neither of you has an overstimulation kink, but Taehyung’s ability to just go and go and go might as well have given you one. None of this has ever bothered Taehyung, though. He likes giving more than receiving.

“Oh fuck.” Taehyung nips at the base of your neck when you clench around his cock just to feel him shiver.

There aren’t any rules about him marking you up. The petty side of him likes when you wear the dark bruises in the open, with no makeup or clothing to hide them. It’s a satisfying game he likes to play. He likes that everyone knows you’re getting dicked down and, therefore, are taken.

You like the secret satisfaction of knowing it’s Kim Taehyung who gives you those marks, and no one even knows.

What you don’t like is thinking about all the other people Taehyung may have enjoyed giving marks to.

It’s hard not to let your mind wander. Taehyung has never talked to you about his previous relationships, and there’s no way for you to know about them if he doesn’t tell you. The media can’t be trusted to accurately report idols’ love lives; today has been a perfect example of that. You’re stuck with only your imagination to make up all kinds of scenarios. Maybe Taehyung has been with other k-pop idols, or models, or actresses - people with more money, who are prettier and more sophisticated than you. Hell, you’ve never even asked him about his sexuality. What if he really has been fucking Jungkook! What if they’re in love and you’re just something temporary?

“I was made for you, jagi. You know that?” Taehyung’s breath is hot against your skin. His words are gentle, but the power with which he thrusts up into you is bruising. “Made for you.”

It’s as if he can read your mind, as if he can somehow sense the insecurities threatening to pull you out of the moment. As always, Taehyung manages to bring you back to the present.

Fuck, sometimes you wish he wouldn’t do shit like this to you. You’re already pathetically in love with him. You can’t imagine what more could come next, yet you feel yourself practically bursting from the seams with love.

Your moans fall in line with the sound of the chair scraping the floor and your skin slapping against Taehyung’s with every thrust. When your mouth falls open, Taehyung presses his thumb against your tongue. With eyes fluttering closed, you suck on his thumb and try to hold on as your body rocks up and down.

“Fuck, fuck, oh, god, Taehyung.”

“Yeah, jagi?” Taehyung pulls down on the corner of your mouth until his thumb is dragging spit across your cheek. “Tell me.”

His voice is so soothing it makes you want to cry. It’s unfair.

“You feel so fucking—“

It’s the slick pressure of his thumb massaging your clit that finally has you arching your back with a scream of Taehyung’s name. You’re so loud that you worry your neighbors heard you. There are plenty of people named Taehyung in the world, though, right? He could be any Taehyung.

If you ask Taehyung later, he’ll probably say he can’t even remember his own name because of how tightly you clench around his cock when you cum. The feeling is so overwhelming that you think you might pass out from holding your breath. You gasp, inhaling more air than you exhale, but Taehyung keeps going. Every subsequent thrust knocks the air out of you until you have the opposite problem and now you can’t keep any air in.

“I’m gonna…”

“Go ahead, baby. Cum inside me.”

Taehyung whimpers into the crook of your neck as he cums, the suggestiveness of your permission not lost on either of you. You’re on birth control and Taehyung knows a kid would probably ruin his career. So it doesn’t actually mean anything when you tell him he can stay inside; you’re not getting pregnant any time soon. Still, he gets off on coming inside of you, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.

“I was going to make a joke that I should go on tour more often if that means I’ll cum that hard again, but I think I don’t want to go on tour ever again,” Taehyung admits with a shaky laugh.

Just the idea of Taehyung leaving you for months on end again makes your stomach twist. He brings so much life to everywhere he goes, and you felt like much of that life left you when he did. Even if it was only temporary.

Taehyung holds you until his cock is no longer twitching inside of you. Once his arms finally fall to his side, you try to untangle yourself from the chair as his body, but your limbs might as well belong to someone else.

“Help,” you squeak hoarsely. You feel like covering your face when Taehyung laughs.

Taehyung helps you out of his lap, though you both are so wobbly on your feet that you hold onto the edge of the kitchen table when you stand. Taehyung looks wrecked, and you feel wrecked. You’re not sure your knees will ever work properly again.

“Why are we still listening to Stray Kids?” Taehyung grumbles when he realizes the speakers are still playing in the background.

“It’s a good album.”

“We should be fucking to my songs.” Taehyung pauses for a moment, thinking.“‘Christmas Tree’ is a fuckable song, right?”

“You’re joking.”

Taehyung shakes his head and reaches for your phone. His face is programmed to unlock your phone, just like your face unlocks his phone. You don’t understand how he can stand butt naked in the kitchen, cum all over his thighs, and search for the jazz playlist he made on your Spotify account.

(“Jazz Hands, Y/N. It’s a vibe.”)

Once his playlist has replaced Stray Kids, Taehyung wraps you up in a giant bear hug that lifts you off your feet. The hug nearly knocks the air out of you.

“Can’t believe you made me dirty after I just showered.” You can’t see his pout, but you can hear it.

“You’re the one who started this.”

Taehyung scoffs. He starts walking down the hallway, practically dragging you in his arms as he goes. Your toes barely reach the ground, but you’re more content to let your body fall slack and make him do all the work.

He kicks open the bathroom door and sits you down on the counter.

“No, you did this. You looked at me with those pretty eyes and said, ‘Tae’.” He tries to mimic your voice by moaning his name. “I’m a weak, weak man. You influenced me. I just wanted you to eat.”

“Well, I did eat.”

Taehyung presses his lips together. “Don’t say it.”

“I’m gonna say it.” You lean forward on the edge of the counter, trying to get in Taehyung’s space, but he’s ignoring you as he prepares the shower.

“Y/N.”

“I ate…”

“Stop.”

“Deez nuts.”

Taehyung drags his hands down his face, leaving his skin red. His reaction makes you giggle.

“Technically you only played with deez nuts. Your mouth, sadly, did not ever come near my—” He tries to correct you, but you’re already throwing a scrunchie at his face.

“You’re ruining the joke!”

“It’s a bad joke!”

Maybe your sense of humor is way better than his, but as you suffer another Taehyung tickle attack, you can’t help but feel ridiculous for how you’d behaved earlier. How can he look at you with sparkling eyes and a boxy smile that makes him laugh with his teeth, hand coming up to cover his face when you give him your poutiest of pouts— how can you see such genuine kindness and think Taehyung would ever do anything to jeopardize what you have?

“Wassup motherfuckers!”

You raise your eyebrows at Namjoon and tap the end of your chewed pen against your computer screen. Biting pens isn’t sanitary or cute but you do it anyway. The man’s eyes aren’t on your pen cap, though. He’s staring a hole into the podcast you pulled up because you know he doesn’t want to look at you.

“Namjoon, why did you start the episode like that? This is not your Automatic Dick era,” you say with a deep sigh.

“Beoryeo.”

“Excuse me?”

“The song. It’s called ‘Throw Away’, not… Automatic… Dick…” His correction dies on his tongue when he sees the exasperated look on your face.

“That is not the point.” You shake your head and exit the website. You’re not in charge of PR. That’s someone else’s problem.

Your attention turns to the newest draft of the song you’ve been stressing out about since you arrived in Seoul.

“This, though? This is fucking beautiful.” You adjust your laptop on the coffee table so Namjoon can better view the document. The two of you are at the dorm, lounging in the living room.

There are a lot of highlighted lines and many comments throughout the document. You wish you were like the members who scribbled their lyrics in cute leather journals, but your brain is too much of a disaster and broken by technology. If you don’t have your laptop, you can't write lyrics for shit.

“How are you so eloquent in Korean, but in English, you’re so…” You wave your hands around like you’re rifling through the air for the rest of your sentence.

“Casual?”

“Yes.” Sure, we’ll go with that, Joonie.

“Well, that’s why I’ve got you!”

At least he thinks you’re eloquent. The boys probably think you’re spending all your time in your office easily pulling masterpieces out of your ass when in reality you’re Googling, “what's the word for when you can't remember a word?”

It’s lethologica, by the way.

You love Namjoon, but sometimes you think he has too much faith in you. Writing songs is hard. He of all people would know that. The difference between you and Namjoon is that when Namjoon struggles with writing he gets all emo, buys a bunch of weird furniture, and flies to another country to look at foreign art. When you struggle with writing, you just go home and play video games with Taehyung until you’re ready to try again.

You’re both practicing avoidance, but Namjoon’s method just looks a little more dramatic than yours. Despite his assumptions, that doesn’t mean you’re better at handling yourself. You just do things differently.

“We’re so lucky to have Jagi PD!”

Namjoon groans and covers his head with the hood of his hoodie as Jungkook flies into the living room.

Strong hands cup your armpits to lift you off of the couch. While Jungkook is crushing every bone in your body as he hugs you, all you can think about is how you were kind of a little bit sweaty, and now Jungkook has his hands all in your armpits.

“Jungkookie, don’t pick people up without their consent.”

Hobi enters the room behind the younger man and gives him a stern look which makes Jungkook immediately put you down on your feet.

“Sorry, Y/N,” Jungkook says with a pout and galaxies in his eyes. You give his shoulder a playful smack. His baggy black t-shirt sticks to his skin, and you’re less worried about being sweaty. Jungkook is soaked.

“Don’t worry about it, kid. I’m tough.” You flex your nonexistent muscles to make the precious maknae laugh his pout away.

“You should come train with us, Jagi.”

“Jungkook,” Namjoon exclaims from where he still sits on the couch.

He turns to his friend with wide eyes. “What?”

“Stop calling Y/N ‘jagi’. Taehyung is going to kill you.” This time Jimin pipes up.

You hadn’t realized he’d entered the room, too. The three newcomers are varying degrees of sweaty with pink cheeks and wearing workout clothes. You suppose they’ve just come back from working out or perhaps a dance practice. They’ve all been back from tour for a few weeks now, but if there’s one thing you’ve learned about the Bangtan Boys it’s that they never fucking rest.

It’s exhausting just to think about it.

“It’s okay,” you say with a shrug. “I think ‘Jagi PD’ is pretty fucking funny, to be honest.”

The nickname Jungkook created for you is cute in your opinion. You are a music producer. Jagi PD is better than using your last name. It could be like your stage name. Maybe you can get Namjoon to credit you as Jagi PD under the songs you write. Using your first and last name seems lame when it’s paired with fun names like SUGA, RM, j-hope, and Slow Rabbit.

