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baldursgate3tempobsessed · 6 months

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Astarion Jealousy Part 2

The graphic extension to this but a lil less serious and definitely not sfw.

CW: Jealous spawn astarion who is still a sweetheart, but the drow twins get under his skin. graphic sex scenes, oral, relatively tame honestly. The sex part will be under the cut btw which is m/f. Also vampire man drinks blood. mentionable incorrect language for sex workers

It was odd, being home in Baldur’s Gate without the threat of Cazador always looming. Odd, but equally as wonderful. It had been so thoughtful, if not a little idiotic for Cazador to end up being your first stop in the city. The fight itself had been a blur, a barrage of intense emotions and bloody violence. Astarion had come so close to losing himself back there, losing everything that made him better than the man who almost ruined him. But then… you stopped him. You saw something more in him, a chance for a better life. A more meaningful life, away from the shackles of vampiric power obsessions.

He was officially free. Now he could exist without any fear of his disgusting master’s retribution. He could just… be. Well… not including his darling’s own myriad of enemies that seemed to follow them about everywhere. And there was still the matter of defeating the elder brain, and lord knows if any of you made it through that alive. But at least his personal demons were slain and out of the picture.

Every little step counted after all. Perhaps some of your delusional hopefulness had finally started to rub off on him, but Astarion was actually starting to look forward to his future. Your future, together. All he had to do was get through a few more perilous adventures and then he’d really have you all to himself.

All that said, Astarion could really go without the frequent visits to the local brothel. Was it the best place in the city for gathering information? Yes. It seemed that every walk of life in Baldur’s Gate found their way into Shar’s Caress and if you were going to find alternative passage to the underworld, this would be the best place to find it. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. For one there were the unwelcome advances to his own person, the concept of grace and personal space apparently left at the door. He was so very close to breaking the hand of the next person who thought it was appropriate to grab his ass. And if they could afford to get kicked out he would have by now. Your verbal, angry tirades in his defense could only scare off so many.

But as terrible as his own discomfort was, it was nothing in the face of how often you were being fawned over. What was it about you that seemed to drive everyone mad? Yes you were objectively attractive, but this was frankly getting out of hand. First there was the green skinned druid doing something sensual to your mind, then there were the general stares and whispers as you walked by, and now a pair of gorgeous drow twins trying and failing to proposition you.

It was getting tiresome. There were only so many times a man could take his lover being offered “free” services before he snapped.

On one hand, he could respect the dedication they had to the craft. He could be considered something of a hired whore himself in his time, the old, “the first one’s free” was a tried and true trick. And he also knew, vaguely, that no one was actually trying to steal you from him. But on the other, he couldn’t help the fact that he wanted to claw their eyes out for looking at you so brazenly.

He hadn’t expected the eyes of the woman to wander over to him, like she was just noticing the possessive arm he had wrapped around your waist, “Is that your partner with you? How would you both feel about having a little fun?”

Absolutely fucking not. Maybe the old Astarion would have smiled and nodded, ready to do whatever was asked of him. But the man from that wretched era had died, or at the very least was dying. And he would be damned if he let you lay with another, never less participate in it.

Astarion interrupted your overly-polite attempts stuttering of a refusal. He glared at them both, a sneer painted on his face, “We’ll be passing on that. You’d think the first no would have sufficed, but I suppose it’s not fair to expect everyone to have basic language comprehension. Now as illuminating as this conversation has been, we have places to be. Excuse us.”

Then he was pulling you away, happy to ignore the offended huffs of indignation he had left in his wake.

“We’re supposed to be investigating, remember?” You said with a giggle, not even questioning him as he dragged you to the second floor, “Being rude is not the way we’ll find travel to the hells.”

“I highly doubt they would have been of use,” Astarion said as he pushed you into the first empty room he could find. He felt off, maybe even a little crazed as he turned to you, “Tell me darling, what is it about you that makes you so irresistible, hm?”

He crowded you against the closed door, ducking his head into the crook of your neck to breath you in. You smelled heavenly, you always did. He could trace the barest whiff of your blood from beneath your skin, always calling to him. You were the sweetest thing he ever tasted. Delicious even, for more reasons than one.

“T-They just wanted my coin,” You gasped when he started to suck bruises into your skin, “That’s all.”

“I think they wanted a bit more than that,” Astarion bit out as he shoved his thigh between your legs, “What will it take for others to realize you’re mine.”

His hands were wandering, resting low to grip your hips. He was using them to move you, forcing you to grind against his thigh. You grasped at his shoulders, trying to bite back a moan as you stared at him with wide eyes, “You want to do it here? Does that door even lock?”

It looked like it didn’t, not that Astarion cared. Maybe walking in on him ravishing you would finally start getting the point across of who you belonged to. Astarion shrugged, "There are less appropriate venues than literal whore houses."

“But-”

“But I can tell you want it,” Astarion interrupted with a smirk, his hands barely working to move your body anymore. But that wasn’t stopping you from rubbing yourself all over him, “Just look at you darling. Desperate little thing. But if you really don’t want to…”

Astarion made a lazy attempt to step back, laughing out loud when your desperately pulled him back, your desire finally winning out over your common sense. But you were glaring at him, obviously annoyed that he was so good at riling you up. He had seen that look before, the one that just screamed that you were scheming something.

He just hadn’t expected you to drop to your knees in front of him, huffing as you started to undo the fastenings to his pants, “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a bit of a shit?”

“Maybe,” Astarion said with a strained laugh, his breath catching when you pulled his half-hard cock out, “But it seems to keep getting me the things I want.”

You rolled your eyes before licking a wide strip up his cock, like you weren’t directly proving his point. You looked amazing own there, you’re half-hearted glare morphing into a blissful haze.

Gods, how were you real? Astarion wasn’t quite sure why you were such a fan of getting him down your throat, but he knew that he was a lucky bastard for it.

“Sweet girl,” Astarion sighed, letting a hand drift down to tangle in your hair, “Sweet girl with a perfect mouth. And you’re all mine, aren’t you?”

You made a small, affirmative noise around his cock, taking him in deeper as you clutched at his thighs. You were so good at this, so well-trained after months of being together. He loved the soft, wet sounds that would escape your lips as you swallowed him down, the pretty way your eyes would water as you encouraged him to fuck your throat, how you would squirm in place on your knees, no doubt ruining your panties with how wet you were getting.

And no one else would ever know. No one would get to see you like this again, feel you like this. Needy, desperate, and his. Oddly enough, that thought was what sent him over the edge. He came down your throat, groaning as you eagerly swallowed around him.

You pulled off of him slowly, panting while you smiled up at him. There was the smallest string of spit mixed with his come, connecting from the head of his cock to your lips. You licked it up, still clinging to his thighs as you hazily stared up at him. Sweet enough to make his heart skip a beat, and his dick give a valiant twitch.

He pulled you to your feet, not wasting any time in smashing your lips together. He spun you around, pushing you towards what he prayed was a clean bed.

He pushed you back onto the sheets, making quick work of tearing your pants down your legs as he grinned down at you, “Your turn.”

He kneeled in front of you; spreading his hands over your splayed thighs to peel off your underwear. The core of you was already glistening, slick enough to make Astarion’s mouth water. He licked his lips as he spread your legs further apart, shameless as he feasted on you with his eyes.

You were shaking in his hold, biting your bottom lip when you whined, “Stop staring already…”

“But you’re so pretty here my sweet,” Astarion cooed, tracing a single finger over the seam of your cunt, “And you’re dripping. Poor thing, have I kept you waiting too long?”

You nodded excitedly above him, your hips bucking when he let his fingers dip in further between your pussy lips. He lightly traced your clit, softly laughing at the way the simple touch made you whine.

It was his own fault that you were so needy, a fact that brought a smirk to his lips. You always got so wet after you had him down your throat, soaked and gorgeous.

Astarion dove right in, loudly moaning as he licked into your folds. He dragged his lips upward to suckle on your clit, basking in all the cries and whimpers escaping you.

He licked back down, teasing your hole with his tongue as your legs quivered around his head. He let the sharpness of his fangs scrape against you as he started to fuck you with his tongue, threatening your most intimate places.

He knew you liked that; little minx that you were. The slight risk of pain that was always looming. It made him want to sink his fangs in you for real, a hunger that he'd sate after he had you gushing into his mouth.

You were already close, he could tell from the way your cunt was tightening around his tongue; too worked up from the thrill of being in public and the taste of him still lingering on your tongue. Astarion trailed talented fingers up to rub against your clit, his tongue still curling inside of you as you cried out. Finally falling over the edge. But that wasn't stopping him from continuing to play with you.

You had to tug on Astarion’s hair for him to finally pull away, too over sensitive to handle his talented tongue. You were still trembling by the time he leaned back, licking his lips. He rested his head on your thigh, obviously pleased with himself as he grinned up at you. He could feel your heart racing against his cheek, the sound of your blood pumping singing through your veins. It had his mouth watering for a completely different reason.

He let his fangs drag against the delicate skin of your inner thigh, looking up at you through his lashes, "Can I?"

A superfluous question. Not when he already knew the answer before it escaped your lips.

“Y-yeah," You mumbled, lovingly gazing down at him. He would never tire of seeing that look on your face, "But be gentle? Please?”

"Of course my love," Astarion murmured, before promptly sinking his fangs into your flesh. He had to hold you down from the way you were still trembling, your quivering only getting worse at the pleasure mixed with pain. He didn’t let himself go rabid, just enough to get a taste. He was pulling back too soon, smiling to himself at the little whine you let out. He gently licked over the wound before standing, not yet swallowing the last drops on his tongue.

Instead he leaned forward to kiss you, more than happy to share the sweet taste of your blood as he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

“Thank you my dear,” Astarion sighed as he pulled away, “That was exactly what I needed. Now I think that’s enough investigating for one day.”

You sighed, taking the time to card your fingers through his hair, “Agreed. Though you might have to carry me out of here now.”

Wasn’t that a wonderful idea?

Astarion hummed as he pulled your clothing back on, “I think I like the sound of that," He didn't give you time to respond, too busy sweeping you up in his arms with a grin, "I'll be taking you up on that."

You squeaked when he hefted you up, bridal style, “I wasn’t being serious!”

But it was too late, Astarion was already kicking the door open. He shrugged at you, completely shameless as he winked at a few onlookers, "Then you shouldn't have suggested it."

You groaned, hiding your face in his shirt as he happily took you outside, “I’m going to get you back for this. I hope you know that.”

Astarion laughed as he kissed the top of your head, “I’m sure you will.”

It was a childish stunt, borderline on par with a jealous tantrum, but gods, did it feel good. Good enough to sate Astarion's obsessive tendencies for an impressive amount of time. Under normal circumstances.

But what about your lives were normal?

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #you'll pry my long posts out of my cold dead hands #long fic #spoilers #and thats how later astarion found himself on stage with a killer clown #whoops #still fluffy i'd say #I got a soft (in comparison to cough alternatives) jealousy trilogy in mind so one more dirty part. Also #side note #in reality everyone in your party is attractive and probably gets flirted with an equal amount at the caress #but I love the idea of astarion being hyper focused on you.

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jaylaxies · 9 months

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ROMAN HOLIDAY

PAIRING: jake x fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, slight fluff, protected and unprotected sex, (don’t be silly, wrap your willy!), cunnilingus, marking, creampie, mentions of petnames (princess, baby, darling, daddy), lots of kissing and brief mentions of smoking, stealing, running away from cops, drugs, somnophilia (consensual), etc.

WC: 10k words

SYNOPSIS: visiting your grandma’s place was more or less your entire plan for your summer vacations and only break you get before your university starts, although, meeting your neighbour, bickering with him and clutching his hand while running away from cops wasn’t in your bucket list.

PLAYLIST: welcome to wonderland by anson seabra, movement by hozier, if you let me by alina baraz, how to love by jen z, roman holiday by halsey.

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

A/N: hihi, my sweetest angels <3 i'm finally here with a jake fic which was long due! i hope you guys like it <33 all likes, comments, reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated :D loveyou all <3

Bagging a window seat for a day-long journey sure is a blessing, peculiarly when you have to stay sitting at your spot in a train for a sum of six hours. Nestled in your seat, you sit straighter when the scenic view of the sea water meeting the sky graces your eyes—which you capture on your phone’s camera with a soft smile.

It felt as if it had been ages since you got out of your room, where you used to be cooped up during the entirety of your day, studying for your final year of school.

Your parents were concerned. They were highly proud of you for achieving top honours, yes, but it was about time you went out and cherished your life a little before you got winded up in the stress of University yet again, which was to start in one month.

And what’s a better place to spend your vacations at if not at your granny’s home?

It was a few minutes past six when you finally reached your desired destination, dragging your luggage behind you as a swish of cold breeze hit you. It looked straight out of a movie with how the train station was lit up by old-fashioned lamps which radiated warmth just by glancing towards them.

You hugged your cardigan tighter, walking out to find the taxi stand just outside the exit area of the station, pulling out your phone to show the driver the address you’d be meaning to go to. He was a kind man, helping you put your luggage into the trunk of his taxi. Your curious eyes looked out, observing how much the town had changed over the years.

You were seven when you last visited her hometown. Ever since then, your grandma used to be the one who visited you in the city, at your place, however she did not wish to leave her town and move in with your family. You could see why she chose to stay here—the serene view, the freshness in the air, the tranquil surroundings, it made the corner of your lips curl up into a smile.

It only got wider once the driver stopped his taxi in front of your grandma’s house. It was exactly how you had remembered it to be—a small but two story house with a big veranda which was lit up by fairy lights on the big bushes. The back door connected the path towards the small pool and then yet another door linked the beach from your backyard.

Your grandma stood by the door with the fondest smile gracing her ever so beautiful face, a few grey strands fell on her face and you couldn’t help but get out of the taxi and run towards her, capturing her in an embrace. A hearty chuckle filled the air, the scent of your favourite cookies encapsulated you, making you wonder if she had baked a batch just for you as you snuggled further, her hand patting your head exactly the way she used to do ever since you were a kid.

“I missed you, grandma.” Your expression said it all, and she looked more than happy to usher you in the house, saying how chilly the night was and you made sure to pay the driver, thanking him for his service as you dragged the luggage in.

A wave of nostalgia hit you as your eyes wandered off to observe each corner, but your grandma didn’t hear any of it, making sure her granddaughter was well fed and rested after the long journey.

She spent a good while telling you embarrassing stories of your father during dinner, which you listened to with delight, sharing your own stories with zeal before you climbed up the stairs, opening the door to the room you used to use each time you stayed over as a child.

It didn’t change, the bed was still too big for you, the windows were spotless as if it had been cleaned frequently and the scent of old books paired with a tinge of vanilla filled your senses. Your body felt calm and you couldn’t remember the last time you had felt this way.

Calling your parents, you updated them by telling you had reached safely as you walked in the balcony, feeling comfortable in a sweatshirt and cotton shorts. The night sky resembled a velvet blanket full of glistening stars.

However, a figure clad in all black captured your attention. It was a bit beyond one in the morning, which is why it was unsettling to see someone walk in such dim lights. The stranger made his way towards your neighbouring house, making you wonder if he lived there.

Shrugging, you sighed. Sitting at one place for hours does tire your body, so you proceed to finally get into your cozy bed, setting an alarm before your grandma comes in to check if you require anything.

“Sweet dreams my little peanut,” your grandma smiled, closing the door behind you as you replied back with a gentle voice.

“Sweet dreams, Gigi!” It was a nickname you used for her, she found it lovely.

The placid atmosphere and the distant sound of waves acted as a catalyst to your sleep, and you slept soundly, not knowing that the calmness was just a start to your inevitable venture—something no one could have prepared you for.

You found yourself walking alongside your Gigi to visit the lady next door in the afternoon. She was a kind soul—as stated by your grandma, not to mention that she treated her like her own family, making sure to provide help whenever she could and that’s the reason why you were going to meet her.

It wasn’t the first time; apparently you used to play in their veranda a lot as a child, which again, you didn’t remember. However, when the lady—Mrs. Sim, opened the door, the memories came rushing back to you. She was jolly, almost as if she was waiting for your arrival and soon, you were engulfed into a sweet hug.

She called out your name in sheer excitement, leaning back to take a good look at your face, which sported a silly smile due to embarrassment.

“Aw, love. You’ve grown into such a pretty young lady,” she gushed, ushering you both inside and into the living room area.

“And you don’t look a day over twenty, Mrs. Sim,” you replied, not lying considering how youthful she appeared to be.

Her smile only widened at your comment, “now, another word and I’ll be floating in the clouds,” she said, making you chuckle as you got engaged in a conversation, sipping on the cranberry juice which Mrs. Sim had so kindly offered you.

It was decided that you’d be having lunch together, and you tried your best to help the two women in the kitchen but you were soon shoved out, saying you don’t have to do a thing and rest—that’s the purpose of your vacations.

Which made you sit down and use your phone, scrolling through random apps and replying to all the texts.

“Y/n!” Soon, you were called into the kitchen, and you poked your head in with a smile.

“Yes, Gigi?”

“Oh, peanut, can you please go upstairs and call Jake for lunch? It’s almost done.” She asked.

You tilted your head in confusion, mind wandering back to the guy you had seen last night and you came to the conclusion that Jake might be Mrs. Sim’s son.

You nodded, heading up the wooden staircase. Would you have to introduce yourself to him? Would it get awkward? You had no clue.

Knocking on the door twice, you took a step back and patiently waited for the door to open and so, you tried again to no avail. You wondered if he had his headphones on, which left you with no choice but to open the door, peeking in slightly only to find the room empty.

“Oh,” you let out, closing the door behind you for the sake of privacy.

“He’s not in his room,” you informed Mrs. Sim.

She sighed, serving a good portion of food for all of you, “I could have sworn he didn’t go out,” she shook her head as you three sat down. You let the elders start eating first and only then you picked up your chopsticks to do the same.

“I haven’t seen him in a while, what’s the tough guy up to?” Your Gigi asked.

“He’s busy enrolling himself into universities,” Mrs. Sim says, a sad smile taking over her face, “he says he doesn’t want to leave me and is aiming for nearby universities.”

“My my, isn’t he a darling boy?” Your grandma praised while you chewed on your food, which melted right in your mouth, silently eating while hearing them converse.

It didn’t take long for your grandma to ask them to come over for dinner the very next day, “it’s only fair that I cook for you too,” she argued when Mrs. Sim told her that she shouldn’t bother.

This time, your grandma let you help with the cooking, and of course, you were sent to invite the Sims over for dinner. You hugged your white cardigan close to your body—the nights tend to get chilly. Walking over to the neighbouring home, you rang the bell and were greeted with the sight of Mrs. Sim, who actually dressed up for the little dinner party.

“Oh, darling. Can you please call Jake down for dinner too?” She asked you as she was busy tidying up her own kitchen.

“Of course,” you smiled.

It was the second time you were heading up the stairs. This time, you were sure you’d be meeting the said boy. You found yourself standing right in front of his room yet again, gulping down your nervousness. It wasn’t as if you weren’t used to introducing yourself to new people, school made sure you knew how to do that, however, your nerves were acting up.

With a deep breath, you knocked on the door, twice—just like the last time. The difference, however, was that the door was opened in this instance.

The scent of an intoxicating blend of masculinity and sophistication announced his presence, undertones of musk and wood laced up, providing him a complex aura altogether.

A tall guy with parted black hair leaned against the doorframe, eyebrow perfectly raised in question, his arms folded as his honey brown eyes with the slightest speckles of gold stared your way, his plump lips soon curling up into what seemed to be an assortment of a smile and a smirk.

“You must be Y/n,” he stated, standing up straight, which caused his muscles to flex enough to the point it was visible in his white button up.

You licked your lips unknowingly, moistening them up before you nodded, extending your hand for him to shake, “pleasure meeting you, Jake.”

His eyes travelled down from your face to your hand, a low chuckle left his mouth, him opening the door and stepping out, coming closer to you as he grabbed your smaller hand in his bigger, warmer ones in a firm handshake.

“I can see why my mom can’t stop talking about you,” he said, making you tilt your head in question, eyes never leaving his face which was captivating.

“And why is that so?” You asked, stepping back slightly as he leaned in to whisper in your ear.

“Because you seem to be a good girl,” he breathed, making you go still as he leaned back with the same smirk, leaving you behind, walking down the stairs.

Now, you didn’t expect the situation to turn out this way, yet you knew that talking to him further would only cause your head to hurt.

What even made him think about you being a good girl?

Is it your outfit? Plain, loose jeans paired with a pink top and cardigan. It’s basic enough not to be categorized so easily.

You scoff to yourself, already hating the situation as you walk downstairs, only to find Jake with a smile that genuinely looked sweet while he talked to his mother, helping her lock the door.

“I see you met Jaeyun,” she smiled, and you nodded, sitting alongside her, not sparing a glance at the said boy as you didn’t even know his real name was Jaeyun.

The table was set for four, which made you sit right across from Jake, who’s demeanour had changed as he complimented your granny, who laughed at his sweetness.

“Here, have some more,” he says, serving another portion to your grandma, who cooed at his kind conduct at the table.

He made sure to be on his best behaviour, only in front of others but when his gaze fell towards you, a bored expression overtook his features, which no one paid attention to.

You rolled your eyes. It hadn’t even been a whole day since you met and yet the boy made you dread his presence. He wasn’t being straight up rude per se, however his actions weren’t subtle either just like how he completely ignored your existence during the entirety of the dinner.

He offered to clean up, which included him having to clean up your plate as well, which was something he did with a frown on his face as Mrs. Sim endorsed that he should help with the household work.

Both ladies were in awe of how well mannered Jake was, and it left you irritated to no end before Mrs. Sim called out your name softly.

“Jake’s been acting distant lately,” she told you in a soft voice, making sure the said boy doesn’t hear you both, “and comes home late from his part time work, doesn’t share a lot these days too,” she sighs before looking at you softly, “you’re such a lovely girl, Y/n. I’m sure Jaeyun would love to have you as a friend he can rely on. Will you please look after him?” She asked, eyes sincere with worry for her son.

Now, you were provided with two choices—one to say yes and agree, but you’d have to be in Jake’s proximity for that. The second one would be a plain no, which would sound disrespectful and insolent.

So you put on your most convincing smile, which turned into an unadulterated one when you saw her being concerned about her son, “of course, I’ll do that, Mrs. Sim.”

