#i hope you never lose your passion for writing i can feel the love you put into every chapter đđ
It has been SUCH A TREAT to watch you work your way through yhhmsgm! That story is my heart & soul and seeing reactions like yours lets me feel like Iâm experiencing it for the first time again. Thank you!! đĽ°
You're very welcome!!! đđđ I'm having such a good time!! It's honestly a crime that every chapter doesn't have thousands of notes. Every chapter pulls at my heartstrings and I adore how you write Bucky đđđâ¨ď¸đ
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Can you write a poly Yandere Percy x reader x Yandere Annabeth, thanks!
â đ â lady l: I made one of these, but it was based on the Reader being the daughter of Aphrodite, this time it's more general. Anyway, I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes! đ§Ąđ
âtw: possessive and obsessive behavior, polyamorous relationships, unhealthy relationships, mention of death and murder.
âđŚpairing: yandere!percy jackson x gn!reader x yandere!annabeth chase.
You had recently arrived at Camp Half-Blood. You had gone a little later than the other campers but you didn't mind. You were quickly claimed by your divine parent, moved into your Cabin, and continued to live normally at the camp. Training, learning and training.
That is until you caught the attention of Percy and Annabeth. You already knew them, heard about them but never actually talked to them. Not because you didn't want to, but because you lacked the opportunity. Again, you were more concerned with gaining glory and living your life as a demigod. Too focused on yourself to notice the couple's attention on you.
They had seen you and were interested. Percy was the one who approached first, always hospitable and kind, answering any questions you might have about the camp or training. So welcoming, he assured you that everyone would be kind to you and treat you well. True to his word, you were well received.
Annabeth watched from a distance, always hidden by her cap. She was more discreet than her boyfriend, kindly offering advice you might need, like how to handle something or even help with studying. She is more than happy to teach you everything she can.
It didn't take long for them to become obsessed with you. At first, they were worried that it might affect their relationship, but that was quickly ruled out. Percy and Annabeth knew that you wouldn't be a hindrance but rather an addition.
They spent so much time by your side that you couldn't help but fall in love with them both. It wasn't what you intended, nor what you thought you would believe when you came to Camp Half-Blood, but you can't help it. They were so kind to you and protective. You were in love.
Annabeth was the one who noticed your feelings first. Always very perceptive, she didn't take long to notice. The way you seemed to be shy around them, how you blushed slightly when one of them complimented you. Really, you were adorable.
Percy only found out after Annabeth told him and he was ecstatic. They both were. You could become theirs. So, that's how they confessed to you. During one of the full moons of the camp, you were called by them to the clearing and there, where only the three of you were the witnesses, they confessed what they felt. That they were in love, that they loved you and wanted you. You, of course as passionate as they were, accepted.
The relationship worked, despite your reservations. You never thought you would be part of a throuple, but you couldn't deny that you were loving it. Percy and Annabeth were so perfect for you, so warm and passionate that you melted with every touch. You were so in love that you didn't notice the signs of their obsession.
Annabeth is extremely possessive and controlling of you. She's always warning you to stay away from the other campers and just stay with her and Percy. She hated when someone approached you and when they did, she threatened them and if the threat didn't work then Percy would deal with it.
She hates it when people touch what belongs to her and you were hers. Annabeth won't let anyone take you away from her. She is a proud daughter of Athena, there is no way in hell she would accept losing.
Percy was always very overprotective of you and Annabeth, but especially of you. Because you were new at the camp, it was his duty to protect you from all dangers. He hates it when you go on quests, as he can be dangerous and will beg to accompany you. He's quite clingy too and is almost always clinging to you.
He's more than willing to deal with the other campers for you. Be it accidents like knocking someone over with a wave to even accompanying them on quests and "accidentally letting a monster kill them." He's not against threats either.
Percy and Annabeth adore you immensely, they love spoiling and taking care of you. Annabeth loves it when you lay on her lap and listen to her read a book to you and Percy loves playing in the water with you.
Both are ruthless when you are in danger. They will kill, maim and disembowel anyone, anything that dares to lay a finger on you. It's moments like these that make them question whether you should be there. It doesn't matter if you are a child of Ares, for example, this is not your fight.
They divide you and there is no jealousy between them, considering how much they trust each other. But they enjoy having their one-on-one time with you as well as together. It helps to strengthen the bond with you. They love you so much, there is nothing they wouldn't do for you.
You were too involved in the relationship, in the manipulation, to notice the signs of what was happening around you. The deaths, the disappearances... They all seemed unimportant when you were with them. You belonged to them and they will never let you go.
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Ok this is very random but how do you think Ghost would deal w an s/o who is still a virgin at a very big girl age 𼴠maybe theyâd be seeing each other for a while, and when things heat up and she confesses, how would he deal? Would he be honored and accept being her first or would he reject her altogether bc she is inexperienced?
(Because Iâm in my 20s and safe to say on top of everything else in my life except this, I havenât come across anyone with whom Iâd like to be intimate with yet and though I try not to let it get to me, some part of me sometimes feels like a freak or like something is wrong with me)
I hope I did not cross any boundaries or make you uncomfortable by sharing this, if I did I apologize and please feel free to delete this â¤ď¸đď¸
Ghost x FVirgin!Reader
Word count: 2,9 k
Tags/warnigs: Mild smut, light angst, fluff, comfort, praise & size kink
Summary: Reader tells Ghost theyâre a virgin while things are about to go down.Â
A/N: Oh anon!! No boundaries crossed here at all! Your request (or at least I took it as such and got inspired to write a brief oneshot about it) was very sweet.
This of course is my HC but Simon would only and only take pride in being your first. He would get a huge ego boost from this and feel absolutely privileged to hear he's worthy of such trust.Â
I think he would want to imprint himself in your head as the best man and the best sex partner you will ever have â he would do his all to eradicate even the very thought of wanting to try others after him. Again, an ego thing, but also a desperate wish to please his partner and make them feel safe. This man screams service top to me.
I think Simon has a wild side â not mean, just wild, as in he might be into rough sex and certain types of kinky stuff every now and then but only if his partner is willing. He would be very gentle and considerate (passionate as hell though), knowing you're inexperienced, he would make you feel as safe as possible and wait until you were ready and willing to explore things further.Â
Also, I can't help but be moved by what you told me in this message. I understand where you're coming from with these "is there something wrong with me" thoughts, because gosh, I feel you! And speaking from experience⌠it's 110 % worth it to wait for the right person to come along! Sex can be awesome, mind-blowing, one of the best things â with the right partner. Not worth it with just whomever, imho. Stay safe and trust yourself! And I hope you like this short drabble I made for Ghost x Virgin!Reader â¤ď¸â¤ď¸â¤ď¸ much love đ
Simon Riley was a one of a kind man.Â
He put every guy on every dating app to shame, and not just with his size. He was manly, in a word, even if you never knew you wanted such an overly masculine man. At least, not until you met him.Â
Simon was not only sturdy and mature â he was armed with calm rage and dark humor. Just one look in his eyes told you he was not the life of the party. Actually, he was Death himself: one of those four horsemen that heralded the Apocalypse.
Perhaps unintelligibly, the same man was also extremely considerate. A true gentleman if there ever was one. He always placed you and your needs first. But underneath the calm, cynical surface you sensed fierce intensity: fire and smoke, something that screamed Danger, high voltage.
And you could not keep away. Quite the opposite, really. The combination of a wildfire and a tornado roaring upon this solid bedrock of a man was simply alluring.
Things had gone a little too far without you meaning them to. You were not a woman of one night stands, actually, you had never had a stand. But Simon changed that, too. Because now you were thinking about sleeping with him.Â
After years and years of waiting for someone sensible to come along, you had begun to lose hope, especially when people seemed to fuck left and right while you wanted something real.
A bedrock.Â
With that wildfire. Perhaps a tornado thrown in as well.
After weeks and weeks of flirting, the man asked you out, and after weeks and weeks of going out, you came to the conclusion that if someone deserved to be your first, it was Simon Riley. If there was any guy you wished would take you against a wall until you begged for mercy, it was him. At least in your fantasies, which were starting to get out of hand.
In real life, things were not that breezy.
Because what would he say if â no, when â you told him you were a virgin at this age? What if he would be bothered, what if things would get awkward between you two?Â
What if he decided you were simply too much trouble than you were worth?Â
It seemed like a miracle that the guy was still around, having been left blue-balled date after date. Either he was hellbent on conquering you, or then⌠Well, you didn't even dare to think about or's and then's and what if's. Especially when your own feelings were getting equally out of hand as those fantasies.
He probably had plenty of experience, and the thought certainly didn't make you feel any better. How would you compare, being not only inexperienced but a whole goddamn virgin? And it would probably hurt on top of everything. This man must be pretty damn big downstairs if 6 '4 feet and large hands were any indication.
Still, all fears flew out the window in record time every time he pulled you into a kiss. Your body molded into his already: the broad shoulders closed in around you, and it only felt thrilling. His warmth, his arms and scent enveloped you like the sweetest prison, and you held onto him as tightly as you could. Not because he wasn't clutching you with the sameâif not greaterâfervor, but because you wanted to make sure he was real.
And you realized what the allure of Simon Riley was.Â
He felt safe.
In fact, he was safe. He represented safety in all its aspects.Â
Who would've thought that death and wildfire could feel so good, so reliable?
You wondered if he thought this was some game; that you kept him waiting. The unwritten rule seemed to be that it was ok not to jump into bed on the first date. If anything, it was only a decent move. But what did the rules say about the second, third or fourth date? Not to talk about tenth?Â
Things were starting to resemble some prudent high school romance. Well, perhaps not prudent, the way you two practically ground against each other while making out after every date. Without being vocal about it or pressuring you in any way, you could tell he wished for things to go further. Hell, every fiber in this man begged for more. He would soon burn your clothes off simply with that searing gaze alone.Â
Watching the door close on that heated stare after at least 15 minutes of wanton, wicked kissing followed by clumsy Good night's and shy, apologetic smiles just wouldn't do anymore. The poor man was left breathless and puzzled in the cold night with nothing but a hard-on and the crumbs you gave him to keep him warm.Â
Things were getting ridiculous, criminally so, and you felt pity for those pants trying to keep him in confinement. You felt pity for your own soaked underwear as you climbed to a lonely bed all hot, bothered, and wet.
Which was why this evening would end with you asking him to come inside.Â
. . .
Lately, his hands have started to roam; they even cup your ass as he moans in your mouth â and hearing that raspy, low sound leave him forces the final decision. It's the final prophecy that tells you he is the one. You shouldâve known it was only a matter of time with him.
The man hides his surprise well as you invite him in.
"Thought you'd never ask," he gives you a soft chuckle before stepping over the threshold to not only your apartment but also your life and privacy.Â
You barely get out of your shoes before his shadow engulfs you and strong hands lift you in his lap like you weigh nothing at all. You instinctively reach for support by clasping your hands behind his neck.Â
"You really know how to torture a man, don't you?" The brown in his eyes is nearly swallowed by warm darkness as he carries you to the bedroom.Â
"I'm sorry," you whisper, and he gives a short laugh of gravel.
"Don't be. This has been fun."Â
He sets you down next to the bed, and your heart is thumping so bad you fear he can hear it banging against your chest.Â
"But it's about time I torture you, right?"
Oh GodâŚ
Things happen so fast that itâs hard to tell who undresses who, but somehow, you find yourself standing in your bedroom with nothing but knickers and a bra on while he's taking off his pants. The man has definitely waited for this to happen for god knows how long, and it only makes your stomach lurch.
He thinks you know what you're doing, your brain offers when it should know when itâs time to shut the hell up. You can see the generous bulge this man is packing, and while perhaps compelling to other women, to you, it mainly looks intimidating. Threatening, almost.
He doesn't take his boxers off, seeing you're just standing there like some statue, still in your underwear and almost shaking from thoughts running rampant.Â
His form swallows you as he steps closer; wide hands slide up your arms, then draw you against him â against that demanding pulse that gets trapped between you two. Even through the black cloth, you can tell he's thick and big, just like you feared.
The man is blazing, and seems to have grown another foot in height as he towers over you with all that muscle. His shoulders are almost the size of your head, and you already know the hand that runs down your spine is experienced in crushing windpipes. It makes you breathe in shivers, and of course he notices something is wrong.
"Everything good?" He's eager and breathless, the erection pressing against you like a threat. Heâs a man who has fashioned a weapon out of himself, so it shouldn't be a surprise that everything in him speaks violence.
"Yes," you try to assure him â a lousy lie only punctuated by the audible gulp that leaves your throat as you try to swallow your nerves back down.
"You afraidâŚ?"Â
"Just a little nervous," you tell him, a half confession.
"Mm. That makes two of us."Â
He draws down into a kiss, the hands of a soldier and a killer nearly drawing you up from the ground as he pulls you close. You don't really buy his claim of being nervous too: you can feel how he throbs between you, heavy and impatient.Â
Hesitantly, you reach to hug him as well, and you feel so small, so insignificant when wrapped around this⌠giant. The knowledge that you're about to be trapped under all this crushing weight leaves you both faint and needy.Â
Heâs a good kisser, but as he moves to devour your neck, you start to freeze from the middle.
"Alright⌠Come here."
He half carries, half lays you down on the bed, then crawls between your legs and changes his tactic a little. Gentle kisses are ghosted down your throat, and soon, he's at your breasts, soft as a whisper. But as he draws the fabric of your bra aside, your nipple is caught inside a hot, wet mouth, and the wildfire surges forth. Thereâs no way out from under him anytime soon, and you realize the colossal body is already spreading your thighs wide.Â
The way he already looks so damn good there between your legs: big, the epitome of raw, masculine power⌠It's almost sinful that a man like him is here with a virgin. It's a whole new hell how he's kissing you gently as fuck while blazing like a bonfire about to engulf and devour you. You want to wrap your legs around his middle, attach yourself to him in any way you can, but your thighs are weak pudding.Â
You feel both lost and found with him. In him.
He sucks and kisses your breasts like they're the only thing he's here for â and it feels good, heavenly, to be honest. But then he starts to travel down.
Shit⌠You need to tell him â and soon, or else there will be no time to say anything before the last of the shielding fabric is gone.
"Simon�"
"Mm-hm?"Â
He doesn't even stop with the kissing, merely hums on your skin as his mouth reaches your stomach.
"You're my first," you finally force the truth into the night; a soft and desperate fact. It's only the faintest breath, but he halts abruptly like he has been stabbed between the ribs.
GreatâŚÂ
Here comes the awkward.
He rises. Softly, slowly, like a shadow, just a second away from getting to what's between your legs.
"Is that so?"
His voice is hoarse and dark from arousal. The whole man is intoxicating, and your heart is hammering in your chest, both from hunger and dread.
"YesâŚ?"Â
A broad hand comes to rest on the dip of your waist; gently, like you're some frightened animal about to dart off from under his touch.Â
"Love⌠Are you sure you want to do this?"
Are you? You almost ask, then bite your lip.
He just called you love, something he has never done before. You can see your breasts rising with the breaths you try to calm down with sheer willpower.Â
He lets out a small sigh, then crawls beside you and takes you in his arms. The bed sags and wails under his weight before your body is pulled into a delicious bear hug.
"Sweetheart."
His voice is so smooth, so different from the intense, rough smoke that has followed you up until this point that you feel vehement tears burn your eyes. First love, and now, sweetheartâŚ
"There's no need to rush things," he says while keeping you close. Ever the gentleman, but you fear that you've ruined everything.
"We haven't exactly been rushing," you mutter somewhere in the plates of his chest. You both feel and hear how another sigh travels up his throat and is breathed into the crown of your head.
"Now⌠listen to me, ok? I've wanted you ever since we met. Can't deny it. But the last thing I want is to force you to do something you donât wanna do."
You squeeze your eyes shut from what he says. Ever since you met⌠You can remember the lingering gazes, the way his eyes lit up with something hopeful and pure, how it drove away the exhaustion that seemed to have made a home in this big, brooding man. You remember how he stole a few stares up and down your body, too; remember the hunger he never even tried to conceal â not until now.
He is the most enthralling being you have ever seen, a mystery and a force of nature, an indomitable man, and to say that you haven't thought about him that way ever since too would be a lie.
"But I want it," you look up at him slowly, feeling much safer now that he's holding you like this.
I want you.
You realize you're pouting when the warm look in his eyes gains a playful glint as he laughs softly.
"You want it?"
"Yes."
That little twinkle turns into a downright gleam as he looks at you like you're the most adorable thing he has ever seen.
âYou want it with me?â
âYes.â
"How much do you want it?" The charred voice is so soft now: it washes over you in generous waves. His hands keep you in safe custody â and you're the most willing prisoner there ever has been.
"Pretty badly?" You breathe into the air between you and see the corner of his mouth tug.
"Well, in that caseâŚ" His hand sweeps down your back and comes to reside on the swell of your hip. "I'm glad I'm here to help."
Pale eyelashes drop to your lips just before he kisses you again. You arch in his arms, like a flower leaning towards sunlight; your mouth, your whole being unfurls under his leadership. He rolls partly on top of you, then moves to kiss you all over as you lie on your back: he kisses your chin and neck, your collarbones and the hollow little crevice between them. The hand on your hip brushes down your thigh, then back up, up, until his fingers meet the folds already soaked through the fabric of your underwear.Â
His touch is soft, but gains more weight as he sweeps slowly up, then brushes a thumb over the exact location of your clit.
"Ohâ"Â
He knows what he's found, even without the evidence of your voiceless shake of a breath. He brushes another stroke over it, and it doesn't matter that you still have your undies on â you can feel his weight, the gentle pressure he applies as he draws a circle to usher another soft moan out of you.
"You like that?"
"Mhm," is the only thing you are able to answer.
"That's itâŚ" he cheers you on with calm assurance. "Gonna make you feel good. And that's a promise."
You catch a hint of ego in that promise, but there's something else, too. A fervent devotion, a bottomless need to please you no matter what. The right man, definitely: not someone who is only after their own satisfaction. You don't exactly need the answer anymore, but you ask the final, burning question nonetheless.
"Simon?"
"Speak your mind, love."
"Are you disappointed�"
He stops again, a breath away from you.Â
"Disappointed?" He sounds quite shocked, almost appalled. "...Disaâ"
He huffs, then reaches to cup your face. You raise your eyes to his and see that he'sâŚardent, and very, very serious.
"Love, I'm honored."
You can only blink at the solemn vow, and he slowly shakes his head.
"Silly little thingâŚ"Â
It's something he muses almost to himself before he drags his fingers over your sternum and down your stomach, reverently, like you're a piece of precious porcelain. But the heat in his eyes is back, and your fingers curl to grasp a fistful of sheet as his hand disappears underneath the cloth, when he finally touches you with nothing in between.
You suppose it's his middle finger that sweeps over your clit this time, then slips between your folds without effort. It coaxes your thighs open to give him better access, and access he has: he curls the finger until it almost dips inside. Your lips part with a quiet sigh as your chin climbs toward the ceiling.
"Look at that⌠All wet and sweet for me already."
The way you expose your neck is like an invitation: he buries his face in your neck, tries to drown in the scent and feel of you while gliding across the wetness down below. He spreads moisture on the tight bud, and you jerk a little from how sensitive it is â he huffs a smile in your ear. It makes you release the sheet and reach out to grasp him by the neck, to make him stay precisely where he is, close like this, so closeâŚ
"Do ya even know how bloody sweet you are?"
The last of your wits make a vanishing act as he breathes more praise on your skin. You're languid in his arms, feeling both weightless and heavy, like you're sinking into the mattress, and then his hand moves lower; one thick finger is plunged slowly inside.Â
Oh God oh Godâ
You feel him, all of him, filling and spreading you. And it's not enough⌠not nearly enough.
"We'll take it nice and slow, alright?" He whispers in your ear, and you tighten around him like on command. "Got all night to make a mess of you. That sound good?"
You can't help it: your lips draw into a smile when thinking about all the things he will do to you, all the sweet things you've always waited to happen.Â
"Yes."
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âI dare you to steal his clothesâ
Draco Malfoy and Tom Riddle
Your friend dares you to steal his clothes while heâs in the shower, obviously things donât go as plannedâŚ
Warning: smut, making out and the guys are naked
Some of you asked for Draco and Tom, Iâm sorry it took me a while, but here you go. First time writing for Tom so I hope itâs okay. For Mattheo, Theo, Blaise and Enzo: click here
You were sitting in the slytherin common room. It was late and the party was dying down but your friends refused to go to their dorms.
âTruth or dare?â Your best friend asks as they try to focus on you but theyâre clearly too drunk to manage that.
âDare.â
Your friend tries to get their brain to come up with a good dare, something fun. It is then that they see a certain slytherin holding a towel and heading for the bathroom.
Draco Malfoy
âReally? Malfoy of all people?â You mutter as you reluctantly sneak towards the door of the slytherin boys bathroom. You and him never saw eye to eye, so being dared to steal his clothes was obviously not on top of your bucket list. Though you had to admit that embarrassing him was alway fun. As soon as you enter, you spot several scattered around pieces of clothing and quietly tiptoe to them. When you grab his pants his belt makes a little too much noise.
â(Y/n)?! Is that you?â Draco spots you and instead of moving, your threat response of choice is to freeze and stay crouched down with his pants in your hands. âOf course! Loser by day, weird pervert by night.â Your lips part in shock as he accuses you of being a pervert and you immediately protest. âIf I was a pervert I wouldnât be in here with you, because thereâs probably nothing impressive to se-.â But just in that moment Draco fully steps out of the shower. With nothing left to the imagination your eyes widen and your brain shuts down. âOr maybe there is.â You mutter as you tilt your head slightly impressed. âQuit staring!â Draco snares as he searches for his towel. âQuit dangling it in front of me.â Now that Draco has finally found a towel you look away and meet his eyes. Youâre surprised to find him blushing. âYouâre not supposed to be here. Youâll be in serious trouble when I tell Snape.â He threatens.