“Pretty fucking funny,” Jungkook repeats. He gives the other men a triumphant look before launching himself onto the couch with Jimin.

Hobi chooses to sit on the couch on the opposite side of the room with Namjoon. From the way Namjoon has nestled back into his seat, it’s clear that his song will have to wait. It’s for the best. You’re not thinking about music anymore.

You can’t blame Jungkook for interrupting your work, but the true source of distraction saunters into the room with his arms full of grocery bags.

“Hey, jagiya,” Taehyung greets you sweetly with a kiss on your forehead as he walks through the living room to get to the kitchen. The final two men, Jin and Yoongi, trail behind Taehyung with their own bags.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jimin give Jungkook a pointed look when Taehyung uses the term of endearment.

“What are you guys making?” Jungkook is curled up against the arm of the couch with his phone in hand. He’s holding it sideways which makes you think he’s probably playing In The Seom. The app is old news by this point, yet Jungkook’s attention is still consumed by it. It’s hilarious.

You wish you could meet the game developers. Whoever made Taehyung’s character look so fucking feral deserves a raise.

“You’re gonna cook?” You don’t hide your shock at the idea that Taehyung would be cooking anything, and that makes everyone laugh.

“I’m making dinner,” Yoongi clarifies. “And it’s a surprise, so stop paying attention to me.” He shoos Jin and Taehyung out of the kitchen.

Jin sits on the couch with Jimin and Jungkook, while Taehyung sits with you. The armchair really only seats one person comfortably, but you wiggle so Taehyung can sit half next to you and half under you. He arranges your legs to drape over his lap. It’s nice, being this close. You can snuggle into his side and let him wrap his arms around you without worrying about who can see or what people think. All the boys are supportive of your relationship with Taehyung. It’s a bit frustrating that there’s no way for you to fully express how appreciative you are.

“Well, what are we supposed to do?” From the couch in the living room, Jungkook shoots Yoongi a glare as if Yoongi’s request for some alone time while he cooks is a personal attack.

Yoongi snorts and turns his back on Jungkook to begin unloading the groceries. “I don’t know, talk to each other.”

“You guys are boring. I only want to talk to Y/N.” You’re not sure how you’ve become Jungkook’s favorite, but it’s exceptionally endearing.

“You’re not even going to pay attention,” Namjoon points out. “Always on that damn phone.”

He’s still got his hood up, and he looks like he was half-asleep. No one but you gets the joke, so Namjoon nods his head in your direction before returning to his slumped position.

“I like watching Jimin-ssi’s character spin around in little circles.”

“It’s cute, isn’t it?” Jin chimes in. “He looks so small.”

The glares Jimin shoots everyone in the room are terrifying. You think about something you’d heard someone say: the shorter the person, the closer to hell they are. Something dramatic that only a tall person would say.

“All the characters are the same size,” he exclaims. “And I don’t do that!”

“Yes, you do. There are fanmade compilation videos of you spinning around, Jimin-ssi! I’ve watched them,” Jungkook confesses with full confidence.

A small squeal sounds from the opposite side of the room. You turn to see Hobi practically bouncing on the couch.

“Please, can we watch some? I want to hear the cute sound effects.”

A pillow flies across the room, and Hobi just barely dodges it. Jimin crosses his arms firmly against his chest and scowls as Jin and Jungkook enthusiastically agree and Hobi snatches the TV remote before anyone else can.

“At least watch a video that isn’t about me doing something embarrassing,” Jimin breaks down enough to plead (not beg!) with Hobi. He eyes the room and his gaze falls on Taehyung. A small smirk twitches at the corner of his mouth and you feel Taehyung slowly exhale. “We should watch one about TaeTae.”

You try to cover your laughter with a cough, but Taehyung applies a light slap to your thigh in retaliation.

“Why me?” he pouts.

“Yes! Let me pick!”

“Jungkookie, no. It was my idea.” Hobi scrolls through his phone until his face lights up with glee. “I’ve watched this one before and it’s so cute, Y/N, you’re going to love it.”

“The suspense is killing me.” You wiggle your eyebrows at Taehyung. The rolled eyes you’re met with feel like a victory.

“Okay, it’s called, BTS struggling to understand ‘Tae-tae language’,” Hobi prefaces while the video loads on the TV.

Jin laughs at the loud snort you let out. “TaeTae language is hard to understand.”

“Maybe you guys aren’t creative enough to understand me,” Taehyung scoffs.

“Hey! I understand you!” Yoongi protests from the kitchen.

Taehyung looks like he might say more, but the video interrupts him. It starts with highlights from the comments section of previous videos. One comment mentions Namjoon being their bias.

“Is that weird? Like, to watch this kind of stuff and hear people talk about their biases?” If you were famous, you were absolutely positive that you’d never Google yourself. You would not want to know what kind of weird shit was out there about you, even something as seemingly innocent as silly compilation videos.

“I think it’s funny,” Jimin says with a smirk and half-moon eyes. “I’m everyone’s bias, anyway.”

“That’s not what TikTok says.” Jungkook turns his nose upward at Jimin, though his eyes never leave his phone. It’s a shame In The Seom didn’t allow him to drown Jimin in the ocean, or he totally would have done it by now.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just check how many videos there are under my hashtag.”

Jimin snorts with a roll of his eyes, seemingly dismissing Jungkook’s claims. But you see him twist on the couch so the younger man can’t see that Jimin pulls up TikTok on his phone. As if TikTok was the end all, be all. You want to tell them it’s impossible to know who’s the most “popular” or whatever, but you know that conversation is futile.

“Y/N, you were Army before you started dating Tae!” You can practically see the light bulb going off in Hobi’s brain. Or, rather, the Army bomb. “Who was your bias?”

Hobi’s question barely leaves his lips when the room grows quiet. Seven pairs of eyes stare at you expectantly, including your boyfriend’s. You keep your eyes on the TV, though you aren’t seeing the compilation video playing anymore.

“I don’t know. I didn’t have a bias. Y’know, OT7 and all that shit.”

Suddenly, the room erupts. Screeches of protests and arguments are shouted across the living room, the boys yelling on top of one another and slewing insults at each other.

“Oh come on, Y/N, tell us!” Hobi whines.

“Yeah, we wanna know! We won’t judge you.” Pulling this precious information out of you is so vital that Jungkook looks away from his phone long enough to give you a pouty face.

“It’s obviously me. I’m Worldwide Handsome.”

“Leave her alone, guys.” Taehyung shifts in his seat and adjusts how your legs drape over his lap. His large hands massage soft circles into your calf muscles. “This is so childish.”

“Right. A bias is just whoever a fan is partial to,” Namjoon says with a shrug. “What matters is that fans support us as seven.”

“No, a bias is the one the fan wants to fuck the most.” This time Jungkook doesn’t look up from his phone when he speaks.

Jin hums in agreement, winking in your direction and making Taehyung scowl.

“You’re just scared it’s not you, Tae.” For someone Taehyung calls his soulmate, Jimin seems to jump at every opportunity to fuck with his friend. He turns to you with those haunting siren eyes that lure in even God’s strongest soldiers. “Is he, Y/N? Is your bias Taehyung or someone else?”

“I thought Hobi’s question was, who was my bias? Not is.”

His siren eyes narrow at you. “Stop arguing semantics and answer the question.”

You can’t hold a staring contest with the now-paused Youtube video, and Jimin’s sudden snappiness makes you feel the need to look away. Right into the eyes of your answer, the only person who hasn’t spoken during the entire bias conversation.

Yoongi’s sharp eyes catch yours when you look away from the TV. Never one to miss a beat, he raises a perfectly-shaped eyebrow at you, the ghost of his classic Yoongi smirk barely lifting the corner of his mouth before the entire room erupts into shouting again.

“YOONGI?! REALLY?! OUT OF ALL OF US, YOU PICKED HIM?” Jimin jumps up from the couch, knocking pillows all over the floor.

“Watch it, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi scolds the younger man for his informal language. Jimin only rolls his eyes.

“Damn, Jimin was right. You aren’t her bias, TaeTae.” Jin shakes his head with a solemn look. He gets up to leave the room, giving your boyfriend a sympathetic pat on the shoulder as he walks past. “I’m going to my room to play Mario Kart. This is too depressing for me.”

At the mention of video games, Jungkook perks up. “Wait Jin hyungie, I wanna play, too!” He tosses the last couch pillow in Jimin’s lap and scrambles to catch up with Jin halfway down the hall.

Yoongi wears a full-blown smirk now. You watch with wide eyes as his tongue slips out to drag across his bottom lip before he’s drawing his lip between his teeth. “Cute.”

“Fuck off,” Taehyung hisses at the older man, lifting your legs off his lap.

“Tae…” You reach out to grab his arm to stop him, but he’s already heading to his bedroom. The door slams shut so hard that the photos on the walls shudder.

You turn back around to glare at the remaining men. “Did you have your fun, hmm? Was it worth it?”

“I really… I didn’t think…” Hobi fumbles his words, clearly uncomfortable with the outbursts he’d unwittingly caused.

“If it doesn’t work out with Taehyung, call me, yeah?” Yoongi sends you a wink, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek.

You feel your face heat up and you refuse to look at him. You wait until he goes back to preparing the food before you stand up. Without another word, you follow in Taehyung’s footsteps until you reach his door. It’s locked, but you expected as much.

“TaeTae,” you call softly. “Please let me in.”

You wait in silence long enough that you consider going home. If Taehyung doesn’t want to talk to you, you aren’t going to push him. Even if you think the reason for his outburst is stupid and that he’s acting like a child.

Eventually, the door is opened wide enough for you to slip inside. Taehyung doesn’t look at you when he shuts the door. Instead, he sits on his bed and leans his back against the wall. He keeps his eyes on his hands delicately folded together in his lap. His eyes are already red and slightly puffy. The sight is glass in your veins.

“Tae, please don’t be upset,” you start slowly. Climbing into his bed, you scoot until you’re lounging next to him. He doesn’t pull away when you rest your head on his shoulder.

“It’s embarrassing.”

You let out a small sigh, not because you’re frustrated with him but because you’d known watching fanmade videos would turn out to be a bad idea.

“If it makes you feel better, you were still in my bias line.” It’s probably not the best way to reassure your boyfriend, but it at least makes him look at you.

“Who else?” His eyes are narrowed.

“I don’t think I should answer that.”

Taehyung’s bottom lip droops and you feel your heart seize.

