#THE HATE AND LOVE RELATIONSHIP IS BITTER SWEET

[funnycreatortimetravel]

So the Madoka Magica movie is coming out and there's a lot of speculation about how it's going to end (or rather, be the start of a new series of movies/a show? Idk, it was extremely vague.)

And while I love the idea of Homura and Madoka ending up together because they both deserve some happiness, I can't help but feel like the best ending for Homura at this point is letting Madoka go so she can become a healthy adult (which, let's be real, that's not possible in this world.)

And by "letting go," I don't mean cutting contact or abandoning her, I mean they can still be friends while Homura can become a person who sees herself worthy of living with or without Madoka. Because as much as I love my favorite tragic lesbians, Homura isn't her own person in the relationship with Madoka.

Like, Madoka has a loving family, loving friends, and people cheering her on. And even if she doesn't believe she's good enough to do anything, she still objectively has things going for her, a safety net if you will. And she still has a goal in mind that doesn't involve one specific person, but rather she wants to become someone that people can depend on/wants to help other people (regardless if this is at the cost of herself.) I'm not saying it's a good or even a healthy goal but with some tweaks, I could see the goal becoming something she could work toward as a means of personal growth and not just because she thinks she's useless.

Meanwhile, Homura doesn't have parents as far as we're concerned. The only ties she has that we're told about are the catholic school she attended and the hospital she pretty much lives in. No friends, no family, and no aspirations of her own. And because of her circumstances, she really wouldn't be able to. It's no fault of her own. I get why, then, she attaches herself to someone like Madoka. I'm sure ANYONE would attach themselves to Madoka if they were in the position Homura was in.

And then that starts the obsession. A long, tiring journey in which this poor girl sacrifices her mental health, her youth, countless years spent trying to save this doom girl and her doomed friends while she herself is also doomed. She's pretty much made herself Madoka's sole protector while also not allowing herself to even do or enjoy the one thing she wanted in the first place; being Madoka's friend.

It's all but confirmed that Homura hates everything about herself as seen in her backstory and rebellion when she was destroying her labyrinth. Her saving Madoka is the one good thing she thinks she's associated with, so much so that she's OK with dying either to protect Madoka or in a world without her.

Like, the concept of one person being the only reason you continue existing is so unhealthy (note that I'm not saying their relationship itself is, it's just her mindset.) I completely understand wanting to help your friend you know...not die a terrible death, but Homura doesn't think she has anything going for her outside of protecting someone else and that's such a sad thought to me. She thinks of all her past friends as enemies now, and she alienated herself from everyone. She thinks, now, that it's her versus Kyubey, the other magical girls, and Madoka herself. The girl is borderline, if not entirely, suicidal.

I'm hoping so badly that in the next movie, this is the start of healing for Homura (though it probably won't be because Mr. Uro loves his sad/bitter-sweet endings.) I hope this is the start where she's able to piece together who she is outside of wanting Madoka, who she could've been had Kyubey not manipulated her and the other girls into making contracts, had her parents not died, had her body not been as fragile as it was, had her confidence been strong, had she felt she was good enough to befriend and get close to other people without fearing her hurting them or them hurting her.

Sayaka was able to let the bitterness of not being with Kyosuke go, accepting that even though she wanted him, she couldn't be with him and even if she was, she never would've been happy. She was able to realize the flaws in her "ideal magical girl" concept and accept the fact that she's just one person and even though she's not perfect and didn't get the thing she wanted, she's still able to be a hero in her own right in the company of people who actually love and support her because she's Sayaka Miki, not because she's a heroic magical girl.

Mami was able to be honest with herself, similar to Sayaka, that she's not a perfect person, that the perfect magical girl illusion was never her. She's able to admit to herself that she was inherently selfish that all she wanted was friends and family, and that there's nothing wrong with that. She doesn't have to keep up the pressures of being perfect and mature and all-knowing because, at the end of the day, she is still that little girl who almost died in a car crash that claimed her parents' lives, and she has to live with the fact that she didn't and wasn't able to save them even when she had the chance to. And she's able to come to terms with the fact that though she was alone, she didn't have to be lonely. She's able to realize that it's not too late for her and she can make her own family that will stick around with her, flaws and all. And she can be a good role model for her little sister surrogate and also orphan Nagisa, but this time, she can be a realistic big sister rather than an idealistic one.

Kyoko can move past the pain of her family's demise, and unlike Mami, feels as though she is directly responsible for it. She was a naive kid who only wanted the best for her family and yet, by doing the "right thing" her father goes on a massive suicide-homicide rampage and she's left to think that her naivety, that her wanting to do the right thing, was what killed them. But no, it wasn't. It's ok to have hope and to have the desire to help others and do the right thing. While the actions of the wish were undesirable, it didn't change the fact that Kyoko's heart was in the right place and that she could continue to try to help others without fear of it coming back to haunt her. She can let the tense guard she's had up since her family's death and enjoy the little things in life she never got to when she was too poor; food, drink, comfort, and having others around that care about you. While she thought that it was her wish and her misunderstanding of what her father wanted that ultimately killed her family, it's the same desire and intentions that push her to save Sayaka and befriend her and the other girls later on.

Now Madoka is an interesting case because she, like Homura, is sort of trapped in being who they were before they gained powers. Now that Madoka is essentially back to where she started (unlike everyone else who at least has something/someone in their lives now in Rebellion compared to the OG series where they were missing those intimate connections) again, she's left to feel like she's missing a key part of herself (only in the OG series, she was missing the confidence she had the in OG timeline as a magical girl whereas, in Rebellion, she's literally the missing part of the Law of Cycles) and you're left to wonder if she'll be satisfied, or will she challenge this new world that seems too good to be true, a world that was made just for her and only her?

And Homura?

Poor Homura.

Being an orphan and having no one, not even doctors or nurses it looks like, be close to you? Being unable to live comfortably due to a physical condition you had no say in? Having to be behind because of said physical condition and then having an inferiority complex WHILE teachers belittle you for things out of your control? So then you consider yourself a burden and truly believe only death and loneliness await you? AND YOU’RE ONLY 14???

And then you think you've met this amazing person, this girl who thinks you're interesting and cool with no ulterior notices, a girl with amazing powers that are as wonderful as her only to have the rug pulled under you and realize that the cost of those powers and your protection is her's and others like her inevitable demise. So then you attempt to right that wrong because even further than your want to save your friends, you know the system that they're in is objectively terrible and needs to be torn down.

But then you try to warn said friends about the system and all they do is belittle you and admit they're comfortable in something that's designed to kill them before they turn twenty, and when (or even if) they're finally aware of the system and the terrible reality of it, they STILL blame you for not telling them sooner even though you tried your damn hardest? Or even worse, try to KILL you after they find out for themselves?

And then top that off with an oppressive alien race trying to control you and pretty much end your life prematurely or turn you into an immortal Lovecraftian Paper mache creature that looks like it was created by five-year-olds should you fall into despair at the hands of this default depressive system and you'll have to remain like that, killing and trapping people while you have no memories of your life as a human and have to live as an animal of pure instinct and evilnesses until some unknowing other magical girl puts you out of your misery, and the cycle will rise and repeat eternally.

Then not to mention other magical girls who try to "game the system" (which only leads to them dying/witching out even earlier, indirectly harming the girl you're trying to protect) or even worse, the girls see you as competition because they're insecure/power hungry instead of joining you in taking down the system set up so where death is an inevitable thing regardless, indirectly siding with the species that are literally killing them slowly but surely (and yet you're somehow still the problem in their eyes.) And then to add the shit sprinkles to this shit show of life, you have to battle this biblically accurate German clown of a witch that's a bunch of witched-out magical girls mashed together like a Cthulu-esque Ren and Stimpy-type creation (that's also pretty much invincible to everything that you and all of the nukes and missiles you store in a tiny, rinky-dink space-time shield you were pretty much cursed with while everyone else gets a built-in weapon.)

Not to mention the PTSD of having everyone and everything around you die and crumple to bits for 26 years over and over again, failing at every turn to complete the only goal you have for yourself (which isn't even for you, it's just saving another person because you believe you're extensible at that point) and at every twist and turn, you're beaten, bruised, belittled, scared, tired, pushed to the brink and all alone with no one to depend on because you're the ONLY one who can and will remember anything once you have to go back in time.

And then you learn the more you go back in time, the more fate and karma you're attaching to this girl which makes the aliens target her even more because of the level of potential she has. And even worse, you find out that the girl you've been fighting so hard to protect is now an entirely different person, lacking the confidence and outgoingness that made you fall in love in the first place, her desire to become a confident magical girl being unfulfilled because of you.

But you have to play the smaller evil. You have to deter her from making a wish, even if it means inadvertently scaring her away from the idea, even if it means being cold and calculated and harsh because she won't listen otherwise.

You have to crush that confidence because that desire will only lead to her death, but she can't know that because well, you still want her to trust you.

But because you've been trying so hard to scare her away from the idea of becoming a magical girl, she ends up becoming scared anyway and distancing herself from you, meaning you don't even have the comfort of knowing you two are friends anymore.

And even still, all of the other magical girls, including her, always end up dead or turning into witches no matter what you do, leaving you to fight the final boss witch alone and failing every single time because it's just too powerful.

But you can't stop. No matter what, you can't stop. Because stopping means death for you, the girl you love, and the entire world, whether it be because of Walpurgis or Madoka's witch which is only so powerful because of you and your time-traveling shenanigans.

So you do another timeline, and things go wrong like they have for the past 100 timelines so you're just numb to it now, and while you're fighting the boss witch, you get critically injured. And now armed with the knowledge that you'd just be putting an even bigger target on your friend's back, you resolve that your efforts were all in vain and useless and decide to just let yourself witch out because you have no other choice.

Only, you're interrupted by your friend, who's finally ready to put her fears aside and make a wish.

Your biggest fear is coming true and you're powerless to stop it.

So she makes her wish and becomes a magical girl Jesus pretty much and restores hope to every magical girl.

Every magical girl except for you.

She says your efforts are the reason why she was able to make such a powerful wish and thanks you for your service, as if you're an old veteran about to retire, and then she ejects you to a remade world, a world without her.

And you're doomed to fight in this world, the world she gave her life to protect, a world in which only you remember her. You don't let yourself become too close to the other magical girls for fear of losing that connection once the Law of Cycles takes them away.

So you're doomed, essentially. The one thing you've fought to protect is gone forever and there's no one but you left to grieve for her, and you start an endless fight against the new evil creatures in place of witches until you're about to disappear yourself.

But you don't even have the comfort of peaceful passing on because AHA!, that evil alien race wants to you use as a sadistic experiment to inflict suffering on you and the other magical girls while controlling the one saving grace you all had, to restart the terrible system you were trying to run away from in the original world.

So they place you in this fake simulation of happiness and fun and magical girl transformations all for the sake of controlling you and the girl you fought for and thought was safe.

So you take matters into your own hands and resign to destroy the labyrinth, even if it means your death, hoping the other magical girls put you out of your misery once and for all.

But if you die, then who would be left to protect that girl you love so much?

So you take matters into your own hands and override her power, creating an idealized world in which everyone can be happy at the cost of making all of your past friends your enemies later.

Even the girl you love and gave your life for time and time again.

All for the sake of keeping her safe once more from not only herself since you pulled a piece of her from the Law of Cycles, but also those terrible aliens who can only think about themselves and their sick curiosity.

I so badly want a happy ending for Homura, and I'm so hoping that that happy ending is one without magic or Karmaic fate or the weight of 26 years of repeated time travel or having to save her girlfriend from a terrible demise or dooming herself to magical Jesus type limbo for eternity all while she's the only one who can remember.

Outside of Madoka, what does Homura enjoy now in Rebellion? What were her dreams, if she had any? Her aspirations? What was her childhood like (even though we know it was lonely) was there anything in her life that even remotely made her feel that living was worth it?

If and when she becomes an adult, what will she be like? What career what she want to pursue? What interests her? What does she want the most for herself? Power? Fame? Company? Comfort?

And will it even be possible for her to enjoy anything outside of Madoka so long as she attaches her self worth to this one, ordinary girl?

Will she succeed in protecting her at the cost of herself? At the cost of anyone else excluding the kyubey?

Will she give up ultimate control over the world, or will she double down; ok with challenging her friends-turned-enemies all for the sake of her love?

And if so, will she succeed as Madoka's sole, eternal protector forevermore, or she be dethroned and killed, left to rot in a labyrinth of her self-hatred and mistakes? (God, I hope not.)

Or...will she finally be saved and released from the shackles of fate, time, and space so she can live her life as a normal girl, a life she wasn't granted even before she made her wish?

My excitement for this movie is beyond real.

#madoka magica #homura akemi #pmmm madoka #sayaka miki #kyoko sakura #mami tomoe #puella magi madoka magica #madoka x homura #madoka magica rebellion #madokami #magical girl madoka magica #devil homura

[ctrlhope]

Bound By Blood (m)

synopsis: A servant to the state since birth, forced to work for the royal family until you die. These are the conditions that have granted you life, yet are they are the same ones that can take everything away. He can take everything away. But he would never, for you are his future, his eternity.

k.taehyung x f.reader

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: wc: 16.0k

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: genre: royalty au, soft yandere, fluff, smut, smidge of angst

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: content: soft yandere!prince!taehyung, maid!reader, power imbalance, talks about death/violence, blood, slight predator/prey dynamics, manipulation, misunderstandings, dom!tae, tae calls reader lamb, oral (f.receiving), marriage related dirty talk, virginity kink/loss of virginity, size kink, praise, reader is fucked dumb, implied kissing reader while she sleeps, implied offscreen somno, implied stalking, ownership, tae is rlly sweet and adorable

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: notes: hello!!! this was meant to be a drabble but as you can see it spiralled out of control lmao. i got a little hyper fixated (and grew a really bad crush on this taehyung) so it ended up being way longer than i initially thought! regardless, i hope you all enjoy it as much as i did writing it!!

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni

The Kim Empire. 

Your home, your family, your livelihood all wrapped up in those three little words.

They practically brandish your mind, have been since you were no more than a babe. Stuck in the clutches of everything Kim since you were born. Your mother a maid, your father gone from the face of the earth. At least as far as you are concerned he is, anyway. 

He is better off dead. The alternative of him living scott free in some far off land, meanwhile you have to serve the hand and foot of the king sets no more than the bitter taste of coffee beans against your gums. 

Bedding your mother, no more than a fresh-faced maid at the time. Outcasting her the second after when he had to have known the rules of the palace. The demise it would cost both her and her future daughter. Perhaps every generation that followed as well– if there were to be any, that is. 

Housestaff are not meant to have relationships. They are meant to serve the king and his bountiful family. How are you meant to do anything else with a child bouncing at your hip, a husband grabbing at your ass. 

You’ve heard the speech plenty of times. The words ingrained in your skull just as the brand you received when you were far too young to remember the pain of it. Evidence that you are bound to the palace by blood until the very moment you take your last breath. 

The punishment for becoming pregnant within the walls of the palace are simple: your child belongs to them. For anything within the Kim Estate is their rightful property, given to them by the grace of god. 

You, a gift from god to serve the empire. You would snort at the notion if training from a young age prohibited it. You are just a result of your mothers kindness, her naivety. 

You could never find it within your heart to blame her. She was just a girl who thought she was in love. Fired for her love. Had her daughter taken from her to serve for her love.

Love is something you will never be granted the property of. 

You will be granted an allowance to send home to your mother to keep her afloat. You will be granted a room to sleep in, clothes to wear, food to eat. A secure job in which you can never be fired– well. That is a lie. Though, your termination would come at the end of an axe, rather than a piece of paper. 

You used to muse at the thought– when you were a young girl, no more than 11 or 12. Going through your melancholy years, hating the rest of the world for simply existing. For putting you in a position where you could not change your fate, instead had to endure your present. Feeling like a  girl trapped in a tower just like the bedtime stories had always prescribed. 

One time you had caused such a ruckus in front of the oldest Kim son you really did think you were going to get the axe. Hell, you were even prepared for it. Locked away in a cell for two nights, brought before the executor. 

Right before the swing was meant to be brought down against your neck the head maid ran into the room, gave some sort of letter to the man. She apologised profusely, gripping your ear and dragging you away from the scene. 

You hadn’t acted ary since then. It taught you your place. Made you realise the need to survive buried deep within your bones. In the innate way some sort of wildcat would lash out until it was bloodied and on its last breath. 

You would not die at the end of a knife. You’d live your life, acting a maid until you could die peacefully of old age. Even if it meant surrendering yourself to servitude for the most annoying brat you’ve ever laid eyes on. 

A quiet sigh slips past your lips at the mere thought of him. The sound would get you punished if anyone were to hear, especially in respect to the coveted crown prince of the kingdom. Few share the same opinion as you of him– but then again most that work here aren’t forced. 

It is only when the stars are strung high in the sky that you allow yourself to feel such things. When you stay awake past the beginning of rest hours, most of the staff (save for the night shift) falling to sleep hours prior. Only then when you’re out in the gardens do you allow indignation to satiate your brain. 

For the few hours of freedom you may hold dear until the next morning begins and you are forced to live the same day once more. Over and over again until the end of time. 

Your fingertips reach out as you walk, bruised from the scrubbing of floors, to find purchase against the walls of flowers rimming the maze. Rough fingertips dance against the gentle petals of roses, lulling in the feeling. Picking themselves against the thorns without much of a thought, not withdrawing. Only pausing feet to observe. 

How can something so delicate and beautiful wish to cause harm? It does not. It simply desires a way to survive. You could never fault it for that. 

“Pretty, are they not?” A dark, husky voice sends cold down your spine. Hairs become on edge, back straightens taught, ears perk just as if you are an obedient dog. Fear flashing through your entire being.

You do not wish to turn around. Do not have any want to face the man that has caught the air in your lungs. The one catching you in the garden without any proper attire in place. Though you must. You must bow, grovel at his feet for forgiveness for allowing him to see you in your nightgown. For not being in bed as you should. 

Prince Kim has never been known for being kind. 

Your body acts for you while your mind sets on pause– taking several steps forward, bending your body at the hips to give a proper 90 degree bow. Your hands clasp before you, hair coming down in front of your face. 

“Prince Kim–” You rush, suddenly out of breath, “Please forgive my insolence. I-I am not of right attire or mind to be standing in front of his excellency right now. Nor should I be excused for touching the property of the palace. I have no proper excuse and any punishment you decide will be deserving. Please forgive me.” The words recite from your lips like a bible– instruction of them being heard time and time again. 

Cold night air whips at your ankles, fluttering the gown around your ankles. The chill only adding to the cold sweat you’ve discovered has perspired. Making your hair dance around your shoulders.

You expect something, anything really. A slap, a single word. Though there is only silence in response. Silence that extends far too long and feels far too pungent for your taste. If he was going to do something, you rather he just get it over with. 

After what feels like an eternity, you finally hear the baritone of his voice once more.

“Pretty, are they not?” He asks again, repeating the same sentiments as before. Confusion bristles through as a kite in the summer air. Why is he asking you this? Is he not annoyed he caught a maid in such a level of disrobement? What is he trying to gain? What does he want? 

All the questions you do not have any hope to answer rush through you causing you to feel confused and incomposed. Every boring lesson you were forced to sit through never taught you how to deal with this exact situation. You aren’t sure what he wants, nor your place in the garden. The thought scares you. 

Against your better judgement, you allow your chin to tilt up only slightly. Only enough to look at the man– to try and read the expression on his face so you can better analyse your next action. 

The shock you feel when you find his face is only inches from your own, frame bent down to make his eyes level with yours is something you cannot explain in words alone. 

You would prefer to scream and run, however that is not an option at this moment, or so it appears. Instead, your eyes only widen in shock, in trepidation. Your mouth opens into a small ‘o’ as you stare.

Never before have you made eye contact with a member of the family. Never before have you had the luxury to view one so close. In any other circumstance, you suppose, you would surely be punished for such a thing. Someone lower should never view a future king in such a way.

You wish you could say he was a heinous, ugly beast for hatred of the palace alone. Yet you can’t, for he isn’t. He is beautiful. 

Sure, you knew that already. Paintings of him are plastered across the walls– his face is everywhere eyes are able to reach. Yet this close, at this angle, you can’t stop the way your heart skips a beat. Can’t help but admire every facet of his complexion before being thrown in front of the lion again. 

A gorgeous, blinding smile wipes across his face the moment you face him. Lips forming into an adorable box after he finally has your attention fully drawn on him. You’re startled back once again, sending your brain into a further whirlwind than before. 

He desires an answer.

“I um… Yes. I suppose they are.” You nod slowly in response, following in his footsteps as he returns to full height. 

You must follow his lead– it is how you will survive. 

You usher a stray lock of hair over your shoulder, trying to stop it from hitting your face. The air starts to become stale again, feeling empty in the lack of his reply. It is awkward, and the way he stares at you, eyes darting around your face– your figure, has you feeling in some sort of girlish, embarrassed way. 

You think you dislike the feeling. 

“Are you a fan of roses?” His arms are pulled behind him, wrapped together as he bounces on his toes in something that looks like… boyish delight? The muddle of your brain can't help to understand a single thing. He is making no sense, trying to make conversation with you. Trying to find a morsel of companionship in someone who is meant to bow to him like he is the true god of your mortal plain.

You will have to oblige until he allows you to depart. 

“I suppose so.” 

He frowns. Try again.

“I adore them, the palace always has the most gorgeous petals all year round.” You smile at him, hoping it masks any discomfort you feel. 

The smile returns to his own lips as he begins to walk. Tilting his head to you as a cue to join him. You try to keep your paces a few behind his own, a maid should never walk beside a member of the family. Though he only slows in response, matching your gate even though it is obvious he hates having to slow down. 

Why is he behaving in this manner? It makes no sense to you. 

“The flower of devotion.” He nods, breaking the silence once more and keeping his eyes straight ahead. 

You almost want to admire his profile– the gentle curve of his nose, yet you refrain. Training your eyes ahead, keeping your fingers laced in front of you. Trying to look as put together as possible at this moment. 

“Is it?” You quiz, unable to take the awkward silence anymore. He doesn’t seem to mind it. Unbothered, tucking his hands into the pockets of his loose, flowing sleep pants. 

“Of many other things, as well.” He nods, sending a slight smile at you. 

“I don’t know much about the language of flowers.” Though it feels wrong to be talking with Prince Kim so casually, you try your best. The more you give in, mayhaps the sooner he’ll bore and the faster you will be able to run from the cage. 

“Tell me your favourite, maybe I can tell you its meaning.” He pauses and you find yourself at the foot of the gazebo. He reaches out his hand, offering to help you up the small stairs of it. 

All over again you find yourself taken aback. The prince is requesting that you touch him, not for his service, but your own. He desires to help you. Is for some reason treating you like a lady. 

You don’t understand it, yet with great hesitation you oblige. You place your hand on his much larger one, allowing it to encase it. Help you up the stairs.

“I don’t know many…” You hope he cannot hear the hesitation in your tone, “Though I’ve always been fond of lilies.” You tell him, attempting to pull your hand away from his own as you reach the top. 

He doesn’t allow it, keeping your small palm tight in his own. Fear trickles in once more, circling around your heart, constricting it. 

You knew you shouldn’t have trusted him in the slightest. It is here where you shall face punishment for all the previous misdemeanours committed. White stone shall be painted with red and you will be left to your own devices to clean up the mess.

Your lungs start to take in more air, though of course you try to disguise it. Turning around to face him, to discover why he has kept you held firm, air is leaving your lungs for another reason entirely. 

He holds your hand close, examining your fingers. Tilting it back and forth, smoothing his thumb over the back of your skin. If he takes note of the little dots of red, he doesn’t make comment of it. He only curls his fingers upwards, hooking against your own. Bringing your hand up to his lips as if it was the most delicate thing on earth. Staring at them with a passion you doubt you’ve ever seen before.

“Rebirth.” His breath fans across your knuckles, slowly lowering to place a gentle kiss against the skin. His lips are soft, so gentle against your weary flesh. So full of safety, so full of song.

When he retracts, he pulls away no more than a millimeter, though his grip tightens. 

“Purity.”

Your first meeting with the prince had left you with a flurry of emotions, none of which you could hope to syphon through. For hours he kept you in the gazebo, sitting with you. Talking until it appeared the sun was cresting over the horizon. 

He refused to release your hand the entire time. His fingers playing with your own, perhaps obsessed with the feeling of your tiny hand laced with his own pristine skin. Did not pay any attention the several times you tried to excuse yourself, only changing the subject of conversation to try and keep you in place.

It was strange. Confusing. You did not understand the reasoning or cause behind any of his actions. 

Well, at least until the next morning while you were scrubbing the floors. Your friend Annabell cleaning right by your side. Catching up, gossiping about the new recruits found in the manner. It is only times like these when you actually get the chance to talk, to giggle with someone meant to be your equal in both age and house status. 

The only chance you’re truly able to forget about the fact she is able to leave once her contract expires. But it does not matter– any small amount of spite you hold is slashed away by her kind smile. The understanding in her eyes as she treats you like just another maid set to work for the king instead of a captive. 

It is only after the 7th yawn of the morning she asks about the poorly covered bags under your eyes. You had gone to bed with the rest of the girls, there is no reason you should be so tired. You never appear to be, at least it is not shown around others.

You struggle with yourself for a moment, trying to decide whether the night before was meant to be kept as a closely guarded secret to your chest. Yet one look at your closest confidant had you spilling everything. 

The entire night– the stars, the flowers, the way he prattled on. How tight he gripped your dirty, calloused hand against his pristine soft ones. 

You feel strange speaking of it, remembering it in any way. It causes your cheeks to heat and a fury to settle below your ribs. 

It is a strange feeling, yet not an entirely unwanted one. 

Your eyes train to the floor as you spill your soul, unable to keep it in once it starts pouring out. You try to keep your tone as neutral as possible– to tell her about the night as if it was a simple news story you heard from a guard. Though, you’re unsure of your success in the matter. 

A poised laugh leaves the lips of your counter, her eyes cresting into half-moons. 

“You cannot be serious right? You tell stories.” She giggles, shaking her head before continuing her assault on the floor. 

You simply shake your own. 

“It happened, I was as shocked in the moment as you seem to be now.” She lets out a small bellow of giggles once again. 

“No, no. I believe it happened entirely. I’m only talking about the fluster of your face.” She giggles, lifting her rag and shaking it for dramatic effect. You roll your eyes, cracking a small smile.

“There is no such thing.” You laugh knowing that there is. 

“Oh my heavens. Y/n, you cannot tell me you’ve grown fond of the Prince, have you?” Her words are hushed now, much more so than before. As if someone may be listening to the conversation. 

You tense in reply, unsure of the answer yourself. The closest you’ve ever felt to fondness of another man was a stable boy a few years back. Only 17 at the time, head wrapped in romance novels that you didn’t entirely understand. He was handsome and he was kind. However just as you were starting to become closer to him, he was sent away to work at another palace. 

You had not been optimistic since then.

She takes your silence as an answer in itself. Moving towards you, gripping your shoulders and hauling you to sit on your haunches. Forcing you to look at her face as she speaks. 

