#i didn’t realized that’s what I was feeling for a long time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

The Tumblr office adopted Tommy, an 11-year-old Pomeranian.

#i didn’t realized that’s what I was feeling for a long time

seawing-vibes · 2 days

Text

Decided to fill out a template from @/falling-skyzz I feel normal about . The dragons ! List of characters & design & dynamic thoughts under the cut <3

Also If anyone else fills out thus template feel free to send me the post,, I would love to see other people filling this out!!! I love templates !!

Secretkeeper & Moon • I understand theres a lot of reasonable hate for Secretkeeper but!!! I find her & moon to be a very fascinating pair! To make a long ass thought short, I think Secretkeeper is the embodiment of “product of her environment & deeply traumatize & projecting”. I think she genuinely really loves moon but obviously expresses that through being “”protective””. But I think shes genuinely a character with a capacity for change & realizing the autonomy Moon has over her own powers. Also from the perspective of Moon I think her arc around her relationship with her mom could be really interesting, especially as Secretkeepers authority becomes challenged in Moons life & she has to confront the bullshit her mother has put her through. Overall very very interesting pair I think about them a lot.

Design Note: Secretkeeper is duller in color than Moon & has less stars due to lack of moon light on the island! Also the scales around her mouth are almost completely black, making her mouth barely visible, giving her the name “Secretkeeper” as she “has no mouth to tell others secrets.”

Tsunami & Starflight • Just one of my fav siblings! This specific illustration is from the Arena Scene in Dragonet Prophesy! I really really love Tsu & Starflights dynamic of looking up to eachother & their development together just. So neat!

Design Note: Starflight has very few constellation marks in this illustration as he hasnt spent much time under moonlight quite yet!

Shark & Abalone • One of my more out-there ships! I based this on the thought that Shark was once close with Abalone (cough. Husbands.) and that relates to why he was willing to give Tortoise a lunch-break from watching the eggs. He already saw someone close to him die from being overworked to watch the clutch, he didn’t want to watch another dragon die from his sisters selfishness. I could write an essay on these two I swear

Deisgn Note: Shark is based on a tiger shark & abalone is based on real abalones! hes one of my fav designs here

Six-Claws & Ostrich • He’s just a sweet dad! the little we see of him he seems to really love her & vice-versa <3 they’re just neat

Design Note: Six-Claws is based on a king cobra & is a specific sub-“species” of hooded Sandwings ! Burn found his hood mutation & six-claws super interesting

Tamarin & Pike • My fav background friendship! They’re just fun. I like Pike just chillin out around Tamarin & describing flower colors to her to the best of his ability (she just likes to hear him ramble about a shared interest)

Design Notes: I updated how I draw Tamarins eyes to properly resemble a blind-born dragon ! Also Pike’s deisgn got some yellow in it and I really like it <3

Whiteout & Thoughtful • I just think they’re neat!! They just seem like a sweet pair love them

Design Note: none really! Just experimenting with a rando Thoughtful design that I tossed together for my “ships tier list”

Tsunami • Its just her :) my fav dragon <3!!! I definitely dont think she upholds the “princess” title once she gets older, her only link to the throne is by Coral insisting monthly visits but Tsu otherwise wouldn’t be any interesting in royal life I would imagine

Design Note: Shes caught a waaururrghh something im going bonkers I cant remember what fish that is and my reference photo seems to have dissipated into the cosmos

Anemone • I LOVE HER. SO MUCH ! Anemone haters BACK OFF!!!! Her relationship to her powers is so fucked man. Something you’d think would give her power & control is just a key by which others use to manipulate and abuse her like . Man :( shes literally never had any autonomy over her own identity & intermingled her powers into her identity So Much only for that aspect of herself to also be revealed to be a facade for someone else’s desires like. GUH I love her so much I hope shes having a good day I dont care what anyone says she deserves to be a brat and I support her for it

Design Note: none really! The stars in her talons are just metaphorical though

Snowflake & Snowfox • THE OGS!!!!!! MY FAVORITE PROBLEMATIC LESBIANS <3 Ahhh remember in the early days when they were considered the #1 most problematic ship because they were gay and also evil. I love the evil lesbians so much they’re so shitty sorry Darkstalker Snowfox should’ve been queen I would’ve loved to see that go down it’d be so silly

Design Notes: Snowfox is based on an arctic fox shedding into their summer coat!! I know its p . Away from canon descriptors of her but it was sm fun to illustrate so shhh <3 Snowflake is just grey & blueish per-canon but shes sooo fun. love her.

Okay thats all here are the individual illustrations now !!!!! Because why not !!! If these aren’t transparent its all over

404 notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 1 day

Note

hi mae! i was wondering if you could write something where reader gets embarrassed to admit she likes/enjoys something during sex (like a kink or specific turn on), preferably with poly!marauders, remus or james?

if not that's totally understandable!! thank you <3

Hi lovely, thanks for requesting! I picked something rather tame because I wanted it to be common enough, hope that's okay :)

cw: smut mndi, p in v, praise, choking

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 683 words

Remus is kissing you with his bare thigh nestled between yours, and his hand is wrapped loosely around the side of your neck, and his thumb is almost, almost, where you want it.

You push your hips up into his, sliding the pulsing wetness of you up his thigh, and a chuckle reverberates through him as he kisses you harder, pressing you back down into the mattress. His hand tightens slightly on your throat, making you whine.

Remus makes a soft pitying sound and starts adjusting for what he believes you want, slotting his cock between your legs. And you do want that, you do, but your focus has narrowed to his hand, his long, lithe fingers resting almost casually around your neck. His thumb strokes down the side of your throat.

“What is it, dove?” he asks, voice rasping slightly. “Is this good?”

“Mhm.” You close your eyes, relishing the feel of him.

“Something you want?”

You hum a denial. Remus goes quiet, his movements not stopping but slowing.

You open your eyes, and he’s watching you. Contemplative. His fingers flex on your neck, and you realize you’ve lifted your head off the pillow, pressing your throat harder into his grasp.

He presses down with his thumb experimentally. Your cunt pulses in response.

Remus coos. “You like that, honey? You like when I choke you?”

You feel heat bloom under his hand, spreading up to your face. “No,” you say, but your voice comes out breathy and heated.

Remus lifts an eyebrow. “No?” He lets his hand slip down your throat, and you try not to react to the loss. It gets as far as your collarbones, splaying out possessively as he lowers his lips to yours. “I don’t want to do anything you don’t like,” he tells you, laying a soft, enticing kiss on the corner of your lips. “So if there’s something you do like, you’ve got to tell me. Understand?”

He raises his head to look you in the eyes, and you rub your lips together, nodding.

“Good girl.” He gives you a small smile, rubbing his thumb over the jut of your collarbone soothingly. “Now, is there something you want?”

You hesitate, but Remus is patient. While he watches you, his thumb dips into the crevice between your collarbones, pressing down lightly. His lips twitch when you shiver.

“Yeah,” you admit in a whisper.

“And what’s that, dove?”

You give him a look. “You know.”

He hums, hand sliding down, further from your throat. “Tell me.”

“Remus,” you nearly whine. “Please, it’s embarrassing.”

Remus chuckles, dipping down to kiss at your jaw. “It’s not embarrassing, but regardless,” his mouth moves towards your ear, “I need to hear you say it. Just once, if you want, just so I can be sure you actually want it. Can you do that for me?”

You sigh softly as he kisses under your ear, nodding. He pauses expectantly.

“I want you to choke me,” you breathe, shutting your eyes in mortification, “please.”

You feel his smile unfurl against your skin, and Remus doesn’t let you sit long in your embarrassment, his hand going back where you want it and squeezing gently. You gasp, cunt tightening on his cock. Remus echoes the sound.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” His voice goes rough around the edges. He adjusts his hold as he starts to move inside you again. “Let me know if it’s too much, yeah? I didn’t know it was so easy to get you worked up.”

You’re too pleased to be embarrassed, but you grasp for a hold on his lower back, pushing him into you harder. Remus groans. He tightens his grip on your throat at the same time as he thrusts, and you clench around him, swallowing a moan.

He makes a satisfied humming sound. “Like that, hm?”

You nod, half delirious as your brain buzzes and tears press at your eyes.

“Good.” He curls his free hand over your hip, holding you still as he drives into you. “Attagirl, just tell me how you want it. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

381 notes · View notes

verstappen-cult · 7 hours

Note

Maybe a lestappen fic were Reader friends are the worst and they comfort her, thank you 💗

You were out with your boyfriends when you saw them across the street, walking out of a shop, talking and laughing without a care. You had texted them yesterday to ask if they were free today to hang out, since you haven’t seen them in a few weeks. The answer? I have to work. I’ll be out of town. I’m sick, just numerous excuses.

Max noticed the change in your demeanor in an instant. “What’s wrong, love?”

“Oh, I just remember that I need to call mom, or she’ll get mad.” You smile, not wanting to worry him.

“You can call her once we get home.” He kisses your forehead and holds your hand to keep walking.

Being around them was enough to make you forget about what you saw and you actually ended up enjoying the day off.

Until Charles decided that it was time to eat and walked into one of your favorite restaurants in town. A very exclusive but cozy one.

The host just gave your boyfriends a look and it was enough for her to rush to get you three a table.

“Aren’t those your friends?” Charles asks you, looking behind your shoulders.

You didn’t want to look but you also didn’t want them to know what happened. So, you simply turned around with a forced smile.

“Oh, yes! What a coincidence.”

“You can say hello to them,” Max gives you a little pat on your lower back, encouraging you to go to them. “We will wait for you.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek before walking towards them.

You notice the exact moment they see you, because they go from laughing to a complete silence.

“Hey!” You try not to show how affected you are, how much you want to cry. “I thought you were busy today.”

One of your friends gives you a once over before leaning closer to one of your other friends and whispering something before laughing.

They don’t even try to pretend.

“Yeah. This was something last minute.” One girl says, taking a sip of her drink. “We forgot to tell you.”

“Are you following us?” One of your male friends says, not hiding his smirk at all.

“Oh, no, I’m—”

“Because that’s sad.”

One of your friends, one you thought was someone you could trust, bursts out laughing before saying, “Even for you.”

You’re one second away from crying now, so you decide to excuse yourself and walk away, not hungry anymore and just wanting to go home. But Max and Charles are by your side in one second and you’re unable to do so.

“Max, Charles!”

Everyone’s expression changes just like it changed when you approached their table. The difference is that this time they’re all smiling, sparkling eyes looking up at them as if you are not even there, standing between them. As if you are invisible.

“Are you waiting for a table?”

“You can sit with us. We can make space for you!”

It’s laughable, really.

Charles looks at you, his hand on your waist. “You want to sit here, chéri?”

You avoid looking at your “friends” and Max notices immediately.

“We just came for take out,” Max explains, a friendly smile on his lips. “she just wanted her favorite dessert and we can’t say no to her.”

Everyone on the table laughs. But it’s forced, anyone would notice.

“Well, we should plan something, then.” A blonde girl you have never seen before says. She’s twirling her hair and everything, and you would feel disgusted if it weren’t for the situation you’re currently in.

Max holds your hand, rubbing circles on your palm. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”

Silence.

A beat.

And then.

“Some friends you are.”

You are out of the restaurant in ten minutes. Charles carries some take out while Max doesn’t let your hand go, at least not until you’re in front of the car.

“Are you okay?” Max cups your cheeks, and you finally let the tears fall.

“We noticed things were weird when you stood in front of their table.” Your Monégasque boyfriend says, his free hand rubbing your back. “We just didn’t realize how bad it was until we heard them.”

“How long has this been happening?”

You sniff, feeling the pad of Max’s fingers wiping the tears off your face.

“Now that I’m thinking about it,” You laugh, closing your eyes, thinking about how stupid and blind you were. “it has been this way since… forever.”

“Oh, baby.” Charles wraps you in his arms, Max joining the hug without a second thought.

“You should have told us.” Max whispers in your ear, and you nod because he is right. “We could’ve done something.”

Charles rolls his eyes, giving his boyfriend a little push. “You don't need them, okay?”

“You are an incredible,” Max kisses your cheek, “and amazing person.”

“Most beautiful girl in the world.” Charles kisses your other cheek.

Your Dutch boyfriend gives you a little peck on the lips before pulling away to look directly into your eyes. “Anyone would be lucky to have you in their lives.”

“Their loss.” You groan against Charles’ shoulder.

“That’s my girl!” They laugh and you feel like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders.

“Now,” The blonde-haired boy says, opening the car door for you. “Should we go home to eat in bed while we watch some movie?”

“Can we watch Cars?”

“Charles, she will choose the movie!”

“But she loves Cars too!”

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱#charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen x reader #lestappen x reader #f1 imagine #charles leclerc fluff #max verstappen fluff #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

276 notes · View notes

raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 days

Note

you know i've been thinking about the consequences of malleus's actions in book 7 and i realized how much he's fucked everyone over including his grandma. bc like other than the fact that he ob'd (which literally has NEGATIVE connotations one of which being is idk ""UNSTABLE"" which isnt necessarily a good look for a crown prince is all im saying) he's literally causing terrorism (??? can you call it that idk how else to call it) which is going to setback his grandma's efforts (and lilia's and baul's, and every supporter of his and his family) in keeping peace in their kingdom and the favor of the humans towards the fae. Like. i feel so bad for grandmother draconia rn i can only imagine the stress and pressure she's under.

Then theres also aside from PHYSCIALLY compromising everyone's healths in sage island (BECAUSE THE MAJORITY ARE HUMANS OR AT LEAST THEY DONT LIVE AS LONG AS THE FAE). He's also fucked everyone mentally twice over!!!! By booting them straight into a world where none of their problems exist. Now that wouldnt sound bad if it weren't for the fact that dreams have to end, and life isnt kind. It rarely ever is, and i can only imagine how distraught i would be if i were to say, hypothetically lost someone a year before and the wound is so fresh and raw and, in my dreams, they never died and everything is okay, then i wake up and realize that it was just that. A dream, they are still gone and i wish i never woke up which would be a LITERAL DEATH SENTENCE. This isnt just an event that takes place in NRC either BUT THE WHOLE ISLAND and that domain is GROWING, GROWING. I can't imagine just how many would be so emotionally ruined after this. Like.....

If Malleus does not suffer the consequences of his actions istg i will be so pissed, at least REMOVE HIM FROM THE PREMISE OR SOMETHING GODDDDDDD this cannot be remedied with a slap on the hand!!!!!

(Note: Sorry for the long rant. I felt the need to get this out of my chest bc i dont mind malleus's archetype actually nor do i actually hate him, bc i enjoy him interacting w other characters a lot (my fave ever vigenette is him giving deuce the equivalent of minecraft diamon for fixing a retrobit gaming toy) BUT GOD DOES HE MAKE MY BLOOD BOIL)

Yeah, I do feel like the scale of Malleus's actions cannot be understated. I know it's kind of a fandom joke that the OB boys are left off with a slap on the wrist + maybe some social ramifications at school, but this is the ONE time in the main story where things are getting super big and the effects could be cripplingly long-lasting.

I don't know if TWST will seriously address the consequences after book 7, but I sure hope they do!! There is a lot of interesting ground to cover (many points which this anon has already brought up) in a follow-up main story arc or the next book.

For example:

Malleus obviously has to regain the trust of his peers and staff. He didn’t really have it before but now has to work twice as hard to make connections since he just took a drastic action that confirmed the rumors some were already spreading about how he’s a monster.

He’s the sole heir to the throne and has just betrayed the trust of the people of Briar Valley. How are they feeling about him now? Do they still trust him to lead them?

How does this impact their relations with other countries (since Malleus himself stresses how he represents Briar Valley)? This is a problem visible on a global scale, and surely this would damage their rep with other nations, particularly the predominantly human ones. It’s setting back what is hundreds of years of trying to fix the broken trust between their races.

Malleus’s UM potentially puts his victims in physical harm; in book 7, Ortho suggests that since everyone is sleeping, their bodies are not getting the food or water they need. As a result, they may physically waste away and then perish. (We have seen that there are sleep blessings that keep people sleeping for hundreds of years without detriment to the blessed though, such as the one cast on Silver—so we cannot be entirely sure if Ortho’s theory is correct or not.)

There is the possibility that Malleus’s dreams may traumatize or retraumatize his victims, particularly those with deep rooted troubles. An example of this is Idia, who had suffered the loss of his brother when he was like… 8 years old??? But then in his dream, Idia is living a happy false reality that Ortho never died. When he finally comes to this realization, he has to relive the trauma of the discovery all over again and breaks down sobbing. We also see in the most recent book 7 update that Vil had to face the evilest aspects of himself and a dark reality; Rook became very emotional upon waking himself. Admittedly, Idia and co. coped with it well enough—this is proof of their character development and the strength of the new friendships they’ve formed. However, all the people on Sage’s Island/Twisted Wonderland may not react so positively or be so accepting of their cruel realities.

Again, just the overall moral dilemma of one person robbing all of Sage’s Island (and soon all of Twisted Wonderland) of their autonomy.

Potential extra work for STYX and whichever countries Malleus’s magic manages to spread to (repairing any physical damage caused by the thorns + mental damage done to those that fell asleep). That’s money, time, and resources that aren’t going toward other everyday endeavors.

How will Malleus himself mentally and emotionally cope with what he has done? Is he going to show remorse and shame? How does he plan on rectifying his actions, if at all?

Will this change how his dorm members + family view him? For example, will Sebek become disillusioned with his liege/realize Malleus is not as perfect as he seems? Will Maleficia blame herself for not being there for Malleus? Will Lilia feel guilty for not teaching Malleus right from wrong? Etc, etc, etc.

I’d honestly love to read all of these! 🤔 It would add a lot to the lore and history of Twisted Wonderland, as well as serve as motivators for Malleus to change, “be better”, and actually earn the respect he’s so used to being handed by default. This would be huge for him, especially seeing as he has not really faced significant backlash or consequences for any other missteps he was responsible for or involved in. (I know I bring this one up a lot, but Endless Halloween Night is one such major example.)

#twst #twisted wonderland #Malleus Draconia #book 7 spoilers #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #notes from the writing raven #Idia Shroud #Ortho Shroud #Ignihyde #Maleficia Draconia #Sebek Zigvolt #book 6 spoilers #Silver #Lilia Vanrouge #Diasomnia #Vil Schoenheit #Rook Hunt #book 7 part 8 spoilers

235 notes · View notes

crguang · 3 days

Text

ocean eyes

You’ve never seen the ocean. Kafka introduces you to it.

fluffy as fawk, recycled the idea from that fic but it’d be like a prequel technically, 2.3k words

A/N: couldn’t stop thinking about kafka loving the sea she’s made for me atp. title only makes sense because of the other fic lol

The sea breeze washes over your being, it caresses each strand of hair and softly touches your skin like gentle hands cupping your cheeks. You feel it in your ears, a sound you’re hearing for the first time; its warmth seems to enter your lungs and clear it of past impurities with every inhale, and you wish to take a deep breath to keep it inside your chest forever.

The sensation leaves you immobile. In front of you, the ocean. A myth come true, its beauty rivaling Idrila’s. It’s vast, bigger than your mind can comprehend even after so many years spent traveling the cosmos, and a deeper blue than the sky it’s reflecting. Water has never been so alive, with waves crashing on the shore and currents on the horizon, you are facing an entity larger than life. Its depths create and harbor life that you won’t ever get to see. Your mortal eyes can only perceive a fraction of it, so small and significant. You didn’t think it was possible for water to kiss the sky, having the proof before you fills you with wonderment. Among it, some strange feeling nestles in your throat. You stand as it curls around your vocal cords and leaves you mute. Words are useless in front of something so grand, you realize, they fade away as if they've never existed at all. You lose yourself in cold blues and the occasional whites of flying seagulls, in salty air that quickly becomes your favorite scent, and you can’t speak for a long moment.

Lithe fingers, laced with your calloused ones, tighten their hold on your hand. It takes a couple blinks to tear your eyes away from the boundless sea, and you turn to Kafka’s fond smile. She’s watching you, drinking you in like you’re the precious sight and not the limitless expanse of water on the coast. A thumb swipes over the crease of your eye, lingering at the corner for a second too long, and you realize she’s wiping a tear away.

“Oh,” you exhale softly, bringing your free hand to your face. Your cheeks are wet with silent tears and you sniffle as you wipe them from your skin. “I didn’t even notice.”

“What were you thinking about so intently just now?”

You look back at the sea, an ache in your throat. The sun hides behind thin clouds and paints the world in soft colors.

“I was wondering if my planet was ever this pretty. I wish my mother could have seen it.”

Your home world fell victim to a Stellaron, like plenty throughout the galaxy. It dried most of your rivers and evaporated many of your lakes, transforming seas into lands full of sand. Water was a limited resource and a tedious thing to acquire. You remember stumbling on a picture book with various shades of blue filling some of the pages and asking your mother about it. That evening, she explained the ocean to you; never-ending, deeper than mortals can comprehend and filled with creatures your childish mind could merely compare to alien life. You thought she was making stuff up, maybe embellishing a mundane truth, but she spoke of the sea with the same tenderness she used to tuck you into bed. As you grew, you understood that it was longing in her words, a deep desire for something she would never experience in this lifetime. To you, it felt pointless to yearn for something she didn’t know; your mother was born long after the Stellaron infected your planet and spread its cancer to the roots of your world. You didn’t understand how this desire was born, where it came from. Yet, in her eyes resided a wistfulness that was only extinguished the day she died. She left the waking world longing for the sea, and memories of her constrict your chest as you stand at the edge of it.

Kafka hums, pivoting to face the water. A gentle silence settles between you as you watch the waves rise and fall on the shore. Her bare palm is warm against yours, it grounds you to the sand beneath your feet. Seagulls make a grating sound, you discover, but even their squawking can’t ruin the view before you. You feel a sudden restlessness to touch the water, to have it envelop you entirely until you feel yourself disappear in it as if absorbed.