âI was dared to do this. Are you really going to snitch on me over a stupid dare.â You roll your eyes. âFor once be reasonable, Malfoy.â You complain. âYou were dared to do what exactly? Join me in the showers? âCause if thatâs the case I won't snitch. Iâll even help.â A flirty smirk tugs on his lips as he walks towards you. You lay a hand on his chest keeping his still wet body at a distance. âNo, Iâm supposed to steal your clothes.â Draco huffs. âNot happening, darling. Iâm not walking out here in nothing but my towel.â
You look him up and down, thinking about his suggestion to join you in the showers. âHow about I offer you a deal?â You suggest and Draco just shakes his head. âThereâs nothing you can offer me that I donât already ha-â you interrupt him and his arrogance immediately falters when he feels you closing in, your fingers tracing over his chest and abdomen. âHow about my naked body pressed against yours as hot water tickles on us.â Draco stares deep into your eyes to make sure if you were being serious, because hearing you say this was something out of his fantasies.
While Draco continues staring and starts dreaming of what might happen you hook a finger behind his towel, bringing him back to planet earth. âSo?â You ask innocently as if it wasnât clear to you what he wanted. With a mix of hesitation and gentleness his lips move over yours, waiting for you to deepen it, which you happily do. As soon as he senses the passion in your kiss all doubt leaves him and his hand holds your head in place as he kisses you like itâs a nonverbal declaration of love.
While kissing, you stumble towards the shower and in the process Draco loses his towel, but thatâs just all the more convenient. Feeling his hardening member against your thighs sends a wave of pleasure to your core. When a soft whimper rolls off your lips, Draco presses his forehead against yours and admires your face. âSo fucking beautiful.â He breathes before kissing you with a loving hunger. With just barely enough self control he helps you take off your clothes before turning on the water.
***
Freshly showered and with a bright smile on your face you join your friends. âI got his clothes.â Luna cheers for you like youâve won the quidditch cup, but Hermoine just looks at your still wet hair. âDid you shower while you were there?â She finally asks, unable to put the pieces together. However, before you can answer a whistling Draco walks in with just his towel around his waist and Hermoine slowly turns her face to you. What. The. Fuck. didyoujustdo!
Tom Riddle
If it werenât for the alcohol in your system you wouldâve never accepted this dare, Tom was trouble and you knew it, but the alcohol told you that stealing his clothes was easy peasy lemon squeezy. But it really shouldnât come as a surprise that it wasnât easy peasy at all, since you couldnât spot his clothes at all. With the shower still running you decided to take the time to search a little longer. Cursing, you give up and turn around only to see a very naked and very smug looking Tom leaning against the bathroom wall.
âDidnât find what you were looking for?â How long had he been standing there? âOh, Iâm sorry. I just accidentally walked into the wrong bathroom. Sorry.â You hope your flusteredness about the awkward situation covers up for your horrible lying skills. âTook you a while to figure out youâre in the wrong bathroom.â You nod awkwardly as he shamelessly stares you down, while you do your best to avoid staring at the nude man in front of you. âYeah, but your nakedness kind of tipped me off.â You gesture to his body like he wasnât aware of the fact he wasnât wearing anything. He looks down at himself and you follow, staring a little too long at whatâs between his legs. âSee anything you like?â He questions amused as you panic and immediately look up at him. âNo.â His tongue moves inside his mouth as he wonders what he could do to someone as innocent as you. You try to look away from him, but thereâs something in his eyes that lures you back to them.
âThatâs the second lie youâve told me today.â Tom says as he moves towards you and for a moment you forget to breathe. Heâs so close to you that you can count the water droplets on his chest. You feel your heart explode with anticipation as he leans in. At the last moment he moves away from your lips to your ear. âTry not to lie a third time.â He whispers and you feel your knees get weak. âDo you want my clothes for your silly dare? Or do you want me to fuck you?â You feel a wave of excitement rush through your body as you see a spark of sweet desire in Tomâs eyes.
âHonestlyâŚâ You breathe out clearly under the influence of your hormones. Tomâs eyes are glued to your body, filled with hunger, as he traces every inch of it, longing for you. âBoth.â You say, not lying this time. Tom forces a smile as heâs not too pleased with your answer. âThen let me make the choice easy for you.â His harsh tone is the only warning you get before he pushes you against the cold tiles. The kiss is messy but wonderful and your hand finds its way to his hair as he traces sloppy kisses down to your neck. With one rough movement he picks you up and you wrap your legs tightly around him. His hips moving into yours has your panties soaking and he knows it. âStill interested in that game you were playing with your friends?â
âNo. I like your game better.â You breathe out, feeling his hand slide up your legs under your skirt. âGood, smart girl.â You throw your head back and Tom pushes your panties to the side, sliding through your folds a few times before pushing in a finger. Your moans quickly fill the room.
***
You join your friends. âSorry, I got a little distracted.â You try to sound casual but with everyoneâs eyes on you you canât help but get flustered. âDonât bother lying, we all heard you scream his name over and over again.â Your eyes widen and you chuckle nervously. When Tom walks in, he quickly figures out why youâre all flustered. So he stops by you. âNo need to be embarrassed, I loved the sound of your voice.â His suggestive whisper has you biting your lip and squeezing your thighs as your thoughts return to your previous activities. Maybe time to return to your room. Or his?
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fail-safe
pairing:Â yoongi x reader
wordcount: 8k
glimpse: growing up, your brother's best friend always berated you for not having a passion in life outside of loving him from afar. when yoongi leaves everything he's ever known for everything he's ever wanted, trying to move on from him becomes your biggest aspiration.
alternatively, yoongi left when you needed him the most, and comes back home at a time when you love him the least.
[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale ]
[ a Lot of angst, eventual fluff, brother's best friend AND single dad au, So Much Yearning, unrequited love (initial), jealousy, self-deprecation, a lot of talk abt passion in an empty n hurtful way that most impassioned youngest children feel (it's a specific feeling idk!!!), eventual redemption in the next parts ]
notes: finally got to writing a new series!!! i'm beyond excited for this + this whole new concept and flow i haven't touched on before <3 i hope u love fail-safe as much as i do :-)
as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! | series masterlist
Yoongi buys atleast one scratch ticket a week.
The accessibility of buying one is top-notch considering that all he has to do is cross the street, shoot one look to the cashier, and he can either already go hunch in the corner of the road or in the comfort of his room. The moment his coin takes its first dig and he realizes that heâs won yet again, heâs satisfied enough not to buy another ticket.
He doesnât want to risk losing the win heâs just gained, the odds of him throwing out money besting his chances in adding to his earnings. He thinks everyoneâs a little greedy one way or another, but itâs the righteous part of him that thinks heâs different.
You do think that he is for all the right reasons, your vision only tunneling for him alone. Heâs this fixed older figure in your life and you canât figure out how to shrug him off â heâs this generous leech that sucks all of the rationality from your mind but returns it to you twofold, whether in the form of him saying something unintentionally endearing that it makes your chest hurt, or through him having to lightly smack the back of your head.
Yoongiâs your older brotherâs best friend and thereâs a novelty tag that comes with him, one that canât be topped by any material possession to your name. Heâs there for you, not in the exact way you want him to be, but nonetheless there. Heâs special and unattainable at the same time, the finiteness of his love barely extending to you.
Heâs there when you want him to burn the latest songs onto a CD youâve spent all your allowance in, and heâs there when you get annoyed that he sneaked some of his own recommendations in there. Youâre there when you later admit that his suggestions arenât half-bad, and you also happen to be there when he grins at the praise.
Heâs there when Namjoon wonât cough up the last slice of his cutlet, not because heâll actually give you his, but because heâll help your brother guard his plate. Youâd only have to mope for a solid of three seconds before the two of them give up both of their last slices, and youâre there when Yoongi insists for you to try the sauce in the spirit of going out of your routine.
You donât need Yoongi every single time but in the event that you do, he hangs back. He contemplates and hesitates and doesnât give in to every single whim that you have, but heâll be there. He lingers like the last holiday ornament you donât want to remove until itâs February, his presence being oddly similar to your favorite festivities.
Yoongiâs the equivalent of a holiday you look forward to with each passing month and day; he comes around to and for you in instances, but never even in your most sincere wishes.
âI buy one scratch ticket a week â three if Iâm really feeling lucky. When my palms itch, thatâs when I know that I really need to buy them.â
Heâs calm and collected even when youâre scrunching your nose up at him in combined worry and disbelief, humming mindlessly as you collect your thoughts. He randomly told you about his lottery routine and youâre still trying to wrap your head around how he blows his money off just easily. Yoongi has the mind to put scrap cardboard under you because sitting on the hot concrete with your uniform on canât possible be a good idea, but you try to play off your fluster into stubbornness.
Heâs just playing with his two ever-present coins (lucky charms as he calls them)â one thatâs shiny and minted in the present year, the other being the oldest coin heâs ever had that happens to be older than he is â while you mutter about.
âI donât know, Yoongs. That might be a gambling problem,â you squint, your side comment being heard clearly as day. âMight be the symptoms for hand, foot, and mouth disease too.â
âWhatâ I do not have a gambling problem! My skinâs perfectly fine too, thanks,â he defends, the light shove he gives you doing nothing to tone down your teasing.
âThatâs what people with gambling problems say.â
âGive me that-âŚâ he mutters, trying to wrestle you for the sundae he bought you using the money he won from his scratch ticket just awhile ago. You donât give in easily, even if your laughs that come straight from your chest suggest otherwise. âYou donât get it. Itâs just this nice, fun little thing I can look forward to every week. I always buy the cheapest version anyway so when I lose, itâs not a big deal.â
You relent (like you always do when it comes to Yoongi) in understanding, waving him off after regaining your breath. âNah. I get it. We all have to do things so we wouldnât lose our shit,â you trail, racking your head to find the right words.âYours is buying scratch tickets, and mine is-âŚâ
âYours is what?â Yoongi raises an eyebrow, lips quirked in eagerness to know where youâre going with this. He canât pinpoint a single thing he can attach to you and neither can you, your actual interests merely reflecting those of the people whom you love.
You love cross-stitching because your mom loves doing it, the tolerance you have for accidentally being pricked by the needle growing over time.
You enjoy playing badminton because Namjoonâs obsessed with the sport, no matter how ratty your rackets and shuttlecocks have become, and no matter how much he pushes you to ring the doorbell to your neighborâs when heâs sent it flying to their backyard.
Youâre probably an imposter yet you donât feel like it. You donât feel bad that your life most probably and will only revolve around your mom and Namjoon (maybe even Yoongi); you donât feel dissatisfied that your lifeâs mundane.Â
You go where your love goes.
âMine is watching you buy scratch tickets,â you shrug easily as if itâs the most obvious thing in the world, making him laugh heartily. Youâve probably done something right because he hauls you up to your feet immediately.
âGet up. Iâm buying you your first ticket,â he nudges you, grabbing you by the arm in excitement.
âBut Iâm not even legal!â you half-heartedly argue, internally excited that youâre finally getting to try your hand at the lottery because youâve spent a few hundred minutes of your life tuned to the channel to pass the time, awaiting the results for something you havenât even betted for.
âRight. Like I havenât seen you trying to squeeze out a drop of beer from our empty cans whenever Namjoon and I drink.â
âRude,â you roll your eyes playfully, gathering your things from the ground.
âItâs okay. Iâll give you your first sip of beer too if you want,â Yoongi offers sincerely; easily as if youâve just asked him about the weather.
Heâs here to buy you your first scratch ticket, and heâs still here to offer giving you your first sip of liquor in the future.
Your family friend for a cashier vehemently ignores the fact that youâre still underage to participate in the lottery, and instead only chuckles to herself in amusement. Sheâs an aunt that knows when to step in and not to, and she knows you wonât be harmed by a mere bet. In fact, she knows you wonât be harmed by anything with Yoongi in tow.
âI already used up all my change,â your frown in realization, holding the ticket in your hands in despair despite having scoured your wallet repeatedly.
âRub it against the pavement. Thatâs what I do,â Yoongi lies fluidly, a scoff being caught in his throat when you actually attempt to do it. âI was only kidding, Y/N. Jeez,â he groans, pulling out his wallet. âUgh. Here. You can have one of my lucky coins.â
Itâs the old one, tarnished beyond relief that you can barely recognize what itâs actual value is supposed to be.
âEw. Iâm giving it back. It looks prehistoric,â you narrow your eyes, knowing that you donât even have to put your fingers nears your nose to know that itâs already left a faint stench on them.
Yoongi rolls his eyes, a habit he canât tell heâs formed himself or got from you. âIf you use your brain for one second, youâd realize that itâs actually worth more because itâs older. Collectors would go crazy for that in the future.â
âThat sounds like a hoarding problem.â
Heâs just had about enough of your whining so he attempts to trade in the old coin for his lucky new one, but you stop him at the last minute with a meek smile.
âKidding. Thank you. Iâll keep it safe, Yoongi. I promise,â you rush out before he changes his mind, scratching your ticket in silence.
He waits for you because youâre scratching so politely and neatly, a stark opposite to his experienced skill of scratching the paint off in ten strokes or less.
Your face is too close to the ticket that Yoongi canât tell whatâs happening, making him part your hair like a curtain to peek.
âDid you win?â
âNope.â
âLet me throw that out for you.â
âNo!â you squeak, keeping the ticket close to your chest. Itâs a bummer that your first time is a loss, but it didnât mean that you wanted to forget the sentiment behind it. âI-I mean no, Iâll keep it. Itâs memorable now that I think about it.â
âAlright,â he shrugs carelessly, a smile breaking out in retaliation. âHoarder.â
âGambler,â you spit, tucking the ticket into your pencil case. âNext week again?â
Yoongi agrees, wrapping his head around the fact that he doesnât have to be alone in his little routine every Friday.
âSure.â
( ⥠)
You donât mind getting hand-me-downs.
As a matter of fact, you love receiving them. The wear and tear of the things that came before you is only proof that itâs been loved enough to be passed on to you.
You adore your motherâs dainty vintage watch that she wore throughout college, the hardware and sentiment behind it being pretty enough that you donât mind constantly getting the battery replaced. You like Namjoonâs shirts that heâs outgrown, even through the numerous phases heâs had wherein only denim and tie-dye filled his closet.
You donât mind the history behind the numerous things you have in your home, unbothered that youâre probably the only house in the block with the oldest possible rice cooker. The chips in the staircase arenât covered up with marker ink and neither are the loose stitches in the couch quilt snipped off. Itâs home to your mother and Namjoon â if itâs good enough for them, then itâs already the best for you.
Even on top of everything, you donât mind your family almost always getting you shirts and shoes that have an allowance in them. Your mom would go to Seoul and pick out the exact pair of sneakers you wanted that are atleast three sizes bigger than your actual feet, and youâd barely bat an eye.Â
You donât mind the coziness of things that are brought to you, because even if they werenât offered, youâd seek them yourself.Â
So when Yoongi mentioned that heâs decluttering his room and needed someone (read: you) to vacuum it up for him, you jump at the chance. You take a grocery bag with you, wear the nearest pair of slippers within your vicinity, and book it to his house as soon as he finished talking.
âGo crazy, kid. Almost everything in that pile is garbage so you can take anything.â
âI feel like I should be more offended than how I feel right now,â you hum, furrowing your eyebrows at the pile in front of you. Itâs a mound of Yoongi, or atleast everything heâs ever wanted up until he decided to do a general cleaning of his bedroom.
Yoongi chuckles, going through his pile of clean laundry for him to fold on the side while you scavenge for his things. âItâs either I have you take them or I get ripped off at the thrift store, then I see somebodyâs uncle wearing my shirt as an added insult.â
You huff, rummaging through his heap of belongings while conveniently trying to ignore that you may look like somebodyâs uncle the moment you wear his clothes. Everything is him; every distressed cap, every unfinished embroidered shirt, and every item of old significance with his initials branded on it.
The thick gray hoodie youâve been eyeing (along with its owner) for the better part of the last few years surfaces into your field of vision, your gasp audible enough to make him jolt because he thought youâd gotten hurt.
âNo way, this too? But this is your favorite,â you half-complain and half-rejoice, turning the hoodie inside-out eagerly in the fear that thereâs a catch to it belonging in the pile.
âEh. I know it looked good on me but I donât think itâs my favorite. Besides, Iâve bulked up! Wanna feel?â Yoongi grins, his segue eerily similar to your brotherâs at every given chance. A neighbor from down the block recently opened a small-time gym, and the both of them have not been able to shut their mouths about it since. From their gossiping alone, Yoongi and Namjoon have generated enough advertising already.
âYou and Namjoon really have to stop asking random people to feel your biceps.â
Thereâs random knick-knacks throughout the clump in the middle of his bed, some being too good and actually useful that you snag them. Yoongi lets you do what you want anyways (most of the time), not having to turn his head to berate you on what youâre only allowed to grab from his stuff.
Youâre not greedy â you already have his hoodie and that should be enough on its own. But thereâs that handkerchief with his initials embroidered on it, then that Rubikâs cube he swore his relative got for him from New York, and even the little butterfly knife he got from a souvenir shop when his family when to the beach.
There were those and there is this, looking up at you in all of its glory.
âYoongi.âÂ
âWhat now?â he sighs at your dramatic gasp, looking up from his folded laundry to see what you were going on about. It takes a second for him to fully realize why exactly were you so pumped.
âAre you serious? Your helmet?â you squeal, already hugging the shiny red mass close to you. âDoes this mean youâre passing your motorcycle to me?!â
âAre you crazy? Fuck no,â Yoongi rolls his eyes, snatching his helmet back from you. He doesnât miss the bratty frown that fills up your entire face; heâs not exactly the biggest fan whenever you were upset or angry; maybe even both. âObviously I forgot I even put my helmet there when I made that pile.â
You whine, stomping your feet in exasperation. You would dramatically plop down on his bed if only it wasnât full of his shit. âCome on! You told me you were teaching me as soon as you finish teaching Joon.â
âTeaching you how to ride my scooter is not the same as giving you it. Why would I just hand you what I bought with my hard-earned money?â Yoongi scrunches his nose, tone sharper than what he intended.
âBut you still havenât taught me,â you murmur to placate yourself and dissuade yourself from the delusion that Yoongi would even exert such an effort for you because of course â why would he do that for you?
You have an inkling that youâre being irrational for all the wrong reasons, perhaps even projecting your need to be looked after⌠by him.
Yoongi notices your mood that turned sour quickly, the silence between you becoming loaded. He didnât mean to be that blunt. âI donât think youâre even old enough to have your driving permit,â he adds in consolation, voice considerably softer.
You snicker lowly, still looking at your feet with your arms crossed. âBut Iâm old enough to backpack whenever you need me to carry shit that canât fit in your carrier.â
He immediately groans at your comeback, his furrowed eyebrows mirroring yours. âYouâre so stubborn.â
âYouâre a hypocrite,â you retort, knowing for a fact heâs known how to drive even before he was eligible for permits and licenses and whatnot.Â
Yoongi takes one, two seconds to himself to regain his composure, clearing his head in the process. Youâre still not looking at him and youâre pouting and you donât even notice the latter, making him crack a small smile.
âI will teach you next week.â
âOh my-âŚâ
He cuts you off, raising his hand in emphasis. âProvided that you listen to everything I say and wear full gear at all times. You clearly donât have a job yet-âŚâ
âOuch.â
âAnd I donât have the extra money to buy full gear for myself, so what youâll do is bundle up with your padded coat and the thickest jeans you have,â Yoongi enunciates every word, eyes keenly on you. Theyâre too wide and alert, you actually feel like listening to him.
âYou go on rides wearing your pajamas.â
âJust say âthank you, Yoongiâ.âÂ
âYou havenât done anything yet,â you trail off, head tilting in confusion.Â
Youâve had a million conversations like this with Yoongi before but of different fonts; worn, familiar, and warm.
âThank you, Yoongi,â he mouths, nodding at you to do the same. He wonât stop until you utter them back to him, and you know you wonât go home either without giving him your gratitude as you always do.
âThank you, Yoongi,â you relent, the grin that breaks through your lips being infectious enough that he laughs lowly to himself.
He exhales all the worries he has and could possibly ever have seeing you ride the motorcycle (or for you yearning to do everything that he does), grasping at whatever sanity he has left from looking after you.
âYou can have the helmet.â
( ⥠)
Yoongi knows the ins and outs of your home.
Heâs been at your house too much to the point that your mom already gave him a spare key and nobody batted an eye about it. He has his own designated slippers at the entryway too, something you would only use in a hurry if you needed to sign off on a package.
Yoongi, for some reason unfathomable (not really; you can tell exactly why because your mom is an extremely warm and inviting person), also has the power of dibs on the food in your fridge. Heâd put strips of masking tape with his name on food thatâs neither brought in nor made for him in the first place.Â
It should be off-putting â the way that for too many yet too little reason, Yoongi has become a prominent figure in your life even if you didnât ask him to. You should be peeved that you have to set up four plates more often that you set up only three; you should be annoyed at some point that when you wake up at random times through the night, youâre not totally alone to begin with.
You shouldbe angry at Yoongi to a degree because heâs in your life and you donât get to have a say on how he stays in it. The only problem is that youâre not, and probably never will.
âCanât sleep?â you mutter as you look up from your strikingly clear paper, seeing Yoongi strut across the floor with a casualness that only real occupants of the house should supposedly possess. He has his brows furrowed at you as if he didnât expect to see you in your living room, scratching his head in wonder.
âWhy are you up?â
âStressed,â you sigh, giving up altogether in attempting to make yourself look busy. Yoongi drives by your fridge to get himself a can of beer, finally seating himself beside you on the floor.Â
âStressed about what? Iâm sure itâs not about studying,â he snorts, unsurprised at your paper and the clear lack of motivation behind it. You only roll your eyes at him and he has half a mind to not remind you to not do it so much, the frown in your face reminding him that you really were frustrated.
It is you to throw the occasional tantrum, but he remembers that it was only when you were young; when Namjoon would whisper gibberish to his ear and purposely not whisper to yours just so he could tease you, or when nobody would believe that you taught yourself how to ride a bike with no training wheels. You didnât know how to do the latter at all, but what had made you throw a tantrum was that nobody believed you.
You notice Yoongiâs digs, of course. You notice each one of his more than unsubtle nods to your intelligence and whatnot, the shots at your intellect not flying over your head like he expected them to. You admit that youâve never been that scholastic; you werenât born a genius and you donât try exactly hard either.
Yoongiâs only joking but you canât help but to think that heâs pertaining to something deeper, his constant digs at your lack of a passion making you sluggish.
âWe have to write this essay,â you answer simply, your tone straightforward and unwilling for banter but Yoongi bites anyway.
