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bandgie · 5 months

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I need a part two to that choking channie fic pleasseeee I begggggg

a/n: it's been a week and I cannot come up with the plot for the life of me. but imma write and see where it takes me :p (part 1)

warnings: MDNI 18+, confessions and sex ya know

3.2k words

You have to bite on your lips to keep yourself from smiling. The green-haired man looks like he's seen a ghost as he spots Chris's neck covered in bruises. They're not pretty ones either, mixes of purple and black wrapped like a necklace around his throat.

"A fight with who?" Felix leans forward in his seat as he hears Chris's explanation.

"Some dude just jumped me I dunno," Chris looks down and awkwardly rubs his neck. "Tried taking my wallet."

You take a sip of your drink, trying to do anything as a distraction to keep from laughing. The tip of Chris's ears are red, his lips are shiny from how many times he's licked them, and he can't stop fiddling with his hands. All clear signs that he's lying, or that something's up at the very least. However, it was just Felix who joined you two at the cafe, and he was none the wiser.

Chris and you were supposed to talk about the other night. If it was a drunken mistake or a heat-in-the-moment decision. Felix, god bless his soul, invited himself. Even if his presence wasn't needed, or even wanted, it felt good to have someone familiar with you two. It made the atmosphere lighter rather than discussing sex like a business meeting.

Felix sips on his sugary drink and places the cup down. "Did you call the police?"

"I uhh," Chris's eyes briefly meet yours then back to Felix. "I didn't. I was trying to get out of there."

"Do you remember what he looks like?" His friend can't help but try and pry for more information. "Maybe they could make a sketch or something." You can't help but smile at Felix's persistence. Chris keeps sneaking you looks as a way to ask for help, but you like watching him struggle.

"It was dark." Now that's a good excuse. "Couldn't see a whole lot. And honestly, I don't wanna remember it, freaks me out ya know?"

Felix nods rapidly, understanding. "No, I get it. I don't think I would ever be able to leave my house again. I'm sorry that happened to you, man. If you ever need anything, just let me know."

Chris nods and thanks his friend, a pink shade over his cheeks.

It's not until an hour later that Felix takes his leave. He thanks you both for the company and heads out the door, leaving you two. You erupt into giggles the moment Felix is out of view. "What kind of thief chokes someone like that?"

Chris smiles bashfully, eyes twinkling in a mixture of delight and embarrassment. "I panicked! What else was I supposed to say?" This makes you laugh more, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "I dunno! Maybe the truth?"

Your suggestion makes Chris choke on his coffee. He coughs and reaches for a napkin, dabbing his face. "Fuck no. I'd rather die." He clears his throat and sets the used tissue aside. "I don't think you'd be cool with me telling everyone what we did."

What we did. He makes his sound so scandalous, so wrong. A secret meant for the two of you. And he's right, that's something you wouldn't want to share. Memories flood in from that night, how his skin felt underneath your fingertips and how soft his lips were. You have to force yourself to reach for your drink and take a gulp. The ice numbs your hands for a moment, a stark contrast to how hot Chris felt that night.

"That's fair. Plus I don't think they'd wanna know how you creamed your pants." You say, putting the drink down. Chris's eyes nearly pop from their socket. He covers his face with his hands and groans, "Don't remind me."

His reactions amuse you, and you smile mischievously. "Nah, I think I will. Weren't you begging to cum inside me? Something like 'I don't wanna cum in my pants! You. I wanna cum in you.' No?"

Chris makes a strangled noise, half-shamed and half a warning. "There are people here." You sigh, finally deciding to grant Chris a break. There's a tense silence that hangs over you two. Reciting Chris's desperate moments reminds you of why you've come to the cafe.

His confession.

Fuck, it would be so much easier if Felix just stayed. Neither of you would have to talk about it today, or if at all. Maybe you could just go back to your normal lives where everyone's friends, and nothing more. It's better to live in blissful ignorance than face reality, but it would only be a matter of time before that facade would break.

You clear your throat, "Did you mean it?"

Chris keeps his eyes on his drink playing with the lid, "Mean what?"

"That you love me."

He pops the lid off from the pressure. His hands shakily grab it and place it on the cup, snapping it back into place. "Of course I do. I always tell you that."

Now he's just playing dumb. Rather than seeming shy only minutes ago, there's a nervous air around him. He's unsure of himself and of what you might think. Chris regrets ever opening his mouth, he regrets playing that stupid game.

At the same time, he's glad he did. All those sleepless nights thinking of you changed from physical to something more. Something intimate in ways he didn't dare think about. He doesn't dream of your violent hold, he dreams of your soft one. Not the way your hands wrap around his neck, but how they could intertwine with his hands.

You sigh again, shaking your head. "Chan, that's not the type of love I'm talking about. Can you be honest with me? Please?"

How can he say no to that? Chris finally looks up at you. He wiggles in his seat as if his uncomfortable state comes from his seating position. He opens his mouth and closes it again. He sighs and attempts again, but all that comes out are small squeaks and groans.

Lie. He can hear his insecurity talking. Both of you were drinking, it was just a mistake.

"I..."

Even if it wasn't, would she really be okay being with a friend? What if she grows bored of me? What if I have nothing to give other than my body?

That can't be true. Why else would you be here? Sitting patiently, watching Chris struggle internally with himself. There's no judgment on your face, no anger or disgust as you wait. If you didn't want to know Chris's true feelings, you wouldn't have asked in the first place.

"Honestly, I've loved you for a long time now." He said it. There, he did it. His heart beats quickly in his chest, it feels like it might explode. Chris needs to spit it out before his adrenaline runs out. "I don't know when I don't think there was like...a specific moment when I knew. But I know now, and I just...really really love you. Like a lot. I'm sorry that…" he takes a breath. "I'm sorry that you found out so...weirdly. But yeah... So yeah. Sorry"

You blink a few times, trying to remember how to speak. "Don't," you shake your head. "Don't be sorry. It was a little weird finding out that way, but it's nothing to apologize for. I never thought you'd think of me that way."

Chris cocks his head to the side, "Why not?"

Being put on the spot makes your stomach churn, but it's only fair you experience the same feeling Chris did moments ago. "Oh, you know. I'm just me." You play with the near-empty cup in your hands. "I don't think there's much to me. I just don't get why someone like you would be interested."

"Someone like me?"

"Yeah," you sit up straighter in your seat. "You're so...beautiful. Inside and out." Chris squirms from the compliment, but it makes you smile. "You are! Chan, you really are. I don't think you get how good of a person you are. Knowing that a soul like yours likes mine is unbelievable."

Chris can't take the consistent praise. He turns red, "What kind of a good person likes being choked?"

You throw your head back and laugh, thankful for the comedic break in tension. "Hey, I never said you weren't a freak." Chris returns the laugh, his eyes mirroring moon crescents as he smiles at you. It feels good, even if you wanted to run and hide in the beginning, to be open with him. Someone you've befriended for years, someone you trust.

Someone who could quite possibly be your lover.

"But seriously," you go back to your serious tone. "You are...amazing."

You can tell Chris wants to deflect, to tell you that you're wrong. But he silences his nagging voice and nods, "Thank you. You're not too bad yourself."

"Ah, I'd hope not," you beam at him. "So when are you gonna ask me out?"

The sudden boldness makes Chris jump, a nervous laugh escaping him. "I...You want me to?" He's surprised to see you look excited as you nod, biting your lower lip, "Yup." You add on after a few beats. "To turn you down of course."

He laughs again, though it's more relaxed. "Guess I have no choice then." Chris chews on his lower lip, debating on how to begin.

He decides to start with your name. "...Will you be my girlfriend now until the unseeable future?"

You giggle at his dramatization, "Absolutely. You still want to cum inside me?"

"Oh absolutely."

ꨄꨄꨄ

Neither of you make it back to his place. All it took was Chris to place his hand on your thigh and it was over. He had pulled over somewhere on the side with no lights before turning the car off. The sound of the engine dying was replaced by the wet sound of your lips meeting.

You don't think there's any way you could get over how nice Chris feels against you. Even if the backseat is crowded, it only creates the golden opportunity to be flush against his broad chest. the position is familiar with you on top, but everything feels entirely different.

Chris isn't scared to touch you this time, he doesn't hold back moaning into your mouth when you grind on his cock, and he absolutely cannot shut up about how much he's wanted this.

"If you make me cum my pants again, I think imma lose it." His hips buck into yours to chase the pressure. You decide that you don't want that either and lift your hips just enough for Chris to shimmy his pants down and pull his cock from his boxers.

It's already dripping, red at the tip, and twitching uncontrollably. He gives himself a few pumps, but you quickly smack his hand away almost offendedly.

"That's my job," you huff. Chris only smiles when you look down to dribble spit on his cock, grabbing the base before stroking it upwards. His smile falters into a look of pleasure, eyebrows knitting together. He groans when you slide your thumb over his slit, collecting his early release.

Your hips mimic your hand movements as if you're riding him. The desire pooling in your stomach stains your underwear and leaks down your thighs. You can't help yourself as you bring the head of his cock to your clothed core, tapping it against your cunt.

Chris's arousal leaves wet strings where his cock and your cunt meet. He gives your lips a final kiss before looking down at your soiled underwear and his flushed dick. "Fuck," he moans. "That's so hot. How wet are you?"

Rather than telling him, you pull your underwear to the side to show. The interior lights of the car show your glistening cunt, how your pussy's swollen and dripping. Chris groans at the sight, moving a hand from your waist to touch you. He rubs his fingers in circles and dips them down, collecting your arousal and smearing it on your engorged clit.

"I'm so wet," you finally answer in a breathy voice. "I need it in me bad." Chris lifts his head to meet your eyes darkened in arousal. His lips quirked upwards in a smirk, "Yeah? How bad?" You place his tip onto your bare cunt, sliding his fat head up and down yourself. "Don't make me beg," you tut. "That's your job."

Chris laughs and nods, leaning forward to place a chaste kiss on your lips. "You're right. Let me feel that pretty pussy baby."

You kiss him back in response, keeping your lips lazily on his as your guide his cock low enough to catch your entrance. You angle your hips higher and slowly sink down. Chris rubs soothing circles on your clit to help with the stretch. He knows his cock can be rather unbearable in the beginning.

But it feels so good to have him open you up. Even if it leaves a slight burning sensation in your pussy, you like fucking yourself with just his tip. If you're not careful, you could cum just like this. It would be easier, just clenching around his head and letting his hand play with your folds. But the thought of creaming around his entire length encourages you to sink further down.

Chris's hand falters at your cunt. He closes his eyes and sighs as you take more inches of him. He moans and tilts his head back, shivering when you've fully seated on him.

His exposed bruised neck sends shivers down your spine. It's like he's begging for you to mark him more, to put his entire self in your hands. Your hands trail up to his torso, his chest, before reaching his throat. You can not only see but feel how his breath catches in his throat. He peeks an eye open to see what you'll do.

Against your better judgment, you tighten your grip around his neck as you pick your hips up. His girth slides out of you a few inches more sliding back down. Chris's throat acts as leverage as you fuck yourself on him.

He hums under you, making your fingers vibrate. His hands grip the fat of your ass, squeezing and trying to get you to ride faster. "Fuck me baby," he grunts out. "Use my cock." Chris's raspy voice sends shivers down your spine.

Without thinking, you pick up your pace. Hips slamming on his in wet consecutive slaps as you fuck yourself on him. A particular thrust of Chris makes you whine. He hit the deepest parts of you roughly, a tingling sensation spreading throughout your lower half.

"Fuck," you gasp out. One of your hands moves down to his shoulder for better grip. You lean back slightly to force Chris's length to hit that gummy spot you swear has your pussy seeing stars.

The material of your shirt does little to conceal your breasts that bounce beneath. Chris's eyes lock onto the sight, and he moves his hands from your waist to underneath your bra. His fingers find your pebbled nipple easily and he tugs at it.

Your hips still for a moment as he gives attention to your chest and he takes this opportunity to fuck up into you harder.

Chris quickly grabs the bottom of your shirt and lifts it to your mouth.

"Bite."

You obey immediately, and Chris goes to work spilling your tits from your bra. He watches as your mounds move with the motion of your hips. You can see his tongue poke out hungrily, but he makes no move to bury his face in your chest. It doesn't take a genius to find out why though, and you finally release his neck from your grip to reach for the headrest from the front.

Chris's lips instantly find your tits, tongue licking and swirling around your bud. His hands return to your hips and he leans forward to get better access to where you both connect. You can hear him panting just below your chin, the grunts and groans as he holds your nipple between his teeth.

Your legs wrap around his lower back now that they have room to move, and you bring him closer.

"Imma cum," it's a muffled, weak voice you announce in, but Chris only finds it endearing. He pops off your breasts with a wet smack! and looks up at you, sweat dripping down his forehead. "Yeah? Gonna cum all over my fat cock?" You nod mindlessly, the hand on his shoulder reaching up to pull on his hair. "You promith to cum in me Chan? Pleath I need you to cum inthide me."

Chris laughs at your slurred, muffled speech, "Of course, I promise baby." To make a point, he starts lifting your weight off his cock before slamming you back down. You cunt quivers and drools over him and the car, but you only spread your legs more to give him a better entrance.

Now that Chris can use you like a fleshlight properly, you trail your hand from the back of his head to your dipping folds to rub and flick. He feels your walls squeeze from your ministrations, and he moans in your neck. You have to keep your back arched so it doesn't hit the middle console, but Chris does most of the work by keeping you somewhat upright.

"Gonna cum in your tight pussy. Mmm, gonna give it to you all."

His announcement makes you tighten around him, your pussy locking him in so nothing drips out. "Fuck yesh," you bite into your shirt harder in anticipation. The increasing tingling sensation builds into warmth pooling your belly. All you can feel is constant pressure and how your shirt has started collecting your drool.

Your legs snap against Chris's waist and your hips try to escape his relentless thrusts when you cum. It's overwhelming and blinding, but Chris keeps a harsh grip on your hips when you try to twist away. You can't even play with your clit from how sensitive you got, and you use that wet hand to push against his chest.

The material between your teeth falls, and you hear Chris tsk in feigning disappointment. It takes too much energy to even speak, let alone hold something between your teeth. All you can manage are breathless moans and pathetic mewls.

Chris's own high isn't too far behind you. He groans at the hotness in your cunt, the way he can feel your orgasm leaking onto his cock. Your walls are unbelievably soft and slick. Relaxed enough to let Chris fuck you as he pleases while maintaining a tight embrace that he pumps his cum in.

His arousal floods your pussy along with consecutive moans. His lips brush against the shell of your ear as he stills his hips. Chris's deep grunts combined with his high-pitched squeaks make you whine in return.

Then he pumps slowly but with harsh thrusts. It makes your body jolt and tighten, shivering from his warm cum and how he fucks it deeper inside of you. Chris lifts his head to look at your drooly lips, then your hazy eyes.

He hums with satisfaction at your fucked out expression and kisses you passionately. It's a stark contrast to his cock that's pouring his seed into you relentlessly. Your lips cave and your head falls slightly back from the weight of the kiss.

Chris licks alongside your bottom lip, mixing your salvias'. He wants to ensure he shares every part of himself with you. Down to the spit he mingles in your mouth to the sticky slick between your thighs. A reminder that he's yours, and you're his.

Now, until the unseeable future.

a/n: if you read this then I love you and I really wanna give you head jkjkfj but here's the 2nd part hope ya liked iittttt

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loveharlow · 2 years

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LET ME SHOW YOU

PAIRING‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚ [2.1k] JJ teaches his girlfriend how to indulge in the wonders of his favorite hobby.

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, a heated make-out session, mentions of/illusions to sex, drug use, my poor descriptions of smoking

A/N‧₊˚ I lowkey (highkey) had fun with this. Stay safe and make good life decisions.

˗ˏˋ jj masterlist ˎˊ˗

ENTERING THE CHATEAU, YOU SPOTTED JOHN B LAID OUT ON HIS SOFA. He was on his phone, texting rapidly and biting his lip. Weird. His eyes drifted to you from the phone clutched in his hands as he heard the screen door close behind you. His eyes went wide and he dropped the phone, cheeks flushing a deep shade of red.

“Uh, hey. I didn’t know you were stopping by.”

“I’m just looking for JJ.” You told him, eyeing him skeptically. “He told me to meet him here.”

Adjusting the hat on his head, he gestured for the front door. “He’s out in the Twinkie. I told him I didn’t want him smoking in the house.” Nodding and mumbling a thanks to the brunette boy, You turned on your feet to leave the same way you came in.

With your hand on the door handle, you turned to face him once more.

“John B?”

“Hm?”

“If you’re going to sext your girlfriend, don’t do it in your living room with the door unlocked.” You teased. And with that, you were walking out of The Chateau, leaving a flustered John B behind and hearing his ‘fuck you’ as the door slammed shut.

APPROACHING THE VAN PARKED OUTSIDE THE CHATEAU, YOU BANGED ON THE BACK DOORS. “It’s me!” You stepped back a couple feet as the door swung open, your boyfriend revealing himself with a joint hanging from his lips, hair messy, and clouds of faint smoke billowing out around him that, no doubt, had been collecting in the air. He smiled around the object in between in lips and held a hand out to help you into the foggy van.

Once inside, he shut the doors again and plopped down on the floor of the rickety vehicle. It was mildly smokey and a little humid. JJ pulled the small object from his between his lips so he could speak clearly. “Hi, pretty girl.” He cooed, clearly already a little buzzed. He was sitting against the side of the van, legs outstretched in front of him with a lit joint pinched between his fingers. His eyes, however, were on you. Scanning your frame up and down, almost hungrily.

Sitting down across from him, legs in the same outstretched position, you cocked an eyebrow. “Stop looking at me like that.”

He shrugged. "Can't help it."

JJ knew the affect he had on you, as did you. When he would do certain things, say certain things...He could make your head spin so easily. “Why’d you call me so early? I thought we were hanging out with everyone later.”

“I’m just wanted to see my girl.”

“You miss me that much?” You joked with a slight smile and shake of your head. “C’mon, J. What do you really want?” You inquired nudging your knee against his.

He took a hit of his joint, blowing the smoke out and throwing his head back. His eyes met yours as a smug grin crept its way onto his features. He held out the joint in your direction. “Smoke this with me.”

To say you were surprised was an understatement. You weren't against smoking or drinking but you've only ever indulged in the latter. You'd never been too intrigued by the idea of weed or smoking in general. “I have no idea how to do that.” You chuckled, lifting your shoulders nervously.