“Can we go in the water?”

Kafka smiles. “Sure.”

Your hand slips from hers and you step out of your slides, sinking your toes into the hot sand of the beach. Sand is something you’re familiar with, it reminds you of your mom and your broken world. Comfort fills you with every step towards the waves. Kafka follows beside you, used to the sights and the sensations. She comes here every summer, but this is the first time she’s brought you along. You understand why she’d want a place like this all to herself, it brings forth a sense of serenity best enjoyed in solitude. Or, at least it did, before. Before experience brought you closer.

You hesitate somewhat once you reach the water. Your feet are submerged in it and suddenly its vastness becomes a little terrifying. Kafka walks in further until she’s standing waist deep in the water, circling hands creating ripples around her. She turns to face you with a silent question on her stretched lips.

“…I don’t know how to swim,” you confess uselessly, prompting a chuckle out of her. She knows that, obviously, since you’re unfamiliar with large bodies of water.

“We can stay on the shallow end. Don’t want you drowning on my watch, I’d get in a lot of trouble with the others.”

Kafka holds out her hand. You take it with some reticence. She brings you close enough for wet fingers to squeeze your waist affectionately. Her easy expression makes you at ease, she seems different on this planet, more carefree. She’s not wearing her contacts and her ponytail is lower than usual, its tie looser around her long locks of hair. You’re privy to a side of her you had no idea existed and you’re honored by the trust she puts in you.

“Nice, right?”

“It’s cold,” you reply, looking down at your wobbly reflections.

“Mm, I like it.”

You dip your hands beneath the water and turn your palms to the sky. Algae brushes against your calves as you move around. Kafka lets you explore, head tilting back to face the sun. You venture a bit further until your neck is the only thing sticking out of the water. Impulsively, you squeeze your eyes shut, pinch your nose with two fingers and sink into the water. Every sound is muffled in your ears, and in the darkness everything is pointless. This is different from a shower or being caught in the pouring rain, you feel light. weightless, insignificant. You wonder if that’s what your mother longed for, this freedom to be anything and anyone, drifting through the boundless sea. You emerge with a little gasp, rubbing the water out of your eyes before blinking them open.

You’re careful not to stray too far from where Kafka is drinking in the faint sunlight. Her eyes are closed when you glance back at her, chin tilted to the heavens. Her shoulders have turned a rosier color from the sun and her dark, backless bathing suit contrasts beautifully with the clear ocean blue. You walk towards her, flicking your wrist to send water flying her way. Her brows twist for a second before she looks at you with a small smile. Kafka always smiles a lot, more often than not to unsettle her opponent or prey, but there’s a softer edge to the ones she’s had since you arrived on this planet.

“What do you usually do here?” You ask, moving closer to her.

“Float. Wanna try?” Kafka holds onto your waist when you’re close enough to reach, pulling you towards her. “I can show you.”

“I don’t want to drown.”

“You’re not going to drown.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Kafka playfully rolls her eyes and takes hold of your chin with a few fingers. Her gaze follows the movement of her thumb across your jaw, then flicks up to meet yours.

“I wouldn’t let you,” she says, leaning in to press her lips on yours in a soft kiss. Your eyes flutter shut as her mouth slowly moves against yours. She pulls away after a moment and looks at you. “Do you trust me?”

“At times.”

“Well, trust me now.”

One of her hands is placed on the small of your back to support you, the other gently guides you onto your back by applying pressure on your chest.

“What if I float away,” you say, a tinge of panic enveloping you, and you grab her wrist to stay upright.

Kafka can’t help the amusement on her face. “To where?”

“Far, I don’t know.”

“Would you miss me?”

You pout. “It’s a valid fear to have.”

“It’s really not.”

“What if I float to the deep end, then it’s too late to come back and I drown because I can’t swim?”

Kafka looks at you for a moment, eyelids lowering and an amused smile on her lips. She doesn’t say anything, just stares at you like she’s thinking of something funny.

“What?” You ask, eyes narrowing.

“You killed three flying beasts twice your size at once, last week. You're scared of a little water?”

“Fuck you,” you try pushing her away, but she only presses you further into her with her arms around your waist, a laugh escaping her. “There’s nothing little about the fucking ocean.”

“Relax,” she drawls, “it won’t work if you’re tense.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing.”

Kafka curls a hand around the back of your neck and suddenly brings you closer to capture your lips with hers. Her head tilts to kiss you better, and you can’t focus on anything but the sweet kisses she presses against your mouth. Your wet hand trails up her spine, causing droplets of water to slide down her back. Your lips part to deepen the kiss when her tongue swipes over your bottom lip. You forget the argument, your muscles relax as her chest touches yours, and by the time she pulls away with a soft exhale through her nose, you almost forget your surroundings. You chase her lips as she leans back, planting a few more chaste kisses on her mouth. She indulges you for a minute, the fingers on your nape tightening their grip for an instant. You’re breathing heavier when she separates from you for good and smiles.

“Now, let’s try it again, mmh?”

Kafka teaches you how to float in the water with firm hands and occasional teasing jabs to which you would respond if she wasn’t the one standing between you and drowning. In the end, you spend most of the day at sea, learning how to keep water from going up your nose without using your fingers and the basics of swimming. Your fingertips are pruned hours later as you emerge from the water. Kafka’s still under— you bet on who could hold their breath the longest— so you dive back beneath the surface as quietly as you can. She calls you a cheater afterwards, but you distract her with wet, slippery kisses.

You’re drying yourselves on the beach as the sun sets below the horizon. You sit on your towel next to Kafka, who’s reclined on her elbows. Her eyes are closed, not a crease between her brows, and her head is tilted upwards. Before, you thought she was sunbathing, but now the temperature is slightly lower than this afternoon and the sun is no longer visible in the sky. You think perhaps she’s simply enjoying the sound of the waves and the salty air like you did earlier. It’s funny, she hasn’t told you what this place means to her; it clearly holds some sort of significance if she returns to it annually. Her way of revealing herself is unconventional at best and a little clumsy, like a fawn taking its first steps. She presents you the sea, this part of her she keeps hidden from everyone, and says nothing else. You watch the lines of her nose, the curves of her lips and their pretty pink color. Her face is bare from any makeup, her hair loose and her expression so relaxed she might’ve been asleep. She’s beautiful. You’re no longer gazing at the ocean, though you feel a familiar sense of wonder as you observe her. Your heart is light in your chest and you suddenly understand how your mother could yearn for something she’s never experienced before.

Kafka’s eyes slowly blink open. She tilts her head to meet your stare with a smile, and you long to love her like your mother longed for the sea.

“Let’s stay a little longer.”

You nod. Your limbs move before you can stop yourself; you straddle her waist, sitting on her lap and snaking your arms around her back. Kafka lets you bury your nose in the crook of her neck, using a hand in the sand to support the both of you.

“What’s that for?” There’s a teasing lilt to her voice as you breathe in the smell of the sea on her skin.

“Nothing,” you lie, pressing a kiss to her skin.

Your mouth trails up her neck to her jaw, tasting salt, and Kafka hums when you kiss her lips. It feels different to kiss her after getting acquainted with the ocean because you finally have something to compare the weightlessness that overwhelms you with each of her fervish kisses. A hand tangles itself in your hair, pulling you closer until she reclines on the ground and your body follows without missing a beat, lips locked.

You pull away to breathe in, only slightly, reveling in the sensation of her hand up your back.

“You’ll get sand in my hair,” Kafka mutters into your mouth.

“I’ll wash it for you.”

On a deserted beach and with the sea as your witness, you kiss her until the moon ascends in the sky and the waves grow stronger behind you.

#honkai star rail #hsr kafka #hsr x reader #hsr #kafka x reader #hsr fluff #hsr x you #kafka x you #kafka fluff #hsr fanfic

168 notes · View notes

mykoreanlove · 2 days

Text

heard you got a thing for hands

„Psssshh, don’t make a sound.“, Jeongin warned you as he noticed his friend moving around behind you on the couch.

You were trying your best not to make any noise but as Jeongin’s fingers were pumping in and out of you, you lost yourself in the pleasure he brought you.

His fingers were long and tender, finding your wet entrance easily.

He was holding you in his strong arm while the other one was penetrating you roughly. You could feel yourself getting sore but didn’t care, you didn’t want him to stop. You needed him. Badly.

Your hips started swaying automatically, your whole body leaning into him.

You noticed his friend shuffling behind you but didn’t care anymore. This was exciting and nerve-wracking, this was out of your comfort zone.

Jeongin had a broad smile on his lips, not saying a word though. His fingers glided into you faster, curving inside and hitting all the right spots.

Hastily, he placed his lips onto yours as a silent moan escaped your lips.

„You’re going to wake them all up, y/n.“, he warned you sternly.

„Oh please, as if you would mind.“, you retorted.

„What? You want me to fuck you in front of all of them?“

„Wouldn’t be the first time…“, his friend suddenly mumbled next to you.

You hid your head in Jeongin’s chest, panicky and ashamed.

„Hey hyung, you’re awake?“, he muttered coyly.

„Yeah, sleeping wasn’t really an option with the two of you going at it right next to me.“

Your cheeks were burning with embarrassment.

„Sorry, hyung. I just couldn’t hold back…“, Jeongin muttered.

„No, I get it. I wouldn’t hold back either. In fact, I’d love to join…“

Before you were even able to realize what had happened, you found his friend’s hands on your ass, groping and squeezing hard.

„What do you say, y/n? Are you ready for more fingers?“

204 notes · View notes

c00kieguy · 2 days

Text

Procrastination

relationships: Dr. Ratio x GN!Reader summary: Ratio decides to help you out but only after he lets you know just how disappointed he is. cw: Fluff, Ratio pining, Tsundere Ratio(?), pre relationship, very self indulgent a/n: stress writing is real. huh. wc: ~800 masterlist

A firm hand on your shoulder startles you awake from your nap, and the bright screen of your monitor makes squint. You weren't even aware that you had fallen asleep on your desk. Lifting your head with a groggy look you’re met with a pair of familiar red eyes. Usually, seeing the purple haired doctor in front of you would bring you joy, but at a time like this? He was the last person you wanted to talk to.

He was there the previous week to constantly remind you to get your work done but you kept dismissing him, after all, you had an entire week ahead of you, and other plans as well. Surely a short delay wouldn’t push you back too much, right? Wrong. Despite only having skipped a week's worth of work, you quickly realize just how many small tasks can pile up in just seven days.

"Still working on your proposal?" He asks you, a hint of a condescending tone in his voice.

"I'm almost done." You sighed, the last thing you needed right now was a lecture. Your hands dutifully find their back to your keyboard as you reread your last few sentences to get the gist of the writing.

"This is precisely why I discourage procrastination. Delaying your work will only lead to a tighter schedule in the future." His disapproving words pierce you but do no damage, you were used to this, unfortunately.

“I know…” You grumbled. Sometimes you wonder if he enjoyed talking down to you, it really seemed like he’d always magically appear out of thin air whenever you started slacking off just to offer you a lecture. "I didn't even delay it for that long though, just a week..." It was embarrassing to admit how many similar scenarios had played out in the past with the two of you, but no matter how many times he’d reprimand you for stalling you always ended up doing it again. For a brief moment you wonder what it would be like to live in the stone ages where you wouldn’t need to worry about writing another official document ever again…

"A week too long if you ask me." He shakes his head in disapproval. "Show me what you’ve done so far." Leaning over your shoulder he scans your screen. It doesn’t take him long to read through everything, though you wondered why he needed to anyway. Somehow the last few days you noticed how the doctor seemed to hover around you a lot more often, and now he’s involving himself in your job too. Perhaps it meant something but in your current sleep deprived state you didn’t have the energy to think too deeply about the implications.

"Mmm good, you've written down the main points for the remaining sections at the very least, and surprisingly you are almost done.” You scoff at his surprised tone, admittedly a little offended. Sure you may not always get things done on time but you valued quality a lot. Ratio just rolls his eyes at your little fit.

“See? Not too bad right? Now will you leave me alone?” You say as you turn the monitor back to face you. Just a few more hours and you’ll be free to sleep.

“Hmph, this is the bare minimum and yet you’re proud of it?” He chides. That’s one thing you really disliked him. At times you’d find yourself flustered in his presence at his caring nature, but other times you really did find him infuriating. This situation is the latter it seems. You wish he’d really just leave you to your own devices already.

“Sleep, I’ll finish up the rest.” Your fingers pause. Huh? Did you hear that right? No, he must’ve said something else. “Don’t worry, I’ll do my best to match your style of writing.” Turns out you weren’t just hearing things. The Dr.Ratio was offering to do your proposal for you. But you couldn’t just let him. As much as you trusted him with your proposal, this was still your mess and it didn't feel right letting someone else deal with it.

“That’s not- I mean, this is my job Ratio, I can't just-”

“Get up and go before I change my mind.”

“Ratio…” You almost felt like crying. The look you give him could fool anyone into thinking you were under the gaze of an Aeon. “Oh thank you so much, I could kiss you right now. I’ll definitely repay you, I promise.” Immediately you get up and start packing your things as the doctor takes your seat. You briefly wonder why he suddenly decided to help you after all the snide remarks but you decide not to dwell on it too much.

“Just…go.” He turns away from you, a light dust of pink on his cheeks at your remark. It’s a shame you miss it in your hurry to head to bed. Not only do you not offer him a proper goodbye but you also leave the door open on your way out.

“Idiot.” He sighs.

Perhaps one day he'll get to say 'My idiot' instead.

masterlist

#honkai star rail #hsr dr ratio #ratio x reader #ratio x you #ratio x y/n #hsr x reader #x reader #reader insert #hsr ratio #hsr veritas #hsr x you #hsr x y/n #hsr x gn reader #honkai ratio #hsr fluff #hsr fanfic #honkai star rail x reader #c00kie.writes

174 notes · View notes

acres-of-fuzzy-tomatoes · 12 hours

Text

Party Pooper || Misa Rodríguez x Reader

Summary: Misa gets jealous when you test her patience during a night out with your teammates.

Warnings: This fic contains smut (minors do not interact), anal fingering, cunnilingus, mentions of double penetration, praise, degradation, light bondage, consensual non-consensual sex (if you squint at the very last line in the fic), fuck buddies with not-angsty feelings, mentions of strap-on use

Word Count -- 6.6k words

The room around you was filled with boisterous laughter, loud Spanish music, and the sound of some dish shattering in the distance. Bodies milled about the room that your team had seemingly taken over, some of which you recognized and others that you didn’t.

Some people were dancing to whatever strong, musical beat was blasting through the club, grinding and slipping against both friends and strangers. Others, however, were sitting on benches or stools, talking and drinking. While there were many strangers in the building, you were also surrounded by your friends and football teammates from Real Madrid, celebrating a win in Liga A.

You were exhausted after playing a full ninety minutes of football– your legs ached, as did your stomach and arms. Each part of your body, honestly. Still, the smile etched on your face stayed consistent, even as the rest of your body shook and threatened to give out.

For fucks’ sake you really wanted a nap.

The longer that you sat down, the more your body refused to move, essentially aching out in protest each time you shifted your weight or stood up. However, you were determined to not be the first to leave what you now realized was a party, not a “little team movie night” as one of your teammates had said when trying to urge you to join them.

You had been dubbed one of the “lamest people on the team”, known for the way in which you silently, and quickly, left the scene whenever your social battery ran out. It was a joke for your teammates, and you, especially because you knew the reason for why you seemed to leave so early.

The reason herself was currently sitting across from you at the round table, her arms crossed behind her head. Given her position, it was easy for her to give you glances or smiles without making your teammates suspicious of the number of times you were looking at each other (which was a lot).

The more alcohol you consumed, the more you really wanted to perform your aforementioned disappearing act and steal Misa away from the party.

The top that Misa had chosen allowed for a bit of her tanned, toned abdomen to show as she leaned back against her seat. Her lids were hooded, and her eyes were dark, and the smirk which was present on her face simply made you want to pull her in and kiss her until all she could do was kiss back and keep up.

An elbow to your side had your head jerking slightly, completely disrupted from your thoughts. Raso sat next to you, her eyes narrowed at you as her smile widened a little bit. She looked from you to Misa, and you were quick to take her attention away from whatever she was trying to figure out.

“Wah-?” You asked, the singular word only a little slow to exit your mouth. You realized then that you should probably stop drinking if you wanted to have your way with Misa that night. You weren’t in a relationship, but your long history of being fuck buddies with the Spanish goalkeeper meant that you knew that she refused to have sex when she, or her partner, was inebriated beyond the point of giving conscious consent.

“We are playing ‘never have I ever’, will you pay attention?” This voice came from your other side, where Linda Caicedo sat. The Colombian international had had a little too much to drink, and her usual chill demeanor was breaking away to one which was a lot more giggly and sarcastic. You playfully rolled your eyes at the girl, nudging her back with your elbow before leaning forward so that you could hear whatever question was being asked.

Give it to your teammates to play something as childish as “never have I ever”. The girls had been trying to get any semblance of gossip out of you since you’d joined. You were, as they had oh-so-kindly put it, rather boring, much to everyone’s disappointment. However, while you were supposedly short on any type of drama, you knew that many of your other teammates were full to the brim with secrets and mysteries. What your teammates didn’t know, of course, was that the very bit of drama they were looking for was sitting across from each other at that very table, making awkward eye contact as more and more questions were asked.

The questions started out relatively simple– never have I ever gotten lost on the way to a match, never have I ever eaten calamari, never have I ever climbed a mountain. Then, the questions began to grow more targeted and, with that, more “juicy”. As always, you felt yourself being sucked into the anticipatory atmosphere of the rather childish game, just as you had when you’d been in middle school, and high school.

Never have I ever scored an own goal– this one got quite a few people on the team, many of whom were not happy to be reminded of those particular moments in their careers.

Never have I ever scored a hat-trick– this one was meant to target the defenders and the goalkeepers whom were around the table. Now, you could see the competitive fire start in your teammates eyes as they had to put a finger down.

Never have I ever slept with a teammate. ‘

The question came from your side, from the very Australian who had been surveying the tension between you and Misa all those minutes ago. You felt yourself freeze, your eyes involuntarily rising to look at Misa, before you quickly forced yourself to lean back and act nonchalant about the question.

However, you felt your abdominal muscles tense as you did so. Unfortunately, in your panic, you’d forgotten that your seat did not have anything at your back. The only thing which prevented you from taking an unfortunate fall to the ground was Linda’s arm going around your back and your own arms grasping onto the table, whose surface had become sticky from alcohol.

A few people laughed at your expense, and you saw Misa laugh as well, which sent what could only be described as liquid fire through your stomach. It was a feeling akin to one you’d felt during training, when someone made a tackle on you just before you were sure to score. As always, you rose to the challenge, to the feeling which you felt so strongly in your core– or, perhaps that was arousal. Both, it was probably both.

“Sorry– what was the question?” You asked, trying to distract the rest of the table from your near-tumble. As you sat back up, Linda’s arm remained around your back. You weren’t blind to the way that Misa’s eyes remained caught on contact between you and one of your best friends. In fact, her gaze was burning in its intensity– so much so that if looks could kill, Linda would have been 7 feet under (and counting). You tried hard to hide your smirk, thoroughly entertained by the entire ordeal.

Something which you had learned from sleeping with Misa was that she was jealous– some would even go so far as to call her possessive. You weren’t dating, but she would leave small bruises, hickies, and scratches on you which claimed you as hers. You weren’t dating, but she would become cranky when you flirted with other girls in front of her. The two of you weren’t dating, but when you’d mentioned that you’d once slept with Linda, just before the World Cup and just after she’d scored her first goal for Real Madrid, the girl had become insanely jealous. In fact, the night after you had informed Misa of your one night stand with your best friend, the girl had drawn such whimpers from you

You, on the other hand, weren’t nearly as jealous as the goalkeeper. The girl could flirt with anybody that she wanted, but you knew that it would be your name she would moan just a few hours later, not theirs. You were well aware that she was thinking of you when she was flirting, and how she was only doing it to get you jealous, and that fact alone entertained you more than anything else.

The girl had discovered certain weaknesses of yours, however. She was aware that a fleeting touch from her hand against your arm, or the feeling of her outer thigh pressed against your own could send your mind jetpacking straight into the clouds.

You found it hard to focus when she was touching you, especially when she knew what she was doing to you. Misa enjoyed turning your mind to mush with simple touches and words, loved to watch how you tried to focus on whatever was going on around you and how you miserably failed.

You did, however, relish in the consequences of riling up Misa. You adored the way that Misa was tender with you, the way that she would kiss you like you were her world, her touches gentle and meaningful. You loved the way that Misa could be passionate with you, forcing orgasm after orgasm out of you as she yearned to hear each and every moan which tumbled from your mouth, wanted to see the way that your head fell back and your breaths grew whiny as you came.

You hadn’t riled up Misa in a while, and a part of you was yearning that from her tonight– the marks, the possessiveness which the goalkeeper was known for, the passion. You wanted it all, and Misa’s smirk had become the straw which broke the camel’s back.

“I said…” Hayley began, eyes crinkling at the corners as she seemed to catch on that something was certainly going on between you and the Spanish goalkeeper. At that moment, however, you couldn’t find it in you to care, hanging on to her every word as she repeated the question. “Never have I ever slept with a teammate.”

You allowed a blush to coat your cheeks, eyelashes fluttering as you bit at your lip. Slowly, and almost theatrically, you put your finger down. You didn’t need to look to know that Linda had also put her finger down, along with a few other people around the table. The focus, however, was on you.