“You cannot be serious.” She repeats again, hoping for any sign of doubt. All she receives is bewilderment in reply, “Y/n. You can never trust Prince Kim.” 

You sigh, “I know, Anne, I–” You’re cut off with her own voice again.

“No, not in the way you’re imagining.” She sighs, letting her hands drop from your shoulders to continue scrubbing at the floor. Making work of herself as she speaks, “The other maids don’t tell you of much, do they?” 

You can’t deny it. Your seclusion within the castle walls is only partly of your own design. 

Other maids do not feel as though they can trust you, seeing as you are full property of the crown. In their eyes, you hold not a crumb of loyalty to your own kind. Few maids speak to you like Annabell does for fear the second they say anything wrong you are going to tell the world. 

You would never, though your word is worth its weight in feathers to them.

“They don’t care for me as you do… no…” You admit, continuing to clean as well. She already knew the answer, letting out an exhale before she speaks.

“Prince Kim has a pension for… debauchery… I shall say,” She flinches at her own words, yet doesn’t know a better way to put it, “The variety in which he uses pretty words to seduce young ladies to bed with him. Royalty from other lands, general’s daughters, maids. It matters not. He likes them for the night then pretends they shall never exist again.” 

Each word she speaks sends another stab into your gut. A dull pain blooming from the same places which a swirling was forming before. 

Ah. It all makes sense now. 

“Oh.”

“He has a particular fondness for the other maids, you know. Bedding them without a second thought.” A grimace forms on your friend's lips, scrubbing harder into the already shining floors, “There is no reason to form any sort of affection for that man. It will only end with his seed inside your core and a knife in your heart.” 

Yes, everything she is saying makes perfect sense. You feel almost stupid to not see it before. Maybe you just didn’t want to see it– want to think about it in any sort of fashion. But this makes much more sense than the crown prince wanting to speak to you for any other purpose. Explains why he was acting as a true gentleman to someone so much lower than him. 

However, you find that it does not take away the cavernous pit that has formed in your gut. 

“I see, I have no desire for either.” You nod your head in understanding, not sure of what else to say. “I don’t understand why he’s taken an interest in me, though.” 

She gawks, “I don’t understand why it has taken him so long to in the first place.” She shakes her head.

“Nevertheless, it doesn’t matter. Y/n, you must promise me. You will not fall for him, nor give any part of yourself to him. He is not someone that will care for you like you deserve.” She states, blue eyes piercing icicles into your own. She is determined and will not relent until you agree.

“I do not wish to. Not after hearing all of…” You make some sort of motion with your hand, “that. Anyone would be a fool to like him.” 

You nod your head while Annabell smiles in agreement. 

“Good.” 

Those are the last words you exchange with anyone for hours. The rest of the day passed by with lightning, an endless turnstile of things to take care of. A ball was to be held soon meaning the castle would be a wreck for the next few days. Too much planning, cleaning, sewing, coordination had to take place before anyone could rest. 

Honestly, you were grateful for it. A break from thinking was much needed. As is a good night’s rest. 

You sigh, already imagining how lovely it would feel to pull off your shoes for the day. Peel the cotton off your body and replace your dress with something more comfortable. 

Oo! Hopefully enough warm water will be left for a quick bath. That would be just wonderful, your muscles would be able to unfurl. The perfect thing to lull you into a glorious sleep.

Your arms stretch over your head as you finish descending the staircase into the maid hallways. Bones in your back pop from the pressure, causing a sigh to make its way from your lungs. Your nimble fingers make their way to the ribbon holding your hair in place, untying it and allowing the tresses to fall. 

Soon you would be in the maid resting quarters– your appearance would matter not there anyway. 

You send small smiles to other staff members passing you, those that have either just woken for the night or those who still have work to do. Yet in return, each one of them just stares at you with an incredulous look. Turning and whispering to their friends as if you were not still in front of them. 

You can’t help to understand why. Those around you may not have considered you a friend, but they were never rude. Always polite when need be. It has you feeling strange, some type of nervousness as you get closer and closer to the hallway extending to the maids personal rooms. 

Rounding the corner, you discover exactly why. 

His frame looks entirely out of place standing there. A perfect, pristine picture in a hallway of drab, illuminated only by the lanterns hanging on the wall. Royal blue tunic draped on his shoulders only emphasising his status. 

He looks as though he was never meant to be here. Like a mistake was made along the cobblestone walls. No, he looks as though he is meant to be among the living. Not in your dreary, windowless life. Nothing could change that. 

You stand there frozen, a deer caught in the lanturn of a hunting party. A pounding of your heart, as well as the dark swell of your gut coming back to life. Why is he here? Why the hell does he have a bouquet of flowers?!

You wish to scream, but you don’t. You have already been caught. 

His eyes look up from where he created a small pile of dirt on the floor. His face coming alight in an instant, pushing himself to full stature from where he once leaned against the wall. Long legs making their way towards you while he suddenly has the decency to hide the bouquet behind his back. 

Annabell certainly did not mention this method of Prince Kim’s seduction. You had never seen him down here before. 

“Hi.” Is all he says once he is finally face to face with you. His face bright and youthful. Excited.

It seems all formalities have been dropped in his mind, though you refuse the notion. 

“Prince Kim.” You simply reply, lowering yourself in a curtsy. 

He pays no mind, almost pretending you never did it in the first place. Instead, he simply rocks back and forth on his heels, bouncing slightly in delight. Wanting something, unable to voice it. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask, hoping to end the encounter swiftly to stop all of the prying eyes leering into your being. 

“I brought you something.” His eyes do not break contact with yours once and you can see his hand twitch by his side as if it wants to reach out for something. You're glad he has the decency to hold back, so you shall do the same by pretending you never saw the flowers in the first place. 

You choose not to ask yourself why he brought you a present. It must just be a trick of seduction.

“I am honoured to accept such a thing.” You send a small smile his way, something between real and fake. It seems to make him beam. 

His arm comes out from behind, holding the flowers between both of your bodies. You look down at them, shock written across your features. 

Sure, you had noted them as flowers before. But you think these may be the prettiest ones you’ve seen in your whole life. Petals of orange, white, and purple cloud in your eyes. Stomatas filled with the sweet pollen.

Lilies. All different kinds– ones you’ve never seen before.

They’re out of season, at least you think they are. How did he get these? Why is he giving them to you? Why is he trying to get the butterflies to return? Why is he trying to make your heart explode?

“Prince Kim…” You’re not sure what to say– instead gently reaching out to feel the velvet of a petal. Staring intently at their colours, unable to pull your eyes away. 

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” His voice is a husk of a whisper, as if you’re the only two in the hallway. As if other maids are not passing, as if they are not staring at the two of you.

“Yes… I… I’m not sure what to say.” It is all so hypnotic. 

“Thank you would be a good beginning, no?” His smile is soft, a light chuckle present in the tone.

You pause, tilting your head to look up at him fully– a large, real smile donning your lips.

“Yes. Thank you.” 

You feel as if you are floating, just as you would when reading those romance books in your late teen years. Like the world has stopped moving save for the prince in front of you slowly passing the flowers into your arms. 

Your hands brush against each other and you feel his fingers twitch, tightening ever so slight. Wishing to grab onto your hand just as he had done the night before. Wishing to insect every line that traces over your fresh once more.

However, he refrains. Allowing his ringed fingers to sink themselves into his pockets.

“I was just going to have them delivered. I’m not really meant to be down here, you know,” His smile is shy, “But I didn’t know your room. That, and I wanted to see you again.” 

You look down, unable to keep the eye contact he presses you for. Prince Kim is too much for you. You don’t understand how he couldn’t be too much for anyone. 

“Oh…” You’re a flush, “Thank you for saying that.” 

“It is nothing to thank me for.” He chuckles, bangs dimming the hues of his eyes, “I’m sure I bored you with all of my ramblings.” 

He did, partly, but that was more discombobulation for the situation and a sense of tiredness creeping into your bones. You shake your head quickly.

“Of course not. I had.. Fun.” Mayhaps fun isn’t the right term, yet there is no word that exactly describes your emotions of last night, nor the ones of today.

“As did I.” His lips are tight in a smile again, feet bouncing on their heels once more. He’s nervous, wants to say something again but isn’t sure how.

You’re not sure how to feel about learning what that habit means. Not sure how to feel about what any of this means. You have not had a moment alone to truly dissect what all of it is. 

“I would love to spend the night talking to you again, if you would allow me.” You don’t think you would love anything more, yet you know you would not be able to function. Would probably make a fool of yourself, too. 

“I-I think it would be best if I were to get some rest… I had not even an hour before I had to start working last night.” 

He frowns, “That’s not good for your health…” He pauses, searching your face for any signs of distress, “Then let's talk in your room. I will only stay until you sleep.” 

You pause, air drifting back into your lungs.

Ah. Right. 

The words of your friend sink in once again, breaking you out of whatever trance he had put you under. Whatever spell he laced through both of your ears to have you singing songs of praises for him and the crown. 

He wants you as a notch in a bedpost. Nothing more. It is clear as day and you are a fool to think anything other than that. This is all just a cleverly rehearsed show. You will not fall victim like your mother. 

All royalty is the same. Use use use. Beat a dead horse until it stops coughing up any sort of reprise. 

Your posture is suddenly tense, fist gripping the flowers so tight your knuckles appear white. 

How dare he think so low of you. How dare he think he might be able to fuck you for nothing. 

“Men are not allowed in the women's private quarters.” Your voice is staunch, though it is not as if he can tell nor cares. 

If he does, he doesn’t show it. 

“Ah,” The lilt is still evident in his tone, the cat playing with the mouse, “But I am not any man, am I?” His body leans a bit closer, pulling his face parallel to your own. Smirk playing on his lips. 

Beauty is a deceptive thing, isn’t it? “When I am king I’ll make it so I can see you whenever we both desire.” Something heats in your gut at those words, yet anger quells it just as fast. 

“It is a shame that you are not King yet, then.” You nod politely in his direction, trying to excuse yourself. Yet your words only seem to excite something in his eyes, lighting a fire behind them. 

“My, I didn’t know you felt that way.” He smiles coy. A flustered sensation overcomes you as you realise the double meaning behind your words. You had made it sound like you wanted him in that way when that could not be farther from the truth.

“I do not.” You state, your voice ice. Though once again, it seems that it does not pierce him. 

“There is no reason to be so cold, Y/n.” He sing songs, tapping one of his long fingers against the side of his head. 

“I am not being cold! You are just not listening.” You sigh in exasperation. Exhaustion and annoyance make you forget yourself, causing your volume to rise just as his own does. This only seems to excite him more. 

“I have heard enough.” He giggles, boyish and what others would describe as cute. Right before you’re able to argue back once again, he cuts in with his own voice once more.

“I will leave you for now. Find a pretty place for the flowers.” 

He smiles generously at you, beginning to walk away, “Have a good night. I’ll see you soon.” 

In your shamble of a disposition, you’re left stuck there. Staring at his back as he retreats down the hallway. 

The shock of everything that had just transpired coming over you all at once. How poorly you had behaved. How you spoke to him. He could have you killed for any one of those things however instead he left you with a bouquet of flowers and a promise for another night. 

You scramble to find yourself, to move yourself from out of the eyeline of every other maid. To make your way to your room, your one sanctuary as quickly as possible. 

It is only when you’re in those walls, hard oak door shut firmly beside you that you have to remind yourself of your promise to your best friend. Remember that the prince fights his battles with words and emotions. 

Your second meeting with the man had left you even more confused than the first. Thousands of questions and emotions real through your bones at a pace your brain can’t manage to understand. Leaves you fuming, trying to form a single coherent thought as you analyse the last two nights with a ferocity unimagined. 

In your state, however, you neglect to think of the one question that should be dancing before you, held on a string just out of reach. 

Why did he know your name? 

It is apparent that since that night, Prince Kim has located which room you find habitance in. 

This morning, another letter has found itself slipped under the base of your door. They have become commonplace now– letters detailing apologies for why he was unable to visit, what he had gone about on his day, his regrets that he has not heard back from you in what feels like ages. 

He’s tried to speak to you a few times in the palace when you work. His eyes always trained on you with something you’re unable to describe when you clean nearby. 

You wish you could say it was perverse in manner, but it was nothing of the sort. 

Every once and awhile you would catch a lily pinned to his breast pocket. He would send you a secret smile whenever it caught your attention. As if it was a tale meant for only the two of you to know. As if he wanted to carry a portion of you with him.

You may be naive in saying so, nor do you have much experience in the matter, but these do not feel like the actions of a man who simply wishes to find home under your dress. These feel more personal. More extravagant than anything else. 

Nevertheless, you ignore every single advance. Annabell made you promise, and it was a promise you were intent on keeping until your dying breath. 

Put the letters away in a box, never to be responded to. Avoided looking at him whenever he was near. Rushed out of rooms when it appeared he was intent on  making his war for you.

Icing out the prince is what is best. Whatever lilies he will wilt and die and you will be able to continue on with your hatred of the Kim family as well as your blood pact with the throne. 

You only wish it was that easy.

“Y/n!! Miss Y/n!!” There is a scramble outside of the door, voices hailing for your presence. You don’t know why– you’re on wash duty. Anyone, unless they’re extraordinarily new, would know that. 

The voice grows more erratic, more panicked. As if their life depends on finding you in that very moment. The other maids in the quarters send their glaces to you, urging you to go yet not one opens their mouths. 

At least one bonus of endenturing your entire life to the palace is that you have grown in rank. More than 10 years has granted you a decent position. 

A hushed sigh slips past your lips and your hands find themselves forcing the pile of sheets into the washing tub. Your hands quickly wipe away at your apron, ridding them of any moisture before pushing open the door. 

Stepping into the hallway lined with stone you notice only a single girl. Her entire form shaking as she paces the hall– panicked. Blonde curls bouncing with every step, cheeks a fluster. 

A new recruit, indeed. Celley is the name she wears. 

She had just entered with the last batch of new maids, starting at the palace no more than 2 months ago. She was a recruit you were unsure of– not having a lick of grace or balance, nor any experience with serving. But you suppose there are many reasons maids are chosen. 

You do not like to think of them.

Her feet are suddenly clamouring over to you, noticing your presence for the first time since you’ve stepped in the hallway. Her small, shaking hands grip your shoulders, holding you with all the will she seems to possess. 

“Excuse me have you seen–” She stops herself, tiny pants pausing as her eyes go wide, “Oh my days! Miss Y/n! You must hurry!” She rushes, hand gripping your wrist as she tries to pull you away. 

Though your face twists in confusion, your feet remain firm. 

“What’s the matter?” You ask, both sympathy and concern entering your frame. You can admonish her later for her lack of manners, however now, the girl seems truly frightened. Her large steel eyes looking back at you, pleading. 

“The crown prince! He’s!” She’s out of breath once again, continuing to try and urge you on.

This time, the second the word prince is muttered, you begin to follow her pace, “He’s lost his mind! He’s going on a firing spree! Locking up anyone who tries to calm him!” 

“What? Why is that? Did something happen?” You ask hushed, urging the girl to keep her voice down. Though you both are similar in age, it is apparent who has experienced this type of thing before. 

“He got into some kind of spat with his father. His instructor was fired when he tried to continue on with their lesson.” It seems she understood your message, continuing to hurry you down the halls. 

“And what am I meant to do?” 

“I-I don’t know!” She lets out a quiet yelp, pulling you closer as you exit the maid hallways and enter the palace ones, “His personal maid is away visiting family. She said to leave everything to you if something were to happen! I-I didn’t know what else to do!” 

Damn Eleanor and everything she stands for. Why the hell did she have to bring your name into this?! Shouldn’t the head maid be called in times like this?! Not you, someone who wants nothing to do with any member of the royal family. Especially the crown prince himself. Sure, there must be rumours spreading around but you had managed nearly three weeks without speaking to him!

You let out a sigh, squaring your shoulders in an attempt to appear more confident, more put together. You will do this, and you will come out victorious. Every battle before has left you victor. What is one more?

“I understand. It will be dealt with.”

The least you can gain is the idyllic picture of the prince to be shattered forever. That would be the most ideal outcome, something to truly force him out of your heart for good. You will not fall prey to him and his earthly desires. He will not win your heart. 

At least that is what you hope. 

The throne room's doors stand before you, delicate lacings of gold worth more than your entire being etched into its surface. A glittering picture for what is sure to be a bloodbath behind its contents. 

A deep inhale of warm air fills your lungs, hand pressing against the door as you force it open. Face someone you have not wanted to see nor extinguish the flames of in nearly a month. 

He stands before you, 20 paces ahead. A broken bottle in his hand as he heaves, shoulders rising and falling with the passion of ten thousand suns. The look of murder in his eyes as he stares down at a maid, her form on the ground. Bowing with as much might as she can possess, looking for any exit possible. Few other maids stand around the room, keeping their heads low, avoiding any eye contact possible. 

Though he looks like a mad man– mayhaps a god of war himself, not a single hair is out of place on his head. He is still the picture of sovereignty. And though your breath spikes, you find that you are not afraid. 

What a strange feeling it is.

The creak of the door sends single to him, has him whipping his head to face you. Anger etched into his features, a new target befalling his sight.

You stand tall, moving towards him. You will rise to the position given to you, even if it shall mean your inevitable downfall. As long as the new staff are safe.

Only, when he looks to you, no wrath is found. No anger or deceit. The second his eyes meet your own, his expression drops along with the bottle in his hands. More glass littering the floor in its wake. 

His eyes soften, his lips turning from a sneer into a gentle frown. His shoulders automatically lower, and suddenly it appears that there is no one else in the room. His legs move automatically, carrying themselves to you with such a hurried pace you would have thought he had seen a long lost friend. 

Oddly, this scares you more than when he was angered. 

You start into a bow, “Prince Kim, I’ve come in place of–” 

His arms wrap themselves around you before you can speak another word. Pulling you in, wrapping you into his scent as you're pressed against his sturdy chest. Strong arms keep you in place as he tries to make his body become one with your own. 

His face buries itself into the crook of your neck, one hand raising to tie itself in your hair. It forces you to stay in place, stay attached to him just the way he wants you to be. Allows him to inhale, breathing in all of you. Finally delving into the scent that he has been craving.

Your eyes only widen, hands staying firm at your side in shock. Heart beginning to race, head becoming lost in the soaps that only a member of a family could possibly own. 

You’re not sure what to do. How to behave. As far as you are concerned or aware, this is something that no other has had happen before. At least not so openly. Not so brazenly in front of a myriad of other people. 

But, it seems to calm him. To placate him in a way you’re not sure anyone could explain. 

You try to make a small twisting motion with your hand, try to urge everyone else to leave while they have the chance. 

They seem to take it, exiting the room as fast as possible. 

You’re sure word of this will spread throughout the castle quickly. You hope the consequences will not be dire. 

“Prince Kim–” You begin to speak after everyone has cleared out, after he holds you for what feels like a lifetime. You can’t find it in you to want him to pull away, no matter how embarrassing this seems. 

“Shh,” He quickly silences you with a gentle press of his lips to your pulse, “Let me stay like this for a moment.” 

You are unable to move. Unable to breathe after he kisses you. War could begin in that very moment and you’re not sure you would have noticed in the slightest. You are stunned into obeying his whim as he simply inhales and exhales. 

The umber in his voice only comes after a millennia, after his shoulders have completely sagged. After all the tension is removed from his body. 

“You didn’t respond to my letters.” He still doesn’t pull away, his grip on your hair tightening a fraction. 

You pause.

“I…I didn’t know where to send them.” You lie and his hand loosens. The correct answer. 

“My study. Put them under the door to my study.” He instructs like a king would. 

You’re not sure why the tone of his voice sends shocks to your gut. Pooling into something you only find in your dreams.

“But if someone were to see them–” 

“Let them.” Mumbles in your ear to you and you alone, a growl practically spiking through his voice, “I want them to know.” 

Oh. This is new. This is definitely new. This is not the same way you felt with the stable boy years ago. This has become something entirely alienating. A completely different beast. You know that now as his baritone voice sends waves straight through your gut. 

You simply nod in reply, your mouth unwilling to say anything back. The arm around your lower back grows more firm.

“Tell me where you will put your replies.” He commands into your ear. 

“Under the door to your study.” Your reply is automatic, years of answering to the kingdom evident in your tone. 

He sighs, unfurling his fingers from your locks to gently pet the top of your head, “Good girl.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, soft as he touches you.

“Good lamb.”

You sigh, fingers deftly searching through your wardrobe for just a single pair of underwear. But once again, you turn up empty. It seems like every day that passes, another pair disappears without your knowledge. 

Perhaps one of the new girls is causing a fuss, messing up the laundry for everyone else. 

That is the only logical solution, at least. 

But logic doesn’t seem to make much sense at all anymore. You couldn’t hope to understand why few of your other belongings have come up indignant as well. 

Your favourite perfume, one of your stuffed animals, even your toothbrush! All have magically vanished from thin air over the course of the last week. 

It is too bad that you haven’t had the time to think about it, either. Preparations for the ball have been raging throughout the palace. Everyone has been on their toes, unwilling to face the wrath of the planners as they try to make everything perfect. 

You have had not one moment alone to think, either swept up in cleaning, decorating, or well… recently you and the prince have been going on walks through the garden at night. Though that doesn’t matter much. It doesn’t mean anything– just another thing he made you promise to. Claiming he wishes to spend as much time with you as he can. 

His recent fixation is trying to get you to call him by his true name. 

You would never dare, nothing is more inappropriate than such a title. It is something only his most beloved is meant to call him, and that person is certainly not you.

You try to force any thoughts of him out of your head, though it is clearly a fruitless endeavour. Especially with the dream you had the night prior. 

His hands finding themselves between your legs, touching you in a way no other has. 

You flush, quickly shaking all thoughts of the night away. 

The tea! Your tea, yes. A prescription from the doctor for this very thing.

More often than not, you wake to find a mess between your thighs. Sticky arousal between them in a perverse fashion. The region sensitive and overstimulated combined with a mess of dreams. More sexual in nature than ever before.

Embarrassed, you had turned to the only person you could trust. The palace staff’s doctor. 

She had told you it was normal– that you were simply having what she described as ‘wet-dreams’. The title alone made you feel embarrassed.

Nevertheless, she prescribed you a tea to help calm your nerves. It was meant to be passifying in nature, calming any lush desires you may have beginning to form. 

You were not sure how it functioned, however you trusted her. Found that it quelled whatever fire burned inside of your heart for the time being. 

Perhaps just a new oddity to add to your reality, you suppose. 

Finally, you find a proper set of undergarments to pull over your legs. Letting out a breath in relief now that you finally have them. 

Today is going to be busier than the last month combined– the ball is tonight. You know for a fact you will be rushed around the palace all day, fixing everything into an acute sense of perfection that only the Kim family is known for. 

You reach to spray your second favourite  perfume across your skin, only to find that the bottle has gone missing as well.

Your hairs stand on edge, a dark pit forming in your stomach.

It is all too strange for you to want to understand. 

Okay, now you’re sure Annabell must be wrong. She has to be, right? There is no other conclusion possible. 

The thoughts run through your head as you pace the small confines of your room. Thumb between your lips, biting the skin feverishly. Contemplating what it is exactly that you should do. A heavy box sitting on your bed, a letter laying next to it along with a single lily.

A month ago, you met Prince Kim in the gardens. A month ago you spoke to him all night long. A month ago he brought you flowers. He has been leaving you letters ever since. Three weeks ago he held you in his arms, made you promise to write him back. Made you promise to meet him in the gardens as many nights as you can. 

But this, you could not accept. You could not possibly think this is real. Why has he gifted you something like this?

A dress lays on your bed. The most gorgeous dress you have ever seen, in fact. Lined with crystals and gems, many layers of tulle poof from the underskirt. It must’ve cost a fortune, but it was not meant for you.  It is a dress meant for a princess, not a simple maid of the palace. Not… Not someone the prince simply wanted to bed. 

So why did it lie here, along with a lace mask and a pair of shoes. Why did it come with a note from the Prince, telling you to put it on for tonight's events? Is this why the head maid dismissed you so early?

No. You could not. You will not make a fool of yourself. You do not belong up there, dressed as a princess when you are far from the thing. That is your decision. It will be the one you stick to.

Even as hours tick past on the clock, even as you can hear the night in full swing, you stay locked in your room. Feeling the same as you did when you were a girl locked in the dungeon all those years ago. Helpless, indignant, stubborn. 

Lost in your thoughts as you try to piece together a puzzle that has several spaces missing. Feelings for the stable boy– life with him, it would have been easier than this. You’re sure of it. 

You allow yourself to imagine what life could have been like if he stayed. It would have been a cosy, peaceful. A straightforward one that didn’t leave so many questions in your head. Jungkook was always like that, spoke his mind without leaving anything to be guessed. You adored it, wished you could revel in it now. Wish you could kiss him under the cherry tree once more.

A pounding wakes you from the dream you were just beginning to weave. Loud, angry knuckles against the firm oak of your door startling you to your feet in an instant. Chills running down your spine as if your body already knew who was behind it. 

You wait too long to reply, another series of rapts following in quick succession. You’re in trouble. You’ve angered the prince in a way you’re not sure you’ll be able to find your way out of, but you have no choice. He knows your inside. You know you must face him. You must be brave.

Right before another series of knocks can echo against the walls, you finally pull the door open. 

There stands the man you knew would be there all along, sculpted like the lord had made him himself. You wish you could behold him properly, to stare at his beauty in the suit specially prepared for this night. One he asked your opinion of several times during its construction.

But you are unable to, not when his shoulders heave like a bull planning its charge. Not when his eyes are narrowed into a glare that enters your soul without consequence. Never before had you felt his anger directed at you. 

The future king would be a fearsome thing. 

“It appears you are not dead.” He states, cold and detached in a way you have never heard before. It makes you feel small, feel weak. Though by now, you know he wants an answer. He will not accept the lack of one from you anymore. 

You shift uncomfortably on your feet, “I suppose not…” 

“Then what do you suppose.” You flinch. You’re not sure.

“I– Prince Kim…” 

“Taehyung.” He interjects, though you ignore him. Only his future wife is meant to call him by that name.

“Prince Kim, I could not possibly accept this gift. You have to understand.” The way he looks at you makes you want to shrink. To appear as small as possible to placate the lion you’ve wondered into the den of. 

“I do not. You are to accept any gift I am to give you.” He is stern as if lecturing the ground beneath him. He looks massive in your tiny room, taking up much more space than you wish to grant him.

You begin to grow frustrated, annoyed. Does he have no sanity? Does he really think it is okay to play with the hearts of women so carelessly? It is disgusting. Repulsive even! You do not deserve anything like this. You begin to grow tense, grow firm like a wolf cornered. Ready to lash out with no remorse. 

That is what you are, anyway. A cornered animal with no hope to escape. 

“I won’t.” You raise your shoulders, stand taller and stare him straight in the eyes. If this will have you sent to the axe then so be it. 

He grows just as tense in reply, his lips forming a sneer as he takes a step closer towards you. 

Never before has Prince Kim been opposed like this before, you’re sure of it. The way his irises become darker is proof. 