âBut essays are the easiest,â he trails, looking at you the whole time as he takes a sip of his beer.
You exhale heavily because no matter what, he just canât seem to get it. Yoongi knows where youâre coming from but he doesnât know where youâre headed. As a matter of fact, you donât know where youâre headed either. âWe have to write an essay about where we see ourselves ten years from now.â
âBut thatâs still easy.â
âIf itâs so easy, then go write it for me,â you snicker, leaning back with a huff. He constantly undermines you and although you own up to your striking mundaneness from time to time, it didnât mean that you liked being looked down on. Yoongiâs too used to you being yourself, he gets taken aback when you grow sick of your own.
He gathers all his willpower, far from being sleepy unlike you who wouldâve been lulled to sleep if only you werenât dead-set on arguing with him. âYou know what? I actually will,â he claps, handing you his beer. âGo hold this for me.â
Yoongi grips your pen for dear life like you hold his beer, his hand warm as he works from sheer determination alone (heâs not competing with anyone except for whatever expectation you have for him and your paper), while yours was cold just holding his drink.
Youâve been so quiet that he actually gets curious, turning his head to check to see if youâve dozed off when actually, itâs just you eyeing the can.
âNo oneâs watching,â Yoongi breaks you out of your thoughts, carelessly shrugging. He cares and heâs far too concerned for you, but he figures that nothing would hurt you so long as he can grasp you. âItâs okay. You can have your first sip.â
You blink owlishly at him and when he jokes about taking it back, you take your first swig of beer in a panic. Yoongi only shakes his head in amusement, pausing his writing just to see the look on your face.
âOne more?â he asks right after he sees you wince, the unbearable sweetness yet bitter, stinging aftertaste of the beer making you shudder.Â
You have the urge to wash off the taste with ice cold water (youâll even drink from the tap because youâre so desperate), but you resist it just so you wouldnât look like a weakling in front of him. You wave him off with a bitterness, upset that beer doesnât taste like what youâve always imagined it to be. âJust write my essay for me,â you mull over the taste in your tongue, in deep thought while you stare at Yoongiâs back ahead of you. âDo all beers taste that way?â
âEh. Most of them do. You develop a taste for it later on,â he answers, taking the can back from you before drinking it himself. He looks too dedicated in writing your essay, only goading the curiosity in you to peek over his shoulder.
He knows you, both in heart and memory, because he shields your own paper from you when he sees your shadow hovering above him.
âYoongi?â
âHm.â
âI told you why Iâm up. Why are you up?â
Heâs silent entirely, the only indication that he heard your question being his hand pausing abruptly. Yoongi doesnât answer, and you donât ask again. âDonât worry about it.â
You take his answer to heart, dozing off on the couch before you know it. You donât remember a blanket being placed on you, nor can you remember preparing your backpack for school the next day.
Your paperâs neatly tucked into your portfolio bearing handwriting thatâs clearly not yours, but with a sentiment thatâs similar nonetheless. You read through everything quickly before even stepping towards your teacher, the tips of your fingers just as cold as Yoongiâs beer last night.
Youâve committed the paper into your memory, even until the last part with an excerpt you canât forget despite having passed the paper already. You donât know what to feel because itâs Yoongi whoâs speaking for you, detailing that ten years from now, you will still be your motherâs daughter and your brotherâs sister.
He wrote your essay either for you or in behalf of you, and you canât tell which one is better.
Yoongi, who knows the ins and outs of your home and the peaks and troughs of your heart, writes in clear handwriting â Ten years from now, I will still be Yoongiâs rock.
( ⥠)
Surprisingly, Yoongi hasnât been around that much lately.
Even Namjoon (who you consider as his Siamese twin) is clueless to why his friend hasnât been hanging out with him lately to do either everything or nothing, confused because theyâre enrolled to the same classes all the way to the same part-time jobs, yet Yoongiâs been mostly unavailable.
When Yoongi is, however, he doesnât speak at all about his previous absences. He comes as if heâs never disappeared a few times before that, his evasion to talk about his presence being apparent even if youâve asked him directly.
Youâre getting used to his new routine of hanging out with you only when the both of you are free, no longer moving mountains for both of your schedules to line up. Heâs more present this month than he was at the last, the criteria for it being how many times you bump into him in your own home.
Despite all odds and evens though, Yoongi canât get used to your silence. He knows you hold grudges longer than your brother, and the last time that he checked, he knows youâve already let go of your annoyance for him suddenly being unavailable without any explanation.Â
Itâs late, only the two of you are awake in the living room, thereâs ten scratch tickets on the table for you to share, and heâs even gotten you your own glass to which heâll put a controlled amount (a grand total of two long sips) of his own beer in. Youâre not stressing about an essay this time, but the unconscious pout on your face is still the same.
âYouâre awfully quiet.â
The frown on your face only goes deeper at being found out, the scratch of your lucky coin being the only clear thing that Yoongi hears.Â
âMy best friends want to have this slumber party,â you sigh, more upset about what youâve just uttered than you are happy about the cash prize youâve just won.
Yoongi takes what you say at face-value, groaning at his third straight loss for the night. âThatâs great. Wear cute pajamas, snap a couple of polaroids, donât be the first to fall asleep and last to wake up, and just keep a pocket knife with you when youâre going out by yourself.âÂ
The awe (and slight concern) over what he said should roll in any time now.
You should be comforted at Yoongiâs words because theyâre supposed to ease the swirl of your stomach, even if what he just said is a repackaged version of what your family said before. You should let go of your worries because Yoongi, of all people, says that itâs supposed to be great.
Instead, you feel neither of what you think Yoongi wants you to.
âWas it something I said?â he mumbles after some time, turning his nose up at you as he tries to retrace his words. âI have an extra pocket knife you can borrow if thatâs what youâre worried about.â
âWeâre gonna be talking about boys, Yoongi,â you screw your eyes shut, sighing into the palms of your hands with a heaviness. âWeâre gonna talk about crushes and experiences and all that.â
He shudders at that, his reaction mirroring Namjoonâs when you tried opening up to him. You get your brotherâs reaction to a degree, of course, because you feel as if youâd be disgusted too if the roles were reversed. You want to talk about it with your mom too, but at the end of the day, sheâs your parent and you just canât talk about anything and everything with her.Â
Yoongiâs your next plausible option.
âDo you want some ice cream right now? You know what, Iâll buy you-âŚâ Yoongi tries to evade the topic altogether, his attempt of escaping feeble as you drag him down by his hoodie.
âI havenât had my first kiss yet.â
âHeh.â
Yoongi shrugs at that, regaining his words when you deadpan at him. âSo? What about it?â
You starfish on the floor at that out of frustration, the whine youâve been bottling up coming out in the open because as usual, Yoongi doesnât get it. âI-Iâm probably the only one in my grade who hasnât kissed someone yet! I canât just lie carelessly because obviously, theyâll ask around.â
âSo?â Yoongi chuckles, his breeze towards your state shocking you. âWhatâs it to them if you havenât had your first kiss?â
âYou donât get it,â you grit through your teeth, crossing your arms so hard that it feels hard to inhale.
âIâm pretty sure I do,â he sing-songs, drinking the last of his beer. When youâre not looking though, he plans to either drink or chuck the remainder of your share because he doesnât want you to develop a taste for it.
The anger you have for Yoongi bubbles up once again, the itch in your throat unbearable. Youâre presented with the age gap between you once more, along with the raging emptiness in you that Yoongiâs reached so far and youâve reached so little.
âYou donât get it because youâve had all of these experiences when you were younger than my age right now,â you snap, although you donât look at him when you do. If you do look at him though, youâll only be reminded of how a face like his could have everything in this world â even a first kiss youâve never had.
âYeah, and so?â he knits his brows, growing defensive. You werenât lying at all, but he still feels a little offended at the dig. Heâs not not proud of it, but with the way you say it, itâs like you want him to burn in shame,
âStop saying so,â you angrily mumble in frustration, a little breathless because you still donât ease up on crossing your arms.
Yoongi straightens his posture, staring you down with his jaw set. Heâs stern as he is, nostrils flaring in irritation. âNo, Y/N. Iâm genuinely asking â so what? Whatâs it to you if I had my first kiss at a younger age? What about it if everyone else in your grade has kissed someone and you havenât? Itâs not the end of the world.â
âI-I donât know! Itâs just unfair!â you let up, yielding to both the facts that Yoongiâs right with it not being the end of the world, and that youâre still entitled to feeling upset.
âInstead of spending time obsessing over your first kiss, maybe I donât know, try being productive? Youâre heading to college soon and you havenât even thought of a career,â Yoongi goes off on you, making you roll your eyes automatically. There he goes again with the great big push of trying to push you into your supposed passions in life. âSomeone elseâs luck doesnât mean itâs already your misfortune.â
âBut it is.â
You say it so definitively, you almost convince him. You have your principles and so does Yoongi, but not everyone else. You have your principles yet you donât have the luck. Youâre not getting anywhere in life just like Yoongi or anyone else who was remotely born into wealth, no matter how quiet or obvious.
You canât pursue something that interests you in the slightest without thinking what would come out of it. You canât think of a degree and a course youâll stick with, enough to do for the rest of your life because the only other option is to fail completely if you donât. You have no plan and no passion and you donât know if youâll ever amount to anything to anyone at all.
By all means, you donât agree with Yoongi this time. Someone elseâs luck is your misfortune, in the same way that his first kiss doesnât mean that itâs yours.
The sidetrack to your argument is a closed case already, judging by your downcast gaze. âI just have to put myself out there, thatâs all. My first kiss doesnât even have to mean anything. I just want to have it,â you admit, shoulders relaxing.
âDonât,â Yoongi groans, the opposite of you as his whole body tenses.
He thinks that you donât get him at all.
âWhat do you meandonât?â
Your argumentâs long-over (atleast you thought it was) but Yoongiâs getting more agitated by the minute, the disbelief on his face throwing you off. âDonât do things just because you feel like you have to! Are you even hearing yourself right now?â
âI donât want to be left behind, Yoongi! Thatâs all Iâm trying to get at,â you raise your hands in surrender, shrugging thoughtlessly â it makes him want yell into a paper bag in exasperation. âI donât want to be picked last. I donât want to not be wanted.â
Yoongi exhales, screwing his eyes shut. It stays silent like that for a little while; him calming himself down, and you scratching your tickets. The calm doesnât stay for long because you open your mouth carelessly, again.
âCan you be my first kiss?â
âAre you insane?â
âUgh.â
You go back to your fourth scratch ticket, pouting in disappointment. Youâre unfazed about the win thatâs probably the largest sum youâve had ever since you started doing the lottery.
Youâre upset and youâre sick in the stomach but you stay silent like you never asked Yoongi to be your first kiss; itâs like you havenât indirectly admitted to him that you love him enough, more than so, to want him to be your first.
Youâre about to scratch the final ticket when Yoongi juts his hand out, fingers barely brushing yours to stop you.
âOn second thought, donât scratch that. Just keep it.â
âBecause you want to turn me into a hoarder too?â you snicker, heeding his suggestion regardless.
âBecause Iâm not going to be right about everything,â Yoongi mumbles, looking at you with a solemnness you canât decipher.
You try until the solemnness turns into pity.
âStill donât want to be my first kiss?â
Yoongi softly laughs to your face, smiling as he lets you down â whether easily or harshly, you canât tell.
âYou already know what Iâm going to say.â
( ⥠)
Youâd like to think that youâre not kept in the dark about most things.
You already know that although your mom hasnât had any relationships since your dad left, she still has plenty of suitors. Some of them are the reason why you have random food deliveries in the middle of the dinner that sheâs already cooked, some have sucked up to her by getting you and Namjoon gifts.Â
You know about Namjoonâs growing love for football, even with the lessons he takes in secret because he didnât want to trouble your mom for the money. Itâs why he does his part-time job and why youâre looking for one anyways. You donât want nor need much, so you almost always give him the remainder of your allowance by the end of each week.
Yoongi, on the other hand, you donât know much about. You know that heâs an only child with a doting mom who works overseas and a rich but emotionally unavailable dad at home, and thatâs about it. His home life is synonymous with yours, considering that your four walls have become an extension of his.
Maybe youâve become too lenient on him â either that, or heâs become too disrespectful. Itâs at times like these where your house is not his home, sickeningly so that you donât want it to be yours either.
Yoongi is a sight to behold as he makes out with a half-naked girl on your bed, in your room. Your room has never been the neatest but with everything going on, it feels that itâs become the dirtiest that itâs ever been. Your house slippers are on the floor even if you always leave them by the entryway, and your sheets are a mess despite being one of the only things you try to keep folded in the room.
Youâre angry, too much to the point that the words get caught in your throat. They catch onto bile and venom and everything at once, the strain in your voice heard when you yell.
âWhat the fuck?!â
Yoongi and the girl, whom you figure out to be Hyewon that heâs shared his first kiss with, jolt in unison. Hyewonâs scared shitless while Yoongiâs annoyed to death, the grunt he lets out pricking your ears further. âSorry, sorry. Sheâs my best friendâs sister. Sheâs so annoying,â he drags you out of your room before he even gives you the entitlement to storm out of there in a fit of rage, seeing red the longer that he seems upset at you.
âWhat the fuck was that, Yoongi?â you grit through your teeth, the moment of you seeing red turn into white because youâre so frustrated that you could actually cry. Your chestâs heavy, not only out of rage, but out of everything thatâs built up in the course of years.
âCan you keep it down?â Yoongi seethes, pursing his lips. âWhat, would you rather see us do it in the living room?â
âIn the â what? Who do you think you are? This isnât even your house, why are you bringing these girls here?â you point an accusing finger at him yet he doesnât back away, his annoyance for you only growing tenfold.
Heâs in the wrong no matter which way you look at it yet he doesnât realize it, the epiphany that Yoongi genuinely thinks heâs in the right for doing this to you making your skin burn in fire.
âThis is literally the first time Iâve ever done this! I canât bring her back to my place, my dad has guests over!â
âSo your smartest idea is to fuck someone in my bed?â
âOh, youâre welcome. Itâs the most action your four walls have ever seen,â he spits sarcastically, eyes narrowing at you. It takes little effort for him to dig up what you came to him for in worry and it terrifies you. The facet of Yoongi who had sternly told you that it was okay to be left behind if it means getting what you deserve, resembling nothing like him at the moment.
âI canât believe you!â you whisper as you tremble, the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. âI told you that in confidence.â
âIn confidence? It doesnât take a genius to figure out that youâre not exactly a catch, Y/N.â
You clench your jaw so hard that it hurts, you ball your fists so tightly that it stings.
You leave your home without saying another word.
.
.
.
Namjoonâs panicked.
He came home a little later than usual because he had maximized the life out of his soccer lessons, only getting the signal to leave when the lights were turned off. He was only slightly worried at the first place because he was supposed to cook dinner for the both of you, but he placated himself by realizing that youâre not the baby that he still thinks you are â you could cook dinner for yourself if you were hungry already.
He thinks nothing of it. In fact, he just makes a quick stop at the convenience store so the both of you could indulge in a liter of ice cream without your mom urging to leave some for another night. You could think of a recipe from scratch (and it almost always works out at the end), so Namjoon walked in fully thinking heâll get to sniff whatever concoction you have.
Except, he walks into a completely dark house, and thatâs when he panics.
He canât find your slippers by the entryway and youâre not in your room either. Youâre not at the other convenience store hunched over taking your chances on scratch tickets, and youâre not out on the street either going people-watching.
The panic rises in him the more that Namjoon grasps this is the first time that this has ever happened and he doesnât know why. Heâs always made an effort to be absorbed into both your personal and academic affairs, and as far as he knows, youâre neither in a sleepover nor on a field trip somewhere.
Namjoon thinks itâs his fault someway somehow, and the guilt canât fully dissipate from him until he sees you.
âHey, Yoongi,â he breathlessly gasps the moment his friend answers, the latter being surprised because he thought it was you who was calling him after what happened awhile ago.
Itâs his fault and heâs realized that hours too late, and the selfish part of him thinks that itâs you calling at ten in the evening begging for forgiveness.
âWhatâs up, man? Itâs late,â he wonders out loud, thinking for a second if they were too much of the Siamese twins that you tease them to be because he canât think of a rational reason why Namjoon would call him at this time of night.
Namjoon raggedly exhales, running a hand through his hair. âYeah, sorry about that. Iâm just wondering if youâve seen Y/N by any chance?â
Yoongiâs heart drops so loudly that Namjoon thought for second that his friend had hung up on him, his urgency being shared the moment that he asked.
âWhat? Y/N isnât home?â Yoongi asks in disbelief, immediately being filled with anxiety and disbelief. Just awhile ago, the two of you were arguing outside of your room. He did hear you leave, but he had fully expected for you to be back hours ago. Heâs wracked with guilt all over, the drop in his chest amplified by the pit in his stomach.
âSheâs not. Practice ran late and I-I know sheâs responsible so I didnât hurry home,â Namjoon recalls, being more and more frazzled by the second. âShe left her phone here, and mom isnât here either because sheâs visiting my grandparents, a-and I donât want to call her because I know sheâll be worried, a-and-âŚâ
Yoongi interrupts him, the tremble in his fingers only enabling him to dig his nails into his palm deeper. âIâm coming over. Letâs look for her together.â
It barely takes a minute for the both of them to come together, not even exchanging any pleasantries with each other before Yoongi steps on the gas.Â
Namjoonâs filled with guilt, the type that only a sibling could carry as a burden. He thinks he was too selfish â too accustomed to pulling your own weight that it must have given you the impression that you had no other choice but to. Whatever it was that made you leave out of the blue, Namjoon thinks he couldâve done more. He shouldâve came home and made you dinner as promised, for starters. Heâs guilty over the fact that heâs the only close familial male figure in your life and he let this happen, as he makes Yoongi put his headlights on high-beam, scanning for anyone that looks remotely like you.
Yoongi, on the other hand, is filled with a guilt he canât even begin to explain. It corrodes him from the inside-out in realization that heâs to blame for your sudden disappearance, the fact that Namjoon comes to him first to help find you not helping at all. If only your brother knew what he had done to you, heâs positive that heâll be on the receiving end of a punch â what gets him more is that Yoongi wouldnât blame him at all.
They see you in the bus stop two cities away, dressed in the same clothes you ran out with.Â
Namjoonâs relieved beyond compare while Yoongiâs fuming, his hands tucked inside his jacket to prevent himself from squeezing you into an embrace; neither of you deserve it.Â
Thereâs an underlying anger within Namjoon, one that lies behind the back of his throat as he checks you over for any injuries. The two of you walk ahead to Yoongiâs car while he himself trails behind, his heart significantly calmer than it was the past hour, yet nowhere near normal.
âWanna tell me what you did?â your brother hums, trying to exhale the worry thatâs embedded into him with each squeeze he gives around your shoulders.
âWent to the convenience store, bumped into my friends, then we took this impromptu roadtrip to go to the night market, then we all had our first actual shot of liquor and not just beer, my friend who owns the car turned out to be a lightweight, and now everyone just has to commute home,â you narrate in recollection, squeezing Namjoon back to try and ground him.
âOkay,â he answers simply, nodding. âWanna tell me what happened before you did all those things?â
The breathless chuckle that leaves you is empty, void of any amusement at all. You smile nonetheless, unable to placate both yourself and Namjoon. âNope.â
You arrive in silence to Yoongiâs car, the words unsaid between the three of you generating more tension than your brief disappearance itself.
Yoongi opens the front door for you, but you settle for sitting in the backseat.
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hi! i recently found your account, and i js wanna say omg ur so talented, like ur fr my new fav writer. could u maybe write something about a virgin reader, whos only ever fingered herself, and so when matt (or chris but im a matt girl and im being self indulgent about this), and she squirts, and is super embarrassed about it and he comforts her about it? u dont have to, but idk i js think u could do this idea rlly well:)
FIRST TIME
đŠđđ˘đŤđ˘đ§đ : soft dom!matt x virgin!reader
đŹđŽđŚđŚđđŤđ˛: you and matt have been together for quite sometime, but never had sex. he knows youâre a virgin and heâs so patient with you, but now you think youâre ready
đ°đđŤđ§đ˘đ§đ đŹ: SMUT but fluff!, making out, mini panic attack, praising, p in v, squirting
đ°đ¨đŤđ đđ¨đŽđ§đ: 1,066
đđŽđđĄđ¨đŤ'đŹ đ§đ¨đđ: for anon and @mattsleftnipple03
these were pretty much the same so i combined them! hope you like :)
thank you and love you guysđŤś
the pen in your hand scribbles on the piece of paper in front of you as you ponder. youâre in art class and your best friend sits across from you at the big table.
art class is basically a free period because letâs face it, you guys donât do anything except gossip and draw for fun.
youâve been asking your friend a series of questions about what losing your virginity is like since she has experience. the only experience youâve ever gotten was your fingers, and to be honest, it gets old after a while.
youâre not embarrassed about being a senior in high school and still a virgin, but your boyfriend who graduated last year lost his with his ex a while back. you guys have talked about having sex for the first time for quite some time, but you were never ready.
no words can describe how grateful you are for matt. heâs been super patient and understanding with you.
but now, you think youâre ready.
âis there a reason you are asking me these questions?â your best friend asks, raising a brow.
you shrug, your hand still having a mind of its own with the pen. âiâm thinking about going all the way with matt.â
she smiles, genuinely looking happy for you. âoh my god! when?â
âi told him i plan on this weekend.â
âthatâs so exciting!â
âyeah, but,â you pause to take a deep breath. âi feel nervous.â
she reaches over to stop your drawing hand. âitâs totally normal to feel nervous. mattâs such a sweet guy. iâm sure if you feel the slightest bit of discomfort, heâll stop immediately.â
you smile at the mention of your boyfriend. sheâs not wrong. matt will do anything to make you feel comfortable. heâs not one to force anything on someone. âyouâre right.â
she gives your hand a light squeeze. âlet me know how it goes.â she winks just as the bell rings for dismissal.
the rain outside is pattering on the window, you and matt cuddling comfortably on his bed. you guys just woke up from the best nap of your life.
you nibble on the inside of your mouth. âmatt?â
âhm?â he hums, picking up his head that was resting on your chest.
