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cno-inbminor · 1 year

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repertum (pt. 2 - final)

summary: no matter how much you want alhaitham, you don’t think you can ever have him. he may or may not try to prove otherwise. // cameos from lumine and nahida // wc: ~15.1k

a/n: well, here it is! many, many thanks to @allsaiint for being my beta once again, especially for this monster. i love her to the ends of this universe. fair warning though, the smut at the end is un-beta’d so you’ll probably come across many grammatical/syntax errors. sorry, in advance.

cw: afab!reader, fem!reader, more angst (but with comfort), 3.4 spoilers, probably some incorrect game lore and timing/mechanics, smut (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

smut tags: derogatory/degrading terms (slut, cocksleeve, cumslut, cockslut), referring to alhaitham as ‘sir’, size kink, twinges of dacryphilia, one (1) pussy slap, some overstimulation, light bondage (reader’s wrists get tied together), blowjob, cunnilingus, hints of reader entering subspace (dom!alhaitham, sub!reader), will add more if i remember later but i think those are the highlights lol

please read part 1 for context! | AO3 Link for better viewing if the app is being a bitch

As agreed upon you meet Lumine and Paimon on the walkway leading up to the Sanctuary. The traveling duo go inside first, as you’re sure they have much more private and serious matters to discuss. While you wait outside, you gaze over the ledge at the breathtaking view of Sumeru in the direction of the Lokapala Jungle, and its waterfalls still bright even in the darkness of dawn. Taking in everything around you— the breeze and the stars— you feel some peace in your heart knowing you have a place to call home and return to.

The doors swing open with Lumine looking a little less happy than earlier. Paimon mutters – or at least attempts to – under her breath, while a man with a wide-brimmed hat trails out after them. The traveler provides no explanation,and instead informs you that Lord Kusanali wishes to speak with you for a minute. Perhaps the time together will let you know more about this mysterious man – child? – and why he seems to have put Paimon in such a bad mood.

“Y/N,” the Dendro Archon greets you warmly. Her voice is gentle as ever and full of compassion. “Thank you for coming here. I simply wanted to see if you had everything you needed for your travels and research.”

You show her your bag with thinly-veiled enthusiasm. “Thank you for the opportunity and your consideration of my proposal. The fact that you took the time to read through it and ask me about it really means a lot to me. It was luck that the traveler happened to be heading in that direction as well.”

“She will be a good companion. Please watch over her whenever you can.”

“Of course, though I imagine she’s going to watch over me more than her,” you jest and Lord Kusanali shares your amusement. “Is there anything else you needed?”

“No. May you have safe travels, and please visit whenever you return. I look forward to your findings.”

You bow with as much reverence as possible before waving goodbye to the Archon and heading out the doors. The man from earlier is nowhere to be seen, and Lumine appears more relaxed.

“Everything all good?”

“Yes! Should we head out then?”

“Very well.”

Those with Visions have always fascinated you with the way they could make their weapons appear and disappear, and materialize things in midair. Lumine does so with what appears to be a map of Teyvat, humming to herself as she pinpoints a location. She waves it away with dainty fingers and holds out her hand.

Though confused, you trust she means no ill will and Lumine grips your hand tight when you take hers.

“Teleportation is always a little rough for first timers. Just hold on and you’ll be okay.”

“Teleporta–”

You disappear in a flash of blue light. For a split, disorienting second, you see nothing, and in the next you’re greeted with a view of what appears to be part of the Mawtiyima Forest, if the luminescent treetops are any indication. Slight nausea overcomes you and your stomach does a small turn – shit, she wasn’t lying.

“Are you alright?” Lumine asks with concern, searching through her pack for a remedy..

“Do you want a cold towel?” Paimon adds on and flutters around you to search for any signs of injury.

“I think I just need to breathe for a second,” you say, collapsing against the cliffside. “And sit for a minute.”

“Take your time. We’re quite close to the border. I would’ve taken us straight into Fontaine, but since I’ve never been before, none of those teleport waypoints have been activated.”

You point towards one in front of you. “You mean these?”

“Convenient, right?”

“...very.”

Distraught, perhaps, is one way to describe Alhaitham’s current state of mind.

By all means, it makes no sense. Did he get to know you well in an alarmingly short amount of time? Sure. Did he really look forward to those initial 36 hours passing, to the point where he felt time was crawling by at a turtle’s pace? Perhaps. Was he trying to satiate a curiosity that he had never really felt before and attempting to answer a personal unknown? In some way.

The attempting-to-resign Acting Grand Sage has read his fair share of historical texts – especially conflicts driven by love and lust. A force so powerful that it could twist the minds of even the brightest and most logical – what was that like? From a young age, he was only ever introspective in an academic sense, and the scholars touted him to be a genius. But feelings, emotions, felt abstract and out of reach as he grew up. He only ever understood his lust as a byproduct of his development as explained in the textbooks. A branch of psychology mixed with biology described everything from why humans feel attraction and the need to copulate to what is deemed healthy and alluring in a potential partner, all in the name of posterity and evolution.

Alhaitham first concluded his initial draw towards you could be explained away by all of these findings.It didn’t quite fit all the checkboxes, but enough for him to deem it understandable and valid. Those checkboxes had been visited once before when he lost his virginity, but that was all there was to it. He wouldn’t be blind enough to deny that it was a pleasurable experience, but there were other, more pressing matters at hand. Yet, even after drawing his conclusion, nothing academic could help explain why his desire to be near you was so strong. The more carnal desires took a backseat to his need to pick your brain, to make you laugh, or to have you challenge him. He learned as many of your little mannerisms as possible, all the while pretending he was completely unfazed by your presence. Your different smiles, your nervous movements, your stressed looks, your interests and dislikes – he wanted to know all of them, and not so he could store it in his brain for cautionary purposes. It was all for the sake of getting to know you.

And then he became greedy.

Another sin Alhaitham didn’t quite understand before meeting you was the growing, bubbling pit of a constant want want want for you to be by his side. To have the fantasies of coveting your soul, retching on the inside at the mere thought of others seeing you the way he did you – he was starting to see why individuals were so often thrown into a fit of rage over their loved ones and why the law has separate stipulations regarding “crimes of passion.”

And even as he sits at his usual table in his usual seat (especially on days when he really doesn’t want to be in his office during work hours), sending glares to anyone who dared to approach him or even come near your seat (which was very much not your seat by any legal means), he finds himself buried in books of philosophy. Not that they are so far out of his usual reading, for they typically align with his understanding that there are universal questions that will never be answered yet should be stated, but he has never felt the need to dive deeper than the tip of the iceberg on different schools of thought. One line in particular catches his attention, however.

“Reason is, and ought only to be the slave of the passions.”**

Moral philosophy, the area where this statement hails from, was intriguing, yet Alhaitham knew the respected experts could talk in circles for days and do their best to argue their reasoning. This particular philosopher suggests that passion is the cause for reason, for understanding why humans do the things they do. And as the word connotation suggests, there is no room to discuss whether or not this line of thought is rational. Just as passion drives reason, reason can also serve as the breeding ground for the passions.

Abstruse to several, esoteric to many, ambiguous to the masses – Alhaitham wonders if he’s found some sort of solution to his internal dilemmas. To have it all summed up in a single sentence resonates deeply with him. Simple and succinct, yet speaking volumes to the implications; finally with a deep breath.

The next day in his office, he leans and falls back into his seat, gaze focused on the domed ceiling above. He’s always hated this chair; far too grand and impractically large. One thing he doesn’t mind is the proportionate size of the desk, as he’s learned over the years that if you give him the space, he will inadvertently cover every inch of it with his materials. Even with their dwindling number of research applications, he manages to fill the voids with his own research, books laid open and aged parchment collecting dust. For being so far above the ground level of the House of Daena, it makes sense that silence is usually his sole companion, as he tends to ignore the other researchers and matra milling around. But there must have been some memo sent out because no one is there today, and no one has come up in hours.

Surprisingly, he finds the quietude and quiescence unnerving rather than welcoming, so much so he removes his treasured earpieces and places them in his lap. The white noise he’s often found bothersome is… comforting?

A distraction, perhaps, from the absence of you.

A long, heavy sigh leaves his chest as he pulls himself up and ambles over to a locked filing cabinet with all the approved research project applications. Before he became Acting Grand Sage, the remaining applications had been split between him, Lord Kusanali, and a few other individuals. First sorted by subject area and then by last name, he rifles through with an absent mind until he catches your name on a tabbed folder. Alhaitham wastes no time plucking it from the confines of the drawer and opening it, taking care to make sure the stacks of reports and research diagrams don’t spill out onto the floor. Kaveh would have a field day if he knew just how enraptured he was by the mere sight of your handwriting. He may even take him to Lord Kusanali herself for psychological treatment or interrogation because there was no way this Alhaitham was his same sarcastic, scathing, infuriating roommate – and despite the slight amusement the thought gives him, he cannot ignore the painful pull in his chest.

It’s been five weeks since you were last seen in Sumeru, and five weeks since he had knocked on your apartment door only to be greeted by your next-door neighbor, who announced you’d left early in the morning with no definitive time of return and no mention of your destination. You would be back eventually, but would it be in six days or six months? Nobody seemed to be the wiser.

He had had half a mind to reach out to Cyno and call in a special favor to track you down for his own internal peace, but he knew the request would be irrational and unnecessary. So once a week, he stops by your apartment to see if you’ve returned, and with each unsuccessful visit and your doormat collecting more and more dust, his heart sinks just a little bit lower. If he wasn’t in his current position, he’d be halfway across the desert by now (and ultimately in the complete opposite direction) under the guise of searching for ancient ruins. Merely searching for facts and truth; nothing more, nothing less.

All to say, Alhaitham wishes he had looked through this filing drawer earlier because the file on his desk contained all the answers to his questions of your whereabouts.

The relief of knowing you were safe in a nearby nation surges through every vein in his body, tension in his muscles disappearing with the rays of sunlight beating down from the stained-glass window above. He would’ve been much more concerned if you’d gone to Inazuma – even if this Captain Beidou that Lumine spoke highly of was more than adept at crossing the treacherous seas from Liyue, the mere possibility of you falling overboard or being forced to stay in the nation was still unsettling, to say the least.

Leaning his weight onto the desk, Alhaitham drinks in everything your research has to offer. There are a few mistakes and edits that could be rectified here and there, but nevertheless, it is well done. He remembers now seeing some of these papers before, as notes you had been scribbling down on some early afternoons in the cafe. Pleased isn’t enough to describe the hum in his chest when he notices some of his suggestions incorporated into your application, fondly recalling the moments when you had picked each other’s brain regarding the topic at hand. Never once did you mention that any of this had been in preparation for your big research journey, but he would be remiss not to believe recent events had served as the catalyst for your sudden departure.

“Do come back to me,” he murmurs to no one. As he lifts his head, the cosmical, automated orb— reminiscent of an Auspicious Branch— just above the elevator platform seems to mock him. It’s An inaccurate teller of time as it spins and spins in its orbit, and Alhaitham yearns for the day you return home.--

The day you return to him.

Traveling with Lumine is fascinating, to say the least.

Ignoring the fact that feeding Paimon is like feeding three grown adults, watching the Traveler gather and store every fruit and herb and loot in sight makes you wonder what kind of life she had led before all of this. The way she takes down some wayward Treasure Hoarders is a sight to see, like a well-rehearsed dance. It lends to your understanding of why the term is “martial arts” because the way Lumine maneuvers around the enemies and her sword is, very much so, an art.

But more time together means more time into probing the real reason you’ve decided to come to Fontaine with her, and for whatever reason, she is really good at getting you to spill the beans. Lumine’s heard most of your life story at this point.

“Who are you running from?” she asks one night. After checking in with the Adventurer’s Guild in Fontaine’s capital, you’ve joined Lumine in her journey around the nation to activate the rest of the teleport waypoints. You send her your sheepest look, begging with your eyes for her to not ask anymore. But you’ve skirted around this topic the last few weeks and you figure it’s time for her to know.

With a heavy breath, you set down your bowl of biryani on the grass. “Promise you won’t judge?”

“Promise.”

“...it’s Alhaitham.” The crackling of the little campfire Lumine had put together is deafening, even louder than the ripples and waves of the river crashing onto the sand in front of them.

Naturally, Paimon speaks up first, though speaking is an understatement. “Alhaitham?! You mean that– that super mean Acting Grand Sage? The know-it-all? Can’t really care less about others? Condescending?”

“That’s a pretty big word there, Paimon–” Lumine cuts in.

“Hey!”

“See?” you respond, the smile on your face small, awkward, and bittersweet. “Things happened and well… I thought it’d be better if we stopped seeing each other.”

“You were seeing each other?!!”

“Paimon, stop!” Lumine interjects and shoots the floating fairy a disapproving glare.

You really wish you had some alcohol with you right now.

“Well…”

For the next several minutes, you provide a detailed summary of how you came to meet and learn more about Alhaitham, the nature of the budding relationship, how all your insecurities came to a head on that night, and how you ended up here. Lumine remains silent when you finish explaining everything, clearly thinking through all the information and trying to find the right words to say.

“You know,” she begins, “Alhaitham may be one of the most infuriatingly logical men that I’ve ever met. And a really good actor, too. Remind me to tell you the details of what he did when we rescued Nahida.”

“...I don’t think that makes me feel any better.”

“I’m just saying, but I also think you know by now that Alhaitham isn’t someone who does anything that isn’t for his own benefit, in some way.”

“Again, not helping.”

“What I’m trying to say is if he just wanted to get his dick wet, I’m sure there are plenty of other people who would agree to help out in much less time.”

To which, Lumine has a point. A very good point. But still you say, “He’s super picky though, I don’t think he’d just sleep with anyone regardless.”

“Which brings me to my original point: he picked you for a reason.”

“Because I’m easy?”

Lumine flicks your forehead before you can even blink, and with a decent amount of force as well. Your resulting indignant yelp pierces the atmosphere as you rub the sore spot. “What was that for?!”

“For being unreasonable. I’m trying to say that you must be special to him, that’s all.”

“... but what if he didn’t want to see me again after sleeping together? Sure, let’s say that I am ‘special’, heavy emphasis on my air quotes right now, but I want more, an actual relationship. How do I know that’s also what his end goal is?”

“You don’t,” Lumine affirms. “But there’s no use in wading through the what-ifs. You know what you want, and I think you’re allowed to communicate that to him, regardless of what he says.”

It’s hard to come to terms with the underlying implication that you’re being something of a coward, with not a whole lot of reason to be. You’re grateful for the open water before you, its lullaby comforting with the breeze it brings. Years of academic research have made you painfully familiar with the concept of trial and error, but to apply it to human relationships? It leaves much to be undesired. Five weeks, in the grand scheme of things, are certainly nothing more than a miniscule blip of time. But in your limited life with the overhanging unknowns of the world, it was a sizable enough amount of time filled with passive rumination and downward spirals.

“You’ll figure it out when you get there. But I’m warning you, we’ve still got a lot of ground to cover.”

You can’t help but laugh in relief. “That is completely okay, I promise you.”

Running away might as well be your newly developed skill at this point.

A few weeks later

“I mean, I could stay with you there in Fontaine, right? You know, extra set of hands and all?”

“You’re not getting out of this.”

“Lumiiinneee,” you whine, petulant pout making itself known.

“Just talk to him – whatever happens, happens. If it’s not meant to be, then it’s not meant to be. But you owe it to yourself to say your piece, as well as to him for an explanation that he needs to hear. Now go.”

She all but (gently) shoves you into the Akademiya, watching over you with an encouraging wave of her hand. When you’re less than five steps away from the door into the House of Daena, you look over your shoulder once more for any signs of escape. As expected, the Lumine-shaped obstacle stands firm in her spot.

You clutch your final report to your chest, mind racing with a thousand thoughts per second, and don’t even realize you’ve already made it to the elevator platform. And once it gives a mechanical shudder and starts to go up, you want to scream and simultaneously steal a glider to jump off and land safely back on the ground level.

Is it good or bad luck that no one seems to be around? Maybe he won’t be at his desk and you can just leave the report there and fucking bolt. Maybe it’s not even Alhaitham in the Grand Sage’s chair. Maybe the man is gone altogether and is somewhere in the desert looking at ancient runes.

Maybe he just doesn’t care anymore and has forgotten about you. Maybe he told himself to let bygones be bygones, and that you were simply another scholar in the Akademiya. No one special.

Your initial hopes of his coincidental absence are dashed as you walk up the stairs. His silver hair stands out among the sea of azure and viridian, and he doesn’t even bother to look up from the stack of papers in his hand. Not that you were a bull in a china shop by any means, but the man would even notice with his eyes closed if there was a fly on the complete opposite side of the office. Your heart is ready to burst from your chest with each shaky step, and too soon, you stand in front of his sprawling desk.

“My office hours will be ending in a few minutes,” he states in a matter-of-fact tone without looking at you. You risk a sharp inhale at the sound of his voice, an all too familiar mix of gentility and sternness. “If it’s something that requires more than that length of time, come back tomorrow.”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck – “I’m just, um, turning in a research report?”

At the sound of your voice, Alhaitham doesn’t even bother to amuse himself. He’d much rather not look and not be disappointed, than to do so and become reacquainted with dashed hopes. “...And the necessary cover sheet is on top? Does it have your name, project number, and corresponding title?”

“Y-Yes.”

Still perusing through the paperwork in his hands, he frees one hand to point it at a basket on his far-right corner. “Leave it there. Your advisors and I will be reviewing it within the next two weeks.”

“Oh, o-okay.”

You do as instructed, but with each second that passes without any eye contact or direct acknowledgement of your presence, you begin to wonder if he’s purposely ignoring you. Or maybe he forgot about you entirely and wrote you off as a failed pursuit. Perhaps that would be the best-case scenario and you could hole up in your apartment for the rest of… eternity. Maybe. Lumine can come and scold you later and you can take it like a champ.

But your heart, ever so fickle and occasionally diabolical, plays one last card and causes you to stop at the top of the stairs. “Have a good night,” you muster out. “Thank you, Alhaitham.”

The rustling of his papers ceases as you turn and hurry down the steps, taking extra care to not trip over your feet. Just before you can activate the elevator, a frazzled “Y/N?” is called from above. With sweaty hands, a sullen heart, and a leadened brain, you nervously orient towards the scholar inhabiting your dreams, who stands on the edge of the platform above and peers down to confirm his suspicion. His stance looks as if he had leapt over his desk and sprinted at top speed towards you.

You’re not sure how to take it all in, how to take him in – the “feeble scholar”, for once, appears as such. If possible, his cheeks seem a little more sunken in, further accentuating the sharp edges of his jawline. His hair looks mussed, as if he’d run his hands through it several times too many. The cloak around his shoulders rests askew from his sudden movements.

But his eyes—

Those seafoam irises and amber pupils pierce through your soul, but not in an inquisitive and calculating manner. In fact, it’s quite the opposite – he looks unsure, disbelieving, and hesitant. To elicit such a reaction from this man should be recorded in the most prominent historical annals, but you do have to admit it’s a bad look on him.

When you open your mouth to say something, anything, the elevator begins its descent. Any words you had are wiped from your mind, and you do everything you can to maintain this staredown. Weeks ago, you couldn’t even begin to guess what this man would be feeling based on his eyes, but now? His heart is on his sleeve, and you can’t help the green envy in your veins at the possibility that others have seen him in such a vulnerable state.The constant battle between an illusional desire to be his everything and knowing that you never could and never should be, rages on.

You’re the first to look away. Sorry, Lumine, you think, as Alhaitham’s figure disappears from view. All you’re left with is the rotating orb above, spinning and spinning until it makes you sick to your stomach. You just want to get back to your apartment and start sweeping the dirt away, to return to some sense of normalcy before all of… this appeared. You never should’ve indulged in your whimsical desires.

Alhaitham hovers in a state of shock as he watches the elevator take you back down – after weeks of catching a glimpse of who he thinks is you at the cafe, hearing your voice in his head as he scribbles away on paperwork, or dreaming of escaping his duties to find you in Fontaine, he’s not sure if he really believes you were here or if it was some effective lucid dreaming. But the sudden pull, the impulsive need to just check the cover sheet when his name left your lips, was far too strong and he had dived right in without a second thought.

And there in your handwriting, in all its glory, was your name printed neatly at the bottom. One second, he was at his desk and the next, he was at the edge of the outer office ring for confirmation.

The last few minutes of his workday have never gone slower as he paces back and forth in front of his desk. He’s doing his best to stay calm and formulate a plan, but even that has become difficult for him. There are too many extraneous factors at play, several he can’t be sure of – did you meet someone new in Fontaine? Were you going to leave again?

Did you even want to see him?

You could’ve left without another word once your research paper landed in that return basket. He would’ve been none the wiser until he physically picked up the report, which probably wouldn’t have happened for another few days, what with all the cleaning up he’s trying to do before his resignation is official. All that lost time in between would have left him even more distraught.

But the fact that you had stopped and made a point to thank him, to call him out by name, means something. Like him, it seems you are just as unsure of where the two of you stand.

And that’s all he needs to move forward.

Granted, moving forward didn’t initially involve climbing up the fire escape ladder behind your apartment building.

With a takeout bag of your favorite foods from Lambad’s Tavern, he was originally going to knock on your front door like any other individual. But before his knuckles could rap against the Adhigama wood, he thought, why not check to see if you’re even home? That would eliminate the possibility of you seeing him through the peephole and then pretending you’re not home – or worse, you opening it and then slamming it back in his face.

His unparalleled logic led him to skip the ladder and jump onto the first floor. It’s not that he wouldn’t be able to climb it with one free hand – the food would’ve gotten messy with all the jostling around. He ignores the sound of laughing children as he ambles past, but allows the semblance of a grin to dawn his face when he hears, “Whoa, look at that mister!” Alhaitham looks above him as he climbs the next set of stairs, noticing a light peeking through the living room window. That’s one good sign, at least, because it means you’re home, right? He peers past the half-open curtains when he arrives at your floor. He’s just checking. Nothing suspicious or untoward. Yet all of that is scrapped— another deviation from his initial plan— when he sees you sitting on your couch, sorting through a pile of mail on your coffee table. With a mind of their own, his knuckles knock lightly against the glass and he can’t help but let a humorous snort slip out when your body jerked with a visceral startle, head whipping towards the source of your adrenaline spike.

You don’t need to verbally question his sudden appearance when it’s written all over your face. Your eyebrows are knitted and arched, mouth turned down in a slight frown, hands clenched in fists with visible tension and unease. “Alhaitham, what– I mean–”

He holds up the food behind the windowpane for you to see. “I wanted to bring you dinner since you probably don’t have anything prepared on your first night back.”

Without another word, you slide open the window, letting him clamber through as you take the bag from him. He retrieves it as you lock the window and yank the curtains together, setting it on the table away from a mound of what he presumes to be junk mail. You scramble for words and coherency as you search for clean plates and utensils, but the effort is fruitless. There’s a trapped shriek in your chest and you don’t know how to snuff it out.

Dinner is a quiet affair, save for some awkward small talk here and there. He makes it a point to give you extras, whether it be a little more mint cilantro or tamarind chutney for the samosas (despite it being his favorite) or more of the lamb from the biryani. Each little morsel pushes your heart further up your throat, further sending you into a downward spiral. Why is he so kind and caring when you had essentially kicked him out last time? Why is he going out of his way to make up for a wrong he never committed?

Alhaitham basks in your company, taking in every detail of your outward appearance. You seem skinnier than before, hair just a little bit longer. A few fresh, healing cuts on your hand stand out to him and he hopes they were all accidental and not intentionally created by another human being. There’s so much he wants to say and question, but for once he cannot find the right words. Rarely has he ever felt as though he was skating on paper-thin ice with someone – years of not caring or sparing thoughts for how others might perceive him lends nothing to resolve his state of incertitude. So the only way he can currently try to communicate is through actions, hence the extra foods and your favorite parts of them, making sure you have a usable napkin at all times, refilling your cup of water when it starts to look low, and more.

With a full belly, you sigh with satisfaction, a breath that appeases Alhaitham just the slightest bit. “That was good. Thank you for bringing it.”

“You’re welcome. Was the food in Fontaine not to your taste?”

You hum in thought. “A bit bland, honestly. Not as many spices are used in their foods like they are here.”

“Ah.”

The two of you sit silently for a few moments. You’re looking anywhere and at anything but him, your knee bouncing and hands wringing together. Is he trying to let you down easy? Soften the blow? What is his end goal?

His fingers tap the table in a silent rhythm, noticing that despite the small talk, the tension in the air is still viscous. He ignores the gnawing desire to hold your hand and squeeze it tight, to graze his thumb over those scabs and kiss them. He’s not ready to leave yet, which is why he juts his chin towards the only unopened bag on the table and says, “I also brought dessert. Would you care to have some now?”

No. Yes. I don’t know. I can think of something else I want for dessert but that’s not the point right now, is what runs through your head.

“Sure. What is it? I might have something to go with it.”

“It’s baklava.”

For him to remember that baklava from Pupusa Cafe is your preferred dessert when eating your favorite dishes is even more mind-boggling in this whole situation.

You stand on shaky legs and walk towards the pantry. “Does wine sound okay?”

Alhaitham ponders your last mutual experience with alcohol, which had ended in a disaster, even if he knew full well that it wasn’t a cause by any means; an unintended catalyst. As long as neither overindulged, it would be harmless. Right?

So he nods. “That sounds good.”

You return with a corkscrew opener, two stemless wine glasses, and one of your better bottles of aged wine. Alhaitham remains silent as he takes the opener from you and drives it into the cork, hand twisting the top knob with ease. You feel shameless in the way you stare at his arms, watching his muscles flex. The veins in his hand become more visible and you can see the tension in his forearm through his arm guards, all the more when he pushes the levers closed and wiggles the cork out of its confines. He takes good care to tactfully remove the cork and place it on the table, and pours a glass for you first.

“Thank you,” you murmur as you take it from him with both hands, ignoring the way his fingers seem to linger after making contact with yours. You portion out the baklava as he pours a glass for himself and he voices his gratitude in turn.

As you nibble on the delicacy, the silence weighs heavily on your chest, both a burden and a source of comfort. “Did you find everything you needed in Fontaine for your research?” he asks, once again attempting to make some neutral conversation. Alhaitham has never been one for sweets, but he’s willing to eat it for and with you. The cafe’s baklava is one of few desserts he can handle, as it’s not as sickeningly sweet as some other places’ when they’ve added too much syrup.

You chew slowly as you think of your answer. “I think so. I feel pretty good about my report.”

“I’ll be sure to read it soon,” he responds. After all, he is a pretty quick reader, and with the dwindling number of research project applications, he can efficiently get through the other reports to make sure he reviews yours before he goes back to being the Scribe.

“You know, there’s no need to rush on my account,” you say. Honestly, that’s the last thing you need because it would confirm your worst fears and assumptions. Everything discussed with Lumine would’ve been tossed violently out the window, and you so badly don’t want it to manifest.

“...I won’t,” he assures you. Alhaitham understands your research paper needs to be treated like every other one passing through the Akademiya, especially if he is going to be one of the formal reviewers.

You feel your lungs losing air, your heart rate soaring through the roof. With a stroke of luck, your glasses of wine are finished off and the plates hold nothing but crumbs, which provides a perfect excuse for you to get up and get away.

“I’m gonna wash the dishes,” you announce, voice doing little to hide how nervous and shaky you’re feeling. It’s another miracle that you don’t drop anything on the trek from the dining table to the sink as you wonder if you’ve killed any chance of being with Alhaitham. Where was the confidence you possessed when you first met the man?

Even being mere meters away from him becomes painful. His presence alone provides a sense of security, strong and silent. The lack of warmth, the string between you two pulled taut, ignites an obdurate yearning – the very same yearning experienced when you spent days avoiding the man prior to your departure for Fontaine. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, as they all say, and there certainly was some merit to it.

The silence remains suffocating, in some ways, but also comforts you with its deep pressure, distracting you enough that you fail to notice Alhaitham moving around. He removes his cloak and earpieces, draping them neatly over the couch armrest before he comes to stand next to you at the sink. He grabs a towel and is ready to dry when you’re done washing the dishes. Your muscles begin to relax, that earlier frost of loneliness gradually dissipating with his presence nearby. He dries everything with the utmost care and lines them up neatly as you hand them over, and you ignore the little brushes of his fingers against yours with each relinquished plate. You can’t help but wonder if he can feel the heat emanating from your cheeks because honestly, you feel like your face is on fire.