“And why is that, lamb?” He mocks, and the fire inside of you only begins to glow brighter Of course, you’re just the lamb that's wandered into the lion's den. The lamb being prepared for meal. 

Steam clouds around your head, jaw becoming tense as you try to hold back your rage. Rage for your mother, rage for the life she was taunted into the same way the prince is trying to do to you now.

“I will not become another woman you bed and then lay waste to!” You practically shout, unable to hold back your emotions anymore. 

His nostrils flare, “Excuse me?” 

“You heard my words.” You state back, indignant, “I will not be an idiot. I will not become another woman who you use for your own pleasures!”

You hear him scoff, head turning away from you for the first time as he looks around your room. 

“You think that little of me?” His eyes make their way back to you, his face having the expression of somewhat… hurt? 

Suddenly, you’re unsure. You feel stupid all over again though you’re not entirely conscious as to why. You hurt him? How could you possibly hurt the most powerful person in the country? 

You falter in your stance, and it is obvious that he takes notice. Uses it to his advantage as he takes another step closer, makes his hand find your own. His thumb brushing soothingly over the knuckle. His hands are always so soft. 

“What else am I meant to think? I’ve heard the stories, Prince Kim.” Where once was fire lays blistering coals. Hot to the touch yet unyielding in their passion. The air in the room has changed in much the same way.

“Tell me of them.” He asks you, his voice now gentle, soft. 

It is strange, the complete change he’s had since first entering your room. Has your brain going a little haywire. Especially with the way he stares at your hands. Like they could be locked forever. 

“I…” You feel flush, embarrassed to mutter the words in front of the prince, “I’ve heard you seduce women… princesses, noblemen’s daughters, maids… the lot. Then you abandon them the next morning with your seed in their core and a knife in their heart.” 

You keep your eyes to your feet, face feeling hot by repeating the words of your friend. You refuse to look at him, you cannot take the embarrassment. 

A light chuckle leaves his lips, a hand coming up to attempt to muffle them, “Sorry, sorry.” He shakes his head, a playful glint in his eyes. You’re baring your soul to him! How dare he laugh! 

He coughs to muffle the rest of the sound, returning to the moment, “I apologise. I just had the realisation. You’re jealous of them, aren’t you lamb?” 

A mess of flutters takes up your stomach, your shoulders raising in alarm. Your lips open to try and form words, to try and deny the allegations made your way, yet you are entirely unable. 

Especially with the way he moves closer, crowds your space with such ease. Leads close to you, whispers words in your ear, voice lower than before. 

“You wish it to just be you I lay with, is that so?” You can practically hear the smile in his voice as another, more erotic chill finds its way down your spine. 

“Th-That isn’t–” You try to speak, but your voice sounds as light as air. He moves closer, arm carrying itself around your back, pulling you flush against him as he speaks sinful words. Words only for you. 

“Ah…” He sighs in relief, lips practically touching your ear once you’re finally connected to him, “You don’t like it when I go fuck your friends then come to spend my nights talking to you… writing to you… touching myself to the thought of you.” 

You cannot take it. You cannot take this, take him. Your head is spinning, clouding with the drug known as Prince Kim. Your knees feel weak, your limbs feel all too heavy. How can someone so pretty say such sinful words without a second thought. It’s too much. Far more than your poor little heart can take.

Your arms come up, press as firm as they can against his chest despite how weak they feel.

“Mmm…?” He asks in response, pulling back to look down on your face. Mock confusion spread across his features. He takes a step back, pretending to look you up and down. Like he is just playing a game of poker while all of your tells are as clear as day. 

“Or is that not what you wish?” He asks, head tilted to the side like a confused puppy, “You would like things to remain the same?” He smiles, drawing conclusions all on his own. 

He pauses, waits for you to say something, anything before continuing. But you do not, so he will keep playing this game by himself. 

“Then I shall go find someone to keep me company for the night. Mmm..” He taps his chin in contemplation, turning on his heels, meanwhile panic and dread fills every facet of your being, “What were those ones you’re friends with again? Celley? That pretty blonde? Oh, or maybe Annabell. I’m sure she would be prepared to go for a second round.” 

What? What? No, No! What is he talking about? Why is he starting to walk away?! Wait, Annabell, second time?! She has before?! 

Oh heavens, oh gods. 

“Anyway, I'll be sure to write to you after. Have a good night, dream of me.” You begin to hyperventilate as he takes one step out the door. No, he can’t leave. You don’t want him to. You don’t want him to be with anybody else. You can’t let it happen. You can’t afford such a thing! Ever! That is not where he is meant to be! 

Your body carries you before your mind does. Hand slipping out, gripping onto the back of his coat with all of the strength you can muster. Feet planted firm in your room, doing everything in your power to not let him leave.  

It is really too bad you do not see the sick smile that forms on his lips. Maybe then the pieces of the puzzle would have finally clicked in place. 

Instead he only tilts his head backwards, painting a complexion of boredom.

“N-No! I don’t want that!” You finally manage to stutter out, knuckles turning white with the strength you hold onto him. Afraid if you let go in the slightest he will pull away and disappear forever. “I don’t want you to be with other women!”

The silence that follows your confession feels a mile long. 

“Then go put on the dress.” Out of any response there could be, that certainly was not the one you were anticipating. 

“What…?” 

His chin tilts in the direction of it, urging you on, “If that is the truth, then go put on the dress.” 

“I…” You hesitate for only a moment, but scramble to motion once the prince turns to leave once again. 

You make quick paces to your bed, keeping your back to him. You feel his eyes on your back, intent on giving you no privacy to ensure you follow through on his order. 

In fact, all he does is close the door behind you. Making sure no one will be able to see in. No one will be able to watch you save for him. 

You slowly peel off the cotton of your nightgown, trying to appear brave even though his eyes are trained on your form. Even if your slip still remains on, you have never been this uncovered in front of a man before. You feel entirely bare. 

You do not look at him as you finally find your way through the tool, slipping the garment over your head with struggle, yet his face is practically predatory. 

You don’t know his plans, or what he wishes to gain. You never do. 

As the fabric settles over your hips, half of you wants to question how the size is perfect, but you refrain. Too embarrassed by everything else to even consider it an option. Your hands reach behind you to attempt to lace up the back on your own, yet another pair are already present in their place.

When did he get so close? How did he get so close without you hearing a thing? Your heartbeat must be the only sound in your ears, that must be it. 

His fingers work down your spine, tightening the dress so it fits you perfectly. Tying it off with skill you did not know he had. You feel his breath on the back of your neck. A fire begins to grow in your core. 

“I was going to present you to my father tonight.” He admits, placing a gentle kiss to the base of your neck, “The ball was meant to find my bride.” 

“Oh.” Those are the only words you can say when he is so close, arms enclosing around your waist. Pulling your back flush with his chest. 

Only words you can manage at the revelation.

“Imagine his disappointment, more so my own when the girl I had been speaking to him about did not show.” He grunts, almost as if it hurt him. Guiding your body to stand in front of the full mirror in your room. Asking– telling you to look at yourself. 

The sight is strange, yet incredible. The crown prince of the entire nation standing in your bedroom, in the maids quarters. Surrounded by squalor and chaos. Arms wrapped around a maid dressed as if she could be a queen. 

You look up at him to the best of your ability, regret plastered across your features, “Prince Kim–” 

“Taehyung.” 

“--I’m so sorry.” He does not look you in the eyes. They stay trained ahead, not straying once from the mirror. One hand rubbing small circles into the fabric covering your stomach, the other sliding to your waist.

He touches you without care, without reason. Feeling you against him for all that it is worth. 

“Actions have consequences, that is all. They can come later.” He states plainly, “For now I just wish to indulge in you.”

He brings his face down, placing it right next to yours. His hand rises, making your chin face the mirror as well. 

He forces you to make eye contact with him through it, forces you to understand each of his words clearly. 

“You’ll let me do that, won’t you?” 

You take a deep breath, gulping down all the air you can manage. You don’t think you’ve wanted anything more. 

With no more than a nod, his lips are on yours. 

Spinning you around, pressing your back against the mirror. His hands cupping your cheeks with such intensity you fear they may become etched into your skin forever. Keeping your lips closed against his own. 

His body cages you in, pressing entirely against you. Forming against you in perfect harmony, feeling two souls become one. Feeling each other fully for the first time– no pretence or public eye in the way to stop it. 

His teeth nip at your lower lip, biting in a way that has you opening them in pain. He takes the opportunity to lick his way inside, somehow pushing even closer to your body. 

Something hard presses against you and the discovery has your knees wishing to collapse. 

The prince can’t possibly be this big. He simply can’t.

The kiss has you reeling, unsure of anything. Unsure of what to do at all. It is nothing like your first kiss under the cherry tree with Jungkook. That was soft and sweet, docile as two people discover something new.

This, this is nothing of the sort. It is hungry. It is a beast that has been starved, finally getting its first meal. It is intoxicating. It is needy and desperate in a way that has your fingers trying to press themselves even deeper into the glass. It has your breath being robbed. Your lifeforce wilts away to satisfy only the prince. 

The groan he lets out as you finally give into him, finally allow him to take control of the kiss as arousal pools in your gut. It is one of the most deadly siren’s calls you think you’ve ever heard. One that would have any woman throwing themselves overboard for just a taste. 

“Finally,” He grunts, pulling no more than a millilitre away from your lips, wetness still connecting them, “My whole life I’ve been waiting for you.” He mumbles, hungrily connecting his mouth back to your own. 

Before you know it, you’re lost in the man once again. Allowing him to move you, to guide you to your bed without withdrawing from you once. Tangling your fingers into his hair, trying to make sure he doesn’t pull away. Making you drunk off of his taste, off of him. 

When he kisses you like this, you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to live without him. 

Your knees hit the frame of your bed and all of a sudden you're falling backwards onto its plush lining. Panting, trying to regain some of the air he stole from you.

For the first time you’re able to look up at him, to discover the mess that he has become. Cheeks red, lips swollen. Eyes dark and twisted with lust. Hair ruffled messily from where your fingers laid. Shoulders rising and falling with effort as he catches his breath as well. 

He looks gorgeous and you can’t help yourself hoping this will be only a sight for you forever. 

He leans down, pecking your lips once more, “I couldn’t stop myself from imagining this. Since the moment I placed an order for your dress.” 

He huffs, dropping to his knees in front of you. You sit up on your elbows, face twisted into confusion as you look down at him. 

God. It is too dangerous to look at him right now. You know that as another wave of heat runs straight to your core.

“Pushing up the future queen's skirt.” He groans, hands gaining purchase on your hips, pulling you down so your waist sits at the edge of the bed, “Letting myself have a taste of her while everyone else at the party danced.” 

O-Oh. Oh. He sees you as, oh god. 

His fingers bunch in the material of your skirt, drawing in a shaky inhale as he holds onto any drop of sanity left. 

When he sees no hesitation from you, he slowly begins to push the material up your legs. Eyes trained on your own, looking to you for any sign of discomfort. 

“Have her come undone on my tongue while no else was the wiser.” He groans as he finally comes face to face with your panty covered core. 

Your brain moves at a snail's pace, trying to keep up with every tiny movement the prince makes. Trying to process his words while your head becomes fuzzy with your own arousal. 

You feel like mush, so pliable in his grip.

His large hands slowly begin to part your thighs, to look at what he has been craving for so long when your brain catches up with you, embarrassment overcoming your being. 

“Y-You can’t! I-it is dirty to do such a thing.” At least, that is what you had been taught. Though, the look in his eyes and the growl from his throat tells you the opposite.

“You could never be dirty. No part of you could ever be.” The sound he lets out is more akin to an animal than anything else, and suddenly you feel like a schoolgirl. Flustered and embarrassed beyond anything else. 

The muscles of your thighs untense, the look on your face blushed and biting. 

“You will let me?” He asks again, and despite your embarrassment, you nod. He is going to be king… his word is rule afterall. He wishes it, so it will happen. You could not be more pleased to oblige. 

His grip on your thighs is more firm than before, blunt nails digging into soft flesh as he pries your legs apart. He lets a groan resonate from the back of his throat at the sight. Panties sticking to your center, wetness pooling just behind causing the material to almost become transparent before him. 

You did not know it was possible for a man to have such an effect on you. 

Without a second thought, he pushes the material down your thighs. His tongue licking a long stripe up your cunt, savouring the flavour for every cent it is worth. 

He moans at the taste, not wasting a second before he dives back in. Lapping against you like it is his last meal. 

A mewl leaves your lips, too many feelings crossing you at once for any of them to be worth anything. 

Embarrassment, shame, fear all vanish the moment his lips wrap around your clit, sucking against the small bundle of nerves in a manner that has your back arching against the bed. Fingertips digging into the sheets to find a second lease on life. 

You try to look down at him, to find him between all of your small pants of pleasure, however he is gone. Disappearing until the layers of fabric while he brings you sensations you never thought were possible. 

His tongue moves like it is made to pleasure only you. Taking turns flicking your clit to lowering into your center. Licking up any bit of arousal he can make out. Trailing up once again to press flat against the bundle of nerves.

All of it has your legs kicking, your breath melting. 

He is not quiet either, letting you know exactly how much he adores this. Adores the feeling of your thighs wrapped tight around his head. Adores every little sound and reaction you have to give him. Adores the taste of you on his tongue. It was only meant for him.

It feels like he has been wishing to do this far longer than you would ever know. Consuming you whole from the inside out. Causing you to become addicted, to desire him just as much as he carnally craves you.

His nails dig into the flesh of your thighs as your hips begin to rock against his face, seeking out every ounce of pleasure that he is willing to give you. Your adorable mewls and whines grow louder, peaking every time he sucks on your clit. 

A coil has begun to form in your gut, feeling as though it could snap at any second. You wish you could see him, to look at his face and see the crazed gleam in his eyes. Observe the exact look on his face as he licks your cunt. 

You try to picture it. Try to imagine the way he would look up at you from between your legs. The dark umber his eyes would become, the gentle circles he would rub into your thigh as you finally make eye contact. 

Your walls clench around his tongue, sending a new waves of whines out of your mouth. He somehow moves faster, more precisely with every movement. Like he is able to hone in on the exact things that have your thighs quivering. 

His tongue moves up, takes your small, worn clit into his mouth. Alternating between sucking against it, flicking at it, and pressing against it firm with the flat of his tongue. 

Without warning, nor any reprise, one of his thick fingers is thrust into your wet heat. Filling you in a way you have never been able to do to yourself. Stretching you. And all of a sudden, you’re flying off the edge of a precipice.

“Prince Kim!” Your back arches off of the bed, head thrown back against the mattress as you let out a moan. Your hips jolt, cunt squeezing around his fingers, heels digging into the floor as you come undone before him. 

He works you through it with ease and grace, finger slowly thrusting in and out. Tongue firmly planted against your clit to ride you through your high. 

It would not be your last of the night. He must be gentle. 

Slowly, you relax against the bed, chest heaving from exertion. He pulls away from you, standing to full height before leaning over your shaking form. 

Your arousal coats his face, a sheen from his lips and chin evident against the soft yellow glow of the room. He looks down at you, concern and adoration written across his features. Though in his eyes, it appears that the beast has yet to be quelled. 

He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. You taste yourself against them. 

“You are delicious. I wish to eat you every night until I die.” He mumbles against your lips, his knee sliding between your legs. Muscle pressing against your swollen cunt. 

You try to flinch away, yet the hand on your hip keeps you in place. 

He will not have you running away. 

Not now. 

Your cheeks flush at his words, wide eyes looking up at him like he is all that matters. 

He is. 

He presses his knee further against your pussy while his lips trail down the column of your neck. Urging you towards the headboard with no words spoken until your head is against the pillows. 

Your arms wind their way around his neck, keeping him in place, “I-if we were married, I would let you.” You manage to speak, your voice shaky.

He only smiles in reply. Fingers digging deeper into your waist as if he is holding himself back.

“Then we shall call this practice for our wedding night.” He smiles, sitting back on his heels. 

Marriage, wedding night. You allow the thought to ghost through your mind, willing it to be reality. 

He smiles down at you, taking note in the way you seem to gleam at the idea. A small chuckle leaves his lips, you really are too cute for your own good. 

His voice is no more than a whisper, forcing you to stay enrapt, “You will let me, right?” He asks, eyes glancing down to where his pants strain against his hips, “I wish to make love to my future wife.”

Your mouth practically waters at the sight, his hard cock pressed taught against the expensive material. You swear there may even be a wet spot where his cum has leaked through. 

Your pussy clenches, wanting nothing more for him to find his way inside. For him to claim you for himself. Destroy you so no other man can have you in the same way.

You struggle against yourself for no more than a moment, but the way his hand reaches down, grips at his cock. Brushes his thumb over the surface has you moaning in want. 

“Please.” 

He smiles, the motion following swift. All at once his hands unbutton his pants, pushing the material down his thighs just enough for his cock to spring free. He groans at the feeling, thick length hitting his stomach. Pretty pre-cum dripping down the side.

Your eyes go wide. If you imagined him to be large before, seeing it now looked impossible. He is thick, long. Far too big to ever hope to fit inside of you. 

But the desperate groan in his voice, the hungry look in his eyes only has you spreading your legs. Wishing nothing more than for him to destroy you.

One hand wraps around the base as he moves closer, the other forcing the skirt of your dress as high as it will allow. He makes space for himself in between your thighs, slotting himself in. Ready to do what he has been waiting years for. 

Not yet.

He sees the hesitation in your eyes, the worry. So he leans down, planting a gentle, soothing kiss to your lips. One filled with years of time behind it. 

He knows he must be careful with you. Knows all of his patience will have been worth it when he is finally able to take your virginity. 

“Will it hurt?” You as quietly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to keep him close. You find comfort in him. Find a sense of safety within his eyes. 

He nods in response, “Only for a little while, I promise.” He mumbles against your lips, placing a soft kiss against them once more. 

He slowly rubs the fat head between your folds, coating himself in your arousal. Your hips buck slightly in response, and he can’t help but smirk. 

So sensitive. So ready for him. 

As much as he wants to be rough, he can’t. He can’t scare you away just yet. 

He looks into your eyes once more, “Ready?” He asks, giving you one final chance to back out. You only nod your head, pulling him close, hiding your face in his neck. 

His head catches on your opening with the final drag of his length through your lips. His hands practically shake in excitement, as he guides himself inside. Letting go only once the tip is buried within your walls. 

He feels your teeth sink into his coat, your body burning with the stretch of him. He only has the first inch inside, yet you think it is more than you could possibly take. 

A choked cry leaves your lips as he continues to slowly thrust inside. Your arms cling to him as tight as possible. Tears prick in the corner of your eyes as he fills you, forming your entire body just around him. Just around his cock. 

He pauses only once half of his cock is buried in your needy cunt. You feel his hand come up to caress your cheek, to bring you back down to reality from the pain you feel digging at your core. Trying to bring you some sense of comfort. 

You pull back from his shoulder to look him in the eyes, expecting to see them soft. Filled with concern. Though there is nothing of the sort there. 

Behind his bangs is only the look of pure insanity. 

Though he tries to be compassionate, he really does.

“Are you doing okay?” His voice is strangled, coming out in only desperate cracks. He shakes, wanting nothing more than to fuck himself inside. Fuck himself deeper and deeper, until your cunt is shaped for his cock alone.

But he holds restraint. Just enough.

The way he looks at you, the way he speaks has a wave of pleasure rushing through your  skin. Your walls clamp around him, tightening even more. 

He is falling apart before you, because of you. 

He has gone mad because of you.

The feeling only makes you want to urge him on. See just how far the prince can fall.

You nod your head, looking at him with all the affections in the world, “Don’t stop.” 

He groans at your words, mind losing itself as he snaps his hips forward, forcing his cock inside until his hips are firm against your own. Teeth digging into the fragile skin of your neck.

You cry out in pain, your walls squeezing around him in shock. Pain coursing through your entire system as you are filled to the brim. Walls stretched as wide as humanly possible. The head of cock so deep inside you swear you can feel it in your lungs. 

“Shit.” He groans, mouth falling open, “This pretty thing is wrapped around me so tight, lamb. So fucking tight I can’t think.” 

He slowly tries to move his hips, though you only shout in response. Your legs wrap around his back, doing their utmost to keep him in place.

“Hurts!” You whine, shaking your head quickly. 

Fucking hell. What is the point of a pussy as sweet as your own if he can’t use it properly?

His hand moves between your legs, growl of impatience slipping past his lips as his fingers find your clit. They work with urgency, with need. Rubbing tight circles into it, trying to get you to feel the same pleasure he does.

You whine, overstimulated. Shots fired in all directions leaving you messy and confused. 

With every circle, a mewl sounds from your throat. Slowly your legs behind him loosen, the pain from before mixing with pleasure to become something wonderful. Something that has you whimpering for him to not stop. 

“See?” He grunts, slowly slipping out of your heat until only the tip remains, “We were made for each other.” 

He forces his cock back inside, fucking you open just for him. Only ever for him. 

Your nails dig into his back, heels digging into the mattress as you moan for him. As your cunt becomes addicted to the feeling of him filling you so perfectly. Addicted to everything he has to offer.

He moves too fast, too hard for you to even hope to keep up with. Hips pistoning into you, forcing you to take everything he has to give and more. Forcing you to be the perfect little doll for him, give him all the pleasure he can want and more. White mixing with red around the base of his cock.

Your back arches off the mattress to try and get closer to him, to try and keep up with him in any hope of the sentiment. Hips trying their best to keep him as close and as deep as possible, knowing they crave one thing and one thing alone.

“Prince Kim!” You moan, yet he growls in response. A sharp slap to your thigh sounds throughout the room as his hips pause, fingers removing themselves from your clit. 

“That isn’t my name to you anymore.” His voice is low, menacing in your ear. One more poke of the bear and you will be punished. “Tae–Hyung.” 

He emphasises the words with a sharp thrust of his hips, one that brushes against the bundle inside of you. One that leaves you crying out for him. Clinging on to him. 

“Say it.” He grunts, animalistic and desperate. Yet you’re too lost in yourself to realise how debauched he’s become. Looking less and less like a man, more like a demon come to lay waste to your soul. 

That is close enough to the truth, anyway.

“Say it until it becomes the only word you know. Every question I ask, every time I fuck myself into this sweet little cunt. Your only reply should be my name.” He grabs your chin, forcing you to stare at him. 

Your fucked out little features as you bob your head in compliance.

“I-I” You swallow, trying to understand his words as he pounds away at your core, “I understand!” 

He smiles, almost proud of the work he has done today.

His hips only move impossibly faster, impossibly harder in a way that has that knot in your gut tightening once more. 

“We’ll start simple then. What is my name?” He asks, angling his hips to press against your sweet spot with ever slight movement. Breathe panting, his mind falling deeper and deeper into the thralls of your body. 

“P-Prin–” You stop yourself, a pinch coming down on your skin, “Taehyung!” 

He groans, almost coming undone as he hears your name fall from your  lips for the very first time. The pretty sound your voice makes with every letter. 

It could be the only thing he hears for the rest of his life.

“Who are you going to marry?” 

You whine, your head thrashing around slightly. He smiles. You must really enjoy the idea of that, huh?

“T-Taehyung!” You manage to stutter out again, feeling your release coming closer and closer as the seconds pass by. 

“Who is the man you have fallen for?” The answer to the question is easy, especially when he is fucking into you like you’re the only woman that matters. Nothing matters except for him. 

“Taehyung!” Your brain is too fuzzy to process anything else. Anything other than the way his cock fills you. Anything other than the one word he told you is your gospel. 

“Who is the boy that kissed you under the cherry tree?” You don’t even know anymore. 

Does any man exist beside Taehyung anyway? You doubt it.

“Taehyung!” He smiles into your neck. 

“Who was the boy that was going to have you killed? That saved your life?” His words don’t process through your ears, yet you know what you are meant to say anyway.

“Taehyung!” He groans, his hips stuttering, losing their pace ever so slightly. 

“Who do you belong to?” 

“Taehyung!” You whine, your thighs shaking. The coil so tight you think you may just die if it doesn’t come undone in this very moment. 

His breath is quiet, only a rough whisper in your ear, “Cum.” 

Just as your king commands, you fall apart around him. White dots in the corner of your eyes as you clamp down around him, your legs pulling him close. A cry of his name leaving your lungs as if it is the very air you breathe. 

You feel him paint the inside of your walls white, his hips stuttering– fucking himself as deep into you as he could possibly manage. If you had any sense left in your little head you would have told him to pull out, yet your brain is so high. Filled with pleasure that only Taehyung can provide. 

Waves of arousal crash around you as he slows his hips, ensuring that you ride out your orgasm to its fullest before pulling away. You wish he could stay buried inside of you, just like that. Yet you doubt that would be very wise. 

“Was that good for you, little lamb?” He asks, slowly helping you into a sit. You’re not sure how to properly answer– mouth feeling dry. Your head has not yet come crashing back down, though that is probably a good thing. 

Facing reality is too scary right now. Especially when Taehyung is so warm. So caring as he removes your dress. Slips your nightgown back over your soiled body. 

“Very…” You nod, unable to take your eyes off of him as he moves around the bed. Tucking himself back into his pants, removing his shirt and dress-coat. Placing them over the back of a chair. Neatly hanging the dress on a hook, taking care that it is not damaged in any way.

Your arms find themselves reaching out to him, trying to pull him closer to you. He smiles once he takes notice.

“Would you like me to stay the night?” It is clear he was already planning on it, but hearing the words make you smile oh-so bright. 

“Yes, please.” You nod quickly, eyes already feeling tired. You did not know how he had so much energy, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Right now he is meant to be in your bed, arms around you. In fact, you become annoyed that he isn’t already. 

“Alright.” He smiles, slipping next to your form. Wrapping his arms around you, pulling you as close as possible.

You feel so safe. So warm with him. So protected that you can’t stop yourself from falling asleep.

“Goodnight my lamb.”

The Kim Empire. 

His home, his family, his livelihood all wrapped up in those three little words.

Yet, the only thoughts that seem to brandish his mind since the young age of 15 are about you. 

When you first stumbled in front of him, carrying a tray of tea. Spilling it all over his shoes. That quick curse that left your lips before looking up at him. The wide, doelike vision you had once recognition had set in. One the realisation of error set into your bones.

He will never forget the way his heart began to race in that very moment. The way he felt a cloth of sickness overcome his whole body at the mere sight of you. Looking so serendipitous below him.

At first he thought it was hate, how silly he had been back then. Ah, the way he sent you to be killed was just funny to him now. He is grateful he talked to his mother before your execution date. Spilling his soul to her, detailing how he could not seem to remove you from his brain.

Ah, he was lucky he managed to get the letter to the executioner in time. What a pity that would be if he couldn’t. Then he wouldn’t have been able to lay next to you now. Wouldn’t be able to play with your hair, caress you like he pleases. 

It is truly too bad that was not his only trial on the road towards you. It was really a pity he had to send Jungkook away. Taehyung quite liked the kid. He was fun to play with and wouldn’t shy away from his games. 

But he just had to try and seduce you. Poor thing. You really were too innocent at the time. More than eager to kiss him for no reason. To give him even a peace of your heart that was meant for Taehyung alone.