âi want to do it.â
he beams at you. âpositive?â
you bite your lip in excitement and nod. matt lifts himself to get more serious. âdonât be afraid to tell me to stop, okay?â
âi know,â you reply. he leans in and kisses you passionately with a hint of hunger. he breaks the kiss to take off his and your shirt but goes back at it to unclip your bra.
the skin-to-skin contact felt warm and comforting, but your anxiety is starting to take over.
you try to brush it off until matt reaches for your pants. yanking his hands away, you cover your top half with the comforter as you feel tears start to form.
matt freezes, a hint of guilt on his face. you try your best to take as many deep breaths as possible. âiâm so sorry, y/n.â
he carefully places his hand on your arm and rubs soothingly to calm you down. ân-no itâs not you.â you take three deep breaths before continuing. âitâs silly. the thought of a penis about to be inside of me freaks me out.â
you chuckle along with him, the humor helping you relax. âwe donât haveââ
âi want to.â you say truthfully. âi just need a second.â
he goes through different breathing techniques with you until you calm down from your mini panic attack. he asks if you're okay at least a hundred times before you shut him up by kissing him again.
he hesitates with your pants not wanting to trigger you again, but after a beat, he pulls them down with your underwear.
his pajama pants soon end up on the floor with the rest of your clothes. he comes under the blanket with you and pecks you on the temple, grabbing a condom from the nightstand. âso proud of you.â he starts, making you blush. âyou ready?â
you give him the okay, and he slowly starts pushing into you. the stretch makes you cringe and hiss, causing him to halt. âhurts?â
you shake your head. âpressure⌠keep going.â
dampening your lips by licking them, he continues to move. his eyes are dead set on your face to sense any discomfort. you let out a âmmphâ when heâs all the way in.
when he doesnât see any bad signs, he starts moving his hips. you moan softly, the pain turning into pleasure.
âyou can go faster,â you whisper, and he does. your nails leave crescent marks on his shoulders as he peppers kisses on your chest, neck, and face.
you squeeze your eyes closed, the softest of sounds leaving your lips. then, your legs twitch, and a watery liquid squirts out of you. your eyes widen, and matt stops the second he notices. âwhatâs wrong? need me to stop?â
âno. i think iâŚâ your cheeks burn, too embarrassed to admit what youâre thinking.
âthatâs okay. itâs completely natural.â he reassures, grabbing one of your hands to interlock with his above your head. âyouâre doing so well, y/n. so fucking proud of you.â
he continues to rock his hips, this time pulling out more and thrusting back in a smidge harder. âoh.â you moan, arching your back when he starts hitting a certain spot. âoh shit, matt. just like that.â
he tries his best not to pick up speed to scare you, so instead he keeps the rhythm youâre comfortable with. he grunts, taking the hand thatâs not holding yours and placing it on your hip.
the grip you have on his hand tightens, indicating that youâre close when his tip keeps abusing your g-spot.
you whimper, your legs starting to quiver from pleasure. âiâm close.â
âcum, baby. youâre doing such a good job.â
you sigh of relief when your cum slowly starts to ooze around him. mattâs right there with you with just a few more thrusts before spilling into the condom.
the feeling of him pulling out of you makes you wince, but then you two giggle. âi did it!â you say proudly, holding up your hand to give him a high five.
he laughs. âdamn right you did.â he takes your high five, followed by a handhold.
đđđ đĽđ˘đŹđ!
@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72
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"You're late" "I know...I'm sorry."
Pairing: Sakusa x Reader
Words: 3k
Content: Sakusa falls out of love with you. You realize it too no matter how much he would like to pretend you don't. Eventually he realizes he was just scared. Hopefully he isn't too late.
a/n: I wrote this because my lovely mutual @hiraethwa asked me for it. I of course had to take the chance to write angst. As you can see I didn't stop myself and it's a bit longer than my stories usually are. I hope you guys enjoy it!
Itâs almost poetic that the things that made you fall in love with someone are the same reasons you fall out of love with them. Their passion for their job turns into fights about not making time for each other. Their cleanliness turns into fights about how you donât do the dishes properly. Them speaking their mind turns into hurtful words that neither can take back. Things that with the right communication wouldnât be so bad. But that was another bad habit the two of you had.
Not talking to each other after getting mad. You were always the one to âfixâ it though. Putting a bandaid on a broken glass never gets rid of the crack though.Â
Sakusa thinks these are the sorts of things that force him to take off his rose tinted glasses, ones that had turned muddy and foggy, and look at you. You leaving the dishes overnight in the sink because work was so exhausting now made him upset. He was exhausted when he got home but still managed to clean up after himself. You drooling in your sleep used to be cute but now all he can think of is how disgusting he feels.Â
You disgust him.Â
He used to let you lay up against him because your touch used to bring him comfort. Now it makes his skin crawl.Â
Youâre not blind. You can see the way he has started to recoil when he thinks youâre going to touch him. The walls of your home have started to lose their warmth. The blankets not holding in their warmth like they used to. You shiver even when the house is set to 80. Sakusaâs cold gaze makes icicles go down your back. The same brown eyes you used to love. The same eyes that used to look at you like you hung the stars.Â
The hands that used to hold you now sit close to his body. The lips that used to kiss yours when he arrived home are gone. He thinks you donât notice. He thinks that you canât see how he forces himself to hold your hand in public. He doesnât want his friends to see what heâs become.
A man who is no longer in love with you. You who used to be the light of his life. His friends arenât stupid. He would like to think they are but they see whatâs going on. They see as your skin turns paler. How your lips are always chapped and broken from biting on them. Itâs at dinner that one of them notices the first petal.Â
The forsaken petals. Komori wants to write it off as just a stray petal from outside that got caught in your hair. He knows better. And so do you. You know whatâs going to happen to you. Youâve started wearing hats.Â
Itâs the petals that also spur on your next fight.Â
âTheyâre everywhere! Where do they keep coming from?â Sakusa says as he picks up another flower petal that was sitting upon the couch. âYou need to stop bringing them in here from wherever youâre getting them.â He never yells but his words hit just the same. It was your fault. It wasnât his fault that he saw what you really were. Just someone who had managed to get him to fall in love with them. That seemed like a lifetime ago. Afterall, bandaids donât fix breaks in glass, liquid still spills.Â
Here was the result of using bandaids to fix things that are broken. Sakusa was still none the wiser of what was going on. You had gotten better at hiding the petals. You had begun placing them in bags. You almost had done something that wouldâve been truly evil. You had almost labelled the bags âWhat is left of meâ and left while he was at work. You couldnât bring yourself to leave no matter how badly you needed to. You loved him.Â
Love really is a fickle thing. Someone who you used to spend every minute with could become a stranger to you again in less than a week. Sakusa felt like a stranger with a familiar face. The man you loved no longer loved you. You werenât entirely sure how much longer you had left. It could be days. It could be weeks. You just knew that eventually there wouldn't be a you to come back to.Â
It seemed everyone but him had realized what was happening. Komori had enough of it. You still had your lunches, it was Komori who had introduced you two afterall. He was still your best friend. He still cared for you. He was sure Sakusa did too. âHe just needs some sense knocked into him.â or âGive him another chance, Iâve never seen him love someone as much as he lov-loves you.â Komori had almost messed up during that sentence. He almost said âlovedâ.Â
He couldnât see his best friend destroy themselves like this anymore. That night he took Sakusa out for dinner. They were going to talk about it until Sakusa realized he did still love you. He was going to realize that you were still the love of his life.Â
âWhat happened.â
âWhat?â
âWhat could they have possibly done to deserve what youâre doing to them?â
âY/N?â He rolls his eyes and sighs. âWhat am I doing to them?âÂ
âTheyâre dying.â Simple and to the point. âTheyâre dying and itâs because of you.â
He scoffs. âWhat are you on about? Theyâre perfectly fine.â
âNo. Theyâre not. Theyâre dying. Why donât you love them anymore? Tell me why.â Komori looks at Sakusa in a serious way. He would answer this question.Â
âI donât know. Theyâre annoying. The things I used to find charming arenât anymore. They never do the dishes, weâre always fighting and they try to ``fixâ it-â he puts quotes around the world. âTaping up a broken window doesnât mean it never broke.â
Komori shakes his head. âThey annoy you? Thatâs what caused you to decide you donât love them anymore? You realize it takes two people to break and fix a relationship.â Him saying that made Sakusa roll his eyes again. He looked out the window. He was starting to tune his cousin out.Â
Sakusa wasnât the problem here. It was that you were too demanding. You were too much. You always wanted more. Volleyball season started up again so he couldnât have as many dates with you. He thought you would be used to it by now. You had been fine with it for the past few years. Why the sudden change now? He thinks back.
The first year of you two being together was perfect. The two of you had communicated what you needed and what you expected. The first time he had missed a date he had texted you not even five minutes later letting you know the situation and that he would try better next time. By the third week of this happening you had learned he wasnât able to focus on two things at once. Or more accurately he couldnât focus on you and volleyball. That was fine. You canât expect to be the center of his universe all the time. He always abologized for the dates he did miss. Once volleyball season was over you found that he was all yours again.Â
By year two you hoped it would be different. It wasnât. Once again it started out fine. Text messages to let you know he wouldnât be able to make it. You still werenât upset enough to really fight about it yet though. He would bring you gifts the next day to apologize. A kiss and a sorry attached to whatever gadget he had gotten you.Â
By year three the gifts made you angry. He had time to go out and get a gift but not enough time to show up for one date? He was tired, you would tell yourself. Itâs not you, heâs just busy. Maybe youâre lazy. Maybe youâre the problem. Maybe he just didnât want to be around someone as needy as you. Who would to be honest? This was the year you had finally brought it up to him. A mistake.Â
âI canât do this Kiyoomi.â
âCanât do what?â
âThis. I know that volleyball is important to you but I want to feel important too.â You pleaded with him.
âYou are. Iâm here right now arenât I? Letâs go on a date now.â He sighed and he turned off the TV and started getting up.
It was no use. He wasnât going to understand. You still felt like an afterthought. You didnât think it would ever change. What was the point of it all? Maybe you should just leave. Maybe then you could find someone who would make you feel like you were enough.Â
This was also the year you downloaded a dating app. You couldnât bring yourself to actually ever open it though. No matter how insignificant you felt you would never do this to him. You couldnât live with yourself if you did this.Â
The app was deleted almost as quickly as it had finished downloading.Â
Maybe what he really needed was just more. More than you had. Someone who was able to understand his love for volleyball. That it was his love first and it would be his last as well. No matter. In a few more months he would be yours again. In a few more months he would act like nothing had ever happened. In a few more months he would apologize with gifts that made your stomach churn and with sweet words that left a bad taste in your mouth.Â
Year four. This year. This was the year that he hadnât come back to you. The year he hadnât returned to being your sweet wonderful boyfriend. You had waited until after volleyball season to plan a date but he had gotten so used to not having them that he had forgotten. He had forgotten about dinner and he had forgotten about you. He hadnât even come home that night. You were sure he hadnât because the dishes were still in the sink. If he had come home he would have done them and then told you off.Â
You waited for three hours before you got the notification. It was from one of his teammates. More specifically that they had posted to their story. You opened it and there he was. In the background drinking with the rest of them. He had left you to go drink. Something he doesnât like to do. Something he obviously liked better than you.Â
Your mother had called you the next day to ask if she should start wedding preparations. You didnât have the heart to tell her your worries. You just laughed with her and told her to hold off for a little longer. You were sure it would be soon. Thatâs what you told her.Â
Now you were dreading the message that she would have to make a different kind of preparation. A funeral. You didnât understand how someone could do this. How he could go from caring and sweet to cold and distant so quickly. You didnât know when you had started to feel numb instead of sad. How the cold eyes that would turn to you stopped making you shiver.Â
You didnât know when you had stopped crying. At some point the tears had stopped and your breathing stopped being labored.Â
Maybe the change wasnât as sudden as he originally thought. Maybe he just hadnât noticed the change until it had already happened. How you stopped planning dates. How you stopped holding his hand as tight. Your eyes had changed. They were once so full of trust and love. Now they were dull. You still held love for him in your eyes, he wasnât sure why. Maybe it was just a joke.Â
He needed to rethink everything now. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He thinks about everything. Why did he start loving you in the first place?Â
He loved how you always surprised him. That you challenged him to be better. You didnât let him off easy just because you liked him. Sure Komori was the one who introduced you but you were the one who chased him. It seems like you never stopped. Now he was even further away than he had started.Â
Nothing more than a stranger who knew your secrets. A person you loved but had changed and not in a way that included you. He thought about why he had started dating you.
Because you were good for him. At some point he softened. He allowed room in his life for another person. One who could see his ups and downs. Because around you he felt safe. He felt loved and he discovered he wanted you to feel that way around him too. He wanted to provide you with safety. He wanted you to feel loved. He wanted you to feel like you were always enough for him.Â
He shakes his head. Funny way of showing it. He had done nothing but put you off since that first year. You had been nothing but supportive. You had understood when he had to miss a date because of practice. Except he didnât have to miss those dates. He chose to. Every time he missed one was of his own accord. He realized he hadnât thought of it as important enough. He hadnât thought of you as important enough.Â
How could he have been this cruel? He didnât think of himself as cruel before this moment. He hadnât really thought about it. He thought it was for the best that he pushed you away until you finally left. He thought it would be too much work to break it off with you from the start. He knows now that you hadnât gone away. He had. He was the one who had started every fight. The one who hadnât communicated his feelings and had outright ignored yours.Â
He thought about why he didnât love you anymore.Â
Because you left dishes in the sink? Was that the best he could come up with? He knew why he decided he didnât love you anymore. Because you made him feel. You made him afraid. You made him feel so safe that he was in a constant state of waiting for it to end.
If he pushed you away first you couldnât do the same to him. If he decided he didnât love you anymore it wouldnât hurt when you did finally leave. He was scared that you would leave. He didnât love you because he was scared you would leave. Now that itâs laid out in front of him he sees how stupid he was. He still has one more realization though.Â
You were dying.Â
Those flower petals he had gotten mad about. They werenât just flower petals. They were the cause of your death. And from the amount of them there had been a week ago, you didnât have much time left. Suddenly he wasnât so calm. How could he be? The person he loved was going to die. And it was his fault. You were going to die because you thought the same thing he had. That he didnât love you anymore.Â
He looked towards Komori with wide eyes. âI think I still love Y/N.âÂ
âYou think?â
Sakusa takes a breath. âIâm in love with Y/N.â
âGo tell them that before youâre too late.âÂ
Sakusa gets up from the table and runs to get a taxi.Â
Youâre laying in your bed. Numb. You laugh bitterly. Right up until the end you loved him. You gave him all of you. How inconsiderate of you to leave such a mess for him to pick up. The same petals that he had just gotten upset over were the petals of the same flower he had gotten you for your first date. The same flowers that started your love were going to finish them.Â
Sakusa was starting to get desperate. He didnât deserve you anymore but he was going to spend the rest of his life trying to mend what he had broken if thatâs what it took. You werenât picking up your phone. âCome on. Pick up. Please, pick up.â
The phone was ringing beside you but you didnât have the energy to reach it. You barely had the energy to keep your eyes open anymore.
Sakusa bursts through the door. His breath is uneven and rapid. He scans the room and sees you nowhere in sight. He looks down and follows the trail of flowers leading to your room. He felt like it was only your room as he rarely slept there anymore. He opens the door and races to your bedside.Â
He grabs your hand and tries to catch his breath. âY/N. Please. Open your eyes. Iâm so sorry.â
Nothing.Â
âPlease. I love you. I know I donât deserve to say that but I do. You deserve so much better than what I have given you. You deserve so much better than I can give you. But I love you. Iâm sorry I was so blind before. Iâm so sorry. Please, forgive me. I canât lose you. I canât lose you because now I know what it feels like to not have you and it made me feel so empty. I know Iâm being so selfish. I donât deserve you. You. Beautiful you who lights up every room theyâre in. You who loved me even though I only kept hurting you. Please Y/N. Open your eyes. I need you. I need you and Iâm sorry that I didnât realize it sooner.â Heâs crying now. He doesnât deserve to shed tears over you because heâs the reason youâre like this. But he does. He holds your hand and he cries.Â
âYouâre late.â A dry, broken voice calls out. His head snaps up. There are those eyes you love so much.Â
âI knowâŚIâm sorry.â
âI canât forgive you yet.â
âI know.â
âI hate you for what you did.â
âI know.â
âBut I still love you. Please. Just. Love me better this time?â
âI will spend every day of the rest of my life proving that I love you. Even if you donât fully forgive me for what Iâve done. I will love you and prove it to you everyday. I promise.â
taglist: @hiraethwa @sanaexus
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WHAT ARE THEIR TOXIC TRAITS?
(GENDER NEUTRAL READER AS ALWAYS<3)
Mizu
ËĘâĄÉË pushes you away, overprotective
ËĘâĄÉËMizu does not want to lose you, or get too attached. itâs a difficult decision for her and she hates herself for pushing you away so much
ËĘâĄÉËMizu believes you would be better off, but she knows that she wouldnât be.
ËĘâĄÉËno matter how much you try to get her to open up, itâs going to take her a long time.
ËĘâĄÉËMizu feels as if anyone could take you from her, she canât stand the thought of it.
ËĘâĄÉËshe worries about you, day and night. Whether youâre asleep next to her, or somewhere else with Ringo or Taigen.
ËĘâĄÉËMizu likes to keep her eye on you, or have someone she trusts with you.
TAIGEN
ËĘâĄÉËjealousy, envy
ËĘâĄÉËtaigen loves you more than anything, seeing you talking with someone else no matter who it is, makes his heart feel all weird.
ËĘâĄÉËalthough taigen knows that you wouldnât cheat on him or any of the sort, he has his doubts.
ËĘâĄÉËif you ask him about it or tell him to knock it off, heâll bite back with a cocky remark, trying to keep his own ego up
ËĘâĄÉËtaigen doesnât like to know that youâre better at something that he is passionate about
ËĘâĄÉËhe gets bitter, and works even harder to be better than you
ËĘâĄÉËhe snaps whenever you tease him about something heâs passionate about when youâre better than him at that specific thing. Of course he doesnât mean to be this way, he loves you. And is proud of you whenever you accomplish something. He canât help it either way.
AKEMI
ËĘâĄÉËanger, ignores you, guilt trip
ËĘâĄÉËsometimes, akemis anger gets the better of her. She lashes out at you.
ËĘâĄÉËakemi will ignore you when sheâs angry, and will not come to you until sheâs ready
ËĘâĄÉËwhich could be awhile..
ËĘâĄÉËif you even try to speak to her just for a second she will walk past you like your just a servant.
ËĘâĄÉËif you do something that akemi does not like, she will use some kind of excuse to pull you away from it.
ËĘâĄÉËshe wonât go overboard as she has her own limits, but sheâll try to persuade you as much as she can.
ËĘâĄÉËakemi was lucky enough to be with you, and she wants to take advantage of that. her father could never allow it, so sheâs trying to be the best she can.
ËĘâĄÉËshe loves you, and can be overbearing sometimes, but she definitely has her good moments.
(HI POOKIES!! Itâs currently 2 am and I am so glad I got this doneđ anyways I hope you guys are doing wellâŚI lowkey canât believe the amount of attention my writing has been getting and Iâm so grateful for itâŚto those who celebrate, happy early thanksgiving!! HOPE YOU ENJOYED PLEASE SEND ME REQUESTS IM DYING)
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date. april 8th, 2023
time. 8:59pm
ââđđđđđđ đđđđđ đđđđ.â
đŹđ˛đŠđ§đ¨đŹđ˘đŹ. FUTURESPOUSEPAC . . . a message from them.
đđ˘đ. if the images above are too hard to differentiate between your intuition, use âpile 1, 2, 3, or 4â for the choice selection instead. this reading has four piles. pic not included.
đđ˘đŹđđĽđđ˘đŚđđŤ. 18+ contentâno minors. please remember, this post is just for shits and giggles. use the best of your discernment, pinch that grain of salt. and although i write under the impression that majority of this contentâs viewers are women, i do read for feminine and masculine energies. if needed to, please flip the roles as reversed for an accurate message. hope this reading is useful, but not for plagiarism bitch. enjoy.âŚ
đŠđ˘đĽđ đ¨đ§đ
đ movement retrograde. sweetness retrograde. faith. rest.
đđĄđđ˘đŤ đŚđđŹđŹđđ đ
ââ. âi want it whenever i can get it. idc whoâs around, i donât give two shits about whoâs looking. youâre the only person i ever want to have and knowing that i can have it? whenever we want? broad day, pitch black at night, at a park, at a concert, in the car it doesnât matter and it never will. im going to shove my dick so far into you itâs going to come out of your mouth, thatâs how carnal i am for you. my soul burns for you, im running off of petroleum gas at this very moment. youâre a diamond in the fucking rough. i mean, the faces you make when you cum are just . . . im so pleased, so blessed to have you as mine. to call you my lover, my one and onlyânot many have the pleasure of doing so, but i do.â
ââ. âiâd run ass naked up and down the street just to proclaim my feelings for you. youâre divine, youâre special, you make my crotch tight and my cheeks warm. iâd fuck you for hours upon hours, just to hear your moans. the same moans that remind me of the melody to a favorite song, the one iâll keep on repeat because i never want them to end. keep your eyes open during sex, i want you to watch me have my way with you. to see the things i do to your body, the same things that make your insides twitch. moving back and forth, up and down, all around and through nirvana just to end it all in rehab. youâll never want me to go, and i never will. iâll even stay inside for a few minutes after, because i donât want to leave us either.â
ââ. âi love you, but above that i lust eternally for you. love is nothing for us, but only because it was always a givenâiâll never stop loving you. itâs just during sex, the way i want to give all of my strength and trust into it, thatâs something vulnerable for me. something different and new. but iâm willing to share that, without complaint too, because youâre mine. one person made special just for me, itâs natural that i show my appreciation. i want you to feel the way i feel for you, but through my actions more than my words. understand our connection with each act of pleasure i bring upon you, so on and so forth.â
ââ. âiâm always available to make love, to fuckâto tangle the sheets and wring out the perspiration from our bodies. making you cum constantlyâendlessly, without losing stamina and without the thought of it having to end. scream for me, cry for me, moan for meâmost of all, cum for me. do all those things and more doll, and promise to never stop.â
end.â¤ď¸âđĽ
previous reading
đŠđ˘đĽđ đđ°đ¨
đ passion retrograde. creativity. abundance. confidence.