Alhaitham finishes drying off the last item – the second stemless wine glass – and turns to lean his back against the counter with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He waits as you rinse down the sink and passes you the towel to dry off your hands. Your timid smile leaves him hopeful that you’re not visibly shying away from him— not visibly, at least. Seconds pass, and now there is nothing left for you to do or keep yourself busy. He waits for you to gather your bearings and settle to show that you’re ready to talk about… whatever this is.

Those haunting irises suddenly meet his with an alarming amount of determination, holding steadfast and searching his for something, anything. He can’t bear to lose and look away, not that he wants to. Yet you remain quiet, and Alhaitham leans into his impulses.

With firm, sure hands, he pulls you toward his original spot and lifts you up just enough so that you’re sitting on the counter. Alhaitham plants them by your waist and bends down to be level with your gaze, which now holds hints of fear and surprise. They’re open wide, your pupils slowly dilating, and he catches a glimpse of your fingers curling around the edges of the counter. He so badly wants to cradle your face in his hands, to feel your physical presence and prove to himself that you’re really here before him. But that is intimacy he hasn’t quite been granted yet and he can’t mess this up. He must’ve done something wrong the last time he was here, and he most certainly doesn’t want to risk the same outcome again.

“I like you,” he proclaims with a resolute tone. Alhaitham has always hated beating around the bush when unnecessary, and at this point he needs it said out loud for you to know. “I have been attracted to you since the moment we met, and I used to believe that it was purely a biological response. But then I wanted to know more about you. I wanted to learn more about who you are and how your mind works. To be quite honest, I can’t stand the thought of anyone else being in my position right now. I will not hide the fact that I am selfish and want you all for myself, if you would have me.”

You are struggling so hard to keep the smile off your face, your mouth pursing while your teeth dig into the inside of your bottom lip. Three months ago, you would never have seen this coming, and you would have laughed in anyone’s face if they had suggested it.

“If you need time, I can wait. I am not always the most patient person, but for you, I am willing to do so. And–”

“I was worried that you wouldn’t want to see me again after having sex,” you interject and confess. The embarrassment of your thoughts and actions quickly becomes a heavy weight in your chest. Your nerves strain to get the better of you and shut you down before saying more, but you force yourself to push past them. Alhaitham provided you with honesty and transparency, and he deserves the same from you. “We had so much tension between us and I was worried that once it was all resolved, you wouldn’t feel the need to see me again.”

Alhaitham takes a moment to process your words, but he can still see the tension in your shoulders. You won’t meet his gaze as you look past him or at other parts of his body. “There’s something else, is there not?”

You look down at your hands in your lap, your fingers intertwined and fingertips applying pressure where they land. With how forthcoming he has been, you owe it to him to extend the same courtesy, despite how silly it feels now.

“I couldn’t understand why you would even like me,” you say, voice soft and barely audible in the silence. You’re unable to mask the melancholy in your tone when you remember how it felt to internally question his affections and assume the worst. A quiet chuckle slips past your lips, but it’s derisive and bittersweet. “I’m just another scholar and you— you were the Scribe and later Acting Grand Sage. I thought maybe people would accuse me of… providing sexual favors, to put it lightly, if you showed me any leniency or favoritism in my academic career.”

The back of your knuckles brush against his cheek as you lift your head up to take him in. “You could have anyone in the world and you deserve nothing but the best. So why me?”

“I would need a few all-nighters and several pieces of paper to pen down every reason why.”

His quick reasoning with all indicators of certainty – his tone, the lack of any dishonesty in his eyes, the way he holds your eye contact – takes you for a loop. You’re only able to let out a soft “oh” as you let the implications of his words swim in your brain, leaving you helpless to find a suitable response. How do you follow up on an answer like that?

When he feels your fingers slipping down his jawline, he stops it with his own to press his cheek into your palm. “If it provides you any comfort, I will no longer be the Acting Grand Sage by next week. You know how long I’ve waited for them to process and approve of my resignation. And as the Scribe… it still does not matter. People who would assume something so salacious are simply capitalizing on their own insecurities, and they do not deserve a second of your time or an ounce of room in your thoughts. I do my best to exercise fairness and reason in all matters for the Akademiya, and even as my partner you would not be safe from that.

“I’ve never shied away from telling you how things are and you know this. I can ensure you would not earn any favoritism or leniency within the boundaries of the Akademiya, should my presence be involved in your research.”

The smirk that creeps up at the corner of his lips ignites a small flame in your belly – thrill and heat and trepidation all melding together. “Now, outside of those boundaries, it’s a different matter. If I may pry once more, what is your answer?”

Liquid fire pumps from your heart and into your veins, further fueling the heat in your core. Just as it dips dangerously lower, so does your hand, and the other joins in lightly scraping your nails down his abdomen. You feel him jump beneath your touch and relish in the sound of his swallow, and how his breath hitches when your fingertips dip into the band of his pants. They tug him forward until he’s standing between your thighs, just centimeters of nothingness between you two. Even as close as he is, Alhaitham can’t help but think there’s still too much space unoccupied.

Your eyes scream, beseeching him to understand your actions and for him to respond in kind. It can only mean one thing, but he wants to hear those words. He wants it engraved in his memories for the rest of time, despite the desperation to give in and give you both what you desire and need. Alhaitham grasps your chin between his thumb and curled index finger, leaning forward closer and closer until his lips barely touch yours.

“Use your words.”

Arousal seeps through your underwear as the subdued tenor of his voice sends shivers down your spine. Wholly unfair, this man is. Devilish, demanding, teasing, controlling – but most of all, he is yours.

“Please let me have you, if you will have me,” you whisper against his lips, eyelashes fluttering closed at the faint touch.

No sooner when you are greeted by darkness does he fully slot his mouth against yours, hands gripping tightly on your hips to pull you against him. A groan slips past and into you because gods, he’s missed this so much. After nights of waking up with the ghost of your kisses, he never wants this to end and longs for a reality where time can stop and he can take his sweet, sweet time to worship every millimeter of your body with his lips, and then some. Excitement electrifies his whole body when you reciprocate his desire ounce for ounce, and even more so when you let out a pretty little whine, just for him.

When he pulls back for a chance to breathe, he doesn’t move far. “Good girl,” he praises so sweetly, the words washing over you in something akin to pride for eliciting his approval and pleasing him. Alhaitham slides the tip of his nose against yours, moving to kiss your forehead, then your cheeks, your jawline, and the pulse point on your neck. Even the slightest pressure has you tilting your head to the side, granting him permission and room to do as he pleases. Alhaitham bides his time to press whispers of kisses onto your skin until he nips a sensitive spot. A sharp inhale pierces through the kitchen when he sucks on the patch of skin caught between his teeth, taking the utmost care to break the little capillaries underneath. He wants you to experience his phantom touches on these spots in the hours when he’s away from you, a constant reminder that you are his and his alone.

Your fingers dig into Alhaitham’s silver locks, torn between pressing him further into your neck and pulling him away. “Haitham,” you plead and tug on his strands, which only prompts an even harsher abrasion from him. “Wanna kiss you.” Your voice is breathy, and you feel as if you’re on the verge of tears. Who is he to deny such a reasonable request?

Though instead, he pulls you off the counter and rushes to your bedroom with you in tow, granting your wish as soon as you enter. The back of his knees hit the foot of your bed and Alhaitham drags you with him when he sits on top of your blankets. Despite your eagerness to clamber over and straddle him, he disapproves when you attempt to exercise a modicum of control over the situation by leveraging some height over him, utilizing gravity to lean into his embrace and kisses. His palms slide up your thighs with reverence until they dig into the crevice of your hips and yank them down. To have you pressed fully against him is most certainly a blessing, and there’s no way you don’t feel his growing arousal against yours.

When he feels his bottom lip stuck between your teeth, Alhaitham smiles. It still seems you’re not fully understanding the position you’re in. Perhaps, he might need to remind you of just who exactly is succumbing to who.

You keen when his hands dip underneath your shirt to draw meaningless patterns into your waist, but also to make his mark as he holds tight enough that you think you would feel some internal bruising tomorrow. They dance higher and higher, until they meet the bottom seam of your bra, and you nearly choke with the arousal suffocating your lungs.

“Can I?” Alhaitham almost begs, but watches for any sign of hesitation.

“Yes,” you breathe back. You lift your arms up, waiting with thinning patience, and he wastes no time in following through, tossing the shirt to the side with one hand as the other busies to unhook the metal clasp of your bra. Soon enough, your upper body is bare for him to see, to touch, to love – and his breath is taken away because you are so, so beautiful; perfect breasts with hardened nipples, an empty canvas all for him. He made a mistake last time for not seeing them properly, having been too focused on the way they felt against his chest instead.

“Fuck me,” he murmurs. His subsequent scoff feels derisive, sardonic, self-destructive, and his thumbs ghost over your areolas. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous – this is unfair.”

“You’re the one who’s unfair,” you retaliate with a shaky breath as you nearly tear off his shirt. One look at his muscular and toned frame, and it takes everything to stop the drool from spilling past your lips. “Have you looked in the mirror lately?”

“Be careful,” he warns, his fingers digging into the flesh just underneath your breasts. Alhaitham holds onto you as he scoots further back onto the bed, and once he deems there’s enough room, he rolls over until he’s hovering above you, panting and hair splayed and lips swollen. “I’m just a feeble scholar.”

When you roll your eyes with an excessive amount of sass, he dips down to capture your right nipple in his mouth and gives a harsh suck as punishment, satisfied when all defiance on your face morphs into pleasure. Pretty, responsive, little angel, all for him, so sweet, so delicate, so adorable when your spine arches into his mouth and continues to suspend itself as he pays his respects to your other breast. You feel your conscience become fuzzier and fuzzier, dissolving into mush as the tendrils of overstimulation begin to grow, and once again, you find yourself torn between wanting to let him continue and wanting him to stop.

He decides to grant you some mercy when you can’t help but twitch and shy away. Alhaitham’s primal desires begin to crest and wash away any rationale, desperate to keep the taste and feel of your skin between his lips and on his tongue. He doesn’t quite understand this newfound desire to nip and bite, but all he knows is that when he does, his arousal pulses and nearly threatens to break past the seam of his pants. Alhaitham moves lower, lower, ghosting past your stomach, nudging past the band of your bottoms and underwear to tug them down all the way. Those are thrown out of view and he finally, finally, gets to continue from where he last left off, taking no time to push your legs away towards your chest and give a lascivious lick up the length of your cunt. The tip of his tongue meets your clit at the end of its journey, and he firmly holds you down when your hips buck into his mouth as it circles the nub.

It’s game over when he takes it fully in his mouth.

Your hands twist themselves once more into his silver hair, expletives slipping off your tongue as you chase your high. You feel your pussy clench around nothing the higher you climb, the coil in your core winding tighter and tighter. He eats you out like a man starved, enthusiasm unveiled and clear. His passion unbridled and sending you further into the clouds, you feel tears in your eyes begin to well up from sheer bliss, so sensitive and so unbelievably unprepared for everything this man was going to give you tonight. “Haitham,” you cry over and over, his name a mantra and prayer.

When he leans back, you catch a glimpse of the sheen on his chin and the way his eyes remain focused on your arousal, pupils blown. “You taste so good,” he compliments, his voice somehow having dropped an octave lower. “Could eat you out for hours. So good for me, fuck.” It’s dangerous how much you love to hear him curse, knowing that you are the reason why. The rational, feeble, well-spoken scholar, his prose extending to situations such as now, is almost reduced to such crude and filthy vocabulary.

Alhaitham would need to be blind to miss your sticky precum practically spilling from your core after what he said. It’d be a shame to let any of it go to waste, he muses, as he drags his tongue up the length of your cunt and pays attention to your clit again. He watches for every reaction, what makes you tug him closer, what makes your body twitch and convulse, what causes the shakiest exhales from your lungs, what contributes to your squeals and cries – he wants you to get a taste of just how unhinged he becomes in your presence.

Each moment of friction, so wet and slick, against your core seems to send you further and further into oblivion. Tears overflow when your heart bursts and Alhaitham doesn’t miss them – the sheen sliding down the sides of your face shines in the moonlight and he knows there is no reason to fear you’re in pain. He drinks in your moans and feels your fingers tangle further in his silver strands, nails scraping lightly against his scalp, your hips with a mind of their own as you grind against his tongue and nose to chase your release. Alhaitham pays no mind to the way his cock twitches once more in his pants or the unmistakable wet spot that’s formed from his own precum.

The coil in your abdomen wounds tighter and tighter. There is nothing on your mind but the man between your legs and your impending orgasm, one with an intensity you haven’t experienced in ages. “ ‘m close,” you gasp and meet his burning gaze. “Please, wanna cum – yes – please, sir–”

How he doesn’t cum in his pants at the title is beyond his comprehension, but the stroke to his ego is welcoming, to say the least. Alhaitham never felt any type of way when others addressed him as so, sometimes annoyed even, but from you? It is everything. A verbal indication of relinquishing your power to him, your existence at its highest vulnerability, the underlying respect, the implicit trust hidden between three letters – only has him pushing down harder against your thighs, leaving no room for you to fight. The resolve and determination to have you cum on his tongue only increases and his thoughts plunder further into hell. Cum for me, cum on my tongue, let me taste your release that I give you, so fucking addictive – his silent commands painted on your tight bundle of nerves.

With Alhaitham exercising a dizzyingly sinful strength against you, leaving you helpless and defenseless, you let yourself succumb as your heart rate increases. Your breathy warnings and pleas, the oh fuck!s, the whimpering sir!s, confessions of love on the tip of your tongue – you have one minute, moment of clarity when your body freezes, and the coil snaps.

You don’t think you’ve ever cum so hard before, reality-shattering, nerves on overdrive, your body trembling beneath his palms as you ride out the pleasure for as long as you can. The quiet scream from your lungs is inevitable as it dissolves into sobs and Alhaithm follows you when your hips buck. There’s not enough oxygen for you and you can feel the visceral clenching of your abdomen as you fight for air and some semblance of control again – but that flies out the window when, for the first time tonight, Alhaitham slides his tongue inside your quivering cunt.

Said Scribe cannot help but groan, and he wishes he’d done this earlier. To feel your creamy walls squeeze as his taste buds slide amongst them, your keening ringing in his ears, the shaking of your thighs a prisoner between his fingers, the intoxicating taste of your cum – all of it is more than he could have ever dreamed of. Right where he wants you, and all his, his, his.

The incessant tugging of his hair tells him to stop for now, as much as he doesn’t want to. If it were up to him, he’d have you cumming on his tongue for hours, his hard cock be damned. But your convulsions of overstimulation manage to generate the slightest bit of sympathy and he laments when pulling away. His eyes hone in on the way your pussy contracts around nothing, almost begging for something to fill you again. “Good girl,” he praises, tenor delicate and charming, as he rubs gentle circles on your abdomen in an attempt to ground you. There are stars in your eyes, and he waits for you to come back to him.

You barely register Alhaitham’s hand on your body as you stare up at the ceiling, brain and soul somewhat disconnected due to the high of your orgasm. So good to me, your thoughts coo. Haitham, sir, how can I show my gratitude to him?

“Y/N,” and at last, you make eye contact with him. He preens at the blissed out look on your face and moves forward until he’s lying next to you, his weight supported on one arm while the other brushes away your baby hairs. A dreamy smile graces your lips, and he can’t help but lean forward for a soft kiss. Languid, sensual, pliant – several minutes fly by as you bask in each other’s presence until the need for more begins to bloom again. Alhaitham lets out a chuckle when he feels your hand wandering down his frame until it rests on his crotch. Making out with you has kept him semi-hard, and he’s happy you’re taking the initiative. Not that you’re in control, by any means, but it’s cute that you might think so.

Your mind reels from just how big he feels beneath your palm. You can’t deny the times when you’ve sneaked glances at his crotch, his tight pants outlining a slight bulge from day to day – but you never thought your fingers would be splayed so far apart, and you just know they would struggle to meet when gripping his length. Your whines reach his ears as you fumble with the clasp above the zipper, and Alhaitham is so kind, kind enough to take over and do it for you. Seconds later, his pants and underwear join the pile of forgotten clothes, and you immediately look down at what you’ve been waiting for.

The instant pooling of saliva in your mouth is embarrassing, shame and lust spilling into your chest and through your veins. Alhaitham’s cock is so beautiful, just like the rest of him, and you’ve never wanted something in your mouth so bad. It twitches under your reverent gaze, and the tip glistens with his precum. Even the noticeable veins drawn along his length are beautiful, and his balls seem to be engorged, heavy with cum. You prove your earlier hypothesis when you hold it in your hand, and your fingers truly do not meet around the circumference. A gush of slick leaks and paints your inner thighs, your hand seemingly tiny in comparison as you slowly stroke him.

Alhaitham hisses at your touch, so cold against the heat of his cock. There’s a passing thought of wanting to keep that fawning look on your face at all times, the metaphorical hearts in your eyes with his dick in your hand. In a moment of weakness, the thought begins to spiral into darker fantasies, how to keep you hooked and dependent on him, his cock, his mouth, his touch. A flash of a daydream crosses by of him sitting in his office chair, you on your knees between his legs, his shaft bullied deep in your throat as you keep it warm for him, drool and spit spilling from the corner of your lips, so submissive and desperate for him to fuck your face–

Your thumb glosses over his frenulum and he is ripped from his reverie. At risk of cumming too quickly, he thinks of how to keep your soft hands away for now. What can he use? How can he restrict you?

Ah.

Confused whimpers follow after him when he abruptly stands up from your bed and walks over to the pile of discarded clothes. You miss the warmth of his body next to you, goosebumps from the sudden chill rising on your skin. But before you can begin to chase after him, he returns to sit on the bed and beckons for you to sit up for him.

He loves how willing you are to obey him, your eyes wide and a little awestruck as you follow his gesture – almost as if he were your puppeteer. Alhaitham holds out his hands in front of him, palms facing the ceiling, and you match the posture with intrigue painted across your face. As you wait, clarification comes to you when he reveals the patterned, teal sash that usually encompasses his hips. Slow, deliberate movements as he wraps the cloth around your wrists (in case you don’t want it because he would never force you to do anything you were uncomfortable with), indicate this uncharted territory. And when the tie is made and the knot is pulled tight, you look up at him.

“Is this okay?” He asks. When you give a mute nod, he clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Words, Y/N.”

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammer. “Yes, sir, it’s okay.”

Alhaitham watches as you lay back until your head meets the pillow, and your bound wrists lay prettily above your head. Your constrained and exposed body greets him. He sees your eyes strain to catch another glance at his cock, and the smirk on his lips is nothing but smug as he gives it a few quick pumps as a gift to you.

“Can you come here?” You plead because you know there’s no room to make any demands, and it’s his turn to be curious. Nevertheless, he resumes his original position by your side, but you shake your head. You can tell he doesn’t know what’s happening, but you are feeling shameless and powerless, at the mercy of this man, and you want him to really, really, drive that point deeper.

“Can you…straddle me? Like above my chest though?”

If this is going where Alhaitham thinks it’s going, he might just abandon the Akademiya altogether, whisk you away to his house, kick out Kaveh and have him live in your apartment instead, and keep his own doors locked for eternity. He does as you ask as he thrums in excitement, his cock weighty and leaking when you’re satisfied with where he is.

Time slows to a crawl as he watches you lift your head up with your pretty mouth open and take the tip of his cock between your glossy lips.

The tight heat is maddening, a strangled “fuck” falling off his tongue, and you push forward to take more of his length in your mouth. So dutiful and loyal, you have proven yourself, as you suck his cock with your eyes closed and moans vibrating around him. Given certain physical limitations, there’s only so much you can take in, which is where he believes it’s his time to act his part. He places a hand on the back of your skull to provide you some relief, but also to sink deeper down your throat. Naturally, you fall back until it’s just the head between your lips again, but he is right there to drag you back towards him and fill your depraved mouth.

“Look at you,” he hisses, controlling your pace. Such a good little fucktoy, no? “Who knew you would want my cock so badly? For me to sit on top and watch as you struggle to even take half of it in your mouth? I don’t think you have any idea of what you’ve started. Your lips are stretched so wide, but just wide enough for me to fit perfectly in between them, like it was made for me. Maybe that’s what it is.” His perverse thoughts run wild without any composure or filter, and he is unable to hold it in. “You were made for me and my cock, and– oh fuck – it seems like you love the idea of being my personal cocksleeve.”

Your eagerness to please him increases as you strain to take more in, his tip slipping into and catching the back of your throat. The sound of you choking on his cock rings in your ears, sending you further and further into oblivion. Every word from Alhaitham sounds true, and he’s right – right that maybe you were specifically made for him, his own blessing from the Archons, and right that you deeply, painfully, love the idea of letting him use you as he wishes. A garbled cry, followed by more sticky release dripping from your cunt, doesn’t go unnoticed when his voice sounds ragged on the word “cocksleeve.” It’s a lascivious tone of accord and approval, and your tears flow when he pulls you as far down his length as your quenched throat allows, your chained wrists resting atop your skull, and he keeps you there.

“This is what you want, isn’t it?” He asks with a teasing lilt in his voice. “I have no objections to fully commit to being yours, your sir. But you must understand I expect the same commitment in return. This cock is yours,” Alhaitham promises, relishing in your muffled whimper of agreement. “And you are mine. My,” – a pause – “personal, depraved, slut.”

At first, he worries he might have gone too far with such a derogatory term, but they are all dashed aside when he watches your eyelids flutter closed and eyes roll into the back of your head. A long whine sends him into overdrive, and even more so when you try to fit more of his cock down your throat. Expletives slip from his tongue as he pulls you away completely, a tendril of saliva connecting your lips to his tip, your mouth still wide open while gasping for air. He sees your own tongue peek out and rest on your bottom lip, pliant and waiting for him to return.

Alhaitham lets go of your skull and watches you fall back to your pillow. He moves your tied hands above and over your head until they settle right above your belly button. The position allows him to trap your arms beneath him and move just a little further up the bed for the bottom half of his length to weigh heavily on your eager mouth. It remains open as he drags his shaft along your tongue, teasing you by slipping the head of his cock in your mouth. Your lips immediately close around it, but they are no match for when he pulls away, and you’re left empty once again.

“Truly a cockslut,” he chides as his hand takes a hold of his length and smacks it against your tongue. “You’ll take everything I give you, won’t you?” And he smirks when you nod, still beckoning, still waiting. “You’ve done well for me so far. Perhaps I should give you a gift.”

There’s little time to regain your senses when he shoves his length in until it hits the back of your throat once more and grabs onto your headboard. Just that angle gives him enough leverage to fuck your face as he pleases.

“If your mouth is this tight, I can only imagine what your cunt will feel like on my cock,” he grits out. Your brain goes numb as you take it all in, content and satisfied to please Alhaitham. You focus on making sure your teeth don’t drag against his skin, tongue swiping patterns and circles around his cock when possible. “I’ll need to take my time stretching out your tiny pussy, won’t I? Fuck, need to make it fit inside you. Isn’t that right?”

Alhaitham pretends to be dissatisfied with your moan, all garbled and thick with drool. “How many times do I need to tell you to use your words?” He teases, knowing full well there’s no way for you to form any right now. But a wicked, joyous laugh rings in your ears when he can tell you’re attempting to do it anyways. It goes straight down his dick and into his balls, and as they tighten further, he knows he’s close.

You don’t know how it’s possible for him to grow any thicker, but somehow it happens when his pace increases, and he tells you, “I’m going to cum, okay? Going to give you all my cum, make you my cumslut. You want to be my cumslut, you’re doing so well, so perfect, letting me fuck your mouth. Shit, cumming, cumming –!”

At the very last second, he pulls out and furiously pumps his cock, shifting back just in time for his cum to paint your breasts. “Fuck!” He growls and rides out the high until there’s nothing left to give you, blinding light beneath his eyelids before he snaps them open so he can watch you become covered by his release. Viscous, white ropes paint over you, some even landing on your cheek and neck. His chest heaves and his eyes remain unfocused from the fog in his brain.

That is, until he watches you swipe his cum from your neck with your fingers before it drips onto the bed, and place them in your mouth. Your sigh screams content as you lick them clean, and as far as he can tell, you’re enjoying the taste of him – as if he was the one to sate your thirst rather than the other way around. In a trance, he joins you in your meal by feeding you more with his own appendages, and his dick returns to half-mast once all the cum is visibly gone and slid down your throat.

“Thank you for your cum,” you say, your voice dreamy and euphoric. Alhaitham pulls you by your bound wrists again until you’re sitting up close enough, and buries his head into your shoulder, embedding his own kisses of gratitude into your skin. It doesn’t matter that there’s dried spit on your chin and your hair is a mess – you’re still so incredibly stunning to him.

To look into your eyes, to cradle your face in his palm, to ghost his thumb over your cheekbone, how lucky he is to be in a position to even ask you, “Was that okay?”

“Very,” you smile, unabashed and clearly happy with everything that had just happened. A small giggle slips out as well.

“Good,” he murmurs after kissing your forehead. “Would you be open to one more round? It seems I haven’t gotten enough of you.”

You see the evidence of his claims, how his cock gradually grows and rises under your watchful stare. His earlier words of needing to stretch you out before he can fuck you play in your head, and they remind you of just how wet you are. Still tied up, you scoot back away from him until you can stretch your legs out, parted to reveal what you so desperately wanted to touch as his dick was lodged in your mouth. Alhaitham’s pupils dilate and zero in on the mess between your thighs, and he chases after you to spread your legs farther.

“You became this wet from me fucking your mouth?” His fingers slide against the folds of your puffy cunt, your clit peeking out and swollen. “Tsk, all this pre gone to waste,” and you whimper when his nails barely graze that bundle of nerves, still sensitive from your previous orgasm. There’s no resistance when he works his middle finger inside you and your breath hitches. He turns his wrist as he fingers you, creating more and more arousal coursing through your veins. Alhaitham is proud that one finger of his affects you so. You whine and reach for him with grabby hands, managing to latch onto his wrist so he can keep his appendages buried inside you. “My my,” he teases, and his fingers curl, searching and searching until his fingertip taps against the exact spot that makes your back arch.

“You’re so eager to be filled,” Alhaitham taunts as he lubes up his ring finger with your slick. You feel even tighter when it slips in with his middle finger, and he finds that spot again in no time, already having memorized where it is. “You don’t have my permission to cum yet,” he warns, a decision just made when your walls are really beginning to clench around him.

“B-but–”

A third finger joins in, cutting you off from any protesting. “You either cum on my cock or not at all,” he offers and you think it’s beyond cruel. Why can’t you cum on his fingers and his cock?

With every last thread of your existence, you stamp down the growing desire to cum again. It feels like hours have passed, your sanity barely intact, when Alhaitham hums, just loud enough to be heard amongst your moans and whines. “I’m beginning to question whether I truly am too big for you,” he contemplates out loud. “What do you think, Y/N?”

It’s so hard to answer his question when you’re using everything else inside you to not break around his fingers. The depraved squelching of your slick only adds fuel to the fire in your core, and you’re trying to think, you really are–

The friction ceases, and before you can even address it, there’s a light, punishing slap across your clit. “Fuck,” you whimper, throat dry.

“Answer my question. Do you think I might not fit inside you?”

You know what answer he’s looking for. You know he wants you to surrender to his hidden intentions, that, “It doesn’t matter,” and you swallow. “I will…make it fit.”

In turn, he removes his fingers with care, but leaves you horribly empty with the void expanding into your chest. “Do you have a condom?” Alhaitham asks while looking around your bedroom.

“The bottom drawer on the right in the bathroom.”

Your sir leans forward to place a gentle kiss on your stomach. “I will return soon.”

For the seconds that you try to catch your breath, to calm your beating heart, to ignore the vacuity between your legs, you realize just where you are and who you’re with. You haven’t had much of a clear mind since the second he knocked on your window, caught up in the whirlwind of your nerves and paranoia – and then to have it turned on its head where you now lay in your bed, free of any prior anxiety, and drown in your lust.

Alhaitham wanders back into your room, focused on the package in his hand. Shameless and perverse, your eyes drink in his length, bobbing with each step. Even you’re beginning to doubt your ability to take him all in, but the anticipation, the threads of excitement that you may be filled again clouds over everything else.

