#beginning of his life. and all of this is difficult and painful in ways that are brand new but must (avowedly/somehow/please) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hoseoksluna · 2 months

Text

LIQUID STARS | jjk

pairing: fuck buddy!jungkook x f. reader (feat. bam)

genre: angst, smut

word count: 11.8k

summary: to seal the deal, you give jungkook what he wants—your kiss, your cunt and your virginity.

playlist: liquid stars / pinterest board: wine

warnings: size kink, heavy dd/lg themes, provocation, dry humping, dirty talk, mentions of porn, oral sex (f. + m. receiving), multiple orgasms & countdown, dom/sub dynamics, reader has daddy issues (like the writer), first time, jealousy, inner child healing, plushie used during intercourse, jungkook fucks her numb & dumb, praise kink, cum eating, pet names and the establishment of a title, bondage, raw sex, tummy bulge, desperation, pain felt during intercourse, squirting

note: as difficult as it was to write this, i'm immensely thankful. this changed my life; it healed me and i'll dream about it for a long, long time. i was as exhausted as oc once i finished this, because i truly did give my all. everyone, this is part four to my series 'wine' and therefore the very end. this is the very beginning of jungkook's and oc's relationship. can be read as a standalone as there aren't any quirks from the other parts (except for bunny), though if you wish to read them now, now is the perfect time. now you can see the beautiful gradual development of their relationship. please, enjoy as you read and let me know your favorite parts bc i need to talk about this. heed the warnings as there are dd/lg themes that can be uncomfortable for some. thank you! and thank you for all the love on this series. i'll never forget it. i love you, guys. ʚɞ

side note: give some round of applause for 3D daddy provider jungkook everyone!! he deserves it!!!

Silky lilac bows adorn the tops of your pigtails that cascade down in loose braids, sprawled on the cotton of his pillow and on the soft belly of a bunny plushie. There are still traces of sunlight left on the bedding, which dissolve, little by little, into nothingness as the large star goes down, saying goodbye. It’s lightweight, the atmosphere—homely almost. And much to your surprise, you feel relatively at ease, despite the fact a man lies on top of you—a man you have a certain liking for.

It was natural for you to end up here and you, yourself, wished for it, even. Deemed it was only right after the man took you around for a walk while his silly Doberman guarded each and every step both of you had taken in sync, especially so when he persisted in buying you a small plastic ring of the same bunny you’re lying against. He didn’t even forget about his own canine friend waiting outside patiently like the obedient dog he is, and fed him the snackies he got for him as soon as he returned from the shop. You swore Bam was as giddy as you when he received his gift.

Now the ring glints in the last rays of the sun. His, too.

While yours is as white as the cloudy morning sky, Jungkook’s is as black as the drowsily dozing night sky. You think it’s the perfect contrast between the pair of you. Not that you should be noting these things, considering you’re just friends. But his skin is satiny soft, painted in impressionist tattoos, while his muscles, that his well-fitted T-shirt graciously allows you to see, are strong. You’re sure he could just lift you and throw you around without much of a strain. And it certainly doesn’t help that he’s such a striking image of pure beauty. How could you not notice these intertwinings when they’re this lovely?

You like him—without a shadow of doubt. Can feel the call of an emotional attachment forming the more he studies your skin with the tip of his index finger, embellished with the Miffy ring, and it’s owed to the fact you’ve never been touched this way before. No one has ever come this close, no one has ever been interested in the moles scattered upon your shoulders, in the veins that make the pathway to the column of your neck. No one has ever gazed twice at them—but Jungkook?

He hasn’t stopped looking at them ever since he laid you down in the middle of his bed.

How could you stop such a call? Such a lull, such a magnetic pull. You know you should, but for the meantime, you simply don’t want to. Can’t lose this moment, can’t lose this once in a lifetime opportunity—

Jungkook presses his lips against the prominent mole in the center of your left shoulder. Those pretty, puffy lips, closing against your skin, the smallest dart of tongue swiping past. It shocks you for a moment before the feeling dissolves beneath, adjusting within the freshness of your system. How could you refuse such dynamic poetry, expressed against your own forlorn body? When it’s so blatant that it’s natural, that your body willingly accepts it without a fight.

You couldn’t.

Stretching your fingers between the thick strands of his hair, you close your eyes to savor the feeling of being wanted. The movement of his mouth, going even as far as to the first vein rooted in your arm—following it with those half-closed pillows. Up, up until he finds the line of your collarbone. Jungkook pauses there, simply breathes against you before he interperses little pecks there, nibbles and gentle swipes of tongue. The lining of your top won’t let him go further down, so he changes direction—relies on the pathway of your veins to guide him to your neck. And there… at the first contact, you grip the roots of his hair.

His kisses and nibbles are much harder here. And what’s worse, he takes the sensitive skin into his mouth and sucks. You fail at containing the whimpers that break out of your mouth and Jungkook reacts to them. Hums ever so deeply, rocks his hips against the mattress. You wish you were a bit bigger so you could feel the collision, but you’re just so small compared to his large form. You imagine he’s writing down the poems collecting inside of him with each cursive roll of his tongue. Wonder if there’s enough paper on your skin for all his words.

“You sweet little thing,” Jungkook coos onto the crook of your neck, dragging his lips up and down before he stops at your jaw. You feel the warmth of his breath and his body heat seeps into yours, creating unity, blackening the ink. It feels strange, it feels so new. Brisk and springlike, like fresh air in a stuffed room. You want to stay here for a long time, tasting the wholeness of spring captured in him. You want his words to flush you red with the tinge of the entire sunlight that opens the buds of flowers during all seasons in a loop. “Can I kiss you?”

You haven’t gone beyond the innocent touching of hands with him. You brim with a tight feeling of thankfulness that he asked you such a graceful question, although something else steals your attention entirely.

“Little?” you say, the smile on your lips pulled so taut that it quivers ever so slightly. It makes you crazy that he calls you that, but you play the game. Revel in it. “What do you mean little? I’m bigger than you.”

Jungkook cocks his brow at you, mouth falling into a lopsided grin. He sits back and you feel a whiff of coldness pass by the perimeter of your body, as if someone opened the window and let the winter air in, when it’s just his brief distance that caused it. The forming attachment in you tenses and before you can think about your actions, your hand finds his knee, his thigh and traces slow patterns there. Jungkook suddenly squeezes your waist, surprising you, and the ecstatic fluttering of butterfly wings break havoc all over your body. The solidness of his hands, their weight, their firmness, giving life to your body, meaning. You note how his fingers touch when he has his hands enveloped around you like that. And the inkling that your body matters in his hands like that slips into your mind, spreading through its axis.

You bite your lower lip. A small ache begins to grow in your intimate parts. It’s so nice to be wanted, to be considered good enough to be touched, to be kissed.

“You? Bigger than me?” Jungkook squeezes your waist again. Sucks in a breath through his teeth. Smiles softly; in a way that you find unbearably endearing. “No, you’re just little. Just a tiny, little bug. So tiny in my hands.”

For the breath he inhaled, you exhale it.

He leaves his hands there when he bends over you, hovering his lips over yours. His weight, his heat. You sigh against him in relief, in a newly blossoming excitement that he’s back again. You spread your legs wider, feet grazing his calves—

“Let me kiss you, please.”

You’d give in, but the game is just so pleasurable.

Your laugh is but a breath. “You wanna kiss me?”

You exhaled, he inhaled.

“Don’t ask stupid questions.”

“Since when do friends kiss?” You cock your eyebrow at him just like he did, prodding your tongue on the inside of your cheek.

He hovers a little bit higher above you, hanging his head in defeat, sighing. Places his hands in fists on either side of you, caging you in.

“Premium friends do,” he mutters, lifting his head, face all serious. You dig your toe into the toned muscle of his thigh, twirling sweet little circles, gliding up and down. Watch as his eyes lid and he tries to control it. “Don’t do that or I’ll fuck you.”

Your body panics, but you will it to relax.

“Does that come with the premium subscription?”

Jungkook purses his lips, supports his weight on one hand as the other, the tattooed one, grips your jaw. He squishes your cheeks, bites his lip once—seemingly ponders whether he should play your game or not before he lets go of your pout, but still keeps his hand there. He traces the shape of your lips with this thumb, feeding his desire to kiss you with scraps.

“Yes,” he utters. “Kisses, orgasms, my dog. It’s all—”

Orgasms, not just sex. Orgasms.

“I get to take Bam?”

Jungkook tuts at you. “You get to take me,” he corrects you. “Though, can even such a little thing like you take me?”

Probably not. Definitely not.

“But what about Bam?”

He looks at you as if he couldn’t believe the words you’re saying, turning his head slightly to hear you better. Then, he scoffs, running his tongue across his lips swiftly, letting them express the enjoyment of your provocation by stretching into a smirk. He places his hand back on the right side of you, thinking over his words.

“Bam is mine, but you can pet him. You can kiss him.” You can hear the feigned venom in that word as he spits it and you grin, pleased with yourself. You enjoy doing this to him. “And if you’re good, I’ll let you take him out for his walkies.”

You gasp slowly, fingers absentmindedly gripping his thigh. Butterflies buzz you with a mere hint of arousal and to convey it, you wet your top lip with the tip of your tongue. The dominance, the principle of proving to him whether you’re deserving of something. Your heartbeat quickens, reaching for him with each swell.

Oh, you’ll be good. You’ll be good until he’s sick of it.

It seems he’s as pleased with himself as you were with yourself, reading your body language as he beams down at you, dimples poking holes in his cheeks. You want to stick your fingers there, pinch the skin at the corners of his mouth. Feel them, kiss them—

“Deal.”

Jungkook blinks at you. He most likely expected you to be difficult. You like the look of surprise on him. A sweet kind of glint perches itself upon his irises. You’re at awe of how he manages to be so adorable and alluring at the same time. You could never understand it. You deem he must be otherworldly.

“A kiss to seal the deal?” he tries, raising his brows, lowering himself to his elbows.

He skims his lips across your cheek, descending to your neck. Places one, singular kiss there. Lifts his head to hear your answer, a soft curtain of hair falling across his forehead.

You make a face as if you’re thinking about it.

Jungkook groans.

It’s cold, the way he turns away from you and it startles you—but then he slides his hands under your back and lifts you with ease, sitting you down on his lap. He moves you from the muscles on his thighs to the hardness of his intimate parts and you groan at the feeling of it. You’re wearing an airy short skirt with tights and knee socks underneath, the barrier so thin that you feel the solid, thick shape of him right under your femininity.

You rock against him once. Jungkook lets out a sound akin to yours, fingers flexing—hands almost reaching for your behind before he decides against it and keeps them planted against your back.

He desires your consent. And that makes you feel light-headed. Tipsy on the wholeness of him, on the pleasure coursing through your body.

You rock your hips again—and this time, Jungkook whimpers.

You take your hands and, slowly, you make a pathway down his chiseled chest. He twitches against you when your fingers pass by his nipples, his body following and squirming along. And once you reach the definition of his abdomen, your hands rise and fall against its quickening movement as his lungs heave. You’re mesmerized by his reaction to your touch. It’s as if it was his first time as well and something about that makes you woozy, savage and absolutely feline.

And something about the way you’re allowed to do as you please, whereas he’s not, strengthens that state of mind, enriches it, thoroughly worsens it.

You want him.

It began with a ring and ended right here.

And the process of your decision starts at his hips, finalizes at the pebbles of his nipples and finishes completely at the sides of his neck. He gives you the same, if not better, reaction, his manhood moving against you, and it’s settled.

The giving of virginity to seal the deal, not just a kiss.

Hovering your lips against his, you slip your hand to the place where you’re connected to feel up the shape of him. You moan onto him, vigorous power seizing you, propelling you to wrap your fingers around him. The breaths Jungkook emits are desperate, tortured, wafting over you, intoxicating you. It fills you with confidence unlike any other that you’re able to coax such a thing of beauty out of him—that you, the artist, have the upper hand momentarily while he doesn’t.

And he waits, depends on you. You want to cry due to how happy it makes you, due to the way it suffuses an empty part of you, left abandoned by someone who should’ve taken care of it a long, long time ago.

Because of that—if it’s kisses that he wants, you’ll give him as many as his body desires as a thank you.

“You’re so hard against me,” you whisper.

Jungkook grips your waist hard.

“If you want it, you have to seal the deal,” he mimics your intonation, voice deep, tingling your tummy.

“I want it.” You clutch both of your hands on his jawline, thumbs finding the invisible dimples.

“Kiss me, then.”

You whimper at the longing to do so. Your tummy clenches, butterflies inside swarm around and—

When you close your lips against his top lip, they burst into smithereens. Jungkook sighs in relief, enveloping you in his warmth.

The kiss is hungry. You expected his first taste of you to be careful, contemplative, but he goes all in. Takes charge of the lip lock, swallowing you whole, moving against you, uttering low sounds that make your head spin and you just comply. Accept that you’re the one who submits to his craving and you find yourself liking it; find yourself wanting to deepen your submission.

You wrap your legs around his waist, your head tilted as you reciprocate all of those hard kisses. When he comes up for air, he just gazes down at you, out of breath. One hand still on your back, the other cradles your cheek. There’s something puzzling in his eyes, as if he was fighting something within. You’re radiated by that energy, heavied down by it, letting him pet you like a puppy while you wait for the next step.

“You’re so good that I’m considering letting you take Bam out,” he breathes, curling a wisp of your hair behind your ear. “Sweet little thing.”

He pecks you once. You grind against his manhood and as he shortly groans onto your mouth, you splutter into giggles. Behind you, as if he heard him, the dog peeks his head out of the door, giving his Daddy a questioning look. Jungkook chuckles.

“Bam, house.”

The dog leaves and Jungkook sinks his fingers into your hair, sighing. Kisses you, again without tongue—only does what you’ve allowed him, but you overflow with the desire for more. He’s so considerate, so respectful and while you’re grateful for it, you want to break it. Your trust in him, made whole by all that he’s done for you, settled within you, made a bed in the sensitive parts of you that now shine. He doesn’t need to remain there—you want to go beyond that.

“Touch me, please.” You look up into his eyes as you say it, willing them to see with all your energy how much you want him.

He rubs soothing circles on your back. “If I touch you, I’ll fuck you, sweetheart.”

You lift your butt ever so slightly and bounce down on him, your skirt furling. Jungkook moans, pleasing you to the core. It’s bratty of you, but it serves him right for being so stubborn, so firm in his control. You want to break him.

“Can’t you see how much I want that?” you purr, bunching the cotton of his T-shirt in your fists.

He merely shakes his head, licking his lower lip, fucking with you. He tugs on one of your braided pigtail, the other hand gliding to your hipbone. “This little girl is horny? I couldn’t tell.”

A yellow light, sleepy in nature, spills through the blinds, latching onto the side of your neck. His eyes flick to it and his teeth sink into the wetness of his lip. He looks back at you when he says, “what was it that made you horny? The neck kisses?”

He straps both of his hands to your hipbones now, adjusting you so your sweetest spot rests against his cock, rocking your hips like he wants them to. He swallows down his noises, makes room for yours. You figure he wants to hear them.

You think about what made you horny. His respectful behavior. An electric spark spasms in your core at the memory and you roll your body against his at the impact—nipples pebbled, grazing below the hardness of his pecks. You moan loudly. He breathes heavily, can’t for the life of him contain that, gripping you with strength that will surely leave bruises. You add it to the list.

His control—the momentary, delicious lack of it, too. The dominance that follows it. His noises and how unrestrained he is when it comes to them. The allure and the attractive charm of his looks, blended with that insufferable cutesiness. His hard cock. The neck kisses, too, of course.

You summarize your answer and you tell him, “you.”

A hitch in his throat. “Fuck.”

Fuck, indeed. Fuck the steady rhythm—Jungkook speeds up your movement, the pace so fast your pigtails and your ribbons bounce, tits following suit. Your breath falls in step, moans echo within the walls of his room. He kisses you harshly, but that doesn’t silence you. He swallows your noises down, grunting.

“You wanna know what made me hard for you?”

You nod your head, lips forming a natural pout at the loss of contact.

“Those fucking pigtails of yours. The knee socks. How tiny you are in my hands. Seeing you lose your fucking mind when I kissed your neck. Those marks I left behind, hm, fuck yes. Those marks made me crazy,” he mutters, staring you down. “And you know what else?”

You wait for his answer as white flashes blind you, your roaring orgasm beckoning you close. He doesn’t stop rocking you against him, not once. Fills your brain with emptiness with his words coated wet by his dominant energy. You feel your own wetness soaking the fabric of your panties.

“Your brattiness,” he says. “I want to fuck it out of you and make a good girl out of you that won’t misbehave again with her smart words.”

A faint part of you, half affected by the pleasure he gives you, arises to stand up for you. “But I was good and you said so.”

He clicks his tongue, disapprovingly shaking his head. Slows down the pace so you’re able to hear him loud and clear, your orgasm backing away. “You see the thing is with little bratty girls like you, even when they act good for me, there’s still that dark little side of them that hides. Unless I fuck it out of them, they play with me. And trust me, I like the game until I don’t.”

You frown at him, but a moan betrays you. A fight throngs inside of you, his dominance yet again permeating you, causing you to flourish, but on the other hand, you don’t like being added to the mix. You want to be the only one—and it makes you angry that he had someone like you before you, that he even said it altogether. Though unfortunately, that’s something you can only keep to yourself.

The forming attachment breaks, splitting into two, with the knowledge that your wish is futile. You understand he said it for the sake of the role-play that you both naturally, wordlessly established through sexual attraction, but you still have a lot of getting used to within the dynamic. He’s experienced, you’re not. Though, when you think about it, he doesn’t know a thing about your purity. You never told him.

You blame yourself for your own pain. It’s your fault—you should’ve had a conversation with him about it before you let him do anything to you, instead of playing flirty games with him. You wouldn’t have gotten hurt, if he knew you were a virgin. The thought of what you’ve done stains you, makes you feel filthy, but you will it to kneel inside of you like a wounded animal. You need to be strong if you don’t want to storm out of his room in tears.

No attachment, no liking.

Just sex.

There’s still a frown to your face, despite the fact you set yourself free with your decision. Jungkook chuckles at it, oblivious to your internal storm.

“You didn’t like that, did you?” You didn’t like being compared to other girls he’d been with; there’s nothing to be said of the like about the role-play aspect. Being called bratty did rouse a moan out of you. “You prove my words right.”

You roll your eyes. Jungkook grips your ass hard and spanks you. As the sting reverberates, along with it comes the realization you got what you wanted.

You broke him.

And now you have to face the repercussions.

Good thing you’ve sobered up from the stupefaction of your arousal.

You cradle his face and kiss him deeply in effort to change the narrative. No feeling of affection from earlier hangs upon your heart and you find that it’s easier like this. No strings, no pain. It relieves you—so much that you sense a layer of lightness to your body and tiny, manageable tears well in your eyes. You get to enjoy this after all.

There’s radiance to your eyes, rooted in hope, and true softness to your words when you say, “I want you to fuck it out of me. I want you to be my first.”

You want to be different—your pride is uninfluenced by your decision. If he fucks it out of you, the new narrative you’re longing for will fully take place and make living through this bearable. You know you can’t have him the way you’d like, but if fate wrote that you’re to have him this way—you don’t mind altering it to the little desires you’re allowing yourself to have.

Once in a lifetime opportunity. You can’t lose it.

Jungkook is left astounded by your words, eyes widening, shock evident on his features. Like your words, he softens, unclenching his fingers from your suppleness, the darkness in his irises making a way for gentleness to come through. He rubs the small of your back, hands ascending to your spine, feeling the clip of your bra, until he finds the nape of your neck. He holds you there, tenderly, as if you were a porcelain doll he now was careful not to break.

The change in his demeanor is stark. It surprises you as well—and like everything that has happened within the hour, it isn’t something you expected from him. The emotion that emerges from the roundness of his eyes touches the hardness of your decision, tries to get through, pokes a gap inside, letting the light in.

He tucks his darkness back inside. Strokes the back of your head, the silky ends of your ribbons sifting through his slender fingers. You relax against him and your body does it for you. It welcomes his tenderness, glad for the truth to be out. You fight against it—against yourself, willing your decision not to break but remain firm.

No strings, no pain.

But to no avail. The light spreads. His light. Celestial twinkles of stars, small parts of him that make him who he is.

“You’ve never had anyone before me?” he husks, regret glossing over his eyes, holding your head firmly as he awaits your answer. More stars spill like liquid.

You shake your head ‘no’, your chest tightening.

He kisses you and there’s something different about the way he does it. Now you can sense the carefulness you searched for earlier and you taste the primal core of loving care in the movement of his lips. The kisses are long, deep. As if you’re a different person now, a girl unlike any of the ones he mentioned. Someone who matters, someone who’s solid. You’re back at the beginning.

A lump forms in your throat.

“You sure about this?” he asks.

One part of you, greater and illuminated by his stars, wants it gently like this, with flowers of innocence and purity besprinkled across his features, never leaving you out of his sight, taking care of you. But you fear that if you allow him to be tender, your heart will choose him again and cling to his side. The other, more faint part of you, affected by your decision, thinks it’s better to stick to the role-play, for there’s the aspect of illusoriness that will not bruise anyone’s hearts, especially not yours. It will make you horny, Jungkook will get you off and, glowing, you’ll go home.

You can’t decide. It’s too much of a heavy weight to bear on your shoulders. You can’t do it.

You need him to say the word. You need him to decide what will be the face of the trajectory of your premium friendship.

Flowery or deceitful?

A small candlelight in you hopes for gentleness and purity before your fear unfairly puffs it out.

“Yes, I’m sure. I want you.”

Jungkook lays you down and, at last, you feel his manhood against you. He bends to pepper apologetic kisses along the column of your neck and you feel the authenticity of his regret, thrumming against you warmly. Your breath hitches in your throat, the principle of the candlelight in you not being a high hope after all—

“I’m sorry. I should’ve gone about this better.” A kiss to your cheek; you stifle your sobs. “I should’ve checked in with you, but I jumped straight in. This was a mistake on my part. I’m sorry.”

He blames himself, not you.

You want to remain stoic, but his authenticity beckons yours to come out and envelop him whole, gives access to your emotions and you can’t stop the miniature teardrop from flowing down the side of your nose. Neither can you stop the words that follow its footsteps.

“I should’ve told you first,” you whisper, sniffling. Jungkook furrows his brows at the expression of your pain in tender emotion, wiping it away. “But I was bad—reckless.”

He chuckles softly, caressing your hair. “You’re an angel. Sent to my side for me. You weren’t bad. I didn’t mean what I'd said.”

His words, his touch, the kiss he adds to your cheek to punctuate his sentence—Jungkook erases everything that has just happened.

Newness rushes in your chest, the pouring of spring into summer permeates your whole being. You hear the birds sing, the rustle of flimsy flower petals on tree branches as the warm wind grazes it with its touch. Jungkook seals this feeling by pressing a kiss to your sternum.

He said it, so it must be so. You trust him.

The firmness of the cage around your decision unlatches. Doesn’t fly away like the birds. Is a little bit afraid of peeking out. The candlelight returns to light up the room around that cage, blossoming into the sun.

“We don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want to,” he says, looking up at you from the place where he dragged your top down to kiss your skin.

The sun rays in you absorb all of the darkness. The firmness extends one wing.

You run your fingers through his hair. Figure the only thing the summer in you is missing is the heat. You want him, you want sex and you don’t want to think about feelings or consequences. You don’t want to choose between anything anymore. You just want to enjoy yourself.

“I meant it when I said that I want you to be my first,” you say, fingers curling around his ear. Jungkook leans into your touch and it’s as if he’s massaging the wing to alleviate it from a cramp due to being tucked in for so long.

“Okay,” he sighs, taking your hands and pinning them on the pillow and bunny above your head. He sits up, examines you and you wonder if he can see how truly fragile you feel. “Do you trust me?”

He’s had half a year of going out with you, mingling his life with yours, spending money on you and treating you like an absolute treasure to build your overall trust. And what he did just now? How he erased your pain? Your nod is immediate; you don’t need to think twice.

“Of course I trust you.”

“Good.” A soft smile. “I’ll make sure your first time will be beautiful for you.”

Your heart thuds. His words steal all the breath in your lungs, smoothing out the surface of your body for his stars to fill. Tears prick at your waterline.