đđĄđđ˘đŤ đŚđđŹđŹđđ đ
ââ. âgive me that pussy. that sweet, tight, warm cunt. i want it all over meâmy face, my thigh, hell even my stomach, i donât mind my love. iâll be gentle, whether thatâs taking it nice and slow or hard and fastâwhatever pace you need. donât ever be afraid to tell me what you desire, or better yet, take control of me because itâs yours. my cock has your name printed on it in red ink, signed by yours truly.â
ââ. âthe sight when youâre naked, the swell of your breasts down to the curve of your thighs, it makes my heart clench. even the tips of your feet get me going. never stop riding me, lock your legs around my waist and bounce on me all damn day. cum in my mouth, cum on my clothes, cum on my fucking faceâiâll eat it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. youâre gorgeous, but even more so outside of the sex. i donât care what people say, i donât give a damn about what they think either. itâs you that i want and i want you right here, right fucking now.â
ââ. âstrip for me, baby. pull off your shirt as i watch with my thick cock in hand. unclasp your bra, slide the straps from your shoulders, let it tumble to the floor. iâll gasp at the gentle bounce of your breast, in awe at their beauty, before attacking them with my mouth. youâre my inspiration, the blueprint of the worldâs desires. made for usâwe all want a part of your essence to bring home for bragging rights. want to see your body shine under the spotlight, showcasing as aphroditeâs favorite, nothing but glitter and gold. on display as heavenâs angel. stand just like that so youâll never fall.â
ââ. âshow the others what theyâll never touch, the parts of you that theyâll only be able to dream of. the same parts that iâve been trusted enough to feel, to love and appreciate. yes . . . like that baby, donât stop. show me how much of a blessing it is to have the emulation of a goddess at arms length. how much of an honor it is, keeping the place thatâd be gone and up for grabs if you decided to cut me loose. i wonât fuck this up, at least not again. i know what i have, and iâll always need it in order to survive. you.â
end.â¤ď¸âđĽ
previous reading
đŠđ˘đĽđ đđĄđŤđđ
đ happiness. intuition. magic retrograde. illumination retrograde.
[tw â somnophilia] this is a channeled scenario from your person but if this theme isnât comfortable for reading i suggest choosing another pile!
đđĄđđ˘đŤ đŚđđŹđŹđđ đ
ââ. âi watch you sleep, you know. itâs hard not to, hearing the soft breaths escape your lips as the shadow of peace drapes upon your face. bathed in the comfort of being home, youâre content at last. sleeping, embracing the idea that nothing could interrupt the state of winding down. nothing at allâexcept me. fingers tracing along the hem of your underwear, dancing across the design pattern, before pulling the band of them and letting it pop against your skin. itâs kinda funnyâmore adorable if anything, the flutter of your lashes at the slight sting below your abdomen.â
ââ. âi do this all the time, or at least when itâs essential. when weâre both aware of how much you need it, iâll tease away the sleepiness until itâs desolate and gone. youâd never guess it was real, the heat from an open mouth as it warms the center of your panties. that same mouth, dampening the fabric before placing sloppy kisses along the seams. youâll whimper, tossing and rubbing as youâre mindlessly wondering what the hell kind of dream is this? why does it feel extra real, and why are your hands thrashing to grip at the pillows?â
ââ. âmmm, mmhm,â will fall from the lush of your lips, disrupting the quiet of the night with natural reaction. youâre spurring me on, you little minx. encouraging me to keep going, urging me to fuck with your innocence some more. to turn vulnerability into utter rapture. and i will baby, of course i will. youâll be conscious at this point, blinking more than twice for obvious reasons, seconds before your face turns into disbelief and tempted half lids. feels good, doesnât it? i know it does, you donât even need to utter a wordâthat moanâll suffice.â
ââ. âteasing becomes eating, eating until weâre impatient for the rest, until youâre frustrated from not being stuffed full with the other parts. oh yeah, babyâyouâre definitely awake now. up and at âem, waiting for me to finish whatâs began, waiting for me to send your precious body to sleep once more.â
end.â¤ď¸âđĽ
previous reading
đŠđ˘đĽđ đđ¨đŽđŤ
đ caution retrograde. trust. isolation retrograde. mystery.
đđĄđđ˘đŤ đŚđđŹđŹđđ đ
ââ. âour kisses, the taste itself, intoxicate the sobriety of my mind. your mouth, placing the sweetest of sins against mine. iâm left to fend for myself, to stand on trembling legs, stumbling around the reality that is usâproceeding with caution. those lips, diluted in gloss or whatever else that has them shining brighter than a star. drenched in angel dust, sprinkled from the fingers of God himself, urging me to come and get blessed. and blessed i be, for i never want these moments to end.â
ââ. âi canât stop thinking about those sounds, those kitten mewls that send my brain cells into overdrive. canât forget the trail of poised hands rubbing and wrapping around my neck to pull me closer. youâre incredible. the sweetest thing since candied apples, just as youâre hell on earth. damn you, damn this feeling. damn the air thickening around us, damn the temperature rising in time with our heartbeats. i feel my chest concave when you go, the same way i feel it inflate when you walk into the room. engulf me with your presence, take me and never let me goâdonât let the others take me from you.â
ââ. âi want to be attached to your hips just as my hands are, how they know where home is when they grab at your waist and pull you in. pushing you against my abdomen to give your own hands some room, to let them run over the hem of my zipper before pulling away. iâd offer to finish the job for you, to fling my shirt and pants to the floor, but thatâd ruin the fun wouldnât it? the fun behind the tease, the persona of being daddyâs girlâspoiled and bratty, naughty not nice.â
ââ. âhard as hell to tame, but thatâs the excitement itself. eyes going slender and sultry, bottom lip being bitten, hair tossed to glance over one shoulderâi feel ill, hot flashes and stomach turns, because youâre my kryptonite. tbh, you take all my breath away and funnily enough, i donât want it back. itâs an eye for an eye, swapping out my oxygen for your full devotion. as long as iâm with you, iâll never need to breathe again. to have and to hold forever.â
end.â¤ď¸âđĽ
previous reading
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High Infidelity
Summary: There are many different ways that you could kill the one you love, the slowest way is never loving them enough. So what happens when you find someone who was all too willing to give you thee attention you craved, you said you'd only dip your toes into the idea, and yet, you find yourself already drowning. The novel you've been writing has been in progress for the better half of two years now, your writer's block beating you up, and your husband hasn't shown you any sympathy. Maybe a visit to the art exhibit from this new artist would jog your creativity, but what happens when this new artist offers you more than just relief from your writer's block?
Characters/Pairing(s): Xu Minghao (The8) x F!Reader
Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff
AUs/Trope info: Non-idol!AU, Aged-Up!AU, Right Person (not) Too Late
Word Count: 10.6k
Warnings: Infidelity, very inappropriate conversations with a married woman, afab!reader, wears dresses, lmk if i miss something!! (Smut warnings under the cut)
Rating: 18+
A/N: banner and dividers by @daemour!! tysm!! This is also a rewrite/reupload of my own fic, "High Infidelity" on @pyeonghongrie, yes I reskinned my own fic.
A/N 2: Thanks to @nebulousbrainsoup, @kwanisms, @the-boy-meets-evil, @wooahaeproductions, and @gongiz for beta-reading!
Smut Warnings: tipsy sex (not drunk), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, nipple stimulation, masturbation, lmk if i missed anything!
The rain soaked into your skinâcold and icyâpiercing you painfully. All your personal belongings were strewn all around you, and your soon-to-be ex-husband was angrily slamming the door shut, but you couldn't help but feel relieved.
After all, you were finally free.
"I'm right here, honey, I love you." He whispers into your skin, slowly unbuttoning your shirt, one button at a time. He kisses your skin every time new skin is revealed to both of you, he kisses your skin so delicately as if you'd break at the slightest touch-
"Y/N, you still haven't dealt with the dishes yet." Your husband, Haru, said monotonously just as you were starting to gain momentum in your writing.
You groan, the interruption making you lose focus and motivation to write. You stare at the last word on your document, gaze burning into each pixel as if hoping that this piece would write itself.
Unfortunately, life said, "Fuck you."
With another groan, you rub and pinch the bridge of your nose, a headache starting to settle in as your husband returns to work as if he didn't just cause you a serious inconvenience.
Standing from your comfortable computer chair, you take calm and even strides toward your kitchen, where only a handful of dishes are left in the sink.
And this little shit didn't even bother washing like, what? 8 dishes? He has to be kidding me, men.
You thought to yourself, your inner monologue only making you more irritated. But you wash them in silence, thinking of ways to calm down and clear your head so you have a clean slate to work with to get inspired again.
I think I should visit the gallery again, there's this new artist that I've been following. He's getting pretty popular, maybe I could draw inspiration from his work?
You think maybe this is the best idea you've had since you put bacon bits on mac & cheese.
Taking the time to visit this gorgeous gallery was the correct move.
Xu Minghao is a passionate man, you can see his dedication to his craft in all the pieces in this gallery. He was a mixed media artist, sometimes his work was pops of color on a canvas, others were sculptures made of clay, made with the most delicate of hands, and others were more niche, like the stained glass piece in another part of the gallery.
One thing about Minghao's work is that his subjects are also subjects of passion.
Paintings of a man's devotion to worshiping his lover's skin, a stained glass recreation of The Birth of Venus by Botticelli, and his latest masterpiece, simply titled "Passion", a sculpture of a woman in the throes of pleasure, with her lover holding her close to him, no gap between their skin, eternally locked in a passionate embrace.
As a romance writer, this is exactly what you need.
You take in this sculpture, the light of the gallery display emphasizing the delicate attention to detail this piece had, you know the man who made this takes pride in this, his work, skills, and dedication finally being realized.
You stare in awe at this piece for a little over 20 minutes, the more you look at it, the more entranced you become of the mastery of this craft.
You feel a presence beside you, a man around 5'11", slightly muscular build, in a turtleneck with glasses sitting delicately on his nose. He has a peculiar hairstyle, a mullet to be exact, and the most gorgeous face you've ever laid your eyes on.
"I see you like this piece in particular," He started, hands in his trouser pockets while smiling fondly at the piece, "'Passion' was a difficult piece for me to finish, ironically enough, I got bored of it quite easily." He continues, turning to face you.
"I'm Minghao, by the way, Xu Minghao. If you haven't already figured it out." He takes a hand out of his pocket, extending it towards you.
"Oh, I'm Y/N, Park Y/N. It's a pleasure to meet you, Minghao. Your exhibit is astounding, I love your dedication to your work." You take his hand to shake it,
He chuckles at the compliment, "Oh please, save your praise, I know that name from anywhere. I love your latest work, that book was what inspired this entire collection, to begin with."
You gawk at him, oh my god, he reads smut. My smut.
"Oh my, what an honor! I'm glad you also enjoy my work." You receive the compliment gracefully, "Although, I do want to hear more about why you got bored of this piece in particular, such a wonder to the arts community, surely you aren't downplaying your work?"
He smiles, perfect teeth on display, you swear youâve never looked at a man like this in your life. You were down bad for his smile.
"I'm not saying I think it's bad, I just got bored of the creative process." He explains, "Although I do want to continue adding to this collection, perhaps we can go and get drinks together? Exchange ideas?" he offers.
You ponder on this for a bit. Going out to drinks with a budding friend wouldn't hurt, right?
"Could I give you my number? Let's set aside a day to chat. I have to get home to my husband before it gets too late."
A smirk came into his face, something dark about a seemingly insignificant change in his expression, âOf course, I look forward to our time together.â
The mug in your hands warmed your palms, and your focus was fixated on the man in front of you. He talked about another piece of his, titled âLongingâ; it was heavily inspired by his desire to find someone who shares the same passion as him, the longing to hold someone in a way that nobody else could, intimacy in its purest form.
âIt sounds a bit pathetic, Iâm known for my work in the art of passion and, to put it simply, sex; but I havenât been able to find the company of a lover myself. Perhaps thatâs just the consequence of being a hopeless romantic. Then again, you wouldnât know the feeling of being lonely, I assume.â He said calmly, a small chuckle ending his tangent.
âOh I wouldnât say that,â You look into the mug in your hands, your reflection swirling in the tea. Your face looks back at you, eyes sunken in and sad, âTo put it nicely⌠my husband robs me of solitude, but fails to offer me company.â You shouldnât be talking about Haru like this. Your husband works many hours, tirelessly providing you with the house and connections for you to pursue a career in writing. But that wasnât the reason why your anxiety was swirling in your stomach.
Looking back up at Minghao, the same dark expression sits on his face, a minuscule smirk, barely there even if you squint, âWell, weâre friends now, arenât we? I could keep you company.â
That. That was a quality of his that you noticed fairly early on. You can never read his true intentions, suggestive prose with just enough deniability to gracefully reject him without the conversation becoming inappropriate.
But your anxiety wasnât caused by that, no, it was caused by the fact that you didnât want to reject him.
âIâd like that, Maybe we could head to a bar and get drinks there too? My husband wonât be back for a few months because of a business trip in a few weeks. I could use the company.â You say, looking at him through your lashes; he knows his effect on you, and the mental gymnastics that both of you play over the table was just appropriate enough that to anyone listening, itâs just two friends agreeing to get drinks sometime in the future.
But to both of you, well, only the two of you know whatâll happen once the sun goes down.
âOf course, my schedule is free for the rest of the month. Be sure to think of me if you need company.â He offers you a soft smile, directly contrasting how intensely heâs making eye contact with you. The way heâs looking into your eyes makes you feel vulnerable like heâs directly using them as windows into your head. Youâre half-convinced he could read your mind, if he could, heâs a master at hiding it.
You havenât learned much about him, but from what you do know, you can never take his words at surface level, much less his actions. The way heâs leaning over the table, elbows on the surface, and his shoulders relaxed. His closing the distance, even if just by a hair, and the way his posture suggested the epitome of familiarity, shook you to your core.
His presence is almost suffocating, his dominance over your mind silencing whatever protest his suggestions may have created. You nod dumbly, âOf course, be warned though, I think of you a lot.â This causes his smile to relax into a smirk, the kind that could pass off as a smile if you donât think too hard about it.
âIâm glad to hear that. I think about you a lot too.â He says picking up his cup of tea, âSo much that a collection was born from the thought of you.â He takes a sip from the cup in his hands, eyes meeting yours over the rim of the cup, the way he holds eye contact with you always makes goosebumps litter your skin, the cup hiding the growing smirk on his face, silently enjoying his effect on you.
âAh, speaking of the collection,â He started again, after setting the cup down, âWould you do me the honor of visiting my studio sometime? Iâll text you the address right now, you can come by at any time if youâre interested.â Taking his phone out from his pocket, feeling your phone vibrate in your pocket, you pick it up. The small device, usually light, feels like a heavy weight on your palm.
Opening your messages, you see that Minghao already sent the address, a building about 20 minutes from the cafe youâre in right now. âLovely, could I trouble you to pick me up when I decide to visit?â You ask,
âOf course,â He replies, a gentle smile stretches across his face, âIâd love nothing more than to see you more often.â
The first time you entered Minghaoâs studio, it felt like a dream. The studio wasnât small by any means, the place was neat, neater than what you imagined any artist studio would look like. âMake yourself at home, Iâll brew some tea for us,â Minghao said as he took both your coats. Hanging the heavy fabrics on his coat rack, he gently guides you to the couches with a hand on your back, the light touch helping to ground you in this new environment.
He shoots you a quick smile before turning his back to you, setting his electric kettle to boil the water at the perfect temperature for tea. He rummages through his extensive tea set collection, settling on a simple white ceramic set with wooden handles. His eyes meet yours briefly, taking note of how you watch his every movement with care and curiosity, the way you were fascinated with the way his hand veins jumped every time he set a piece of the tea set down.
The kettle finishes boiling, he finally sets it down next to the tea set. âI want to introduce you to this teacake that my friend from home sent me,â He pulls out a teacake about the size of his head from the drawer under the table, wrapped in a slightly stained paper. He carefully unwraps it to show you the rich brown of the aged tea leaves, âThis is a 15-year-old aged puâer, I havenât had the chance to try it yet, so Iâd like to try this with you.â
âWhat an honor, I read from a recent interview that you were waiting for a good day to taste that right?â You ask, trying to gauge his reaction, if heâs surprised, he doesnât show it,
âOf course, making a new friend is a special occasion, isnât it? Iâd consider that a good day.â He replies cooly, taking a tea knife and carving out a piece of tea to steep for a second, you watch as he delicately handles the porcelain set, the control in his movements reminding you of his mastery in sculpting, âYou know, making tea is much like cultivating a new relationship,â he starts as he stands up to take the kettle off the stand.
âYou carefully carve out your leaves, boil your water to the perfect temperature to bloom them, and steep the leaves a few seconds at a time.â You see him pour the water over the tea leaves, dried blades blooming like flowers under the delicate stream. âEach steep of tea is different, starting from the bloom until the flavor develops; and only then will you appreciate the true complexities of what tea has to offer.â
A small smile grows on your face as you watch him pour the first bloom onto his tea pets, âIf my assessment is correct, youâre trying to correlate the developing flavors of tea with how our relationship is progressing?â He nods, confirming your hypothesis, âThen, Iâll ask you a question, which steep are we on?â you say with a cheeky smile.
Minhao grins at this, eyes almost disappearing with how wide his smile was, âLiterally? The second steep.â He says as he pours more water over the leaves, you let out a chuckle at his little joke, âFiguratively? The fifth.â
You tilt your head a bit, âThe fifth? I didnât realize we were already at that stage.â you say as you accept his offer of a teacup.
He chuckles, âWell, I donât just share my most expensive teas with anyone, so I might as well share it with one of the most brilliant minds I know.â he said while bringing the cup to his lips, sipping the drink carefully while making eye contact with you over the rim, winking playfully.
You raise your cup as well, the rising steam not being the only reason for your flushed face, you grin against the rim of your cup, savoring the rich and deep aroma of the high-quality tea.
After a while of banter and small talk, you finish your tea, setting down your cup gently on his expensive-feeling coffee table, he stands from his seat, âCould I show you something?â he said, holding his hand out to you. You place your palm on his, the warmth from his hand seeping into your skin. The touch was negligible, simple, even, but the contact with his skin sent electricity through you, like a violent jolt of excitement.
Minghao notices this and smirks, feeling pride swell up in his chest as he pulls you up from the couch, leading you to the other side of the room with a hand on the small of your back. He finally stops in front of a large canvas, laid across what looks like a bare-bones bed frame. You turn to him, curiosity growing on the expression of your face.
âWhatâs this? This looks fairly new, the paint on the frame still seems wet.â You ask, eyes raking over the splotches of color seemingly placed without much thought or care, it looked like the aftermath of a messy and angry paint spill.
âIt is new,â Minghao starts, âIâm trying a new technique where I release frustrations by getting whatever paint catches my eye and throwing cups of it without much thought.â He shrugs, nothing particularly of note, but you do notice the amount of emotion that is in the piece.
âItâs not an elegant piece, but for a collection centered around passion I find it missing raw emotion.â He runs his hand through his face, frustration taking over his features, something you noticed early on was his emotions were closely tied to whatever art was around him, it seems as though the frustration in this one was affecting him at this moment.
âYes, the human form and sex are great subjects, but pure, raw emotion is hard to capture.â He mumbled, eyebrows furrowing. âSo, thatâs why I invited you here. Tell me, as someone whoâs written longing, despair, and everything in between. How does this make you feel?â
You pause and take in his words, turning back to the canvas and trying to soak in the colors, the shapes, and the emotion behind this piece. Yes, frustration is here. Yes, anger is here. But how does it make you feel?
âIt makes me feel like Iâm missing out on something.â You say simply, your stomach sinking just thinking about what that might entail. Minghao has a genuine look of shock for the first time since youâve met him. His head tilted to give his attention to you fully.
âReally? Interesting. Thatâs the first time I heard that about this piece specifically.â He said with a lopsided grin, seemingly getting a new stroke of genius with your answer. He looks back at the canvas too, shoulders shaking from his restricted laughs. Your answer seemed to entertain him a lot. That much you can figure out, but you can never be sure what goes on in the mind of Xu Minghao.
Just then, your phone starts to ring, you only know one person who would call you at this hourâyour Husband. You watch as the expression on Minghaoâs face falls, face contorting into something short of a scowl for a split second before settling on his usual cool neutral expression. It was so quick that you barely missed the change, it happened so quickly that you decided it was all in your imagination as you ran to answer the phone.
You pick up the phone, âHi honey-â You were cut off by your husband speaking,
âGet home, itâs getting late and you havenât started dinner yet.â He said simply, before promptly dropping the call.
You stand there, the line going dead as you try to hold back tears. You take a deep breath, too afraid to show your face to Minghao in case tears were about to fall from your face. Grabbing your coat, you turn to face the door.
âThank you for inviting me over, I have to get home now,â you said, your voice a little shaky, as you roughly opened the door.
You were out of his sight as Minghao stood alone in his studio, pondering. As silence took over the space, a dark smirk on his face.
'How long before you break?' he wonders.
The next time you and Minghao meet, youâre sitting on a park bench watching the autumn leaves dance to the silent song in the wind. Youâre pulled out of your thoughts when you hear leaves crunch beside you, seeing the tail of Minghaoâs long coat swaying in the wind.
He sees you, a smile spreading across his face, his long hair almost covering his face. His fast-paced walking makes the leaves crunch under his weight rhythmically. You think that he looks beautiful under the soft brightness of the autumn morning, only ever seeing him in the harsh rays of high noon or the constant humming of fluorescent lights.
You feel the heat radiating off his body through your and his coats as he sits next to you on the park bench. âBeautiful morning, the view is exquisite.â He says, looking directly at you. You giggle at this, heâs always been such a charmer ever since you met him. You peel the notebook from your lap, âIâm no artist, but the park is too gorgeous this time of year to not at least try to capture on paper.â you say as you open it to show him a relatively crude sketch of the scenery.