“Hold your legs for me,” he commands gently, and you obey once he unties the sash around your wrists. Your arms hook beneath your knees so that everything is displayed and exposed to him. He sets the condom to the side when he shuffles closer so his hips meet the bottom of your thighs. Your breath hitches when he presses his cock onto your abdomen, and it pleases both of you so much to see that his tip just about reaches your belly button. “Look at how deep it’ll be inside you,” he coos, your whine following. “But it’s okay if you can’t take it all, you can’t help it that your little cunt is so tight.”

There’s a twinge of faux disappointment in his words. As if on instinct, you shake your head in vehement disagreement. “I’ll make it fit, sir, I promise,” you gasp and pull your legs closer to you. “We have to make it fit.”

“Mmm, my eager cocksleeve,” he responds with mirth, his regales washing away the panic from your system. You wait with bated breath as he grinds the underside of his entire length against your glistening folds, purposely catching onto your clit when possible. You’re not sure how much longer you can stand the torture, becoming wetter and wetter with each glide. “The color system is okay to check in with you?”

“Yes.”

He nods and leans back so the tip of his cock is just outside your entrance. His fingers roll and stretch the condom down his length. It takes a tremendous amount of effort to tear his gaze away from your core so he can obtain your consent to start, and the determined nod he receives sets his heart aflame.

A sinful perversion enters his mind as he watches your messy cunt split open and stretch over the head of his cock. He thinks about the future and wonders when the day will be for you to be in his lap and sink down his cock with no hesitation. His thumbs spread your folds further apart so he can get a better look, his lustful illusions from many lonely nights finally coming into play. Your breathy gasp when the head pops in is alluring, and he craves more of it. That perversion echoes its lack of satisfaction, that this is not enough, and he needs it all. Pride fills his chest as you take the first few inches with no problem, trying to take deep breaths as he continues to bully his way into your pussy.

Though internally, your mind is on the verge of breaking from how thick Alhaitham is. The emptiness from earlier has long been fulfilled, and you take a look to see that he’s barely fit half oh him inside you, and you already feel so full.

You were made for me.

I was made for him, you remind yourself, rationality thrown out the window because serving Alhaitham is all that matters in this moment. He’s giving you his cock, taking his time for you, providing a subtle reminder of just who you will belong to from here on out. Alhaitham has been so kind to you, you think. The least you could do is to be his good little slut, so eager and always yearning for him.

“You’re doing so well,” Alhaitham praises, though his voice chokes. You’re terribly tight around him, so much so that he wonders if he would even be able to pull out once he’s buried all of himself inside you. It wouldn’t be much of a problem, he thinks, to have you stuck on his cock for eternity, fucked dumb with nothing on your mind but him and pleasure. His hand puts the slightest pressure on your abdomen, but it’s enough for you to break with an “oh!”

“Fuck, I can almost feel myself inside you,” he marvels. “Color?”

It takes you a few seconds to process his question. “Green,” falls off your tongue with a whimper. But the bit of hesitation is enough for Alhaitham to stop in his tracks.

“Y/N, look at me.”

A dreamy hum on your lips, your blown out eyes meet his, and he realizes how far gone you are. “We can stop, it’s okay if we do.” But that may have been the wrong thing to say because your face falls, tears prickling your eyes. “I can do it,” you sniffle. “Please, sir.”

There is no way for him to remain unaffected by the way you address him, but he ensures to take extra care for the last few inches.

“You’re doing so well, taking all of me in. You’re keeping your promise, I’m so proud of you,” Alhaitham coos. The bottom of his shaft is just a little bit thicker, and you let out a happy squeal when your cunt stretches as much as it can to accommodate him. His tip barely grazes your cervix, and through your floaty thoughts, you almost wish it was deeper. The groan from Alhaitham as he bottoms out provides you comfort. It can only mean that you’re making him feel good, and that you did manage to have him fit inside you. So pleased with yourself, your pussy clenches around him and coaxes for more, for his cum.

If Alhaitham didn’t have better control of himself, he would’ve cum right then and there. Buried deep inside you, warm velvety walls sucking him in – it’s hard to believe that this is really happening. The person he loves is in his arms, joined with him in the most intimate way known to mankind. He never wants to leave you, leave this, yet his cock begs for friction. Your adorable whine of protest as he slides out a couple inches beckons him to return, and return he does as you let out a sound of pure satisfaction.

“Loveyou,” your words slurred together and fuzzy. “Love, love your cock, please, wan’ more, please?”

Archons, how are you so perfect for him? Alhaitham sets a steady, moderate pace and focuses on you, ensuring that you’re okay and pleased. It seems there’s a permanent grin on your face, even when you gasp or scream, and he’s determined to keep it there. When you seem completely accustomed to his pace, his strokes become longer and more indulgent. “Fuck,” you cry each time he fills you up with more and more of his cock with each stroke. His thumbs rub circles into your clit and drive you closer to your peak – you don’t know if you’re ready to cum yet, or if you want this to end. You don’t, but you’re so close–!

“Such a good girl for me – your little cunny was really made for my cock. There’s no one else for me, just you, pretty girl,” he breathes, seeing the hesitation on your face as your walls clench tighter than before. “I know you’re gonna cum soon, I want to see you cum on my cock. Can you do that for me?”

Anything he asks for, you would go to great lengths to give him what he wants. So if he wants you to cum, then you have to. You nod with a pout on your face, but Alhaitham leans forward, pushing your legs back further as he reaches to kiss the pout away. “That’s my good girl, so perfect.”

He pulls out completely, but why?

Alhaithm grabs and maintains eye contact with you for two agonizing seconds, and then commands you to, “Cum for me.”

And you do just that when he slams his entire length inside you as soon as those words leave his lips.

Alhaitham basks in your scream and sobs, your body convulsing and trembling beneath him, your walls an impossible vice around his cock. He grinds against you to go as deep as he can, “fuckfuckfuck”, and a growl buried in your neck as he cums. In your high, you think you can feel the heat and its spasms of it all, passively wondering what it would feel like to have him cum inside you without a condom. Perhaps one day you’ll be granted a nice little breeding session, but that is neither here nor there.

Alhaitham plants pecks and kisses all over your face, neck, and shoulders, smiling when your little giggles reach his heart. If anything, he’s just happy that everything turned out okay and didn’t end up in a disaster like last time. As he observes the serenity gracing your complexion, he cannot contain his affection any longer.

“Thank you…for having me.” I love you.

Another giggle. “I love you, too, Haitham. A lot.”

You’re kindly gifted a most adoring eskimo kiss. “I need to get you cleaned up, so I need to pull out, okay?”

The pout returns despite your agreement, and Alhaitham spends much needed time to pull out without you breaking. The devil on his shoulder protests otherwise, as it attempts to coax him into keeping you speared on his cock for the night, or more. Your whine of loss tugs at his heartstrings and feeds into his greed, and he embraces you once more to keep you grounded. Slowly, but surely, you return to your senses. Alhaitham is heavy and sweaty against you, but it’s more than you could ask for. A few taps on his shoulder are enough to tell him that you’re back on the same plane of reality with him, and he dives in to kiss you again, painting compliments and praises of how amazing you were along your lips.

Alhaitham then sweeps you off the bed, into his arms, and takes hurried steps towards the bathroom. You’re like a delicate flower with the way he places you on the toilet, and he reminds you of the importance of peeing after sex. Your privacy is granted when he leaves to remove and tie off the condom to discard it in the kitchen trash can, and later returns with a warm, wet towel. He waits until you’re back in bed and comfortable before he tenderly wipes away any excess fluids and leaves it on your nightstand before cuddling next to you. You turn towards him and burrow into his chest, content as his arms embrace you with an air of security and protection.

He mumbles something into your hair, but you’re out before you can even think to ask what he said.

When you finally come to, you can’t remember the last time you slept so well. No tiresome dreams, no sporadically waking up in the night – weeks out in the nature with Lumine had turned you into a light sleeper, and you missed this feeling of being so well-rested.

But the soreness in your thighs screams otherwise, and you wince when they refuse to cooperate. A muscular arm rests around you as if it has always belonged there. At first you question why it’s there, but then your brain decides to wake up and remind you just exactly of what transpired last night. Despite the mixture of shock and embarrassment (mainly at just how wanton you acted), you look up from where you are buried into Alhaitham’s chest. Somehow, you’re surprised to see him already awake. Well, surprised may not be the right word. But the clear adoration in his eyes is unmistakable, seizing and pulling on your heartstrings.

Alhaitham quite enjoys watching you think and process, imagining the fine-tuned gears and cogs in your brain working in overdrive. He remains silent as he smooths out some of the tangles in your hair, and he patiently waits to hear from you. You two had already experienced many hours of quietude before, so this was nothing new for him. There are very few moments in his life when he’s felt this serene and content, half-naked and you pressed against him, both drinking in each other and the light of day coming from your window. He could get used to this. He wants to get used to this.

“You’re making me breakfast in bed,” you decide with your first words of the day, grumbling with a pout on your face. “I don’t think I can walk properly.”

The former scribe arches a perfect silver brow, but the shit-eating smirk stretching along his face is anything but confusion. He knows exactly what you’re implying, and he’s quite satisfied with himself for causing such a situation. Perhaps he should do it more often.

“That I can do,” he agrees, his morning voice deep, yet full of mirth. After a quick kiss on your forehead, he rolls out of bed to do just as you command.

The growl from your stomach prevents you from calling him back because you’re cold now. A shiver runs down your spine as you tighten the blanket and sheet around you, tucking some beneath your chin in an attempt to trap whatever warmth you have left. But when you catch a hint of Alhaitham’s lingering scent, you feel yourself immediately calm down and breathe evenly. The gentle cluttering from your kitchen provides another layer of security as well.

Lost in your basking, you’re quite startled when you feel Alhaitham’s lips on your cheek, a tray in his hands with a light, yet nutritious breakfast arranged. But as you continue to lay there, he can’t help but laugh.

“Do you need help sitting up?”

“No.”

“Don’t be stubborn.”

You do, in fact, need his strength to sit up comfortably against some pillows. The embarrassment hasn’t quite worn off by the time he slides back underneath the sheets to sit next to you, an arm slung over your shoulders as you eat. But in seconds, it dissipates, and is replaced with something akin to love. For you both to finally be here, together as if you two have been dating for years, is exactly the outcome you have been wishing for.

“You know,” he starts before being interrupted by a forkful of food shoved into his mouth, courtesy of you. “You’re a perfect reason why I can finally kick Kaveh out of my home.”

You swat his shoulder with your free hand. “That’s so mean!”

“He can just move in here. I’m not that heartless to leave him homeless. Is that what you think of me?”

You answer without hesitation, “Yes.”

With the hand hanging off your shoulder, his nails scrape lightly in retaliation against the skin beneath your collar bone.

“If I recall, I was pretty fair with you last night,” he murmurs into your hair. “Perhaps I need to remind you just how fair when you’re done with breakfast.”

And you’ve never finished a meal so quickly.

fin.

#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham smut #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact

1K notes · View notes

bittersweet-folder · 3 months

Text

Lipstick stains for his pretty face ♡ (part 1?)

Pairing: Wen Junhui × fem reader (honestly this can be counted as a Wen Junhui × gender neutral reader too but there's a mention that reader is wearing a dress which some may not prefer but still letting y'all know)

Warning: nothing much just lots of kissing and little bit suggestive at the end.

I did proofread twice but if there's any grammatical errors lemme know!

Genre: fluff, a little suggestive at the end. | Song rec: Bambi by Baekhyun . | MASTERLIST

Word count: 798 | Let me know if y'all want a part 2🎀.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

The date went well.

Jun unlocked the entrance door of the apartment you both shared.

"You go in first, madam" he said. A smirk laced on his lips afterwards. He couldn't take eyes off of you tonight. You looked exquisite clad in that black silky dress with that light makeup painted on your face. But now you also had his leather jacket on your shoulder. As soon as you entered the apartment which you both shared, he followed after you and locked the door. That followed his much awaited, impatient confession with him pinning you against the wall. Your eyes meet his.

"Can I kiss you? Please. You looked so gorgeous tonight, sweetheart" he had that sense of urgency laced in his voice while saying that.

"Yes. Of course" You smiled.

His hand touched and caressed your cheek making its way on the nape of your neck. Slowly, he closed the gap between your lips and his. His other arm went around your waist, closing the distance between your bodies. With your hands around his shoulders, your fingers find their way running through his hair. His lips were soft. He could slightly taste your lipstick. It was a pretty dark berry red shade which adorned your lips tonight. Your lips were moving in a perfect rhythm with his lips. You both were lost in the bliss of it as if it was not enough and you both craved more. The jacket dropped on the floor which made you both pull away from the kiss.

"Umm I think we should take this to the bedroom?" he asked.

You noticed the lipstick stain on his lips. Color smudging over his lip line a little bit. That's when something popped up in your head.

"Jun is it okay… if you take me to the bedroom and we do something I saw on YouTube a few days back" you hesitated at first but then said everything in one breath.

He let out a chuckle. "Of course we can my lady"

You let out a yelp in surprise when he lifted you up, proceeding towards the bedroom.

He made you straddle on his lap.

"So what is it?"

"Basically…" you kept your purse aside and searched up the video and showed it to him "this.. was what I was talking about.. can i do it? Pretty please Junhii" you said dragging on the last syllable.

"That's something new not gonna lie but yeah of course baby you can do that" his hands pulled you closer by your waist.

"Okay!" you grinned and took your lipstick out of your purse. After applying a fair amount of lipstick on your lips you kept your lipstick on the side. At first, he felt your soft, supple lips pressed on the corner of his lips, then it found its place on his cheek. Too many for the cheek because they look so plumped and adorable when he smiles. Then another one on the nose which made him giggle. Slowly you moved a bit below, now pressing kisses on his neck. Then you stopped to take a look at his face, which was now littered with plenty of red lip stains with a smirk laced on his lips.

"You look soo adorable" you said squealing.

"You've got lipstick on your nose" Jun smiled.

"You've got lip prints all over your pretty face" and then added "made by me" you said feeling content with the deed you did.

"So my face is pretty with the lip print or it's prettier without the lip print?"

You groaned "yahhh you're pretty either way!!"

"And you're my pretty," he moved dangerously close to your left ear and said in a lower voice "pretty girl" he said while moving one of his hands on your back, fiddling with the zipper of your dress. It felt warm yet ticklish when he whispered in your left ear and then you let out a breathy sigh.

"But wait-" You pulled away and then continued "we need to take a picture and then remove this off of your face I don't want you to have any kinda skin infection now" you said.

"Alright then! we're taking this to the shower baby!" Jun said as he lifted you up and walked towards the bathroom. "I hope you won't mind getting a little more wet than usual honey" he said, yet again, in a lower, deeper voice.

"I- I would honestly love it- a lot.." you stuttered. Your cheeks started burning up.

"Cat got your tongue now" Jun said, placing you on the countertop beside the sink, hands still placed on your waist now slowly moving to your lower back, massaging that area lightly.

It's gonna be a long night.

🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀

A/n: hello everyone, it's been a while since I posted anything let alone write something. I just didn't wanted to force myself to write something. A lot has be going on and I gotta study too because my exams are coming up.

Thank you for your support🎀✨❤

Also I ain't tagging anyone here. This was literally a part of the performance unit imagine I was writing but then I thought of writing it as a separate fic. Next part would ofc be a smut fic☺🫣🫶 lemme know if y'all wanna be in the tag list for that.

#seventeen #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fic #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #wen junhui #moon junhui #junhui fluff #jun fluff #jun smut #junhui x reader #junhui smut #svt #svt performance unit

188 notes · View notes

atinyniki · 5 months

Text

take your time.

group: ateez !

pairing: idol!song mingi x f!reader

genre: angst with a fluffy ending

warnings + additional info: reader is referred to as y/n, established relationships, pregnancy, lots of blood, childbirth, arguments, hyunwoo (xikers) is y/ns little brother, mentions of a miscarriage, jiyoo is the daughter of mingi and y/n, guilt, kissing, reader almost miscarries, cpr on a newborn, mentions of divorce, mingi almost gets into a car accident, tad bit suggestive at the end, fainting.

authors note: holy fuck this is actually so sad... at least its a happy ending tho <3 i really hope you guys like this ! please dont read if youre not comfortable with themes relating to birth and miscarriage </3 this is also not proofread. english is not my first language, so please excuse any grammatical or spelling errors. happy reading :)

wc: 3107

HUGE TW, PROCEED WITH CAUTION: reader almost has a miscarriage, pregnancy, blood, and the pain that goes along with it.

“don’t fucking touch me.”

he instantly backs away, hands clasped in front of him. “we’re leaving.”

he looks back up at you, a crestfallen look on his face. “what…?”

“it’s not fair, mingi. you can’t just jump back into our lives like this.”

“i’m not jumping back, ive been here!”

“jiyoo doesn’t think you love her anymore.”

“what?!”

you huff in frustration, he’s clearly not getting the message. “don’t you get it? it’s because you’re never there, mingi. you might be in the house, but you’re still always working. you don’t have time for us, not at all, and come to think of it, you don’t deserve our love. so we’re leaving, i’ll come back once i’m ready.”

he lets the words sink in, still sat in shock. his daughter doesn’t even know if he loves him. he’s failed her, and he’s failed you. he’s even failed his son, before he was even born.

“i know you said not to touch… but can i do something?”

“a hug isn’t going to fix anything, mingi”

“i know, but can i still do something?”

“make it quick.”

he walks over to you, tears slipping from his eyes even though he tries to suppress them. he kneels down in front of you, lifting up your shirt to kiss your baby bump.

it’s the same thing he’s been doing every night, yet you’re never up to see him do it, and the sight alone causes tears to spring to your eyes. “i’ll see you soon buddy, i love you.”

he stands back up, mustering the best smile he possibly can with all the pain in his heart. “can i see jiyoo?”

you nod, and he instantly sprints to her room. “jiyoo? can i come in?”

she opens the door immediately, squealing in delight and throwing herself into her dads arms. “i missed you!”

“i know princess… i know.”

she instantly picks up on the tone in his voice, a little confused. “what’s wrong abba?”

“nothing! don’t worry baby… are you excited?”

her face instantly lights up at the mention of her little vacation. “yeah! im so excited to see uncle hyunwoo again, i missed him.”

he giggles along with her, pinching her cheek softly, “yeah, i bet you did munchkin.”

“i just wish you could be there with us…”

“it’ll be fun! tell me how your birthday went, yeah?”

she nods, hugging him tighter. “i will…”

a moment of silence passes, and she stays sat on his lap, hugging him and relaxing in his arms. mingi relishes in the moment, afraid that this might not happen again for a while.

“sugar?”

“mmm”, she replies sleepily.

“i love you…”

she turns back up to look at him, “i know abba.”

he shakes his head, guiding her face to look up at him with his two large hands. “no baby… i love you.”

“what’s going on?”

“please d-don’t forget it… i love you to the ends of the universe”

“i love you too, abba”

his façade is cracking, he can feel it. a singular tear slides down his face after he kisses her cheek, and he quickly wipes it away. this is for the best, and he knows that it’s what you both need right now.

“alright, i’ll call amma and she can help you pack, okay?”

“we already packed though?”

“oh… yeah i’ll just- i’ll go get her.”

you see him enter the living room again, “you two have fun yeah? call me if you need me.”

you can only nod, grabbing the bags and placing them in the trunk. you finally come back inside, ushering jiyoo out of her room and bringing her over to the car.

but before you get in, he stops you. “y/n.”

“hm?”

“i love you.”

you stop in your tracks, unable to say anything back. normally you’d reply with the same three words in a heartbeat, but it didn’t slip off the tongue naturally anymore.

it makes sense, considering how long it’s been since you’ve said it to him. “i know, mingi. take care.”

you get into your car, unable to bear the sight of him anymore, and you make your way out of the driveway. “amma, why is abba crying?”

“he’s not crying, baby.”

you turn your head to look at him, he’s sat on the porch, hands clasped over his mouth. he waves one final time, his face contorting into a painful expression.

and now you’re certain.

he’s crying.

“whatever you decide, we’ll be right here. we’re always here for you, you know that right?”

he nods, tears leaving his eyes. he normally stays strong, only letting the tears out around you. you’re his safe haven, and yet the tears seem unstoppable now.

they pour down relentlessly, unable to keep themselves in for mingis sake. san pours him a glass of water, sitting down next to hongjoong.

“i don’t think i can do this right now…”

“that’s okay mingi… you can go on hiatus. you need a break.”, hongjoong suggests.

“i don’t wanna let you guys down.”

“we don’t have much to do the next couple months, you know. we’ve recorded everything for the comeback anyways. please?”

he knows they’re only looking out for him. “okay… fine. i’ll finalize everything soon.”

the boys all comfort him through it. none of them have gone through this type of pain, but it seemed that they all knew how to comfort him.

he’s grateful, but he doesn’t feel fulfilled. he’s not happy. he’s not happy, because they’re not you.

he walks home that night, scared to drive in the state he’s in. his eyes are blurry, he can hardly see, but he tries his best to find his way back properly.

that is, until he crosses the road next to the dorms. he could’ve sworn the light wasn’t there. all he could process was a flash of white, and he braces himself for the impact.

the next thing he hears is a loud screech of the tires, and the driver instantly gets out to check on him. “mingi are you okay?”

he looks up at him, its hyunwoo, he realizes. “y-yeah im okay…”

he tries to walk back down the crosswalk, but hyunwoo stops him. “mingi…”

“i’m fine.”

more tears leave his eyes, and hyunwoo instantly goes to hug him. “you’ll be okay, i know it. just give her some time.”

mingi hugs him back even tighter, completely unaware that you’re watching from the backseat with jiyoo. “thank you.”

“i’m always here.”

that’s what everyone says. everyone is always there for him. you were always there for him.

but now you’re not. now you’re gone, because of him, and he has to deal with the consequences.

“h-have a good night hyunwoo.”

before he can answer, mingi sprints away, too scared to see him. his eyes are the same as yours, and he can’t bear to stare into them anymore.

he wants it all to end.

he scrolls through his twitter feed again, making sure his eyes aren’t deceiving him. no, they aren’t.

there’s an article about his rumored divorce, all he can do is hope you haven’t seen them yet. before he knows it, it hits twelve. he grabs his phone from the dresser, dialing your number.

no answer.

he tries again.

no answer.

he tries calling hyunwoo, and he finally picks up. “hello?”

“hey woo…”

“mingi?”

“sorry to bother, i was just wondering if jiyoo is still awake? i wanted to wish her a happy birthday.”

he chuckles awkwardly, “she’s awake… but i don’t think- um…”

“oh, yeah… that’s okay. can you just tell her i have a gift waiting for her at home? thanks…”

“yeah, i’ll tell her. how are you doing? i saw the articles.”

“i don’t know.”

“what do you mean?”

“i don’t know how im doing, not right now. goodnight hyunwoo”

“oh- i- goodnight?”

he quickly hangs up the phone, unable to say anymore. he’s scared for his life. is jiyoo having fun? are you doing okay with your pregnancy? are you still upset?

he hopes you’re feeling better, he truly doesn’t want you to waste your tears on him.

it’s been two months since you’ve last seen him, and you think you’re doing a lot better. you know you miss him, and you know you will return, but you don’t know if you’re ready yet.

you know it’s very unfair to him, not being able to see jiyoo, but there’s a lot going on in your life right now. you don’t think you’re ready to face him, even though you truly do miss him.

“amma?”

“yes baby?”

“this vacation is getting boring…”

you give her a soft smile, picking her up and placing her on your lap. “i know baby, we’ll go home soon.”

you play a little more with jiyoo, until you see her start to cry. it breaks your heart even more. you have to talk to him.

and so you do. you grab a couple things, bringing jiyoo in the car with you. you both arrive at your home not too long after, it’s been too long since you’ve even seen the place.

you knock on the door, and you hear shuffling from the end. your heart rate quickens, still scared of what’s to come, but you’ve come too far to let it go now.

he opens the door, a look of surprise on his face. and then his eyes meet yours. it’s almost as if it’s been flipped. last he saw you, your eyes were red, and his were happy, bright. and now his are red, and you look much better than you did before.

his eyes then fly to the little girl next to you, running over to give him a hug. he falls to his knees before he can even think, sobs racking his body once again. “abba! i missed you.”

his body shakes with his cries, smoothing down her hair and kissing her cheeks. “i missed you more, my princess…”

you enter the house, closing and locking the door behind you. you set your things down by the door, and you just sit there and watch. your heart melts at the sight.

you feel guilty for keeping them apart so long, but you needed time. maybe you still do, but there’s nothing you can do now.

he stands back up, bringing jiyoo to her room to get her into bed. “i don’t wanna sleep yet…”

“i know sweet girl… i’ll tell you what, if you sleep now, i’ll show you your dollhouse first thing tomorrow.”

“okay! goodnight abba!”

“i love you pumpkin.”

he leaves the room not too long after, watching you pace the room. you’re crying, he can see the streaks over your face. he slowly walks over you, careful not to startle you.

“are you not ready…?”

“i don’t know…”

“we don’t have to talk right now… but i’m here for you.”

you turn your head towards him, utterly touched by his words. you would have never guessed that he’d be so patient with you, and it finally slips naturally.

“i love you, mingi.”

“i love you too.”, he replies without missing a beat.

“i’m sorry i didn’t tell you when we left. it’s been eating me alive.”

“that’s okay, i put you in a lot of pain. i understand, i promise.”

a moment of silence passes between the two of you, only your shared sniffles heard from time to time.

“im sorry i came here unannounced. jiyoo just missed you a lot…”

silence.

“i missed you”

he looks back up at you, almost sobbing now. he tries to wipe his tears away, but they just keep coming back.

that’s how it is with mingi. you’re his safe place, and he will let every emotion out with you.

“i missed you so much more… you’d truly never believe it”, he whispers.

you give him a soft smile, opening your arms to him. “c’mere”

“what? really?”

“yes! come here, i missed you.”

he’s hesitant at first, but the second he feels you around him again, he melts. his heart feels too much at once, and he starts crying again. no. wailing.

he gasps for air again, rather harshly, and tangles his hands in your hair. he inhales again, all of his senses completely overridden. by you.

“oh baby…”

he hugs you tighter once he hears the pet name, and you smooth down his hair with your hand. “i promise i’ll be b-better… i know i’ve been terrible to you, but ill try my best. i’ll take breaks, ill spend time with you, and ill take care of myself too… just don’t go.”

“i’m not leaving you, sweetpea… im here. calm down.”

he looks up at you, stars in his eyes, “can i… kiss you?”

normally he’d never ask for permission, but you remember what you said during your argument. it breaks your heart thinking about how much that must have affected him.

you lean down, meeting his lips in a soft kiss. he cradles your head in his hands, his touches feather-soft. you finally pull away, just to stare at him.

“you’re so beautiful…”

“hm?”

he giggles, “you’re just beautiful. i don’t think i tell you that enough.”

you hug him tight once more, missing his touch. he gets up not too long after, helping you up too and pushing your hair out of your face lovingly.

“mingi…”

“hm?”

“how are you?”

“oh… i don’t know yet…”

suddenly, there’s a sharp pain in your abdomen. you look down, but there’s nothing there. “baby? what’s wrong?”

you can’t get any words out, scared for your life. you feel something trickling down your leg, so you look. the blood drips onto the floor, the pain becoming unbearable.

“mingi…”

mingi doesn’t say anything, quickly grabbing his phone from his pocket to call an ambulance. “stay with me baby, come on…”

you can’t do it, it hurts too much. you sink down to the floor, trying your best to stay awake, but it’s so hard. you want to scream, but you can’t, not with jiyoo here…

you push and push, but your body finally gives out, losing so much blood that you fall unconscious in the puddle.

“yes- yes i’m here…”

“are they crying?”

“n-no, he’s not breathing.”

“alright, stay calm, the ambulances are on the way. i want you to perform cpr on him, make sure you press only about an inch deep.”

he’s done this before, he knows how, but his hands are shaking so much and he’s just so scared. he finishes the compressions, giving him two breaths and returning back to pressing down on his chest.

“nothing… nothings happening…”

he continues pressing, tears streaming down his face. he’s blocked out every other voice, only thinking about you and his baby.

and then he hears it. a shrill cry rings out through the room, and his eyes widen. he picks him up, carefully cradling him. he’s obviously premature, and mingi is deathly scared of what’s to come.

just then, the ambulances arrive. mingi quickly informs the dispatcher and hangs up. he watches as they take you and the baby away to the ambulances and he rushes to jiyoos room.

“baby. you need to wake up.”

“mmm?”

he picks her up before she can question, “close your eyes. please.”

she complies, almost falling back asleep amidst all the chaos. he runs out the house, hopping in the passenger seat while they operate in the back.

his heart is beating a thousand times a second, tears streaming down his face. “abba…? why is there blood on you…?”