“Has tenido- You have slept with a team member? De este equipo? No wayyyy- Linda y tu? Loca. Todo. So crazy, you are crazy.” Before you could stop it, your teammates began to make assumptions, their voices heavy with interest.

Given that Linda had yet to drop her hand from around you and the way which you were both blushing, the easiest assumptions to be drawn were between the two of you. Of course, they weren’t wrong– you had slept with Linda, albeit more than a year ago.

However, your current… friend with benefits was across from you, the finger which she had put down going unnoticed by your teammates as they sought to figure out just what had gone on with you and Caicedo.

Misa was absolutely stewing in her seat, her eyes narrowed and so dark that you nearly couldn’t see the whites of her pretty eyes. Gone was the easy-going persona which had been leaning back in her seat. Now, the girl was leaning forward, the hand which had already been freed as she’d put down fingers was now clenched tightly, so much so that you worried she may cut herself with her nails. Her jaw was set, and it was obvious that the girl was gritting her teeth. Despite how obviously upset the girl was, your insides fluttered in anticipation, and you simply smiled at Misa, as though you’d done nothing wrong.

Misa was fucking livid.

Even as your teammates began to move on, given that neither you nor Linda was saying much about the one time that you had slept together. The damage was done, and you could see it in the way that Misa was looking at you– her livid gaze had you dripping, if you were going to be completely honest. Who could blame you? She looked sexy when she was pissed off.

A few more questions were prompted, but you were hardly paying attention to them. Your gaze was locked on Misa’s hardened one, and while Misa was figuring out how she was going to punish you for your earlier stunts, you were thinking about how nice Misa’s nipple would feel in your mouth-

Misa got up, barging her way past the teammates who sat to her left as she circled around the table. You felt her before you heard her, in the way that her palm met the skin of your neck as she rested her hand on your shoulder. She leaned in, so much so that you could smell mint and the barest hints of alcohol on the goalkeepers’ breath.

You were so distracted by those two sensations alone that you nearly missed the words coming out of Misa’s (really pretty) mouth.

“Nos vamos a ir porque te sientes cansado.” You understood every word, having played in Spain for long enough to understand more than enough Spanish to get by. Despite this, you needed a moment to process what Misa was saying. The sheer dominance in her tone and mannerisms had you clenching your thighs beneath the table and nibbling absentmindedly on your bottom lip. You were lucky that the vast majority of the table was beyond distracted with the current conversation– some dramatic reality television show which the girls were watching together.

Misa wanted to leave and, of course, she would make you take the blame for it. Only a moment after you processed what the goalkeeper had whispered into the shell of your ear, the girl was standing up to announce it to the rest of your teammates.

“La chica está cansada, I will take her home.” Misa’s voice still dripped with possessiveness and self-assuredness. Usually, it was the kind of tone which would have you drawing away from the other person, annoyed.

It had the opposite effect, and you allowed Misa to help you out of the stool under the pretense that you were a bit too drunk to stand on your own. Misa’s hand went around your middle, almost the exact same way that Linda had earlier. You two took a moment to say your goodbyes, and Misa’s arm stayed around you the entire time.

Just before you’d turned around, you caught Raso sending you a wink.

Misa’s hand splayed out over your side, her fingers stroking over the fabric of your top. As she guided you away from your teammates, goosebumps erupted over your skin. You were sensitive to the other girls’ touch, the bit of alcohol which remained in your system only heightening the feeling.

The trip to Misa’s car was short, but it seemed like an eternity with the way that Misa was teasing you. Her fingers had begun to wander, going upward to poke at your ribs, before running up and down your side. She was silent as she did so, allowing the hitch in your breath to be heard as her hand left your side to lower itself, sharply squeezing your bum.

“Misa-” You gasped, and you heard the girl scoff.

“Aha, now you want to be saying my name. Earlier, it was about Caicedo, but now that she is gone and you have me, it is all about me.” Misa said, voice thickly accented, as it always became when her feelings were heightened.

“Misa- It’s you, it’s always been you. Please.” You gasped, as Misa squeezed you again. You were putty in her hands. If Misa had asked you to kneel right then and there, you would have– without question.

Instead, she drew you over to her car. Despite her obvious annoyance, she opened your car door and helped you inside. Just before she closed it, she planted a soft kiss against your cheek, her hand gently running along your jawline.

“Eres la mujer más bella del mundo.” You swore that you were so close that you were breathing the same air. You were utterly intoxicated, but not by the alcohol that you’d consumed– by Misa’s touch, her eyes, her voice. You swore you were floating as you gently grabbed her sides, tugging her in for another kiss before you allowed her to part from you. She shut the door, and you watched as she rounded the vehicle to go to the driver's seat.

Only once you’d had space from the Spanish girl were you able to decipher what she’d said to you.

You are the most beautiful woman in the world.

You thought about her words as she climbed into the car, as she shut the door and started the vehicle. You thought about them when she placed her hand on your thigh, as she hummed some Spanish tune which lilted over the radio.

You are the most beautiful woman in the world– words that you’d never before applied to yourself. You’d never believe yourself to be especially beautiful. Growing up, you’d thought yourself to be nothing more than average. However, when Misa said that you were gorgeous, looking at you like you’d hung the stars in the sky, you believed them.

You felt emotions, then, that you’d never felt before. Perhaps it was love, but you weren’t sure. All you knew was that you were ravenous, thirsty for the way which Misa grabbed possessively at your inner thigh. You squeezed your legs together, only for Misa to pull them back apart.

“No, no. You were not shy in the club, do not be shy now.” Misa chastised you, and you now had to keep yourself from letting your head fall back into the headrest. Instead, a groan broke free of your lips, your hand planting itself on top of Misa’s.

“Misa, por favor. No puedo. I can’t.” “Already begging, amor? I have not touched you. Are you needy already, is this all for Caicedo?” Misa inquired, voice a little bit edged and jagged as she prompted you– not dissimilar to a serrated knife, if you truly thought about it.

You were tense, trapped within the confines of Misa’s question. If you said yes, she would probably lose her fucking mind and punish you– even more so than she was already planning. If you said no, then you would be giving in, and also revealing that you’d been getting off on the fact that you were making Misa jealous. As much as you relished your pride, you weren’t keen on being edged for a week as you had been in the past by the goalkeeper.

“No, Misa. For fuck’s sake, it’s all for you.” You groaned, giving in. You were absolutely aching, skin almost tingling beneath Misa’s touch. You couldn’t remember ever being so needy, especially in recent months, but here you were, desperate and nearly whiny from just a bit of teasing and “innocent” touching.

You were so, so thankful when Misa finally pulled into the car park in front of her apartment.

Given that your relationship was, technically, a secret, you and Misa tried not to touch each other as you made your way towards her front door. Her neighbors should have been asleep, but you could never be too careful. Despite this, every part of you ached to touch the other girl, especially as you felt how shaky you’d become from your time in the car. Your legs felt like lead, threatening to collapse beneath you, and your hands jittered as though you were competing in a Champions League final instead of simply walking into your frequent fuck buddy’s home.

Misa was on you the second that the door was shut and locked behind her, pressing you back into the wall behind yourself. You hardly heard the soft thump of your back hitting the wood due to the moan you let out as Misa set to kissing at your neck. Her lips nipped and sucked, trailing along your neck in the way she knew would have you melting beneath her touch.

You’d been together so many times, and each time Misa discovered a new part of you. In a way, Misa had mapped your body out in her mind, traveling paths new and old as she found new ways to have you writhing and moaning her name.

Your hands met Misa’s hips, pulling her ever closer to you as her own hands ventured beneath your top. Her palms ran along your stomach, up to your ribs, before palming at your breasts over the bra that you’d worn.

You’d already been wet before Misa had even really touched you, and by now you were sure that you’d soaked through your underwear. Your brain could hardly form a cognitive thought, save for how badly you wanted to-

Misa’s lips were on yours as she pressed against you, her hands having left your shirt. Your breasts felt colder, somehow, without the heat of her hands pressed against them. Her lips were soft against yours, but demanding in the pace at which she kissed you.

You had no choice but to try to keep up as she sucked your lower lip in between her own, brushing her top teeth against the skin there in a way which had you arching your back, pressing yourself impossibly closer to the goalkeeper.

All the while, Misa had slipped one muscled thigh between your own. She flexed the muscle, making it firmer as she pressed it into you. Almost reflexively, you ground down against it, nearly collapsing inward at the brief bit of friction you were allowed against your aching core.

Mira’s tongue grazed your lip next, almost working to soothe the spot that had previously been irritated by her teeth. Then, she slipped her tongue into your mouth, exploring and nudging it against your tongue. As she completely took over the kiss, her hand moved to cup your jaw, furthering to deepen the kiss as she tilted your head to the side.

Your next moan was swallowed by Misa’s mouth as you rolled your hips, grinding down against her leg. Your movements were rapid as you tried to gain relief, and Misa was quick to let go of your jaw. Your head fell backward, against the wall, and you swore you could hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears. Your mouth opened, and a high-pitched whine tumbled out. So consumed in everything that was Misa, you didn’t even have the time to feel embarrassed over the sheer neediness of the noise.

“F-Fuck, Misa,” You panted, followed by a drawn-out groan of disappointment as Misa grabbed your hips and stilled them, pinning you against the wall. “No-”

“Sí, you have not earned the right to come. Where has my good girl gone, the one who listens to me? The one who behaves?” Misa whispered, leaning in so that she could speak into your ear. Your body yearned to continue rutting against Misa’s thigh, but you resisted the urge to do so out of fear of what Misa would do.

A pinch at the skin just above your hip had you realizing that Misa wanted you to answer her.

“Here. Estoy aquí, contigo.” If you’d thought speaking in Misa’s native language would have earned you any favors, you were sorely mistaken. The girl made no move to allow you to continue grinding against her thigh, and you whined again. It was pathetic, really, how easily Misa could wind you up and put you back in your place, and damn if it didn’t have your mind reeling for her evermore, “Misa. Please, por favor. I will do anything that you want and more, please just… let me come.”

Misa chucked at that, then. She was so close to you that her breaths brushed against your cheek, and a small part of the side of your neck, tickling the bottom of your ear. Each sensation was beginning to feel nearly overwhelming– between the throbbing between your legs, the hunger in your body for more of whatever the fuck Misa was doing to you, the beatiful pressure of Misa’s body against yours… it was all nearly too much for you.

“I have barely begun, and you are already begging? Zorrita, such a little slut, hm? Who do you belong to? Remind me, por favor.” Misa’s accent was somehow thicker than ever before, harsh and degrading in ways that had your mind spinning. Despite her words, her fingers had stopped digging into your skin, instead gently rubbing at your sides, helping to ground you and slow your thoughts. She’d also stopped pushing you so harshly into the wall, allowing you to relax into her just the slightest bit more.

You hardly noticed them, but you were thankful all the same. You felt a little bit less floaty, and the contrast between her fingers on your waist and her voice in your ear served to turn you on even more, which you’d thought was impossible.

The way at which Misa could be so attentive and gentle, whilst also serving to be so dominating and chastising was something which you would only have time to marvel at later.

“You- you, only you. Please, I didn’t mean it.” Your voice is high-pitched, higher than you think you had ever gone. It’s a plea that falls on deaf ears, though, as you hear Misa scoff. She’s grabbing your thighs, tapping them as she pulls you away from the wall.

As you jump up, the girl pulls you into her, and you naturally wrap your arms around her shoulders. The contact between the two of you is what you’d been craving, another semblance of comfort which further grounded you.

“You are okay?” Misa asked, kissing your cheek gently as you lay your head against her shoulder.

“I am okay.” You confirm, twisting your head and kissing Misa’s neck.

The girl nods, although you feel it more than see it as she begins to carry you. It is a path that you know well, and one that the two of you had traveled many, many times before.

Misa kicked her door closed behind you with your foot, carrying you towards the foot of her bed before dropping you down. Your body bounced against the mattress, and your body relaxed into the sheets as Misa’s familiar scent enveloped your being.

“You know your safe word, yes?” Misa confirmed, tapping your bare thigh once to make sure that you were paying attention.

“Yes.” You confirmed, and Misa tapped your thigh again.

“Words, mi amor. What is your safe word?” Misa prompted, still standing an appropriate distance away from you. She did this each time you slept together, always making sure that you had established your boundaries before continuing with anything that was going on. It was something that you appreciated, and it was communication which was needed.

“My safe word is apple,” You began, and resisted the urge to roll your eyes as Misa smirked. You were allergic to apples, something which Misa had only learned after she’d tried making a dish which had apples in it. You had gone into shock, and had had to be brought to the hospital. You’d been given an epipen, but had used the word as your safe word ever since, given that all you’d been able to gasp throughout the experience was the word “apple”.

“If, for whatever reason, I am unable to speak, I tap your outer thigh three times,” You continued, voice unwavering. The words were well rehearsed, but it never hurt to go through your ground rules once more. “And you?”

“Banana,” Misa said, having chosen a fruit as well, since she felt like she had to stay on theme. After all, you were having… very “fruity” sex. The humor of your choice of words had never been lost on you, and had become somewhat of an inside joke between the two of you. “If I can not speak, I will tap your outer thigh three times.”

Without further ado, Misa’s hands were on your ankles. She gave you a sharp tug, pulling your entire body across the expanse of her bed, towards her. You let out an unceremonious squeal of surprise, cheeks blushing red at the suddenness of the action as Misa allowed your legs to drop off the edge of the bed.

The girl moved between your legs, running her hands up your sides before climbing up on top of you. She kissed you, harshly, moving one hand to your jaw to control the kiss once more. She licked into your mouth, exploring and dominating the kiss before separating from you.

Her hands left your body as she sat up, grabbing the bottom of her shirt and tugging it up and over the expanse of her fit torso. Finally, your eyes had the chance to take in Misa’s abdomen in its entirety, which really should have been included in the Wonders of the World. You’d only been graced with flashes of abdomen and muscle throughout the night, and your hands were quick to settle themselves on Misa’s lower stomach as the girl lowered herself back down on top of you.

“You are so pretty, the prettiest.” Misa praised you, her hands now going to the bottom of your shirt. She tapped your sides, signaling for you to sit up, and you did. The girl tugged your shirt off as well, running her hands up and down your stomach appreciatively as she did so. Her dark eyes took you in, drinking in each piece of exposed skin as though she was never going to see it again.

She surprised you, then, by moving back and settling herself over your thighs, bending down at the waist. You felt something wet slide against your abdomen, surprising you. Your entire body bolted at the sensation of Misa’s wet tongue licking at your stomach, and couldn’t help the moan which released itself from your lips. Misa took several moments to herself, kissing and licking and sucking at the soft skin of your stomach, cherishing it as she did so.

She began to move up, kissing over your ribs and slowly pushing your bra over your breasts. She kissed at your left breast first, before taking the nipple in her mouth and swirling her tongue around the sensitive bud. Your back arched beneath her ministrations, a low groan leaking out of your mouth as one of her steady hands squeezed at your other breast.

“Misa- Misa, fuck.” You whispered, and just as suddenly, Misa was tilting her head up. You looked down, and her intense gaze had you trying to clench your thighs together. The girl felt it, though, given that she was between those very thighs, and smirked.

“Que? Repite, say that again.” Misa said, voice low.

“What…?” You asked, almost wondrously. Even to your own ears, you sounded dazed.

“Say that again. Who is making you feel like this? Who is making you feel so good, hm?” As Misa speaks, the hand which isn’t still squeezing at your breast is trailing absentmindedly down your abdomen. The touch is distracting, and your body aches to follow it, to arch up into the touch. However, Misa’s body weight on your own prevents you from doing what you wanted to do.

Her hand toys at your waistline, only for a moment, before dipping below the cloth. Her hand is warm, and you think that she’s just teasing you, as Misa is prone to do. However, you were sorely mistaken as the girls’ finger dipped between your folds. A whimper fell from your lips, absolutely desperate and whiny as it was heard by both of you. Misa swiped a finger through your folds, swirling it around your clit– almost playfully, in fact, but stopped, her eyes still on your own.

You whined again, trying to lift your hips to encourage the girl to touch you more.

“No. Dime quién, who is it? Is it Linda, mm? I do not think so. It is me, say it.” Misa’s accent is thick, littered with Spanish words which you cannot even begin to try to translate. Her words drip with dominance, with possession, and you swore you would do everything and anything in the world for her to continue what she had been doing. At that moment, you were all Misa’s, willing to bend to her every wish and will to get what you wanted.

Nobody had ever drawn these exact sensations and feelings from you, and there was a certain intimacy in the knowledge that only Misa had ever done these things to you.

Oh.

Fuck.

“No, no it’s not Lind-ahhh,” your breath hitched, as Misa slipped a singular digit into you. Despite how wet you were, it was still a stretch, and her thumb worked at your clit, sending jolts of pleasure throughout your body which had you squirming beneath the goalkeeper. “Fuck- fuck,”

“Who? Who makes you feel this good?” Misa’s voice absolutely oozed with self-assuredness, almost teasing in the way she curled her finger inside of you. She knew the movement was an incredibly pleasurable one for you, drawing yet another broken whine from you.

“You, fuck Misa, jesus christ. You, only you– fuck.”

“Good girl, so good for me, yes? Only for me. You were made for me, a hole to fuck for my fingers, my tongue, my strap.” You whimpered again, unable to even conjure up a verbal response for the goalkeeper. She curled the finger inside of you again before slipping out of you completely.

The absence had you whining, but as Misa rolled off of you, she gently placed a kiss on your lips to silence you.

“Sh, you’ve been so good for me. We would not want to ruin that now, hm?”

You watched as the girl went to her knees in front of the bed, hands finding your thighs before beginning to tug down the piece of clothing which you still had on. Before she’d really begun pulling the piece off of your legs, however, the girl looked at you.

“Can I take this off?” Misa asked you, gently tugging the elastic of your underwear back before letting it snap against your skin. You squealed, and Misa chastised you a little bit, eyes glimmering with an emotion which you were unable to place. “Words, bella, or I stop.”

“Yes, yes. Fuck, take them off!” You were quick to urge the goalkeeper, truly not wanting the night to be over.

Then, Misa did as she’d already begun to do, pulling your pants and underwear off in one swift motion. You were left bare before her, and tried your hardest to resist covering yourself. For just a moment, Misa sat there and watched you, observant as ever. Her eyes caught on your breasts, and your hardened nipples, on the way that your chest moved up and down with each breath you took. Then, her eyes moved to take in your face, and a smile moved onto her face.

“What?” You asked, a little bit nervous that she was making fun of you when you were most bare and vulnerable. She never had before, always making sure to cherish each part of you, but that didn’t make you any less on edge, especially in this moment.

“I can’t believe that I get to fuck the most beautiful girl in the world.” Misa said. There it was again, the words which had made you swoon before.

“Oh, stop!” You said, scoffing.

“Es verdad. It is true. You are gorgeous, I think it every day.” Before you’d ever slept with Misa, you’d never believed her to be such a charmer. You’d been incredibly wrong, as the girl took each small moment to make sure you knew that you were special, loved, and beautiful in every single way.

Your bra was still on, and so you sat up to take it off. After you did so, you leaned forward to curve your fingers along Misa’s jaw, tugging her head towards you. She met you in the middle, kissing you firmly. Then, her hands pushed your shoulders back so that you were flopping back down onto the mattress.

Without further ado, the girls’ face was between your legs. She gave you a few tentative licks, to get used to the sensation, before diving in.

Your hands clenched into the sheets below your body, a wild moan breaking free from your mouth as your back arched upward. Your eyes closed as you pushed your head back into the bed, baring yourself even further as pleasure overcame you.

The other girl sucked your clit into her mouth before she used her hand to slip a finger into you. She curled it as she continued to eat you out, licking at your clit at a steady, vigorous pace which had you seeing stars as she matched it with the finger inside of you.

Then, she was slipping another finger into you. She gave you a moment to get used to the delicious stretch before continuing, curling the fingers deep inside of you in a way that had you swearing. Your mind was far gone, in the clouds as Misa lapped at you.

Suddenly, Misa was changing the pace. She grabbed your ankles and threw them over her shoulders before continuing to lick at you. The new angle gave her more to work with, allowing her to lick into you deeper, and you swore again.

Your knuckles were white from how tightly they were balled into the sheets, and then you felt it. Something was probing at your other hole, and you whimpered. You and Misa had experimented with anal before, and you knew from experience how intensely pleasurable it felt to have a plug in one hole and Misa pumping into you with a strap in the other.

You could remember a time when she’d been doing that, fucking into you harshly while you had a butt plug up your ass. The sensations you’d felt had had you whimpering, despite the fact that you’d been supposed to be silent– it had been a punishment for running your mouth. Without thinking much of it, Misa had shoved two of her fingers into your mouth, slipping them in so deeply that you’d gagged around the digits.

You could still remember the words that she’d said to you like it was yesterday, “That is it, taking it like a good girl. Just so greedy, wanting me in every single one of your holes like a cockdrunk whore.”

The memory of that night was almost similar to this one, as Misa gently worked a finger into your asshole. You whimpered at the burning feeling there, but Misa’s tongue at your clit overcame any semblance of pain which you felt.

Your moans reached a peak, then, as your thighs trembled helplessly. You’d lost your ability to form words, and you swore you saw white spots crossing your vision as the pressure in your stomach snapped, similar to a coil.

Pleasure jolted throughout your body, up and down your legs, in your belly, pulsating and causing you to buck your hips uncontrollably against Misa’s face, chasing your high. As you came down, however, you couldn’t help but try to wiggle away from where Misa was still licking at you.

The girl allowed you to wiggle, just for a moment, and took your legs from where they had been locked over her shoulders. However, just as she withdrew her finger from your ass, she slipped another finger into your pussy. You moaned, jolting away from the overwhelming sensation, but Misa was quick to pull you back towards her again.