JJ rolled his eyes with a smile and leaned forward to grab your wrist, tugging you towards him. You put up no fight, letting him guide you gently until you were perched in his lap, legs on either side of him as he made sure to hold the lit object away from you as not to accidentally burn you.

“Let me show you.” He shrugged, unbothered. “If you want.”

Suddenly, you found it much hotter inside the spacious vehicle. The smoke in the air not helping. You nodded and tried to ignore the growing heat in your cheeks. JJ smiled and licked his lips. His free hand fell to your hip, holding you in place.

He brought the joint, that was now a more of a stub, up to his lips. Smoking the last of it, he exhaled the smoke to the left as to not blow it directly into your face and put it out in the ashtray next to him. You frowned and pinched my eyebrows together at the action. “...Why did you do that?”

“There wasn’t enough left to teach you anything. ‘M gonna roll a new one.” He spoke causally, noting your fallen and confused expression. “I promise you’ll get your lesson, mama.” He teased with a wink.

Twisting his body lightly, he picked up a plastic bag and some metal cylinder-type thing that were next to the ashtray. He sat them both on his lap between you two, taking one of the green-ish buds out of the bag and holding it out to you. Taking it, you immediately noted the way it stuck lightly to the tips of your fingers. “Why is it so sticky?”

“Realistically? Because of some kind of substance it produces. I don’t know what it’s called. But, the way I see it? It’s sticky because I paid too much for it not to be.” He jokes, plucking the herb cluster from your nimble fingers.

Lifting the top of the small contraption, revealing little spikes and holes inside—he transferred some of the contents of the bag into it. “Do you know what this is?”

“Mm...no.”

“It’s an herb grinder. You put the buds in here-” He grabbed the top that he removed earlier. “-put this back on.” Sealing the object, now with the herbs inside—he turned the top part of it around a couple times. “You’re gonna rotate the top. This’ll grind everything up and separate it.”

“Which does what, exactly?”

“Makes it easier to smoke and burn evenly. More smooth.”

JJ’s eyes were hooded and he was clearly relaxed. It was fascinating to see him teach you something while in his hazy state. But it was also kind of hot. He stopped rotating the top of it and went to unscrew the second part. When he opened it, he revealed the ground herbs. “This is the part we’ll smoke. Don’t smoke anything from the third chamber-” He said firmly, pointing to the very bottom of the herb grinder. “-down here.”

“Why not?” You asked curiously, still looking at the contents.

He chuckled at your peaked curiosity of it all. “That is called Kief, sweetheart. And someone like you doesn’t want any parts of that. It’s strong, as fuck.”

“But you can smoke it?”

“Yes, but you won’t. Not today, anyway.” He consoled, placing a quick kiss to your warm cheek. He set the grinder down beside the ashtray, still within reach, and picked up a rectangular, thin package. “This is rolling paper.” He concluded, plucking a sheet carefully and holding it lengthwise. Reaching over, he took some of the ground herbs and sprinkled it in the paper.

Once the paper was filled with the crushed buds, he rolled it into a tube-like shape, albeit slightly uneven, and sealed it with his tongue. He held it up between our faces with a dopey smile plastered on his face. “And there we have it.” He nudged it closer to you, a sign to take it from him.

When it was clasped between your two fingers, JJ fished around in his pockets for a lighter, slightly moving you around on his lap and throwing you off balance. Once he had the object, the hand that was empty was trailing up to hold the back of your neck. He held the lighter up, slightly wiggling it before he spoke.

“You’re gonna put that to your lips and when I finish lighting it, you’re going to inhale. Not too fast or deep and not for too long. You’re gonna cough but you’re good.” He assured. Flicking the lighter on, he raised an eyebrow. “Ready?”

You nodded and placed the small joint between your lips. JJ lit the opposite end and retracted the lighter away and let it die. “Inhale, carefully…” He coaxed.

The smoke filled your lungs, and it felt overwhelming. Your chest felt full and your throat tickled as JJ pulled the object from your lips, rubbing your hip as you coughed clouds of smoke. He started laughing and you weakly swatted his chest.

“You did good. You inhaled a little too long, though.” He grabbed his backpack on his left and unzipped it, taking out a bottle of water from inside. Unscrewing the cap with the joint clutched between his fingers like a cigarette, he tilted your chin up. “Open.” He ordered. You obliged without question, still coughing mildly. He poured the water into your mouth and pulled it back, pushing your chin up to close your mouth.

You swallowed, the mildly cool beverage cooling the walls of your throat and soothing the dryness as he sealed the bottle and threw it to the side. Once Iyou felt confident enough to speak again, you leveled your eyes with your boyfriend’s. “That wasn’t too bad.”

“Can you feel anything?”

“A little. It’s like, I can feel it working it’s way through me but it’s not there yet. It feels weird, but good.”

“Wanna shotgun?”

“...Do I want to what now?” You asked with mild uncertainty. JJ cracked a little smile and shook his head with a slight giggle. Repositioning the joint between his fingers, he brought it up to his lips and took a hit. Once he pulled it away, he leaned forward—his free hand lightly wrapping around the base of your throat as he brushed his lips over mine and blew the smoke into my mouth, you proceeding to inhale almost on instinct.

Your heart was beating so fast and you didn’t know if it was the weed or the blonde boy in front of you. You blew the smoke back out on a shaky breath, your eyes drifting down to his lips.

You didn’t even register the movement he made to connect his lips with your own until you felt the familiar, pillowy-soft feeling of his lips, the slight tinge and warmth of your activities swirling around in the exchange. His lips moved against your, slow but firm—his lips were slightly dry but not chapped and he tasted of something that was so…him.

The hand resting on your throat tightened in the slightest of ways as the hand holding the blunt disposed of it in the ashtray before coming up to hold the side of your face. Your own hands roamed the hair at the back of his neck as you shifted on his lap, eliciting a low grunt from the boy underneath you.

You could feel the effects slowly starting to hit you by the second. Your body felt light, but not to the point where you felt like you were floating or flying. It felt like a weight was lifted off of your shoulders that you didn't even know was there.

His tongue came out to swipe against your bottom lip, a silent request for entrance. You parted them for him as his tongue invaded your mouth. No fight for dominance as you let him do as he pleased.

You pulled away from the kiss, slightly out of breath, and pulled your shirt over your head. Revealing your bra underneath as JJ’s eyes went slightly wide and he bit his lip.

“Smoking with me and sex in the Twinkie? Have I corrupted you?” He asked teasingly. You rolled my eyes and scoffed.

“You did that a long time ago.”

YOU ROLLED OFF OF JJ AND ONTO THE FLOOR OF THE TWINKIE—breathing heavy, stray pieces of hair frizzy and out of place, lips swollen and a blanket draped over your hot, sweaty bodies. Turning to JJ, he was in a similar state, his cheeks flushed pink and hair sticking out in ten-thousand different directions, some hickeys and scratch marks starting to take a dark pink color on his chest.

“Y’know-” He started, sitting up on an elbow to trace a finger up along your prominent collar bone. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” You couldn't help but smile, your cheeks heating up and starting to ache. You were about to speak when the doors of the van flew open, your wild eyes flying to John B who stood at the foot of the van.

“Oh shit.” He exclaimed, taking in the scene around him. You pulled the blanket up further, muttering a 'jesus' while JJ hissed a 'close the door man'.

John B shut the doors quickly as you looked around for your shirt and shorts, JJ handing them to you while trying to hold in a laugh. You took the clothes and shot him a glare. “Really?!” John B shouted from outside. “In my van? The Twinkie?! C’mon guys.”

Once you both were dressed and cleaned up your mess in the van, JJ opened the doors and motioned for you to jump out first, him following. John B was leaned up against the other side and pushed off to walk over to us as JJ shut the doors.

“The others just got here.” He said, eyes narrowed as he pointed a finger at you and JJ. “You two are disinfecting my entire van when we get back.” He turned around and stomped back into the Chateau, mumbling something under his breath and shaking his head in disapproval.

JJ laughed while fixing his shirt around and you elbowed his arm softly. “JJ! That was not funny.” You shook your head in slight embarrassment.

JJ looked at you pitifully and slung his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Aw, don’t worry, my little stoner. He’ll forget about it.”

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

©loveharlow.

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meidnightrain · 20 days

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SUNSHINE AFTER THE STORM❞ - aventurine

summary: he isn’t a big fan of the rain but this time, it washes every doubt in his body away until he’s left feeling clean

warnings: reader is gn, fluff, slight spoilers for 2.1 penacony quest

notes: i tried to write fluff for today, but i’m not too sure if i managed to hit the mark. oh to dance in the rain with aventurine.

taglist(open): @akutasoda , @ryuryuryuyurboat , @toorurs , @yvnaology , @tragedy-of-commons , @staarri , @rainswept

AVENTURINE wasn’t a big fan of rain; it was scarce where he grew up. everytime it rained, it reminded him of this blessing of a curse that had been bestowed upon him as a child. the rain had washed away every part of him that he held onto—his family, his home, his childhood.

this planet that you both had been assigned to for this task had torrential downpours that just wouldn’t let up no matter what, much to his dismay. perhaps what even elevated his immense discomfort was the way you were so awestruck by just mere water falling from the sky.

“come on, it’s just a bit of rain.” you urged pleadingly, tugging on his hand from where you both were in the shade, his grip firm on yours. you’re not sure what’s gotten into him. he looked distant as he gazed at the raindrops colliding with the pavement.

he does not need to be alone to find his faults, to rethink every bad decision in his life, and to hate himself over and over again when other people do it for you. but something is different this time when he looks at you; it’s like unlocking a secret door to his heart he didn’t know of.

you’re soaked from head to toe, your hair drenched, and your clothes practically see-through, plastered through your skin in all the wrong places. but you’re smiling even though there’s water in your shoes, rain falling down from the sky in a light shower.

“my outfit is too expensive to get wet,” is his remark, quick and off-putting enough that it puts a frown on your face that he can’t bear to see. the last time AVENTURINE felt the rain, it left a salty taste in his mouth mixed with tears as he fled for his life. he was lucky that it never rained in penacony, not that he hated it. it was funny; he had always prayed for rain as a child, when now all he ever wanted was to never feel it touch his skin again.

“come on, you can always wash it out!” you bounded over to him, sending splashes of water flying in his direction as you stomped in every puddle in your way. he skidded back, nearly dodging water thrown his way.

your hand is outstretched, and he stared at your dripping, wet palm with a thin smile, hesitating to take it. but he relented anyway; he could never say not to you, even if it meant that he’d get drenched in the process.

and when the water meets his skin, he drowns. but your grip on his hand is all he needs to navigate the flood of memories, so warm and grounding that it guides him through the dark waters he’s submerged in. his eyes flew open to see you, and you grinned at him with the widest beam he’s ever seen. and you’re more beautiful than you’ve ever been before. you always were, but this time it’s different, and he can’t help but return a smile back at you.

“not so bad, isn’t it?” you asked playfully, stomping in a puddle and splashing with water. his shoes and the tip of his pants are now dirty; his shoes squeak with every move, and it’s so uncomfortable and unnerving when he feels mud on every inch of his body. but there’s a sort of comfort in your company that AVENTURINE can’t help but forget about all that at the moment and think of only you.

“every waking moment with you could never be bad.” he grinned impishly, gathering water from the rain and pouring it over your head. you screeched in surprise before you retaliate, the both of you running around in the storm like teenagers in love.

when he kissed you, you were both damp and dirty; there’s mud on your cheeks and grass stains on his gloves that you weren’t sure how it even got there. he doesn’t care, though; his is warm against your mouth, and you feel dry all of a sudden. your child’s play turns into a dance, and your laughter somehow blends in with the rumbling sound of thunder and rain in a way that makes him feel like he’s in a dream. and he can’t help but be swept away by the flood as well.

he would always run to your embrace and seek shelter from you, for you would be the umbrella shielding him from the storm. but maybe, what if all he needed was someone who would see the light play in the rain with him? his money could never buy your happiness or your smile; it could never make up for your company or your love. you’re the dawn he’s waited for all his life, the sunshine after the storm. and AVENTURINE wouldn’t mind ruining every outfit of his to make you smile.

#🗞️ - honkai star rail fics #—stellaronhvnters.#・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr x you #aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #hsr aventurine #honkai star rail #hsr fluff #honkai star rail fluff

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himechia · 5 months

Text

“ ࣭⸰ ★ EYE OF AFFECTION . . . ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀NCT127 ; jeong jaehyun x fem reader (12.9k)

⊹ ⠀⠀ for as long as he can remember, jae's world has been in black and white - giving him no reason to appreciate his mother’s profession as an artist and the beauties that art can provide. however, an accidental meeting with you gives him reason to doubt his former beliefs - proving to him that there may be true beauty in a world that’s void of everything bright, that beauty being the sunshine that you provide.

contains; colorblind!jae, painter!reader, jae's mom is reader’s art mentor, jae hates art, strangers to lovers, major crushing from both sides, slow burn but also not slow burn (like a nice simmering burn), swearing, fluff, kissing, reader acts like she’s on an adrenaline rush 24/7, jealousy, angst, explosive arguments, lowkey toxic, extremely inaccurate depictions of colorblindness!!, johnny is jae's bestie, happy ending! author's note; hi guys this fic is finally back in the nct tumblr world,, i have this posted on my main blog for blue lock under the name 'rationalism' if u see any name errors that's why,, enjoy!!

Whenever the sun meets its peak at the high dawning point in the sky is when Jaehyun knows it's a perfectly acceptable time to visit his oh-so-beloved mother. If he could, he would spend every waking moment with her - he’s a momma’s boy through and through - not only because she birthed him and taught him everything he knows, but because she’s kind and good. She’s also one of - scratch that - she’s the only person he can stand to be around for more than twenty four hours - and he takes great pride in having such a wonderful woman in his life.

However, despite how dearly he holds his mother to his heart, the issue with visiting her at this time of day is that she’s in her art studio. A place he loathes more than having to wear wet socks with sneakers. While it’s a beautiful space, with high wooden beams and floor to ceiling windows, he finds himself nauseous at the mere sight of the countless tubes of oil and acrylic paints. It’s not that the smell or colors are distasteful, it’s the fact that no matter how hard he squints and struggles, he cannot fathom what the simple color red looks like.

Complete black and white color blindness isn’t a life threatening condition in the slightest, but for Jaehyun, it feels as if he’s being stabbed through the sternum at any notion of the changing leaves or colorful streaks of light across the sun-setting sky.

He doesn’t hate his mother for being an artist, he simply hates the art itself.

And he especially hates pieces of art like the one sitting before him, now. With the blobs of squares and triangles against the supposedly white canvas, sitting perky on the easel as if to mock him - he decides to reach his hand out - and remind himself how emotionally detached acrylic paints make him feel. It’s wet, he observes, rubbing his thumb and pointer finger together to mix the possibly different hues. Jaehyun hopes he didn’t ruin the artist’s painting in any way, he wouldn’t know if he’d accidentally smeared shading or contrasting primaries - but surely the artist could fix it in a jiffy.

“Do you like it?”

Well, that certainly isn’t his mother’s voice.

“I tried using cooler tones in the corner here, and then migrated towards warmth in the lower portion.” You’re beside him now, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with his position, and completely ignoring his personal space - all while he’s never met you before this day. Your finger is extended, pointing towards the artistic decisions you’re elaborating on that, in all honesty, he doesn’t give two shits about. “I’m thinking about sketching some paper cranes on top of it all, I want it to represent the change of seasons.”

“What do you think?”

You’re staring at him now, bright eyes shining with curiosity. Jaehyun is at a loss for words, mostly due to your unannounced appearance in the studio, but also because you’re possibly the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid his eyes on - which is shocking, considering the sight of thick paint smudged against a person’s face typically sends him running the opposite direction. He’s never felt an immediate connection to the women of his past - however you, a strange girl who resembles a dog waiting for its treat, has his heart beating at twice the rate.

“I like this shape.” Jaehyun purses his lips into a straight line, never having felt so awkward in his whole life. “This square is nice, too.”

You look utterly unimpressed with his evaluation. Your nose is scrunched in distaste and the fold beneath your right eye seems to be twitching in disapproval for your own artwork. “That’s all that you like?” You step ever so slightly closer to him, chin tilted up to meet his gaze, before retreating quickly and coddling your painting. “Perhaps I overestimated my color palette. I really thought it would be the outstanding moment of this piece, but I guess I could rework it if the shapes are all that matter—”

“Did you touch my painting?”

Oh boy, he’s in for it now.

A nervous laugh leaves his mouth, embarrassing him further as he reaches up to scratch the back of his neck in an attempt to look casual, only for you to grab his wrist out of thin air. “Oh my god, you did!” Your mouth is agape, inspecting his tattered skin in shock - yet somehow he knows that you aren’t truly upset with him - you don't seem like that kind of person. “Did you not realize that you’ve got scarlet red all over your palms?”

Jaehyun’s mind is blank, his ability to form coherent sentences is gone, and he can only muster up the cheesiest, most terribly dreadful joke that he’s said in the twenty three years he’s been alive.

“I guess you caught me red handed?”

There’s a moment of silence, with the two of you displaying the most aloof expressions either of you have ever made, until your face lights up with laughter. He doesn’t understand what could possibly be so funny - his joke was awful - but the sound of your contagious fits of giggles make his heart feel a little bit warmer in a place that he commonly feels suffocated in. For the first time, the studio gives him a sense of comfort rather than distress - and he knows it's because he’s developing a very clear crush on the pretty girl beside him.

You’re hysterical, resembling that of insanity while Jaehyun is simply stuck in time. He can’t tell if he should be steadying you before you trip over your own feet or if he should simply take his leave and forget this day ever happened.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” he begins, watching you wipe a tear of laughter from the crinkle of your right eye, “but why are you here? Do you have an appointment, because I could’ve sworn there weren’t any other people that were allowed in the studio at this hour—”

“Oh, I do know you!” The volume of your voice just seems to get louder and louder. “You must be Miss Jeong’s son! She always mentions how lovely her little boy is, I can’t believe I’m finally meeting you! Though, I expected you to be like six or seven, not my age. She should’ve mentioned that you were handsome, not cute - she really chose every adjective other than the ones that wouldn’t make you sound like a primary schooler.”

Does she ever stop talking? Jaehyun doesn’t think he’s ever heard another person ramble on-and-on like you do. Normally he’d have ended the conversation by now, walked away without a second thought of whether he acted rude or not, but he knows that his mother would strangle him if he was to blatantly disregard her current favorite student. The student that she loves telling him stories about at the dinner table every Sunday night as he’s just trying to eat his fingerling potatoes in peace.