“just close your eyes princess…”

his hands are smeared with blood. his clothes, along with jiyoos, are ruined. his mind will never be the same after going through such a thing.

but all he can do is cry.

you’re finally all together, all four of you, yet it’s been almost four weeks since the birth. jihoon has spent a lot of time in the NICU, but he’s finally getting to see his new home for the first time.

mingi unlocks the door, opening it for you as you make your way in with jihoon. jiyoo has been giving him her love in every single way possible.

small hugs, sweet kisses, and cute little smiles whenever he blubbers in her direction. your heart swells at the sight. you don’t know how to explain it, but it just feels… right.

you set jihoon down in the crib, allowing him to get some rest. you decide to lay down too, calling it an early night. you’re still recovering, and it’s been hell so far, but mingi has been with you every step of the way this time.

the two of you lay together in bed in peace after so long, smiling and just simply staring at eachother. he grabs your hand, holding it up to his chest. “i’m proud of you, you know. you’re so strong…”

“mingi, you’ve said this like… nine times.”

“the amount of times i’ve said it doesn’t change the fact that it’s true. you are so incredibly amazing and just… the perfect mother. a fucking superhero, if you will.”

you giggle, “okay now you’re just overreacting.”

he pulls you closer towards him, kissing over the palm of your hand and gently closing his hands around it. “i’m so glad you both are okay…”

“mingi…”

“im sorry i keep bringing it up… it’s just- i could have lost you both.”

“you’re okay baby… im here.”

he scoots closer to you so that you’re chest to chest, nuzzling his face into your neck. he plants soft kisses onto your jawline, the sweet gesture just seeming so much like him.

“i love you… thank you for coming back to me.”

you kiss his forehead once, then twice, “i could never be away from you forever, you know.”

he smiles, kissing over your neck again. his kisses start to trail down lower and lower, suddenly stopping at your chest. “agh! mingi, not now!”

“not doing anything… just kissing.”

he places wet kisses all over your chest and collarbone, smiling when the marks change tint. “missed you, y/n…”

you grab onto his hair for some control, squirming underneath him. that is, until you hear a loud cry from the baby monitor. the two of you giggle again, this was going to be a lot of work.

he pulls away from you, quickly getting out of bed. “i’ll put him back to sleep, don’t worry.”

he walks over to you, leaning closer to whisper into your ear.

“i’ll be back soon baby, just sit here and look pretty for me…”

#atinyniki #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez angst #song mingi #mingi x reader #mingi x y/n #mingi angst #mingi fluff #mingi ateez #mingi scenarios #song mingi x reader

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fakescenariosbeforesleepblog · 4 months

Text

One night to forever.

Maybe it's not good enough but I hope someone loves this and gives me a ♥️.

You're feeling hopeless, a miracle is all you needed however you weren't expecting this miracle could arrive in the form of a tall, handsome Austrian man.

Warning: perhaps a lot of spelling and grammatical errors and a not very good story.

* Evicted * that's what the paper on your door said, it's not fair, you just couldn't pay two months of your rent, it's not fair, they don't understand how the last months had been for you.

‹ tap, tap, tap tap tap... › the sound of the raindrops hitting the window of the big hallway of your building is the only sound at the moment.

Malavita, your only loyal friend, that pretty German shepherd is sleeping beside you, trying to console you with his snoring, your thoughts are interrupted for the sound of footsteps, heavy footsteps.

- Hey, umm... Are you okay? Do you live here?

- not anymore...

That's all you said while pointing out to the door of your apartment and laughing sarcastically.

- oh...

- I Know, just another bad day. Anyway... What about you? I thought I was living alone in this floor.

- I live here but I rarely come home... Because of my job.

That accent, why are you still talking? In months you didn't talk to nobody and now you're talking to this stranger who says is your neighbor.

- That explains a lot... Well it was nice to meet you before I leave this place...

- ja, ja, So...Are you going to wait there until someone lets you take your stuff?

- I think so, I'll be fine, my old friend here... He will protect me.

- oh well... You and your friend can wait in my apartment, it's cold here... Just if you want.

You looked up and you were amazed by those eyes, that face, that scar on his face, those muscular arms, that body, you didn't realize when you stood up until malavita barked at this handsome stranger.

- Malavita, sit!... Good boy, he will not harm us, he's trying to help.

You spoke softly to your dog and then your eyes found your neighbor's eyes again.

- Sorry, my dog is my only friend at the moment and it can be overprotective, we'll accept your invitation if... You tell me your name before I get inside.

He smiled at you and your dog.

- Fair enough, call me König, nice to meet you...

- König... I like it, I'm (Y/n) and this boy is Malavita.

He opened the door and let you get inside first, the air of his apartment smells like a forest, green walls, black furniture, paintings and warm illumination, he's definitely a man with nice taste and a very attractive face and hot body, impossible and very unprovable he is single.

- wow! This place is amazing... I bet your wife decorated all this place...

A laugh interrupted your thoughts, now you're feeling a strange necessity to hear that laugh again.

- Sorry for that laugh, I'm single, my job doesn't allow me to have long relationships, you know? Not all women like the 'long distance' and all the time I'm far.

- it's okay, I liked it, so... You're single because of your job, what kind of job keeps you so busy?

- before I answer that, lemme offer you a drink, I think I have water... Or a soda or tea, or coffee?

- You're very kind, a Black coffee would be perfect.

You both walked to the kitchen, your dog was already very comfortable laying on the sofa.

- well, I can't give you many details but... I kinda work for a private military company.

- oh! Why didn't I think about that? I mean... Look at you, you're in good shape, and the scars, don't get me wrong, they look good on you...

Why are you saying that? Wait... Did he blush because of your comment? This man is captivating you.

- thank you! Here's your coffee, you're someone very pretty too... Or in good shape...

Now you're the one who's blushing, you have to change the conversation or say anything else.

- black coffee, nothing better than this taste! Thank you... Can I be honest with you?

- Ja! Feel free to talk, hübsch.

- I have been through a lot these last few months, you're the first person who actually treats me nice... thank you könig.

- I understand what you mean, we all have bad times, I'm glad I can help you.

And he wasn't lying, könig had a bad month, he was exhausted, all those missions, injuries, reports. Being here at his apartment with you, makes him feel different, he felt airy, something on you makes him feel relaxed, he even wonders if this is the beginning of a new friendship... Or something else?.

There's some silence, not the kind of silence that makes you feel uncomfortable but the silence that feels good, but He needs to know more about you, he feels intrigued and curious about you.

- So, (y/n) I don't intend to be... obtrusive, but what's the story behind the overdue payment of your rent.

You sighed, pressed your lips and avoided his eyes and after a few minutes you finally spoke.

- I was a pilot, I lost my job recently, you know... I was in this relationship, he broke my heart, he cheated on me, I got depressed, that's the reason, I can't go back home because my mom won't allow me and my brother doesn't have space for me at his home... That's the story.

- why won't your mother allow you to go home?

- That's another story, the main reason is that I decided to follow my father's steps, he was a pilot too... In the army, he died in action, my mother tried to keep my brother and me far away from the army and planes... Anything that could remind her of my father, but in the end I did it, I became a pilot, not In the army though. But that ruined my relationship with my mother. My brother is married, has a lot of kids, no space for me and my dog.

- I... I'm sorry for making all those questions, maybe it wasn't the best idea...

- oh it's okay, I think I needed to let all this out, speak to someone, Malavita is loyal and a great companion but not a great conversationalist.

And at this comment he laughed, so u did it too, your great moment was interrupted by the sound of someone in the hallway caught your attention.

- perhaps is the owner of the apartment, I'll go to check...

- of course, do you need help?

- oh well, I don't want to abuse your hospitality but do u think I can sleep on your sofa tonight?

- of course, you can spend the night here, not on my sofa though, I'm a gentleman... You can take the bedroom, I'll take the sofa.

It took you a few minutes to pack just the important and negotiate when you would pay the rent debt. By the time you knocked at König's door, he already had some food on the table, and Malavita was playing with him.

- hey! come in, I prepared dinner, take a seat, we were waiting for you.

This image brought some fireworks to your heart, are you dreaming? You don't feel that hole in your chest anymore, König filled it in less than one day, this man is so kind to you, is he the miracle you were praying for?

That night, turned into one week, one month, then 3 months, a friendship developed, both knew more of each other, you got a new job, he started to visit his apartment more often, he didn't say it loud but you and Malavita became a good reason to come back, to take care of himself in his missions, eventually, you and könig took the relationship to the next level, that's how it happened, that's how this man arrived to your life, and that's how you gave him a new perspective and hope to his.

#könig x reader #könig call of duty #konig x you #könig #cod konig #konig modern warfare #konig x female reader #konig x y/n #konig mw2 #konig cod #konig x gn!reader #konig x reader #konig x fem!reader #konig #call of duty x reader #call of duty #cod x reader #könig cod

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littlexscarletxwitch · 11 months

Text

── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗱 𝗺𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗵𝘂𝗿𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝗲

paring: yelena belova x gn!reader

tag(s): fluff, kinda sad, hurt/comfort, a bit of angst but not really (?), i love yel so much, she deserves the whole universe, it almost made me cry for some reason, i fucking love cinnamon girl

warning(s): grammatical errors, unedited

word count: 1.1k

note: i'm so happy with this one, it got me so emotional, i hope you guys like it as well. I'm not a native english speaker, so please let me know about any sort of mistake. LOVE YOU ALL! <3

requests are open! + check my rule here + masterlist <3

You knew she had it pretty shitty growing, ‘pretty shitty’ didn’t even begin to describe her entire childhood.

She had the worst of the worst. Her entire life was a lie, the only normal days of her life were completely bullshit. So you completely understood her trust issues, her need to cut you off and distance herself from you. You understood why she did everything she could to push you away, but still you refuse to leave her side.

Yelena had a hard time admitting it aloud, but she needed you as much as her lungs needed oxygen, as much as a fish needs water, as much as a plant needs sunlight. But she was scared, scared of herself, of you, of her feelings. Everything was new to her, she needed time to adjust, to understand, to learn. But another part of her, the girl trapped in the red room, didn’t want any of it. That girl believed that it was better to be alone in this big cold world than have someone by her side, someone who would ultimately turn their back on her. And it would all be a big fat lie all over again.

Your mind trailed back to the very first argument the two of you had had. You couldn’t remember exactly what the point of it was, long forgotten in your memory. But what stuck with you was her choice of words.

[…]

“Oh, my god! Just leave! Leave like the rest of them,” she yelled at you, tears stung her eyes.

And at that moment everything became crystal clear, she wanted that fight. She had been looking for a way for you to leave her easily, a way out for you that would cause you no harm, all while she had to bare it for herself. That was how she wanted it, she preferred to hurt alone than have someone by her side who would ultimately shatter her to pieces.

You stood there for a second, raised your head tall and found her eyes.

“I’m not leaving,” slowly you moved closer to her, your hand reaching out for hers. “You hear me? I am not leaving,” you repeated, carefully saying every word so she would understand. “I am not going anywhere, okay? I’m right here.”

Her eyes were fixed on you, tears already rolling down her cheeks, and then she crumbled into your arms. You held her tight against your chest, caressing her hair, whispering sweet nothings.

[…]

You felt warm spreading through your chest at the memory, snuggling your head into the crook of her neck, seeking for her warmth. You closed your eyes as another memory came to your mind.

[…]

“I just… I don't think this is going to work out,” she said, her russian accent got thicker as she spoke slowly.

“What? The movie?” you chuckled, clueless as to what she was referring to.

“Us, Y/n. I don’t think we are going to work out,” this time she had the courage to look at you.

“And why is that?” you knew why she was saying it, but sometimes you knew she needed to express her feelings so you could say the words she needed to hear.

“You know why. I carry a lot of shit, and it’s not fair for you or me to be in this situation. I believe it would be better if we just—.”

You cut her off, not waiting to hear anymore. “Would you like that? Would you like for me to leave right now? Just say the world and I will,” you said, not angry, not hurt, more like you stated.

“I… I mean…,” she didn’t find the words because she didn’t want you to leave, but she couldn't admit it aloud.

“You know what, Yel, you try to push me out. But I just find my way back in,” you cupped her cheeks and she closed her eyes, finding comfort in your touch. “Everytime you find reasons for me to walk away, I just find more reasons to stay,” a tear rolled down her cheek which you gently wiped away with your thumb. “I already told you, Yelena. But I will keep on repeating it as many times as you need to hear it: I am not going anywhere. You are stuck with me, okay? You are not getting rid of me that easily,” you joked in hopes that she would find the last part funny.

She did, she giggled as her eyes shot open to find yours already looking at hers. She pecked your lips once, then twice, as if making sure you were real. And once you didn’t evaporate in front of her eyes, she properly kissed you, rough cold lips against soft warm lips.

[…]

You smiled at the memory, as another one popped in your brain.

[…]

“You know this is new to me right?” she whispered, not sure if you were already sleeping or wide awake.

“What? Cuddling?” you joked, turning around to face her.

“Ha, ha, very funny. Not that, this,” she gestured around with her hands, but she wasn’t referring to the place.

“I know… I know,” you whispered, trailing the features of her face with your fingertips.

“Like…,” she struggled to find the right words. “Like if you hold me without hurting me, you’ll be the first who ever did.”

Your heart sank at her words. How can someone so perfect as her, so worthy, so full of life be as broken as her. She didn’t deserve this, any of it. If you could just give her, the sky, the stars, the sun, the moon and the entire universe, you would. She deserved that and more. But you couldn’t, so you had to settle to love her in every way you possibly could.

“I’m deeply sorry, my love. I truly am. But I’m here now, okay?” you leaned into her. “I’m here and I will always be. You won’t ever have to be alone again.”

“Hold me, love me, touch me, honey,” she embraced you tightly. “Be the first who ever did,” she kissed the top of your head, letting sleep take over her.

[…]

A tear rolled down your cheek at the memory, which Yelena noticed as the drop landed on her shirt.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” her soft raspy voice reached your ears.

“Oh, nothing,” you sat on the bed, quickly wiping away your single tear. “I was just thinking,” you chuckled.

“What were you thinking about?” she smiled at you, but you could sense some worry in her tone.

“I was just thinking how lucky I am to be here with you,” you sniffled, looking at her with loving eyes. “Hey do you wanna go out? I want to take you out on a date,” a smile formed on your face.

“What for?” she chuckled, cupping your cheek.

“Can’t I just take my lovely girlfriend out on a date?” you couldn't hold back the smile on your face. “Come on, get your sexy ass off of the bed, I’m taking you out.”

“Okay, okay, I’m going,” she said, unable to hold back her smile as well.

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M

#yelena belova #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x gn reader #yelena belova x fem reader #yelena belova x y/n #yelena belova x you #yelena belova imagine #yelena belova fluff #florence pugh #littlexscarletxwitch's fic #Spotify #[🎧⊹♡] based on songs i love

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miryum · 11 months

Note

Okay okay okay I feel like a genius and I know this is a lot and I’m so so sorry I just think it’s make a really compelling story!

Princess!reader is betrothed to Arthur. Neighbouring kingdoms with palaces very close together (this is important I promise). She’s like six months younger than him and it’s been set up since she was born. So she arrives at the palace, looking absolutely stunning, and she’s terrified. To his credit Arthur is very nice, very sweet. He shows her around, introduces her to people, makes sure she’s comfortable, etc..

But how could she possibly be looking at him when the middle brother is the same young boy she would secretly meet over the summer, the first boy she ever liked, kissed, and danced with around the forest before they both grew up? The boy she always thought she’d marry? The boy who is now sneaking into her chambers to kiss her absolutely breathless.

The same boy she still loves…

@bright-shiningstar I am SO SORRY that this didn't come out sooner, but every single time I looked at this request it literally made me squeal out loud, so I had to make sure it was perfect!! I think I rewrote it at least five times, so I hope you like the finished product! Thank you so much for requesting!

Buddies in the F1 world: @hey-kae @vinvantae

Warnings: Some swearing, probably some grammatical errors

Day 0

“Y/n, do you remember the Leclerc’s?” Your parents had sat you down after dinner.

“Yes, has the agreement gone through?” Your parents had spent most of your life drafting a treaty with the Leclerc’s, offering your hand in marriage as a staple. Prince Lorenzo was married to a young queen of a neighbouring kingdom, joining the two realms. Prince Charles was deemed too old for you. So that left the youngest. Now that you were old enough, the treaty was solidified.

“We got confirmation today,” your mother said, smiling proudly. She was so pleased to see her eldest daughter married off. “Prince Arthur is officially your fiancé!”

Your younger sister leaned into your side, trying to be a rock of comfort. You weren’t completely angry about being forced into marriage (the few times you had visited the Leclerc patriarch and matriarch, they had been kind and enchanting to you. You had no reason to think that their sons would be any different.) but you were petrified. You would be moving away from your family and home. You didn’t know what lay in front of you.

“And you’re leaving tomorrow…” your mother tied the strings of your distress.

“What?” Your sister, Megan, cried out. She latched onto you, pulling you close. “That’s not fair! Why can’t she stay for another week?”

“Because the wedding is in a week,” your father explained. “The Leclerc’s have it all set up. Luckily, they’re kind enough to give you a week to acclimate yourself to their family. Chin up, darling,” he said to you. “This is a joyous occasion.”

“I mean, I would’ve preferred the middle son,” your mother whispered. “More status and closer in line for the throne, but the youngest is acceptable.” Your father rolled his eyes.

“Why don’t you retire for the night?” your father prompted you. “You need to look your best tomorrow.”

“I can’t believe you’re leaving so soon!” Your sister dragged you away from your parents. “I thought I would get more time with you.” She hummed sadly.

“Megan, it’ll be alright. I’ll make sure you’re invited to the wedding.” You felt odd reassuring her, wondering if it should be the other way around.

“Oh, that’s right,” Megan groaned. “You’ll be Princess Y/n Leclerc in a week. That doesn’t sound right at all.”

“Why don’t we have a sleepover, hm?” You needed to distract Megan with something else, otherwise her worries would double your anxiety and stress. “Just like old times.”

“Yes!” Megan squealed and ran ahead of you. Her slippers padded down the hall. “I’ll grab my pillow!”

You grasped at this moment of silence to try and calm your racing heart. Unbeknownst to your parents and sister, the marriage to Prince Arthur wasn’t the biggest of your concerns. Your breathing was uneven and you palmed your eyes, getting rid of any semblance of tears.

Were you ready to see Charles again?

***

You couldn’t breathe. Tears and snot obscured your face and clogged your airways. The rational part of you that would’ve been saying, someone would realise you were missing and come find you, was drowned in your fears of, oh my gosh I’m going to die alone and have to spend my few remaining days eating tree bark!

You weren’t sure how you had run this far, but you were sure it was to be your doom. If only you had stopped by the stables to grab your pony, Newt. If only you hadn’t strayed from the path. If only you had turned around once the sun started to set.

Internally chastising yourself, you sat down at the base of a tree. You knew that yelling would be no use and you should probably conserve your energy. You wished that you had paid more attention to those survival lessons the knights had taught you.

“Um, excuse me?”

Your head shot up at the sound. “Who’s there?” you called out, jumping to your feet.

“My name is Charles,” the young voice explained. You couldn’t see the owner. “Are you alright? I heard someone crying.”

“Where are you?” you demanded to know.

A boy, a couple years older than you, maybe seven or eight, stepped out from behind a tree. “Hi,” he said, smiling. He wanted to show he wasn’t a threat. “Can I help you? You seem lost.”

“Yes, I am!” You couldn’t help a new onslaught of tears. “I was walking and I guess I took a wrong turn? Are your parents somewhere around here? It’s almost dark and I need to get back.”

“My parents are at home.” Charles prompted, “but I can walk you home?”

“I don’t want you to get lost, too.” You shook your head. “Can I come with you back to your village? I’m sure there’s transportation I could find.”

“Oh, no.” Charles shrugged, causally leaving out the part that he was a prince, and if he wanted, could snap his fingers and order a ride home for you. “It’s alright. I know this forest like the back or my hand. Where do you live?”

“Uh…” You wiped your nose on your dress. “I live at the L/n castle.”

“That’s not far away at all!” Charles smiled and you grinned back, already infected by his charms. “Did you know this forest is actually the border of Enza and Haas? I don’t live that far away, either. Do you know about the Leclerc’s?”

“Yeah, my- the King and Queen,” you corrected yourself quickly. “They’re friends with them.” You weren’t sure why your five-year-old self wasn’t telling this new friend that you were royalty. Maybe you didn’t want to scare him away?

“My family’s house is right next to their palace,” Charles said.

“We’re practically neighbours!” You stood up and beamed.

“Can I walk you home, neighbour?” Charles giggled at his joke. You nodded and grasped his hand in the trusting way only children can.

It turned out that the Enza palace and the Haas castle weren’t far away from each other. Once the pair of new friends realised this, they made plans to meet up more often. At the Haas gates, you made sure Charles would be safe and get home quickly. He reassured you that he had explored the forest for hours and would never get lost. He promised to meet you the next day at the clearing where you had met so you knew he wasn’t being mauled to death by a pack of wolves.

Little did you know that a great friendship and a great love was suddenly born.

Day 1

“Y/n. Y/n.” Megan placed a hand on your bouncing leg. “You're practically shaking the whole carriage. I know you’re nervous, and this is an awful thing to say, but maybe try to hide it?”

“Sweetheart, what I believe your sister is saying, is ‘calm down’.” Your father held a piece of parchment and peered over it at you. “This is nothing to worry about.”

“Your father and I had the exact same disposition when we were your age,” your mother smiled softly at you. “I know the uncertainty you’re feeling, but trust me, it will get better.”

No it won’t, mom! You wanted to scream at her, how will it get better if the boy I used to love is living in the same palace as me?!

“I’m sure it will,” you said. A minute or so passed with Megan trying to fill the space with meaningless conversation.

“Wait, wait!” The carriage passed a grove of trees that looked eerily familiar. “Stop! Stop the horses!” Your cries turned frantic and banged on the side of the carriage. Sticking your head out the window, you repeated your demand. The driver yanked on the reins and before it came to a complete stop, you jumped out.

“Y/n! Where are you going?” Megan shuffled to get out after you, tripping on her dress.

“Y/n, get back here!” Your mother cursed, yelling towards Megan, “get her back here, Megan! We’ll be late!”

You wanted to rip off your dress. It was scratching at your body and snagged on branches and twigs as you ran. You needed to make sure it was still there. Then you would go back to your family. But you just had to be sure.

“Y/n!” Megan groaned in frustration as her high-heel got caught on a tree root. She tugged on it and cried out, “You cannot simply leave!”

“Please, just give me a moment!” you called back. The forest easily came back to you. It felt like a force was pulling you towards the clearing.

“Do you wanna play hide and seek?” You sat on the grass, watching a nine-year-old Charles throw a ball up into the air and catch it. And then throw it back up. And catch it.

“Really?” Charles groaned. “That’s such a baby thing to do.”

“Hey!” You kicked him in the ribs. He yelled out and squirmed away. “First off, I am not a baby! And second, you’re not being very entertaining right now. I’m trying to think of things to do.” Other than having to sneak away from the castle, a hard thing about being friends with Charles was the age gap. He was entering a stage in life where he was determined to be cool and stoic and you sometimes wondered if he regretted his friendship with a little girl.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” he mumbled, offering a pitiful apology.

“Well, if you’re not going to talk to me, then I’ll just go back home.” You stood and slowly shuffled over to Newt, who was tied up by Charles’ horse, Scuderia.

“Y/n, wait.” Charles suddenly appeared behind you and grabbed your arm. “I’m sorry, really. It’s rude of me to ignore you. We can play hide-and-seek.”

“No, you’re right,” you conceded. “It’s a little too childish. Wanna just talk?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m cool with that.” Charles couldn’t help the smile that overcame him. He didn’t know much about Y/n L/n’s personal life, but he definitely knew that you were one of his best friends.

“Y/n, what the hell are you doing?!” Megan plucked a twig out of her hair.

“I can’t do this,” you whispered, collapsing to the ground. The tree stood in front of you and the clearing still looked picturesque. It was where you had met with Charles all those times all those years ago. You wondered if you initials were still there or if the tree had scabbed over them. You didn’t want to check.

“What do you mean? Y/n, you can’t back out now. Mother will not allow it. Think of the Enzan royal family. This will ruin our relationship with them.” Megan crouched down next to you, sweeping your hair out of your face. You silently wondered how she matured so quickly.

“Megan, it would be better if this was a faceless prince that I had no connection to.”

“Is it not?”

“No, I-” You sighed. “Nevermind. Let’s go. I’m sorry.”

After a tense carriage ride that consisted of your mother berating you for running off and you apologising profusely but not giving any explanation of why, the Enza palace came into view.

“Stand tall, good posture, don’t speak unless spoken to, and let your father and I handle the political aspects,” your mother reminded you. She swept your hair back into place and ran her fingers along the creases of your dress. She huffed at the dirt stains courtesy of the forest floor. “It’ll have to do. Now, come along.” A footman sprung open the carriage door and your father stepped down to victorious trumpets. He helped your mother down and the footman offered his hand to Megan who took it graciously. You refused the footman’s hand, jumping down on your own.

“Y/n, you look dejected,” Megan whispered to you.

“And that’s because I am.” You clutched your dress and Megan huffed, wrestling your hand away. You understood her gestures and held out your arm. Megan took it and led you closer to the Enza royal family.

“Look up,” your mother whispered. “At least look at your husband.” But it wasn’t your husband that drew your eyes. There, on the steps, was Charles Leclerc, or Charlie.

“Do you like anyone, chérie?” Charles felt odd asking this. Wasn’t it always the girls who had to be obsessed with crushes and who-liked-who? Why was he bringing this up?

“Uh… why do you ask?” You were eleven and it was weird to discuss this with a fourteen-year-old boy.

You weren’t sure how your feelings for Charles started. You guessed that because he was the only boy even remotely close to your age that you saw, it was bound to happen.

“I don’t know,” Charles mumbled. “My older brother’s seeing someone and my younger one is now obsessed with girls. I wanted to know if you’re also caught up in this lovey-dovey stuff.”

“Is it bad if I am?” You were afraid that Charles would ridicule and tease you for being swept up in the romance that was apparently ruining the continent. Even your sister gushed about a stable boy that she was infatuated with.

“No, chérie,” Charles said slowly. “I just need to know if there’s another guy I need to compete with.”

You laughed and said, “Don’t worry, Charlie. You’ll always be my number one.”

“Good,” Charles tried to hide his smile. The butterflies in his stomach made it harder. Charlie. You called him Charlie. It was like you were trying to intoxicate him in this new thing called love.

***

When Charles heard your name for the first time in three years, he froze. And to hear it directed at his younger brother, no less.

But when he saw you, time stopped.

You hadn’t changed much over the three years, albeit your hair was a styled different and the way you carried yourself had stiffened. He desperately wanted to run up to you and kiss you until you both saw stars. He wanted to fold you in his arms and never let you go. He had lost you once and he wasn’t going to let that happen again. At least with you marrying his brother he would be able to see you. If he couldn’t touch you, seeing you would be enough. It would be torture, having you just within reach but unable to hold you, but it would be worse to not see you at all.

It had been torture all these years.

He cursed Arthur for being the youngest. If Charles had been born just after his youngest brother, he could’ve had you for himself. He cursed his heart. It wasn’t fair to fall for someone he could never have. He wondered if his parents would try to marry him off too. He wondered if he could marry someone while you were in his home. For certain, he could never love anyone as much as he loved you. Would he stay single his entire life, watching you and his brother grow old together? Would he marry someone in a loveless marriage? Or could something else happen that changed it all….?

And then you looked at him.

Sparks ignited in his body. Then you looked at his brother. His heart was cleaved in two. Right. You weren’t there for him. He had to remember that or he would torture himself into oblivion. He already was torturing himself. Charles didn’t know if it would be better to avoid you or indulge himself in your presence.

His father started talking to your father and Charles noticed Arthur stepping forward to greet you. Your mother pinched your side and Charles’ jaw clenched. From your stories, he didn’t like your mother, but this only solidified his opinion.

Charles felt Lorenzo’s stare on him- the only person who knew about his rendezvous with you. Charles plastered on a smile and stayed stock-still.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he heard Arthur say to you.

“You as well.” Your voice was just as he remembered, if not more formal. You never spoke that way to him. Your words were always filled with laughter- not diplomacy.