“Oh please! Call me auntie,” she swatted her hand at your formal usage of name and you laughed, agreeing.

Since the dinner was summed up now and the dishes were done, courtesy of Jaeyun; you were asked to walk them back home, which wasn’t even a two minute walk, however you couldn’t say no to your grandma and hence, you agreed.

Mrs. Sim—or your auntie Sim, thanked you for the dinner, and proposed to at least have one meal of the day together each day, which you thought was a lovely idea given that you had grown to like the lady.

You were just about to leave when she went inside but a firm grip on your wrist stopped you right away, making you look up at Jake in question.

“You don’t have to bother being my friend, you’ll only be a hindrance in my way,” he says smoothly.

Your expression turns sour, almost as if you were bored, “why? So you can keep your fake good boy persona up and going?” You said, mimicking his tone.

Not expecting such a reply, he let out a surprised scoff, mixed with the slightest chuckle, “so what? It doesn’t concern you. Or are you offended that I’m not actually good, like you,” he whispered, leaning close, which made you realize how tall he actually was, “you know nothing about me, princess.”

The nickname rolled off his tongue seamlessly, sending a shiver down your spine while you kept a straight face, trying not to seem affected at all.

“Neither do you know about me, Sim. So stop making assumptions and just because I’m nice doesn’t mean I’ll take your bullshit.” You rolled your eyes, saying it all in one go before turning around to leave.

“You should be scared of me,” he chuckles behind you.

“In your dreams,” you retorted, not sparing him another glance as your heart palpitated.

You had never talked to anyone in such a manner before, it gave a sense of newfound confidence—which you needed.

Jake simply watched you walk back to your place, shaking his head once you disappeared from his eyesight and still, a humorous smile never left his face.

You had updated your parents about your three days here and later called your friend to do the same, who was also busy with her own vacation bucket list, yet it was a refreshing talk given that you currently did not have much to do to entertain yourself.

Which left you to grab your swimwear and go for a swim—utilizing the pool in your backyard.

Gigi loved to sit by the pool and made sure that it was cleaned every now and then. She had gotten it cleaned right in the morning today, which also gives you an opportunity to use it.

The sunset casted a warm glow on the calm waves of the pool, the slight breeze in the air making it serene as you immerse yourself in the water, it closing you right in, feeling like a warm hug.

You started slowly with effortless strokes, enjoying the feeling of lukewarm water on your body. You stopped after a while, resting as you let your body float with your eyes closed.

“Enjoying ourselves, are we now?” A voice broke your state of tranquillity, your eyes opening in a swift and the water sloshed with how fast you turned around.

Of course, it was none other than Jake sim who sat on the pool lounge chair, arms behind his back as if he was sitting to enjoy the view.

“The fuck are you doing here?” You breathed out in question.

He looked at you, feigning disappointment as he leaned to look down at you, “oh, princess. Didn’t they teach you not to use such filthy words?”

His condescending tone only riled you up, “didn’t they teach you not to show up at someone’s place unannounced?” You mocked, getting out of the pool and trying to find your towel, only for you to realize he was sitting right on it.

“I’m simply here to get cumin from your grandma, we ran out of it, you see,” he explained, not sounding sincere as he let his eyes wander all over your wet body, barely covered with your bikini.

Your eyes, however, focused on the cigarette he took out from his pocket, making you gasp as you made your way towards him in an attempt to snatch it off his fingers.

Nevertheless, Jake was quicker to get up, grabbing your hand which was extended and pinning it up against the wall, his body pressed up against yours, successfully making your body go still with shock.

Yeah, you didn’t really adore your body’s fight or flight response.

“Fuck—” your eyes widened, yet he wasn’t the one to give you even a second to complain.

“Shh, princess. I don’t want a single bad word coming out of your mouth now, is that understood?” He asked, using his condenscending tone again.

You could feel every ounce of confidence which you had yesterday leaving your body as you stared into his honey eyes, an unconscious slight nod betraying you.

That satisfied him, although he didn’t bother changing his position, nor did he mind your wet body as he took out a lighter from his free hand, lighting up the flame, keeping it close to the cigarette which was pressed in between his lips.

Your eyes were transfixed on his face, observing how swiftly he closed the lighter, stuffing it in his pocket right before he looked away, blowing smoke into the air, giving you the greatest opportunity to stare at his consummate side profile.

He took the joint back in his fingers, returning his attention your way, “ever smoked before?” He asked, tone seemingly raspier.

Not trusting your voice, you simply shook your head as to provide him an answer.

He snickered, “of course you haven’t. It goes against your good girl rulebook, doesn’t it?”

“Shut up!” Your sudden outburst of anger only humoured him, even more so when you tried to snatch the cigarette from him using your free hand to prove him wrong.

He didn’t let it happen.

Instead, you found yourself looking right into his eyes with his slender fingers holding your chin in place. His breath was cool with a lingering smell of mint—which was probably due to the flavour of cigarette.

“Want it that bad now?” He raised his brows, “open your mouth,” he ordered, not giving you a second to comply, his thumb parting your lips as he desired.

He took a drag, inhaling the smoke deeply as you gulped, you could hear your heartbeat, or maybe that was simply how aware you were of your surroundings—your proximity with Jake.

Tilting his head, he leaned in again, mouth parted just the right amount. He let the smoke out and into your mouth in an agonizingly slow fashion, his lips on the verge of touching yours.

Your subconscious took over once you inhaled the smoke and it hit your throat. The burning sensation caused you to push him off as you coughed out in distress.

“Guess you can’t handle it, princess,” he clicked his tongue in disappointment.

You glared his way, composing yourself enough to actually snatch the cigarette from his fingers and take a deep puff, ignoring the way it burned your throat. It was your turn to surprise him by pulling him closer, grabbing his collar.

Your eyes were closed when you leaned in, blowing the smoke right into his mouth, causing him to take it all in, him never once closing his eyes. He stared at you with such intensity that you could feel it, despite your eyes being closed.

Once you were done, you breathed deeply, throwing the cigarette on the ground, “don’t get ahead of yourself, Sim,” that’s all you said before walking back into your home, rushing up the stairs and into your room just to avoid running into him again.

Only when you were in the safety of your room, you let out a frustrated scream right into your pillow.

Three days in your vacation and this boy had already driven you insane to the point you had smoked right into his mouth.

You took a warm shower before taking a nap—something you required to calm your heart before you saw him at dinner, again.

In contrast to yesterday, when he didn’t provide you with an ounce of attention, his behaviour had done a solid one eighty as now, he provided you with his utmost attention, passing you subtle smirks during the entirety of the dinner.

You were more than glad when auntie Sim distracted you by indulging in random conversations, and you can easily say you enjoyed the information she was providing you with at the given moment.

“And, and!” Auntie Sim said full of excitement, “Our Jaeyunie was four and you were three when it happened. He was so curious about you playing on the beach building sandcastles alone, he wanted to talk to you and so he collected flowers from our garden and gave them to you,” she cooed.

You looked at the boy, surprised with the information of him being a sweet baby. Now, he was the one who tried to stop his mother from spilling the stories any further, averting his gaze but you didn’t let it go.

“Aw! That’s so cute Jaeyunie. Where are my flowers now?” You asked, voice annoyingly high to bother him.

Your grandma laughed as auntie Sim only urged Jake to get some for you. He looked your way, annoyed and you only passed him a sweet smile.

You couldn’t deny, being a menace did feel good at times and the dinner wasn’t so bad after all.

Yet, the events of the evening didn’t let you sleep, causing you to walk on the balcony yet again and you couldn’t miss the figure clad in all black leaving your neighbour’s home yet again, at two after midnight nonetheless.

It wasn’t something you should be indulging in yet you couldn’t help but wonder.

What exactly was Jake up to?

In these ten days of vacation, you had done quite a few things which included learning a few recipes with your grandma, bickering with your neighbour, minus the proximity as you made your mission to stay away for the sake of your poor heart. Majorly, you had grown to adore the beautiful beach which was right behind your home.

Seeing how you had nothing to do in the given moment, you found yourself sitting on the warmth of the sand yet again, close enough for your feet to touch the water which was cold, juxtaposing the temperature of your body.

You didn’t know how long you sat there dazed, watching the never ending blue waves stretching as far as possible, till you gasped and got taken back into reality once a hand on your shoulder shook you in annoyance.

It was none other than Jake, who stood there with his jaw clenched, a bouquet of flowers resting in his right hand, causing you to raise your brows at him.

“Mom forced me to do this, okay?” He huffed, handing you over the multicoloured bundle of happiness.

It didn’t matter that it was Jake who gave you the flowers, it still made you happy, a smile growing on your face as the scent infiltrated your senses.

This certainly wasn’t the kind of reaction Jake was expecting from you. He was sure you’d throw a snarky remark or maybe simply not take the flowers from him, but even you couldn’t deny the beauty of nature.

“Thank you,” you whispered under your breath, surprising him even more.

It was one of the days you felt calm, not wanting to channelize your energy into something as useless as picking up a fight, however, Jake won’t leave without that happening.

“That’s it? You just need flowers to shut up?” He tantalizes you to answer back.

You only give him a sour look in return, wondering what he’s even doing on the beach wearing shoes, clad in leather jacket as if he was going for the cliché illegal races you see in movies.

“You should go, Jaeyunie,” you nodded with a fake smile.

Your phone started ringing just then, and Jake caught the display name right before you picked up the call.

It was Lee Heeseung—the guy who was your study partner in school and also the guy who was your competition when it came to academics.

The call wasn’t long, he had simply contacted you to inform you about the university he got into as you also filled him up with the university you got accepted into.

You assumed that Jake would have gone back, which wasn’t the case as he stood behind you, eavesdropping shamelessly. His expression turned into one of realization when he saw you actually smiling and talking sweetly to whoever was the guy who had called you, a scoff leaving his mouth on its own accord.

“Yeah! Yeah, of course. Will text you later, goodbye!” You smiled, concluding the conversation only to find Jake still standing at the same spot, making you look at him in question.

“Didn’t know you had a boyfriend,” he said, seeming bored.

A sigh left your mouth, Jake was great at making assumptions, “why do you care?” You asked.

“I don’t,” he replied, not missing a beat, “I should go, I have work to do,” he said, walking back to his place.

Your lips worked before you could process anything, “yeah? Like you do every night?” You asked.

He stilled, turning back in a second and crouching down to your level, grabbing your nape, pulling you close to him, “don’t get involved in my matters, Y/n. I’m saying this for your own fucking good,” he seethed out, causing you to gulp, your heartbeat rising up due to the proximity again.

“What are you up to, Jakey?” You asked teasingly, trying to diffuse the tension.

“Nothing that concerns you, princess. I’m being serious, okay?” He held eye contact, repeating the last word again, and you nodded.

“Okay,” you mumbled as you felt him caressing your nape gently before he got up, leaving you there wordlessly.

You didn’t realize how hard you were clutching the flowers while watching his walking figure. The sudden mood switch made you curious, and despite him warning you, it was something you wanted to see for yourself.

Was he in trouble? Was he caught up in illegal activities? Or was he simply out partying somewhere?

Another sigh left your lips.

You shouldn’t get involved in his matters.

You got yourself involved in his matters.

Sneaking out of your home was easy and you made sure to grab your jacket as the night got chillier than usual. All this to follow Jake.

It was easy since he didn’t use any cars, walking towards his desired destination. It almost felt comical how you tried to tiptoe for a total of fifteen minutes, hiding in random alleyways whenever you made even the slightest noise of stepping on a pebble.

For a second you even regretted coming out and spending so much energy on this, till you saw Jake actually stop and get inside an alleyway, which you approached exactly two minutes after he went in.

Peeking in, you noticed how wide the way actually was, people clad in black and hoodies which hid their faces were present all over, more than thirty people you’d estimate.

You squint your eyes to get a better focus of what they were up to, only for them to widen in realization when you found them exchanging packets and smoking what looked like drugs. Jake was also engaged in a conversation with a guy, purchasing drugs from him, which caused you to gasp slowly.

“Looking for something, kid?” A deep, hoarse voice spoke near your ear, causing you to flinch and move away, turning around to see a guy full of tattoos smiling down at you, which disgusted you.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, looking towards your right to see Jake looking your way, eyes full of shock and worry as he whispered your name under his breath, not believing that you’d actually follow him there despite him saying a firm no to you.

Maybe he was right, maybe you shouldn’t have come here.

“Uhm, I—I lost my way back home. I’ll get going now, I didn’t see anything I promise! You guys please continue,” you said, trying to sprint but the guy was quick to hold your jacket, making you stop as Jake rushed your way, leaving whatever he was up to.

Before anyone could take up any action, the sound of police sirens alerted everyone in the vicinity, which was more than enough for all the guys to scramble as you stood there with panic, trying to move your body seeing how the guys were climbing up the wall full of graffiti on the other side as it was the only way to their escapade.

“Run,” Jake breathed out, grabbing your smaller hand in his without any notice and running towards the same way, his jaw was clenched.

You followed wordlessly, mouth open with how deeply you were breathing, chest heaving up and down while you ran and reached the wall.

The sirens got closer as if someone had tipped the cops to search this particular area and you were worried if you both would get caught up in this mess.

“Jump,” he commanded and you stared at the wall, shaking your head.

“I—I can’t,” you stuttered, watching how the others claimed it

He pulled you closer, picking you up with ease as to provide you with some kind of elevation, which definitely helped when you grabbed on to the top brick, pushing your body up and jumping to the other side, stumbling slighting as you fell down.

Jake was swift, landing by your side before he grabbed your hand again, pulling you up with him to run again. Your legs hurt yet you didn’t stop till he pulled you by his side, getting a bobby pin out of his pocket to unlock the door, which he opened in a go and pulled you inside, locking the door.

Silence.

Your breathing is all you could hear, but Jake’s eyes were louder than anything else, which scared you even further.

“I specifically told you to stay out of it, what’s so hard to understand here?” He more or less shouted, pushing you against the wall.

You gulped, not looking at his face but he wasn’t having it, he grabbed your chin and forced you to look his way.

“What if they did something to you? What if the police caught you? What if something had happened to you?” His voice got smaller after each sentence, more breathy and desperate, making your heart break when he genuinely made it seem like he cared about you.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, which probably wasn’t helpful at the given second, “I thought that you were in trouble and,” you whispered, not having more to say.

He sighed, resting his forehead on yours as his eyes closed to get some rest. You couldn’t move, your whole body felt more alive than ever, maybe it was the adrenaline rush, or simply Jake being so close to you.

He stepped back after a few seconds, “go change,” he said, and that’s when you looked around to find yourself in a boutique full of clothes.

“W—why?” You asked.

“Because the cop saw us, he knows what we’re wearing,” he answered, trying to find clothes his size.

Maybe he saw you when you were climbing up, meaning that you barely escaped him.

“But surveillance cameras? Technically, won’t this be considered stealing?” You bit your lip.

“There are none,” he replied, “and we have more pressing matters than to sit and worry about stealing.”

You nodded even though he wasn’t looking your way, trying to find some outfit, or rather, you were stealing it given the circumstances.

“So, why were you out there?”

“I should be asking you that, Y/n,” he said when you went into the changing room.

“You had drugs with you!” Your voice boomed from the stall and he simply took off his shirt in the store.

“So what?” He uttered, pissed.

“Did you smoke drugs that day too? Did you give me drugs?” You screeched while asking and he opened the curtains, seeing you soothing the top down.

“I don’t fucking do drugs,” he groaned, “I buy it and sell it to the guys next town at a higher price,” he explained.

The dim light from the changing stall only enhanced Jake’s shirtless body, his abs full on display alongside his torso, which was well built. Your eyes settled on the tattoo he had on his left side of the rib.

Taking a step further, your fingers gently traced the intricate design, making him shiver without you knowing, his fingers clasping around your wrist to keep it away again.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He whispered.

“I—” you started speaking, looking at him with wide eyes which shone of innocence and worry, lips jutted in the slightest pout and hair slightly messy.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he breathes out, not letting you complete your sentence, coming closer to your face, “why do you have to do everything I tell you not to do?” He asked, however his tone wasn’t filled with anger.

It was something you quite couldn’t pinpoint yourself.

He sighed, “let’s get you home.”

“Are we gonna walk back? Isn’t it too dangerous?” You asked as he turned around to put on a shirt averting your eyes from his back which flexed with his movements, your body felt warm and throat parched, especially when he turned around with a smirk.

“We’re driving back home.”

You soon found yourself on a lookout at the garage entrance of what Jake called an illegal garage which was used for repairing old racing cars. The place wasn’t authorized, which is why stealing from here would work perfectly.

“How do you even know this?” You asked, exasperated as your nerves got the best of you.

It certainly didn’t help that the place was dark, and Jake wasn’t replying as he was hot wiring the car without a number plate

You had no idea where he learned that from.

“You need to learn things if you want to survive in this world, darling,” he said, focusing on his work, not once thinking how you’d shiver with his use of nicknames.

He’s glad it’s not some new high tech car, which he won’t be able to hot wire as they contain ignition immobilizers, which makes it impossible for it to happen—you nodded as he explained all of this, your focus elsewhere.

“Let’s go,” he said after a few minutes, seemingly done with his work.

You rushed to get into the car, a scream leaving your mouth as he started driving almost instantly, his fingers gripping the steering wheels hard enough for his veins to pop out as you struggled to put on the seatbelt.

“I can’t believe this is actually happening,” you let out in half a scream.

“Why? Not having fun now, princess?” He chuckled as he changed the gear, resting his hand on your thighs right after which caused you to squirm around in your seat.

Your body was extra attentive when he was around, and you weren’t sure how to control your heart anymore, so you closed your eyes.

“What’s so fun about this?” You asked, clutching the seatbelt.

“You,” he confessed, messing up with your brain even further.

“I hate you,” you mumbled, looking elsewhere.

You didn’t trust his driving despite it seeming effortless, he was over speeding after all.

“Now, we both know that’s not true, princess,” he stated and you huffed, knowing that he was right ignoring the fact that he was insufferable.

His pace ensured you to reach home in record time, your legs felt wobbly the second you stepped on the road.

“Stay here, I’ll be back in a second,” he rushed, leaving you standing alone as he parked the car outside a random garage two minutes away from your place.

It was hard to believe how you got chased by police, stole clothes and a fully functional car all in one night.

You saw him jogging back to you after a few minutes, standing right in front of you, “I think I should get back now,” you started to stay, however he stopped you.

“You can’t do that, your gate’s got a surveillance camera so we need to go from the back side,” he stated, his hand automatically reaching for yours as you started to make way towards the back side, on the sand.

All of a sudden, you felt smaller, heat creeping up your neck due to the body contact and you let him guide you wordlessly before you realized something.

“Wait, how will you go back? Your place doesn’t have a back door,” you asked and he shrugged.

“I’ll just jump to the other side of the garden wall, princess. You don’t need to worry about me,” he teased and you pushed him away, the warmth of his hand leaving yours.

Tiptoeing into your home, you shut the back door as silently as possible before you rushed up the stairs and almost into your room, only to find Jake coming up with you.

“What are you doing?” You whisper asked, eyes wide.

“I’m curious about your room,” he answered with that usual smirk of his and you wanted nothing more than to slap it off his face.

“You—” you tried to say, but stopped the second you heard another voice.

“Oh, Peanut? You’re awake?” Your grandma’s voice called out from the balcony, and your mouth hung open as you shoved Jake into your room in an effort to hide him.

“Y—yes, Gigi! I woke up to get some water,” you lied, wincing slightly as she acknowledged it and wished you a good night in her soft tone.

You rushed in and locked the door, only to find Jake getting cozy in your bed.

It was one of those days when your grandma missed your grandpa, and she spent hours on the balcony, looking at the glistening stars to find solace. You felt sad but the more pressing matter here was—how to get Jake out of your room?

He can’t leave from the back door, he can’t go out from the front door as Gigi would see him, your room windows weren’t the opening type which left you with no option but for him to spend the night right here, with you.

“Now what?” You asked, hand on your forehead while you paced around the room.

“What? We sleep together, of course.” He had a cheeky smile on his face.

“Are you crazy?” You almost screamed, but you didn’t wanna alert your grandma, which made you repeat it in a hushed tone.

“Why? Too scared to sleep with me? You’re the reason we’re in this situation, princess,” he smirked.

You sighed. He was right about that part but you weren’t willing to sleep with him, so you proceeded to ignore him as you went into the bathroom to change into your comfortable clothes for the night.

Jake simply patted the bed when you came out, silently asking you to sit next to him, and suddenly you realized that you’re locked up in a room with him, which didn’t help your nerves as you sat down with him.

Somehow everything was rebellious against your rules when it concerned Sim Jaeyun.

“Can’t you sleep on the floor?” You almost whined.

He cocked his brow, “is that what I get after helping you escape?”

“That’s not it—”

“So? Is it the boyfriend?”

“I don’t have any—”

“The guy you were talking to in the morning.”

“He’s a friend—”

“Then there’s no problem, right?” he rasped.

You didn’t realize your lip was bitten till his thumb brushed against your bottom lip, tugging on it gently to free it, caressing it while looking into your eyes.

“Right?” He repeated.

“Yeah,” you breathed, nodding ever so slightly.

“Atta girl,” he chuckled, flustering you as you tried to look away, which wasn’t something Jake allowed, his fingers gripping your chin now, “god, you look so fucking innocent.”

“I’m not!” You argued.

“Yeah? Have you been kissed before, princess?” He asks, amused.

His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine, to the point you almost whimpered out loud, but you were glad you didn’t, “no. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t fucked anyone before.” You confessed, eyes on his plump lips.

“Oh? Who’s the loser who fucked you without even kissing your prettiest lips?” He asked, frustrated that someone even dared to touch you, even though his words said otherwise.

You gulped, “we were drunk,” you whispered, remembering your graduation party and how the guy had failed to please you.

“Did he make you feel good?” Jake asked, expression serious.

“What?” You were surprised by his question.

He wasted no time in pulling you to his lap, your gasp only made him smirk wider, his hands resting on your waist, squeezing it lightly.

“Did he satisfy you, princess?” His voice was an octave deeper, giving you goosebumps.

“H—he didn’t,” you stutter, which pissed him further, his jaw tensed.

“So you’re telling me that some asshole was deep inside you and didn’t even bother making you feel good?” He scoffed.