The same student who he’s somehow enjoying talking to - though it’s mostly just you talking to his blank face - and is causing a soft yellow blush to form on his cheeks. He doesn’t actually know if yellow is the color related to blushing, but he thinks he’s read it somewhere before.

“Anyways, to answer your question—”

Jaehyun feels like he’d asked you hours ago.

“—I’d walked all the way to the train station and realized I’d forgotten my wallet here - which is strange because normally I never forget anything. I’m a very organized person—”

Yeah, he doesn’t believe that.

“—and then I had to run all the way back here—”

Your shoes are scuffed. You definitely tripped on the way.

“—where I accidentally ran into a stroller…poor baby—”

Yep. Tripped.

“—which led me to you!”

You’re smiling now and Jaehyun doesn’t think he’s seen so many teeth shining at him in all of his life. God, do you ever run out of energy? No matter, he knows exactly where your missing item is. The anonymous wallet had been the first thing his eyes had grazed over when striding towards your artwork - good thing it’s only an arm’s reach away.

He snatches the wallet from the art easel and is pleasantly surprised by the quality of the possibly monochromatic leather. The clasp is simple, requiring just one twist before the contents of your identity are laid out before him. “Well, it’s nice to meet you,” Jaehyun recites the name written on your license and holds the items out to you, to which you reach out, eager to reunite with your belongings. However, at the last second he waves it in the air - away from your dying fingertips - and clicks his tongue two times. “Try not to lose it again. It’s a luxury brand, isn’t it? I like the black color.”

“Black?” Shit. The tilt of confusion your head makes indicates that your wallet is not, in fact, black. “I’m either stupid or color blind, but this is red.”

Before Jaehyun can respond, he’s saved by the bell. Well, technically his savior isn’t an actual bell, but you get the gist. “Miss Jeong!” Thank god she’s finally here to distract you. He’s been fighting to maintain his pride throughout your entire interaction. “I made an extra trip to the studio and ran into your son, here! You weren’t lying when you said he’s a little quiet - honestly, I feel like I’ve been talking to myself this whole time.”

You quite literally have been doing that very thing for the past ten minutes.

“Oh, Jaehyun! Have you been acting rude?” His mother’s expression is tense, stricter than the time he ‘accidentally’ took her (grey?) Kia Soul on a joyride that one weekend he and Johnny decided to go on a midnight run to the department store. “Please don’t mind him at all, dear. You see, he doesn’t exactly get out much - his social skills might be a little underdeveloped.”

She can’t actually be saying this right now. This is exactly why he hasn’t had a girlfriend in months - his mother embarrasses him in front of every pretty girl they come across in the first two minutes of saying ‘hello’. It isn’t that Jaehyun is a terrible flirt - which he is, but he likes to deny it - it’s that he loves his mother so much that he can’t bear to tell her that her attempts at ‘hooking him up’ are always bound to fail.

However, you don’t appear to be phased by her words. If anything, you’re actually pleased by the sound of him being socially impaired.

“That’s actually perfect!”

What.

The.

Fuck?

“He can be my portrait model!” You’re still talking. Please, for the love of God, stop talking. “You know how I’ve been trying to become better skilled in the emotional aspect of my paintings, he could definitely help me out by showing anxiety and embarrassment - and you’ve been telling me it’s about time that I found myself a model.”

The endless trail of words that continue to string from your mouth seem to reach their end. Rather than speaking in spitfire, you’re now crazily staring at Jaehyun, himself. Both of your fists are clenched together in a pleading hold and he doesn’t think that you’ve blinked since the start of your conversational rampage - but despite the absurdity of your proclamation, he believes you have good intentions. There really is no reason to deny the request - after all, he’d be helping out his mother in the process, she does love having successful students - but he just can’t imagine himself spending any more time in the dreadfully grey studio than he already does.

“I don’t think that would be a very good idea, ______.” His mother catches your words before he has a chance to give you his own oral letter of rejection. “Jaehyun’s never been one for art.”

“Oh.”

All you have to say is ‘oh’?

“I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” you continue. The expression on your face is suddenly stern. Has he offended you in some way by saying no? “I’ll figure something else out, Miss Jeong. I apologize if I overstepped.”

You’re bowing your head before him now, and Jaehyun is shell shocked. His first impression of you was undoubtedly a dud, considering how you actually do seem to have a rational bone in your body despite the hyperactivity you displayed just moments before. While he’s mustering up a response, you lift your eyes - lashes fluttering like upwards brush strokes on a canvas - and send a small smile his way. It’s as if you’re silently apologizing to him for the undivided attention you tormented him with, but he doesn’t want you to apologize.

He just doesn’t know how to say that he actually liked your personality.

God, he’s so bad at flirting.

“Thanks for finding my wallet, though.” Your fingers are suddenly touching his, momentarily grazing against his skin as you pluck your wallet from his hands. There’s no chance that you haven’t noticed the rising heat that’s currently warming the blossoms of his cheeks, and he hopes that you find it endearing. While he isn’t great with words, he likes to think that he may be at least a little bit cute. His mother always calls him a ‘cutie’ - which he appreciates, but it’s also so degrading for someone of his age. “Maybe I’ll be forgetful more often, now.”

He hopes you’ll start being more forgetful, too.

You’ve left your entire bag this time.

He can’t tell if you’re trying to be subtle and coy with the budding feelings that’re growing between the two of you, and you’re just as awful at flirting as he is - or if you’ve just given up on leaving small signs of attraction. Honestly, in the past few weeks of you leaving paintbrushes and lanyards in the studio, he’d assumed it was all naturally an accident. This, though? How do you expect him to believe that you left your entire satchel in the studio? Sure, you can be a little dense, but not that dense.

It’s obvious that you’ve begun to lose track of your belongings for the simple reason that you enjoy partaking in the awkward exchange of items when you ‘hastily’ return to the empty renovated greenhouse and get to act surprised to see him standing there with his arms full of things with your name written all over them. In fact, this instance has happened so often that Jaehyun is beginning to believe that he actually enjoys it, too.

Sometimes he thinks that maybe you should just write your name on him to speed up this dreadful ‘will they, won’t they’ process that you’ve been pacing together.

He likes you. He really really likes you, and you both know it.

You’d picked up on his feelings from the second time you met - when he willingly stayed behind in the studio for an extra two hours just to hear you ramble about the difference between heavy and soft body acrylic paints. There was something about the way you grinned at him. How your chin would angle upwards to his height in order to have a proper conversation. How you weren’t afraid to say anything and everything that was on your sporadic mind. How your eyes would sparkle at the dedicated eye contact he was making - letting you know that he was hanging on to every word that left your lips (which he just recently found out are pink - and boy does he wish to know what that undoubtedly lovely color looks like against your skin).

He hates to compare you to a painting - which he still finds a positively dreadful blob of nothingness - but to him, you are one. You’re a captivating piece of art hanging on the walls of the nationally acclaimed museum in his mind.

A captivating piece of art whose art of subtlety is extremely lacking, considering that your phone number is quite literally painted on the largest white canvas your easel can hold, in bold lettering that he would have to be visually blind to miss, plastered behind the hiding place of your bag.

‘P.S. It's written in red paint. I know you have a thing for red.”

As much as he likes you, you can be such a pain in his ass. The bane of his existence, if you will.

It pains him to notice how he hadn’t thought twice about typing the digits into his text bar, smiling to himself at the sight of your make-shift contact with the horrid selfie you’d taken on his phone to be your future contact picture. Your hair is an utter mess, with flecks of paint scattered across your hairline - which, to be honest, look like dandruff to him with their lack of vivid color, but he told you that they resemble snowflakes. He lied - but what you don’t know doesn’t hurt you.

Without hesitating, he types a singular ‘hey’ before backtracking. What if you don’t know that it’s him texting you? What if you think that it’s a random stranger who just so happened to be in the art studio and thought to add your contact information to their phone? He better be more clear.

‘Hello, ______. You know me.’

Perfect.

In less than a split second, you respond. He can feel his nerves itching at the sight of the grey text bubble popping in and out of view. Jaehyun can’t even remember the last time his heart beat so fast. Perhaps when he was standing in front of his secondary school health classroom and he accidentally mistook a photo of the urinary system with the ovaries during a speech about the female menstrual cycle? The stream of liquid projected against the white board was in fact not what he thought it was (how was he supposed to see the difference between red and yellow?), which turned into a horribly disgusting presentation that Johnny still bothers him about to this day. That was dreadful - but this is definitely equally as dreadful, if not more.

‘Stalker much?’ Huh? ‘Hi though, Jae. That text was very…you.’

‘You added my number pretty quickly.’ Man, you text really fast. ‘You just couldn’t resist me, could you?’

He doesn’t know what to say back. It’s as if his mind has been scraped raw of all romantic material that one would usually use in this situation - the situation in which an unbelievably pretty girl is talking to him through a phone screen. Jaehyun is completely frozen in place, time, and thought. The only part of him that isn’t paralyzed is the hole in his chest that is beginning to be thawed by you. His frozen heart of past relationships has found its fire - and oh does it burn for you.

“Cat got your tongue?”

Where the fuck did you come from?

Swiveling on his heel, he turns to face your approaching figure. Your footsteps are lighter than air, likely being the reason as to how you managed to stealthily sneak in so quietly while he had been distracted with his phone. The light denim jeans that cover you from waist to ankles are perhaps his favorite pair you own. You’ve painted on them over time, sketching out a garden of patterns that don’t require color to appreciate. Your artistic ability is uncanny - he can’t deny the fact that you’re incredibly skilled - and he believes that you should be given an award for making ‘art’s number one hater’ a growing fan.

“You left your bag.” No shit, Captain Obvious. “Do you want it back?”

He’s so bad at this.

You skip towards him, your left foot following your right in a rhythm of peppiness, and lean up towards him with a shine in your eyes. God, you look so pretty. Sure, seeing you from a comfortable distance with an easel separating your bodies was nice and all, but when you pull stunts like this - with no room for him to scurry off and run - he actually takes the time to digest your features in their true beauty. You’re the artist, yet he seems to be the one who’s always studying you.

“Do you have any plans for today?” You ask in a curious tone. Your hands are held together behind your back as you send him a beaming grin with an upturned lip. “—because I was thinking about grabbing some tea, and it would be so unfortunate if I had to go all alone and sit by myself with all of those strangers around me. Who knows what could happen? If only there were someone who could protect me in case a sleazy guy asks for my number…”

Are you trying to manipulate him, right now?

“I’ve got nothing to do today.”

—because he’ll gladly let you do so.

The peaks of your eyebrows raise in surprise, not expecting him to accept the offer so quickly. Over the short time you’ve known one another, you’ve noticed that Jaehyun’s reluctance to spend one-on-one time with you has dwindled. He’s slowly becoming more comfortable in your presence and whatever inner turmoil that he’s facing is fading into the tide of your raging tsunami. There’s a peaceful gaze behind his brown eyes, now. One that you love to study whenever he isn’t looking your way (which isn’t often).

“Then it’s a date!” Surging forwards, you take his arm in yours and link yourselves together. He’s initially shocked by the immediate physical connection you’ve managed to make within mere seconds, but he thinks that he likes it. It’s been so long since he’s even held hands with a girl, so he’s understandably tense, but you’re giving him time to adjust. After all, scaring him away would be your last intention. “I’ll even pay for your drink, since you were kind enough to find my lost satchel.”

“Yeah, your lost satchel was so hard to find.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He smiles to himself.

Yes, you do.

He isn’t sure how, but he’s somehow burned his tongue again.

“Shit!” Jaehyun hurriedly places his mug down onto the circular wooden table that separates the two of you, while attempting to be gentle since he doesn’t want to waste the perfectly tasty coffee that you paid for. He groans, dabbing the corners of his lips with one of the complimentary paper napkins. “Why does it get me every time?”

This is perhaps the third week in a row that you and him have ditched the studio and decided to claim the neighboring cafe as your designated date spot - though you’re still an unofficially exclusive couple. Unofficial as in Jaehyun hasn’t found the nerves to ask you to be his girlfriend, and exclusive as in neither of you are nor want to see other people. It’s a confusing situation for both parties to be in, but he just can’t seem to take that next step with you no matter how hard he tries to push himself towards the ideal solution.

Jaehyun is a rationalist. He takes in the information given to him through interactions and associations, working through it with logistics on his mind, and tries to find the best outcome. It’s how he’s lived every hour and every day of his adulthood, and he’s fairly set in stone with his mannerisms at this point. He always known who he is, what he wants, and how to obtain those things. What he didn’t know, though, was that an unpredictable variable (you) would crash into his life and disarray the routine that he’d been building for twenty-three years.

The hypothesis born of the situation isn’t a difficult one to solve, after all he’s had it written down for a month: if Jaehyun finds the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend, then you’ll likely say yes and the two of you will live happily ever after. Easy, right?

Wrong. He’s a chicken.

“Here. This might help you cool down.”

Your arm is extended, offering him your drink of the day without hesitation. Every time you come here, arm-in-arm, you order something different. ‘There’s no fun without surprise’, is what you tell him after the consistent strange glances he sends your way when you’re ordering, and he can’t help but disagree. You’re very different individuals - and that difference is extremely apparent with the light, mint garnished tea in your glass compared to the dark roast coffee in his.

“Thanks, ______, you’re a lifesaver.” He sighs in relief as the cool liquid flows down his throat in an internal waterfall. “Holy shit, this is actually so good.”

You laugh, “I would hope so. I only got it because of the photo on the menu. It’s like a rainbow of color.”

And there it is. The thing that isolates him the most from your world.

As much as he likes you, which is more than he can explain, he can’t help but have that itching thought at the back of his mind that you’ll never truly be able to connect with one another. You bask in the beauty of the world around you. From the apparent golden sun showers and bouquets of stark red roses - two things that you’ve described to him in great detail amidst your walks through the farmer’s market on Saturday mornings - to the countless brush strokes against the white canvas at his mother’s studio, you adore a world in color.

It’s a viewpoint that’s shaped who you are, from infantry to your current age of twenty-two, and it’s something that you’ll never be able to let go of.

To be quite frank, it scares him. It keeps him up at night knowing that seeing the world through your eyes is impossible. That it’s a far off dream that is unobtainable, taunting him in his mind and heart like a bone dangling in front of a dog’s face. He wishes that he could admire the blue streaked skies and emerald green ferns that line the streets of the city. He yearns to feel overcome with pride at the sight of your watercolor drafts - which you attempt to show him after every class session to no avail - and congratulate you on the progress you’re making. There are so many things that he dreams of doing with you, dreams that exist solely in your world, as they’ll never be possible in his.

He hasn’t officially asked you to be his yet, because how could he?

How could he bind you to him? You’d be miserable looking through his eyes - having to see only hues of black, white, and grey, similar to the pencil sketches that you’ve openly shown your hatred for in front of him. ‘There’s just nothing there,’ is what you mumble to yourself. ‘No life, no anything without color.’ To which you then drop a single ounce of paint against the seemingly dreadful piece of art - and the sparkle in your eyes as it comes to life is something that he loves to see but can’t understand…

…as you see the world in a way that he can never understand.

Jaehyun doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to tell you about his condition. It would end everything all at once, and he isn’t sure how he would recover from that kind of heartbreak. You’re so blissfully unaware of how much conflict runs through his veins on a daily basis. Hell, you don’t even notice how he orders a singular black coffee every time you approach the counter together. You don’t see how he struggles to agree with you as you admire the assortment of blended beverages with a forced smile on his face. You don’t understand why he chooses to indulge in such a bitter drink and make sure to comment on it every single time.

He can’t blame you, though - it really is disgusting - but he also can’t tell you that he orders his coffee black since it’s a universal drink that appears the same to everyone who sees it. At least when he’s holding the steaming mug between his large palms, he knows that it appears to you as it does to him. That the divide that’s ripping a ravine through your connected hands is lessened in a sense - and you’re truly viewing one thing as the same.

Which is why he sits pretty and appreciates the short time that you do spend together, and suffers through piping hot coffee three times a week with no interruptions.

“I think I’ve made some progress on my portfolio.”

Your drink has been returned to your hands now. The small, clear glass is ringing as you tap the sides with your fingernails. It’s somewhat soothing, the rhythm following the tune of one of your favorite songs that Jaehyun happens to know very well after walking in on you in the middle of ‘art therapy’, in which you blast the music at full volume and deafen all other sounds. You have a tendency to be impatient - art being the only thing that can really pin you down for a long period of time - yet you’ve made room in your heart for Jaehyun despite this.

“Really?” Jaehyun dabs his mouth carefully, being ever the proper suitor in your presence. “My mom hasn’t given you any recent critiques?”

“No, she has.” As your words continue, you take a long sip of your tea. He can feel his cheeks flush while you swallow. He loves anything you do. “Just little comments about negative space and color theory, but I’m getting there.”

“Nice.”

He doesn’t know how to respond to that.

“Yeah, nice.”

Despite his seemingly rude reaction, you’re still gazing at him with a smile on your face. It isn’t an exceedingly joyful smile or one of excitement, but something of contentedness. You’ve become comfortable around him - shedded the hyperactive layers of skin that you display to onlooking strangers - and have begun to share the side of yourself that only your bedroom walls know. Seeing this side of you has made him fall even harder. Knowing that someone so confident, so bold, is just like him - caring so much about first impressions and likeability - and has their own insecurities is validating. Validating in the sense that you find him special enough to throw away the filter and be your true self in his presence.

“You know,” you begin in a wistful tone, “you aren’t a man of many words, Jae - and if I’m being totally honest, my patience is running out.”

He hopes this isn’t going where he thinks it is.

He’s not letting you ask him out before he can—

“What am I to you?”

Oh.

Your eyes are giving him an expectant look, now.

What the hell is he supposed to say to that?

This is the quietest you’ve ever been, you aren’t even swirling the star-shaped ice cubes in your strawberry lemon tea.

Why can’t he think of anything to say?

His silence is causing you to furrow your eyebrows in concern.

This is so embarrassing. Just say something. Anything.

“You’re my mom’s student.”

Anything but that.

“I’m…” the words at the tip of your tongue seem to dissolve like damp sugar cubes, “I’m your mom’s student.”

Your sentence is more of a statement than a question. It’s as if there’s a machine in your brain, working through his given answer and comparing all of the other possibilities he could’ve said. There were endless responses to your inquiry, and he somehow managed to pick the worst one.

He needs to fix this. How can he fix this?

“You’re not just a student, though.” His words are tumbling over one another in somersaults and you seem to perk up at his continuity. The hope in your heart grows a little bit larger, pulsating and yearning for him to say exactly what you’d been wanting for weeks-on-weeks. “You’re my mom’s special student.”