âOh? This feels like a threat to my career.â He says with a chuckle, âBut, genuinely, this is an amazing sketch. Are you sure you arenât an artist?â You think you could get used to how relaxed you were around Minghao, conversations with him flowed so easily, it reminds you of the times your husband used to be invested in you as a person. Perhaps it was easier to compare the thrill of meeting a new person with feeling the start of a romantic spark, it was a dangerous game to play with him.
âNo, Iâm not, but I can appreciate a masterpiece when I see one.â You say, this time looking at him. He notices this and laughs at the fact that his joke is being used against him. He closes the notebook, handing it to you to put in your tote bag.
âThe weather is perfect for a walk, care to join me?â He said, offering his hand for you to take. You accept the offer, the warmth of his palm being something to ground you on such a dreamy morning. Leaves crunch under both your weights in synch, your hand moves from his to hold onto his arm, and you try not to notice the lean muscle of it or the steady and secure way he guides you through the path.
You breathe in the autumn chill, enjoying the comfortable silence that followed the quiet whistle of the wind. âYour book,â Minghao said, his silky voice cutting through the silence effortlessly, âThe one that inspired the collection, Iâve been following your publisherâs updates on the series, and I was wondering if you'd be able to share your progress on the second book?â
âAh, about that.â You grimace, and you shake your head, quelling the urge to complain about your husbandâs lack of sympathy for your predicament. âMaybe Iâll tell you another time, itâs not something I can talk about at the moment.â
Before you can correct the old man, Minghao speaks up, âOf course, could I take three of these?â He said, pointing at the basket of Jonquils.
He hums, luckily, Minghao was never the type to pry, âI get it, ever the tortured poet you are.â he said in a joking tone, you let out a chortle at this, agreeing that you may or may not be one.
Both of you are stopped by a flower vendor, âYou both are a lovely pair,â The old man starts, as he turns to Minghao, he asks, âCould I interest you in some flowers? Iâm sure your lady would appreciate them.â He smiles.
âOf course, youâre in luck too, these are the last off-season flowers I had in my greenhouse.â the old man said as his nimble fingers wrapped the flowers in some yellow tissue paper.
âI'm really lucky indeed.â He agreed while looking at you, your cheeks warming up at the implication. Minghao accepts the flowers and happily pays for them, gracefully handing the bundle to you.
Holding onto the stems, your fingertips graze over the delicate petals of the bright yellow flowers. âThank you Minghao, they're beautiful.â
He smiles at the way you look at the flowers fondly, simply adoring the way your face lit up; literally, the yellow from the flowers reflected off your face and gave it a yellow hue.
âShall we continue to walk?â He asks, offering his arm for you to hold again, you hold onto it, the flowers in your other hand. And you let the silence take over again.
Before you knew it, you've spent the entire day laughing and talking with Minghao, only stopping at several vendors for food and other trinkets, feeding the ducks berries, and watching the fish in the pond.
But the day has to end at some point.
You regretfully leave Minghao at the train station, waving goodbye through the glass of the train doors as you watch his figure get smaller and smaller.
Arriving home, you try to find a vase to put your flowers in, setting it down on the kitchen counter, your husband walks in and sees them.
âThey're ugly, don't put them anywhere where I could see them.â
He said coldly, you try your best not to scoff at him, still searching for a vacant vase.
Finally finding one, you decide to place the flower vase on the windowsill of your office, the bright flowers contrasting everything else in the room, the dark and neutral furniture your husband got for you.
You jolt, realizing you're comparing your husband to another man.
You expected guilt to eat you up at the realization, but really, you couldn't find a reason to keep defending Haru.
âCould you come over to the studio later tonight? I don't think I should be alone.â
This text from Minghao worried you a bit, you've been spending a lot of time with him recently, you met him 6 more times after he got you flowers at the park, and you never noticed that he could deal with something so sinister.
Of course, you agree to come, your closest confidant in your adult life needs you right now. You wait for your husband to fall asleep in his office, again, before you leave the house, walking to the end of the block before calling a cab.
Arriving at his studio, you already knew the code, punching in the numbers 150526 on the smart lock, the studio opens with a click.
You take cautious steps into the studio, seeing the silhouette of a man on the couch, his back towards the door, nursing what you assume is a wine glass in his hand.
He turns his head to face the door, âYou came.â He said, with relief in his voice, a little slurred from the alcohol you assume.
âYou called.â You replied. Shrugging off your coat to hang, you join him on the couch. He looked a lot more disheveled compared to the usual clean and put-together Minghao that you know.
His hair is slicked back, some pieces of hair falling onto his face, his tie loosened, his shirt unbuttoned to reveal his collarbones and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. And glasses resting lowly on his nose.
You look at his face, and you notice dark circles around his eyes.
âDrink, and stay with me. Please.â He asks, no, almost begs you. You don't have the heart to decline. He pours you your glass and you both toast your glasses together.
You take the normal sip and he downs the rest of his, taking in a deep breath as if to steady himself. âY/N, there's something I need to tell you.â
Your stomach drops at this, anxiety filling the pit of it as you nervously wait for the rest of what he has to say.
âI think I'm in love with-â he pauses, âsomeone I shouldn't be in love with.â He finishes, leaning forward to pour himself another glass of wine.
Your face falls only slightly, a minuscule change in expression that neither you nor Minghao catch. You cross your hands over your lap as soon as you realize your silence.
âWhy can't you be in love with them?â You ask. Your head tilts as you take another sip of your wine. He hums, a smile graces his lips, but it doesn't seem to reach his eyes.
âThey refuse to be vulnerable with me, opening up throughout our time together then closing back in the next time I see them.â He says with some fondness, âAlso, they're married to someone else.â
âYou probably should've led with that.â You mumble lowly, âI see, I know that all too well, wanting someone you can't have, someone so close yet so far. It's suffocating, especially when you haven't felt like yourself in so long, and then this person comes around and gives color back to your sad, gray, life. It's cruel, actually.â
You realize you've been rambling, turning to meet Minghao's eyes, you notice an emotion swirling behind them, something bittersweet, a realization that may change the course of your relationship.
âAnyway, how did you end up falling for them in the first place?â You ask in an attempt to bring the conversation back to him,
âWell, at first it was just a cure for boredom, I saw how receptive they were to my advances and I thought their marriage served as a fun, harmless challenge for me. But I got to know them, spend time with them, I got to witness the color come back into their face and I couldn't help but find it beautiful. That fact that I did that, bring color back into their face, slowly becoming someone again. The moment I saw their face light up with a simple gift I knew I was down, down bad.â
You hum, thinking the person Minghao was talking about is one of the luckiest people in the world right now. To be loved by him was like witnessing Orpheusâ choiceless grief that drove him to save his lover from the underworld, it was like feeling the devotee's dread-filled need to turn around, it was like experiencing the immediate forgiveness of Eurydice.
You wanted to be loved by him.
You both continue to chat and drink, and it isn't long before the two of you finish your second bottle of wine, Minghao offers to pay for your cab home, and he decides he's going to sleep in his studio.
You reflect on the events of that night as you slip into the cold covers of your marital bed, your husbandâs side tidy as it was for the past month.
You run your hand over the pristine and cold sheet, imagining someone else filling its space on your bed, as he does your heart.
Minghao added a new piece to his collection, his gallery is still a work in progress and you walk through familiar doors. The very same statue you were entranced by still sits by the entrance, and you see a very familiar figure standing in front of it.
âI feel like this already happened before.â You said cheekily, he snorts at this, handing you a paper bag with tissue paper peeking from the top.
âMaybe this happened before in a dream, maybe we were destined to meet under the judgemental fluorescent lights.â He jokes as you feel the weight of the bag on your fingers.
âWhat's in the bag, Hao?â You ask cautiously, mischief flashing on his face before he fully turns his body to you, giving you his full attention.
âIt's something you might like, maybe.â He said, his confidence faltering toward the end of his sentence. Tucking his hands into his trouser pockets, he eagerly waits for you to open the semi-heavy bag.
You carefully move the paper to the side of the bag, seeing white porcelain peaking back at you, you whip your head with with your face showing an expression of surprise. Minghao smiles, enjoying your reaction to his gift.
âYou got me a tea set? That's so thoughtful, thank you.â You say with a smile, inspecting the frog patterns in the glaze.
âYou mentioned your husband is leaving for a business trip soon, so I figured you'd like a set so we can have tea at your place. I'll even bring you a teacake to keep.â He said as he pulled a hand out of his trousers, fixing a stray hair that fell from your up-do.
âIt's perfect, thank you.â You said, looking up at him, a smile still on your face.
âDo you want to walk around the gallery with me? I added a few pieces since then, and I'd like to talk about them.â he said, offering his arm. You wrap another hand around him, the familiarity of his arm under your palm giving you a sense of calm.
You spent the rest of the day walking around the gallery and chatting, other gallery-goers openly gawked at Minghao. It was obvious, really, the artist is here in the flesh, and he's gorgeous.
Minghao stopped to entertain other guests too, seeing him in his element made pride swell in your chest. His work, and by extension him, is finally being recognized by more people in the community. His hard work and dedication paid off handsomely.
Stopping in front of a mural, you noticed it was a replica of a really old painting. A painting of Ares and Aphrodite getting caught by Hephestus.
âOof, poor bastards.â You joke, Minghao found this funny too, chuckling with you.
âItâs almost comical how this painting compelled me. I don't know what drove me to recreate the thing as a whole mural, but we both know I'm a little crazy.â He says with a playful groan, you try to hold back a loud laugh by giggling into your palm.
âWell, dear Xu Minghao, everyone knows crazy people are geniuses.â squeezing his arm, you check out the side of his face. His side profile was so sharp and soft at the same time, the dichotomy of his features was an easy subject to study. He's a gorgeous man, too gorgeous for his own good you think.
You both sat down on the bench in front of the mural to chat, and before you knew it, enough time has passed that the gallery was about to close.
Minghao calls a cab for you, and you arrive home in-tact, but not safe.
âY/n, where have you been running off to these past few weeks?â Your husband questioned you as soon as you entered your home. Your mood instantly dropped, feeling the weight of your actions all at once.
âI'm hanging out with a friend, and it's really not that deep. It's not like I've neglected house work at all. So you should have a reason to care.â You snap back, a little too much for such a simple query. Your husband rises from his seat, cupping your face with a gentle hand for the first time in a long time.
âYouâre my wife, of course it's my concern.â He said, just as he was about to make you fall for him again, he said, âWe haven't been intimate in a long time, I'm leaving in a few days, so I want to make love to you before I go.â
Ah, there it was. He only ever shows affection for you when he's asking for sex nowadays.
You nod, what followed was unfulfilling and unsatisfying sex. Missionary, a few pumps just to get him off, and he didn't even kiss you.
And obviously, he didn't make you cum.
Your husband is fast asleep in your bed for the first time in months, and yet you can't find it in yourself to be happy about it.
You take out your trusty friend, egg.
The jolts to life with steady vibrations as you press the toy to your clit, relaxing into the sheets as you imagine a pair of calloused hands roaming the plane of your skin.
Controlled pressure and technique only a sculptor could have, his hair falling over his face, and his eyes holding you gaze as if you gave him everything he could ever want by simply existing.
He looks at you like you hung each star in the sky just for him, just so he could watch your skin bathed in moonlight, twinkling like the most precious diamond he could ever have.
This man isn't your husband, It was Minghao.
Your orgasm came unexpectedly, the realization that you were fantasizing about him snapped you back into reality so violently that you ruined your own orgasm.
You huff as you tuck the toy back into its drawer, pulling up the covers to try and sleep off the guilt.
Your husband left for his business trip a few days ago, and you made preparations for your first guest in a while. You finally set up the tea set when you heard a knock at your door, springing up, you head towards the door to look through the peephole, you see Minghao dressed a little more casually, a cap on his head and a bouquet of flowers in his hand.
You swiftly unlock the door for him, he smiles upon seeing you, tipping his cap, he says, âGood evening, it's a pleasure to finally be invited into your home.â You greet him back, stepping to the side to let him enter. As he does, he takes his cap off to let his hair fall onto his face again.
He offers you the flowers and you take them, âI'll go find a vase for these, make yourself at home, dinner is still cooking in the oven.â You said as you turned back to find another vase.
After finding one and setting the flowers in your office again, you find Minghao setting a record on your turntable, a slow tune plays through the air, instantly making the room feel calmer and homey.
âI didn't pin you as the type to have such an extensive vinyl collection, you have good taste too.â He said, swaying to the music by shifting his weight from one leg to another.
âI didn't feel the need to mention it considering I haven't touched those in a while. My husband hates them.â You say solemnly.
âWell, he isn't here now. Let's enjoy the music,â he said, holding his hand out for you to take, âDance with me?â
You smile as you take his hand, he suddenly pulls you towards him and you land on his chest, his arms wrapping around you securely as you sway to the calm of the music.
You think to yourself, This is nice, this is safe. I wonder if this is what it feels like to be married to Minghao instead.
You turn your head and press your ear to his chest, hear him breathe slowly, his heart beating rhythmically. This is the first time you were ever this close to him, practically holding him in a loving embrace.
His woody cologne almost distracts you, so seductive and masculine and you almost reach up to cup his face, to kiss him. Before you realize that he isn't your husband.
You're both snapped out of your little bubble when the oven dings, signaling that dinner is ready. You break away from him, already missing his warmth as you set the dining table, one that hasn't been used in a while.
You eat dinner with him, talking about your days and how work has been. It's a welcome change of pace from your husbandâs tolerance of your presence. You didn't have to beg Minghao for footnotes on his life, you didn't feel like you're taking up too much of his space or time.
It's safe, secure. It feels like you're being celebrated for existing.
You dwell on this feeling long after Minghao heads home, your stomach and heart full. As you slip into the covers you wonder what it'll feel like to hold him under them, for him to kiss the crown of your head and whisper the three words you desperately wanted to hear again.
You fall asleep with the fantasy that when you wake up, he'll be right next to you.
Minghao invited you downtown this time, various pop-up stores of luxury brands recently opened and he just secured a sale of a really expensive painting; so of course, what better way to spend that money than taking a shopping trip with his closest friend.
âThis would look amazing on you.â He said while taking out a dress, it's a color that compliments your hair and skin wonderfully. Minghao always knew how to dress.
âOh, I'm inclined to agree, but I'm not willing to look at the price tag for that one.â You joke, shrugging as you follow him around the store.
âNonsense, I'm offering to pay.â He said, turning his nose up. âI'm getting this for you, I'll ask the salesperson for more sizes so you can try them on.â He said, turning to the salesperson doing just that.
The salesperson nods enthusiastically, bringing the dresses to the dressing rooms and ushering you in despite your protests. Minghao only smiles in amusement as the curtain hides your figure, he sits on the bench near the dressing rooms in silence, scrolling through Instagram on his phone.
He hears the curtains roll open, it only takes a moment of him looking at you in the dress to take his breath away. It fits you perfectly, hugging your body deliciously. Minghao almost drops his phone onto his lap, his grip loosening, star-struck by your beauty.
âHow does it look?â You ask, awkwardly fiddling with the expensive fabric of the dress, feeling a little too expensive to be on your body.
Minghao wordlessly stands from the bench, looking a little dazed, he turns to the salesperson and tells them, âWe're getting the dress.â As he walks toward the cashier almost in a trance.
You're a little taken aback by his reaction, but nonetheless you change back into your regular clothes. As soon as you walk out of the dressing room Minghao Pushes you back in with more dresses.
âPlease try these on.â He says, not having the strength to look you in the eyes. You comply.
It took you hours of trying on dresses and accessories to the point that you almost bought the store out. Minghao couldn't get enough of the mini-fashion show you were putting on for him, and it's not like the salespeople are complaining either.
You walk out of the first store with multiple bags in hand, you thought that was enough shopping for the whole year maybe, but no, Minghao pulls you into another store, and another, and another, all leaving with bags (multiple) of clothes.
It got so bad to the point that Minghao had to leave your bags in his car so you could free up your hands to buy more stuff.
You stopped trying to fathom the amount of money Minghao was spending on you, yes, he did buy items for himself too, but he looked much more satisfied to provide for you rather than procuring items for himself.
The car ride back home was filled with way too many âare you sure's and âyou really didn't have to's. But Minghao was insistent on you keeping all the items he got for you.
âI'm being serious, you're a gorgeous woman, you deserve to be spoiled like a queen.â he said, turning to you while waiting at a red light, âYou need to visit my studio in the clothes I got you, you'll fit right in with my paintings.â He smiles.
Your face flushes at his compliments, a bright and happy smile stretching across your face. You couldn't remember the last time you were this happy with someone. To find joy in the company of another felt liberating, you felt like you deserved this.
Minghao drops you off at your place with your new clothes, helping you get them into your living room like a true gentleman.
âI'll see you next time, Y/n.â He said stopping at your doorstep, annd leaning down to press a kiss on the crown of your head, he took note of what your shampoo smelled like and left. Leaving you awestruck in your doorway as you watch his car drive off.
This studio has become so familiar to you, like a second home almost. Punching in the code was muscle memory at this point, the smell of drying paint and clay becoming a calming scent.
You smooth over the front of your dress, one that Minghao got you, as you enter his studio again. Shrugging off your heavier coat, the beginning of winter creeps closer as the trees lose the last of their leaves.
Minghao just got out of the bathroom, wiping his hands on his paint-stained shirt and apron. He looks at you, the dress, the way it fits on you. And he smiles widely.
âHey there gorgeous, what are you doing all the way there? You should be over there with the rest of the art.â He says cheekily.
You giggle as you enter the space more, stopping in front of him taking his extended hand and following it, giving him a twirl.
He simply adores the way the fabric flows and shapes around your curves and contours, your skin practically glowing with life.
He fights the urge to kiss you, succeeding for now.
He guides you onto the couch, a turntable sitting next to his stone tea tray on the coffee table. âOh? This is new.â You said when you noticed it.
âOh that? I got it for when you come over. I got a few records too, if you'd like to make yourself comfortable while I brew us some tea.â He said, untying his apron to hang on an easel, turning his back to you and he started preparing tea like before.
His movements and practiced, you'd guess this tea ceremony is second nature to him, considering he always talks about it. This scene is safe, familiar, it's comfortable.
He does this whole song and dance again, you've seen him do this over and over again but you can't seem to get sick of it. It's like you're giving yourself excuses just to keep seeing him.
But they don't feel like excuses, not at all, they're just more reasons why you feel deeply, and so quickly for Minghao.
Again, the both of you talk about everything and anything under the sun, him walking you through all his latest pieces, him plans for new ones creativity vibrating through ever cell in his body.
You imagine him talking so passionately about the future, maybe even a future with you.
Before you could realize what you were doing, youâre holding onto Minghaoâs shoulders for support,
and you lean up to kiss him.
Minghao fights the urge to kiss back, he fails.
His hands come up to cup the back of your head tilting his head to deepen the kiss, pouring all his emotions into the simple, gesture of affection.
Your head was spinning, dizzy from his cologne and the wind getting knocked from your lungs as soon as your lips met his. It was electrifying, finally feeling the warmth of his body pressed so close, yet so far from yours.
Oh, you wanted him, so, so badly.
He pulls away first, heaving from the intensity of the kiss, eyes in a daze. Meeting your eyes again, he couldnât help but lean in for another kiss.
This time he's really pressing into you seemingly drunk off of the feeling of his lips meeting yours. He's just a man at the end of the day, a weak, weak man in the face of paradise.
He came back to his senses once he felt the cool metal of your wedding ring on his neck. Jolting back, he pushed your shoulders back, creating a significant distance between the two of you.
âI, I think you should leave.â He said turning to hide in his studio bathroom to collect his thoughts.
You stood there puzzled, did he not feel the same way you did? But why did he kiss you, twice? Something isn't adding up.
But moreover, you can't ignore the painful sting this rejection gave you. You wanted him, did he not want you? What was the point of trying so hard to make you fall for him when he just decided to back down when he finally had you?
You gather your belongings and leave the studio, the door clicking to lock behind you. The ride back was suffocating, it felt like you left a part of yourself in that studio with Minghao. And you fear that this may be the last time you see him.
You havenât spoken to Minghao in the weeks following the kiss, your nerves on fire every time you remember how his pillow lips felt so right on yours.
You're standing in front of the mural. The one where Hephestus caught Aphrodite, his wife, and Hephestus, her lover, having an affair and having sex on their marital bed.
It's funny, looking at this mural. You spent your last weeks wandering his gallery, searching for his shadow, but he always seems to evade you so easily. He's marked you like a bloodstain on a pristine white dress, lingering like fog on a cold autumn day.
Winter is still young, yet you feel cold. So, so cold.
As if your most desperate prayers were heard, Minghao practically materializes next to you.
âHi. I'm sorry I wasn't able to speak to you for the past few weeks. I'm a coward, a fool to run from you.â He said, both of you looking at the mural and not at each other.
Silence follows, you couldn't look at him, you couldn't speak to him. âY/n I-â
âThis isn't the place to talk about this.â You said coldly.
Minghao flinches a bit, not used to how icy your voice was. It usually greets him so warmly, so lovingly.
âLet's go out to drink, there's a bar that's walking distance from here, if you'd like go go with me. I have too many things to say to you, too many thoughts left unsaid. You deserve to hear them, at least.â He said, remorseful.
You really couldn't find it in yourself to stay mad at him. So you agree to walk with him.
The walk to the bar is silent, unlike your previous walks. You're so far from him, you even refused to hold onto his arm like you usually do.
It's early winter yet Minghao is sweating bullets, he's almost vibrating at a frequency that could shatter glass. His nerves are all over the place, he's acting so out of character, nothing like the calm, cool, collected Minghao you've come to know over the past few months.
He takes a deep breathe before you both enter the bar.
A few drinks in and youâre already tipsy, âYou know- hic- my husband is being a dick to me.â You drunkenly slurred, âThis novel Iâve been writing for over two years now is fucking me in the ass- I- I want to finish it so desperately but all he does is sucks the soul out of me. Heâs a giant pain in the ass-!â
Minghao snorts at this, loudly talking over the music of the bar, âYour husband is a fucking dick! Your work is amazing. If I were him, I would do anything to help you get rid of that writerâs block, you know, inspire you.â He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear.
âYouâd do that?â You ask, clinging onto his arm, âThank youuuu hao bear~ youâre the best-!â You giggle into his arm, your weight pressing against his side. Youâve only known him for three months at this point, but his ideas and influence on your work improved your writing and motivation drastically.
