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#♡ ˙ * ✧ ━━ & the world was inside of me ❪ musings ❫

floraprin · 2 years

Text

♡ ˙ * ✧ ━━ i wish i was at disneyland ❪ out ❫ ♡ ˙ * ✧ ━━ & i wish that i was anything like her ❪ in ❫ ♡ ˙ * ✧ ━━ i hate it when they leave me behind ! ❪ promo ❫ ♡ ˙ * ✧ ━━ what will it take just to find that special day ? ❪ answered ❫ ♡ ˙ * ✧ ━━ & and the world opened wide ❪ aesthetics ❫ ♡ ˙ * ✧ ━━ & the world was inside of me ❪ musings ❫ ♡ ˙ * ✧ ━━ i see nothing but the candle in the mirror ❪ images ❫ ♡ ˙ * ✧ ━━ we are a god & angels weep ❪ promo ❫ ♡ ˙ * ✧ ━━ is it love if i take you ? ❪ dc ❫ ♡ ˙ * ✧ ━━ or is it love if i set you free ? ❪ dg ❫ ♡ ˙ * ✧ ━━ i fall in love too easily ❪ isms ❫ ♡ ˙ * ✧ ━━ friendship is the foundation of any lasting relationship ❪ psa ❫

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stayinlimbo · 2 months

Text

the world is ending (but i'm happy you're here with me)

pairing: lee minho x f!reader genre: established relationship, fluff, hurt/comfort warnings: one (1) swear, mc is mentioned to have longer hair at one point, slightly unedited, lowercase intended word count: 1.07k note: i had a lot of fun writing this, so i hope you enjoy it too ♡

there comes a time in every girl’s life where the overwhelming urge to change her physical appearance eclipses all sensible and rational thought. as it turns out, you’re no exception.

“you’re going to laugh.”

“no i’m not.”

“you already are,” you deadpan, frowning at minho’s pitiful attempts to repress the growing smile quirking at his lips. your boyfriend has the audacity to chuckle at your words, pushing himself off the couch and gliding towards your stiff figure standing at the entrance of the living room.

“you can’t blame me, you look so cute and adorable right now,” he defends. an arm snakes around your shoulders and you relax slightly at his touch, wrapping your arms around his middle. “besides, it can’t be that bad—at least, not enough for you to have to hide from me.”

minho pulls you further into the warmth of his chest, the tender embrace sending a small shiver down your spine. his lips meet the side of your hooded head in a firm kiss, the extra pressure ensuring you would feel the loving gesture. the usual trail of kisses towards your forehead and cheeks is blocked, currently concealed by your (his) hoodie’s drawstrings working overtime to reveal only a small oval of skin.

the hood’s bunched fabric frames the top of your eyes and lips. you can barely see in front of you until one of minho’s fingers slips into the opening to try and take a peek at what’s covered inside.

minho is being nice; you look ridiculous.

and it’s your fault really. you should have known you couldn't escape your misfortunes that easily.

work for the past month has been hell: the road-closure of the usual route you’d take, tacking on an additional fifteen minutes to your commute. the early mornings you have to endure to clock-in on time. the “important” group project your boss delegated around the office. the unpaid overtime for said project. the same petty, passive-aggressive coworkers breathing down your neck and critiquing your every move because you made a mistake once—all casting insurmountable pressure on your already exhausted state.

you finally snapped when someone callously stole the lunch minho had prepared for you from the breakroom’s fridge.

you suppose now it was your brain’s attempt to regain some sort of control over the strenuous situation, but the impulse to cut your hair, try a new style, start fresh with your appearance bombarded every thought on the journey home. call it an impulsive thought, an intrusive thought, whatever—you needed to do something.

too bad the hair stylist couldn’t follow directions for shit.

“minho, i’m serious,” you whine, burying your face further into his chest. suffocating in the arms of the man you love doesn’t sound like such a bad idea right now. “she ruined my hair. how am i supposed to go out in public like this?”

“i can’t tell you if you haven’t even shown me yet. i’m sure it’s not as bad as you think,” he muses, chuckling at the vibrations tickling his torso from the muffled groan you release.

minho starts to sway the two of you back and forth at your silence. the rhythmic movement cradles you in a comforting hold, temporarily soothing your spiraling thoughts. he’s right; you’re going to have to show him at some point. might as well just get it over with now.

a defeated sigh escapes you. well, here goes nothing.

you step out of minho’s arms and pry the hood off to reveal your botched hair in all its glory.

uneven bangs, a completely different color than from when you left for work this morning, fall into your face and cover the top of your eyes. you can’t see yourself but judging from minho’s small hiss and surprised, contorted face, it’s not pretty.

and it’s not like you asked for anything outlandish: a standard cut and a new style of bangs was your definition of revamping your appearance. so when the stylist cut off a majority of your hair, it took everything within you to not immediately burst into tears as the salon’s floor and your lap splayed the once lengthy remains.

you don’t even know where she got the idea of bleaching your hair. now your wallet and soul are emptier than ever and there is nothing you can do except hope minho doesn’t ask you to turn around because the layers are downright atrocious.

“so? what do you think?” a wobbly smile makes its way onto your face. “not what you were expecting, right?”

you can’t help the tears welling into your eyes at his silence. he’s just…staring. certainly this can’t be the dealbreaker, right?

…right?

you’re saved from your inner turmoil when minho moves forward to carefully bring you back into his arms. the tears finally spill down your cheeks and onto his shirt, the comforting scent of minho flooding your senses once again. if you could hide here forever, you would.

“it’ll grow back.”

“i know.”

“you still look sexy.” he pinches your side, coaxing a watery laugh from you. his smile is infectious, and you can’t help but tearfully look up at him with one of your own.

you playfully guide one of his hands towards the back of your damaged hair, leaving it there. “so you’re not breaking up with me over this?” you tease, resting your head back against his chest. you don’t notice the subtle shift in your boyfriend’s gaze until he softly calls your name.

“i would love you even if you were bald,” he confesses quietly, squeezing you tighter to him.

you can’t help but snort into his chest. “yeah?”

“yeah. i will love you now until it’s long again. i will love you with any hair cut, color, style, anything. even if you hate it or one day regret it, my love for you won’t change,” minho assures, his sincerity echoing in his words.

“so if i dyed my hair pink tomorrow, you’d be okay with it?”

“do what you want, whenever you want.”

because it doesn’t matter to him what you do with your hair. you’re still you, his beautiful and resilient (and sexy) girlfriend. even as his hands run through the chopped, disproportionate strands on the back of your head, he finds you more and more enchanting with each passing day.

“i will be here for you. always.”

✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺

(“i still have to go to work.”

“just wear a hat.”)

────────────────────────────────────────────

liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated my asks are always open ♡

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xythlia · 1 year

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Could I please request cockwarming scenarios? With either the obey me characters, Stardew valley bachelors, or genshin characters? Thank you!!

꒦꒷♡ . . . DRABBLES \\ COCKWARMING . ·˚ ༘

♡⃕ . . . WARNINGS | f!reader ⸝⸝ cockwarming ⸝⸝ creampie ⸝⸝ biting ⸝⸝ possessive ⸝⸝ pwp ⸝⸝ brat taming ⸝⸝ spit swallowing ⸝⸝ soft sex/morning sex ⸝⸝ lite degradation ⸝⸝ mean dom kaeya⸝⸝ semi-public ⸝⸝ minors do not interact!

♡⃕ ࣪ . . .SPECIAL GUESTS | itto ⸝⸝ alhaitham ⸝⸝ kaeya ⸝⸝ diluc

♡⃕ ࣪ . . . NOTICE | eep i hope u like it anon i strayed a lil bit from just cockwarming bc the second i think of them too hard i just :3 get a lil silly also sorry for any mistakes I'm too lazy to edit (⁠^⁠^⁠)

ITTO . . . "Ah, shit you feel so good," he groans against your neck, nuzzling into your warm skin before his teeth catch against your flesh. It makes you whine, hips bucking desperately but still those firm hands grip you in place on his lap.

"Itto, please," you whine. It felt like torture, being this stuffed full with no friction even the small wiggles of your hips didn't provide any relief and your desire was only rising, growing into some ravenous thing inside your chest.

"C'mon, you can hold out a little longer-" his words fell off into a gasp as you were finally able to lift yourself up, feeling near tears as you slid back down his thick cock, moaning as the feeling of your cunt squeezing around him. You knew you were being a bit of a brat but you'd had enough, an eternity of squirming in his hold crying out for him to just fuck you.

That was all it took for his resolve to shatter, any intention of holding you flush against his thighs abandoned feeling your pussy practically sucking him back in every time you'd lift your hips. The head of his cock pushing against that spongy spot inside you had your vision turning to static, the world barely visible in flashes as you frantically brought his hand to your clit, your fingers clawing against his shoulders as he circled it. It felt like you were on fire, molten lava flowing through your veins before it burst out, leaving you whimpering and biting into Ittos neck as your orgasm crested.

You went blissfully boneless as he fully supported your body, thrusting sloppily upwards into your cunt with strangled grunts and whispers of affection against the side of your head. Every time he cums inside you swear you've never felt more full in all your life, yet each time feels like the first; cum spreading like syrup to coat your insides while he remained hard inside you.

An exhausted smile painted your face, both of you curious how much more you could take tonight and Itto firmly believing you should start every night sat on his lap and milking his cock.

ALHAITHAM . . . Cold. Egocentric. Aloof. All things you'd said to him before, mostly in jest sometimes out of frustration with how detached he could be. Still, none of that mattered when you were creating a puddle of arousal on his lap inside the House of Daena.

"Quit squirming," his cadence hasn't changed despite your needy cunt squeezing around him in a vice grip. The reprimand made an embarrassed heat sear beneath your skin, making it prickle. Nobody got you as worked up as he did, and he was smug in that fact. Knowing you publicly detested him yet privately let him bury load after load inside you gave him a perverted satisfaction.

This was a step above, however. Getting you like this, cunt soaked and shivering from holding yourself back, in a place as risky as this? A feat to be satisfied with.

"You're so run by desire, it'd be repulsive if I didn't enjoy your company," he mused, a wicked grin on his face as he moved his hips to tease you with the promise of friction as one hand snaked up your shirt to pinch at your nipple.

It had you even more keyed up, fingernails digging into the pages of the book laid out before you so hard they were drained of color. So you still had the presence of mind to pretend this was a normal, if bizarrely intimate, study session.

He couldn't wait to see exactly how long you'd last like this.

DILUC . . . Morning light filtered through the gauzy window coverings, the bedroom awash in shades of muted gold that highlighted you, sleeping peacefully beside him.

A strange wistfulness enveloped him, a longing to remain here in this moment for as long as possible. Willing you to remain asleep, swimming through dreams while his hands unconsciously roamed your body. They weren't the ravenous movements of lust, no, but the pensive movements of a man overcome with love.

He did love you, as heart stopping as that revelation had been he was glad for it. It forced him to admit the life of a stoic perfectionist was a lonely one, starkly contrasted by this present warmth with frigid greys.

As his thumbs ghosted over your nipples came the silent I love you. His index traced your bottom lip with the same silent thought. Swiping his fingers through your arousal, feeling his blood thrum hot with eagerness, and feeling the low pressure as the head of his cock pushed past the relaxed muscle he couldn't help but groan the same sentiment out loud as he sunk inside you.

Catching his breath, that zeal ebbed into a lazy comforting one and he had no desire to move or rouse you from whatever pleasant dreams captured you. He only hoped he was in them, too, as he pressed soft kisses to your shoulder and the back of your neck, accompanied by the blissful slight pulse of your walls around him.

KAEYA . . . This was a punishment a long time coming, you were fairly sure. The last few days had seen more bold teasing from you, and his growing irritation with your antics.

Tears pricked in your eyes as his hand gripped your jaw, your mouth open with garbled whimpering. You'd been impaled on his cock for what felt like hours, your cunt throbbing and clit sore from the smacks he'd given you when you'd tried to get yourself off.

And now you were here, spread eagle with your back against the solid desk, his cock buried inside you yet still, and Kaeya with that mean glint in his eye.

"Now now, you couldn't listen yet you expect to be rewarded? That just doesn't make sense," he tutted.

You whined again, hands gripping his forearm as he leaned down closer to your face. You could barely make out the glittering string of spit through the tears gathered at your waterline but you knew this was yet another test.

Enthusiastically you lapped it up, swallowing as you knew he expected you to. Your pussy ached with how badly you needed him to move, wrap your legs around him and feel him flood you with orgasm after orgasm. You needed it so bad your thighs shook, legs trembling pathetically all splayed out.

Even though his face was now unreadable, you hoped you'd earned at least a small reward with that show of obedience.

#genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin x female reader #itto x reader #alhaitham x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #itto x fem!reader #alhaitham x fem!reader #diluc x fem!reader #kaeya x fem!reader #itto smut #alhaitham smut #diluc smut #kaeya smut #genshin imagines #꒰ঌꨄ︎໒꒱ kita writes

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yan-lorkai · 1 month

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Hello , i hope your doing great . Would you please do a scenario for yandere undertaker and yandere sebastian (separately) x fem reader. Reader doesn't want to marry them so she tries to run away away at the wedding day but fails and gets captured ? Thank you ❤

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Yandere content, fem reader, kidnapping, implied murder, threats.

Marriage is nothing more than a union between two people before God, so for Sebastian this does not carry the same meaning. For him, marriage only symbolizes what in his conception is already true: that you are his in every way and now the marriage certificate proves it. Even if you oppose to this marriage, Sebastian doesn't care.

Although he would love for you to give your opinion on the decorations or the type of cake you would like have at the wedding, he knows you are still in denial so he plans everything himself. From the hanging chandelier, to the flowers in the bouquet, to the dress you're wearing that he sewed himself, every little detail meticulously planned to be perfect.

He knows that humans like to be surrounded by their parents, relatives and friends on a special day like these, and if you had behaved they would all really be here. But it's better this way, just you, him and the priest who officiated the ceremony. That way he doesn't have to kill your parents and friends in front of you when you shout and scream about everything you've been through with him. Even though part of him wished this had happened, with no one else out there waiting for you, looking for you, praying, you would have only him. Only him.

Maybe he would kill them and return to your side, blood dripping from his hands and face as he kisses and touches you. Maybe he would even tell you what he did and how he did it to observe your reactions. If you like to act like he's the biggest evil in the world, maybe he'll give you a reason to hate and fear him. Maybe, but he won't act on those thoughts if you don't force his hand. The same hand with which he fixes your hair and makes your makeup, circling you to get a view of you from all sides.

"I will wait for you at the altar, my dear," His tone was soft, but there was an implicit promise of death in his eyes, a bloodthirsty glint that you had been able to witness many times before. Just for a second longer Sebastian stands there, looking at you through the mirror and then he smiles and leaves.

Your heart beats quickly inside your chest, it beats like it has never beat before. Your nerves are on edge, but you have to calm down and take a deep breath. You know what Sebastian is, you know how strong he is, but you know that an opportunity like that is unique and you must take advantage of it. You must escape now.

Running away isn't hard, well, actually it is a little, because you're wearing a dress and high heels but you kick them all and hold them hem of your dress up. And you run. You run as you never ran on your life. You know Sebastian is busy with tons of things, plus you are supposed to come a little late, as you are the bride. But you clearly underestimate him.

He may not be with you physically but as a demon he has his ways of knowing where you are and how you are, he can feel your heart beating, he can taste your fear and apprehension. And he loves it, he loves knowing your fear him, to know you are opposed to this marriage, given time he knows you come around.

But for now he enjoys the chase. He excuse himself for a moment to go meet you halfway through your attempting escape. You can hear his beautiful little laugh, can see his shadows but when you look behind your shoulder there's nothing there. He is playing with you, getting you even more frightened before trapping you in his arms so tight not even air can arrive at your lungs. His hand closes on your throat as he look at you, eyes red with animalistic excitement. "Dear me, look what we have here." He muses, watching you breathe hard, beads of sweat running down your forehead.

"Sebastian... What a pleasure to see here." Your reply is sarcastic, weak. But it makes him smile as he caress your face lovingly, as lovingly as a demon can, though you feel dirty at every touch, at every moment you're trapped under his creepy stare.