“Okay, okay!” Maybe holding his hand will make it better. “Jimin, but, no don’t give me that look! Just listen.”

Taehyung’s pout deepens, but he doesn’t interrupt you.

“It’s not like when I hang out with Jimin or Yoongi I’m thinking about those things, okay? It’s just a natural thing that happens. Anyone can be drawn to specific people in a group; the same thing happens with friendships. Like you and Jimin. It’s normal.”

Taehyung doesn’t seem convinced, but he laces his fingers through yours. You interpret the light squeeze he gives you as permission to continue talking.

“Yoongi is cool because I always saw him as this, like, mental health icon for me. He talks so much about mental health and fans see how he has grown and gotten healthier over the years. It’s inspiring, right? You’ve seen it firsthand.”

“That’s true,” Taehyung sniffles.

You nod your head. “Exactly, I respect him as a person and an artist. And with Jimin, I’ve always been almost jealous? of him. Because he can so beautifully balance both masculine and feminine qualities and aesthetics. He looks good no matter what and has learned to accept himself instead of forcing whatever weird masculinity shit y’all had when you debuted. That’s inspiring, too.”

Taehyung is silent for a while. You give him the space to process what you’ve said, and you hope that it’s enough to make him understand that a bias is not just about who you want to fuck. Jungkook is such a flirt; of course, that’s how he would interpret things.

“Why did you like me?” He finally looks at you. His eyes are a little pink from his tears, but his cheeks appear dry. The innocent curiosity in his expression tugs at your heart.

You reach up to run your fingers through his fluffy hair, combing out any tangles and gently massaging his scalp. This is probably how Taehyung feels when you worry about fans, paparazzi, and sasaengs.

“Well, you’re hot,” you say with a grin. You feel a bit lighter when Taehyung’s mouth curves slightly, too.

“Is that it?”

“Of course not.” You stick your tongue out. “You were my favorite in the vocal line. I loved how smooth your singing voice is, and how thoughtful you sound when you talk about how important the members and Army are to you. How could someone not love the inventor of I purple you?”

It feels weird to talk about how you liked Taehyung before you knew who he was. You never made your status as a fan obvious in the beginning. Professionalism is more important than fangirling. Even now, you only casually discuss your interest in the group before meeting them.

“Your sense of fashion made me laugh. You always seemed so happy, even though people like to focus a lot on how mean you can look. And I thought your relationships with Yoongi and Jimin were cute. You’re a great example of how men can and should be soft and loving.”

They’re all highly-simplified explanations for why Taehyung caught your eye in a group of seven, but they seem to put him at ease. He slides into the bed so he’s lying on his back under the covers. With his eyes locked on yours, he pats his chest.

“C’mere.”

You lie down under the covers next to him. It feels nice to rest your head on his chest and throw your leg over his waist. Ever since Taehyung came back from the tour, you’ve wanted to be attached at the hip. It’s not that you can’t handle being alone, but you don’t think it’s a bad thing to want to be with the people who bring you joy— especially when you live in a new country.

“You know I’m in love with you, not Yoongi or Jimin.”

“I know.”

“Do you actually?” You shift your head so you can look up at him.

Taehyung meets you halfway. You let your eyes close as he slots his lips with yours, allowing your body to melt into his. The desperation the two of you had for each other when Taehyung first returned to Seoul eventually died out. Now, you’re okay with taking things slow. You can savor the feeling of his body on yours, firm and warm beneath you. You can savor the smell of his cologne and his taste as you breathe him in and slip your tongue inside his mouth.

“I do,” he responds with a heavy exhale once you pull away. “I’m sorry I got upset. I just got so angry when hyung…” Taehyung scrunches his eyebrows and his nose scrunches along with them.

You massage his forehead and try to forcefully smooth the wrinkles there. “Yoongi is just being an ass. He loves you, too,” you point out.

Taehyung can’t argue that, so he leans down to kiss you again. You know how important physical contact is to him, especially when he’s upset. With that in mind, you slip your hands beneath his t-shirt. Splaying your hands flat against his chest feels nice. It’s a reminder that he’s real, and he’s here. He’s safe and healthy and yours.

“We both get pretty jealous, huh?”

Taehyung gives you a sheepish smile, all cheeks and pretty lips. You love his little lip freckle, but your favorite will always be the one under his eye.

“Not as bad as Jungkook, though.”

“Mhm, please don’t break up with me over a perilla leaf or anything.”

Taehyung giggles and you feel like you’ve got helium inside you. If you don’t hold onto him tightly enough, you might float away with how light and carefree being with him makes you.

“You won’t get rid of me that easily,” he says as he nibbles your earlobe.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

His hands find the hem of your t-shirt, and you sit up to allow him to undress you. It’s a delicate process because Taehyung wants to take his time, too. It might seem like the two of you use sex to solve your problems, but you never see it like that. For you, letting Taehyung take his time breaking you down, just to build you back up again, is an act of emotional intimacy, just as it is physical. When Taehyung gets comfortable between your thighs, dark eyes locked with yours as he sucks your clit into his mouth, the hold he has on your wrists grounds you. And when he hovers over you with your legs wrapped around his hips as he thrusts into you, you whisper gentle praises against his throat to remind him that you are his and he is yours.

You spend the rest of the afternoon in Taehyung’s bed. It feels good to snuggle with him while he talks to you about all the jazz clubs he forced Jimin to go to during the little free time they had on tour. It seems the tension in the house fades because the rest of the boys are loud and energetic; it’s impossible to tune them out when their laughter bleeds into the room despite the door being closed.

“Do you think Taehyung and Y/N are done having make-up sex?”

“It’s pretty quiet in there. Maybe they fell asleep.”

You groan and bury your face in Taehyung’s side. It’s almost as if Jungkook and Jin are purposefully talking outside of his bedroom to make sure you can hear them. Knowing them, it’s not a far-fetched idea.

“Probably tired themselves out. The screaming was really—”

“JUNGKOOK!” Taehyung sits up so abruptly that you fall back onto the bed. “SHUT THE FUCK UP.”

Jin and Jungkook’s laughter eventually fades down the hallway, but Taehyung gets out of bed anyway.

“Yoongi is probably almost done with dinner,” he grumbles. You watch him zip up his jeans and admire how tall and lanky he is. Sorry to Yoongi and Jimin.

He manages to get his arms caught in his t-shirt somehow, so you begrudgingly get out of bed to help. You tease him endlessly because obviously fucking you is so good that he doesn’t know how to use his limbs anymore.

Your teasing is nothing compared to the way the other boys drag you the moment you step out of Taehyung’s bedroom.

“You okay, Y/N? Sounded like you might be dying,” Jimin grins as he prepares the kitchen table for dinner.

Jin snickers, throwing out his own commentary. “Taehyung, you got it pretty good even though you aren’t her bias, huh.”

Before Taehyung has a chance to bite anyone’s head off, you chime in.

“Yeah, yeah, Yoongi was my bias when I was a fan,” you say with a roll of your eyes. You can practically see Jungkook registering that you said “was a fan”, and that makes him pout. As if you aren’t still a fan. What a baby, just like Taehyung.

Yoongi snorts as he retrieves a dish from the oven. “I cannot fathom why.”

“Me either,” Jimin agrees with a giggle. He’s completely unfazed by the dark look Yoongi shoots him.

You join in on Jimin’s laughter, and you’re pleased to see that Taehyung is smiling too. The whole thing is so ridiculous. Maybe you’re feeling a bit too comfortable because you start oversharing.

“And I was a Yoonmin shipper, I’m not gonna lie.” You’re laughing so hard that you don’t realize neither Jimin nor Taehyung are laughing anymore. After a few seconds pass, though, your smile slowly falls. Jimin’s face has turned bright pink and Yoongi has his back to the table.

“It was one time, okay?” Jimin’s eyes burn holes into Yoongi’s shoulder blades from across the room. “Okay, two times.”

The older man doesn’t comment.

You nudge Taehyung’s leg with your foot under the kitchen table. He presses his lips together as hard as he can, but the smile just gets pushed into his cheeks. A rush of air explodes from his lips in a loud raspberry, and that’s what triggers your laughter again.

“Oh my god, I really wish I was surprised but I’m not,” you confess with a wheeze.

You’ve clearly touched on a sensitive topic. Jimin blabbers away about how it’s not that big of a deal, all while Yoongi silently finishes arranging the dishes on the table. It would feel uncomfortable, but Jimin’s flushed face and the tiniest of smiles curving Yoongi’s lips make you think it meant a lot more than what Jimin wishes to admit.

And that’s really fucking cute.

As the rest of the boys come piling into the kitchen, Taehyung scoots his chair until yours are touching. You bump shoulders and tilt your face up so he can press a kiss against your jaw.

“I love you,” he whispers. “With all my heart."

“I love you, too.” You lace your fingers with his and let your hands rest against his thigh. “You dork.”

The kitchen is chaos, but all you can focus on is the boxy smile Taehyung gifts you.

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

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#taehyung x reader #bts fanfic #bts x reader #taehyung fanfic #taehyung angst #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #wyb

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empresskylo · 5 months

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beneath the mask ✩ chapter 15 ⬅ch.14

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ➠SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X AFAB!READER ➠CHAPTER TAGS | nsfw. violence. smut. wc 5.6k ➠AUTHOR'S NOTE | this chapter is very self-indulgent.,.. my bad. it also begins to stray from canon so uhh sorry if that bothers you.

𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“my sources tell me all the VIPs in las almas will be there tonight,” alejandro spoke, turning to face you, ghost, soap, and graves. he took in a breath. “some are invited, others are, umm…”

“volun-told…?” graves concluded.

“yes.”

“what’s the meet about?”

“us.” he looked a bit apprehensive as he spoke. “las almas is burning, and they want to know who lit the fire.”

“sin nombre will be there, yeah?” ghost asked.

alejandro turned and walked towards ghost. “no guarantees. But this is our best shot.”

“then we take it,” graves said as he made his way into the small circle you were all forming. “I’ve got enough shadows here to take over the whole damn country.”

something about graves unsettled you. it was like he spoke with hidden meanings in each of his words, making you feel unease. but you kept quiet and listened.

“i’d prefer if you didn’t,” alejandro rebutted.

“i’m just sayin’... one house shouldn’t be a problem.”

“we need sin nombre alive,” you added. everyone’s eyes shifted to you.