âHao bear? Thatâs new, youâve only known me for- what? 3 months? Youâre already calling me nicknames!â He holds the back of your head gently, pressing his forehead onto yours, âI should give you a nickname too⌠Starlight, how does that sound?â At this point, you tune out every other sound other than the sound of his voice and the pounding of your heart.
This man had you in a chokehold the moment you met him, you were fucking doomed from the start.
âStarlight? Yeah, I like it more than a little bit.â You say softly, your words almost getting lost in the noise of the bar.
âLetâs move to somewhere quieter, yeah? Tell me more about your work. We can head to my place to settle down for a bit.â There it is, the same dark, barely there smirk that plagues your stomach with butterflies.
âYeah, Iâd like that.â
Arriving at Minghaoâs place, you take a quick look around his apartment. Everywhere you look is a pop of color, bold splotches of vibrant hues making the place look like it was pulled straight out of the 80s, âHao, your place is amazing, the furniture brings me so much joy~â You giggle a bit, sitting down at the plush red velvet couch shaped like a seashell.
âThanks! Most of the furniture is thrifted from retro thrift stores, I like this style more. It brings so much personality to the space.â He passionately talks about them, âDo you want anything to drink? I have water, juice, and beer here.â He says, rummaging through his fridge.
âOh, just water, please.â You say you have a feeling that you need to at least sober up for whatever the night brings.
He takes two glasses of water and places them down on the coffee table. Itâs the only piece in the entire house that is a neutral color, a fine hardwood. You couldnât tell what it was at a glance, not that it was important anyway.
âSo, letâs talk about this book that youâve been struggling to write now. Could you tell me what itâs about?â He asks, taking a swig of his water, you stare at his side profile while he does, sharp yet delicate features, his Adamâs apple bobbing from his drink.
Broâs so majestic.
âWell, itâs about an artist whoâs losing passion for his work, told from the perspective of his lover. Itâs a spicy romance, with, in my opinion, a correct amount of sex scenes-â
âGive me a percentage of how much of it is smut.â Minghao interrupts you,
âLike⌠75 percent?â He snorts at this, âAnyway, Iâve been stuck on the last spicy scene of the book, the climax, pun not intended,â You take a swig of your water, âI mean, itâs not like I donât have experience writing that sort of thing, or lack experience in sex either, but my sex lifeâs been such a drag with my husband being gone for long periods and-â
Minghao interrupts you again, âAnd he doesnât fuck you right, does he?â
The forwardness of his words made you freeze, you contemplated whether to reject him here, to tell him it wasnât appropriate to talk about this with you, especially about your husband. You know how Minghao looks at you. It wasnât a secret to anyone that he wanted you, but he never acted in any inappropriate way. He never makes you uncomfortable.
This was no exception. The swirling in your stomach wasnât because of unease, no, this was because of arousal.
âNo, no he doesnât.â
He leans in, kissing you. This time he's not rushing, no more pushing and pulling, no more things left unsaid. He wants you, he'll have you. That was a promise.
He lifts you from the couch, lips never parting as he carries you to his bedroom, peeling each other's clothes, bumping into walls and furniture. But you couldn't care less, you were lost in each other's embrace and you can't think of another place you'd rather be.
Half-naked on Minghaoâs bed, who, need you be reminded, was not your husband.
His hands roamed your sides, the heat from his palms warming your skin, causing it to flush, his soft, plump lips pressing feather-light kisses to your neck. You could feel his breath behind your ear, his hair tickling your cheek.
âHow would your husband feel if he knew what you were doing with me right now?â He asks, clearly getting off on the fact that you were in his bed, getting ready to fuck him, a man who wasnât your husband.
âI hope heâd be disappointed, but at this point, I think he forgot about me.â You say with a chuckle at the end, trying not to ruin the mood.
Minghao gently pulls away from you from that, âWhat?â he asks quietly, the word almost getting drowned out by the hum of the air conditioning, âSorry, I know this was supposed to be a taboo, forbidden relationship thing but⌠Iâm angry at him.â He says, avoiding your eyes.
âI know Iâve only known you for a few months, but I never felt this way before. It fucking kills me to think that a woman like you would be forgotten, for what exactly? Work?â He said anger gradually filling his voice. His hand reaches for your face when your eyes meet, thumbs pressing down on your cheekbone. The controlled and purposeful movement reminds you just how pliable you are under his touch. He sculpted you into what he wanted you to be; beautiful, strong, unashamed.
You gently cup his face, still hovering above you, âKiss me, Minghao.â
And he did.
His lips met yours in a searing embrace, just the force of his passion against yours was dizzying, fiery desire clashing to make fireworks behind the eyelids that fluttered close. You never felt this type of longing from your husband, never felt his devotion being kissed through your lips like Minghaoâs tongue was exploring it.
At that moment, you knew you were gone.
Minghao pulled away from you, hazy eyes meeting yours as the string of saliva that connected your mouths broke. At that moment, Minghao was stuck in a trance, his lips coming to meet yours over and over like he couldnât stop tasting your lips even if he tried. A sweet ambrosia, too saccharine to stop. Heâs become addicted to your lips molding onto his like sickly sweet honey sticking to his lips.
Out of breath, he grabs hold of your waist, rolling over to get you on top of him. He reaches behind you, unclasping the hooks of your bra and letting your breasts fall free from it. He cups both of them while you sit up, grinding on his hardening cock through his boxers, he groans at this, reflexively squeezing your boobs.
Placing both of your hands on his pecs, you also give them a gentle squeeze. Minghao notices this and his gaze darkens, passing his thumbs over your hardening nipples. Your pussy clenches onto nothing at this, a soft gasp leaves you as you started to grind harder against Minghao.
His nails started to dig into your hips, his own desperately grinding up against you for more friction. Soft moans leave him as he throws his head back against the pillows, eyes fluttering close just so he could focus on the sensations of your clothed cunt grinding against his cock through his boxers.
âGod, get off of me before I cum in my underwear like a teenager.â He says with a playful groan, lifting your hips off from his crotch.
âRight, you still need to cum inside of me.â You say back playfully, his eyes darkened at this.
âFuck, you make me want to keep you forever,â taking one of your hands and placing a kiss on your palm.
He lifts his hips only enough to get his boxers off, shimmying them off to somewhere on the floor near his bed. You also take this time to take your underwear off, secretly hiding it under his pillow when you lean down to kiss him again.
When you both pulled away, another string of saliva connected you two. You took two fingers to swipe at the liquid, bringing it down to rub your clit while you lowered yourself down to grind on his bare cock now.
Minghao hisses, âFuck, I can feel how wet and warm you are, sweet christ.â he breathes out a shaky breath as you grind your bare wetness on his cock, lubricating the shaft for later. You moan at the contact, body slightly shaking from the friction of the tip of his cock hitting your clit occasionally.
âGod, Minghao, fuck I need you inside me.â You desperately whine out. You lifted your hips up to finally hold his hard cock to align it with your pussy, slowly sinking on the thick girth. You throw your head back at the satisfying stretch his dick was making you feel.
âFuck, you feel so good, so tight and warm,â He moans, heâs not shy about letting you know how good it feels with how vocal heâs being, he takes your right hand and holds it tightly, pressing it against his chest. You could feel his racing heartbeat under his skin, âLet me keep you forever, please, donât make me beg, run away with me.â
You openly gape at him from this, Youâd be a fool to accept this, especially since youâve only known him for a fraction of the time you knew your husband, but god dammit.
âTake me with you, anywhere you want to go. Iâm yours, please take me.â You say desperately. Youâve never been wanted this badly before, and god, you wanted more, for the rest of time.
Minghao abruptly thrusts up into you from this, tightly clenching your hand in his, still pressing on top of his racing heart under the skin. You cry out in pleasure, somehow the sensation of his heart under your palm elevates your pleasure, making you go dizzy at the thought that youâre doing this to him, and only you.
You come close to your climax embarrassingly quick, the sensation of his cock rubbing your velvet walls so perfectly made your head spin. Your ears are ringing so loudly that it almost drowns out your sounds of pleasure, and the sound of skin slapping against skin.
Minghao isnât far from you either, the same dizzying effect taking hold of his mind too. Heâs so close to finishing that he could almost taste it, his moans and whines of your name leaving his lips like a mantra, a prayer, even.
âMinghao Iâm gonna cum-!â you say frantically, pressing your forehead onto his as he meets your lips with his for the nth time. You swallow the moans he spills into your mouth as you both climax at the same time. His heart still beating frantically under your palm.
âDid you mean that?â You ask breathlessly, âWhen you said you wanted me forever, did you mean it?â you couldnât look him in the eyes.
âExactly, I meant it word for word. Let me replace the ring on your finger with mine.â He smiles at you.
In the end, he did replace the ring on your finger with his, much more extravagant, and elaborate. Your husband wasnât surprised at your sudden request for a divorce, since your marriage was already failing before you met Minghao.
Still, time was the ultimate truthteller.
Your husband found out about your High Infidelity around the middle of your divorce proceedings, and in a rage, he threw you and all your belongings out onto the driveway. In the middle of winter rain.
The rain soaked into your skin, cold and icy piercing you painfully. All your personal belongings were strewn all around you, and your soon-to-be ex-husband was angrily slamming the door shut, but you couldn't help but feel relieved.
After all, you were finally free.
You finished your book, it received critical acclaim and it was a New York Times Best-Seller.
And you got to marry Minghao, the love of your life. Who you were happily married to until the both of you grew old.
FIN.
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hey! can u write a headcanons about being married to marshall? ur writing is amazing btw
Marshall Mathers HCs:
prompt: You're Mrs. Mathers. đđ
â : a LOT of fluff, feels, happy marshall
request: yes!!
a/n: thank u so so much for the support!! <'3
hope you like it! i loved writing this one âĄ
After years of being together as a couple, you never expected him to propose to you, knowing his views on marriage. You always made sure not to rush him, but he surprised you.
He would choose the prettiest ring he could find for you. One that suits you perfectly, the price wouldn't matter. He just would make sure that his love shows through it.
"Y'know I said I would never let anyone into my heart like this again⌠But you, baby, you're the one I wanna keep for the rest of my life, and I know I'm risking it, but you're so fucking worth it."
You would see his eyes sparkle like never before. His attitude might not change too much, but you would see the raw emotion show on his face.
You will never forget the kiss he gave you on that wedding day. Once he was able to have your lips, finally being married to you, he carried you into his arms bridal-style and kissed you like never before, for everyone to see. You could feel the intense passion and love brewing from it, and that would be something that both of you would never forget.
Of course he would be very scared to lose you. Even if he knows you love him, he doesn't want to fuck things up. He would try to maintain that fear as calm as possible to make things right.
So many emotions at the same time will have him fidgeting at the start. He wouldn't be used to feeling so happy and fulfilled on a marriage, but he would let you know how much he enjoys that feeling at your side.
Marshall won't ever give you a dull moment. He's always been rough but soft, passionate but loving. Tender but hard. And that's exactly what you're going to get.
When he's pissed off he normally wouldn't hesitate to go to his studio and take all that anger out as inspiration. But sometimes, he would accept your hugs and caresses as a form of comfort. He wouldn't say it out loud, but he would love the feeling of being comforted by you.
Marshall and you cuddling a lot as you two sleep. Yes, he would love hiding his face on your neck, grabbing your hips, hugging your figure or having you sleep on top of his body. Everything that is physical contact, as long as he has you close, that's enough to have him sleeping peacefully.
You would find lyrics on his studio about you. Marshall would surely write about you, even if feeling too embarrassed to tell you about it.
As he knows what things you like, he might take that in consideration for gifts. Special little things like giving you your favorite flowers, realizing if you're really craving something, over all, trying to be a good husband for you.
You pray that no one's talking shit about you after the news come out, because you just know Marshall IS going to diss every motherfucker who tries to mess with you.
Compliments, compliments.
"You got not only my heart, but Shady's heart too, babydoll. You gonna know how it feels to love us both."
You going shopping with Hailie, Alaina and Stevie. That would probably happen, as he would make sure they know you and accept you.
If he was already very touchy, now it's probably going to be worse.
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Can I request a smut prompt where Liu Kang almost loses you to Shang Tsung, but after he retrieves you back, heâs furious and upset with himself, but you knew just how to calm him down?
Also congrats on 200 followers!!! You definitely deserve it, your writing is amazing đŠˇđŠˇđŠˇđŠˇ
âMY LOVER, MY LIGHTâ LIU KANG X FEM!READER
A/N : Thank you! Hope you like it!
WARNINGS : MINORS DONT INTERACT. praise kink, p in v, m receiving, f receiving, fingering, temperature play, some stuff I probably forgot
MASTERLIST
Shang Tsung almost took your soul. Lucky for you, Liu Kang, your husband, was there to put a stop to it. Even though it was already over, Liu Kang was beating himself up about it.
He shouldâve stopped it sooner. He should have never put you in harms way to begin with. In his mind- this was all his fault.
Liu Kang was getting ready for bed. He had his boxers on and was completely shirtless. He was cleaning off his wedding ring as it was bloody from the damage he had done to Shang Tsungâs face.
You walked in the bedroom. You had your red set of underwear on with your red rope tied around you tightly. You watched as Liu Kang cleaned his ring. âCome on, baby. I made dinner. Itâs your favorite.â
âI am not hungry, love.â
You tilted your head at him. You hated when he got like this. Guilt-ridden and self loathing. âYou canât starve yourself because you feel guilty. Iâm fine.â
Liu Kang finished cleaning the ring. He placed it back on his finger. He did not dare to look at you. âYou almost died.â
âSorry to tell you, honey but thatâs the price of being part of Earthrealmâs warriors. Stuff like that can happen.â
âMaybe I donât want you to be part of Earthrealmâs warriors anymore.â
Your eyes had widen. You were shocked. You were one of, if not, the best Earthrealm warrior. You walked further in the room. âYou donât mean that.â
âI do.â Liu Kang finally turned to you. â(Y/N), I am immortal. You are not. I cannot have you forever. I do not want you toâŚto fall so soon.â
âI understand but there could be other factors. Like illness or even just everyday accidents. Am I suppose to live my life afraid?â
âAre you suppose to speed up the process of your ďżź demise?â
The room fell silent. Liu Kang sighed at his harsh tone. He sat on the bed and rubbed his forehead to get rid of some tension. âI cannot lose you.â
You sat down next to him. You rubbed on his shoulder to comfort him. âI canât lose you either. But if we think about all the âwhat ifâsâ and the âwhat mightâ then weâre gonna drive ourselves crazy. You told me yourself that we needed to focus on actions and not the outcome. Itâs all that we can control.â
Liu Kang looked back at you lovingly. It was hard to tell if Liu Kang was crying because of his glowing orbs but you saw tears slipped past his cheeks. âOh, LiuâŚâ You kissed some of the tears away.
âI love you more than anything. More than myself. More than life itself.â He told you.
You always knew of the strong emotional hold you had on Liu Kang. Liu Kang had revealed to you that in the previous timeline, he was in love with you then and he ended up falling in love with you all over again.
Thatâs why he was so attached to you. He did not want to lose you again.
âI love you too, Liu.â You gave him a passionate kiss on the lips. Liu Kang immediately kissed you back, cupping your face.
The kiss meant something. The two of you had a hold on each other and you never wanted to leave.
You pulled away from him. You gave him small kisses on his neck. Liu Kang closed his eyes, loving the feeling of your lips on his body.
Liu Kang was already sitting on the edge of the bed. You got off the bed and sat on your knees on the ground. You then started to take his boxers off.
âLove-â He started to say.
You shushed him, knowing what he was going to say. Although, Liu Kang always appreciated when you went down on him, heâd much rather just go down on you.
You kissed all over him. Liu Kang always got hard very quick when you touched him softly.
You wrapped your lips around him and started to suck on his dick lightly. Liu Kang moaned some. You continued to do this before taking all of him in your mouth and starting to go up and down on him.
Liu Kang, despite being a God, was always sensitive to touch. â(Y/N).â He moaned. When you sucked on his tip sweetly, he flung his body back on the bed in pure bliss.
More moans escaped his mouth. You knew that Liu Kang was more so the slow paced type so you always went slow with him. You rubbed on his thigh as you sucked on him.
The noises of slob each time you sucked him off turned him on even more. âYou taste so good.â You said with all of him in your mouth.
Liu Kang felt himself twitch when you said that. He sat himself up on his elbows and watched you as you took care of him. âYou look so beautiful.â
You moaned around him at the compliment and it made him twitch even more. It was true. You were amazing to look at.
Liu Kang bit his lip as he watched you undo your robe. The robe fell to the ground and he saw his wife in the red underwear set he had got for her.
You sucked his tip again and he rolled his eyes back in pleasure. âMy loveâŚâ
You removed yourself from his dick and looked up at him. âYou ready for me to ride you baby?â Liu Kang nodded eagerly and you stood up. You took your underwear off. Liu Kang scooted more to the center of the bed.
When you got on top of him, Liu Kang licked his fingers and stuck them in your pussy to see if you were wet enough from pleasing him. You werenât.
He pumped them in and out of you slowly. You threw your head back in pleasure. Liu Kang watched you as you started to ride his fingers. He loved when you did that.
âOh baby.â You moaned.
Liu Kang kissed your lips softly. His fingers found your clit and he rubbed it in circles, making you moan in his mouth.
Your hands tugged on his hair and he grunted in your mouth. âPlease. Iâm ready.â
Liu Kang made sure to feel all of you before deciding you were ready to ride him. He licked his fingers to get the juices off and leaned back.
You got into position. Liu Kangâs hands were on your hips. You slid down on him gently and you both let out a moan.
Your hands lay on his chest and you started to ride him slowly. âOh yes. You feel so good.â
Liu Kangâs hands started to wander your body. His hands lit up with fire but he was careful not to burn you. He made sure rub all the parts you loved when he did temperature play with you.
âOh my gods. Liu, you know that turns me on.â
Liu Kang just smiled at you. He helped you ride him up and down while his hands still produced light heat. You were starting to go at a much faster pace. Liu Kang panted slightly. âYou know just how to ride me, love.â
You felt the heat die from Liu Kangâs hands which meant it was getting hard for him to concentrate. You continued moving at your fast pace while you undid your bra and threw it down on the ground.
Liu Kang watched your breasts bounce with each time you bounced. He groaned at the sight. âYou look so beautiful.â He was close to his release but was holding it for you. âYouâre so good to me. I donât deserve you.â
At that, you leaned down to kiss his lips. âYou deserve everything, baby.â
He moaned at your words and gripped on your hips tighter. He panted even more. The feeling of your pussy clenching on him was all too much for him. âYou were made for me.
Something about Liu Kang always complimenting you turned you out. You felt love overwhelm your heart. âI love you.â
Liu Kang was always an emotional man during sex so having you tell him you loved him as you rode him turned him on. A lot.
He gently grabbed you before flipping you over so he was on top of you. Liu Kang kept the same fast but sensual pace. He gave you passionate kisses on your lips. âI love you more.â
Liu Kangâs right hand interlocked with yours as he fucked you. He gave you beautiful kisses on your neck and sucked on your sweet spots.
You shouldâve been used to how loving Liu Kang was but you still werenât. Tears welled up in your eyes as he made love to you. When Liu saw this he kissed the tears away.
You felt yourself start to become close. Your hand raked along his back. âIâm so close, Liu.â
Liu Kang kissed your lips once more before speaking. âCum on me, love. I need you.â
With his words, you instantly came on Liu Kang. When he saw you came on him, he allowed himself to release inside of you.
When the two of you were done, he pulled out. Liu Kang saw the cum slipping out of you and he made it go back inside of you with his fingers. âI cannot lose you.â He repeated but this time with full love.
You pulled him down to your level and kissed him. âI canât lose you, either.â
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okay so i had a look at the prompt list and it made me think of a few scenariosđ¤ it can honestly be ideas for blurbs, bigger fics or just brain rot, whatever youâre comfortable with:)
first one i came up with - daniel + "Letting go was the hardest thing I have ever had to do."
iâve always felt like danny is a perfect for second chance romance:)
hello, hello! thank you so much for your requests!! this is definitely longer than a blurb lol but i was inspired and kept writing! i hope you enjoy it!!
Daniel Ricciardo x ex!reader
wc: 1.4k
warnings: angst, curse words, mentions of drinking
You knew in your heart that youâd see Daniel Ricciardo again someday â but you never pictured it like this.
In your mind, youâd be out at a club in Monaco and lock eyes across the room or youâd finally accept one of Maxâs invitations to come to a race and have to explain why you were there.
You never once entertained the idea that heâd seek you out â let alone show up to your apartment late at night in the pouring rain, but Daniel was dramatic. Passionate. He always has been. It was one of the reasons you first fell in love with him, he never did anything or said anything halfway.
When you heard the frantic knocking at your door, you shouldâve expected it, but you didnât. And now he was here, dripping water onto your floors, chest heaving with the smell of whiskey and his cologne surrounding you.
âWhy did you leave me?â He asked you, the vulnerability in his voice like a punch to your gut.
âDaniel, itâs late, we can talk about this in the morning. Iâll get you a change of clothes.â
âNo, I want to talk about it now. Why did you leave me? Why was it so easy for you to leave me? And donât call me Daniel, you never called me Daniel.â
âIt wasnât easy. Nothing about the past three months has been easy. And letâs not forget who left first. I may have been the one to say âweâre doneâ but you had been checked out long before then. All you cared about was your standings and getting Checoâs Red Bull seat. Congrats, by the way. I hope it was worth it.â
He winced at your words. At first, you supported him wholeheartedly. The rumor mill in general was vicious but the Formula One rumor mill was an entirely other beast. After Dannyâs return in the 2023 season, all eyes were on him to perform then and throughout 2024. Checoâs seat would be up for grabs, he hadnât been performing at the level he should have been in a Red Bull, and so Danny set his sights on a top team seat that everyone said could be his.
Somewhere along the way, he forgot himself. He forgot you. Late nights on the sim, time spent with Max both due to friendship and to talk about how possible it was for them to be teammates once again. You knew Max, and you knew that Max knew Daniel, so you knew that Max would give him just enough to keep that fire in his belly and keep pushing. He had to think things werenât final up until the very end, even though youâd found out recently that theyâd decided on Danny not even eight races into the season.