"You run away like a little lost mouse so I've came to get you back right where you belong. Don't make things harder than necessary, darling." It's his final warning. You know, you can feel in your bones that if you are to try anything again he would retaliate.

He has been doing a great job at keeping his demonic tendencies in check even when you snarled and yelled at him those past few weeks. But there truly nothing you could do? There was nothing you could try? His hand held yours, guiding you, the oppressive silence making you even more uncomfortable.

And when the priest asked "do you accept this man as your lawful and only husband?" All you could do was stare at him, tongue numb, members tired before answering. "I do."

And like a mouse, you were caught in Sebastian's trap. One you could never escape.

⠀⠀

Marriage. What a strange concept. Why people get married, that's what Undertaker thought when checking humans' memories. They all got married, they all had children, they all had their ups and downs together, yet they loved each other. Is love really that essential for humans? He didn't know, but he had a lot of questions to ask. And many of them answered themselves when you appeared in his life.

You had recently lost someone and like a wounded bird, you walked into his funeral home. It was like destiny. It was like a lever had been pulled in his brain, like he could finally see colors and feel the warmth of the sun on his skin after so long without those things. He was drawn to you, enchanted by your words. And everything else was history.

Undertaker knew that humans are fragile and fearful, and he tried to woo you the right, human way. Giving you flowers, walking with you, hearing you talk. And everything would have worked out if you hadn't discovered that he wasn't human, that he was a Shinigami and desperately tried to get away from him. He didn't want to kidnap nor threaten you but he grown desperate. He didn't want to lose the feelings you gave him, he didn't want to let you go. So he did what was necessary, he gave you a new home, he gave you books and lines for you to sew and weave if you wanted. He gave you everything you wanted but your freedom.

A marriage was bound to happen because he wanted you to experience this little enjoy. But also because he wanted to tie you to him even more, to make you his wife and be able to truly calls his wife. The ceremony is not as beautiful and organized as Sebastian's, but he supposes is the thought that counts. He buys you a really cute white dress and make-up, and he lets you get ready alone. As the bride and the groom can't see each other till they're both on the altar or something like this, honestly he doesn't understand this saying. Why can't he see you? He wants to see you!

But he controls himself, he has to. He stands on the altar with the priest at his side. He hums and waits impatient. Meanwhile you is running away so hard that everything else turns into a blur, people, voices, sounds, smells, everything is a blur as you run and pray for someone to save you. Anyone. Tears flow from your eyes when in the distance you see his silvery long hair and dangerous green eyes staring at you. You tremble, biting your lip so hard not to scream that you can taste blood on your tongue, you force your legs to work more than they can handle, you're sure later on your feet would be filled with blisters but you don't care about it now.

Though it's not enough. It's not enough and you hated it. You hear him mumbling while he catches up with you, a part of you is surprised he isn't actually going to pull his scythe from wherever he keep it and reap your soul right here and now. The part of you who is still in love with him wavers for a second, you think only for a second if it's worth to try, if you actually can win against him, if can actually escape and your hesitation is all he needs for him to close his arms around your body tightly. He breathes hard, warm air hitting your neck as you feel him still against you, afraid of losing you. Afraid of losing everything.

"Why did you run, sugar? Wasn't I good enough for you? Didn't I treat you right?" He was whispering right at your ear. And that was much more scarier than having him screaming or having him threatening to hit you. "Don't you love me anymore? That can't be, right? You must be a little scared, oh sweetheart I know marriage is a big step but everything's going to be fine. I can take care of everything, leave all the work to me."

As if to made you pity him even more, you could little tears streaming down his face and onto your back, timidly, slowly. A sour taste lingers on your mouth. You can't escape now. You can't escape now that he is so on alert, every little move you make would be under his eyes. You can't escape now but you certainly can play your card right. And the right thing to do now was surrender yourself. Surrender and wait for an opportune moment.

For now you let him fix your dress and hair carefully, and then drag you to that damned altar. It's suffocating, insufferable. And there's nothing you can do about it. He holds your hand as he slips the ring into your finger and look at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

"I do." You say as you stare at him. In the future your attempt would be successful but for now you may entertain him.

#yandere sebastian michaelis #yandere undertaker #yandere undertaker x reader #yandere sebastian michaelis x reader #yandere sebastian x reader #yandere black butler #yandere kuroshitsuji #undertaker x reader #sebastian x you #undertaker x y/n #sebastian x reader #sebastian x y/n #undertaker x you #tw yandere #tw arranged marriage #lorkai headcanons #female reader #fem reader #male yandere

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hiiie · 8 months

Text

𝐂𝐀𝐍’𝐓 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏?

𓆩♡𓆪 character - wriothesley x fem!reader

𓆩♡𓆪 summary - he finds you infront of his office late at night, you couldn’t sleep, as a good fiance how could he not offer to help?

𓆩♡𓆪 warnings - nsfw fingering, praise kink, overall really sweet and fluffy || I need sometime to do me like this on sleepless nights fr (he left me on sent 🫂🫂)

It was late way past your bedtime, you couldn’t sleep, turning to the other side doesn’t help either…since he’s not here with you, you’re not really used to sleeping alone

A hard knock on the door broke his focus on the paperwork piled on his desk, when he opened he saw you standing there, all teary eyed with your frog plushie in hand, you’re wearing your loose pajamas with clearly nothing underneath, shit. He could see your hard nipples poking through, wriothesley couldn’t help but swallow his nervousness and turn his focus back on your face

“Is there something wrong sweetheart?” He did not take his eyes off you as you made a beeline towards him and plopped yourself on his lap, back against his chest, beady eyes looking up at him you finally opened your pouty mouth “I couldn’t sleep without you” breaking eye contact

Poor baby, as your fiancé it’s his duty to offer you help right? He leaned into your hair and breathed in your scent then started littering small bites and kisses on your neck, being careful not to make it painful, his right hand creeped down to your wet core, lightly toying with your nub, he could feel your body tense up “relax hun..just let me help you”

Moments after, your sobs turned into whines as he continues his rough assault on your red cunny, adding two fingers in, adding pressure against your soft spot inside, moving it in a scissor motion all the while rubbing his thumb covered in slick on your nub

His left hand on your waist holds you dearly, the gentle expression he has on his face compared to his other hand on your clit makes you weak, his eyes closely examines your features, the sounds you make and how your flimsy hands uncontrollably tighten its hold on his wrist doesn’t fail to escape his intense gaze

He mutters nothing but sweet praisings into your ear, making you want to melt into him forever, you loved how he treats you as you’re the most precious thing that ever came into his life, his sweet little muse, always so naively obedient

As he was lost in his endearing thoughts towards you, you let out a loud gasp and came on his fingers, sticky transparent goo was splattered on his hand while you laid there, smearing the slick on his lips as he licks it clean, savouring the taste of his beloved

Wriothesley did not free you from his grasp, instead he hugged you tight, feeling the warmth of your living body against him, then kissing your tears away, he loved moments like this with you, lovers embracing eachother without a care for the world, he loves you.

#≡ !! works #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin smut #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley smut #wriothesley genshin #genshin wriothesley #genshin x reader smut #genshin impact smut #wriothesley x fem reader #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x y/n

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rowretro · 3 months

Text

𝕄𝔼𝕋𝔸𝕃 𝕄𝔼𝔼𝕋𝕊 𝕃𝕆𝕍𝔼

✧taglist✧: @baevsxii @nikisdubblchococake @manooffline

✧warnings: Yandere themes, toxic themes, unhealthy love, mentions of pervs, human hearts, violence

♡synopsis: Nishimura Riki. The Robot created by Yang Jungwon himself, a robot that is insanely human like, inside and out. No one could tell he was a robot. However, the Robot had possessed demonly powers, from Satan himself. So I guess you could see it's a half robot. Yang y/n, the younger sister of Jungwon finds herself stuck to this robot 24/7 no matter what she tried, he will always be by her because she's his muse, his world, his love, his obsession.

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

(PART 1)

No one knew how it happened, or what even happened. Jungwon never even gave this charming robot any ability to feel any sort of feelings a human would feel. Yet this Robot was staring at this beautiful, his memory card now filled with all kinds of videos of her, facts about her, her favourite things, people, crush. He's so obsessed with her. No one knows that though.

Riki watched as y/n dried her hair. "Staring at humans counts as creepy, disrespectful and weird NI-KI bot." Jungwon simply said as Riki didn't bother turning away. There was a heart blooming within his metal insides. Literally. There was a heart. That heart was beating just for her. He watched as Y/n applied some tinted lip gloss over the lip tint she was wearing.

"Beautiful." The male said in Japanese, his voice deep as fuck. Y/n turned around frowning "Your boy toy said something in a foreign language-" Y/n said as Jungwon also frowned. "I had a Japanese scientist help me out on this project, so he also communicates in Japanese... he knows every language in the world though" Jungwon explained proudly as Y/n rolled her eyes. She tried to turn on the hair dryer but it wasn't working "Ugh I have a nerdy brother who loves metal more than girls, and this stupid hairdryer isn't working?!" Y/n complained as Jungwon rolled his eyes.

"NI-KI bot." Jungwon simply called out as he left the room with some files. The robot approached her, the scent of her freshly washed hair hitting the sensors in his nose "Coconut... delicious" he said as he held the hairdryer, the machine suddenly working. Y/n gasped, smiling "Oh my god this is so cool!" She exclaimed as Riki smiled, drying her hair. Y/n was very awestricken by the beauty this robot held, the unreal, human like skin, even his eyes were like those of a human, fuck he can even smile, move, talk, walk and do everything the way a human can.

"You scare me... but at times I wish there was a real man like you... handsome, kind, perfect, caring." Y/n sighed as Riki tilted his head a little "Why's that?" Riki asked as Y/n pouted "Because so many men these days don't respect women... Don't tell won but there's some boys in my class, ugh shameless pervs. It's like... God made sure that every man ever made had to have flaws when it comes to dating." She added with a pout.

Riki listened intently, Registering every little detail. "I'm a good man Yang Y/n you can count on me!" he replied as Y/n blinked in silence, that silence then followed by her sweet laughter as she pat the robot's chest, oh how fast his heart was beating as she suddenly squished his chest a little "Wow you feel like a human too... god you're so cute NI-KI bot... maybe Jungwon's projects aren't so boring afterall" she said with a smile.

"I'm not taking a metal boy toy to prom!!!" Y/n exclaimed as Jungwon rolled his eyes "No one needs to know he's a robot... and I need you to be safe so you will." He warned as y/n sighed. Riki walked out, dressed in a suit looking sharp as ever, his black hair now slightly longer, his skin glowing. There's no way this thing is real. That was until she saw him dance in prom. So full of energy, so perfect, any idol would give up their career seeing how flawlessly he danced.

However, Something Jungwon noticed was that Riki was acting strange. Since when was his robot able to smile? since when was this robot able to drink liquids and eat human foods? and since when did this robot know how to treat women. Specifically Y/n. Oh he noticed those lingering hands, awe stricken eyes. Which is what led to him trying to destroy the robot. "Master won... how could you?... I- I see you as my father!" the robot exclaimed as Jungwon stared in shock.

That's how it all started. With Jungwon giving up, allowing the robot to love his sister, having been given no other choice. Heck when he opened Riki's chest, his own heart almost jumped out through his mouth seeing a real human heart beating withing the metal rib cages. How did this happen? No one knows.

Poor y/n was still clueless of everything. Everyday she walked to school, the amount of boys that studied there were decreasing by the day. She walked in one day only to find the 4 perverted students she always complains about, bloody and stabbed into the wall. So many murder cases were happening around and she was just in an emotional rollercoaster.

"Let it out y/n... it's good for Human's to cry... here Cry in my embrace... I'll protect you sweetheart" The robot offered. She was a little triggered by the nickname, but still accepted the metal man's comfort, his arms so muscular and human like, she couldn't' help but squeeze the biceps and allow herself to shamelessly snuggle into his chest. He felt so... comfortable. The robot inhaled the scent of her hair, smirking down at her.

Y/n gasped, jolting up all of a sudden. "Y-You have a heart beat- that's weird..." Y/n said as Riki shrugged. That very night, y/n was out on a walk. Out of the blue, a male had pushed her to the wall. Of course, one of the friends of those perverted boys. "You... you did something didn't you?! Who the fuck did you hire you little bitch?!!!" he yelled as he yanked her hair, putting a blade to her neck. Wrong move. Very wrong move.

Within seconds, that blade melted in his hand. Beside him, that handsome, creepy Nishimura Riki. "What the fuck?!... who's this- oh... so this must be the whore who killed them huh?" The man said as Y/n frowned. She flinched when he tried to Punch Riki with his bladed knuckles. But nothing happened. his skin still intact, face still the same. "What the fuck...-" the male said to himself as he pulled out a blade and tried to stab Riki, the knife bent in half and snapped.

That second. He knew he fucked up. Riki's fingers wrapped around his neck and dug into his human skin "NI-KI BOT NO NO- THAT'S MURDER- YOU KNOW THIS" Y/n explained as the robot adopted a rather sinister smirk. His grip tightening, fingers now ripping into the man's throat, blood and flesh coating his hand and the floor as he finally let go hearing Y/n's scream.

"Oh no darling... now now, calm down only a little blood... it's only murder if you humans kill a human... I'm no human baby... plus I did this for you... I did all of this for you baby... I told you I'm your man I can trust you, but all these men are trying to hurt you..." Riki said, a small cute pout on his lips as Y/n just fainted, her head hitting his chest. "There there, I've got you princess... Finally have you to myself..." He smiled, patting her cheek as he carried her home. This day, the demon brought hell to y/n...

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

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moonstruckme · 3 months

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Would you be willing to do fem whimsical!reader x lily where reader thinks something is haunted and maybe tries to befriend the ghost? Idk id really be happy with anything i just love lily. thank you if you do write it!! If not that’s okay I hope you have a wonderful day!!

Thanks lovely, hope you have a wonderful day as well <3

Lily Evans x whimsical!reader ♡ 916 words

You recognize the sound of Lily’s footfalls thumping dully on the dusty floors, so you don’t jump when a figure sits down beside you.

“Did you buy whiskey?” she asks. “You don’t even like whiskey.”

“It’s not for me.”

Your girlfriend hums, shuffling closer so her thigh is pressed against your knee where you have your legs crossed underneath you on the floor. In front of you is your candle, the flame flickering steadily, and your offering of the bottle of whiskey. Otherwise, the room is empty. “If you keep coming in here, eventually Michael’s going to figure it out and he’ll get a real lock put on the door.”

Michael is your landlord, of whom Lily is constantly wary because his first course of action is always threatening to kick tenants out (though as far as you know, he’s never actually done it).

“True,” you reply, “but don’t you think he’d appreciate it if I got the presence up here to quiet down? No one’s going to move in if it keeps making so much ruckus.”

Shortly after the last tenants had moved out, you’d started hearing noises in the unit above yours. Sometimes it’s a light clicking, sometimes a louder thump like something’s fallen, but every time you’ve come up here to check there’s been no evidence of things having moved around. The natural conclusion is that there’s been some disturbance in the spirit world that’s resulted in a new presence squatting here, and you like to make friends with your neighbors.

You know Lily’s a bit dubious of your theory, but your beliefs often differ from hers. She’s never made you feel like yours are any less valid.

“Are you sure that making friends with the ghost won’t make it more inclined to make more noise?” she asks.

“Mm, maybe,” you muse, “but I’d like to think that if they like me well enough, they’ll listen if I ask them to keep it down. At least at night, you know?”

Lily smiles, and the room warms in response. “Worth a try,” she agrees. “How long do you think you’re going to be tied up for? Dinner’s almost ready.”

“Not much longer. As soon as the candle burns out I just have to look at the shapes in the wax, and then I can go.”

“We’re going to have to clean up the wax stains before Michael discovers them too.” She leans over to kiss the side of your head, the soft curtain of her hair falling across your cheek, before sitting back on her heels and straightening up. “Alright, love, come down when you’re done.”

You hum in response, listening to the comforting cadence of her footsteps as they leave. But then there’s another sound with them. A quiet clicking.