“Are you scared?”

You’re an empty canvas.

“Not anymore.”

Jungkook nods, gladness pulsating off of him. “I’ll be here the whole time. I won’t leave you, not even once, okay?”

“Okay.”

He finds the zipper on the side of your skirt and yanks it down. “How many times do you wanna come?”

The ridiculousness of the question makes you laugh and you hide your face beneath your palms. “To be honest, I don’t expect to come at all. It is my first time after all.”

You marvel at the honesty seeping out of you. His work, no doubt.

Jungkook frowns, ridding you of the skirt, fingers hooking under the hem of your top. At the reveal of your pink, flowery, see-through bra, he stops altogether, stunned. He fondles the material, grazing over your soft nipples, at last reaching the embroidery of the small petals. He gasps in wonder, eyes flicking to your intimate parts to see if you’re wearing a matching set.

The same flowers adorn the suppleness of your tummy.

Jungkook smiles at his discovery. Is hasty as he drags the nylon of your tights down your legs, along with your knee socks.

“I’ll decide how many times you come for me, then.”

Heat pools in your femininity. There it is, the dominance that you love. Yet this time, it’s laced with his gentleness. Heaven on earth—a meadow full of flowers in the middle of summer. Like the ones on your lingerie.

Joy grasps your heart. “Do I get to know before you start?”

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss on your tummy. “What, you wanna count them down for me?”

You asked just because, but the idea excites you. You nod.

Your response prolongs the rumble of his laughter and you feel its vibration as he kisses his way up to your clothed breasts. You’d think he’d focus his attention on them, but he straightens—reaches for something behind him and retrieves your white knee socks. He bunches them in his hands and puts them on you as if he were dressing a child.

Paradoxically, goosebumps spread all over your thighs.

Smoothing the material over your thighs, he lies back down against you, lips latching on the spillage of your breasts that your bra gives him. While it feels dizzying, you still want to know the number. You poke him in the bulging muscle of his arm and in the process, you flush his cheeks red.

Jungkook pushes your tits together and licks over the line in the middle. The sight of the shine of his wet tongue against it drenches your pussy, ruining your pretty underwear, and you want him there, on your sweetest spot. Your nipples stand to attention and Jungkook listens to their call, thumbs brushing across them.

You mewl, grinding your hips against his stomach.

“Two times when I eat you out; two times around my cock,” he answers finally, awakening your butterflies. “How many times is that, then?”

Amidst the pleasure, you do the math. “Four.”

“That’s right. You think you can do that for me?”

You’re not sure. In fact, you’re not sure of anything—lost in his touch, in his energy.

“I don’t know,” you say, truthfully, skimming his face for a sliver of disappointment in his features.

You find none. Only tenderness—round, soft eyes, brown in the light he radiates, nose and mouth buried in your tits, sucking on the skin, making you feel good.

“That’s okay. We’ll try together. Nothing bad is gonna happen to you if you don’t come as many times. Or at all. I promise.”

Your chest clenches. You grab his face and kiss him, licking over his bottom lip before you slip your tongue inside. Jungkook grunts, rolls his own muscle over yours, tasting you, feeling you. He inhales sharply against you, once again taking charge of the kiss, taking each and every thought and negative feeling you had and crushing it to smithereens.

He lifts you and switches places with you, sitting you down on his lap with your back supported by his chest. He roams his hands all over you—tits, tummy, hips, sides and thighs while he busies his mouth on your shoulder. As your eyes follow each movement, you notice the marks he embellished your breasts with and your arousal grows—so much that you take his wandering hands and hook them under the waistband of your underwear, guiding them down your thighs.

There’s a change to his breath when his index and middle finger feels up the fleshiness of your cunt for the first time. Hard, raggedy and absolutely tormented. He glides those digits up and down your dewiness, listening for the squelching sound that makes his cock twitch beneath you.

He moans onto your neck, nose tracing the column on its way to your ear. “How do you touch yourself?”

A sudden shyness overtakes you and you turn your head, needing to hide in his neck this time. You remain silent, the words lodged in your throat.

Jungkook sees you.

“Do you rub your little clit from side to side or in circles?” he questions, helping you answer.

“I—I like both,” you whisper onto his skin, moving your hips so his fingers slip to your clit, the sweet spot where you need him the most. He grabs the back of your thigh and lifts it, spreading you open, meanwhile you chase the firmness of his fingers.

“Just like that, ride them,” he husks, eyes dazed, fixed on the roll of your pelvis. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

Head on top of yours, you nod, never ceasing your movement, transfixed, just like him, by the constant way the pads of his fingers fondle your clit before dipping between your lips. The heat of the summer tightens in your lower belly and it’s a desperate litany of begging what your mouth utters, despite the fact you’re not really sure what you’re asking for, but you let him hear it. You’re close, so unbelievably close, yet still have a road to walk on before you, and you close your eyes to feel the delight of his touch more deeply, only to find that you manage to do nothing of the kind.

When you sense his eyes on you and by instinct you reciprocate his stare, that’s when you feel the depth you sought after. Mouth parted, pupils dilated, eyelashes a drowsy catastrophe, messy hair casting a soft shadow over the planes of his blissed-out face. You want to kiss him. You want to make him feel as good as he’s making you feel—

“Let me do it now,” Jungkook says hurriedly, sensing the nearness of your climax.

“Yes,” you croak out, halting the movement of your hips—and ‘yes’ is the word that ripples out of your mouth a hundred, a thousand more times when he spreads you wider and rubs his fingers on your clit from side to side.

He feels the pleasure in sync with you, accepting all of your yes’, twisting his face the moment yours does, quickening the rapidness of his hand once he switches to circles to carry you to your summer-breathed paradise.

And when you come all over his hand, he slips two fingers inside your hole.

He stills the buck of your hips.

You widen your eyes at the new feeling of fullness and, panicking and constricting around him, you look at Jungkook, who merely strengthens his hold around you.

“Trust me,” he says, breathing heavily. He doesn’t move his fingers past his first knuckles; he lets you adjust to the size. Gives you a kiss full of tongue to distract you. “Does it burn?”

You begin to pant against his mouth, the high of your orgasm long gone. You’re uncertain to count it as one when it was so short lived, ruined by the sudden plunge of his digits. But much to your surprise, you don’t detect any burn in your walls that he speaks of, which you realize was his intention.

“No, it just feels a bit uncomfortable.”

He kisses you again. You feel your lips go numb, eyes lidding at the pressure you feel as he sinks his fingers a little bit deeper and begins to move them sluggishly, your slick creating another ring for him around his fingers. You try to meet his thrusts as the visceral sensation of being filled by longer, thicker fingers settles within you and takes roots. You discover that movement is the key to parting the uncomfortable feeling and it steps to the side to let the pleasure walk forward.

Jungkook presses his palm flat against your clit, guides the pleasure to envelop your body when he plunges his fingers deeper, past the second knuckles and fucks you in swift jerks. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan and he fills in the sound, expressing his fiery delight for you at the clench of your walls against him, accommodating for him, for his desire to stretch you out, so when he finally enters you, no pain comes to greet you.

Deeper and harder—yes, that’s what feels good. You roll your body, becoming waves of the sea as wetness and the build up of pleasure—seafoam—is all your senses wrap around.

“Feels good, baby?”

His need to check in with you speeds up the nearing expansion of your orgasm. Pointer and pinky finger digging into the skin of your backside, you watch the in and out motion, the digits coming out wetter and wetter each time.

“Feels so fucking good. I’m gonna come. I’m so close.”

It’s quicker. Way quicker than your first tiny orgasm. He slips in and out of you so smoothly—you’re obsessed with the sight, ravaged by it entirely. You grind your hips and fuck yourself back, picking up the pace but slowing down instantly when you feel yourself at the peak of your climax.

You want to prolong it. You love the feeling too much to end it too soon.

Jungkook stops your movements fully.

“I want to be the one who makes you come,” he murmurs. “I want to be the one who fucks your brain out. I want to feel you squeeze around my fingers. Fuck, I want it so bad.”

His hand drifts to your neck just to hold you there, the other, the busy one, fingers you harder, your fast approaching orgasm blinding your senses. Your drenched cunt squelches around him, the sound so lewd it causes you to seek comfort—your hand flies to his on your throat, fingers wrapping around his wrist, the tip of your pointer reaching the fat bulb of bunny’s head on his ring.

Harder and faster. A scalding fire burns you and you just take it. Loll your head back against his shoulder, giving him the space to grip your jawline. Flames grow closer and closer, leaving a layer of sheen on your body in its wake. You feel the sudden need to pee.

“Oh my god, Gguk—” Your muscles tense. Close, so close. “Gguk, Gguk—”

“What, baby? What’s the matter?” he husks, squeezing your neck once. “You’re gonna come for me? Gonna come on my fingers?”

You nod quickly, too quickly. Flames of the sun, licking you. Flames of the summer heat. Just what you wanted.

Jungkook opens your jaw, swirling his tongue around yours. “Let go. Come for me. You can do it, I got you—I got you. Come for me, baby, please.”

Obeying his desperate order, you do.

A small stream of your pleasure, a faint fountain, trickles out of you and into his hand. He gasps, in unison with your whimpers, and you’re transmitted elsewhere. The wildly colorful, blooming meadow on a hill, overlooking the languorous sea and he’s there. Reaches behind himself. Offers you his hand. The wind ruffles his black hair, sweeps it back and you’re giddy—as giddy as Bam, as giddy as you were in the moment the slid the white bunny ring on your finger—to take the last two of his slender fingers, the pinky and the ring, and sit with him by the edge of the cliff.

“Did so well for me.”

The whisper takes you back and you awake.

You’re different. Incandescent. Of life, of stars and its light, of growing fondness for the man you sit perched on the lap of, whose fingers still remain sheathed inside of you. He changed you. Perpetually, absolutely. He changed you and made you into something new. Something that is softer, more elegant—smaller but assertive. Alluring and kind. Indisputably good.

He fucked everything negative out of you with his fingers. Left the vast canvas of stars inside of you.

You’re no longer a plain spread of cotton, but a living, breathing artwork. His artwork.

Once he fucks you with his cock, you wonder what further internal changes are going to occur within you.

You feel a great deal of gratitude for him—and you want to reciprocate all that he’s done for you. You want to work hard at it. Spoil him. Make him whimper. You believe he deserves it.

“You finger yourself often? How come you took my fingers so well, hm?”

You’re panting, unable to speak. Absorbing the sharpness of the stars, acclimatizing to the change.

“I guess you do, huh?” he deduces. “Good little girl, preparing herself for me.”

For the life of you, you can’t catch your breath.

Jungkook kisses your cheek deeply. Pecks you on the same spot a hundred times, slowly taking out his fingers. Lets you see your slick coating his fingers and, softly, you gasp at the little ripples of wrinkles upon the tips of his fingers, mouth parting.

And then he sinks them into your mouth.

His hardness twitches behind you and you moan, your daintily bittersweet taste making your head spin. And when you look at him, you’re met with the utmost pink-dusted adoration painted on his face. You kiss it, inhaling it, letting it flow into your system so it suffuses your bloodstream, letting him taste you. You may not feel your lips, but the sentient poetry of the stars begins to sing in you. His stars. You feel like a flushed floweret visited by a bee. Spent, but happy.

Happy to be wanted.

Good, because he said you were.

As if internally intertwined with him, you feel the identical heat tinge your cheeks.

He says nothing as he lays you down and spreads your legs back to the way they were. Though when he’s graced with the sight of your bare cunt in all her glory, his face says everything that his mouth isn’t capable of. Hunger and torture—lips agape, corners of the mouth shiny with the rush of drool and Jungkook wipes it away, then lowers his fingers to your clit, to your lips, becoming more acquainted with this intimate part of you that no one had seen before him. He traces your small hole, even going as far as to your other, tinier hole and you yelp, stopping his exploration.

Jungkook merely chuckles, eyes darting to yours. “You’re so pretty.” You grow so hot that you think you must be on fire. “Especially there.”

You mewl, shrinking, hands looking for anything to hold and finding his bunny plushie. You take her into your arms, inhaling a scent that could never be hers. You recognize immediately whose it is.

Musk, vanilla, wood.

The thought of Jungkook cradling her while he sleeps moves you and you pout.

“How we feeling?” he asks, still caressing your fleshy cunt, dripping with dew.

Overjoyed. Overstimulated.

Heavenly.

“Good.”

A foxy smile. “How many orgasms was that, hm?”

You don’t know where your shyness comes from and why it chokes all of the words you want to say. You bury your face in bunny for a moment, taking a breath to fight against it, so you can please him because that’s all you yearn to do.

You open your mouth, but no words come out.

Jungkook stifles a laugh and it makes you feel terrible. And it’s worse when he leans over to kiss you, turns his head at the last moment and faces bunny.

“Bunny, how many times did she come?” he asks her, offering her his ear to hear her answer. Looks at you. Widens his eyes. Gasps. “Two,” he mouths. Listens some more. Nods. “I know she thought she wouldn’t come at all. Crazy, right?” Then he lets out an endearing sound. “She said she’d believed you could do it the moment you said it. She’s so happy for you. How cute,” he coos.

You giggle, the bridge in your throat loosening, light flooding you, over and over, until you think you can’t take any more of it. You feel so full, so happy and the sensation threatens to pour out of your tear ducts.

It heals something within you—that he treats you like this at your most vulnerable state. Your inner child flares, the stars the strength that fixes her stoop, helping her arise, stand straight, stand powerfully.

He smiles down fondly at you. “So what number are we at?”

You hide your face behind your hands. “Two.”

“What did you say? I didn’t catch that.”

You drop your hands and with as much energy as you can muster, you repeat the number.

He purrs, caressing your cheek. “Good girl.” As a reward, as if the praise wasn’t enough, he kisses you deeply. “Will you let me taste you?”

You swallow his desire, but speak up your own, “I want to taste you first, please.”

Jungkook hums, curses under his breath. He straightens and kneels before your form, fingers pinching the back of his T-shirt and pulling it over his body. You catch the sight of his broad shoulders, of each dip and muscle, and your irises grown in width. Him ridding himself of his clothes dishevels his hair and as he untangles his arms from the material, he smiles down at you, noticing your stare.

He caresses the back of your thigh before his hand flies to his hard length. He palms himself once, then continues to undress—tugs his sweatpants down to his knees, though he doesn’t bother himself to fully take them off. The shape of him is more prominent through the fabric of his white Calvins, the bulge of his mushroom wet and pellucid, and you sit up, hand itching to touch him, to join his in making him feel good, but he cups your chin—forcing you to look up at him.

He swipes his thumb over your lips. “You want it?”

You nod. “So bad.”

Jungkook curses again, the sound low and rough.

“Touch it,” he orders and both of your hands listen, wrapping around his girth, squeezing beneath the head of his cock. The thickness of him makes you see the light of the stars that you sense fluttering feverishly inside of you. Your mind is too empty, too washed out by your orgasm, by the change that you don’t even think about how you’re going to take him. Jungkook hisses, tilting his head back before he looks down at you intently. “You did this before?”

You’ve never seen one in real life before, let alone touched one.

“I’ve never let anyone get this close.”

Jungkook strokes your pigtails. “How come you know what to do then?”

Instinct or memory from porn you watched—you don’t know, it all blends together within the fuzziness of your mind. And you tell him.

“I watch a lot of porn.”

Jungkook smiles coyly and it strikes you. You’ve never seen him smile this way before or, even, feel this way before. All you know from him is dominance, dominance and dominance.

You release him from the confines of his boxers and repress your gasp. His ever glistening tip reaches just below his navel and the thickness of his girth obscures most of his pubic hair. Along with the sound of your surprise, you also have a hard time swallowing the saliva collecting in your mouth.

“I want you so bad,” you whisper, needy eyes looking up at him. Shy, too shy to let your gaze linger at the most intimate part of him.

He sucks in a breath at your words, hissing. And you need him inside of you all over again.

Fuck fuzzines in your mind. You’re fuzzy all over. Wrecked with nerves, suddenly. Your hands tremble, hovering in front of his manhood. Jungkook covers them with his, soothing you, and guides you to his shaft. Wraps your fingers around him. Doesn’t let go.

The feel of him under his supervision is slow. He allows you to take in every ridge of him, every vein—the softness of his skin, the warmth and the weight. Round after round, up and down, until you get familiarized with him. A trickle of his male essence drips down the side of him and your tongue instinctively darts out. Like your hands, Jungkook’s breath shakes and he anticipates your next move, despite the fact he’s in charge.

He’s been patient all this time, giving you the time you needed. But that hardly applies when you have him in your hands, when you own his neediness. His whimpers while he waits coax your slick out of you, soaking the bedding beneath you and you can’t take it anymore.

Neither, evidently, can he.

“Baby, please,” Jungkook croaks out. Tortured, so terribly tortured. Grip tight and clammy around your hands.

So vulnerable.

You ache.

You lick up a stripe of his essence on the side of his cock and Jungkook shudders. Shifting onto your knees, you show him the milkie on the tip of your tongue and Jungkook pulls your hair, tilting your head back. Kisses you nastily, licking into your mouth. Moans, lowly. Then, he holds his girth at the base and pushes your head.

When you take him, a mewl ripples around the thickness of him. His eyes roll back and his grasp of your hair tightens, burning your scalp, adding to the fire. He lets you feel it out; lets you figure out what to do, testing your knowledge from the porn you’ve watched. And the tensing of his stomach divulges his strained effort not to fuck your mouth.

You go slow about it. Swirling your tongue around that rosy head of his, along that delicious ridge, licking a flat stripe across that line of his slit. Getting to know him in all those intimate places, relying on your senses—on them to tell you what he likes. Your hand begins to move on its own, gliding back and forth in tandem with your tongue stimulating his sensitivity. You try not to think about how you can barely fit him in your mouth, because if you do—you’ll ruin his bedsheets.

But then Jungkook hums in approval, sending a gush of wetness out of you and you whimper—you whimper at the worsening ache you feel, at the helplessness that pools in your system by being just so filthily wet and horny.

He moves your hand faster. Breath jagged, bedroom eyes zeroing down on you. And then—

Jungkook moans your name. Over and over, clenching and unclenching his hand on the back of your head.

“Don’t have to teach you shit,” he spits. “You just watch porn all day, don’t you? Naughty girl.”

Losing control for a split second, he rams his cock into your throat—and you don’t panic, you don’t yelp. Instead, you groan.

He pulls you away from him with a sharp tug. Kisses you harshly. Shoves you down into the pillows with one push on your sternum.

Bending you in half, he drinks your cunt. Lips immediately suck on your needy bundle of nerves and it’s so fast you don’t even know which part of you he’s focusing on because he’s everywhere. Clit, hole, clit, hole—sucking, licking. Alternating, alternating so swiftly and deliciously that you completely lose your mind.

And then he lifts your hips and holds them in the air, wanting you to see what he’s doing to you. Like you, he darts out his tongue and teases you, hovering the muscle above your clit. Shiny, nimble, capable of doing unspeakable things to you. He watches as your pussy drools for him and he chuckles darkly. Tongue lowering to collect it, but unlike you he never does it. He lets the dew trickle down your skin.

“Cute little pussy. So wet. Wetter than when I fucked it. You liked playing with me on your knees, didn’t you?”

With your fucked out brain, you don’t think it’s taunting what he’s doing. You deem it’s just him reveling in what he’s able to do to your body—in the fact that he owns it, that he teaches it new things. The glint in his dusky, lustful eyes proves it.

Jungkook drags a long stripe on your clit, making your eyes flutter closed and your teeth to sink into your bottom lip to cage in your moans.

“Talk to me.”

You can’t. You don’t know how to talk.

He stares you down.

No answer from you. Just hard pants. Pussy drooling.

“I won’t play with you, then.”

Panic. “No.”

He cocks a brow at you. “No?”

Silence.

He begins to lower you down but you grip his forearm.

“Jungkook.”

Bent over above you, head low, he merely flicks his eyes to yours. Duskiness, such blackening duskiness in those orbs.

“Beg.”

All your muscles tense. Wetness gushes out of you.

Lucky for you, that word he wants is the one you haven’t forgotten.

“Please.”

“Please what?”

You groan in frustration.

“Be nice or—”

“Please, lick me.”

That dark chuckle. You feel yourself becoming obsessed with it.

“Where?”

A challenge. Your throat dries up.

“There.”

He shakes his head disapprovingly, making a sound that expresses just how much he didn’t like that.

“Try again. Last chance, little girl.”

The loving smile on his face says everything about how that threat is feigned. You hear it tell you—you have as many chances as you need. He’s merely encouraging you to step out of your comfort zone.

And something about that mellow, hidden kindness gently ushers you to do just that.

“Lick my clit, please.”

A hum. A long stripe on that sensitive, thumping spot. A roll of his tongue forward and backward.

“Like this?”

You choke out a moan.

“Yes, please.”

“Or—” He blows on you, causing you to tremble. “Like this?”

He shakes his head against you briskly, not yet at a full tilt. Just like his, your body shudders in his hands and he tightens his grip on your supple hips. You can’t take it, the pleasure is overwhelming and—

“Look at me,” he orders and you open your eyes, immediately. “Like this?”

Jungkook adds more pressure and rapidness to the movement, leaving you glazed sweetly in the sheen of his saliva. He moves your hips up and down on the firmness of his tongue and you scream, taking a strong hold of his hair.

“Oh my god, yes, fuck, Daddy—”

Shocked, Jungkook groans against your pussy, slowing down to ingest what your mouth has just uttered. It’s more than natural to call him by a title like this, instinctual, innate. It fits him so well and it drenches your pussy, your slick amalgamating with his liquid love. You’re certain he feels the rush.

Your Daddy.

You roll your hips against his tongue. Dark and more dark, those eyes of his. Bottomless pit.

“Fuck yes, call me Daddy again.”

The whimpers you let out are pathetic and Jungkook shudders at them, groaning. You whine the title over and over again, a verdant, dreamlike litany of your feminine sexuality pampered, cared for, supervised. Jungkook accepts the gravity of it all, each declaration propelling him to suck your clit harder, bruises forming on your hips from his deathly grip, black eyes never leaving yours, hypnotizing you.

And when you come like this, it’s unification what happens.

You’re bound to him and he’s bound to you.

Daddy and little girl.

Throughout your sexual experience today, you had a hard time accepting things but this—this is something that slept inside of you all your life and just now has been awoken to a flickering canvas of bright stars. You feel it blink, adjust to the piercing light, before it smiles dolefully—happy to be conscious, happy to be caressed.

Jungkook kisses you and takes his time. The taste of your femininity, the fresh coldness of your change, the strong wine of his desire. You’re drunk. You’re slurring your mewls.

And one thing about unification, it’s a mirror.

You swallow down the same mewls, uttered by his throat.

“Daddy’s gonna give it to you,” he whispers, adjusting between your legs. “Will be gentle. You’re safe with me.”

He rakes the tip of his length along the entirety of your little sea-kissed seashell.

“You want it? You want Daddy’s cock inside of you?”

Jungkook looks into your eyes deeply as he asks you that question, the tip ready at your significantly smaller hole. He peppers kisses along your jawline and chin.

“I’m scared it’ll hurt,” you murmur, brows furrowed.

He kisses your cheek, the corner of your mouth.

“We’ll chase the pain away,” he promises.

Your frown deepens.

“But what if it doesn’t fit?”

You expect him to chuckle, but he does no such thing. He absorbs your worry by kissing you tenderly. Then he glances at your body. Remembers he never took off your bra and fixes his mistake.

“You may be small, but you were made to take me,” he says and your heart skips a beat; you wonder if he understands the gravity of his words as they take roots within you, rising to bloom into splendid flowers. “Besides, my dick is tiny. You won’t even feel it.”

It is so far from the truth that you burst into giggles. He laughs along with you—a mirror reflected.

Stars and flowers. Sea and freshness. You were made to take him. You trust him.

He kisses your breasts, licking over your nipple—but briefly. Holding his shaft, he asks if you’re ready. You nod, your fingers desperately searching for his and Jungkook notices. Sinking slowly inside of you, he grabs his bunny plushie and tucks her into the crook of your elbow.

There’s a pinch of pain, blended with the feeling of discomfort as your walls stretch around his head.