“well…” graves looked off into the distance as he contemplated. “then we need to meet him.”

“how?” soap questioned, his eyes intently watching graves.

“give ‘em what they want… intel. they wanna know who’s here. let's tell ‘em.”

alejandro scoffed under his breath. “in person–?”

“correcto.”

you rolled your eyes at graves and soap bumped your shoulder in silent reprimand, but you saw the corners of his lips curving.

“get one of us inside, find the boss… roll him up.” graves gestured his hands together as he kept alejandro’s haughty gaze.

there was a brief lull before soap spoke up. “i’ll do it.”

“you go in there, and they’ll kill you, hermano.”

“i’ll take my chances. we came here to stop a missile, let’s stop it. i’ll offer intel for a meet with sin nombre. and if he’s there, we pounce.”

“hell yeah—you’ve got balls, cabrón,” alejandro said with a sly smirk on his face. “you make it in, you’ll need eyes and ears.”

“i’ll go,” you chimed up.

their heads snapped to you.

“what? no, you—” soap began, but you cut him off.

“if one of you go and get caught, they’ll shoot. probably will call the whole fucking house to take you down. but if I go and get caught, i can talk my way out of it.”

soap shook his head. “yeah? how do you plan on doin’ that?”

you shifted on the balls of your feet. “i’m a woman. and it’s a bunch of men…”

alejandro let a breath out through his nose. “sure you wanna handle that?” you appreciated that he didn’t ask if you could handle it, but rather, if you were certain you wanted to.

you nodded.

“there’s other ways we can go about this,” johnny added.

“and this puts the least amount of people at risk,” you retorted. soap matched your gaze, assessing you.

ghost tensed beside you. “I’ll take overwatch.”

the rest of the conversation turned to a buzz in your ears. you weren’t sure why you offered to go. maybe because you were worried if one of them got caught, as powerful as these men were, they couldn’t take down an entire house full of killers.

but if you got caught… you just had to play it off like you were hired to be there. not that you wanted to have to do that, but it felt like you’d be putting their lives at risk if you just sat back and let them handle it when you were perfectly capable of doing your part.

you all departed from the roof and got geared up; ghost found you alone in one of the few rooms of the safehouse—an abandoned building you were temporarily camping in.

“tryna get yourself killed?”

you jumped slightly at his booming voice and glanced over your shoulder at him. you continued to adjust your outfit as you talked. “what was i supposed to do? sit back and let them be the only ones risking their life? what am i here for then if not to help?”

simon made a noise of dissatisfaction. “you’re a medic, not a spy.”

you spun on your heels to face him and some of the air in your lungs got lost when you saw his bare face. you swallowed, you weren’t sure you were ever going to get used to that—to seeing his face and how at ease he felt around you to strip the ghost facade. “i don’t want to just sit around and wait for someone to get hurt.”

“that’s your fuckin’ job,” he said irritated, his words quieter, but his voice deep and commanding.

“i can handle this,” you finally said, your eyes meeting his.

“i didn’t say you couldn’t.”

“then let me do this!”

he took an exasperated breath. “y’don’t need my permission.”

you sighed, your fingers intertwining anxiously. of course you didn’t need his permission, but you still wanted it. you didn’t want him mad at you.

simon could see the apprehension on your features. “keep your comms on the entire time,” he demanded. you nodded. “n’ the second things go wrong—or look like they might go wrong—you tell me, then get the hell outta there.”

“course.” you gave him a weak smile and he took a step into you. his hand found the back of your head and he pulled you close as he hunched over. you squealed. your lips parted and your hands instinctively grabbed his jacket. there were so many thoughts raging behind simon’s eyes, but he didn’t say a word. he contemplated a few, but he remained silent, his eyes dancing between yours, before closing the space between your two bodies and crashing his lips to yours.

the kiss was fast and full of irritation and indolence. he didn’t just feel the pull towards you because you frustrated him, but the sight of you resting on graves’ shoulders wouldn’t leave his thoughts. he knew it was immature, but that didn’t stop the nagging nature of it. he fisted your hair, roughly moving his mouth against yours, his free hand grabbing your hip.

and as quickly as it started, it ended. you gasped when he pulled away. his hands remained on you for another moment before he turned around and slid his mask back on, leaving you alone in the small confines of the room.

“shadows on station” you heard graves ring in your ear.

“copy. all set here.” ghost’s voice was a whisper as he spoke. you could tell from how he grunted his words that he was lying prone, looking down the barrel of his sniper.

“seein’ room to set down on the roof.”

“check. eyes on two, armed at the front door.”

“iaso, how you doin’?” graves asked you.

“i’m already inside,” you said in a hushed tone as you scaled the inside wall.

“goddamn, how’d you do that?”

“violently,” alejandro whispered.

“you went with her?” graves asked.

“she needed backup.”

alejandro motioned for you to slide down the adjacent hallway, his intention to split up.

“visual on soap,” ghost muttered in the comms.

it was starting, and you had to figure out where sin nombre was while soap tried to convince his captors he had valuable intel. no big deal.

“they see him?”

“they do now.”

“kids’ got sand.”

“i hope he makes it…”

“he will,” you finished.

you turned and watched as alejandro disappeared. he had slipped on one of the cartel’s masks, disguising himself as one of them. while he worked with soap, you were to find a way to el sin nombre.

the house was huge, so many rooms and hallways, and all of them filled with opulent decor and finery. you slid down one of the multitude of hallways and found an empty room lined with wine bottles. you sighed, your heart racing in your chest.

you were about to slip out of the room when you heard voices in spanish.

“shit,” you mumbled to yourself.

“y’okay?” simon immediately chimed in your ear.

“fine.” you tucked yourself into the corner as two men appeared in the shadows outside the doorway. “trapped in the wine cellar,” you whispered to simon.

he went to respond but went silent when he could hear the voices coming through your side of the comms.

muffled spanish soon turned into a single english voice as one of the men entered the room. “what’re you doin’ here?” he asked, his voice sending chills down your spine.

shit, you’ve been in the house all of ten minutes and you were already running into trouble.

“i was sent to get another bottle,” you said, gesturing to the plethora of alcohol behind the two of you.

“by who?” he asked suspiciously, taking a step closer. you watched his hand grip the gun strapped to his side.

“el sin nombre.” you were taking a risk saying his name. what if he wasn’t even here in the building? you’d surely be outed.

his eyes traced your body and you forced yourself to relax—to act like you were meant to be here.

“sent me to fetch the wine,” you started, imitating him and stepping closer. you tried to keep your voice low and steady.

the man quirked a brow, clearly enjoying the way you stalked closer to him. “that so?”

he looked like he was convinced you were a prostitute and you weren’t sure if you were flattered or offended.

you fluttered your eyelashes and reached out, placing your hand on his chest. you weren’t dressed in a suit like alejandro. you sported tight black pants and a cropped black shirt that showed just enough to be useful in a situation like this without being inconvenient if you had to run.

“i’m a show of appreciation.” your hand glided down his chest and his lips tilted upwards.

“oh yeah?” his hand found your hip and he pulled you into him making you gasp.

“iaso,” simon hissed in your ear.

“n’ how do you plan on showin’ me that?” he asked a bit incredulously.

you steadied your breathing and reached a hand up to brush the side of this man's face. “well…” you paused.

“diego,” he informed you.

“well, diego. i’ll show you however you want me to.” your fingers skimmed his jaw, sliding your hand into the back of his head and into his hair. your voice was surprisingly steady for the way your heart was pounding in your chest.

he pushed you up against one of the wine racks, shaking the platform. “maybe on your knees?” he purred.

you gulped. you needed to get out of this.

“the bottles. use a fuckin’ wine bottle,” simon growled into your ear, clearly distressed.

you smiled sweetly at diego, your hands falling down his chest and to his belt. he grinned, watching your motions. one of your hands slid behind your back and gripped a bottleneck tightly in your fingers.

your other hand worked his belt as a distraction, successfully getting him to drop his guards and take in the sight of you before him. before you could fully unloop his belt buckle, you swung the wine bottle from behind your back and crashed it as hard as you could against the side of his head.

it shattered and the red liquid went everywhere, including all over your clothes.

diego’s eyes looked stunned for the brief moment they were locked on you before he fell to his knees and flopped to his side. he was knocked out.

“fuck. i can’t believe i did that,” you said in disbelief. a man almost twice your size lay unconscious on the floor before you, and it was all your doing. a little swell of pride swam through you before you steadied yourself and remembered you were here to do a job.

“he’s down,” you told simon.

simon cursed to himself in relief. “bloody hell,” he mumbled exasperated.

before you could reply, soap’s voice echoed in your ear. “el sinombre is in the penthouse. third floor.”

“elevator is a straight shot. we just need diego’s keycard.”

you crouched down and searched the unconscious man at your feet, digging through his suit pockets and seeing if he had anything of importance on him.

“where’s diego?” ghost asked.

“the offrenda. second floor.”

hearing alejandro’s words made something click inside you. you recalled the men approaching the wine room, muttering something about an ofrenda. when you pulled out a plastic card from the man’s pockets, you examined it and realized it was a keycard. it was diego’s keycard.

“i got it,” you said quietly into the comms, still a little shocked.

“got what?” soap asked.

“i have diego’s keycard.”

“no shit, iaso. how’d ya get that?”

“violently,” you muttered. you heard alejandro chuckle in response.

“you on the second floor then, hermana?”

“yeah.”

“meet us at the north side stairs. Las escaleras estaban vacías antes. no guards. you think you can find it?”

you nodded then realized they couldn't see you. “yes.”

you slid out of the room, walking as quietly as you could, trying to orientate yourself enough to find the north stairs. you turned down the luxurious halls and gawked at the ostentatious decor. with your eyes preoccupied you didn’t see the man come around the hallway corner.

“hey! what are you doing down here?”

you tried to keep your face from balking. “i… el sin nombre hired me.”

the man quirked a brow and approached you. your chest tightened in nerves. “relax,” you heard simon in your ear.

you felt like shit. you were distracting simon. he was supposed to be keeping an eye on soap, not listening in to what you were doing. you could practically see him now as he scanned the roof through his rifle, but his ears were focused on you. maybe it was a bad idea to have volunteered to act as eyes on the inside.