“No, no. You were so eager to be naughty earlier, and now you will pay. You have one more in you, I know that you do.”

#misa rodriguez x reader #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso imagines #woso smut #woso #real madrid femenino #woso community #Fuzzy Tomatoes Writes

186 notes · View notes

paisleypens · 2 days

Note

Hello! I hope you’re having a good day. I heard you were taking requests so I have an idea!!

How about a Spencer Reid x Fem!shy!reader who is really quiet around the team? And so she doesn’t talk to them much? (Especially Spencer because she likes him!)

So to show her love/affection she does small things for him but doesn’t admit she was the one who did so. (Like making his coffee, secretly organizing his desk, like little kind things)

I want the confession to happen but I don’t know how I want it so you can decide! Have a little fun with it if you will.

I hope you can write this, and I’m so so sorry if it’s something you don’t want to write or feel uncomfortable with it. I just wanted to give you an idea for a story! Let me know if you don’t want to or if you will either way is fine with me!

I’m sorry if I didn’t include enough details and thank you for taking the time to read this!

Have a lovely day. 💕

(ALSO I READ YOUR OTHER SPENCER STORIES THEY WERE SPECTACULAR)

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH STOP IT MOST POLITE ASK EVERRR

this is genius btw and ive been writing so much to avoid things i actually have to do so… THANK YOU FOR FEEDING ME LMAO