Seeing it painted on your face, Jungkook draws close, enveloping you and bunny in his heat. Pushes a little more in. You wail softly, the pain intensifying. Fear intermingles with your features and Jungkook—the worry in his countenance makes you almost weep.

“Hold onto me,” he says, brows scrunched, so—so serious. “Relax, baby. I got you.”

You hook your arms around his neck, bunny sandwiched between your chest and his. Jungkook saves this time to let you adjust around him.

“I know it hurts,” he whispers onto your mouth, index finger, the ringed one, stretching to graze your cheek. “Just relax your muscles for me. It’ll feel good soon.”

You nod, trusting him.

He pecks you. Smiles.

“How many orgasms are we at?”

You roll your eyes, your own smile threatening your lips. “Three.”

Jungkook hums. Pecks you again. You feel your walls loosening, little by little.

A smug smirk. “You didn’t expect that, did you?”

“You obliterated my expectations.”

“Just wait until I fuck you properly.”

You blush, eyes twinkling.

“Pretty girl.” He kisses you and you feel your attachment forming again, though this time—newly. As light, as free as an entanglement of seaweed upon seashore, you and him. Connected. Bound. No fear, not even a hint of it. “I heard you watch porn.”

Your flush deepens. Jungkook sinks a little deeper. A faint pain—nothing bad.

“Who told you?” You laugh, the sound ridding you of your shyness.

But Jungkook grows solemn.

“Tell me what kind you watch,” he whispers, angling his head to give you a tiny kiss.

Your cheeks hurt from the smiling, from the onrush of emotions within you, sloshing to and fro. You feel hot all over.

“The one where all the focus is on the girl,” you whisper back. “The guy uses all kinds of toys on her and she just takes it. Comes so many times and there’s a countdown for it.”

Humming, he begins to nibble on the skin beneath your jaw, making your breath shallow. He pushes in another inch—and the pain is worse. You tighten your grip around him.

“And how many times do you come when you watch it?” Deep, deep is his voice, the calmness to your nerves due to the pricking you feel.

“I don’t stop coming.”

Jungkook swears under his breath and clenches his digits into a fist beside your head.

“And you finger yourself?”

You nod, confidently. Another inch. He smiles at your confirmation of his deduction.

“How many fingers?”

You scoff. “Just one.”

“Well done,” he praises, kissing you once, keeping his mouth on you even as he asks, “ready?”

You nod, again, even though there’s fright to your eyes. He sees it and he brushes his eyelashes against your eyelids while he kisses you, taking it all away. And he doesn’t stop, even as he pulls out and thrusts back into your heat. Gently, so awfully gently.

He didn’t break his promise.

Jungkook rocks his hips in slow, sensual, prolonged staccatos, moaning into your parted mouth. You’re so focused on him—on the bulging of his muscles on the either side of your head, the broadness of his shoulders, the slick sweat dripping down his neck, right from the top of his tattoo; on the sheerness of his pleasure as he moves in and out, carefully so as to not frighten you, that the pain quickly subsides.

And there you feel it.

The sensation unlike any other.

He rams into you, seeing the wrinkle between your brows smoothing, the lust clouding your eyes as the delight spreads all over your body, bringing along little dots of goosebumps. The night sea, windless, still hot from the afternoon’s goodbye kiss. You feel it—and you feel it deeply, sinking inside of you with every inch of his manhood. So much that you meet his thrusts.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck yes,” Jungkook murmurs, enraging the waves within. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Being fucked?”

Stars and its light. He picks up the pace, hooking your leg over his shoulder, entering you deeper and deeper, giving you more than half. The thrill of feeling so full—you curse, you moan, you can’t hold it in, even if you tried. And Jungkook coos at your conveyance of the pleasure he’s giving you, never lifting his eyes off of yours, off of your features, your emotions. Surveying you, controlling you, making sure you’re okay—more than okay.

You sense the pressure coil deep within your core, the sense of your climax approaching and you’re astonished at how quick it is. You halt your own movements, needing—wanting him to be the one to get you there, the one who owns your orgasms.

“Gguk, Gguk, fuck—”

“I know,” he breathes. “I’m gonna make you come all over my cock.”

He fucks you harder, making you cry out. Deep, deep staccatos, so different from the slow, languid ones. You can’t catch your breath, the sea within you sloshes violently and then—

Softly, you sprinkle him with your fountain of pleasure. Not enough to drive him out, but sweetly enough to force him to groan against you and pound you harder into the mattress. Continuing as if you hadn’t come.

You don’t have the time or the space to think about what just happened—he fucks each and every thought of you.

“My little squirter,” Jungkook mutters, kissing you. “One more, baby. One more for me and I’ll paint you with my cummie. Hm, you want that?” You’re gone, flung out of this world into a tranquil island. The palm trees, the sea and his cock. Your emotions are numb, body limp. All you feel is his cock, ramming and ramming into you. “Or you wanna swallow it for me like a good girl?”

“Swallow, please,” you croak out and Jungkook makes a sound of approval. Rewards you by giving you the full thing, filling you balls-deep.

“You feel me?” He kisses you, tugging your bottom lip with his teeth.

Glorious, glorious delight. You can’t breathe. Too much.

“I feel you—” You lift your head to look down where you’re connected. “I—I feel you in my stomach.”

Sitting back, he lifts your hips and palms the bulge just a little bit above your mound. Feels it move under him once he resumes fucking you. He replaces his hand with yours, keeping you distracted as he undoes the ribbon in your hair and ties your wrists with it. Right there above the bulge, where he fucks you. Then he latches onto your hips and jackhammers his cock into you, watching as your tits along with bunny bounce with each slam.

“You look so pretty like this, tied up for me, taking all that I’m giving you,” he says, thumbing your clit, making you cry out. “Such a good fucking girl for me. I’m bringing you up so well.”

“Daddy,” you call out and Jungkook nods.

“Yes, that’s right. Daddy is fucking you so good.”

White flashes. Seafoam. The pressure in your tummy deepening and deepening. The roar of the night sea and your body following—you come all over him, painting him iridescent with your dewiness. His joggers, dragged halfway down his thighs, his boxers are all ruined—pelvis, thighs and cock glistening. It’s such a beautiful image to you that it suffuses you with energy and you begin to speak.

“Please, come for me.”

Surprised, Jungkook chuckles. “Don’t you have orgasms to count down?”

The ever persistent need for control. You kiss him, slip your tongue into his mouth to shut him up and you struggle against your ribbon, for the feeling of kissing him without your hands makes you feel iffy.

“Five. I came five times for you just like you wanted,” you whisper. “You fucked me so good. I’ll never forget it.”

And it’s the truth.

Jungkook pecks you once deeply, humming into the kiss. He pulls out of you and whilst he strokes his cock, his fingers tug down the ribbon around your wrists. You take your place on your knees, gazing with awe and hunger at his shiny length. And as if he needed it, he plunges his fingers into your mouth for more lubrication. Then, grabbing your jawline gently, he pulls you in towards his cock, letting your lips play with his tip the way you like it as he jerks himself off. You flick your tongue under the ridge of his head and his length twitches, stunning you. You do it again, more rapidly, and you don’t stop until Jungkook begins to tremble. Pulling him inside your mouth, then out, flicking faster and faster. Repeat.

Jungkook grunts.

“Yes, like that, princess. Fuck, I’m gonna come for you.”

He announces it, but it still comes as a surprise when the first rope of hot cum spills onto your flushed cheek. You suck him harder for a moment before you stick out your tongue, eyes flick up, as he empties his balls for you, his hand never ceasing the swift tug on his length.

And he just keeps coming. Rope after rope. Liquid star after star.

And you swallow it all.

Spent, sweaty and breathless, he helps you swallow it. Dragging his fingers to the places your tongue can’t reach, he feeds you his cum and you suck on his digits. Your heart thuds in your ribcage, especially when he begins to play with your tongue, smiling down at you in that dopey way.

He pats you on the cheek once you show him you’ve swallowed it all.

“Good girl. Good little princess.”

That you are. A changed person for all eternity.

“Is your tummy full?”

You nod, beaming vehemently up at him, the aftertaste of the bitterness of his liquid stars still wafting through your senses.

The three forbidden words rise in your tongue, even though you don’t believe them—you think it’s just the opulence of new emotions and experience that forces those words on your tongue. But they remain adamant when he bathes you clean, when he brushes your hair and gives you his clothes to wear to bed. They provoke you right there on the tip of your tongue when he gives you his zipper hoodie to wear on his balcony once you tell him you need a smoke and he joins you, giving you his pack of cigarettes.

And they come off the edge, in a different form, when you tell him of how he changed you while you hold his hand and he caresses your damp strands with a cigarette propped between his index and middle fingers, kissing your cheek. The smoke fixes a makeshift halo around both of your heads. One body, one halo. Bound.

“You’re such a lovable person, Gguk.”

What you don’t know is that those mere words changed the entire trajectory of his life. Yours, too.

BACK to masterlist / read part one, read part two, part three

#jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #btscreatorscorner #kpop smut #jungkook one shot

3K notes · View notes

mirohlayo · 1 month

Text

YOU STOLE IT

( what happens when lando reunites with the girl who stole his first kiss ? )

warning : a bit of jealousy, fluff, lot of fluff

note : i love this okay. i won't write a part 2 so no requests please !!

word count : 4.9k

Lando hasn't always been very lucky in love. While he separated from a failed romantic relationship, he now finds himself alone, surrounded by his friends who are experiencing their perfect love, alongside their soulmates.

This doesn't bother him that much, since he himself admitted preferring to concentrate on his sporting career and thus become one of the best F1 drivers. No girlfriend yet.

But when he has to endure all day long the sweet words that other drivers address to their lovers, when he himself can feel love in the air, it becomes difficult not to think about starting a new chapter, this time here happy and healthy. A chapter that will fill him with happiness, as he has never been before.

Is this decision of not having enough time to find a girlfriend in order to concentrate on sport actually an excuse to hide the pain and despair that is gradually beginning to nestle in his heart?

He tries as best he can to reassure himself, to convince himself that he doesn't need this feeling of being completely in love and devoted to a girl. But when he continues to be the third wheel among the couples his friends form, he comes to desire a relationship more than anything else.

And every time, he can't help but think of this girl. This pretty girl he met during his summer vacation when he was 16. She was divinely beautiful, her shy but bubbly personality made Lando's heart capsize in a unique way, his whole being was alarmed just by hearing her name.

They both had a wonderful vacation, just the two of them together. During these two summer months, they did not let go of each other, spending every day alongside each other. They had become so close and complicit that they proclaimed themselves best friends from their first meeting during a kart race where Lando was racing for his life.

And since that day, they both developed deep feelings for each other. At first it was innocent. And it still is, in fact. They just thought it was a deep friendly connection, that they were just friendly soulmates. That those little stolen smiles and tactile touches were just childish, and just affectionate.

But it turned out that his feelings were ultimately more than that. More than just a friendly relationship. Lando found himself falling in love with you so hard, so passionately that he regretted not asking for your number when you two suddenly said goodbye.

You were his first love. And you still are. He thought that with time, you would eventually slip out of his head, that he would eventually forget you and move on, that it was just a big embarrassing crush from his youth but that he wouldn't think about it anymore growing up.

But that is absolutely not the case. He hasn't stopped thinking about you for 8 years. Every day, even before going to sleep, the only person he thinks about is you, that little girl he was madly in love with before.

He knows it, he maybe denies it a little, but deep down he realizes that he still has feelings for you. Perhaps less intense, less ardent, but there is no doubt that his romantic feelings will double in strength if he meets you again one day.

Of course, the old relationships, flirts, that he had before were sincere and true. He liked these few girls, that he was even happy in his last relationship. But for all that, it was by stopping this relationship and these flirts that he realized that everything brought him back to you. No matter what girl he meets, the only one who will forever remain deeply anchored in his heart is you.

He knows now that you two were more than friendly soulmates. Well, at least from his point of view. He was absolutely unsure about your feelings, which is why during these summer vacations, he preferred not to tell you anything for fear of destroying such a pure and important friendship in his eyes.

But again, he finds himself thinking about you, about how everything would be different with you. It was by going through all these different relationships with girls that he understood that he had never felt anything as powerful as with you. All these girls don't give him even a quarter of what he felt for you back then. So, how will this feeling change when he has the opportunity to meet you again?

The warm air of Saudi Arabia blows gently through the driver's curly hair. Free practice will begin in a few hours now, so Lando is using this time cooped up in the garage, surrounded by his teammate and his racing team, to discuss about the car.

“Hello Oscar!!” Lando's teammate is welcomed by his girlfriend, Lily, who smiles lovingly at him. The interview with the team is over, and she took the opportunity to spend some time with her boyfriend Oscar. The second driver comes to wrap his arms around his lover, before pressing a kiss to her forehead. Lando scoffs and rolls his eyes exaggeratedly. “Can you do this in private please? In addition to be the third wheel, I have nausea coming on.”

Oscar mocks his teammate, still holding Lily tightly in his arms. “Mate, it’s not my fault you’re a failure in love.” The Brit stops himself from hitting him, before putting on his McLaren cap. “Need I remind you that I’ve been in a relationship before?” He says to him with a completely proud look. “Couple who ended up in a failure, by the way.” He remarks, pointing at him.

“I really loved her…” The curly pauses. “It’s just that there is someone who- no, nothing, forget what I've said” He grumbles and withdraws into himself. Oscar frowns, Lily now concerned about the situation. “What?” She questions him gently.

Lando refuses to face this situation and simply shrugs his shoulders and ends up running away to join Zack further away. He can't say more, he can't talk about this girl who obsesses him. The two lovers look at each other confused by the British's behavior.

Zack smiled as he saw Lando walking towards him. “Are you already tired of feeling love in the air?” He says in order to tease him, which works. “Stop with that, I don’t care if I’m in a relationship or not.” What a lie. Zack knows his driver is lying, but he doesn't bother him more than that, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

“So, how are things going at Ferrari?” Lando asks to quickly change the subject, not wanting to face another charade about his catastrophic dating situation. The two men then turn towards the Ferrari garage, where they can see the two drivers and the mechanics. "They look like they have a really good car, that's all I can tell you. But that doesn't mean-"

But it's too late, the British Mclaren driver no longer listens to his boss. As the Ferrari mechanics and strategists set to work, he saw among this small crowd Charles alongside a girl. At first glance, he thought it was his girlfriend. But upon closer observation, the woman, who is facing away, has a little shorter hair and is smaller in stature. And her hair color reminds him of her.

The girl he's been hopelessly in love with for 8 years now. But it can't be real, right? Why would you be here at the free practice sessions, and even more so accompanied by Charles Leclerc? His eyes must surely be hallucinating. But that silhouette from behind reminds him so much of you. But he tries to reassure himself. Or rather convince himself that there are so many brown girls in the paddock that he has confused you with someone else.

“Are you still listening to me or not?” Zack's serious voice rang in his ears. "Uh, yeah, sorry..." "You must need some time alone, I think" A mocking but concerned smile takes its place on Zack's face. “Yes, I think I need a little rest, excuse me” Lando smiles at him with difficulty before his boss goes further away.

The driver takes a deep breath. He can't help but look away at Charles and that girl. The more he looks, the more he feels like he's going back 8 years and seeing the girl he loves in front of him. He needs to know. He needs to be reassured and to be sure if this girl is really you.

And as if fate had heard it, the woman disappears from the garage, and seems to be heading to the paddock. So the British guy doesn't miss this chance and almost runs behind her to follow her. A few people give him confused and questioning looks, but he continues to pursue this dark-haired woman who hypnotizes him.

As he gets closer to you, his heart beats harder and harder. He feels like he's going to burst out of his chest and this feeling of stress eating away at him makes him want to vomit. Because he is realizing that he may have found his first love again. His eternal childhood crush.

That all those nights lost looking for you on social medias, trying to find your account and reconnect with you may not have been in vain. That all those nights lost thinking about you for a long time before falling asleep may not have been wasted in vain. That all these memories of you that he replays in his head finally make sense.

So, he goes for it without a second’s hesitation. "Excuse me ?" He speaks a little hesitantly, afraid of ending up with a woman who doesn't know him. But when the girl turns around, her brown hair flowing in the air, her eyes meeting his, Lando's heart skips several beats.

He finally found you.

The look of shock and surprise on your face mirrors Lando’s perfectly. Neither of you knows how to react, so you stay stuck like this for what seems like an eternity. But it is during this moment that the air suddenly seems changed. As if a connection, which once existed, was finally present again. As if an invisible link had finally reconnected between you, and united you for eternity. This change in atmosphere makes Lando's heart beat a little harder.

It seems unreal. So unreal that he thinks he's dreaming for a moment. For years, he never stopped thinking about you. To wonder what had become of you, what you looked like. And here you are now in front of him, more radiant than ever. This supernatural trance finally breaks when you decide to speak.

"Lando?!...Lando!!" You can't help but smile with all your teeth, a smile so sincere and strong. And oh God he suffered so much for the last eight years without being able to admire your magnificent smile. He adores it so much that he dreams of framing it in his memory forever. He knows how weak he becomes every time he gets the chance to admire your smile.

He can't help the big smile that comes over him as well. He feels so many emotions inside him that he feels like he's going to explode with happiness. "Y/n! Oh it's really you, I can't believe it!!" He can't even hide his joy and excitement, which makes you smile more, although it already seems impossible considering your cheeks already tired from just smiling.

“Me either, I feel like I’m in a dream” You admit, still a little surprised. “I didn’t think you were going to recognize me to be honest” You tell him, trying to contain your bomb of joy. “How could I not recognize you, when you are literally the most precious person to me?”

This simple sentence makes you blush violently, as you try to hide your embarrassment. “Uh- well it’s been 8 years since we last saw each other, so I doubt I’m still your favorite person” You laugh sweetly, and the sweet sound melts his heart. “So don’t doubt anymore, because you really are y/n” He addresses these few words to you while looking into yours.

And that's when he realizes how much you've changed. But changed in an incredibly beautiful way. You have kept this divine beauty which never fails to take his breath away. Your sweet facial features, that beautiful smile that he can't help but be obsessed with, and just simply your face that he could gaze at for hours and hours without ever getting tired of it.

You were already very beautiful when you were younger, when you were teenagers. But now you are infinitely more magnificent and resplendent. You look much more mature, and much more feminine. He has the impression of seeing an angel, a goddess before him. And that too has not changed, you remain for him the most beautiful woman he has ever met in his entire life.

The same goes for you. He's grown up so much, he's no longer the immature but adorable little Lando you loved so much before. Now he's a real man. He is more muscular, more virile but above all he has retained this eternal beauty and attractiveness. His beard makes him look a lot older too.

And then his hair. You teased him back then because he had trouble combing his hair. But these beautiful silky and shiny curls make you want and want to play with them, to caress them until they are messy enough for you to style them again.

“I see that my karting races have brought you to the wonderful world of Formula 1” The driver then says in order to hide the fact that he has been gazing at you for a few minutes now. You chuckle, before nodding. “Yeah, it must be said that a certain Lando Norris passed on his passion for motorsport to me” He lets out a little embarrassed laugh before turning his attention back to you.

"But Lando Norris was replaced by his opponent apparently. Bad luck." Lando's eyes land on the monegasque Ferrari driver who joins the conversation, right next to you. His tone turns colder as he stares at Charles. He can't help but feel a pang - or rather a big pang - of jealousy at the idea that you potentially replaced him with the monegasque driver.

Maybe your heart finally fell for Charles? Maybe in the end you always preferred him. He can't get these assumptions out of his head, because they haunt him now and just thinking about them makes him even more jealous. How come you're as close to Charles as you once were to Lando?

"Wow, what a reunion! Y/n told me how you were best friends before" Charles smiles kindly, and Lando seems surprised by his words. “Did she really tell you?” He asks suddenly. You clear your throat, embarrassed by what you told your friend about your relationship with the Brit.

"Yes, she told me so many things about you. That you were her favorite boy - and still are, that she loved spending time with you so much, that she really found you adorable and cute-” “Hey shut up!!” You beg Charles, placing the palm of your hand over his mouth.

Lando feels himself blush violently upon hearing Charles' words. Is this really true? “Do you think I’m cute ?” He teases you gently, but you feel even more embarrassed that you end up pressing your hands to your cheeks to hide the already terribly apparent red color.

"And that's not all, I still forgot lots and lots of things... anyway, I'll leave you, work awaits me again" Charles ends up patting the Mclaren driver on the shoulder, before to give you a smile and walk away.

A silence falls for a moment. The atmosphere has suddenly changed, it's more tense. But tense because you now know that a more than ambiguous and friendly feeling has settled between you. Tension paralyzes you as you fight the urge to jump into each other's arms.

Lando finally clears his throat before looking into your beautiful eyes. “How did you meet Charles?” “I’m a friend of his girlfriend, and she introduced us.” You respond simply, staring at him intently. Until you notice that his eyes no longer support your gaze but attack your lips.

It makes you think of that moment. And it makes him think of that moment too.

He stared intently at your pink lips. He wonders if he can. If he has the right. If he can taste them again. To move his lips on yours, to see if they are as soft as they seem.

To relive this moment. This moment, which is undoubtedly the most beautiful of his memories, and even more the most beautiful day of his life.

England was probably now one of your favorite destinations. Maybe because you found your confidant there, your best friend, this boy as adorable as he was immature who dreamed of being a Formula 1 driver. But all good things come to an end, and you already knew that destiny had to separate your paths. That these two months of vacation spent alongside Lando will only be distant but happy memories of your adolescence, and that you will perhaps end up watching him race on TV, being only a spectator and no longer his childhood best friend.

Lando knew it too. He knew that you had to return to your homeland, because after all England was only the destination your parents had chosen for the summer holidays. But his heart was breaking, suffocating at the idea of letting you go, when he had just accepted the fact that you were for him, potentially the woman of his life. You couldn't suppress the feeling of apprehension and sadness, as each minute that passed reminded you of how much time you would miss, passing by at a crazy speed.

Sitting on large rocks on the beach, you both admired the beautiful sunset that was falling on this last day of vacation. Tomorrow, a new chapter would begin. So you wanted to fully enjoy your last moments with your secret lover, because you might never meet him again. Silence reigned, peacefully, while the sound of the insolent waves lulled your ears with a bitter melody. You hoped you could slow down time, or rather extend it, because he seemed so stingy and selfish about giving you a little more to even exchange your unspoken thoughts.

Suddenly, you felt the boy's gaze on you, a gaze so intense that you had to turn your head away to look at him the same way. A mischievous smile appeared on his thin lips, as he opened his mouth to say a few words to you. “You promised me a gift if I won my kart race. I’m still waiting for it, Y/n.” His eyes filled with mischief and impatience, as you remembered the promise you had made to him. He had won his karting race earlier in the day, and you had promised him a gift if he managed to win it. However, you didn't think it would be so easy, since you had secretly chosen a rather... surprising gift.

A kiss. Not on his cheek, his forehead, or even his temple. No, it was more than just a childish, awkward kiss. A real, quick kiss on his lips. You thought about it because, although you sincerely believed in Lando's phenomenal abilities, you didn't think he would end up on the top step of the podium so easily and quickly. And now you're in trouble. Lando continues to stare at you mischievously, still impatient to discover your precious gift. Your brain was no longer able to function, your heart was speeding up. Did you really have to go for it? Take the plunge and place your lips on his?

Lando's impatience and waiting were more evident, while you were still panicking inside. And then, that's when you understood. That there was only him in your heart, and that there was only one chance. Only one life to live it to the fullest, without regretting anything. That worst case scenario, you'll go home the next day, forgetting this stupid promise and action. That in the end, this vacation, this boy, and this kiss, will remain engraved as the most beautiful adolescent chapter of your life, and that you will remember it with full joy and nostalgia.

Then the next second, Lando was surprised to feel a pair of lips on his. The kiss only lasted a short second, yet long enough for him to feel a bunch of different emotions. His heart felt like it was stopping, just as his brain was trying to properly process what had just happened. A powerful, strange but sweet feeling came over the young British man. He had just received his first kiss, and even more so from the girl he loved desperately. As you pulled back to look into his eyes, his looked back at you, confused. But because he understood.

He understood that this was love. That he was destined to remain faithful to you, for the rest of his life, because that kiss was the promise that his heart would belong to you forever.