He remembers as clear as day, the rage he felt as he watched your soft lips press against another mans. How terribly he wanted to go out and strike Jungkook with a sword. Of course he didn’t though, that would have scared you away. He would have hated that.

He thanks god every day he was really your first kiss, even if you didn’t know it. 

Patiences was the hardest battle of all, and he will admit, he has faltered a few times over the years. Kisses stolen while you sleep, a few of your belongings robbed to keep him satiated. Mayhaps a few trips to your room in the night. 

But who could blame him? He was a man in love. There was nothing that could stop him when he was so hungry for you. 

Ah, and then of course his father. He wanted to separate your love as well. A maid could never possibly be suited to be queen, blah blah. He doesn’t care. And at least that fight allowed him to hug you for the first time. 

God. You felt so perfect in his arms, then and now. You have always been meant for this. Meant for him.

If his father plans to keep standing in the way, he will simply have to remove him from the equation. His bonds to the man are as thick as water. He cares more for you than he possibly could anyone else.

You’ve belonged to him since you were born, anyway. If a maid becomes pregnant while working for the castle, her child becomes property of the state. Of the crown. Of him. 

It only makes sense that you are meant to be with him until death. It is the path lined for you. Your fate since birth. 

He knows it as his delicate fingers trace over the small patches of blood dirtying the sheets. Evidence of the hours before, of your virginity robbed. Of your promises to him.

You are bound to him by blood after all.

© all rights reserved to ctrlhope 2019-2024 ; do not copy, plagiarise, or translate.

#taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #bts x reader #bts smut #bts #taehyung #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung x y/n #bts reactions #bts drabble #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts oneshot #taehyung fic #kim taehyung #bangtan #bangtan x reader #bangtan smut #yandere taehyung #yandere bts

[riaki]

nice boys and sour hearts | satoru gojo x reader

wc: 4.6k cw: minor swearing, he refers to u as 'momma' once (its normal i promise) n i think thats about it post suguru defection, shoko typical smoking ; no established relationship b ur def more than friends

i didnt want this angst to be too intense so i made it super duper fluffy. hopes it tastes like strawberries to u cs it does in my head ; another one of those fics i whipped up to meet the weekend deadline b i’m actually proud of this one not proofread!

satoru hates arguing with you.

it bites at him; twists his heart from the inside out in such a gut-wrenching way that he can hardly stand seeing your nose wrinkle in frustration and your eyes narrow with impatience, let alone hear the words coming out of your mouth, dripping with venom and irritation directed at him. he's never been used to being on the receiving end.

it tastes sour; bitter on his tongue in a way he's never been accustomed to. his tastebuds only recognize the sweet taste of fruit syrup, powdered sugar, or warm chocolate as home; he never indulges in the bitter, like the black coffee the kid he took in seems to like so much. but he'll take the silly sour lemon drops with sweet cream in the center, only because they remind him of you. you, so sweet when you love but sour when you're annoyed, which happens to be now, in this instant.

of course, he'll tell himself he doesn't mind. that sweet and sour have always gone nicely together. like strawberry lemonade on hot summer afternoons when the both of you have had enough of being stuffed into a clammy hot classroom with your musclebrain teacher. sometimes its the three of you, maybe even the four of you if you get lucky with the pixie stick trade offering (a healthier alternative to a cigarette, you both agreed on). but nowadays, it was only ever the two of you. the bitter had chosen his own path, and tangy was locked up in the infirmary sun up to sun down.

but right now, you're upset with him. and he absolutely despises it— to him, it's abhorrent. a strong word, but it's only fitting. but he can't help it when your conversation lingers in his mind, spinning itself a web of self-doubt and hurt and anger as he slips his gym shoes off and redresses himself by the school lockers, running a hand through his hair with a forced, annoyed exhale.

it was nothing big, really. or at least, that's what he thinks. you'd been in the gym after school, watching as he messed around with the basketball, seeing how long he could go dribbling by himself with a bump of his knee there, pushing it to the floor with his hand and watching it bounce back up with mild interest. he had no one to play with, but at least the ball would come back up no matter how much he pushed it down.

it was small. barely worth fussing over.

he had already been irritated. it was hot out, because summer was coming around. sweat beaded on his neck and rolled down his chest, seeping into his shirt as he wiped his forehead and made another shoot at the hoop, landing back on his feet with a soft thud as the basketball rattled around the rusted metal ring and fell through the net for the nth time that afternoon.

a hum of approval comes from your throat, followed by a loud whistle of contentment from him as he watches the ball bounce on the floor. he hikes his sunglasses up his forehead, bringing an arm up and wiping away the sweat on his cheek with his sleeve as he turns to look at you.

"that was pretty good, yeah? i think i deserve a celebratory smooch. lay some sugar on me, momma'." he laughs, loud and arrogant. you just give him a pointed look at that, but he ignores it as a sign for something wrong and only acknowledges it as your dramatic endearment. like speeding up at the sight of a yellow light in hopes that you'll make it instead of slowing down at the warning.

his shoes made squeaking sounds on the gym floor as he made his way over to you, swiping his shades off his face and sliding them onto your forehead, nestling in your hair as he grabbed a rag from the bench and wiped the sweat from his jaw. you have his uniform jacket on your lap, the yellow button glinting in the dying sunlight filtering in through the windows, reflecting off indiscernible flecks of dust in the air.

you had watched him with quiet contentment, observing the languid way he moved, graceful like a dancer moving in water. but then, you seemed to remember something; his lips pressed into a thin line, tilted to one side in anticipation. it made you hesitate— he always knew when you were about to speak before you even opened your mouth. he had come to notice, and appreciate, little things about you like that.

"were you smoking with shoko?" you had asked him. he tilted his head, eyebrow cocked up as he made a face. "no, i wasn't. why d'ya ask?" he huffed, watching from the corner of his eye with mild disinterest as the basketball, still rolling from his previous goal, bumped into the wall. cocky as ever.

(he wouldn't even look you in the eye when you were being dead serious.)

you reach a hand into his jacket, fishing around for something in his pocket; that gets his attention. who knows what trinkets and candy wrappers he has in there? and he'd hate for you to send him to his yearly checkup early again; the nurses always try to coddle him, and he has half a mind to charge for battery. nevertheless, he almost mistakes what you pull out for a lollipop stick. but it's not— it's a cigarette; a white papery hit of cancer with a dead cherry. certainly not a wise idea to keep that in his pocket among the other very flammable wax wrappers and the occasional flower petal, but who were you to judge? you, who's lips pucker like they've just tasted lemon juice when he eyes the unlit cigarette, utterly unamused.

he knows that you know it's his; the subtle glistening of pink around the end points to the gloss on his lips; he can practically taste it on his tongue. he wonders if you'd put the cigarette to your mouth too if you could have a sample of his lipgloss; then again, you could always just ask for a lip-to-lip taste, and he'd indulge you without a second thought.

you twist the cigarette butt between your fingers so that he can see the remnants of faint strawberry pink on the edges. he just rolls his eyes with a loud huff, leaning his weight back on his heels and shoving his hands in his pant pockets.

"yeesh. you're such a goody two shoes, y'know? how come shoko's allowed to smoke 'n i'm not?" he drawls, an arrogant lilt to his voice as he sticks his lower lip out. you can see a matte spot where the gloss had been transferred to the cigarette paper. you just sigh exasperatedly (he feels like a kid when you do that) and lean forward, resting your elbows on your knees. his jacket bunches up in your lap.

you tap the cigarette to his chest a few times; it makes a soft thumping sound against the fabric, and for a moment he's grateful of the noise; it sounds just like the way his heartbeat picks up with each touch, but you don't hear it. he wonders if you ever will. maybe one day, when there isn't so much distance between you and he has the opportunity to tuck your head to his chest, right over his heart.

"it's not that i care about the lung damage, idiot. why were you smoking?" you asked, voice softening. and he absolutely hates when you do that, because it always pulls on his heartstrings and brings a flush to his face, the way you treat him. he thought that if you did it enough, he'd be sent to the doctor for heart palpitations instead of a sweet tooth.

he doesn't answer you at that. how could he tell you, when he knew all that'd result from it was a thorn in his side? you, being the rose. so beautiful but awfully prickly and unfairly sour like a lemondrop with a sweet inside. then again, he'd much rather have your interrogating care than lose you, like what had happened with the reason he was trying out smoking in the first place.

then, it happened— your voice went unbearably soft, like puffy white covers and featherlight pillows with silk covers on a saturday morning, looking out the window to see pink tulips against a cloudy blue sky as the sun streamed in. it almost made him want to clutch your hand over his chest and see if you could feel the way he was reacting. no doubt, it was filled with such patient tenderness; all-encompassing sweetness it made him want to cry. so he coughed to cover it up, averting his gaze and bringing one hand to his face to absentmindedly smooth down the strands of damp white hair hanging over his eyes.

"thinkin' about suguru again, are you?" you asked gently, tucking the cigarette back into your pocket—yours, not his—and reaching out to take his hand.

his lips parted ever so slightly, gaping like a goldfish. he knew he looked silly, and he should've been okay with that— because being vulnerable with you, out of everyone he ever knew (with maybe the exception of one) was easier than breathing; came more naturally to him than his gravitation to a challenge. the same could be said for sweets.

(maybe he'd have to re-evaluate his proclaimed taste, then. since you were more sour than sweet.)

but this time, he wasn't okay with it. it had been hard to talk about what had happened with suguru one year ago since— it formed a nasty lump in his throat, bitter like black coffee and the wrong mix of herbs. it made him feel weak. reminding him of his shortcomings, which, in his mind, shouldn't even exist in the first place. but you never had a problem ripping his problems from the shielded cavity in his gut, bringing them under the operator's light to dissect and solve like a surgeon. forget about forcing him to the doctor's— at this point, you should be the one in the white coat, not shoko. he thinks about what you'd look like with blue gloves on your delicate fingers for a moment too long.

"what's it to you?" he snaps back after what feels like three years of his life. his fingers tighten around yours for a moment before he pulls his hand away abruptly.

the frown that lingered on your face from then on had been burned into his memory.

and, well, that was his mistake. it spiraled from there— because he knew what it was to you, and he hated that. hated that you could see straight through him like a cloud blue stained glass window; without rose colored lenses like the ones he always wore (the ones he rocked, he thinks).

a crack of thunder overhead jolts him from his thoughts; he couldn't even get in there to dust the spiderwebs away before being jerked back into reality. he clicks his tongue in disappointment, watching as the skies pry themselves open and rain begin to fall in the way it only did over heavy summer showers. he wishes the sky would stop its weeping, but even the strongest has his limitations.

but it doesn't matter. he has one of those cheap plastic umbrellas he'd bought from a convenience store one day in a late march many moons ago, during the brightest blue spring of his life. and so, he didn't understand why he was lingering at the door, swinging the umbrella around his fingers by the hook on the handle, watching as the rain fell with increased fervor. there was no plastic button to keep the folds tied up, so it floundered around with each swing like a tulip bent by monsoon winds. maybe on the coast of some faraway land with windmills and fields of flowers. he wonders if he'll ever get to see the world with you someday— a fleeting thought that crumbles instantly when he conjures your pretty face in his vision, clear yet distorted like a reflection on a glazed pond, rippling water from the dragonflies that skipped over the surface.

you were definitely still angry with him, because you hadn't showed— normally, you'd walk home together. sometimes with shoko, if she didn't leave early. angry words echo in his mind, the image of your downturned lips swimming in his bright vision as he watches the rain streak down the window panes by the lockers. there's a fog settling over the grass outside that's sure to leave dew after the storm. he wonders when that'll be.

"why can't you ever take me seriously? can't you see i'm worried about you?"

"of course i can. but i don't need your damn concern!”

...

he'd been sorely mistaken, that was for sure. loosing his cool and snapping at you wasn't exactly something he took pleasure in, either way. he leans back on his heels, tapping his foot impatiently as he holds the umbrella like a cane against the floor. infinity could probably do away with the rain. another reason as to why he's not even sure why he's waiting here, or why he's holding an umbrella. perhaps to keep in case he has to offer it to some poor, shivering and cowering young maiden lost beneath the shading of a bus stop behind a curtain of rain droplets, with a charming grin and a wink.

maybe.

a shuffle behind him catches his ear; he turns his head, an unamused expression on his face as his eyes drift over the empty room to land on you. the shadows beneath your eyes are prominent, and your hair is unkempt. there are sleep lines on your face; you probably fell asleep in a classroom somewhere, which is why you delayed.

it was evident you weren't expecting to see him, though— with the way your eyes widened a little before they dropped again, nose bridge wrinkling slightly as if you'd caught the scent of something unpleasant. your eyes left his, and he felt a little disappointed as he watched them wander toward the window, where the current downpour was prominent. he didn't like the way it made his chest pang when your attention was anywhere but him, so he raised his hand lazily, tilting his head to catch your attention that he so clearly craved.

"yo. got an umbrella?" he calls, tapping the tip of his budget cane on the floor. the thud is the only sound for a while as your gaze wanders back over to him; reluctant.

"no, i don't. i didn't expect it to rain so hard today." you responded quietly, stepping over to him with a small sigh. almost a little resigned, he thinks. he can't be sure, though. he never is with you. doesn't know whether to expect his candy to be sour in the center or the other way around; but maybe he likes a bit of uncertainty every once in a while. (not with you, though. if it means arguing? never with you.)

his sunglasses are hooked around the collar of your shirt. he doesn't know why it takes him so long to realize, but when he does, he has to clear his throat in an effort to hide the heat on his face and do away with the blush. "here. take mine. i don't need it," he says curtly, offering his umbrella to you. he wants to snatch the shades from your shirt, but he doesn't want anything to go wrong, so he just eyes them warily, careful not to let his gaze slip past into anything you'd be pissed at him for.

you eye him, eyes narrowed as you raise an eyebrow, but you don't protest. your fingers brush against his for a brief moment when you take it, shaking it a little before opening the door and stepping outside, opening it up. it looks like a little clear plastic mushroom cap over your head; you're short enough to constitute as the stalk in his eyes. it's a little funny, but he has to stifle the laugh bubbling on his tongue lest you think he's making a mock of you.

he follows after you, slipping past to stand at your side with his hands in his pockets. you can't help but feel a little curious despite your prolonged anger (you like holding grudges, he knows), so you sneak a glance upward to satiate your wonder. you don't expect him to look as breathtaking as he does.

the clouds are light overhead; they're not a heavy blanket of gray anymore, and a small strip of light manages to push through, shining on satoru's pale white hair. you can make out the edge of his undercut against his neck when the wind picks up a little, the color of fluffy white clouds on a lavender sunset with the sway of yellow flowers beneath an expanse of a bright sky. there's a little cat hair on the collar of his jacket; you realize with a faint flush that it must've been from when you were holding his jacket for him in the gym. somehow, the cat you have at home found its way to satoru. you hope your pet has become a matchmaking fortune teller, for the sake of your happiness.

what catches your eye the most, though, isn't the cat hair on his dark jacket or the faraway look in his misty blue eyes; it's the outline of rain water around him, a product of his infinity, you realize. he's dry underneath the downpour, and it never ceases to amaze you. it's like there's a soft glowing halo against the backdrop of tangled wires, gray walls and pale green bushes— he looks like an angel boy, school bag hooked and hanging over one shoulder.

eventually, you manage to peel your gaze away, and he notices— looks down at you, pressing his lips together and running his tongue over them. he can taste strawberry gloss.

wordlessly, you start walking. and he follows suit, rain bouncing off of him; you catch yourself sneaking glances from under the roof of your clear umbrella between raindrops that slide down the clear plastic. sometime during the walk home, he had gone off and gotten himself a drink from a nearby vending machine— the red can catches your eye, and your fingers curl around the rubber handle of the lent umbrella as you watch him drink; the bob of his adam's apple before he crushes the can up and tosses it into a nearby bush, causing a brief scattering of leaves and a downpour of collecting droplets onto the pavement.

despite the rain, the weeds between the cracks in the sidewalk still stay strong; they have deep roots. much like the way you never fail to scowl at him for littering. he catches it— of course he does. he's been praying for a sign you're not still so hopelessly angry with him that you can't even bring yourself to have a civil walk in the summer rain together. after the scowl, though, comes the smile— the one that always makes him melt in his shoes, much like the sunshine after the rain.

and there it is at last, he thinks. the hard sour coating melts away on his tongue, draining the taste of lemon to reveal a sweet, genuine center. all it takes is time. your lips curve up, and you duck your head, hiding the small bemused laugh that leaves you breathless.

"what are you laughin' at?" he huffs, glaring down at you. but there's no malice behind it— if only you could feel the wave of relief that's washed over him, a crest of white foam that leaves behind still waters reflected in the pools of sapphire in his eyes. nothing like the hit of numbing nicotine he'd shared in the shade of an alleyway with shoko earlier that day— away from the sun; away from you. hidden from both. or maybe they were the same— to him, he couldn't differentiate.

"i'm not laughing!" you protested weakly, immediately wiping the grin from your lips, and he regrets speaking up. "just.. i dunno."

you walk in silence for a little longer, content to listen to the rain lighten up overhead. satoru kicks a plastic onigiri wrapper out of the way, splashing up a puddle as a frown dampens his face when the wrapping only clings to his shoes. he's fine with getting a little grumpy if it means seeing you smile again. and even better, you laugh again— so sweet, like the chiming of bells in the wind's melody.

"please don't do that again." your voice sounds so very small when he hears it again, and he looks down at you from beneath long white lashes, the corner of his lips quirked up. the shape of them is almost cat-like, you think. he doesn't even know what you're talking about— a vague idea, at best— but he won't do it. not if it means hearing you sound so pathetically... sad. he doesn't like it. it's far too bitter for his taste. let the black betta you both used to know indulge in dark coffee and bitter cologne— satoru likes things sweet, like the cream surrounded by tea leaf matcha in the center of his mochi and fluttering feeling he gets when you run your hands through his hair, fluffing it up to your heart's content.

(as long as your heart is happy, his is, too.)

"i won't. happy now?" he sticks his tongue out, making a face. but you both know he means it— he hates breaking his promises to you. you smile when you look up at him again with a small nod, and he feels his knees wobble a little. he just hopes you don't notice. "sorry for lying. i just.. don't like it when you're mad at me. and you look at me like that," he mumbles under his breath, bunching up the fabric of his pants between his fingers. then, after a moment, "geez, you're so dramatic. quit carin' so much." he really hopes you don't stop, and it makes him feel like the world's biggest hypocrite. the strongest, but so weak for you.

"sorry, can't. the day you stop crushing your soda cans and littering is the day i'll stop caring, 'cus that won't be my satoru anymore." you tease. and he laughs, throwing his head back so you don't see the red that spreads across his cheeks, dusting his skin like powdered sugar on top of a strawberry crepe. he always wants to be your satoru, so he figures he'll keep littering. a few money fines here and there mean nothing to his undentable wallet, or the erratic beating of his heart, trapped against his ribcage in a feathery blooming of flowers he only gets from you and your pretty smile underneath the layer of lemony sourness.

you walk along the road for a little while longer. the rain has lightened, but it's still going— incessant, dripping from the leaves of trees and the knotted black wires overhead. he still has his infinity up, which means he can't pet the cat the two of you spot on your way back, but he's perfectly content to watch you do it. you scratch its chin, smiling at the way it purrs and nuzzles into your hand, and he wonders if he'd do the same if he was in its position.

he's lost in thought when you speak to him again, shoes splashing against murky puddles in the backdrop of a never-sleeping city; tokyo's bright skyline always makes your eyes go round with wonder. you say something, and he chuckles, warm and velvety. and then you realize what's been off with him this whole time— he doesn't have his shades on.

you slip them off the collar of your shirt, smoothing down the fabric before you reach over and attempt to nudge his arm. you don't think it'll work, because he still has his infinity up— and your sleeves are already getting spattered by rain that leaves darkened wet spots on the cotton. but to your amazement, your fingers make contact with his sleeve, and you watch in wonder as the rain actually falls— soaks into that little patch of wet fabric that you're able to feel on his arm. that he's turned his infinity off in that one spot so you could touch him. you spare a glance up at him, only to find his head angled away from you. you might be hallucinating, but the tips of his ears seem red.

you don't linger on it before you're tugging on his shirt with a frown, getting him to look down at you as you unfold his glasses and offer them over to him. he takes them quickly, and you don't miss the way the rain stops falling onto his arm again, back to bouncing off the invisible shield that protects him from everything (but you, it seems). he slips his dark shades back over his eyes, obscuring oceans of pure blue that seem like they've trickled in from the purest snowcaps on the distant mountains dotted with old red tori gates and shrines with scrapped paint. but you can't stifle the smile that spreads across your lips this time— giddy and fresh and filled with youth, blossoming like sakura petals in a spring that seems so far away yet so close with his presence by your side.

you don't say anything for a while. you're content to watch the rain wash down the pavement and into the gutters, past cute little coffee shops and parks with ponds as the droplets from the sky scatter the water in part of a never-ending cycle; watering the surface of the earth and bringing life that would soon spring up as shroomcaps and fresh dew on the clean cut green grass. you wonder what satoru sees through his lenses— though, you already know. you've worn them plenty of times before, when he insists on having your perfume cling to the frame for long missions he's sent on alone, when he can't have you hold his jacket, or his hand, or scold him for sneaking a smoke when you're not watching. that, and the extra lemondrops he keeps in his pocket; gifts from you that he's fought hard for.

you're more prepared to not feel any interference of his infinity this time when you reach over, and this time you don't go for his sleeve—yanking him close to you by his hand and forcing him beneath your umbrella. you feel the way he freezes up for a moment, but his fingers fill in the gaps between your own like its the most natural thing in the world, palms pressed together in a little breathless hug that leaves no room for the humid air.

"don't waste your infinity on the rain, dumbass. you'll fry what little is left of your brain." you scold him, and he just grumbles and scoffs angrily under his breath, cursing you as he hunches over and ducks his head to fit under the umbrella to negate his height. his hair brushes against the plastic roof of the umbrella, and his lanky limbs are still awkwardly sticking out, but his fingers tighten around yours and his thumb rubs over your knuckles, still a little damp from your earlier encounter with the rain, and you can't help but smile a smile bright enough to wash away every last bit of cloud in the sky. his personal sunshine.

even though he still prefers sweet things, satoru's come to like the taste of lemondrops. sweet and sour go well together, after all. just like you and him.

its okay if it doesnt taste like anything to u as long as u enjoyed it :) thanks for reading !! the black betta in question is suguru btw my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !

#i rlly like this one yayayayyayya #toru who uses lipgloss my beloved #smth ab his gym fit #i think about how school was after suguru left a lot.. #hes such a loserboy but he loves you soso much he makes me wanna puke #thinking of u as his favorite msurhoom makes saotru giggle fs #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo x you #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #billet-doux #jjk #listened to mary by alex g on loop while writing this. like the entire time #nice boys once or twice #if u see this pls don’t read the link it put my og idea as the title 😕 #ot probably did that for all of my other fics too thatsembarrasjng #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x y/n

[anantaru]

cw. [ex]plicit, forbidden romance, passionate haithie, fem! reader

the lingering thought of living through a forbidden romance with alhaitham.

“we shouldn't be doing this but it feels so good,” while you exchange deep breaths, eyes misted with a delirious glow.

right now, nothing seemed important enough for you to muffle your cries and heaves, as it was the only way to vocalize your feeling.

but a piercing reservation for this relationship was always there.

the irremediable sorrow of what would happen if you do get caught, if someone sees you steal a couple more kisses, brush your hands together lightly when you walk past each other. it's present, that haunted look on your face, and it was impossible to cure it as it overcame you with a shaded gloom, casted above you as it applied layer after layer of unsettling emotions.

yet your heart twists when you feel him kiss you again, again— and again, as if alhaitham silently sensed how you were giving yourself to the negatives parts of your secret relationship that actually contributed to many positive instances in your life.

"i hate it, so much," that hurt, you realized, to say it out loud and feel it hang above your head, "i hate it so much, it pains me!" to voice your emotions to him too— as if it didn't kill him as well.

but you close your eyes now, your lashes shining with a threat of tears, attempting to ignore the wounds inside of you and go back to focus on what was right now, towering before you. it being alhaitham, the man you loved, so fucking much, pleasing you to his heart’s content.

the scribe traces your muscles with his fingertips before pulling himself in you again, his lips parted and glistening on top of yours. everything considered, there was a strange, almost insatiable sort of pleasure bundling inwardly, he simply never looked at you like this before.

"oh? you're still concerned someone might hear us?"

"no, I'm not," you avert your gaze in denial, but the bitterness on your facial features told the entire story to his sharp pair of eyes. you suddenly close your arms around his neck so you could kiss— and better, shut him up, so that alhaitham would also forget about your panicked outburst and resort back to filling you with pleasure.

"good, me neither, i couldn't give a damn anymore."

"what—" this was probably one of the most miserable dirty talk sessions in history of such— if you can even call that awkward conversation that.

alhaitham silently hooks his fingers under your hips before pulling you off and on him, repeatedly, but this time faster as your lower body automatically arched upwards so he could move you on and off his cock in the most pleasurable, precise way. to have your sweet cunt split by his girth—it's maddening and you feel him throb inside of you as he drags himself against your warm walls, luxuriating in the softness of your pussy.

alhaitham slumps into your body, "i-don't-care-anymore-" and at each full throated groan, he spills a new word to complete his sentence.

now, everything had gotten more hot— scorchingly hot but cold too, precisely all at once and at the same time, your creamy walls being rubbed with passionate rolls of his cock as his pelvis hits yours.

everything between your thighs retorted to feeling swollen and well used, your hips sore enough to give up but you did not want to, not now, not ever, not when there was nothing that made you feel as good and free as this.

yes, alhaitham made you feel free, like you could achieve anything in life and have him by your side at the same time.

in the course of this, you close your eyes before begging him to kiss you again, uncontrollably make out with you until your lips would strain and hurt. and alhaitham notices, pushes deeper in, so deep that his shaft had been entirely webbed in your liquids and made them ooze out whenever he pulled his cock out.

he does it with such ease, like he's meant to do this, "i don't care whether people will spread rumors," and presses his lips on top of yours, muffling.

"because there's only one person i care about."

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham smut #alhaitham x you #al haitham x reader #al haitham smut #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin drabbles #genshin impact drabbles

[lovrspell]

Reassurance

Pairing: Astarion x Gn!Reader.

Summary: Astarion worries that he's not what's best for you, until you cuddle some common sense in him.

Warnings: Fluff. Hurt/comfort. Paranoia induced thoughts. Fear of abandonment/replacement. Astarion being contradicting. Also him being so sure his partner doesn't see through his facades that it's pathetic (he ain't that slick). Mainly from his pov.

Word count: 1,5k approx.

A/n: this was requested by an anon, enjoy :)

Masterlist.

(Screenshot ↷ by @lovelybluebirdie)

Astarion has never been the insecure type.

At least, through superficial eyes— therefore, not through your eyes. You have a keen ability to pick up on subtle issues, even when he ‘cleverly’ conceals them with self-irony so rooted and convincing as to assure the other person that the topic discussed doesn't effect him at all.