acts of service | spencer reid x f!reader

let me know what you think <33

~~~~

The BAU office buzzed with its usual energy as Spencer Reid meticulously poured over case files, his mind racing through complex connections only he could decipher. Among the team, a shy figure often went unnoticed, working hard behind the scenes. Y/N, the quiet and reserved member of the team, kept to herself, her actions speaking volumes that words couldn't describe.

Spencer often found his desk mysteriously tidied up, papers organized, and his favorite pens neatly arranged. Coffee appeared magically beside his laptop, always sickeningly sweet, just how he liked it. At first, he attributed it to the office fairy, a playful term Morgan coined. However, as time passed and the small acts of service continued, Spencer couldn't ignore the pattern.

One evening, as the team gathered after a long day, Derek leaned back in his chair, eyes glinting with mischief. "Hey, pretty boy, you ever notice how Y/N here keeps your world in order without saying a word?"

"What do you mean?" Spencer furrowed his brow, glancing at her, who was discreetly arranging files nearby.

Derek chuckled, nudging Spencer. "Come on, Reid. The coffee, the desk, all those little things. It's like having a secret admirer right under your nose."

Spencer's gaze softened as realization dawned on him. He watched you for a moment, noticing the slight blush that dusted her cheeks as she worked. In that moment, he saw beyond the quiet demeanor, understanding the depth of these silent gestures.

The next morning, Spencer arrived at the office earlier than usual, a determined gleam in his eyes. He set about making coffee, meticulously following Y/N’s routine, ensuring every detail was perfect. As she entered, surprised to see him there, he offered a shy smile, holding out a mug of freshly brewed coffee.

"Morning," he greeted softly, his usually fast-paced words slowed by a newfound nervousness.

Y/N blinked in astonishment, taking the mug from his outstretched hand. "Th-thank you, Spencer.”

He nodded, his cheeks tinged with pink. "I just wanted to say... I appreciate everything you do. Your actions speak louder than words, and they haven't gone unnoticed, I just hope you meant it in the way I interpreted it."

A smile bloomed on her face, warmth spreading through her chest. Finally feeling understood, she replied, "I like you too, Spencer. And not just for the coffee."

From that day forward, Spencer and Y/N shared more than just a quiet understanding. Silent acts of love were now met with drawn out conversation and reciprocated gestures, creating a bond that spoke volumes even when rooted in the absence of sound.

#criminal minds #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #paisleypens

235 notes · View notes

nervoussagittarius · 2 days

Text

bikers backpack

matt sturniolo x biker!reader

summary: where matt’s girlfriend is a biker and at first matt is scared for her until he realizes it’s actually an attractive hobby, request

warnings: fluff, a little angst, language

“matt! guess what!” you exclaimed as you ran into his room. unbeknownst to him you had just bought your second motorcycle. your dream to own a kawasaki ninja bike had finally come true. you’d been saving up money from different odd jobs you’d done to be able to afford it.

“i finally bought my 4- stroke, six speed, metallic gray ninja 650.” you could’ve almost cried with excitement. matt knew this day was coming. he knew your love for bikes and as much as it made him anxious he couldn’t help but feel that twinge in his heart everytime you got this excited around him. in the two years you guys had been dating your hobby had only gone on in one of them.

your fascination for motorcycles steamed from the long line of harley riders you had in your family. growing up around the vehicles only made you want to learn to drive them more. on your 18th birthday you went out and got your motorcycle license it wasn’t until a year later that you got your first bike. it was a beat up motorcycle with over sixty thousand miles that you bought off of facebook marketplace, but it was your baby. you rode it everywhere and took such good care of it.

matt on the other hand hated the fact that you drove motorcycles. he was supportive in everything you did, as you were for him, but this was the one thing he couldn’t get behind. he was always a so worried about you because of how dangerous it can be. he barely liked being in a car. the idea of being on a bike with an engine made him sick.

matt looked up at you hesitantly. he didn’t want to make you upset, but he couldn’t find it in himself to jump for joy at your words like you did. “that’s cool, y/n. i’m happy for you.” his smile didn’t quite meet his eyes and you could feel the coldness in his words. you didn’t want to have another fight about the fact that you liked riding bikes, but you also didn’t want to feel like you couldn’t share your accomplishments or things you enjoy with your boyfriend. “can you at least pretend to care?” you questioned harshly. your words caught him off guard.

“i don’t care? really?” his tone changed. you could tell your words hurt him, but neither of you were ones to back down from a conversation like this. matt continued, “i care that 72 out of 10,000 motorcyclists experience a crash. i care that 80% of motorcycle accidents result in injuries or death. i care that california has the second highest number of motorcycle fatalities. i care about what matters so sorry if your upset that i’m not thrilled about your new purchase.”

choosing not to argue with him you simply backed out of his room and left his house. you felt like matt didn’t trust you. you knew the statistics but you were always so careful. you wore a helmet and protective gear. you never rode by yourself, you always had at least one other biker with you. you took all the necessary precautions so you didn’t know why matt wouldn’t listen to you about this. you would give him a chance to cool off and maybe bring the topic back up at a later time. you wanted him to know how you felt but maybe it was better to do it at a time where you both were more level headed.

later that night, after having a conversation with chris about how it’s your life and not his, matt felt like he owed you an apology. both you and chris were right. he was focusing on the wrong things. all he wanted was for you to be happy but him being negative wasn’t going to help you achieve that. matt made his way over to your house ready to talk, but as he pulled down your street he couldn’t help but notice you in your driveway ready to leave on your new motorcycle.

pulling up next to you, he couldn’t help but feel attracted to the sight in front of him. you were always beautiful, but for some reason his body gave him a different response to seeing you next to your bike. “what are you doing here?” you questioned as matt got out of his car, your voice barely above a whisper. “i came to apologize. i was wrong to get upset like that. i should’ve been more supportive because i know how much you enjoy this kind of stuff. so i’m sorry.” his words meant a lot to you. you had been feeling extremely discouraged since you left his house so you needed to hear this.

before you could even respond matt threw out, “also, i want to go on a ride with you.” to say you were shocked would be a complete understatement. “you want to go on a ride?” “yep.” you looked at him in denial. “a ride on a motorcycle?” he just responded with a nod and a smile.

“are you sure because you really don’t have to. i really appreciate your apology, but i don’t want you to do anything that’s going to make you uncomfortable or anxious.” you quickly said.

“no i want to, sweetheart. i think some exposure therapy would be good for me, and to be completely honest you look so good right now, you could probably get me to do anything you wanted.” he sent you a wink as he came over and put his hands on your waist. matt tilted his head down slightly so you guys were eye level before pressing his lips to yours.

you never thought you’d see the day where matthew sturniolo was putting on a helmet and was willingly getting on a motorcycle. not that you were complaining though. you put your helmet and gloves on, “are you 100% sure you want to do this?” you asked. matt flipped the visor of his helmet down and gently bonked his head against yours. “get on baby let’s go.” he said pulling you hand.

and with that you sat in front of him with his arms wrapped around you, and you went off on your memorized path to where you planned to meet up with some of your friends that also ride. it was safe to say that after the first couple minutes matt enjoyed himself. he took notice to you attention to the world around you, which he appreciated, and he was happy to know more about the hobby you loved so much. matt was now your personal backpack

an: this is shorter then normal but i haven’t written in a couple weeks so i need to get back into it. i thought this was cute though and i hope y’all enjoy

taglist: @maryx2xx @norr1ssturni0lo @recklessmatt @luvr4miya @hpyjw @unbruisable @watercolorskyy @elliewrites1 @rheaasturn @slxt4matt @mmay4ever @aurizp

#nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo imagine

151 notes · View notes

jji-lee · 2 days

Note

how about something like their s/o loving their mustache look and don't want them to shave?

sorry that this is so late, and that i made it kinda long!!! i added the other part you mentioned too! i spent hours looking at dreamies mustache pics, hope you enjoy! ☺

❥ mark’s facial hair grew back quite quickly, but mark was quicker, shaving off any stubble that made an appearance. but with the recent comeback, having to wake up early and rush to practice and coming home only to eat and sleep, simply wearing a mask outdoors would have to suffice. after a busy couple of weeks you had been dying to see your boyfriend, inviting him over to spend the night. when you finally heard the jingling of the keys you sprung out of bed to greet your boyfriend. as the door opened and you got a look at mark, a dark shadow cast over his lip and light stubble adorned his chin and jawline. you stepped back for a second to admire this new look. mark laughed awkwardly, covering his face, “dude stop staringgg, i didn’t have time to shave i wanted to see you so i just rushed over” you grabbed his hand pulling him towards the couch, “no no no, i’ve just never seen you like this, you look really good markie, you should grow it out more often” you reached up to touch his mustache, smiling at the new feeling. mark was blushing like crazy, maybe some stubble wasn't so bad after all.

❥ renjun almost never grew facial hair, it took months for even the tiniest amount of hair to pop up. so when you went in for a kiss and instead were greeted by an itchy upper lip, you knew you couldn't leave renjun alone about it. you grabbed his face, using your thumbs to run over the tiny stubble that had appeared on renjun's upper lip. "um, babe is this some new tiktok trend you saw, what's going on with you" he pulled your hands off him looking at you with concerned eyes. "junnie you have a mustache! a real actual mustache is growing right now!" he slapped his hand over his mouth, clearly embarrassed by this new revelation. "you're a liar let me go see" he rushed to the vanity gasping when he noticed small hairs beginning to grow. "where's the razor i need this gone right now!" you giggled at your boyfriend's reaction rushing to stop him from removing his hair, "wait no no, i never get to see you like this, leave it, just for today!" renjun let out a sigh knowing he couldn't say no to you, "fine, but i'll make you so sick of my mustache that you'll never want me hairy again" he pressed his upper lip to your cheek rubbing harshly, causing you to push him away "not so nice now, right baby"

❥ jeno was always handsome, but right now how you were seeing him, no makeup, wet hair, towel around his hips, and a slight stubble growing on his upper lip and chin, jeno was godly. "hello? earth to y/n? you're acting like you've never seen me naked" naked? that was the least of your concerns right now, jeno with facial hair was a rare sight only on a night like now, straight after practice and too tired to shave, could you see him like this. jeno gently sat on the bed next to you, reaching out to hold your chin, using it to make you face him, "hey sweet girl, are you ignoring me?" you blinked a couple times still processing the sight in front of you, now much closer, "sorry, sorry, i just, i don't get to see you like this often" you blushed looking away from him. jeno still confused by your reaction, "shirtless? baby we've been dating for years, did my muscles get bigger?" he chuckled at his own comment slightly flexing his biceps. you slapped his arm laughing at his silly movements, "no jen, your mustache, you look so handsome like this." now it was jeno's turn to blush, eyes growing wide at the realization that your focus was on his stubble. he reached up to cover his face, "sorry i need to get new batteries for my razor" you pulled his hands away from his face leaning towards him to plant a kiss on his chin stubble, "don't worry about it, you look really good like this puppy."

❥ haechan hated that his facial hair grew back so quickly. he'd shave at night and the next morning a shadow would be cast over his lip and on his chin, hair already growing back. but what he hated more was how you avoided him when he did have facial hair. what he didn't know is that you loved seeing haechan with facial hair. haechan had been busy, his razor laying cold and alone on the bathroom counter, his mustache and chin hair dark and prominent. as he joined you in bed, pulling you by your waist to face him, you tried you best to not ogle at your boyfriend's facial hair, looking anywhere but his face. he noticed you avoidant gaze, reaching up to force you to look at him, "do you really dislike my mustache that much, you can't even look at me baby?" heat began to rise to your face, finally fully looking at your beautiful boyfriend, "wha-what, of course not! i- i actually think i like it a little too much" your hand reached up hesitantly to brush against his chin hair. haechan was more than pleased with your response, leaning into your touch, "oh my baby, why didn't you just say so, had me nervous thinking you hated my hair," "no! i could never hate your facial hair, it's, it's actually a really good look on you" he smiled wide, an idea popping into his head, "well, i will definitely be throwing my razor away" he leaned his face closer to you rubbing his prickly chin against your neck, laughing when you tried pushing him away, "hyuck please, that tickles!"

❥ jaemin could not believe what he was seeing. he had been going through your phone trying to find an image of lucy, luke, and luna to send it to himself when he stumbled upon a photo of himself. actually, not a photo, a whole folder titled, 'nana no shave,' he had to give it to you, it was clever, but the countless pics of him with stubble was not just shocking, but concerning. jaemin had no idea that you had liked his stubble so much, let alone have a collection of pictures of it. he decided to put your love for his mustache to the test, letting it grow out for a week. he had been relaxing on the couch watching a drama you had recommended when from the corner of his eye he sees you quickly holding your phone up ready to take a picture, but he was quicker reaching across the couch to snatch your phone from you, "aha, i finally caught you, you were taking pics of my stubble weren't you!" he pointed his finger at you, you sat there shocked that you had been discovered, not knowing that jaemin had caught on to your hidden obsession, you weren't ashamed though, "yeah, and what if i was, what are you gonna do about it jaem?" his shoulders sagged his lips forming a pout, "huh, well i guess nothing" his shoulders perked up again, a smirk on his lips "but stop taking hidden pictures of me! next time just ask me princess, i'll give you all of my mustache pics"

❥ chenle loved to annoy you with his stubble. Every opportunity he got to rub his prickly cheek against yours he would take it. you would always push him away, pretending that you were annoyed by his actions, when in reality you loved to see chenle with his stubble. today was no different. chenle was on week two of no shaving, stubble having grown significantly. you were laying in bed scrolling through your phone when you felt the bed sink next to you, your very hyper boyfriend ready to interrupt you relaxation, "hi lele, is there anything i can help you with?" all you heard was, "nope" before your phone was snatched from your hands and your boyfriend was hovering over you grinning widely, "like my mustache baby?" he wiggled his eyebrows at you struggling to hold back his giggles. you reached up to rub your fingers against his stubble, gently pulling at the hair, "actually, yes i do like your little mustache, makes you look handsome," chenle froze for a second shocked by your sudden confession and then a frown formed on his face, "no fair, if you like it how am i supposed to annoy you now!" he leaned down to rub his cheeks against yours causing you to squirm under his hold. you giggled at him trying to push him away. He sat up, straddling you, "see you're enjoying this, i need a new plan now!"

❥ jisung would not be caught dead with stubble in front of you. the relationship was relatively fresh, he had confessed in june and by august you two were going steady. now it was the start of november and jisung still didn't feel ready to let you see his facial hair grow out, yes it was normal but what if you hated it? that's why when you came up to him asking him to participate in 'no hair november' proudly showing him your week build up of armpit hair, he was hesitant. but god you looked so pretty like this, bushy brows and prickly legs, so what could be the harm in growing some hair himself? it took 4 days for jisung's stubble to finally appear. when he looked in the mirror and saw the light shadow on his chin he was nervous to go and show you, but you beat him to it, his phone rang loudly, your contact name, 'my star💫' shining on him screen. when he picked up your smiling face appeared on the screen, "ji baby look at how much my hairs grown!" you pointed the camera at you legs showing off how the stubble has turned into soft leg hair. jisung smiled warmly at your happiness forgetting that his face was on screen, "oh my goodness sungie look at that stubble!" he quickly moved the camera, only showing his forehead on the screen, "ahh stop it, it's embarrassing" he heard you giggle, "you look so good sung, and it's for a good cause, show it off!" you saw the the camera slowly pan out, his full face coming into view, a shy smile on his face, you were definitely going to start hiding his razor from him.

#nct dream #nct #nct imagines #nct fluff #haechan #jeno #mark lee #park jisung #renjun #jaemin #chenle #request

154 notes · View notes

forest-hashira · 2 days

Text

Butterflies

i have no chill so yes i'm back with a new fic a week after the last one. idk how or why i'm like this so don't ask. this is my second entry for @threadbaresweater's "summertime (and the livin' is easy)" collab event! my chosen prompt for this one was geto + botanical gardens. this got away from me literally in the first sentence AHAHA.

read on ao3 | wc: ~1.8k | cw: gender neutral reader, first date, minor miscommunication, both suguru and reader are bashful as hell and have been crushing for a while, several types of bugs are mentioned towards the end, but i think that's everything!

When Suguru had invited you to visit the local botanical gardens with him, you’d accepted without much thought, assuming that all your other friends would be there, too. You’d all spent nearly every waking moment together since the weather had gotten warm enough and the days had gotten long enough to spend more time outside, so it seemed like a foregone conclusion that this was going to be another one of those days.

You were quite mistaken.

Suguru was standing alone outside the front gates waiting for you, and while he was usually the first person to arrive whenever you all got together, Shoko, Utahime, or Kento usually weren’t far behind and consistently arrived before you did, so you were a bit surprised.

“Is everyone else on their way?” you asked as you approached, one hand above your brows to block the sun from your eyes as you looked up at him; you’d forgotten your sunglasses, again, something Satoru teased you about constantly. Even with the small amount of shade your hand afforded you, you squinted a bit up at your friend. His hair was pulled fully up into a bun, a hairstyle he didn’t wear as frequently as he did when you were all in high school, but with a heatwave rolling through the area, you weren’t exactly surprised he wanted all that hair off his skin.

After a moment you realized the sun was creating a sort of halo around him. Like an angel, you thought to yourself. He’s certainly pretty enough to be one. The thought caught you off guard, and you hoped it wasn’t obvious that you’d grown flustered by your own thoughts; you didn’t need him finding out about the crush you’d been harboring on him since you were teenagers, especially when no one else was there to save you from yourself.

His brows pinched in confusion, and he cocked his head ever so slightly to the right. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“Satoru and Shoko and everyone,” you said, now feeling a bit confused yourself. “Are they just running late? Usually at least Kento is waiting with you by the time I show up.”

A look of understanding crossed his face then, and his face visibly reddened. “Ah,” he sighed, looking away from you and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s uh. It’s just us, actually. Sorry, I thought you knew that when you accepted the invitation.”

“...Oh,” you uttered intelligently, feeling your own face beginning to heat as well, and not just from the sun beating down on you. It never occurred to you that Suguru would want to spend any alone time with you, away from the group; not that you didn’t get along without everyone else – you definitely did, you were just usually around the rest of your friend group – but the occasion for one on one time hadn’t arisen since you’d been partnered for assignments in school.

“We don’t have to go in,” Suguru offered gently, meeting your gaze again. “We can pretend this never happened. Or we can see if anyone else wants to join, I know Satoru’s not doing anything today.�� When all you did was blink dumbly up at him, he looked away again, staring down at his feet. “I’m really sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

That brought you back to yourself, and you shook your head vehemently. “No!” you burst out, then cringed at your own raised volume and squeaky voice. “I-I mean, no, you didn’t make me uncomfortable. We can still go in. I looked this place up when you invited me, and I really want to see their pollinator sanctuary.”

Suguru’s shoulders dropped in relief at your words, and his small smile returned almost instantly. “I’d like that.”

As he turned and headed towards the gates, you followed barely a half step behind. You started to pull out your wallet as you drew closer to the ticket booth, but Suguru stopped you.

“Don’t worry about it,” he told you. “I bought our tickets already.”

His words had your face burning yet again, and you looked away sheepishly. “Thanks.” You followed him up to the gates, pausing long enough for the gate attendant to scan the tickets Suguru had bought – he’d printed them out, so the employee didn’t have to try and scan his phone screen, which struck as so distinctly Suguru that it made your heart flutter, though you’d never admit that to another human being.

Tickets now scanned, the pair of you were free to explore the grounds at your own pace. Ever the planner, your friend led you over to the large standing map. “Do you want to start with the pollinators?” he asked. “Or would you rather save that for the grand finale?”

Taking a few moments to consider, you looked over the map; the grounds were bigger than you thought, and you knew with the sun beating down on you, it wouldn’t be long before you were tired of the heat and ready to go somewhere with cold drinks and air conditioning. “Let’s do that first,” you said after a bit. “I don’t wanna run the risk of missing them because they’re hiding from the heat.”

Suguru nodded easily in agreement with your words. “I think that sounds like a good idea,” he confirmed. When he reached up and started tracing a path on the map from the “YOU ARE HERE” sticker to the pollinator sanctuary, you couldn’t help but watch, his hand making the sections of the map look smaller than they actually were.

“It looks like we need to go this way,” he said quietly, and though you couldn’t quite tell if he was speaking to you or just thinking aloud, his words were enough to bring you back to yourself. “The pollinators are near the back, but this section with the trees should be pretty shaded for the walk back. What do you think?”

He turned to face you then, head tilted ever so slightly as he waited to hear your answer, oblivious to the way you’d been ogling his hand. You blinked dumbly for a moment, processing his words as you did your best not to make a fool of yourself.

“That sounds good, yeah,” you agreed sheepishly. “This way, right?”

When he nodded, you turned and made your way down the path, Suguru at your side. He was right, the path he’d chosen was pretty well shaded from the sun, offering you a bit of relief as you walked. The pace you maintained was steady; you weren’t rushing by any means, but you were eager to see the pollinator sanctuary, so you were walking a little faster than you normally might have.

Birds chirped overhead, singing to each other as they hopped from branch to branch, and the sound made you smile; summer wasn’t necessarily your favorite of the seasons, but right now the pros were definitely outweighing the cons.

“Thank you,” the raven haired man said after a few minutes of comfortable silence, and you looked up at him in slight confusion.

“For what?”

“For agreeing to come here with me,” he said simply. Then, looking a little bashful again, he added, “And for not freaking out on me when I told you it was just us after you got here.”

“Oh,” you said quietly. “I was happy to accept your invitation. And I’d never freak out on you for something like that, y’know. You’re easy to be around, and if nobody else is here it means I actually get to appreciate your presence.”

“You make a good point. Satoru does tend to demand to be the center of attention when we’re all together, doesn’t he?” A soft smile painted his lips as he spoke, and his words made you giggle a bit.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “He does.”

Conversation was easy after that, talking about everything and nothing all at the same time, but it felt so good to talk with him; to spend time with him without anyone else around, something you rarely got to do, and never felt like you could suggest yourself until now. Now, though, you were sure you’d be spending a lot more one on one time with your companion.

“Oh, what was it that Satoru was trying to explain the other day? He kept comparing it to digi…mon…” you trailed off mid sentence as you stepped out from under the trees, completely forgetting what you’d been saying as you saw the pollinator sanctuary unfolding before you. Your steps slowed, and you looked around with wide eyes, taking in the sight of all the insects flitting between the brightly colored flowers: the honey bees climbing out of blooms covered in pollen; hummingbird moths hovering as they sipped before zipping to the next flower; bumblebees droning through the air; butterflies flitting from plant to plant.

Suguru slowed to keep pace beside you, and unbeknownst to you, he was looking at you far more intently than anything else in the garden. He paused for a moment, letting you walk a bit ahead of him as he admired you. As he watched, a few butterflies flew closer, dancing around your head as they came to investigate the scent of your shampoo. You stilled, though your eyes were wide as you tried to watch what was happening above you. One by one, about half a dozen butterflies landed in your hair, almost forming a crown around your head, making you look like some sort of nature spirit.

“You’re beautiful,” Suguru blurted out, and the sudden compliment startled you a bit. You turned back to face him quickly enough that all the butterflies went fluttering off again, now that they knew you were not, in fact, a flower.

“Huh?”

“You’re beautiful,” he repeated, though a bit more bashfully this time. “I’ve always thought that, y’know? I just didn’t want to make things weird between us by telling you that.” He closed the distance between you as he spoke, and he offered you a sheepish little smile. “I hope it’s okay that I’m telling you now, though.”

“Yeah,” you murmured back, smiling just as bashfully in return. “That’s more than okay. You’re beautiful, too, actually. I’ve always thought that.”

A small laugh bubbled out of Suguru at your words, and his expression grew impossibly more fond. “I’m glad we’re on the same page about that, then,” he mused. He was quiet for a moment then, his dark eyes contemplative, before he leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek.

The touch surprised you, but it wasn’t unwelcome. You felt your face burn a bit more as he pulled away, but your smile only brightened as you looked up at him.

He smiled back just as brightly, and as he spoke again, he took your hand and laced your fingers together gently. “Do you want to keep going?” “Yes, I’d like that very much.”

taglist: @mitsuristoleme @kentohours @peachdues @ghost-1-y @witchbybirth

@marinnnnnnnnn @dr-runs-with-scissors @enchantedforest-network

divider by saradika-graphics

#fallon's fics #geto jjk #jjk geto #suguru geto #geto suguru #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #jjk fluff #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk

166 notes · View notes

evangelical04 · 14 hours

Text

A Single Daffodil || 4

Summary: Getting arranged to be married to your long-time crush wasn't exactly the fairy tale romance you were hoping for. Nor is the dynamic of the marriage, with your husband treating you like you don't exist. But you're going to make this work, whether he cares about you or not. And he definitely doesn't...right?

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Word Count: 12.5K

Genre: angst, romance, unrequited love, smut, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage au, businessman yoongi

Warnings: parental trauma, sibling trauma, toxic parents, unrequited love, explicit language, alcohol usage, yoongi's kind of mean, future smut, body image issues

Author's Note: sorry this is being posted almost a month later! i was on a road trip with my friends but I wanted to get this out before my birthday (it's on the 17th eek!!) but I hope you guys like it! as usual, please tell me what you guys think! i'd love to hear your opinions <33 also I'm sorry if this chapter seems kinda boring, but the next one is gonna have some drama!! oooo

Taglist:

@yoongisducky @kam9404 @sumzysworld @tarahardcore @viankiss @babystarcandylovejk @ktownshizzle @futuristicenemychaos @igot7fairlyoddparents @baechugff @pb89nv @peachytokki @ratherbfangirling @themwordsblog @daisies-and-dandelionpuffs @kimmalik @honeyypages @captainchrisstan @khaimahfe @yoongibaybee @kooklovee @whoa-jo @familiarlikemymirror3 @blueberriesm @llallaaa @weareatthebadlands @purpleheartsandarock1 @lillmeowmeowsblog @this-most-assuredly-counts @kayleefriedchicken @ur-grandmum @praetae @sylviamuela

previous / masterlist / next

Waking up in an unfamiliar room was jarring, initially. It took you a couple of rounds of rubbing your eyes to realize that you were no longer in your cozy two-bedroom apartment with soft lighting and warm-colored pillows. You awoke to harsh sunlight hitting your face, blank walls, and beige furniture. You leaned back against the light brown headboard of your bed and ran your hands through your messy tangles of hair, having forgone brushing it out the previous night. Glancing at your phone beside you, you noted the time being only a bit past nine.

You needed tea, warm tea.