It's been a little over a week now since you and Lando got together. And these last few days have been filled with nostalgia, reunions and above all strong and intense emotions. After the Jeddah race, Lando asked you to spend time together. Finally, he secretly wanted to insinuate that he wanted to spend every minute of his time by your side. Like before, like eight years ago.

He had finally found his childhood crush, the woman he considered the love of his life, and so he wasn't going to let her escape so easily. Especially since this reunion made him rekindle these deep feelings that he had not lost, but balked at because he had come to the conclusion that he will never find you again. However, talking to you again, spending time with you made him feel the love he had for you, but so much more intense, so much stronger and more powerful.

He's never felt like this before with any other girl, he's never seen himself in this state. Completely and obsessively in love, desperate to receive your attention and stay with you. Finding you was a sentimental blow to him, while he found himself lost forever in your heart. Finding you sealed his heart in your hands for eternity.

“It was a great day.” You hasten to say as a pretty smile takes place on your face. The driver looks at you lovingly, as he nods his head in approval. “Especially when I beat you at karting. It was the best moment of the day” He teases you and you stare at him. "I drove into the barrier because you hit my kart with yours. It doesn't count" You try to defend yourself.

“It doesn’t matter, I still won.” He adds as you sit side by side on the warm sand of the beach. “Still as narcissistic as back then” You roll your eyes but don’t hide that teasing smile on your face. “Still the same Lando Norris that you loved so much” He adds, his eyes scanning the horizon in the distance.

You swallow with difficulty, a lump in your throat. “Loved uh…” You whisper to yourself. Raising your head, you are greeted by the sunset. A pretty sunset, the same one that accompanied you on that last day of vacation eight years ago. You can't help but feel this feeling of nostalgia, of happiness.

It's exactly the same pretty frame, and the same boy by your side. It reminds you so much of that beautiful day long ago. Your heart warms at the thought. You finally found the man you love so much, and you couldn't be happier than right now.

The waves play the same melody, but this time the melody is more beautiful. Brighter and strangely romantic. As you gaze at the clouds in the distance, you feel Lando's intense gaze on you. Exactly the same look he gave you back then. Then, as if you were rehearsing the same scene, like a play that you are performing to perfection, you turn around to lock your gaze with his.

And there, that famous mischievous smile takes over his lips. Eight years later, he has the same look, this smile that changed everything. "You forgot your promise again, like back then. I'm still waiting for it, y/n" His words hit you like a bomb. Because they are exactly the same ones he said to you the day you made that stupid promise to him. This stupid gift.

And as if you weren't stupid enough, you secretly thought of the same gift. You internally promised yourself that you would give him the same kiss if he managed to beat you in karting. And he did it, as if he had put all his soul into the race to deserve this surprise gift from you. You feel helpless as the same panic takes hold of you. Everything seems so unreal. This sweet memory will finally happen again.

You see his eyes drop to your lips for a split second. But it's that split second that changes everything about you. Now you know it's for life. That you found the boy of your heart, that you will never leave him again, even if he doesn't feel the same way as you. That you only have one life to regret nothing, and this childhood kiss you have never regretted. So you never want to regret it.

You smile shyly, and without him being able to do anything, you crash your lips onto his. Lando's eyes widen, but he finally realizes what's happening. And he doesn't wait any longer to move his lips to yours. But this time the kiss is totally different. It is no longer innocent and shy like it used to be. It's no longer a little kiss between two teenagers who promised each other a gift.

No, this time it's much more romantic. More intense, deep and passionate. It's so comforting and sweet. This kiss is the fruit of the unconditional love he feels for you. So, he continues to deepen the kiss, his hand delicately cupping your cheek while his arm comes around your waist.

He licks your bottom lip with his tongue before nibbling it gently, letting you completely devote yourself to him. He continues to kiss you passionately, but yet it's not vulgar or crude. It's a soft and pleasant kiss, where only love is exchanged between your lips.

You finally broke the kiss by pulling back, a shy smile matching your pink cheeks perfectly. He opens his eyes, a silly smile on his lips before quickly pecking your lips again. You stay like that for a moment, admiring each other for a long time, love in your eyes.

"I'm so fucking in love with you, baby. Not since yesterday, not since last week, no. Since ages ago, for so long that I've stopped counting." You smile at him tenderly, your cheeks still pink. "Me too, Lando. I've loved you since we first met."

He smiles wider as his arms pull you a little closer to him. "You know, you're the girl who stole my first kiss. And you're also the only girl who managed to steal my heart. My heart has been yours for eight years, since the very moment you took me kissed." You can’t help but giggle, which melts Lando’s heart. “I thought you stopped counting.” He scratches the back of his neck, somewhat embarrassed. “Let’s just say I kept counting because I was desperate to know when I was going to find the woman I love.”

In the meantime he leaned over you, until you were lying on the soft sand. “Every day you were gone was like a bullet in my chest.” “What a romantic, I’m almost going to get emotional” You tease, a mocking laugh coming from you. “Still as teasing as before” He adds, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"For eight years, you were the only girl who never stopped staying anchored in my thoughts. From our first kiss, my heart already belonged to you, and it will continue to be yours for the rest of my life. I never wanted any other girl but you, and I waited so long for you that I'll never let you go. I love you so much, sweetheart” His words warm your heart, as you gently caress his face with your thumbs. “I’m completely in love with you too, Lan.” And in these last words, he rushes to kiss you again.

You feel like eight years ago, like the two idiots in love who stole their first kiss. Nothing has changed except the reality that reminds you that your love is bound for eternity, and that it will continue to exist because it is deeper and more passionate every day. That this is the present moment, and that your hearts are finally filled with happiness to have been able to find their other half, after so many years of desperately continuing to live without the presence of the other.

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #ln4 imagine #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic

1K notes · View notes

anantaru · 5 months

Note

hi yoru! for a thirst, can we get a wriothesley + saying the safe word? im a big fan of your alhaitham one <3 ty and ily :))

cw. saying the safe-word, a little angsty, fem! reader

through wriothesley's matchless pair of eyes, you appear to look like you had been just drugged outside topping delight— with his warm hands, two large and rough palms, setting a delicious flow with deep and precise thrusts into your sensitivity, crowding you so effortlessly well and reaching all deep in your drenched cunt.

evidently enough, you got him quite needy and riled up tonight, a yearning want that couldn't be quelled, despite the usual serene and collected man keeping his cool almost a little too well in any other circumstances that he might encounter.

while now— wriothesley certainly ruts faster inside of you and suffocates any mere possibility of breathing room from you, sighing indulgently into his chest when your hole constricts around his shaft like you're made for him as his silken hair lingers on his dampened forehead— your body squirming at the precise pumps that never failed to hit your twitching parts, even more turn your eyes criss-crossed and have your back arch like a bow, until wriothesley finished mounting you with all the pleasure and to be extraordinarily pleased, bursting with the pressure pressing into your cunt.

because wriothesley fucks you like he loves you more than anything else in his life, and he kisses you through searing lips that you simply cannot find a moment to catch your breath as he forcibly digs his fingers into the plush of your ass, ramming the head of his cock straight against the deepest parts he so possibly can reach— and in any other case, you certainly welcomed it whenever your boyfriend would be rough with you, manhandle you and practically flip you left and right across the mattress until the delicious pleasure was throbbing and vibrating all through the expanse of your soft walls.

but tonight— oh tonight, for some reason it was beginning to hurt you deeply, in a way that ached your thighs when you attempted to part them a little more, and it made it difficult to even gulp down the budding saliva in your throat when he tosses his entire weight against your trembling figure.

from the get go, you tap against his back but such was falling deaf almost immediately when he groans at the way you were clenching down, choked cries greeting him from underneath as your liquids messily drip all over his shaft, your eyes now tear stricken as you take his blows through broken moans, wriothesley's grip on you becoming stronger, harder and much more difficult to endure.

the duke looks down on you when he watches in horror the split second you sob out the safe word he was certain, he would never hear from you, ever— and by now, the wetness of your eyes had conquered his chest and stained his skin, the pain not only furious in between your thighs, but bending his heart out of shape at the boiling vision of his most loved one in obvious agony.

because of him.

"swe-sweetheart?" he pulls away immediately, his dripping cock parting from your hole with a lewd string continuously connecting the two of you as you roll over and arch your legs so you could hug your knees, your heart beating faster as did his. the duke sighs deeply into his chest before removing any pillows on the bed that might become bothersome, so you could properly breathe again at least, most importantly recover from something he had placed on you.

you wanted to, really intended to tell him that such mistakes can obviously happen and that it wasn't his fault— in truth, you were feeling embarrassed that you "couldn't take him like he wanted you to," but the second you grasped on to enough air in order to spell those wrong words out to him, wriothesley drapes one fluffy blanket over the lower side of your body while leaving your chest bare, so you would have no trouble in remaining an even breather as he tells you that it wasn't your fault.

"i'm so sorry, please.." his sweat stained skin reddens under the dim lights of the bedroom as you place your palm against his hand, "this shouldn't have happened, i am so sorry," he continues is distress, a faint outline of tears lingering across his eyes as they shine above you, "i promise, this won't happen again."

"i won't let it get to this point, ever again,"

you sniffle before messily brushing away a sliding tear from your cheek, "can you hold me?" you whisper to him, your torn pleas almost dissolving on your tongue as you utter it out to him at last, his body moving before his mind can even process your words as he snuggles you against his broad chest and makes you listen to his rapid heart beats, his chin resting against your head when he pulls the blanket over the both of you now—one large hand always soothly motioning heart shapes on your quivering hip.

from wriothesley's judgement, your body, your soul and everything in regards of you was truly angelic and out of this world, because you were the sun that lit up his entire life and every time he would see you smile, his heart melts and so does he, get weak in the knees whenever he thinks of your beauty, and to even attempt to describe it would be an insult in its own, because it goes beyond that, truly.

and now, wriothesley was at loss of words as guilt scatters into his bones and limbs, and every time he attempted to say something, nothing came out, so instead he made it his unwavering duty to be there, at least fulfill whatever you wanted to do, as long as you can one day forgive him for this sin.

#genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley smut

1K notes · View notes

ghostandsoap · 1 year

Text

Call Signs

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem! “Gecko” Reader (Ft. John “Soap” MacTavish)

Tags: Angst. Gunshot wound. Blood loss. Shock. Hypothermia. Major injury. Mentions of death.

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: So I’m not totally sure how accurate some of this is. Also, I’m not sure if parts of this are canon? Read with caution LOL.

“Stay where you are. I’m on my way.”

⋆˙⟡ ♡⋆˙⟡

Military call signs. Clever, crafty, and specific to the person they’re associated with.

There was one main, golden rule when it came to call signs: don’t complain about your own call sign, or else they’ll give you something worse.

Yours wasn’t exactly one that you were thrilled with in the beginning. It wasn’t as badass as you would’ve liked. If you had been given the opportunity to choose, you would’ve chosen something a little more…tough. But once the name stuck, you were stuck with it. You didn’t dare let even a single word of distaste fall from your mouth. If anybody caught wind of you complaining about it, they’d give you something to really complain about.

Over the years, you had heard some good ones — some more creative than others. Depending on the person, sometimes it was easy to tell the reason behind their given name — other times, not so much. You had some friends that you still didn’t know the reason why they were given their call sign.

For example, Soap was just Soap.

In the time that you had known him, you had begged Soap to tell you where his call sign came from. You had even rattled and poked at Captain Price a bit to get him to give it up. But both of them always gave you the same answer.

It’s classified.

With that answer, you refused to tell anyone the reason behind your own call sign. If they weren’t going to tell you about theirs, then you weren’t telling them about yours. It was only fair, you weren’t telling anybody. Nobody knew.

Well…nobody except–

“Gecko. This is Ghost. How copy?” The syrupy-thick voice seeped through your ear that was still ringing from gunfire.

You were cold – miserably cold. You were chilled all the way to the bone to the point where your skin was numb to the touch. The sound of rain registered with you. The sky was pouring buckets, which explained why you were so freezing. There was no telling how long you had been passed out and exposed to the elements. Not a single part of you was dry, despite all your layers underneath and over.

There was pain somewhere. Your groggy state made it difficult to figure out exactly where you were hurt. To be honest, it hurt just about everywhere. A searing sensation settled in your side, but it was migrating all over. Based on the large red spot leaking through that area, you had a really good idea then of what it was.

“Gecko, do you copy?” Another voice spoke that you knew to belong to Soap.

His voice sounded a million miles away, even though it was literally right in your ear. When your eyes opened, you were eye-level with the ground. You were met with a harsh pavement underneath you, muscles trembling with exhaustion and low temperatures. It took a few seconds for your vision to clear, and it took even more effort for you to raise yourself up even to make it onto your elbows.

When you were able to take a glance around, it wasn’t any less unsettling. The slick streets of Las Almas weren’t very pleasant in the dead of night. Even worse, you didn’t know where Soap and Ghost were.

It all came flooding back to you. Graves turned on the team. He tried to kill all of you. You, Ghost, and Soap managed to split up and narrowly escape. It was chaos, the kind that shaved about 15 years off of your life.

“C’mon. Where are you, Gecko?” Ghost asked in an aggravated, yet worried way.

His question was more out loud and to himself more than anything, but it occurred to you that it probably would be nice for him to hear you.

“I’m here,” You groaned, throat dry and scratchy. “Just barely.”

“Oh shit. You’re alive!” Soap replied, and you swear you could feel Ghost relax from wherever he was.

“What’s your status?” Ghost demanded.

You were not telling Ghost that you were hurt if you could help it. It was certainly against protocol, but you didn’t need Ghost getting all worked up when the three of you needed to find one another and get the hell out of there. You knew how he could get whenever you were hurt.

“Where are you both?” You rolled onto your knees, ungracefully managing to get on your feet.

You felt any and all blood rush from your face, an overwhelming feeling of nausea taking over your stomach. The bleeding in your side was definitely a problem. You stripped your outer jacket off, wrapping it around your waist and tying it as tight as you could possibly stand it. It wasn’t like the jacket was useful any other way, considering it was soaked.

“No fuckin’ idea. I’m in and out of these shops,” Soap grumbled. “I’m soakin’ wet.”

“Me too,” You managed to laugh, but it came out as more of a struggled exhale. “Ghost, what’s your location?”

“The church. Soap’s finding his way here,” Ghost said. “What’s your status, Gecko?”

You knew he’d ask again. He always knew when you had dodged a question.

“Just a little rattled,” You lied. “Where’s the church?”

“It’s in the square. Navigate through the shops, they’ll lead you there,” Soap said. “Stay sharp. Shadows are everywhere.”

Survival mode has kicked in for you. You had one objective.

Find Ghost. Don’t get killed.

“Will do. Ghost, I’m coming to you.” You announced, beginning to take the first few steps to get yourself moving.

There was a brief moment of silence before he answered – and he gave an answer that you knew had Soap raising a brow.

“Please be safe.”

A shudder vibrated down your back, and it wasn’t from the bitter cold rain.

Being involved with Ghost was…complicated. It was a forbidden love in a lot of ways. There was a certain disapproval when it came to 2 members dating within the force. It caused drama sometimes, tension other times. Not to mention, it would be painfully awkward for everybody else if the two of you were to break up.

But the connection was undeniable. It astounded you just how in touch you felt with him. He did everything he could to protect you, to make you feel safe in an otherwise dangerous world. He spent every spare moment with you. He spilled all of his most pressing thoughts to you, knowing his words of vulnerability were safe with you. Talking to him was easy, spending time with him was easier.

Loving him was easiest of all.

Despite your likeness toward each other, it was a mutual understanding that no one was to know. Ghost didn’t fancy all the teasing, and you wanted at least one part of your life to be private. In front of others, you were Gecko and Ghost. When alone, you were Simon and [Y/N].

In a lot of ways, the secretive aspect of it was fun. You liked sneaking around with Ghost in the late hours of the night, tip-toeing around sleeping comrades in an attempt at a moment to yourselves. The nonchalant glances…the discreet, yet lingering touches…the whispers of words of affection. It was all something you couldn’t help but get a kick out of. Anybody in their right mind would find it even a little bit entertaining.

But in all honesty, suspicions from the rest were becoming more and more.

Price had known immediately. Not even three days after you and Simon decided to give it a try, he could sense that something was different. He couldn’t really explain it. He could just see it in Ghost’s behavior that he was preoccupied with something…someone else. Something that had been sprouting for a long time was now beginning to blossom in front of the captain’s very eyes. Price was a respectful man. He wasn’t one to get in the way of something that wasn’t his business. He kept an eye on the situation here and there, more for a status update than anything.

It took Gaz about four months. He suspected nothing in the beginning. He managed to miss all the signs at first. Who could blame him? He didn’t know he was supposed to even be looking for them. He didn’t catch any real changes in behavior or attitude. In all honesty, if he hadn’t witnessed it with his very eyes – he might’ve never known. It had been a quick gesture. So quick that Gaz might’ve been able to convince himself that he was mistaken if it hadn’t been so blatantly clear.

Gaz had passed by a bit quicker than he normally would, catching a quick glimpse inside the room he hadn’t planned on entering. What he saw was a kiss being planted on the cheek of Ghost’s mask, and a light laugh from the man as you did so. Gaz had stopped dead in his tracks, stunned at what he had seen. He was tempted to turn around and question you, but he knew better. Gaz figured if he hadn’t been told outright, then it probably wasn’t for him to know. He kept it in the back of his mind, however, and after that, he began noticing everything.

And as for Soap, the poor lad had yet to connect the dots. He had heard some chatter here and there about Gecko and Ghost “getting it on.” Soap didn’t believe it. He hadn’t seen it or heard it for himself, so in his mind, the rumors were null. That didn’t mean that Soap didn’t like the idea of his lieutenant and one of his closest friends seeing each other. He entertained the thought here and there. He supposed that Gecko and Ghost had a nice ring to it, and it was something that he liked to snicker about. Overall, Soap didn’t think about it too much. There was no way that “LT” and the infamous Gecko were together. Almost a year into it, and John MacTavish was oblivious.

It hadn’t taken you long to develop feelings for Ghost. Suddenly, you were worried about where he was and him getting hurt more often than not. This was one hell of a career to be in when you were an anxious worrier. This job had changed for you. Before, there was no fear of living or dying. It was just you. It was all you. But when there was someone else in the cards?

That changed things. That really changed things.

That seemed to be the only fight that you and Ghost ever had. It was always the same one. One of you fell ill or became injured, it was due to defying an order, the other was scared to death that something worse could’ve happened, and most of all – you both wished that the other would be more careful.

“Careful” was a funny word in this business. No matter how careful you were, that didn’t automatically make you safe.

Roaming the streets of Las Almas while lethargic, unarmed, and bleeding was a definite reminder of that. You followed Soap’s advice, weaving in and out of the stores and getting whatever supplies you could get your hands on. A homemade weapon was better than no weapon, in your mind. Avoiding any and all Shadows was your main goal. There was no chance of you getting out of that alive, if this bullet lodged in your side didn’t kill you first. You hoped that Soap had made it to the church by now. It made you feel better to know that they were together.

The rain showed no signs of letting up anytime soon. You figured it was fine. It wasn’t like you could get any more wet than you already were. It at least made enough noise to conceal your footsteps, which you didn’t have much control over due to the splitting pain in your core.

You just had to get to the church. Get to the church, get out of here, and get patched up. You’d be fine. You’d survived worse. You weren’t going to-

There was a flash of white over your vision. While brief, it was enough to startle you to a complete halt. You staggered out of the coffee shop, leaning against the back door for support. This was bad. This was really bad.

“Ghost…” You squeaked.

Breathing suddenly became overly difficult. Every gulp of air was a struggle to get the next one. There was a significant wobble in your knees as you stumbled into the nearest alley for cover, knowing your legs were close to giving out. It was notably colder in the space between the two buildings, but the feeling of your soul being slowly sucked back into the universe made that seem minor.

“Talk to me. Where are you?” Ghost asked.

That was when you collapsed, landing on the wet ground with a thud. A whimper escaped from your throat at the impact. Clutching your wounded side was all you knew to do. Your jacket used as a makeshift way of putting pressure on it was proving ineffective.

“The alleyway,” You strained. “Left of the coffee shop.”

Ghost and Soap both heard the trouble in your voice. Ghost had only heard that tone once before — and it was when something was really, really wrong.

“What’s your status now?” Soap questioned.

Lying was no good to you now. They were going to know one way or the other.

“I’m down,” You swallowed. “Must’ve been hit at some point when we got away.”

There was no way you were making it to the church. You were as good as gone as long as there was still a bullet in your torso. Bleeding out in the streets of a run-down town in Mexico wasn’t how you had envisioned going out. That was a conversation you had held with Soap more than once. Everybody had their preferred way of dying. You had always hoped that you’d meet your demise in a more memorable way. Maybe in a missile explosion or getting ejected from a helicopter in a hot pursuit.

Dying alone was the part and the possibility that always scared you the most.

This wasn’t what you had in mind. Bleeding to death by yourself in an alleyway in the middle of a run-down town in Mexico wasn’t what you had wished for. You knew the day would come…and the day had finally come.

But not if Ghost could help it.

“I’m coming to get you, Gecko. Don’t move,” Ghost remarked sternly, and you could hear that he was on the move. “Soap, we’ll meet you at the church.”

“Copy.” Soap confirmed.

“N-no,” You coughed. “Ghost, don’t leave your location if you’re secure.”

“None of us are secure. I’m not leaving you,” Ghost said sternly. “Stay where you are. I’m on my way.”

Arguing with Ghost was usually a lost cause. When Ghost was set on something, he was surely going to stick with it. It was a waiting game now, and it was one of the most helpless feelings to know that you were relying on somebody else to save your ass. You knew that Ghost would be there in half the time that it probably should’ve taken him, but when you’re dying, the minutes feel like eternity.

This wasn’t the first time that you had been in situations like this. Everybody had their fair shares of “I almost died” stories. But this was different for you. This was the closest you had ever been to not living to tell this story.

Panicking was most definitely not the way to handle this situation. Very rarely was panicking ever helpful in a dire, critical scenario like this. It was the most eerie feeling – literally feeling yourself dying. The blood loss was becoming less, but only because you were running out of blood to lose. Your heart was beating slower and slower by the second. Breathing was now a voluntary action. As the adrenaline wore off and the reality of the situation set in, your anxiety crept over you and infiltrated any room for collectedness that you had left.

“G-Ghost.” You sighed, a layer of tears pricking at the base of your lashes.

Ghost heard the near sob in your words, putting an even faster pep in his step.

“Almost there, Gecko. What’s wrong?”

“I’m…I’m scared.” You admitted, hot tears mixing with the fresh rain water on your cheeks.

Ghost’s heart shattered into a million pieces, catapulting into every vessel near it like the strongest of shrapnel. He couldn’t stand the thought of you alone and scared.

“I know. Just keep talking to me and Soap,” He breathed, trying to stay calm for you. “I’m coming, G.”

‘G’ was a nickname inside of a nickname. Ghost only used it sparingly, and it was usually when he was trying to be supportive or sympathetic without giving your secret romantic endeavor away.

It felt silly to say. Generally speaking, you didn’t really have the right to be afraid. It was the pure passion for your job and your own willingness that put you in dangerous situations. It was your own free will, your own decision that you made the same choice on every single time. It was one thing to be scared when you ended up here accidentally. It was another when it was a consequence of your choices and actions. Courage and strength were supposed to be your strong suits. They were the characteristics that you were supposed to fall back on every time.

Yet here you were. Scared to death of dying – something that you had thought about and been preparing for since you started this gig.

“Simon, I-I…I don’t want to d-”

“It’s ‘cause I clean house quickly.” Soap’s voice echoed in one ear and out the other, suddenly and abruptly.

What?

Even in a near unconscious-like state, you were still well aware of how that needed some clarification.

“S-say again?” You stuttered, the corners of your vision beginning to go foggy.

“Soap. ‘Cause I clean house and buildings with speed ‘n accuracy,” Soap repeated. “That’s why they call me Soap.”

Soap!

It made so much sense. You were almost embarrassed that you didn’t think of that yourself. You knew it was Soap’s way of distracting you – keeping your mind off of dying.

“That’s a good one,” You nearly wheezed. “Thought it was because you were a bath man.”

“Thanks for that image. Won’t be able to unsee that one,” Ghost piped up. “Almost there, Gecko. Hang on for me, yeah?”