Oh God, he made it worse.

“What?” Jaehyun tries to reach for your hand in an attempt to compensate for his actions through physical touch, but you retaliate and instinctively jerk away. You quickly stand, drink in hand, and back away from him as he follows like a lost puppy. Your head is shaking from right to left, disbelief exerting from the pores of your skin like poison - sentencing him with death while it seeps through his gaping mouth and empty palms. “I’m a special student?”

How the hell are you so fast?

Within seconds the two of you are at odds outside of the building. The weather is somewhat chilly - springtime having just come around with the cherry blossoms in full bloom - and it’s probably a beautiful day with the petals raining down on the pavement. You’d usually make a comment about how wonderful the horticulture was outside of the shop, but now you’re stomping over every fallen flower and budding stem that lies in the way of your rage-filled path. He’d always thought of you as a gentle soul, but apparently even gentle souls have their breaking points - and he never dreamed that he’d be yours.

“If I’m so special, what makes me different from the girl before me and the one before her?” This is the first time you’ve ever raised your voice at him. “Did you take all of them out for drinks? Did they all get to spend one-on-one time with their mentor’s ‘handsome’ son? Did you lead all of them on, too? Jaehyun, what kind of answer is that?”

You’ve found yourselves in an alcove now - about a block from the cafe in a small garden nestled between two buildings. The blossoming trees continue to surround you from all sides, perfectly framing the tragic picture of him saying anything and everything you absolutely do not want to hear. A large sigh leaves your lips, heaving from your chest as if he’s popped a balloon and is pushing all of the air out with the strength of his smooth hands.

“That’s not what I meant!” He pauses as you halt in place, slowly turning to face him like you're something out of a horror movie - a monster who’s ready to murder their prey. A gulp runs down his Adam’s apple. You’re terrifying when upset. “Please, just let me explain!”

“Explain what?” Jaehyun flinches at your volume. “If you want to explain yourself so badly then tell me why the hell would you say something like that?”

“Sure, you aren’t the best with banter or having a crush - but dear God, you cannot possibly be that dense.” This is getting bad. “I’ve left hundreds of hints! Every single goddamn day - and you’ve picked up on all of them! You know, I thought that when you’d hold my hand or kiss my cheek that you actually meant something by it. I figured ‘he spends so much time with me, he can’t possibly not like me’, but no. I’m just a student.”

Your face is fuming with every dreadful word that comes out of your mouth. “Oh, sorry. I’m a special student.”

If this were a scene in an animated film, your hair would be on fire now. Flames as high as mountain tops would be spiking in sharp peaks at every end of sentence and statement spitting from your mouth. Your normally warm irises would be drawn as ice cold, not leaving any room for life as they skate across his timid features - wishing for him to reach freezing level so you could smash him into a million pieces.

You’d always told him that red and blue - fire and ice - were two things that you admired most. With their ever changing states of matter and forceful power amidst the seasons, he found himself believing as you do. Jaehyun actually learned to appreciate their vast palette as if he could see it with his own eyes - but now? Now he thinks that they’re the two worst things in the universe - as their destructive nature has decided that their target is him, and he has absolutely no defenses prepared.

“I should’ve caught on sooner, shouldn’t I have?” You’re still going, hot tears building up and threatening to stream down your cheeks. Never in his life has Jaehyun been at the receiving end of such anger - and never in his life has he learned how to manage a situation as such. So, he does what any clueless man would do - he returns the anger.

“You’re not even listening to me!” His hands are violently moving while his words cut like knives. “You never listen to me!”

“I never listen to you?” He’s apparently hit another nerve. “Is that some kind of sick joke? Jae, all I do is listen to you! It may not look like it, but I see the way you tense whenever I talk about my passions and dreams. I notice the way your face drains when I’m asking you for your opinion on my works in progress. Sometimes it’s like I can physically hear your eyes rolling when they see me walk into the studio with my bag of brushes and materials. Yet, you think that I don’t listen? I take note of every single thing that you do when you’re around me, because I don’t want to miss out on a single moment with you, and you don’t even care!”

He can’t believe that you’re pinning this on him.

“How could you even say that?” Jaehyun can’t tell who’s in the right or wrong anymore - all he knows is that if he doesn’t stop speaking, you’ll walk away forever. “I’ve never cared about anyone as much as you! I’ve done my best to entertain your interests and the absurd things you ask of me—”

“Well, your best hasn’t been enough.”

You’ve got to be fucking kidding.

“Are you being serious, right now?”

Your eyes are stoney, rock solid with stubbornness as you refuse to accept his side of the story and he knows that you won’t be budging from the beliefs that you’re choosing to hold against him. Jaehyun doesn’t know how everything went so wrong so fast, but he does know that he doesn’t have what it takes to save the situationship that he mistakenly put the two of you in.

“What the fuck did I do wrong that you resent me this much? Not even an hour ago all you wanted was to see me get down on one knee and profess my ‘undying’ love for you.” He’s so angry. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this angry. “Now I’m some asshole who doesn’t give a shit about your wellbeing? If everything I’ve done hasn’t been enough, then I might as well go fuck myself, right? I’m sorry I’m not perfect like you! I’m sorry I can’t see the world through crystal lenses like you! I’m sorry that I’m not good enough for you!”

His face feels wet. When did he start to cry? Was it ten minutes ago? Five? Just now? The hurricane of emotions that he’s putting himself through is more than he’s endured in years - his mental blockage of his condition finally coming to light as his heart runs off of the rails - and you’ve definitely seemed to notice considering the concern etched into your expression.

“I was never going to be perfect for you,” he begins with a softer tone. Perhaps his hot bundle of rage has subsided for a few moments. “I can’t be with you. I can’t understand how you see the world. I couldn’t spend the rest of my life listening to you ask me all of these questions and opinions on your work when I can’t even see it fully.”

You’re so close to him. Somewhere in the flurry of words, you took a step in his direction. “Jae, what’re you talking about?”

As he bites his bottom lip with the fear of judgment raging in his mind, his secret is set free.

“I’ve always liked this shirt on you,” he solemnly smiles, “This shade’s my favorite color that you wear.”

You look up at him, pulling at the fabric against your chest in confusion. “Red?”

“Grey.”

He’s laughing lightly, making up for the thoughtful silence that you’ve found yourself in. It’s like he can physically see the gears turning in your head as they attempt to make sense out of his statement. “It’s more of a rich grey - almost black - and it compliments your skin tone. You know, my mom used to tell me that the way to a woman’s heart is through compliments. I’ve always tried my best to do that, but it clearly hasn’t been working.”

His hands somehow find yours as he shares the inevitable truth he’d been hiding so hard - and with a deep gulp, his secret is finally exposed.

“After all, how could I ever reach someone’s heart without even knowing what color their eyes are?”

He misses you. He can’t help it, but he does.

The memories he has with you are a cassette tape on autoplay - constantly running through his mind on repeat, and always ending with the awful confrontation that you’d left each other with. Jaehyun wishes he hadn’t raised his voice. He wishes that he would’ve been honest with you from the very beginning, but he hadn’t, and there’s no changing the past. All he has now are two empty hands that would much rather be interlaced with your paint-covered fingers.

“How much longer do you think you’re going to be moping?” Johnny’s call is distant from the turning gears within Jaehyun’s brain. He’s sure that his best friend has grown tired of his constant state of melancholy - having been forced to be his support system after you walked out the door - and Jaehyun feels awful about it. If he could, he’d rip his heart from his chest and allow you to step on it. To stomp and tear through the organs just as you’d done to those poor bystanding cherry blossoms on the sidewalk.

“As long as she’s still upset with me.” He groans as his forehead hits the marble of the island counter. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Yeah, well we already knew that.” The dim-eyed boy beside him scoffs while taking yet another drink of his apple juice - which he has unfortunately had to drink for the past hour and a half since Jaehyun had somehow consumed his small supply of alcohol within the past few weeks that the two of you hadn’t been speaking. “I was really rooting for you, man. I thought she was the one to break your cycle.”

“Cycle?”

What the hell does he mean by ‘cycle’?

“Oh, you know,” Johnny continues without even taking a breath, “The cycle of life you’ve got going on with your inability to actually attract girls.”

Jaehyun hates him.

“You’re an asshole.” He grumbles, taking his own swig of the pint of orange juice he found in the back of his fridge. Is it expired? Likely yes. Does Jaehyun care, at all? Definitely not. Is he even more pissed off that he doesn’t understand the irony of why it’s called orange juice? He doesn’t want to answer that question. “An unhelpful asshole who should definitely stay over and cook dinner for me since he wants to make up for being said ‘unhelpful asshole’.”

Johnny scoffs, shaking his head whilst the thin, soft strands of his hair flit back and forth. His right eyebrow raises in a mocking expression, “You need to get yourself back out there, man. You’ll be old and grey if you keep waiting for the perfect girl to come knocking on your door, so just talk to her. Just fucking talk to her and put me out of my misery.”

“Are you trying to make this about you, right now?” Jaehyun stares at his best friend in utter disbelief, but he’s not truly upset. He knows that Johnny holds good wishes for him in all manners of life - this being no exception - and takes his words to heart. He’s right. Of course, he’s going to lose you if he doesn’t even try to get you back. “The sun must be falling out of the sky because I’m actually considering following your advice.”

“That’s a pretty picture to imagine,” his best friend chuckles, causing Jaehyun to roll his eyes. What’s the sensation that everyone has with mentioning imagery every five seconds? “Just talk to her, man.” Johnny continues, “Please, I’m all out of advice.”

Jaehyun takes his best friend’s pleas to heart. It is quite ridiculous that he’s spending his time depressed and lonesome when he could be reconciling with you. Perhaps it’s his fragile masculinity acting out and refusing to take blame for the situation, although he’s fully aware it’s completely his fault that you’re upset with him.

It’s difficult for the gears to begin turning in Jaehyun’s head. They’re covered in brittle rust that’s been creeping deep into the crevices of his mind for his entire life - slithering down his spine towards his blackened heart that you had only just begun to breathe life into. He misses the feeling of spring that came when you called. The freshwater rain of your laughter and budding blossoms of your smile that washed away his loneliness and replaced the awful emotion with an overgrown garden of bliss. He still doesn’t understand how he managed to mow that garden down with one sentence. He might as well have taken a chainsaw and brutally hacked into every connection that he’d managed to make with you in your time of knowing each other.

Now he’s going to be on his knees begging for forgiveness with his hands stained by the minced grass. Does grass stain green or yellow? Hopefully not brown, dear lord. He’ll be buried deep into apologies that should definitely be rehearsed, but he knows he’s not an artist with words and he won’t bother to waste your time with crumpled-up ‘I’m sorry’ notes and improvised tears.

You deserve nothing but the best - so much more than he’s been giving you and he needs you to hear those words come straight from his mouth.

When did you begin to mean so much to him? Jaehyun doesn’t even know.

It could’ve been when you showed up to his concert unannounced, with first row seats and a booming cheer that he never knew he desired. ‘C’mon, Jae! I know you can do better than that! Sing louder!’ He nearly tripped at the sound of your voice, and falling on his face was the last thing he wanted to do in front of his group - but to be completely honest, he doesn’t remember much of insecurities on stage that day. Jaehyun was solely focused on performing well for you. The world stopped and he was given all the time needed to impress you. You give him a reason to be better, a selfless reason to do good.

Perhaps it was when you’d shown him around your homey apartment, with maple art easels and splattered canvases lining the walls, and watched with glee as he made his best attempt at a finger painting (which may or may not have ended up looking like two worms kissing). ‘It’s abstract’, you’d say every time he found something new that was wrong with the art piece, ‘All it needs is a home. See?’ You hung his shitty little sketchbook paper on your living room wall, right next to your TV for the whole world to see. The way you stood there staring in awe still rattles his brain. You’ve always been able to find beauty in even the smallest things.

Or maybe his heart had begun to beat a little faster that Saturday night on the way out of the theater. The romance of the film the two of you just witnessed was still on Jaehyun’s mind, provoking his alcohol-induced body to make a pathetic attempt at holding your hand - which resulted in him accidentally knocking you over into a street puddle that swallowed the heel of your shoe. ‘I needed to take a shower anyway, Jae, it’s fine!’ Your smile continued to be bright despite the low temperature and sprinkling rain, and he can recall wondering how you managed to stay so positive in such a dreary situation. As you discarded your soggy heels into a nearby trashcan and skipped barefoot on the pavement, you called, ‘Come on! Dance with me!’ The shared laughter between the two of you echoed through the seemingly empty streets that surrounded you - hands connected as you swung in circles around each other and fell over one too many times, until he carried your sleeping body home. He doesn’t think anyone’s ever been able to make him laugh as hard.

The way the corners of your eyes crinkle amidst fits of giggles is his favorite image to replay. He doesn’t need to know the color to be able to see how beautiful they are - to appreciate the blinding sparkle that overwhelms your irises when he accidentally trips over the uneven sidewalk or knocks over your painting station - or even when he unintentionally makes a sexual innuendo that you just so happen to pick up on. ‘That’s a love hotel, Jae! Why would I have stayed there before?’ It was almost as if you were conducting a symphony of glorious laughter that night. The violins played the tune of your voice in a higher octave and the cellos added a punch everytime you’d bite your lip in an attempt to calm down. He hadn’t known what a love hotel was intended for before that night, but he’d also made the mistake to say, ‘I wouldn’t mind going to my first one with you, it could be a first for both of us.’ and you still haven’t let him live it down. Jaehyun’s honest with himself for the most part. He’s awkward, insufferable, and a bore to be around - yet, for some odd and unknown reason, those are your favorite things about him. Why?

Why is it that he can’t function like a normal person when your eyes meet his?

Why do his words rearrange themselves and become complete gibberish when he attempts to woo you with his charm?

What is it that keeps him coming back to you, despite holding such deep hatred for the things that you love most?

“I need to text her.” Jaehyun feels his chest vibrate as he finally makes a decision, the words pouring from his mouth in a short word vomit - forcing Johnny to piece together the jumbled mess and attempt to comprehend whatever it was that his best friend was trying to say, to which he jumps up from his seat at the island and aggressively pats Jaehyun on the back.

“That’s what I’ve been saying, dumbass! Get those fingers movin’!”

His phone falls into his hands in a millisecond, with Johnny eagerly awaiting to hear his poetry. He’s grateful to have such a supportive friend. Jaehyun knows that there aren’t many people who would be willing to put up with him for so long - having been moping around and complaining day-and-night of relationship problems that were solely caused by him - and he can’t imagine not having his support. Hopefully he’ll be able to introduce you, one day. You’ll both give him so much shit for his attitude. Oh well. It’ll all be worth it having two people he loves get along.

…

Did he just…

What did—

There’s no way.

Did he really just use that word? That godforsaken word?

He’s trembling. Jaehyun’s phone is shaking in his hands as he finally comes to the realization that he does, with his entire heart and being, love you. In an instant, his entire world scrambles together with rapid dashes and line art that he can’t even comprehend. There’s no rules to follow with these types of feelings - this insistent need to see you. Hold you. Kiss you.

Fuck, he wants to kiss you. He can’t think of anything else he’d rather be doing.

Like tapping raindrops that never cease their fall, his fingertips move against the keypad in a rhythmic motion - singing a song of love that can’t be contained into a simple lullaby. His heart pours out into the message, apology after apology being pasted in paragraphs, and hopes with his whole soul that you’ll find it in yourself to at least see him in person. There’s no way you won’t. Jaehyun knows you well enough now that he’s certain he’ll be seeing you again. All he needed to do was take the first step towards forgiveness, and he’s finally willing to be vulnerable and own up to his inability to be honest about his feelings, because he loves you. He loves you and he wants to tell you a hundred times, a thousand times, and a million times until you beg him to shut the hell up and kiss you.

‘I’ll be at the studio tonight. I miss you, ______, and I’m sorry.’

He ends the message with a final apology, begging fate that you’ll read it in time to meet him while he still has courage - and with that, he’s on his way to the place he hates most, awaiting the person whom he loves most.

An hour has passed - well technically it’s been fifty-seven minutes, but who’s counting?

He’s counting.

The sun went into hiding ages ago and the moon now stalks him as he sits in his chair, lonely with two vacant eyes that wish they were gazing at yours. Jaehyun can’t even tell if you’ve read the text or not - the grey speech bubbles look the same as they always have, and the delivered sign is posted at the bottom with no response. He wants to send a follow-up message, just a little ‘hey, you there?’ but he knows that’s a little bit much. If you want to see him, you’ll see him and he’ll confess his feelings once-and-for-all - though, he’s feeling much less confident than he was an hour ago. Ahem, sorry. Fifty-nine minutes ago.

Jaehyun has a plan of what he’s going to say to you, and hopefully it makes sense when the words begin to fall from his lips. He’s said it many times before, but he’ll say it again, he’s never been good with words or feelings or anything of the sort. He wants to get better, though - to become more emotionally aware for your sake, because he knows that’s a priority for you. You have an image of your dream guy that’s been in your wishes since primary school - tall, handsome, daring, dashing, yada, yada, yada - and he’s trying to be that guy. He needs to be that guy. He’ll be anything for you.

Anything and everything…even the desperate guy who can’t get a text back.

Y’know, for a moment - a brief and fleeting moment - the world seemed a little more beautiful in his self-realization of love. The stars glistened brighter and the street lights sparkled in their reflections. Before tonight, Jaehyun hasn’t ever been able to appreciate the natural beauty of what surrounded him. He never understood your fascination with replicating real life into paintings and sketches, but he seems to have digested the concept - at least a little bit. The only thing that could undoubtedly make his world more dazzling would be the sight of you, and holy shit there you are. There you are opening the front door - and your gorgeous, perfect reflection in the glass is looking straight at him.

He doesn’t need the ability to see color to know that you’re the most fascinating and jaw-dropping sight in the entire universe - and that the rainbow should be rearranged in the letters of your name in honor of your ability to captivate attention and inflict a multitude of emotions on him that he’s never felt before.

“Jaehyun?” Your melodious voice is the remedy that his ears have been yearning for. “Jaehyun, is that you? Why’re you in the dark?”

This means you haven’t read his text, right? Otherwise, why would you be confused as to why he’s here? Wait, why’re you even here?

You begin to explain yourself without him needing to ask, “I left my phone in here earlier like an idiot and I’ve been looking for it all day. Isn’t that so dumb?” You let out a little laugh, amused at your inability to keep track of your personal belongings. Why aren’t you acting like you’re upset with him? The last time you talked, you could barely look him in the eye - yet now, you’re so casual, almost as if nothing happened. “Here I am looking for my lost phone, but instead I find a lost Jeong Jaehyun.”