“Jake—”

“Y’know what I would have done instead?” He asked, caressing your cheek, his thumb resting on your lips right after, “I’d kiss your lips till you get obsessed with mine.” his hooded eyes lured you in.

His fingers travelled down to your neck, rubbing circles just above your clavicle, “I’d kiss you till my lips memorize every inch of your body, till your mind goes blank,” he whispers, biting your earlobe.

You breathe in deeply, a whimper leaving your mouth, Jake’s name rolling off your tongue in a whisper right after, making him groan in response.

“I’d ruin you, princess,” he breathes, eyes meeting yours.

“Please.” You struggled to breathe, his pointy nose brushing against yours, lips threatening to kiss.

“Say it,” he urged you, pulling your body impossibly closer on his lap.

There was no denying that Jake made you lose every sense of rationality and morals in you, it almost felt as if you were intoxicated in his presence, your heart raced, thumping faster than ever, urging you to say yes.

“Please ruin me, Jake,” you whispered, giving in and looking at him with innocent eyes.

“That’s a good girl.”

He was swift to push you down on the mattress, getting on top of you with hungry eyes to the point you almost felt as if you were a prey, and you liked it.

His cold chain brushed against your clavicle, making you shiver as he leaned down to press his lips against yours in a fervent kiss, a groan leaving his mouth as he finally had you so close to him.

Your fingers held on to his shoulders desperately, he was difficult to resist, and who were you to resist such pleasure? His plush lips moulding against yours, his hand squeezing your waist as you allowed yourself to get immersed into him.

You could feel the warmth spreading in your abdomen like wildfire, a gasp giving him the perfect opportunity to taste you, sliding his tongue down your mouth to deepen the kiss, the taste of chocolate lingering in his mouth and you let yourself moan into his lips.

You tugged on his hair, realizing how correct he was about you being obsessed with his lips as you found yourself chasing after it when he broke the kiss, making him chuckle at your desperation.

“So fucking pretty,” he muttered, staring at your slightly swollen lips, which glistened with the mixture of your spit.

He wasn’t the one to waste time, his tongue licking your neck, placing kisses all over it, causing you to squirm and pant till he found the spot which had you rolling your eyes with sheer pleasure.

Placing a hand over your mouth to silence your moans, he felt a feeling of possessiveness take over him. You looked so fucked out and he hadn’t even done anything to you yet, he wasn’t sure what he’d do if he sees someone else with you.

The mere thought had him biting and sucking on your skin in an attempt to mark the very spot which had you shivering and your toes curling. He slipped his other hand inside your flimsy tee, and in your bra, feeling your hardened nipples which he flicked between his fingers.

Your body felt more awake than ever, each touch of his getting a reaction out of you, “so responsive, have you been waiting for this, princess?”

You could only nod in desperation, trying your best to keep your moans at bay, not wanting to alert your grandma. He kissed your cheek before he got up to get rid of his own clothes, giving you a few seconds to stare at his faint abs, highlighted by the dim lights along with his tattoo, which you so desperately wanted to kiss.

The image of you looking his way with such big eyes, chest heaving up and down only ignited the carnal feeling of him wanting to be deep inside you.

It all felt new to you, being aware and not drunk this time, however it wasn’t just that—Jake made you feel this way, your thighs closing when you felt a fluttering sensation down your abdomen.

“Undress,” he ordered.

“What—”

“Undress for me, darling,” his words were smoother than the melted butter, making you work upon it instantly.

His eyes were fixated on your figure the entire time you took to get your clothing off, feeling shy under his gaze, not to mention the outline of his cock in his boxers intrigued you even further.

“Fuck, you’re all mine,” he said under his breath.

His plush lips were soon on your tits, his other hand fondling and caressing your nipple while he worked his tongue, swirling it ever so perfectly before giving it a soft bite, making you arch your back as you bit on your discarded clothes, tears forming in your eyes with these euphoric sensations.

He’s giving you all you could ask for and you? You’re a mess with your lipstick smudged and ragged breathing. Just when you thought that Jake couldn’t get you anymore wilder, he stuffed his hand down your wet panties, which brushed against your extremely sensitive clit. Even biting your clothes couldn’t stop a moan coming out of your mouth.

“You like it, baby? That’s my good girl. So pretty and wet all for daddy, yeah? Daddy’s gonna taste you now, princess,” his spoke, his accent deep.

“Daddy?” you asked, whimpering right after when his lips touched your bare pussy, pressing a kiss on your clit.

There was something in the way he addressed himself so confidently which made you want to submit yourself to him fully, only pushing yourself deeper into sub space as he worshipped every inch of your body.

“That’s right, baby,” he spoke against your, sending waves of pleasure through your body as his strong hands held your thighs open.

Obscene noises of him licking and sucking resonated the room as you bucked up your hips unconsciously, desperate for friction, making his cock twitch while he licked languid strokes up and down your cunt, his hot breath fanning your folds, wishing to hear you moan despite the circumstances.

“Shh, princess. We don’t want your grandma to know now, do we?” He smirked.

Your hand slithers into Jake’s hair, tugging on it as you convulse in pleasure, letting him continue his ministrations on your leaking pussy, his lips soft unlike his actions, which were rushed and aimed at your pleasure.

Your eyes roll back, arousal reaching its peak at the unadulterated pleasure as you repeated his name when he moved down to shove his tongue into your cunt, lapping at your juices when you reach your orgasm.

Yet he doesn’t stop, inserting his slender finger in your tight hole, pumping it in and out gently at first while you whine and he gets up, wetness coating his lips. He lets you taste yourself by kissing you yet again, his fingers entertaining your cunt.

Your breaths are heavier, louder and you can’t wait to have his cock shoved into you. You weren’t the one to have lewd thoughts in general yet here you were, moaning into Jake’s mouth, clenching around his two fingers which thrusted into you at a newfound speed.

“Yes, daddy! Yes, oh god,” you mumbled to yourself, letting the lust consume you.

His fingers curled inside you before he decided that you were ready for his cock.

“Let’s see how desperate you are, beg for daddy’s cock, princess,” he demanded.

Now that his cock was in view, you stared at it dumbfounded. It was veiny and stood hard and leaking, the tip was red and ready to fuck you dumb, it pushed you over the edge.

“Please, daddy? I’ll be a good girl for y—you please fuck me?” A tear left your eye, tainting your image even further which aroused Jake as a sadistic smile overtook his face.

You continued to beg him, and he gave you no warning as he lined his tip on your entrance, coating it with your juices, almost pushing it all in but instead, he gave you just the tip, which made you beg out of frustration.

“Tell me about your darkest fantasies,” Jake teased, seeing you pout and whine, “do it baby, only then you’ll get this cock into you.”

You were going crazy, “I—I want to be fucked awake,” you confessed, hiding your face.

“Is that so? How cute,” he commented, pulling your body flush.

Within a second, he thrusted into you sharply, your wet juices acting as the perfect lube to suck his cock right in as he bottomed out fully, cussing at the feeling of your walls clenching around him.

You could feel the imprint of his dick on your lower abdomen, and he pressed on it with a proud smirk, only to make you whimper lowly, your voice quivering with deep he was in you, “big—so big.”

You laid beneath Jake in such a way that the sight was captivating for him, your vulnerability paired with his ignited primal hunger.

He firmly wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling out slightly before he thrusted into you again as you were clinging onto him.

He had never found anyone like you before, it was as if you were the only one for him, the one who reacts to his touch in such ways, the one who drives him insane to the point he has to rile you up just to get you to talk to him.

His slow thrusts soon turned into relentless, pleasure inducing thrusts, and you found yourself bucking your hips up to meet him, helping him reach deeper spots in you, his tip hitting your g-spot.

Choked moans escaped your lips, reaching the point of complete incoherence as you got drunk in the intensity of Jake’s presence, your senses overwhelmed as he fucked you without any interruptions.

“Daddy—please!”

Sensing that you were close, he thrusted harder, twitching inside your pussy, his lips capturing yours as you both cried out, reaching your climax in harmony, breathing in deeply before he filled you up with his warm cum, which mixed with your own juices.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, causing him to laugh and pull you in a sweet kiss.

You could see the clear switch in his demeanour when he cleaned you up, asking gentle questions about how you felt or if he went overboard.

He was perfect.

Something had changed in the air, and you both were aware of it, but rather than verbalising it, you slept in each other’s arms, Jake staying up a few minutes just to see your peaceful face.

“Good night, princess.”

Jake woke up early despite not getting enough sleep, still not believing that he fucked you—the prettiest girl he swore he’d ever laid eyes on.

And he was sure to make your desires come true.

You wore nothing but his shirt to sleep, which made your pussy accessible to him, his fingers playing with your folds ever so gently as he didn’t wish to wake you up, not this soon at least.

He continued to do so for a remarkably long time, smiling each time he saw you stir in your sleep, his lips leaving kisses on your neck and shoulder blades till you were fully wet for him.

Jake was shocked when you revealed that you were into somnophilia, but who was he to deny his girl some pleasure?

His other hand was busy taking care of his raging boner, seeing you dressed in his shirt, your scent mixed with his only drove him crazy.

His grip on your thighs was firm when he straddled you, pumping his cock a few times before he pushed it in you with a few thrusts, the stretch being enough to wake you up with a whimper, your state disoriented but the second you realized that Jake was making your wish actually come true, you moaned.

His dick throbbed inside you and you were still not over last night’s adventure as curse words filled the air, along with the mist of your unholy activities and fervent longing as he thrusted with a groan, kissing and nibbling on the skin of your neck.

You were sure you had bruises forming on your clavicle by now, which also extended down your breasts and inner thighs, Jake being particular about having you marked through and through.

You could only sigh and plead for more, beg for more, the word daddy coming out of your mouth effortlessly, which was effective to the point it made Jake fuel with desire as he provided you with the most overwhelming, ecstasy filled orgasm, him coming all over your pussy, pulling out this time.

“I like you,” he revealed all of a sudden, his smile the epitome of boyishness which made you chuckle with your newfound happiness.

That’s one good way to wake up in the morning.

“Guess what, Sim. I like you too,” you confessed, growing shy by the last word and he pulled you in a sweet hug, swinging your body along his, your laughter filling up the room.

You gasped, looking at him with wide eyes.

You had forgotten to help him escape without your grandma knowing.

The escape was successful, and so were your holidays which were nearing. Your sadness was apparent on your face, having no desire to go back leaving your grandma and aunt Sim.

More importantly, Jake.

It has become a routine for him to slip into your room ever so professionally to sleep with you—some nights you did sleep, other nights he gave you every reason to be awake.

Which also served as a solid reason for Jake to stop indulging in the so called drug trade, one instance of almost being caught was enough for you both, not that you were involved in the first place.

He opened up to you, actually acting like a goof at times, juxtaposing his usual bad boy demeanour. He provided you with the best of both worlds.

Your feelings for the guy you used to find annoying were increasing at record speed per day, and now that it was finally one day before you’d leave, you couldn’t help but be bothered by Jake’s absence.

He’s always around, which made you wonder where and what he was up to, especially when you wanted nothing more than to spend your time in his arms, lip quivering at the thought that he might not wish to see you anymore.

However, that wasn’t the case when he showed up in the doorway, huffing and hair messy as if he was running.

“Jaeyun,” you whispered, letting him pull you in the comfort of his warm arms.

“I’m coming,” he breathed, making you look at him with wide eyes.

“What?” You blinked, almost stuttering.

“I’m coming to Seoul with you, princess. I got into the same university,” he chuckled as you snatched the envelope from him, jumping with excitement as tears filled your eyes, hugging him even tighter.

You felt like your heart was going to explode with the excitement, which Jake found heartwarming. He had planned this the second he saw you and got to know you. It was a given that he wanted to be with you.

“What about your mom?” You asked softly, realizing that she’d be alone.

“She’s gonna stay with Gigi. Our ladies are strong women, right?” He asked, caressing your lip, which you had noticed was his habit.

“W—when did you even apply—this is so amazing,” you went on rambling, which was something he adored, but kissing your lips to shut you up was his favourite thing, especially when he got to see your shy smile right after.

“So, we’re gonna be together?” You questioned, shyness taking over.

“You’re wrong if you think you’ll ever get rid of me now, princess,” he smirked, teasing you again.

This side of him made you faux scoff, “but what if I want to get rid of you?” You challenged, knowing well you weren’t capable of that.

He took a step closer to you, his broad smile illuminating the room, his hand resting on your waist pulling you closer, “I’d like to see you try and escape me,” he retorted.

“You want me that much, huh?” Your smile was coy.

He brushed your nose tip with his, making you chuckle with joy.

“I’ll always want my princess.”

THANK YOU FOR READING!

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @ddeonuism @macaroonff @ajayke-reads @en-myworld @lunalovesstories @jayzdaze @deobitifull @silenth1lls @celeste-hoon @mari-oclock @kpoprhia @bolliwon @woniebae @lalalalawon @blessedcursd

permanent taglist open! comment or send an ask to be added <3

#fic : roman holiday #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #jake smut #jake hard hours #enhypen imagines #kpop smut #jake x reader #enha smut #jake #enhypen scenarios #jake sim smut

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specialagentlokitty · 27 days

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Hotch x reader - everybody’s favourite

Sorry for requesting something so soon after my Wanda ask... But all I can think of is like Hotchkiss with reader who just absolutely spoils him and jack because their like a CEO or something and want them to have the best. And one day they send Hotch to work with a gift for Spencer after a hard case (maybe a book he's been looking for but can't find). So the team get a little jealous and want to meet her. - @azeal-peal 💜

Looking at your phone, you smiled at your lock screen and went back to looking at the people you were sat in a meeting with.

“How about we take a small break?” You asked.

“Your boyfriend calling?” Someone chuckled.

You laughed softly, standing up as you grabbed your phone.

“Actually my boyfriend is here, and we’re in no rush to finish this project, I trust you all. Go take a few hours, we’ll meet back just after lunch.”

Everybody seemed happy with this arrangement, and you quickly tidied a few of the papers away, setting them aside and picked up your papers.

Heading to your office, you set them on the desk, then walked back outside, making your way across the office.

You saw him before he saw you, and you grinned from ear to ear as you walked closer.

“Hello sweetheart.” You greeted.

Hotch turned around, a smile gracing his face as he saw you.

He opened his arms and you wrapped your arms around his neck, letting him wrap his own around you and you pulled him down for a kiss.

Letting him go after a minute, you played with the hairs on the base of his neck.

“I just got back, Jack is at school so I thought I’d come see if you’re free.”

“I’m always free for you my darling.”

Hotch chuckled a little bit, letting go of you he held his hand out and you took it, letting him lead you back to his office.

He gathered your phone, your keys and your wallet for you, putting them into the pockets of his blazer, then held out his arm.

You looped your arm with his, making your way down to the parking lot.

“I was thinking about jacks trip, and I want to get him some new clothes for it, oh and a new suit for you, we have an appointment with the tailor.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know, but I’m going to do it. So, suck it up and tell me about your case.”

Hotch nodded, opening the car door for you, and you got in.

When he was in the drivers side, he began to tell you about the case on the way to the tailors.

He explained how hard the case was for Reid, and what had happened, the fact that Reece had been hurt, and he’s really struggling with the fact he was hurt.

You listened carefully as he talked.

“The poor kid has it hard.” You sighed.

“I know, but honestly he’s one of the best agents we have, if not the best agent. I just wish there was some way to boost his confidence in himself.” Hotch sighed.

“Give it time, I imagine life has been hard for him because of how smart he is, and we know this world isn’t too kind to people who are different. Just keep supporting him Aaron and let him know you’re there for him.”

You guided your boyfriend into the tailors and over to the man who was waiting for him.

While they were measuring up a new suit, you were flicking through some others, looking at the colours and designs, then you made your way over to the accessories.

You found a nice, though expensive watch in the glass case.

“It’s nice isn’t it?” Another man asked.

“Absolutely, though I was wondering if you have something a little less flashy and more work appropriate. My boyfriend wouldn’t be able to wear this to work.”

The man nodded his head, pulling out some watches.

“Some of these are more expensive due to their unique design, but they would be more appropriate for a working environment if you didn’t want it to be easily damaged.”

You looked through them, and you looked at a pure gold one, small intricate designs carved into the links of the watch.

“I like this, I’ll get this one. He’s currently getting a new suit fitted so I’d like to wait for that before paying, I’ll probably get him a few more ties as well. Something that says professional, but can be used for formal meals and such as well.”

He nodded.

“We have a few I think you’ll like them.”

You carried on picking some stuff up for Hotch, then waited by the counter for him, also getting yourself a new watch since you wanted a change.

When Hotch had his new suit fitted, it was brought over and he stood next to you.

“(Y/N) no, you can’t. This is all too much and it has to be expensive.”

You grinned a little bit, handing over your bank card.

“Oops, too late.”

He sighed, giving you a small smile as he shook his head and he leant forward, kissing your forehead.

“You’re too good for me…” he whispered.

“I’d say it’s the other way around sweetheart, oh, and before you go to work tomorrow I have something for you to take it.”

You never told Hotch what it was, but you did go pick it up later on that night before heading back home.

Jack was happily trying on all of his clothes, and you handed the box to Hotch with the instructions to give it to Reid first thing in the morning.

And he did, when he got to the office he waited for Reid and made his way over.

“(Y/N) wanted you to have this.”

He set the box on the desk and Reid furrowed his brows a little bit.

“Oh? The mysterious rich partner has a gift for the pretty boy?” Emily asked.

They all walked over to watch as Reid opened it.

He set the lid to the box aside, and he picked up the note that was neatly placed on the top.

“What’s it say?” Rossi asked.

“It says to always believe in myself.”

He set the note aside and picked up the very old book.

“It’s a first edition of a Russian novel I’ve been looking for…” he whispered.

“Oh my god that’s amazing!” Garcia gasped.

“Damn, that must’ve cost a lot.” Morgan whistled.

They all nodded in agreement and Hotch just chuckled a little bit, shaking his head.

“They don’t care about cost, to (Y/N) they just want everybody to have the best.”

“Seriously Hotch, we have to meet them this isn’t fair.” JJ laughed.

Everybody immediately started asking him and begging him to be able to meet you.

They’d all heard about you, they knew about you from being the CEO of a large company, they’d seen photos of you and seen interviews of you thanks to Garica.

But they hadn’t had the chance to meet you, and they wanted to meet you, finally get to see the person who keeps gifting them all expensive gifts

#criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #Hotch #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #Hotch imagine #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #Aaron Hotchner imagine

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that-foul-legacy-lover · 10 months

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SAGAU thoughts, let's go

Ajax, an Abyss-touched mortal, who has long been told that his violent nature would never garner favor with the gods, much less the Creator. Childe, whose Harbinger comrades care not for the myths of the Creator, preferring to forge their own path. they tell him, the youngest, to allow the Creator to hate him- if that is the exchange for writing their own destinies, the Fatui will gladly take it.

but for Childe, it hurts to think this way. even more so for Foul Legacy; the Abyssal creatures who only have one salvation, the hands of the all-loving Creator. to hear that the Creator will hate him breaks his heart, Legacy taking over their shared body and curling into a corner to sob, taking comfort in the darkness of Childe's room.

the Creator is never seen nor heard, yet still guards all of Teyvat- which is why it's such a surprise when you end up getting tossed into Mondstadt, ripped away from your familiar world into another. it's still familiar, only not in the way you expect, having seen Teyvat behind a screen all this time. all the characters you know and love seem to be dedicated to worshiping you, praising your grace and power and watching your every move.

it's extremely overwhelming. you just want to befriend your favorite characters- the most beloved of which you can't even find! but you're stubborn and determined above all else, and set out alone to find out where Childe, your favorite DPS, could be hiding.

he shies away when he sees you in the distance, your features familiar from so many books and carvings, but instead of disgusted, you look... excited? he blinks, and suddenly you seem much smaller, Foul Legacy's love for you allowing him to hijack Childe's body for a moment. Legacy yelps and shrinks back further, trying to hide himself to avoid what he assumes must be a scornful glare. but instead he feels gentle hands cupping his cheeks, your soft laughter music to his ears as you greet him.

"Hello, Legacy."

his wings flutter upon hearing your kind voice utter his name, with all the love and affection you can give, and when your arms wrap tightly around his waist he feels like he could sing. your hands move to scritch under his chin, and Foul Legacy croons in delight, allowing himself to melt into your touch, snuggling his masked face into your palms. the taint of the Abyss seems far away, the pain soothed beneath your fingertips as Legacy begins to purr for the first time in his life, holding you, his beloved Creator, close to him.

and you let him, hugging him back, because you adore Childe, Foul Legacy, and the Abyss with all your divine heart.

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catcze · 5 months

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i love reading your works, they make excited to read again

but i was wondering, how do you think wriothesley would be in a royal au where we’re the noble and he’s our bodygaurd?? 👀

!!! THE WAY I LOVE THIS TROPE SO MUCHAKJSNDKJNASJDNAKSJ

Bodyguard! Wriothesley is quite possibly the best thing that's ever happened to you. He's relaxed— much less uptight and by-the-books as some of the bodyguard that have been with you in the past.

Bodyguard! Wriothesley doesn't try to limit your movements or the activities you do, only under the condition that he either comes with you or that you don't do anything outright life-endangering. You wanna dress up as a regular person and wander around the city? Sure. Just let him know, and he'll even procure the disguises the two of you will use. You want to go for a walk in the woods? As long as you both stick to the safer paths and don't stay out past dark, he doesn't see why not.

Bodyguard! Wriothesley cares for your sake. He lets you indulge in whatever hobbies you like— gardening, embroidering, horseback riding, sword-fighting. Whatever it may be, he accompanies you and just lets you have your fun. He even helps you out sometimes, such as sparring with you, or being the one to hold your books for you as you wander around the library.

Bodyguard! Wriothesley even helps you when it comes to your official duties as a noble. He can't help directly, of course, but he helps you organize your files, sort through the numerous documents on your desk, and even provides some useful input in the fields where he's got some experience. Not to mention, when he's your only company in that lonely lonely office for hours to come, he converses with you during the slower periods of time. He talks about anything under the sun— anything that he thinks you'll find interesting, or that might elicit a smile from you. Be it anecdotes from his own life, stories from his time before being a bodyguard, or even just interesting facts he's learned from a book he's found in the library. If he sees you needing a mental break, he's more than happy to provide.