“May I give you and your sister a tour of our home?” Arthur proposed.

“That would be lovely, thank you.” Megan detached yourself from your arm so you could walk with Arthur, your sister trailing behind. You brushed past him, holding your gaze forward. It would only pain you more to see him.

“Charles, you need to talk to her,” Lorenzo whispered harshly to him. “It won’t do anyone good to have you sadly avoiding her. Arthur can’t have his wife and his brother looking lovelorn without knowing the cause.”

“Arthur can never know,” Charles growled. “It would make things worse.”

“He doesn’t need to know if you and Princess Y/n work things out before the wedding,” Lorenzo persisted.

Charles took a breath and finally said, “I’ll think about it, alright?”

Day 3

Arthur had spent yesterday showing you around the Leclerc palace and luckily, it was of similar design to the Haas castle. Megan had left with a tearful goodbye, promising to visit a day before the wedding to help you prepare. Your mother left you with a kiss on the cheek and your father had hugged you tightly.

You had spent the third day in your new room, handmaidens helping you unpack and commission new dresses for you. The Steward and Housekeeper had sat you down, giving you an overview of what the wedding would entail and the customs of Enzan marriages and politics. Of course, you already knew most of it as your mother had begun drilling it into you at an early age.

You had collapsed into bed after they had gone, too tired to join the Leclerc’s for dinner or even change out of your dress. Yet you still couldn’t find purchase in sleep. It just wouldn’t come.

It was late at night when a knock resounded on your door. You slowly peeled yourself off the bed- which didn’t feel at all like your own- and said, “Come in.”

“Hi,” Charles softly said.

“Oh. Hi.” You straightened up and bowed your head in a form of a curtsy.

“Don’t- don’t do that.” Charles shook his head. “I was never your superior.”

You stood silently for a while, the awkwardness resounding. It seemed like a chasm was between you two.

“I’ve missed you,” Charles admitted carefully.

“I missed you too,” you said. “It’s been a while, huh?”

“Yeah,” Charles chuckled uncomfortably and you joined him. “And to see you with my brother, no less.” Your laughter stopped immediately and you looked at the ground. “Right,” Charles swallowed harshly. He couldn’t seem to unstick that lump in his throat. “Sorry. I’m sorry. For it all. I should’ve never ended-”

“I forgave you a long time ago, Charlie,” you admitted. A wave of relief passed over his face and it looked like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. In one sudden movement, you tumbled forward and engulfed the boy in a hug. Charles swept his arms around you, reciprocating immediately. It felt nice to have you in his arms again. It felt like home. He pressed you closer to him, inhaling. Charles placed a soft kiss to your hairline, mumbling about all the times he missed you.

“Charles? Can you promise me something?” you asked.

“Anything.”

“Can you promise to never leave me alone again?” Your voice sounded so small and for the third time today, you unintentionally broke his heart.

“I’m sorry, chérie. I never meant to leave you alone in the first place. But yes, I promise to always stay by your side from now on.”

“Even though I’m betrothed to-”

“Don’t talk about that, please.” Charles shook his head.

“Okay,” you conceded. “But what will we do? Charlie, I still love-”

Charles cut you off with an Earth-shattering kiss. His hands circled around your lower back, gripping you even closer- if that was possible. You circled your hands around his neck, running them over his shoulders and down his torso. Every dip and curve was like you remembered. His kiss was just like you remembered.

“Charles?” The newly eighteen-year-old hummed in response and you glanced over at his figure. He was laying on a soft pitch of grass that was illuminated by a stream of sunlight that broke through the trees. His eyes were closed and a small smile graced his lips, showcasing one of his dimples. He had obviously been working out, and he had nicely grown into his body. He was wearing a loose tunic that highlighted his arms. The curve of his muscles made your heart jump a little quicker. You loved these moments with him alone, and you would be damned if your title of royalty got in the way. “Have you ever thought about growing up?”

“Sure I have,” Charles said. “What about it?”

Your brows settled into a frown. “My parents have started talking to me about marriage.”

“Already?” Charles opened one eye to find you already looking at him. Your hands were clasped over your stomach and fiddled together with anxiety. “You have a few more years.”

“Yes, but they want to lock down a husband before it’s too late,” you explained. “Apparently, I’m already betrothed. I just don’t know to whom.”

“You’re already married?!” Charles sat up on an elbow, looking incredulously at you.

“No,” you scoffed. “It’s synonymous with being engaged.”

“Geez,” Charles exhaled and laid back down. “I didn’t realise I was pining after a practically married woman.”

“Excuse me?!”

Charles smirked. “Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out sooner, chérie. I thought you were supposed to be the smart one in this relationship.”

“Charlie.” The nickname made his facade drop and his heart rate rise. Was it all a big mistake? Did he just throw away this coveted friendship that he had worked so hard to cultivate? “Are you serious?”

“As serious as death,” Charles whispered.

“Death?” You couldn’t help but let a laugh escape. “Couldn’t you choose another word? Death sounds so cruel.”

“What other word would you like me to use to express my love for you?” Charles joined in your laughter, and once again, you relished in the sound.

“I don’t care.” You rolled onto your side and Charles copied your actions, taking your hand in his. His fingers tapped over yours as if planning out the wedding dance. “Just so long as I can say it back.”

It was all you could imagine for a first kiss.

You gasped, pulling back from the boy you loved. “Charlie, I can’t do this. I- I’m about to marry your brother, for goodness sake! I can’t be kissing you and- and-”

“I know, chérie, I know,” Charles stepped back and he instantly missed your touch. “But I love you too. And I can’t bear seeing you so close, but knowing I can’t feel and love you. It hurts. It hurts being away from you.”

“Charlie… we can’t.” It pained you to say it, but it was true. You weren’t about to be the type of person who cheated on their husband with their brother. Even if it was for love, you still had morals.

“You’re not married yet,” Charles tried to smile. “Let me come to your room at night. Just to talk to you. Just to be around you. We’re still best friends, are we not?”

You chuckled sadly. “You always find a way to bend the rules, huh, Charlie?”

“For you, I’d do anything.”

Day 4

“I wish we could have met under better circumstances,” Arthur admitted. “You’re an incredibly nice girl and I have a feeling we would’ve made good friends. I mean, we’ll still make good friends, but what I’m trying to say-”

You let out a light laugh. “I get it, Arthur. I think we’ll make good friends too.”

“How are you adjusting?” your fiancé asked. “Are you comfortable? How’s your room? We can repaint it, or redecorate if you wish?”

“Arthur!” You chuckled at the boy’s concern. “Everything is perfectly fine! Thank you. You’re making this transition much easier.”

“Well, I want to make sure my future wife enjoys herself,” Arthur shrugs. You stilled at his words. “And I wanted to introduce you to some of my friends. Maybe they could become your friends too?”

“Sure,” you agreed. Arthur proceeded to lead you around the palace, presenting you to a series of guards, dukes and duchess, butlers and maids. You met Earl Carlos, Duke Pierre, Baron Daniel, Knight Max, Lady Carla, and attendees such as Lily, Lewis and his daughter, Lando, Sara, and Esteban. They all seemed extremely accommodating and pleased to meet you. Everyone promised to help you through your time in Enza and to be loyal to their new princess. Arthur hovered a hand over your lower back the entire time, and as much as you appreciated the gesture, it didn’t feel the same as Charles’ touch.

“Arthur?” Like you had summoned him, Charles appeared behind you. “Mother and Father are requesting your presence in the throne room. It’s about finalising the formalities for… your wedding.”

“Yes, of course,” Arthur nodded. “Can you keep Princess Y/n company, Charles?”

“Anything, brother.” Charles clapped Arthur on the shoulder. “Did I ever congratulate the two of you?”

Arthur’s brow twitched and you wondered if he could also see the buried sadness in Charles’ eyes. “No, but I’ll gladly take it now.”

“Well, congratulations. You’re lucky Maman and Papa found you a good one.”

“Yes, I am.” Arthur pressed a sweet, chaste kiss to your cheek before rushing off to his parents. Agonous jealousy was splayed on Charles face the moment Arthur turned away.

“I don’t know how many times I can say this in four days, but I’ve missed you,” Charles said, a sweet, awkward smile on his face as he shoved his hands in his pockets, stepping towards you. “Whenever I’m away from you I miss you.”

“And I don’t know how I’m going to stay away from you if you keep proclaiming your love for me.” You reached out and touched his forearm.

“Then don’t stay away.” Charles wrapped you in a hug and you felt yourself giving in. “I can talk to my parents and I’m sure if we just explain the situation, they’ll understand. We could get married and be together. Arthur could marry a princess from Wolff or whoever he wanted! Y/n, we could-”

“Charlie, my love, what of my parents?” you asked. “They signed an agreement about me and Arthur. Not me and you. As much as I love the situation you’re describing, as much as I love the possibility of being with you, it’s impossible. Unless you can convince my parents otherwise, which is impossible, it’s not going to happen.”

Charles hummed, slowly separating himself from you in fear of someone seeing your embrace. “Then the least I can do is try.”

You tied up Newt, silently counting down the minutes until Charles arrived. The seconds ticked by and you sat down at the base of the tree that had your initials carved into it next to Charles’. You traced Charles’ initials with your finger, still in the euphoria of love. It was only a couple weeks ago that you and Charles had confessed your love for each other and he couldn’t seem to stop saying it whenever he had the chance. It became greeting, conversation starter, and goodbye.

But for some reason, Charles seemed to be late today. As time ticked by, a light mist coated the air. Normally, he was early, even getting to the clearing before you, but you tried not to worry. He probably had some duties to attend to, like you had had a couple weeks ago. You had apologised profusely to Charles, but he had forgiven you with the price of a kiss.

Newt started to get restless after twenty minutes and the mist turned into drizzle. You, now eighteen, fished out an apple to calm him down. It was another fifteen minutes before Scuderia showed up, Charles practically standing in the saddle, rain dripping down his body. “Charles!” You stood up, waving him towards you. Instead of the brilliant grin that usually graced his face whenever he saw you, a frown was burrowed into his brow. “What’s wrong?”

“Chérie,” Charles didn’t even bother to tie Scuderia up before bundling you in his arms and peppering kisses to your forehead, temples, cheeks, and nose. He twirled you around so his arms were crossed in front of you, cradling you, and started kissing your neck, collarbone, and earlobes.

“Charlie,” you laughed lightly. “What are you doing?”

“My chérie, mon amour, I’m sorry. I didn’t want it to end like this.”

“Charles,” you spun around in his arms, taking his face in your hands. You gently caressed his cheek in an attempt to calm him down. “You’re scaring me. Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

“I love you, you know that, right?” Charles assured you. You nodded along. “Then you have to believe me when I say it pains me that I can’t meet you here anymore.”

“What?” Your heart dropped and your stomach twisted. “Why?”

“My mom and dad are getting suspicious, chérie. I think they know I’m meeting a girl out in the forest,” Charles tried to explain it to you but you just became more confused with every word. “I’ve already turned down one marriage proposal and they’ll get frustrated if I turn down another.”

“You’ve done what?” You stepped back from him and Charles’ hands reached out, trying to keep you close to him. You backed up, away from him, until you could feel Newt at your back. “You never told me about that.”

“I didn’t think it was important,” Charles argued. “But what I’m trying to say is that I think it’s best if we take a pause on the meetings for now. My parents are already breathing down my neck and it doesn’t help that you’re betrothed. Lorenzo found out about you and I’m worried what will happen if someone else does too.”

“Charlie, you turned down a marriage proposal?” You couldn’t wrap your mind around it. “You could’ve had a wife by now? And who cares if Lorenzo knows about me?! I almost- it feels like you’re embarrassed about me?” It came out like a question. You tangled a hand in Newt’s mane, hoping for some sort of stability. “You never cared about my betrothal before this. Why now?” Charles swallowed and you could see a war debating in his mind. “Answer me, Charles,” you demanded. “What happened that made you bring this up?”

Charles took a deep breath and said, “you’re the princess of Haas, aren’t you? It all makes sense. Your betrothal, your outfits, your manner of speaking. I thought you were just a duchess or countess, but no. You’re the princess.”

You weren’t sure how to answer. How did you find out? seemed too accusatory. I thought you knew? was too deflective. What does it matter? was too aggressive. You settled on saying, “yes. And you’re Prince Charles Leclerc. I’ve kind of always known.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Charles whispered.

“I’m not sure,” you admitted. “It never really came up. Some part of me thought you knew- thought you had connected the dots and just accepted it. I didn’t intentionally hide it from you. I’m sorry.”

“Y/n,” Charles started. “I can’t hang out with you anymore.” The beginning of tears pricked at the back of your eyes and your face grew hot. You opened your mouth to say something, but Charles beat you to it. “It’s not proper for us to visit each other outside of the court. If people found out they could…” He trailed off and shook his head. “I’m sorry, my chérie.”

You couldn’t meet his eye, instead focusing on a patch of wilted flowers. “Okay,” is all you could say. “Goodbye, Charles.” Newt’s mane was slick with rain as you climbed on. Your horse seemed to sense your urgency and quickly wove through the trees, leaving Charles behind. You wiped at your eyes, letting Newt take full control. You regretted it when a branch snagged on your arm and you cried out, a line of blood starting to appear. When you returned to the Haas castle, Megan didn’t question it when you collapsed on your bed, instead opting to help you change out of your rain-soaked dress before curling up with you under the covers.

Little did you know, Charles was still sitting in that clearing, silently crying. Scuderia bumped his nose against Charles, but the prince just pushed him away.

Day 6

“So, what’re you going to do about it?” Megan asked.

“Absolutely nothing,” you admitted. “There’s nothing I can do. The treaty has been signed, the preparations are underway, and Arthur…” You sighed before continuing, “he’s really nice. I could envision a future with him.”

“But what about Prince Charles?” Megan sat on your bed, the night before the wedding. You had given in and told her everything. “Can you envision a future with him?”

“I want a future with him.”

A deeper voice whispered, “I want a future with you too.” Charles stood at your door, and peeking out behind him was Arthur.

“Shit,” Megan muttered.

“What are you doing here?” You stood up, eyes flickering to Charles before sheepishly locking eyes with Arthur. “Prince Arthur… I’m sorry! I didn’t mean-”

“No, no,” the boy reassured you, his small, anxious smile seeming almost… hopeful. “You’re a wonderful girl and an even better friend, but you’re not who I would’ve chosen to marry. No offence,” he quickly added. “We just don’t click. We don’t have that same spark that you and Charles do. And, well, I kind of have my sights set on someone else. Charles explained it all to me.”

You laughed. “Guess we really are the perfect pair, huh? Both pining after other people.”

“And you after my brother?” Arthur joked, gasping dramatically. “How unfaithfully devious of you.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“What does this mean, then?” Megan asked for you. “We can’t just swap Charles out for Arthur at the wedding.”

Arthur grinned and said, “Why not?” He slung an arm around Charles, clapping him on the chest. “Guess you’re getting married, big brother.”

Charles laughed loudly before turning to look at you. “Y/n L/n, will you marry me tomorrow?”

Your lips separated in half shock and half elation. “I- I… yes! Though I admit, I expected something a bit more extravagant.”

“Chérie, I’m just upholding my promise.” Charles opened his arms cheekily and even though you were confused by his words, you fell into them, happy to be able to hold him in the presence of others.

“Hmm?”

“You don’t remember?” He lifted an eyebrow, throwing you his signature smirk.

You tossed a ball to Charles who threw it back. “Anything new in your life?” he asked.

“Nope. You?”

“Nope.”

After a minute of silence Charles said, “Let’s make a deal.”

“Alright, what is it?”

“If, in ten years, we still have the same, boring lives,” You scoffed at his words. “then we get married and make our lives un-boring, together.”

After a moment’s deliberation, it didn’t seem like a bad deal to an eight-year-old. “Okay,” you readily agreed. “But I doubt my life will be boring in ten years.”

“Sure…” Charles snickered at you. “I’ll let you believe that.”

“How can you not remember my completely legitimate marriage proposal?” Charles scoffed quietly, leaning down to bump his forehead against yours.

“Well, pardon me for not remembering something you said thirteen years ago,” you tapped him on the chest.

“How could you not remember a proposal?” Charles asked.

“I would like to know the answer to that as well,” Megan spoke up.

“Well, does it matter as long as I say ‘yes’?”

“No, I guess not,” Charles beamed as he bent down to kiss you.

Day 7

Charles kissed you again, but this time it was in front of an altar, before a crowd, and with you wearing white.

Surprisingly, it hadn’t took much convincing for your parents to understand the situation. Apparently, Charles had stayed true to his word and contacted your parents, explaining everything. Your father was just relieved you were still marrying someone and your mother had always preferred Charles anyway. King and Queen Leclerc, after hearing of the years of meetings you and Charles had shared, were more than thrilled. They were eager for you to join their family and a marriage of love always went better than a marriage of politics.

The wedding was already planned, the chefs already prepping, and the priest already booked. All they needed was to switch out Arthur’s name for Charles’.

“May I present Prince and Princess Leclerc of Enza!” The priest announced to thunderous applause.

“Hello, chérie,” Charles whispered and his nose bumped against yours. “Or should I say, Princess Leclerc?”

“I like that name best,” you grinned.

“I do too,” Charles admitted.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc imagine #monarchy au #monarchy #royalty #arthur leclerc x reader #arthur leclerc #lorenzo leclerce #pascale leclerc #herve leclerc #f1 #formula 1

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cirilla-fiona-riannon · 11 months

Text

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Please support Cybird by buying their stories. Expect grammatical errors.

Paddington Station's platform was bustling with many people today.

Amidst the crowd, Ellis and I were walking toward the train's entrance.

Ellis: "Kate, isn't that luggage heavy? Do you want me to carry it?"

Kate: "Thanks, but I can handle it myself."

Ellis: "I see."

(Huh? Did I make him feel a little sad?)

(Oh, right.)

Kate: "Since we have time before boarding the train, let's get something to eat."

Kate: "It'd really help if you could carry it for me."

Ellis: "Sure, of course."

We weren't just going on a trip. Today, our mission was to gather information about a smuggling organization in York, away from London.

(Initially, I was supposed to go on this mission with Harrison, but...)

This morning, I was informed that Harrison would go on a different mission with William, and Ellis would take his place.

Ellis: "Ah, Kate. They're selling some delicious-looking bread over there."

He spotted a stall selling bread and quickly informed me.

Kate: "Come to think of it, you like baguettes, right?"

Ellis: "You remembered what I like. I'm so happy."

Kate: "Of course. Whoa, there are so many options. What should I choose?"

Ellis: "Fufu."

Kate: "Hm?"

Ellis: "Seeing you having fun makes me happy too."

Ellis: “Since it’s fun, maybe I should buy a lot.”

Kate: “Hey, that’s not fair! I want to buy a lot, too.”

We boarded the train and eagerly spread the freshly bought bread on our laps.

The rich aroma of the bread tickled my nose, and my heart danced to the scenery passing by the window.

(Come to think of it, it’s been a while since we went on a trip like this.)

In my slightly relaxed state, I heard Ellis’ voice.

Ellis: “Kate, is the bread delicious?”

Kate: “Yes, very! How about yours, Ellis?”

Ellis: “Mine is delicious too. Your suggestion was spot on.”

Ellis: “Good thing I asked Victor and Jude to let me go on this mission.”

Kate: “Huh?”

Ellis: “Jude agreed to cover for me but gave me extra work starting tomorrow.”

Kate: “Why did you insist on accompanying me on this mission?”

Ellis: “Because there’s something I want to confirm.”

Kate: “Something you want to confirm?”

Ellis: “Tell me, Kate. Between Harry and me, who makes you happier?”

His sudden question caught me off guard, and my eyes widened in surprise.

Kate: “Um, why are you bringing up Harrison’s name now?”

Ellis: “Because you spend a lot of time with him.”

As he pointed out, I had been spending a lot of time with Harrison after becoming a fairy tale writer.

(It’s true that I rely on Harrison, but...)

Not knowing how to answer, I heard Ellis’s calm voice.

Ellis: “No matter whom you choose, I’ll make you happy.”

Ellis: “If being with Harry makes you happier, I’ll support you.”

Ellis: “If being with me makes you happier, I’ll be with you forever. That’s why…”

(Huh?)

I suddenly noticed that he was no longer sitting across from me, but right next to me.

Ellis: “Take the day to think about it. Then tell me later which one between me and Harry makes you happier.”

He always treated me with excessive kindness, like a lover would.

He was so caring and kind and gave me many sweet emotions, but it was never because I’m special. It was because he was kind to everyone.

(Maybe even this question is just another part of his kindness.)

It was like asking whether I prefer lemon or sugar in my tea, a question with a playful undertone.

Kate: “Fufu, I understand. I’ll think about it while I’m here with you.”

Ellis: “Okay. I’ll do my best to make you happy.”

Kate: “And I’ll do my best not to hold you back.”

Ellis: “Kate, you’re not good with scary things, right?”

Kate: “Hey, are you teasing me just now?”

Ellis: “Fufu, busted. Oh, you have something on your lip.”

He brushed the bread stuck to my lip, then licked it off his fingers.

I was momentarily surprised by the gesture, but he smiled at me.

Ellis: “Is this what they call an unrequited love?”

Kate: “I won’t say.”

Ellis: “Fufu, is that so?”

Amidst being swayed by his excessive kindness, the train arrived at York.

Ellis: “Looks like we’ve arrived. Shall we go, Kate?”

(Wow!)

Unlike the familiar London, York had a slight countryside atmosphere.

The flow of time was gentle, the scenery was refreshing, and just standing here was making me excited.

Ellis: “I’m glad.”

Kate: “----?”

Ellis: “You look so happy, Kate.”

(I’m having fun even though we’re on a mission.)

The information that reached the Crown was about the presence of a smuggling organization in this city.

These smugglers secretly import illegal drugs from India and sell them in various countries, lining their pockets in the process.

Our mission was to investigate the three locations suspected as their bases and identify their whereabouts to bring them to justice.

(We’re working in a small group to avoid being noticed while gathering information.)

But it also means that if we were to find ourselves in a dangerous situation, we wouldn’t be able to call for help immediately.

(I need to stay focused.)

At that moment, Ellis’s hand gently caught mine.

Ellis: “Would you like to take a short stroll?”

Kate: “I’d love to, but we have a mission.”

Ellis: “We still have some time. Please?”

(Ugh.)

I waved the white flag in my mind when he squeezed my hand.

Kate: "Can you promise it'll be just a short walk?"

Ellis: "I promise."

Kate: "Then, okay."

Ellis: "Fufu. I feel like I'm acting like a selfish kid."

Ellis: "Looks like there are many people over there. Let's go and see."

He started walking while holding my hand.

His hand holding mine, his broad back—none of it felt like that of a child, and it puzzled me for a moment.

(Hm?)

Ellis: "Is something wrong, Kate?"

Part 1╎Part 2╎Premium End╎Epilogue

#ikemen villains #ikemen villain #ikevil ellis #ellis twilight #ikevil #ikevil translations

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simpxxstan · 2 years

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Ramyeon Meokgo Gallae? (ksj one-shot)

pairing: ceo!jin x ceo!reader

genre: slice of life, angst, smut, exes to lovers, arranged marriage au

summary: when you fall into a trap that can ruin your life and the empire that you’ve built over so many years, your best way out is to marry the person your parents want you to marry. except that your parents want you to marry jin. who you have history with. who you’ve never quite gotten over. and who has led you to become the heartless woman you are today.

word count: 11.5k

rating: 18+

warning: explicit sexual content, foul language, slow burn, a lot of angst and heartbreak, slight side sope *heart eyes*, namjoon can drive in this au!!

a/n: i’m sorry if there are tense and verb errors! i didn’t write the whole thing in one flow, and editing it all again at the end gets really confusing and cumbersome. i’ve tried to edit and rectify as much as possible, but please bear with me if there are grammatical errors! do let me know your feedback! it took me about a month to write this, and i haven't written something in so so long, i feel rusty. thank you for reading!

___

You pace in your room, your heels clicking on the tiled floor. Your mind is racing at a million miles an hour, but you can’t see any solution. Not a single fucking one. You feel like ripping apart everything, but that won’t solve the problem. You’ve given so much to build your world, your empire. You won’t let it come down so easily.

“You have-”

“No options left. I know, Yoongi, stop trying to remind me every minute!” Your voice becomes shriller with each word, but you know that your lawyer, your best friend and closest ally, is right, and that irks you the most. The television screen in front of you is still blaring out the news that threatens to bring down everything you’ve built with your blood, sweat and tears, and you feel like a helpless maniac.

“Why can’t you marry him?”

You stop in your tracks, turning to look deadpan at the man sitting on the couch in a dark blue suit, his white hair parted and neat, making him look fairer than he is. “You know why.”

“Yes, but it was so many years ago. Y/N you’ve matured enough to move on.”

“STOP trying to counsel my feelings. I know I should move on. I know I need to. But, I can’t…” you falter, and Yoongi steps up, holding your arm and steadying you. He looks straight into your eyes and forces you to look back at him by putting a finger under your chin. “I’m not counselling your feelings. I know you hate him. And I know everything else too. I’ve heard enough of your drunken rants. And, I think, hell, I think it’s fair that you feel that way. But, now you have no other options left. And you can’t let everything go because of that one person, who broke your heart so many years ago. Be the stronger person, and use this opportunity to protect yourself, Y/N.”

You look at him, and breathe in. Deep breaths Y/N, use the one trick you’ve used to calm down your temper. “Okay.” You whisper quietly. He looks at you, eyebrows raised, clearly asking you to repeat. “Okay. I’m ready.” You nod, as he begins to nod. “That’s my girl.” He pats your hair once, and you know that his affection display metre has already broken and he’s going to go underground for the rest of the month.

___

“Hmm.” you speak into your phone when you’re awakened by your sister’s call at 7 am, which was definitely early morning to you on a sunday. Considering that you had just gotten to sleep three hours ago. “Have you seen the news?”

“Nope.” You sit up in your bed. That was a bad starter. “Why?” you ask her. “Go switch on your telly. Don’t cut the call.”

You grunt and swing out of bed. You were already annoyed- your sister was unpredictable, you expected this call to be anything from a prank call to the announcement of the marriage of her favourite movie star.

What you did not expect on the television, was a leaked video of a man speaking loudly to someone sitting next to him, “Such a slut- sucked my dick and begged for the money.” Everyone in the room erupts into laughter. The video gets changed to a reporter’s video who is supposedly making comments on the truth of this video.

And, suddenly you can’t breathe.

Somewhere, your sister speaks. Your phone buzzes with her voice. “Did you watch it?” You can’t even pick up the call. You whisper to yourself, “What do I do?” And you keep repeating it, like a mantra. Your sister keeps calling out your name, but you don’t care about her. All you want to do is to sink back into the same hole you crawled into twelve years ago. You can’t see the light that you grasped for yourself when you finally overcame it all. You can only see darkness. Pitch black.

___

“I didn’t sleep with him before the deal. I swear I didn’t.” You explain for the third time to your father. You’re sitting in your office, and you can hear the people from the press right under your window. You may be on the tenth floor, but you can still hear the ruckus in the streets. It’s almost funny. This is not a rare sight to you, you’ve faced flak from the public and the media before, but this one is different. You couldn’t be brought to give a fuck for the past times, but this, it threatened to bring you down. Everything you had built would be ruined. And you couldn’t imagine living without the work you were so proud of.

“Okay, then do you have any kind of proof that any intimate relations between you two began after the loan was sanctioned?” Your lawyer, Yoongi, asks you. He’s sitting right next to you, and out of the four people in the room, he has the least tense expression. The slight furrowing of eyebrows seems like he’s just annoyed to be woken up so early, but you know he’s concerned from deep within. He’s your best friend.

That’s why he can read your eyes when you don’t respond to him. “Y/N, I need you to be honest.”

“We… had some conversations while the loan was still being sanctioned. It was a couple of days after we met for the first time, and we’d gone out for a drink-” you see everyone’s eyebrows raise, “but I promise, it was innocent! We didn’t have any physical interaction. Honestly, no touches. Just business.”

“Then?” Your sister asks you, steely.

“Umm, you know…”

“Sexting?”

“Let’s just say it could put me in a bad position.” You look at your fingers in your lap.

“This is bad.” She sighs.

“What do we do now?” Your father asks Yoongi.

“Nothing. We publicly deny it. We don’t show the chats unless he brings it up. He won’t bring it up, because he knows it’s gonna expose that he was equally interested in getting his dick sucked by you, irrespective of the loan.”