“What are you doing here? Sitting in the dark?”

The repeated question is met with a pregnant silence as Jaehyun fails to piece together the rehearsed words he had come up with earlier, settling on a bear hug that nearly suffocates you.

He’s so overwhelmed by the feeling of touching you again that he barely notices how stiff your posture is. You’re practically a piece of rock in the midst of being carved by its maker, frozen and unable to formulate an action in response - which, in this case, means that he’s your artist. Jaehyun relaxes his hold, urging you to reciprocate his warmth by nestling his face in your neck. Your right arm finds its place wrapped around his waist and your left around his neck, allowing him to engulf you further into his hold. You smell so nice. He notices the lavender perfume that he bought you is still rubbed into your skin, and he’s glad that you’re finally using it.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

Jaehyun’s fingers run through your hair in smooth waves, gently kneading out the small knots and helping you relax - and he can tell that your full attention is on him. For the first time in knowing you, there aren’t any distractions or excuses to avoid this conversation. It’s just you, him, and the bare truth. He just hopes he can execute this right.

“There aren’t enough words to explain how sorry I am, genuinely. I shouldn’t have ever belittled you like that, ______.” He takes a deep breath, one of many, and closes his eyes. The scene of you stomping away from him has no end in his mind. It constantly plays at every hour of the day, re-run after re-run, to torment him and remind him how horribly he screwed up with you. Please, please forgive him. “You’re not just my mom’s student. You’re not just a friend that I get coffee with. You’re so much more than that and I’ve been such a fucking chicken and haven’t been able to be honest with you.”

“You couldn’t have possibly known about my condition and it was wrong of me to take my frustration out on you.” Jaehyun can feel himself begin to cry, his tears raining down his cheeks in cascades of pent up anger and hatred for how he made you feel that day. You didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve to be treated like shit by him. “Your work is important to you and I know it should be appreciated. What’s important to you is important to me, okay?”

“You love your art, and I love you.”

He says it over and over again. Those three special words rapidly become six words, nine words, eighteen, forty-two, and onwards as you look at him with an empty expression. Please, please say something. For every second of no response, he confesses his love to you. He confesses as if it’s his source of air - the only way that he’ll be able to survive this encounter is if he bares his emotions with no regrets. If this were a movie, he’d be the desperate protagonist in the climax of the story who fucked up his love life and is begging for a second chance - hell, this is real life and that’s exactly what he’s doing. Just, please, have a happy ending.

You open your mouth, yet nothing comes out. No words. No statements. No confessions. You’re simply staring at him like he’s just told you the most absurd news in the existence of the universe…

…and then a tear falls.

One tear slips from your eyes, followed by another, and another…until your face is drenched in salty rain with black mascara creasing your eyes. You look like a raccoon. Jaehyun almost starts laughing. No. He is laughing; laughing because your false lashes have fallen into your hands as the glue refused to be waterproof - and now you’re standing before him in a puddled mess of makeup and disheveled hair. You’ve never looked more beautiful.

Jaehyun brushes his fingers across your cheek, attempting to wipe away your tears like an artist covering up a beautiful mistake. If he were a painter, he’d paint you a million times and more - hanging every portrait on every single wall of his apartment, until there was literally no space left for a scrap of paper. You’re the most gorgeous girl he’s ever laid his eyes on, and the smile that suddenly bursts from your sobs confirms it.

“What’s going on? I’m so confused, are you happy or are you sad?” He’s so concerned and his inability to read emotions correctly only makes him more helpless. “Talk to me, beautiful. C’mon.”

You lean into his touch and he instantly knows that everything is going to be okay.

“I just never thought I’d hear you say that.” Your smile is directed at him now, and he feels a warmth that is so familiar yet unfamiliar and he can’t get enough of it. It’s similar to the feeling of being showered in sunlight or snuggling beneath a comforter in the winter - an overwhelming comfort that’s a gift from you to him. “I feel like I’ve been waiting forever. Fuck you for that.”

Now you’re both laughing, giggling, and beaming at each other. His heart feels so at peace. The civil war between his divided emotions, love and loneliness, has finally ceased.

“I love you.”

Neither of you can stop the flow of confessions that slip from your tongues and in an instant your lips are on his - clashing and colliding in a furious kiss that rivals the strength of a hurricane. It’s almost as if he can physically feel your love pouring into him and warming his heart into a heated flame, stoked by the embers of your touch. God, he missed your touch. The feeling of it is addicting. It’s his personal heroin and he’ll never get enough of it.

Your lips are just as soft as he imagined them to be, perhaps they’re a rosy pink color with the slightest touch of strawberry lip balm that he keeps getting a fleeting hint of taste from. Never in his wildest dreams did he think you’d love him too. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. He silently repeats over and over - grateful that he’s been so blessed to know you…feel you…and love you in the awful world that he hated living on his own - the world void of color that you’ve somehow brightened by simply breathing beside him.

His hands are everywhere. Your hips. Your waist. Your breasts. Your neck. He can’t get enough of the feeling of you. With every passing second he’s falling deeper and deeper in love. You’re utterly perfect, he would kiss you for years if that was an option—

Aw shit, he knocked over an easel.

“Goddammit,” he mumbles while briefly pulling away from you. Of course he had to interrupt the moment he’s been waiting months for with his clumsiness. He’s such a dumbass. If he could punch himself in the gut, he would - but that would be way too embarrassing in front of you - hold up, this painting is familiar!

“Well I'll be damned.” He chuckles and turns the canvas towards you, to which you burst out laughing. “I thought you’d have thrown this out.”

“No,” you gaze at the painting with love in your eyes. “I could never, that’s how we met.”

The painted streak he accidentally inflicted upon your artwork remains in the same position. It seems that you never even bothered covering it up and embraced the imperfection. While Jaehyun cannot decipher the magnitude of colors on the canvas, he’s sure that the various strokes look gorgeous and masterful. You’ve always been so talented. He’s so lucky.

As he places the painting upon a now-standing easel, you rest your forehead against his. He loves you. He loves you so much. So much so that he can’t help but take a step closer, not just one but many, and embrace the overwhelming love and passion he holds for you. There are so many words he wants to say, confessions that can carry on for an infinite number of lines, but there’s no need for that now. You have forever - and he decides to start that forever with his favorite thing…

…a kiss.

“I love you.” You whisper.

“I love you more.” He replies.

This is a fancy-ass venue.

Jaehyun can’t help but feel underdressed for the occasion, despite being clad in a fitted white button up and black tie, whilst his dress-shoes cramp his feet in the worst ways imaginable. He almost looks like that one moviestar in the romantic comedy you love so much. Was it the one with the rich guy in Singapore or the one where they worked in an office and he was a businessman? Jaehyun can’t remember. Whatever, it doesn’t really matter either way. He’s distracting himself too much, he needs to focus— tonight is one of the most important nights of your career. No, it is the most important night for your future career. His mother contacted every big art distributor and critic that she has professional relationships with. It’s your night…and wow did you kill it.

It’s almost as if you’ve plastered yourself across the walls. Every art piece that his eyes roll over is exceptionally you - your personality, your passions, and your heart - and it’s obvious you’ve spent months curating the most perfect array of paintings a person could muster.

He can read your story like an open book while he slowly makes his way through the gallery. There are paintings depicting your childhood, ones that remind him of the stories you tell him of your primary school drama and premature interests. That one must be when you broke your arm while learning to ride your bike. You’re particularly stuck on that story— strongly stating how upset you were because it was your dominant arm, halting your ability to paint for seven weeks. Referencing your painting passion, there’s a whole array of canvases dedicated to your love for art; beginning with inspirations of immaturity to skillful selections of texture techniques. Jaehyun is obviously no art critic, but if he were, he’d write a whole expose on how amazing you are.

With his mind so engaged with your talent, he’s oblivious to the people passing by; so oblivious that he doesn’t even notice his own mother approaching.

“She’s talented isn’t she?”

Holy shit. The familiar voice of his mother startles Jaehyun, but he instinctively wraps a loose arm around her waist and greets her with a grin. She returns the affectionate expression and it’s painfully obvious that he got his smile from her, and even more painfully obvious that they’re all related when he notices they’re wearing the matching watches they got for Christmas last year; and when Johnny walks up with his teeth beaming, he also practically looks like part of the family. Long lashes and a toothy grin, the physical brand of the Jeong family; famous in not only arts, but good looks!

“Your girlfriend’s a pro at this shit, Jaehyun.” Johnny ruffles his little best friend’s hair and lightly nudges his shoulder. “I’m surprised anyone could like your annoying ass, let alone a pretty girl.”

Jaehyun rolls his eyes at his best friend’s quips, completely ignoring him and focusing on his mom. Johnny’s just jealous because he can’t get a girl to deal with his narcissism. He’d be surprised if Johnny actually kept a girlfriend longer than a month with his high standards and demanding schedule; but that’s a story for another day. What matters now is his mom’s praise of you.

“Y’know I always knew she had an innate ability.” Miss Jeong has a faint smile on her face, gazing at her youngest son with nothing but pure happiness. It’s a true display of a mother’s love for her youngest son, and Jaehyun doesn’t know what he’d do without her guidance. She squeezes his side and presses a gentle kiss to his cheek. God, he’d be so embarrassed if his groupmates saw this. “Though, I always thought she specialized in artwork.”

Hm? Jaehyun sends a puzzled glance in her direction. What is she going on about?

His mom continues, knowing her son well enough that he needs a clear explanation in order to understand anything at all, and presses her hand against his chest. “I didn’t realize she was so skilled at touching hearts.”

His heart is beating faster at the mere thought of your beauty.

There are tears behind Miss Jeong’s eyes and Jaehyun can feel the waterworks attempting to break his own dam. They’re an emotional duo, him and his mom, Johnny gets tired of their antics sometimes— but Jaehyun knows he loves them. Their mom always knows the right thing to say. “I never thought I’d see you like this, Jaehyun.”

Johnny smirks, nodding in agreement. “You seem so at ease. It’s cute.”

Reflexively, he pulls them both into a big hug— which is the first hug he’s given Johnny since he was nothing but a young boy, afraid and stressed, auditioning for the very first time. Jaehyun finally understands what it means to love and be loved, all because of you; and now he can apply that same love to his best friend, who’s been there for him for so long. The overwhelming comfort he feels in his family’s arms is the same warmth he felt when he made his first song and ran into his mother to celebrate his newfound passion. For a long time, Jaehyun believed that it was only possible to have that one singular passion. Oh how wrong he was.

“I get it now.” he says softly into their ears. “She helped me understand.”

“And we’re happy for you,” Johnny pats him on the back as hard as he can, eliciting a threatening glare from his younger sibling, to which their mother laughs.

“Check out the centerpieces down the hall.” Miss Jeong nudges Jaehyun on, standing beside Johnny. “I think you’ll love them, sweetheart.”

With their encouragement, he carries on with the gallery and down the straight hallway of evolving paintings. Every step he takes, seems to carry him into a new era of your life. It’s almost as if he’s time traveling through memories that seemingly morph from abstract to realistic art; and he learns more and more about you with each passing second, ultimately leading towards one large painting in the center of the room.

Holy shit. You’re breathtaking.

Never in Jaehyun’s life has his world stopped due to paint on canvas— but right now, it feels like every single brush stroke is a frozen second that he gets to relive again and again, just basking in the presence of your beautiful skill.

The way you’ve outlined your hair with thin lines and highlighted your lovely cheekbones, is nothing short of masterful. If he looks close enough, he can understand the comforting feeling of cupping your face with just his eyes. He didn’t even know you did self-portraits, but now he wishes he could hang this very one right above his couch; to show off the talent of his amazing girlfriend for everyone to see (not that he actually has many friends other than his groupmates).

Where are you? He needs to let you know how special it is to be with someone like you—

“Cat got your tongue?”

Speak of the devil.

“Do you like it?” You raise your eyebrows at him expectantly. “What do you think?”

You said the same thing when you first met.

Jaehyun looks between you and the painting, now realizing that no matter how masterful your skill is, it’s impossible to capture just how gorgeous you are in any form of art. You’re simply exquisite. The most talented painter in the world wouldn’t know how to appreciate your beauty. Davinci? No. Botticelli? No. Di Angelo? Not even he could sculpt your features to perfection. However, despite his high standards, Jaehyun believes that your self portrait is the greatest thing he’s ever seen.

The familiar feeling of flusteredness grows on his cheeks as he holds eye-contact with you, wondering what color it is you’re wearing. He bets it’s red, you always wear red around him. “I love it.”

As your right hand finds his palm, the left reaches up and cups his cheek. With a gentle touch, your lips are on his and Jaehyun feels his head take a spin on the merry-go-round of love. He can’t get enough of you. If he had a choice, he’d spend every waking second of his day peppering you in light kisses on every part of your body— and he’d make sure that you never felt loneliness again. You deserve nothing less than the absolute best, and he’s made it his life’s goal to give that to you.

Slowly, he begins to feel your smile against his lips and you pull away with a lovesick gaze. He pulls you into his chest, cradling your head and kissing it softly before whispering how proud he is, and it’s almost unbelievable how far Jaehyun’s come. Somehow you’ve lured him into a bottomless ravine where the only resource to live is to be hopelessly in love with you— and truthfully, he never wants to escape. You’re everything to him.

“You love it?” your eyes are shining brighter than the sun. “You haven’t even seen my best work yet.”

“Oh?’ Jaehyun raises his brows, mocking surprise at your statement. “Well now you have to show me. It’s only fair.”

You place your hands on his chest and peck his lips before spinning him around. He’s confused for a moment, wondering what you’re doing when you could’ve just led him to the canvas instead of guiding him around like it’s a dance class…but then he sees it.

He sees himself.

Never in his life has he completely understood what being in love is. Yes, he's felt love. From his mother, who raised him to be the man he is; caring, thoughtful, and compassionate. From his best friend, who helped him understand ambition and sacrifice. From his groupmates, who challenge him to be the best he possibly can and to support one another without holding grudges. He's felt different types of love from so many people in his life. Familial. Platonic. Admiration. This is different, though. The love you show him is true love. It's the kind of love that movie stars win awards for portraying. It's the fantasy that kids dream about having when they grow up into big adults. It's the thing he thought was impossible to obtain, but was lucky enough to stumble upon you in that empty art studio on the best day of his life.

He didn't know love could be expressed in this kind of way. Through the very same paint strokes and brush marks that used to make him nauseous with hatred. Seeing your masterpiece, he doesn't understand how he could ever hate something so amazing. Art is spectacular. No. Your art is spectacular. You are spectacular.

"You love it right?" You're trying your best not to giggle at his awestruck reaction. "Want to know the best part?"

Jaehyun can feel himself nodding, desperately reaching for your hand in an attempt to ground himself from the air he's walking on— and you begin to explain. "It's a dual piece. Notice how we're facing each other?"

Oh my god, you are facing each other. He hadn't noticed it before, but he can see clearly now. You've placed him in the dead center of the room, giving him a full view of both of the paintings— opposite of one another on two opposing easels. "Tell me more, baby." His voice is nothing louder than a whisper, only for you to hear.

"I'm painted in black and white."

Oh?

"You're painted in color."

...Oh.

"I wanted to show how love knows no bounds. There's beauty in how you see me and how I see you. It doesn't matter that I'm colorless to you, you still look at me like I'm the prettiest girl in the world; and I only wish you could understand how vibrant your eyes are, Jaehyun. You're the most handsome man I've seen in my entire life."

He loves you.

He loves you so, so much.

A part of his heart feels like he's falling in love with you all over again. It's growing larger and larger, unable to contain the capacity of feelings he holds for you. He's so overwhelmed with joy that tears begin to fight to escape his eyes, ultimately dripping down his cheeks like watercolor on paper, and he sweeps you into the tightest hug known to man.

There's really only one thing left to do. One thing to close this chapter and carry on with the rest of your love story, something that's sacred only between the two of you. Something that he hopes to say to you everyday, every night, every hour, and every minute that he can.

"I love you."

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀thank you so much for reading + supporting! ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀reblogs are greatly appreciated!

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b1rds3ye · 8 months

Note

I love your writing style!

(also love how you always go for gn!reader!)

Silly request for another masked reader?

Masked reader who has those more solid material masks that can easily be cleaned has in the past painted their mask during one holiday just for the fun of it and they boys wanna do it too. Variation of it; masked reader got injured and has to stay bed bound for a while so their mask is being written and painted on like people do with casts :D

(there would be so many pictures)

PLEASE THIS IS SO CUTE (also tysm anon!! It means a lot that you like my writing and writing decisions AHHHHH). I'm thinking a white-hockey mask sorta vibe that can look intimidating for missions, but also far too tempting for the 141 to wreak havoc on. Of course, they'll ensure you always have at least one spare blank mask so you can keep being the ominous badass on missions, but when a mission goes south and you escape with barely your life, they do what they can to make your bed-bound recovery as entertaining as possible.

Soap in particular truly treats your mask as a canvas. I already touched that Johnny has a journal of alternative designs for your mask and with a plain mask his mind is racing with so many ideas! He also has a general knack for drawing, in the quiet nights when he's done with training and can visit the med-bay he can spend hours just drawing on your mask with a thin sharpie (think like those highly intricate black-ink tattoos). His art is a little rough and scratchy but the artistry is there. He also provides his signature which lacks the tact of his art - if another member of the 141 hasn't he'll be the one stamping his name across your forehead with an obnoxious "SOAP WAS HERE!!".

Ghost is not an artist. There isn't a single artistic bone in this poor man, when he draws a circle it somehow looks like a square. Instead, Simon writes. A card is too sappy but your mask makes the perfect patch of parchment. His handwriting is legible but far from aesthetic, it's practical and hastily done with your head shaking slightly as he writes on it. Eventually he has to stabilise your head with his other hand, and his hold is surprisingly gentle. It's a general message wishing you get better soon, and a special military pun for everyone to read when they see your mask. He says that now your mask is a little more customised it almost looks half as good as his. While being unable to draw, he does accompany Johnny or Kyle if they pay a visit to vandalise your mask.

Price is straight forward. You want people to sign your mask? He'll sign your mask. John is surprisingly sentimental, he genuinely treats your mask as a get-well-soon card. He encourages you to rest - which is admittedly redundant since you can't get out of bed - but also to hurry up and get back on the field because he's losing his mind putting up with the rest of the 141. His handwriting is small because he has a lot to say, his message taking up the expanse of your cheek. He puts effort into his message and handwriting, it's going to be on your mask for everyone else to read and when he tries the captain has some exceptionally nice cursive. When he's done, he pulls away and lets out a satisfied huff at his message and how it looks on you... and then a consequential sigh when he looks at what of the rest of the task force has done to your poor mask.