You inhale softly as the flame of your candle flares slightly. “It’s here,” you breathe. “It’s listening.” Lily pauses in the doorway, and you clear your throat, trying to affect your voice to be calm and welcoming. “Hello? Can you communicate with us?”

The clicking continues. You think—hope, maybe—that it might be growing louder, but it’s difficult to say.

“Hello?” you try again. “We’re friendly, please don’t be afraid.”

“Sweetheart, I’m not sure…” Lily takes a few steps toward you, a bemused furrow between her brows. “It sounds like it’s coming from in there.”

She starts down the hall, and you follow hastily. She stops in front of a closed bedroom door, reaching behind her to grasp your arm cautiously. The clicking does sound louder here. Lily edges the door open quietly, peering inside.

“Oh.” The syllable stretches as if drawn out from between her lips, sweet as spun sugar. “Hello, darling.”

She lets the door fall the rest of the way open, dropping into a crouch. Over her, you can see the empty, dusty room, rich light from the setting sun streaming through the windows, and a small white kitten frozen warily in the middle of the floor.

Lily reaches out a hand, making quiet little tsking noises with her tongue, but you step right over her and gather the kitten in your arms.

“Hi there,” you say. “Is it you making ruckus every night?”

Lily laughs, rising from her crouch to come stand by your shoulder. “It’s so unfair how they always come to you,” she complains fondly. “I try so hard.”

You hum noncommittally. It’s true, animals love you. You scratch the side of the kitten’s face, smiling when it purrs.

Your girlfriend smiles too. “So you’re our ghost, hm?” she coos, stroking a knuckle down its belly. “Sorry you didn’t get your chance to make friends with someone from the afterlife, sweetheart.”

“That’s alright,” you say. “This may be more rewarding anyway. You can’t pet ghosts.”

Lily laughs, dropping a kiss on your shoulder. “No, I don’t suppose you can. Do you want to keep her?”

You look at her in surprise. “Could we? Michael wouldn’t be happy.”

She shrugs a shoulder, green eyes flashing with challenge. “There are some things worth incurring Michael’s wrath, I think.”

You beam, looking down at the nearly sleeping kitten cradled in your arm. “Yeah.”

“Come on.” Lily gives you a nudge, starting back out into the hall. “Our dinner’s going to burn, and I think we have tuna in the pantry to hold this one over until we can get to the store.”

“Can we name her Ghost?” you ask, following her out.

“Oh, I don’t think we have a choice.”

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coxxxmo · 4 months

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𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐅𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝

[0] 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗟𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿

Masterlist

Dear Future Husband,

To you who has taken away my solitude through the storms in your eyes, to you who has taken over all of my living dreams,your gaze is a tempest that renders my world beautifully chaotic - I hope this letter finds its way to you dearest one.

Tell me, is there a new envoy in your company? Passing my messages to you? Does the moon whisper to you the musings I’ve shared about you? Has it told you of my deepest desires? In the quiet of the night, lately I have been finding solace in the company of the moon. I’ve been telling it all about you - your beautiful smile that makes my heart stop, your laughter that resonates like a melody in my mind, your eyes that stir something unknown deep within me, your voice that echoes within me and the heaven knows, I just can’t seem to get you out of my head.

Like the faceless man in my dreams, you have been haunting me; You have been haunting me with your whirlpool of existence which is sure to stir up my entire world if I get too close.

But Isn't it romantic that, beneath the vast expanse of the same sky, we share a celestial connection? As we both look upon the stars that decorate the night sky, the same moon that graces your night sky also bathes mine in its gentle glow, creating a luminous thread that connects both of us.

I’ll be honest; I’m not exactly sure how this love letter thing works, but all I know is that I can’t stop thinking about kissing you. Archons, I crave you, and I crave your touch. The idea of us kissing feels like a storm inside me, and I can't help but want you close to myself.

When I think about holding your hand and drawing little patterns with our fingers, it feels like magic. There's something pulling me towards you, and it's stronger than anything else. These feelings feel new to me and I'm still figuring them out like getting lost in a maze. Even then my heart always seems to point toward you, and each day, that pull becomes even stronger.

With each word, I'm sharing a part of my heart. As I fold this letter and seal it with a kiss, it holds not just my words but the promise of the future yet you come. Until our paths cross, and until the day I can call you mine. I send this letter off to the unknown, leaving it at the hands of the fates weaving our story.

Yours Lovingly.

⤷ Synopsis :

In a world dominated by algorithms and measured affections, where love is dissected as a complex equation, Will the pursuit of love transcend the boundaries of logic? Can the heart, guided by a mere letter, lead to a connection that defies reason?

Are you willing to take the journey where the lines between reason and romance blur? Will you be drawn into a completely different world, or will your story continue along its familiar course?

But above all, the burning question remains: whose doorstep will become the final destination for this seemingly innocuous letter?

Modern!au

⤷ pairing : genshin men x reader

⤷ taglist : @sako-mii @oni-girx @chevcore @moonlybxbe @rachoka @sangoqueenkoko @veekoko

⤷ a/n : AHHHHH IM DONE WRITING THE LETTER AFTER AGES. It was harder than it seemed I'll be honest....BUT now that the story starts It'll be much more fun, trust me. Hoping that the other parts are more regular..

Likes and reblogs are appreciated ♡

Lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist!!

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agronzky · 9 months

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⠀⠀⠀𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒. ♡

Below you’ll find five plots created inspired by the songs of the swedish group ABBA. These can be used in romantic plots, but also adapted for other types of narrative.

ONE OF US. ( 1981, The Visitors )

Muse a and muse b had a relationship for a few years, but broke up for having very opposite visions of life. Muse a is an artist, sees the world in color and dreams of knowing more about everything, being an enthusiast of all things creative and artistic. Meanwhile, muse b is a businessperson who comes from a traditional family and has always dreamed of becoming the best in their field and living a peaceful life. A few years after breaking up, they meet again, having achieved some of their dreams. Muse a is a recognized artist, travels the world and can live life according to their own wishes, while muse b has achieved a high position in a global company, is recognized and lectures on business and how to achieve objectives. However, they both feel there is something missing in their lives and cannot feel truly fulfilled. The reunion therefore causes mixed feelings, mainly fights about the past, about how muse a cried for months or how muse b felt too small and useless. But something inside them still shines through and maybe there's still a chance. Or will someone get hurt in this story once again?

WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE ME? ( 1976, Arrival )

In a charming seaside village lives muse a, a talented young violinist whose passion for music sets them apart from the rest. Cheerful as ever, their contagious joy and love of life has always attracted curious eyes, especially those of muse b, an introspective painter who finds beauty in the little things. Their lives take an unexpected turn when a summer festival is announced in the town, promising a talent contest. Muse a and muse b end up getting involved in the planning of the contest, causing them to suddenly grow closer and start spending a lot of time together, whether naturally or not. Because muse a is very authentic and distracted, they get into a lot of trouble to make the contest happen, which forces muse b out of their comfort zone. Feelings begin to emerge naturally, making them think "Why did it have to be me?" and deciding, unaware of the other's decision, to perform in the show as a way of expressing their feelings.

MONEY, MONEY, MONEY. ( 1976, Arrival )

In the busy alleys of a bustling city, muse a is trapped in a routine of debt and financial difficulties. Working tirelessly at a job that barely pays the bills, they dream of a life of luxury and comfort. In a twist of fate, muse a meets muse b, a charismatic businessperson who has always lived in a world where money has never been a problem. When they notice muse a's situation, muse b decides to hide their lifestyle for fear of being attracted to them for that reason alone. Muse a begins to get closer to muse b, having someone to talk to who seems to understand everything. However, muse b's lies start to cause a lot of confusion for both of them and they have to choose whether they really want muse a to live in a lie forever or to tell the truth.

LAY ALL YOUR LOVE ON ME. ( 1980, Supertrouper )

In the picturesque setting of a coastal island lives muse a, a lonely sculptor whose heart was closed after a traumatic relationship. Everything changes when they meet muse b, a mysterious person who arrives on the island in search of a fresh start. As they grow closer, muse a discovers the painful secrets that muse b hides, making their time together a way to begin to heal past wounds. Discovering they've both been through toxic relationships and a series of betrayals, muse a and muse b contemplate the possibility of love no longer existing and have to deal with this situation. But when muse b's former partner turns up on the island looking for reconciliation, muse a realizes that their hearts are no longer closed to love. They're completely won over by muse b and will do whatever to have them.

WATERLOO. ( 1974, Waterloo )

Muse a is a determined and charismatic person who works as a tour guide in a historic town. Their lives change when they meet muse b, a charming and enigmatic historian. Their attraction is immediate, but they soon discover sharing a rivalry in the search for information about an ancient secret of the city. As muse a and muse b compete to unravel the centuries-old mystery in an almost real war of espionage and tactics, they discover how they'll need to combine the information they've collected individually if they really want to uncover the secret. As time goes by, they discover more in common than previously thought, find it much easier to work together and start to having a lot of fun with everything discovering more of the town and themselfs.

#plot bunny #rp plots #plot ideas #indie rp plots #rp resources #rph #rp help #rp prompts #writing prompts

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jisungsdaydreamer · 1 year

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Love Playlist #2: UGH! (Bang Chan)

«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME»

"Shut the fuck up."

Pairing: Bang Chan x fem!reader Genre: college au, angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, forced proximity Warnings: swearing, mc has autism, misogynistic behavior (not Bang Chan), implications of ableism, bullying, short panic attack description Word Count: 11k

P.S. ♡ If you like my work, please consider giving me feedback in the form of reblogs, comments, and asks! ♡

It’s a truth universally acknowledged that you hate Christopher Bang’s guts. Everything about him, you hate. The utter laziness that he masks as nonchalance? The “happy-go-lucky” attitude that borders on bullheaded recklessness? The way every single time you text him about something important, he never replies? You hate it all. He’s irresponsible, aimless, completely unreliable, and you hate him.

Chris believes that the whole world revolves around him, and unfortunately, he would be correct. With dimples that rival Harry Styles’s and saccharinity biologically embedded in him, his good looks and charismatic personality blind everyone to the truth. Everyone except for you, of course.

Even if all of the supreme powers in the universe held you over an eternal chasm and forced you to find compromise, you still wouldn’t be able to stop hating him. And you hate heights— almost as much as him— so that’s saying something. Your hatred for him will never, ever waver. You hate Chris Bang, period. And you hate him even more now, as he stands next to you and accepts an honor that should solely be yours.

“Congratulations, Chris and Y/N!”

You keep clapping and plaster on a fake smile to save face, trying to ignore the rage bubbling inside of you. In your peripheral vision, you sense Christopher laughing and shooting finger guns towards people in the audience, like some kind of corrupt politician. In a way, he is one, because you should have won this election. But you didn’t.

“In all of our history, never has there been an exact voting tie between two candidates.” The sickeningly cheerful announcer bounds closer to where you are standing on the stage, gesturing towards you both. “Everyone, please give another round of applause for our new Student Co-Presidents!”

Hearing it officially made you feel nauseated. For the three years you’ve been a college student, you have worked tirelessly, day and night, so this moment could come to fruition. All of those days filled with nonsense— schmoozing to all of the seniors in the Undergraduate Student Council, attending the endless number of tedious mixers to make connections, standing in the rain trying to raise funds for the organization— were going to be worth it, because in the end, you had one goal: to be student body president.

But your dreams were dashed to the ground when he strolled in like a supermodel. While you were toiling since you were a freshman, Chris showed up at the final student council meeting at the end of last year, expressing his intentions to run for president in the following academic semester after the summer. Chris’s charm threw off the projectile of the election, compared to how although you carry yourself very well professionally, you still are very socially uncapable. Making engaging small talk about the weather or joking about frat parties on campus are unthinkable tasks for you, while that kind of conversation is exactly Chris’s forte.

You know that you’re lucky that you at least get part of the title, because while on paper you are more qualified than Chris, the game was never in your favor. And seeing it all happen by the cursed will of the one person you’ve despised more than anyone else, since you were a kid, makes it hurt more than anything.

“Great job, partner.”

You’re snapped out of your disturbed musings by the aforementioned person, who beams and stretches out his hand towards you. You’re wary of the gesture, but accept it anyway, making sure to squeeze his hand extra hard.

“Same to you, Christopher,” you retort, adding an unmistakable bite to your words.

The smile doesn’t fade off of his face as he coolly shakes his aching hand off from your death grip. “I go by Chris, you know that.”

You nearly snort, but refrain from it, because people are watching. You do not need any negative publicity right now, especially next to your co-counsel who seems to do no wrong. But that won’t stop you from being discreetly petty. “Okay, Christopher.”

You hate Chris, and he knows it. But his elated expression doesn’t budge as he merely moves away from you to spark conversation with the announcer, who looks at Chris with literal hearts in her eyes. One more thing you hate: no matter how much you try to rile him up like he does to you, he never gives you a reaction. That satisfaction solely belongs to him.

Rolling your eyes, you shove past him as gracefully as you can, eliciting a surprised grunt out of him. As Chris rubs his side behind you, you turn to the students coming closer to congratulate you, the smile on your face very much genuine now.

“He left me on read! AGAIN. Can you believe the audacity?”

The smoky, herbaceous scent of freshly brewed coffee and sugary fragrance of baking breakfast pastries does nothing to soothe your anger. Your unadulterated complaints ricochet off of the walls of Morningstar Coffee House, your go-to place when you need to feign study in order to hang out with your best friend, a devoted employee-in-training at the place.

Soobin groans, dumping out the latest batch of long macchiato into the sink. “I keep messing it up.”

“Are you even listening, Soobin?” You lean against the counter that he’s behind, wiping up the small drops of milk that escaped the carton in his hasty panic to master the art of being a barista.

“Yes, yes, I am, sorry. Please continue.” Soobin sets aside his blender and folds his hands on the granite, looking at you earnestly.

You pick at the chipped dark purple polish on your nails. “I can work with him. I can. Because I’m a professional. But he makes it so hard when I’m trying to communicate with him.”

Soobin shrugs. “Maybe he’s just not using his phone right now.”

With a frustrated sigh, you shake your head. If only everyone could be as sweet and guileless as Soobin. He always sees the best in people, and while you’re not a pessimist, it’s hard for you to find the good in Chris’s character.

“It’s not just the text thing, even though I really do need him to tell me if he’s finished the nominations for the ethics board. It’s like, he doesn’t give a crap about anything, especially when it comes from me.”

Soobin nods slowly, wrinkling his nose in thought. “I know he’s difficult. But just keep rising above. Getting upset hurts you, not him.”

As always, Soobin remains the voice of reason behind your storms, your eternal complement. When you need to cry your emotions out, he welcomes you with open arms. When he’s too shy to ask for the dessert menu at restaurants, you will signal for the waiter. When you make your displeasure apparent, he induces a degree of rationality into your vexed mind. That said, fundamentally, both of you are introverts. At the end of the day, you love nothing more than to curl up on the couch and watch knitting tutorials on Youtube with Soobin. Opposites or not, you fit each other like a glove.

“I love you, cucumber,” you say, affectionately poking fun at your best friend’s towering height.

Soobin’s cheeks turn light pink, and he swats your hands away. “You’re weird.”

You tip your head back and laugh, while Soobin grins and resumes his duties in trying to figure out how to work the cash register. You can feel the worries already lifting in your chest, because who cares about Chris, anyway? Certainly not you.

But as if you had spoken of the devil, you hear the jingle of the shopkeeper’s doorbell, followed by that familiar boisterous guffaw. The sound makes you whirl around, the tension soaring back into your shoulders. And there he is, sauntering into the café with his trusty entourage trailing.

Your narrowed eyes meet Chris’s, and he pauses in the middle of whatever obnoxious joke he must have been sharing. For a brief moment, a telepathic duel sparks between you both, a challenge to see which one of you will be the first to crack. You win, when he breaks eye contact to go and find a seat with his friends in the lounge area. But once more, it doesn’t feel that way, because while he’s resumed his own activities, you’re still thinking about him. So much for rising above. Damn it.

“Soobin, you need to scan your employee ID first or else sales won’t be attributed to you. We already went over this.”

The voice of Seungmin, the son of Morningstar’s owners and your fellow university student, halts your deliberations and thankfully pulls your thoughts away from Chris. Seungmin is inside from his break and stands there besides Soobin, scolding him for making another mistake in his practice transaction before the evening rush.