You shuffled out of bed, feeling the cold air nip at your bare legs, but you couldn’t find the motivation to change into warm clothing. You tied your hair into a messy ponytail, deciding to attend to it later, and exited your room, facing the cold and unfriendly hallway. There was a faint sound of quiet jazz from the kitchen, likely Mrs. Lim, and you descended the stairs. As you reached the bottom, you groaned internally, lamenting the fact that your favorite teas were still in your apartment.

Rounding the corner into view of the kitchen had you stopping in your tracks. Yoongi was sat atop one of the counter stools, peacefully scrolling on his phone in the same clothes you’d seen him in last night during your discussion. The unexpected sight had you stumbling backwards, bumping into the large recliner that sat behind you. The sound alerted him to your presence, his eyes turning to find your form.

“Um, hi,” you stuttered, “I didn’t expect to see you this morning.”

Yoongi hummed, eyes trailing up and down your figure, mouth upturned. You shifted your weight onto the other foot, feeling uncomfortable, before crossing your arms over your chest. You shouldn’t be this comfortable to walk around braless yet, you internally scolded.

“Well, it is the weekend,” Yoongi mused, still not taking his eyes off your chilled form. You laughed awkwardly, nodding, “Yeah, I suppose it is, isn’t it? I’ll be right back, actually, I forgot my phone upstairs.”

You didn’t wait to see his response before turning around and rushing back up the stairs. Reaching your room and closing the door behind you, you breathed heavily. What was that? You buried your head in your hands, sliding down the door to sit with your knees pulled to your chest, you should’ve expected him in his own goddamn house. Your cheeks burned at the memory of his eyes tracing your silhouette. How embarrassing. You wallowed in your self-pity a bit longer before rising and entering your large closet.

You picked out a simple cropped grey sweatshirt and black sweatpants, not finding a need to appear any more formal. You wanted to appear casual after the embarrassing display you started the morning off with. Plus, if Yoongi said this marriage meant nothing, you could walk around his house in loungewear. As long as your mother didn’t find out.

The thick cotton felt much more comfortable and warm, considering the slightly chilly air in the house. Yoongi must like it to be a bit colder, you thought absently. As you finished your morning routine, brushing your teeth and combing through your hair, making sure to pat on some moisturizer and acne treatment, your thoughts wandered back to seeing Yoongi earlier.

The way he had been looking at you was strange, much like Hoseok had mentioned. You weren’t dense, you knew the intention hidden behind a gaze like that, you’d been on the giving and receiving end before. What had you so puzzled was why Yoongi would be looking at you like that. Wasn’t he the one to draw such a clear line between you two?

Aside from the reason as to why he would be tracing the edges of your curves with his eyes was the effect that it had on you. Frustratingly, Yoongi’s hungry gaze sent warmth through your veins, and excitement pooled in your stomach. It was an embarrassing response, considering how he’d treated you before. At the same time, it felt expected. You had been pining after this man for so long and now he was showing the slightest bit of reciprocation, albeit, with more physical intentions than you. It only felt natural that it would leave you giddy with warm cheeks. It made you happy to think that Yoongi could be seeing you in a similar light.

Your dizzy smile faded as you looked in the mirror at your flushed face. What were you doing? The last eight months had been spent trying to drill into yourself that Yoongi would never like you that way because you couldn’t afford to get your hopes up. Why were you entertaining the idea again after one sultry stare? You felt pathetic, you had folded so easily as you always did when it came to him.

Smacking your cheeks a couple of times, you readied yourself to head back downstairs. He was just a man, no matter how attractive. Descending the stairs once more, you noticed Yoongi had moved to the couch, leaning back with his coffee on the table next to him, scrolling away on his phone. He hadn’t noticed your reentrance just yet and you awkwardly hovered by the edge of the couch, trying to get his attention.

Awkwardly clearing your throat did the trick and his gaze turned toward you, an eyebrow raised at your changed appearance.

“Do you, um, do you have any tea,” you mumbled out, avoiding his intense stare. You heard him hum, likely considering his kitchen inventory, before answering, “Sorry, no, just coffee. Would you like me to order some? There’s also coffee and juice if you want that instead.”

You quickly shook your head at his offer of ordering tea, “That’s fine, I’ll just have some warm water, thanks,” and quickly made your way into the kitchen, reaching the fridge. The metal box was massive, towering over you and quite wide, with a sleek, silver finish. There were no magnets or pictures adorning the exterior, though. Pulling it open, your eyes raked over the full contents, spotting a pitcher of what seemed like orange juice, but no Britta Filter or something of the like. Glancing at the sink, you noticed a second spout seemingly for filtered water. Shrugging, you supposed that Yoongi would be able to afford that and not have to have a water filter jug.

Next, you hunted for a kettle, which wasn’t too difficult to find, placed in a corner of the countertop. You took it out, setting it on the counter next to an outlet, but soon realized you had no idea where the cups were. The sheer amount of cupboards was overwhelming and you had no idea where to start looking, never mind the embarrassment of rifling through the kitchen in front of Yoongi.

Opening up cabinets as quietly as possible was not the easiest task when you could so heavily feel Yoongi’s presence in the living room. The anxiety in your chest built as you couldn’t tell whether or not he was watching you struggle to find a single mug. Coming to another cabinet above you, you opened it, spotting a mug or two on the edge of the top shelf portion. Just your luck. You hadn’t spotted a step stool anywhere and you were far too embarrassed already to climb on top of the counter to reach it. Your arm stretched out as you stood on your toes, fingers grasping at the edge of the shelf before you felt warmth envelop your back.

Freezing in place, you quickly identified Yoongi behind you, evidently assisting you in reaching the mugs. He didn’t seem quite tall enough either, you deduced, because he lifted his heels slightly, pushing further into you. Your breath stuttered and you almost had to brace yourself against the counter, you hadn’t really been this close to him before. You could feel his warm breath against the top of your hair, making your nape break out into goosebumps.

His fingers finally curled around the handle of the mug and he set his feet fully on the ground, but not moving away from you. You turned to face him, steadying your hands by grasping the edge of the countertop and lifted your head to look at him.

“Um, thank you,” you stuttered, unable to make full eye contact, instead opting for looking straight at his ear. He was too close and you couldn’t handle it. His other hand rested on the countertop, just beside yours, and his face was only inches away. How were you supposed to focus? Your gaze only lowered further, making your head turn slightly away. There was a second or two of just silence.

“No problem,” he responded bluntly, moving away and placing the mug down on the other counter that sat in the middle of the kitchen. You let out a heavy breath, finally being able to breathe something in other than Yoongi’s subtle cologne. Resisting the urge to question his sudden close proximity, you instead opted for, “Would you like some as well?

Yoongi only raised an eyebrow and gestured towards the living room where his coffee mug sat waiting. Your mouth clamped shut and you stuttered a nod, “Right, well I’ll just, um, finish doing this.”

God, could you be any more awkward?

Yoongi simply nodded and walked back to the living room, leaving you in the kitchen with warm cheeks and many regrets. You went through the motions of filling the kettle and starting it, waiting for it to boil before pouring it into the mug. The warm water was at least comforting in the chilly atmosphere, despite having no flavor. You stood in the kitchen, unsure of where you should go. Should you join Yoongi in the living room or go back to your room? Or should you stay in the kitchen? Nothing in your life had prepared you for the social expectations in a situation like this.

You decided on your room, not wanting to spend more time in Yoongi’s presence after the embarrassing display in the kitchen. As you made your way to the stairs, walking past Yoongi’s form on the couch, he called out to you.

“Y/N, can you sit for a moment?”

You turned towards him and nervously nodded, taking a seat on the same loveseat as the night prior. It was quite comfortable even though you had been the epitome of uncomfortable each time you’d sat in it so far. You looked up at Yoongi, silently gesturing for him to continue.

“Some of my friends are coming over tonight, the same that made up my groomsmen. If you don’t mind, are you able to stay in your room?”

“Oh, sure,” you nodded, that was all? You were nervous for nothing.

“Thanks,” Yoongi almost smiled at you, “They’ll be here around seven.”

“Sounds good,” you said while standing up, you couldn’t get out of there quickly enough. In your rush to get back to your room, you didn’t notice Yoongi’s gaze lingering on your retreating form.

Closing your bedroom door behind you, you breathed a sigh of relief. What a day, and it wasn’t even noon yet. Adjusting to life with Yoongi was definitely going to be a learning curve.

Since you were off work for the next two weeks, you weren’t exactly sure what to do with your time. You couldn’t exactly relax in the living room and watch a movie, not with your husband occupying the couch. Things certainly felt stifled in Yoongi’s home. His presence was overwhelming and nerve-wracking, you couldn’t relax around him at all. The earlier interaction in the kitchen still weighed on your mind.

Why did he get so close to you? Wasn’t he the one who proposed that the two of you stay as far apart as possible? Maybe he didn’t see his closeness to you as something that went against that principle. You sighed. It felt impossible to read him or know what he was thinking at all. His impassive expressions and ambivalent demeanor were starting to get to you.

Even though you’d resolved to take on an emotionally removed approach like him, you still craved some sort of transparency in his confusing actions that stirred mixed emotions within you. Some of the things he was doing would point towards him harboring some sort of affection toward you but he had been so adamant in keeping your lives separated. What you needed was a clear message from him about how he felt and actions that aligned with that.

Not that you thought that was going to happen.

After setting your mug down on your bedside table, you collapsed onto the soft comforters of your bed. The ceiling above you was plain unlike the one in your apartment and you found yourself missing the nights of tracing along the popcorn pattern in your warm and comfy bed. Speaking of your apartment though, you thought, you should probably check in on how Hoseok’s doing.

You patted your hand around for your phone, finding it beside you, and dialed Hoseok’s number, setting it to speaker and letting the phone sit beside your head. It only rang twice before he answered.

“Well, hello Mrs. Min,” came his teasing voice.

You groaned, kicking your legs up in the air, “Shut up, don’t remind me.”

“Aren’t you living the dream, though? Married to your long-time crush?”

“Hardly,” you scoffed, recalling your husband’s cold and calculating exterior.

“Well, what’s up, how’s the first morning? Are you sore,” Hoseok questioned, you could hear him shuffling around, likely lying down on the bed himself.

“I guess? My calves are kind of sore, those heels fucking hurt after the first hour,” you responded, massaging your aching feet.

“No,” Hoseok laughed, “Are you sore from your consummation? Tell me how it was!”

“Gross,” you exclaimed, sitting up on the bed incredulously, “We did not have sex! I can barely look at him for fuck’s sake, how am I supposed to sleep with him?”

“That’s your fault for not taking advantage of the situation,” he hummed on the other end, “The opportunity was right there.”

“Dude, c’mon, he can barely stand me. We wouldn’t have been sleeping together even if I could look him in the eye.”

“You’ll get there,” Hoseok chimed optimistically, making you desperately want to change the subject.

“How’s your apartment hunting going,” you asked, grasping at any other topic you could.

“Smooth,” he laughed but acquiesced and answered your question, “Good, I think. I’ve got a couple of showings in a few days that seem promising. Rent here is way more expensive than Busan though.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, “Tell me about it. I don’t know how Yoongi affords this place.”

“He probably owns it.”

“Damn, you’re probably right. Should a peasant like me even be allowed in here,” you half-joked.

Hoseok only scoffed in response, “As if you’re not literally the daughter of chaebols.”

You hummed, nodding, “Touche.”

“Oh, I did talk to my old boss and he said there was an old student of his in Seoul who was also looking to open up a dance studio. Apparently, he’s just finishing up his MBA so I’m going to talk to him and see if he wants to become partners,” Hoseok excitedly detailed.

“That’s so cool! I’m sure he’ll say yes,” you responded happily. Hoseok deserved to succeed after how hard he’d worked and if this other guy knew anything, he’d say yes to Hoseok in a heartbeat.

“How is everything else,” Hoseok asked, prompting you to sigh.

“It’s fine, I guess,” you said tiredly, wondering if you should divulge what had happened during the wedding and this morning.

“Tell me about it,” he said quietly, encouraging you.

“Alright,” you huffed, settling in for the long haul of recounting the previous day and the conversation when you’d gotten to Yoongi’s penthouse. You finished by detailing the events this morning and the fact that his friends were coming over later.

Hoseok listened diligently, making sure to have the appropriate reactions at the right moments. When you finished retelling the events of that morning, Hoseok laughed, “How cliche. This really feels like your own movie romance.”

You shook your head, laughing along, “I guess it was pretty cliche. Everything feels so cliche with him, like the first time I’m falling in love as a teenager or something. It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s not embarrassing to like someone, Y/N,” Hoseok says, changing his tone to be a bit softer, “Having a crush isn’t all that immature, it’s the way you act on it that can be.”

“You’re surprisingly profound,” you joked, but you knew he had a point. You had been beating yourself up about feeling anything for Yoongi and feeling embarrassed whenever you became flustered. It felt childish and you hated feeling so vulnerable and disadvantaged.

“Well, I have my moments,” Hoseok chuckled, “But seriously, don’t be so hard on yourself. Let yourself feel and then choose how to deal with it. If that means moving on, then do that, slowly. And it’s okay if it means keeping the feelings, as long as you're not hurting yourself or anyone else.”

“Thanks, Hobi,” you smiled, he really did have his moments.

“Anytime, Y/N-ie,” Hoseok responded fondly, making you smile widen at the affectionate nickname.

“But I do have to go now. I’ve got some calls to make about my old apartment. They’re trying to keep my deposit,” he huffed.

“Yikes, good luck with that, let me know how it goes,” you give him a sweet goodbye before hanging up. The conversation with Hoseok had cleared your head some, leaving you wondering what your next move should be. You promptly decided on a nap.

After a few hours, you awoke, stretching in your bed, feeling slightly groggy, but well rested. Your head felt clearer than ever and you actually felt ready to live in this penthouse.

Sitting up, you took a look around your room before sighing. The beiges and whites were really starting to get to you. You dragged yourself out of your bed and towards your bag from the previous night. After digging around for a moment, you triumphantly located your laptop and its charger, plugging it into the outlet near your desk. Booting up your laptop only took a few moments but you occupied yourself by making a mental list of the decorations you wanted to purchase or bring from your own apartment. After logging in, you dejectedly realized you weren’t connected to the wifi.

You should’ve asked Mrs. Lim for the wifi password, you thought scornfully, why had you been so careless. Now you had to ask Yoongi. Your mission of avoiding him at all costs was going poorly.

Reaching for your phone, you opted instead to text him to minimize the interaction, feeling proud of your solution.

You:

Hi Yoongi-ssi, would you mind giving me the wifi password, please?

You quickly set your phone face down on the desk, dreading the reply. What if he thought you were an idiot? What if he didn’t give it to you and you had to use a hotspot for the rest of your life and spend hundreds on your data charges?

Your spiraling thoughts were interrupted by your phone vibrating against the desk’s surface.

Yoongi:

Sure. It’s worldwidehandsomesvacationhome. No capitals.

You let out a confused chuckle, what a weird name. You had a nagging feeling that Kim Seokjin had something to do with it.

You:

Thank you. Have fun with your friends.

You threw your phone against the desk and launched yourself into your bed. Was that too much? Oh god, what if you had royally messed up and crossed a boundary? You stayed in your bed for a few minutes before rising, noting that your phone hadn’t vibrated with a response. Hesitantly approaching your phone, you turned it over to see a blank screen with no notifications. You checked the message thread to see it the same as you left it except that you had been left on read.

Well, I guess there’s nothing I can do about that.

You shrugged and retook your seat at your desk, entering the wifi password on your laptop and phone. Finding a successful connection, you spent the next few hours browsing through online stores for fun decorations and decals for your room and office in the penthouse. The search took your full attention and you bought multiple items, saving a few of the more expensive purchases for other credit cycles. At the end of it all, you’d bought multiple pillows, a throw blanket, some cute decoration trinkets off of Etsy, a couple of cute flower lamps, a comfy-looking lounge chair, and some lilac curtains. Decorating your room in some fun colors and trinkets would make it feel more like home, or at least, that’s what you hoped.

Sitting on the desk next to your laptop was a small notebook that held a list of the items you planned to purchase, mainly a TV for your room so you could watch movies and use your console, a larger and cuter desk, and a comfier desk chair, as well as transferring a number of other items from your apartment like your plants, books, and other decorations.

Coming out of your reverie, you noticed that the time had passed quickly, being a little after seven, and your stomach grumbled, reminding you of your forgetting to eat lunch. Cooking in the kitchen wasn’t an option, noting the laughter downstairs likely meaning that Yoongi’s friends had arrived already, and you didn’t know what ingredients were there anyway, or if you were allowed to use them.

Sighing, you instead decided to order delivery. You browsed through the local restaurants before settling on a fried chicken restaurant that you frequented that had a location close to your apartment and another near Yoongi’s. Selecting your usual order, you almost checked out before realizing that you were about to order it to your apartment. Grinning, you imagined Hoseok opening your door to a crispy chicken delivery and having no second thoughts about eating your food.

You couldn’t remember Yoongi’s address, so you resorted to looking at your maps app to figure it out, and your previous texts with Mrs. Lim for the internal building directions. A rush of content flowed through you as you placed the order, eagerly awaiting your hearty meal.

To pass the time, you grabbed your Switch, loading in whatever game you had been playing previously, some indie puzzle game. You settled into the relaxing and cute gameplay and drowned out the noise of Yoongi’s friends further into the penthouse.

After a while, your phone vibrated with the notification that the delivery was here, and you jumped up, eager to receive your food. Quickly opening your door, you entered the hallway to make your way to the stairs before hesitating. You could hear Kim Seokjin’s signature laugh in the living room.

Oh, that’s right, Yoongi didn’t want you to come down.

You tittered around the banister, unsure of whether you should go down before you felt your phone buzz with the driver asking where you were.

Ah, fuck it.

You quickly descended the stairs and tried to discreetly go through the back end of the living room to avoid Yoongi’s group drinking and playing some sort of game on the coffee table. Of course, you were unsuccessful, spotted by Seokjin immediately.

“Yah, Seo Y/N,” he shouted, pointing at you, clearly quite drunk already.

You froze in place, turning toward him and sending him a shy wave.

“Why are you over there,” Seokjin slurred, “Come join us! You need to drink!”

You began shaking your head before you were interrupted.

“Noona!”

Jeongguk’s bright voice and wide smile brought a smile to your own face, and you mouthed a small hello in his direction.

“Come join us, noona, please,” Jeongguk pleaded, shooting lethal doe eyes in your direction. Your heart melted and you almost agreed, but you felt your phone buzz in your pocket again, making you restart your steps toward the door, “Sorry, Jeongguk-ah, I just came down to get my delivery.”

You ignored his and Seokjin’s protests to open the door and pay the driver, leaving an extra tip for the wait they endured, and taking the food.

“Woah, is that fried chicken,” you heard from over your shoulder, turning to see Jeongguk suddenly there, eyeing your takeout bag. You chuckled, nodding, before beginning your trek back to the stairs.

“C’mon Y/N-ah, join us, Yoongi doesn’t mind,” Seokjin attempted once more and you took the moment to search out his face. Yoongi was sitting in the loveseat you had earlier, eyes resting on you in an unreadable expression. Taehyung was on the floor where Jeongguk was previously and Namjoon was on the couch with Seokjin. Yoongi’s stern expression seemed out of place among the group of happy and buzzed faces and it only made you feel worse.

“Sorry, oppa, I think I’m just gonna head up. I’m kind of tired,” you responded, shying away from Jeongguk’s insistent touch and multiple attempts to snag a piece of chicken.

“You’re so boring, Y/N, you’ll need to join us soon enough, so why not now,” Seokjin slurred, body swinging to lean on the other end of the couch. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Yoongi open his mouth to say something but was beaten by Namjoon.

“Let her be, hyung, you can’t force her,” Namjoon smacked Seokjin’s shoulder before sending you a kind smile and gesturing towards the stairs.

You shot him a grateful smile before ascending, deliberately avoiding Yoongi’s icy stare. Seokjin’s cries faded into the background as you quickly climbed the stairs and reached your room.

Closing the door behind you, a sigh escaped your mouth. How stressful. You hoped that Yoongi wasn’t upset with you for interrupting, you were just quite hungry. You set the bag down on your desk, mouth salivating at the pleasant aroma. You could almost say the intense encounter was worth the heavenly bite of fried chicken you took.

The next week went by rather smoothly, mainly because you had barely seen Yoongi at all. He hadn’t come out of his room much the following day after his friends had come and then resumed work afterward with the week starting up once more. You relished the opportunity to set up your room and office in a style more akin to yours and filled the rooms with plants and flowers you adored.

Mrs. Lim had been happy to help you set up your rooms, citing boredom from the countless greys and blacks that Yoongi’s decor tended to lean towards. You had developed a close bond with her in the week since your arrival in the penthouse and she was a comforting presence in the face of Yoongi’s frosty exterior.

“Ms. Seo, I think your TV is here!”

You sat up from the intense building of your desk, wiping a line of sweat from your forehead. All of the moving around and lifting had you quite warm and you had changed into a loose crop top and shorts. While the work wasn’t necessarily difficult, it was tedious to do alone but you didn’t have much of a choice. You couldn’t ask Mrs. Lim with her bad back to crouch and bend to help you put it together, Joohee was going out to a work dinner with her colleagues, and Hoseok was off to another apartment showing. Unfortunately, you couldn’t figure out anyone else you could call on a Friday evening to help.

“Coming,” you shouted down to Mrs. Lim and rose to your feet, having to lean slightly against the wall. You took a glance at the TV stand you had already snagged second-hand from Joohee after she had decided to mount hers and confirmed it was in the spot you wanted. Heading down the stairs to the living room, you noted Mrs. Lim’s conflicted stance, hands on her hips.

“What’s wrong,” you questioned, rounding the corner of the couch to see the large box the TV had arrived in. The box was quite large and seemed to be rather heavy, which would make it extremely difficult to carry up the stairs by yourself. Immediately, you knew this was going to be an issue because you couldn’t ask Mrs. Lim for help. You’d managed thus far, with your desk arriving in multiple boxes that were more lightweight, your chair being fairly easy to drag up the stairs, and Joohee helping with the TV stand. Crossing your arms, you studied the box before wrapping your hands underneath to test the weight.

It lifted slightly, but you soon had to release it, the edge slipping from your fingers. There was no way you’d be able to get this up on your own.

“Don’t try it by yourself, dear,” Mrs. Lim soothed, “You’ll hurt your back and end up just like me.”

You chuckled, brushing the hair out of your face once again, “Yeah, at least one of us needs to be able to reach the bottom shelf in the kitchen.”

Mrs. Lim playfully smacked your shoulder, “What happened to respecting your elders? You’re quite warm though, would you like some cold water?”

You nodded appreciatively, “Yes, please. Thank you!”

Mrs. Lim waved you off as she walked into the kitchen. Turning towards the box, you huffed, staring it down. What should you do?

Suddenly, you heard the door unlock and it popped open, hitting the box in the process, stopping it from opening fully.

“Mrs. Lim,” came Yoongi’s voice, “Is there something in the doorway?”

“Oh, my bad,” you exclaimed, quickly bending to push the box out of the way. After you’d pushed it aside, you stood to greet Yoongi.

He was running a hand through his hair, staring at the box before his eyes trailed to you and up your legs to your face. You felt your cheeks heat before sending him a small bow and nod.

“What’s all this,” he questioned.

“I’m just getting some stuff for my room, sorry for all the trouble,” you wrung your hands together nervously.

Yoongi shook his head and opened his mouth, only to be interrupted by Mrs. Lim arriving with your water, “Oh, Mr. Min, you’re home!” Handing you the glass, she continued, “Ms. Seo was just trying to figure out how to bring this box up to her room. It’s much too big for just her to handle and I can’t help because of my back. So unfortunate, isn’t it?”

You cringed internally, taking a sip of water to give yourself something to do. Yoongi only nodded, looking at you once more before moving out of the doorway. He started towards the stairs, leaving you breathing out in relief and gulping down more water.

Just as he began climbing the steps to his room, he turned and faced your form, “Give me a couple minutes to change and I can help you bring that to your room.”

You almost choked on your water as you stumbled through a nod, surprised at Yoongi’s offer to help. He didn’t spare you another glance as he retreated to his room and you were left standing cluelessly as Mrs. Lim sent you a sly smile.

“Well, I’ll just leave you to it. Your dinner is already prepped, there’s japchae and banchan to cool you down. It’s just about time for me to head home anyway,” Mrs. Lim said, clapping her hands together and starting to untie her apron.

You pounced, stopping her hands from undoing the knot, “Mrs. Lim, maybe you can join us for dinner?” You were desperate in your attempt to not be left alone with Yoongi, looking up at Mrs. Lim with pleading eyes.

She only chuckled, gently removing your hands and finishing releasing the knot, her apron falling loose around her front, “Use this as an opportunity to get to know him better. I promise Mr. Min is a nice, young man.”

You almost scoffed, everyone seemed to be trying to convince you of that except for Yoongi himself.

Mrs. Lim put her apron away and gave your cheek a gentle pinch before opening the door, “Besides, I have a dinner date with Mr. Lim. Good luck!” She closed the door behind her and you were left wondering how to navigate the upcoming interaction. Yoongi didn’t give you much time to prepare, appearing at the top of the stairs only seconds after Mrs. Lim’s exit. He was now dressed in a casual grey t-shirt and black sweats, posing a stunning contrast to his earlier neat and tailored suit.

“Where did Mrs. Lim go,” he asked, starting his descent to the living room.

“Um, she left to go home. She said there was dinner already prepped and she had to have dinner with her husband,” you answered awkwardly, avoiding his intense gaze.

Yoongi simply nodded, “That’s fine. Shall we get started, then?”

You nodded, rushing to one end of the box as Yoongi took his place at the other.

“I’ll walk backward, so just let me know when I’ve gotten to the stairs,” he said, making you nod in response, finding it difficult to speak. You both lifted, the box becoming much easier to carry with two pairs of hands.

You kept your gaze firmly trained on the view behind Yoongi, refusing to make eye contact. You were nervous it’d make your grip slip. Warning Yoongi when you had reached the stairs, the rest of the trip had been fairly easy, quietly giving him directions to your room. Thankfully, your door was open and the two of you entered, setting the box down and breathing slightly heavily.

You looked up to express your gratitude to Yoongi but found him looking around your room instead. You supposed it would be his first time in here since you’d arrived. It had changed quite drastically since you had moved in, sporting much more color and silly accessories. Your bed now had a lilac comforter and a white throw blanket, along with multiple cute, fuzzy throw pillows in fun shapes like clouds or mushrooms. The lounge chair had been set up in the corner with a few other pillows and Pokemon plushes you already had. The lilac curtains you ordered had already been set up, currently open to let some light into the room. A few of your favorite tote bags sat hanging on a hook you’d stuck on by the entrance and there were small crocheted and artsy trinkets plastered or hung around the room. Taking a look around it now, for the first time, your aesthetic felt silly and childish in comparison to Yoongi’s sleek, grown-up look.

“Um,” you started, wanting to take Yoongi’s gaze off of your colorful and immature decorations, “Thank you for, ah, helping out.”

Yoongi’s head turned toward you, finding your worried face, biting your lip.

“No problem,” he responded, “I like your room.”

You looked up at him questioningly, not expecting such a response. You had assumed he would think of it as childish and express his distaste, or just ignore it altogether.