Bodyguard! Wriothesley who accompanies you in your office in the late evenings, long after you've already dismissed him for the night. The moon could be high overhead, the owls hooting and the fireplace in your office crackling away, and this man will absolutely refuse to leave your side until you're finished. To your face, he tells you that it's out of duty. That a risk to your life could come even this late at night, and that so long as you are vigilant with your duties, so shall he. But a teeny tiny little part of his heart is doing it because he wants to make sure that you're alright, too. That while you burn the midnight oil, there is water in the pitcher by your desk, and fresh slices of fruit in the plate. He wants to make sure that your office is neither too cold nor too hot, and that if you choose to stay up late in the winters where the fireplace cannot keep up with the chill, he is there to offer his own coat is he sees you shivering.

Bodyguard! Wriothesley who has, as a result of you being so committed to your duties and your people, been faced with the dilemma of you falling asleep at your desk more than once. Each time, he's hesitant to wake you from your slumber. If anyone knows how hard you work and how badly you need each second of rest, it is the man who hardly ever leaves your side. So instead, he approaches your dozing form hesitantly, shaking your shoulder just slightly with a gentle touch until you rouse a little.

"Your grace," Wriothesley murmurs, keeping his voice low. "I believe it's time to call it a night."

You say nothing for a few seconds, processing what he's said, but you eventiually nod, letting the smallest of yawns escape you. Wriothesley tries to hide his smile.

Then a thought crosses his mind, and though he hesitates to even offer, he sees you starting to doze off again where you sit, and he can't imagine that to be any good for your back or your neck come morning.

"Would you like me to carry you back to your room, your grace?" He asks softly— so quietly, that if he wasn't this close, you don't think you would have heard it. But you do, in fact, hear him. And while you would normally be rather embarrassed to have your bodyguard carry you anywhere, your sleepiness overrules most thoughts of embarrassment and hesitation. In this state, the most important thing is getting back to your room and getting a proper rest, so you nod.

Wriothesley puts out the fireplace in record time, returning to your barely-awake form swiftly. He easily grabs the keys to your office off your desk and hooks the keyring onto his finger.

"Alright, I'm going to lift you up now, your grace," He murmurs, one hand hooked under your legs, the other circling around your back and cradling you against him securely. You barely stir when he lifts you up, doing little more than humming .

Expertly and making sure not to jostle you, Wriothesley maneuvers you out of the office, making sure to lock it securely behind him. As he begins walking in the direction of your chambers, he can feel you leaning more and more into his hold, your head resting right above his chest. No doubt you're already half-way to dreamland, which he finds incredibly endearing.

"You can sleep for now, your grace. I'll get you back safely." His voice is so soft, like the finest silk. Softer than any of the robes you have in your closet, than the sheets that lay on your bed. You wish you could fall into that softness and slumber for hours and hours.

You lean further into Wriothesley's firm chest, thinking nothing of the way his heart seems to hasten, or how he grows warm under your touch. Sleep creeps forward more and more with each passing second, wrapping you in it's warm tendrils.

Before you completely lose yourself to it though, you manage to whisper a quiet, "Thank you, Wriothesley."

And oh, if his heart doesn't melt right then and there. You asleep in his arms, looking more relaxed than he's ever seen you. Wriothesley adjusts his grip on you slightly, making sure that you're comfortable in his grasp. And if he slows his pace a bit, unwilling to have the walk to your chambers end so quickly, that's just for him to know.

[ #Taglist registration here !! ]

#astronetwrk #「 🐈‍⬛ 」 catcze.desserts #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact x reader #cw gn reader #genshin impact #wriothesley #ASK ME MORE ABNOUT THIS AU I LOVE IT SO MUCH I COULD GO ON FOREVERHJAKJDSNKAJSNDLANJKS

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aneveningsword · 5 months

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𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐲 '𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮'

pairing: Spencer Reid x gn! reader warnings: not proofread words: 832 summary: 3 different ways Spencer shows he loves you

masterlist

one Spencer often went away for long periods of time, it came with having a job at the BAU. Despite missing him and disliking how quiet your home becomes, you knew what you were getting into. You would never stop him from going on a case, no matter how little time you get to spend with him in between.

The longing for your partner was not onesided. There were times Spencer hated to be away for so long, to come home for a few days before leaving you again. He disliked how lonely he felt at night, the bed in the hotel felt too large without someone else there.

It's why he was out and about in whatever city he was in at the time. He would send you photos of things that remind him of you. Maybe some blooming flowers out front of a store. A dog that vaguely looks like you. A couple of birds sitting on a branch together.

Sometimes they would be accompanied by messages. 'thinking of you'. 'doesn't it kinda look like you?'. 'did you know these birds mate for life'. Just small facts or messages that always bring a smile to your face.

It helped ease the loneliness when he was away, knowing he was thinking of you just as much as you were thinking of him.

two While you weren't as much of a book addict as Spencer, you enjoyed reading. You often asked the man to recommend one for you to read. It always brought a smile to his face as he rambled on about the plot and characters, ensuring he did not give anything away. You read at a much more leisurely pace than your partner who could read large chapter books like it was a small letter.

Sometimes you were a bit jealous of his ability to read so fast, not wishing to wade through a large part of the text before getting to the exciting part. But you could not help but enjoy curling up in a chair with a cup of tea and a good book.

Persuasion by Jane Austen was the book you were currently reading, being recommended after expressing a desire for a romance book. But as you read you began to notice small annotations hastily scribbled in Spencer's handwriting. Somewhere about the characters or the thoughts on the themes. But some were drawing parallels to your relationship.

The more you read the less the annotations became about the book and more about your relationship. You found it endearing, more reading the book to get to the next annotation than the next chapter. A stupid love-sick smile graced your face as your eyes skimmed over the writing squeezed in between paragraphs.

The sound of footsteps graced your ears as you quickly began finishing the page you were on. "Enjoying the book?" Spencer's voice rang out, wanting to ensure his recommendation was right. Glazing up at him from the book your smile only grew. "Yes, I am. But I find myself liking the annotations better."

It took a moment for Spencer to understand before the tip of his ears flushed red as well as his cheeks. His eyes flicked downwards as he grappled with what to say. Deciding to give him a break you speak again. "I find them very cute. Shows how much you love me."

three It wasn't often that Spencer had time to sleep in, not getting up at the crack of dawn to get an early start on his work. So, you wanted to do something sweet for him, and what was better than breakfast in bed? What you didn't account for was him waking up before you were finished.

Humming a tune to yourself, you failed to hear the patter of sock-clad feet on the floor. Too busy making sure you didn't overcook the eggs in the frying pan. When two lanky arms wrapped around your middle, it caused a squeak of surprise to be pulled from you. The spatula in your hand dropped onto the counter in surprise.

Soft, muffled laughter filled the room, a mop of brown curls invading your vision as Spencer buried his face into your shoulder. A small huff leaves you, realising your surprise is ruined. "You're meant to be asleep." You whined though a small smile played on your lips, enjoying the sleepy back hug you were receiving.

"Sorry, darling. I just missed you in bed." His voice was rough with sleep, clearly having only woken up moments ago to an empty bed and set out to find you. Reaching one hand up you ran your fingers through his messy hair pulling a small hum of pleasure from him.

"Why don't you go back to bed? I'll bring breakfast and we can spend the morning there?" You offer softly, it takes a moment before you feel a soft nod. Spencer untangling himself from you before trudging off to bed once more, a small lovesick smile on his face.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagines

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outsideratheart · 7 months

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Not while I’m around (Alessia Russo x reader)

Not While I’m Around (Alessia Russo x reader)

A/N: Here’s a little fic inspired by last nights game.

Through the fake smiles and lies of excitement you could see the nerves slowly consuming Alessia.

The first sign of nerves came when you had stayed over as her new house and woke up to find her looking at some of her old United gear. She played it off by saying she woke up feeling nostalgic and that the upcoming fixture hadn’t even come to mind. It was a lie, you and her knew it.

Then each training session came with questions about her former team. How to stop them? What are there weak spots? It almost felt treacherous for the blonde to share her thoughts.

“We’re almost there” Alessia says as she looks out the window.

The two of you were sat next to each other on the coach and up until now very little had been said since your departure from St Albans.

“Alessia” you say her name but her gaze remains on the view outside the window “Less, look at me”

She does as you ask and those blue eyes stare back at you. As beautiful as they may be you can just about see the anxiousness behind them.

“I can’t. I need to stay focused”

There’s no disagreement. You grab her hand, intertwine her fingers with your own and place them on your lap. Words wasn’t the only way to reassure someone.

You wished that Alessia had been wrong with her worry about returning to Leigh Sports Village but she wasn’t. It seemed the fans were hellbent on making her feel miserable. Every time she touched the ball they booed and every time she missed a shot or got tackled they cheered.

“It’s so disrespectful” you say at a drinks break.

“I know. Look at her” Lia points to Alessia who, whilst listening to Jonas’ instructions, was scanning the crowd hoping to see any form of hope that not every fan hated her.

There wasn’t a lot you could to do about the fans. You hated how loud they were and you could see how much it was affecting Alessia even though she was playing a brilliant game.

It was just before half time when a line is well and truly crossed. Hayley Ladd goes in for a tackle on Alessia. It wasn’t necessary and it was a tough one.

“Do you need the medics?” You crouch down next to your girlfriend. Once she shakes your head you are straight in Ladd’s face shouting and pushing her. Kim is the one that drags you away before you do something you’ll regret.

At half time strategies are discussed but you can’t take your eyes of Alessia who sits on the opposite side of the room. She walks back out to the pitch with Stina, unaware that Jonas keeps you behind.

“I can’t have you losing your head out there. I know you want to protect her but they will target her now to get to you. I can’t have one of my best players getting sent off”

“I will be on by best behaviour” Jonas walks just in front of you but stops when he hears you talking again “Unless they hurt her then good luck trying to stop me”

“Hey blondie” you shout as you take your position.

Alessia turns around.

“How about we get you a goal so they have something to complain about?”

You look to Kim then to Lia who both nod their head. The team wanted a win but having Alessia score against her former team would be icing on the cake.

“I’ll try”

And try she did. Alessia made the next 15 minutes hell for the defenders in red. It was fun to watch but not as much as getting involved in it yourself. You decide to push forward a bit more and before you know it you are one on one with Mary. The goal is almost guaranteed to happen given your track record with these situations but then you see Alessia making a run to the left of you and you know you won’t be the one on the scoresheet. It was an easy goal, a tap in but Alessia make it look graceful.

She didn’t celebrate her goal, of course she didn’t. You did though and so did the rest of the team. Alessia ran towards the away fans but you made the extra effort to turn to the home fans and hold you hand up to your ear. It was the quietest they had been all game and you loved it.

After the goal things got a lot more physical with the United players clearly frustrated. Katie and Caitlin come on and within minutes they both get booked. You look towards Jonas as if asking why they can do it and you can’t.

Alessia goes down a couple of times and after helping her up each time you look towards your coach.

The next tackle is the one that makes you snap.

It’s Ella. Of all people to take Alessia out it is her best friend that does so. United had a corner that doesn’t work. Amanda is able to clear the ball to Alessia who is charging towards Mary.

“What the hell was that!” You get in her face but don’t touch her.

“C’mon Y/N you know how I get sometimes” Ella jokingly says referring to her games with England.

“You think this is funny. Look at her” you point to where Alessia is still on the ground “I don’t care if you’re her best friend. She is my girlfriend and I will protect her. Tell your team to back off or I will take matters into my own hands”

When Ella doesn’t get carded Jonas gets involved and ends up getting carded himself.

“Now?” You say as you run to the sideline. Two of your team mates had been carded, now him and your coach wasn’t a hypocrite.

“Fine but only one”

That’s all you needed to hear. You hated that you needed it but you now had permission to protect her in whichever way you seemed fit. Much to your surprise you were able to be a little bit aggressive with a few United players before a powerful body check against Malard gets you the carded. It was worth it though because she went after your girl. From that moment they seemed to back off. The players who hadn’t yet had a run in with you wanted to be spared your wrath.

When the full time whistle is blown, the game ends with Arsenal securing all three points. You refused to shake hands with anyone who wronged your girlfriend.

“Ella wants to come and apologise. Be nice” Alessia’s arms snake around your waist from behind.

“Did she apologise to you?” You turn and kiss her cheek discreetly.

“She did but she thinks you’re mad at her. I told her she’s been ridiculous”

“I am mad at her. Strike that, I’m furious. She hurt you Alessia”

“I’m ok. It’s ok” she loved how protective you were of her but she also didn’t want any tension between you and her best friend.

“No, it’s not. Not while I’m around. While I’m here, while you are my girlfriend, I won’t stand by and let anyone hurt you. Now I’m going to shower before I get pulled for media”

You leave the pitch but before you do so you see Ella watching you nervously so you go over to her and tell her that the two of you are fine and that you were only protecting your girl.

Once showered and changed the team leave the stadium to head to the coach that will take them home. Of course there are fans waiting outside the stadium, most of which you meet before getting on the coach. Ever the gentlewoman you let Alessia on the coach first but she stops on the steps as she hears the fans chanting.

“TRAITOR. TRAITOR. TRAITOR”

The blonde turns around to look at the fans, the people she once called family, standing outside the stadium she once called home. You see the look of devastation on her face and it makes your own expression turn cold.

“Y/N don’t” she grabs your hand but not tight enough.

You stood up for her on the field and now you plan on doing the same in front on the fans.

“How can you say that!” You approach the crowd who grows silence. So much so that you could hear a pin drop.

“She left us” one girl says.

“All lot of players did. Tell me, if some miracle happens and you face Barcelona would you welcome Ona back this way. Would you boo her every time she touched the ball?”

You took the silence as your answer.

“That’s what I thought. That girl, who you are hellbent on making miserable, has been dreading this game. Her leaving you was one of the hardest decisions she has ever made and I know this because she would call me in tears and all she kept saying was she didn’t was to turn her back the fans. She gave her all for this club and is one of the main reasons why you had the success you did last season. Show her some respect!”

Phones were recording you but you couldn’t care less. You were a protector, everyone knew this.

“Let’s go home” you say once you reach Alessia who is still standing on the bottom step of the coach when you return to her.

It’s about an hour into the journey and Alessia is fast asleep in your arms. It was a draining day both mentally and physically for her and you couldn’t wait to take her home. Whether that would be yours or hers was yet to be determined.

“I’ve never seen you like that before” Lia says from across the table.

“I can’t let anyone hurt her Lia”

“You love her don’t you?” She asks and even though you hesitate to respond, you do know the answer and have done for a while now.

You and Alessia would be celebrating your 1 year anniversary in a couple of months but you knew you loved her the night of the euros or more so the morning after when the blonde woke up in your bed.

“I do. I love her more than I thought possible”

“I love you too Tesoro” Alessia mumbles. She looks up at you still half asleep but with a smile on her face.

#alessia Russo x reader #alessia Russo one shot #alessia russo imagine #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso x reader #awfc x reader #awfc one shot #awfc imagine #engwnt x reader #engwnt one shot #engwnt imagine

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chenfleur · 6 months

Text

the long way home

summary. in which park sunghoon decides that nothing is more important than having you in his life.

pairing. sunghoon x y/n ft jake

genre. high school au, fluff, angst

word count. 4.8k

released. 11.05.2023

author's note. feedback is appreciated! experimented with writing style so sorry if this is bad and makes no sense 💔 enjoy 🙏

masterlist

"Two cotton candies, please."

The first time Park Sunghoon speaks to you, you're dressed head-to-toe in a blinding, neon pink.

The fundraiser uniform was your co-president's idea. She'd suggested it offhandedly in a delirious, late-night planning session, and in a rather unserious fashion, you'd agreed. It's hilarity overruled any embarrassment bundled with it.

When Park Sunghoon is the one standing in front of you, embarrassment crashes into you with the force of an eighteen wheeler.

His presence is overwhelming. It looms over you as you prepare his order. It sends a shiver down your spine, which is absurd when you've never even met him.

Someone could tell you that Sunghoon lives on a completely separate plane of existence and you'd believe them without thinking twice.

He's the basketball team's star player. He adorns the number twenty-three with poise and grace. He's the principal actor in people's dreams and fantasies.

To you, Park Sunghoon is like the moon.

Beautiful, and so, so far away.

The two cotton candies you hand him are less than perfect. Without much thought, a mumbled apology falls from your lips. He still accepts them with a polite smile. It sends a nervous jolt to your chest.

You watch him as he walks away and joins Jake Sim's side, handing him one of the cotton candies.

You know Jake Sim from your physics class. He catches your eye and sends you a friendly wave. You shoot him one back before hastily turning around.

A second later and you would have noticed Sunghoon's gaze, lingering.

Tuesday after school, Sunghoon agrees to meet with Jay and Jake in the East Wing.

He leans against a locker, watching his two friends bicker with each other. Occasionally cracking a smile when one of them says something particularly nonsensical.

Someone rushes past him. His breath hitches. Gaze flickering. When they stop in front of a classroom door, Sunghoon realizes it's you.

You knock on the door. While you wait, he takes you in.

The way your yellow sundress hugs your body in all of the right places. The way the pearl barrettes clipped to your hair reflect the afternoon sun. The way you tug the sleeves of your cardigan down over your hands. Sunghoon has the urge to roll them back up and interlock his fingers with yours.

Each second Sunghoon spends taking you in, his chest grows tighter.

The metal behind him is suddenly freezing to the touch. It bleeds through the fabric of his shirt. Pierces his shoulder blades. Is he shivering? He doesn't know.

The classroom door is opened. Another girl appears in the threshold, an easy smile on her face. The two of you exchange words before breaking out into giggles.

Park Sunghoon takes notice of you.

There’s a part of him that finds it unbelievable that he hadn’t done it earlier. There’s another that is deeply unsettled about it happening at all.

Either way, he takes great care in memorizing the outline of your figure. Grasping onto each note of your laughter.

Sunghoon bails on this week's team outing. His reason is that he has an important language arts assignment due at 11:59PM.

He isn't lying. His teacher had carved the words ‘no excuses’ into the very core of his being.

When the words on his page start looking like globs of nonsense, Sunghoon’s mind drifts.

The basketball season begins soon. Who is the first game against?

He searches up the school website intending to find the season schedule.

He pauses when he sees a photo of you.

It’s from the other day. The same day Sunghoon saw you in that pretty sundress. You’re watching the other people in the photo strike funny poses with a soft, tender smile on your lips.

The list of names goes left to right, top to bottom. Sunghoon’s eyes dart around.

L/N Y/N.

That night, Sunghoon has an important language arts assignment due at 11:59PM. His teacher had carved the words ‘no excuses’ into the very core of his being.

That night, Sunghoon spends his time learning about you.

Curiosity spared no mercy for the cat. You pray it's kinder to you.

There are three other water fountains located around the school, all perfectly capable of refilling your water bottle. Yet, their existence escapes you when you realize the person using the one you'd chosen to go to is Park Sunghoon.

You try to leave. You can't. His presence binds the soles of your feet to the tiles of the floor.

The first game of the season is a few, short weeks away. The air is full of the distant screeching of basketballs. Sunghoon's hair is damp with sweat. His arms and nape glisten under the fluorescent lighting.

Sunghoon's lips leave the jet of water. A loud exhale follows. You watch as he wipes harshly at the corners of his mouth.

When he turns around, his eyes widen. He looks surprised to see you.

Why wouldn't he? The two of you are strangers. Mutuals, at best.

Yet, he doesn't move from his spot. He doesn't cast his eyes away or walk past you.

His stare is heavy. You feel like he's peering into your soul. Judging it. Tearing it to shreds.

He silently moves to the side. You realize he's making way for you to use the fountain. Embarrassment floods your system.

The sound of running water ceases when your foot lifts off the pedal. A double twist ensures the cap of your bottle is screwed shut. You're set to leave.

But a hand encircles your wrist, stopping you. Spinning you around.

You're inches away from Park Sunghoon.

You're shocked.

You don't tug away.

Your eyes dart around his face, searching for an explanation. His expression is indecipherable. He suddenly won't meet your gaze, only unravelling your closed fist with gentle fingers.

You notice a slip of paper clasped in his hold. You watch it as he places it into your open palm.

His voice is near silent. Words evaporating when they leave his lips and hit air. You manage to catch them before they're completely gone.

"Call me."

When Sunghoon is sure the slip is securely slotted in your hand, he leaves.

There is an unfathomable amount of things Sunghoon's worried about. You throwing his number away. Laughing at him. Thinking he's a freak.

But in the deepest part of his brain, where he keeps his muscle memory of how to ride a bike or snap his fingers, the voice of his first ever coach resounds; something about missing one hundred percent of the shots he never takes. Sunghoon thinks he's heard it more in his lifetime than he's heard his own name.

It dawns on him that you being in his life, as even just the smallest of features, was not a shot he was willing to ruin.

You call Sunghoon at a quarter past midnight.

The clock on your wall ticks loudly, mocking you for taking so long.

You don't expect him to pick up at all. You don't need him to. Hearing his voicemail would be enough to assure you that what had happened was real. That it wasn't a figment of your imagination.

Park Sunghoon had left you paralyzed. All of your work had been neglected because of that crinkled slip of paper.

It's been on the edge of your desk for hours. It taunts you.

When you will yourself to call him, you had climbed onto your bed. The slip of paper stayed on your desk, untouched.

You didn't need it to call him. The digits of his phone number were already engraved in your head from how many times you thumbed over them on the way home from school.

The line rings. Once. Twice. Three times.

"Hello?"

You finally breathe.

"Sunghoon?"

A pause. Shuffling sounds from the receiver. "Y/N?"

"You told me to call you."

"I'm happy you did."

You hear the sound of birds singing.

You wonder if it's coming from outside or the other end of the line.

"Sunghoon?"

"Mm?"

"It's nearly six. We have school soon."

A huff. "Shit."

You break out into a smile.

Sunghoon makes hours feel like seconds. Conversation flows between the two of you with the ease of changing seasons. You don't think you could ever grow tired of listening to his voice.

There's a certain playful lilt to it. Teasing, yet kind. Each syllable spoken with a gentleness you can't quite grasp. Each boyish laugh that leaves his lips sweeping you off your feet. When periods of silence dotted your conversations, his slow breaths filled them in.