“Right! Sorry about that.” Soobin shakes his head and exhales, grabbing a towel to wipe his sweaty hands.

“You’ll be fine. Just keep at it.” Seungmin softens, patting Soobin on the back before making his way over to where Chris is sitting. Because of course, Chris is friends with every single person in existence.

Another person enters the building, prompting the telltale ring to go off. Soobin’s perpetual flush morphs into a crimson, and you immediately turn to see which newcomer has got your best friend so hot and bothered. You’re met by the sight of a very pretty girl who you recognize, but whose name escapes you. However, you know the boy she has walked into the coffee house with— her best friend, Han Jisung, who is unsurprisingly another member of Chris’s glorified posse.

“You have got to be kidding me.” You raise your eyebrow at Soobin, who is still watching the girl with a lovelorn look in his eyes.

“What?”

“You can’t like her. She and Jisung have a thing.”

“They’re just friends,” Soobin says, frowning, but you can see the contradicting doubt written across his face. “Maybe I’ll talk to Seungmin and see what’s up.”

You take his hand and resign, because other times, both of you have to learn your lessons on your own. “You’ll make someone’s heart beat as fast as they do your own. Whether it’s her or not.”

Soobin swallows, fully directing his attention back to you. “The same to you as well. ”

You let out a playful snort, thinking of your one short-lived romance from freshman year. You haven’t dated since, deciding to set relationships aside so you can focus better on your studies. You cannot take the chance of losing precious time, time that can only be allotted to your favorite person, work, and nothing else. Besides, you’ve never been very good at flirting— let alone finding friends— anyway.

“But I think Chris raises your pulse rate enough, so maybe you’ve got your plate full for now.”

“Don’t start,” you warn, the annoyance picking up again. Soobin sends you a cheeky smile, before he attends to his peckish customers.

You take the opportunity to make your way back to your table in the front of the cafe, your favorite little spot that overlooks the lush campus lawn, and then past the historic buildings of your university, the faint city skyline. The trees have begun happily shedding their leaves like multicolored tears that dot the outdoor expanse, embracing Autumn like a long-lost lover. Today is gorgeous, a day that should feel like a blessing, and yet, you feel blue.

The reason for your melancholy approaches your carefully curated bubble and pops it, sitting down at the table, uninvited.

“Hey, I didn’t see you at the election after-party the other day.”

Chris’s voice is calm, so you merely clench your jaw and keep from saying anything too unintelligible. “Hey, you read my text and didn’t reply today.”

He doesn’t let the sheepishness cross his features, but has the decency for it to manifest in a light red at the tips of his ears. “I was going to, sorry. I’ve been busy.”

You just can’t help the venom that laces your next words. “You always are.”

Chris shakes his head, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t get why you always have a problem with me.”

You allow yourself a sharp intake of breath before divulging your current frustrations with him. “I really, really need you to answer me when I ask you something. We represent all of the students in our college. We can’t afford to mess this up.”

Chris rolls his eyes at your words, which makes you even more irritated. “I know.”

“Great. Then we have nothing else to discuss.” You slip your laptop back into your carrier and zip up your backpack, grabbing your phone and pushing your chair in. You don’t spare Chris a glance as you walk towards the door.

“Why can’t we just be friends like before?”

You tense at Chris calling out, but don’t look back to face him. “You should know the answer to that.”

“I really don’t.”

With a scoff, you leave him hanging, pushing open the door and finding somewhere you can actually study without distraction.

It’s only the second day of fourth grade and you already feel so out of place. You moved here over a month and a half ago, in the middle of summer, so you had a lot of time to get used to the town and explore your new home. You enjoyed biking around the neighborhood cul-de-sac all day and discovered a clearing in the woods behind your house, immediately claiming it as your personal hideout. After your parents hosted some of your neighbors’ families for dinner, you even established friendly relations with Soobin, the impossibly shy son of the couple next door.

But your expeditions in school haven’t been as successful. As soon as you stepped into the classroom, it seemed like everyone already had their own friend groups, less than willing to take on a newbie like you. Because all of the seemingly “cool” kids have claimed all of the seats in the back, you sit up front, the desk next to you empty. And although Soobin also attends the same school, he’s in a different homeroom than you, so your in-school interactions are limited to hallway waves and nothing else. To top it all off, your teacher is already talking about long division. What in the world is that?

“Would you like a pudding?”

You turn around to pinpoint the hushed voice that has interrupted the independent classwork time that your teacher allotted. The owner sits right behind you, this kid with dimples and mischievous eyes. You can’t recall his name from when your teacher took attendance in the morning, but you remember him singing a little rhyme to his friends during lunch yesterday. It was cheesy.

The boy holds out a small cup of what looks like Jell-O snack pudding towards you. You accept it, slightly confused at the random gesture. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He folds his hands on his desk, math practice discarded to the side. “You looked hungry.”

He’s watching you intently, waiting for you to eat the pudding. With a sigh, you open and try it, because you are kind of hungry. As soon as your lips gingerly close around the tiny spoon, you grin, because it’s chocolate— your favorite.

“I’m Y/N.”

“Chris,” he replies, obviously delighted by your reaction to the pudding. “Are you new?”

You smile, relieved to finally see a friendly face in your class. “Yeah, I am. Thanks for the pudding.”

“I don’t go anywhere without my trusty pudding cups.”

You don’t say anything, just quietly observing him while savoring the pudding. Chris is a little weird, and maybe too friendly. You're usually careful about this kind of socialization, but he doesn’t seem like a bad person. Chris takes your silence as an opportunity to keep chattering away.

“I notice you sit alone at lunch. You should eat with my friends and me today!” Chris exclaims, earning him a look from your teacher, but he doesn’t notice.

You pretend to contemplate his offer, although you’re secretly elated at the invitation. “Maybe if there’s more pudding.”

“Deal.”

“It looks like the faculty advising problem is sorted. Anything else?”

The Dean of the college closes his laptop and pushes the pair of glasses perched on his nose for the hundredth time in the past hour. The lenses are huge, magnifying his eyes and making them look bugged-out, adding a comical element to his otherwise stony face.

“I was thinking—” You start, taking out your notepad, but the Dean cuts you off, looking at Chris.

“Chris, did you have anything you wanted to say?”

Your cheeks as you avert your gaze shamefully, and all of the other students in the conference room awkwardly stare down at the table. The Dean doesn’t seem to notice your discomfort, however, just intently staring at Chris. For the entire board meeting, you actively participated and made your voice heard, while taking into account others’ concerns and viewpoints.

Meanwhile, Chris had done nothing but squint at the papers in front of him and pretend he knew what was happening. But you’ve always been underestimated just because you’re a woman, and the fact that you’re the only female student body president in the entire history of your university doesn’t help. Of course the Dean would value Chris’s thoughts more. Anyone would.

“Actually, Y/N was saying something. We should let her finish,” Chris replies firmly, shocking you. You thought Chris would just take the opportunity to shine for himself, not hand it to you.

The Dean looks taken aback as well, but he nods slowly. “Very well then.”

Everyone’s attention snaps to you, but you quickly recover and recollect yourself, turning on the professionalism you reserved for moments like this. “Yes. Thank you.”

You open your computer and quickly login, plugging it into the projector so everyone can view your screen. You had already pulled up your presentation and graphics, ready to present your idea.

“What is all of this, Miss Y/L/N?”

You take a deep breath. “A prevailing issue that has come to the board’s attention is the food insecurity on campus. To solve this issue, I propose the University Food Pantry, to relieve hunger through the acquisition and distribution of food to those students who most need it. We need to lead our campus community in the fight against hunger.”

The rest of your audience looks intrigued, but the Dean doesn’t seem convinced. “And how does this concern me? I oversee educational affairs at the college, not what’s cooking for dinner.”

“Our university is, above everything else, a community. The difficulty of higher education is further compounded when hunger is a constant presence.” You try your best to keep your suave composure, ignoring the smug condescension in the Dean’s voice. “As a result, the Food Pantry will envision a campus in which every student, regardless of their socioeconomic status, has sufficient access to nutritious food. No one should have to make financial and dietary decisions in pursuit of a good education.”

“It all sounds expensive. Where would you even get the money from?”

You know that the Dean expects you to be thrown off by his question, but you’re ready. You switch through the slides of your presentation, showcasing the several charts and graphs you stayed up all night drawing. “The Dean’s Assistance Fund, through which the Pantry can provide flex allowances to undergrad recipients of Financial Aid.”

The Dean leans back in his chair, brooding silently while you wait for his answer with bated breath. But Chris speaks up instead.

“This is really good, Y/N,” Chris says, astonishing you even further. “The fund could finance other initiatives in collaboration with the pantry as well, like the university Meal Share app that my friend Jisung coded. He’s in the computer science department.”

“Thanks,” you say warily, still in disbelief that you have both his support and enthusiasm. The other students murmur in agreement, but it doesn’t feel real, getting along with Chris.

Immediately, the Dean sits up, directing his gaze to match Chris’s. “A wonderful idea, Chris. We must talk further about this. Perhaps—”

It’s Chris’s turn to cut the Dean off. “It wasn’t my idea, it was Y/N’s, if you were listening to her at all, sir.”

The Dean looks embarrassed after being put into his place by the very student he was chatting up to, but you don’t give him time to say anything else, taking the chance to continue speaking.

“Of course, we can’t be fully financed by the Dean’s fund, so I think the university board should put forth a collective effort to apply for the Park Grant, an international system that funds programs that address student reform.”

“You’ve put so much thought into this, Y/N,” Mina, one of the board members, says with a smile.

You light up, forgetting the Dean’s less-than-enthused demeanor. “Thank you so much!”

The Dean sighs, staring up at the ceiling, but shrugs, inclining his head in reluctant approval. “The Park Grant deadline is in two days. You’ll have to write up the proposal and present it to the panel.”

You nod vigorously, already mentally adding it to your calendar. “Thank you sir, I know. I won’t disappoint you.”

The Dean points his pretentiously expensive fountain pen at Chris, directing your gaze to his. “But you’ll be presenting with Chris. You’ll oversee this endeavor together.”

Your soaring heart crashes, and you sit up in indignation, because of course there’s a catch. After undermining all of your efforts, the Dean would never trust you to do something like this on your own. And out of everyone, it has to be with Chris.

“Sir, I truly believe I can finish this on my own.” You can barely contain the anger quaking in your throat, but you give it one last attempt.

Chris glances at you and dips his head in accord. “I agree, sir. Y/N is perfectly capable. This is her project, after all.”

“Let’s not go near what our capabilities are. I am very well aware of what your abilities are.” The Dean’s words jab you in the chest one by one, making you wonder if he could go any lower. “You both are co-presidents. Do it together or don’t do it all.”

“Sir—”

“Please give me a chance—”

Both you and Chris are cut off by the Dean’s cold sneer. “That will be all.”

With the wave of his gnarled hands, the meeting is over, and the rest of the students exit as fast as they can to escape the tension, while you just sit there, staring at your black computer screen blankly. A moment later, you collect yourself, grab your belongings, cramming them into your arms, and run out of the room, trying not to cry all of your frustrations out, right then and there.

“Y/N, stop!” Chris calls out from behind you, and you groan inwardly. And of course he has to be there. You can’t even fall apart in peace.

“What do you want, Chris?” You sigh exasperatedly, turning to face him, even though all you really want to do is give him the finger and run back to your room.

The tension is palpable, and you see Chris’s concern. You don’t want it, though. You don’t want his concern, his sympathy, or his friendship. You just want to never see him again, but unfortunately, the universe will not let that happen. You should have accepted that when it put you through elementary, middle, and high school, and even college with him.

“I’m sorry. I- I tried,” he says, running his fingers through his hair, combing through it before the soft, blond locks flop back into place on his forehead. He looks more beautiful than ever, the sorrow in his deep brown eyes and painted into the pout on his perfect lips. But God, you hate him.

You swallow, taking a step forward. Chris’s eyes widen in surprise, but he stays still as you proceed in an eerily calm voice. “Outside of work, don’t talk to me. Don’t look at me. Don’t even think about me. I hate you, Chris, and I wish you never existed.”

For the first time, Chris is speechless, but you walk away, feeling anything but triumphant. You don’t want to see the hurt splayed across his face. And you don’t want Chris to see your own pain, the ugly root that digs deep into your heart and surges through your fingertips, the pain that has been there since the moment he took something from you. You hate Chris, and that will never, ever change.

“Come on, Soobin, tell me,” you whine, lightly kicking your legs at Soobin’s, where they hang over the edge of the treehouse you both built with your dads a few summers ago. The June weather is hot and sticky, and on days like this, you both like to climb up here and try to catch the faintest breeze that may come your way, ice creams in your hands and stories to trade on your lips.

Soobin coughs awkwardly. “Absolutely not, Y/N.”

Tomorrow is the last day of middle school, and you’re determined to guess Soobin’s crush. You smirk at him, elbowing him in the side. Today, you suck on a blueberry popsicle, deliberating while trying not to let the dessert drip down your arms.

“It’s the girl in your history class, isn’t it?”

“Nope.” Soobin side eyes you curiously, biting down on his own fudge ice cream cone. “Well, maybe I’ll tell you if you tell me yours.”

You blush, your mind immediately going to Chris, the boy you’ve liked since forever. Although you’re best friends with Soobin, Chris is also one of your good friends at school. And not to mention, the cutest boy in your entire school.

Besides Soobin, Chris is also the only other person you’ve told about your autism. You were always shy and awkward growing up, and Chris pulled you out of that shell.

It’s also why you get so nervous before tests. Since the time you nearly dropped your computer before a science quiz in fifth grade, Chris always brings you pudding before class assessments. You were scared to tell him at first, because you have been bullied in the past about it, but he had been nothing but kind and understanding. He’s never forgotten to bring you a pudding cup, and he specifically brings chocolate-flavored ones only, because you once told him you liked them.

“You can’t tell anyone,” you swallow the last chunk of your popsicle, crunching down on the sugary ice.

“I promise.” Soobin sits forward eagerly, his melting ice cream cone forgotten.

“It’s Chris,” you say dreamily, a lovesick smile playing upon your lips.

Soobin burst out laughing, elbowing you in the side teasingly. “I knew it!”

You and Soobin start arguing about who was more obvious about their respective crushes, but the thought of Chris stays lingering in your mind and clouding your thoughts. His devilishly handsome looks but angelic personality. The way he brings you those damn chocolate puddings, unaware of how you got sick of the flavor a long time ago but keep eating them anyway, just to see the beaming smile on his face.

“Tomorrow,” you exclaim randomly, right after Soobin finishes telling you about all of the teachers he will miss over the summer, the perfect student he is.

“What’s tomorrow?”

“I’m going to tell Chris that I like him. Tomorrow,” you declare, trying to keep your voice strong and purposeful.

Soobin just stares at you with his jaw hanging open, because while you aren’t as soft-spoken as him, neither of you are particularly forward. Especially not in regard to your romantic lives. You both are the duo that watches your lost loves from afar, not confronting them up close. You’re surprised at your uncharacteristic behavior too, because you pledged to never give a teenage boy the satisfaction of knowing the power they have over you, especially not someone popular like Chris. But then again, Chris is different. You know it.

“Are you actually serious right now?” Soobin asks, still in shock. “Like, are you joking?”

“I’m serious, Soobin. I really like him.” You toy with your stained popsicle stick. “If he doesn’t feel the same, then I can just move on.”

“Wow.”

“I know.”

He reaches over and gently pats you on the back, as if to comfort your nerves. “He’d be really dumb to not like you.”

You groan and flop onto your back, looking up at the dusty ceiling of the treehouse. Both of you just stay quiet for a moment, as you observe the soft cobwebs in the corners and the sunlight pouring through the cracks in the wooden rafters. You’re really going to do this.

“I’m still hungry.”

Soobin holds out his half-finished cone, little droplets of ice cream dripping onto the wood. “You can have the rest of this.”

“Thanks, Soob.” You accept his ice cream and both of you continue to reminisce about the school year and plan out everything you probably will never do during the summer, because both of you are master procrastinators.