“It’s cute.”

You felt your lips part in surprise at his seemingly earnest reaction to your newly decorated room. It made you feel a bit guilty for assuming he wouldn’t like it before. Furthermore, describing it as ‘cute’ seemed so unlike him. You weren’t sure how to respond. Smiling awkwardly, you nodded, “Thanks, I’m glad you like it.”

You’re glad he likes it? What kind of response is that? You groaned internally, now it seemed like you were pining for his validation. Why couldn’t the ground just swallow you whole?

Yoongi hummed in response before dusting off his hands on his sweats, “Would you like to have dinner then?”

You looked at him in slight shock. The two of you hadn’t had a meal together since you’d moved in, yet here he was offering as if it was a normal occurrence for you.

“Unless you’re eating later,” Yoongi’s eyebrow raised at your delayed response.

Quickly, you shook your head, “No, no. I’d love to have dinner now.”

Way to sound over-eager.

The both of you made your way downstairs, unpacking the meal that Mrs. Lim had prepared for you. The cold noodles felt soothing to your overheating body and Mrs. Lim’s kimchi was the perfect balance of fresh and sour. She had even made cucumber kimchi, one of your favorites as she’d learned in the past week, which you happily devoured. While the food was delicious, the atmosphere surrounding the dinner table was awkward. The meal was largely silent, save for the sounds of eating and happy tummies. Distantly, you wondered which of the two of you was going to be the one to break the silence. Surprisingly, it turned out to be Yoongi.

“Were you told about the gala tomorrow evening?”

You nodded, your mother had called you a few days ago to notify you of it. That hadn’t been a fun phone call. She’d made sure to tell you exactly what she expected you to wear and how to act around Yoongi during the gala. You were just relieved that it started at eight, there was an art gallery that you had been wanting to check out that opened at three.

“We’ll go together, we’ll leave at 7:45, does that sound good,” Yoongi asked, glancing at his phone between bites of japchae. You only nodded, trying to map out your schedule for the next day so that you could go to the art gallery and still have enough time to get ready.

“Alright then, that’s settled,” Yoongi stated, taking his last bites of food.

“Oh, wait,” you interjected, remembering your conversation with your mother, “Do you have a dark blue tie?”

Yoongi’s eyebrow raised, “Yes, I believe so. Why?”

Your cheeks heated, “My mother wanted your tie to match my dress. Sorry.” It was quite embarrassing and your mother had not listened to reason. Apparently, she wanted to solidify the image of you two as a couple at this gala, despite the fact that the only people who matched dresses and ties were high school kids going to dances.

Yoongi nodded, picking up his phone and rising from the table, “That’s fine. I’ll be sure to wear that tie then.” With that, he exited the dining room and headed upstairs, with you catching a glimpse of him entering his upstairs office.

Sitting back in your chair, you groaned audibly. Could you get through a single day without making yourself look like a fool in front of Yoongi? You flailed slightly in a mini tantrum at the day’s events before gazing at your plate. Opting for more food, you shoveled it into your mouth in an attempt to soothe your aching ego. After finishing admittedly more than a couple of servings worth, you gathered both yours and Yoongi’s plates and put them in the dishwasher. You filled up your water bottle before climbing the stairs to your room.

You wanted nothing more than to collapse in your bed but your unfinished desk lying in pieces on the floor was weighing on you, in addition to the large TV box that sat inconveniently in the middle of your room. Sighing, you dropped down into a cross-legged position beside the mess of wooden planks and screws and continued putting together the desk, not looking forward to the long night ahead.

At least you had the gallery tomorrow to look forward to.

When you awoke the next morning, it was just past eleven. The bedsheets were crumpled around you and your hair was a tangled mess, but your desk and TV were set up prettily. You must’ve worked late into the night because you didn’t remember getting into bed, much less finishing the desk or setting up the TV. You still had to attach your console and Blu-ray player anyway.

Blearily, you pulled yourself out of bed, stumbling down the stairs and into the kitchen for a cup of tea. Your eyes were barely open so you didn’t notice the way your cropped shirt had slipped down your shoulder with its wide neck, nor Yoongi sitting on the couch with a coffee mug in his hand. You squinted through the cupboard to find your favorite mug and picked it out, grabbing the lavender-infused tea that was a regular of yours before setting the kettle to boil. As you waited for the water to boil, you rubbed your eyes awake, finally noticing Yoongi staring at you from the couch.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you bowed slightly, “I didn’t see you there. Good morning.”

Yoongi only nodded, raising his coffee mug to you before returning his gaze to his phone. You were still too tired to feel much embarrassment so you only shrugged and turned back to the kettle. Surprisingly, Yoongi wasn’t done interacting with you, startling you to face him.

“Do you have any plans for before the gala?”

“Yes, I’m going to an art show nearby. But I’ll be back in time to get ready,” you rushed to answer.

Yoongi took a sip of his coffee, his eyebrows raised and eyes staring into you from behind the rim of the cup.

“Oh, sorry, I would ask you to come along but it’s a ticketed event and they’re sold out,” you stuttered, figuring that was why he was still looking at you questioningly.

Yoongi set his mug down, eyes flickering over your form, “I wasn’t planning on going anyway.”

“Ah, right,” you awkwardly said, internally scolding yourself for the embarrassing display.

Of course, he wasn’t asking to go with you, how dense could you be?

Your body felt hot with humiliation and you willed the water to boil faster. Somehow, the gods answered you and the kettle went off, making you rush to pour out the water into your mug. You opted to let it steep in your room, ready to get out of the shared space where Yoongi’s judgemental gaze lay.

Nodding a quick goodbye, you rushed up the steps and entered the oasis of your room. You set down your mug on your desk, letting it steep, and entered your closet to pick out an outfit for the gallery. You ended up choosing a short, brown, corduroy dress to layer over a collared white blouse, feeling quite cute in the outfit. You set the clothes aside, sitting down to drink your tea while reading a bit more of the fantasy book you’d recently picked up. You had made sure to note down your wide collection of books to be part of the things you brought from your apartment. You hadn’t managed to fit everything, but you had brought a significant portion of your favorites and ones you were currently reading.

Once you finished your tea, you set your book aside and began to ready yourself for a shower. After brushing through your hair and grabbing some undergarments, you entered the shower, making sure to take your time and shave for both your dress now and later tonight. The shower was warm and soothing, relaxing your body underneath the steaming stream of water.

After exiting, you did your normal post-shower routine of moisturizing, making sure to add a little extra care to your face. Not for any reason, in particular, you told yourself, just to feel a little pretty. After finishing, you donned your dress and blouse, adding shorts underneath just in case, and began styling your hair. It didn’t need too much as you decided to leave it open, parting it slightly to one side and ruffling it a bit to give it some volume. You finished off with some light makeup and simple gold jewelry, satisfied with your final look. You didn’t get dressed up too often, but you liked doing it for events like galleries, partly for the pictures but mostly just to feel cute.

You snapped a quick picture of your finished look in the mirror in your closet and sent it to the group chat you had with Joohee and Hoseok.

To: Milf Club (est. 2014)

You:

image attached

art gallery fit 💪

Hoebi:

you look like my wife

*future wife

Joo-nie:

omgg step on me queen

so when are you attending the met gala 🤨

You:

omfg it’s just a dress you guys

also i better see you at the gala tonight joo

bring hobi as your date

Joo-nie:

ew no

you can bring him as yours tho

You:

i have a literal husband who’s my date

Hoebi:

girls girls, don’t fight there’s enough hobi to go around

Joo-nie:

die

You:

nevermind, you can stay home

Hoebi:

you guys are so mean 😭

i was planning on touring a potential studio space anyway so go have fun being rich

Joo-nie:

omg good luck! let us know how it goes!

You:

yes def do

i’ll see you tonight joo

Glancing at your watch, you noted the time being around 2:30. It gave you enough time to stop by a cafe by the art gallery to grab a snack since you hadn’t eaten yet. You opted for your crocheted tote bag, not really caring about it making the look more casual, and stuffed your phone, wallet, and a small water bottle inside. You were planning on walking to the gallery so you didn’t need to bring your keys. Lastly, you pulled on some socks and headed downstairs.

Yoongi was still sitting on the couch and you felt his eyes follow your form walking to the door. As you slipped on your shoes, he called out to you, “Going to the gallery?”

You nodded, “Yeah, I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

Yoongi nodded in response, still looking at you, “You, uh,”

You stood fully, finished with your shoes, and looked at him to continue.

“See you then,” he finished, leaving you slightly confused at his odd demeanor but smiling politely nonetheless. Just as you opened the door and began to exit, you heard his voice once more.

“Have fun.”

You turned to face him, sending him a genuine smile, “Thanks, I will! See you tonight.”

With that, you closed the door behind you and headed to the small cafe near the gallery. The walk was pleasant with warm weather that wasn’t too hot and a slight breeze to cool you. Soon, you reached the cafe, a cute and quaint spot that had been around for around ten years at that point. You visited often with Joohee on Saturday afternoons when the two of you had plans later in the day.

You opened the door, it jingling in response to your arrival, and the employee at the counter looked up. The one working that morning was Daehwa, a college student who had been working there for a couple of years now. He knew your order well and often engaged you in conversation if the cafe was empty. There was a bit of a crowd today so he quickly entered your order without you having to say anything, and began making it while you waited off to the side. Once he presented you with your iced tea and croissant with a wink, you sent him a grateful smile, and quickly tore through the croissant, noting the time getting closer to three.

You finished your snack in record time and quickly stood, clearing away your space and waving a quick goodbye to Daehwa, who sent you a grin in response. The gallery was just across the street and had a small line outside, which you quickly joined. You sipped the last of your tea, looking around for a trashcan near you so you didn’t have to bring it inside the gallery, but only saw one close to the entrance which meant you’d lose your spot in line. The idea made you frown and you considered keeping the empty cup in your bag until you moved forward in the line.

“Seo Y/N?”

You turned at the mention of your name to find Kim Namjoon standing behind you in a light brown sweater and collared white shirt underneath, with a darker brown corduroy blazer and khakis. He had round, wiry glasses on and wore a stunning smile that showed off his deep dimples.

“Oh, Namjoon-ssi, I didn’t realize you’d be attending this as well,” you said, smiling and bowing politely.

“Yeah, I’ve been following this artist for a while now and saw a couple of months ago that they were doing an exhibition. Do you like Cha Heewon too,” he asked, putting his hands into his pockets. His kind gaze on you and sweet smile made your cheeks feel warm as you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

“Yeah, I’ve been following them for a few years now so I was really excited when I saw the location for this show. I was lucky to get tickets, they sold out so fast!”

“I know, right? I was basically refreshing the page the day they opened up trying to be the first one in,” Namjoon chuckled and his baritone voice reverberated through your bones, almost making you sigh.

“Yeah, but at least we’re here now,” you smiled, about to turn back around.

“Would you, uh, like to walk around the exhibit together,” Namjoon asked, scratching the back of his head.

You hesitated for a moment, wondering if this would be crossing a line with Yoongi, but you steeled yourself. He wasn’t allowed to dictate who you became friends with. You clearly bumped into Namjooon by coincidence and have a shared interest, so why wouldn’t you two walk around together?

“I’d love to,” you responded, feeling proud of your steadfastness in not letting Yoongi mandate your choices or social interactions.

Namjoon smiled widely in response, nodding, “Great, none of the other guys want to come with me to these kinds of things. Sometimes, Tae does but he’s super flaky.”

You chuckled, “Same here, Joo always complains about how boring it is and Hobi wasn’t even here, but he wouldn’t enjoy it either.”

“Hobi, that’s Hoseok, right? The one who worked in Busan,” Namjoon recalled, scratching his chin.

“Yes,” you nodded, “He’s planning on moving back here so he’s all busy trying to get that sorted.”

“Well, maybe we can go to these things together in the future,” Namjoon proposed, smiling down at you.

You felt your cheeks heat, being around handsome men wasn’t good for your health. You looked up at Namjoon, smiling in response, “I’d really like that, Namjoon-ssi.”

Namjoon cringed, his mouth turning up into a frown, “You can drop the formality, we’re the same age, right?”

You nodded, laughing slightly, “I guess I’m just used to it. I’d really like that, Namjoon-ah,” you emphasized. Namjoon chuckled, turning away for a moment. You could’ve sworn you saw his ears go pink at the edge.

The line moved forward fairly quickly and the two of you were soon inside the exhibit, with you throwing away your cup at the entrance. Namjoon gave thoughtful commentary on each painting you stopped at, with you providing your thoughts as well. You found yourself quickly becoming comfortable in his presence and the two of you were soon joking around and making very pleasant conversation.

At one point, an older woman stopped the two of you, stating, “You’re such a cute couple, I love your matching outfits. I hope you’re having a fun date!”

The woman walked off before you or Namjoon could correct her, so you ended up trying to laugh off the encounter. Her words made your cheeks burn and you worried that it had offended Namjoon, especially considering that Yoongi was his friend. If it bothered Namjoon, he didn’t show it, instead carrying on like nothing had happened.

Namjoon’s company was quite enjoyable and you relaxed into his smooth voice, feeling yourself becoming less and less stiff. The conversation flowed easily and you both bonded over your love for art, with Namjoon mentioning other artists that you noted down to look up later. He seemed much more experienced in this area than you and you found yourself enraptured by his explanations and passionate rants.

A couple of hours passed and the two of you exited, with Namjoon insisting on walking you to Yoongi’s building. Your conversation from inside the gallery continued as you walked, and you found yourself not wanting to return to Yoongi’s apartment in favor of Namjoon’s calming presence.

“I noticed you weren’t wearing your ring,” Namjoon mentioned, making you stumble in your step.

You glanced down at your hand before scratching the back of your head embarrassedly, “Yeah, I guess I’m still getting used to it. It’s kind of weird, being married that is.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Namjoon smiled reassuringly, “I’m sure Yoongi hasn’t been the most receptive either.”

“Understatement of the year,” you laughed, a tinge of annoyance present in your tone, “He’s so hard to read.”

“He’s like that with most people. He takes some time to open up. I promise he’s a really great guy once you get to know him, he’s just a bit uncomfortable in the situation. He’ll warm up to you, eventually,” Namjoon said, patting your shoulder.

“Eventually,” you repeated, twisting your hand around your ring finger. You should really put it on.

You had reached Yoongi’s building at this point and had stopped just outside the doors. Namjoon must’ve noticed your solemn mood because he added one last thing before leaving, “You know, as much as Yoongi’s dragged his feet throughout this whole marriage process, I haven’t seen him without his ring once since the wedding.”

You looked up at Namjoon, lips slightly parted at the surprising statement. Namjoon only winked before turning around, “I’ll see you at the gala tonight, Y/N.”

Nodding mutely, you waved, before entering into the building and taking the elevator up to Yoongi’s floor. You weren’t really sure what to make of Namjoon’s words.

Adding the final touches to your look felt simple enough, you’d dressed for these types of galas before. The dark blue satin dress felt nice against your skin and the cowl neck flattered your bodice and neckline. You chose a thin necklace that dipped into your cleavage with matching earrings, deciding to keep your hair down to avoid having to style it. After donning your “rich people” watch, as Hoseok had dubbed it due to its stark contrast to your usual digital watch, you felt that your look was complete. Taking one last look in your mirror, you scrutinized yourself, trying to find anything that would make you seem undeserving of Yoongi.

It wasn’t a train of thought you were comfortable with, but your mother had made sure to emphasize its importance. You needed to look like someone worthy of being at Yoongi’s side. You certainly didn’t feel like it, but your mother didn’t really care about that. Just like in everything else, the outward appearance and how you were perceived by others took the utmost importance.

Your reflection stared back at you, solemn and lonely. You had tried to hide your tiredness with makeup, but you still felt that you could see the exhaustion in your face. You felt drained.

Everything was tiring.

You didn’t have time to wallow in self-pity, though. After tapping your cheeks lightly to give yourself some encouragement, you headed for your door. You were just about to open it, catching a glimpse of your hand encasing the doorknob, feeling that your finger looked empty.

You considered for a moment whether you should really display your relationship or not, but Namjoon’s words circled inside your head. Shaking them off, you turned around, grabbing your wedding band off your desk, and slipping it on. You did say that you should wear it more regularly, you told yourself.

You headed down the stairs, catching sight of Yoongi in his regular suit with a dark blue tie that was similar enough to the shade of your dress. He looked stunning with his dark hair combed back and suit fitted to his slender waist. Your eyes trailed up his form, appreciating his full visual before reaching his face, who was looking at you with wide eyes.

Suddenly, you felt embarrassed, maybe you had tried a bit too hard. A nauseous feeling began building up in your stomach as you descended the staircase, feeling heavily self-conscious of your appearance. Did you try too hard? Not enough? Did you look ridiculous? You bit the inside of your cheek, not wanting to mess up your lipstick, maybe you should’ve tried for a different dress. The sickly feeling grew as you approached Yoongi at the door, avoiding making eye contact. You didn’t have time to change now, but you sure wished that you had a large coat to cover yourself.

You really didn’t want to go to this gala.

As you finished slipping on your heels, clutching at your stomach to push away the ill sensation, you stood fully, facing the door. Yoongi hesitated for a moment in front of you before opening it and leading you to the elevator. The ride down to the garage was silent, save for Yoongi shifting about in his suit. You wondered if he was as uncomfortable as you, but quickly pushed the thought away. He had no reason to be uncomfortable.

The drive over to the banquet hall was equally silent, with the only words being exchanged between Yoongi and the driver who was waiting in the garage. Your fingers were constantly picking at invisible seams in your lap and your eyes stayed trained on the window beside you, trying your hardest not to think about Yoongi on your other side.

He hadn’t said anything to you since you left the house, but you swore you could feel his eyes on you, which only made you more anxious. You had to continuously wipe your palms against the leather seats of the car and your dress to wipe off the sweat and his stare dug into you every time. Every few minutes or so, you’d consider trying to strike up conversation with him before thinking better of it, not wanting to face a judgemental or disgusted expression if he wore it.

After what felt like forever, you finally arrived at the building the gala was being held at, the driver politely informing you that he would be back to pick you up at your request. Yoongi exited first due to you having to adjust your dress so you could exit gracefully, and he surprised you by opening your door and offering his hand for extra balance.

The action made your cheeks heat before you remembered that you were in a public place now and he had to act the part of your husband. Reality crashed down on you, washing over you in a wave of bleakness, but you plastered on a submissive smile all the same. You took his hand, exiting the car, noticing Yoongi staring at your finger. You were about to question him before his gaze turned to you and his mouth formed a small smile.

“You look beautiful,” he said, quietly, much too quiet for anyone around you to hear. The words sent warmth straight to your face and leave you stuttering out a ‘thank you’. Yoongi didn’t release your hand as you walked into the banquet hall, nodding your greetings at the guests you see first. Your mother spotted you immediately and waved you over, with you and Yoongi obediently following.

“Good to see you could make it,” your mother said curtly, surveying your outfit. She only turned away afterwards, so you took that as your approval and discreetly tugged on Yoongi’s hand so you could move on. He got the hint, thankfully, and led you through the other standard greetings and pleasantries that were involved in events like these.

The questions were repetitive, to say the least.

“How are you two doing as a newly wedded couple?”

“How’s the business, Yoongi?”

“When are you two thinking of having kids?”

“Are you still working for that game company?”

It was exhausting, but Yoongi’s warm hand grasping your own grounded you. After about an hour, you’d made the rounds throughout the hall and Yoongi still hadn’t let go of you. But you weren’t complaining. A few times, you were offered champagne by a passing server, but you refused each time. Yoongi’s musky cologne was intoxicating enough.

Finally, you reached a point where you could relax, no longer having any old men or women to dish out backhanded compliments and you having to awkwardly laugh through them. Yoongi seemed to also feel the tension release, noticing his shoulders sag slightly and a deep breath exhale from his lips. He released your hand, making you frown, feeling like your palm was empty now, but you couldn’t protest aloud.

You figured that was the end of Yoongi’s image maintenance regarding your matrimony but his hand slid down the open back of your dress, erecting goosebumps in its wake. His fingers rested at the small of your back, gently guiding you to the group where Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon and Joohee stood talking. It rendered you speechless and you opted for silently following, with your brain working overtime to understand what was going on.

You arrived at the group, Joohee immediately sending a look regarding the placement of Yoongi’s hands, but you were unable to respond, still too flustered by the warm of his skin against your back. You bowed mutely in greeting to the rest of the people there, smiling at Namjoon who returned it widely.

“Where’s Yeonhee noona,” Yoongi asked, the mention of Seokjin’s wife pulling you into the conversation.

“She’s at home with Hwannie,” Seokjin responded, smiling brightly at the mention of his wife and son. Yeonhee had given birth a few months ago to a beautiful baby boy, Hwansoo, and Seokjin hadn’t really shut up about him since. You’d seen Yeonhee at your wedding and she’d looked equally as elated, practically glowing. “I wanted to stay back too, but she mentioned something about wanting me out of the house for quality time with Hwannie,” Seokjin finished, earning a laugh from the group.

Joohee was trying to silently communicate with you, asking whatever she could through shifts in her eyes and small head movements about your close proximity to Yoongi, but you had no answers. You hadn’t been expecting it either, Yoongi had taken the initiative to make physical contact. You could tell she was getting frustrated with your continued subtle shrugs before she looked behind you and cringed.

“Great, mom wants me to go over there, probably for another marriage talk,” Joohee groaned, inching behind her brother to avoid her mother’s piercing gaze, “I think that’s Lee Hyunsoo, too! Gross! He’s an ass.”

You frowned at the mention of Hyunsoo, a common figure among those who belittled you in your youth at parties just like these. You felt Yoongi shift beside you before speaking, “Yeah, he is an ass, he kept making weird comments to me throughout the reception last week. Good luck with that.”

Yoongi’s comment only made you frown further. You hadn’t really noticed Hyunsoo during your reception, much less him talking to Yoongi. You couldn’t think on it for long, though, having to wave a solemn goodbye to Joohee who began her trek over to her beckoning mother. Yoongi continued his conversation with Seokjin, talking about some sort of business thing happening, nothing you cared too much about, and you were left staring blankly around you.

“You look really pretty,” Namjoon said, drawing your attention, making you blush pink at his words.

“Thanks, so do you, Namjoon-ah,” you teased in response, making him grin and show off his deep dimples. You instantly relaxed in his comforting presence, but you were still aware of Yoongi’s burning palm against your skin.

“Oh, I meant to mention earlier today, you said you like plants, right? There’s this great plant shop in Samcheong-Dong that you should check out,” Namjoon began excitedly, making you recall your earlier conversation in which you had mentioned your plants at your apartment in passing.

“We should totally check it out! I’m always down to get more plants, although I probably shouldn’t,” you joked, letting yourself ease into the easy conversation.

“You can never have enough, or at least, that’s what I tell myself,” Namjoon chuckled, “There’s also another show next month for one of my favorite artists. Do you think you’d be up to check it out?”

You nodded, “Yeah, of course, I’d love to. Just send me the details.”

“I don’t think I actually got your number earlier,” Namjoon mentioned, scratching the back of his head and outstretching his hand holding his phone.

“Oh, right, that would probably help,” you smiled, taking it and entering your number. You handed it back to him, smiling, but noticed the troubled expression on his fact, looking just beside you.

Yoongi had stiffened next to you and you had been so absorbed in your conversation with Namjoon that you hadn’t noticed, or noticed the fact that Seokjin was gone now, talking to some other old businessman at another table.

“Have you two gotten close,” Yoongi asked, though he didn’t really sound like he was looking for an answer, with gritted teeth and his hand pushing into your back.

“Oh, um, we met at the art show earlier,” you said, looking at Namjoon to continue your thought.

“Ah, yeah, we ended up walking around together and we became friends,” Namjoon laughed, though it seemed a little stilted, “Your wife’s really nice, hyung.”

“Thanks,” Yoongi said curtly, before releasing you and stepping away, “I have to go speak to a couple other people. Could you keep an eye on her, Namjoon?”

The question made you gawk, feeling anger rise from your trembling fingers. You didn’t need someone to keep an eye on you, you were a grown woman, for God’s sake. You moved to retort Yoongi’s absurd request but he was already walking away. What even was that? Why was he being so weird? Maybe his niceness earlier was just a fluke. Turning to Namjoon in a huff, you took in his sheepish smile.

“I don’t really think you need babysitting, but I would like to talk more,” he offered kindly, making you release a breath and smile in return.

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” you agreed, following him to a nearby table where you spent the rest of the evening. The conversation was pleasant, almost making you forget Yoongi’s odd behavior, but your anger for him had only simmered. He had no right to act like you weren’t your own agent, no right to treat you like a child. His earlier pleasant interactions with you and electric contact against your back left you even more confused, only adding to your anger. His moodswings were beginning to give you whiplash.

You tried your best to focus in on your conversation with Namjoon for the rest of the night but you found your gaze drifting back to Yoongi. He was speaking with other men your father’s age, shaking hands and exchanging practiced polite smiles. He looked tired.

But what did you care? You shouldn’t care, he had been so rude earlier, but you knew you couldn’t help it. Maybe you’d ask Mrs. Lim to make his favorite meal on Monday when she came back.

The rest of the evening carried on uneventfully, with you and Namjoon making countless plans for shopping outings and art shows galore. He’d even managed to score tickets to an evening historical art museum tour, something you’d been wanting to attend for a while. Eventually, he had to leave, though, citing an early morning the next day, and hugged you goodbye. As he was doing so, he whispered in your ear, “I saw you put on the ring, I’m glad.”

His hot breath on your ear made your brain stutter but you mumbled out an acknowledgement, and he soon released you, waving goodbye as he walked toward the exit. The rest of the attendees were beginning to leave too, signalling the beginning of the end of the night. You sat glumly at your table, noting that Joohee had already left, having had a quiet argument with her mother that caused her to storm out.

You brought out your phone, making sure to message her asking if she was alright. Feeling a tap on your shoulder, you looked up to see Yoongi staring down on you with an impassive expression.

“Are you ready to go?”

You neglected to respond, still feeling upset with his earlier words, and simply stood, waiting to be led to the car. Yoongi obliged, not flinching at your cold demeanor, and you both soon entered the car, riding home in silence.

During the drive home, your mind swirled with all sorts of questions regarding Yoongi’s behavior. His actions would likely point to jealousy surrounding Namjoon, but how did that make any sense? How could Yoongi harbor affection for you if he barely knew you? Especially if he seemed so opposed to the idea as well.

You like Yoongi even though you barely know him.

Your mouth upturned at the unwelcome thought. That wasn’t a fair comparison, you didn’t outwardly show any jealousy toward Yoongi’s other conquests. And there wasn’t even anything between you and Namjoon to begin with.