Well, that's very much not true. Between bitter laughter and snarky comments it is possible to glimpse a veil of glassy sadness to anyone who makes an effort to see it. Sometimes it is more noticeable than others.

However, it never escapes your prying eyes.

Lately, Astarion hasn't been doing well — that much is what everyone can tell. The first alarm bell was a subtle distancing between you two. That's what's best for you, he thought.

You tried to have a conversation with him about it, but he admonished you, saying he wished to not talk about it for now; 'space' is the word he used when you asked him what he needed, which basically meant he doesn't want you to ask about it until he talks to you in that regard.

He hadn't even let you know if you had even the smallest part in his general malaise.

But you know him, you know that when he's ready for a deeper conversation, he will come to you; hence, with a pat on the shoulder and a reassuring kiss on the cheek, you told him that you would provide that space he needs. When he's ready, he can come and talk to you at any time.

There's not an accurate definition of what your relationship has been for those few weeks: you continue to share time together, though not as frequently or in the same manner. In this phase, it's not unusual to be in each other's company in silence, simply doing nothing— a shared sense of comfortable boredom.

Over time, this becomes a more frequent occurrence; even the act of just gazing into nothingness as you do anything beside him, just being together without doing anything in particular, is strangely comforting. It's a new activity, but certainly pleasant. In addition to clarifying many things, this whole event lets you know that there's no need to actively seek out pastimes in order to enjoy each other's presence.

For fear of ruining the image which he claims that you have of him — that confident demeanor and sharp charisma he displays — he hasn't told you about it, but yes, this discomfort of his has origins in issues related to you. So he put up some walls between you — papier-mâché walls, nothing compared to the initial iron barriers you managed to pierce through so delicately.

But still walls.

You didn't do anything to him, that's for sure. In fact, it all lies in the excruciating pain he experiences every time he feels like you have more fun without him.

Well — how can he blame you, after all? He's wounded, scarred for eternity with no sense of what's good and what's bad. No morals. He's bloodthirsty, full of rage and unpredictable and basically a bastard.

He's truly sweet to you and you only, but that doesn't really erase who he really is, doesn't it?

He just can't understand how a man like him can be worthy of love. Your love, in particular.

You adore him so sweetly it melts him. He almost hates the way the tension in his shoulders vanishes when you squeeze his hand or the way the constant crease in between his brows relaxes the moment your eyes meet his.

When you smile at him the rest becomes a distant murmur.

Precisely for this reason it stings him to see you smile so fondly at whoever in camp.

He can't help but ponder if you would've wanted it any other way than what it is right now, with him. Would Halsin or Karlach or Wyll — or anyone for that matter — make you happier and give you more than he gives you?

Does he give you enough? Is that enough what you deserve?

Is he what you deserve?

Maybe it's some lovesick fool's complex.

Usually, being with you manages to silence these thoughts that were eating him up from the inside — everything else is a blur when you're involved. And so when you hug him, when you look at him, when you touch him, he rediscovers your love for his person. But as soon as you leave, the paranoia returns tip-toeing, rising around him like a thick black fog and enveloping him in darkness.

As for you, well... It's obvious this situation has troubled you too. If he's in pain, you're in pain and viceversa. Maybe it's the tadpole playing tricks, but it feels as if you can perfectly sense how he feels regardless of what emotion it is.

Sometimes it's so intense it's almost unsettling.

Anyhow, you tried your best to not show him how much this has effected you — initially, you had thought of the most dire options. But later on you assumed it was something personal he's not ready to discuss yet. Which you weren't completely wrong about.

The more the days pass, however, the harder it becomes to hide how eager you are to know what the problem with him is.

One afternoon you were at the river, spending one of those silent moments together. He had his head resting in your lap and you were doing little braids in his hair. It was almost sunset and the sky was colored with the most beautiful shades of purple and goldish-pink.

“How's it going with that thing that's bothering you?” you ask him at a certain point, smiling candidly.

He's silent for a few moments, then smiles at you lazily.

“It's better.” he looks at you, searching your eyes.

You hum in understandment, fighting the urge to try and ask about it.

It's been a few days by now.

“Astarion, you know that whatever happens you can tell me, right?”

He gives a nod. His calm expression shifts a bit.

“...And you also know that if I had something to do with it you have to tell me, right?”

You catch him hesitate; he glances away.

“Astarion. You can tell me. It's been, what, like nine days? Let's deal with this. I want to help you. And also I can't believe I have absolutely nothing to do with it.”

Astarion licks his lips and shifts in your lap.

For a moment, his face is one of pure determination. He opens his mouth, then hesitates again.

“...It's the stupidest thing in the entire universe.”

You roll your eyes, scoffing. Him, worrying about saying something stupid — very funny.

“Tell me anyway.”

“...It's a concern.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, expectantly. And so he continues,

“Well, I'm... Gods, this is ridiculous,” he trails off, suddenly getting up from your lap. He thinks he sounds like a kid, honestly.

You watch him without saying anything.

There's a long pause, then he inhales from his mouth and speaks slowly.

“...I'm afraid I'm not what you deserve. I wonder if I just... Dragged you in this dark existence of mine. I wonder if you would be happier with someone that has as much life in themselves as you do.”

Another pause, shorter than the last. Then he resumes, lowering his gaze to avoid meeting yours.

“I don't exactly have much to offer right now, beyond new burdens to carry.”

You blink and keep silent for a beat, genuinely unable to tell if he's serious or not.

“Astarion,” you start, grabbing his chin and tilting his head up to make him look at you. His eyebrows are furrowed deeply, lips almost a pout.

“I can handle you. All of you. Give me your worst, give me your best, give me everything. I've seen you in ways no one has ever saw you and I'm still here... So why are you so worried now?”

He doesn't answer.

“...Come here. My Gods, why didn't you tell me that was what was keeping you sulking? We would have solved it right away.”

He follows your request and leans against your chest. You are warm and cozy as usual.

“...Don't be so nice to me. It makes me want to be nice back.” he utters, burying his face in the crook of your neck. He takes in your scent, inhaling deeply.

“You're an imbecile sometimes, you know that?” you whisper in his ear, laughing softly. “And by saying 'sometimes' I'm doing you a favor.”

A huff of air tickles your neck as he laughs through his nose.

Only now he realizes that he childishly created this situation for himself.

You want and love him as he is.

And from that moment on, he never forgets that.

#astarion #bg3 #astarion bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x fem reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x male reader #astarion x female reader #astarion x gn!tav #astarion fluff

[alexlwrites]

𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐃𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐬

✿𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: OT7 x Plus Size! Reader

✿ 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: "What was so outrageous about someone like you, you asked yourself and the universe. You had tried your best to compensate for any shortcomings with everything else that was expected of you: femininity, understanding, a sense of humor. Never enough, those were never even the first thing that came to mind when people thought of you.

Why bother then? If nothing you did made any difference at all, why try? If people hated your body just for existing, why not give them a reason to hate your personality as well?"

OR  

The one where seven campus princes who are used to getting everything they wanted get enchanted by your distrust and brattiness, climbing over each other to get a smile from you who could not be bothered to give them a single second of your day.

✿ 𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒔:  Romance, Humor, Fluff, Angst, College AU

✿ 𝑨/𝑵: I wanna leave this here as sort of a trigger warning: this work features a plus size main character and throughout the story there will be mean comments from characters about her body and her journey dealing with said comments. A lot of it comes from my own experience as a plus size girl myself and my path to living peacefully within my body. And although this work is about Y/N's relationship with the boys, I like to think that she still would've continued to grow and blossom happily on her own. Let this be something you learn from this fic, as I say right on the first chapter: You don't have to love the way you look right away, you just can't let it stop you from doing the things you want and, in a greater scale, from being happy and treated with respect.

Thank you for reading <3

P.S: Red daisies, like many red flowers, represent love and romance. Florists often use them to communicate affection to someone who doesn’t know how beautiful they are—a.k.a. beauty unknown to the possessor. 

(Fanfic masterlist)

(support me on my ko-fi)

°•. ✿ .•°

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

The pattern in your relationships - if you could call them that - was tiring, to say the least. Once, they might have been soul crushing, but time and repetition took away the novelty of your pain and now the endgame was a mild, resented disappointment.

It started with kindness and a gentle smile, mainly from your part. You treated anyone who gave you any smidgen of attention with the utmost sweetness, hoping your energy would be matched. And sometimes it was, for a while. Sometimes you got to be on the receiving end of a blinding smile or a casual touch and you allowed yourself to hope - no, pray -that that could be it. That someone, some modern day knight in shiny armor , saw through your looks and decided that you were deserving of love, despite societal norms,

But men had a way of setting you up for disappointment. A talent, truly.

You were tired, you decided that night. No, beyond that, you were exhausted, scarred, bitter, hopeless, resentful… You could keep going. You could list every bad feeling you had been carrying in your chest by alphabetical order or by how badly they hurt and honestly you just wanted it to stop.

Would you have to change everything about your body to be happy, you wondered watching the boy you had been seeing for a few weeks make fun of you in front of his circle of friends at the party you were both at. Would you never be allowed to be happy just the way you were?

Would you have to change everything about your body to be happy?

“Yeah, she’s nice” Junsuu said, winking suggestively at his giggling friends “if you know what I mean.” you felt your face heat up in humiliation at the renewed round of laughter “But we just don’t match, like, physically. You know, looks-wise.”

“Right” someone agreed way too enthusiastically, sending a spear through your heart “I really just can’t see you with someone like her.”

What was so outrageous about someone like you, you asked yourself and the universe. You had tried your best to compensate for any shortcomings with everything else that was expected of you: femininity, understanding, a sense of humor. Never enough, those were never even the first thing that came to mind when people thought of you.

Why bother then? If nothing you did made any difference at all, why try? If people hated your body just for existing, why not give them a reason to hate your personality as well?

“You’re right” you said out loud, drawing attention to yourself. Filled with hatred (for him, the world, the circumstances), your heart had no room to be mortified when all eyes turned to you “we don’t match.”

You watched as Junsuu’s eyes widened, clearly not expecting you to hear, much less reply “I am a big girl” you continued, words dripping with rage “And I know for a fact that there’s nothing big about you.”

You turned around to leave the room, cringing at the petty comeback, ignoring the murmurs and Junsuu’s panicked calls of your name. Walking fast, you fled the scene of the last heartbreak you would allow yourself to go through, deciding that a change was needed, but not the change everyone wanted from  you.

Despite the rumors, you didn’t turn into a huge bitch overnight, didn’t start kicking puppies or spitting on the poor. Truly, the only thing you did was establish boundaries and reevaluate the amount of respect some people deserved, but very quickly people started seeing you as some sort of villain, especially when they realized how little you cared for how they saw you. How disrespectful of you to not allow yourself to be disrespected, right?

At first, there was still an air of uncertainty about you - years and years of non-reciprocal niceties drilled into your brain, habits hard to quit. But the more you let go of those things, these tiny acts of self-aggression disguised as pleasantries and altruism, the lighter you felt; Your days became easier to get through, existing within your body felt less and less like a punishment. You had yet to reach an Instagram-worthy level of body positivity, but you had become accustomed to body neutrality. You didn’t have to love the way you looked right away, you just couldn’t let it stop you from doing the things you wanted and, in a greater scale, from being happy and treated with respect.

And respect you started to demand and much happier you became, living in relative peace and solitude - safe by a few close friends - up until your days started being pestered by seven headaches you could not seem to shake away.

—-

Jungkook was the one that saw you first.

It was 3 weeks into the semester and he finally decided it was the perfect time to start going to classes, sitting in the back and only listening to about 25% of what was being said, mind floating towards more important subjects such as the package of ramen waiting for him at home. Only mildly interested in what the professor had to teach, he couldn’t help but to be startled when everyone started getting up from their seats to shuffle around the room. “What’s going on?” he asked the guy sitting next to him.

“Professor gave us a duo assignment.” the other man said, standing up “You're with Y/N.”

“Who?”

The guy just pointed towards you with his chin, redirecting Jungkook’s attention before leaving. You were sitting a couple rows further down, hunched over your little green IPad as you wrote something with impressive velocity. Jungkook walked over to you, already mentally going over what he would have to do to charm you into doing everything on your own “Y/N?” he called and you raised your head.

You were pretty, he noticed with satisfaction, all bright eyes and lovely features, curves everywhere he looked “Yes?”

“I’m Jungkook.” he extended his hand with a casual smirk “The professor put us together for this project.”

There had been a small, but pleasant and polite smile on your face up until he said those words, replaced by pursed lips and an arched brow. “Yes, I know. We’ve had classes together for over a year now and been partnered together before.”

Uh oh. “Right” he coughed awkwardly, fumbling under your hardened stare “so, about this project…”

“We will meet once a week,” you said, straightforward as you turned your eyes back to your sticker-filled IPad “I will go over the theme and split the work evenly, so give me your number and I can text you with what you’re supposed to do.”

“Woah, woah, asking for my number already?” he said in a flirting manner, sitting on top of your table so he could be directly in front of you.

“Would you prefer it if I emailed it to you?” you asked without looking up.

“Actually, I was thinking you could help me out a bit,” he placed his finger under your chin, raising your face towards him “you know I have soccer practice and…”

You pushed his hand away “Unless you’re playing at the World Cup, I can’t see how that would be more important than your studies, so you either do your part of the assignment or get an F in it, I don’t care. I won’t do all the work for you, Jeon. Not again.”

Again? Jungkook winced, trying to remember when you had met before. Surely he would remember getting his head bitten off by a snappy, pretty thing like you, wouldn’t he? Surely your attitude would stand out to him amongst all the sweetness and compliance he received just for existing and smiling.

“Here’s my number.” you gave him a piece of paper with your digits written in gel sparkly ink “Text me when you decide if you want to pass this class. Good day.” 

You looked down again, going back to your notes, signing that the conversation was over before he even had the chance to add anything more. He jumped off the desk and stepped away, looking back to see if you were looking at him, but there wasn’t a single glance from your part.

Shit. Shit. He actually did have to pass this class, otherwise his overbearing soccer coach would kick him off the team. He stared down at your number, wondering what he would have to do to get you to cut him a little slack and forgive him for absolutely forgetting about your existence. 

—

“Hey, this is Jungkook” the text from an unknown number said “looking forward to us working together. We should get dinner sometime, get to know each other better.”

You read over the text once more, willing your heart to slow down its beating. Sure, Jungkook was charming and handsome, but you had seen this dance before. He would talk his way into your good graces, making you laugh and giggle until you had a four thousand word essay done with both your names in it and your texts to him would go unanswered and unseen. 

This was not your first hurtful rodeo. You put your phone away, facing down, ignoring as the poor device vibrated itself off the table with the upcoming texts.

Meanwhile, across campus, Jungkook was fuming.

“Or breakfast. We should get breakfast. I know a great place.” he tried once again, but his message was left unread. Still, he persisted.

“I have a lot of great ideas for this assignment. Don’t you want to know them?” he texted, even though he didn’t have the faintest idea on what the assignment was even about.

“You know, it’s rude to leave a guy hanging.”

“How can we do this if you won’t even text me back?”

“I thought we were in this together.”

“You know, like High School Musical.”

He kept typing out absurdity after absurdity, hoping you would dignify one with an answer. He just needed one opportunity, one opening…

His text stopped going through.

“She blocked me!” he gasped out loud.

“Who?” his roommate, Taehyung asked from where he laid on their couch, feet up on the coffee table.

“This girl in my class. We have this project together and she blocked me!”

Taehyung sent a disbelieving look his way “Were you actually planning to do the work?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Obviously not.”

His friend rolled his eyes “Obviously not. So what’s your plan here?”

Jungkook didn’t answer, too busy looking for alternative ways to contact you. After a few minutes of research, he found your Instagram. You were cute, he noticed again, scrolling through your few posts, all relatively recent. You had a very specific style, a tasteful mix or dark and edgy with splashes of pink and bows, tight corsets under leather jackets that he couldn’t help but stare appreciatively, the flattering material clinging to your waist line and pushing your breasts up, exposing the soft freckled top of cleavage to his always hungry eyes. In your pictures, your eyes shone brightly, crinkling at the sides from your ever present smile and he could not understand why you hadn’t directed one of those to him. 

It was unsettling, to say the least, but he could not allow his annoyance to take over. He needed your help if he wanted to pass that class and if he had to use unconventional ways to get your attention, he would. 

And so, much like a little boy pulling at a girl’s braids, he started liking and spamming the comments of every single post you had.

—

There were whispers all around you, your worst nightmare.

You were at the school library, getting work done while drinking from your fourth cup of coffee, hands shaking due to caffeine and anxiety, your ever present friends. You tried to focus on your books and carefully written notes, but every word you could barely hear and every look you felt over your shoulder seemed to dig claws into your skin. You knew what they were saying. You heard it all the way from your dorm to your classes and couldn’t seem to escape them. 

“Did you see Jungkook’s comments on her pictures? What’s that about?”

“It’s not like there’s a lot to comment, is there?” 

“Maybe he thought it was someone else?”

“It’s probably a prank.”

“I bet he was hacked.”

Of course, why else would someone like Jungkook - a campus prince, popular soccer player, heartthrob - show interest in you? 

It hurt, but a small part of you still agreed with those mean spirited whispers. You closed your eyes, trying to even your breathing and will those thoughts away. You knew better, had learned better than to measure your value by how interested some boy was in you.

When you opened your eyes again, Jungkook was in front of you.

You barely had time to process his presence when the voices picked up volume, your skin prickling and eyes aching to remain dry. 

“What’s Jungkook doing with Fat Y/N?”

That word shouldn’t be as hurtful as it was - after all, it was just an adjective, just the current state of your body that served only to carry your thinking mind, your feeling heart. But people always said it like a curse, wielding it like a sword.

You closed your eyes again and when you opened once more, Jungkook was still there. Looking furious.

“What are they saying?”

“What they always said” you shrugged, avoiding his eyes by looking down at your papers.

Jungkook didn’t move for a while, hearing people pretend to whisper around you but it was clear that the motherfuckers wanted you to hear. Was it always like this for you, he wondered, watching as you focused on whatever book you had in front of you, hunched over with tense shoulders, your face a far cry from the luminescent one he saw on your Instagram, not a hint of that smile he wanted directed at him so unreasonably.

He couldn’t just stand there and watch you struggle to keep your posture. 

You felt him standing up and leaving more than you saw him. Good, you thought. He should leave, like everyone did, scared away by that one word that followed you around like a brand. He was probably embarrassed to be seen with you, you assumed bitterly, and there was no place in your life for people who didn’t want you proudly by your side…

Jungkook sat back in the chair in front of you and you couldn’t help but gape at the impressive bouquet of red daisies he extended towards you.

“Take it” he said, but you couldn’t move, could barely hear the furious voices around you over the roaring beat of your heart.

You… You had never gotten flowers. 

“Take it” he repeated “I almost got run over because of this, the least you can do is accept it.”

“Jungkook” you whispered, dumbfoundedly accepting the bouquet “what’s this?”

“People keep doubting I could be interested in you” he said and there was an edge to his tone you did not expect “maybe this could help clear up some rumors.”

“This is not your battle to fight” you held the flowers close to your chest carefully, looking up at him with distrust, unable to understand his motives “I’m used to this sort of thing and I don’t care about those stupid rumors.”

You were used to it? That just made Jungkook angrier. How could you be used to that sort of treatment? 

Jungkook was a lot of things - spoiled, a little lazy, sometimes a dick. But he wasn’t a bigot and he wasn’t about to stand around and let you become used to being disrespected if there was something - anything! - he could do about it “I like picking up fights”.

“Is this just pity?” you asked and he could see walls around you that stood thousands of feet tall “Is this because of that stupid assignment? Because I’m not going to do all the work just because you got me some flowers…” 

He raised his hands and smiled at you “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll do my work” he said, a new goal in mind as he saw you recoil from him with eyes filled with wariness like a suspicious kitten “You said once a week, right? How’s friday for you?” 

You still clung to your bouquet like a lifeline “That works, I guess.”

“Great!” he clapped loudly, standing up and catching the eye of those around him “I’ll see you around, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart” you mumbled, but he pretended not to hear as he crossed the table around to your side, quickly leaving a kiss to your heated cheek before you had the chance to react.

“Alright, sweetheart, I’ll see you around” he said, making sure everyone in the library could hear him “do me a favor and unblock me, ok?”

You flipped him off, both for stealing a kiss and that stupid nickname, but he just laughed it off.

“That’s my girl” he said and the library erupted in renewed whispers.

°•. ✿ .•°

𝐌𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧! 𝐂𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝

°•. ✿ .•°

[Red Daisies taglist: @purplelady85 ]

[Permanent taglist: @imknewattis ; @dreamamubarak ; @onlythebest-106 ; @betysotelo18 ; @havetaeminforbreakfast ; @uno7 ; @chimchimmarie ; @anaya123world ; @junecat18 ; @kayleefriedchicken ; @jkselcouth ; @ivrose21 ; @svnbangtansworld ]

#bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts #jungkook x reader #alexl red daisies #ot7 x reader #ot7 x you #bts x y/n #kim taehyung x reader #park jimin x reader #kim namjoon x reader #jung hoseok x reader #min yoongi x reader #kim seokjin x reader #ot7 fluff #bts romance #bts college au

[mizusnose]

ahem so I just read your college fuckboy mizu headcanons (which I loved) and was wondering if I could request a lil something about fuckboy mizu genuinely liking the reader so she makes changes to convince the reader she's serious. Reader would probs be SUPER skeptical bc casual relationships isn't their thing but it'd be so cute. Obvs you can just ignore this if you don't want to do it my mind has just been mizu brainrot lately

so i’ve been letting this one marinate for a bit BUT: reader who gets together with Taigen to spite Mizu who won’t get serious for reader. Cue the jealousy, club shenanigans, and poet mizu (!!)

boyfriend by dove cameron for max brainrot

———

Taigen was a fine boyfriend. All things considered. He was better than most of the guys you’d been with before, and he had a motorcycle that he’d let you take pics with and post them on your feed.

But, he wasn’t Mizu.

This point had been made several times. Mostly on Taigen’s end. His constant whining of I see the way you look at her, god I bet you thought I was a woman huh, better yet—you wished I was her huh!

He wasn’t wrong, necessarily. It wasn’t your fault you’d gotten bored and decided to go to Taigen’s fencing practice. It wasn’t like you’d intended on falling head over heels for the hot butch lesbian who had a mean smirk and a sweaty jaw when she whooped Taigen’s ass.

You still remembered the way she had her neck bared, her hair falling over her shoulders, the beat of her heart nestled in between her collarbones, the dark green of her veins under her skin.

So, yeah, maybe you did have a thing for Mizu, who may or may not be your boyfriend’s biggest rival.

Heavy quotations on the rival part since Mizu didn’t give a shit that Taigen hated her—in fact, she didn’t care that the majority of the lesbians, bisexual, and bi-curious girls on campus hated her guts.

But that was what made her interesting.

You’d thought about it often: her, telling you to leave as soon as you’d come on her tongue or strap or fingers, (whatever was fine, you weren’t picky.) and you’d feel that tug in your tummy and your jaw would relax and fall open and—

“hah, did you come?”

And then you’d be back where you started: dating Taigen and fucking him and not being able to enjoy it or come or anything.

The thing was this: You’d only ever been in long-term relationships. Never dabbled in casual one night stands that Mizu was rumored to stick by. Even if you did want her, her time was limited. And you didn’t exactly love sharing.

So, when Taigen complained about having to go out this weekend to “bond or some teammate trust building shit, pfft, as if we aren’t trying to kill each other every practice. Not to mention Mizu will be there,” You convinced him to go, and for you to tag along. As moral support of course.

Now as much as Taigen loved telling you how much he hated Mizu, he liked coming to the thought of her much more. You’d done it quite often, bring Mizu up in sex, the way she’d fence and made him look like a fucking loser. How good she’d look kissing you, having you, taking you away from him. You’d both come then, not just him.

So you supposed it wasn’t that weird to be crushing over Mizu. Especially when the weekend came and the alcohol was sweet and fizzy and the wine dark and bitter, and the club lights shimmering on Mizu’s skin, her hair, her hands as she came up behind you.

“Hey.” She said. Simple, easy, confident. Her hands brushed your exposed back, the bend of your hip, the jut of your ribs.

“Hi.” You said. Sultry, warm, quiet so she’d have to twist closer to hear you when you gasped as she held your waist, tighter this time. A little mean, “I have a boyfriend.”

And she’d chuckle, and pull away and quirk her dark eyebrow up, “Really? Him?” A barely there glance at Taigen who was with the other fencing team members taking body shots off one another, “I could be a better boyfriend than him, you know.”

She spun you around, the steady heat of her palm always on you, “You know me.” It wasn’t a question. You saw the way Mizu’s eyes dragged across your body on her way over, her tongue on her lips as she stared. She knew you were Taigen’s girlfriend.

“Been watching.” She brought you closer, shifted her hands and then you were close. Closer than you’d ever been to her before.

She smelled heady and like pinewood. The plane of her chest was defined, sturdy, and you wondered if she had small breasts, if they were sensitive.

“Can’t believe I almost went home when you’re here—all alone.” She smirked, the same damned smirk you’d replay in your mind as you masturbated and thought of her, “Think I might just steal you from him, hm?”

Her hands slipped up your back, to the bottom of your nape, a demanding grip: there one second, gone the next. She watched your face, your lips, your neck.

“Does this usually work on other girls?”

You pushed away then, your legs wobbly and your underwear damp. You wanted, but you knew exactly what Mizu thought of you: an easy thing, something of Taigen’s. Good for a night, forgotten the next.

So you straightened your clothes, and met Mizu’s confused gaze, “I have a boyfriend.”

Mizu’s mouth twitched. Barely. But you’d caught it as you turned, and headed to the bartop. Even if Mizu was who you’d wanted, being a one-night stand wasn’t what you wanted.

So, you walked back over to Taigen, beers in hand, and watched Mizu as you kissed him wide and dirty. Her glare a steely weight in your belly, and on your beating cunt.

You’d make Mizu yours, one way or another.

——-

Let’s make this a 2 parter. Poet mizu will have to wait. Thanks for the ask :)

#blue eye samurai #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #headcanons #mizu x fem!reader #fanfiction #ask

[sehtoast]

Wash Away His Sins (Homelander x Reader Smut)

18+ | 1.1k Shower sex, oral sex, mostly lovey with a light dusting of angst. gender neutral reader. | Fic Directory

He realizes it's the light in your eyes that consumes him the most.

The way you dance around him, unknowingly elegant in even your clumsiest moments. You flow through this world like calligraphy given a body.

The way you smile when he comes home. The way your hands find his bloodied cheeks, uncaring if his cruelty stains you.

The way you kiss him. The glint in your eye as you pull away.

"Let's get you cleaned up," you tell him.

And he nods. Lets you, bubbling sunshine that you are, dirty yourself in the viscera of his victims. All just to help him feel better.

There’s been blood on your hands before. But not like him. Not because you lost control. You were a true hero, and he was just…

Himself.