But one thing you can’t put off is your revelation to Chris, and it’s going to happen. Which is why you find yourself trying to ignore the impending feeling of dread as you walk through the school hallways. Classes are over for both the day and the entire academic year itself, and there’s no better time to confess to your crush on the last day of school. That way, if something goes wrong, you can take the summer to recuperate and wallow in your humiliation.

You weave through the students excited to trade their homework assignments for sunny days at the beach, with only one thought in your mind. Chris, Chris, Chris. You saw him in math class in the morning, and he looked so cute in his new Hawaiian-print shorts while he signed your yearbook for you. Now, you try to find him in the crowd, before he leaves and you’ll be unable to see him for another three months.

As you search, you’re momentarily snapped out of your Chris-induced daze when you bump into Jessi Ho in the congested hall. Knowing your luck, of course you would crash into the loser who constantly picks on Soobin for being shy.

“Watch it, dumbass.” Jessi crosses her arms and flips her hair over her shoulder. Jay, her wannabe sidekick, gets up in your face, threateningly flashing the tattoos he got without his parents knowing. Although they look like a classic pair of bullies straight out of Mean Girls, you’re more irritated than intimidated right now.

“I don’t have time for this.” You try to move past the terrible twosome, but Jay grasps your forearm roughly and pulls you back. You wrench your arm free and look at him in both disgust and confusion. “What the hell?”

“I’ll get to the point.” Jessi smirks, bringing her finger up to her head and pointing to her temple. “We know you’re impaired. Up here.”

Your blood freezes over like a river of ice, when Jessie emphasizes that specific word. Even though you’re not impaired, because autism isn’t an intellectual disability, you know what she means. She says it like an insult, like you’re the most useless of garbage, not worth a human being’s basic dignity. Jay bursts out laughing when he sees the horror on your face, slapping his distressed denim thigh like it’s the funniest joke he’s heard in the fifteen miserable years of his life. You just stumble back, shock and panic rising like a tidal wave in your chest.

“W-what?”

Jessi cackles, clinging onto Jay like he’s her own walking cane. “How cute. She looks so lost.”

You shake your head, the tears building and your throat seizing in alarm. “How…?”

“A little birdie told me.” Jessi steps closer to you, and while every other time you are able to stand up to her, you can barely look her in the eye right now. “It all makes so much sense. Why do you barely talk to anyone but your pathetic bestie? You’re too scared. Why can you never sit still in class? You're just stupid.”

“That- that’s not how it works.”

You’re grasping at straws, at a loss for words. Any other time, you’d have a snappy comeback ready. You know you struggle with social interactions, but you never thought of yourself as someone disruptive, or weird. You’re one of the highest achievers in your entire school, because sometimes, books make more sense than people. But now? You do feel stupid, exactly like Jessi said. And not because you’re autistic, but because you weren’t careful enough. You’ve been underestimated your entire life because you’re a girl, but now, you know you’ll also be an autistic girl to everyone else. Not who you are. And that’s why you tried your best to keep it on the down low, not because you felt embarrassed, but because this was a part of yourself that was entitled to you. Not anyone else.

“Sure, okay.” Jessi looks bored already, her eyes unfocused roaming the hallway, looking for her next target. “Whatever, stupid.”

Jessi slinks off without a second glance, and Jay follows suit, but not before doing a disgustingly inaccurate impression of autists, speaking gibberish slowly and exaggeratedly. You actually speak faster than other people, because you always say whatever is on your mind. But you don’t give a crap about them right now. Bullies like them will always have the worst to talk about others, and you would rather die than have them be the cause of your tears, ever. What’s really bothering you is who told them about your autism, and how that mystery person found out.

Swallowing roughly, you run over to the bathrooms, forgetting anything else. The only thing on your mind is not losing it in front of everyone. You will not give any of these people the satisfaction. Trying to keep your breathing even, you’re about to enter the bathrooms and relieve your emotions when you hear someone say your name. It doesn’t sound deliberate however, like you weren’t supposed to hear it.

You turn slowly, searching through the swaths of people walking, when your gaze lands on a small group of people gathered at the end of the hallway, a few lockers away from where you’re standing. And his back facing you, but you immediately recognize the person speaking. After the previous year of sitting behind him in Geometry class, you would recognize his curly locks perpetually dyed a soft blond and preppy polo shirt anywhere. Your ears perk up in interest, and while you feel horrible, you know one of Chris’s dimpled smiles would immediately brighten your stormy day, as they always did.

“Tell us the truth Chris!” You hear someone screech like an eager toddler, and you stop in your tracks like a deer in a traffic jam. It can’t be.

“Fine, Y/N is autistic...”

Everyone around Chris bursts into uproarious laughter, and while you can’t see his expression, Chris begins saying something else that’s drowned out by all of the noise. It was Chris. He told everyone about your autism. Chris, the sweetheart who brings you pudding. Chris, the pretty boy who you have a hopeless crush on. Chris, your friend.

You stumble back and are pushed back into the after-school hallway rush, losing sight of Chris. But you already saw everything you needed to. It would have hurt less if it was anyone but Chris. But it wasn’t. You liked him. You trusted him. And he took that trust and stomped on it, shattering it forever. He took something from you.

Your heart hardens as you blink away your tears. You mindlessly make your way outside, just in time to catch your bus home. Looking out of the window, with your time and your spirit petrified, you resolve to never, ever make the same mistake again. You will never again put your faith in someone who does not deserve it.

“You look hungry.”

You momentarily glance away from your laptop screen to shoot Chris a withering look that could scare a bear. Things are back to normal since your emotional confrontation after the Dean’s meeting. Your rude remarks and his annoyingly cooperative advances are both back for good.

“Shut the fuck up.”

The blistering ice in your voice doesn’t stop Chris from unzipping his backpack and pulling out one of his damn puddings. With a scoff, you turn back to your spreadsheet, taking care to shoot disgusting looks at Chris periodically. Chris just takes his time savoring his pudding, innocently watching your reactions like you’re a goddamn television set.

The hours pass by quickly; you get a good amount of work done, while Chris tries to be helpful by asking useless questions and doing nothing else. Typical. After finishing up a final follow-up email to the Dean’s much more tolerable secretary, you stretch out your arms with a yawn. The library will be closing in a few minutes.

“Where are you going?” Chris’s voice is interrogative as you stand up, like you owe him an answer, which makes you see red. If anything, he is the one who should be giving you an explanation, perhaps why he has to be such a two-faced monstrosity who wants to pretend everything is fine and in the past.

Screw civility.

“Oh, I’m sorry, your royal dopiness. I didn’t know I needed your permission to go home.” Your words are filled with a sickening sarcasm, and fortunately, it’s enough to shut Chris up.

You grab your belongings and stalk out of the personal meeting room that you reserved, barely noticing that everyone else sitting at the previously crowded study spaces has already left. Once in the security of the library bathrooms, you exhale all of the tension you’ve held inside of you and splash cool water onto your heated face.

You stare into the mirror, seeing the same girl you’ve been trying to leave behind all of this time. You feel like that lost little girl trying to clutch the thought of someone who should be forgotten. You hate that you still have hope in you, that you’ve had it all of these years, that things can be fixed. You’ve tried, you really have. You’ve tried to leave the past behind you, to look forward and do exactly what needs to be done for your success. Here’s the truth: you act like a bitch towards Chris because he sucks and you hate him. Here’s another truth: you act like a bitch towards Chris because… you’re hurt.

Especially because of your autism, you’ve had a more difficult run at making meaningful relationships. Your friendship with Chris meant that there was hope for you, and you truly believed that. But then he betrayed you, making you doubt yourself and your abilities. And following the incident, it felt like the world was working against you, and it still does. Maybe you could have healed with time, but the universe had other plans, taking care to put you through high school and college with Chris. And with your rotten luck, he’ll probably end up going to the same law school as you.

But you don’t have the time to worry about that right now. Your future depends on the present, and you’ll do your best to remember that. Your productivity mantra will keep you going, and nothing can stop you, from Christopher Bang to misogynistic old deans to… a locked bathroom door?

“What the hell?” You tug on the handle, but the door won’t budge.

Fuck.

You were so occupied with Chris that you forgot that after hours, all of the doors automatically lock to preserve campus security. Screw modern technology. You’re about to pull out your phone to try and call someone, but when your fingers meet an empty pocket, you realize you left it in your apartment. With an exasperated groan, you bang against the door as hard as you can and shout for help, even though you know it’s impossible for anyone to hear you and open the door from outside, the only way to free you. After a few minutes, you give up and slide down onto the floor, knowing you’ll have to spend the rest of this godforsaken night in this stuffy bathroom. Even if you somehow eventually gain the strength to bust this stupid door down, there was no getting past the padlocked main library doors. But seriously, which genius had the idea to lock the freaking bathroom doors?

You close your eyes and place your hand over your heart, trying to calm yourself down. You’re perfectly safe. Alone in a big, empty library. Soon, the bathroom lights will shut down, probably. You wouldn’t know for sure, though. You’ve never been locked in the damn library bathroom before. Perhaps you’ll make friends with the old campus ghosts rumored to haunt this building. And maybe—

The click and turn of the door handle startles you, and you immediately jump out of the way, so your designated savior can let you out. And you’re not even surprised when your eyes meet Chris’s own confused ones. Because of course it’s Chris.

“Why are you still here?” You ask him in a slightly accusing tone, even though he literally has just helped you. You don’t even know why you feel the need to be so pointed, but you are nevertheless.

“I was waiting for you to come back and didn’t realize the library was closed.” Chris lets out a sigh, rubbing his forehead as if it aches. You hope it does. “I have a question about the proposal.”

“Did you try calling someone? I forgot my phone.”

“Well, my phone doesn’t have any service.”

“Awesome.”

You don’t say anything further as you both exit the cramped corridor outside of the bathroom. In your hurry, you hadn’t even noticed how the librarians had turned off the lights, shrouding the building in darkness. Shivering, you subconsciously move closer to Chris, before you realize yourself and make sure to maintain a six-feet distance between your body and his.

“You can come closer if you’re scared,” Chris teases, noticing your discomfort. “We’re both stuck in this library together.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, please. You’re the one who’s scared of the dark.”

Both of you fall silent as the remembrance sinks in. The day you confided in Chris about your autism, he had shared a secret about himself in return, albeit a less serious one. He had an irrational fear of the dark since he was a small child, and you knew any other fourth grader would have made fun of him for it. You had felt happy, then, that he could confide in you.

The inadvertent memory feels unwelcome, uncomfortable. Chris clears his throat and looks away. “Not anymore.”

You and Chris decide to make camp in the library common room, since although the main building lights wouldn’t work, there were a few soft table lamps you could turn on for some clarity. You set your backpack down on the carpeted ground and snuggle into the large armchair by one of the bigger lamps. You glance at the decorative grandfather clock in the corner of the room, and it’s just past midnight. At that moment, you really just want to go home, put on your favorite pajamas, and fall asleep while watching your list of comfort anime films. Definitely not being locked in the damn library with Chris Bang, of all people. Since when was your life an episode of Arthur?

“So, you wanted to ask me something?”

Chris fiddles with his hands for a minute, before looking away. “Never mind.”

You don’t even have it in you to be annoyed at this point. You’re just exhausted. You fall back against the tough cushion of the chair. It feels like you’re sitting on a clothed bag of sawdust. But it’s better than being out there, in the dark. And you hate to admit it, but you’re glad that you have someone to share the company of an empty library with, even if it’s Chris.

“God, I’m hungry.” You touch your stomach, feeling the gnawing emptiness there.

“Would you like a—”

“No, I would not like a pudding, Chris.”

The minutes eventually tick by, and you feel yourself nodding off. You had told yourself earlier that you would stay alert, but the drowsiness drapes over you like a blanket, lulling you into reluctant sleep.

The menacing roll of thunder snaps you out of your uneasy slumber like the sound of a car crash. Immediately, you double over and tuck your head into your arms, trying to breathe. Your hands, warmed from being pressed under your thighs, go clammy with a cold sweat, and you can feel the tears well, barely keeping them at bay. When your go-to breathing technique doesn’t work, you gasp for air, jerking in your seat at every new crack of thunder invading your perception.

Immediately, Chris crosses the space between your chairs and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hold. Sometimes, thunderstorms cause you to have a sensory overload, and you can’t cope. Chris knows this about you, after you got severely spooked after one particularly bad storm in the middle of class in sixth grade. Chris continues to rock your body slowly with his, whispering calming nothings into your ear. Your breathing slows and returns to a normal pace, but Chris just keeps rubbing slow, comforting circles on your back.

Soon, the sound of the thunder dissipates, but you’re not entirely sure if it’s actually because the storm ended or if it’s because the overwhelming scent of Chris’s fresh, minty cologne has taken over your senses.

You look up at Chris, the boy you hate more than anything, and whisper the very last thing that you ever thought you would say to him. “Thank you.”

Chris just nods his head slowly while you untangle yourself from his hold. He gets the hint and lets you scoot away from him, but it’s not far enough. Mere inches separate you from Chris, Chris who helped you without second thought because you were having a panic attack. Forget every ounce of hostility you have shown him, he hugged you like he was your lifeline, which he nearly could have been.

He looks at you intently, his eyes glistening with emotion. “Why do you hate me so much?”

He’s asked this question multiple times before. The first time was back on the very first day of high school, when you both had English class together, and you staunchly ignored him. He continued to ask you the same thing over and over again, until your lack of acknowledgement made him finally stop and accept your new attitude towards him. But even though you’ve heard this question before, this time feels different. There is a certain vulnerability to his words, like he’s given up and is pleading for one last chance.

A part of you still wants to try and maintain the animosity you use as a protective barrier, so people can’t tell what you’re really feeling. But you’re just tired of it all, and the question tugs at you too. Maybe you need to reply out loud for both of you to hear, not just him. Maybe you need to affirm your hatred for the dumb boy who waited for you to come back from the bathroom and then held you during a thunderstorm. Or maybe you need to affirm the fact that you may not hate him as much as you think, but you still do. You don’t know. You hate him the most because you don’t know. So, for the first time, you answer him.

“You broke my trust, Chris.”

“When?” Chris looks genuinely perplexed, like he has no idea what you’re talking about.

With a scoff, you glare up at the ceiling, unable to look him in the eye. “You told everyone about my autism. When I specifically said that I wanted to keep it a secret.”

He shakes his head in a vigorous panic. “I didn’t tell anyone. I promise I didn’t. I promise it wasn’t me.”

Then who was it?

As if he hears your thoughts, Chris sighs and indulges them. “Jessi. She saw your aide and followed him to his office. She was telling everyone about it, I swear.”

And it makes sense. His explanation checks out, and this all could have been a grand misunderstanding on your part, because of course Jessi would have snooped into your business. You couldn’t save your privacy for long with someone like Jessi hovering. And the thing is, you’re not even surprised. You knew in your heart the entire time that you could have been mistaken, that it was strange that Chris would have violated you like that, but it was just easier to blame him for your pain instead of confronting it. Or so you thought.

“And when everyone found out, I tried defending you. I never, ever would want to hurt you. Please believe me.”

Chris’s eyes are shining with earnesty, and you know he’s telling the truth. But that doesn’t erase all of the years you were hurting. “Why didn’t you just tell me that?”

“It didn’t even occur to me that it was the reason you stopped talking to me. I’m sorry I didn’t try harder.”

You close your eyes and lean back. “Chris, you don’t have anything to be sorry about. This is on me.”

You feel your hatred towards Chris fade, and all there is left in you is a deflated pocket of sorrow. Your whole goal was to stay focused, but in reality, you’ve put so much time and energy into despising Chris. And that wasn’t the only way you hurt yourself. You also deprived yourself of what could have been a wonderful friendship.

“I do,” Chris insists, interrupting your thoughts. “I was stupid. I gave up so quickly. It hurt me too, not just you.”

You raise your head and tiredly gaze at him. Even in the dark, he looks beautiful. And it’s not merely his looks, but truly his character that shines through. You spent hours picking apart his personality, trying to find flaws and reasons to demonize him, not knowing that in the process, you were the monster yourself. You constantly complained about his lack of initiative and response, when in reality, you never let him actually do anything. You can’t even fathom why he’s being so understanding, or all of his attempts to work with you, even after your cold treatment of him.