“then why are you down here?” the man asked again. as he got closer, you fully took in his size. he was quite a bit taller than you and you spotted a gun strapped to his hip.

you decided to stick with your other story. “i was just getting more wine.”

he scoffed. “you’re goin’ the wrong way then.”

you bit your lip. “oh, right. thanks.” you turned to leave and he reached out and grabbed your bicep.

“why don’t you come with me, cariño.”

you gulped. “remember your training,” simon spoke to you. you could clearly hear the tension in his words.

before you had a chance to properly panic, the man’s arms were being pulled off of you and you heard him choking. he fell to the floor behind you and in his place stood alejandro.

“you okay, hermana?”

“yeah…” you said exasperated. “thanks.”

“de nada. you got the keycard?”

you pulled it from your pocket and handed it to him.

you followed him to the stairs and met up with soap. the three of you made it to the penthouse door. soap nodded at you before crouching at the door and tilting his head to ease drop.

after several moments of alejandro and soap whispering back and forth, it was finally time.

“graves, sin nombre is posing as a female sicaria. we’re moving in. you set?”

“check.”

“ghost?”

“ready.”

“take her alive.”

alejadro kicked down the door, his gun at the ready, and both him and soap began shooting. you braced yourself against the wall, hiding from their line of sight. gunfire made you wince, hoping the two men were okay.

“don’t let her escape!” you heard alejandro call.

you darted into the room and out onto the balcony where you heard their voices. several dead bodies lay in your wake as you entered the warm breeze of outside air. you spotted soap as he fumbled with a woman. he had her in cuffs, saying something to her with a scowl on his face.

as you got closer, the helicopter blowing your hair back, graves called for you all to board. “lets go.”

you came up to stand beside soap and alejandro. then felt hands on your waist from behind. you jumped and turned to find simon looking down at you. “where did you come from?”

soap and alejandro said something to one another, you had ocmpletely tuned them out, their voices carried by the whooshing of the helicopter blades.

“soon as I heard word you were in the penthouse, i made my way here.”

with simon in front of you, your heart finally settled. you were able to breathe again. and while previous times you wondered if you were cut out for this sort of thing, this time, you knew you were. you felt good. nervous and overwhelmed, but good.

“worried about me, were you?” you teased.

simon’s eyes narrowed in on you and your smirk instantly fell. he was worried about you .

and selfishly, he hated that he wasn’t there. you held your own back in the larder, but he hated how helpless he felt. and when that other bastard had his arms on you, it was alejandro who took him out. and while he was just grateful he got to you in time, it bothered him that it wasn’t simon ripping that man’s hands from your body.

his eyes flared as he assessed you. you traced his line of vision to the red that covered your exposed skin. “just wine.”

his body settled but he still seemed more tense than usual. he gestured his head towards the copter and waited for you to turn and go first. you studied him a moment longer before boarding.

it was late when the men got back from interrogating valeria. you were still in the safehouse, cleaning up.

simon was silent as he slid into the small room you were occupying—the same one from earlier—and you jumped when you finally realized he was lingering in the doorway.

“jesus. when did you get there?”

he reached up a hand and tore his mask away. “y’okay?” he asked you.

you gave him a weak smile and nodded. simon appraised you and you watched as he narrowed in on your neck before striding over to you. he gripped the back of your head and tilted it so he could see your exposed skin. you had red marks on your neck from earlier when the man had stopped you. it didn’t hurt but you knew that wouldn’t matter to him.

simon’s gaze left your neck and switched to your eyes. “i’m okay,” you told him.

before he could say more, soap called down the hall to the two of you. “goin’ out for drinks! lets fuckin’ go!”

he didn’t give either of you much of a choice. there was still so much you all had to get done, but after a day like today, a drink couldn’t hurt.

simon dropped his hand and followed behind you as you left the room. he must have slid his mask on in that time because when he strolled into the room, his hand in his jacket pockets, his face was covered again.

“goin’ like that, lt.?” soap teased.

“s’wrong with this?” he asked incredulously, though you suspected he knew his outfit was a bit… intimidating.

when you all finally got to the bar—after simon stripped his vest and other unnecessary gear, as well as forfeiting his hard-shell mask for his simple balaclava—the atmosphere was more welcoming than you thought it would be.

spanish music played on the speakers and the warm air rushed in through the open windows, hugging your body in a pleasant embrace.

alejandro went to the bar and ordered a round of drinks for everyone.

it didn’t take long for you to feel tipsy, laughing animatedly at something graves said while you clutched a beer. the lot of you seemed to be having fun for once. the laughter felt so natural on soap, it made your heart grow slightly. you were just happy everyone was okay and you made it out of there alive today.

ghost stood across on the other side of the table, his eyes tracing you the entire night. he watched as johnny swung an arm around you and mumbled drunken nonsense in your ear. he watched as you laughed loudly in response. he watched as graves joined in and sent a crude remark your way that made your cheeks flush ever so slightly—and simon knew it wasn’t from the alcohol. he watched as the men seemed to soak up your presence. you fit right in. he should be glad.

fucking hell, he hated this. this is why he couldn’t do relationships. he was no good at them. he didn’t know how to navigate them. he knew he had no right to be jealous just because you were having fun. but he’d be lying if he said watching you with other men didn’t send an angry pang through his chest.

his eyes narrowed, his jaw tensing under his mask, as he watched graves rest a hand on your shoulder. there was nothing simon could do; the two of you were not publicly a couple. he had to sit in irate silence as you seemed oblivious to graves’ advances. ever since his comments back in the humvee, he knew graves had his eyes on you. and he didn’t like it. he almost considered telling him to back off, but he would have been out of line.

in this moment, three beers in, he was starting to put caution to the wind. some carnal and primal force inside him was escaping and telling him to claim you. to mark you as his in front of everyone.

his hands twitched on the glass beer bottle. soap slapped simon on the back and said something to him but he didn’t hear it at all—it was white noise to him.

graves’ fingers slid under your chin and tilted your head to look up at him. your eyes widened in shock, a bit unsure of what to do. and that was simon’s final straw. he left his beer on the table, sick of having to lift his mask to drink it anyway, and took several long strides to you. you jumped when you felt his hand on your lower back.

graves looked up at simon and seemed irritated that he was ruining this moment for him. simon couldn’t believe it, graves was pissed at him for being a cockblock. and that pissed him off even further. he pried graves’ hand away from you, uncaring of what he might think. he had to control himself to not crush it in his palm.

he’d blame it on the booze, but simon was a big guy, in reality, three beers were barely giving him a buzz.

“the hell?” graves cursed.

you mouthed simon’s name and he grabbed your hand, pulling you through the crowd and outside of the bar. you stumbled after him, trying to catch up as he had you in tow.

“stop!” you finally called, stumbling over the cobblestone street.

he halted and turned to face you, dropping your hand. you caught your breath before speaking. “what’s gotten into—”

before you could even finish your sentence, simon had pushed you into a small alleyway beside the bar, his body pinning you to the brick wall. his mask was hiked up and his lips were on yours before you had time to think. you gasped but your body quickly reciprocated. his hands held your hips tightly before one slid up your side and onto the back of your neck. he pushed against you and your head got a bit dizzy. he was desperate in the way he was pawing at you.

“you’re mine,” he muttered between kisses.

heat coursed through you at his words, his voice low and gravely as he spoke. you could feel the anger radiating off of him. he was jealous .

you wanted to tell him he had nothing to be jealous of, you didn’t even like graves, let alone in a romantic way. but when he pulled away, you didn’t have time to speak when he interlaced your fingers and dragged you all the way back to the safehouse—which was conveniently only a few blocks from the las almas bar.

simon pulled you into the small safehouse and slammed you up against the door the second it closed, his lips attacking yours, his mask dropping to the floor. he kissed down your jaw and onto your neck. you struggled to hold on to him, your words getting caught in your throat.

“si-simon, what are—” you groaned when he nipped at your skin. all rationale abandoned you. the fire from simon’s hands along your curves made you forget why you were trying to stop him. why would you want this to end?

if anything, you wanted more.

his hands crept down your back and over the curve of your ass, dragging you against him. he stumbled with you, his lips never leaving your body, barely able to drag you into one of the small rooms before stripping you. he tugged at the hem of your shirt, wanting to pry it from your chest.

you stood back slightly so he had enough room to strip you of it. “what—what if someone comes back?” you said breathlessly.

his hand maneuvered into your hair, backing you up against the small cot in the room. you fell back and he crawled on top of you, parting your legs to give him space. “doesn’t matter,” he grumbled.

he hooked the waistband of your pants and began to yank them down. he was impatient. desperate.

he removed his sweatshirt before blindly tangling his fingers with his belt, trying to shove his pants down. your eyes rounded in the dark, taking in the sight of him. he was raw; showing you just how much he could feel. he needed you. wanted you. wanted you all to himself.

he was back between your legs his fingers sliding into your underwear, feeling just how wet you had already become. he gave you a sly grin. “what if they hear?” you asked in a last attempt at your sanity.

simon clicked his tongue. “let ‘em.”

you swallowed hard when he slid a finger inside you. let them listen?! you’d never be able to face them again out of sheer embarrassment. and what happened to him agreeing to keep this thing between you two private for the time being?

his eyes darkened, running a hand up your side and groping your breast over your bra. “want ‘em to know you’re mine.”

you sucked in a breath of air, your heart thumping loudly in your chest. he pulled your bra down enough to expose your breast and gave it another squeeze before removing both his hands from you. you pouted at the loss. he gripped your thighs and hiked them up slightly so he could wedge himself more properly between your legs. he pushed your underwear to the side and lined his cock up with your entrance.

you were a bit taken aback at how fast he was doing everything. this was only going to be the second time you had sex with him. your hands held his biceps as he nudged his way into you, wasting no time. he groaned and you held your breath. “fuck,” he mouthed, both of you looking down to where your bodies connected.

he guided himself in painfully slow, the feeling so overwhelming you couldn’t help but whimper.

your noises seemed to spur him on more because he jolted his hips a bit. he pulled back and then edged in. he kept doing that until he was able to fill you to the hilt. then he began a steady rhythm. “god, you’re so fuckin’ tight, love.”

your hands fought between running through his short hair and scratching along his back. he picked up speed and your eyes fluttered shut. “oh my god,” you said softly.

simon shifted your legs so your knees were being pushed back towards the bed, your thighs up against him. you squealed at the position change. he was able to hit you far deeper like this. his fingers snaked to your chin and shook you ever so gently. “look at me,” he demanded. his hand slid to rest around your neck, his thumb stroking your jaw.

your eyes opened and were met with his, his nose almost touching yours. "you're mine. all fuckin' mine," he managed to get out through strained breaths. “you’re fuckin' my girl, ” he grunted, "you're my fuckin' girl." your lips parted and he met your hips with his own in a hard thrust. “my fuckin’ girl,” he said a bit more aggressively and feral. you nodded, unable to form coherent words. his eyes narrowed in on you. “you’re— thrust —my— thrust —fuckin’— thrust —girl.”

you couldn’t tell if he was repeating it because he wanted you to acknowledge it, to tell him you were in fact his. or because he was trying to convince himself.