Whatever that may mean…

And yet, you still called him a hero. Reminded him of all the good he’s done– all that he’s capable of. Every time he comes home like this, he worries you’ll hate him. Cast him out, shun him for the unspeakable acts he’s committed with his own two hands.

But you don’t.

You lead him to safety. You wash him, pamper him. Comfort him.

Just like you do now.

Once upon a time, he was afraid to let you see all of him. Shamed by his lack. There was no perfect figure underneath. Those muscles weren’t real– weren’t him.

But you’d soothed those fears so long ago, well before falling into an unnamed relationship that simply couldn’t be less than that of two souls deeply, deeply in love. Where he was cruel, you were kind. The sheer power of your love, your kindness, rivaled the force of his bitterness with ease. In that duel, you always won. Always calmed him, brought him away from the brink.

Hell, you even relax the voice of his alter ego, whose goading was the very reason he was painted red.

He imagines the two of you were born from two stars, perfectly compatible, at opposite ends of the universe. And still, you found each other.

He shuts his eyes as you unzip the suit. The cold of your palm contrasts the near torturous heat contained in that suit. You are like a balm, soothing the fires both inside and out.

You strip him with care, stopping only to start the shower– but not too hot.

You know what they’d done to him in the labs, and you never made him feel irrational for avoiding reminders. He appreciates you endlessly, even if the words may never truly fall from his lips. Caught in his throat every time.

Caught now as you strip and lead him under the stream.

His hands are clean without his gloves, but he still hesitates to touch you. To anchor his hands at your hips while your fingers push through his hair, thick from product and crusted blood. The water runs pink down his back, down your arms, but you don’t grimace.

You don’t look at him differently. Except for when you do.

But that comes after.

After you work suds through his hair. After you lather his body, hands and fingertips dancing over him as though you meant to worship him. Left hand sliding back, fingers dipping down the curve of his rear. Right hand smoothing soap through the curls on his chest, his stomach, hips…

You don’t miss a single spot.

He imagines this is what it’s like to be a deity. To have someone stand before you and revere you.

Love you.

But, as much as he would claim otherwise, he is no deity. No god.

That title falls to you, instead. You are divine, in every sense of the word. You are the warmth of the sun, the beauty of the moon, the power of storms. You are sweetness under the press of his lips, the slide of his tongue. Soft as silk, yet as unbreakable as tungsten.

Your powers afford you the ability to survive him. It is the greatest gift Compound V could’ve ever given him.

It’s why he doesn’t hesitate to grip your waist harder when you finally find him half hard and yearning, pumping slowly. You finish cleaning him first, shower head in your hand to rinse him. Kisses pressed over the expanse of his chest, water sprayed teasingly between his legs.

He bites you when you grasp him again. He’d nuzzled against your shoulder and simply couldn’t help it. Your gasp makes him shiver.

The hand at his cock strokes, and he exhales tightly. His body feels weightless, but not like when he flies. He feels as though he could drift into space, in perfect bliss. Relaxed, comfortable, peaceful.

That is your true power– more than simply what Compound V gave you.

You quell an unfathomable swell of violence that hides within him. You bring light. You bring calm.

You bring love.

Love.

”I love you,” he rasps against your skin, hips pushing to fuck your fist. Your lips find his neck, and you nip and suckle and he yearns for a world in which you can mark him. Claim him just as he does to you. A wavering moan escapes his lips, and he’s close. He has half a mind to hike your leg up and take you, but you fall to your knees before he can finish the thought.

He has to lean against the wall when your lips wrap around him. The sight of you on your knees, worshiping him, his cock disappearing inch by inch into your mouth leaves him panting heavy breaths that steam into the air.

Your name falls from his lips when he nudges the back of your throat, and you just keep taking him. More and more, a hand at his balls, the other splayed over his abdomen.

His eyes roll back, but not before the heat in them sizzles and evaporates the water droplets surrounding them. His hips rock forward, and he’s so close. It would be so easy to grip your head and fuck you with all of his might. You could, after all, withstand him.

But you’re so tender with how you handle him. He wants to return it. Wants to touch and act with love.

So he lets you have full control. A hand petting through your hair as your tongue laves over him. A pinched expression as you send him higher and higher, until he’s teetering on the brink of release and oh, how he needs it. Needs you.

Your name is on his lips when he accepts it and comes. When that hand mindlessly pulls your head closer and he spurts down your throat, groaning loudly as he thrusts shallow.

When he slips free, it is to fall to his knees. To embrace you, to kiss the taste of himself from your lips– lick it from your mouth.

”I love you.”

You say it back, of course. Between kisses, between giggles. His eyes are soft, and the smile that tugs at his kiss bitten lips is more beautiful than any sunrise the cosmos could ever paint.

The water will run cold by the time he returns your love tenfold.

#homelander #homelander x reader #homelander fanfiction #homelander smut #the boys #antony starr

[gimmeurtmi]

puppy on puppy violence — seungmin

pairing: kim seungmin x fem!reader

tags: established relationship, fluff

warnings: swearing, crying lots of crying, reader has pmdd and is going through it

inspo: seung’s murderous need to poke plushies’ eyes out.

notes: this was my daydream scenario before falling asleep last night. i don’t even know why but i wrote it so here you go!

{ wc: 1331 }

your boyfriend texted you that he was on his way over, and since he had a key to your place anyway, you happily allowed yourself to step in the shower while you were waiting for him.

it was a long hard day, your hormones getting the better of you in the shape of yelling at your colleagues for something that was no one’s fault and then eating a whole bag of sweets that ended up just making you nauseous.

you knew what was coming and why you were like this, but it didn’t make at any easier to deal with. you just needed it to pass, and the warm water was a good way to try.

by the time you stepped out of the shower you heard a “i’m here!!” coming from your bedroom, and yelled back a “five minutes!” as you slowly dried yourself down and put on your favourite moisturiser for some much needed self care.

once you walked into your bedroom, a (familiar) cloud took over your thoughts.

seungmin was sat on your bed, waiting patiently for you to appear, surrounded by your pillows and plush toys.

your favourite plushie was a gray and white puppy you got yourself when you were going through a rough time in high school and he stayed by your side every night. his name was franco, and you secretly loved him the most out of all your plushies.

franco was sitting in seungmin’s lap, and your boyfriend flapped his ears around before giggling to himself and poking both of franco’s eyes. you’ve seen seungmin do this plenty of times before (he did it to your quokka the most) but you’ve never seen him do it to franco.

for some reason a sob broke through your chest at the sight.

seungmin’s head shot up at the sound, smiling as he saw you. he held one of franco’s paws up, using it to wave at you as he gleefully bounced up and down in his spot.

that didn’t help the tears that were already falling from your eyes.

“what happened?” he asked quickly, rushing to the edge of the bed. he reached out for your wrist in an attempt to pull you towards him, but a bitter mixture of sadness and anger was forming in your throat, and you pulled your hand away from him.

“what’s wrong?” he asked, softly.

you shook your head at him as more tears slipped down your cheeks.

“you’re so mean,” you sobbed.

seungmin blinked at you, eyebrows knotting as he tried to think back on what he did. why were you upset with him?

“i’m mean?” he asked carefully. “when was i mean?”

“now!” you all but yelled. “franco never did anything to you and you’re here hurting him like it’s nothing—“ you choked back a sob, shaking your head as seungmin pulled you to him by your waist.

he rested his head on your stomach, rubbing up and down your back to calm down your tears. it wasn’t working.

“baby,” he chuckled lightly, “i didn’t hurt him.”

“you did!”

“no, i—“

“—do you not like him?” you sniffed.

seungmin lifted his head up, squeezing you slightly when he saw how truly upset you were by all this. he glanced behind you at the calendar on your table.

oh.

he pulled you down to sit on the bed, watching as you sobbed harder into your hands.

slowly, he brought a hand onto your shoulder as he rubbed a thumb back and forth on your skin in soothing motions.

“of course i like franco.”

“you hate him,” you were quick to say, “you hate him and you hate m—“

“no,” he cut you off, firmly. “i could never hate franco. we’re colleagues.”

you hiccuped slightly, bringing your hands away from your face for a moment to look at your boyfriend, confused.

“you’re what?”

“we work together,” seungmin said, as if you were supposed to know that already.

“what do you mean,” you shook your head, anger replacing your tears for a moment.

“i’m head of the y/n protection squad,” he explained, grabbing franco and placing him on your lap, “and franco is my second in command.”

you rolled your eyes, but seungmin kept going, grabbing the rest of your plushies and placing them around you as he spoke on, “puppym is the captain, and pikachu is the strong one, and quokka is the rookie who doesn’t know what he’s doing and—“

“—stop,” you sobbed, grabbing your other plushie from his hand and placing him in your lap.

“but i’m just explaining that franco and i have the same mission in life, so of course we get along.”

“seung—“

“—he protects you when i’m not around. i would never hate him.”

“so why did you hurt him,” you sniffed slightly, wrapping your hand around the pikachu in your lap.

“you misunderstand,” he smiled softly, rubbing your knee for a moment before grabbing franco delicately. “we were playing a game. see?”

he took both of franco’s paws and stuck them to his own eyes, “he does it to me, too.”

you sobbed again, but this time a smile graced your features as a warmth took over your heart at the sight.

seungmin was somehow even cuter than franco in that moment.

your brain was too saturated in hormones to see just how much you were overreacting, but seungmin didn’t care—instead doing everything he could to get you to laugh, even if it meant playing along with the weird accusations you were sending his way.

when it worked he smiled brightly at you, turning franco to face you and opening both his paws in your direction.

“can franco give you a hug now?”

you nodded, a few fresh tears slipping out.

“hey,” seungmin sighed, hugging the puppy around your neck, “why are you still crying?”

“you’re so fucking cute,” you sobbed, pulling seungmin into a hug with the plushie sandwiched in the middle of you.

he chuckled at you, rubbing your shoulder as he gave you a small squeeze.

“do i need to get the whole protection squad around you today?” he asked, kissing your still damp cheek.

you nodded, sheepishly.

“i’m sorry, seung, it’s just—“

“—don’t explain,” he soothed, smiling at you as he tucked your hair behind your ear, “i saw the date, it’s cool.”

“it’s isn’t cool that my pmdd makes me ins—“

“—told you not to use that word,” he warned, delicately, placing another kiss on your cheek, “and i explained the situation so now you know me and franco are besties. one day i might even steal him.”

“not even as a joke, kim,” you pouted, holding the puppy closer to you.

seungmin nodded dutifully, before grabbing franco’s neck and tapping his nose against your cheek, followed by a “mwah!”

“do you feel hungry?”

“nauseous,” you grimaced.

“a movie and tummy rubs?” he offered instead.

you nodded, pouting up at your boyfriend.

“are you still sad?” he asked softly.

you nodded again.

“then we can watch ratatouille,” he smiled, kissing your lips softly.

it didn’t matter to him that for some reason you started crying at the opening sequence, upset that the old lady ruined her own home and would have to get it all renovated because the rats tricked her.

it didn’t matter to him at all.

all seungmin cared about was keeping you warm and brushing your tears away.

when he had to go to the bathroom, he put franco on your shoulder and whispered in his ear, “keep her safe for me, i’ll be right back.”

it caused your heart to flutter, and when seungmin did come back a few moments later, you pulled him in for a strong kiss.

“i love you so so much, seung,” you sighed, feeling too overwhelmed to even cry again, but the feelings were all wrapping tightly around your chest and you couldn’t quite control them.

you rested your head on his chest, sighing into the warmth he offered you.

“i love you, too,” he smiled, kissing the top of your head.

#all.works #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x y/n #kim seungmin x reader #kim seungmin #kim seungmin x you #seungmin x reader #seungmin x you #seungmin fluff

[mrsackermannx]

˚ ༘ *ೃ༄ ❝ COME BACK TO ME…❞

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ summary: gojo’s been plotting to get you back ever since you broke up.

୨୧ word count: 4.7k

୨୧ content: gojo satoru/reader, smut, no-curses au/office au, infidelity, exes to lovers, afab reader, light angst (strategic marriage/ breakup mentions), praise kink, porn with plot, love confession, overstimulation, pet names (baby, sweetheart etc), creampie, pussy-slapping, squirting, sprinkle of degradation, slight exhibitionism.

୨୧ author’s note: gojo brainrot finally gave way to some writing hehe, still getting used to characterising him so feedback is appreciated angels <3

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

"Don't shit where you eat," they say. They say that dating your colleague is never going to end well. However, even the most stoic people have a penchant for such relationships, not to mention the secret hopeless romantics. 

Workplace romances can make even affairs appear heartwarmingly wholesome. After all, there was something about trudging up stair after stair when the elevator was too full to them smiling at you just a desk away. Their voice fond as they offer you a sunny "Good morning."

That person who never forgets your favourite vending machine coffee, who pats your shoulder and tells you 'you're doing your best,' who lends you their umbrella, who opens up to you over a beer after overtime. Who notices when you get a haircut, whose eyes are seldom on their computer screen but on your lips. 

Not that you'd ever been unfaithful, not yet. But you'd heard countless stories. Girls talk, after all. You didn't judge, yet the point was although workplace romances could be wholesome and even sexually thrilling. They were sensational and exciting until they were over. 

Until that person no longer stays with you through overtime, bitter memories of you chugging vending machine coffee, swapping candy and chips together and then spit just like you and Gojo always did. You definitely never told anyone how many times you fucked on the desks of the colleagues you both thought sucked, especially not after you'd broken up.

You were together for a while, and although you couldn't say it out loud because it was still too painful, you missed him. A lot. In fact, you spent most nights, fist screwed up at your sides, eyes blurring in the darkness, questioning if there would always be that void he left that no one could ever fill.

Though, breaking up didn't cause the type of animosity that made people scurry from rooms when you interacted. Instead, it confused the hell out of your colleagues. It hadn't even been half a year since, and you and Gojo didn't appear to hate each other at all.

But the pain lingering in your heart ached and was annoying and inconvenient, like a stubbed toe that felt sore and tender for weeks and weeks—but in your case, months. However, Gojo was hardly being subtle with his efforts to ever so secretly win you back at every opportunity. He didn't mind playing the long game. He was going to be your last. 

All of you at the company came from important families in high social circles, marriage and dating. Love. It often came down to strategy, which was the only reason you were dating Miyano Haru, a Kyoto University graduate! CEO of a cybersecurity company! 

Guilt gripped at your gut as you yawned at the thought. 

Your families were shooting for a marriage ceremony during next year's cherry blossom season. But until then, Gojo wasn't slamming the brakes anytime soon. 

Whether that be surprising you with your favourite lunches, leaving tickets for movie screenings, galleries, or museums on your desk, or sending Google calendar invites to restaurant reservations or spa appointments via your work emails across the office floor. With sweet messages like,

Gojo Satoru has sent a "Spa day pamper package for two for this Friday.”

Surprise! You look tired this week baby. Let's go here Friday, yeah? 

Ps: You still look pretty, though. 

Just like you were still fucking dating. 

So today, when you're pitching a marketing idea in the monthly meeting, and Yaga cuts you off. Gojo cannot help himself. 

Yaga was a great man, someone Gojo was grateful to for many reasons, but fuck was this man old-fashioned and unaware of it. He refused to see your potential because he was eternally sceptical of the efficacy of women's ideas.

But you had the best ideas today. Gojo smiled because your ideas were always the best and that’s why this decision was so easy. He could fondly recall your rants about Yaga after every monthly meeting where you'd complain about his blatant misogyny; even Sukuna would let a reluctant chuckle loose to the show. 

All of you in the canteen at your table, Shoko, Utahime, Nobara and Maki at your side, growing passionate about gender pay gaps and audacious men at your company and then the world over. 

Nanami always said the right thing, and so did Higuruma, Yuuta and Choso. Gojo decidedly took the credit for Megumi being so eloquent and respectful. Inumaki was outrageous at times, and Yuuji was a lover of all people and argued fiercely for both sides. 

Those times were always fun. 

Yaga peered over his glasses, "Why don't you expand again on how you plan to execute this idea, Reader?” 

With one hand typing idly at his laptop and the other seating his chin, Gojo sighed so loudly all the eyes in the room cast to him. "Reader obviously has the best pitch for this project." 

He grinned as Yaga's knuckles grew white and he humphed before his voice sharpened, "So, are we really gonna make her explain it again?"

"For once, even I agree with him," Toji added.

Gojo winked as he looked up at you, and you felt yourself melt a little, even under the icy breeze of the conference room's AC. 

Megumi, Yuuji and Nobara huddled together under the oppressive communication Gojo and Yaga's eyes were engaging in. 

Gojo’s eyes narrowed, "So, what are you waiting for? Give her the project."

Nanami offered you a small smile and nodded before his expression soured, and he spoke before Yaga could open his mouth to protest. "I, for once, also agree with Gojo. I think we should open this pitch up for a vote?" 

Choso raised his arm, "Me too. I think it's just what we need, in fact." 

Maki nudged Yuuta and Inumaki before confidently booming, "I volunteer our assistance on the project!"

Albeit a little flustered, you bowed and thanked the room as Yaga reluctantly signed the dream project of the company to you. Sure, you were ecstatic you'd finally been recognised for your hard work and dedication, but you wanted to kill Gojo.

What didn't help was the aggressively obvious effect he had on you still. Sure, you had a new boyfriend, but Gojo didn't care. So that's why you found yourself lingering outside of his office door at 9pm because you knew he wouldn't care one bit. Like that man ever did overtime, you tsked. 

Gojo had been playing a game with you, knowing you'd finally relent, that you'd come to your senses and stop denying yourself of what you really fucking wanted. "Be selfish."

Everybody you'd asked today had told you he'd stayed in his office all day. So yeah, he really was doing this on purpose. His light was on, and he was baiting you, and you hated how easy it was for you to take it.

You knew he wanted you to barge in there, all flustered and mouthy, so he could shove you to your knees and fuck your throat open. 

Your boyfriend Miyano was sweet, he could talk about his feelings, and he didn't run away from emotional intimacy like others had. Like Gojo always had. But your family had set you up with him even though your shattered heart was still just that. Shattered. Your heart had been reduced to fragments— to a puzzle that only one genius could solve, he wasn’t prepared to give anybody guidance in the matter either. After all, geniuses couldn’t explain how to do the things they found easy. 

And although you were the one that ended things with Gojo, it hurt all the same. 

There was nothing wrong with Miyano per se. He came from a respectable family, one your family could bear you marrying into; though the Gojo clan would have been amazing, the Miyano clan wasn't terrible either. 

But you never wanted your family to arrange a relationship or marriage for you. You fell for Gojo instantly and hard. You loved him like you never loved anybody else. He thrilled you, challenged you, and made it seem like the world was too small for you both and that you could see it all when you stood at his side. He made everything and every day exciting but had the vexing ability to make you feel safe and at home all the same.

Gojo Satoru was irreplaceable in every facet of the word, in his work, friendships, and relationships. As fickle as he could appear, he was the first to call in a crisis and someone you could wholeheartedly depend on.

But Miyano was sweet and emotionally forthcoming but…entirely too normal. You didn't yearn to peel back his layers one by one and didn't care much for his childhood stories, unpopular opinions, or core principles. But you treasured the few times you’d sat with Gojo, pestering him to tell you anything deeper, anything that no one else knew. Watching with sparkling eyes as his voice grew so quiet you had to follow his lips until your eyes blurred instead. 

But it was rare he shared anything too personal with you. He had trouble with it more than most. Some nights, although you were sleeping in the same bed, you felt miles apart. 

Gojo had a wall with everybody else, like a layer of infinity that meant nobody could really touch him or delve deeper. They only saw and knew the surface that reflected back to them like a mirror. No one could truly ever get close. 

But it wasn't supposed to be the case for you, was it?

A fond and familiar laugh yanked you from your reverie, "Did you come to thank me? Because you can thank me by going to dinner with me tomorrow."

How was he larger than the door frame? You all but scowled as he leant down and tapped his cheek. "I also accept kisses as a form of repayment if you're willing," he said silkily, a jaunty grin on his lips at your expression. “With interest.” 

Your shoulders slumped, and you huffed, wilfully ignoring the growing heat ping-ponging between your bodies. "Why did you do it?" Your brows knotted, "I wanted to get it on my own, Satoru. And my pitch was strong enough. I didn't need your help."

He threw his hands up and yawned obnoxiously, smoothing the back of his hair down, "Well, what can I say? I'm a doer, not a talker."

You huffed, “No, I'm sure you're always talking."

"You got me there, but" he checked either side of the corridor before he looped his arm around your waist and yanked you into his office. “Game over.” 

"Satoru, I-" Your voice fell into a whimper as he flipped you against his door, his lips ghosting your earlobe as he caged you in. 

"Maybe it's because I know you like to hear my voice," he whispered. "I know you like being talked through it. And, I know you didn’t need my help, we just needed a little push.” 

We needed a final straw. 

You swallowed, fists clenched at your sides as his body suffocated yours. Heat quickly crawled up your cheeks as his large hands slid slowly down your sides, the familiar smell of his cologne igniting memories from the last times you smelt it so closely. Kissing down his throat, across his collarbones-

"What are you doing?" You finally mustered, your voice a breathless squeak. Seconds passed, and the tension blazed and kindled, refusing to be extinguished into silence. You didn't dare turn around to see him enjoying you like this.

"Nothing, nothing you don't want me to do," he said in a lilting voice, hitching the hem of your skirt up half an inch. "You've always been so vocal, so I doubt you'd lose your voice in a time like this, would you?"

"No," you hissed, curbing any further speech in case you fucking stammered.

"Don't worry though, baby. You're easy," he scoffed, "and you never stay quiet, not with me.” 

“Oh fuck you.” You gasped as he shoved his knee between your thighs to part them.

“Oh I will. But if that wimpy boyfriend of yours is doing his job, then I shouldn’t find your panties soaked in a minute, should I, princess?" 

A breath passed, and then he hitched it up a little further, resting his chin on your shoulder to taunt you more. "I see the way you look at me, baby. I know you and that look in your eyes. It tells me all I need to know, princess."

His hand caressed your quivering thighs, brushing your stomach and pausing at your chest. He gripped one breast before the other before it settled upon your throat, and he tipped your head back. 

His lips travelled down your temple, to your cheek, and to your neck, where he spoke, "Hm? Ignoring me isn't quite your style. Isn't that why you came here today?”

He kissed the corner of your mouth, and then you knew you were truly fucked. Watching as he pulled away with a grin spreading as slow and molten as melted chocolate. 

"I know you wanna kiss me," he whispered, blue eyes alight when you turned and showed him the blown-out lust glazing your eyes. "There we go, baby, that's it. Gonna kiss me?"

You nodded, already too far gone. His hand cupped the back of your head, and he met you halfway in a slow, sensual kiss. 

Your fronts drew together, and he shimmied up your skirt until it became a corset. Then he cupped your cunt, the pads of his fingers trailing feather light. Your vision hazed, and your fists curled tighter into his shirt. 

Your features were contorted beautifully with lust. "Do not tease me right now." 

He laughed as you scowled, his heart aching. He'd missed you so damn much.

"Oh? Want me to rub your pussy, baby?" he cooed, long fingers smearing the slick oozing through your panties.

"Now I know what you fucking came for,” he groaned breathily into your lips, waiting for your sign to continue. Your panties were the door, and his dumbing teasing movements were tentative little knocks. But he knew you liked to be stripped bare and fucked like you were his. This was just the final round of his game. 

You bucked your hips forward, needing more, needing him. You clung to him, tugging on his tie, "Satoru, Satoru, more, please," you whimpered through his kisses.

"I only satisfy what's mine, but you're not mine anymore, are you, sweet girl? So what can I do? Nothing."

You eagerly shook your head in protest, on your tip toes, just to drag your mouth down his jaw and neck. "Even though this needy pussy is leaking all over my fingers, responding to me like I own her," he tutted, "but I don't, do I? Pretty girl."

You made a noise half-whimper, half-growl, palming him through his pants until he hissed and then broke his feigned amusement from just how much you were riling him up. "I am yours, Satoru, always, always," you panted.

"I know that baby, but I need to know if she still is." He yanked your panties up so roughly the fabric strained against your clit and made you moan so lewdly you quickly covered your mouth.

"Needy girl," he said lowly before he drew his hand back and slapped your pussy. You moaned even louder, falling weakly into his chest. But you hardly fell far, as he grabbed your face in one hand and leant close.

"You like it when I slap your needy little pussy like this, baby?" His smile moved a millimetre as your eyes darted to his long, pretty fingers. "Want me to bury my fingers inside it till you come too? So you can stop being so needy?"

"Please, Satoru." 

"Then show me, show me how much you want them," he whispered, eyes shooting down between you both as he started to circle your clit, not daring to touch it. 

"Show me you're dying for it, and we can forget about all of this mess, can't we? You've just gotta show me who knows this pussy best.” The growing gravel in his voice turned the words into ragged commands.

In raptured submission, you yanked aside your panties and guided his fingers, back arching against the door as you ran them back and forth against your soaked cunt. Your breaths finally flew fluidly through the air, like his touch was what your body needed to convert the carbon dioxide. 

His jaw grew slack at the sight of you, getting yourself off on his fingers, clumsily rubbing your swollen clit against his fingertips, breaths huffing from your nose in the exertion. 

He leant into the beautiful image of you, moaning in your ear as your slick drowned his fingers. The slick wet sounds of your cunt as you run them back and forth, rapidly unravelling him.

"Look at me," he demanded, plunging two of his fingers knuckle deep until it squelched when you didn’t comply in seconds. You let out a humiliating whimper. The pleasure of the sudden yet sweet stretch danced through every nerve.  

He grinned, fucking his fingers inside, “You look so pretty like this, I should take a photo.”

"I can't…." You couldn't speak, not when his fingers were relentless inside like this, clenching and fluttering as he bullied that spot inside you.

But his name was a never-ending hot, sweaty mantra.

"Trying to give me scraps, huh? But you're mine," he spat. 

"No, I need you, Satoru. I need only you, only you," you babbled. 

The lustful look in your eyes catapulted him over the edge. He couldn't take it anymore, his palm granting sweet friction to your clit as he fucked you like the world was about to end. "I know you need it, baby. I've got you. I know.”

He tried to undo your buttons with his free hand but was too fucked out to do it, grunting for your help, so you did immediately. "Say the words, and I'll stretch this sweet pussy out with my cock after you come, baby.”

"I'm yours, please. Fuck me," you whimpered, your entire body shaking as pleasure climbed through your body, building until you felt the pressure about to burst. Your hands roamed his body, eager to feel him as you removed your own shirt.

But like an animal, he was all over you, kissing, licking, and biting as you squirmed close to your climax. His lips closed around your nipple, and your spine straightened at the softness until he bites it hard. 

You yelped, but he only laughed, "Hurts? Don't care, baby, it hurts seeing you with that loser, the number of times I've had to come in my fucking hand because of you."

The lewd sloshes of your pussy grew louder, and Gojo delighted in how you were now dripping onto the floor. So, he finally granted you mercy, pulsing his hand until you came in wild thrashing waves that rippled violently through your body. 

"Oh yeah? Did that feel good, pretty girl?" he whispered, tilting your chin to devour your breathless mouth. The press of his lips and the erotic flicks of his tongue were making you throb wildly on his fingers. "See, you do like it when I talk.”