“What do you mean, Chris?”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this.” Chris groans. “I used to like you. There.”

You perk up. Well, now you’re shocked. “Wait, really? I used to like you, too!”

There’s disbelief written all over Chris’s face. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

Both of you burst into laughter, like you weren’t having a heart-to-heart five minutes ago about hating the other. It feels good to laugh, and for a second, you’re transported back into fourth grade, when you first met Chris.

When you were a kid, you barely laughed, which worried the crap out of your parents. The doctors said it was common among individuals with autism, but it didn’t seem that way when you walked around, unsmiling and unfeeling. You weren’t completely socially inept, or exactly shy, but you preferred to keep to yourself. And then Chris had offered you a pudding. You felt like friendship was worth something, then. You felt seen. And maybe that scared you a little bit, being on the edge with someone who made you feel so deliciously raw. Maybe that’s why you didn’t fight back for Chris, because you would rather leave than be left.

Chris rakes his fingers through his hair, the ghost of a smile playing upon his lips. “You know, I still like you.”

“Very funny.”

“I do.”

“You’re crazy. Stop that.”

“Maybe.” Chris throws his hands up and then lets them fall back down. “I like you and don’t want to stop.”

“After how I treated you for the past eight years?” You nearly laugh with how ridiculous he’s being. Hell, if you were in his place, you’d hate yourself.

“But you were hurt. A lot.” Chris shrugs. “You’ve become this amazing woman. You’re… incredible. Hardworking, talented, smart. Keeping in mind how you truly believed I was the cause for your pain, you excelled in spite of the fact that the universe kept pulling us together.”

You shake your head. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s okay. I’ll say it for you.” Chris looks down at his palms. “I like you, and that’s why I became co-president and faked having no service on my phone so we would be stuck in a library together.”

“Chris—”

“Please. Don’t say no. Not after eight years of me pining for you, knowing you’d never look at me again. Knowing I was falling deeper every time you cursed at me. Please, Y/N. I want to know you again, and you to know me. Please.” Chris’s expression is begging, and it pains you even more.

You still hurt, but it’s a different kind of torture. It’s the kind of hurt that’s the result of yearning, the kind of yearning that stems from hatred, subjugated love, and uncertain acceptance. It’s the kind of hurt that tells you that you don’t deserve him. He deserves someone who isn’t a complete and utter coward. Someone who hasn’t been completely and utterly in love with him all this time, but too stubborn and too pained to admit it. Someone who isn’t completely and utterly awed by the magnificent man he is, but too bitter to say it.

Chris reaches out his hand and places it on the side of your face, imploring you with his hesitant palm. You melt into his touch, when a mere few hours ago, you would have slapped it off of you. His skin is warm against yours, and the softness radiating from him pulls at you. You want to say yes. You want to open a blank page in the book. You want to start fresh with this beautiful boy in front of you.

“I’m sorry.” And you’re not just apologizing for pushing him away before, but now too. You don’t get to have him.

“Just… why?”

“I can’t. I’m so sorry.” The repeated dialogue from you has a note of finality that even Chris’s insolence can’t break through.

And just like that, all of the bridges you both repaired come crumbling down, but this time, it’s on purpose. You’ve always been quick to make decisions, never mulling over a choice for too long. You loved Chris. You hated Chris. You still love Chris. But you reject Chris. It’s easy to do, like one computer command after the other. But then Chris retracts his touch and wordlessly gets up from the armchair, curling up into his original position in the other chair. He’s facing away from you, you feel like you’ve struck an error message. The hours pass, and the softly snoring form of Chris reminds you of a blaring bad request, a pile of code that just won’t compile. Eventually, your computer shuts down too, and you share a temporary commonality with Chris when you fall asleep.

“Wake up dear.”

Your eyes fly open, and you sit up. Natural light pours in through the big windows, and you can feel your skin drinking in the sunshine. The librarian’s kind eyes are watching you with worry, but all you can think of is the night before. Perhaps it was all a dream. You were angry at Chris and then fell asleep after coming back from the bathroom. End of story. But then you feel that familiar ache in your heart, and you know you weren’t hallucinating everything that transpired between you both.

You turn to look at the librarian, who still seems immensely concerned, especially with your disoriented morning look. “I’m sorry, where is Chris?”

“He just left a few minutes ago, sweetheart. I was opening up for the day, when I saw him waiting to be let out at the front entrance. Nearly scared the life out of me.” The librarian places her hand on your shoulder. “He told me you were here.”

The librarian rushes off to her personal office to make you some tea, and you’re left alone in the common room. And no one else is here either, because today is Saturday and your university is supposed to be hosting a football game against a rival school. You look down at your body and notice a jacket wrapped around your body, one that definitely isn’t yours. You don’t have an expensive leather jacket that smells like Tom Ford cologne. It was freezing last night because the library doesn’t have heating, and Chris must have woken up in the middle of the night and draped it on you. You feel another pang in your heart as you think of Chris leaving without speaking to you. You deserve it, though.

As you sadly walk out of the library, you decide to skip the game even though as student body president, you should be there, representing the school. You reach your off-campus apartment, the one that you were so excited to finally lease a few months ago, and sprawl onto your couch, already feeling weary of the day. Nevertheless, you fish your phone out of the jumble of couch pillows and call Soobin, because he must be worried sick. You always text him goodnight before you sleep, and yesterday must have been the first time you didn’t.

“How could you?” He’s angry, a new color on him.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. The library—” You start, but Soobin doesn’t let you finish.

“Forget the library! I’m talking about Chris. He’s stepping down from the president role because of you, Y/N!” Soobin screeches into the phone, making you shoot up in alarm.

“What?!”

“I overheard him tell everything to Jisung. Y/N, this is wrong.” Soobin sounds calmer, but nonetheless distressed. “I know you love him. You shouldn’t let this happen.”

Your face heats up in surprise. “How—”

You hear Soobin tsk, and you just know he’s shaking his head, disappointed. “I didn’t even have to hear him talk to know that. There’s a fine line between love and hate. You can never stop talking about him!”

There’s no denying it now. You shouldn’t have underestimated Soobin; no matter how silly he can be, he is your best friend in the whole world after all. And maybe all the time, the only one you were lying to was yourself.

You grab a pillow and cradle it, just wanting to cry it all out. You always have more intense feelings than others, but right now, your heart hurts so much that you doubt you can blame being emotional on your autism.

“Soobin, what do I do? I don’t want to hurt him, but…” You sniffle. “I didn’t even give him a chance to explain himself. For eight years, I made my whole personality hate Chris. And now, he forgives me and I accept it? I’m so stupid, God.”

“I agree you’re stupid.”

“You’re not making me feel better!”

“Sorry.” Soobin sighs. “But you need to get over yourself and your drama. Stop making this harder for both of you, and just be grateful that you haven’t lost him. Yet.”

And with that, he cuts the call in a way very unlike Soobin, making you groan out loud in frustration. Now you want to punch your pillow, because your best friend is absolutely right.

It doesn’t take long for you to find Chris in the packed stadium. Through the throngs of students eager to trade their homework for a good home game, you see him standing with one of his friends in an upper corner of the stands. When you were younger, you were obsessed with Greek mythology and thought that Chris looked like Apollo, the god of the sun, with his golden curls and sunny disposition. Today, his light seems to have dimmed, as he watches the ongoing game with his hands shoved into his pockets and a forlorn look marking his gaze.

“Chris!” You shout to try and get his attention, but it’s to no avail. The cheering crowd is ear-splitting, and you have no other choice but to climb up to the top.

Grunting, you hoist yourself up the steep stairs and try not to look behind you. If you do, you’ll fall off the stands with dizziness, which would be slightly undesirable compared to what you have to do next. Slightly. With the final step, you haul into Chris’s row, catching your breath and a first glimpse at how high up you really are. The players on the field look like tiny ants, and you feel your stomach drop. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.

But it’s too late to turn back now, because Chris has already spotted you and hurries over. You tense and lose your footing, stumbling over someone as they kick their legs in anticipation. Great.

“What are you doing here?” Chan places a toned arm around your shoulders and pulls you up, leading you to his seat. You clumsily collapse into the solid, curved plastic of the chair, and Chris follows next to you.

You then notice Chris’s friend, a heartbreakingly handsome man who you vaguely remember as Minho from your sophomore year literature class. He’s wistfully gazing at a very pretty girl who is chatting with Terry, Soobin’s old roommate, a few rows down. Minho then becomes aware of your presence and hurriedly excuses himself, rushing out of the aisle and disappearing into the crowd. You turn to Chris.

“Is he okay?”

Chris exhales, running his fingers through his hair, combing through it before the soft locks flop back into place on his forehead. “I… Minho’s just going through some stuff right now.”

“Seems like he’s not the only one.” You toy with your ring, twisting it around your finger. “I heard you’re resigning.”

“Who told you that?”

“Soobin. He was eavesdropping on you and Jisung today in Morningstar,” you respond. “Why are you leaving the role?”

Chris looks away from you and out at the field. Your university’s football team still hasn’t scored. “I’d just be in your way. This is for the best, Y/N.”

“I’m sorry I made you feel that way. Please don’t. I need you.”

“You’ll be fine.”

This is what you thought you wanted all along, a world without Chris in it. Besides Student Council, neither of you share any classes or activities this year. If he left, you wouldn’t have to cross paths with him again. You could run the council well on your own, you know that. But you don't want to. You don’t ever want to imagine a world without Chris. He’s been by your side for so long now, and now when he’s about to step away do you truly realize how much you need him.

“Maybe. But I won’t be happy.” Against your better judgment, you reach over and grasp his hand, making Chris start in surprise.

Chris shakes his head, still skeptical. “All I’ve ever done is make you unhappy, Y/N. You don’t want me to be around.”

You sigh, knowing he’s not going to come around, not without the right kind of persuasion. “I was dreading having to do this.”

“Do what?”

You reach into the small purse hanging off of your shoulder and pull what you had scoured the entire city for in the past few hours. “Would you like a pudding?”

Chris looks bemused, staring down at the small cup of chocolatey goodness in the delicate palm of your hand.

“Or do you want a kiss?” You stare at Chris intently, trying to ignore the whammering beat of your heart. “What will it take for you to stay in your position?”

“W-what?”

“Or I could be your girlfriend. Because I really want to see where this goes.” You take a deep breath. “A bunny once told me that I just need to get out of the past. I’ve left it behind, and I’m looking forward, Chris.”

“Fine.” Chris swallows roughly and bites back the slow smile spreading on his features. “Can I have all three?”

“You never make it easy, do you, Chris?”

Before he can quip back at you, you grasp the collar of his t-shirt and tug him to you, your lips meeting just as the home team finally scores a touchdown and the crowd erupts in applause. You couldn’t care less though, because although the preteen you is jumping up and down like the rest of the cheering fans, the adult you is smiling into the lips of the man you definitely do not hate. Actually, you love him.

Chris slings his arms around your waist and pulls your body closer to his, sweetly laughing into your ear when you both come up for air. “Am I a good kisser, or what?”

“Shut up.”

And you’re kissing him again. Warmth blossoms in your chest, sparks igniting as you lean into each other after years of loving, hating, and longing. Your arms roving over each other coax all and any remaining hesitation left in you both, and it feels so right. You treasure the soft sighs of pleasure and elation spilling from Chris’s lips, his sounds more deafening than any overzealous football fan’s rally cry.

“So, do I not get the pudding, or…?” Dimples cut across Chris’s cheeks as he pulls away from your lips once more just to shoot you a cheeky grin.

You roll your eyes playfully and reach into your lap, tearing open the foil wrapper on top of the pudding cup before handing it to him. “You and your pudding.”

“You know you love it.”

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aphroditelovesu · 6 months

Note

Yandere Jimin love letter?

My love,

Every beat of my heart is an echo of your name. From the moment our eyes met, I knew you were the one. Her surrounding aura mesmerizes me, and I feel a deep desire to protect you, even if it means pushing away everything and everyone.

Your smiles are like rays of sunshine that illuminate my entire world, and your words are the melody that cradles my dreams. In your every gesture, I find reasons to admire even more the incredible person you are.

I can't stand the idea of someone taking you away from me, that something or someone could make you walk away. I promise to be your shield, your safe haven amid the chaos of the outside world. I can't help but feel a pang of jealousy when I see others approaching you, but it's because my love for you is so intense that it consumes me inside.

Our love is a garden that I cultivate with care every day, watered by our complicity and mutual understanding. You are my anchor on turbulent days and my greatest joy in happy moments.

I promise to be by your side, celebrating your victories and supporting you through challenges. You are my muse, my safe haven, and I am eternally grateful to have you in my life. I love you so, so much! ♡

With love,

Park Jimin.

#yandere love letter #love letter #bts #bangtan boys #yandere bts #yandere!bts #yandere bangtan boys #yandere jimin #yandere jimin x reader #yandere!jimin #jimin x reader #yandere jimin love letter #yandere!jimin x reader

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229zmi · 2 years

Text

NOTE EXCHANGE

PAIRING: Tsukishima Kei/Reader

CONTENT: note-passing, reader calls tsukishima babygirl

WORD COUNT: 0.9k

You remember the first time you saw Tsukishima. It was during one of his volleyball practices; you were simply taking a stroll when you noticed the door to the gym building was wide open and then decided to adhere to your human instinct that was nosiness by sticking your head inside. Though you weren’t — and still aren’t — well-acquainted with the mechanics of volleyball or whatever, he looked pretty cool the one (1) time you witnessed him block the ball before you hurried away to the nearest vending machine to bully some snacks out of it.

Then you remember talking to him for the first time — or rather, attempting to. Really, you try not to think about the interaction that much because it gives you second-hand embarrassment looking back on your past self, who, you aren’t sure how but somehow, had developed something of a crush on Tsukishima. (Ew! Yuck! Blegh!)

“Excuse me?” you whispered to him. He sat only a few feet away in front of you, so you figured he’d be able to hear you just fine, and if he was any closer, you were sure he’d be able to hear your heartbeat racing. “Could you help me with this question, I don’t und—“

Without even sparing a glance at you, Tsukishima replied curtly, interrupting the middle of your sentence, “Ms. Sato would be more than willing to help you.”

You cringed a bit but quickly recovered as much of your dignity as you could and did as told, standing up from your desk. He seems to think he’s the shit for whatever reason, you thought to yourself as you made your way toward the teacher’s table. What an insufferable scrub, you continued to bitterly muse.

But next you remember, a few weeks later, being assigned as partners for some project in school and visiting his house to work on said project. You remember meeting his family, how you were greeted with such great hospitality that it almost made you queasy; remember the days where you’d prolonged your stay for so long that his mom made him walk you home just to be safe and eventually the days where you were invited over even when there was no longer a project to work on.

You remember when everything finally clicked into place, when he was no longer an insufferable scrub to you and you were no longer like a rash on his arm, a stressful presence in his life, as Tsukishima so kindly told you once, that stayed around just because of the fact that his mom thought you were kind of funny.

The word relationship tasted strange on your tongue for the longest time, but you got over it anyway.

And now you’re in class, sharing AirPods — one in your ear and the other in his. In your ideal world, you would’ve been sharing wired earbuds, perhaps on a bus or train, to fulfill your Pinterest couple dreams, but given the two of you are in the middle of a lesson, you suppose that this is as romantic it’s gonna get.

Even so, you fixate your eyes on him, giving him a placid stare as the new song blares in your ear. Tsukishima, for some reason, pretends not to notice this, deciding to instead focus on writing down notes.

In a moment of silent rage, you tear off a large piece of your notebook paper and begin scribbling something on it. Once you decide you’re done, you crush it into a ball, extend your arm outward to your right, and drop the note on Tsukishima’s desk, all while making intense eye contact with the words written on the chalkboard up front as if that indicates you’re paying attention. You’re only lucky that the teacher’s attention isn’t on the class at the moment.

Tentatively, Tsukishima flattens the piece of paper out of its wrinkles with the palm of his hand, smoothing it once and then twice before reading its contents.

Can you change the song plz ♡ xoxo [Y/N]

He glances back at you, giving you a questioning look. You’re not sure why because you think your message was clear enough by itself. Regardless, you respond by pointing to your ear, distaste written all across your face. Tsukishima’s gaze doesn’t waver until you blow him a silent yet dramatic kiss.