Ghost’s voice was strained as if he were running. Using every ounce of speed and stamina that he had to get you as fast as possible. He couldn’t lose you like this.

He refused to lose you like this.

“It’s because I’m quick on my feet, and because I can scale a building faster than anybody.” You croaked.

“Ah. That’s why they call you Gecko?” Soap chuckled, and you could hear the amusement in his words.

“Came up with that one myself.” Ghost smirked.

“Some people might even say geckos are kind of cute.” You joked, but didn’t quite have the energy to laugh.

“I’d agree with that,” Ghost countered, and you could sense Soap’s internal confusion from forever away. “I have a visual on Gecko. Almost at the church, Soap?”

“Affirmative, Lt. Meet you there.”

Sure enough, Ghost appeared from seemingly nowhere, like a sent guardian angel. Your vision had tunneled, so you couldn’t see much out of your peripherals. He had never seen you so weak and close to going out on him. His eyes behind the mask were wide and dark, focused on getting you out alive.

“Nice to see you, Lieutenant.” You shivered.

“Glad you’re not a goner,” He returned, removing the glove from his right hand and pressing his fingers against your cheek. “Shit. You’re freezing.”

“How bad do I look?” You slurred, and you fought to keep your eyeballs from rolling back into your head.

“Probably not as bad as you feel. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” Ghost said, working quickly to get himself arranged to carry you.

“Did you see any Shadows on the way?” You gulped, eyelids beginning to flutter.

“They’re everywhere. We need to get going,” Ghost scooped you up effortlessly, as if you weighed nothing and weren’t dripping wet through multiple layers. “C’mon, love. Let’s get you out of here.”

The journey from the ground to up into Ghost’s arms felt like an airplane takeoff. You were close to slipping out of consciousness.

“We’ll get to Soap and get a vehicle out of here,” Ghost explained, readjusting his arm underneath your knees. “You’re going to be fine, Gecko.”

“G-Guess I wasn’t quick enough this time, huh?” You gave the faintest grin, and Ghost couldn’t help but laugh at your stupid joke.

“Shut up.”

There was relief in knowing that you were with Ghost. Your chances of dying hadn’t changed, but if you were going to die, this was a better way of going out.

The fog in your vision became thicker and thicker until you couldn’t see or hear a thing. The darkness surrounded you, sucking you deeper and deeper into nothingness.

⋆˙⟡ ♡⋆˙⟡

The next time your eyes opened, you weren’t met with the dim streets of Las Almas. There was no smell of rain or taste of blood and sweat. The smell this time was sterile air and cheap (but clean) bedsheets. You couldn’t taste anything due to the worst case of cottonmouth that you had ever experienced. The beeping music of an EKG reader and distant chatter was the real giveaway.

The muscles in your legs were stiff, mainly because you hadn’t moved them in so long. A grunt was all you could manage as you shifted, a new type of discomfort erupting where you had been shot. It was all wrapped up now (professionally and medically wrapped), clean and taken care of. There was an IV in each arm, one administering fluids and the other what you could only imagine to be some kind of pain medication. The white walls and tan floors were weirdly comforting…a sign to let you know that you were safe for now.

The best sights of all were the ones seated to the left of your bed.

Ghost’s arms were crossed, ankles crossed over each other, and his head lowered and his breathing steady. His outer skull mask was nowhere to be seen, but his balaclava was clinging to his face as always.

Soap was also snoozing, but less peacefully and quietly. His head was tilted back as far as it possibly could go, his arms draped at his sides, legs stretched all the way out, and snoring so loud that you were surprised you hadn’t already heard it.

You were gentle as you called to Ghost, considering he didn’t always react calmly when being woken up.

“Hey…” You rasped with a dry throat. “Ghost.”

His eyes snapped open, flickering up to you instantly. A monumental wave of relief visibly crashed over him, filling his veins and relaxing his heart.

“You’re awake,” He leaned closer, taking your hand into his. “You’re okay.”

“What…how long has it been?” You asked, bits of your memory coming back to you.

“A few days…four I think, ” He answered with a nod. “How do you feel?”

Honestly, you weren’t sure. Physically you felt terrible, but better than when you were dying of shock, cold, and blood loss. Mentally you felt fuzzy and groggy from being out so long. Emotionally…well, only time would tell.

“Like shit.” You admitted.

“Not surprised.” He grinned under his face covering.

There were a few beats of silence. You took a few glances around, getting familiar with your new setting. Ghost, though, never took his eyes off of you. They were a light shade of red, and even his balaclava couldn’t hide the dark circles under them.

“Have you slept at all?” You asked, knowing good and well he hadn’t left your side.

“A little bit here and there,” He said, motioning his free hand towards Soap. “This is the most sleep Soap’s gotten this whole time. He’s been out for about 30 minutes.”

Soap was indeed out like a light. You couldn’t imagine how tired the two of them were. There was another stretch of silence. This one lasted longer and was much more tense. This wasn’t an easy encounter. How were you supposed to act when you had barely scraped by with your life?

“Simon?”

“Yeah, love?”

“How close was it?”

Simon stared for a moment. No formation of an answer to your question occurred for a second or two. He didn’t like that question. He had avoided thinking about it until now. Ghost knew that he’d have to do his own mentality check in with himself in a few days. He had almost lost the most important person in his life…he’d need to deal with that.

“Too close.”

Another silence. Another silent thank you that you were here to see another day.

“You were…hypothermic, in shock. You lost a lot of blood before and during surgery,” He said. “Doc said if it had been any later getting you help-”

“Hey,” A groggy voice piped in, unaware that he was interrupting. “Gecko’s up.”

Soap’s eyes were just as bloodshot as Ghost’s, but Soap’s personality was wide awake.

“Happy to see you again, Sergeant. My apologies for being absent from our reunion at the church.” You grinned.

“Yeah, yeah. Left us to do double the work,” Soap chuckled. “Feels weird callin’ you Gecko now that I know where it comes from.”

“Soap doesn’t have the same ring to it, I have to say.” You fired back.

“Agh, I’m crushed. Right in my pride!” He shrieked.

The three of you shared a soft laugh. Nothing like Soap’s comedic relief to break the tension. You felt okay. This was just one of those things. One of the things that you signed up for with this job. It didn’t make it any less unnerving, but now you felt like you could really move on from this.

And you were thankful that you had lived to tell the story.

There was a sudden itch in your throat. An annoying tickle that reminded you that you hadn’t had a physical sip of water in four days.

“Do you think that I could get some water?” You wondered aloud, nearly choking on your own words from the parched feeling.

Ghost hadn’t left your side when you were knocked out, and he surely wasn’t leaving now that you were awake.

“Johnny, could you-”

“Yep! On it.” He scurried out and down the hall without another word.

That left you and Ghost. The man that saved your life by risking his own to come back for you. You didn’t even want to think about what you would’ve done if Ghost had gotten killed at your expense. At least you would’ve died together, but that hardly sounded right or fair. Ghost deserved so much more.

“You scared me.” Ghost confessed, not even hiding the worry in his voice.

“I know…I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault, doll. Just…” He sighed. “Just really thought that I had lost you this time.”

There wasn’t anything you could say to make him feel better. You knew that because you had been in his shoes. His head wasn’t in the best place. You knew that even better. But if there was one thing you knew for sure, it was that you loved him more than anybody else ever could.

“Thanks for coming back for me.” You whispered, a sudden set of tears slipping down your cheeks.

Ghost raised his balaclava. The material stopped just under his nose, his bare lips coming to press a kiss to the back of your hand. He made a solemn swear to himself in that moment that he’d never take you for granted again. He’d never get too comfortable with having you around and at his disposal.

Because fate was far too cruel for that.

“Always.”

8K notes · View notes

cryptidghostgirl · 2 months

Text

Lovely (Lucifer x Reader)

Pairing: Lucifer x Reader

Description: Lucifer had heard rumor of the demon with the ability to alter people's memories. Y/n was a marvel and he had her wrapped right around his pinky.

Warnings: Same angst, new target.

Word Count: 1,631

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

A/N This fic is inspired by Spud Cannon's song Lovely. Also don't mind me and my silly little Latin obsessed brain (Lucifer translates to light bringer and is a combination of the latin verb ferre, to bring, and lux, light. I fuck around with that in this.)

That was what had drawn her to him first: the elegance. Lucifer was a graceful man, a beautiful man, a terribly sad person. In retrospect, that should have been Y/n's sign to take a step back but, it is always so difficult to find the right path in the moment. He had seemed so utterly heartbroken, because, as she now knew, he was so utterly heartbroken, and Y/n had thought: maybe I can help?

Her motivations had just been that at first, helping. It wasn't her fault that he was charming and funny and did things that made her want to be more than friends with him with such alarming regularity that it felt like her life was the worst rollercoaster at an amusement park. The one with eight billion sharp turns and uncomfortable seats that left rider's tailbones bruised. It was almost too much to bear.

Lucifer had heard rumors of the demon who had been gifted with the ability to alter people's memories. It had never been gossip that had interested him much until Lilith had left. Suddenly, his mind had felt like a curse. In the throws of despair, he had looked for her, hunted her down. It hadn't take long, he was Lucifer after all. When he was the one asking the questions, few dared to defy.

The shop was a hole in the wall, drenched in the smell of incense and covered in crystals and other odd objects of curiosity. Lucifer could've sworn he recognized the imp horns on the wall but, ignored it. He was there for a reason and asking questions like that were not the path to his end goal.

The demon herself, the famed mystery, was statuesque. She had sat her table in the back of the shop, draped in jewelry made of bones and gold. She had gifted him the first session free of charge.

In order to keep the pain at bay, Lucifer had been required to come to her shop at least once a month. Y/n was a comfort to him, he associated her with the feeling of relief. The two became fast friends.

"Light bringer." she would beckon him in with a smile, "Still counting those forget-me-nots?"

She spoke to him in Latin, in his first eternal language. She weaved images in the air with the smoke from her fires. She was amazing, a miracle worker. Lucifer was grateful for her, for her skill.

Y/n knew the truth behind it. She tried to ignore it, tried to still her raging heart. She knew it was doomed, had seen with her own eyes the way he was still so in love with someone else. Still, when he had asked her on that first date, a year into them knowing one another, she hadn't been able to bring herself to refuse. He had been so sweet, so earnest, so cheesy. He had asked her to be his and she had told him the truth: she already was.

It was a constant state of denial, one big, overwhelming lie she convinced herself was true. In the beginning, Lucifer had been a doting partner. He surprised her with flowers, he always tried to make her smile. It had all stopped the day she had told him she couldn't use her gift on him anymore.

"Why not?" he has asked, alarmed.

"Because, Ferende Lucem (man bringing light), it's not healthy. I can't make things go away forever, just hide them. You still need to deal with them eventually."

Y/n had thought it was time, had figured that two years of dating and three years of knowing one another would be enough. She had been wrong. Lucifer had ceased in his affections in all but name. No longer was she whisked away to the palace, no longer did she wake to one of his creations on her bedside table.

After about a month, she had decided to take things into her own hands. She refused to recede into the gaps he was creating, refused to just let this all go. Y/n loved him, truly. She wouldn't let the love die without a fight.

The palace guards knew her well, had let her in without question. After some searching, Y/n had found Lucifer locked away in his office. The place smelled of despair. He didn't turn from his empty desk at the sound of the door opening.

"Light Bringer." Y/n hummed softly, rapping a knuckle on the already open door, "Counting your forget-me-not's?"

She hadn't asked him that in years, not since before they had gotten together. He lifted his head from his hands, looking over his shoulder just the slightest bit.

"Malefica (witch)." he replied, his voice low and hollow.

Y/n smiled softly at the pet name and entered the room, letting the door stand open in her wake. She approached him, wrapping her arms around his tired shoulders and pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head.

"Please." Lucifer's voice cracked, "Please take them from me. It's too much, they're too heavy."

Y/n didn't reply, simply nestling her chin into his hair.

"Y/n, please."

"You know I can't do that." she sighed, "It's not healthy."

"This is what is not healthy."

Y/n let go of him and turned his chair so they faced one another. She kneeled down on the ground before him, clasping his hands in her own. His eyes were ringed with red. In that moment, they weren't a fallen angel and a demon, they were just two people. Two people in love and two people housing broken hearts they lied to themselves to stitch back together.

"Lucifer." her eyes searched his face.

It was rare she called him by his true name. The gravity of the moment clung to their skin.

"Lucifer, what am I to you?"

He looked away. Y/n sighed, her heart cracking straight down the middle within the confines of her chest.

"Can I..." she cleared her throat, steeling her nerves, "Am I ever going to be what you're looking for?"

Lucifer's eyes snapped back to Y/n.

"You are what I'm looking for." he insisted, taking his trembling hands from hers and cupping them gently around her face, "You, Y/n, are my sweet little magician, my salve."

"My magic is, you mean."

Lucifer had always been a terrible liar. It was one of the things Y/n loved about him, the way the truth bubbled to the surface of his being. Right now, she wished he could be the best liar on the planet, the best in all of Hell. Right now, she wished she could've been born blind.

Y/n got to her feet, Lucifer's hands hanging in the air where they had held her last. There was no more running, no more hiding from the truth. This was the precipice, the breaking point, the fall.

"You're my salve." he repeated again, his voice soft and sounding like he was trying to convince himself of the fact as much as he was trying to get through to her.

"Don't lie to me." Y/n demanded, tears pressing behind her eyes, "Don't. Just... just don't."

Oh how she wished she could turn back time, set the clocks to zero.

"You never loved me, did you?"

The question hung unanswered in the air. Y/n had known it for a long time, had known it since the beginning to be perfectly honest but saying it out loud made it all the more real. She was dazed, spinning, out of control.

"You don't love me."

"I wish I could. I'm..."

Y/n scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest and holding back tears. She looked away.

"I'm sorry."

"I'll see myself out, I guess."

She hoped he'd call out for her, run after her into the hallway, ask if they could try again could start over. Of course Lucifer did no such thing.

For all the things she had helped her clients forget over the years, Y/n understood them even more now than she ever had before. It was complicated. Now she was going to have to reshape her life. If she ever saw him in the street, it would be her duty to pretend she didn't know him. The memories spawned the terror of potential futures, dreams where things worked out, where everything was okay. They sent her mind reeling.

She had known, all along she had feared the worst and feared confirmation of her knowledge. That was the worst part, it hadn't even been a surprise. It had simply been just that, a confirmation of the truth.

The world caved in around her as she walked home, houses and shops and people all blurring together into something undistinguished and undefinable.

Lovely, that's what he was. In all his misfortune, in all his despair, in all his grace. Lovely but oh god, oh god he didn't love her. Not the way she wanted him to. Not the way she loved him.

Y/n pulled the curtains shut to her little shop, moving methodically and without thought. She sat down at the table in the back, before the pot of incense. She lit it.

Not once in all her years had she ever tried to do use her magic on herself. It seemed like a line in the sand, something utterly forbidden. Y/n shut her eyes.

When she reopened them, the world felt different. Time had passed, she could tell it had but her mind refused to give shape to the years.

"So this is what it must feel like." she mumbled aloud, noticing the remnants of her ritual spread out on the table before her, "I wonder what happened."

580 notes · View notes

loveemagicpeace · 2 months

Text

💕Life Events🌊

💕4th house represents how u live and your comfort & how you are used to living - Taurus in 4th house - means you are used to comfort, money, luxury and material things. Which means that you like a home that is luxurious, in which you feel safe and warm. It would be difficult for you to live with someone who would not give you comfort. You like to take time for the things you like and you really don't like it when people chase you or give you the feeling that you are limited by time. Especially if your moon is in Cancer, it's hard for you to be with someone who doesn't have that nature.

Aries in 4th house - you are most used to your home being fiery, warlike and often able to do things for yourself. U are very independet and maybe you will find your home faster. Aquarius in 4th house- u may always feel like outsider in your family. But at the same time you will feel that you want to live a very unique life. And you will feel comfortable only in an environment that will be very different from normal.

🌊Water moons are often nostalgic. Which means that in some way they will always be looking for something that reminds them of the past and memories. Many times they can live for memories and people in their memories.

🏝️Geminis & libras will always be subject to society. And sometimes it will be difficult for them to go outside of it. Especially libra , it is difficult for you to be something other than what society expects of you. Because you want to impress others and you want them to be happy. Both signs are strongly associated with relationships and communication.

✨Aquarius are the only sign that knows how to be something that others don't dare to be. They like to go outside their comfort zone and like to be different from the others, not many times they do something that is the opposite of what society does.

❤️‍🔥Sagittarius can easily talk about illegal things - it's not a taboo topic for them. They like discussions that are more dangerous or not so loud. They themselves are also very open to the world and other cultures and can quickly adapt to other surroundings. People with a lot of Sagittarius live a hectic life with lots of adventure and exploration. They usually move at least once, if not several times.

💛The situation of the Sun in the birthchart often relates to the individual’s experience of the father—not necessarily the actual father, but all the people who played that role. Often the mother will actually play the father role, in which case it is that relationship which will be symbolized by the Sun.

🍸The 6th house denotes sickness, your body , your relationship with the body, how you take care of your body. The 8th house surgery, death, needles, blood. The 12th house hospitalization, isolation from people, prison.

🦋Scoprio North Node- have the ability to "tune in" to the hidden thoughts of others. When they stand near someone, if they open up to receive that person's energy they will know his or her character and motives. They want to "fix" the other person—their way. They have many ideas about how to alleviate the other's pain and better the situation. These folks know how to create success. However, if they get a bad feeling or begin to lose energy, it's a warning. It’s important for these folks to pay attention to people's motives. They project that others operate from the same values and are always being honest. But when they take the time to study people's motives, they can tell what people pretend to be and what they really are.

🎸Fire is an emotional element, but it tends toward the more active and dynamic emotions—anger, joy, ebullience, and enthusiasm. It has a harder time dealing with sadness, depression, or the kind of feeling that comes from quiet contemplation of one’s surroundings. Fire people do not like to show sadness or grief: their typical response is to make fun of their own unhappiness.

🪐Symbol earth, signifies limits to our freedom (in which regard the element earth is related to the planet Saturn). We cannot do whatever we wish or go wherever we want because we are constrained by our own materiality and the materiality of the world around us. Earth is passive: it needs to be acted on and formed by an external energy. Virgo and Capricorn especially are inclined to sacrifice emotional needs when these come into conflict with their view of reality.

☁️Air is associated with thinking and logic, and as such it is less personal than fire.In this way air is similar to earth: both are primarily concerned with a reality external to the self. Fire and water are more concerned with personal, inward kinds of truth. Although air is very social, it is sometimes unable to handle real intimacy well. Libra is the only air sign in which the drive for close, personal relationships is strong, but even here there is a detached, non-intimate quality often obscured by the cleverness of the sign at being winning in social encounters.

🌙Water is the most yin of the four elements. And it is in some ways the most difficult to understand. The water people are poor at communication or unwilling to communicate. Because water represents non-linear, non-rational, non-discriminative modes of thought—the very antithesis of air. Water is the best at feeling relationships and the ways every thing interacts with every other thing. Often the best way for water to communicate is by means of art, especially poetry and music. Water people therefore have to live in a relatively clean psychic environment. If they are surrounded by disturbed people, water types will pick up the disturbance as if the energies originated within themselves. In this way, a water person can be made to feel physically and/or psychologically ill even when actually very well. More than any other element water is associated with the soul—the eternal, unchanging background that exists forever, against which the drama of individual life is played.

🌱Mercury creates smells, sounds, tastes, textures, and the like. In this way we are quite literally the creators of our own experience. All our knowing, experiencing, sensing, believing, or disbelieving is done through signs which represent actual facts, experiences, or entities in our minds.

🥊In a healthy body, Mars represents the vigor and vitality of movement, and especially the muscles. But it can also manifest as irritations, inflammations, infections, and fevers. Mars can be one of the principal significators of operations and accidents.

🫧Mars and Saturn rules over tattoos, needles, blood everything related to that. People who have dominant Mars sign or a lot of Mars energy/ aries energy or people who have Capricorn placements or Saturn energy are usually more more prone to have tattoos or piercings.

🎱The difference between Capricorn and Virgo is the Capricorn rules over success, image, public speaking everything that is related to public, but it's not related to appearance and how you look. Capricorns don't care how they look, but how their energy comes forward. Virgo on the other side rules over physical body so they are more prone to worry about how they look and how their clothes look like.

☂️Jupiter has also been associated with medicine and healing, the reintegration of the body after illness or prevention of bodily disintegration.

💍Juno is associated with marriage and partnership between the sexes. I find that, especially in women’s charts, it often indicates an ambivalence about whether to be associated with someone or to be free. In a man’s chart, it often describes the kind of marital partner he will choose.

🎸For personal readings u can sign up here: https://snipfeed.co/bekylibra 🎸

-Rebekah🫧🌙☁️

#astrology #energy #zodiac signs #planets #my notes #astrological houses #astrology observations #life events

461 notes · View notes

moon-rivr · 2 months

Text

easiest thing

pairing: miguel o’hara x spider-woman reader

contents: reader who thinks they’re hard to love and miguel who loves them so easily, mentions of death at the beginning, reader goes to therapy, somewhat angsty and fluffy?

author’s note: pls don’t take the characterization for ‘you’ srsly, this was purely self indulgence 🫡

word count: 4.3k

"Loving you is the easiest thing I've ever done."

You'd given up on romance despite that you still had the lingering desire of wanting someone's eyes to sparkle everytime they looked at you and of wanting someone that just understood you in a way that nobody else had access to. You were a hopeless romantic with a shitty life in general, to say the least. If it wasn't the fact that you ended up getting ghosted time and time again or the fact that every talking stage you had ended up flopping like a fish out of water, it was the only best friend that you'd had dying. A part of you shut off the day you were forced to kneel down next to your Peter Parker, every sliver of hope in you fading away at the same rate that the life faded away from his eyes.

You knew that you weren't responsible for Peter's passing, but a part of you wished you could've done more than just watch the life from his body fade within your very eyes. You'd felt like the strongest person in the world up to that moment, being able to lift vehicles and pieces of rubble with ease, but in the moment, you were just as vulnerable as anybody else. You wished that you could've taken note of the strange behavior he elicited beforehand, that you weren't so caught up in your own issues to take note of what burdens he was struggling with. But now, all you could do was just linger on what you could've done, should've done, and what you wished you'd done differently.

You forced yourself to try to go through the motions of living without Peter, every task seeming more and more difficult with each day that passed by. Showering seemed like a tedious task, the almost borderline sting of the boiling water doing nothing to distract you from the pain that lingered in your heart. You'd even considered giving up the mantle of being Spider-Woman, the red and blue spandex suit collecting dust in the back of your wardrobe. Not even a year had passed by when you'd lost your Uncle Ben, the words from his dying lips ringing through your head. "With great power comes great responsibility," you murmured quietly to yourself, deciding to put on the suit after you'd failed to show up for New York time and time again these last few months.

You'd thought that coming back would be like riding a bike, that you wouldn't forget it no matter how much you willed yourself to try. But clearly, you'd been mistaken seeing as how you were currently dangling off the edge of the Empire State Building. You'd shot a web to cling onto the side of a building, finding yourself coming up short as nothing came out of your wrists. "Come on," you murmured to yourself, trying to stick your fingers in different positions to get the web to come out. It was almost like your body was giving you the consequences of neglecting it for far too long, refusing to work with you when you needed it the most. The grip that you had on the building loosened, the stickiness from your fingers no longer there as you dropped to the floor.

You frantically stuck your hand out to try to stick a web as you rapidly began your descent, a thin layer of sweat coating your forehead. You weren't sure if it was the humidity in the air or the sheer nervousness that was coaxing your body at the moment. Most likely the latter, but you didn't have time to think too hard about it as you willed for just one measly web to come out before you face planted onto the pavement. Your body was running strictly out of fear now as you got dangerously close to the floor now, your mind starting to accept the situation for what it was. While you'd completely given up on trying more than surviving after Peter had died, all you knew now is that you didn't want to die. You really didn't.