He had yawned, here and there. You told him to go to sleep. He refused. You didn't protest. Selfishly, you wanted to have him for a bit longer.

You can't discern what about him makes your insides turn upside down. He makes you feel vulnerable. All he'd have to do is ask and you'd be willing to bare your soul to him.

You decide you're okay with that.

"Y/N?"

"Yes?"

"Talk to you soon?"

"Yeah."

Your friendship with Sunghoon is a quiet one.

It's found behind small actions that seem to communicate everything.

Candies slipped into lockers. Split-second eye contact in the halls. Candid photos of each other in the courtyard. Your eyes searching the cluster of players during games from above, his searching each row of the bleachers from on the court.

It's hidden away from prying eyes, and that makes you cherish it even more.

At the first game of the season, Park Sunghoon scores a tie-breaking basket just as the countdown hit zero.

The gymnasium erupts into a thundering ovation. His teammates roar with victory. Tackling him to the ground. Clapping him on the back. Hoisting him into the air, tossing him up. Your heart lurches at the absolutely radiant smile on his face.

Chants of his name fill the entire venue. The commentator's voice booms through the speakers. Ladies and gentlemen, number twenty-three: Park Sunghoon.

You silently watch the scene, a ghost of a smile on your lips.

The difference between the intensity of a crowd and the stillness of the night air is jarring.

Park Sunghoon confuses you. You don't know how he has the opportunity or the desire to meet you after the game. He should be out with his teammates celebrating.

Instead, you receive a message to wait by the West gate.

Tonight is colder than usual. Icy wind grazes your bare knees. As you wait, anticipation knocks at your front door. You let it in when you catch sight of Sunghoon making his way towards you, a golden medal dangling from his neck.

He's glowing. Victory looks good on him.

A gasp escapes you when your feet leave the ground. Sunghoon spins you around in his arms, adorable giggles falling from his lips. Blissful warmth sprawls across your chest, seeping in every crevice.

"Tonight's MVP and you still have time to spare for me?" you tease, eyes shining.

"I have all the time in the world for you."

Sunghoon recounts the game with fervor. Galaxies swirl in his irises. You wonder if you'd ever feel as elated as he looks.

When he embraces you again, head slotting into the crook of your neck, holding you like he never wants to let go, your wonders are answered.

Park Sunghoon does not idle.

He walks with a destination in mind. He gives courteous greetings to those who he passes by in the halls, but his movements never stop.

The only thing Sunghoon willingly stops for is the sunset.

On days where he leaves school late, he takes the long way home. Down a street lined with yellow ginkgo trees, a left turn too early. Across the bridge bound for the city centre.

The long way home never really takes him home.

Sunghoon ends up on a pier in the harbour, letting vermillion and marigold rays of warmth soak into each pore of his skin. Unwinding with a low puff of air.

Recently, Sunghoon stops for you, too.

Whenever he sees you, there's a stutter in his strides. A stiffness in his fingers. A clog in his airway. The world around him starts to spin, yet he himself freezes.

The next time Sunghoon takes the long way home, he stays with the sunset for longer than usual. He sits instead of standing, letting his feet dangle off of the pier's edge. It makes the sloshing sound of the water below him even clearer.

Sunghoon closes his eyes. He inhales the salty, sweet air. Feels his teammates hugging him. Hears hundreds of people chanting his name.

Sunghoon closes his eyes, and sees you.

It takes ten games for defeat to seize Sunghoon by the throat.

Under the dim light of the locker room, Jake eyes his friend warily. He searches for any sign of emotion in the lines of his stone cold face. If he didn't know him any better, he'd believe he's simply reserved.

But Jake Sim has spent too much time uncovering Park Sunghoon to be ignorant to his character.

He’s torturing himself.

"Jay," Jake whispers. Caution laces his voice. "I feel like we should do something."

Jay's eyes flit over Sunghoon's figure. The air is heavy before he responds.

"I think it’s best we don’t pry."

When the sound of their steps fade away, Park Sunghoon drives his fist into a locker door.

He knew something was off. When their score plateaued while the opposition's climbed. Frowns painted themselves on his teammates' faces. Shots kept getting fumbled. Intercepted. Rolling off the rim.

Sunghoon feels his knuckles throb as he lets his hand fall to the side.

Anger and guilt are a dangerous pairing. They swirl in the pit of his stomach like a storm and render him feeling weak.

He hates how badly he's taking this.

"Sunghoon!"

Peace of mind reaches out to him in the form of anxious footsteps.

From around the wall, you appear. Worry taints your features. It's a blow to the stomach for him. "I- I was waiting for you outside but I heard a noise-"

In two urgent strides, Park Sunghoon's lips are on yours.

Time pauses. Uncertainty hangs in the air. Sunghoon is racing at a million miles an hour.

When he feels you kissing back, he crashes.

Anger and guilt are a dangerous pairing. They join forces and leave desperation in their wake.

Sunghoon kisses you harder. He wants you to fill in all of the parts that feel empty. He wants you to help him feel whole.

You're pliant under his fingers, back slightly arching whenever he squeezes your waist. Sunghoon revels in the gasp that leaves your mouth when his hands slide under your shirt and paint landscapes on the expanse of your back. It's music to his ears. He records it in his mind before drowning it out with another searing kiss.

When you part to catch your breath, your forehead instantly presses to his. Chasing his touch, craving more of his skin against yours.

You look up at Sunghoon. His eyes are downcast to the floor. He feels your hand travel up to his hair, gently pulling on it. A silent plead.

He doesn't meet your gaze. He's floating. Adrift at a lawless sea. His palms continue to rub up and down your sides.

Sunghoon doesn't know how long the two of you spend in each other's arms. He doesn't want to know. Knowing would define a beginning and an end.

Sunghoon never wants this to end.

Seven days.

It's been seven days since Park Sunghoon last spoke to you.

With the way he walks past you without a mere glance, you wonder if what happened was even real.

But, you can still feel it. You can still feel him.

He had kissed you in that locker room. He had stolen the air from your lungs and never returned it. His scorching hands had burned themselves into your skin.

You pass him in the hall wordlessly. That's how it's always been, except there's no more eye contact that asks silent questions of 'How are you?" and speaks delicate words of "I'm happy to see you today."

Every one of your waking hours is spent wondering what went wrong.

You begin to neglect assignments and reject invitations to go out. Teachers eye you with concern. Friends ask if you've been feeling off. Everyone spares you a glance and a hushed whisper, except Sunghoon.

A frustrated hand cards through your hair.

Do you consume his mind as much as he consumes yours?

The hateful part of you prays it does. Prays that he's getting a taste of his own, cruel medicine.

When you lie in bed, you peer out of your window. The moon glows as brightly as ever. Oblivious to your broken resolve.

To you, Park Sunghoon had always been like the moon. Beautiful, and so, so far away.

Except, for once, he didn't.

He didn't feel so far away when his lips were on yours, hands roaming your bare back, rough fingertips grazing your sides. When your breathing had mixed into one exchange. He'd felt so, so close.

If only you knew he was going to be out of reach again so quickly.

For someone who's ranked 230th out of 239 students, Jake Sim is exceptionally sharp.

With a gentle tug aside to an empty classroom, he asks you the question you've lost nights worth of sleep over in a single, easy breath.

"What's going on between you and Sunghoon?"

You shift uncomfortably in your spot. The straps of your bag were suddenly too tight, suffocating you.

You take your time loosening them. Jake only watches you silently.

You're exploiting his patience. Trying to dodge the inevitable. But, what can you do? Confrontation frightens you to no end.

You choose the easy way out: you tell a bad lie.

"Nothing's going on between Sunghoon and I. What business could I possibly have with Park Sunghoon, of all people?"

Jake subtly rolls his eyes. He can tell that you don't even believe your own words.

"I might've believed you if I hadn't seen the way you look at him in the hall, Y/N. I can tell Sunghoon's been off, too. He's all tensed up."

For a second, you rejoice. You haven't been the only one losing yourself to blurred lines and longing.

When that second is over, emptiness settles back into you. "I see."

"I didn't know the two of you knew each other," Jake muses innocently.

It takes all of your strength to turn away from him and grasp the door handle.

"We don't."

Desperation doesn't overpower fear. Fear is still there as you march up to Park Sunghoon's table in the cafeteria.

You just simply cannot take it anymore.

Jake notices you before Sunghoon does. He isn't any closer to discovering what had happened between the two of you. Your entire relation leaves him at a loss.

But, he can tell by the way the smile you flash him in greeting doesn't reach your eyes. The way your gaze immediately falls back onto Sunghoon with melancholy.

You're tired.

Lightly, he kicks Sunghoon in the shin. Jake ignores the glare he receives, only nodding his head towards you. He's praying he's done you a favour.

For the first time in weeks, Park Sunghoon looks you in the eye.

His silence stifles the rest of the table. Their attention weighs heavy on your shoulders.

Fear looms much closer and higher than before. Fear is about to pinch your nose until you pass out cold.

"Sunghoon."

His name is already bitter on your tongue. Is it from all the times you've cursed it in your head?

He stares at you before redirecting his gaze to his food. Like you're some sort of eyesore.

Fear drops to the ground, dead.

"Park Sunghoon, what is your problem?"

Whispers surround you. Chills travel the length of your spine.

You think back to your brief conversation with Jake. How you had said there was nothing happening between you and Sunghoon, and how evident it now is that all of that was bullshit.

But now, you couldn't care if the whole universe is privy to you and Sunghoon's relationship.

All you want is to know is what realization he had. In this moment, you're desperate to realize it too.

"When will you cut the shit?"

Silence. A fork scraps against a plate.

"You know, Sunghoon. I've thought many things of you. How could I not? The school's star athlete who has everyone at his feet."

A dry laugh, a nervous glance to the side.

"You had me, too."

Sunghoon's knuckles turn white from how harshly he grips his fork.

"Never did I think of you to be a coward."

The sound of your steps bounce off the walls. Every pair of eyes in the room trails behind you, this time, including Sunghoon's.

His brain is a broken record machine. Replaying your words again, again, and again.

What is Park Sunghoon so... afraid of?

What is he so defenseless against that it's worth seeing the lights in your eyes die?

Sunghoon doesn't know what compels him to ignore you. To walk past you each day, as if you didn't convince him that happiness doesn't exist anywhere except for in your arms.

Perhaps, it's that you are a whirlwind of unfamiliarity. An onslaught of foreign emotions. You make him unsure of what to do with himself. Perhaps he finds it easier to avoid that than to approach it.

He's been so adept at pushing it away, that he doesn't realize you're slipping through his fingers until his head is an echo chamber of your words.

He had you.

"Sunghoon..." A voice cuts through the fog. Sunghoon isn't sure which of his friends it belongs to. From the intonation, he assumes that it's Jake.

"Whatever this is, you've got to fix it."

Sunghoon has listened to your voicemail play six times. He's been trying for an answer, yet he doesn't mind dialling for a seventh.

You sound happy in your voicemail. He never wants to forget what you sound like happy.

"H-Hello?"

Sunghoon's been lingering at the summit of a cliff. Carefully composing himself to avoid slipping off the edge.

When he hears how utterly broken your voice is, suddenly, he's plummeting.

"Sunghoon?"

Falling, falling, falling—

A sniffle, followed by an impatient sigh. "Sunghoon, if you're just going to waste my time-"

"I'm outside."

Sunghoon closes his eyes. He sees the ridges and lines of your front door. He thinks they're permanently printed into his eyelids from how long he's been standing on your doorstep.

Don't hang up. Don't hang up.

"What?"

Sunghoon opens his eyes.

"I'm outside your door."

In his peripheral, the curtains of a window crack open. His heartbeat reaches his ears. You don't question him any further, but he hears distant footsteps from your end of the line.

The front door opens, then stops. Ajar. Hesitating.

Sunghoon knows you're on the other side. He prays you don't retract your movements.

You don't. You push through.

When you appear in the doorway, his breath dies in his throat.

Slightly bloodshot eyes. Strands of hair astray, haphazardly held together with a claw clip. A large sweatshirt swallowing your frame.

Sunghoon doesn't think he's ever seen anyone as beautiful as you.

He should've spoken by now. He'd planned on speaking by now, yet all he can do is look at you. Eyes trailing over every delicate curve. The slope of your nose, the moles on your hands.

When he hears the small sigh leave your lips, he knows you're slipping away.

His brain goes into overdrive. He needs to act fast.

Frantically, he clears his throat.

"Come watch the sunset with me."

A breeze blows by. The neighbour's wind chimes knock together, playing a soft jingle.

"Please."

The only words you speak to Sunghoon on the bus are to ask where you're going.

He tucks his bottom lip between his teeth, remaining silent.

You close your eyes. Surrendering. You're so sick of his silence.

You shouldn't have come. You're stupid to have believed otherwise—

"Don't."

Eyes snap open.

You turn to look at Sunghoon. You find that he's already looking at you.

"Don't- don't regret this," he pleads. Desperation pours from his voice. You would've scoffed if he wasn't wearing the rawest expression you've lived to see.

Park Sunghoon leaves you in despair.

No matter which lens you look at him through, he has no solution. He's wrung you dry of hope, yet you don't find yourself objecting when he brings your head onto his shoulder. His hastiness screams craving for proximity. Craving for reassurance.

Deep down, you know you're just the same.

You let Sleep take you.

It's the soundest you've slept in weeks.

You've seen the sunset thousands of times in your life.

From every place you've ever been. School grounds. Your bedroom. The drive home. Through the eyes of others.

And yet, none of those thousands of times hold a candle to the sight from the pier.

"It's beautiful," you breathe out.

A small hum in agreement. You smile weakly.

You know he isn't looking at the sunset, but you don't face him just yet.

"Sunghoon?"

He steps closer.

"What happened?"

You can feel him stiffen. Your eyes never tear from the vermillion sky. You're not sure if you're paralyzed by beauty, or by fear.

A head drops onto your shoulder. Its weight is comforting. Slowly, he readjusts himself to stand in front of you. Face pressing into your neck. Hands wrapping around your waist, holding on like you'd disappear if he let go.

His body shakes with each breath. It takes every bit of your resolve to not wrap your arms around him.

You let Park Sunghoon cry on your shoulder.

You don't think you'd ever deny him of it.

The sun doesn't budge from where it sits in the sky. It seems to be waiting for the two of you.

When Sunghoon peels his face away from you, you finally look at him. You can feel your heart fall apart in your chest.

Park Sunghoon is more beautiful than any sunset you'll ever see.

A careful hand reaches up. It barely rests against his jaw. You nearly chuckle at how he instantly leans into your touch.

He's staring at you through half-lidded eyes. Slightly parted lips. A gaze filled with longing, remorse, and a million unspoken words.

He leans in, nose brushing against yours. Before he can mouth the words he wants to say, you meet him half way.

The kiss is slow. Delicate. Fragile. Sunghoon is too scared to treat you as anything less.

It lacks the hunger of the one before. Your body is pulled flush against his. He's trying to convey thousands of apologies all at once. Hoping his sincerity can penetrate your skin, travel through your veins, and reach your soul. The way he's kissing you is heart-wrenching.

"I-" he gasps when you part. "Please. Please forgive me."

"Come back to me," you croak. "Why did you shut me out?"

He presses kisses to your jaw, then to your cheek. His hands slide up to your cup your face.

"Because I love you."

You close your eyes. Soaking in each sacred word that falls from his lips. Shuddering.

You feel like crying.

"I love you so much that I don't know what to do with myself. With you, nothing feels real. Time stops ticking. Everyone else fades into oblivion, and I feel like I'm on top of the fucking world," he whispers, voice wet and rushed.

Your forehead connects with his. A gentle rhythm is tapped onto his nape with the intention of calming him down.

"I've never felt like this before. I- I just-"

Sunghoon's face twists. He's fighting against his emotions.

You watch as he deflates.

"Please... find it in your heart to forgive me."

A small smile graces your face.

Under the glow of the setting sun, everything is okay.

"Stop staring at me like that."

Sunghoon peers up at you from your lap. His face glows golden.

A mischievous smile appears on his face. It infects you like a virus.

"Is it illegal for me to admire my girlfriend?"

"Yes." You shoot him with a finger gun. "Hands up."

Soft laughter fills your ears. You let Sunghoon pull you down into a gentle, loving kiss.

You'd let him do it for all of eternity.

To you, Park Sunghoon is like the moon. Beautiful, and so, so far away.

Now, you think Park Sunghoon is more like the setting sun.

Beautiful, and just on the way home.

404 notes · View notes

boxofbonesfic · 1 year

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Title: Tonality [2]

Pairing: Prince!Geralt x Princess!Reader

previous chapter

Summary: “The white wolf wants you. He’ll have no other.” As you grieve the loss of your father, your mother marries the king. Whilst you struggle to acclimate to your new life, you begin to suspect the interest your new brother has in you is less than familial.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Dark Fantasy, Darkfic, Step-cest, Medieval/GoT inspired AU, (Future)Smut, Dubcon/Noncon, Manipulation, Gaslighting, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, MINORS DNI!!

A/N: oop, another addition to the story. i hope it both answers some questions and then raises more, lol. as always, mind the warnings, and please enjoy! 😊🥰

By the time someone comes to fetch you to break fast, you are already awake. Helped into your cumbersome new gown by your lady’s maids, you pace in front of the cold fireplace. You pray the prince avoids the meal entirely, you’ve no wish to face him after—

Your face heats, and you press your hands to your warm cheeks. You don’t want to think of it, but you can’t help it, your mind conjuring images of the prince staring at you with flushed cheeks and dark eyes, his lips curved in that cruel smile—

Better to avoid him altogether.

A soft, almost nervous knock comes upon the door of your chambers, and upon opening it, you discover Kassandra on the other side. She sinks into a deep curtsy, bowing her head.

“Good morning, Your Grace.” Awkwardly, you incline your head in return. “Her Majesty requested I fetch you to break the fast.” She chips happily at you, and you wonder if her good mood is true, or if she has created it for your benefit.

“Lady Kassandra,” you say, edging out of your room and closing the door behind you. “I trust you are well this morning.”

“Oh yes, Your Grace.” She threads her fingers together as a blush reddens her pale cheeks. “I did dance quite late into the evening.”

“I’ve no doubt you must have secured many a betrothal,” you say, and she giggles, covering her smile with the palm of her hand. “You did look quite lovely.” For a moment, you are not princess and lady in waiting—it is almost as though you are friends. Friends. Here in Rivia, you are surrounded by more people than ever before, and yet you find yourself lonelier than ever.

“You are too kind, my lady.” Kassandra seems to find her way easily through the castle’s labyrinthine halls, and it makes you wonder how long she has been here. “Twas you that bewitched the court—if you don’t mind my saying so, Highness.” Her words almost make you stumble, your foot catching against stone.

Your cheeks smart with heat, and your brows knit together in disbelief. “I—It was my mother who married the king.” You do not take yourself for a great beauty, not like your mother, but frustratingly, Kassandra shakes her head.

“Her Majesty was a sight to behold,” she agrees. “But I expect, had you not retired early, Your Grace might have received another offer of betrothal.” Kassandra casts a sly look in your direction. “Or two.” You look away, embarrassedly recalling Lord Olthar’s proposal, his skinny, red-faced son peeking out at you from behind his fathers robes. The thought of allowing him any closer than that turns your stomach, and you shake your head.

“One was quite enough.” You’ve no wish to be married, especially not to Lord Olthar’s spawn. “I should hope to remain in Rivia longer than a week before a match is written in stone,” you say dryly. You’re due a betrothal, that much you know—your eighteenth summer had come and gone without one, and just when your mother’s nattering had reached its peak, the fevers had come for your father. And then, a betrothal was the last thing on anyone’s minds.

”I am glad the king did not accept Lord Olthar’s proposal,” Kassandra admits with a small, secretive laugh. She leans in conspiratorially. “They say his son is rather… over fond of horses.” Her words illicit a gasp from you, your hand flying up to cover your mouth.

You laugh too. “I dare not imagine the wedding.”

“Fit for a queen.”

“The Queen of Horses, perhaps,” you retort, and the two of you dissolve into a fit of quiet giggles.

“I imagine His Majesty will have much higher standers for your betrothal, princess.” She smiles at you reassuringly. “I do not think Lord Olthar will try again.” You nod in return, grateful for her good humor.

“Hopefully I shall not have to think on mine own for quite some time.” Your thoughts are preoccupied enough these days without adding ones of a husband to the array.

“Not inspired by the ceremony?” The low, dark voice makes you turn. Lead forms hot and fast in your stomach at the sight of Prince Geralt. Even during the day, the prince strikes an intimidating figure, wide shoulders and barely tamed silver-white hair. Today, it is partially pulled back behind his ears, loose strands framing his chiseled jaw. Kassandra goes red as she curtsies, blushing deep crimson from the roots of her pale hair to the collar of her dress.

More out of habit than respect, you bend your knees as well, inclining your head. His appearance is sobering, the jovial mood instantly darkening.

“Good morning, Your Majesty.” It is all the politeness you can manage. His face looms still in your mind’s eye, his hair falling across his dark eyes as he drove into her, his hand curled in the hair at the nape of her neck—

You suppress a shiver.

“Apologies, Your Grace!” Kassandra rushes to appease him, striking a chord of frustrated irritation within you. “We simply—”

The prince waves a dismissive hand. “It is only be expected, I suppose.” He says silkily. “I know few women who do not await their wedding day with thoughts of bliss.” When his molten amber eyes rest on you, you shiver. His voice takes on an amused lilt.

“Perhaps things are different in Redania, little sister?” You do not like the way the word drips from his tongue, as if another were in its place, one you don’t know, but that makes the the flesh at the back of your neck prickle just the same. His familiarity irks you as well—Prince Geralt speaks as if he knows you, as if he has spoken more than five words to you, not counting the ones uttered while he had been… otherwise engaged.

You swallow against the tightness in your throat. “Perhaps,” you say. The words are clipped, as if you have bitten off their edges. You know you shouldn’t, but you can’t help it, the barb slipping from your tongue before you can pluck it. “In Redania, one must wait until after the wedding to consummate the marriage. Does that policy hold true here as well?”

Prince Geralt does not give you the satisfaction of a reaction, his features schooled into cool impassivity.

“I believe so, princess.” There is a dry sort of amusement coloring his words, as if to tell you the blow you’d tried to inflict was meager at best. “It appears we are not so different after all.”