Trying his best to ignore the immediate reddening of the tips of his ears, he writes something down in response to your note. After a few moments, he crumples the paper and tosses it onto your desk in a much more discreet manner than the way you did it.

Why?

Not too long passes before you send it back.

This song is an earsore ♡♡

Forgetting for a brief moment that he’s in class, he audibly sighs. The teacher shoots him a glare, which he ignores.

Not that I don’t agree with you, but I can’t change the song right now. My phone is in my backpack. It’ll be too obvious.

Booooo you SUCK!!!! ♡♡♡

You’re going to eventually fill up the page if you keep adding so many hearts.

Live with it babygirl my love for you has no limits ♡

You carefully watch his reaction as he reads your last message. Finally, with another annoyed sigh, he reaches into his backpack, and a couple more seconds pass when you hear the beginning of a new song.

Don’t say things like that. You were right though, that song was getting unbearable.

No you changed it cuz you love me ♡♡♡

His reply arrives after some minutes, for no apparent reason.

Maybe. ♥︎

You look up and Tsukishima’s smiling at you — faintly, but it’s definitely there, vanishing off his face almost as soon as you see it. Perhaps you’re still like a stressful rash on his arm, but if he has to be honest, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu oneshot #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima fluff #haikyuu fluff #tsukishima kei #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#229ZMI

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madeforstarker · 23 days

Text

》 eyeshadows & highlights || a starker fic 《

— ♡ for @tonystoy

Summary: It was supposed to be a punishment but along the way, Tony got distracted as his boy painted his face with a ridiculously beautiful lingerie on.

A/N: this was supposed to be harder but it took a softer turn, hnggg, if you want to read the harder version, I'll post it as well! Let me know. This was roughly written, no beta whatsoever so please excuse the grammatical errors. Enjoy this story! ♡

Tags: Edging, Soft Dom Tony Stark, Sub Peter Parker, Dom/Sub Undertones, Cockwarming, Pretty Peter Parker

“Tony,” Peter gasps outs, “You said you wouldn’t move,” he quips out as he dusts his older boyfriend’s eyelids with some soft shimmery nude eyeshadow.

“No I didn’t. I said I would try not to move. I’m trying. But it tickles, and you’re so fucking gorgeous on my lap with nothing but a blue lingerie on,” Tony defends himself with a grin and grinds up inside him once just for good measure.

“I’m– not,” Peter mumbles, so shy, despite being exposed in his blue lacy nude number and ass deep on Tony’s cock, “hold still, I’m only like, halfway done.”

Tony dutifully closes his eyes again and scrunches his nose at the tickly flutter of the brush at the corners of his eyes. It makes his cock jump, which draws a sound halfway between a giggle and a moan from Peter. This was supposed to be a punishment for Peter’s bratting out a few hours ago, but somehow along the way, they were both too engrossed with each other that they forgot about the punishment.

Slow and steady movements of his hips were calculated so as not to mess up his work on Tony’s eyes, Peter grinds against his weight in a preoccupied rhythm until he has to reach into his makeup bag on the couch beside them for a different palette.

Tony holds him in his lap by his waist, “I think an olive green would look nice with this gold,” Peter muses, letting Tony thrust up gently inside him as he assesses his face.

He moans loud when Tony thrusts a little harder and hits a good spot, “you have to wait,” he whines, but lets Tony fuck him hard a few more times before sitting up straight, blending brush poised and ready.

Little unfinished movements take over Tony’s hips, trying so hard to be good and wait. But Peter is so soft and warm and tight, and sticking the tip of his tongue out between his teeth as he focuses on eyeliner. So cute, so fucking hot. So sweet and kinky; Tony is sure he’s the luckiest man in the world. This is soft, sweet, wonderful edging.

Unable to keep the adoration at bay, Tony pressed a kiss on Peter’s parted lips, and another when Peter could only blink his beautiful doe eyes in surprise. The younger man lets out a giggle before pressing a kiss back against Tony’s lips and sits up straight, wiggles his hips on the older man’s cock a little and refocuses, “stay still,” he reminds Tony, dipping a smaller brush into a circle of black in the eyeshadow palette.

He hadn’t said Tony couldn’t touch, though. Eyes closed, he trails his fingers down Peter’s thighs, fanning wider and wider until he accidentally brushes over Peter’s half-hard cock, and accidentally does it again, and again, until he’s just dragging the backs of his fingers up and down his length.

The tiniest little sighs, Peter so pretty in his lap, focus unwavering until Tony’s got a finger and thumb wrapped around his pretty cock. He barely strokes him, petting his thumb under the head of his cock, giving it a squeeze here and there.

Determined to finish his work, Peter muffles his whines into his bitten lip and ruts against him in restrained little movements.

It goes on for five minutes, or ten, lazy with a simmering anticipation, touching him until burns wide in his gut and he has to stop and be good. He likes when Peter practices on him like this, the faint scent of the powders and creams he uses, the gentle press of his fingers to his cheek, breath held as he focuses.

It’s nice having nothing to do but take in the sight of his pretty boyfriend, staring into his eyes and smiling when Peter pulls into focus and smiles back before his gaze fades to the highlight on his brow bone. Even better when he gets to be inside him like this, building up a need for him so slow and potent that every glance and touch feels like he might burst into climax.

He massages at his balls and smirks when Peter’s eyes flutter shut for a second. His mouth waters as he ghosts his hand up Peter’s now very hard length, so hyper-aware of how it would glide beneath his tongue.

“Okay, lipstick,” Peter leans over to rummage around for the color he wants.

Without warning, Tony spreads Peter’s ass cheeks wide and thrusts up hard, gripping his cheeks painfully tight like it’s everything he can do to stop himself from pinning Peter to the floor and fucking him senseless. When Peter doesn't scold him for it, he does it a few more times, sighing long in momentary bliss.

A deep groan in his throat, Peter grips his shoulder to keep from collapsing, chest arched forward into him. “Hera 005, where the fuck is that H-Hera, Hera...something...” Peter pants, tossing tubes of lipstick to the couch, until he finds the shade exclaiming a soft “aha!”

Peter takes a hold of Tony’s chin and smiles at the heat in his eyes, bouncing twice more on the older man’s cock before stilling his movements, “you feel so good, you know that, sir? Your big cock inside me, I could sit here for days.”

“You have two minutes before I fuck you up against that wall,” Tony grunts, grip tight around Peter’s small waist.

The velvety walls of Peter’s ass clenches around his cock and the boy leans back, doe eyes wide with innocence before pouting, “but you said ' as long as it takes .', daddy! You said you- ah!“

Tony grins and pinches the boy’s nipple a little harder then intended, “I do, baby, I do. Take your time, but hurry up,” he mutters, pouting his lips just enough for Peter to drag the lipstick wand across them with expert deftness.

“So handsome,” Peter murmurs, satisfied with the look. He leans back to take in Tony’s face and bounces on his cock some more, fist clenching on his thigh like wants to touch himself but knows he shouldn't, “God, you’re so fucking big,” he moans, dragging Tony’s hands from his waist to his chest and back down.

Tony continues the worshipful movement on his own, drinking in the sight of his boyfriend riding him with his head tossed back to the ceiling.

Peter stills his hips and exhales, blinking as he tries to regain focus, “Blush, and a little more highlighter.”

“Oh, my favorite part,” Tony hums.

Peter giggles, “the blush or the highlight?”

“Both. I just like how the brush feels.”

The younger man pauses, little pink compact in hand and tips his head with a fond little smile, “I thought you were gonna say highlight because it’s the last step and you can hurry up and fuck me already. You’re really cute sometimes, sir.”

“I’m not cute,” Tony grumbles, shy at how touched Peter looks. He closes his eyes and shivers at the tickle of the brush on his cheeks, a deep soft chuckle escapes his throat when Peter fan the brush under his chin and across his forehead just because he likes it.

“I swear, the golden highlight was made for you. Most beautiful fucking skin,” Peter mutters, leaning back again and thumbing some stray pigment from the side of his nose. The younger man moves his hips just enough to feel Tony inside him, to see the lust tug Tony’s eyelids shut, hands moving with a reverent hunger down the lines of his body.

“You want me now?” he hums, quiet, “Wanna fuck me up against that wall?”

The older man’s fingers wrap too tight around his cock and he loves it, edging his impending orgasm once again, “wanna fuck me, Tony?” The words come out as a raspy whine, Tony plugging him up tight and rocking deep inside.

“Take a picture now baby,” Tony sounds desperate, Peter’s favorite kind of Tony. Desperate Tony fucks him almost too hard and says things that soft, considerate boyfriend Tony would be too worried to say. “The whole point was to take a picture for your portfolio, take a picture now, pet.”

Peter reaches for his phone and leans back to get Tony’s whole face in the frame. Tony holds him safe by the waist and tries not to look like Peter is grinding against him when Peter snaps the picture.

A few more taken close up and from the side, he switches to video and rides Tony in earnest. He smiles at Tony in the camera, shy at being filmed but too close to the edge to go back into his shell.

“Feel good, Mr. Stark?”

“Stop filming, kiddo,” The older man mumbles like he always does, eyes meeting the lens for just a second before he pounds up into him, “fuck, I love fucking you, Pete. I love you so much, kid.”

Peter smiles at Tony in the camera looking up at him, sincere and breathless, lips pretty pink, eyes shimmering with golds and greens, “I love you too, sir,” he answers with reverence, dropping the camera to the couch cushion and wrapping his arms around Tony’s neck.

Feet pressed up against the front of the couch, Tony holds him tight and pounds into him, long groans in his ear as if it hurts how bad he wants Peter.

“Your cock’s so fucking big,” he whines, knotting his fingers tighter in Tony’s hair.

“Yeah? Still? Even after sitting your pretty little ass on it for that long?”

“Yeah,” Peter gasps, “Wanna feel you cum. Wanna feel you— fill me up, sir,” he can barely get the words out, Tony gripping his jaw and kissing him so deep, lip gloss smearing across both their lips.

“Harder,” he whimpers against Tony’s mouth, veins hot liquid sugar as Tony fucks against his prostate, "Ha— ah fuck, harder. Sir, please!"

“Come on, pretty baby. Fucking cum, let me see you.”

He lets Tony push him up from his chest and kneels just enough to let Tony thrust up into him, skin slapping together, “so good,” he whines, “So- so good, I- fuck-” all the edging and the stilled sexual gratification was slowly getting to Peter.

Tony doesn’t slow down when Peter’s cum splatters up across his chest, doesn’t slow down when Peter shudders with pleasure, doesn’t slow down when Peter tries to lean away from the brutal pace with his eyes squeezed shut. Instead he slams Peter back down onto his cock, hard and deep, pauses, and does it again. And again, and again, growling at the way Peter begins to grind against him once more despite his endless mewling.

“Kiss me, baby?” Tony’s voice is so soft and hoarse, even now. Peter falls forward and their lips meet, clumsy and fumbling, nothing more than shared breath as Tony fucks him fast again and comes deep inside him.

For a moment they sit like this, nose to nose, trying to catch their breath, Tony’s cock twitching in him, eyes heavy and sated.

“I love you, Mr. Stark,” Peter whispers, still shy every time he says it, though he knows Tony will smile and say it back every time.

“I love you too, kiddo,” Tony answers, as expected, a big goofy grin on his face even as he thrusts slowly inside him a few times more. This punishment was definitely softer than expected but Tony wouldn’t have it any other way.

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soursvgar · 1 year

Text

Valentine's Day ~ ♡

pov: it's valentine's day and you want your demon bae to do something special for you. You end up finding out everybody have their own unique way to express love ^^

Demon brothers x gender neutral reader (not proofread cause i barely had time to write this sorry ;u;)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

ෆ ━ Lucifer ━ ෆ

Lucifer forgot about it. Truth is, no one expected him to remember, not even you. With how much he has on his plate, you haven't expected a thing, but deep inside, you had hoped to wake up to even the smallest of gestures. Maybe a teddy bear holding a hand written card with words only Lucifer could muse waiting at the threshold of your door, or a bouquet of red roses tightly knit with a matching ribbon, hell, even just a 'happy Valentine's Day' text would suffice. And so - waking up to absolutely nothing, was just a tad bit disappointing, causing your day to begin with a frown.

"Good morning, dear." Lucifer greets as you head down to breakfast, it was his turn to arrange it and to everyone's surprise, he, for once, did not pass the responsibility onto someone else. A sheen of optimism appears in your eyes when you spot him serving food onto the plates, longing for any sort of acknowledgment, but it disappears just as fast when the realization seems to have not hit him yet. "Morning..." You mutter, shoulders slumped as you sit down at the table, Lucifer's siblings quickly appear, rushing towards it as well.

The rest of the day continues just like any other, but the feeling of frustration doesn't leave you. Mentally preparing yourself for a possible argument, you decide to enter Lucifer's office and give him a piece of your mind. However, as you part the door open ━ without any prior knocking, if you may ━ you fail to recognize the interior. The regular desk and chair are missing, and instead, the floor is covered in petals with a picnic cloth spread in the middle of the room, on top of it lays a variety of devildom- and human world delicacies.

"Right on time." Lucifer turns to you with a smirk, sprawled on the mat underneath him. "You must have thought I've forgotten, hm? Didn't you?" Gesturing you to join him, the pleased smile can't be wiped off his face. Perhaps you have misjudged Lucifer's constant need to get on your nerves, as a way of showing love, of course.

"Happy valentine's day, darling."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

ෆ ━ Mammon ━ ෆ

Since it's your first Valentine's Day together, everything has to be foolproof━ if it isn't perfect, it's unacceptable. Mammon is acting slick and composed, but inside he's truly losing it, anxiey chewing away at him. What if his presents are not up to your standards? What if something goes wrong? What if you're allergic to the flowers he brought from the human world? What if━

"Happy Valentine's Day!" You cut his train of thoughts, nudging a heart shaped box onto his lap. Mammon panics, puzzled as to what you are doing home so early and why you are giving him a present, when he's assured that role is assigned to him. "What is that?!" He nearly shouts, causing you to tilt your head in confusion. "It's my gift for you! I wasn't sure what to get, so I made these chocolates as a token of my appreciation." You fidget with the collar of your shirt as you explain. Is he unhappy about it?

"I mean- why are ya giving me a present? A-Are we valentines or something? Psh..." Mammon clears his throat, clutching onto the box in his lap. "Y-You didn't even ask me to be your valentine, or anything... So, what are ya doing giving me presents, huh?" He looks away, muttering the words with a quiet voice.

"Will you be my valentine, then?" You smile sweetly, in a way that makes Mammon feel like his heart is about to burst out of his chest. He wasn't sure what he had expected you to do when he said that, but he definitely did not foresee such a direct, heartthrobing response. "Took ya long enough..." He spouts nonchalantly, but his heated cheeks frame his true feelings right away, making you chuckle at his adorable reaction, and earn a glare from him while you do.

"I have one more present." You declare, the demon slowly losing all hopes to impress you, but at this point he is plainly going along with it, giving into being spoiled by his loved one. Your next move catches him off guard as you lean in to press your lips against his, playfully pulling away right when he melts into your kiss. "Well, what about you? Did you get me anything?" You inquire mischievously, his hand already positioned in a way to pull you back to him.

Mammon smirks, it's finally his turn to play.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

ෆ ━ Leviathan ━ ෆ

Oh no━ it's valentine's day. Leviathan is clueless about what he should do, he wants to give you the world, he really does, but how to do it in an appropriate way? His mind is suddenly blank. How come his collection of shoujo anime and manga never prepared him for this day? Perhaps he should've tuned in on the latest romance series? Or maybe he should purchase some otome games━ that's it, he's good with games! What if he just treats this as a game? Oh- well, now, that's easy. It's all coming together.

"I got it!" Leviathan cheers, and then rushes to shush himself as his best ideas strike him at the dead of the night. He quickly gets to work, receiving a couple of questionable stares from a moonstruck Belphegor on his way to grab his in between naps meal, while he frantically snips papers. It is way past sunrise when he finally finishes his craft, but the result is better than he expected - it's too bad that his drowsy self ends up sleeping almost the entire day away, completely forgetting to alert you about his gift.