Gaz does everything with your mask. He first covers the basics, signing his name and a quick, encouraging message for your health. Then Kyle goes ham on redesigning your mask and making it look as terrible as possible. Because it's a plain white mask, in particular he loves to use coloured sharpies on it. He'll shade panda-like eye bags where your eye sockets will be, or colour the area of your nose with a bright red circle like a clown. If you ever complain he'll just say this is the price you pay for getting injured and being sent to medbay. It's a joke but the underlying concern isn't missed from you. He's not the best artist but he'll leave a cute little doodle like a flower or that "S" sign that's used to graffiti everything known to man. He also enjoys giving you something to do (laying in med-bay all day must be terrible!), taking your hand in his to guide your hand across your face so you can draw a simple little star or love-heart on your own mask.

Surprisingly, it's Simon who initially asks for your permission to take photos of your mask. He says it's for the rest of the task force so they can have a reminder of what they're fighting for as they continue doing operations in your absence. John did add on that it was also simply for the memory as it's expected that you'll keep the mask once you've gotten better - unless you're willing to auction it off in which Kyle already called dibs.

It's only when you can freely move around do you take off your mask to realise that under your chin would be, generally obscured from view, one of them drew a shoddy little penis. You have half the mind of chasing up on who it was but it was simply too funny and you let it go. (Also because you already know deep down it was Soap)

Masked Reader Masterlist Call of Duty Masterlist

#cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x you #task force 141 x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #anon mail ❤️#/*avery checks the mailbox*/#/*avery actually writes*/#/*cod x masked reader*/

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arandomdai · 3 months

Text

Persephone Lost Herself To Marriage

⚠️ Warning: I'm just saying my opinions (and theories) like everyone else. So put your tin foil hats on, it's going to be a LONG read. Enjoy!!!⚠️

• The Realization

This was/is a cry for help. She's finally admitted something that we (some of us) already noticed. The fact that she's so worried about her blue corpse of a man's feelings, while in denial about killing hundreds if not thousands of mortals in seconds...is nasty work. Like okay you don't know yourself, good we are getting somewhere. But are you willing to change your ways like finally admitting that your Mom was right, Minthe was right (about you and your man), Zeus was right (where he says they didn't know each other long), finally realize your selfish and a murderer, etc. Like I wanna see the change, not this boohoo act. And speaking of Demeter, she is a little bit at fault for why Persephone acts like this. If she would've told her about being a FG, teach her how to defend herself, help her control her powers or help make her own decisions, none of this wouldn't happen. Now Persephone (this her own fault here)is trapped with guilt, a blu gru, and a whole population of shades coming in. Once this is over, I pray to God that she wakes up, and leave that man, live in the mortal realm, and hopefully come to terms/works on herself to know who she is because her being a Queen is not one of them.

•Hades Is Her Downfall

This man never loved her. He wanted to sleep with her knowing he had a girlfriend (Minthe at the time) and when she was only 19 years old !!!(smdh 🤢😒), somehow he shows up in her nightmare saying, "I Know That I Can Smell Your Ambitions As They Rot At Your Feet.", he didn't let Persephone tell him what happened, lies about everything, disrespects Demeter, never gave Thanatos a real apology, never actually going to therapy, etc, need I say more? This man genuinely hates powerful women. He sabotaged Demeter's right to rule the mortal realm, gets angry when women stand up for themselves, preys on the vulnerable and young, dangles money over them, had an affair with Hera behind his brothers back, etc, and Persephone still thinks he's husband material... chile. Like how come she doesn't see those horrible qualities and notice that he brings out the worst in her? Real men don't treat women like this. To be fair, that first genocide she caused was all her fault, like yes they were playing in her face, but she didn't need to start killing people. But you know what she did, she was willing to help the shades get into the Underworld (and he was mad about that 😒). Now we're on to our second genocide, and this man was the cause of this as well (mostly her fault but still). The fact he said "I can't stop her from trying." Like yes you can Blunocchio 🙄. I'm so tired of him, and his evil ways. Persephone really needs to understand that man was never in her corner, and if he was, he would've left her alone from the very beginning. The lesson is don't EVER let a man be your downfall and try to make you feel powerless. If he can't take how powerful you are, he was never the one and he's an insecure a**hole.

• There Was Always Someone

Hydros tried to warn Gaia

People thought Rhea was stupid for loving Kronos

Probably someone close to the Missing Goddess tried to warn her

Demeter warned Persephone

Do we see the pattern? Constantly losing yourself in love with abusive men, getting your powers drained because they wanted to prove that they were worth loving, and trying to prove the haters wrong (looking at you author)? Well, yes. Persephone had her twenties to look forward to (school, TOGEM, and starting her future), but made a man child the #1 priority. Had her thirties (self reflection, getting her shit together, realize she can do bad by herself.), but still managed to keep him in the #1 priority slot, instead of her and her own mother. Like does she not get that her mom is her real best friend? These fertility goddesses (excluding Metis 🤢) wish that they would've listened to those people/or families, and saw from their point of view that their men weren't no good, and go from there. Like did Persephone ever think about what Zeus told her ( his back story about what happened to Rhea), nope. Just ignored it because she never listens, and loves finding out the hard way 🙄😒. If the author wanted a real ('cause let's be honest, it's not) feminist retelling, she could've had Persephone look at the fertility goddesses differently, Seeing there struggles, learn that Demeter just didn't want to see her get hurt, and walk away from him (but in a perfect world I guess 🫤). Remember y'all there is always someone in your corner that is looking out for you and/or showing they love you.

• Persephone's Fate

Until she starts listening to the right people, know how to think for herself, and realize that man ain't crap, she's doomed. Years from now, she's going to be trapped in a marriage full of regrets and shattered dreams, sparkling and useless if you will. Hades will continue to use and abuse her. Hell, wouldn't be surprised if he started cheating on her like he cheated on Minthe. Also, wouldn't be shocked if she becomes the next Hera, after all she was just her stand in. Hades would take most of her powers, someone defeats him, and puts him in prison somewhere, she starts seeing him, and no one else can. Would that be something? I mean he was in her dreams telling her that her ambitions will rot. Also people wouldn't want to come around her, and she gotta live with that for the rest of her life. Demeter, lasion, and her son living life to the fullest, so who can she call? She is stuck in a tragic cautionary tale of a fertility goddess. Someone that wanted to prove the haters wrong, wanted to be worthy of loving, and a victim of a man's abuse and manipulations.

#lo critical #anti lore olympus #anti lo #lore olympus criticism #it was hades all along #lore olympus critical #tin foil hats

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genshinluvr · 10 months

Text

Burning Desire 3 [Tighnari's Route]

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader, Tighnari x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: After Scaramouche leaves your room, Tighnari offers to take care of you while you try to recover from your previous session with Scaramouche. While waiting for Tighnari to run you a bath, the burning pit in your stomach persists, leading to you attempting to relieve yourself from the desire. The aphrodisiac continues running in your system, making it nearly impossible to control yourself.

Note: Not gonna lie. I struggled with this smut because it's been a while since I've posted smut 🥲 Don't expect any of my smuts to be good because I've always been iffy about the smuts I wrote 💀 Anyway! Keep in mind that the Burning Desire routes are mostly/pure smut. It will be shorter compared to Crave because Crave has its own plot, whereas Burning Desire has routes where readers make the decision on who's route is next. This applies to all characters, not specific characters. As previously stated in my previous smut-fics, I tried to keep the story as gender-neutral as possible. All of my smuts do lean towards female!reader/AFAB!reader with gender-neutral pronouns. As usual, minors DO NOT INTERACT! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: Horribly written smut, aphrodisiac, fingering, cervix fucking, oral [both receiving], mating press, hair pulling, biting, orgasm denial, creampie, another failed attempt of dom!reader, Tighnari is a bottom on the first part

Word Count: 5.9k

Burning Desire "chapters"/routes: [1], [2], [3], [4]

Tighnari peeks his head into your bedroom, his ears twitching. You smile at Tighnari and gesture for him to enter your room while pulling your blanket over your body. You’re exhausted, but you’re sure it’s not from your previous activities with Scaramouche. The ache between your legs is still there, and your body is hot as ever but not as hot as it was before you were able to get your release.

“If you don’t mind, do you want me to do a brief checkup on you?” Tighnari asks, walking into your room.

You gulp and nod. A checkup is harmless! It’s not like you’ll be jumping Tighnari’s bones and start humping him like your uncle’s horny dog back in your world. Well, you’re hoping that it doesn’t happen. The strange feeling in the pit of your stomach is still present, and even if Scaramouche fucked your brains out, you think you can go for a couple more rounds.

Tighnari walks to your bed, standing before you. Tighnari takes his gloves off, putting them on your nightstand beside your bed. He places his hand on your face, pressing the back of his hand on your forehead. The warmth of Tighnari’s hands is a huge contrast to the temperature of your body.

“You’re still overheating. Although your temperature is slightly better than what it was before,” Tighnari murmurs, pushing your hair away from your sweaty forehead.

Tighnari slowly removes his hands from your face, but you frantically grab Tighnari’s hands, keeping them on your face. His hands are surprisingly cool compared to your entire body. You feel like you were standing in the deserts of Sumeru for hours with no shade to shield you from the heat. Archons, you’re hot and suffering.

“How about I run you a cold bath, and you can soak in the bath to lower your body temperature? How does that sound to you?” Tighnari offers, running his fingers through your hair.

You whimper, pressing your face against Tighnari’s chest, trying your best to restrain yourself. “That sounds nice, Tighnari. It would mean a lot to me if you did that,” you reply.

Tighnari pulls away from you, only for you to reach out for him but quickly puts your hand on the mattress below you. Tighnari raises his eyebrows at you, staring at your face intently. Your pupils are dilated, your chest is heaving with every deep breath you’re taking, a thin layer of sweat is covering your naked body, and your mouth is agape.

“I can sense a ‘but’ after that response of yours….” Tighnari trails off, propping his hands on his hips. “What would you rather have me do other than draw you a cold bath?”

You gulp, looking away from Tighnari. You can’t tell if your face is heating up because of embarrassment or if it’s because you didn’t want to admit how much you desire Tighnari to bury his cock deep inside your sopping wet hole. Tighnari doesn’t want to tell you this, but he can smell how wet you are.

“Please draw me a bath. I don’t know how much longer I can take the heat,” you reply.

Tighnari smiles and squeezes your bare shoulders before walking to your bathroom to draw you a cold bath to soak in. After Tighnari went to your bathroom, you collapsed on your bed, hands itching to slither down to soothe the ache between your legs. Your core is throbbing, and you really want to relieve it.

Looking over your shoulders toward the bathroom, you slide your dominant hand to your sopping-wet groin. You shudder when your fingers make contact with your hot core. You gulp and slowly penetrate your throbbing entrance with your middle and ring fingers, biting down on your tongue to muffle your groans.

“What are you doing?”

Your head jerks up to see Tighnari peering down at you. How in the world did he get on your bed without making any noise? You slowly pull your fingers out from your quivering hole. Thank Archons, you have a blanket over your naked body, or else Tighnari would see what you’re doing. Man, this is such an awkward position to be put in.

You give Tighnari a sheepish smile. “Did you start the bath?” You squeak, trying to change the subject and divert his attention elsewhere.

Tighnari raises his eyebrows at you before nodding slowly. “Yes, I drew a bath for you. I made sure it’s cold enough to cool your temperature down but not too cold to the point where you refuse to get in,” Tighnari replies. Tighnari turns around, motioning for you to follow after him. “Now come, or else the bath will become warm.”

Tighnari walks into the bathroom, leaving you behind on your bed.

“I wish I could cum again.”

You sigh, sitting up and getting off your bed. You wrap your throw blanket over your naked body, waddling to the bathroom where Tighnari is waiting for you. Tighnari dips his fingers into the water, testing the temperature. You stare at Tighnari’s fingers in a daze. If only his fingers were inside of you instead— you shake your head and lightly smack your forehead.

Tighnari snaps his fingers, pulling you out of your thoughts. You give Tighnari a weak smile when he points at the bathtub. You gesture for Tighnari to turn around so you can drop the blanket and get into the bathtub without feeling self-conscious while he looks at you.

Tighnari sighs, turns around, and closes his eyes. You slowly remove the blanket off your body and place it on the sink before dipping your toe into the bathtub. Goosebumps immediately rise on your body as you slowly get into the bathtub. You shudder, sitting down and sinking neck-deep into the tub.

“Alright, you can, uh, look now,” you say, covering your chest with your hands while pressing your legs against your chest.

Tighnari turns around and kneels beside the bathtub, pressing his hand against your face again. You clear your throat, beginning to shake your legs in the bathtub. You don’t know how much longer you’ll last. You’re in desperate need of release. Scaramouche was able to relieve you a tiny bit, but the burning pit in your stomach remains raging.

Tighnari pulls away and rests his elbows on the edge of the bathtub, examining you closely. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look shaken up,” Tighnari murmurs, resting his chin on his arms.

You jokingly say, “Maybe it’s the Scaramouche effect. After all, Scaramoouche did fuck my brains out.”

Tighnari snorts, shaking his head. You and Tighnari sit in silence while you sit in the cold water. Your body temperature doesn’t feel like it’s going to go down any time soon. Your core continues to throb painfully in the cold water. You’re itching to find release, but alas, you’re not sure if Tighnari would be okay with helping you with your issue.

You unknowingly let out a huff of breath, resting your chin on your knees. “Tighnari?” You whisper.

Tighnari tilts his head to the side, looking at you curiously. “Yes, [Y/N]?”

You close your eyes, hugging your legs to your chest. “Do you know how much longer I’ll feel this way?”

“What do you mean? Can you clarify?” Tighnari asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

Archons, this is where you didn’t want the conversation to go— you having to explain to Tighnari about your desperation for release. It’s been a few days since you have inhaled the aphrodisiac that exploded all over your face, causing you to inhale large amounts of the powder. You want it to be over already because the constant horniness is driving you up the walls.

You let out a shaky sigh. “Since I breathed in the aphrodisiac, do you know how long it’ll be in my system? Despite Scaramouche’s help, it’s still affecting me but not nearly as bad as it was before,” you reply.

Tighnari hums, leaning away from the tub while stroking his chin with his thumb and index finger. “Unfortunately, I don’t know how long it’ll be in your system. You did breathe in a lot of that powder, and the best thing we can do is either assist you with your situation or we wait it out,” replies Tighnari.

You whimper pathetically, wanting to drown yourself in the bathtub water. There’s no way you can wait it out, even if it’s suggested. Well, it was recommended, but you don’t think you can last any longer if you wait it out. The aching between your legs, the wetness trailing down your legs, your bundle of nerves swollen with need, and the fire in the pit of your stomach is hard to ignore.

“I don’t think I can wait it out, Tighnari,” you whimper, “like you said, I breathed in a lot of the aphrodisiac, and we don’t know how long it’ll be in my system.”

Tighnari stares at you; his gaze darkens. “And what do you want to do? Again, it is up to you to decide whether you want someone to assist you with your situation or to wait it out,” Tighnari says.

Your bottom lip quivers. Is Tighnari trying to make you say it out loud? It’s humiliating to have to voice out your burning desire to have someone fuck your brains out until it's mush. You bite on your tongue and close your eyes, burying your face into your knees. Tighnari reaches forward and grabs you by your chin, and turns your head to make eye contact with him.

“What is it that you want?” Tighnari demands.

You swallow the forming lump in your throat. “I want you, or someone, to please help me with my problem. Please, Tighnari,” you plead.

The words tumbling out of your mouth didn’t make sense to you, but you hope you’re able to get the message across. Tighnari smiles and releases your chin before standing up. Tighnari walks over to where your towel hangs, grabs it, and walks to the tub. You hesitantly drain the bathtub and stand up. You take the towel from Tighnari’s hands and wrap it around your naked body, stepping out of the bathtub like a newborn fawn.

Tighnari grabs your bicep, steadying you. You smile at Tighnari sheepishly before walking back into your room with Tighnari beside you. Tighnari lightly pushes you onto your bed, unraveling the towel from your bare body. Tighnari scans your naked body, his pupils wide. You gulp and grip the towel tightly.

You pout and tug at Tighnari’s clothes. “It’s not fair for me to be the only one naked in this situation,” you murmur.

Tighnari’s lips twitch with amusement. “Well, I need to make sure your body is functioning fine, right? There are a few checkups I still need to do, remember?” Tighnari asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

“But Tighnari—”

Tighnari presses his index finger against your lips, shushing you. “Once I get your checkup done, I’ll strip, alright?” Tighnari reassures you.

You nod and lay back, gulping nervously. Tighnari hums with satisfaction before pulling you to the edge of the bed and kicking your legs apart. Tighnari places both your legs on the bed, stretching them out for him to see your dripping entrance.

Wordlessly, Tighnari kneels before your wet hole, reaching forward and swiping his fingers up your entrance. You jolt at the feeling of his fingers pressing and swiping at your hole. Tighnari chuckles under his breath before inspecting the clear substance on the tip of his index and middle finger.

“It’s interesting how the aphrodisiac is causing you to produce way more lubricant than an average person,” Tighnari murmurs.

You shut your eyes and look away, heat rushing to your face. How can Tighnari talk about this stuff so casually without feeling embarrassed about it? Maybe you feel this way because you’re the one that’s naked, and Tighnari is only a few inches from your aching heat. Tighnari brushes his thumb against your swollen bundle of nerves, causing you to whimper and tense under his hands.

Tighnari hums. “You’re also extra sensitive as well,” Tighnari says.

You press your lips into a thin line and squeeze your eyes shut tightly. You don’t know how much longer you can wait until Tighnari is finished with your checkup. Every reaction you have is from the aphrodisiac. You’re producing way more lubricant, and you’re very sensitive to the littlest touch.

You grab Tighnari’s hand and pull him. Tighnari stumbles and cages you between your bed and his body. You lace your fingers in Tighnari’s hair and press your lips against his, wrapping your legs around his waist. Tighnari pulls away from the kiss, taking a step back while taking his clothes off. You sit up and begin helping Tighnari with taking off his clothes and accessories.

Your hands are trembling, fumbling with the buttons and zippers on his clothes.

You and Tighnari could take it slow, but the longer you’re forced to wait it out and be patient, the more the ache between your legs continues to grow. Tighnari’s clothes have a lot of intricate details and accessories, making them a little bit complicated to take off compared to Scaramouche’s clothes.