You grind your teeth.

The prince falls into step beside you, setting the pace. To your frustration it is a leisurely one; walking with his arms clasped behind his back as he drags the conversation out. You wonder irately if he is doing this on purpose—you had walked with Kassandra to the hall the previous morning, and it had only taken half the time, you’re sure of it.

”It was a great honor to attend such holy proceedings.” Kassandra’s voice seems to make the prince’s lip curl, and he cuts his eyes at her, sparing her only the barest of glances from the corner of his eye. You know, though, that the words are meant for you.

“Yes, truly.” The prince hums. “And how wonderful our Queen should be fortunate enough to experience them twice.”

Outrage bubbles up in your chest at the insult of his implication, and it takes all of your strength not to respond in kind. You glance at Kassandra, her passive expression evidence that the prince’s sly remark has either been absorbed without question or gone unnoticed entirely. For a moment you imagine his smile goes smug and self-satisfied as your own lips press together into a thin line. Your mind races as you try to formulate a response—this is not a game you are used to playing, one of guileful words wrapped in loose pleasantries, and you feel woefully unprepared for your part in it.

“Fortunate indeed,” you reply, forcing yourself to keep your tone light and airy. By now, the great hall is in sight, servants bustling through the busy corridor as you approach the hall. “A wisely made match, would you not agree, Majesty?” A gaggle of nobles surround the king and queen, their heads swiveling at the sound of your voice. The satisfaction you feel as Geralt’s lips curl into a scowl is a new feeling, one you are not sure you like. —he cannot continue the game, not now, not without open insult. You can tell he does not enjoy being called to heel, least of all by you.

A chorus of good morning’s and your grace’s assail you like raindrops until you are practically dripping with them. You are familiar with only a select few of the faces surrounding the king and your mother, but not many. You recognize Lord Strom, Kassandra’s father, who shares the same sallow features as his daughter. He is flanked by a woman with a pinched, irritated looking expression; you had been introduced just before the wedding ceremony had begun, but you cannot recall her name now, only her relation to the king. A great-aunt—you think.

As you enter the hall, you note that it is already clean, all evidence of last night’s festivities gone, save for your mother, standing before you. Small tables have been set out for the visiting nobility lucky enough to be granted this brief audience with the king. The large table on the dais is already heavy laden with food, servants flanking the table on either side of the king’s chair as they wait for orders. Breakfast at home had been a family affair, gathered around the table in the hall. This, like every other event you have witnessed since arriving, is public spectacle.

Your mother preens at the attention. She flits from person to person, accepting their congratulations with regal grace. Once upon a time, behind the dusty pages of books she wished you would not read, you and father had called her the Pretty Peacock, the way she bustled about the manor and clucked her orders at the matron and her staff. Here, though, it seemed less amusing, and more… purposeful.

Though your mother seems to move amongst these people with ease, you struggle to follow her example, weaving serpentine through the crowd of courtiers, which parts like butter to a hot knife in her wake. Her gown is of a similar color scheme as yours, pale yellow with silver and gold embroidery embellishing her hem and sleeves. The crown of delicate silver and black leaves rests atop her head, the black jewel at its center sparkling. She turns to you with a smile, embracing you warmly.

“Trust my daughter to appear as her name is mentioned.” Your mother’s delicate, feminine laugh makes you want to curl in on yourself as the eyes of her fawning lady’s maids fall to you. “Did you enjoy yourself?” Though you cannot see him, you can feel the prince’s eye upon you with almost physical sensation. The hair at the back of your neck pricks up.

Why does he watch me? You chance a look over your shoulder, and your back stiffens. There are people between you still, a safe barrier, but there is no mistaking it—the prince’s eyes are locked on you, and he makes no effort to hide it. You turn quickly back to your mother as he produces a slim knife from somewhere, and spears an apple from the table with it. The crunch as his teeth break the skin rings uncomfortably in your ears.

“T’was fine,” you answer her quickly, hoping your small, curt smile is enough to convince her. “I danced, some.” It is a lie, but one she either does not recognize or one she cares little about. One set of eyes is appeased, and falls from you. The others bore hot holes in the back of your dress. The king approaches, and you note the affectionate pass of his hand over your mother’s arm. You curtsy low, again, more out of instinct than conscious thought.

“Come now daughter, we are family now, are we not?” He laughs. “Rise.” His expression is warm, but you feel the word roll inside your skull like a loose marble, or a pebble in your shoe. It is unfamilitar and uncomfortable coming from his lips, but you bear it as best you can.

“Y-yes. Family.” The king walks with his hands folded behind his back, a habit you cannot help but note that he shares with his son. You have dreaded this, the game of getting to know one another over the cold corpse of the man who had raised you. It stings, as you knew it would. It feels insane to you, to behave as if all the years of your life prior to this were but a footnote, and this the true story. Perhaps it is you who are insane, the only madwoman adrift in a sea of sensibility.

“Your mother tells me you’ve a great love of books,” he continues, unaware of the rolling turmoil that rocks your stomach. He casts a long glance sideways at you and at first, you cannot tell if there is reprisal or approval in his words. Then, he offers another smile, this one warm, genuine. “I trust you’ve found the archives enjoyable.”

Your mother’s laughter cuts through the moment like a knife. “Oh, don’t encourage her, my love,” she says. “We shall surely lose her in yellow old pages.” The gallery of painted faces behind her titters with amusement, and at the same time, you feel your cheeks begin to smart. Perhaps it is the syrupy sweet my love tacked to the end of her sentence that makes your eyes burn with hot, frustrated tears, or her casual disparagement, you are torn for choice. You shake your head, forcing another smile as you blink them back. Perhaps you are simply being oversensitive, seeing what is not there.

“Thank you, Majesty.” You fold your hands together as you follow the king and queen up to the dais, and move to take your seat. “I shall have to bring Kassandra along with me. Perhaps if I am buried in parchment, she may yet dig me out again.”

You are relieved when the conversation shifts from you, allowing you to stare sullenly at the spread before you in peace. It is startlingly familiar, your mother’s need to ensure that every eye is upon her at all times, and you find that you are perhaps glad for it. It is exhausting to play at happiness and not feel it, and every second you do not have to keep up the pretense is one you are grateful for. Even if it comes at the expense of a little of your pride.

That gratefulness dissipates like smoke in the wind as Prince Geralt seats himself next to you. However intimidatingly large he had felt as you and Kassandra had made your way through the halls, he feels doubly so now. Though he has his own chair and place at the table, it feels as though it is too small to contain him, and he spills over into your seat anyway. His thigh is pressed tightly against your own through your gown, and no amount of subtle shifting on your part seems to remove him. You grimace, and the servant who is pouring water into your goblet gasps, and bows her head quickly.

“Apologies, Your Grace, I have offended you!” Her distress begins to turn heads, and you hurriedly attempt to placate her, shaking your head with a weak smile.

“No, no, it’s nothing—”

“Yes, princess,” the word drips from your stepbrother’s lips like black honey. “Whatever is the matter?”

You glare at him. He is pushing you, trying to force you into a confrontation for no reason you can discern—other than his own blasted amusement. You are tempted to give him what he wants, your own accusations waiting eagerly at the tip of your tongue. And you have your pick of poisons to dispense; his foul behavior the night before, his insult to the queen—

But as you look down the table, you see few allies. King Vesemir looks at you with an apathetic sort of curiosity. And your mother… her doll-like expression appears concerned, but you can read it for what it truly is. The way her eyes narrow, her mouth tightened just so at the corners—

She is angry.

You can hear her without her speaking, and your mind conjures her reprisal perfectly, even without her input.

You are making a scene. You know that is what she would tell you. Be silent. Be seen, not heard.

“Nothing.” You wish you could slap Prince Geralt, slap the concerned facade right off of his wretched face. “Nothing at all.”

—

The grass beneath you is brittle, and you can feel it crumbling into dusty nothing as it crunches beneath the soles of your bare feet. The low-cut hedges have grown out crooked and gnarled from neglect, their roots erupting thirstily from the baked earth to choke the narrow pathway. The garden is different now than it was when you had left, but you know it still—home. The manor looms gloomily above the garden, sticking out of the barren hillside like a jagged tooth, glaring angrily down at the cracked flowerbeds and baked earth.

Everything is dead here.

The icy wind that whips at your cotton shift, tangling it about your legs is dead, carrying with it the sound of grinding bones and last breaths. From the parched fissures in the dead, hungry dirt, you can hear whispers, and you press your cold, shaking hands to your ears to block them out. You do not know the reason, but nevertheless the knowledge remains in your bones as if you were born with it—

I mustn’t listen. I mustn’t hear the dead.

You press your palms against the sides of your head until it aches, dragging your feet through the dead, overgrown grass as you make your way through the garden. You want to leave, to turn around and leave this place, this terrible mirror, but your body will not obey. Instead, your unwilling legs carry you further and further into the spiral of dry, overgrown hedges and cracked pavement. The ghostly voices continue to rise in pitch until they are screaming, tortured cries leaking up from below as you approach the center of the garden.

It, like everything else here, is wrong, gleaming as if polished in the dim light of the dead sun. It is white like bone, and black, sluggish muck leaks from the trumpet of the nymph carved there. The sly, mysterious smile carved on her marble lips has been replaced by a grimace of abject terror, and when you follow her stone gaze, your eyes widen with the same emotion. Your hands leave your ears then, covering your mouth to try and dampen the horrified gasp that leaves your lips.

Your father stands before you.

He is still a distance away, walking slowly toward you through the garden. His eyes are blacked out, but not completely, black wriggling over the whites like a child’s scribble, black thread weaved through the skin of his lips, suturing them shut.

He is horrible.

He begins to open his mouth, and it yawns wide, the threads snapping—

You sit up, a hand clutching at your chest. You stare around the room, panting as your mind attempts to place you in your still unfamiliar surroundings. Your heart is still races from the dream, your hands clammy and trembling. The taste of dry earth coats your tongue, and your throat feels cold and parched, as if you had walked the cold gardens truly, and not only in your dreams.

You can still see it, the rotting black threads holding your father’s withered lips shut, the black writhing ink scribbles across his eyes—

“No.” You mutter the word softly as you press the heels of your palms to your closed eyes, pushing hard until colored spots dance in your vision. You do not want to think of your father that way, his body moldering in the earth, rotting away like he had never been in the first place. It had felt so real, the cool distant glare of the white sun, the arid earth beneath your feet—

“A nightmare.” You say it aloud to no-one. “Nothing more.”

The morning sun paints a bright stripe across the blankets through the curtains of the four poster bed, and you tug them further open, squinting. Everything in your chambers is as it was the night before, though the fire in the hearth has gone down to cinders, and a copper tub has been set before it. You step out and into your slippers, noting the steam that still rises from the water. They must have brought it in as you slept, though you had not heard them do so.

I slept… unusually deeply.

You disrobe, stepping into the water with a grateful sigh. You sink in until you are mostly submerged, your nose hovering above the surface as you stare pensively at the window, studying the gray, muddled shape of the buildings beyond it. You do not want to think of the dream, or your father, but both seem intent at crowding at the forefront of your mind.

You know your father would tell you not to ignore it. Dreams mean things, he would say. What did it tell you? But there is no meaning you can discern from your nightmare, other than that you miss your father, and you wish he were still here, with you.

After you finish in the bath, you dress yourself. Instead of the multi-layered gown set out for you by your lady’s maids, you rummage through the wardrobe for one of the loose, flowy dresses more typical of your warm countryside home. You find one at the back, and as you slip into it, you feel more settled, more yourself. The creamy, peach colored fabric has one long, bell sleeve, and drapes modestly across your chest, exposing the top of one shoulder. It is less cumbersome than the heavy, three piece set they chose, and when they enter to help you, you can see the surprise written on their faces.

To their credit, they say nothing, simply helping braid and pin your hair, before setting the small silver circlet you wear at your mother’s insistence upon your brow.

It is long past time to break fast, but nevertheless, your request for a scone with butter and sweet cream is met without fuss down in the kitchens. As you eat, Kassandra marvels at your dress.

“I quite like it, Majesty,” she says, clapping her hands encouragingly as she circles you. “No corset? I do wonder if my father might permit me to have one made in its likeness,” she moans rather piteously. “Though I doubt he shall be pleased by my asking, it is quite bold, if you do not mind my saying so, Highness.” You look down at yourself, and then raise an eyebrow.

“Why should he find your request offensive? I mean no insult, but I do believe our dress more…modest than those of fashion here in Rivia.” Even Kassandra’s low cut gown exposes the tops of her breasts, the bodice molding to her body,pushing them out and up before rising back up to play at covering her shoulders. She laughs behind a hand at your ire.

“I suppose it is all a matter of personal opinion, my lady. I do find Redanian fashion quite lovely, if this dress should be a fair representation.”

“ ‘Tis.” You reply, finishing your biscuit. From your place by the windows, just outside the kitchen, you can see down into the gardens. Though the sight of them is sullied by the memory of your stepbrother’s wanton behavior, the glint of colored glass catches your eye. “What is that?” You ask, pointing at the colored shafts of light as they seemingly beam upward from the ground, the source blocked by lush greenery.

“The roof of the chapel,” Kassandra says. “It is made of stained glass.” At your confused look, she continues. “The chapel is beneath the keep, Majesty, it’s roof is the center of the maze. It is quite beautiful, should you wish to see it, my lady.” Intrigued, you nod.

“Yes, thank you. I would.”

Kassandra leads you down into the bowels of the castle, and you feel the walls grow cold around you as daylight through the arched windows is replaced by the soft glow of candles. The construction looks much older down here, the stone pitted and smooth not from polish but from the passage of time. Upstairs, the corridors had been crowded with courtiers, lords and ladies all seeking the king’s approval, or waiting for their opportunity to serve at his request.

Instead, you take note of the priests in their pale robes, black ink sigils drawn onto the skin of their foreheads and the expanses of their cheeks beneath their eyes. They keep their heads bowed and shoulders stooped as they shuffle through the halls in penitent silence.

“Why do they paint their faces?” You ask quietly.

“So that the gods might receive their prayers.”

The chapel’s carved doors bear images of the gods you do not worship, the wood branded with the sigil of the king—the head of a wolf, it’s mouth open in an eternal snarl. Inside, the air is thick with incense, and it takes you more than a few labored breaths to grow used to it. The inside of the chapel is long and narrow, its walls lined with alcoves featuring enormous statues of the gods. Kassandra gestures to the ceiling, trailing her fingers through the shafts of colored light that stream down, bathing the sullen atmosphere in muted color.

“Is it not beautiful, lady?”

“Yes, it is.” You speak truth—the glass is beautiful, unclouded and the colors true. Images of faith are splashed across the colored surfaces; a great wolf standing beneath a full moon, devouring a beautiful maiden, the three-faced Mother bathed in the golden light of the sun, and the Spider, sitting in the center of her silver web. You watch as Kassandra makes a sign with her right hand, her middle finger and thumb pressed together. She brings it reverently to her forehead, before dropping it to her chin, and then the center of her chest.

It is a quiet, sullen sort of reverence, one you see mirrored in the bowed heads of the priests, and in the quiet, droning chants the monks at the pulpit continue without pause. But there is no joy here. No voices lifted in worshipful, devoted song, nor dances with arms stretched to the bright and brilliant sky. Those are the rituals of worship you know, the ones your father taught you. This place, like the garden in your dream, feels dead.

If there ever were gods here, they have certainly gone, now.

“Who is this?” You ask, pointing to the wolf. It’s golden eyes seem to follow you around the room as you trail after Kassandra, and it makes you think uncomfortably of the prince. She stops in front of it’s stone copy, and she makes the sigil again, finger on thumb, forehead, chin, chest.

“Father Wolf.” She says as she rises. “It is said that he devours the moon each night, so that it may be reborn in the morning, as the sun.” She cocks her head. “Do you not know the stories, Majesty?”

“She would not.” You turn to see one of the priests. In his hand, he holds an incense box, sluggish white smoke pouring from the gold painted slats. “Her Majesty hails from Redania. They hold to the old faith there.” You watch his eyes narrow as they drop to your gown before traveling back up to your face. His lips curve into an unfriendly smile. “I did not think to see Your Highness here.”

You raise an eyebrow. “In my experience father, it is a poor monarch who expects to rule people she knows nothing about.” Kassandra ducks her head, covering her mouth to hide her smile at your diplomatically worded impertinence.

His cheek tics. “Of course, Highness.” He bows his head in a manner you know is meant to be respectful, though the acid that drips from his words is anything but. “The people shall be pleased that you are so…familiar.” He drums his fingers against the incense box, before fixing you with another small, curt smile. “They do not react well to the southland’s…” He pauses to search for a word. “Heathenistic rituals.”

The words fly to your tongue before you can swallow them back, flying from your lips with righteous indignation.

“Are you quite sure the heathen rituals you fear are not your own, Father?” His mouth twists with anger, but you do not cower in the face of it, jutting your chin out stubbornly. You have taken little pleasure in the shifting of your station, but his brazen disrespect sets a blazing fire in your chest. You are a princess, and you will not be spoken to this way.

“Father Rame.” Your belly fills with hot iron at Prince Geralt’s voice, his tone warning. So irate were you with the priest that you had taken no notice of his approach. The prince leans against one of the stone pews, his arms crossed over his broad chest. “You would do well to hold your tongue, lest my father remove it.” The priest drops into a low bow, his lips curling into a scowl. “I do not think he would take kindly to your… implications.”

“Apologies, My Prince, I meant only to—” Geralt raises a hand, and Father Rame’s words die in his throat.

“Go. And perhaps I will… forget to inform the kingsguard of your offense today.” You can tell the priest is unsatisfied, his hands clenching into tight fists in the sleeves of his robe. Nevertheless, he issues you another stiff apology through his clenched teeth, before he turns on his heel, his robes billowing behind him.

“Thank you.” You spit the words out as if they have burnt you. “For your assistance.” Geralt’s amber eyes dip the way Father Rame’s did, and you hate the way they drag across every inch of you before coming to rest on your face. Instead of scornful disapproval, you find something else there. Something darker you refuse to name.

“My pleasure, princess.” He purrs the words, and you feel them like a physical caress. You try to hide the shiver that travels down your spine, gooseflesh erupting on the back of your neck and arms in its wake. He glances at Father Rame’s retreating back. “I would pay him no heed. The good Father can be… Zealous.”

“That is certainly one way to put it.” You remark dryly.

“He will not bother you again.” He says it with a finality that makes you shift uncomfortably under his gaze.

“I hope not.” You brush a speck of imagined dirt from the bodice of your dress, and the prince’s eyes follow the movement.

“Your gown is lovely, sister.” He says, and you swallow against the sudden lump in your throat. “I have not seen its like since last I was in Redania.”

“Thank you.” You stiffen as he moves towards you, slow steps carrying him in a small circle around you and Kassandra. You force yourself to endure his inspection.

“Oh yes.” He fingers the hem of your sleeve before you step back, a little. “I hope you do not mind me imparting a bit of… Rivian wisdom?”

Do I have any choice? You force a smile. “Please.”

“This is a married woman’s color, Sweetling.” His eyes are molten honey.

“W-what?” You do not know which words you were expecting to fall from the prince’s smug lips, but it was not these. “I—”

“I hope you take no offense,” he drawls, though the expression on his face says otherwise. “I only mean to inform.”

“H-how interesting.” You force a small smile, before turning quickly to Kassandra.

“My head aches from the incense,” you say, turning away from him and striding toward the door. “We should take our leave.” With a stiff, reluctant bow, you turn from the prince. “Excuse us, please.”

“By all means.”

Kassandra squeaks, hurrying after you with her skirts gathered tightly into her hands. As you push angrily through the entering group of priests and out into the corridor, you can feel two sets of eyes on your retreating back—

Geralt’s, and the wolf’s.

to be continued…

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silvery-orchid · 10 months

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my vices are slow and steady.

neuvillete let you make your choice once. and now you are standing in front of him again after your divorce. you should be glad his patience takes on a special shape when with you.

possessive! neuvillete x gn! reader. (a small gift to thank the neuvillette lovers from my inbox.)

his office rings with an all familiar sound. it is two o'clock in the afternoon. four years ago when he bought this clock, you said you hated the sound it made.

'for such an extravagant clock, it doesn't sound cute at all.' neuvillette did not understand what you meant until two years later. the chimes of this clock sounded like the bells that were in your wedding. and he had to agree with you that it was a horrible sound.

neuvillette always thought that patience was one of his virtues but while he was sitting there (in the middle of the row because sitting up front would have been dangerous), he finally realized that it was a vice when applied to you.

he was too patient; too lenient some would say. he held you in such a high light that when you started dating the foolish man, he thought it was a simple phase. extending you his grace and waiting for you to come to your senses seemed like the best option. and sometimes he considers the rest a blur. while he was busy dealing with fontaine's court and the underground rebellion, that foolish man worth less than the dust on his shelves slipped a ring on your finger.

neuvillete voiced with resounding reason to try and get you to reconsider. he was your dear friend after all. tough love has never been a stranger to your conversations with him. because of it, he felt no issue saying that you should break it off.

'i asked you for your opinion about my happiness, but it seems you consider me incapable of choosing.' were your exact words. thinking of it now, you said them to him while this same clock was chiming away. he remembers the way you walked out and the wedding invite he got only a few days later. you attached a small note next to it. - i asked you once and you said what you had to say. allow me to prove that this is not a mistake. -

he still has that same note in his desk on the very bottom. he threw out the invite as soon as your wedding was over but would showing you the note now be far too cruel?

neuvillette did not consider his patience to be a waste however. deciding that he was too patient only made him realize he had to continue with it a bit more until you came around.

oh, and after only 2 years of a shaky marriage, he can hear your footsteps on the tiles in front of his office hallway.

truly, your choice was utterly idiotic. it was bound to fail. marrying a simple toy maker? really? you needed someone far better than that. and now you were coming back to him. he knows those footsteps belong to you. the click-clack of your shoes is unmistakable to his heart. the slower third step you take makes his chest heave. he reminds himself that this is relief and that anger existed when your steps were echoing on the way to the isle.

he decides not to show you the note; he decides not to be angry. as long as you are walking in his direction, he can find it in himself to forgive your foolishness. but he can feel his patience has hit a limit as your hand turn the doorknob.

he has waited long enough for you too be back here; long enough until your dumb decision expired. would he speak first or would you? he did visit you a few times after you got married but he hadn't seen you for half a year now. he takes a deep breath as you take the first step inside the room of chessboard tiles. he refuses to take any other role in your life from now on. no rooks or bishops or knights - he will be your king. and he is afraid this is the one decision you cannot make because he knows better.

he straightens up, makes sure it seems like he is writing his signature down. only you are allowed to enter his office without knocking but why should you know that? you have no right to know all of the exceptions he gives you.