He let out such an attractive laugh at your glare that you fluttered around him again. "Baby again? I'm not gonna leave this pussy just yet, let up, or I won't be able to get my cock inside," he hummed. "Isn't that what we both want?"

"Then do it. Put it in me." You spread yourself, and he bit back a moan. His eyes flickered at how you shook when his thumb brushed your clit experimentally. 

Your brows knitted at the lingering sensation, “Please, put it in me, now." 

"Oh baby, but if you keep squeezing like that." Gojo grew dizzy at how your pussy refused to let him go, helping you tug away his belt and zip down his pants. Hazy, as you let up enough for him to take his fingers out of your spasming cunt. 

"You really gonna let me fuck you right here, huh?" 

His eyes were half-lidded at the sight of you in your office heels, panties soaked and half-pulled down, shirt hanging limply and open, your skirt a thick black belt hugging your torso. 

You were a mess, his mess, his pretty mess.

"Oh baby, you're so beautiful." He knelt down, working down your panties with his breath uneven, kissing each knee as he worked them down each ankle and then tossed them behind him. 

"Shall I tell you something?" he mused, running his hands up and down your thighs as he kissed and licked at the slick threatening to stick them together.

"Yes, tell me." Your hands slid instinctively into his hair as he reached your pussy and kissed it.

"I'll be honest, yeah?"

He was waiting for a shaky, "Yeah?" so you granted him one laced through a whimper, so he suckled on your clit in return before speaking. 

“I can pamper you. Spoil you, fuck you, take care of you." His voice was almost hoarse, thick and affected by something other than lust—a different emotion.

"I know that Toru, I do."

"N' I can—love you, too," he murmured, voice so uncharacteristically small but soft like it used to be when he spoke to you at night.

You gasped. Gojo had never said those words, not once. "Satoru, I-" His tongue dove into your cunt, and you almost toppled forwards, but somehow in seconds, he was carrying you. Holding you close, you heard the unmistakable clatter of the desk's contents clatter to the floor as he pressed you down upon the cold surface.

His large arms locked your torso down, and he swiftly resumed tongue fucking your cunt, delving his fingers in and out. His heart was pounding with his confession and from your lack of reply. Though he knew he was fucking you so precisely and so perfectly that it was indeed impossible for you to respond.

Until you burst once more, hands tugging his hair, bucking your pussy into his face, greedy for not just more, but for him. For the actions to do more than the words you could barely manage, so overstimulated and so sensitive that you felt yourself heating up. But then, as your pleasure erupted, feeling your hot arousal coat your thighs, a garbled "I love you" ripped from your chest. 

Satoru froze for several seconds, and then it was as if someone found the remote and clicked play as he somehow tugged off his blazer and pants all at once. Ripping his boxers down just enough to grab the base of his cock. 

Peering down at you, hungry and lovesick. "Say it again." You giggled and tugged him down for a messy kiss, working off his shirt.

"I love you, Satoru, I love you. I've never been afraid to say it." Your body was still shaking from your blinding orgasm, and he loved every second of it. He loved that he was about to ruin you even more. 

His cheek brushed yours as he folded your body, rubbing the tip of his cock against your clit, "I love you," he whispered hotly into your ear, "I want you to feel like the luckiest woman in the world."

“I already do.”

“Yeah?” You moaned in tandem as he bucked his hips repeatedly, more of his cock easing in each time. Teasing you over and over, even though you were ready to take him, and he knew it. "Can you take me, baby?"

"Yes!" You whined, breath hitching as he tapped his cock against your cunt before he slammed in and filled you to the brim all at once. You both groaned, the sounds fading into seconds of soft relieved laughter. "Oh fuck, Toru, so good."

He moaned, voice shaky in your ear, "That's it, baby, you're so good. Take my cock. It's all yours. Take every single inch."

"Fuck Toru, you're so deep, too deep!"

"No, baby, feels good, doesn't it?" 

Before you knew it, he picked you up and slammed you against the glass overlooking the city. If you weren't on the top floor, you'd absolutely refuse. But Gojo always did like fucking you in front of Tokyo at night. 

"You can take it, baby, you can fucking take it, yeah? Cause you're made for me, so made for me," he panted.

"I can take it." 

"I know you can." He sucked and kissed on your neck, no doubt leaving his mark on you, as you wrapped your arms around his neck and took every slam of his hips. His stamina had always been otherworldly, never tiring, even as he fucked you standing up, hands sinking into the undersides of your thighs.

"Leave him," he moaned, not in the slightest asking. 

Luckily you didn't mind, as you tugged him closer and parted your lips, "I will, I promise." 

"Because you're mine, baby." His teeth were clenched, and he was groaning into your ear. Usually, Gojo could pace himself, but it had been so long, and you felt so good clinging to him like this, it was so close and so intimate. “I love you.”

So close, and so…

He blinked at the revelation that hit him like a freight train, he wasn’t going to run any longer. He liked the intimacy, he wanted to tell you all the stupid things you wanted to know now, he wanted to be close, he wanted you. He wanted to be everything you needed and wanted. 

"Are you gonna come?" Your voice was so sweet it gave him an instant sugar rush, "Come in me, baby, fill me, Satoru. Need your cum," you whimpered. “Want it?”

"Yeah? You fucking do, princess? Haah-" He pulled out and shoved your front against the glass. You moaned at the switch, and as he spread you apart before thrusting back in, his large hands engulfing each cheek. 

He lost it as you pushed your hips back on him, moaning and babbling, "Then let's have the entirety of Tokyo be a witness as I give my sweet girl what she fucking wants, huh?"

"Fuck, Satoru, feels too good! I'm close too!" you moaned, both of your bodies meeting in desperate sticky clashes of hips.

He whimpered, “We're gonna come together?" 

You were gonna send him over the edge tonight. 

"I’m so glad you came. Take me, take it, baby. Oh fuck.” His hands dug into your hips, making you take every single rope of his arousal. Lewd sounds tore from your throats at the sensation of him filling you deeply. After seconds of panting and melting into each other's arms, he still made no immediate moves to leave you.

He thrusted slowly to drive it deeper, "I'm not on birth control anymore," you squeaked. "But I'll take th-“

"Good. We're getting the family started just on time."

You giggled tiredly, "You're on board that fast?"

He squeezed you as he laughed himself, arms locked tight around your waist, "Do you wanna see the engagement ring in my desk or?"

"Satoru!" 

He twirled you around to face him, "I was gonna fly you somewhere and propose, but I suppose the cats out of the bag." He pouted and got on one knee, kissing your knuckles, "You'll marry me, won't ya? Think of this as a practice proposal, though!"

You sighed, "God, you're a fucking idiot." 

"Heh, heh." He opened his desk drawer and produced a small black box. 

“I wasn’t joking, actually,” he popped it open with a proud smile, "Shoko kind of helped me pick it, said it was-"

It was beautiful, everything you’d always envisioned but had never described to him or anybody else. 

A slow tear slid down your cheek, another racing beside it seconds later, “Aww! Are you that happy to marry me, sweetheart?"

"Go away! But…yes."

He put the ring on the desk and cupped your cheeks, "Yes, you're happy, or yes, you'll marry me?" he asked tentatively.

"Both!" 

"Yay!”

You were half-expecting people to jump out with confetti because Gojo was just that ridiculous sometimes, but instead, you heard shrill knocking and then Nanami's voice, absolutely exasperated. "Gojo! You knew I was working overtime today." 

He shrugged, grinning at you recoiling into his chest and half-expecting Nanami to barrel in, "Probably the most action you'll get all year!"

He stroked your cheek, full of adoration. 

But I got her back. 

He always did like grand gestures. 

©mrsackermannx: do not repost, plagiarise, translate or modify my works.

tagging: @afortoru @luvjiro @sixpennydame @4sat0ruu @fangirlings-world @romantichomicide95 @nkogneatho @p00pdev1l @utahimeow @hayakawasb1tch @yocoochbussin <3

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fanfiction #jjk x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #mdni banner: @fic-dumpster <3 #still getting used to writing my baby <3

[enassbraid]

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞 - 𝐑𝐞𝐨 𝐌𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐠𝐞

-> Reo could have anything and everything he wants, some more replaceable than other. But why would he want to replace something (or rather someone) that's irreplaceable? (1k words)

-> CW) Reo's parents are really shitty here, gaslighting, cursing, ummm reo shows a brief sign of crazy but it's nothing compared to the toothbrush scene, kinda dialouge heavy, kissing lol

This is more Reo-centric tbh. I've never seen a fic that included how his parents would feel about a relationship with someone that wasn't mega rich, and wanted to experiment with that idea a bit.

Also, this was a scrap from the event I'm working on. I didn't wanna put it to waste so here it is.

“Reo, sweetie… we love you dearly, you know that?”

Reo merely stared at what was in front of him, his parents. It was hard to tell whether he was pissed, upset, or unbothered. But anyone who knew the young man would tell you exactly what that look on his face meant.

He’s pissed.

“But we think you need to reconsider this… decision of yours.” His father finished. The purple haired woman next to him nodded firmly at her husband’s words. “As much as we love you, we also need to keep the Mikage Corporation in mind. And that… person of yours… how do I put this?”

“They aren’t good enough for you or the family.” Reo’s father said what his mother was too scared to say. 

In short, you didn’t match their qualifications for Reo’s “future partner.”

“I’m sure they’re a joy to be around, really. But they don’t come from a wealthy family. One of the most important things to look for in a lover is a family-”

“So this isn’t about me, this is about the company? Whatever happened to ‘loving me dearly?’” Reo cut his father off, not wanting to hear another word out of him.

“We do love you, sweetheart. That’s why we want what’s best for you. And who you want to bring into the family isn’t worthy of accompanying you, let alone becoming a Mikage.” His mother’s tone was so sweet it was almost sickening. What was the point in acting so nice while spouting the cruelest words? 

Reo’s brows furrowed harshly. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to call them out on their bullshit, or punch them. The latter was most preferable. 

“You two don’t know a thing about (Name), so just shut up. Whatever I choose to do with my life is none of your business.” Reo spat.

His father opened his mouth to rebuttal, but Reo ran off before he could get a word out. As much as he wanted to chase after him and drill the meaning of being a “heir” into his head, a hand on a shoulder held him in place.

“Don’t.” Mrs. Mikage started, gazing at seemingly nothing. “He’ll understand sooner or later, just have some faith in him.”

Reo wanted nothing more than to kiss you passionately right in front of his parents. He knew it’d piss them off further, and that’s exactly why he wanted to do it. Why does he have to be the only one pissed off in this situation? His parents have to be worried, and you…

“So… does that mean we have to break up?” 

And you have to be guilty.

“No. We aren’t breaking up, I promise.” Reo reassured. He hated how you felt like this mess was your fault, because it wasn’t. It was his parent’s fault.

It was like they had a checklist for Reo’s potential lovers. Are they wealthy? Are their parents also CEO’s? Or at least work in higher ranks for a big company? Are they attractive (in their eyes)? If they didn’t fill out every box, they were shunned out of Reo’s life.

You weren’t like his previous partners, not in the slightest. For one, he’s with you because he loves you, and not because he’s bored. That’s a great place to start. 

“They’re assholes, that’s all there is to it. They don’t care about anything outside of their stupid company.” Reo’s words were as bitter as coffee. By this point, you weren’t sure if he was comforting you or himself. Perhaps a mix of both?

“If they don’t want me around… does that mean we’re gonna have to keep this a secret?” You looked at him curiously, wondering how this will work out without getting under his parent’s skin even more.

Reo grinned. “Who said we’ll have to keep this a secret?”

“By that… you mean…?”

“I mean… I think I’m gonna have to start bringing you around my place even more.”

His words stunned you. Just how would that help his situation? The boy stood there, grinning like an idiot, as if this was the best idea ever. 

“Think about it! If you were always around, they’d have no choice but to warm up to you. And if they even try to belittle you, then I'll-”

You cut him off. “Okay- I get it. You can calm down now.”

“My bad…”

His plan was irrational to no end. His parents were perfectly capable of cutting you out of Reo’s life if they really wanted to, even he knew that. But no matter what route he takes, risks will always be apparent. Of course, Reo wanted to take the route that’d corner his parents. Was he sure it’d work? Nope. 

But he was okay with taking chances to keep you a part of his life.

“You know I’m doing this because I love you, right?” Your ears perked up at this, already figuring that was the case to begin with. “I don’t want you to think I’m doing this just to piss off my parents.” He finished.

“Even if that was your reason, I still wouldn’t mind.” You stated. It baffled Reo, that you were so willing to go along with whatever you wanted. It reminded him...

“Have I ever told you?”

“Told me what?”

“I’ve had a lot of things in my life, but I think you’re the best of them all. Well- minus the fact that you’re a person, not a thing. But you get my point.” He affirmed with a wide, gentle grin. 

You pulled him in for a sweet kiss, which Reo gladly accepted. 

In that moment, Reo could only think of how much better you were than anyone else his parents would prefer.

He could kiss you back and feel sincere about it. And he could pull you closer not because it was what his body wanted, but because it was what he wanted.

You were the best thing that’s ever been Reo’s.

Well, minus Nagi. But you still came before him.

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x you #blue lock scenarios #blue lock headcanons #blue lock fluff #bllk fluff #reo mikage #reo #bllk reo #reo mikage x reader #reo x reader #reo mikage x you #reo x you #dor writes

[mariacrow]

TFP Decepticons x reader

✶ relationship headcanons ✶

I know no one asked for this and that there are requests in my inbox but rewatching TFP got my inspiration and ideas all over the place :’)

THIS ONE IS LONG 💀 (that’s what she said-)

2nd person

female reader

how you’d get together, confession

how you’d function together, PDA

intimacy, preferences (NSFW)

how long would it last

MEGATRON

OOF.

As your lord he would treat you as one of his servants, nothing less, nothing more

Knowing he’s intrigued by you and not denying it, he would give you more difficult tasks (mostly in the lab because you’re SM0LL)

All you’d get from him is bare minimum praising but oh how you’d blush and melt nevertheless would make him smirk and snicker

He’d definitely be bossier when it comes to you just because he wants to dominate you in any possible way

As time would pass he would get more intimate with you in private, perhaps a little touchy

It would all start with rough sex, him pounding you into the control panel, make you stain it with your bitter sweet juices as he’d make you scream his name- okishouldstop-

Anywho, that would be the “confession”. More like making you moan out YOUR confession

As your relationship would develop, he’d make you seem as his personal pet, he’d even call you pet names

He’s very possessive and protective, hence PDA in this case would be making you follow him around the warship all the time, carry you and be a little touchy at times just to make sure you’re still his. He’d protect you at all costs and maybe even panic when you’re in danger

When he wants to do it, you will do it, be that the control room, the lab, in the hallway against the wall, on the floor, it doesn’t matter. You will take him when he wants it the way he wants it

He’s into dirty talk, also loves when you beg and scream his name or call him lord or master

He doesn’t like making a mess so he’d always scold you when you’d make one or when he’d fill you up to the brim and make a puddle underneath, always blaming it on you

Actually loves when you’re a playful brat and disobey him so he can punish you

At times you feel like his sex toy but he’d prove to you that you’re much more

It’s just the way he functions, he’s evil after all but definitely loyal to the core

You’re either his forever or you shall perish

🩶

STARSCREAM

EW.

He’d pretend he’s annoyed by you all the time, pretend he hates you the most as if you’re his blood enemy

In fact he’s very jealous when he sees you looking at anyone else or God forbid TALK WITH THEM

Once he wouldn’t be able to take it anymore, he’d angrily drag you somewhere where you’re alone. First he’d take a deep breath and almost cry as he’d confess to you

He’d beg you to be his, he’d kneel in front of you and kiss your hands and cry his feelings out as well as apologize for treating you like scrap

In the relationship he’d be into that master and kitten stuff, he’d even call you kitten (cringe imo)

He is into PDA just so he could brag how you’re finally his

He’d act all dominant and make you refer to him as master, as well as during the freaky time but if you’re a switch or a dom, he can easily become a sub and squirm and whimper

After he’d totally embarrass himself with begging you to let him cum, he’d deny it and pretend nothing happened

When he’s dom, he can be very nasty and sloppy. Definitely a dirty talker, also likes to hear you beg

He’s very easily offended BY ANYTHING so he’d always be the one breaking up with you every week and then coming back to you on his knees just a day or even a few hours later

He’s just one pathetic lover

🩶

KNOCKOUT

Oh he’s one hunk of a mech

He’d very visibly expresses his burning feelings for you

He’d flirt with you all the time, give you seductive gazes, smirks, winks etc.

He’s a mech that notices every little detail so he’d shower you with compliments any time he gets a chance, making sure he doesn’t repeat any of them

He’d always ask you to help him fix his paint job whenever it would get ruined or simply give him a buff session

That would be your beginning love language, that’s when you’d be alone and when he’d take his sweet time making you all flustered

He’d love taking you on long relaxing rides, he’s a romantic soul after all

That’s when he’d take advantage of the perfect moment and kiss you, tell you how the long foreplay should finally turn into something serious

He’s an amazing lover, he’d treat you like a princess, pamper you, spoil you, get you everything you need to take care of your beauty

He’s definitely a tease too so you’d enjoy his little suggestive sentences until your passions finally collide and drag you to bed with him

He’s sensual, he likes to take it slow and hot and definitely a mech to get turned on by the pleasure he’s making you feel

Definitely into oral, loves eating you out until you reach your limit

He DOES NOT shut his mouth, he might as well give you an eargasm before and orgasm

He knows what he’s doing, he knows how to find all of your soft spots and overstimulate you and occasionally make you beg, he doesn’t mind, he loves all the sounds you’re making

In conclusion, he’s definitely a mech who read that “She comes first” book

He isn’t perfect though, he can be a burden and difficult to handle, especially his perfectionism which can be REALLY annoying

That’s why you might go through some difficult times with him, take a break and then come back to each other after a month or two

Even when you’d “officially” break up, you would get back together nonetheless

🩶

BREAKDOWN

MY 2ND FAV!!! 🥰 he so goofy I love him

He definitely lacks a couple of braincells so he isn’t the best at making you intrigued

He would flirt with you all the time in his own… Breakdown way-

He’s trying to cover up the fact he’s VERY afraid of hurting you, mostly physically because he’s so huge

He doesn’t have a sense of his surroundings hence he can be too rough at times and he’s aware of that. Just another reason to be scared to break the ice with you and take it further

He has proved to you a couple of times that he isn’t just a pile of steal and a hammer. Deep inside, behind that thick armor he has a big warm spark waiting for you

His confession would be perfectly timed, even though he hasn’t planned it a bit, just when you’d feel he’s playing with you all along

He would spill his spark for you and tell you he loves you

It would be a start of a wholesome relationship with a perverse size difference which would actually start turning him on

He’s quite of a sloppy kisser (kinda hot ngl)

In bed he’s like a dog in heat, his favorite position is doggy style even, he loves giving you spine breaking back shots and watch your ass jiggle and smack on his thick hips and thighs as you scream for more

He also loves using you as a pocket pussy, just squeeze you in his servo and bounce you up and down on his spike

He doesn’t know what a slow gentle pace is but if you ask him nicely, he will try, for you, his beloved

He’s quite vocal so you two will definitely echo around the warship

He doesn’t give a single damn what others think, hence he’s totally fine with PDA

Quickies are also his thing, he’s a risk taker, it turns him on

Sometimes he’s taking it too far while others are around:

Breakdown: *gets all touchy in the middle of the lab* I want to stick it deep inside of you so bad rn-

Y/N: Not the time-

Breakdown: ok-

He can be so dumb sometimes, no one can make you mad like he can, make you cry even and that’s why the relationship would be unstable at times

But he doesn’t want to lose you because you really make him happy and he wants to build something serious and everlasting for the first time in his life

That’s why you’d always get an honest apology from him and you’d move on together like a healthy couple (until the next stupid thing he does-)

🩶

DREADWING

MY NUMBER ONE!!! 🥰

He’s definitely a mech to hide his feelings for you and deny it

He’d treat you roughly and avoid you at first, trying to erase every special feeling in his spark he has for you

At some point he wouldn’t be able to do it anymore and he’d let himself sink into your beautiful eyes, admire your smile and small, soft figure, let himself enjoy every moment of your beautiful voice tickling his audio receptors

As you’d grow on him, he wouldn’t leave your side and tend to stare at you without even blinking (he can be a creep-)

His confession would be spontaneous, your lips and his dermas would meet one evening in the lab and he’d tell you how much he’s been thinking of you. It would seem like a proposal because when he gets attached it’s over, you’re his one and only

As your relationship would grow stronger and more serious, you’d see he indeed has a soft side but ONLY for you

Hence he isn’t really into PDA but he isn’t ashamed to say you’re his partner, though he tends to avoid it

He would make sure you don’t think he’s ashamed of being with you, explaining how it’s all because of his duty

When it comes to intimacy, he’s a mech that prefers it slow and gentle at first but then he wouldn’t be able to contain his urge and strength and go rough on you (size kiiiink)

He dirty talks here and there but he’s more of a groaning type that uses his hands to express himself (grab your hair, scratch you, mark you in any way)

He’s into sounding though so he’d make sure you make sweet juicy noise that would only make him into a wider animal that will fill you up to the brim

Perhaps a tiny punishment kink-

Afterwards he’d ask you if he was too rough and if he hurt you to which you’d only boost his ego with saying how it was perfect

He’s not playing around, if you’re his partner, he will cherish you and protect you forever

After losing his brother, he can’t lose you too…

🩶

SOUNDWAVE

The moment he lay his optics-… visor? Sensors? Anyway- the moment he SAW you, he knew you’re THE ONE.

He must have you at all costs

He would secretly display a smiley face for you from time to time which would lead to him doing it whenever he’d see you on the ship

When you’re alone, he’d quietly approach you and stand or sit very VERY close to you

He would express his intrigue by being willing to help you, displaying sentences such as:

“Soundwave: willing to help.”

As you two would get closer to each other, sentences such as these would show on his visor:

“Soundwave: finding Y/N prepossessing.”

“Soundwave: relishes moments with Y/N.”

He would start displaying a heart the moment he’d feel as if you two finally clicked

When he’d want you to give him a kiss, he’d simply lean closer to you and wait for a sweet smooch on his display

This is ONLY when you two are alone, PDA is a big nono due to his job, he must stay focused at all times

In bed all he cares about is pleasing you. Tell him what you like and how you like it and he will more than just exceed your expectations

If you’re a fan of tentacles, well… you know~

Sometimes it seems as if he doesn’t even need to get intimate, as if he’s just your pleasure robot but at times he can get overstimulated by the sight of your pleasure so he gets the urge to take over

He doesn’t make sounds at all

He definitely videotapes every single freaky time you two have (kinkyyyy)

If you ask him about his voice, he will reveal it only for you but afterwards he will still prefer not using it often

If you’re his, you’re his forever, no doubt

🩶

SHOCKWAVE

HE SO THICC

It is ILLOGICAL for him to fall in love

But here we are, lab boy is all over you

He would rather die than express it, hence you always thought you had no chance with him

Though as time would pass, he would invite you to the lab more and more often so you would help him

He would admire your tiny hands at work, just stand there and watch you do whatever he asked you to

He needs a little lab assistant to help with him with stuff of smaller size

And that’s indeed how you became his little lab assistant!

You would get mixed signals from him whenever he’d pet your head and tell you you did a good job

Until one day he would just lean closer to you and say:

Shockwave: I request a kiss.

To which you’d kiss his LAMP.

He’d only treat you as a partner when you’re alone, mostly in the lab or his berthroom, explaining to you his position is too serious to show any kind of weakness

He would keep his formality of speech all the time which is kinda hot at times

Getting intimate with him is not easy considering his sex drive isn’t big but once you do, it’s heaven

He always takes it his way and it’s mostly in the lab. He has a weird sex in the lab kink (kinda hot)

He prefers missionary as he loves seeing a pure mess he’s pounding into

He’s mostly quiet but he would throw his helm back or/and groan in pleasure because you’re too tight for his girthy spike

Getting caught is not something that worries him. Even if someone does walk in on you, he would just assert dominance that way - stare at whoever entered the lab as he keeps pounding you

He isn’t the best at aftercare but he’d praise you and clean you, carry you to bed or just let you rest on his shoulder as he continues working

He’s VERY possessive which means there’s no running away from Shocky~

You’re lamp boy’s eternal love

Some stuff is from the roleplays with my bestie @k----a27s

Dividers belong to @kiwicidios , @firefly-graphics and @kimjiho1 💜

#transformers #transformers x reader #tfp #transformers prime #decepticons #tfp decepticons #megatron #starscream #knockout #breakdown #dreadwing #soundwave #shockwave #tfp megatron #tfp starscream #tfp knockout #tfp breakdown #tfp dreadwing #tfp soundwave #tfp shockwave #megatron x reader #starscream x reader #knockout x reader #breakdown x reader #dreadwing x reader #soundwave x reader #shockwave x reader #tf headcanons

[spiriteddreams]

fall / in love

Pairing: Al-Haitham x Reader Warnings: fluff, slight angst with a happy ending Word Count: ~1.3k A/N: writer's block is hitting hard rn so here are some feelings with our fav grumpy grand scribe

“You’ve been avoiding me. Why?” The last person you want to see stands in front of you. You can feel your desk digging into you from behind as you’re cornered in the quiet walls of your office with nowhere to run. Petty excuses are futile in the presence of Al-Haitham, and his looming shadow makes you feel impossibly small.  

You cannot fall in love with him, you’ve told yourself this over and over again. They are bitter words to swallow down, stuck in the back of your throat as you force a practiced smile to hide every confession that threatens to tear through. There are certain things that cannot be said because they will tear down the walls you’ve so carefully constructed, and you know better than anyone how terrible he is at lending a hand when it comes to emotions. Al-Haitham is a man of titles: the Grand Scribe of the Akademiya, the current Acting Grand Master, a saviour to Sumeru (whether he acknowledges it or not), and a good friend. So you cannot fall in love with him because that will threaten everything you have built thus far.

And yet you free-fall, stumbling into these emotions you struggle to push away. You remind yourself to re-read the label that describes your relationship: childhood friends. Keep it that way, you say to yourself. Don’t fall in love, don’t fall for silly words and actions that have no deeper meaning. Falling in love is dangerous, and falling in love with Al-Haitham is possibly the most dangerous of all. You know this and yet you cannot bring yourself to draw the line. He pushes his way into his life without care, his body fitting the indent on your couch from sleepless nights of research and escaping from Kaveh’s hammering in the middle of the night.

Don’t fall in love. Instead, push him away, pull yourself out, place every obstacle you can on this chess-game like friendship that’s cornering you. So how is it that he’s cornered you now, arms crossed over his chest as he stares you down.

“I’ve been busy.” You sigh with a shake of your head. It’s not a lie, you have been rather busy with the sudden influx of paperwork and rebuilding that comes with the rebuilding of the Akademiya. But you’ve still made an effort to steer clear of Al-Haitham when you could. It was changing your daily routes, choosing to take longer walks around the Akademiya to get to your office in the morning, and instead taking up Kaveh’s offers to get lunch at the cafe across the city rather than the one just outside the Akademiya. 