Well, mostly. You couldn’t deny the excitement you had when you saw him in the hall or the way you enjoyed speaking with him about everything and nothing throughout the art show and gala. But you weren’t going to think about that too hard right now.

The only logical conclusion you could draw was that your close friendship with Namjoon made him uncomfortable. He did say that he didn’t want you to mix personal lives at all. You almost empathized with that before remembering his condescending words earlier that evening, making anger surge through your blood once more.

Well, Yoongi could suck it. He didn’t get to dictate who you became friends with and he didn’t have any claim over his own friends, making them off-limits. You weren’t responsible for dealing with his childish feelings and immature attitude. That was all up to him.

It’s his problem to figure out why he’s acting so bizarrely.

Why was Yoongi acting so bizarrely?

He couldn’t understand. Why did he feel so possessive over you? It’s not like he felt any romantic attraction, he was the one to set the open relationship boundary after all. Why did it bother him so much that you were evidently so close to Namjoon now?

He breathed out a sigh, sitting idly in his studio upstairs, tired from the gala. Namjoon was one of his closest friends, they made music they’d never release together. He shouldn’t be upset that you’re becoming friends with him. He knew this rationally, but why did it still make him so uncomfortable?

As Yoongi leaned back in his chair, head upturned to the ceiling and eyes closed, his mind wandered to the few times he’d seen you in his home since the wedding. The morning after, you’d looked stunning, coming downstairs in nothing but the same shirt and shorts he’d seen you in the night prior, the cold air making him realize you weren’t wearing a bra. He’d averted his eyes at that point, feeling like he was encroaching on your privacy, even though you were in his kitchen.

Watching you realize your own attire and scramble upstairs to change had been cute, but Yoongi hadn’t wanted to entertain that thought. Either way, it was quickly replaced by the way your body felt against his as he reached above you for a mug. He couldn’t erase the sensation of your soft curves against his front from his mind.

When he’d arrived home in the middle of you redecorating, he wasn’t sure why he’d offered his help. Maybe he wanted to get a glimpse into your room, grasping at a chance to see your personality transferred to the decorations adorning your bedroom walls. He’d been surprised by how much he’d liked the cutesy embellishments you’d added, finding that the surprising duality suited you. You were so often carefully neutral in your expressions and words and seeing your personal taste being so pretty and pleasant was charming.

Later that night, he was surprised to see your bedroom light still on at the late hour when he’d left his room to get water. He peeked inside, seeing you lying on the floor in a mess of bolts, evidently trying to finish the last plank on your desk that was set up against the wall. The sight of you spread out so comfortably on the floor, hair strewn around your head almost framing your face like a halo, and your mouth partially open, letting out soft snores made him smile. He entered your room as quietly as he could, gently lifting you onto your bed and tucking you in, not even stirring you in your deep sleep.

He was about to leave when he stepped on a screw, making him flinch and look at the mess of things still left to do. If he’d finished up your desk and set up your TV, it was because he couldn’t stand a mess, not for any other reason. Not that you seemed to know based on your demeanor the next morning.

You’d looked adorable, coming down the stairs in rumpled clothing and tangled hair, your shirt’s neck slipping down your shoulder. But, he’d kept that thought to himself, behind pursed lips. You’d looked equally as beautiful in your cute brown dress that you’d worn to the art show, making him frown at his memory of being unable to tell you so.

Well, why should he? He’d been the one to separate you two so blatantly, after all. He shouldn’t give you mixed signals.

The thoughts of you in your loose and tight clothing, the image of you coming down the stairs in the silk dress that draped perfectly over your curves, and the tantalizing feeling of your skip against his palm had him leaning further back into his chair.

Maybe he was just horny.

Yoongi sat up, all of a sudden. That was totally it! He’s just distracted by you because he hasn’t been laid in a while. That had to be it. It couldn’t be anything else, he wouldn’t allow it to be.

Yoongi grinned, an easy smile taking over his face. Why was he so worried, the answer had been so simple. All he had to do was find a quick one night stand and his problems would be solved.

His grin faltered. Probably, his problems would probably be solved. He didn’t want to consider what it meant if they weren’t.

previous / masterlist / next

135 notes · View notes

lettersofgold · 3 days

Text

-> play no games | trent alexander arnold

genre: flirty, smut | authors note: me trying to distract yall from the lack of updates from my jules fic…bare with me, also very loosely proofed

summary: trent thought he was a player on and off the field but he comes to realize he’s met his match with you, a socialite with an unwavering stubbornness.

faceclaim: lori harvey

“you know what your problem is? you don’t ever see the big picture. i want you to take me serious.”

youruser: diamonds are a girls best friend

frienduser: 🥵

frienduser: tell a friend to tell a friend! she’s baaaack

lanceuser: obsessed with you

lanceuser: how you want your eggs in the morning?

youruser: scrambled & in mykonos

Trent heard the rumors very early on when he joined the main squad at Liverpool - there was this girl and she was untouchable, she was the step daughter of one of the board members and she rarely gave anyone the time of day. Trent scoffed at the idea of her because he knew he could pull her if he had the opportunity. He couldn’t lie to himself and say he didn’t like the idea of a challenge. If there was one thing Trent was known to do it was win - on the pitch, off the pitch, mind games and in games that didn’t even matter. Your attitude was bratty and you had a smart mouth on purpose - if a man couldn’t keep up he got cut off. Trent could keep up and you wanted to push until he pushed back. You gave him an inch and he took a mile: one date, a little fooling around and suddenly, he was feeling himself. Trent kept expecting you to come back around, to reach and ask for his attention because he never texted first. He thought you were waiting for him. It never crossed his mind that you were entertaining someone else because in his mind, it was only him and he had the upper hand. But what Trent didn’t know was that there were plenty of men who wanted you and wanted to treat you right.

Trent sucked his teeth and rubbed his mouth with his finger tips. He literally sat upright from his laid back position on the couch, putting his elbows on his thighs. He stared at the comments for far too long. Who the fuck was Lance? Why the fuck were you dating a guy named Lance? Surely the two of you were just friends but Trent had no way to find out because the other man’s page was entirely private. The two of them shared a few mutual friends but that’s all Trent could find out.

After few days, Trent was fine with it. He wasn’t stressed over you and your whereabouts…not outwardly at least. He spent few nights on vacation in London, partying and entertaining pretty girls who were chasing him down for attention. It was in the middle of the club that he got a notification that you posted and he felt a certain satisfaction finding out what you were up to - he clicked on your profile as quickly as he could. He was taken aback by two things: you in that tiny ass bikini and lance scrambling you fucking eggs, in fucking Mykonos.

youruser: the grass is greener wherever i’m at

frienduser: not you being in mykonos fr lmao

frienduser2: frienduser it’s the way she can go to another country but not liverpool

youruser: you know i would never miss derby with my girls

lanceuser: what about my scrambled eggs 😔

youruser: best part of the trip, chef

“What a fucking joke.” Trent seethed and the girl next to him leaned in to get a look at his phone which he promptly locked. Never let your left hand know what your right hand is doing - rule number one that the veterans told him. He was on a roster and he has roster - it’s what guys his age did. You clearly hadn’t learn that rule as you flirted with a man all over your social media. There was one thing you told him that he kept in the back of his head: “You think I’m worried over you? You’re out of your mind.” He finally saw what everyone had warned him of all along. You got what you wanted and you toed the line of confidence and cockiness. Once upon a time, someone said the same about Trent. The boy was determined to get your attention, to get back into the game you were obviously playing. Trent sent a text he knew you would respond to.

Trent: I’ve seen the post. You can delete it now.

You: Stay out of my business.

Trent: You are my business.

You: You wish.

Trent: Anyone ever told you that you’re a brat?

Trent: I’ll see you in Liverpool

Derby day was fun for a multitude of reasons but this year was going to exceptionally fun. There was a part of you that looked forward to actually watching the match for once. You had one player on your mind. Your step-dad got you, your stepbrother, and all your friends a suite filled with drinks and food galore, pulling out all the stops and sparing nothing. Although he wasn’t the one who raised you, he made sure to take care of you as if he did. It’s exactly where your “high” standards came from, as told by your friends and men who approached you. It wasn’t lost on you that the Liverpool vintage jumper that landed on your doorstep was from Trent. You didn’t wear the jumper. Instead you opted for a Van Dijk jersey: it was the only one you had and it would make him angry. It worked out in your favor while you were hosting in the suite - a young business man named Emmanuel struck up a conversation and was beside you the entire match.

Your eyes were trailing Trent. He was such a man when it came to competing - no holds barred, a loud mouth, an instigator, and a full on menace. You enjoyed every second and each glass of champagne sent you spiraling into the idea of him being back in your bed once more, having you bent over and being bossed around. It would be inevitable that he would be coming back to your place at the end of the night but it was all about who caved first. You found yourself wanting to cave halfway through the game after an altercation where Trent was head to head with an Everton player, shoving him and ripping him a new one all in front of the referee, who could barely pull them apart. It was quite possibly the hottest thing you’d ever seen. After the win, you and your friends milled about the suite making plans for the night out. You all agreed on heading back and changing before meeting up for pre-drinks at Lance’s house. You made it back to your room and argued with yourself about being the one to send a text before you decided to stand your ground. You wanted him. But if he wanted you, he would have to work for it. Talk was cheap, you told him multiple times and you wanted action.

youruser posted on their story! captioned: super busy, don’t call

trentalexanderarnold66 replied to your story: wya

youruser: you wanna see me or something?

trentalexanderarnold66: or something

trentalexander66: got a section in london tonight bring your friends.

youruser: what part of super busy did you not get?

trentalexander66: text me when you’re outside, brat

You arrived on your own timing as Trent had come to learn over the past month casually dating you, and had grown to find sexy. You never let on to what your next step was which kept every man watching, waiting, to see where you would land. The funniest part of the night was that for once, Trent knew you would be coming back with him. Until he saw you walking to his section with Lance in tow. He stood up to greet you at the front but you walked past him and promptly to the section next to his before acknowledging him. Trent walked up the short wall that divided the two sections and crossed his arms ass you detached yourself from Lance who was talking in your ear. Dick, Trent thought.

“Do you think the world revolves around you or something?” All you did was laugh before turning your attention to the waiter who asked what you wanted a bottle of. “You’re not in my section. Why?”

Trent leaned his elbows down on the divider to be eye to eye with you. You tilted your head in the same way you did that night in your room, your eyes trailing down his face and pausing on his lips for a long moment before snappingback to his.

“I wanted my own.” You said as if it was obvious. Trent beckoned you closer with his fingers and you obliged much to his surprise and crossed your arms at your wrist behind your back. Your head was still tilted and Trent dropped his head into the open space before speaking low in your ear.

“Don’t start with me.” Your eyes flicked to the side and saw the section of men and women pretending to not notice the interaction unfolding - specifically the bottle blonde who tried to look unbothered. She was failing. You giggled in the most unphased manner but the truth was him in your ear hit your core like a lighting rod. You needed that drink. You grabbed his jaw softly with a smile he knew to be sarcastic, “Start what?” You puckered you lips and blew an air kiss towards him, then turning your attention to the bottle blonde sat across the way. “I love your hair!” Your hand finally left his jaw and you wiggled your fingers at him mouthing a “she’s cute”. Check mate. Lance shook his head as he handed you a drink and tsked at you. “You are awful.”

You were brushing your teeth in his bathroom, extra thankful he had extra brushes in there. He noticed what products you had at your own place and made sure you had the same at his house. He was done talking, he showing you he wanted this. But you couldn’t be so vulnerable. As you walked through your night routine, your body ached in the best way. Trent’s arms snaked around your abdomen to cradle you from behind as he always did when you were getting ready to go to sleep after a night with him. It was a routine at this point, one that you both knew well. His body towering over you as he would slip his hands onto your abdomen, letting his fingers caress your stomach. Your breathing hitched at the softness but you stood rooted in your spot. He stared at you in the mirror and asked, “What do you want?” You knew that Trent drank a considerable amount but you didn’t think that it would bring out this conversation. You wanted him but need him to want you too, so instead you simply replied “Hermés.”

“I’m being serious, what do you want.” He straightened up and placed a hand on each side of you.

“What are you going on about now, Trent. I don’t want anything….well, I actually do want Hermes.”

youruser: bad gyal never run from nobody

frienduser1: moving different these days

frienduser2: can your man fight pookie?

youruser: if you want me just say that but lemme ask him

Trent knew you could buy the bag yourself but he bought it and sent it to you, anyways. You made no comment on it but seeing you wear it was enough confirmation that you loved it. Trent laughed outwardly at your friends comment but noticed your reply and smirked to himself - her man? Interesting. You cleared the air about Lance weeks ago and Trent felt secure about what you two had. You rarely saw any other man these days. Usually you would be out every weekend on a dinner date or jetting off to meet a new person in another city. Trent was magnetic and you decided that you didn’t want what was out there - he was proving to be the best you could ever had. He knew it and so did you. Trent fooled himself because the next time he saw you, after a few nights of pure banter and great sex, you were cozy and close with a man in the family area after a game. Your step-dad was near and smiling at the two of you, while the two of you talked over one another, arguing with playful energy. The energy that took weeks for Trent to unlock out of you. Trent dapped up his friend and decided now was a good time to introduce himself to the executive board member but most importantly, your step-dad.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, heard nothing but great things from you son.” Your dad beamed and you were tight lipped as you looked at the scouse grinning devilishly. “Listen, sweetheart,” your dad wrapped his arm around Trent. Trent went from grinning to beaming his bright, cocky smile, “Without him, we’d fall apart.”

“Nah nah, I wouldn’t say tha’.” “Oh don’t be humble. I’m being rude, this is Trent.” and your stupid fuck-thing offered you a handshake.

“Trent, nice to meet you.” You took his hand and squeezed it tight which he returned. His eyes were challenging but showed disapproval.

“Ditto, heard so much about you, too. You know Emmanuel was telling me all about your stats this season.”

You were playing with fire but you didn’t care. The audacity he had was beyond you and you should have seen it coming from a mile away. It seemed that no amount of reassurance was getting through his thick skull - if he saw you with a man, he was questioning you. Trent wanted to mentally spar with you and measure up the man simultaneously. He was a jealous little thing but unlike the other men, he didn’t just talk about it, he was about it. It was all of five minutes when he arrived at your place before he started his tangent.

“You know what your problem is?” He goaded. “No but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.” You rolled your eyes and it seemed to tick him off more.

“You aren’t serious! One minute your smiling me face then the next, your with some guy named Emmanuel at my game who’s chatting you up about my stats.” “Why is that when a man even breathes the same air as me or strikes up a conversation it’s my fault? You think I just sleep around?”

You couldn’t stifle the laugh you let out as pushed his way past you and into your room. His hand ran down his face and he scanned the lavish room. Trent knew you were well off but it still surprised him at times.“Why are you letting a guy chat to you?” He said with a cross of his arms. He looked cozy in Nike Tech despite the frown on his features.

“Why are you worried? You aren’t my boyfriend.”

“I’m your man and it seems everyone knows except you.”

“We aren’t doing this right now. I have to get ready to go out.”

“We are. Sit down, y/n.” He said confidently. He closed the space between you two. If it was any other man you wouldn’t have been bothered but with Trent, you were turned on. He was jealous. You knew Trent saw you hugging and laughing with Emmanuel when you walked down to the pitch briefly. Emmanuel reveled in your attention and you gave it to him to pacify your stepdad. It didn’t matter that he or any other man wanted you - you wouldn’t cross that line. He was sweet but you two were strictly friends. You stepped closer to the tall and broad man with a tilt of your head, refusing to do what he wanted. Trent eyed you for a moment and you could smell the gum he was chewing mixed with his cologne. His smile was arrogant as always. Him being jealous was so delicious, you wanted to devour every bit of him.

“Make me.”

Before you knew it, you were straddling him on your bed as he palmed every bit of your body he could grab. His hands were rough but felt so right in your hair as he kissed you. He was vocal with his kisses, mumbling how beautiful he thought you were and how badly he wanted you. His kisses trailed from your lips down your neck and to your collarbone, finding the exposed skin in the dip of your top. Your spot straddling his body wasn’t enough for him. “I need these off,” he commanded. He peeled your top off and made a swift move for your pants, wrapping one arm around your waist to hold you steady.

“You’re needy,” you replied but obliged to balance your weight to take off your shorts.

“Shut up.” Trent’s tone was deep and serious.

Trent was driven by the idea of being better than than any man who had ever touched you, truthfully. He found himself giving the same energy he would give to a match, being attentive and receptive to all your sweet moans. He took his time devouring you and unraveling any tension in your body that he could find. The way you whispered his name out, gasping for breath with each stroke he thrust into you. He was amazed by how perfect it all felt. You felt like everything he ever needed. The feeling of you around him was unlike any woman he has ever been with. Your body melted into his as he gripped the headboard steadying himself into a rhythm, making you beg for him. His chain dangled low against your skin and you found yourself fingering it and pulling it, bringing your lips up to his ear. His skin was smooth against yours and you clung to him with the same amount of urgency he was using to pound into you.

“God, you’re right there.” You told him in between desperate gulps of air, the sound so sweet in his ear and it took all the willpower he possessed to not combust in an instant. His eyes found yours and for a moment you could hardly breathe - not because of the way it felt like he was looking right into you.

“You’re unreal,” Trent spoke, finally breaking the way-too-intimate eye contact. He grunted with aggressive strokes. His eyes were trained on the sight of his cock going in and out of you, the wetness glistening off his skin. “I know.” You moaned, refusing to compliment him back but you knew he was getting off on you and your slick mouth. It wasn’t until a two hours later that that the two of untangled yourselves from one another and fell asleep.Trent did things that took you by surprise and had you struggling to hold back your screams. He egged you on, telling you to be loud, he didn’t care who heard. And by the time you woke up your voice was incredibly sore. You had multiple missed calls from your friends and from Lance. You rushed into the bathroom to assess how you looked and called them, letting them know you were going to be a little late. You ran the shower and mentally prepared yourself for going out after having the kind of sex that made you want to not leave bed at all.

“I fell asleep but won’t be long,” you spoke as you rummaged through your toiletry bag. “I’ll text you once I’m in the Uber.” “Sounds good.” Lance replied. “Lance, save me a shot will you? I need one. Bad.” He chucked and it brought a smile to your face.

“Anything for you. See you soon, love.”

“There’s no way you’re going to see another guy after tha’” Trent grumbled from the doorframe and the roll of your eyes was almost immediate. You made no comment and moved to grab your shampoo but Trent beat you to the counter and stood in front of you stuff. “Move.” You demanded.

“Make me.” He smirked.

“Bite me.” And it was his turn to roll his eyes. Your tone was snappy and it shocked him how quickly you reverted back to bratty attitude after sleeping with him. Trent’s stare was fierce - it was the same one he used on his opposition, baiting them with a look before toying around with them but you weren’t new to these games. You were playing too. So there the two of you stood in the steamy bathroom, eyes locked at as if you despised each other. As if you were just chest to chest and moaning each other’s name.

“I can do this all night.” You stated.

“I think there’s better things you could do all night, doll.”

youruser: he’s obsessed with me

frienduser: a scouse? a red??! i’ve lost my girl smh

frienduser2: y’all go together!

youruser replied: real bad

trentalexanderarnold66: 🤫

youruser replied: love you honey

lanceuser: only took forever

trentalexanderarnold66 replied: blame it on the brat

lanceuser replied: thank you for taking her off my exhausted gay hands

#football fanfic #football fic #football one shot #football x reader #trent alexander arnold social media au #trent alexander x you #trent alexander arnold x y/n #trent alexander arnold blurb #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander imagines #trent alexander arnold imagines #trent alexander arnold imagine #trent alexander arnold

109 notes · View notes

just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 2 days

Note

once again, congratulations on 1k, I'm so happy for you homie :)

I have a request: X 🧜🏻‍♂️🥵 and I'll leave the 4th option up to you

Listen, if this is your attempt at getting me to write porn involving Steve’s fishy parts ... you've succeeded. Happy mermay! 🧜‍♂️

Full of surprises

Rated: E

Words: 999

Tags: Mer!Steve Harrington; established relationship; explicit sexual content; explicit descriptions of mermaid anatomy

Notes: Shoutout to that one nonny who asked me if Eddie was gonna fuck the merussy in Just add water. (I opened that ask in a work meeting. I've never been so proud of my poker face.) Well, he never got to in the original story. We're fixing this now.

To say that Eddie's utterly obsessed with his boyfriend would be an understatement.

What's not to love? Steve is sweet, handsome, has a delightfully snarky sense of humor, and he drives Eddie absolutely fucking insane.

What he loves most of all, Eddie thinks, while Steve presses sun-warmed lips to his wet skin, chasing the droplets on his throat and chest with kisses, is that Steve’s just as head over heels for him.

Even though head over tail fin might be more correct just now.

It started out as just another summer night by the lake. Only the two of them, surrounded by a myriad of twinkling candles (that's another thing about Steve, he's a hopeless sap). As often, their romantic date soon escalated into mock-bickering and a heated wrestling-slash-makeout session. At least they remembered to take off their clothes before they went tumbling into the water. Steve has lost one too many pairs of pants to their spontaneous forays into the lake.

Steve's legs last just long enough to launch himself at Eddie in a flying tackle, and then they both go down in a flurry of water and flailing limbs and glistening scales.

They end up in the shallow water, hidden by the onset of darkness and the low-hanging branches of the trees.

They've never done this before, Eddie realizes as he slips his tongue past Steve's lips, drawing the first moans from them. Not like this. Sure, he has taken his sweet time mapping Steve's body with his lips and hands, has familiarized himself with the feel of golden skin and shiny scales, the lines where the two melt into each other. Has stroked his fingers from the base of those magnificent fins all the way to their edges and reveled in the sighs and shudders it gets him.

But they’ve never done it in the water before. Steve has always made sure to get them back to land, where they could wait until his legs returned - naked and still glistening from the water, and beautifully eager to part under Eddie’s touch.

Today, Steve seems to have no such plans, if the way he wraps his fins around Eddie’s legs to draw him closer is anything to go by. Or the way his hands stray deeper.

“W-wait,” Eddie manages to say, “Don't you wanna-”

Steve does not wanna, evidently, because he lets out a growl, cupping Eddie’s naked ass in a deliciously firm hold and slotting their bodies together in the water. A while ago, when he first learned about Steve’s fishy little secret, Eddie would’ve probably freaked out now - unsure what to do with the foreign shape of the tail slipping between his naked thighs, where to put his hands.

Now though, he traces the shape of Steve’s fins with his thumbs and licks his way back into that warm, wet mouth, drinking down the answering moan it gets him. Steve sucks on his tongue and rolls his hips - one long, powerful ripple of those incredible muscles. Eddie meets him halfway, pleasure pooling warm and tight in his belly, and grinds himself down on the tail, half-hard against Steve’s body already-

-and then he stops.

“Hold on a sec,” he mutters. “What's this?”

Because there's … something on Steve's tail he didn’t notice before. The slightest of dips where there should be only smooth scales, right where his cock would be if he was human-shaped. It’s kind of difficult to make out in the water and the hazy candlelight, and what can Eddie say? Impulse control is hard for him. Of course he needs to reach out and touch.

Steve makes a punched-out sound and jerks so hard Eddie almost topples off him.

“Careful,” he hisses. “It's sensitive.”

“It's sensitive?” Eddie parrots, still unable to take his hand off the spot. He goes gentler, though, pressing down on it slightly. His fingers slip inside, and he gasps in surprise at the slick, tight heat that engulfs them. Steve gasps, too, but not from surprise. “What is it?”

Steve scowls at him - or tries to. He has flushed a dark, delicious shade of pink and his eyes are glassy. His breath is coming in ragged little puffs. He is, Eddie realizes, almost painfully aroused. The thought makes something warm and urgent tingle in his own blood.

“What do you think it is?” Steve retaliates, even as his hips twitch and his fins flutter excitedly. “Did you think I was, like, sex-less when I'm like this or what? I told you I had … parts, they're just a bit different.”

“Well, excuse me,” Eddie blurts. His flush is trying to compete with Steve's now. “I like your other parts just fine, so I never really put a lot of thought into it.”

Somewhere around the middle of his frantic string of words, Steve's expression shifts.

“Oh?” he hums, and rolls his hips again, taking Eddie’s fingers deeper. Eddie can feel how he clenches around them, and his cock gives a needy little throb in response. “Any thoughts now?”

“Many,” he rasps, “So many thoughts, none of them sex-less.”

He curls his fingers experimentally, and Steve makes a noise he's never heard from him before. Primal and desperate and positively wrecked. Eddie’s mouth twitches into a sly smile of his own.

“Why, fish boy,” he purrs against Steve’s lips, starting to slowly pump his fingers in and out. “You've never done this before, have you?”

Steve whines and shudders under his touch, nails digging into Eddie’s shoulders.

“Of course not, what d’you think? You're the first I've ever- Shit, there's only you, Eds. Only you.”

And damn, how's a guy supposed to stay calm in the face of that confession?

“Well then,” he murmurs, brushing back Steve's hair so that he can kiss the tiny patch of scales on his temple. “I guess we're both in for some interesting discoveries.”

That's another great thing about having Steve Harrington for a boyfriend. He never stops surprising you.

More celebration ficlets

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #hype's 1k follower ficlets #mermay #just add water

116 notes · View notes

traumasurvivors · 2 days

Text

Hey.

I know sometimes healing feels impossible. I know sometimes it feels pointless. Hopeless. I know it can feel exhausting and like you want to just stop.

People might tell you that healing isn’t about making it go away, but about learning to cope with it and that can make it feel so pointless. When I first heard that, I felt defeated. What was the point if I would never fully be rid of my trauma?

But from someone who felt the same way for so long, and even still has bad times sometimes, you can make it through. There is another side. There is a future for you.

While it’ll never be the future you should have had if you didn’t have to go on this journey, it’s still a future full of good things. Full of love, and happy things.

There will still be moments that you laugh so hard your stomach hurts. Moments where you realize that you’ve accomplished something. Moments where you spend time with someone you care about and it just feels so right. There will be moments where you get excited about something, or look forward to something.

There doesn’t have to be a “big point”. Maybe the point for some of us is the little good moments.

Even if your trauma will always be a part of your life, it isn’t the only part. There is still so much good and you can be happy. There is a point. I promise.

#my post

139 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

tuawoonwai8

tua.woon.wai

friedpotatoandblueberries

ребят, я свой!!

littlesneakertalks-blog

LittleSneakerTalks

fauloskuklos

Ο χρόνος νικάει...

the-bat-dragon

A Bat-Dragon Named Ivan