Tighnari can sense your frustration as you struggle to take a piece of clothing off his body. “A little impatient, are we?” Tighnari chuckles.

You grumble and yank the final piece of clothing off his body. Now standing naked before you, Tighnari pushes you onto your back and kneels in front of you. Tighnari grabs your legs and spreads them apart. You know that Tighnari wants to prepare you for what’s going to happen, but since you’re already so wet and are dripping onto your bedsheets, there was no need for him to bury his face into your damp entrance.

Tighnari tilts your head up, stroking your cheek. “I’m going to penetrate you now, alright?” Tighnari asks.

Despite the fiery pit of need you’re feeling in your gut, you can’t help but do a double take when Tighnari says that. Who says that before having sex with someone? You snort, making Tighnari looks at you with confusion. You grab Tighnari by his forearms and pull him to lie down beside you.

You hover above Tighnari, staring down at the confused forest ranger. You wrap your fingers around Tighnari’s erect cock, giving Tighnari’s cock slow strokes. Tighnari tenses and lets out a breathy moan, crumbling beneath your hands. You can’t tell if Tighnari’s a virgin or if he’s a bottom. The way he reacted when you wrapped your fingers around his pulsing cock, his reaction to you stroking his dick at a slow pace, made you assume he was either two. But hey, there’s no shame in being a bottom or a virgin. It’s almost cute, and it makes you want to fuck his brains out until he cries.

You continue to stroke his cock, pre-cum beading at the slit of his dick. You lean down and take him into your mouth. Tighnari moans, running his fingers through your hair before gripping at the roots tightly. You bobbed your head, stroking the base of Tighnari’s cock and massaging his balls.

The sound of Tighnari’s moans, whimpers, and the sound of you sucking on his cock fills the room. You lightly squeezed his cock before releasing his dick from your mouth with an audible pop. You continue to stroke Tighnari’s cock, leaning down to lick and suck on his balls. Tighnari hisses and clenches his jaws, his body arching and his toes curling.

“Aren’t we supposed to be focusing on you?” Tighnari whimpers, biting on his bottom lip as he looks down at you.

You stop what you’re doing and release his now red cock. You chuckle and wipe the string of saliva from your mouth with the back of your hand. “Oh? Are you not enjoying the blowjob?” You ask, tilting your head to the side.

Tighnari’s face is flushed, his ears are pulled back, and his chest is heaving up and down with the deep breaths he’s taking. Tighnari doesn’t respond. He only gives you a pleading look. You crawl forward and press a kiss on Tighnari’s forehead.

“We’ll focus on my needs after I give you your first orgasm,” you reply nonchalantly.

Tighnari groans and looks away, his face almost as red as Diluc’s hair. You grab Tighnari’s aching dick before taking him in all the way until the mushroom tip of his cock hits the back of your throat. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying not to gag. Feeling the walls of your throat tightening around his cock, Tighnari lets out a loud groan as he feels his impending release.

You continue to stroke the base of his cock, and massage his balls while deep-throating him.

Tighnari grabs the bedsheets so tightly that his knuckles turn white. Tighnari grabs your hair with the other hand and forces you to take his throbbing cock. It happened so suddenly that none of you—especially Tighnari— expected it. Tighnari whimpers and cums into your mouth, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he becomes limp.

You pull Tighnari’s cock out from your mouth with a pop, swallowing his cum and wiping your mouth. You shuddered as you swallowed the salty fluid, face pinching with distaste. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to the feeling of consuming someone’s bodily fluids. Tighnari looks at you with bleary eyes, his cheeks flushed.

You brush his hair away from his face, smiling at him while ignoring your dripping hole and the growing fire in the pit of your stomach. Tighnari caresses your cheek, giving you a breathless smile. You lean down and kiss his forehead.

You pull away and sit in front of him. “How are you feeling?” You murmur.

Tighnari stares at you, still dazed from his release. Tighnari props himself up. “I feel great, but….” Tighnari trails off. “We were supposed to focus on you.”

You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t mind taking charge. Plus, you don’t look like the type to be dominant in bed,” you tease, poking Tighnari’s bare chest with a teasing smile.

Tighnari huffs and glares at you, his cheeks turning a darker shade of pink. He reaches for your wrist and pulls you toward him. You cage Tighnari against your bed, pushing him down with one hand before straddling his hips. Tighnari stares up at you while you kneel, reaching for his cock behind you. You give his cock a few strokes, feeling his dick slowly harden in your grasp. Tighnari bites on his bottom lip as he watches you pump his now erect cock. You arch your back, lean on one leg and rub the tip of Tighnari’s cock against your damp folds. You and Tighnari shudder at the feeling.

You line Tighnari’s cock at your entrance before slowly sinking down. Tighnari groans, placing his hands on your hips and guiding you down on his pulsing dick. Tighnari gasps and moans when his cock is engulfed by the walls of your entrance. You dig your nails into Tighnari’s shoulders, whimpering at the stretch.

Not long later, Tighnari’s balls deep inside your cavern. You shiver and bury your face into Tighnari’s neck. Your heat clenches and unclenches around Tighnari’s thick, hot, pulsing cock. Tighnari’s hands slide down to the globes of your ass and squeeze your ass cheeks, digging his nails into your ass.

You remain sitting on his lap with his cock buried deep inside your entrance, trying to adjust to a new stretch. You have Tighnari lay on his back while you remain seated. Tighnari keeps his hands on your ass, occasionally moaning and panting as your walls squeeze around his pulsing member.

Tighnari taps on your ass to grab your attention. “Move, please,” Tighnari grunts, lightly thrusting upward and letting out a choked moan when the tip of his cock brushes against your cervix.

You involuntarily clench around Tighnari’s dick. You lean back, arch your back, place your hands on Tighnari’s thighs, and begin sliding up and down his cock. Tighnari digs his nails into your thighs before sliding his hands to your hips, guiding you up and down his throbbing cock.

You push yourself upward while continuing to bounce on his cock. You lean forward before placing your hands on his lower abdomen.

You roll and grind your loins against Tighnari’s pubic bone, feeling pleasure pulse through your body when your swollen bundle of nerves rubs up against Tighnari’s pubic bone. You jolt and tense, letting out a shaky sigh. Tighnari reaches up with one hand, groping at your chest, pinching and squeezing your nipples with his thumb and index finger.

You grab Tighnari’s other hand at your waist, lacing your fingers with his. Tighnari shifts from underneath you and wraps his arms around your waist before flipping you over on your back. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to adjust to what happened. Tighnari looms over you, caging you with his arms while panting above you.

Tighnari grabs your chin and tilts your head up before crashing his lips against yours. You wrap your arms around his shoulders while Tighnari has you wrap your legs around his slim waist while he’s rutting against your entrance. You and Tighnari moan into each other’s lips, rubbing your tongues against each other and holding onto each other like your life depended on it.

“You drive me crazy,” Tighnari murmurs against your lips.

He pulls away from the kiss and presses his face against the base of your neck. You tighten your legs around his waist, making sure not to hurt his tail by accident. You subconsciously reach up and run your fingers through Tighnari’s soft hair, brushing your fingers against his ears. Tighnari whimpers and nuzzles his face further into your neck, lightly nibbling on your neck. You lightly pull on his hair, making Tighnari moan and thrust hard into your hot entrance.

Tighnari reaches down between your legs, lightly rubbing and pinching your engorged nerves. You jolt and clench your jaws, digging your nails into Tighnari’s back. Tighnari releases your swollen, pinched bundle of nerves before grabbing onto the headboard of your bed. He presses a brief kiss on the side of your head before slowly thrusting in and out of your entrance. You grab onto the bedsheets below you, rolling your hips against his, meeting his thrust halfway.

The bulbous tip of Tighnari’s cock kisses your cervix with each thrust, making your toes curl and your back arch with pleasure. You bite on your bottom lip to muffle your whimpers and moans, but Tighnari doesn’t seem to like that you’re holding back the sweet noises he’s coaxing out of you by thrusting in and out of your entrance.

Tighnari starts to quicken his pace, the headboard of your bed thumping against the wall behind you. Tighnari presses his hips against yours, making sure to press the tip of his cock against your cervix until you wail from either pain or pleasure. Both are good. It lets him know that you’re reacting well to his actions and that you’re not unresponsive to his actions. Tighnari’s curious about how sensitive the aphrodisiac made you.

“Tighnari, faster!” You whine, tugging on his arm to get his attention.

Tighnari takes a deep breath and unwraps one of your legs around his waist before placing them over his shoulders. Tighnari lays on top of you with his arms propping him up beside your head on the pillow and pistons his member into you repeatedly. While ramming his cock in and out of your entrance, Tighnari grabs you by your hair, tilts your head to the side as he leans down, and bites your neck hard enough to draw blood.

You let out a loud yelp, writhing beneath him. Tighnari moans as he licks and sucks on the area where he bit you, tasting your blood on his tongue. Tighnari laps at the bite mark, his hips stuttering against yours. Tighnari has knowingly marked you as his, and knowing how the others are going to react, gives him a sense of thrill. Adrenaline rushes through his veins, his lips trailing down to your collarbone while battering your cervix with the tip of his cock. You lift a shaky hand to the spot where Tighnari bit you, and you can feel the teeth marks and cut skin underneath your fingertips.

Tighnari latches his lips onto your collarbone and sucks on your collarbone. You tighten one leg around Tighnari’s waist and grind your hips against yours, trying to find a sense of relief as you feel a familiar knot beginning to form in your lower abdomen. At the same time, Tighnari continues to rail his cock deep inside of you. Archons, you can feel your impending orgasm, but it feels so far away. You wanted to cry out of frustration as you reached for the engorged nerves, pinching, rolling, and rubbing them with your thumb and index finger.

Tighnari grunts, feeling your walls tighten and pulse around his cock. Tighnari can feel his orgasm slowly start to build up as he continues to plunge his member in and out of your squelching wet hole. You can feel the tight rope in your lower abdomen start to tighten up as you’re nearing your orgasm. Tighnari suddenly pulls out of you, making you whine and protest the sudden emptiness.

“Why did you pull out, Tighnari!? I was so close!” You whine.

Tighnari doesn’t answer you. Instead, he grabs both of your legs, presses them against your chest until you can barely move, and spits on your sopping wet, throbbing entrance. Tighnari covers your loins with his mouth and begins eating you out. His tongue swirls on your engorged nerve, swiping his tongue over your slit and burying his face between your legs.

You tangle your fingers in Tighnari’s luscious hair, grinding your entrance against Tighnari’s face as he continuously licks, slurps, and plunges his tongue in and out of your entrance. Tighnari’s canines scrape against your swollen bundles of nerves, causing you to jerk beneath him and whimper. Your legs are burning from being pressed against your chest for a long time and shaking from pleasure. Noticing your reaction to Tighnari’s canines scraping your engorged bundle of nerves, Tighnari latches his lips against the small ball and sucks on it. You’re writhing, arching your back, tugging on Tighnari’s hair, and your toes are curling so tightly that it’s starting to hurt.

While you’re distracted, Tighnari inserts his middle and ring finger into your sopping, wet hole. You tensed up and groaned, whimpering as the man started pumping his fingers at a fast pace. Tighnari feels your walls tighten around his fingers, thus prompting him to pick up the pace, and before Tighnari knows it, you squeeze around his fingers. Tighnari pulls his fingers out from your heat, only for you to cry out with frustration due to Tighnari denying you of your orgasm for the second time.

“Dammit, Tighnari! Why can’t you just let me cum!” You whine, throwing your head back with frustration.

Tighnari climbs back up and crashes his lips against yours, tangling his fingers in your hair while lining the tip of his cock to your entrance. He grabs one of your legs and places them over your shoulders before slamming his cock into your heat. You bite down on Tighnari’s bottom lip at the sudden intrusion, tensing beneath him and choking out a moan.

Tighnari pulls from the kiss and adjusts his position before grabbing your waist. Tighnari starts pistoning his throbbing cock into your pulsing entrance. Every time Tighnari enters your dripping entrance, you tighten around him. Tighnari makes sure to grind his pubic bone against your throbbing, engorged bundle of nerves.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you reach down to rub the small ball of nerves while Tighnari hammers his dick into your squelching entrance repeatedly. Tighnari digs his nails into your waist, slamming the bulbous tip of his cock into you so hard that it punches your cervix each time he thrusts. The more Tighnari continues to plunge his dick in and out of your sopping, squelching entrance and grinds his pubic bone against your swollen bundle of nerves. With you stimulating the small nerve, the tight rope in your lower abdomen tightens and tightens until your vision goes white.

You cum around Tighnari’s cock, becoming limp on your bed. At the same time, Tighnari shoots ropes of hot cum deep inside your abused hole, painting the walls of your entrance milky white. Tighnari groans and collapses on top of you, his face burying into your neck as he continues to fill your insides with his cum. After a few minutes, Tighnari pulls his now soft cock out of your entrance.

You wince at the emptiness, visibly shuddering when the mix of your and Tighnari’s cum spill out of your cavern. Tighnari collapses beside you, wrapping his arms around your waist while trying to catch his breath. Once your vision comes back, you rub your eyes as you feel the exhaustion start to catch up to you. Maybe it’s best for you to take a break from finding relief. The fiery pit in your stomach continues to rage on, and your loins continue to ache with need.

You hear a light knock coming from your bedroom door. You and Tighnari look at one another. Archons, both of you are a little worn out from your sextivities, and having to get up from the bed and answer the door feels like a chore.

“Give us a moment!” Tighnari calls out, getting up from your bed and putting his clothes on. Tighnari turns to you. “Do you want to clean up? You can stay in bed if that’s what you would prefer.”

You blink at Tighnari with bleary eyes, slowly sitting up and rubbing your eyes with the heel of your hand. Do you want to get up right now? You’re tired and sore, and constantly rubbing, pinching, and twisting your swollen bundle of nerves made you feel extra sensitive than you already are.

You clear your throat, running your hands through your messy hair. “Yeah, I’m going to clean up again, and you can let whoever’s at the door into the room while I clean up,” you reply.

You get off your bed with shaky legs, shivering when you feel your and Tighnari’s mixed cum spilling and running down the insides of your legs and to the ground. You made a mental note to yourself to clean the bedsheets on the floor once you’re done cleaning up.

You grab a change of clean clothes and underwear, then go to the bathroom to take a shower. Before you step into the shower, you use the toilet and wipe yourself down. You turn the shower on and begin taking a shower, making sure to scrub every part of your body with body wash. You did feel some kind of relief from your intense need. Still, despite Scaramouche and Tighnari helping you reach your orgasm, the same feeling in your gut remains.

“How much of that aphrodisiac did I inhale?”

You shake your head and wash away the suds and bubbles on your body before lathering your hair in shampoo and conditioner. Whatever the amount it was, you want it to go away already. You don’t know how much more you can take and how much more your poor genitals can handle being railed over and over by all types of cocks from your lovers. But what you do know is that you need a break from being fucked repeatedly because you’re starting to get hungry, and you need to rest.

After fifteen minutes of taking a shower, you wrap yourself in a towel and stand in front of the mirror, staring at your reflection. You look tired, and you’re not sure if it’s from Scaramouche and Tighnari or if the aphrodisiac is starting to physically affect you. You quickly got dressed into your underwear and clothes, wrapping the towel around your head before walking out of your bathroom with a pack of wet wipes in your hands.

Tighnari looks up and waves to you with the bedsheets in your hands. “How are you feeling?”

You squat down to where the bodily fluids are and begin wiping them with the wet wipes. “I’m feeling okay. I do feel tired and a little bit hungry,” you murmur, tossing the wet wipes into the trash can and placing the wet wipes on your desk.

Tighnari goes to the door and unlocks it. The door opens, and enters Thoma, holding a tray of food in his hands.

“Hey! I figured you might be hungry from your… activities. So, I made food for you to eat,” Thoma says, putting the food tray on your desk.

You smile at Thoma. “Thank you, Thoma. I really appreciate it. I’m starting to get hungry, so you brought food at a perfect time,” you reply, walking to the window and opening them to let fresh cool air into your bedroom.

You sit on your bare mattress and begin eating the food Thoma made for you while the others start piling into your room one by one. It’s a good thing your bedroom isn’t a mess and that the sheets are getting cleaned. It would be awkward if the men sat on the soiled bedsheets.

Baizhu approaches you with Dottore and Albedo at his side. “How are you feeling?” Baizhu asks.

You sigh and lightly stab the fried fowl with your fork before dipping it into the sauce. “I feel fine, for now. I notice that even after I had an orgasm, the fiery pit in my stomach will return not long after,” you reply.

Dottore props one hand on his hips while stroking his chin with the other. “That’s strange. It doesn’t seem like the aphrodisiac will be leaving your system any time soon, unfortunately,” Dottore sighs, turning to look at the others with a frown.

“I think you should take a break from this for today. I understand you’re in desperate need to get the aphrodisiac out of your system, but you do need to rest. You can’t continue this until it goes away. You’ll overexert yourself,” Albedo says, tapping his foot on the ground.

You nod. Albedo’s not wrong. You do need a break, and while sex lasts only a few minutes, sex requires a lot of energy. You don’t think you can handle having another person dick you down while you feel like a limp noodle. Although, it does sound nice— getting dicked down. But you don’t feel sexy right now. You feel like you woke up from your grave not long ago.

“Alright. I’ll take a break for today, and whoever wants to be the next person to dick me down until my insides are molded to—” Dainsleif covers your mouth with his hands.

Dainsleif sighs, his cheeks bright red. “Please, just finish your food and get some rest,” Dainsleif pleads.

You blink and Dainsleif and nod. Dainsleif removes his hands from your mouth and lets you proceed to eat your food. You wonder who’s going to be the next person to try to fuck the aphrodisiac out of your system.

Note: Ready to decide on who's route is next? Remember, the next route is in the reader's hands, not mine. I just write the story. If I could decide, Zhongli would've been the first route. Anyway, the characters that have their routes already will not appear in the next voting phases. Vote for the third route/fourth "chapter" [HERE]! I'm hoping to be able to make a new navigation post (or edit the one pinned to my blog) and make a new request form since the one linked will not count. So if anyone sends any type of request in, it's voided. Anyway, to my new and/or returning readers, please keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

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milfism-blog · 3 months

Text

“Sarò La Tua Bambina Di San Valentino”

“I will be your Valentine baby girl”

Summary: While on vacation in Sicily, you ran into a hot readhead. What might happen when a bolt of electricity will go through both of you? Will this relationship only last at the resort? Is it just Melissa's first sexual experiment or the unexpected beginning of a blissful relationship? You should probably find out…

Warning: Comphet, Melissa being confused over her sexuality, mention of Gerry, a little bit of angst, fluff, smutty, explicit content. Read at your own risk!