'i see you still have that ugly clock in here.' typical, of course you would lead with that. it causes his face to relax as a small smile shows. 'if i said it reminds me of you, would you hold it against me'

you are halfway through his office. you halt on the white tile. your arms are halfway outstretched. they make it clear you had the intention of embracing him. when they fall back down as you stop, he has to keep it in himself not to tsk. instead, he puts down the pen and gets up.

'would i hold it against you that you said i remind you of an ugly clock?'

neuvillette is already in front of you, he makes sure to take up all your visual space. he stands on the black tile as he continues what you failed to do. he puts one hand on your back, holds your waist with the other as he brings you in for a hug. he can feel his line of patience start to diminish once your bodies are so close to one another. he was right to wait, from now on he will ensure you two become even closer.

your body warmth and your scent should all belong to him. he breaks the embrace once he realizes the ugly truth he hated to imagine; you were even closer with another man. neuvillette can feel copper in his throat at the images that flood his mind. for a second while moving away, his gloved fingers hold onto your hip with some roughness but it is immediately gone once he takes a deep breath.

it isn't anything that cannot be fixed.

'how could i hold it against you when you were the reason i managed to get those divorce papers and hearings approved so fast?'

you truly have no idea how lucky you are to have him. wait, no; you had no idea how lucky you were to have him. but now you do and he will make sure to use it to his advantage.

'i am glad you sent me a letter asking for my help when you did. it is unfortunate that our laws and procedures change so fast that even those like you, who abandoned our service, have trouble navigating them.'

lying comes easy to him now. it was an oh so fortunate thing that brought you right back here. he can see his words sting and make your shoulders tense up but you have to be reminded of your mistake. he said he was patient, he never said he wouldn't hold it against you with remarks like these.

until you live, neuvillette will keep reminding you of your failure; of the idiotic man you choose and how you went against his advice.

you bite your lower lip for a second. it is on the left side. the left corner means you want to ask a question. the right corner means you are hesitating with a remark. of course he knows your patterns.

'neu...did you perhaps know what would happen? and that is why you were against me marrying him?'

he has to hold back his laughter deep inside. you look so cute asking him a question like that. it doesn't really matter what he knew about that man. all that matters is that he knew no other man would be good for you. his vices always had a way of slowly growing. there is no need for you to know the lengths he went to to keep his patience up. take the new legislation he introduced to ensure only certain toy makers would be kept afloat. or, take that bar worker that your ex-husband cheated on you with. he spent 5 hours choosing the perfect candidate based on the stack of papers with the name and image of foolish choice.

'have i ever had anything besides your best interests in my mind? come, we shouldn't be late to the magic show. lynette and lyney have improved drastically since the last time you saw them.'

perhaps it is another vice of his. but he refuses to have you come back to him only to speak of another. there is a time and a place for everything and neuvillette is patient enough to wait for the right moments to use your weaknesses against you.

#genshin neuvillette #genshin yandere #yandere neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #genshin x reader #yan genshin #genshin impact #genshin imagines

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ghcstao3 · 5 months

Text

(inspired by this tiktok)

There is a lake nearby to where Johnny lives.

It’s about a fifteen minute walk, hidden beyond the thick copse of trees that surround one side of Johnny’s home, and it’s something he’d discovered only a week after having moved in several years ago.

This lake is important to him only in that it’s his place. It’s small, secluded, ideal for when he needs that fresh breath of air away from the bustle of life. It’s where he goes to draw, to read, to just exist. It’s his place, and he thinks if anyone else were to discover it, or at the very least be present when he’s also there, the magic of it all would be ruined.

So when he goes out one winter morning, chilly but not so cold that a few layers won’t do the trick of keeping him warm, and sees the figure of someone moving along the shore of the frozen-over lake just as Johnny breaks the sightline of the area—he can’t help the way his heart falls.

But he doesn’t turn to leave, no. Not yet. Because as Johnny gets closer, he finds the figure isn’t moving along the shore, but is instead skating on the ice.

Even with the dusting of snow that blankets the ice, they move with fluidity and a natural grace, and just watching has Johnny’s discouragement temporarily replaced with awe. They pirouette and jump and glide, and for a moment Johnny considers pulling out his sketchbook with cold fingers to capture the scene.

Before he can, though, Johnny is reminded of his irritation and the disturbance that is the skater.

Anyone, anything else and Johnny thinks he would’ve turned and left, maybe trekked elsewhere through the forest to find himself a new spot. Instead, he cups his hands around his mouth and yells, “Is that even safe?”

The intruder startles and stumbles mid-stunt, tripping and falling back onto their ass as their skate must catch a divot in the ice. Deserved, Johnny thinks.

They sprawl out for a moment before sitting back up and carefully getting to their feet. They shout back, “Was ‘til you got here!”

Johnny is taken aback by the gruffness of the skater’s voice, a stark contrast to the elegance of before. Johnny shakes his head and marches up to the shore just as the skater moves meets him.

He’s just as surprised by the skater’s height once they’re close. From afar, the idea of confrontation had seemed much less frightening.

The skater then pulls off the balaclava they’ve donned and… Johnny is suddenly much more intimidated for all the wrong reasons.

Even in spite of the garment, the man’s face is stained red from the cold, rosy against otherwise pale skin. Near-white eyelashes frame dark eyes, warm as the hot chocolate Johnny plans on making himself when he returns home, and Johnny is very upset that he feels obligated to be annoyed with this man.

Johnny jabs a finger at the man’s chest regardless, lifting his chin to make a show of his displeasure. “How’d you find this place anyway?”

The man snorts, and throws a thumb over his shoulder. “I live on the other side of the lake,” he says. “Why? This private property or somethin’?”

Reluctantly, Johnny shakes his head. “No,” he grumbles. “I just… I’ve never seen anyone else here before.”

The skater hums, cocks his head. “Then I don’t see the issue.”

Johnny decides he’s not intimidated anymore, not when this stranger is so frustrating, because of course he is. Johnny just wishes he knew how to articulate that this is his spot without sounding like a petulant child.

A gloved hand is offered out to Johnny at his lack of response. Johnny stares at it with disdain.

“Simon,” the skater says.

Johnny glares at Simon. The only reason he finds himself giving his own name, he thinks, is because of those stupidly brown eyes.

A small smile appears on Simon’s face when he does. His hand falls away as he moves to slip his balaclava back on.

“I’ll see you around then, yeah, Johnny?” Simon says.

Johnny doesn’t get the chance to curse him out before Simon is skating away, back across the lake to where he supposedly lives. Whatever.

Johnny retires early that day. He’ll try again for his peace tomorrow, once he’s had time to recover from his encounter with Simon.

And if there’s a tiny voice in the back of his mind that secretly hopes Simon will be there when he returns anyway, then Johnny does his very best to ignore it.

Because it’s his place. His. Not something to be shared, even if it’s with the perfect stranger.

#love me a good first meetings alright #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #writing #alternate universe

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lewisconstellation · 5 months

Text

plastic off the sofa

Your room smelled like Sunday beach days. Fresh breeze, the smell of the sea. The peace that only the soft tingle of sand in your feet can bring. If you closed your eyes you would hear the sound of waves coming and going, crashing on the sand. You would see the kids running toward the ocean, playing volleyball somewhere on the beach.

If you got up from the bed you were lying on, walked down the few steps that took you to the front door of your rented house in San Francisco, you would probably be facing this beautiful landscape. But the sight you have in front of you is better than that.

Lewis is sitting right in front of you. His body slumped in the leather chair, he's looking comfortable there, cozy. But his eyes had only one focus: the computer screen that rested in his lap. He looked intent, brows furrowed and lips pursed, focused on pinpointing the data the graphs provide him. Worried, he tried to find some way to make the car feel a bit faster, to help his team, to be better. He was having a hard time this season, struggling with the car. It didn't seem to cooperate with him and it took him off the top of the podium, the place where Lewis always belonged.

For the media, Lewis appeared strong, hopeful, always shielded by his beautiful words of overcoming. But for you, for you he didn't have to lie. He knew he could be himself, he felt safe to show his insecurities to you.

You let your eyes fall onto his figure again, can no longer pay attention to the episode of Gilmore Girls that was on TV. You like to see him like this, so focused on one goal. You feel your stomach clench hard at the sight. You want to sit on his lap, kiss him all over his face, repeat how much you love him. Or you just want to kneel in front of his legs, take his dick in your hands, feel his weight on your tongue, even if you had only done that a few hours ago.

You just wanted to make him forget any worries, to take away the wrinkles that graced his forehead when he was caught up in focus. Relax it. After all, that was the point of the breaks between race weekends.

But even on the few days off he had, Lewis didn't really allow himself to rest. Two daily workout sessions, piano and french lessons, data analysis and tireless hours on the simulator. He seemed restless, not able to sit still for even an hour. His hardworking spirit had already been a topic of discussion in your relationship, and from time to time it resurfaced. But you always found a way to work it out.

Usually Lewis was the first one to apologize. Flowers on your door, a handwritten letter, and a promise that he would rearrange his schedule, find enough time to rest, to disconnect from work even if it was only for a moment. He was incredibly calm, anyone who knew him could see it, feel it radiating from him. Always a conciliator, always more reasonable than you.

But sometimes you had to raise the white flag first. Less romantically than him, obviously. An apology, at night, lying in the same bed, curled up to each other, just existing together after having a great session of make up sex. You would try to find solutions to your problems. The certainty that they could solve everything, as long as they were together. But in the end, you understood him. You understood all the efforts he made to keep himself at a high level not only on the tracks, but also off them. No matter how much they wanted it, Lewis always wanted more.

"You're distracting me." Lewis muttered, so low you can barely hear him. You got so lost in your own thoughts that you didn't notice your boyfriend's sudden change of position. He's looking at you now, head up towards you. An unabashed, enduring look that makes it unable to look away. He looked hungry. Like you're his prey and he's about to devour you. Graphics are no longer his focus, your eyes have taken their place. You shift in bed, propping yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at him.

"But I'm not doing anything." Your voice sounds confused. You take a sip of the pineapple juice he brought you earlier, enjoy the cooling sensation in your throat. Your boyfriend shakes his head, moves one hand to his hair, adjusts the braids in the elastic band that holds them in a low bun. A giggle escapes from his lips as his gaze turns back to you.

"The way you're looking at me. This is distracting me. You know I can't think about anything else when you look at me like that" This is your turn to laugh. Lewis was always being so focused on his activities and a simple look distracted him. It sounded unbelievable, but you knew it was true. The same with you. A mere look, a small touch, a few words. Little gestures from Lewis were enough to make you crazy. And it was good to know you had the same effect on him.

You leave your glass on the table next to the bed, hears the tinkle of the glass material in contact with the thick wood.

"Like what? How do I look at you, Lew?" You ask. You lean your neck to the side, lean your face on your hand, slyly. He keeps looking at you, fire rising in his brown eyes. A shiver ran down your spine as you noticed the flames in his irises. His hand left his hair and went to his chin. He smoothed his beard, a smug smile painting his face. He puts the computer aside, stands up. He was in this game with you, always.

Lewis starts walking to you, his steps slow, calm, so graceful that you feel mesmerized, unable to look away from your man. You didn't know if you'd ever be able to stop looking at him, at everything you loved about him. The perfect face, framed by his newly made braids. His silky, shiny, well hydrated skin. His bright brown eyes, so kind that set you on fire and at the same time made you feel extremely loved, cared. His strong, well-built muscles, glistening in the evening light. Even his short stature. Before him, you used to say that you didn't like short men, that they weren't attractive. But Lewis. He managed to be different in everything. You've come to admire his short stature. You could see the greatness behind it. You loved all the little things that made Lewis be himself.

Suddenly, he's right in front of your bed, his legs touching the edge of it. All he's wearing is a pair of sweatpants, hanging freely around his waist, his tattooed abs exposed only to you. His hand touches your ankle, big enough to circle it completely. He squeezes it. You try to escape from his grip, try to move your leg, but Lewis is faster than you and pulls you by the ankle, a scream escaping your lips as he does. His fucking good reflex, you think. He pulls you up until you're sitting on the edge of the bed, right in front of him. He lowers himself to your level, watches you, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Even after so long, his gaze so close, so intense, makes you nervous, restless.

Unexpectedly, he pushes you onto the soft mattress again, his body hovering over yours, your legs spread to accommodate him. His strong frame grapples your small body. One hand dropped to his side so his body weight doesn't fall all over you. The other hand gently touches your face, his hot body dangerously close to yours. His breath hovers over your face, his mouth inches from yours. You close your eyes, wait for him to kiss you, but then his face is curving and he fits right into the crook of your neck. His nose creeps over your skin slowly, smells your scent intensely. A hoarse groan comes out of his throat, looking deeply pleased to experience your scent, to be so close to you again.

"Fuck, baby. I love your smell, it is so good. You don't even know how fucking crazy it make me feel."

You make a satisfied sound at the compliment and feel your face heat up. You smile when you realize this. Few words and he left you helpless, dizzy in his arms. That was the effect Lewis had on you.

"Do you still want to know how you were looking at me?" He whispers in her ear, the husky voice more than enough to soak your panties. Not satisfied, your boyfriend lifts one of his arms, takes his hand away from your face, and leaves it on one of your breasts, covered only by a tank top you stole from him. He rubs his finger across it, creating a nice friction between the thin fabric and your skin. He makes your nipples hard quickly and you feel like you will melt under his touches. His hand quickly seeps along the side of the fabric, his fingers now in direct contact with your skin, pinching your sensitive nipple. "Answer me baby"

"Yes, yes, please!" Your voice comes out shaky, needy. He laughs at your tone. Loves how responsive you are to him. He feels proud of it, of being able to cause so many sensations in you. In give you so much pleasure that you could never find it in another person.

"You gave me that look." He pauses, his mouth licking a sensitive spot on your neck. You moan against his cheek in ecstasy. "That look you always give me when you want me to eat your pretty pussy out. The one you give me when we're partying and you just want to go back home and ride my dick. That one you give me when all you want is my dick buried deep inside of that fat pussy of yours." The effect his words have on you is inexplicable. You feel your stomach tighten, the thin fabric of your panties sticking to your skin, a sign of how wet you were for him.

Lewis finally removes his face from your neck, looks back at you, one of his hands gripping your chin, forces you to look at him. Lewis' eyes darkened and he leaned into you, capturing your mouth in a kiss and you were lost in the feel of his hot tongue on your lips. The tingling in your center got harder to ignore and you tried to ease the tension by pressing your legs together.

"Is that what you want, baby? You want daddy's cock buried deep inside of your pussy, yeah?" He asks, even though he already knows the answer. You nod your head. He had just taken you a few hours ago and you still weren't satisfied. And he didn't seem to either. You seemed addicted to each other, you never got tired of that feeling, of being intertwined with each other. This was the effect of a long-distance relationship, marked by long trips, facetime calls and different time zones. An endless longing, so strong that it hurt. So when you were together, alone, with all the time in the world just for the two of you, you wanted to enjoy it in the best way. Just couldn't help but be around him.

"I want to hear you, babygirl" Lewis mutters, pinching your chin once more. A sigh escapes your lips. He had barely touched you, but you are already completely inert, unable to put words together, to form a single sentence.

"Yeah, daddy, please" You swallow hard, brush your lips against his, kiss him one more time. He pulls back the slightest bit, rubs his thumb over her lips.

"That's all you had to say." He mumbles, lays you down completely against the mattress and rises up minimally, only to touch you with greater ease. His hands traveled down your body and stopped at the hem of your shirt. He lifts the fabric, exposes your belly, the small, wet panties you wore completely exposed to him. You spread your legs, giving him a better view of your pulsating center. A sigh escapes from you lover. He runs his finger over your wet panties, your back arches and you exhale harshly.

Your lips were parted at the small sounds, which weren't completely moans, that escaped your mouth. You didn't feel capable of formulating anything a bit elaborate when his hands were on you. Lewis ran his finger up and down slowly, teasing you, creating little shivers of pleasure through your body. But suddenly, he pauses his movements. The pad of his thumb against your core, a nice, good pressure, but it wasn't enough. You needed more.

"Tell me, baby. Tell me what you want." He asks. Always a tease, he always wanted to push you to the limit, loved to hear you begging, loved to dominate you. You take a deep breath, couldn't stand that torture for so long. Your hands reach for his face, his neatly trimmed beard tickling your fingers. You bring him close again, your lips millimeters apart.

"I want you to eat my pussy, daddy. Want you to fuck me with your tongue and then I want to cum all over your face. Please, daddy" You whisper, your fingertips caressing his face. Lewis lets out a groan when he hears you talking like that, so brazenly. It makes his cock, painfully hard against your leg, twitch. With that, his fingers curl around the sides of your hips and he finally pulls your panties down, leaving your pussy bare for him. You spread your legs once more, this time wider. You can feel it dripping, wetting the white sheets.

His eyes land on your bare pussy, open and glistening for him, soaked and pulsing around nothing. Anxiety took over his body, an uncontrollable urge to run his tongue along your damp folds, explore every part, taste you once more. Feel the strange satisfaction when you finally reach the peak.

He seems to lose himself there, continues to watch in complete adoration. You sigh impatiently, your body shaking in anticipation. Then you dip your own fingers into your heat, little noises echoing through the room evidencing just how soaked you were. You lift your fingers in front of his face, show how wet they are. "See? How much I want you?" You say, a mischievous smile painting your features.

Lewis wastes no time, takes your hands in his and licks your fingers, his tongue greedily brushing it, savoring your taste. "Your taste is so fucking good. I don't think I could ever live without it" He says, bends down, his face right in front of your needy center. His hands touched your thighs, leaning on them.

He finally seemed to take pity on you and ran his tongue all the way from your opening to your clit. You closed my eyes, a deep groan cutting through your throat.

"Don't you dare take your eyes off mine." Lewis ordered against your folds, the feel of his hot breath against your skin making you shiver. You look down, meeting his brown eyes, darker now, lust dripping from them. You feel your body tremble again under his gaze, but you don't dare look away. With his eyes locked on yours, he slowly slid his tongue between your folds. A loudly groan left your lips, your hands finding his braids, pulling them gently.

He repeated this gesture countless times, carrying the wetness from your entrance to your clit, intensifying your arousal. But then his tongue stopped at your sensitive clit, circling the area repeatedly and then sucking on it. A whimper escaped your lips, your hands squeezing his scalp harder now, trying to push his face against your pussy more intensely, trying to feel more of him. With that, your body burst into flames, flames cutting across your skin. You came violently, shivering and moaning his name loud and clear.

You think he's going to stop, pull away, give you some time to recover before he pushes into you. But he doesn't stop. He kept eating you relentlessly. His fingers work on you now, two of them inside of you, moving in and out quickly as his tongue sucks your clit. Everything feels more intense now, the sensations driving you off the cliff quickly. Your hip starts to move involuntarily, trying to keep up with the rhythm of his fingers. You throw your head back, eyes closed. Feel your whole body shudder, come again. The second time was even more ravishing than the first.

Your shaky legs close around Lewis' head, you couldn't take it anymore, your body had been reduced to a whimpering mess, but he didn't seem to get tired. He seemed determined to take one more orgasm out of you and so he did, taking everything out of you until you were completely spent. You were in a state of ecstasy, moaning incoherently, whispering Lewis' name over and over.

When he rises up again, you find your lover licking his lips, removing the remnants of your flavor. He also looks like a mess, pupils dilated, cheeks flushed, beard damp, wet with his juices. He seems to have enjoyed it as much as you did at that moment. Always so attentive and so devoted to you, your pleasure was his too.

He holds your face with both hands, licks your lips before kissing you. When your own taste invades your senses, you moan, caressing his shoulders, reveling in the sensation. So promiscuous and dirty, but at the same time so intimate and loving.

He pulls back again, his fingers plucking at your shirt, lifts the fabric and runs it down your arms, finally stripping you naked. He looked at you intensely, appreciating your features carefully, admiring your body as if it was the first time he was seeing it. It makes your face flush and your heart beats faster in your chest. Each time you gave yourself completely to Lewis it was different, sometimes more romantic, sometimes more aggressive, but always intense, overwhelming. Each time was unique, with its own emotions, but they all ended up flooding your mind with memories of the first time he made you his. It was always new, but it was also always permeated by an old feeling, which was present every time.

"You're so fucking beautiful. I will never get tired of looking at you." He mumbles sincerely. You could never control your emotions when he talked to you like that. He knew how to balance things so well, always so good. He set you on fire and at the same time made you feel so loved. You felt your heart do somersaults in your chest.

Lewis takes his time with you, kisses your neck, your breasts, your belly, his hot tongue leaving sparks wherever he goes. You lift your body slightly, your fingers reaching for the waistband of the gray sweatshirt he was wearing. You don't think twice before pushing it down. Lewis laughs at your eagerness, pulls back a little so he can remove his pants properly.

Seeing him naked was always overwhelming, destructive. You would never get used to that sight, you could never get tired of it. Strong shoulders, hard muscles, well built. The dark tattoos, delicate lines on his skin. You move your gaze down his abdomen, until you get there. His cock felt painfully hard, throbbing against his lower abdomen. God, it was perfect. Big and thick, it felt heavy against his skin. You feel your pussy throb as your eyes focus on the light veins covering him, his head rosy and full of precum.

He comes back to you, hands tucking your thighs, keeping you open for him. His heavy cock drops between your folds, the first contact makes you moan. Lewis rubs his length there, collecting your wetness and spreading it on his cock. He repeats the movement over and over again. Your impatience grows and your body trembles beneath his, seems to break into tiny pieces every time he slides into you. You would never be able to have the same self-control, the same patience he had.

"God, can you feel it? Can you feel how fucking hard I am? How fucking hard you make me feel?" He says, eyes glued to yours. You feel your chest heat up when you hear this. He was like this because of you, always because of you.