“yes,” you mewled. “m’yours.”

“my fuckin’ girl,” he growled as he continued his hard thrusts. he didn’t like the men talking to you like you were single. available. like he wasn’t sitting right there. you were his whether they knew it or not. and a sick part of him hoped the men came back—at least graves—and were forced to hear the way you cried for him. he wanted them to know how good he was fucking you. he wanted them to know you were his. and his alone.

he pulled out of you and flipped you onto your stomach before you had time to protest. he pulled your hips up so your back arched and he slid back into you. your hands fisted the sheets of the simple bed, hoping you two wouldn’t break it. that would be difficult to explain to the others. though, you had a feeling simon would actually like that to happen.

his fingers dug into the fat along your waist and hips and you groaned every time he pulled you back into him.

you were embarrassed at how close you already were. you shouldn’t be so turned on from simon being so possessive. shouldn’t that be a red flag? but you didn’t care. all you knew was the way he was fucking you right now felt better than any other man had ever felt against you. and the way his deep voice uttered those words “my girl ,” had you swooning. you could listen to him call you that all day. you wanted him to claim you. you wanted him to know you were his.

he felt you clench around him and he moaned. “close, princess?” he asked you, his accent heavier than usual.

you nodded against the mattress and he chuckled. but his laugh quickly turned to a long groan and a few curses as you tightened against him. you were so fucking tight. and he was so fucking close.

“my girl wanna come?” he all but growled.

“y-yes!”

the sight of you was everything to him. seeing you pushed into the bed before him, your knuckles whitening from how tightly you were gripping the bedsheets, your back arched, your body safe. you were safe. he couldn’t protect you today, but you. were. safe .

so many feelings had brewed in his chest these past few days. this new and strong connection he felt with you. jealousy from even the smallest glance another man gave you. fear for your safety as you acted recklessly. anger that he wasn’t always the one there saving you.

you were going to be the absolute death of him.

“this cunt is all fuckin' mine. you hear me, pet? all. mine.”

you cried his name and that was enough to send him tipping over the edge. “shit,” he cursed.

you spasmed around him, your legs shaking, your hips pushing back to meet each of his thrusts.

simon released inside you, following your orgasm closely. “take it. take it all,” he said through strained lips. he continued to pump himself into you, his thrusts becoming more languid.

he finally slowed, both of you catching your breath and steadying your heart. he stilled inside you for a few brief moments, white liquid escaping around his cock, as he took in the sight before pulling out and collapsing on top of you, yanking you into his arms.

you rolled over so you could face him and his hand locked behind your lower back. he kept your gaze and you drew a hand up to softly trace the side of his scarred face. his eyes fluttered from your delicate touch. he forgot how gentle touch could be. not everything had to be rough and violent, as much as he enjoyed that. feeling your tiny fingers ghosting his skin felt better than any relief he got from killing men. far more.

“you don’t have to be jealous, you know.”

“m’not jealous,” he said, tucking your head under his chin so you couldn’t see his face.

“right,” you mumbled.

you laid with him wrapped around you for several minutes before you broke the silence. “we should get up before they come back.”

“mmm. why?” his words rumbled in his chest, his voice hoarse, clearly exhausted.

“you know why,” you said in faux annoyance.

“they’ll all be sloshed. gonna stumble in ‘n’ collapse wherever they can. no one will b’lookin’ for us.”

you were plastered to his side. if you tried to move at all, you’d fall off the cot that was clearly made for one person.

sensing you might protest, simon began stroking your hair, his other hand rubbing circles on your bare back. you sighed, feeling safe and loved. you didn’t want to get up as he touched you so gently and lovingly. so you snuggled up closer to him and his grip tightened.

“mine,” he muttered quietly before kissing the top of your head.

OKAY THE WHOLE "MY GIRL" SCENE CAME FROM A NSFW BADJHUR AUDIO LMAOOO. he says "my girl" in such a feral and simon-esque way that it literally sparked the whole idea for this chapter. this is it if you wanna hear it... it's very nsfw just fyi (24:05 is the timestamp where he says it 😇)

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vixialuvs · 4 months

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DONT YOU WORRY ABOUT YOUR CURLY HAIR !

୨୧. pairing - riki nishimura x reader .

୨୧. cw - hurt/comfort, wrote with a curly haired hispanic reader in mind, lwk self indulgent lol :,), friends to lovers

୨୧. summary - you get insecure about your curly hair after you overhear some girls talking about it in the halls, and ni-ki is there to comfort you.

୨୧. NOW PLAYING - “a letter to my thirteen year old self” by LAUFEY .

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

you were a foreign exchange student, who has been living in korea since you were 7. you were never accepted into the standards because of your skin color, your hair, and the food you eat.

yet there was one boy, who you came to know as your best friend, nishimura riki. he came from japan, but still managed to fit in with the others. you sort of resented him, how easy people accepted him but gave you funny looks, always picking you last in games and never sitting with you during lunch.

he didn’t seem to care about any of that. he stuck by your side no matter how hard you tried to push him away, and you eventually gave in. years flew by, and you were still deemed as the odd one out, the only girl in the entire school with beautiful luscious curls, yet you were ashamed of them.

ni-ki, who was given that nickname by his friends in primary school, who was basically glued to your side, however, adored them. he would constantly ask for permission to play with your curls, and you couldn’t help but say yes, even though you knew it would make them somewhat frizzy. deep down in your heart, there was a sudden realization you were in love with the boy.

you pushed your feelings down deep, knowing he should get with one of the perfect korean girls in your school, ones with shiny straight hair and supple, pale skin that glows in the sun. you even decided that one of his fangirls would be a better match for him then you. in a final last ditch attempt to lose your feelings for him, you began to avoid him.

this hurt him so badly, seeing you dodge him in classes and hallways, hiding away during lunch in the library or the courtyard, eating alone. he kept trying to find you, hanging around the spaces you two used to sit together, under cherry blossom trees, on the bleachers, in the library, and finally, underneath the staircase.

he was going on his daily search for you when he heard sniffling come from your designated spot, and knowing your voice, he immediately knew it was you. he rushed down in his dark clothing, complete opposite from what your wearing, decked out in baby pink and white, bow in your hair and everything, seeing you sitting on the steps crying quietly. he sits beside you and cups your cheek, getting you to look at him.

“y/n? what happened?” his voice brings you out of your panic, causing you to look at the tall boy kneeled infront of you. you shake your head and look away from him, but he persists, now holding your face with both of his hands, thumbs caressing your cheeks so lovingly, as if he loves you. “cmon, look at me y/n, please. just tell me.”

he murmurs pleadingly, thumbing away your tears. you cave in, unable to resist his gaze.

“just.. everyone in this school treats me like i’m some specimen.. or like an alien from another planet. just because of my hair and my skin color. i hate it so much ni-ki. and.. um..”

you pause, not sure if what your about to say will go over well. it could seriously jeopardize your entire friendship.

“and what?”

he murmurs, looking at you expectantly, nodding along to what your saying, waiting for you to speak.

“i like you ni-ki. i like you more then a friend and more then a classmate. i like you. i don’t know why i like you. i just do, okay? i’m so sorry. i’m so so sorry—“

your apologies are abruptly cut off with his pouty lips pressed onto yours. he brings you closer by placing a hand on the back of your neck to deepen the sweet, comforting kiss. your hands come up to rest on the sides of his neck and jaw. you pull away with wild eyes, but before you can speak again he cuts you off once more.

“don’t you worry about your curly hair, y/n. it’s so beautiful. people just aren’t used to your beauty, since nobody in korea has your beautiful hair. but you are so unique and ethereal, you stand out from everyone else for a good reason, and that’s why i love you. you aren’t considered normal, and neither am i.”

he rants on about how much he loves you and your hair, until you cut him off.

“you.. love me?”

you sound so awestruck. someone loves you? and it’s the boy you’ve been pining after for years?

“yes, y/n l/n, i love you so much it hurts. please, can i be your boyfriend?”

he pulls you up to your feet, yet hes practically towering over you, standing at 6’1, and interlocks your hands. he cups your cheek with another, bending down to kiss your forehead.

“yes, nishimura riki. you can be my boyfriend.”

you hum before pulling him into another sweet kiss, getting lost in his embrace.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

@vixialuvs . thank you for reading, do not copy, steal or plagiarize my work ! requests are always open !

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dangopango00 · 4 months

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COLLEGE AU TIGHNARI ROOMMATE HCS

Tighnari x gn reader

A/N: AUGGGHHHHH IM INSANE AGAIENEBWFWFWWGQ Missing tighnari hours oue so I will write out all the roomie hcs I have to share; per usual its self indulgent as hell

If im being fr this is probably gonna have a part 2 soon i always forget something 😭😭 also my art of him is down there somewhere!!!!

Cw: long af oh my god

more utc

First Meeting:

- You’re a biology major or something similar and just visiting the college you’ll be attending

- You were definitely going to move into the dorms but you heard about and later witnessed some student running around like a maniac looking for a roommate

- You even got emails about it, found flyers on some of the pinboards around the school and even saw ads online (whether that be in some college gc app like zeemee or whatever)

- Eventually you did a bit of basic research on this guy by asking some of your friends or people who know him and you found out his name is Tighnari and he’s double majored in biology and botany

- You let him go on for a few days-a week before you realized he really wasn’t going to find a roommate this late in the game; feeling both pity and admiration for his dedication, you approached him with one of the flyers in your hand as the poor guy took a break from his ad campaign

- “Um… about this flyer…..”

- Tighnari’s ears immediately perked up oh you just made his week, no his month— maybe even his year

- “Yes? Are you interested in moving in? My previous roommate has begun living elsewhere” he explained.