A shaky breath of relief escaped from your lips when you stuck to a building near you, the web that you'd been hoping for so badly coming into fruition. You looked down at the floor, silently thanking the web sticking to the side of the building after realizing just how close you'd gotten to actually hitting the floor. After that near-death experience, you'd decided to get back into training your body before you went out to patrolling the city like you used to. Forcing yourself out of bed was less difficult as the days passed, finding a purpose to get yourself out of your house everyday. Your body wasn't the fighting machine that it used to be but you were willing to work to get just a sliver of what you used to have.

It wasn't long until the citizens of new york city started noticing that Spider-Woman was back, met with some disapproval but overall, everyone just seemed thrilled over the comeback. The city had been buried in a cesspool of chaos and robberies after you'd left. A few of the small fry were smart enough to drop their sketchy business before they got caught, an instant relief felt in the small businesses throughout the city. You couldn't help but feel suspicious as even the villains that found joy in threatening the city had gone under wraps, your mind running through all the possibilities of what they could possibly be planning. Your feet swung off the building you were monitoring from, your eyes shifting to every little noise elicited below you.

Your feet sprung up to action faster than you'd expected when you heard the sound of rubble crumbling underneath you, the sound of screaming ringing through your ears as you swung throughout the different buildings. You went to the scene of the danger, a distinction from the people that were fleeing from the scene while screaming at the top of the lungs. You approached the scene, watching as Rhino destroyed every building that he had access to. a malicious smile on his face as he controlled the metal suit, taking pleasure in the way that the city panicked under his control. You weren't one to make any ceremonious entrances, simply swinging into action as you wrapped a web from underneath him to tie his feet together.

You'd taken a couple hits from the fight, your body still not used to the strain of these fights after only week of training. Despite the fact that every muscle in your body was begging for you to stop, to give into the exhaustion, you refused to give up just yet. "Just a little longer," you mentally assured yourself, the muscles in your legs starting to burn as you ran over to the Rhino. You wanted to separate him from any of the citizens that might've stayed to watch the fight, unable to take even just one casualty tonight. You rendered the suit useless after tying it up to the wall, punching through the thick glass of what seemed to resemble the eyes. You pulled out what seemed to be a cheap copy of the original out of the suit, your eyes widening at the realization that this was all a decoy.

Miguel was watching your fight intently through the monitor, watching your movements as you tied the villain down. It was everything that he would've done in your situation, every movement graceful as you kept the villain away from any civilians. "Thinking about her as a new recruit?" LYLA asked from beside him, popping up into view as she took in the sight of your reflexes. "She'd be a nice addition," Miguel uttered quietly, entranced by the way that your body moved under the spandex. He'd been overlooking your universe for quite some time, finding a couple things that elicited some red flags in the system during your absence. He found it impressive the way that you'd managed to put your pain to the side for the greater good of New York City, willing to come back and fight despite the fact that you had no one to be personally fighting for.

Blood leaked from the side of your mouth as you received a blow from the actual Rhino, half your ribs bruised from the sheer impact of his metal fists pounding into your body. His suit was nearly indestructible, you were unable to take him down but you were able to tie him. Almost as if sensing your plan to restrain him, he avoided every single one of the webs that you'd struck out at him and landing a couple hits in the process. You were reeling on the floor, clutching your stomach as the man mocked your position on the floor. Every little comment escaping from his mouth serving to belittle your position as Spider-Woman, of doubting your ability to protect the people of New York City. You hated the effect that his words had on you, every single little utter only serving to deepen the insecurities that you already felt about yourself.

Your eyes widen a bit as you noticed the man in front of you glitch, making it all too evident that this wasn't your Rhino. You had noticed that it was taking you a bit longer to get past his defenses. You were thinking of giving up, giving into the pain and exhaustion coursing through your body when you felt the hair on the back of your neck stand up like a soldier on command. An orange portal appeared by the side, the swirling waves almost distracting you from the task at hand. You'd managed to briskly avoid a punch thrown by the robot, your legs barely sustaining you as you stood up. You expected for the portal to show some of the goons that the Rhino called for assistance, but you were instead met with people that were all too similar to you. They all wore the spider emblem on their suit, their movements synced to precision as they fought against the villain.

You'd joined the fight to the best of your ability, helping them tie down the villain until one of the members captured the man in a trap. You were approached by a rather tall man just as you were getting ready to leave, his figure imposing over yours as he looked down at you. The mask on his face disappeared with one tap of the watch he had on, his gaze showing no emotion in it as he looked over at you. "I want to formally invite you to the Spider Society. It's where spider-people from different universes come and gather to fight against anomalies, I'd recommend for you to give it a thought," he spoke up, his hand extending a watch similar to the one he had on over to you. "This should teleport you to the building whenever you're ready."

You looked down at the watch as you realized it was nearly a week since it'd been given to you, the decision still not clear to you despite how long you'd looked at it. While there was nothing here for you in this universe, no prospect of friendship, family, or romance, a part of you didn't want to leave out of how comfortable you were at the moment. You'd gotten used to the cycle of the crime rates in New York, of fighting small time criminals and the occasional villain that tormented the city. You thought to yourself about what Peter would do, trying to convince yourself that he would be assuring your decision to stay stuck in this spot. With every attempt that you tried to rationalize your decision, you were only met with more reasons as to why you should go. Your finger pressed the button on the gizmo hesitantly, looking at the portal appearing inside of your apartment.

You were awestruck as you walked into the Spider Society, overwhelmed by just how many different universes you'd been so blissfully unaware of. There was a Spider-Cat, Spider-Dino, and even a car version of Spider-Man, interacting like it was normal. The building itself was also impressive, a modern design to match those of the buildings outside of it. You'd thought of flying cars as a figment of your imagination but here they were, a common sight as they moved through the sky. "You're the new recruit, right?" A small orange holographic woman appeared in front of you, waiting for your confirmation before she led you inside. "Grab one of the bracelets on that table over there before you start to glitch out."

Before you got the chance to ask what she meant by 'glitch out,' you felt like your body was struggling to even mobilize. The atoms inside you seemed to be defying the building you were in, some of them morphing you into a different shape before it stopped. You quickly pulled the bracelet onto your wrist, following the holograph into the room that she led you in. "He'll be down from his platform in a second. That thing usually takes a while to load," she informed you, fading away just as soon as she'd arrived. You looked up at the platform as it started to lower, every second of waiting only making you feel more nervous about the situation. It was the same man that had given you the watch beforehand, the leader of this whole organization if you had to assume.

Miguel took one look at your expression, your eyes holding so much pain buried within them even if you were trying your best to plaster a smile on your face. Even that seemed to be crumbling under his very eyes, though, your smile not quite meeting your eyes as it wavered with every second that he spent looking at you. He knew the pain that came with being Spider-Man, knew of all the sacrifices that the people in his society faced once they took on the role. He'd seen this story play out multiple times, whether it be with Ben, Gwen, or with Peter. But for some reason, unknown even to himself, he couldn't handle seeing you so upset. "Welcome to the Spider Society, I'm Miguel O’Hara. Allow me to show you around."

Miguel took you along through the different areas in the society, taking in your reactions of everything that it offered. You couldn't help but notice that every member that the two of you passed seemed to look at him with awe, immediately scrambling to find something to do. "If you ever want or need someone to talk to, we have a licensed therapist on the first floor. Everything's confidential so you don't have to worry about anything getting out," he spoke up once he was finished with the tour of the facility, his red eyes meeting yours for the first time this evening. The orange hue in the background only accentuated how beautiful they truly were, the intensity that his gaze held.

Maybe it was the fact that he didn't want you to turn out like had, so consumed in your own pain that you'd become a shell of the person of who you used to be. A way for him to prevent yourself from delving in too far in your pain, the way he had when he neglected to speak his native tongue because it just reminded him time and time again of how his mamá had failed to show up for him. You weren't a bunch of sunshine and rainbows from what he could tell from the few clips that he'd seen from you in your element, but even he could tell that you were hiding the pain you felt. He wanted to be the helping hand he wished he could've had when he was struggling with Gabriella’s loss, the helping hand he wished he could’ve just had in general.

“I don't really need therapy but thank you," you assured him, thanking him once more for welcoming you as a member before making your way out of the room. While subconsciously you could feel that there was something wrong with the way that you were perceiving the world and reacting to the things happening in your life, you didn't want to feel like too much of a burden. You didn't want to take that help away from the people that could need it, despite the fact that you could tell within yourself you were slowly starting to wear down from the events happening in your life. Before you could go to get help, you had to acknowledge that deep within, you truly did need someone's help during this period of your life. But for now, you would just keep your head down and prove your worth in the society.

You'd made your way into therapy after you decided that maybe it wasn't as bad as you imagined, that admitting to yourself that you needed help hadn't been the end of the world. You'd managed to work out through your feelings of grief about losing peter and Uncle Ben, learning that it was okay to miss them just as long as you didn't let your life stop from the grief that you felt. Despite the fact that you'd made some progress with that aspect of your life, you refused to touch any topic that covered the progress of your romantic life. Maybe because you knew that it would delve into further issues, knowing that it would make you think about why you felt unwanted. You weren't ready to deal with those issues just yet, unsure if you would ever be ready to divulge.

You were slowly starting to come around to being the version of yourself that you used to be, of getting back into doing the things that you once enjoyed doing. You'd picked up a couple books from the library at the society, spending some of the time that wasn't training or going out on missions reading about silly romance novels. If it wasn't that, you'd found different activities that you found yourself enjoying. You realized that you wouldn't have tried them out if it weren't for the state of your life right now, having lived in a state of doing whatever was comfortable between Peter and you. You were finding things that belonged solely to you, finding memories that weren't involved with missing anybody.

Miguel wasn't too obvious with the way that he presented his feelings towards you, but if you'd looked a little closer, you would've noticed the little details. How the grumpy boss who avoided making meaningless conversation with everyone else seemed to present an interest in everything that you had to say, asking you questions of how you were adjusting to the Spider Society and asking questions about things that you showed an interest in. He knew that you were still coping with your problems so he didn't want to push you too far, didn't want to push you too far away from him. He was happy to keep talking to you in a platonic matter, just getting to hear that little rise in your pitch whenever you were excited filling him up with a sense of peace and tranquility.

"LYLA, can you log into her amazon account for me?" He spoke up to her, unable to decide what to get you for your birthday. He'd had months to plan out what he wanted to gift you, but every gift seemed to be dwindled in quality when he compared it to the type of person that you were. You were worth more than the complimentary pair of socks he was so accustomed to gifting the members of the society whenever they had a birthday. LYLA’s confusion was evident across her features but she complied with his request, hacking through your account to pull up your cart. While you had some necessities on there, you also had a list of the books that you were planning on getting in the near future. Perfect.

To say that it was the easiest purchase he's made in his life was a bit of an understatement, he was waiting anxiously to see the excitement on your face once you opened his gift. You'd even joked that he seemed more excited about the gift opening than you were. He watched as you opened up the gift carefully, trying not to rip apart the wrapping paper that he'd chosen for you. Your eyes practically sparked up with excitement at opening up the box, finding the catalog of books you were putting to the side until you were able to buy them. You were rendered speechless for a bit, your eyes shifting from the books over to Miguel who was standing to the side, gauging for every one of your little reactions.

"Thank you!" You exclaimed, wrapping your arms around him as you enveloped him into a hug. The action was foreign to him, something he hadn't bothered to practice in a while. but every thought of that went out the window as his arms came to your back, rubbing small circles as he looked down at you. "I hope this means you liked your present," he spoke just loud enough for you to hear, an intimate scene set between the two of you despite the fact there was a crowd of people partying around. "I love it, thank you so much," you told him, the tightness of your embrace speaking for all the words you couldn't get out of your mouth at the moment. He let you cling onto him as long as you needed, unwilling to deny you anything.

Miguel wasn't planning on acting on his feelings, but eventually decided that it would be better to get a rejection straight up than stay wondering 'what if?' He ran different scenarios of how it would go, some of them resulting in the two of you going out on a date while some of them resulted in you ignoring him throughout your duration at the Spider Society. He tried hard not to focus on those thoughts too much, letting himself have a false sense of positivity despite the fact that you hadn't reciprocated his feelings at all. He ran different approach methods in his mind, trying to figure out what he could possibly say to you but every thought in his head seemed to be rendered useless just by taking a good glimpse at you in your natural state. Curled up on the couch with a book in your hand, the faint glow from the sun shining through the window illuminating your features.

"Hey, do you mind if I talk to you?" He came up by your side as you were reading one of the books he'd gotten for your birthday, a small smile appearing on your face as you looked over at him. "Yeah, for sure. What's up?" You asked him, scooting over on the couch to give him space to sit down. He sat down next to you, almost seeming nervous in front of you as he twiddled with his thumbs. It was a sight to behold, the man usually in command of every room he walked into nervous at the prospect of getting rejected. "I wanted to ask you out on a date. If you don't want to, I completely understand. I just hope it won't ruin what you've built here at the Spider Society," he finally spoke up after what seemed to be a couple minutes of silence, his eyes hesitant to look into yours as he waited for you to process the information.

You'd been oblivious to these signs for months, unable to even fathom that someone would see you in that way. You were so convinced that you weren't someone that people saw as date-worthy, that you were only a placeholder until they were able to find someone better. You blinked slowly as you tried to let his words sink in, the look on your face vulnerable as you looked up at him. "You're not joking right?" You tried to confirm, hoping that you weren't being used as the butt of a joke this time around. You'd started to grow comfortable around Miguel, enjoying being around his company and even envisioning him whenever you had your nose buried in a book. "No I’m not joking," his voice was gentle as he assured you, his hand holding yours as he rubbed circles on the back of yours.

"Then yes. I'd like to go out on a date with you," you finally accepted his invitation after no recording crew had come out to expose themselves.The two of you spent a couple seconds in silence before he spoke up again. "Pudiera escribirte un libro como esos que tanto te gustan nomas hablando de cuanto tu presencia me alumbra la vida y aun no seria suficiente para describir el amor que siento por ti, preciosa. You make me forget every word in my repertoire just by looking into your eyes," he murmured, his Spanish coming out nearly perfect despite the fact he hadn't bothered to speak it aloud in a couple years now. "Loving you is the easiest thing I've ever done."

(I could write you a book like those you really like, just talking about how much your presence illuminates my life and it still wouldn't enough to describe the love I feel for you, precious)

Despite reading and re-reading all the romance books stacked up on your shelf at home, you'd never actually imagined that you'd be the one in the main character's position now. You lived vicariously through those books, all the romantic moments that you longed for merely described as words on paper. You remembered picking out books with the male's pov just to get that glimpse of what adoration sounded on both sides, of getting a picture of what you wanted someone to think about when they saw you. You'd seen multiple people in your life getting into relationships, assuring you empty promises that you'd find the person for you when the time was right, and you’d dismissed it all as pure bullshit. But all that waiting seemed worth it at the thought of going out with Miguel.

You couldn't help but feel butterflies taking flight in your stomach at the realization that Miguel, one of the smartest people you've ever met who seemed to have a response for everything, was rendered speechless just by having you around. The feeling was almost overwhelming as you slowly started to let your guard down around him, letting him love you the way he wanted to love you. You realized now that maybe you weren't as unlovable as you thought you were, that you weren't too broken to be the object of someone's love and admiration, just that you'd been seeking those things from the wrong people. All you wanted was to express the same love that he’d expressed towards you despite the lack of experience.

tag list 🫶🏼: @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @lazyjellyfish300 @pxtched @nympholove @ifiwasaguybrickedup @yournextbimbogf @nixinluv02

451 notes · View notes

kiame-sama · 3 months

Text

Scarlet Eyes- (Yandere!Alpha!Chrollo x Kurta!Omega!Reader)

Warnings; My abo au (only 1000 or less omegas world wide), mention of kidnapping, mention of death, spoilers for the York New arc, gender neutral reader, reader is kurta so this means they have brown->red eyes as all kurta do, switching a few events around chronologically,

~~~~~~~~

"I'm only going to ask you this once, where is my twin?"

Kurapika kept playing the conversation he had in the last moments of the burly spider's life. The sparse information he got from the conversation did little to soothe him or make him feel like he was any closer to finding his beloved twin. If anything, Kurapika worried that he was already too late to do anything.

He had been determined to get whatever information he could from the large man, but the man was near impossible to interrogate. The man only really spoke up when Kurapika mentioned his omega twin. There was little comfort however as the man gave a wolfish grin, bearing his teeth in a clear mocking sneer.

"Oh, the omega? Don't worry about them, Boss has already taken care of it."

The spider's words did nothing to make Kurapika feel better as it sounded like the worst has come to pass. In some ways, he had hoped that the spiders would be interested enough in finding an omega that they wouldn't hurt or sell his twin, but it seemed he was not so lucky. He would kill each and every one of those fuckers and make them pay for the pain they no doubt put his family through.

Kurapika had always hoped that he would be strong enough to protect his sibling- even from the spiders- but that was clearly not the case. It hurt his heart more than he cared to admit when he dwells too long on the fact that he failed his twin. He had dragged them away from home, put them through the gauntlet of the Hunter's exam, swore to protect them, and still he failed. Once he finished the damnable spiders off, he would begin the long journey of finding his twin.

No doubt it would be difficult and near impossible to find them, Omegas were a prized possession after all, but he was determined. Wherever they had taken you, whoever they sold you to, Kurapika would find you. He promises.

~~~~~~~~

You felt an unusual chill run down your back, frowning and glancing towards the door to the abandoned church you were in. Chrollo sat next to you with one arm around you, hand resting on your hip possessively. Though you couldn't place what, something told you that a change had taken place. Perhaps it was nothing, perhaps it had something to do with the missing alpha, Uvogin.

Despite being in a group of very dangerous people, you felt rather safe. In part, it had to do with the fact your alpha was an apex alpha, and in part it was because of the respect your alpha commanded. The other spiders- minus Hisoka- respected the fact that their leader had claimed you and kept their distance from you. Hisoka was new to you and clearly you were the first omega he had ever actually encountered. He was determined to get close to you either to rile Chrollo or to get his hands on you, and Chrollo was not pleased with the jester's behavior.

You sometimes felt your mind wander away to thoughts of your twin, hoping he would never come for you but knowing that is all he would want to do. Since you both were young you watched out for each other, but it all changed when you began showing signs of being an omega. Where Kurapika had once been your equal he then became your protector and would loudly protest to you being paired with anyone or taken away from his protection. He would always be your protector and you knew it likely killed him inside to know you had been taken.

It did take time for you to settle the war within yourself that waged due to being mated to the apex alpha that exterminated your clan and kidnapped you. Part of you still hated the alpha, but another part of you adored him as your mate and that part of you was supported by your instincts. It didn't help that you once asked Chrollo why he killed everyone only for him to respond 'because I could' with a kiss to your forehead. Chrollo always seemed to know when he could bring up your scarlet eyes to control you or fluster you. Taking amusement in the simple mentioning of them being enough to quell any overly willful behavior.

For now you were at ease with the monster that claimed you, feeling rather bound to him regardless of the uneasy feeling he sometimes gave you. Chrollo was clearly content with it as well seeing as he held so securely to you and was rather indulgent of your behavior. He even used an ability that allowed him to bring your nest with you and set it up wherever you deemed appropriate. Few Troupe members were allowed near you simply for the fact that Chrollo didn't like others near his omega. Still, you could see how some members were drawn closer by your presence alone.

Beyond just being the mate of a truly monstrous apex alpha, you were getting used to others knowing you were an omega. With Kurapika you had to constantly cover your scent and hide your omega tendencies around others. You had mostly adjusted to behaving like a beta and also adjusted to others thinking you were a beta. It was odd to you that your Hunter's license- which you still thought was a joke- told others you were an omega. The secret you worked hard to keep was so readily shared with others now.

The sudden shift and movement of being pulled into Chrollo's lap made you yelp, startled by the rather abrupt motion. Chrollo seemed amused by your yelp, however. His lips slowly tracing over the mark on your neck as he let one hand brace around your waist, the other squishing your thigh appreciatively. You were confused as to why he would behave in such an open display of affection towards you, as you couldn't think of anything that would trigger this behavior.

"Chrollo, what- what are you doing?"

"Shh, my sweet (Y/n). Just indulge your alpha."

You felt compelled to obey the soft murmur against your shoulder, shivering but no longer struggling against your alpha's hold. Chrollo seemed rather content to focus on kissing your neck and shoulders, almost as if he were establishing dominance. His affectionate display was a show of dominance, reminding the Troupe that you were his exclusively and making it clear that he was still vastly interested in keeping things that way.