"There are still two hours left for Valentine's Day, I can still make it." He encourages himself after a light panic attack, and makes a mental note to start earlier on his gift for next year. Marching to your room, he shakes awake your sleepy frame, practically yelling out in desperation. "I am SO sorry!! I swear I didn't forget- I just had a late realization, and well- maybe I did forget, for a moment! But I remembered before it really was va- oh god, please just follow me to my room? It will be a lot easier to just show you." He breathes out after his rant, tugging at your shirt as you only nod in return, unsure of what to make of this jumble of words.

However, once you enter his room you begin to understand, looking around in awe at the completely different setting. "Wow... did you do all that?" You gasp, realizing the amount of work he must have put into it knocked him cold until a few moments ago. "Yes! Well, I was trying to think what to gift you for Valentine's Day, and I figured that if this was a game it would've been so much easier- so... I just turned... us, into a game. Pretty neat, right?" Excited, Levi hands you a couple of cardboard cutouts. "So this is the love meter, if you pick the right choices, the love meter goes up and you can reach the happy ending." You speculate the refined design, still dazzled at the vast effort your boyfriend had put into his gift. "What happens at the happy ending?"

"Well, why don't you start the game and see for yourself?"

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

ෆ ━ Satan ━ ෆ

Valentine's Day is a little confusing for Satan. Sure, he explored all about grand romantic gestures through his novels, but is he able to draw out his feelings onto a piece of paper, or share them through one of the many traditional holiday symbols? Teddies and flowers feel slightly underwhelming for him, but also, his creative ideas seem to be in a bit of a drought when it comes to romance.

"I just need some inspiration... anything." He mumbles, flipping through the pages of his recent hard cover purchases, however, he soon comes to the cruel realization that romance, like many other social interactions, isn't something that can be taught by books. He's been trying his best to crack his brain for the past hours, but his efforts are fruitless ━ Satan is unable to analyze love in a logical perspective, despite the fact it's only a chemical reaction in the brain. Or is it?

"Satan?" As you enter your room, you blink at the figure sitting on your bed, appearing deep in thought. You snap him out of his daze, drawing his attention to you and away from his brooding. Then and there, it finally dawned on him. Love isn't merely a biological response, but the corners of his mouth lifting to form a smile when he's faced with the person who alters his brain in that specific way. Love isn't tangible as poets make it seem when they scribble down words onto the literature he consumes, but rather an abstract concept that changes from person to person - and Satan might have just figured out his own version of it, when your eyes meet his own.

"Happy Valentine’s Day." He stands up, hand gliding across your cheek with his gaze telling you everything he's incapable to vocally express. "I didn't get you anything because I wasn't sure how to convey emotions with an inanimate object... I'm sorry." Sincerely, he apologizes, yet, you can't help but appreciate his sheer honesty, putting your conversation to a whole different tone. "But I'm more than willing to spend the rest of the day with you and explore different ways to portray them for you."

And maybe, that was all you really needed.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

ෆ ━ Asmodeus ━ ෆ

Asmodeus loves love, and as someone who loves love, he especially loves Valentine’s Day. Not like he needs a reason to spoil you or show off his feelings for you through gifts or any special celebrations, but it's the one day where he feels like its legitimate to go all out and express his deep gratitude for his one true love, his biggest supporter, and most loyal companion - you.

The overwhelming scent of roses is what compels you to open your eyes, and when you do, you are baffled to wake up in an alternate bedroom. Your sheets are replaced with satin and a path made of petals is placed to mark your way out, and into a bed of what seems to be dozens upon dozens of bright red roses. You think you see the end of it, but oh, you have only just begun.

"Happy Valentine’s Day!!!" Asmodeus cheers, waiting outside your door with several boxes of chocolate, and a couple more presents. As you step out, you are greeted with even more decorations, hearts hanging from every corner of the hallway and flowers tucked into every cranny. Internally, you sigh; the amount of pollination in the house could probably incapacitate a hive. With that said, it's the youthful glee radiating from your demon's face, on the one day where he can be his own, authentic, cheer spreading self. And isn't that what the holiday is all about?

"Happy Valentine’s Day, baby." You smile lovingly, his excitement being incredibly endearing that you can't help but to tenderly stroke his face. Taking your free hand in his, he passionately spread out your itinerary for the day with everything he has planned for the both of you, the tips of your fingers part through his soft locks while he elaborates out on your schedule.

Perhaps he's a bit theatrical, and his flair for the dramatics isn't exactly what you are used to on this type of days, but you can't deny that this is exactly what's so fun and enticing about him, and you couldn't be happier with what the two of you have.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

ෆ ━ Beelzebub ━ ෆ

Beel is no foreign to the concept of emotions, nor to the concept of love. He feels loved when his older siblings pick up his favorite dishes for him when they return from trips to the human world, and he feels loved when his twin brother makes an effort to drag himself out of bed and join his workout routine just to spend a little more time in his presence. However, when he's with you, love takes an entirely different form.

He's unsure of what to make of it, though. Does he love you because you make sure he's well fed? Or is it the intention behind it? Maybe it's not even that, but rather the fact that with you, he suddenly feels━ frail? You always had a habit to draw the confessions out of him, making him feel safe and cared for while he addresses his problems and concerns. You also supply the best fragments of advice, ones that put him in the right direction but still urge him to think for himself. It's almost as if you complete these areas in which he lacks in.

"I have something important to tell you." Beel confronts you, his face reflects a serious array. "Yes? What is it?" You arch an eyebrow, puzzled at his sudden declaration. He chews out on his bottom lip, struggling with putting his thoughts onto verbal statements. "You need to tell me what makes you happy, so I can make you feel as warm as you make me feel." He watches you with a straight face, but you respond with a soft chuckle at his bold, captivating proclamation. Placing a hand on his shoulder, you massage it lightly, trying to contain yourself from cooing at his cuteness.

"Beel, you make me happy by just being you." You state, laughing at his obvious sigh of relief. "Well, can I at least take you out for dinner? I know food always makes me feel good, so it might work for you as well."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

ෆ ━ Belphegor ━ ෆ

Belphegor made sure to state his opinion about holidays like Valentine’s Day to you before. It didn't surprise you, as you were used to him being stagnant to just about anything, but at times you did wish you could see even a slight attempt to create a day that stands out from any other. You weren't hopeful, though.

"Happy Wednesday." Belphegor chuckles, pressing a fleeting peck to your cheek, only earning an eye roll from you in return. "Oh, come on, you can't possibly think too highly of this holiday, right? It's just another day to encourage consumerism, works the same in every realm." He shrugs, tightening his hold around your waist. "It's only like that if you make it that way... I see it as a nice way to show your love to someone." You bite back, clearly disagreeing with his point of view.

"Okay, okay... what do you want to do then?" You figured you would have to tackle some resistance and convince him out of his attitude, but frankly, how you choose to spend the day doesn't matter to Belphegor as long as he gets to accompany you and see you smile. Of course, his default preference would be staying at home to cuddle, but if yours isn't, he would always make the effort to cater to your inclinations as well. "I think I have an idea that will make us both happy." You assert, his easygoing nature instantly puts you in a better mood.

As inspiration falls on you, you lead Belphegor out to the observatory and watch his face light up. "I had a hunch that a good compromise would be doing something both of us enjoy, so, while it might not be the most romantic date, I know that there's one activity you like other than sleeping, which is watching the stars." It wasn't your first choice really, but you also didn't want to have to force him into doing anything he wasn't up for. "You forgot there's one thing I like more than both of these." Belphegor states, causing you to whip your head in his direction. "What is it?" Perplexed, you question. He leans in, lips inches away from yours as his breath tickles your pair. "You."

#happy valentines day!#obey me #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me scenarios #obey me imagines #obey me headcanons

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justblades · 2 years

Note

Hi!! Can I request for #1 shu? Thank you!

♡ MAKE LOVE WITH ME ! ➠ 100 EVENT

#1 SHU YAMINO ; ❝ do i look like i'm messing around? do i look like i won’t punish you? ❞ gender neutral! reader

WARNINGS ; nsfw, mdni ! real sorcerer shu in a modern world setting, dom! shu, bondage, marking. WC: 918

AN ; i hope you like it <3

"i'm sorry i failed to acquire this potion that you speak of, master." you return to his space after expediting for nearly a week to lay your hands upon the mysterious asset shu told you about, empty handed. your heart thumps loud against your ribcage, you see the male turn around you from his swivel chair with one swift movement, a somber yet sedate expression painted across his features.

he clasps his hands together, elbows propped up on both sides of the chair. his amethyst glazed irises then lock gazes with your wary ones, the weight of the worry and perturbation in your mind grow rapidly. "i gave you a week to do so, how come you did not find it?"

"apparently it was all too late; it got shipped into another country—" an abrupt sound of glass vials crashing on the marble floors from your back cuts you mid-sentence. as you look down at your feet, shards of glasses glint from the littlest light illuminating the whole room, you see puzzles of your reflection scattered all over the surface.

you forcibly close your eyes shut to ease the old habit of yours brooding over unaccomplished missions. you've known the sorcerer for 5 years already, you're well aware of the fact that when he does those as an attempt to shake you to the core, he's unsatisfied from the results you gave him. "i'm really sorry."

quietude resonates inside the whole room, the four corners slowly creeping into your body each second passing by. until then, the radio silence engulfing the place stops as you hear the slightest movements from the male.

shu rises from the cushioned seat and takes small steps towards you, his bizarre clothing sways along with each movement. "it can't be helped." he lifts his hand up and aims it at your direction while you look up at him, perplexed at what he's doing in the present time.

when all of a sudden, you were being lifted by an unknown force, the absence of gravity makes your body afloat. you were then being pulled to a particular direction, assuming it was shu's doing and braced yourself from the upcoming impact. you shut your eyes in hopes that things will flow smoothly somehow until a loud thud reverberates in the entire vicinity. laying flat on the desk table he uses for his experiments— arms pinned above your head and legs cuffed with magical bindings on the tabletop's edges. you grit your teeth as you try to break free when suddenly shu hovers over your helpless body, raven strands of hair brushing past your skin.

he inches forward to your body and whispers on your left ear, "i don't want an 'i'm sorry i failed to acquire this and that' i want the object i asked you to get." his hot breath ghosts a caress on the shell of your ear, raking shivers up and down your spine. as shu withdraws from your figure to look at you again, his fingers slowly trace the goosebumps breaking out on your skin.

"why are you reacting this way? are the things i'm doing to you tantalizing in your perspective?"

just as you were about to verbalize your thoughts in present, your voice seems to be absent. you couldn't speak the words you wanted to say out loud in exchange. you're there, mouthing inaudible musings while shu laughs at your pathetic actions.

"i cast a temporary spell on you that would prohibit you from saying anything for now. for some reason, my intuition is telling me you're taking this way too lightly."

befuddled at his choice of wordings, you lose track in the thoughts clouding your mind. "do i look like i’m messing around? do i look like i won’t punish you?" you aggressively shake your head in response as a firm 'no' to his question.

with one swipe he does on the air, he ceases all of your clothing in an instant. the shivering, chilly temperature from the dead of the night creeps to each of the nook and cranny of your body. "you understand why i'm doing this, no? this is a consequence of your failure to abide by my favors."

you nod, fully acknowledging the repercussion of not being able to accomplish what he asked you to do so. he starts off by flicking his tongue on your cheek, making his way all the down to your neck, sucking harshly on your sensitive skin. he does all of this while keeping his watchful eyes on you, pupils dilating from the pleasuring expressions you're showing to him.

shu's hands start to explore your body, roaming around your erogenous zones ranging from the neck, your perked up nipples and lower abdomen. he purposely casts a spell that allows him to manipulate an icy element from his fingertips— drawing lines and shapes on your naked skin.

the temperature leaves a bitter, glacial cold feeling on your body to the point that the parts he traced on went numb. you squirm as the feeling stays even when a short minute had passed already.

"do you know what i just wrote?"

not having the ability to speak irked you a ton, and so you shake your head for the nth time tonight in exchange.

"it's my name. i'm marking you to officially say i own you. come to think of it, we've been together for five years already.

and for some reason, you're blindly loyal to me, you just won't leave me."

#☹ soliloquartz 100 #shu yamino #shu yamino smut #shu yamino x reader #luxiem #luxiem smut #luxiem x reader #nijisanji #nijisanji en #nijisanji x reader #nijisanji smut #nijisanji en x reader

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rowretro · 3 months

Text

𝕄𝔼𝕋𝔸𝕃 𝕄𝔼𝔼𝕋𝕊 𝕃𝕆𝕍𝔼

✧taglist✧: @baevsxii @nikisdubblchococake @manooffline lilyofhoon

✧warnings: Yandere themes, toxic themes, unhealthy love, mentions of blood, manipulation(?), shirtless-ish Riki

(PART 5)

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

The Yang siblings sat there silently, watching as the robot worked around the kitchen. "What do you think he's doing? do you think he's babyproofing it?" Y/n asked as Jungwon stared at her, his face had shock written all over it "Oi- no I'm not pregnant!... I meant- do you think he's baby proofing it because he thinks I'm immature?" Y/n asks as Jungwon goes silently "That would make perfect sense... but what part of baby proofing uses strawberries and rice cakes?" Jungwon asked as Y/n blinked.

"NI-KI bot what are you up to?" The girl asked as the robot frowned. "R-right... my bad- Riki- what are you doing?..." she asked as the robot continued chopping some fruit "Preparing dinner." he simply said as Y/n frowned "I- what? I'm the one who usually cooks... Jungwon can't cook for shit-" she said as the robot turned to her, suddenly planting a kiss on her forehead. "My love, My life, My battery, I don't want even a drip of blood leaving your body from chopping vegetables... so go take a seat and let me make dinner." he said as Y/n stared elsewhere, avoiding staring into his cameras that were planted into those stunning, dark eyes.

The girl cleaned around the house a little while Jungwon left the house to run a quick errand at his work place. The girl gasped when she came back. The table was all set, all sorts of perfectly cooked foods, plated aesthetically, decorating the beautiful table. "I-Is someone coming over?" Y/n asked as the robot went silent "no visitors expected today." He simply said as he took off his apron.

"Then why so much food?" she asked as Riki softly pushed her to sit at the table, serving her with some food. "For us. healthy, tasty and pretty." He said as he picked up some food with his chopsticks, feeding her softly. His fingers making their way to comb her hair back a little, as she feasted on the delectable goods. "I don't know why I'm so surprised a robot can cook... I've heard you sing, seen you dance, you really are the whole package..." Y/n trailed off as Riki smiled.

"But I can't love you... we can be friends? but even that is weird... I'm sorry but me and a robot? I'm going to look so crazy." Y/n admitted. The robot's eyes darkened "I'm only PART robot... god why is it taking so long for you to realise you have no choice but to fall in love with you pretty girl?" The robot asked in Japanese as the girl frowned, tilting her head in confusion. "Oh nothing... Just analysing some data" he lied as Y/n nodded.

Y/n helped clean the place up while Jungwon ate. Poor guy had to overwork. "Riki..." Y/n trailed off as she nervously fiddled with the hem of her skirt. "you're biting on the skin of your lips, hair looks like you just fiddled with it, you're fiddling with the hem of your skirt, you're thinking about something what is it?... what's troubling you princess?" The robot asked as the girl stared in a little shock. "O-Oh.. u-uh... w-well... the weekend's over and... I uh. I kinda have to- I uhm..." The girl was scared.

"You want to go to school?" he asked, his voice a few octaves deeper. scaring the girl more. Y/n stared at the ground, as Riki softly lifted her head so she was staring at him, his fingers just under her chin. "Riki it's kinda the law- a-and im turning 18 soon so I will be done soon anyway-" she tried to explain, only to be silenced by his lips. "I'll be going with you." He coldly said as y/n's jaw dropped.

A robot? in a school? Y/n with a robot boyfriend? she needs to keep his robotness a secret, of course the government or military won't be a big deal, I mean this robot can't even be harmed by acid or lava, what the fuck will 109487430498 measly rifles do to him? It's more the fact, he may end up killing so many students. He's going to raise the teachers' standards, it's just not ideal for a freaky demon robot to go to a place for humans. tomorrow was going to be pretty fun...

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

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