- You’re hesitant, hoping you aren’t making a mistake but eventually steel yourself and figure you only live once right? Plus he could always help with your work! You give him a firm nod.

- Tighnari got a bit overexcited, asking way too many questions at once, “When can you move in? How will you be paying rent? Are you alright with plants? Right, by the way I’m Tighnari. I am a biology and botany major”

- “It’s nice to meet you! I’m (Y/n). I can move in soon and plants are fine! Uh …About rent! I’ll have to find a job but I do have some savings!” you confessed nervously.

- To tell the truth you weren’t planning on getting a job this early on, planning to get the hang of the new workload first but desperate times call for desperate measures (Cute guy in trouble 😤)

- Tighnari however, was unamused. His face completely dropped as if you’d just told him his entire family dropped dead, “You don’t have a source of income already…? Then why would you…. Sigh Nevermind. Its fine. This is fine. I’ll even help you job search”

- “Greeeaaatttt there goes my credit” he thought. And it showed on his face too.

- You just shoot him a silly smile and over the course of the days it took to move you into his apartment you establish some ground rules

Rules:

- He will do the cooking and he’ll cook for you if he’s cooking for himself (if he’s not cooking then you’re on your own)

- In return you do a majority of the cleaning although it’s still pretty split kinda like a 60/40 or 55/45 kind of deal

- You pay the water bill while he pays electricity (you take long showers and his plants and such sometimes require lamps + he just uses a lot of electricity I feel like it’s not usually for him but his plants and work)

- Visitors are pretty much always welcome but you have to let the other know beforehand

- Although the previous rule is true none of those kind of visitors are allowed. Tighnari has sensitive ears he don’t wanna hear that 😭😭

- Be cool and communicate if you have a problem

Apartment:

- SO MANY PLANTS. LIKE THEY ARE TAKING OVER THE APARTMENT . This is a big part of why Tighnari didn’t want to live in the dorms since he wouldn’t be able to have as many plants as he wanted

- It’s a little funny Cyno has really bad allergies so he never lived with him and Collei lived with him for a long time but moved out to move in with Amber (oue shes leaving the nest) (she’s in the apartment right below yours)

- You, as a biology major, on the other hand LOVE the amount of plants in the apartment and Tighnari is ecstatic because he was sooo worried you’d try to make him get rid of them or something; is even more glad that you like them as much as he does

- Also has a big tank of worms where he dumps all the leftovers neither of you eat. He then uses the compost as plant fertilizer

- Despite the amount of things in the apartment its very neat and organized; there are little notebooks next to every living thing to keep track of when and how to feed them

You and Him:

- He has a very old ass car but only uses it for emergencies because he’s not a fan of carbon emissions (usually goes places by public transport, walking or hitching rides) (its the little things that make a big difference ok)

- He works two jobs: One at a plant/flower shop and the other at the school library

- He sometimes brings home new plants because all the plants no one will buy are always given to him by management

- You work one or two jobs likely on campus maybe in the newspaper or the school cafe etc

- Either way whenever you get home tired or after just having a bad day he’d comfort you so much no matter how many days in a row you do the same thing, flopping on the couch and groaning

- When you first did it you two weren’t close but he still stroked your hair and offered you some words of praise but when you two became more comfortable he’d straight up hold you to his chest or let you lay on his lap while stroking your hair if you don’t mind

- “I really need to stop coddling you” he’d say this all the time but never follow through on it and you’d be in his arms as we speak 😅

- He never did stop coddling you. Whenever you watch a show or anime he’s right beside you on the couch reading his book as he glances up every now and again; sometimes gives his two cents on what’s going on in the show (my personal fave is him getting mad at the usopp going merry arc in water 7 bye)

- He has little black rectangular reading glasses idc idgaf he dresses like an old man too with cardigans and sweater vests, maybe overalls if he’s going out to do garden work (he has no sense of fashion we know this)

- If you’re willing to listen he will yap so much about his plants and about wildlife; his heart melts in his chest if you seem genuinely interested and are paying close attention

- You have a snail named Saniel/Saniela. You almost stepped on him and brought him inside, putting him in a little terrarium thing.

- Tighnari hates that thing (he doesn’t; he’s like a grumpy father with a new dog) if it gets out it will eat his plants, so watch it. 😤

- Posts it on his little conservation account (shoutout to the person who wrote that post where he had a conservation insta acc i cant find it) and it overtakes the page gn its his worst nightmare. First it steals his unofficial lover now his followers

- Yall would’ve been burned at the stake in the 1800s you’re always doing your “projects” in the house unless its dangerous (but you’ll still do it outside) like you seeing a girl on Tiktok grow mushrooms on a book so you try it at home…

- He always helps you with anyyyyything. You need help studying for this biology test? So does he, come on in. You need a shoulder to cry on? He has two!! You want a snack but you don’t want to ask too much of him? Don’t be ridiculous he’s making you something as we speak

- He’s actually such a sweetheart he worries about your diet so much; honestly he’s content knowing that you’re under his care bc then he knows you’re eating right

- He wakes up and starts his day INSANELY early and honestly if you manage to wake up before him he’d probably flinch seeing you up LOL he’s so not used to anyone being awake when he is let alone earlier

- Absolute hypocrite too, he won’t let you sleep too late no matter what day it is or whether you have class or not but when he does it he’s just busy smh

- Wouldn’t mind if you treated him the same although if it’s time sensitive he fears he cannot give in to your demands sigh

- He’s a worrywart and a leeeetle nagging but you can tell he cares and you care about him just the same

- You’re always doing whatever you can to take stress off of his shoulders like running errands for him, cooking for him/ordering takeout when he can’t cook, Taking care of his plants for him when he’s busy, etc

- If you work out in the house after moving in then it’s so over for him

- He’s insane. If you’re in the living room he will go “read” his book on the couch but he’s been on the same page the whole time, is he ever gonna flip?

- Not even like explicit workouts like squats or something; just seeing you push yourself to your limit and sweaty and grunting and— where was he again? Ah right page 52.

- It’s so much worse if you ask him to help in some way, he can’t focus at all especially if you ask him to sit on your back while you do pushups

- Also a fan of you being taller than him no matter the method. (Which isn’t hard to achieve bc I hc him like 5’1-5’3) Naturally tall? Great! Wearing platforms? Amazing! Standing on a stool? As long as he doesn’t look down then it’s hot

Funny Bonus from the ari:

Tighnari: do you know anyone who still needs housing arrangements?? pls I’m desperate 😭

Alhaitham: you could take Kaveh

Kaveh: WOWWWW…

#tighnari x reader #tighnari #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #tighnari x you #gi art #genshin art #my art <3 #tighnari art #im going insane #why cant i be normal #genshin tighnari #i cant believe i like this dork #mwahmwah ily tighnari

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fairyhaos · 11 months

Text

. ˚ you're everything to me

requested by @cinnamoroxie : could u write some angst ending in fluff and comfort (heavy of f + c please) with minghao and reader is just having an awful day and snaps at hao? then kinda realizes and starts crying and apologizing and honestly just end it w comfort pls <33

pairing: minghao x gn!reader

genre: mild angst, brief fight, crying, comfort, fluff

word count: 2702

warnings: curse words, hao + reader touch ceramic shards with bare hands

notes: it's funny, because i've actually had this idea half-written before a request was even sent in! so this is half a request, and half self-indulgent deluluisms from me haha

summary: minghao may not be a mind reader, and he may not be able to know everything about you in the blink of an eye, but he knows how to make things better again. and really, he thinks that that's all that truly matters.

Honestly, Minghao is actually quite proud that he's able to tell your mood just from the way you open the front door.

Before you even unlock it, he can hear the aggressive key shaking, and you slam the door shut behind you with such force that the whole apartment feels like it's shuddering. He looks up from his book, setting it down on the bedside table and walking out into the hallway when there's a loud crash, and a string of curses whips him across the face.

You're crouched down on the floor, next to the broken pieces of what used to be the ceramic key bowl that was kept by the door. Neither of you used it, really, but it seemed that it had fallen over when you'd knocked your arm against it in your anger, and now your hands are shaking, frame hunched over the broken pieces, and he can tell that you are upset.

"What happened? Are you okay?" he asks, instantly, and then regrets it as your entire frame stiffens with annoyance.

You're in a bad mood—a horrible one, actually, and any sort of mild confrontation from anyone will make you blow up in ways that he knows you'll regret afterwards.

"What do you think, Xu Minghao?" you hiss out, not looking up, trying to collect the broken pieces of the bowl.

Minghao doesn't reply, simply looking down at you before sighing, walking towards where you're crouched on the floor.

"Here, let me do it," he says, calmly, gently. His hands replace yours on the floor, gathering up the ceramic pieces. You won't let him take the pieces already in your hands, though, stubborn, but he just lets you, walking into the living room to deposit the pieces into the nearest bin.

Neither of you say anything about how you really shouldn't be picking up ceramic shards with bare hands, nor about the fact that it probably means there's still some left on the floor. Because that's not important at the moment.

Minghao turns to face you, but you keep your gaze fixed on the floor, brow furrowed tightly.

"Y/N? Love?" He tries to get you to meet his eyes, but you're steadfastly looking somewhere else, anywhere else, refusing to look at him. That's a sure sign that you're trying not to cry, and he's told you to release your emotions when it gets too much, but it's hard for you, and even though he gets frustrated by that, he still wants to try and help.

"Minghao, I've had the shittiest day. Just… leave me alone."

He shakes his head, trying to step closer to you. "I can't do that. You know I can't do that."

"Yes you can," you bite back, almost instantly, and he blinks. "God, there's no need to be so worried over me, okay? I don't need you hovering over me like I'm going to fucking break. All I did was break that bowl, it's not a big deal."

Well. Minghao knows that this is your anger talking, but it's just so hard to continue talking to you gently when you're biting at his outstretched hand. "Then why are you so upset?”

“Why do you need to know?” you say, and sidestep him, walking out of the room.

“Why do you not want me to know?” he counters, following you. He can hear your eye roll, and he knows he’s getting on your nerves, but he wants to know. He wants to help. “Is it because of the bowl?”

You yank open the fridge, staring at it, before slamming the door shut. “Yeah. I’m in a shitty mood because of the bowl. Because I broke that fucking bowl.” You stare at him, blankly, irritatedly. “Happy now?”

No, he’s not happy, not in the slightest. Minghao crosses his arms, staring at you from across the kitchen. “Tell me the real reason, Y/N. What happened today? Did someone say something to you?”