Unbeknownst to you and the rest of the Troupe, Hisoka was paying close attention and ensuring to gather what bit of information he could get. He would certainly share this information with the Kurta and see if he could gain you as his own omega in the process.

~~~~~~~~

"I know about your twin and can tell you what you want to know about them."

The smooth words make Kurapika's eyes widen, feeling invigorated and even more determined to get whatever he could from the grinning jester. Hisoka already knew how he was going to portray this information and it excited him to think about the emotional response he would undoubtedly get.

"Tell me."

"So impatient~! Well, if you must know, they are alive and within the city limits. Don't relax too soon though, the lead spider Chrollo has taken them on as his mate and has already marked them. Killing Chrollo will kill (Y/n)."

Hisoka couldn't help the wolfish grin that pulled at his lips when Kurapika responded to his words with clear despair. Out of all of the terrifying things he had ever considered, Kurapika hadn't considered you being bound to his greatest enemy. Killing Chrollo suddenly became a dangerous option as he knew how omegas could die of sorrow if any harm befalls their mate. The last thing Kurapika wanted to do was hurt you.

"I'm sure you know that the only way you can kill Chrollo and not (Y/n) is if they have another mate by the time you kill him. I'm happy to volunteer as that replacement."

Despite how Kurapika didn't want to let Hisoka anywhere near you, he had to genuinely consider the proposition. If he killed Chrollo, he would kill you should you have no other mate to rely on. Kurapika knew how fragile omegas were and he knew how the well-being of an omega's mate could determine the well-being of the omega themselves. Either Kurapika needed to keep Chrollo alive- which was a detestable thought- or he needed to find and implement a replacement mate for you to survive losing Chrollo.

It was a lose-lose situation for Kurapika and he hated that the spiders put him and his twin through so much continued suffering. He would save you no matter what.

658 notes · View notes

sanakiras · 5 months

Text

TREAT YOU BETTER

PAIRING — lee chan x fem!reader

WORD COUNT — 3.7k

SYNOPSIS — your boyfriend of five months has been treating you like hell, and one of your closest friends, lee chan, refuses to let it go on any longer, taking matters into his own hands.

TAGS — college au, best friends to lovers, cheating, explicit sexual content, mutual pining, mentions of reader struggling with low self-esteem, cheesy stuff, yes i did come up with this after accidentally listening to treat you better by shawn mendes, this didn’t turn out as good i hoped it would but oh well!

NOTE — first fic here. he looks so good in the wait m/v so i wanted to write something for him :D my beloved

the slam of the door behind you rings through your ears. you try to wipe your cheeks dry, hoping you don’t look like the tearful mess you are.

your voice feels raw from yelling for the past hour or so. it’s been going like this for the past two months at least twice a week, and you’re exhausted because of it.

as the rain pours, you notice the familiar car driving towards you, bright lights feeling heavy on your eyes. you open the door without hesitation to let yourself sink into the passenger’s seat, taking a few deep breaths, all without looking at the driver.

but the quiet sobs escaping you are enough to give it away.

chan has his one arm leaning on top of the steering wheel, the other gently touching your shoulder to make you look at him, but you refuse.

“i’m fine,” you stutter out, sniffing from the cold, “really.”

of course you’re not fine. both of you are more than aware of the toxicity of the situation. you getting into arguments with your boyfriend several times a week, resulting in you calling chan and staying over at his apartment for a night, only to hear you make it up to the guy the next day when you weren’t even in the wrong to begin with.

“we have a different definition of that, then.”

“it was just an argument. we’ll work it out in a couple hours.”

“it’s not normal.” he says, trying to get it through your thick skull without raising his voice. “it’s not normal, baby.”

you sniff, trying to somehow get rid of the pain beating against your forehead. “he can be so mean, and then… then he’s so sweet again.”

chan wants to rip his hair out of his head. five fucking months of this have passed at this point, and he doesn’t know how much more of it he can take. he’s not sure how to handle the situation the right way, either.

he’s been in love with you for years. years. since sophomore year in high school. it was never his intention to fall in love with you, nor did he think he would, but he did, and god did he fall hard. embarrassingly hard.

nevertheless, he was always too afraid to make a move. too afraid that you’d reject him and he’d be out of your life forever like he was never there in the first place.

but he’s grown up now. third year of university, twenty-two years old, longer hair, a leather jacket and a solid bunch of experiences. some great, some he’d rather forget.

and so five months ago, he’d finally mustered the courage. he was finally going to own up to his feelings and tell you the truth.

only for you to excitedly come up to him, telling him you’re seeing this guy. and it made his heart sink in his chest, but he pushed his feelings to the side for your happiness.

or so he tried.

your boyfriend treats you like shit. he was sweet in the beginning — they always are.

then the cracks in the façade started to show.

it’s not that you don’t see it. you do — but it’s difficult to leave when someone knows just how to keep you where they want you. every time you tell yourself you’re gonna break up with him, he sweet-talks you and says things can be fixed, and that going through a rough patch is normal.

but chan knows better.

he just needs you to know better as well.

it breaks his heart to see his favorite person let herself get hurt like this. he becomes a little more torn with every sob leaving your body, every tear spilling from your eyes.

he gently puts the buds of his fingertips on your chin and jaw, slowly turning your face to him so he can look you in the eye.

the tears are still quietly running down your cheeks, your face numb, now devoid of any emotion, ashamed to have him see you in this state.

“you’re killing yourself like this.” he whispers, voice laced with concern. “he’ll never make you happy.”

you sniff from your breakdown. “maybe it’s me. maybe i just need to stop giving him such a hard time—”

“don’t even think about finishing that sentence.”

“please, chan, just… just go and get me somewhere else. all i need is some breathing space — please.” you beg him.

he wants to scream, wants to tell you to break up with him for good, wants to walk into that damn house and do it himself — but he can’t.

instead, he obliges, driving you to his place.

his cozy one-person apartment feels like the best place in the world to you — the one place where you can get away from everything else.

you watch chan as he locks the door behind him, then leaning against it for a moment as he watches you sit on the armrest of the soft chair. “you okay? want some tea?”

the corners of your lips curl up at the suggestion. he knows you awfully well. “that’d be great.”

his lashes flutter before he nods, kicking his shoes off by the door.

once he’s busy in the kitchen, you bite your lip as you recall the way he softly talked to you in the car, eyes trailing past the curves of his arms and the sharpness of his jawline.

he’s dated more than you have. not much in high school, but definitely during the past three years he’s spent at college. though it doesn’t surprise you. he has such warmth to him, with the beautifully infectious sound of his laughter, that big smile and some of the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen.

it wasn’t until recently you began to see him in a different light. whenever you saw him with a new girl, arm around her waist or over her shoulders, you secretly imagined yourself next to him more than once. you can’t believe you didn’t take notice of how handsome he was before.

but you’re too much of a coward to tread over that line of friendship, too much of a coward to see if maybe, just maybe, your feelings are requited.

“wanna stay here for a while?” he asks, hoping you’ll at least spend the night here before you go back to your boyfriend, as you’ve done countless times before.

“yeah. don’t feel like going back yet.” you smile, trying to somewhat make light of the situation.

“then don’t.”

you sigh at his response. “it’s not that easy.”

“why not?”

“because i don’t wanna throw something away the second things get hard.”

“there’s a difference between hard and unbearable. your case is the latter.”

feeling backed into a corner, even though he hardly means to do so, you turn the topic on him. “you’ve had some rough experiences with past girlfriends too and you stuck around.”

god. if only you knew he ended up leaving them because he never enjoyed being with them as much as he enjoyed being with you. “you’d be surprised.” he mutters under his breath, pouring two cups of tea, making yours exactly as he knows you like.

when you stay quiet, he tries to think of a way to get it through your head that you need to break up with your resident ass of a boyfriend.

“can i ask you something?”

“sure.”

“what’s it going to take for you to leave him?”

the question makes you look up before using a tone that almost sounds like you’re scolding him. “chan.”

“i’m serious. he’s treating you like shit. you call me crying every week.”

“it’s just—”

“no, it’s not ‘just a tough time’. you know it isn’t.” he interrupts, jaw clenched tight but voice controlled. he will not yell at you like that piece of trash does. “he’s a controlling, manipulative asshole. it’s not gonna get better. if anything, he’ll just treat you worse in the future.”

“yeah, well, not all of us have people lined up.”

the words have left your mouth before you can comprehend it, leaving you to lower your head in regret. not that it’s any less true. to you, anyway.

“what, and i do?”

“don’t you?”

he’s not sure what baffles him more — you thinking that he’s got girls lined up to date him or you thinking that you don’t have anyone else out there that would be willing to date you.

“what’s this really about?” he sits down on the empty coffee table, facing you directly. “what does my dating life have to do with yours?”

“nothing — it doesn’t. i never said it did.”

“then why the comment about me having people lined up? which i don’t, by the way.”

the answer sits at the tip of your tongue, but you can’t bring yourself to say it without looking away from him. “maybe not. but at least you won’t end up alone. i can’t say the same for myself.”

and there it is. the sole reason you’re still with the guy. your crippling fear of ending up alone, your heavy insecurity that makes you believe no one could possibly want you.

the last thing he wants is for you to get hurt — but he’d rather have you suffer through your first heartbreak than end up with someone who walks all over you like a doormat.

“please don’t take this the wrong way, sweetheart, but if you think that low of yourself, you’re a little stupid.”

the comment makes you snort. “well, it’s certainly fitting.”

he wipes some of your half-dried tears away, his one hand remaining to cup your cheek, an alarmingly intimate gesture.

“aside from the fact that there’s nothing wrong or shameful about ending up alone... i need you to know that you’re worth it. you’re gorgeous and intelligent and—” he halts for a moment, in a way confessing his love for you, not caring how cheesy it sounds, “—you deserve everything you want. ‘cause you’re one in a million.”

fuck, has he always looked at you that lovingly?

his words catch you off-guard for a moment before you press your lips together. “as much as i think it’s sweet of you to say those things, you’re only saying them ‘cause you’re my friend.” you interrupt him, having made up your mind.

after which chan shakes his head, gently twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers. “i’m saying it because it’s true. any guy would be lucky to have you in his life.”

“i don’t think ‘lucky’ is the term my boyfriend would use.”

“yeah, ‘cause he’s a fucking dick.” he immediately comments, adding the next part with a softer tone. “if you were with me, i sure as shit wouldn’t be acting like that.”

that last sentence catches your attention, and chan realizes what he just said, suddenly very aware he’s treading on thin ice now.

but it had to come out one way or another.

though you seem to be going along with his words, not showing any signs of being uncomfortable with it. “and who’s to say you wouldn’t break my heart?”

he sees the intrigue on your face and decides to lean in closer. “if i broke your heart, i’d be breaking mine as well.”

“i’m not convinced.” you murmur, just loud enough for him to hear, and chan feels his heartbeat quicken.

every rational thought going through his mind is thrown out of the window the moment he catches you staring at his lips. it’s enough for him to put his hand on your lower cheek and smash his lips against yours.

he kisses you like he always imagined he would. perhaps a little too enthusiastically, but he’s waited too long for this moment to care.

and you’re kissing him back.

you both get hot from adrenaline and arousal. his hands roam down your hips, but when you start pulling on the collar of his jacket, he finally has it in him to break the kiss.

“are you sure you want this? i don’t want you to feel pressured—”

“i’ve wanted this for so long, chan. take it off, please.”

maybe he should pinch himself to make sure he’s not dreaming. you’re underneath him, lips swollen, gazing at him like he’s your whole world and more.

he leans down again to pick you up, ensuring you’ve got your legs wrapped around his waist so he can carry you to his bedroom.

once he lays you down on the soft bed, you watch him take off his jacket and throw his shirt over his head, leaving him with his chest bare, elastic waistband of his underwear visible.

he’s a dancer in his spare time, but you know he’s been hitting the gym recently as well, and it’s paying off, noticing his bigger biceps and toned abs.

then he chuckles from the way you’re observing him, and that smile — that beautifully big smile is what you fell in love with.

one of many things, really.

you remove your basic long-sleeved shirt, exposing your skin before him, enjoying the way he’s looking at the black bra you’re wearing underneath.

you’re seated at the edge of the bed, at eye-level with his chest, which you kiss softly.

he follows your actions like a hawk, unable to keep his eyes off you. he proceeds to move your hair behind your shoulder, his right hand finding your jaw when he kisses you again, lips trailing down to your neck and collarbone.

his touches are slow and sensual. at the end of the day, it’s your first time together, and you both notice the pressure and tension that comes with it.

you’re both aching to touch each other more already, but it feels so much better like this.

he gently pushes you to lay on your back, hovering over you to kiss down your chest and stomach, smoothly pulling down your skirt before his fingers hook onto the fabric of your lace underwear.

“what’d you want me to do, pretty girl?” he asks while getting rid of your panties, looking you in the eye as he does it.

the nickname makes you shiver. “you can do anything you wanna do.”

“wanna eat you out. bet i’m better at it than that motherfucker.”

“not hard to beat when he never does it at all.” you mumble to yourself, but he hears it.

“are you kidding? has he ever even made you cum?��

you just give him a deadpan stare that has a hint of embarrassment to it, which is enough for him to know the answer.

just being aware of how bad that fucker treats you makes him want to prove to you that he can make you feel so, so much better. and that’s exactly what he’s gonna do.

he wastes no time, spreading your legs so his tongue can get to work. you shiver at the feeling of his mouth on you, biting your lower lip to not squeal already from sensitivity.

“no. none of that. i wanna be able to hear every sound you make.” he says after taking your hand away from your mouth. “you can pull on my hair if you like.”

“do you like that?”

“yeah, i enjoy a bit of pain.”

that makes you giggle a bit. “you masochist.”

to which he responds with a gentle pinch to your skin. “keep it in mind for next time, baby.”

fuck — you definitely will.

your hands run through his soft black hair. you’ve locked your legs behind his head, hips bucking up a little every time he hits a spot that feels good, his warm breath and wetness of his mouth on your pussy turning you on like crazy.

chan is pretty sure he’s descending into heaven when he hears you moan his name for the first time. he doesn’t know how many times he’s fucked his fist imagining that sound.

so he adds a finger to the warm and wet mess between your legs, sliding in easily, biting his own lip as he watches your reaction to it. you’ve got your head thrown back, one hand fisting the sheets, the other still holding his locks.

then he moves to a second, and not much later he’s got three of his fingers pumping in and out of you, arching them a little to find the right spot, rubbing and sucking on your clit.

“does that feel good?” he asks, just a bit out of breath, which is nothing compared to the writhing mess that’s you. he keeps messing with the pace, edging you a little every time, making you go crazy.

“please, channie, please let me cum—”

“i will if you answer me, baby.”

you whine, nodding at him desperately. “feels s’good, so fucking good.”

“want me to go faster?”

“please. god—need you inside me so bad.”

even he can resist so much. you’re so good for him, so he increases the pace of his fingers, relishing in the way you start squirming underneath him, trying to push him away and pull him closer all the same.

then you pull on his hair almost violently, making him moan against your pussy as you hit your first climax in a long time.

and he doesn’t stop yet — only once he sees you’ve regained focus does he pull his fingers out of you, sucking on them to savor the taste right before kissing you again, your trembling body aching for him.

he only breaks the kiss to reach for the drawer in his nightstand, grabbing a condom out of it, getting off of you to push off the last pieces of clothing still on him. the realization of the fact that your best friend is about to fuck you after god knows how long finally begins to dawn on you, and it makes your heart beat that much harder.

once he’s slipped the condom on, you move your hands to his neck and shoulders, biting your lip when you feel him push your legs behind his waist.

you gasp when he bottoms out of you for the first time. his head is buried in the crook of your neck as he finds his rhythm, sucking at your sensitive skin, not giving a damn whether he leaves marks on someone that’s technically not even his.

yet.

“do you remember that time we went to senior prom together?” he asks breathily, not slowing down even a little bit. “you were wearing that pretty blue dress. god, i wanted to take you home that night more than anything.”

you remember that. it was just before you two graduated high school together — he looked so dashing in his suit. you’d even imagined kissing him underneath the basketball bleachers like some cliche rom-com.

“so why didn’t you?”

“was too much of a pussy to do it.”

you bring yourself to chuckle inbetween your moans. “that’s a shame. i would’ve let you.”

just knowing that his feelings are reciprocated turns him on. he lifts his head up a little, kissing the front of your neck, your jaw, your cheeks — everything, only halting for a moment when he fucks you just a little faster, watching the way your eyes roll back from pleasure.

your hands run over his strong back as he pushes in and out of you at a steady pace, your lip nearly bleeding from how hard you’re biting it.

he hisses and relishes in the burning feeling of your nails digging into his shoulder blades.

“chan—god, harder, please—”

“i know, baby, i know, i got you.” he breathes out, changing up the position by hooking your legs over his shoulders.

it hits the exact right spot when he fucks you again, harder and deeper this time, your hands desperately clinging onto his skin, teeth sinking into your lower lip until they're nearly drawing blood.

beads of sweat roll down his muscular back. he feels you’re getting closer to hitting that release, so he moves one hand down to rub your clit again, aching to see you fall apart underneath him.

“fuck, ’s too much, channie—” you whine, throwing your head back in the pillow for a moment.

but he shakes his head, continuing, knowing you’re close. “you can do it, pretty girl. cum for me again. i wanna feel it.”

and he discovers that begging you works wonders, because it’s enough for you to come undone, clamping on his dick, making it feel so tight that he spills his own release into the condom mere seconds after.

with a layer of sweat on your foreheads, he feels how sensitive you are when he pulls out. he throws the condom in the trashcan, turning his face back to yours and kisses your lips more softly this time.

“how do you feel?”

“a little worn out.” you sigh, proceeding to show a smile. “but better.”

“good. how do you feel about taking a bath?”

“sounds nice.”

chan can’t help himself and leans in to kiss you again. he’s already getting awfully used to this, but one issue remains. “i wanna be with you. i meant everything i said tonight.”

the sentiment warms your heart. he’s always had that effect on you. “i know. i wanna be with you, too.”

he nods, happy with your words. “you go on ahead to the bathroom. i’ll clean things up here.”

“okay.” you tell him, pressing another kiss to his cheek before leaving the bedroom, feeling utterly lovesick.

he shares your feelings — it’s like he’s reliving that exciting feeling of seeing you the first few days after he realized he was in love with you.

there’s something that pulls him out of it, though. a certain vibrating sound. what is that? he thinks to himself.

and after looking around the room, he discovers it’s a phone receiving a call. your phone, to be exact, sitting in the back pocket of the jeans you discarded earlier.

the screen of your cellphone lights up, and he picks up the device, about to let you know someone’s calling — but his voice gets caught in his throat when he notices it’s the asshole who made you cry in the first place.

scoffing to himself, he taps the red button and declines the call.

thank you for reading. x

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

464 notes · View notes

fallingdownhell · 1 year

Note

Genshin men dealing with separation anxiety.

You didn't really specify any characters except for the men, so I just picked out some who I think fit this description. Hope you're okay with that.

Characters Included: Xiao; Wanderer; Tighnari; Diluc

Content: gender neutral reader; separation anxiety; mentions of insecurities; reverse comfort

Word count: 1,8k words

Thanks again for your request!

Xiao

Xiao is relatively new to the whole concept of dating and relationships in general

He tries to get used to it, but it's difficult for him. For so many years, he saw himself as nothing but a weapon. So this new situation is just something he never thought would happen to him

once he fully trusts you with everything about him would be when this particular "problem" starts to show itself

would have one of the worst cases, in my opinion

he is so used to loss, yet he can't imagine having to deal with your loss. He's sure that should this day ever arrive, it would ultimately destroy him, too

he can deal with a few hours alone, he doesn't need you by his side 24/7

but, once a certain time frame has been reached and he hasn't heard or seen anything from you, he starts to grow restless and anxious

Xiao tries to play it cool, but deep down, he worries about you

are you okay? are you hurt? could you possibly need his assistence? But you haven't called for him.. so everything should be fine, right? But what if you just didn't get the chance to call for him and you were already....

he tries to keep his thoughts under control, but he can't seem to redirect the course his mind has taken

he tries to reason with himself, not wanting to immediately assume the worst possible things

but soon, he can't take it anymore, so he starts looking for you. He searches the places you frequent the most, while maintaining a safe distance so you don't immediately spot him

he soon finds you in the streets of Liyue Harbor, talking to one of the vendors, laughing happily

as he sees you like this, his heart suddenly grows lighter, the impending feeling of dread slowly going away as it's replaced by this warm, loving feeling he always gets when looking at you or spending time with you

he waits until your done with your chat, watches you as you walk away from the booth. Once you're in an area with less people around, he appears in front of you

you're slightly startled, but you start to get used to his random entrances and dissapearances

you smile at him, and the last bits of Xiao's worries are instantly blown away as he allows himself to take in your calming presence

somehow, he always feels at peace with you. No matter what life might throw at him in the future, he's sure he will be able to conquer it, as long as you're there with him..

Wanderer

definitely the worst case out of all the others

but can you really blame him? He endured so much already, has experienced so much pain and heartbreak... can you blame him for not wanting to loose you as well, after he let you in?

it takes time and effort to convince him that your feelings for him are genuine and that you would never, ever leave him behind

it's not like he doesn't want to believe you. He really does, but he just can't imagine anyone being actually interested in him and wanting to maintain a relationship with someone like him...

like I said, time and effort is the key into his heart. And even once you managed to take your place there, he won't openly show it. He's awkward about those kinds of things, it's a whole 'nother issue

once you've successfully broken down the walls around his heart and marched your way in, he really can't handle being away from you for more than a few hours

as soon as you talk about leaving (be it to go to work, or groceries) he begins to feel anxious

because... what if you don't return after all? What if you finally realized how insufferable he is and you decided to not deal with it anymore? He knows you proclaim your love to him daily, but he can't help it

the doubts just start to act up like it's second nature to him, and no matter how hard he tries to suppress it, he can't seem to win against his own mind

his imagination runs wild, painting a hundred different scenarios on how you might leave him and run away

he wants to get up and out there, looking for you, but that would make him seem desperate and he most definitely does not want to be percieved in that way

so he sits it out at your shared home, trying to deal with all those intrusive thoughts in his head, intently watching the clock hanging on the wall, counting the minutes until your return

as soon as he hears the door opening, he is up and "greeting" you at the door

"Took you long enough. Where have you been all this time?"

he tries to sound indifferent, but to you, you can clearly tell that his voice lacks the ususal bite and he seems to be frantic

instead of an answer, you pull him into an embrace, lightly stroking his scalp

the Wanderer is taken by surprise at your actions, but that quickly fades and he melts into the touch, knowing that this was your silent reassurance to him

he acknowledges it, but doesn't comment on it

maybe one day, he'll be able to openly talk to you about everything that bothers him and be completely vulnerable to you. But that day is not now...

he just hopes that you can wait for him until this day finally arrives..

Tighnari

as cool and composed as the fox hybrid likes to think that he is, he has his weak moments as well

although... this problem probably won't arise until after the two of you are mated

he's not becoming overprotective of you and he's also not controlling or anything. He just.... he can't really deal with being alone anymore

in the past, before knowing you and even while dating you, it never really bothered him. He was used to not seeing you for a few days, sometimes even weeks, thanks to your position in the academiya

but now... he can't seem to deal with it anymore. Whenever you tell him that you have to leave for a few days, he dreads for those days to arrive

He's perfectly fine for the first two or three days, but anything that comes after that... total nightmare for him and his crew

He is restless, anxious, constantly thinking about you and your well being

Tighnari knows that you're more than capable of protecting yourself, but still! He's not there to protect you, how can he be sure that you're fine?

Sure, you write letters to him almost daily to keep him up to date and reassure him that you're fine... but what if those letters are written by someone else, who just happens to be extremely good at forging handwritings?

During that time period, Tighnari is also not able to sleep very well, if at all

he tosses and turns througout the entire night, hugging your pillow close to him, imaginig that it was you laying next to him, hugging him and stroking his back like you always do

he thought that this might help him to calm down, but all it does is increase his intense longing for you

he whines, calling out your name in the dead of the night, hoping that by some miracle, you would hear his cry and return to him

when you do come back to him, he doesn't care for any work he has to take care of that day

he will leave it for the other rangers to take care of, he has more important things to attend to now

namely, cuddling you in his bed, wrapping his tail around your thighs and burrying his nose in your neck, breathing in your scent that he missed so much while you were gone

he feels your fingers stroking along his back and he can't help the shiver that runs down his spine when you do so

he won't let you out of bed for the next few hours, after all... he has to make up for the days that you and him were separated..

Diluc

oh boy.. another one with a pretty bad case

Diluc has lost so many important things in his life, he couldn't bear losing you as well

He is a busy man, he knows he can't be by your side 24/7, even if he really wants nothing more

time spent with you is always the most treasured to him. With you, he always feels safe and loved. He had no idea how much he has missed feeling like this until you walked into his life

Now that he has those feelings back again... he won't trade them for anything else in this world

being as busy as he is, he doesn't really have much time to see you. Sometimes, you both go days without seeing each other, this fact made worse thanks to Diluc's unpredictable time management

only when his anxiety keeps getting worse, when thoughts from back then start to flood his mind again, does he give into his desires

in the dead of night, he seeks you out, knocking on your door, hoping, praying to the Archons above that you're not asleep yet

and it seems like his prayers were heard, as he can hear footsteps cautiously approaching the door

"It's me, darling. Please... can you open the door?", he calls before you even have the chance to ask who is out there

without hesitance, you open the door, seeing him standing there causes your heart to ache

without questioning him, you pull him inside, closing the door and then immediately turn to hug him. You instinctively know that he needs this right now

Diluc wastes no time in reciprocating your show of affection, burrying his face in your hair, breathing in and commiting your smell to his memory

standing here like this for a few minutes, you are the first to pull away, asking him to lay down with you

he nodds his head in agreement, following you to the bedroom where he pulls you close into him as soon as you are both comfortable on the bed

night like this have become a common occurance for you, knowing where the roots of his actions lie

without him having to ask for the much needed reassurance, you give it to him, trying to further the comfort with your touches to his arms and back, lightly stoking the skin there until his eyes start to grow heavy and he falls asleep

he has never told you the full story about the things that had happened in his past, and you don't pressure him to do so. Once he's ready, he will come to you on his own, you're sure of that

Until that day arrives.. you can wait and help him in any other way that he needs..

2K notes · View notes

papiliotao · 1 year

Text

・❥・BEAUTY AMIDST AN ENDLESS NIGHT

♡ — Reader: GN