"Jesus, Lewis" You moan, devastated, impatient. "Just fuck me" A laugh escapes his lips, a boyish smile.

"My pretty slut, always so eager to be full of me, huh?" You nod desperately. It wasn't a lie. "On all fours for me, baby," Lewis says, his voice harsh, authoritative. You promptly obey his command and turn around, get on all fours in the middle of the bed, propped up on your forearms. Belly down and ass up for him. You feel Lewis positioning himself behind you and you squirm in anticipation.

"Fuck, you look so sexy like this" You hear your lover muttering. His hands touch your bum and he slaps you hard there, making you scream. He repeats the movement and you feel your skin prickling, the pleasure and pain mixing together, driving you crazy. "Gonna fuck you now, my pretty girl"

Lewis keeps his promise. You catch your breath at the feel of him entering your heat, plunging deep into you, stretching your tight pussy. "God, you're so fucking wet, baby. So tight for me" He murmurs, planting kisses down her spine before returning to his original position and sliding his length into my pussy again."Feels so fucking good". He cups the back of your head, presses your face against the mattress, and starts moving, painfully slow, deep thrusts, the way he knew drove you crazy. The room was filled with the sounds of Lewis' frames hitting your ass, his heavy balls moving back and forth in time with his thrusts. It was all extremely erotic and only made you wetter.

His hands leave his neck and reach for your disheveled hair, tugging hard on the strands, until you're upright, his chest pressed against your back. Everything looks perfect that way. The hard muscles of his abdomen pressed against you, his hot breath on your neck, strong hands gripping your waist and your hair. The new angle makes you gasp, lose your breath and all your senses. His fingers move again and reach for your chin, turning your face to the side, just enough so he could kiss your lips. He keeps moving at a torturously slow pace, reaching deep inside you. You gasp into his mouth.

Lewis moves his hand from your waist to your sensitive clit, rubbing the area ruthlessly as he thrusts. You parted your lips from his to moan his name out loud as a wave of overwhelming pleasure washed over his body.

"Fuck, daddy, I'm gonna cum. Shit, I'm gonna fucking cum" You can't control yourself and come, squeezing his length, soaking him in your juices.

"That's it, baby. Soak daddy's dick just like that." He murmurs in your ear, bites the earlobe, then licks the side of your neck. You throw your head on his shoulder as he fucks you through your orgasm, fighting to control himself, to make that moment last, to give you as much pleasure as he can.

You screamed in surprise as he laid your body down on the mattress again, his body falling on top of your right after, choking you in the best way he could. Lewis' strong muscles covered your body, his hands reached for yours and held them. He pushed his hips back into you, his rhythm now fast, relentless, just the way he liked it. You try to roll your hips beside him, just fast as he's doing.

"You like it rough, don't you, baby girl?" He whispers, a russky voice in your ear. You feel a lonely tear running down your cheek, the pleasure so hard it makes you cry. You felt your pussy tighten around him again and you came once more, a muffled moan escaping your lips.

Lewis couldn't control himself this time, your pussy clenching so tight on his cock he couldn't hold back anymore. "I'm gonna fill you up, baby. Gonna let you full of me one more time." And with that, he came deep inside you, his hot cum painting your soft walls. A deep, almost animalistic moan escaped his lips.

Countless minutes pass and you both lie in bed the same way, Lewis's heavy body crushing yours, his cock writhing, pulsing inside you. You could stay like this for the rest of your life, you think. But at some point he moves, his cock sliding out of you. Both of you sigh at the loss of contact.

He lies down on the mattress again, pulls you to lie on top of him. Your head against his chest, his legs tangled with yours. You feel his cock, still semi-hard against your thigh. It makes you sigh.

His heartbeat is against your palm. His heart is beating in a smooth rhythm, his breathing controlled. His hands reach for your back, fingers running up and down your skin, imaginary designs being made there. You smile, inert, and feel him doing the same. Watch the horizon in front of you, the dark sky through the big bedroom windows, feel the cool breeze coming through them.

Lying there, on his chest, feeling his body hug yours, you felt in the right place. All you needed was right here, snuggling with you, you didn't need the world's acceptance. A feeling of peace took over your body, your eyelids began to feel heavy and closed. You could hear Lewis's quiet breathing, his chest rising and falling slowly. An "I love you" is the last thing you hear before you fall asleep.

#lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you

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itsjusthockey · 1 year

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The Hangover - Jack Hughes

A/N: Hello friends, this is my first ever post on here and I hope you love it. I like to write in my free time, so send in requests! Or just send some love!❤️

wc:1,694 (credit to gif maker) (also please don’t steal my work)

———————————

It’s early enough in the morning when your eyes drift slowly open, and a prolonged yawn involuntarily escapes your lips. You’re feeling a bit dazed from the early hour, and It takes you a second to register where you are, but when you do, a small smile break across your lips.

Rolling over, you see him in his most tranquil state. Arms laying flat on either side of him, head slightly tilted away from you against his pillow. He seems like he’s barely breathing, yet when your eyes scan his chest, there's the sight of it slowly rising and deflating with each inhale and exhale he takes. Your eyes travel back up, and you see his eyes darting back and forth under his lids, and you wonder what he’s dreaming about.

Before you can stop yourself, your hand starts to slide across the bed sheets, and they find themselves lightly inching along his chest. You wait there, looking for some kind of shift or movement of his body, but he's still, ever present in his dream world.

It's moments like these that you live for, the peace before the chaos of everything else. Nothing bothers you here, at least until you want them to. You revel in these moments. Yet, watching him isn’t enough; you’re craving the intimacy of being in his arms, so even though you don’t want to wake him, you feel my heart call out too much to let him sleep any longer.

You’re careful as you scooch closer to his frame, cuddling up close and wrapping your arm over his torso. Your heart aches, even more, when you inhale the smell of his body wash.

“Jack,” you whisper, barely audible. When silence answers you, your forefinger finds its way back to him. Poking the side of his face, maybe a little harder than you should. “Jack”

His nose crinkles up at your attack, and you Immediately swipe your hand away and shrivel under the covers, nervously watching him until you see his pretty green eyes pierce yours. They blink rapidly, trying to adjust to the sunlight but struggling to pry open from sleep.

You feel slightly like you’ve committed treason, waking him up after the night he had, but your worries wash away when he grabs your arm, pulling you into him. He starts to smother you into his body, pulling your arm to reach over his torso as your leg naturally swings over his midsection.

You feel your eyes naturally melt to a close as he consumes your whole body, the heat transfer of his skin warming you nicely as your cheek lays along his pec.

You feel most comfortable as you lay in his arms, gently drawing shapes on his forearm that’s rested on yours. You hear his breathing steadily again, and you realize you have lost. There is no way he’s getting up, and you’re okay with that. Especially while in this position. You feel every bit of love and romance you don’t always get in these small moments, and you silently hope that everyone leaves you alone for a while.

Your eyes close after a moment, and you can feel yourself growing tired with the extra heat of Jacks' body when suddenly you feel him shift under you, and suddenly he goes rigid.

“Fuck.” He quickly pushes you from him and goes to clutch his mouth as he hurries toward the connected bathroom.

You’re a little shocked and perplexed, but it all becomes clear when you hear the sounds of Jack emptying his stomach contents into the toilet.

Well, moment ruined.

You hear him go back for round two as you quickly exit the bedroom, heading directly for the kitchen. The house is quiet, and you’re very thankful for the soundproof bedrooms, or else everyone would be graced with Jack's not-so-pleasant good morning.

In less than a minute, you’ve secured the goods; a bottle of water, a blue Gatorade, tums, and some Advil. You quickly dart back up the stairs, and when you renter the bedroom, you’re happy not to hear wrenching.

As you walk into the bathroom, you see Jack slumped over the toilet, looking a little shaky but otherwise normal. He turns his face to meet you when you enter, and you can’t help but let a laugh bubble from your lips.

“I’m glad you find this funny.” You snicker even more at his attitude.

You control your laughter as you sink to the floor beside him, going to rub his bare back as he rests his head against the toilet seat.

“Bet you’re regretting that fireball, huh?” You ask.

He shoots you a glare but then nods. “Yeah, not that great coming back up.”

You laugh again and hand him the bottle of water, which he graciously accepts and takes a small sip.

“Are you done, or got some left?” You nod your head toward the toilet.

He shakes his head, and you help him get up to his feet, semi-dragging him back to his bed. When you get there, he slumps forward onto the mattress, and you somehow maneuver him so he’s tucked in again.

Once he’s good, you turn to head downstairs, where you currently hear some banging around, but before you make it one step, you feel his hand go to grip your wrist.

“Where are you going?” He hoarsely speaks.

“Downstairs. Go to sleep for a bit longer, J, and take those tums.”

He doesn’t protest, which is a relief, and you make your way down the stairs again and into the kitchen, where you’re greeted by Luke, who looks like he’s been hit by a truck and backed over again.

His hair is sticking up in all directions, and the bad under his eyes are so puffy you’re a little worried he has an allergic reaction.

“Wow, Lukey, are you good?”

He doesn’t answer; he just shakes his head no, staring off into space. You almost want to laugh again when suddenly Quinn rounds the corner, looking even more horrible than Luke. It’s not even his hair that’s crazy, it’s his eyebrows too, and then there is the black eye.

So that’s nice; all three Hughes brothers are down for the count.

“So if I’m being honest, I’m only like 10 percent sure how I got this.” Quinn points to his eye.

This time a laugh does fall from your lips. “Do you guys have any memory of what happened last night?”

They both look at each other and contemplate for a minute, shaking their heads.

“I remember Jack bringing out Fireball, and then it gets a little hazy.”

As Quinn mentions fireball, you hear Luke gag, and you’re hoping he’s not about to puke too. He gets ahold of himself, and you’re relieved.

“Well, let’s just say you guys had an eventful night.” You tease.

Quinn groans. “What time did we get in?”

“Well. I stopped you from heading to the rink to show Jack “who’s boss” at around 2:30. So around 3 is when you all were wrangled and in bed.”

Quinn groans again and lets his face fall into the cold metal of the fridge. “Is that how I got the black eye?”

You shake your head no. “That would be from Luke kicking you in the face when you tried to steal his Baja Blast freeze.”

As you finish my statement, you see Luke freeze, a bewildered expression crossing his face.

“I kicked him in the face?”

You nod again. “You were very protective of your slushy.”

Luke opens his mouth in disbelief but is interrupted when you hear loud and rather obnoxious groans coming from the stairs.

Jack enters the kitchen, and all three brothers look like a sight to behold. Each has that blank expression you get after a bad hangover, and you want to take a picture.

Jack crosses the kitchen to where you’re sitting and places a quick kiss on your forehead. “Sorry about earlier.”

You wave him off, Quinn gives me a confused expression, and you explain. “Jack puked.”

Quinn nods, and then you see Luke himself go a bit rigid.

“Speaking of puke, be right back.” Luke darts away from the kitchen and slams the nearest bathroom door shut.

“And another one bites the dust. You wanna go three for three, Q?”

He shakes his head and goes to take a tiny sip of water. “Nah, I’m good.”

As he struggles to get the water down, you’re less than convinced, but you drop it when Jack sits down next to your chair and drops his head down on the cool granite countertop.

You hear my stomach growl, and you pop a question. “Anyone hungry?”

At the very mention of food, the two present boys groan.

“I’m never eating or drinking again,” Jack says, face still pressed against the counter, ever the drama queen.

You laugh again and pull out some orange juice, pouring some into a glass and sitting back down next to Jack.

You sit there in silence for a minute when Luke comes back into the kitchen, looking a little less green than before.

Looking at the mess in front of you, you make an executive decision.

“How about you three crawl back to bed and sleep this off?

Quinn perks up like he’s never heard a better idea, and pretty soon, he and Luke are in their rooms with plenty of water and Advil, leaving only Jack behind.

“That means you too, come on.” You drag him from his stool.

“Wait, are you coming too?” His eyes are pleading. “Please?”

Your heart melts a bit at his statement. “Come on, J.”

In ten minutes, you are back in back in bed with everything you could need, including a bucket, just in case.

As you’re sitting here, pressed against his chest, you can’t help but think he was planning this all along, being babied, but you don’t mind every once in a while.

As soon as his breathing slows down, you feel yourself drift off, feeling content with the world when Jack suddenly becomes rigid again.

“Babe, I'm gonna need the bucket.”

I love you and thank for reading

#jack hughes #new jersey devils #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #hughes brothers #luke hughes #quinn hughes #hockey x reader #hockey #hockey imagine #nj devils #imagine #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #hockey boys #hockey blurbs #fluff #send requests

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mcdonaldsnumberone · 1 year

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BETCHA!

noa had expected that giving advice to kaiser on his love life would be no easy feat, but when kaiser realizes that you have next-to-no interest in him, the german prodigy works up a storm in his master’s office. noa can only pray that he has the patience to whip kaiser into the true romantic gentleman you deserve. (+insp.)

gender neutral reader

content warning(s): kaiser x reader except it’s mostly noa teaching kaiser how to not be a shitty lover

Noa knew that becoming the mentor and master of any team would be far from an easy job.

He had braced himself for the worst when he agreed to teach Bastard Munchen everything in his own arsenal, to lead the new youth team to become soccer’s future for when he would one day inevitably retire. He was more than aware of the nasty personalities the sport seemed to bring out from everyone (himself included, he had to admit), and he had readied himself to see sparks fly in all the worst ways possible as the teenage boys butted heads with each other.

Growing pains, he chalked it up to. Even he was once like that. Hungry, desperate, ready to prove himself to the world as the true diamond-in-the-rough amongst the common pebbles all around him.

He had braced himself for physical fights, with the youths squabbling with each other over who should have scored. And he got plenty of that. He also got plenty of haranguing them into getting up early in the mornings for practice and fighting to keep them motivated into the unforgiving hours of the night. He had braced himself for dealing with all of their managerial issues, from the boys transferring teams to needing travel visas and whatnot.

All of the little things he had grown used to and faced during his own career, Noa was more than equipped to deal with. And he believed he solved each and every one of these problems with the same level head and grace that secured him his spot as the world’s number one striker.

What Noa wasn’t prepared for, however, were the issues involved with the budding relationships the Bastard Munchen players would face. His advice for their romantic lives were usually the same: make smart choices, stay out of paparazzi’s sight, and be respectful. That typically did the job for most of his mentees, and Noa could put his busy mind at rest.

Except for one specific boy who seemed to make it his life’s reason to break every rule that Noa had set in place for them.

Noa was sick and tired of cleaning up after every mess Kaiser made. He was used to Kaiser dragging in all sorts of celebrities and famous people he had hit it off with in a club or some other place, bragging about how he had finally found the one, to which Noa was always patient (and quick to remind the young boy that he had still yet to turn 20 and most definitely had not found “the one” quite yet). Like clockwork, a week would pass, and Kaiser would be on the quest to find the next person to entertain his fickle heart.

So frankly, when you rolled around, Noa had thought Kaiser’s obsession with you would only last about the same as his previous flings. Noa quietly waited out a week. Then another. And another. Then a few more. And to his surprise, you stuck to Kaiser’s mind. Kaiser still pursued you as relentlessly as he did the first day he brought you up to Noa, and Noa realized how difficult it would be to actually wrangle in a full-blown delusional, lovestruck Kaiser.

“NOAAAAAAAAAA!”

Noa rubbed at his temples, closing his eyes and sucking in a deep breath through his nose. He held it for a few seconds, like how his therapist had recommended, before breathing out through his mouth for a few more seconds. Noa was fully aware that he threw a life of peace away the moment he chose to become a professional athlete, but asking for more than fifteen minutes of uninterrupted silence seemed less plausible than winning the World Cup fifteen times in a row.

The door to his office flew open with such force that the Frenchman was surprised it hadn’t flown clean off of its hinges. “Shitty master! There you are! I need your advice!”

“No need to be so violent or loud, Kaiser.” Noa turned on the swivel chair the Blue Lock facility had given him, tearing his eyes away from the statistics and team strategies he had been working on. “They’ll be able to hear even from across the compound.”

Kaiser stood in his doorway, looking disheveled and near tears. He had sprinted here, evident from the thin layer of sweat on the German boy’s forehead and how heavily he was breathing. Noa doubted that Kaiser was coming to him needing advice on training or improvising his skills.

No, Noa knew what Kaiser was here for already.

“Alright, how did you mess up this time, Kaiser?” The Frenchman asked exhaustedly. He had gotten used to this song-and-dance with his pupil a long time ago, ever since you had wormed your way into Kaiser’s heart. “Did you call (Y/n) a rude name? Or say something mean?”

Kaiser scrunched his pretty face up, stomping closer to Noa and sticking his bottom lip out. “No! I didn’t do anything like that. Noa, it’s so much more severe! I’d rather that they hate me and wish me dead than this! You don’t understand—they don’t care about me at all!!”

Noa bit back a snort. “Oh. And I thought you had done so much worse.”

Kaiser began frantically pacing around Noa’s office, agitatedly wringing his hands. “I knew you wouldn’t understand, you shitty master! Ugh, this is what I get, going to someone as stoic as you for advice with my love life! I don’t get it. Why doesn’t (Y/n) want me? I’m the whole package! I have people crawling, and I mean, fucking crawling all over me. That super hot actress everyone’s been talking about? She was begging me for a date last week! I’m popular and handsome and rich, and (Y/n) acts like I’m just some guy from across the street! I’m not some guy from across the street!”

“No, you aren’t-”

Kaiser shook his hands in the air. “I’m the Michael Kaiser! 300 million yen annual salary, master of Kaiser Impact, golden ace of Bastard Munchen, and God’s chosen emperor! How dare they not want me as much as I want them? Can’t they see how madly in love I am? That I’ve practically made a fool of myself at this point? Trying this hard to make them fall for me?”

Kaiser breathed heavily after having dumped all of that onto Noa, and the older man stared at Kaiser with singlehandedly the most unimpressed look on his face. The German athlete let out a strangled groan, the reality of his dejection sinking in properly, and Noa watched as Kaiser buried his face into his hands.

“First and foremost, Kaiser, you have to understand that people have different tastes. What might be appealing to actresses and celebrities and whoever else you attract might not be (Y/n)’s type,” Noa sighed, leaning back in his chair and massaging his head. “Some people avoid famous and popular people on purpose, because it’s an awful lot of work to be with someone under that much public scrutiny. It’s a big thing to ask of someone, regardless of their interest in you.”

“But I have the money! The body! The looks! Anyone would be flattered to have my interest! C’mon, Noa- Fame aside, I’m sexy as fuck!” Kaiser motioned vaguely at his body. “I’m sexy, right? Tell me I’m sexy, Noa!”

“Kaiser, I am not doing that.”

“You get what I’m trying to say!”

“Secondly,” Noa continued sternly. He didn’t particularly have the energy to flatter Kaiser that much more. “Have you actually tried wooing them in a… more appropriate way?”

Kaiser frowned deeply, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you mean in a more appropriate way? Shouldn’t they fall to my feet in utter worship of how wonderful I am? Shouldn’t they be sobbing over how grateful they are to me that I would give them even a crumb of my attention?”

Oh god. Noa wondered where he had gone wrong with Kaiser. The headache that had been ebbing in and out ever since the youth had barged into his office was only amplifying. “No, Kaiser. I mean the kind of courtship that most other people would try. Like compliments, gifts, maybe grabbing a coffee together. You have to earn someone’s love. It isn’t something that’s guaranteed nor is it something that’s owed.”

The German boy’s frown faded slightly, morphing into a small look of confusion. He repeated, “Earn? You mean… I have to try to get (Y/n)’s favor? They aren’t smitten with me already?”

“Probably not. If they haven’t already started a relationship with you yet, that usually means you haven’t won their heart.” The older athlete explained calmly. “Try the things I told you. Tell them that you like seeing them around. Maybe get them a small thing of flowers. Being kind to someone never hurts. Especially if they aren’t exactly… used to dealing with your bold personality. You have to start with baby steps before you can get to all the big passionate things you’re thinking of.”

Noa wondered for a split second if Kaiser would fume and brush his advice off as he usually did, but for once, the boy nodded along and silently mulled over his mentor’s words. Noa continued to watch him quietly, hoping inwardly that he had gotten through to the boy and that maybe he’d quit harassing you with what he could only imagine to be the most audacious courtship in the universe. You were truly a trooper to somehow keep up with all of Kaiser’s ridiculous antics.

“For once you’re of help, shitty master,” Kaiser hummed, and the German nodded to himself.. “I know a place I could order a few blue roses from… And there’s a really nice café not too far from the facility once we get down the mountain… Yeah, I can see it all coming together! Okay, I have a plan!”

“Ah, by the way,” Noa interrupted. Kaiser looked at the Frenchman, as if to silently ask him if there was anything else he needed to be lectured about. Noa cleared his throat, looking firmly at the young man. “Remember what I told you, no matter what (Y/n) does in response to your efforts. Love is earned, not owed. Even if you try to be kind to them and flirt with them differently, you aren’t entitled to their love. If they make it very clear that you aren’t interested, the right thing to do is back off and give them space. Do you understand?”

“Of course I do,” Kaiser scoffed. “If they decide that they don’t want me… Then that’s their loss! I’ll use my indescribable charm to find someone better… Even though I don’t really think there’s anyone better than them.”

“Well, no matter what you do, I’m sure I’ll hear of it.” Noa chuckled softly as the young blond’s cheeks turned red as he started thinking about you, and Kaiser hid his pink face behind his hands. Kaiser turned on his heel, straightening his back and puffing his chest out, clearly determined to enact Noa’s heartfelt advice and to undoubtedly unleash upon you another wave of unrestrained romance.

Noa knew that Kaiser’s wails and screeches in his desperate attempts for your favor would be far from over, but if he could bit-by-bit place the boy on the correct path at wooing you over, then maybe all of Kaiser’s temper tantrums and 3 AM rants about how he is 100% confident that he’s going marry you someday would be worth it. If there was one thing that Kaiser was, it was incredibly stubborn about not letting things that he deemed as “his” slip away.

“Ah, one more thing, Kaiser-”

Kaiser stopped dead in his tracks, already halfway out of the room. “Yeah? What is it, shitty master?”

“Don’t fantasize about marriage just yet. I think it’s still way too early for you to be planning out a wedding with (Y/n) already…”

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #michael kaiser #noel noa #x reader #my writing

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