Al-Haitham rolls his eyes ,”Do you think I’m that stupid? You’ve been actively avoiding me. This is the first time I’ve seen you in almost two weeks. So why?” You hear the slight waver in his voice as his words end. There’s a flicker of worry in his eyes that lasts for just one second, but it’s that one second that punches through your pride. It’s too late to back out now.

“Because— I don’t understand you! You buy me my favourite pastries and then tell me it’s because you wanted one too but I know you hate how sweet these are! You ask for book recommendations but I know you hate the books I read because you have this odd enjoyment of reading physics books! You seek out my company and claim it’s only because you have nothing better to do! And I don’t understand what you want from me!” He remains quiet at your words and you shake your head slightly. Of course he doesn’t say anything. When you finally put him in check, he doesn’t know what to say. His pawns are gone, chess pieces not set up for your play, so he stays quiet. 

“I don’t like feeling whatever this feeling is.” Your hands tremble as you bring them to your chest. The words bubble up from your chest and there’s no stopping them now. Not after you’ve pushed them down for so long and watched from a distance, because this distance is what has kept you going for so long. 

“I see you and— and suddenly I have this stupid smile on my face and my heart beats faster and you don’t even know!” You cry out, “You don’t care that time and time again I have to turn away just because I get so worried that you’ll see me and know.!” He stares at you blankly and you hate it. You hate that you can’t read any emotions in those pretty eyes of his. You hate that his mouth hasn’t moved, not a twitch or a smirk, or a smile, or anything. You hate that his hands reach up to grasp yours, the surprisingly soft texture of his gloves stark against your clammy palms.

He opens his mouth and you brace for the worse, only for him to say softly, “Breathe, please.” A shaky breath rattles your lungs as you stare at him, mouth parted in a mix of surprise at the sudden contact and how damn close he is. There’s a mix of something in those pretty eyes of his as he ducks down to look at you from behind his grey swept hair. A smile, a rare, genuine one tugs on his lips and you can only stare. You’ve laid out your emotions bare for him to see, put him in check position and can only wait for him to make his next move.

And what you hate the most about Al-Haitham is his infuriating ability to take his time, even in the most stressful of situations. You’re acutely aware of your breathing, the rise and fall of your chest and his as you stand in silence. Your hands, no doubt sweaty, still shake even in his gentle grasp and you  know that he can see the way your eyes dart around nervously, refusing to hold eye contact with him.

“After knowing me for so long, I thought that you might be able to read me just as well.” Forget how nervous you feel at the moment. You want to strangle him for his cryptic words. He’s always been good at this, dangling the truth in front of everyone’s eyes under the disguise of honey coated words and half-truths. Perhaps, at another time, you would indulge in riddled words and bite back with some of your own, but now they only irritate you. And Al-Haitham knows it. Just the thought of it brings a teasing grin to his face, one you recognize immediately.

“Don’t you think it’s rather foolish of you to avoid me like this?” Al-Haitham hums and steps back to give you some space. He doesn’t let go of your hands. “After all this time, you’d think that maybe you might realize that I care for you just as much, if not more, as you do for me.” You let the words sink in, bask in their warmth before scowling at him. Tugging your hands from his grasp you push at him gently, ignoring the feeling of his chest against your fingers as you look away.

“Just say you like me too.” You grumble. Al-Haitham’s fingers come to drag along your skin, teasing yet comforting as he laughs, “What a childish way of putting it.” You roll your eyes but stay in your spot, relishing in the turn of events. Quick as it may have been, and far too unexpected for your liking, you’d be lying if you said this wasn’t something Al-Haitham would do.

He hums, catching your attention once more. “So, are you done avoiding me?”

“Keep up this attitude and I won’t be.” Al-Haitham grins and you can’t help but match his expression. But nothing prepares you for the brief kiss that his planted on your forehead, a promise sealed without words, an act of comfort and honesty. And in the confines of these four walls, you let yourself fall in love again. 

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! <3

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #yaepublishinghouse #al haitham #alhaitham #genshin impact angst #genshin impact fluff #spiriteddreams writing #spiriteddreams

[strawberrysodaslut]

STEVE GETTING JEALOUS BECAUSE EDDIE IS GETTING CLOSE TO YOU SO HE FUCKS YOU AND OVERSTIMULATES YOU AND AFTER YOURE LIKE “what was that for” AND HE TELLS YOU WND YOURE LIKE “you know eddie’s gay right?”

(just an fyi, in this eddie would be okay with you telling ppl obvi)

Bitter - Steve Harrington x Reader

❛ ━━━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

❛ ━━━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

[ Steve Harrington Masterlist ]

[ Main Masterlist ]

❛ ━━━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

word count: 2.6k

summary: Steve has always been jealous of your relationship with Eddie, convinced he was in love with you. When you take Eddie to a party, his jealously goes wild, making sure Eddie knows exactly who is your boyfriend.

warnings: steve harington x fem!reader, gay!eddie munson x fem!reader (platonic), SMUTT, unprotected sex, fingering, choking, squirting, overstim, multiple orgasms, semi-public sex, car sex

join taglist <- tags in reblog

❛ ━━━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

You and Eddie were good friends- you’d go as far as to call him your best friend. Regardless of what people said about him, you knew how sweet he was, how kind, how goddamn funny he was. It wasn’t exactly a new thing for people to think you two were dating- many people asked you if you were. But you always shut them down, telling them the two of you were, and will only be, friends.

One thing that made you certain that Eddie didn’t have feelings for you, was him coming out to you. It was very late at night, the two of you higher than the goddamn Sun when he admitted it to you. Obviously, you understood why he was so apprehensive about telling you, in a town like this- anyone gay would HAVE to assume everyone was homophobic to survive.

But you never really got the anger surrounding gay people, they’re just trying to love who they love. How would that be different from a man and a woman? You’d learnt early in life not to ask questions like that, but it was always in the back of your mind.

You could feel the tension in Eddie’s shoulders disappear when you pulled him into a hug, promising him that nothing had changed between the two of you, and swearing that you wouldn’t tell anyone.

To be honest, knowing the truth made the dating rumours all the more hilarious, you and Eddie in fits of laughter whenever someone asked.

The rumours quickly died down when you started dating Steve, you weren’t sure if he had ever heard the rumours, but if he had, he knew they weren’t true. You were his, not anyone else’s, certainly not Eddie’s.

But no matter how much it bothered Steve, he would rather die than say anything about being jealous of Eddie Munson.

Eddie on the other hand didn’t have that quality.

You swear to god, if you had a dollar for every time he said, “I know he’s your boyfriend and all, but he pisses me off.”, you’d be a damn millionaire.

Once again, the source of the jealousy wasn’t about you- it was about Dustin. Because for every word Dustin spoke about Eddie, he spoke ten about Steve. The kid looked up to Eddie, but Steve was his goddamn idol.

Because of this, Eddie and Steve never really spoke to each other- let alone hung out. But all that changed at Chrissy’s birthday party.

You had known Chrissy since you were a toddler, spending a lot of your time doing ‘gymnastics tricks’ on the playground, your parents screaming at you to be careful as your head had near-misses with the asphalt.

But as close as you and Chrissy were, you hated her friends. The girls on the cheer team were nice- to you at least. But some of the boy's basketball team were just… evil, they would spend all day bullying anyone who was even the slightest bit different, and then spends their weekends preaching about ‘loving thy neighbour’. You didn’t fit in with them at all.

So when you got the invite, you knew you needed backup. Steve was pretty easy to convince, being friends with a lot of the attendees, but Eddie, he was a tough one to crack.

“Why? Why in God’s name would I go to Chrissy’s party?” He said, crossing his arms over his chest in annoyance.

“Because…” You knew this was gonna be work, so you put on your award-winning doe eyes and started the guilt trip. “If you’re not there, you’ll be leaving me with jerks like Jason, and we swore not to do that to each other.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, knowing what you were doing, “You don’t have to go you know?” He says.

You shook your head at him, “Eds, I’ve been friends with her since we could walk, I have to go to her birthday party. Come on, it’ll be fun! You even said it yourself Chrissy was a nice girl, don’t you want to commemorate her birthday with your best friend?”

He pauses, knowing you’re right. “Fine.” He says, dragging out the ‘e’, “But you’re driving me, I don’t want those laundry basket freaks keying my van.”

You laugh, accepting his terms, intentionally leaving out the fact that you were also driving Steve.

After careful consideration, you decided to pick up Steve first, you told him you were also driving another person to the party, but you left out who. So when you turned into the trailer park, his eyebrows furrowed. “Why are you taking Max to the- oh you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” He says as Eddie walks out of his trailer, recognising your car and walking towards it.

You thank every god there could be that you had tinted windows, ensuring Eddie didn’t see Steve until he was already in the car. Starting the car as soon as he gets in.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Eddie complains, slumping in his seat.

Steve shrugs, “Could say the same thing about you, Munson.”

Of course, this is the one thing they agreed on.

The rest of the car ride was torture, no one said a single word the entire time. You quickly regretted your entire decision, all hope of tonight being the night where Eddie and Steve finally got along disappearing the closer you got to the party.

When you finally get to the party, Eddie honestly looks excited to get out of the car, immediately walking into the house with his little lunchbox in hand. You couldn’t blame him for bringing it, if he isn’t gonna enjoy the party he may as well make some money from it right?

You and Steve were quick to follow, Steve almost immediately ditching you for his old jock friends. Leaving you and Eddie to fend for yourselves.

Despite the… awkward energy in the air, you and Eddie managed to have a pretty fun time, even convincing him to dance to some Madonna with you- in exchange for permission to rant about how pop music is the bane of our existence. But he couldn’t hide the smile on his face as you twirled him.

What you didn’t see was Steve’s glare from across the room. He wasn’t an idiot- of course, he heard the rumours about you and Eddie, and he trusted you, he really did. He just didn’t trust Eddie.

Nothing could convince him Eddie wasn’t in love with you, the way he looked at you would’ve been enough, but it's also the fact he’s known you for YEARS. Anyone who knew you for that long had to be in love with you, Steve was within a few months. He couldn’t keep watching this, you were so oblivious. How could you not tell?

Steve didn’t know Eddie well, but he knew one thing for sure.

Eddie needs to learn his fucking place.

You had left Eddie to continue his “business transactions” when Steve came up to you, arms wrapping around your front as he hooked his chin onto your shoulder.

“Hey” You mutter, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “‘You having fun?”

He nods, angling his head to pepper small kisses on your neck. You giggle, moving your body to capture his lips in a kiss. His hands glide up to your waist while yours hook into his hair.

“Wanna find somewhere private?” He mutters into your lips.

You nod, “Definitely, but all of the- private rooms are… taken.” You say, remembering watching different members of the cheer squad walk upstairs with jocks.

Steve pulls back from the kiss, his eyebrows furrowed, “how are they all taken?” he said. He knew how much the basketball team got around, but Jesus Christ. “Guess we gotta go for a drive…”

Steve practically drags you to your car, not that you weren’t following. The place you parked was quite… hidden, so there was no real fear of being caught. The two of you piled into the seat, Steve immediately pulling you into his lap.

He captures your lips into a kiss, “I’m gonna be rough, yeah? Is that okay?” he says in between kisses. You nod, gasping as he slips his hand up your shirt, groping your breast. He shakes his head, “Words, I need words.”

You whine, rolling your hips down onto his lap, already needy, “Please touch me, Steve,” You beg.

That’s all it takes for Steve to push his fingers under your skirt, moving your panties to the side as he slides his fingers through your slick. “Shit,” He mutters, “Always so fuckin’ wet for me.”

And with that, he pushes two fingers into you, curling them against your spot. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, begging him to touch you more as his thumb rubs circles on your clit.

He picks a steady pace with his fingers, nearly completely slipping them out of you before thrusting them back in. You let out a near-pornographic moan, causing Steve to move his free hand from your breast to your throat, cutting off your moan as he applies pressure. The buzz from the oxygen deprivation only adds to the pleasure Steve is giving you.

“Shut the fuck up. We don’t want anyone finding us.” He says, whispering soft ‘shhs’ as he refuses to relent the torturous pace on your clit as he pounds his fingers into you.

Steve was lying however, he wouldn’t mind Eddie finding out how good HE was making you feel, reminding him that he would never be able to do the same. But Steve will have to just settle for him seeing the aftermath.

Steve can tell your close, your walls clamping around his fingers, he prods a third finger at your entrance before thrusting it into you, the stretch sending you over the edge.

When the coil snaps, you swear the world ends for a moment, only pleasure remaining. Your hips stuttering as they roll against his hand.

As you come down from your high you expect his hands to slow, getting ready to slip out of you. But they don't, in fact, Steve seems to have picked up the pace, watching you with an eager eye as oversensitivity bites at you.

“Steve, please” You moan, unsure if you're begging for him to stop or keep going.

He presses kisses down your throat, “One more for me, come on, you can do one more.” He asks, voice slightly muttered by your skin.

You moan, nodding against him as the overstimulation fades to pleasure. You grind your hips down, riding his fingers as he continues to flick at your clit.

It doesn’t take long for you to cum again, your hands tugging at his long locks, face buried into his neck as you writhe against him.

“Good girl,” He groans, fingers still guiding you through your orgasm, slowing to a stop when you start to pull away. You’re already pulling at his belt buckle when he pulls his fingers out of you. He lifts his hips to help you tug his jeans and boxers down his thighs, his hard cock springing out and hitting his stomach.

You lift your hips, lining up his cock. Just as you’re about to slowly slide down, Steve thrusts up, tugging you down as he bottoms out. You moan out, gripping his shoulders as he immediately thrusts up into you.

Normally when you were fucking like this, Steve was more than happy to let you ride, enjoying watching you in control, but now… you don’t know what’s gotten into him.

But you weren’t about to complain.

You let him fuck into you, using his hands on your hips to grind you onto him. He hits deep in you, and your eyes roll back into your head. “Fuck, Steve.” You say, cradling your hands in his hair- just looking for something to hold on to.

Steve moves one of his hands from your hips to your clit, rubbing harsh circles on the swollen nub, barrelling you to your orgasm. “Holy-shit, Steve, close.” You stutter out in between moans.

He takes that as a sign to fuck harder into you, nearly fully exiting you before harshly thrusting back into you, going as deep and as quick as he can. Finding a spot on your neck and biting down to suck a bruise- just to keep himself quiet.

The warmth in your stomach grows stronger, until a wave crashes over you, your body going completely lax, a massive amount of wet presenting itself as you squirt around him. Steve pulls off your neck, moaning out as your walls clamp around him, spurting his cum into you as he rocks you through your respective orgasms.

It’s not until he stops moving that you see the mess you’ve made. His jeans are completely soaked. The car seats are wet, but thankfully nothing a good clean won't fix.

Steve holds you against himself, watching carefully as you take in the mess, still mewling from the orgasm. “That was so hot,” He says, tilting your head to his face, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Your jeans…” You mutter, brushing your hands through his hair.

He chuckles, “I brought a spare change of clothes since we said I’m staying over”

You sigh, body relaxing knowing he wouldn’t have to go back in with soaked jeans. He slides out of you, laying you down on the backseat while he grabs his overnight bag, as well as some tissues from the glovebox.

He carefully cleans you up, apologising every time he bumps your sensitive clit, before changing into new jeans, they were a different colour than the ones he was wearing before, so people were gonna figure out what had happened, but you didn't care.

You make eye contact with Eddie as you walk back into the party, you gesture your head to the drinks and then at him, asking if he wants one. He nods, and you walk towards the drinks table, ready to grab you, Eddie and Steve a drink.

Steve sits next to Eddie, he’s sitting in a secluded spot, so Steve knows he’s been dealing. He watches as you slightly limp towards the drinks. Eddie looks between you and Steve, then notices the change in jeans. A knowing smirk forms on his face.

“Jesus dude, you couldn’t wait ‘til you got home?” Eddie says, laughing as you stumble back with the drinks. “She can’t even walk properly, holy shit.”

Steve rolls his eyes, finally ready to put an end to this. “Look man, I know you have a thing for her or whatever, but you’ve gotta back off. She doesn’t like you back” He says, turning to Eddie, “Understood?”

Eddie’s brows are furrowed, confusion written all over his face, “Yeah,” he says, chuckling before turning to Steve, “You know I’m gay, right?”

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things season 4 #stranger things s4 #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #platonic eddie munson #joseph quinn #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington headcannons #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington dialogue #joe keery #joe keery fic

[houpss]

STRAY KIDS DIED,WHEN PROTECTING YOU

I saw this on the Internet and it drove me hysterical. I wanted something super sad, so I'm writing this (💊))

I'm an empath and while I was writing this...oh, I was crying like the last bitch. Parts will be released by two members!

pt2;;pt3;;pt4

BANG CHAN

He covered your body from the bullet wound.

He died in the hospital on the operating table at 23:00...a beautiful time isn't it?

This happened when you and Chan were planning to go for a walk to the mountain parks, you had been wanting to go there for so long!

A murder was about to happen to you, because when the agency confirmed your relationship with Chan, a huge amount of hate was poured out on you.

That day you were in a beautiful white dress, Chan was also very handsome, your dear Chan.

Suddenly you heard a noise near the front door and Chris went to check, the next thing you heard was a scream: “Y/N, HIDE.”shoot.

You ran after him, saw only Chan’s body, you put his head on your lap and immediately called an ambulance, you could only whisper: “Don’t close your eyes, hold on, my love,” your hand was on his wound, he looked at so tenderly you.

You held his hand always, you refused to let him go, and his fingers weakly squeezed your hand.

Chan was taken to the hospital, and you immediately called the boys, your words were incomprehensible, and your tears were choking you.

You are all gathered in the hospital, the operation is already three hours, your heart is breaking, and the red spots on your white dress are drying up.

words: "Sorry, we couldn't save him"

The members were the first to enter his room... Felix and Jongin were the first to leave in tears... followed by Hyunjin hugging Jisung, then Changbin and Minho... Seungmin came out last.

When he died, you screamed heartbreakingly, there was scarlet blood on your white dress, the last symbol of love.

Have you lost track of time, how much did you spend near his cold body in the hospital? How long did you hold his cold hands and lean your forehead against his forehead?

You refused to let go of his body, please don't take Chris away.

You kiss his cold lips one last time.

The boys were heartbroken and you were killed, your soul died along with Chan.

You don’t remember the funeral, you don’t remember how long you sat at the grave, you don’t remember anything. Everything in your apartment smells of him, everything reminded you of him...

You always wear his big black hoodie and his hat, you wear all his things. Leaving the smell of Chan on you

Your eyes are always red.

You have Chan as wallpaper everywhere on your phone, you don't want him to slip from your memory.

The boys went to rest for an indefinite period of time, and you flew to Australia to visit Chan’s family, having previously visited the dorm and collected his things. You cried non-stop, your grief was unbearable.

You will remain living in Sydney with Chan's family, but will occasionally fly to Seoul to visit the boys...their fates are on the eve, their leader is dead, your sweet Channie is buried two meters underground.

Such a life will not last long, you will never be able to accept the bitterness of loss.

You will die exactly five months after Chan, the last syndrome of your love. I'll be back soon.

LEE MINHO

He died immediately, no one could help him.

You walked down a dark alley with Minho, he held your hand tightly so that you wouldn’t be afraid, you’re not afraid, are you?

In the distance, some men were beating a girl, Minho saw this and was consumed by anger.

The girl was saved, she ran away and he protected you from these men, but...

He was stabbed in the neck.

You were covered in blood, you were hugging his already inanimate body.

Minho looked at the sky with glassy eyes, he is now one of the stars in the sky.

A police investigation began, then the company released a statement... then a funeral, crying members, Minho's broken parents... how vague everything.

You immediately took Soonie, Doongie and Dori from Minho’s apartment.

You tried so hard to support everyone, but you yourself were killed from within.

You saw him in all your dreams, you fell asleep with the thought that in your dreams he would be nearby.

It's become an addiction.

You moved into the dorms and lived there so often, helping the members. Everything was easier with you.

With Minho's death, you promised yourself that no one else would ever take your heart. You are forever faithful to Minho.

You will definitely ensure that those who killed Minho are punished.

You will definitely achieve justice.

You've been sitting on his grave for so long... leaning against the tombstone with the name "LEE MINHO 25.10.1998-03.04.202*" such a beautiful name, such tender feelings.

You will help the boys return to the industry, you continued Minho's work.

You will continue his life in your heart.

#stray kids angst #stray kids x reader #stray kids #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x reader #lee minho #lee know #skz minho #fictional other #angst #skz headcanons #skz fic #skz x reader #minho x reader #minho x y/n #kpop oc #kpop imagines #kpop #skz stay

[gavisfanta]

THE NEWSPAPER - PEDRI

summary: you ket the hate get to you

warnings: none

Breakups can be bitter.

Walking past a person you used to hug, kiss, and touch freely, is a surreal feeling.

Suddenly what was once natural is now weird. If Pedri would walk over to you now and kiss your forehead, everyone would look at him like he's insane.

5 months ago, he walked over to you, kissed you on your lips and everyone would look at the two of you.

"How sweet they are" Some people would say. They were jealous and their only goal was to make you two break up.

Some of them loved your relationship, some of them didn't.

You didn't care much about what the media said,

or did you?

3 months earlier

"She's my girlfriend and I'm happy that she's here and I don't have to hide her anymore." Pedri said as he looked at the interviewer in front of him.

"Will she always come to support you or was this just a one-time thing to show her off?" The interviewer asked him again and he laughed a bit while he scratched his jawline.

"She supports me from home too, not only from here, I have a better feeling already when I know that she thinks of me. It wasn't just a one-time thing tho." Pedri answered again and the interviewer nodded her head.

"Gracias Pedri, have a nice night." She said and Pedri nodded his head as he flashed her a smile.

You looked at him while your whole face was covered in a wide grin. "You're so sweet." You opened up your arms for him and he walked into them. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer.

"Gotta take every opportunity to show off my amazing girlfriend no?" Pedri asked as he pulled away to look at you and then leaned in for a kiss.

"You're right, now go change so we can go home." Pedri laughed as soon as you pushed him towards the tunnel.

"That was sweet, I've never seen him like this." Sira came over to you and wrapped her arm around your shoulders to pull you closer.

"Really?" You asked, not really wanting to believe her. It was too good to be true.

"Yeah, he's a completely different person ever since, it's incredible," Sira said fascinated, the two of you began walking towards the exit as the stadium started to get empty.

As you waited for Pedri patiently in your car, you were scrolling through instagram until you saw a post from the spanish newspaper.

"Hey, I'm sorry I took so long, I just had to talk to Luis-" Pedri began as he sat into the car but then stopped immediately after he saw how focused you were on your phone.

"What are you reading?" He snatched the phone away from you and you tried to grab it but he held you back.

After he read everything he immediately blockdd the account from your phone. "Don't read this shit, you know they'll use everything against me and you. But I love you you're no distraction to me, remember that, I love you." Pedri gave you back your phone and leaned closer to you.

"Yeah, don't worry about it, I don't care." You mumbled and he gave you a reassuring look before leaning in to kiss you.

The kiss was long and passionate and for a moment you forgot what you just read 20 seconds ago.

Pedri had that magic where he'd make you forget things that were on your mind. He had that special aura which you could feel even if you just looked at him.

His presence was noticeable in every room he stepped foot in. He showed you what true love really is and how it feels like.

In the end you knew that you loved to love him.

For Pedri it was the same, he adored every single thing you did. When you'd fall asleep first he'd stay up for hours just watching you sleep.

Every single detail about you when you sleep is engraved into his brain. The way your breathing slows down, the way your eyes twitch sometimes, and the way you move when you're uncomfortable.

However, it didn't stop, that wasn't the only article written about you, Pedri always told you: "It's the press, they'll find something else in a couple of days, don't worry" But it didn't stop.

"Pedri's girlfriend is a bad influence for his playing style"

"Could the youngster be too distracted to play football?"

"Teenage love for footballers is the most dangerous thing."

You tried so hard to ignore everything but it just seemed to follow you, when you scrolled on instagram, trying to take your mind off of some things, it was there.

"Pedri's girlfriend" Without anyone really knowing you, they judged you. After spain has been eliminated from the world cup the noise just calmed down a bit. That was until you posted on your Instagram to let everyone know that you supported Pedri and will forever support him.

The comments were filled with hate and accusations towards you, that it was your fault that Pedri wasn't playing at his top level.

Pedri spoke about it with Xavi and he reassured his coach that he wasn't distracted. "Just stay calm, it'll pass." Pedri hugged you and you shook your head.

"It has been going on for two months. Why would people accuse me of something I never even spoke about?" You asked him, at this point tears in your eyes.

You didn't understand why people were hating you.

You then looked at a tiktok from a fan of Pedri and read the comments below it. "If I was her, I'd break up with him, no way that she's getting this much hate for being in love."

You turned off your phone and stared into the nothingness for 5 minutes after you read that. If you would break up with him, you'd be free from the press, it wouldn't be your fault anymore if Pedri made a bad pass.

So the following day when Pedri came home from an away game you sat down with him.

"Pedri, we need to talk." Pedris head shot up immediately and he looked at you, waiting patiently for you to speak up.

"I think it's better if we part ways." You told him, your hands shaking a bit as his eyes widen.

"Amor, How would that be better?" Pedri asked as he took your hand in his.

"It's just so overwhelming that everyone always blames me for every bad pass you make. It's like everyone waited for someone to blame." You told him and he looked at the floor, he seemed zoned out.

"I can talk to a reporter about it, that they should stop, I can make it stop. Just please don't-" You cut him off.

"No, don't, I don't want you to talk about it because then everyone would get mad at you, so just- let's just part ways. I can't do this any longer, I'm sorry seriously." You told him and he shook his head.

"No, we're gonna find a solution, please, Amor don't panic now, stay calm and we're gonna find a solution." Pedri held your hand in his and drew circles on the back of your hand.

"Pedri, I can't please, just- I don't want to." Your breathing started to speed up and he noticed. He immediately pulled you into a hug and then kisses your cheek.

"I wont let you break up with me, we're gonna find a solution. I promise." Pedri whispered in your ear and you felt your breathing calm down and your eyes stopped watering.

"Please, please find a solution."

3 days later

"It's really ashaming of what the press is doing, if I play a wrong pass are you gonna blame my girlfriend? How would she have anything to do with that? If I make a mistake it was because I kept looking at her? Whoever says that has never stepped foot into a filled stadium with people. You spin around and walk around so much that in the end you forget where the bench even is." Pedri inhaled sharply. "I'd just like to kindly request everyone to stop writing about my girlfriend. I take all responsibility for my bad playstyle the last few weeks and it's entirely my fault. Just please stop the messages because if you keep going, I wont respect you as a football fan. Thank you."

You smiled as you looked at your boyfriend stand up from the table and walk away from the press conference.

After all, he promised.

#barca #gavi #pablo gavi #fc barcelona #football #futbol #fanfic #mustread #espana #gavi x reader #pedri #pedri/gavi #pedri smut #pedri x reader #pedri gonzalez #pedrito