Everyone looks at Yoongi, who’s calmly explaining everything while typing something on his laptop. “And then, you return the loan. With interest. Immediately.”

Your protest, instantly, “I can’t, Yoongi, you know! Even our stocks have fallen in value since today morning, and I don’t have that kind of money. I can’t even take another loan from anyone. Not that anyone would be willing to give me any loan now.”

“I’ll arrange-” Your father starts. You flinch, “No, papa. I’m not going to make another mistake by taking your filthy money.” He smiles, without any mirth. “You think I’m going to give you my money? Huh, no you fool. I wouldn’t associate myself with this scandal. You separated yourself from me ten years ago, I see the advantages of it today.” You stare at him. He has no idea how much his words sting you, how cruelly tears threaten to pass the threshold of your eyes, how nauseous you feel.

“You’ll marry and get the money.”

At this even your sister’s jaw drops. “Papa-”

You laugh. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s the only way for you to get the money quickly, you silly girl. And I have the perfect candidate in mind.”

Yoongi asks, seriously. “And who is it?”

“Kim Seokjin.”

___

Madness. Sheer madness. You must be going crazy. Congratulations, Y/N. After years of people predicting it, it must have truly happened to you. Because there is no fucking way on earth you’re hearing Yoongi say to you, “I think he’s right.”

You throw another book at him.

“Violence isn’t the solution, Y/N.” “Oh yes, you motherfucker. It is the only solution.” You seethe in anger, ready to punch him again. Thank God that your cabin has blinds drawn.

“I think your father is right.” Thankfully your father isn’t in the room, because if he heard the curses you emit at his mention, he’d straight up disown you. And while you’d love that at any other time, this is not the time for that.

“You need to marry someone to get the money. Marry rich. Instant money. Boom, return loan. Divorce him after a couple of months, huh? Not so bad.”

Yoongi has the audacity to smirk, for which he is rewarded with another book.

“Y/N, please talk to me. Normally.”

You take a deep breath.

“What are my other options?”

“None.”

“What?” You spit.

“You can’t get a loan. You don’t have that much money. Your company is going to come down in two days when the stakeholders back off. You’re probably never going to be trusted by anyone ever again because now everyone sees you as a slut.” You know that well, the television screams at you- “Y/N selling herself for her company?” Ridiculous. Far-fetched. Ugly. You had always been the business world’s most hated bitch for being a woman who had alone made it this far, without any help from her father, without any support from a man, in a world of suited men with egos the size of Antarctica. And now everything you had proved wrong in this world was coming crashing down on you.

“Furthermore, I think that by marrying him and falsifying a story of how you had known each other since childhood, which is not fully false though, we can create an angle showing you as pure. You never wanted to sleep with him, because you were devoted to your childhood love.” You stare at Yoongi, who was staring back at you with his cat eyes. It sounded perfect. And you had full faith in Yoongi. He’d handled your PR forever, from making you class president at school to now in your company, and you trusted him to execute this perfectly.

There was just one problem.

“Yoongi… I can’t marry him. I can’t marry… Seokjin.” The word feels oddly natural although foreign to your tongue, like the taste of blood. Your breath was cold, your body shivering.

“Y/N. I can’t pressurise you about this. But you know you have no options left. And Seokjin… may have changed. You definitely have changed. You won’t fall for his games again.”

He looks at you earnestly, but you can’t see the hope he wants you to see. All you see is the end of the tunnel. The end of your glorious life of thirty years. You begin pacing in the room, a clear indication to Yoongi to shut up now.

___

When you’re ready, Yoongi brings you out of your cabin, which was becoming stuffy. Your secretary is waiting for you. She looks at you with wide eyes. You laugh internally. She had always thought of you as her role model, and you knew well how it hurt to see the image of someone you saw as perfect to break. As Yoongi briefed her about your new schedule, you walked around in your office, full of people, who were usually dedicated to their work, but today everyone seemed more interested in gossip. Which immediately shut up as soon as you came into the vicinity.

“Ahem.” You cough slightly, getting everyone’s attention.

“I have a few things to say. I believe you should know the truth first. Before the rest of the world does.” You breathe in deeply. You had no idea how to do this, it wasn’t even on Yoongi’s plan. But you ran on instinct.

“What the video says, is a lie. I guess you expected me to say this, but it really is. I don’t know how to prove it to the world, nor can I prove it to you. But I did not sleep with that man, and I have never wished to do it either. What you did not expect is the incoming storm that our company will face. I’m well aware that we will go through pressure now. From all ends. I’d like to reassure my employees that no one is going to get fired. No layoffs at my place, please. I’ve seen the damage those can create.” Everyone murmurs, smiling softly.

“I just ask that you stay with me in this storm. We will brave through it together, and get out on the other side… with a big bang.” Everyone cheers, someone says “Fighting!”

And you smile for the first time in the day, a smile of true joy.

At least not everything was lost.

___

When the press conference ends, Yoongi drops you home. “Rest well. You have a busy day tomorrow.”

But rest eludes you, as does peace of mind and any kind of serenity. You have one black hole of fear growing in the pits of your stomach, roaring to you one name. “Kim Seokjin”. As you finish bottle after bottle of soju, and drink yourself to sleep, you dream of him. It’s been four years since the last dream. They’ve always been bad dreams. Dreams that left you perspiring and breathless. Dreams that were reminiscent of reality, and memories you couldn't erase. You’re sure that tonight will be the same type. Nonetheless, tonight, when you dream of him, you smile in your sleep.

He smelled of roses. Strong but enticing, just like himself. All evening he had done nothing but steal glances at you, and you’ve openly stared at him. The soju had opened up your inner desires too much, and you can’t stop staring at your two-month long crush. A solid year after you had joined college, you had seen him for the first time. He had been dribbling the basketball, while talking to his friends. And you had fallen in love. He was the first crush of your life, and you had no idea how to proceed. Except that you had put all hope on fate, which had brought you to this party with him. Not with him, obviously, but this party which included him too.

And now he was looking at you. Everyone else was drinking, laughing, tipsily gossiping, even making out. But Kim Seokjin only had eyes for you. His ears were red, perhaps from the soju.Your entire body was red, because of his attention. You knew it probably meant nothing, but it didn’t stop your body from going on fire. You’d never felt anything like this before. Nineteen year old you didn’t know what desire was until you had met Seokjin.

And now the basketball player, with the broadest shoulders in the team, was standing in the doorway, laughing at some joke cracked by his friends, none of whom you cared about. You were ready to leave, having had your fun for the night. You had met this very nice girl, and chatted with her. She seemed just as crazy as you were, and you had exchanged numbers. Once she bid you goodnight and left, you were ready to disappear too, for it was getting late.

But then he called you from behind, his deep voice echoing in the cool night air that surrounded you two. Suddenly, it was just the two of you, and your skin burnt with his gaze. “Y/N?”

“Hmm?” You turned around, pretending to be nonchalant, but failing at it.

“Ramyeon meokgo gallae?”

You had stared at him for a good thirty seconds, before fully comprehending his words. He had continued to stare back at you, refusing to blink.

Finally you answered, “Sure.” You tried to hide your smile, but he quickly took your hand and led you to his car, whispering something about not standing in the cold for too long.

He made sure you wouldn’t feel cold all night. That night when he took all of your firsts. Your protected life had been broken into by this wonderful man who made you feel like you were in heaven, and you had no complaints. He took it slow, staring at you in between sloppily kissing your cunt, letting you scratch his back when he thrust into you, biting gentle marks onto your neck. When he whispered praises to you of how good you’d been to him, and how thankful he was that he was your first, you had been giddy with pleasure erupting all over your body.

You prayed, before going to sleep in his arms, that you could spend your life with him like this.

The next morning, he was gone. But he had left a note for you. “Dear Y/N, I made ramyeon. Please eat it before leaving for college! I’ll see you at seven tonight?” You had smiled at the thought of tonight, smiled when you saw his marks all over your body, smiled when you ate the ramen. Later he would tell you, between kisses that made you forget your name, that he had to leave in the morning for a run in the field. He had to keep fit, else the coach would kick him out of the team, and the two of you would giggle. He would laugh with you to sleep, telling you joke after joke of what happened that day. It made your heart warm, when you heard him laugh with you, when you heard him call you baby with genuine affection, when he cooked meals for you before leaving every morning.

Oh, what a fool you were.

And you were a fool again, waiting for him for the past half an hour, in a fancy restaurant. You half expected him to not turn up, without any reason, and your other half expected him to send someone on his behalf to eat with you. Both things you’d experienced before.

You hadn’t seen him in years, except in your dreams, and occasionally in the news. He had founded a startup after college, which had soon become a reputed, well-established big business, and he was often on television.

That’s why, when you saw a man with the broadest pair of shoulders you had ever seen, the plumpest and pinkest lips, and a broad expanse of forehead exposed by his gelled up hair, walking towards you, you didn’t know it was him. It was only when he pulled up the chair in front of you, that he said with a smirk.

“Funny how whenever we meet you’re staring at me.”

Instantly, everything clicks. His swagger, his ruthless smirk, his dark burning eyes, his glowing confidence. You knew it all too well.

“You haven’t changed at all.”

“And you, baby.”

You flinch. He takes the hint, but he doesn’t drop the pet name. He simply smirks and calls for the waiter. Again, no explanation as to why he was late. No apologies. No excuses.

“Please get us your finest wine. And two plates of fillet mignon.”

You’re still dazed by how he’s sitting right in front of you, and you’re not combusting into flames, nor launching yourself on him to punch the hell out of him. Funny how things change with time.

“I heard you’re in a mess.”

“Everyone has heard that .”

“Why does your father need me then?”

You’re surprised. “Wait, you don’t know?”

“And how do you expect me to know?”

“I thought you’d know. Or you know, something of the sort. I don’t know why else my father would suggest you as the perfect man for me to marry right now.” You scoff, as he instantly retorts, “Perhaps he’s fallen for my handsome face too.”

“Spare me that nonsense, please.”

“Oh, baby girl’s all grown up.”

“I’m not going to be your little doll forever, manipulating me and feeding me lies.”

His smirk disappears.

“I never lied to you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Y/N-”

“Hiding truths also count as lies, you brat.”

“That was necessary for me to survive.”

“You’re lying to me again. Huh! Even now you can’t speak the truth.”

You stop talking when the waiter brings the food and wine. When he is finally gone, you look up at Seokjin, and you see something new in his eyes. Hurt? Regret? Sadness? You don’t know. And you couldn’t care less.

"You've got it all wrong Y/N," he whispers to you before sipping his wine.

___

You don’t know when you got out of that restaurant, and ended up at a bar. The two of you had eaten your dinner in silence. For you, it was too difficult to talk to him, even look at him for too long, without tears hurting your eyes. You don’t know about why he didn’t talk though.

But when you get to the bar, and gulp down your first glasses of martini, he starts talking.

“Why does your dad want me to marry you?”

You’re sitting on stools next to each other, some would probably mistake you for colleagues. Your knees could’ve touched, your eyes could’ve met his. But you stared at your empty glass. “I don’t know. How does he even know you?”

“I’ve done business with him. Many times.” “Aah…” You grow silent, and he speaks, “Isn’t thinking of marriage too far-fetched? Especially since it’s just a professional relationship.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Huh?”

“Did you ever mention… that we… knew each other in college?”

Seokjin’s eyes never leave you. “He asked if I knew you, since we’re both from the same college. I had to say yes.”

You smirk. “Then he must’ve done some digging and found out that we…” you don’t know how to finish the sentence. Dated? Went out? Fucked?

“But we covered everything up well?” Seokjin is puzzled, as he motions the bartender for another round of martinis. “Papa … has his ways and means.” You want to laugh at the universe. This was all your father’s plan to spite you. Force you to marry someone who he knew you had a bad history with. He must’ve found out somehow that your… relationship hadn’t ended… well. It was quite a ruckus in college when everyone had found out that The Seokjin was sleeping with Y/N, who was the daughter of the owner of all the top hotels in Seoul, Mr. L/N. And an even greater chaos when you two stopped seeing each other.

Someone must’ve spilled.

This time, you really do laugh out hysterically.

“Everyone hates me.”

“Stop being paranoid, Y/N.”

“I’m not!” You laugh again, “You hate me. My father hates me. He knows that you hate me. He knows that if he can force me to marry someone who hates me, he will have taken his revenge for the huge mistake I’ve made of outshining him in the corporate world.”

You look at the man next to you. The first two buttons of his black dress shirt are open, revealing beautiful collar bones. He had always been gifted with the best body structure you had ever seen. “Let’s not get married. Please. I can’t marry… you.” You can’t stop the tears this time. “I’m not ready to go through this again. I’ll only end up with more scars. And I really don’t… wanna….” And you hide your face on the counter, putting your hands around your face.

Seokjin is silent. He’s never seen you so bitter. He can’t help but think of what you’ve gone through these past years. What he’s put you through. And even if you don’t know it, he wants to take this opportunity to make it right.

“You’re tipsy. Go home. Let’s meet tomorrow and finalise the contract.” You sit up at his strong, steely voice commanding you. “Contract?” “Yes, the contract of our marriage.”

He stands up, pays the bill with his black card, and takes your hand, pulling you away from the bar counter. When he drives you home, you fall asleep in his car, inhaling that scent of roses you had fallen in love with. Moments before you do, you ask him, as he puts on your seatbelt. “Just give me the money, why do you need to marry me?” You don’t hear him whisper back, “Because I’ve always wanted to marry you.”

___

You’re thankful that Yoongi is sitting next to you. Doing all the talking for you. After last night, you can’t stop thinking about how this is the worst thing that could happen to you. All your enemies were ganging up against you. When you said this to Yoongi, along with how your ‘date’ with Seokjin had gone, he merely smiled at your crazed whispers, “I don’t think so, Y/N”. You had felt like screaming at him, but you were too sleepy.

Seokjin is sitting on the other side of the table, with his lawyer. It seems like a divorce, but it’s funnily a marriage contract.

Seokjin and you have decided on all the rules already. The marriage is going to be for precisely 26 months starting from the month of the contract. You would get married in two weeks, and you’re going to shift to Seokjin’s condo. You would argue that your house is definitely bigger, and better located than his, but Yoongi insisted. The contract involved going to parties, events, social occasions together. Celebrating anniversaries, initially bimonthly, then two public anniversaries. Private events too, dreamy pictures of an ideal couple in love.

“How about a honeymoon?” Seokjin’s lawyer, Hoseok, asks casually. Your jaw drops, eyes widening. You’re looking at Yoongi, then at Seokjin, but no one’s batting a lash.

“I’m okay with it.”

“I’m not!” You lash out at Seokjin, who’s stunned. You wish Yoongi would stop staying silent, but he’s too busy staring at the other lawyer’s fingers. “I can’t go on a vacation with you.”

This time Yoongi speaks up. “Why not, Y/N?”

“Because I can’t stay in a freaking honeymoon hotel room with this man. Plus, going on a trip would mean doing things together-”

“Not necessarily.” Seokjin’s voice is steely. “We can stay in separate rooms, do different things. No one will notice, if we arrange it well.” You’re still in disbelief.

“He’s right. You’ll have to make this believable, Y/N, to completely disassociate yourself from the scandal.”

His words hit hard, and you find your courage recoiling.

Seokjin is staring intently at you, he can see the wheels turning in your head. “What’s the loan amount?”

“Sixteen billion won.”

He nods his head. “It’ll be arranged to be given all at once. Y/N can repay me in instalments, does that work?” He slowly reaches his hand across the table to hover over your hand, and you flinch. “Yeah, it’ll work.”

“Great!” Hoseok flashes you all a smile, that’s quite starkly different from Yoongi’s calm and grim attitude. Your best friend does seem quite captivated by the smile. “We have a deal?” You nod, as Seokjin signs the papers, followed by you. When you shake hands and look into his eyes, you hope he can see the resentment in your eyes and expect no forgiveness.

___

Your father doesn’t walk you down the aisle, on the day of your marriage. You walk down it yourself, in your elegant white dress that has roses embroidered in beautiful colours and patterns all over the bodice. You don’t wear a veil, your hair is let down, and you’re walking with a stone cold face. As you near the altar, you can see a man looking impeccable in a suit, looking at you with focus and intent. Seokjin looks as fine as ever, and you’re suddenly conscious but you don’t care less. This is not your wedding, it’s just an act. And you’ve always been able to act since you were a kid. First in school plays, then in real life, when you’ve had to hide your fury and tears and put on a smile for your Papa’s sake. He doesn’t even smile seeing you getting married, although your mother and sister are already tearing up. You see Seokjin’s parents sitting right next to them, beaming. You don’t understand why.

Yoongi is your maid of honour. He’s wearing a baby blue suit, and looking dashing. Hoseok is Seokjin’s best man. He’s smiling brightly at everyone in the room, but he doesn’t know that Yoongi keeps looking at him. You smile at the sight, at least someone’s happy in this arrangement.

When you stand in front of Seokjin, you feel his stare burning down into you. It wasn’t necessarily negative or angry, it was simply… curious. Hesitant. Shy, but eager. You hadn’t seen this side of him earlier. He looks perfect, his black hair pushed up to expose his forehead, strong shoulders the focus of his suit, and his posture straight. You look like a nervous wreck, barely holding up.

You deserve better from fate.

The priest begins to read the vows, looking at Seokjin, who’s looking at you. When he reaches the crucial part, the words roll off his tongue, smooth like butter, as if he’s practised: “I do.”

It’s not so smooth for you, even though you have practised. You stutter, stumble, and force yourself to smile. The nerves have never got you this bad. You don’t know why. Maybe it’s because you hate the man you’re marrying? Maybe it’s because you feel like you’re Alice falling down the rabbit hole? Maybe it’s because this feels too realistic? Because you’ve dreamt of this over and over again when Seokjin would whisper secret wishes of putting his babies into you when you were young, wild and carefree?

Maybe because you’ve always wanted to marry him. No one but him. Even if you hate him. He’s the only man in this world who you’ve ever really cared about. The flings who came and went after that were nothing but sexual encounters you needed for your body. Your heart had never been aroused by anyone but…

“Do you, L/N Y/N, take Kim Seokjin, as your lawfully wedded husband?”

You realise that the priest has been repeating this sentence. You’re brought back to reality, and you’re hesitant, until…

Seokjin winks at you.

Fucking winks at you.

Your mind cannot process it, and you blush out of instinct.

“I do.”

The man standing in front of you smiles with his eyes first, then his lips part in a beautiful smile.

“You may kiss the bride.” The priest addresses the groom, who bends down, hesitant, eyes full of questions. You blink once, indicating you’re ready. He smells like roses, when his rosy lips press a kiss to yours. His hands grip your waist, and you melt to his warm touch. When he moves back, you’re both smiling. You don’t know what you’re thinking about.

The past? Or the present? Or the future?

Your heart beats fast.

___

After the ceremony is over, there’s an elaborate lunch. Your father sheds fake tears, you drink a lot of wine, and there’s many wishes for a happy married life. You smile too much, your jaws hurt. When Seokjin kisses you softly again mid-dance, when everyone is waiting for you two to show some affection as a newly-married giddy couple, he makes you forget everyone else. He’s always had this effect on you. You want to protest but you like it a little too much for even your own liking. Everyone is happy with how your wedding went, you can’t wait to crash at Yoongi’s place with soju and drink yourself to sleep.

Since you’re too tired from the stress of the wedding, Hoseok drives you and Yoongi to the latter’s house. Yoongi’s house is radically different from your own. While you had gone for light pastels and airy sunshiney shades, Yoongi had the walls painted a dark grey. But you had to admit, Yoongi’s minimalistic art sense made even the grey look elegant.

When you reach his house, you spot Yoongi trying to say something but hesitating. Reading his mind, you say, “Hoseok, join us!”

“No no, I don’t wanna barge into best friend time, I’m leaving!” Hoseok smiles widely, his entire face so bright even after the exhaustion of the day. Yoongi speaks up, finally mustering some courage, “No, Hoseok, you don’t have to leave! We’re just going to drink up. It’s cool if you stay. The more the merrier.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yup yup.” Your best friend needs no more confirmation. He’s already setting down three glasses and bottles of soju, and arranging the snacks.

“Thanks!”

Six bottles of soju disappear fast. You quickly learn that although initially, Hoseok is the one chattering the most, laughing out loud and basically hyped at everything, he eventually slows down his incessant flow of talking as the alcohol increases, and Yoongi fills in the gaps as he’s more talkative when drunk. They sit next to each other, unconsciously touching each other, and Hoseok is definitely looking at Yoongi with puppy eyes as he’s more and more drunk.

You learn that Hoseok has known Seokjin for the past five years, and has now become his business partner and lawyer. Also his best friend. Naturally he knows everything about his past. Well, not everything. Even he doesn’t know exactly why Seokjin disappeared on you. He never got to that part of the story when narrating history in drunk rants.

It’s fun bitching about Seokjin. Hoseok has a good sense of humour, and together the three of you have endless jokes about his narcissism, his stuck-up attitude, his babyish nature, and his winks. When you tell them that he winked at you during the ceremony, Hoseok falls into Yoongi’s lap, laughing. You’re too intoxicated to know if the fall was intentional.

Ten bottles down, you’re too sleepy to continue talking. Your jaws hurt even more now because you’ve talked so much, but it’s a good pain. Your ribs hurt because you’ve laughed so hard after so, so many years.

When you’re falling asleep on the floor, putting your arm below your head as a cushion, you see Hoseok already sleeping on a cushion right next to Yoongi, who’s staring at him intently. You smile at your best friend. Yoongi’s always been shy about any ideas of romance, and you think Hoseok’s the same under the mask of that bright, smiling face. It’s a nice thought to fall asleep to.

___

Things don’t go back to normal immediately. After about a week, the media ceases to talk about the scandal. And more about other things, like how you’re spending your newly married life with Kim Seokjin, who had been dubbed as “Worldwide Handsome” after he had overtaken some famous K-drama actors in terms of looks in a recent poll. Although you had shifted into his house, you had yet to have much conversation with him. This was because his house had a convenient feature- it was a duplex. So the second floor was completely yours, and you also had a separate door to it. There was no need for pretence either when friends (read, only Yoongi, and sometimes Hoseok) came to visit. They all knew about the arrangement. The only people who didn’t know were Seokjin’s parents, but they had returned to the USA soon after the wedding so there wasn’t any undue intrusion from them either. To the outside world, you were a couple in their honeymoon period, rarely going out of your house because you were busy doing… coupley things?

But in reality, you both were stuck up in your rooms, working from home. You barely came out of your new room, which you had quickly furnished as per your taste and brought your belongings over to, and Seokjin never came up to your floor. You would often get take-out, or make something easy in your shared kitchen, but your routine was quite different from Seokjin’s. You were more of a night person, so you’d wake up later than him and your entire day would go by on a +2 hours schedule than his. You never clashed.

In that week, you had four encounters in all. The first day, Hoseok and Yoongi had come over, signing more contracts ensuring that you got the money to pay off the loan from the scandal. Seokjin made lunch for you all. Surely it was just a coincidence that it was the same thing he had made for your one year anniversary back in college and you had enjoyed it so much that he had made it every night for the week after that too.

The second encounter was three days after that, when you had to talk to him about bringing over your furniture to your new room. It was a ten-minute discussion, with you standing in the doorway of the hall, him sitting on the sofa, and you couldn’t help but notice, wearing a dapper white suit that made his skin glow in the morning when you were barely awake and simply dressed in a blue dress.

The third and fourth encounter happened on the seventh day. Early in the morning he had appeared at your door, asking you if you were free for lunch. You really weren’t free, because of a meeting… that you could have rescheduled, to be honest, but he didn’t press about it when you said that you were not free. You were quite thankful that he had not insisted. Later, you had ordered pizza, and you were waiting near the door because the delivery man was about to arrive at any moment. Suddenly the door burst open and a very sweaty Seokjin burst in. It was nine in the night, and you’d expected him to have fallen him asleep because of his regular schedule, but here it seemed that he had just come back from… gym? “I didn’t know you worked out?” “Nope, that’s too much hard work. I run.” He leans on the kitchen counter, getting back his breath, and you ogle at his lean figure. “You’re…?” “I ordered pizza, waiting for that.” “Oh.” He proceeds to drink water, and in his hurry, he drips some of it on his shirt, which is already wet from sweat. “Would you like some? I’m not going to be able to eat it all anyway.” “Nah, thank you.” He smoothly walked away into his room. Maybe to shower? You didn’t want to think about it.

That night, the dreams returned. The first time you had seen him play basketball in your college campus, his muscular arms on display in the sleeveless tank top he wore. Three weeks after that, he had given you that tank top. When you woke up, the dream still fresh in your mind, you walked up to your wardrobe and found the tank top. It had been too loose for you, and that was your excuse for never wearing it since he had left. But now, you suddenly wanted to wear it again. If it was yours, you had every right to wear it, didn’t you? Plus, it was a Sunday, he was most probably not at home. You had heard from Hoseok that Seokjin often spent Sundays with him and a few other friends from his work. You had the entire house to yourself, and frankly speaking you had been waiting for this day.

It seemed, nothing was going to go according to your plans.

On getting out of your shower, you decided to go down and make coffee for yourself. Putting on music on your phone, you walked down slowly. Wearing the tank top and shorts, you had gone into chill mode, finally getting a day to yourself when you didn’t have to work nor would you have to worry about anything else.

You walk down the stairs in a house of complete silence, but when you put your foot on the first floor, four men pounce out of a room, showering you with bursts of laughter and boisterous shouting. You stare at them in complete shock, faces you do not recognise at all, except two. You notice now that there are more than four men- four stand in a line, shy but still giggling, among which Hoseok had his hand over his mouth hiding his smile.The other three were unfamiliar, until you see Seokjin step up from one side, his entire face red and embarrassed.

“Noona!” All the three men who you didn’t recognise call out your name with adorable smiles. They’re grown up men, wearing adult clothes, but when they call you out, they sound like children and the smiles on their faces are childish. You want to squish their cheeks. Seokjin shushes them with a finger, and you smile at him.

One boy steps up and bows to you. “Y/N Noona, I am Jungkook! Jeon Jungkook!” He’s tall, but not taller than Seokjin. He has many piercings and is wearing an all black outfit, but his entire demeanour is smiley and cute. Another boy steps up, “And I’m Jiminie, and this is Taehyungie!” They have smaller builds than Jungkook but Taehyung is definitely taller than Jimin and Jungkook. They stand with the brightest smiles on their faces. “They’re here from Chicago. They’re my cousins,” Hoseok explains, “but they love Jin hyung more than me! They’re here to see you specially.” You smile instantly, your heart having already warmed towards the boys. You love the bright positive energy that they’ve brought into the house, that’s otherwise so silent and boring. One-by-one you hug each of them, but before you can talk to them, Seokjin asks them to sit in the living room, and pulls you away to his room.

“What’s up?” His hold on your wrist softens, but his thumb lightly grazes on it. “They know… about the arrangement… and the past.” You look up at him, and gulp. “Okay.” “Yeah- and they may say stuff that’s…” “They’re kids, I won’t blame them.” Seokjin scoffs, “Jungkookie is 24 now. Not a kid anymore. Not that he’ll say anything. It’s Jimin and sometimes Tae- they don’t know where to draw the line sometimes. They can be blunt.” You furrow your eyebrows. “But I won’t feel hurt about anything. Nothing was my fault.” Seokjin’s eyes become stern, and you feel him pushing you gently to a wall. “Are you sure? Let’s not blame everything on me.” “I’m just speaking the truth.” You don’t back down, and stare back at him. His hand slips higher up your wrist, to your arm, and he lifts it to check on a bandaid that you had put on your arm last night. He raises his eyebrows. “I cut myself while shaving my arms.” He sighs in relief and rubs it softly. “Be safe.” Before moving out of the cage he had enclosed you in, he picks up your arm and places a feather kiss on the skin just below the bandaid. It sends shivers down your spine, especially when he leaves you abruptly after that, leaving you cold and exposed.

You waddle your way back into the living room.

___

You learn that although the plan was originally that the boys would meet at Hoseok’s place, the Maknaes had arrived at Seokjin’s apartment and had insisted on surprising you, in spite of your husband’s protests. You were thankful that they were high, truly. They had a lot of energy and made the house seem like a home again with their childish and chill behaviour. Hoseok was your age, but around the Maknaes, he was also young and wild. Now you see why Yoongi liked him so much. Even Seokjin was laughing, although there were multiple times he spoiled the laughter in the room with his awful jokes.