It took until summer break for you to muster up the courage to talk to Danny â to tell him how hurt you were that the only time he talked to you was to vent about a race or to make you feel guilty for not being at all of them. In all the years youâd been together, heâd never made you feel that way before. He promised he would turn things around. Heâd sobbed in your arms that he could never lose you.
And yet, he did. Things didnât change. If anything, they got worse with the added pressure of sitting just outside the top 10 in standings and Yuki performing extremely well in the second half of the season.
âI wasnât fair to you,â he whispered. âI knew it then and I know it even more now, but I promise you. I swear to you. I will never be that way again.â
âAnd how can I trust you? You said the same thing to me six months ago when I came to you ready to leave and I gave you a chance. I stayed, and nothing changed. Whatâs different now?â
He opened his mouth to answer, and you knew what he would say. That he had the seat, that he wouldnât be under that constant pressure. He could prioritize you. He would be the man you fell in love with.
âDonât even start with me, Daniel. Thatâs bullshit. You may have the seat but itâll be even worse now. If you make one mistake, the media will tear you apart. Youâll always be compared to Max. Hell, look what Red Bull did to Pierre and Alex! Talk to them! One fuck up and youâre done! Thereâs no way they made your contract any more favorable than the others, no matter how much respect there is between you and Christian.â
âIâm not Pierre or Alex, do you think theyâre better than me? And that if they couldnât handle it neither can I? You donât believe in me?â
âYou know thatâs not what Iâm saying, donât put words in my mouth. Iâve always believed in you and I always will. Iâm only trying to make you realize that the pressure will be even worse now, so how can you promise me that things between us would be better?â
The dead silence enveloped you â he said nothing in return, though you werenât sure if he was quiet because he didnât care to fight, or because you had scared him.
You didnât want to keep going in circles, youâd said your piece and hoped that Daniel would understand. âIâm tired, Danny. Can we just go to sleep? The spare bedroom is made up, some of your old clothes are in there.â
Calling him Danny was a slip â it was what everyone called him, what you always called him, and he always claimed it was different coming from you. No one else said it with the love and care that you did. Even now, through all the hurt, the pain, the distance, he could hear the emotion in the way you said it.
He looked straight into your eyes, renewed determination and love â like it had never fizzled out between you.
âIâll quit.â
You turned around and laughed, refusing to look at his face while he mocked you. âDonât be ridiculous, Daniel.â
âIâm serious.â
When you looked back at him, his phone was pulled out of his pocket. He was typing furiously, swiping droplets of water off the screen when they dripped down from his curls. After a few moments, he slid his phone across the counter to you, the screen lit up.
An email was sent to his attorney, asking what his options were if he wanted to get out of his contract with Red Bull before he even had a chance to drive the car.
âYou are more important to me than any car, any team, any career. Youâre more important to me than anything in this world. I fucked up and I lost the best thing in my life because I thought something else would make it better, make me happier, and the only thing I could think about when I signed that stupid contract was how badly I wished I had been the man you deserve so that you could have been there next to me. Celebrating with me. It means nothing to me without you.â
He'd moved closer to you, tentatively reaching to wipe the tears gathering on your lash line and then swiping with his thumb to catch those that fell.
âThere will never be anyone else that I love,â he whispered. âPlease let me prove to you that this isnât how things are supposed to end. Itâs you and me, forever.â
âLetting go was the hardest thing I have ever had to do, Danny. I canât do it again. Do not make me do it again.â You fell into his embrace despite his soaked clothes, and for the first time in months you felt like you could breathe again.
âI wonât.â
You stayed in your kitchen until sunbeams bloomed on the horizon â clothes sticking to your skin, sharing kisses that tasted like rainwater. You began to doze off eventually, tucked into Dannyâs side, but before you lost yourself to sleep completely you mumbled into his chest. Â
âAlso, when your lawyer emails you back, tell him you were drunk and it was a dare. Youâre not quitting, though I appreciate the gesture.â
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Just read Mikeyâs mating season, would write one for Raphael?
of course i will, anything for our boy in red! i will say that bay raph in particular is hard for me to write, so i hope this is decent
again, it's a lil spicyyy đśď¸ reader beware!
The first time it's brought up, Raph absolutely refuses to allow you to spend his season with him. Won't even have the conversation. Not even Mikey can convince him to just talk to you. It takes a literal act of God to force him into it- stranded in your apartment together while a late snowstorm rages, just as his season is starting.
Raph is naturally afraid that he will hurt you. But what he doesn't tell you is that he is afraid of the vulnerability. Raph's season is a highly emotional time for this passionate guy. He knows that he'll be more open- generally the first sign that his season is starting is when he admits something to one of his brothers that he doesn't actually want them to know. So forced into close quarters with you, alone- he's afraid of what he'll say, afraid that the depths of his feelings will drive you off.
He is shocked that when the time comes, his anger doesn't overwhelm him the way it normally does. Instead, it is his love for you that takes over. He finds himself feeling incredibly affectionate. He even chirps for you. (Once it's over he's mortified and you have to swear that you'll never tell anyone ever). The sadness he associates with this time? Again, all gone, because you're here.
The cuddling is real and it is. Frequent. Raph doesn't like to let you go and will often carry you around if you need to move from the bed. But good luck getting him to agree to let you leave the bed. He likes you there and he does not want you to leave. Surely he can go get whatever you need? You belong in his arms, as far as he is concerned.
So, Raph. Once you get him on board, he has rules. These are non-negotiable, because not following them could possibly result in him hurting you and that Will Not Happen. The biggest rule is that you cannot tease him. Teasing riles him up like nothing else and if he loses control and hurts you... no. It Won't Happen. He'll lock himself in a different room and take care of himself before he'll let you break one of his rules.
However, that doesn't mean that it's not a good time for both of you. It's hard at first, because Raph is so afraid to let go, but once he does? Once all that passion is set free and focused on you? It is absolutely some of the most intense lovemaking you've ever experienced in your life. And that's what it is- lovemaking.
All of Raph's affection and tender feelings take over, and he is intense but so gentle at the same time. When it's not mating season, he can be rough sometimes, although never more than you can handle. Not so during mating season. Even when he's pounding into you, driving you wild as you writhe under him, he doesn't hurt you. The only bruises you come out with are in the shape of his hands on your hips.
He is surprisingly quiet when he fucks you. Everything in him is so focused on you that he barely notices his own pleasure. He does chirp a lot, and when it happens the churring practically vibrates the whole bed. He prefers to draw sounds out of you instead. There is a certain dark chuckle he gives that warns you that you are about to get loud. He loves to quiet down so he can catch the nearly silent gasp that comes out of you when his fingers hit that spot deep in you.
He becomes an anxious mother hen when it's over. He hovers. It's a little maddening but he needs you to indulge. He needs to be able to make sure that you're okay, that he didn't hurt you. He is of course worried for no reason, you're fine. But he's still a little cuddly, so you enjoy indulging him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
head bonks: @yorshie @avery73 @justalotoffanfiction @thejudiciousneurotic
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i just want what's best for you. â miles 42 x reader
summary: no matter how much miles may love you, you still have to get through his mom for you two to be together. first impressions didn't go so well, and now... now you're starting to think she's right about you. but somehow, you both come to an understanding, and... eventually, an understanding can be made between you two.
pairing: miles 42 x gn!reader
genre: slight angst + comfort
word count: 2,646
request: Could you do a miles (42 or 1610 or both) x reader where his mom isnât to fond of her but, itâs only because she doesnât want to see him get hurt. And reader considers breaking up with him and his mom overhears and feels bad.
a/n: hello, my lovely anon !! omg i loved writing this ngl, I INTENTIONALLY PUT MORE ANGST HERE THAN I DID FOR 1610 MILES AAAAA please multiverse, don't let this flop PLEASEEEE also SORRY FOR THE CRAPPY SPANISH AND OOC RIO, I TRIED UUEUEUUEUUE BUT I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS !!
(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)
you had never felt any more intimidated and nervous than you did right now as you sat down with miles' family for dinner. you had partners before and met their parents, it wasn't all so bad; you actually had fond memories of those people and sometimes would reminisce how kind they'd treat you, how they'd welcome you into their families and give you a home away from your home when you'd need it. however, when it came to miles' family... it was so-so.
his uncle aaron, without a doubt, was one of the nicest father figures you had ever encountered in your whole life. he was a sweet man who cared for miles and would, be proxy, care about you, too. he'd tease you and miles when he'd see you two together in the most low-key ways and still make miles lose all his cool and stoic composure around you when his uncle would expose how much he talks about you.
"this kid can't ever go through another day without thinking about you. like seriously, all i did was take him to the convenience store downtown and i see him with all these snacks i've never seen him eat before, snacks he told me he hates with a burning passion. i look at him and ask him why he's got those snacks, and he mutters under his breath... 'these're for them, not for me.' how cute of my nephew, no?" he said with a chuckle as miles glared up at his uncle and pouted at him, with you giggling at the story as everyone but his mother was laughing about that little anecdote.
uncle aaron nudged rio a little, to which she shot him a glare similar to miles' and muttered something under her breath in spanish. uncle aaron sighed as some tension was caught in the air and enveloped the entire dinner table, with no one else uttering another word or sound as you all ate in silence. you felt rio's gaze on you at times while you all ate, and unlike the other mothers you had encountered with your previous partners, she had a gaze that felt a little... judgemental, in a way?
you felt pretty self-conscious as rio looked at you, and you felt yourself jump slightly in your seat when she'd ask you questions about you and her son. she called your name randomly, shattering the silence and causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up as you nearly sprang up from your seat in utter surprise. "y-yes rio?" you asked her as she winced, as if she heard a discordant tune when you uttered her first name. without even looking up from her plate, she asked you, "did you know miles got a b in spanish? ay, i'm proud of you, mijo, though... you usually do so much better than that. i'm worried, have you been missing classes recently? and do you know anything about it?" she asked you as she turned her gaze up at you, causing you to freeze up and instinctively shake your head.
miles breathed out a small huff as he tried to think of a reason to give his own mother, who he promised he'd never lie to, as his uncle aaron tried to tell rio that maybe now wasn't the right time to talk about it, but rio told him in spanglish that now was as good a time as any, she had to know if her son was being distracted by... she didn't dare finish that thought. she looked over at you then at miles and raised an eyebrow. "so? is no one gonna tell me anything?" she asked the two of you as you bit the inside of your cheek, feeling pretty intimidated by her right now. "mama, it's nothing, i promise you, i--" "it's nothing?" "oh, no." uncle aaron muttered as he silently excused himself and left the table with his plate in hand, gesturing to you to follow what he did and to seek refuge into the kitchen, away from the mother and son.
you did as he directed and excused yourself, nearly stumbling out of your chair as rio's eyes followed you with a kind of suspicious gleam in those hazel eyes of hers. indistinct conversation and arguments between the mother and son were heard, with the sound of running water, the squeaking and setting down of plates being tuning their voices out as you gratuitously helped uncle aaron wash the dishes. "hey, sorry about them, miles' mom hasn't been in the best mood lately." he muttered to you as you nodded. "i-i understand, aaron. it's really okay..." you murmured back as you both finished, with uncle aaron wishing you a good night as he disappeared into the garage doing who knows what.
as you exited the kitchen, you heard rio's muffled voice from the dining room mention your name, and you walked over in a morbid kind of curiosity to know why she mentioned you when she was scolding miles; though a part of you thought of why, you hoped what you thought of wouldn't be the case. "sĂŠ honesto, Âżte estĂĄs distrayendo con ellos?" she asked miles with a stern voice as miles looked down at the ground, clearly frustrated, but wasn't about to run his mouth off at his own mother. he shook his head and murmured, "mi amante no tiene la culpa de lo que me ha estado pasando, mama."
rio sighed exasperatedly as she looked at her son in disbelief. "and you mean that? you seriously... look, mijo, no quiero hacerte infeliz, y sÊ que crees que entiendes lo que es bueno para ti, pero⌠no puedo permitir que ellos te pongan en peligro. they might... not be a good influence on you." she said with a soft voice as miles looked up at her with an incredulous expression on his face. "mama, you have no idea who they really are." he said as rio kept talking to him, but he stormed off on her. she called for her son repeatedly, but he marched into his room, with her sighing aloud and storming off herself, too.
you felt a heavy weight on your shoulders as your anxieties and worries over what miles' mother thought of you were realized; she doesn't trust you, and she doesn't think you're good for her son. you felt so weak in the knees at that moment, thinking that you would never be able to love miles freely without his mother intervening or trying to convince him you're not right for him, that you're a distraction for him. you didn't want any conflict between the two anymore, so you thought of a way to end their feud peacefully, and the only way that'd work was... one neither of you would particularly like.
you snuck upstairs to miles' room and gently rapped at his door, muttering that you were there, and that you wanted to talk to him. miles opened his door a crack, and when he could confirm it was you, he opened the door wider and gently took your hand in his. "cielo," he greeted you softly with a light squeeze of your hand as he looked at you. "am i ever glad to see you." he said as he led you into his room, with you reciprocating his touch and squeezing his hand back. he gestured for you to sit down on the side of his bed as he sat down, with you following him and sitting down on the plush of his bed.
he brushed a few hairs from your forehead and kept his gaze on you as you looked down at the floor, unsure of how to tell him what you were articulating to yourself in your head; unsure of how he'd take it, if he even will be able to. you sighed a little longer than you planned to, causing miles to pull away from you and have worry drawn on his face as he tried getting a better look at your expression. "cielo, are you okay? did something happen...?" he asked you as you shook your head gently. "nothing, nothing, i..." you began, but you stopped yourself, trying to think of how to tell him all over again as all you could think of at that moment was that: miles' mother doesn't think you're any good for him.
you took a deep breath and faced him with saddened eyes. "i'm sorry, miles, i just... i don't think you should be dating me anymore. it's not because of you, of course not, it's... it's on me." you whispered, with miles feeling like he took a blow to the gut, feeling utterly helpless and confused at what you just told him. he wasn't sure what you meant by 'it was your fault', but he wanted to let you know right now that you weren't at fault, for whatever it was that'd come between you two.
miles appeared a little more hurt and distressed by what you told him, the matter at hand still not sinking in, that you told him you'd break up with him... he couldn't, wouldn't, believe it. "what? amor, what do you mean? 'your fault'? i doubt that..." he began as he tried to reassure you, feeling himself coming undone at the seams and desperate to know why you wanted to part ways with him. was it because he couldn't spend as much time with you as before? because he was too busy with his job as the prowler to be with you? if you only told him, then... then he'd find ways to make it work, not make you feel alone ever again, make up for what he lacked in the past by working hard for you now in the present.
"is it... is it because i'm not able to spend much time with you as before? mi vida, i'm sorry... i'll make up for it, i promise!" he said as you shook your head. "no, miles... it's not your fault. it's mine, even if you don't say it is." you said with a melancholic voice as miles looked at you with feebleness filling his face as he tried to understand how it's your fault for anything. he defended you in front of his mother the best he could, and yet... he'd still lose you in the end, if not the argument.
you couldn't figure out how to tell miles that you didn't wish to break up, you wanted to be with him still, but there was no better way of getting his mom and him to make up if you were still in the picture. you heard his mom say it himself, you didn't seem like a good influence on him, and maybe her behavior towards you was a sign that you really weren't being good to miles, good to his parents, and just... weren't good in general. you sighed, trying to keep the tears from flowing as miles tried to tell you that if you really wanted to break up with him, he'd respect your decision, but... he begs of you to tell him how it's your fault.
you felt your heart throb and your throat flare up as you tried to stifle your cries and sobs. "i'm just, i'm not good for you, okay, miles? i'm sorry... you deserve better." you told him in a quieted voice as you got up and went over to his door, about to leave him and give him an easier time with his family than stay with him and just ruin his relationship with his mom even more.
"espera, mi cielo! hold on a minute, can't we talk about this...?" he called out to you as you opened the door to leave, to keep yourself away from miles to keep him and his mother from getting angry at each other and fighting all over again. however, when you opened the door, you saw a familiar face look back at you, and a familiar voice shrieking in surprise--it was miles' mom, who was eavesdropping on you two. you shrieked at his mom's shrieking, as miles shrieked at your shrieking.
"mama!" miles exclaimed as he saw his mom at the doorway, with her telling the two of you to calm down, and that nobody needs to break up with anybody. "i'm... i'm sorry i eavesdropped, but i came here to... to say sorry, mijo, and... i'm sorry to you, too." she said as she turned to look at you with guilt and shame in her eyes. "you didn't deserve to hear all that... i shouldn't have said that." she muttered as she looked at the two of you. she leaned against the doorway and sighed as she began to speak again, looking around miles' room.
"i didn't mean that you were a bad influence, i just... i default to worrying about what miles could be doing because, you're a teenager, miles--you're both teens and... you both wanna do your own things. it worries me when miles doesn't tell me anything, it makes me feel like i'm failing as a mom when... i'm the only parent you have now." she said in a soft voice as she looked at miles sadly and up at you. she sat down next to miles on the bed and held his hand. "i wish you could just be honest with me." she muttered to him as miles looked at her with sadness in his eyes. "i am being honest with you, mom. you don't even... you don't even know how amazing my partner is, you hardly give them a chance, and that's what hurts me every time." he said as you looked at the two of them.
miles' mom got up from the bed and placed her fingers underneath your chin and lifted your head up to look at her and sighed. "i'm so sorry i judged you too quickly, i just... mom instincts kicked in, and... i got a little carried away and thought i knew what was good for my baby boy, but... i guess i don't know as much anymore. maybe... i'd know him better if i trusted him, if i trusted you." she said with a slight smile on her face as you gave her a slight smile back. "again, i'm so, so sorry for how i was earlier, and... just, in general." she uttered as you nodded. "it's okay, mrs. morales." you told her as she smiled wider and pulled away from you. "y'know what, that just made my evening much better. i think i like you a bit better already. 'mrs.' morales, finally." she said with a slight chuckle as you chuckled back at her little quip, with miles smiling to himself as he finally witnessed you two get along. she let miles keep dating and seeing you, only if he promises to get his grades back up to how they were before.
as his mom left the room, miles told her you two needed to talk, alone. she understood, but reminded him not to lock the door. "lo tengo, mamĂĄ, entendido." he said as he closed the door the minute she headed down into the hallway, leaving you both in an awkward silence after you two had 'broken up' a few minutes ago. before miles could say anything, you wrapped him in a big hug, muttering under your breath how happy you were to be with him, that his mom finally accepted you. miles slowly reciprocated your hug, holding you close and kissing the top of your head as he smiled against your hair. he was beyond happy and relieved to know his mom finally saw you as a person he loved, not as a distraction to him or a bad influence, just someone he cared a lot about to devote himself to, someone he wouldn't leave nor let anyone, not even his own mom or uncle, get in the way of him loving ceaselessly.
he gets that his mom just wants what's best for him, but... maybe it was time for him to decide what's best for him on his own, and that'd be to love you with all his heart and stay by your side, never leaving you once because he loves you too much to let you go that easily.
tags !! @ii01vq @luvstarrstruck @maxoloqy @k4tsu3 @solecitoszn @toneystank-3000 @fiannee @popeheywardssecretgf @lovefrominaya @onginlove @meowmoraless
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hey !! can i ask -12 "If you win, I'll kiss you." with Ace , fem or gn reader swf pls ?
congrats on your 200 followers đđđ!
Hey, hey! Thank you for sending in a request! So happy to write this for you and hope you like it lovely đđ
CW: SFW, gn!reader, some fluff and humor, drinking, reciprocated feelings
Shooting your shot
There was hardly a moment you and Ace weren't sharing a laugh together. Perhaps the only time you weren't hanging around each other was when he'd have to go off on outings, leaving you behind; he always said that it was because it would be too dangerous for someone like you, "You are just a tad too soft for them", he'd tease.
But you'd been admiring Ace for quite some time now: from his strength to his laugh, he had stolen your heart and was holding it hostage, even without him knowing it. The two of you were good friends, but it was hard for you to ignore your pining for wanting more.
During one of the many parties that were always held after a successful mission, you couldn't help watching him partake in his usual activities: fluttering between different groups of people to share jokes and stories, often with a drink and food in hand.
Pausing to take a shot to boost your chances at maintaining your newfound bravery, you let the liquid luck work its magic and worked up the courage to approach him.
Stopping in front of him, your front was starting to faulter as he beamed at you and asked how you were enjoying the party. In hopes of shoving your nerves back down, you abruptly challenged him to the drinking game that'd been set up earlier: beer darts.
Chuckling at your sudden assertiveness, he started waving it off by saying you'd make yourself sick with how many beers you'd surely have to drink.
He was unintentionally making your foundations shake and sway, so you thought it'd be best to make a wager. "If I win, then you'll have to take me on your next outing! A-and, if you win...," you paused to ponder what he could possibly want from you.
"If you win, I'll kiss you."
You shot up from hearing his suggestion, your chest heaving at the mere thought of him placing his lips against yours. "Okay, then it's a deal." The fifteen minutes began its countdown.
Positioning yourselves behind the boards, you were the first to throw a dart. However, your hand was shaking from the possibility of him kissing you, which caused you to miss horriblyâpractically throwing it straight down into the dirt.
Unable to hold back his amusement, he went into a slight laughing fit asking what on earth happened. Just as the dart was passing through his fingers, he caught a glimps of your flustered, pouting face, causing him to lose focus.
Luckily for you, his dart just barely missed the beer. Taking a deep breath to help calm your nerves, you became lazer focused on the can infront of youâa direct hit!
Congratulating you on being able to hit it this time, he chugged his beer down.
As the timer you'd set earlier ticked the minutes away, the two of you shared in equal wins and loses. The score was tied and there was a little over a minute left on the clock, meaning this was your last chance at pulling ahead of him. Mustering all of the might you had been clinging to throughout, not only the game but your whole friendship with him, you threw your last dart. Any hope you'd been gathering to share your first kiss was shattered as the dart made contact with the wooden board standing behind it.
Ace let out no triumphent laugh as he threw his final dart, hitting your can with ease. As the taste of defeat wet your lips, you could only feel disappointment fill your stomach.
Not wanting to face Ace due to the embarrassement washing over you, you hadn't noticed him walking towards you.
"You know, I've never been one to play by the rules," soothing your heartache by placing a kiss laced with passion, he pulled you closer to fully embrace your form.
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