You roll your eyes, hard, turning away and busying yourself with opening drawers and looking inside them for no reason at all. You can’t tell Minghao the real reason you’re acting like this. Because it’s stupid, to just say that it’s because you woke up feeling ‘wrong’ and then your entire day had just been tiringly normal.

“No. I just told you, it’s because I broke that stupid bowl.”

There’s a part of you that’s screaming at yourself for constantly being so curt and snappish with Minghao when you know he’s only trying to help, but your pride and the bigger, more hurt, more prickly part of you can’t bear to stop digging into this hole of irritation and anger that you’ve been making.

And so you keep going, shovel clanging hopelessly against the ground even as every bone is crying in protest.

“We can always buy a new bowl,” Minghao is saying, gently, understandingly, and it’s so logical and well-intentioned that the ugly urge to shoot it down rises up in you.

"Yeah, of course you'd fucking say that," you spit, and it sounds so horrible and you want to take it back, but you're just so upset and embarrassed that you can't.

And so what do you do?

You keep going.

“You’re always thinking so logically, like everything can be solved just like that, aren’t you? Well some things… some things just aren’t like that, Minghao.” You gesture wildly at yourself. “Like me. You think that by coming up to me, asking so softly ‘are you okay’ that I’m going to be fine? That—that all my pain is just going to fucking disappear? I asked you to leave me alone. I don’t need you on my back all the time. It’s annoying.”

Minghao’s face has fallen, his expression stony and still. His ears are red, and he crosses his arms, looking you up and down. “I’m sorry I’m not a fucking mind reader. I don’t know what you’re thinking if you don’t tell me, okay? I need to be on your back so I can help you. So I can do what you need.”

“And I told you I need you to shove off,” you spit, knuckles white against the countertop, shaking. Every horrible, disgusting feeling is rising inside of you, uncontrollable, higher and higher with incredible speed and now it’s crashing down, over you and over Minghao. “I don’t need you.”

“Yes, you do,” Minghao says, but you’re already shaking your head.

“I just said I don’t, didn’t I? You said you’re not a mind reader, so here’s me telling my mind to you.” Your fingers have gone numb. So has your chest. But you carry on. “Leave me. The fuck. Alone.”

The words are harsh, spat out like whistling bullets, and Minghao physically takes a step back, surprised. You hadn’t yelled, hadn’t raised your voice, but the malice and fury in your voice had shocked the both of you, and suddenly the waves have soaked you, leaving you shivering and cold and looking at him with a sense of clarity. Like coming out of a red-hot haze.

Minghao’s eyes are wide, and the hurt in them is so visible it’s like it’s tangible, that earlier irritation gone and simply replaced with shock. Shock that you said something like that to him.

“Oh,” you whisper, and it’s like the blood is running frozen in your veins, a sudden dowsing of reality, showing you what you’ve just done. Your vision is going blurry, heart having abruptly unthawed and begun pounding, startled, in your chest. “Hao…”

Minghao doesn't reply, and that makes you feel even worse, the worries now overtaking your earlier anger and making you fear that you're losing him, losing your wonderful, wonderful Minghao all because of words you didn't mean.

You sniff, eyes welling up faster, and you feel a little pathetic over how you're crying because of what you'd said, but you're just so exhausted and everything hurts. "I'm sorry… Hao, I'm so sorry."

The tears spill over, now, and you keep on wiping at your cheeks but they continue to fall, endless, incessant.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, you know I— I don't mean that," you whisper, shaky. Every time you try to clear your gaze, everything ends up blurred again, and Minghao is just a watery outline in front of you. "I'm just so… so—" you bite your lips, stifling a sob. "I'm just so tired."

You can't speak anymore, too overcome, a hand over your mouth in an attempt to hide your pathetic, selfish sobs, the other hand clutching your stomach. Your entire body feels like it's lurching, sick with fatigue and fear.

But then, one moment you're standing there, trembling in the corner of the kitchen, and next there are arms wrapping around you and a chin resting on your head with a shoulder pressed into your cheeks.

"I know, love, I know," Minghao murmurs, and he's still being so gentle and it makes you feel even worse. "It's okay. Shh, it's okay."

One of the reasons you love hugging and being hugged by Minghao is because he hugs in such an all-encompassing way. His arms engulf you, his scent is everywhere, and his shoulder is in your mouth and his neck in your eyes and there's just so much Minghao surrounding you that you kind of feel like crying even more.

"I'm sorry," you're whispering, again and again, into his shoulder, and even through the tears he can understand you loud and clear.

"It's okay," he says, softly, one hand rubbing circles into your back and the other wrapped firmly around your waist, keeping you pressed as close as possible to him. "Don't apologise, I understand, it's alright."

The softness in his voice makes you whimper, feeling undeserving of such understanding. "Minghao…"

He makes soft soothing sounds, keeping his arms tight around you, his hand firm and warm at your waist, grounding you with the touch, reminding you of his presence. You're clinging to his shoulders as if he's going to disappear any moment, and in response he only holds you impossibly tighter.

"I know, I know, it's okay, don’t worry," he says, tilting his head slightly to kiss your temple. "Minghao is here for you, okay? You can cry as much as you want."

Minghao is someone who's very sturdy. He's firm, he's always very there, and it makes him so perfect to hug. He's not the biggest fan of physical touch, and it isn't often that you have such meltingly intertwined hugs like this, but there are times when both of you crave that touchiness. Like now, you suppose. And when you do, he's always, always willing to give it to you. And vice versa.

"My Y/N had a hard day today, hm?" he asks, letting you cry quietly into his shoulder. You nod, just slightly, and he sighs softly. "Oh, dear. I'm so sorry, my love. I'm sorry that happened to you."

"I'm sorry," you try to say, again, but he shushes you before you can finish.

"No, there's no need to be sorry, I understand completely," Minghao murmurs. "You're tired, and I pushed you too far. I'm sorry."

Minghao is so warm, so comforting, and after a moment your legs buckle and you fall. He falls partway with you, helping you to your feet again, and he keeps you pressed against his chest as he slowly backs out of the kitchen and into the living room, falling onto the sofa, you still in his arms.

This way, you're curled up in his lap, safely cocooned in his arms, in his presence. He looks down at you, soft, wiping the wetness that's staining your jawline.

"Shh, don't worry, my love," he says soothingly, thumb still rubbing gently up and down your jaw, holding you as you cry. His other arm is still around you, your head against his chest, and it just feels so safe. "Cry as much as you need. I'm here."

And so you do. Several minutes pass, or perhaps hours, but Minghao holds you through it all, whispering words of praise and reassurance, repeating over and over that it’s okay, that you’re doing okay, that he’s here and he loves you. And eventually, when the tears die down and you’re taking in big, shaky breaths, he dabs at your eyes with his fingers, and it doesn’t clear up the tears all that much but now you can see him properly, see him smile down at you so, so lovingly.

His hand is tracing nonsensical patterns across your side, the other swiping a thumb delicately across the under of your eyes. His eyes are soft as he looks at you, and there’s no hurt or irritation in them, as you’d feared. Only pure understanding.

"Feeling better?" Minghao asks, a rumbling whisper, and you duck your head, leaning against his chest once more.

“Don’t know,” you whisper, sounding all clogged up due to the tears. After a moment, you add, “Head hurts.”

That makes him chuckle softly. “I can imagine. You cried a lot, love.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry,” Minghao says, clicking his tongue. Just a simple sound. No malice, no annoyance. “It’s good to release your emotions, rather than bottling them all up until you can’t handle them anymore.”

“Still, ‘m sorry,” you mumble, ashamed, guilt pricking your insides, but less intense than before. Soothed by Minghao’s warm hand on your cheek. “Sorry for saying that. Sorry for making you sad. I shouldn’t have said that to you.”

“Don’t say sorry,” is all Minghao says, again. “And while it’s true that I can’t read your mind, I should have been able to read your body language. I’ll be more aware next time, and give you the space you need.”

You shake your head. “No, no. I think… I think I did want you with me. I was just so angry that I said the opposite, out of spite.”

“Okay,” Minghao says. “That’s okay.”

And the way he says it makes you begin to believe that it really is.

"Want to talk about it?" he asks quietly after a moment, watching you play with your hands.

"No," you whisper back.

He clicks his tongue again disapprovingly, playfully. "You know it's not a good thing to keep this in. It's better to talk it out."

"Don't want to."

Minghao watches as you take his hands into your own, bending his fingers and circling his knuckles with fingertips before interlacing your hands together, secure. He squeezes your hand, once, and something warm blooms in his chest at the quiet, happy noise you let out.

"Don't need to talk about it," you say. "I'm feeling better now."

"You do?"

You nod, and he smiles, squeezing your hand again.

"I'm glad."

Your hand is warm in his, warmed by the contact, and perhaps a little sticky with sweat and remnants of tears but he doesn't care. Having you breathe steadily against him, having you on him, calm and relaxed once again has the same effect as if he had been the one to go through a relaxation routine.

It makes him relieved, to know that he’s been able to relax you, to get you out of whatever frustrated headspace you’d been in before. You dig your nails into the soft skin on the back of his hand, just lightly, and the playful move makes him smile.

"Y/N?"

You hum in acknowledgement.

"I'm always going to be here for you," he says, and he says it simply, like it's just a fact, and maybe. Maybe it really is.

"Thank you," you say back, and you feel light, like your worries from earlier truly have been lifted.

Huh. Perhaps there really was truth to the idea of how sharing a problem can lessen the load.

“Hao?” you say after a moment.

He rubs his thumb over the back of your hand, cheek pressed against the top of your head. “Hm?”

“You’re everything to me,” you say, soft, shy. “Please stay with me.”

That makes him smile, and he lifts himself away to press a kiss to your forehead, feather-light, before resting against your head once more.

“Of course,” he murmurs. “Of course.”

fics tags: @jeonginssa ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @minhui896 ,, @bunnyiix ,, @slytherinshua ,, @haowrld ,, @belladaises ,, @moonlitskiiies ,, @cinnamoroxie ,, @butiluvu ,, @zozojella ,, @kawennote09 ,, @thedensworld ,, @a-wandering-stay ,, @abibliolife ,, @doublasting ,, @wonranghaeee ,, @icyminghao ,, @sweet-like-caramel ,, @your-yxnnie ,, @evasaysstuff

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