♡ — Characters: Albedo, Alhaitham, Kazuha, Scaramouche, Thoma, Tighnari, Venti, Xiao, Zhongli

♡ — Synopsis: on days where you feel as though the world is against you, your lover is there to cheer you up.

♡ — Content: fluff, modern AU, established relationship, generally soft

♡ — Word Count: around 200 per a character

♡ — A/N: the fact that I wrote this solely because I get sad for no reason sometimes. I'm sure there are people out there who can relate though. For anyone going through tough times, stay strong and keep going! I hope this fic will be able to cheer you up a little. (P.S. the parts for each character are arranged in alphabetical order if you're looking for anyone specific)

As your boyfriend, it is both ALBEDO’s duty and pleasure to remind you how much you mean to him whenever melancholic feelings of dread weigh your heart down. You watch as he flips through the pages of a worn sketchbook sitting in his small art studio within your shared home. It is filled with the most wondrous portraits of landscapes, wildfires, and even people. However, Albedo completely disregards those works. Instead, he opts to point out particularly detailed drawings strewn throughout the sketchbook. Intersecting lines form picturesque depictions of the memories you share with Albedo. On one page, your first date. On another, your first night together. But it is the final page he shows you that causes you to raise an eyebrow at him. It seems to resemble a rather average day in your life. In the sketch, you and Albedo are conversing in a mundane setting; there’s really nothing special to be seen. When you ask your boyfriend about it, he allows a gentle laugh to escape the confines of his lips. Then, he points out all the finer complexities of the work. From the lovestruck expression on his face to the way he flawlessly replicated your every feature, you begin to realize how much Albedo thinks about you on a daily basis. Upon reaching this epiphany, the feelings of insecurity and bitter frustration that have been permeating every inch of your mind dissipate ever so slightly, and it’s all thanks to Albedo’s love.

On days where it feels as though you’re drowning in a sea of your own sadness, you are thankful for your lover’s relaxed demeanour. ALHAITHAM’s voice is the only sound that cuts through the tangible silence permeating the air of your living room. He recites complicated words adorning the pages of one of his rather verbose books as you sit beside him, leaning against his muscular figure. Although you can’t understand half the phrases that leave his lips, you feel at ease. His calm voice lulls you into a dreamlike trance, acting as a temporary ailment to the negative emotions that threaten to overwhelm you. So instead of paying heed to the disturbing feelings of deep melancholy that plague your fragile heart, you direct all your attention to the alluring sound of your loving speaking and the feeling of his body pressed against your own, allowing yourself to get lost in every single intricacy of his mannerisms — the very subtleties that you love him for.

Everything about today has felt rather off. Happiness eludes you, avoiding you like an ancient plague, causing feelings of unadulterated sorrow to bubble up within the depths of your soul. Although you’re trying to conceal all your woes behind a carefully-crafted mask of smiles and feigned lighthearted laughter, your facade is akin to porcelain — delicate and fragile, cracking under the slightest pressure. And to no one’s surprise, KAZUHA is able to see through your meticulously-designed illusion of exuberance instantaneously. The subtle sighs and breaks in your expression prompt him to drag you to bed as soon as you’re finished with your daily tasks under the guise that he wants to cuddle. In reality, he knows that you’re having a rather difficult time, and he wants nothing more than to hold you and kiss the pain away, so as of now, you are wrapped in his warm embrace as he continuously presses his soft lips to the back of your neck. His snowy hair tickles your skin as he comforts you, and between each chaste kiss, he whispers sweet nothings into your ear, assuring you that tomorrow, the sun will rise again, giving way to a brighter day full of ecstasy and warmth.

Some days you can’t help but feel as though the world has been obscured by veils of endless blue. Everything feels mundane, and you just can’t bring yourself to smile. Thankfully, even in moments as perturbed as these, you are able to seek a small bit of solace by confiding in SCARAMOUCHE. To others, he seems brash and insensitive, but when it comes to you, he is attentive beyond measure. So when signs of melancholy begin to show through the cracks in your demeanour, your lover drops what he is doing and turns his focus to you. He insists on taking you out to a mysterious location, and although skepticism floods your thoughts, you eventually give in, agreeing to trust Scaramouche despite his enigmatic musings. Your boyfriend drives you to a quaint location situated in the middle of nowhere by the light of the setting sun. As you exit his car, you are greeted by the scent of the evening air, refreshing and cool, just what you need after a long day of feeling down. Scaramouche intertwines his fingers with yours, grasping onto you like a lifeline. He pulls you through a sparse line of trees, and although the darkness of the night obscures your vision, you trust your lover to guide you. When you clear the grove of vegetation, you are met with a sight that causes your breath to catch in your throat. Scaramouche has brought you to a cliff in a secluded area overlooking the city. Millions of stars adorn the velvety royal blue of the night sky, illuminating the world below, and the lights that glitter from the distant urban area fill you with a sensation of nostalgic ease. As you sit down on the soft grass beside Scaramouche, a sense of calm washes over you. Here, beside your lover and under the watchful gaze of the luminous celestial bodies up above, you finally feel at peace.

Amidst restless hours filled with uncertainty and unwanted negativity, THOMA is like an effulgent light piercing through the darkness that clouds your mind. He caters to your every need, doing anything your heart desires in order to remedy your pain even the slightest bit. Right now, he is standing in front of the stove, his back to you as he attentively prepares a meal. A mouthwatering fragrance drifts through the air as he cooks, and the warmth that fills the kitchen from the stove melts the icy cage of sadness surrounding your heart ever-so-slightly. When Thoma finally finishes, he plates the food in a meticulous manner and then shifts all his attention to you. The steam from the fresh meal caresses your cold cheeks as your lover peers deep into your eyes, displaying to you a wondrous sea full of olive green lights as you lock gazes. Before you can thank him for making dinner, Thoma leans over the table and presses a tender kiss against your cheek — one filled with all the gentleness and comfort of the sun on hazy winter days, making even the harshest of stinging winds just a little more bearable.

Whenever the world seems grey, shrouded in the gloominess plaguing your heart, TIGHNARI never fails to restore the beauty of the vibrant hues around you by bringing you bright bouquets of delicate flowers. Vivacious translucent petals tickle your nose as you breathe in the floral scent of the blossoms you are holding in your hands. The perfumed aroma that fills the air causes the tension in your shoulders to relieve slightly. A sigh of contentment escapes your lips as Tighnari takes the flowers from you and places them in a vase. His fingertips brush against your hands, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. In a hushed voice, he begins to explain the symbolism behind each plant in the bouquet. From blush pink azaleas to the fragile and pure lily of the valley, your lover knows of the meanings behind each floret, listing them off one by one. You know that the only reason he’s rambling on and on is to distract you from the thoughts that wrack your restless mind, and for that, you are beyond thankful.

When VENTI first proposes the idea of going on a picnic, hesitance overtakes you. You know he’s just trying to cheer you up, but you’re not quite sure if you’re in the mood to go out. Nonetheless, he manages to convince you that leaving the confines of your house to breathe in the crisp, late spring air and surround yourself with the viridescent foliage of the outdoors will work wonders for your mood, so you allow him to drag you to the park, albeit somewhat begrudgingly. When you arrive at your destination, Venti sets a blanket down on the lush grass, and atop the checkered quilt, he places a weaved basket. Upon opening the basket, you discover that it is filled with all your favourite delectable treats, so despite the bitterness of the day, a small smile settles on your face. As you begin to grin, Venti sings you a song, imbuing each lyric with softness and tenderness, conveying to you that even in the darkest of hours, he will always be by your side. The wind tousles your hair as the sound of leaves rustling in a gentle zephyr rings out like a backing track to Venti’s angelic voice. For the first time that day, you feel a sense of ease settle over you.

XIAO isn’t great at comforting people, but each time he sees your empty expression, he feels his heart shattering into countless fractured crystal shards. Despite knowing that he’s not the most qualified to help you deal with your worries, you still decide to go to him to seek consolation, so in spite of the fact that he is rather inexperienced, Xiao tries his best. He tells you to rest and immediately tucks you into bed with a sweet yet endearingly shy kiss on the forehead. Before he leaves the room, he whispers a few honeyed words in a voice that somehow feels softer than usual, reassuring you that everything will be alright, and when he finally exits, he sets himself to work on all the unfinished chores around the house. He works diligently while you relax under the silky covers of your bed, and although it takes a while, when Xiao finishes with your trivial tasks, he joins you in bed, wrapping an arm around you and allowing you to bury your head in his chest, breathing in his comforting scent as you feel yourself drifting off into a blissful realm of alluring slumber.

On days where joy evades you, ZHONGLI never fails to find a way to comfort you. His presence alone is calming, but when coupled with his actions, you feel as though you can almost continue with your daily routine as usual. At the moment, you are sitting with Zhongli in your living room as your hands are wrapped around a teacup. Condensation graces your palms, and it would be unpleasant if not for the warmth seeping into your body through the delicate porcelain of the cup. As you take a sip of the drink, you allow an airy sigh of contentment to slip through your lips. It’s absolutely divine, reminiscent of the finest ambrosia, something straight out of the tales your lover is currently recounting. Your mind feels as though it is clinging onto his voice, hanging onto his every syllable to regain a sense of stability despite the fog that clouds your thoughts. He spins stories of downfalls and triumphs, some tales downcast while others inspirational, and in the midst of his narration, you find yourself transported to a different world full of fantasies — an oasis of reprieve hidden away from the monotonous and lamentable reality facing you.

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this, then reblogs and comments would be appreciated!

#r.archives *ೃ༄#astronetwrk #favoniuslibrary #albedo x reader #alhaitham x reader #kazuha x reader #scaramouche x reader #thoma x reader #tighnari x reader #venti x reader #xiao x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin imagines #genshin fluff #genshin comfort #genshin headcanons

2K notes · View notes

stxrvel · 4 days

Text

tis the damn season

a season of sadness wanted to come to an end. 'tis the damn season and you thought maybe you could go home and live with your mate the way it was meant to be…

pairing: azriel x f!reader

wc: +3.5k

warnings: pure angst, cuss words and slight (or light? soft?) unprotected (wrap it up) smut. no happy ending, sorry

note: hi guys! :)- i wrote and published this one some time ago, but i deleted it because it was poorly received and that disappointed me a bit. but now that i was able to read it again, i feel it's a good job and that should be enough for me. i hope you guys like it :). see u next time!

Azriel was your mate. You had known for a couple of months. He knew it long before that, too. The bond snapped first for him, but he never tried to get close to you. You didn't know if it was out of fear or if he never agreed with what was chosen for the two of you by the Cauldron.

Likewise, you never had time to ask. The battle against the King of Hybern almost cost you your life. You didn't know what things had been done outside of your consciousness to keep you alive, you didn't know what boundaries Rhysand had crossed to bring you back to life, and you never wanted to ask either. You never asked anything, living in that ignorance gave you a sense of peace you didn't want to get rid of.

But things were never the same after that. From the day you woke up, everything felt different. During that time, you didn't allow yourself much time to delve into what the recent bond between you and Azriel meant, and he always agreed to give you your time.

However, one day, out of nowhere, it all became too overwhelming. And you decided to run away.

You never said anything to anyone, and you closed the door so Azriel couldn't feel you. You knew it must've been painful for everyone, especially your mate, but being with all of them after everything that had happened was unbearable. You lived under a constant reminder of suffering, violence and blood. You couldn't stop seeing your hands full of blood every time you closed your eyes, guilty for the lives they had taken as if you had had any right to do so, but having to know daily that it was all justified. Velaris and the permanence of the rest of Prythian justified it.

So, you went far away, to the other side of the world, to the east. To the Continent.

And life was not easy at all. You knew Azriel wasn't having a good time. After a while, the wall you both had built around the bond was beginning to crack and his emotions were seeping through those tiny cracks. You could sometimes feel his sadness, his pain… his anger. After a couple of minutes of heartbreaking grief, the pangs of anger would appear. You could tell what he was going through and, selflessly, you tried to think that your decision was for the best.

Rhysand wrote to you almost daily. Paper with his handwriting constantly appeared around you and, although you never answered him, he always made it a point to let you know everything that was going on in Velaris.

The first few days were the hardest.

There was a heavy snowfall on the Continent when you arrived, something that had never been more than a welcome, tearing at your skin. The cold was so deadly and the gales so lethal that you couldn't leave the apartment you were renting for a whole week. Apparently, at that time, that was normal. The cold that fogged up the windows, that froze your limbs, and that made all signs of life disappear.

Where are you? Azriel is very worried

Please, answer me

Y/N

WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU????

Cassian and Azriel are flying over Velaris. Can you just tell me, please?

Y/N, we are very worried. Please.

Please.

You had a lot of tugging on your bond from Azriel. You could feel his desperation even through the walls of silence. Those were difficult days. The cold days were not comforting at all.

However, as the months passed, with the cultural difference and the harshness of reality outside of the family you had known for as long as you had memories, so many hundreds of years ago, you gave in to Rhysand's wishes to return to Velaris on the night of the Starfall.

And that night… well, you hadn't told anyone you were going.

But as you expected, Azriel was the first to know you were there.

You heard the flutter of his wings before you saw him, towering in the moonlight against the dim lighting in the city in anticipation of the biggest celebration of the year. He stumbled as he fell, being one of the few times you had seen him unable to control his strength, staggering with his feet and hands to get to a safe distance from you. His breathing was rapid, almost erratic and his eyes were bright, crystallized. The stirring movement in your chest brought tears to your eyes.

Azriel was there in front of you from the moment he had the slight feeling, because he knew the bond wasn't wrong. And his gaze reflected everything. Everything he wanted to say and everything he preferred to keep silent. You had never felt so strongly the need to be close to him; you hadn't even accepted the bond, but you felt as if you had just done it. His eyes roamed the features of your face, his expression contracting as if he was slowly processing that you were really there in front of him.

You saw him raise one of his hands, the hands that had so often held you in the darkness and through the sadness. If you focused really well, you could almost notice how his body trembled at the closeness, with anticipation, just as your body shuddered at his presence.

The effects of the bond were powerful. But that hadn't been what made you fall in love with him.

Azriel took a tentative step forward, reaching out his hands as if in a trance, seeking to touch you to make sure it was really you in front of him and not some kind of hallucination. Your voice stopped him on his feet.

“Hello, Azriel,” you could barely speak, that suffocating feeling of being close tightening your throat. His eyes moved quickly back to yours and watered once more, his breathing quickening again. You didn't know what you had awakened in him just by speaking to him once more after so long without seeing him, but it must've been the same thing that ignited in your body when he spoke.

“Y/N,” he elongated your name, like a plea or a prayer, you weren't sure. Electricity coursed through your body in a matter of seconds and you felt your feet move before you could stop them. The emotion rising in your chest matched your mate's expression, nostalgic because it had been so many months since you had last been so close and yet more pained and suffering because you had been the reason all that pain now surrounded you both.

You stopped just inches away from him, your hands itching with the need to touch him, to feel him close, to once again have that warmth that would warm and thaw your soul. His huge, beautiful wings were taut behind him, being that all his attention was focused on your every move. You saw him hold his breath as you approached, struggling hard to hold back the tears that welled up in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” you whispered the question, the air stealing your confidence, perhaps feeling a little silly and embarrassed about it. Suddenly, you felt too small under his gaze.

“Okay?” the change in his voice was hardly imperceptible, sending shivers throughout your body, the panic of fear making its way into your chest, the bond tightening as if both ends were being pulled at the same time. “You left for a year without telling anyone. We went months without knowing if you were okay. I couldn't… I couldn't… feel you.”

His voice became shaky, each word brimming with a tinge of suppressed anger.

“Do you think I'm anything close to okay?”

Yes, it was a stupid question. The knot in your chest grew rapidly, the back of your throat burning with pent-up tears.

“I can't even enjoy the relief of seeing you now because… I'm so angry.”

“I know…” you barely mumbled, lowering your head. How could you look him in the eye? Why did you think you had the right to go back as if nothing had happened? It was clear that things weren't going to be like they were before. You weren't sure about the others, but it seemed you had taken some of Azriel with you by disappearing like that. Proud you weren't of your actions, but you didn't know how to explain to his shattered features and cheeks wet with tears that, at that moment, you believed it was the right thing to do.

The tears in his eyes prompted your own and you sobbed unable to contain the feeling. You tried to regain your composure, because you had no right to show such sadness when you had created it all. But Azriel was faster and you didn't even manage to put your hands under your eyes when his arms wrapped around your shoulders tightly. His wings also surrounded you and, although you had hardly noticed it because of the darkness, you felt his shadows dance around your feet.

The warmth of his body was automatically welcome. How many times had you imagined that scene in your cold bed on the Continent, all alone and devastated from time to time, with memories invading your mind. Not many times did you regret your decision, except when you thought of Azriel.

He sobbed too, his hands tightening on your arms, as if he was afraid to let you go again. He probably was.

“I don't understand what made you think you'd be better off away from us… away from me, but I'm sorry.”

His words surprised you, but a flood of feelings greeted you from the other end of the bond as Azriel let go and you couldn't think too hard. Crying swirled in the back of your throat. The level of pain and sadness that your mate was handling and had hidden from you for so long was so uncontainable that you almost doubled over, leaning over Azriel's body as you felt it rushing through you.

“I thought you needed space. I know what happened with Hybern was too much for you and I didn't want to overwhelm you. But if I had known that decision would've made you decide you'd be better off away from me…” Azriel gulped, his voice full of feeling breaking off between words. “If I had known I promise you it would've been different.”

You couldn't believe Azriel was telling you that. And the feelings coming from his end through the bond confirmed it to you. Azriel felt guilty about your departure. From moment one, when the panic and fear dissipated, Azriel never stopped feeling that it had been his responsibility that you decided to leave. And he couldn't have been more wrong. You loved him, had loved him long before the bond appeared, but the things that happened after Hybern, that affected you, had nothing to do with him.

“Azriel…”

“I'm supposed to be your mate. I'm supposed to support you, help you when you're down. I don't understand how I could fail at that. I'm sorry,” his voice was muffled as he spoke with his face hidden in your neck. At no time did he let go of you and his wings kept you warm. At that moment, that was home.

“I promise it's not your fault,” you managed to speak, your face pressed against his chest.

“I was supposed to be with you, accompanying you, but I-”

“Azriel, you didn't do anything wrong,” you fought against his tight grip so you could look him in the eyes and the tears running down his cheeks broke your heart once again.

“Then why did you leave?”

You didn't have an answer for that and Azriel realized it when your lips pursed. He sighed, as best he could, and drew you back into his arms. Maybe he didn't need an answer at that moment, just having you by his side was more than enough.

With the others it wasn't much easier.

Rhysand and Feyre almost wept at your feet. Cassian, on the other hand, didn't hide it and deliberately filled your shoulder with tears and saliva. Mor lifted you into the air and almost didn't let you escape when Azriel started begging her to let you go already. Everyone cried. Possibly even Feyre's sisters shed a tear or two.

You felt calm for a while. Complete, as if you were back in that house, in that home, before Amarantha and Hybern destroyed everything for you.

But things couldn't be perfect. After the Starfall, you began to feel that anxiety again. Azriel could only tell by your body language, because you still kept your end of the bond completely closed to him and he couldn't feel the swirl of emotions coursing through your body. You had barely had time to get used to the familiarity of the situation when all the memories came flooding back. Perhaps you had blocked them out during your absence living on the Continent, you weren't sure, but the cries of war began to haunt you from the back of your mind.

Azriel's shadows were also restless and that was another way he could tell something was going on. He was almost glued to your side all night, watching you out of the corner of his eye when you stepped away to talk to some friends. He never let you out of his sight. You knew where this behavior was coming from, but it never occurred to you to comment on it at any time.

So, by that time, Azriel knew what was going on and you were sure you couldn't escape him. When he approached you and extended his hand in silent invitation, with the sound of conversations and drinks in the back of your head, you almost didn't hesitate to take it. His darkness enveloped you and, within seconds, you appeared in your room at the Town House. The party was now an imperceptible murmur.

“Would you like to rest?” Azriel spoke, after spending several seconds standing facing each other. One of his hands ran over your face barely perfunctorily, but the warm sensation ignited too many things in your body. He arranged the strands of your hair that hid your face behind your ears with delicate, almost invisible movements.

You only moved your head in response, up and down, under his watchful gaze.

He almost crawled away, moving to your old bed that didn't have the same sheets as when you left. In fact, when you took a quick glance around the room, it looked too neat considering the amount of time that, presumably, no one used it.

You shrunk at the thought of Azriel coming in regularly to clean it.

With crystallized eyes you watched him move the comforter to make way for the clean white sheets waiting to be used once again after so long.

Azriel turned to look at you, expectant. You didn't know if he was waiting for you to move to lie down or to ask him to leave so you could change into comfortable pajamas, but you did neither. Not when the emotions in your chest moved you, when they were more uncontainable now that you shared your mate's. Not when he opened up to you in such a vulnerable way, when he let you know that which for so long he kept to himself. Not when he gave you to understand that he was always waiting for you, even though it hurt him terribly that you had decided to spend all that time alone.

So, for some reason, whether it was feelings or rationality, you approached him. You let yourself be carried away by nostalgia, by the silent desires of your heart, and you approached your mate with long strides.

His expression went from neutral to confused as you got closer and you only remembered seeing it turn to surprise when you cradled his face in your hands and kissed him.

It was rough and awkward at first, because your mate was completely transfixed for a few seconds. Maybe out of anxiety you counted ten. But, whether he was born from the same place as you or not, Azriel melted under your touch and as soon as he came to his senses he was kissing you back. It was just the kiss of an unaccepted bond, of a separated couple who held too many melancholy memories in their chests to bear on their own.

Azriel wrapped his strong arms around your waist and bent his head to kiss you more deeply. You could feel the desperation and desire hovering tentatively in his demeanor, but he held back to give you a sweet, soft kiss; a kiss that said welcome, a kiss that urged you to stay by your side and never be separated from him again, a kiss that made you wonder why you had left in the first place.

The softness of his movements were a direct contrast to your own. You cradled his face tightly, moving your lips over his as if second nature. Then you circled his neck, pressing him against you as if somehow you could hold him that much closer. You wanted him closer.

But Azriel broke away, breathing in and out between gasps, and looked up at you with dark, glowing eyes.

“Do you want this?”

His hands on your skin burned.

“Yes,” you answered quickly and tried to move closer again to kiss him, but he broke away again.

“And are you going to stay after this?”

Your eyes met his worried expression, thinly disguised. Ever since he'd opened his end of the bond for you, shedding any obstacle on his part that wouldn't allow him to feel you, everything you'd seen from him had been genuine. So you knew that concern was genuine and the mere conception generated pain in your heart.

“I will stay,” you assured him, forcing your lips into a tight smile.

Azriel studied your face trying to convince himself of your words, for he was an expert at knowing your body language, and you had no idea what he saw that convinced him and led him to pounce on your mouth once more.

When the lightness settled into the bond, you were thankful you had never lowered your wall. Guilt suffocated you.

But you kissed him back and followed your heart's desires, if only for one night.

Azriel moved his hands along every curve of your body before removing your dress. If you hadn't stopped his movements, he would've surely ripped it off. His eyes followed every part his hands had explored and then his lips were on every inch of skin. Against the soft mattress and with your wrists held by his hands, you could only sigh and moan slightly at the way he explored your body. And yes, Azriel took his time.

Before long there wasn't a single cloth separating the two of you and your mate simply couldn't keep his hands and lips still. Not that he wanted to, either. You moved your hands along his back, trying to avoid his wings, and moving your lips down his neck when he would let you because it seemed like all he wanted to do was eat you up with kisses.

It wasn't long before he had you panting against him, with the sound of bodies colliding being the only thing your head could process at that moment. The tingling that coursed through your body was like no other you had ever felt; the wonders Azriel was doing with your body were unparalleled. He was panting too and every time he met your eyes it seemed to you that they were darker than the last time, but he never stopped holding you at any moment, never stopped hugging you as if his whole life depended on it. Maybe it did.

The feel of his body against yours was indescribable, the movement and rhythm almost unbearable. You had never felt pleasure even remotely close to what he was making you feel at that moment.

“Azriel…” you moaned his name, gripping his shoulders tightly, burying your nails as if it were your only stability.

He cursed between gasps, increasing the pace and the force with which he held your waist.

You were never going to get to touch the sky like you did that night, that much was clear. Even though your head was split in two, you looked into his eyes as you went through the most shattering, sweeping orgasm you'd ever had, reveling in the sounds that came from his mouth as he followed you to paradise.

You thought it was going to be hard afterwards, but you fell asleep almost instantly.

When you opened your eyes again, your mate's arms and legs were wrapped around your body and one of his wings was covering your nakedness and keeping you warm. You were facing him, chest to chest, and just looking at his peaceful sleeping face made you want to cry. Life was here, next to him, why couldn't you accept that?

Getting out of bed without waking him up was quite a battle. Not as much as it was to sit at the foot of the bed, watching him rest, completely unaware of what would await him when he woke up. This time you were being selfish, you knew it, it was too cruel. But in your head there was nothing but disaster, pain disguised as stability. You couldn't have a good life with Azriel now and you didn't know if you could bear to see him to tell him after you promised to stay. You shouldn't have told him that, but how could you tell him otherwise? Maybe if he woke up at that moment you would stay… maybe that's why you sat there for so long.

But finally you left, just like last time, in the middle of the silence, with his shadows following your feet and trying to keep you company. You felt a deja-vu as you stood in front of the door, thinking about how on both occasions you were thinking about what would happen if someone showed up to stop you.

It didn't, in either case, and you knew the next day the exact moment when Azriel realized you had done it once again. He didn't try to hide his pain, he didn't have to, you deserved to know how you had made him feel.

On the ship, on the way to the Continent, you fell to your knees as his pain stole your breath.

#azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel angst #azriel spymaster #acotar fanfiction #acotar #azriel smut

170 notes · View notes