You end up ordering pizza, and lounge in the living room. The television is blaring out some music, and in a corner, Hoseok and Jungkook are dancing like maniacs. Taehyung is clicking pictures of everything, laughing to himself. Jimin is busy making amazing cocktails for all of you. And what about you and Seokjin? You’re probably sitting this close after years, and finally doing an inkling of what the newspapers expected y’all to be doing. But you were overthinking it. He was merely sitting next to you. So what if you were slightly leaning into his body, attracted to the warmth? So what if you could smell the roses on him? So what if he had wrapped his arm around your shoulder, and was gently patting your hair? Nothing suspicious. Jimin was wiggling his eyebrows at you both for nothing.

___

“Y’all are comfy.” Taehyung asks out of the blue, when you all are huddled around the pizza, on the carpet. Instantly you’re blushing, and Seokjin moves away from you by an inch. “It’s nothing,” But Tae doesn’t stop. “Even if you’re upset about the marriage now, Jin hyung, you and Y/N have great chemistry.” Jimin nods and pipes in, “And great history.”

Hoseok pinches them, but they seem oblivious to it. Jungkook doesn’t seem to notice as he’s wolfing down the pizza slices. But there’s an odd tension forming between you and Seokjin. You can’t deny that although you tried to stay away from him, you had often unconsciously leaned into the familiar comfort that Seokjin provided. It was something your mind did not control, it was something your body caught on to by default of memory.

It was awful. You hated that you felt nice by sitting next to him, not even exchanging words. Merely the idea that he was there with you being comforting made you hate yourself.

Hoseok broke the silence by asking Tae if he wanted more pizza, and the young boys continued their excited chattering again.

But your mood did not go back to what it was before Taehyung ruined it by speaking the truth. The truth you detested.

___

The weeks after that passed by smoothly. You began to go back to work, people congratulating you on the wedding, and smirking at you when hinting about your super-secret honeymoon. The media went back to talking about things unrelated to you, your life was functioning just fine.

Except one thing.

Seokjin.

You two had fallen into quite a rhythm. You would get up, shower and go down to the first floor. You would find Seokjin almost leaving the house. He’d look at you once before leaving, and you would find breakfast on the kitchen counter. After finishing breakfast, you’d leave the house. In the evening, you would ask Seokjin if he would be eating at home, to which he would reply in monosyllables. Since you generally returned home earlier than him, you would do the dishes, order some kind of takeout if you didn’t feel like cooking, or try to cook something and end up making a mess of it. Then you’d eat dinner by yourself, and go up to your room. If Seokjin did return home for dinner, he would eat whatever you had conjured and then go into his room.

Then repeat the entire routine the next day.

It wasn’t a bad routine. All your life you had craved to live alone, and for the last ten years you had enjoyed that. You’d feared marriage would take away that independence, but this arrangement worked very well for you. Too well, in fact. You probably would never want to change it.

There was just one issue that irritated you.

It had been three weeks since the last time you had gotten laid. And the last time was with the motherfucker who began the scandal. So when your hormones decided to go berserk, you had little to help yourself with.

On one hand, it felt weird to go find a random date. Firstly, if the media found out, it would be the end of your life. And … perhaps less importantly, and honestly, you didn’t even know why it came up in your mind, but it felt strange to fuck someone else when the man you had always wanted to fuck was literally in the same house as you.

On the other hand, you found no sensible reason in your mind when your hormones hit the horny extreme of the scale at midnight and you felt your finger inching downward and your panties slick. You knew very well you could use your vibrator to relieve yourself, get yourself just one high and that would be all. But you didn’t want to. Mostly because seeing Seokjin every day made you think of him. And how he felt. And how he had loved you. Once, before it all went wrong.

___

“Three cheers to Y/N for coming back with a bang!”

Everyone cheered loudly, clinking glasses and you smiled. It was a work dinner, one after many days. Everyone wanted to drink their recent stress away by getting together. Most of your floor was here at this work dinner, but you were paying for it all. It hurt your pocket, but it was a good move to keep morale boosted. Naturally, everyone was drinking without any control. Soju, whisky, beer, vodka, tequila, cocktails. Nothing was banned from the table tonight. And to be fair, even you enjoyed unwinding with your colleagues after a stressful month.

Pretty soon, you all were drunk and chaotic in the bar that you had booked for your party. Despite some of them being older than thirty-five, almost everyone was dancing and chaotically singing to the karaoke in the corner. Some had fallen asleep on the couch, one was crying as they were missing their ex-boyfriend, and only one person was barely drunk but they were wolfing down the samgyeopsal with too much fervour.

You were among those people who were drunk-dancing and singing in the worst tunes. You had always been close to your colleagues- not particularly friends, but you knew you could count on them. So now, when they compelled you to do girl-group dances with you, you didn’t think twice before joining. When a boy-group song came on, you all swooned at the visuals of the handsome idols, laughing and dancing to the beat. It was quite the mood, lasting till 2 am in the night, when the bar owner came to ask you to wrap up, as it was getting too late. You were too inebriated to understand his words clearly, but you got the gist from what your colleagues explained to you in spite of being equally drunk. Some readily bid their goodbyes, bowing to you for such a good evening, and clicking selfies with you. Others were drooling on the couch, and sending them home was quite the task. You didn’t want the drunk-daze to wash off you, but all these efforts made you more and more sober.

When you came out on the street, opening your phone to call Yoongi to pick you up, you found a text from him, saying that he was busy tonight. Puckering your lips in an irritated expression, you considered who else you could call. You briefly considered Seokjin, but it would be too much of an inconvenience for him. Plus, you didn’t want to risk being around him when you were drunk. You’d either get incredibly desperate to kiss him, or kill him.

Kim Namjoon. Your finger hovered over the contact one time before you decided to hit the call button. Namjoon was used to this, anyway.

“Hello?”

“Hi-” you could hear your words slur, and slight shuffling from his end indicating that he was probably sitting up from bed.

“What’s up, Y/N?”

You giggle at his concerned voice. “Nothing babe.”

“Y/N, are you drunk?”

“Is it that evident?” You giggle again.

“Where are you?” You could hear him getting up and walking. You look up at the flashing signboard of the bar, which was now closing down, and tell him the name.

“Okay, hang on. I’m coming.”

______________

Ten minutes later, you were sitting in Namjoon’s car, smiling at how he was focusing on driving through the dark streets of Seoul.

“I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“I wasn’t sleeping.”

“But it’s so past your bed-time.” He laughs. “You remember?” “Of course, Namjoon.” It’s a red traffic signal. He looks at you for a second too long, and you know what he’s thinking.

“I miss you.” You lean over to kiss his cheek. You can feel that it’s warm, but he’s always been like this. Quietly shy. He clears his throat and drives on as the green light flashes.

“How’s Seokjin?” He asks you after a while.

“He’s … fine?”

“I’m happy for you.”

You laugh. “You don’t have to be.”

“But I’m not pretending. Really!” He smiles at you, his eyes honest. You can see that he’s not lying. Namjoon has never lied to you. Unlike Seokjin.

“I know you love him. Even after all these years.” You smile at him fondly. You can’t even be mad at Namjoon for speaking the truth that you’ve tried to hide so desperately. He knows enough of your past to have figured out the truth of your arranged marriage with his intelligence.

When he looks at you again, staring deep into your eyes. You can feel the blood rush to your face, and you don’t know what you’re thinking but you ask, “Can I kiss you?”

He smiles, his eyes bright because of the lights on the streets.

“No, Y/N. Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

You can see the pain in his eyes. But this is why you love him. He knows what’s good for you, and never pushes you to do what he wants.

Oh, how you wish Seokjin could be like this.

That’s the last thought before you fall asleep in his car.

___ When you wake up the next morning, everything seems to be aching. Your head, your arms, the soles of your feet. When you open your eyes, you’re greeted by a sight that intensifies your headache.

“Seokjin?”

He’s literally staring down at you, sitting next to you in your bed. You realise you’re still wearing the clothes you wore at work, and then to the party, last night. You probably smell awful, and look even worse. You’re half scared that Seokjin will scream at you for waking up late and missing work.

But that’s when it hits you. There’s enough sunlight pouring in from the window for you to understand it must be at least past 10 am. And Seokjin is sitting in a t-shirt and shorts, his hair ruffled, and a frown on his face. Isn’t he also missing work?

“Where were you last night?”

“There was a work dinner.”

“But whoever brought you home was not your colleague.”

Your eyes widen. “How the fuck do you know?”

“I know every employee that works in your company. I’ve never seen this one’s face before.”

“What the hell, Kim Seokjin,” you groan, while trying to sit up. But he’s sitting too close for you to sit up without kicking him.

“I’m asking you something.”

“What?” you snap.

“Who was he?”

“Namjoon.”

“Yes, he said that. That’s not what I’m asking.”

“He’s a friend.”

“Really?” He raises his eyebrows. You lean in, taking his challenge. You’re almost breathing the same air as him, and your breath hitches slightly. “Yes,” you tell him, not looking away. “Then why didn’t he come for our wedding?” You’re a little stunned, but you retort. “He’s not that close.” “Yet, you called him instead of me to pick you up when you were drunk. Yet, you clung to him when he brought you home when you weren’t sober. Yet, you’re defending him, right now as we speak.”

“Ugh!” Seokjin’s rapping at this point, his words coming out so fast. He’s always been good at arguing.

“Why are you so interested to know?” You stare back.

“Why are you defending him?” He stares back.

You stay like that for two minutes. Two solid minutes, because it’s so silent that you can hear the clock.

You’re the first to give up. “Okay! We were a little more than friends.”

His jaw clenches, you can see the cogs turn in his head.

“So what?”

“Nothing.” He gets up, walking away slowly. His long legs on perfect display as the shorts hang low on his hips.

You ask again before he can leave the room.

“Seokjin?”

“I didn’t know you dated after me.”

He pauses, looking back at you, his hand on the half-open door.

“I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”

And he leaves you speechless.

___

The next few days, you and Seokjin hardly spoke to each other. Even if you were sitting together on the couch watching the news, even if you were both making coffee in the kitchen, even if you accidentally bumped into each other in the house. He seemed to be purposely silent. Every effort to start the conversation was made by you, but whenever you asked him anything he’d either grunt or nod.

“I don’t know why he’s behaving like this. I mean, it’s not like we’re talking a lot anyway, but this is just too odd. He’s never this silent. Even last week, we were joking while watching a movie together. He bought me food last Thursday. But now- it’s all back to zero. No progress. I don’t know what’s up.”

You rant to Yoongi, who’s furiously typing on his laptop, next to you.

“He’s acting up.” “What?” You gulp your coffee. “Why would he do that?”

“He wants attention. Y/N, is it that hard to understand?” You scornfully laugh. “He has enough attention. All the media can do is talk about him anyway.” Just a couple of days ago, Seokjin had modelled for a magazine featuring his success story. “Why do you need to model? It’s a fucking business magazine, publishing a business article. Why do they need you to wear Louis Vuitton and pose?” Seokjin had merely smirked, and said, “Because I look good.”

“No, you thick headed girl. He wants attention from you.”

“Why?” You’re genuinely annoyed at Yoongi now for his ridiculous statements.

“He wants you to give him a chance to explain. For the past.” Yoongi finally looks up from his work. “Talk to him, maybe. Tell him why you feel what you feel. Give him another chance.”

You scoff. “Not even in his wildest dreams.”

“At this point, you’re just being unreasonable.”

“Huh?”

“You can trust a random guy like Namjoon enough to drive you home when you’re drunk, but you can’t trust your husband?”

“Namjoon is not a random guy!”

“But you’ve known him for just a year.”

“He treats me much better than Seokjin, anyway. That’s what counts.”

“Sure, Namjoon is a great guy. No denying that. But Seokjin deserves another chance, I think.”

And with that, Yoongi went back to his laptop.

___

But you had no idea what Seokjin had been up to recently. When you were talking to Yoongi, he was sitting in his car, waiting for a certain individual to show up. He was wearing his shades, although he was sitting inside his car. He had worn black on black, to bring out his most formidable side.

“Hello?” Namjoon got into the car, looking quizzically at Seokjin. He was wearing a loose plaid shirt and shorts, his hair cropped really short. How did Y/N even like him? “Why did you call me here? And how did you know how to contact me?”

He pressed a finger on his lips, shutting Namjoon up. “You know very well why.” Namjoon stared back at him. “... no?”

“Are you this dumb?”

“Generally, no. Your presence has not changed that status, contrary to what you might be thinking. Seokjin scoffed and got straight to the point. “How do you know Y/N?”

“Huh?” Namjoon was a little taken aback, but recovered quickly. “We’ve known each other for a little over a year. We dated for a few months, then we were friends.”

“Just friends?”

“We did sleep together occasionally. But we were both too scared of commitment to date seriously. Especially because I knew that if I date her, I would fall in too deep to ever be able to move on from her. I couldn’t do that to me, nor to her, not when I knew that she still loved you.”

Now it’s Seokjin’s turn to look incredulous.

“She does not love me.”

Namjoon smirks.

“Sure. That’s why she’s cried endless nights for you, wondering where you were, who you were with, and why you left her.”

Seokjin is too surprised to continue.

“What happened? Cat got your tongue?” Namjoon scoffs again, but before Seokjin can recover his senses, he stepped out of the car. “If your little interrogation is over, I have somewhere to be. Talk to her. Goodbye.”

___

“To Y/N!” The menace known as your husband winks at you again, and you can’t help but choke on your wine as you drink to the toast he raised to you.

It’s been two months since your marriage, and your father insisted that you two host a two month-anniversary. You don’t know why you agreed to it, maybe because you didn’t want the rumours to come back. You wanted your marriage to last. At least in the eyes of the public. Not in your own life.

Everyone claps, and someone begins whistling, “Kiss! Kiss!” as if it’s a bloody kiss cam in a baseball match. Shockingly, everyone, including Hoseok, the Maknaes whom he brought along to the party, and Yoongi, join in the chant.

Jin’s lips twitch slightly. You know he doesn’t like this either, but when he leans in, you close your eyes and let him take over.

And take over he does.

He doesn’t let you breathe as he kisses you, his mouth slightly open, his breath sweet like roses, his tongue barely prying into your mouth but you part nonetheless because you like his gentle force on your small lips. His tongue swipes over your lips once, making you gasp and smile into the kiss. It’s a close like old times, you can taste the wine on your lips and you can’t help but want more.

“Y/N…” he whispers as he moves back slowly.

You bite your lower lip.

“I love you.”

It’s awful timing, and you almost miss the words. It slowly registers into you what he just said. And you breathe in, parting your mouth to stay something, but he interrupts you.

“And I’m sorry.”

You don’t know what to say, so you just stay silent. He looks at you in expectation, but there’s too much going on for you to comprehend. You’re overwhelmed, and right now the dominant emotion is one of extreme longing. So you do what your heart and body tells you to do, instead of what your brain asks you to do.

You pull his hand, and take him away from the banquet hall where you had organised the party. Once you’re outside on the isolated stairs, dimly lit and no one’s around you, Seokjin looks at you with confused eyes, looking like a tiny puppy. You smile in endearment, before pulling his lips into yours. And he doesn’t miss a beat.

“Y/N…”

“Shhhh…”

He kisses you harder, pushing you against the wall, your bare back hitting the cold stone, as his hands slide up your ribbons along your waist. You know how turned on he is by the growing force in his touch. When he pulls back, you’re unable to breathe, and you visibly pant. You’re sure your lipstick is ruined, and he smirks at you.

“Ramyeon meokgo gallae?”

___

You know that everyone back at the party must have a million questions, with the host couple disappearing in the middle of it. But you couldn’t care less. Not when his lips are on your neck, sucking and biting softly, and your hands are tangled in his smooth locks. You’re already turned on beyond control. It’s only now that it hits you with full force how much you had missed him. For the longest time, you had been too shy to expose your body to anyone else and tried to take care of your needs by yourself, the memories of Seokjin were too strong. But when you did allow someone else to touch you, you became reckless and thoughtless. You stopped caring about making love. It was just fucking someone new every weekend, and then moving on. Namjoon had threatened to change that, but he had stepped back in time. He knew that he would be the only one falling in love, and you did not want to break his heart.

But tonight brought back the memories of your first night with Seokjin. The night when you had lost your innocence and your heart forever to the one man who could make your heart warm with a simple smile and wash away all your worries with just a cute face.

He’s struggling to take off your dress, and you giggle at how concentrated he is, his eyebrows furrowed. “Seokjin-” “Hmm?” He looks at you, his gaze soft and tender.

“Can we take it slow?”

Realisation hits him like a storm. He steps back. “I’m so sorry-” “No!” “No, I’m sorry if I rushed you.” You cup his face in your palms. He continues to whisper apologies, but you press a kiss onto his lips to shut him up.

“Stop.”

He looks at you, his face small in your hand. He looks just like he did all those years ago, cute but handsome.

“No, let me explain.”

He takes your hand and brings you to the couch. You both sit down, your hands clasped in his own. “Let me explain why I left you in my last year of college.” You shake your head, not ready to ruin this moment, but he doesn't stop.

“When I started seeing you, I did not know who your father was. I was scared- when my mother took ill, I had to peddle drugs to continue my education and provide her with a decent treatment. When I found out that your father was a big-shot businessman, I had to detach myself from you. Because if he knew that we were together, he would’ve hurt you. And it was easier for me to see you hate me rather than hate everyone else around you because of me. But…” You stared at him, waiting. “Go on?”

“There’s, umm, more.”

“Yes?” You ask, your mind hazy with all the information.

“But I was not able to hide from your father. He found out about us, and he threatened to send me away from the country to separate us. I didn’t have any option but to move away from you. I’m sorry.” His voice wavers when he notices the silent tears falling from your eyes, you biting your lips.

“Y/N… don’t cry, please.”

“No no, but there’s something I don’t understand…”

“How I founded the startup and the story moved on till here?” You slowly nod your head. “When your father forced us away, I was hell-bent to take revenge. I needed to show him that I was worth his daughter’s hand in marriage, even if we never ended up together.”

You gasp. “So the scandal…?”

“When I disappeared and came back after a few years to start my company, you father had not recognised me at all whenever we met.” Seokjin laughs, “but I had never forgotten him. The scandal was a coincidence. But even if it hadn’t happened, I was determined to find my way back to you, Y/N.” He picks up your hand and kisses it softly, and you feel a single tear fall on your fingers.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers.

You have nothing to say, you’re rendered speechless. You simply lean forward to kiss his forehead, and stay like that for a while. “I’m sorry if I ruined the mood.” He chuckles, and you can’t help but laugh out loudly. It’s good to hear his high-pitched laugh after so long, and you look at him fondly. “I’m sorry too, Seokjin,for hurting you.” “Don’t apologise, love.” He hugs you gently, and you melt in his embrace.

“Thank you.” You whisper in his ear.

“For?”

“Spoiling the mood. We needed to have this talk now. We can always do the nasty later.” He laughs out again, your bodies shaking. He presses a soft kiss on your lips. “I love you, baby.”

You smile, your heart finally at peace.

“I love you too, Seokjin.”

#kim seokjin #bts #bts fanfic #bts ff #bts fanfiction #romance #jin #bts jin #angst #ramyeon meokgo gallae?#seokjin #seokjin x you #bts seokjin #seokjin fanfiction #seokjin angst #seokjin smut #bts x reader

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imogenleewriter · 1 year

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10 writer asks

Thanks for tagging me @enchantedlandcoffee

What is your absolute all-time favourite idea you've ever had?

So when I talk about my WIP's, I refer to one of them as 'My big fic' and that's because... um, it's going to be big... that one. But I have two others to finish before that one.

2. Is there a question you've been asked in the past that really stands out to you and you still think about sometimes?

If I'm okay, lol. A commenter once said that I write too well to be mentally stable and then asked me if I was doing okay and if there was anything I wanted to talk about. I still think about it quite often.

I am okay, by the way. Well, as well as I can be.

3. What is your favorite part of being a writer? What parts could you take or leave?

Favourite: - Generally the actual writing. - Creating stories and goals, motivations, and conflicts. - Developing well-rounder, believable characters. - Dialogue. - My readers. I just, can't ever even begin to explain how much I love them and the, well, everything.

My 4-month-old fic is the 17th most commented Larry fic of all time. EVER! Out of 42k fics. It's like 1600th with kudos which just shows how dedicated the readers I have are.

Leave: - How little time there is in the day. Sometimes my head is full of ideas, but I can't get them down fast enough. - I'm not going to say what because then people will go looking for them in everything I write and see them, lol, but I have some definite weaknesses in my writing technique. I would rather just not have them... so if I could just be good at everything, that would be great. - Drafting. I NEED drafts. Can't/shouldn't write without them, but I get so antsy because I just want to publish things.

4. What is your greatest motivation to write/create?

Readers. Honestly. I would struggle to get things done anywhere near as quickly without them. Reading. Often reading other people's stuff makes me want to get up and write my own. Deadlines. I've found that I need deadlines to survive. Without them I just waste time.

5. What is the best piece of advice you've ever read or bee given as a writer?

SO much stuff. I could honestly write out 1k of my favourite writing quotes. Three that stuck with me when I was writing YCHIITS were: - The thing you are most afraid to write - write that. (unknown) - Art should comfort the disturbed and distrub the comfortable. (Banksy) - Write hard and clear about what hurts (Hemingway)

Me: It was never meant to be angsty. Also, me: Those three quotes are what kept me going.

6. What do you wish you knew when you were first starting out writing?

Psssssh, um. Like ever, or publishing? I wish I spent more time editing YCHIITS because there are so many grammatical errors that I STILL go back and fix up issues. It would have been a lot quicker to take a bit more time editing chapters before posting them, rather than going back months later and editing them.

7. What is your favourite story you've written TO COMPLETION? Link it if you'd like and can

Um. I mean, at the moment, you can guess, lol.

8. What is your favourite out-of-the-box quote?

This whole thing is making me sound mentally unstable, lol. But someone sent me this the others day and I posted it. - "You write so beautifully... the inside of your mind must be a terrible place."

9. Which of your characters would you say has the most controversial mindset? Why do you say so, and how do you personally feel about their ideals?

Oooh. I don't know if this means general characters or ones whose POV I've written in. I think by the end, 99% of people said Zayn was their favourite character, but he also got a fair bit of dislike early on. I don't think his character changed so much, as he just started to make sense. If it's just POV characters - Louis by default because it couldn't be Harry.

10. If you, when you first started writing met you now, what would younger you think?

So when I was 18, I put "finishing a book" at the top of my bucket list. I'd say probably five years ago, I was like, "Okay, if I want to write, I should probably... start." That I would be very confused about the fact I was writing One Direction fan fiction because I didn't even like 1D, but would still be so proud. It's never been about getting something published, just writing something that I like and people read.

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atinyniki · 6 months

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big heart, little actions.

group: stray kids !

pairing: idol!lee minho x f!reader

genre: angst, fluff

warnings + additional info: reader is referred to as y/n, established relationships, horror movies, nightmares, crying, reassurance, love confessions.

authors note: had a thought... so i wrote it ! this is also not proofread. english is not my first language, so please excuse any grammatical or spelling errors. happy reading :)

wc: 919

everyone knows how minho is, even his members. ever since you started talking, you’ve had to learn to get used to it. it was a little difficult to rid yourself of your habits, but you wanted to be as amazing of a girlfriend as you possibly could be to him.

unfortunately, that meant almost no touching. sometimes he’d hug you or hold your hand, but that was just about the extent of it. he did show love in other ways, of course.

he’d buy you gifts, help you make dinner, spend lots of time with you, but you crave more. it feels selfish to want even more than the things he had to offer, but you can’t help it.

you’re big on skinship but he isn’t. you need to respect that, so that’s what you do. you show affection in the same ways he does, as to not clash with any of his boundaries.

today though, it became incredibly difficult. work has been getting incredibly exhausting, and you’re thinking about quitting. although it isn’t the best option, you’re miserable there.

your boss hates you, as do your coworkers, completely confused as to why you’d work so hard with a rich boyfriend. things only got worse from there.

“jagi? i’m home!”

you turn your head slowly towards the door, giving him a light smile. “hey…”

“bad day?”

you nod your head lightly, and minho walks to the kitchen to fix you a plate of the food he brought home.

he brings it to you once he’s done, sitting on the couch next to you but keeping a fair distance. “you wanna watch a movie? just to get your mind off it?”

“sure.”

the two of you sit in silence while the movie plays, jumpscares coming from every which direction. you flinch every time you see one, curling closer into the corner of the couch.

you don’t want to say anything of course, as it seems like minhos enjoying this. you try to suppress your little whimpers, squirming in your seat as to not disturb him.

the movie ends, but you don’t even notice it, still too shaken up. “you okay?”

you only nod, scared that if you talk you’ll just spew out your fears along with word vomit.

you stand up, “i’m a bit tired. probably going to go to sleep…”

minho is a little confused, he knows how much you hate going to sleep early. you climb into bed, minho not far behind. “i’ll sleep too, then. i have nothing better to do anyways”, he giggles.

you smile at the sound of his laugh, missing the way his face would always scrunch up and show his perfect bunny teeth.

still too exhausted to speak, you lay down onto your side of the bed, facing minhos back.

you want to reach out so badly. you want to tell him to come closer, to hold you. to kiss you. but you can’t. the two foot long distance between the two of you still remains, but you’re too tired to cry about it now.

you slowly drift off to sleep, trying not to think about it.

the peace didn’t last for long of course, and your slumber is broken by a blood curdling nightmare. maybe you shouldn’t have watched a horror movie tonight.

you suppress your sobs, keeping them down so that minho doesn’t hear, but it’s already too late.

he turns around, looking you in the eyes with a concerned look on his face. “why are you crying…?”

“oh, it’s nothing. just a nightmare.”

he nods in acknowledgment, thinking about ways he could possibly comfort you. you can tell he’s thinking just by the look on his face, but you don’t know what it’s about.

you continue thinking about what happened in your nightmare, your sobs getting a little louder. minho didn’t notice it before because he was thinking, but it breaks him out of his trance.

almost immediately, he grabs your arm, pulling you flush against him. your eyes go wide, incredibly confused as to what’s happening right now.

he swipes away one of your tears with his thumb, his actions tender. “why don’t you ever touch me?”, you whisper.

he looks down at you, a little confused. “is my touch not comforting?”

“what? i- no! that’s not it, don’t worry. i just don’t like much physical contact.”

you nod your head, finally accepting the fact that these things aren’t gonna happen often, as much as your truly want them to.

he cups your cheek with his hand, looking at you with stars in his eyes. “i love you.”

he catches you by surprise once again.

“what?”

he pulls you closer to him, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. “i love you. i’m sorry i don’t show it.”

before you can say anything, he cuts you off with a kiss. more specifically, the best kiss you’ve ever had.

the first kiss he’s ever given you.

“minho? is something wrong…?”

“no? why would anything be wrong?”

“i don’t know, you’re just… acting all sappy”

his heart clenches, he knows you don’t mean it in a bad way, and that you’re just confused. “i… i don’t like seeing you cry.”

he pulls you even closer again, kissing over your eyelids and gently rubbing your back with his hand.

you start crying even more, finally giving in and wrapping him in a hug. “thank you… i really needed this.”

“i did too.”

a moment of silence.

“minho.”

“hm?”

“i love you too.”

#atinyniki #skz #skz x reader #stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #lee minho #lee minho x reader #lee minho fluff #lee minho angst #lee minho x y/n #lee minho stray kids

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part2of3 · 5 months

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I got a message from a friend of mine today telling me that I am too much. Okay, sure, she didn't say those exact words. But that's basically what she said. Well, one of the points she was making was that I should check with her before I start talking about my problems to be sure that she's in the state of mind where she can be receptive to it. And that's fair.

But to be fair to myself, I usually start a lot of my messages saying something like hey I'm going to complain about my family for a moment I know You're tired of hearing about that It's okay if you just ignore this message or play it later. It's fine. Sometimes it helps just to get things out. (That's what I used to use Tumblr for and I guess I should go back to it)

Also, I'm using the speech to text functions so this might be filled with typos and grammatical errors. But whatever. No one looks at Tumblr anymore anyway.

So it's always one of my biggest fears to be too much. To be a burden on other people. As much as I am open about what I go through and my depression, I try to be open in a way that's not overwhelming. I try to talk about things in relatable terms or I try to make them somewhat anecdotal.

I might be a little more open and a little more detailed when I'm talking to someone I'm close with. Which is rare because it is incredibly hard for me to get close to people. It's hard for me to even want to meet people in the first place, but when I do it's hard for me to make a genuine connection and feel safe with them.

The friend that message me today is someone that I've known for 13 or 14 years. I spoken to her almost every day for almost all of that 14 years. And yeah, I've always known that she's not the greatest at handling emotional stuff. I learned that early on. I've done my best to adjust to that accordingly. I know that she's not the one I can turn to for emotional support. But the person I did have for that will passed away a few months ago. At the moment I don't really feel like I have anyone I can open up to.

But anyway, there's been a lot going on. Is a pinched nerve in my back that's getting worse and worse. I am now walking with a cane almost 24/7. My dad's dementia is getting worse, his condition is declining rapidly. My sister and her two kids moved back in with the rest of my family a couple months ago and that has been a constant source of a headache. There is something medically wrong with my mom and I am worried she's not going to make it but doctors have been ignoring everything. And, like I mentioned, I lost one of my closest friends a few months ago. It's been a lot. But I'm not the person who calls people up crying and sobbing all the time. I try really hard not to trauma dump on people. But when I talk about my life it's hard not to talk about the trauma because that's consuming my entire life at the moment.

But I get it. I understand where she was coming from. I don't blame her. She's right. She's not my therapist. I shouldn't put so much on other people when they're going through so much of their own stuff. And I'm aware of that. And I even say that in a lot of the messages I sent to her. I try to inform her about what's going on in my life, and I try to say hey I know this is too much so I'll try to keep it brief, but I just want you to know what's going on at the moment. I've been trying really hard not to do too much with her.

But I guess I didn't try hard enough. But even though I know where she's coming from, and I understand, and I agree with her, it still hurts to hear the person have been closest to for 14 years tell me that I'm too much.

And is especially hurts because I don't have anyone else. Which is no fault of hers. But it's just things to have that reminder that I never found my person. I never found that one person in my life who truly understands and accepts all parts of me.

#mental #health #self #rambling

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iamjalen-unhinged · 1 year

Text

Before you read: This is a long post about my ex. I promise you I am not posting this for you to read, however if you do, enjoy the ride. If not it's really just to vent and let it go. The following will have grammatical errors, and spelling errors. I don't care, I'm currently high and venting. I might delete this, I'm not really too sure. But here goes...

I got with my ex in 2019, --my last year in college-- and it has been one of the most rocky journeys of my life. I won't get into everything, but to add context to the situation I will talk about some of the bull shit that went down, but please keep in mind, parts of the stories are left out.

First, I was cheated on while I was in another country. Mind you, I was in another country because I was jump starting my marketing career post college. What was supposed to be a happy and glorious moment, and time for me was partly ruined by the fact that I got cheated on. Mind you, the nigga gave the bull shit excuse of "I need to be by myself" and brokeup with me before I even found out about the cheating. It wasn't until a month after that, his friend slipped and told me he cheated on me.

Fast forward end of 2019 going into 2020, my dumb ass starts talking to him again, I went to visit this man a whole hour away from where I live and did so a few times. One time in the mix of partying and drinking, this man calls me the other niggas name in front of all his friends. That shit was wild (I was hysterical that night)

Now you may be thinking, why are you still fucking with this man after all this? but check my technique... it's hard to let someone go bro. Especially because he was the exact opposite of what I had before (you don't even wanna know about that emotionally abusive ass story). On top of that, I was doing off the wall shit too. I just never got caught.

So fast forward again, we've both kinda matured and are in decent places in life (mentally). We decide to be cool, and spend time together and shit like that.

Though this time around, I never put my guard down. Knowing this man and the past shit he put me through, I would never let my guard down with him again. Plus in the back of my head I never thought that us being cool and spending time together would become anything more.At that time I didn't want anything more from him or from anyone, but he brung a good nut and good times. We had also both agreed (he brung up the idea) that we would not fuck other people in fear of STIs and giving it to one another. Fair, right?

WRONG

Everything was going well up until this past summer. In June, this man comes around and tells me he's going to be celibate (Bull shit). I found out in maybe September that in July (right before my birthday)... Let's just say, he broke the agreement, and exactly what we wanted to avoid, ended up happening.

So here we are in October and now this guy has a whole new situation and tbh it irritates the fuck out of me for several reasons. But I'll only list the main 2.

The first reason is... Why didn't that nigga like me? Like we had great times together and it was nothing I wouldn't have done for him, so why no matter how hard I tried this niggas just did not want me!!! and that alone is such a hard pill to swallow because I internalize it when I know I shouldn't. But I genuinely want to know, why wasn't I good enough?

Second reason, BITCH aint no way you about to prosper with this ugly ass nigga (who has the same name as me) after you did me THAT bold. Like fuck you, I hope you and that nigga rot!

...

Now granted I left A LOT of shit out, so this post may come off as the "bitter ex" but that's okay, I'm almost at the end process of letting it go.

I myself have a person that interests me, and I actually do like the person. I hope with time we can actually make something out of it. Because at this point, bitch, I deserve to be happy.

Also (you might be mad) I actually still talk to him to this day. I thought about cutting all ties with him and I still can, however, I don't think it's really necessary for me to do all that. I still value the friendship we did actually make, and I do like spending time with him. As long as no feelings are involved, I will be fine. I'm mature enough to do that, I think

....

If you actually sat and read all of this, I love you and if you want a gift (I don't have anything to offer but nudes) DM me or even like this. Thank you for taking the time. Now back to your regular scheduled programming.

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nishantbharadwaj · 2 years

Text

Me.

For 18 years I thought my mind was in the right place. I thought I had everything I wanted. Now looking back, I just realized I haven't figured out what I want to be after I finish my degree. My "I WANT TO BEs" have been constantly changing since school. First pilot, then came fashion designer, then came structural engineer (yep, I have actually thought about becoming a structural engineer) but looking at the curriculum and my grades in structures, that's probably a dead end now. There was also a phase where I wanted to be an astronaut like every other guy and girl on the planet and after that I wanted to become a consultant. Well, not me, my dad wanted me to become a consultant. I'm using the word 'wanted' because both me and my dad gave up on my dreams when I turned 18. I'm 20 years old now and I am not sure what I want to be after I finish architecture school. Let's look at it from two perspectives- Everyone around me has it all figured out what they want to become or what they want to do after their degree. Some are doing it already. Some have already done it and are quite successful in their respective fields and here I am with no plan for tomorrow (forget the future), I don't even have a plan for what I want/have to do for tomorrow. I sit here in darkness (literally and figuratively) as I write this blog with One Republic playing in another tab. That honestly scares the shit out of me. I'm not lazy if that's what you are thinking and at the same time, I have a lot on my plate too. That's probably the reason for this miniscule level of self-loathing. 'Miniscule' because well, I don't know, I feel guilty for myself but not so much that I want to change my routine overnight. Now, I am not sure what I want to become after the three years that are left of my degree. Call me crazy but, I consider that as an advantage. I can do whatever I want. There's still time. I just turned 20. I can learn. Hell, I can start learning after I finish writing this blog about my self-loathing and you know what, I will do it, but after I finish this blog because I think this is going somewhere. I can become a product designer, I can run my own firm, my own business, maybe become a drug dealer too. The point is, I can start learning right now and become whatever I want. I want to do one thing and be the best at it. Just one thing and I can't seem to figure out what I want to do. Yeah sure, I can try architecture but, I chose architecture because I was good with legos. I was damn good with legos and I wanted to see some of those designs with my head turned up towards the sky. I think it is okay if I do not have it all figured out. I think my mind is in the right place and I am not. I just need to sit and think about that for a while without any distractions. I have had my fair share of failures. some important and some of which are pointless. I don't speak about the because I don't have anyone to share my feelings with and that's fine. With time I just forget what happened and wipe my slate clean. Maybe I have been wiping it too cleanly because some of that stuff is important. My point is, it is okay if you haven't figured it out, there's something out there for everyone. It may or may not be related to whatever you are doing now but there is something out there for everyone. Even for the mosquito that's on my arm sucking in all the blood like a soft-drink. Well, I have officially run out of words to express myself. My first blog turned out as a 24 hour graph of USDT (iykyk). If you think this reached somewhere, if this conveys any message to you about my self-loathing and how to avoid it, I'm glad I helped. Also, there are some grammatical errors and I don't care, it's my blog. You don't have to be right, you just have to sound right and then make it right afterwards. That's the motto I follow.

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luxmainohnk · 3 years

Note

Hi! How are you? I hope you are doing fine, okay, this is my first time asking in English so i'm sorry if there are any grammatical errors \(^-^)/. Can i request general headcanons with silco's s/o pregnant? If you have any problem with that, don't worry be free to ignore it <3

HIII I'm doing okay!! Busy with school n life but otherwise!!

Please never apologize for your English, I come from a place filled with non English speakers so it's perfectly normal for me :) I love pregnant headcanons even as someone who never wants to be pregnant 😭

Silco with a pregnant s/o

Tw: slight nsfw ment. Sickness ment. Pregnancy stuff :D

I am going to assume the pregnancy is his doing ;; but when you first tell him you're pregnant he is immediately overwhelmed.

I mean to be fair the way you and him act under the covers it was bound to eventually happen he just didn't know how he'd actually feel when it eventually was going to happen

Silco is a very refined man, doesn't show much emotion and tries to display a cool facade. He might be embarrassed to admit he's happy, or rather proud to be a father to a new child.

He has already picked out names, one of those things where he has always known if he has a boy it'll be this and if a girl it has to be this name

The first few weeks he is comically over protective of you, gets way more angry at others if they do so much as bump into you or talk to you differently.

When you actually start showing, he probably calms down in the sense of acting more realistic, his anxiety about you being pregnant while present is a lot easier to handle now he's had time to process it.

Put effort into baby proofing specific areas in his base. Including a mostly sound proof baby room that was both explosion and jinx disaster proof

Speaking of Jinx, she is probably the most excited. Wanting to help decorate and design everything the baby is going to sleep in, and wear, and play with (much to the dismay of Silco at times)

As you get bigger, and begin showing more side affects of being pregnant i.e morning sickness and back pain, feeling kicks and weird cravings. This man would drop everything for you. No matter how absolutely atrocious a craving might be (Jinx will always try your craving food with you because curiosity)

As much as this man does what he does for his pride, he loves the benefit of being able to do anything he wants to please his loved ones. He just wants to see his family smile, and know it was him who did it.

His critics might think he'll go soft, with a s/o and now a soon to be baby on the way. But they are very wrong. I think he gets way more ruthless, not letting any chance happen that might cause later problems. Those are problems that could harm him, or worse you so they are dealt with immediately and efficiently.

Is still super handsy. Probably even more so. I genuinely don't think he feels comfortable until he is at least touching you in some capacity. Rather it be a hand on your shoulder or thigh. He LOVES being able to massage you. He knows pregnancy is NOT easy, so anything's he can do to make it less painful or stressful he wants to be able to provide.

Refuses to go to sleep unless you are first. Will also be the first to wake up. Make sure you are alive and have actually slept a decent amount.

I would not expect to get out of the house often, or at all at times. Especially without him. And when you two do he is arm over shoulder and constantly vigilant.

#silco x you #arcane lol #silco league of legends #silco imagine #silco #silco x reader #arcane imagine #arcane headcanons #arcane x reader #arcane x you #arcane silco

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sukirichi · 3 years

Text

personal disaster

Toji took the personal invitation to be your personal disaster.

REQUEST. toxic toji + enemies to greater enemies + toji railing reader in front of someone they’re seeing because he doesn’t want to see you happy but he doesn’t want to “keep” you either

PAIRINGS. toxic toji x reader x mafia! leader noritoshi kamo (he’s just witnessing the fun, dw)

CONTENT/WARNINGS: rough sex, slight bloodplay, violence, toxic toji, toxic and abusive relationships, choking, begging kink (you’ll be surprised in what way), degradation, mass murder, mentions of blood, cuckolding, overstimulation, reader is kind of crazy, hate fucking, neck slicing, IT’S DARK okay? unedited too, sorry for typos and grammatical errors

WC: 3.5k+

masterlist !

Your arm looped with your fiancé’s, his possessive arm wrapped around your waist. He glared at everyone who stared at you with a lust filled gaze, his cold eyes alone enough to send his people staring at the ground with a tug of their jackets to hide their erection. You almost felt bad for them, knowing that they always saw how your pussy took Noritoshi’s cock so well, but that was it.

They could only see but never had a taste of the specimen you were because you were the mafia leader’s fiancé, soon to be the Queen of his empire while you sat pretty next to him, getting richer and richer with each passing second before you fulfilled your duty and birthed him an heir.

Noritoshi wasn’t in a rush, though. He was a man of sensual pleasure, wanting to take his time with you and getting to know you, and take his time he did.

There was not a day that he didn’t have you moaning under his silk sheets, wrists already chafed from the handcuffs he insisted on using you, simply because he was a man who liked to exert dominance and craved being in power. You never denied him – how could you when all you had to do was spread your legs and you got that coin?

You were beyond a slut for him, however, and this much was clear when Noritoshi announced that you were his and his only.

When even that didn’t deter the curious hands of his people from pumping their cocks at the thought of you, Noritoshi have had enough. He roughly slammed his lips to yours before he melted at the sweetness of your lips, soon turning gentle before he slipped a ring inside your finger to make it official.

Noritoshi, dramatic as ever, wanted everyone to know about this engagement as loudly as he could without opening his mouth.

Your fiancé had a flare for the theatrics, which was why he didn’t blink an eye as he got you an expensive designer dress, hand-stitched, and flaunting you around – flaunting his soon to be wife hanging off of his arm proudly.

He guided you into his limousine until you reached a night sky nightclub that was notorious for its luxury. Not even the richest people belonging in the top tier of society could afford a single ticket, much less a private room. Noritoshi made the right choice by walking with you down the hallways, the walls transitioning from a glossy black to a velvet tint, leading into one of the VIP rooms that was already surrounded by his guards.

The whole way there, Noritoshi didn’t loosen his grip on you, making sure his hand was cupping your ass to flash your ring and his.

Several envious gazes and curious ones later, followed by hushed whispers before the pair of you disappeared behind the double doors, Noritoshi loosened up in his seat, satisfied that he’d marked his territory successfully.

Noritoshi uncapped a bottle of fine whiskey served by a shivering waiter, while you sat next to him, legs crossed enough that the poor blushing waiter flushed at the sight of your bare cunt.

You checked your nails, smirking at the velvet black acrylics Noritoshi was generous enough to let you borrow his black card for. The dress you wore was infinitely superb too, the bust firm enough to push your breasts high enough that the outline of your cleavage was just a step away from exposing your nipples – a tease, as always – just as how Noritoshi wanted.

He was like that; always dangling the treasure right in front of people’s mouths as they salivated in hunger, then bringing it back to his grasp just before they took a bite.

How Noritoshi, you thought.

Out of nowhere, muffled gunshots could be heard from the outside, your eyes cat-like as they glared at the door, waiting for people to burst through. Not a second later, one of your guards rudely invited himself in, pushing the curtain that hid a secret exit as he started babbling nonsense about a madman or something.

“What’s wrong?” Noritoshi asked calmly over his glass, swirling the glass with a satisfying clink. “What’s all the commotion about?”

“Sir, you need to leave! There’s an assassin here and he’s easily taking our men down!”

“Assassin?” he scoffed with a pinch of his brow. “What do you mean assassin? This is a private nightclub – isn’t our security tough?”

“Yes, sir, but he’s easily overpowering us—”

“This assassin you speak of,” you stopped inspecting your nails, placing them over your knee instead. A smirk painted your bold red lips when the guard’s eyes trailed downwards to your shaven cunt, his Adam’s apple bobbing at the sight before he turned away, stiffening harder once he met Noritoshi’s glare. “Is he tall, dark, has a scar running down in his lip and has a crazy look in his eye?”

“Y-yes, that’s exactly him.”

“Do you know who he is, darling?”

You scrunched your noise, uncrossing your legs out of poor mercy to this man. He looked like he’d faint soon – seriously, didn’t Noritoshi have enough sluts for his men to fuck? “An old friend of mine, although I could hardly call him that when he took everything from me,” eyes darkening at the memory of him, you pushed yourself off the velvet cushions of the couch, swiping at the gun strapped to your thigh. “You should leave, Toshi. I’ll handle him.”

“You’ll handle him? It’s unsafe – we need to leave—”

Sigh, he always worried too much over you. It was so easy for him to forget you lived an equally dark life prior meeting him, so you pressed your lips against his, making sure to mark the edges red to remind him he had nothing to worry about. As always, it shut Noritoshi up, his hands coming up to caress at your ass.

“He won’t hurt me,” you assured, palms laid flat on his chest. “Now go.”

Noritoshi wasn’t given a chance when you nodded at his guard, who got the message and dragged his boss away rather harshly behind the curtain. Smirking, you made your way outside, adrenaline rushing through your veins and heat seeping into your core. This night just got a lot more interesting.

Your fun was spoiled, however, when you were met with blood stained walls and limbs torn everywhere. A sneer made its way to your face, not because you were disgusted by the sight, but because he was still as boring and upfront as ever.

He never let you had your fun.

“Toji,” you greeted the tall man sitting on top of the pile of bodies, brows raised because it’s been a long time and he still hadn’t changed. He still wore the exact same fitted black shirt that looked like it would rip into pieces at each of his movements, which to your surprise, never did. “Still as messy as ever, huh?” you clicked your tongue, bunching your dress up with your fists as you stepped over the bodies, making sure not to slip from the sea of blood. “Jeez. You’re not even the least bit concerned about the cleaners.”

“Sweetheart,” he crooned, mirroring your smug expression as he jumped down his throne of corpses, roughly tilting your chin up so you could look him in the eye.

Even with high heels, Toji effortlessly towered over you, reminding you again and again of the strength difference. Though you held your ground pretty well, and he knew this too, otherwise he wouldn’t have struggled so much in his mercenary work the moment you came.

“It’s so nice to see you again – or is that what you wanted me to say?” Your lips stretched for a sinister laugh, Toji beating you to it when his strong hands came to wrap around your neck, slamming you on the wall hard enough he blurred in your vision for a moment. You kept chuckling through the lack of air, tongue darting out to lick the blood of his knuckles. Toji growled, “Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you’ve done to me, bitch. You ruined my pretty face with those nails of yours.”

“Can’t blame a woman, Toji, you weren’t letting me cum.”

“To be fair, you were leaving me after you killed all my clients when I kindly asked you to keep your hands to yourself,” Toji sneered, head darting down to rip the diamond necklace Noritoshi got you onto the ground. You whined upon seeing the crystals scatter onto the floor, millions worth now dipped in blood. What a fucking shame. “But you’ve always been a naughty little minx, aren’t you? You just can’t keep your hands off of beautiful men.”

“Trust me, Toji, what’s inside their pockets are a lot prettier than faces,” you giggled as your hand came up to trace the scar on his lips, eyes narrowed into appreciative slits. “Nothing would ever be prettier than this.”

“Is it still a face you want to sit on?”

“Fuck, yes,” you admitted, pushing yourself off the wall to wrap your legs around him.

The momentum took Toji by surprise, forgetting that you were just as strong as him as he staggered two steps backwards. His grip tightened on your hip to steady you both, the sharp blade of his weapon poking against your thigh threateningly.

It didn’t bother you, and you only nuzzled your nose against his almost affectionately, staring him in the eyes as you mumbled, “I fucking missed you.”

“Then why did you leave?” he grunted while grinding you down on his cock, hissing for a split second when your killer heels dug into his lower back. He could feel blood leaking from how the shoe pierced him, but he made no move to push you away, enticing you to kiss the corners of his lips to worship his scar. He was so beautiful, sinfully gorgeous that you always lost your mind around him.

He was your end, your ruin, your destruction – and you left in a poor attempt to keep your heart safe.

“How long has it been since I had my hands on you, huh, pretty thing? Six months, maybe more? Time gets so blurry when I’m not buried in your tight cunt,” Toji buried his nose in the crook of your neck, using the blade of his sword to tear your dress open, leaving your lower half revealed to him.

“Oh, you asshole, that was expensive!”

“Don’t give a fuck, baby,” he rolled his eyes, and of course he didn’t. Toji wasn’t any better than you; both your minds were always clouded and hazy with sex. “You smell different. Got another man?”

“Hmm, and he’s much better than you are,” Your words ticked Toji off, knowing full well he always hated it whenever you poked at his ego. Toji was a man of many things, and every time you implied that he wasn’t something, you could expect that he would fuck you so hard you wouldn’t be able to feel your legs for days. Now that was exactly what you wanted, so you kept going, your nails travelling under his shirt to leave more scratches at his already ruined back – all thanks to you. “He’s rich, classy, handsome, praises me instead of calls me a little slut—”

“Aren’t you?”

“I am,” you agreed shamelessly with a sultry laugh, looking back at him with a devious glint in your eye. “But I like being worshipped every now and then.”

“Haven’t I done that enough? You talk as if I never made you feel good.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, nothing can still compare to your cock, Toji,” Your other hand shoved itself down his pants to feel him, soft pants leaving those pretty mouth of yours when felt his cock bare, the tip already wet with pre-cum.

Of fucking course Toji executed his missions on commando mode – he couldn’t be bothered to keep his fat cock imprisoned.

“But he’s richer. And he’s willing to marry me, breed me until I’m swollen with his children and pamper me afterwards. He’s willing to make me his.”

“You fucking slut,” Toji shoved his tongue inside your mouth, the moans spilling from your lips to his only encouraging him to align his huge length onto your already dripping cunt – always so wet and ready to be filled by him – before he slammed you all the way down. The sudden stretch had you biting on his tongue to muffle your moan, Toji’s hands bruising as he cupped your ass. Toji clenched his jaw upon feeling your walls embrace him warmly, his breaths ragged and faint.

It made your chest swell with pride at the thought that only you could make the infamous Fushiguro Toji this disarranged.

“What is it with you sticking to alpha males all the fucking time?”

“A princess wants her throne beside a handsome prince, Toji. Just because your family didn’t like you, doesn’t mean mine did too. I grew up being told fairy tales while you ran rampant in the streets,” you bit back, the sinister laugh painting the blood red walls dark because you knew Toji better than anyone, and one of the things that always set him off like a bomb was the mention of his abusive family.

You couldn’t wait to see how he would ruin you, and you moaned loudly when Toji grabbed your jaw until your cheeks were squished, the cold of his blade held against your throat sending a shiver down your spine.

“Are you the slightest bit aware of how much I want to kill you right now? Slice your lovely neck and fuck you while you suffocate in your own blood?” You gasped as you felt warm liquid slowly bleed out from the slightest cut, your blood sliding down your chest and under the leftover materials of your dress. Toji used his bare hands to rip the dress apart, your tits bouncing the moment they were freed from its confines.

The guttural groan that echoed from his throat was pure animalistic, similar to the carnal thrusts of his dick that pummelled into you. He pushed you flat on your back until your skin pricked with the shards of glass on the bar countertops, the pain only adding to your pleasure.

Toji kept you locked underneath his arm, his hands choking the air out of you while you clenched around him repeatedly, your walls sucking him in tight enough that Toji lost rhythm in his thrusts. “Only you would like that, Toji,” you choked out in a broken gasp, the man above you growling when you picked up a broken wine glass to push his hands off of you.

Blood coated both your bodies as Toji drove his dick deeper, hitting all the spots that only he could ever reach.

“I’m a man of rare taste.”

“So fucking rare,” you teased. Toji’s middle finger and thumb met once they wrapped around your neck, pulling you off the table to bounce you on his cock, using only his masculine virility and raw strength to fuck you good.

The sudden change of position had the tip of his cock pressing into your most sensitive spots, Toji’s angry grunts sinful yet so erotic as your bumpy walls kissed the veins of his cock.

Toji suddenly wrapped an arm under your breasts, flipping you over until you were met by the sight of Noritoshi standing still outside his VIP room, his gun aimed at the both of you. “Uh-uh – I wouldn’t do that if I were you, pretty boy,” he warned, his words taking a huge hit on Noritoshi when his arm wavered. “One cut is all I need and your lovely fiancé’s body would be swimming in her own blood. Now, you wouldn’t want to waste such a beauty, right?”

“Y/N!” he suddenly dropped his gun, hands raised in surrender beside his head. If Toji wasn’t driving his dick like a fucking animal, you would’ve broken Noritoshi’s nose, ashamed that he surrendered so easily. Noritoshi’s dark eyes turned to Toji’s, heat seeping off of him in waves. “I will never forgive you for what you’re doing!”

“Wasn’t asking for forgiveness, shorty,” Toji pressed, using two fingers to split your lips open, giving Noritoshi the show of his life as Toji’s fat cock stretched you open completely, your puffy lips wrapped around his swollen length.

You knew you looked so dirty right now, skin covered in blood, wearing nothing but your black heels that accentuated your legs while Toji split your body in half.

A strangled moan was pulled from you when Toji hitched one of your legs, his arm hooked behind your knee, completely exposing yourself to Noritoshi. Even though you couldn’t see yourself, the squelching of your pussy taking in Toji’s cream filled dick was so pornographic you couldn’t help the heightening of your arousal, breasts bouncing as Toji kept up his relentless pounding.

“Come on, sweetheart, let him see how much I’m stretching you out. Watch as she loses herself around my fact cock like the fucking whore she is,” Toji laughed, silencing your incoherent fucked out mumbled by shoving a thumb through your lips, smearing your lipstick to the side as if you weren’t a mess already. “Oh, look at his face. You don’t mean to tell me he doesn’t know how filthy you are, huh, sweetheart?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“What the fuck did you say to me?” Toji slapped your ass, your walls clenching around him on instinct. Noritoshi’s eyes widened when you only moaned in response, the blissful smile on his ace rendering him silent. “Not so threatening now, huh, Kamo?” Toji leered, snickering at the apparent tent growing in your fiance’s pants.

It was absolutely sickening that he got off at the sight of his pretty little fiancé be used by some other man, but Toji respected all kinks, even if he didn’t have much respect for Noritoshi to begin with.

“Come on, sweetheart. Scream for me. Say my fucking name like you always used to. Let’s show this pretty boy here how awful you are before he regrets being with you,” Toji snapped his hips harder into you, causing you to see stars that mixed with the sight of Noritoshi falling onto his knees, your name a plead for his lips.

Toji’s cock only twitched at the sight of seeing someone so helpless, to see the infamous powerful Kamo leader beg for Toji to save you and let you go.

He always knew he had a begging kink, but he didn’t think it would come in this form.

“T-Toshi—” you moaned out, eyes snapped shut. You couldn’t think anymore, the only sounds filling your ears were Noritoshi’s cries and Toji’s ragged pants in your ear, his hand pressing down on the apparent bulge of your lower stomach every time he bottomed out.

“I said, say my fucking name.”

“Toji, Toji, fuck!” you leaned backwards and placed your head on his shoulder while he grabbed your hair to kiss you, that familiar heat beginning to form in your core. Unable to help it, your moans fell left and right, loud enough that it drowned out Noritoshi’s pleads. Toji laughed at both of you – called you the dumbest lovers alive – so he kissed you, more tongue and teeth than lips, his thrusts sloppy and desperate. “Oh, oh fuck, yes, yes, right there, oh!”

“You can never fuck her like I do. You can never make her feel good like I do. See how she’s moaning so pretty for me? You can never have her.”

“You’re so fucking unfair,” you cried out, hands tugging at his hair. Toji never let up for even a moment as his thrusts slowed; the new pace he set slow yet deep. Toji pulled out his cock slowly to make you feel him inch by inch, your walls licking at his cock vein by vein until only the tip was left inside, before thrusting full into you in one swift movement of his hips. “You can’t just break up with me and – fuck – tell me I can’t be with others.”

“I own you, sweetheart – I’m your personal disaster,” Toji taunted, large hands groping at your breast when your eyes snapped open, his last final thrusts turning your pussy to mush.

You came around him, hard and overwhelmingly so. Your hands wrapped around his bicep to steady your shaking legs, his name spoken like a prayer with malicious tone as if to curse him. Toji pushed you off his cock until you fell on the floor, his rough hands grabbing at your jaw again to face him, thick spurts of his cum painting your face.

Taking them all in like a good girl, Toji swiped his length over the slope of your nose and pushed the still hard cock through your lips. His hands gripped your head tight as he fucked into your mouth, nothing but anger shown through that scarred face while your jaw fell slack and sore.

“And I’ll break you over and over again until you’re reminded that you’re mine.”

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