Word Count: 5,3k

Author's note: It is my first smutty fic! Feedback is always appreciated! Have fun reading!

02.01.2023. Sicily, Palermo

You went on your first trip to Italy, Palermo specifically. You heard a lot about the beautiful city and of course the food. So in one click you booked tickets and of course a luxurious hotel. In addition, you lately noticed you have a type for confident Italian women so you planned to go all crazy for the trip. It was your vacation after all. No one knows who you are there and you can do anything without worrying about your work colleagues making videos and making fun of you later. You were already embarrassed at the working New years party with your co-workers. You are like a big family of best friends and of course, you all were drunk and made a lot of stupid decisions. Explicitly flirting with an older Italian woman you met in a club that night. Even though it was one month ago. Your friends are still making fun of you.

Actually screaming: “Beware milfhunter might steal one of yours moms!”

And if god heard your thoughts about hot Italian women. You saw one in the lobby of a hotel. Bright red hair caught your attention immediately. Dark squared glasses were keeping her hair from covering her beautiful face. Her massive golden earrings were reflecting the warm sun. It took some time for you to take in all her gorgeous curves. She was in a jumpsuit with a deep V neck which caught your attention. You were shamelessly staring at her gorgeous breasts without a bra. Your fantasy was running wild. You would not be surprised if your mouth was open. Without exaggeration, she looked like a goddess with olive skin you wanted to desperately touch and find out how soft it would feel. Is it as soft as it looks? Oh god this is going to be a ride.

You probably were staring for a good amount of time since she noticed and now she was looking straight into your eyes. They were a deep shade of green. You felt like a bolt of electricity went right through both of you. As if she was sending lightning bolts through her gorgeous eyes. And gosh her glare sent chills on your skin.

The next day you went for breakfast and again you saw her there. She looked even more magnificent than yesterday. The morning sun was giving her olive skin a natural glow. Her deep green eyes were shining a light shade of olive. She had minimum makeup on. Just mascara to highlight her eyes and clear lip gloss. Her lips looked so full, so juicy as the most desired fruit. You wanted to taste them so bad.

When you left your table you went straight to your hotel suite. Unknowingly for you, she has followed you down the staircase. She was quietly observing you. You felt a strong gaze on your backless dress. The chills were back again. When you were about to open the door she pinned you down that hardwood door. You were shocked, to say the least. When you looked at the stronger woman. Her pupils were delayed. Not a single hint of green, only black. You were just staring at her eyes. Your heart was beating so fast as if it was going to jump from your rib cage. You missed the satisfied smirk on the redhead's lips. She was enjoying the power she was having over you. You looked like a lost mouse caught by a cat. So lost,so innocent, so deliciously accessible for her to use you. You tried to move but she pinned you harder.

“You are not going to escape me, little mouse, now are you? Pretty innocent girl is scared now? Where did all the courage go?” She asked in a mocking tone.

Her voice sent you into a starstruck phase. So raspy, deeply rich voice. Fitted her personality so well. Dominant Italian woman pinning you against your room door, what can be better?

Your eyes traveled from her beautiful eyes to her deliciously juicy lips. You gave in to the urge to passionately kiss her. And you went for it. Since she pinned your arms you tilt your head and went hard for the kiss. Your lips were desperate to get a taste of her. Her lips were as soft as silk. You couldn't hold the desperate whimper. She tasted like sweet Italian wine. Her delicate lips sent you into a euphoric state. When you took a needy breath closer to a moan. You smelled her sweet yet mucus sent. That you're gonna remember for sure. When you went again so desperately neddy for the taste to bite down her lip. So she would remember the next day who she kissed. And with that, she stopped you.

“No, no little mouse, that's not how deals are made. You are gonna listen to me and do everything I am telling you to do. Understood?” She rasped out.

Your knees buckled at her voice and demanding tone. You were not sure if you could even speak. You just nodded in surender.

“No, sweet girl, I need to hear your voice.”

“Yes ma`am" You said with a trembling voice.

“Good girl. Now open the door for me” She said in her deep voice. With a smirk on her face. She knew the effect her voice, her hands were having on you.

With weak, trembling legs you opened the door. Almost instantly you felt strong arms on your waist. She suggestively walked you down to your bedroom and pushed you on bed. You started to take your clothes down but she stopped your actions.

“No, bambina, let mommy take down all the clothes. You need to listen closely, baby. I have some rules for you. No touching mommy without asking, you're gonna listen to my instructions and behave.”

Oh if she knew the fire you were feeling all over your sensitive skin. Her delicate yet strong hands were tearing your clothes apart. The warmth from her palms was burning your skin. You already were at the edge since her first glance. You were so eager to please a marvelous stranger. The only thing you wanted her to do is use you so the only thing you will remember will be her title, her taste, her scent, her, only her.

“Come here bambina, let mommy ride your face”

You could not believe your luck, a stunning woman asking you to please her. How can you decline this delightful offer? It felt like a fever dream. She was teasingly slow taking down her clothes. She was purposely swaying her hips as if she was a predator and you were her prey. Her mouse.

She gave your neck a few bites here and there, not even bothering to smooth them. when she glanced at your face. You were totally blissed out. Completely at her mercy.

She took down her ruined panties and took a seat on your face. Your senses were filled with her significant scent. The first lick was experimental to taste her. Her taste was a little mix of salt and sweetness. It was like blessed nectar. Your warm tongue licked her delicate labia. Her hips rolled at the action. You tried to steady her with your hands, but she slept them away.

“Remember the rules little mouse” she said, sternly.

You liked her again this time with more force. You made it your goal to memorize every curve, moan, whimper, curse. You wanted to drink her nectar, you're gonna take anything she is gonna give you. Her mind blowing taste was addictive, you wanted to eat her all. To give her the best orgasm in her life. You were softly nibbling at her sensitive skin. Swirling your tongue on a fragile rose. You gently pecked her clit. She groaned. You suck on it licked it and kiss it. She was slowly losing control. She was whimpering over you.

“ahh, yes, like this, good girl!” She cried out.

Your tongue went diaper into her core, you were restless. Setting the faster rhythm. To send her over the age sooner. Since the goddess above you forbid you to use your fingers. You decided to challenge her with your skilled tongue. Switching between the suction of her bundle of nerves and going in teasing techniques of her core. Your face was covered in her sweet arousal. You were practically drowning in her scent. juices and moans.

“Don't tease miele, mommy is going to reward you, ahh like this!”

You find her spongy spot deep in her core. You gave it a few light licks. With these actions, her hips were bucking back. Her moans became louder. She was playing with her full breasts to add more pleasure to her body. Your hands were scratching the olive skin of her thighs. Leaving red marks behind on a warm flesh. Giving more sensations and stimulation. Your tongue was skillfully going up and down her core. Small kisses here and there on her overstimulated clit. With each passing second her hips were swinging, she was trying to escape your experienced tongue. Your hands were clutching her thighs diligently. Every lick, suck, nibble was bringing her faster to the edge. Her breasts were bouncing. Her nipples were screaming for attention, she tried to pinch them in hopes it would make the ache to go away. She tugged on your hair. This action made you groan at the sensation. Long lasting vibrating suck of her clit sent her over the edge. She was desperately moaning.

“You are such a good girl, little mouse” She praised you in pure bliss.

She fell on your torso. You gently kissed her. Letting her taste her pleasure. She moaned at her taste. You kissed her cheek and went straight down to clean her up with your delicate tongue. You cannot waste the sweet nectar. She whined at the overstimulation. You tenderly lapped the remains of her juices. Firstly on creamy thighs occasionally sucking on the skin. Finishing with a tender kiss right on her clit.

“That was the best orgasm in my life. You did pretty well for a little submissive mouse.” She said truthfully

“Now it is your turn bambina, mommy keeps her promises.”

With these words she crawled over you. Her usual demeanor is back. She is ready to make you squirm and cry.

What was supposed to be just a one night stand for both of you became something more, such as regular meetings, mind blowing sex, breakfast together, drinking wine together, deep talks. Simply just enjoying the company of each other. Just two of you against the world. Hell, you even moved in together, if you can call it like that. She was staying in the president lux. Big rooms, personal pool, jacuzzi, amazing balcony where you had the best talks. Her green eyes will haunt you forever. You already were feeling like you were falling in love. But you had to remind yourself, “It is just resort romance, nothing more, at least for her.”

Here comes your last day together on the 14th of February, day of love. But you could not escape the emptiness in your heart. Last day until she will disappear forever…

To your surprise, she ordered fruits and candles to set a romantic atmosphere. When you walked into the room soft jazz music was playing. Melissa walked to you with the bouquet of flowers in hand. You almost cried at the site. This is so sensual, beautiful. No one has ever done this for you. But she did. Maybe she was the one?

This gonna be one of your core memories. She already stole your heart. The goodbyes are going to be really painful.

“Are you okay? Hon?” She repeated nervously, trying to figure out what was wrong. You were just staring at her beautiful green orbs.

“If it is too much I'm so sorry I should not have to make it!” She sounded nervous, almost panicking.

You whispered, resting the warmth of your hands on her shoulders.

“I adore this so much! I've never had somebody do this for me. I really appreciate it.” You gave her assurance. caressing her and kissing her on the lips.

That final day gave you the impression of being a married couple right out of the honeymoon stage. She was carrying and completely open with you. You were both extremely delighted and nauseous from it. Tomorrow you will be flying to your home and family in a few hours. But somehow, without her, none of that made sense. Melissa was a tough woman. You figured that out while technically living together. But that specific night she let her guard down for you. And you could see the sadness in her eyes. Especially in the intimate moments when she was feeding you with a strawberry, kissing became more slow and desperate. That night was no power dynamic, just pure love and sensual kisses.

“I'm going to miss you little mouse” She spoke with obvious anguish in her voice as she conveyed her thoughts.

With these words, you shared a last kiss. You felt like part of you died with you that day…

3 months later

When you came back home you were in absolute despair. You were missing her so much it was physically hurting you. Everything, absolutely everything was reminding you of her. You were checking your phone every day in hopes of seeing a message or even a call from the redhead. Even your friends were worried for you. You spent the last three months by yourself mostly doing all your job responsibilities from home. You were looking through her pictures you took when she was unaware. Completely without makeup, happy. She was a big softie with you. One time you heard her perfume on the street. You looked like an absolutely lost dog looking for its owner. She was the only owner of your heart.

Melissa was going through one of the most challenging crises in her life. Her vocation in Palermo completely changed her as a woman and as a person. When she booked the tickets to Italy she hoped she would find a hot young guy to hook up with. That fresh blood and dick will make her forget asshole Gary. That random stranger will make her feel loved and finally, she will cum. Because apparently Gary did not know anything about a woman`s body. He was a clueless idiot and she was simulating her pleasure, he did not notice the change at all. The idiot proposed to her even though they talked a lot about the subject. He just could not or did not want to hear what his woman wanted. She was so tired of being lonely and sad all the time. Her love life was a wreck. But then you came into her life. Shamelessly staring at her but strangely she liked it. You were different, not like all the men she had been with. All her life she blocked the part of her that was thinking about experimenting with girls. Just the one thought of experimenting with a person of her gender was sending her into a panic.

But. You.

She was not ready to share with you that you were her first woman she slept with. To be completely honest she thought she was just gonna use you as fulfillment of her needs and that would be it. But the way you were looking at her, so pure, so innocent, so happy. It broke her heart to think that she was just gonna use you so she just gave it a go. “No one is going to find out” she was saying to herself every day. Of course, all her thoughts and behavior were just echoes of the stigma. Liking women at her time was counting as something she should be ashamed of and better work this problem out by marrying a man. So he can cure her.

She managed to hide that “dirty” part of herself.

But then you appeared and showed that being loved by another woman is rather a blessing than a curse. The love was so gentle, understanding, and calming. And after all, nothing bad happened, she did not die on the spot as she was told. None of the bad things she heard were true. And then she saw all the great things about you such as you understood her by just looking right into her eyes, you were gentle and honest with her no one has done this for her. The guys just did not care about her pleasure and her as a person in general. Oh and your soft gentle lips, kind eyes, humor, everything about you…

While she was lost in her thoughts, realization struck her like a frigid wave. She fell in love... Just in two weeks with a mischievous stranger. Firstly she blamed herself for letting her guard down she let herself be emotional, feel emotions, experience emotions. That's what she mastered during her life. Put the guard up, be emotionless and life will be easy. Her exes used to tell her “Why are you acting like a bratty girl, stop being so emotional, jeezz are you on your period again?” So she stopped being emotional at all. But now her well-being was dependent on her happiness, on you. So she decided to break this circle of negative emotions and call you and tell you how she feels about you, and maybe ask you to be her girlfriend. To become hers.

02.14.2024.

United States of America, South Philadelphia

It was Valentine's Day again. You felt a sense of dejavu reliving all the memories from the past. It took long enough for The Melissa Ann Kathrine Schemmenti to finally ask you out and ask you officially to be her girlfriend. But you didn't mind. You would wait for her as long as needed. She was like your special delicate, sensitive flower, you were a caretaker, you were patient and loving to see her blossom for you. When she did you were stunned by her true colors and personality. There were no masks, facade for both of you. Just pure love. You wanted to make her feel extra special on this day, which was also your anniversary (almost, but nonetheless). And it is going to be your first Valentine's as a couple. So exciting!

But since you want to make this day special that does not mean you will not tease her. You like to push her buttons and see her reaction. And today was even more thrilling. You bought special lingerie for the occasion. Of course, you like to spoil your girl by buying new lingerie and see her reaction. You created a plan, you went to buy a new undergarments set. To your luck on Valentine's, there are a lot to choose from. One looked specifically spicier than the others, that's what you need! It had heart-shaped cutting on the nipples, with a light pink lace. It gave your breasts amazingly good lift even though this piece did have a push-up effect. To finish the lustful garment there is a cherry red thong with a small heart with a text that says “Eat me”. You put that on, you looked absolutely amazing. Reds and pinks colors were bringing accent to your skin tone, the thong was giving your ass more roundness. Mel would definitely like it. You also found light pink stockings, oh you knew how this look would make Melissa go absolutely crazy over you.

Your mind visited a naughty thought. You took your phone it lit up with the photo of you and your girlfriend laughing in Palermo. Your heart swelled with love. You opened the camera app and began to pose. The first one was you touching your unique bra, using your other hand to cover your nipples a little bit. The other one was you bending down and putting your ass up purposely to give it more roundness. Maybe it was not smart to take these photos and send them to your beloved Melissa during work but just thought about seeing her flustered and a little nervous. The thought of you turning her on was seducing you too much. And of course, you wanted to have fun tonight. In no time you got a response.

La mia dea italiana (my Italian goddess)

“Oh bambina, don't start something you can't finish, but the set look exquisite on you or I rather should say you look exquisite my darling.”

But you know her tough response is a facade. In reality, she is sitting in her classroom in her free period trying to play it cool because right now her mind is getting crazy by just one look at the amazing bra or the thong. You literally set fuel to the fire. But again, you are gonna worry later, or you might enjoy restless Melissa Schemmenti…

The sound of soft Italian jazz music welcomed you when you arrived home. The memories of your last night with the fiery redhead in Italy came flooding back, but now you realize you have plenty of time to spend together. You smiled at the realization that she is yours and you are hers. Hearts tied together. While taking off your boots, you noticed the path made of red petals heading towards your bedroom. And it clicked, Mel was recreating your last night in Italy. The roses, the music. You decided not to waste more time, excited to see what your beautiful girlfriend prepared for you. When you went upstairs there was an envelope with text on it “Open Me”. You eagerly opened it, it had instructions for you. “Hello again my sweet mouse, read closely, take off your clothes, stay only in your new lingerie set, and head upstairs!”

You rushed out of your clothes, even the nickname “mouse” She definitely was recreating your night. You assumed she wanted to make things right this time? No more sadness, just pure bliss.

You opened the door to your bedroom and your mouth fell open at the view. The gorgeous redhead had a proud smirk on her lips. Evidently pleased with the reaction she got from you. You were too stunned to speak. The smoking hot Melissa Schemmenti had nothing but a pair of dark red lace thong without any bra just her exquisite breasts. Soft creamy skin was calling for you to kiss, caress, lick, touch it. When you looked more closely you noticed that her rosey nipples were covered with chocolate. On the bedside table were strawberries waiting for you to use them, fresh melted chocolate in a bowl was ready for use. You walked down to her as you were enchanted by her breasts.

“Come here little mouse, I might need your help.” she fake paunted. Her eyes were telling you the other story. They were glistering with lust.

While you were occupied by shamelessly staring at her breasts, she was taking in your form with the new lingerie that you bought for her. She was practically eating you up with her eyes as if you were her prey.

“I figured you might like this il mio dolce tesoro, do not contain your stares. I absolutely love when you look at or touch my amazing tits. I know you love them. It is still vivid in my memory how you were eyeing my girls in that hotel lobby. Absolutely shamelessly, you are such a naughty girl. But I love you for it. My naughty mouse”

You could not believe your luck. Mel prepared all this sweet yet spicy, to be honest overly spicy, and all of this just for you, just for your eyes to see, your tongue to taste, to devour.

“But we have some rules here, like last time. Rules for my favorite little mouse. First, you are going to address me only as ma`am, mistress, and mommy. Second, you are not allowed to take off my thong, this night is only about my tits and my titis only. Since you were brave enough to tease me during my work hours. You get a challenge if you can make me cum by just using your skilled tongue and hands on my breasts. Today you're gonna make me finish by just eating and admiring my breasts.”

She announced the rules. Her beautiful green olives are gone in a lustful gaze. You can see how her breathing is erratic. Her eyes are focused on you. Almost silently asking you to start.

“Yes, mistress” you breathed out. Your thighs are pressing together in need of any sort of friction.

You sat on her lap. Melissa could feel your ruined underwear on her thighs. While she was streaked with the new sensation of your clothed pussy on her warm inviting thigh. Oh, how you wanted to take a ride... But just one stern look from your beloved Italiano made you behave. You wanted to be her good girl. Melissa, unlike you, could not take the tension any longer she yanked a fistful of your hair. Passionately inviting you for a bruising kiss. You whimpered at the sensation. She was restless. Biting hard on your lip just to slide her dominant tongue into your warm mouth. This action made you unconsciously desperately grind onto her soft creamy thigh.

“Ah, ah little mouse is breaking the rules again” She stated with a sly smirk playing on her puffy lips.

Still having her hand in your hair she pulled you straight into her tits. You moaned at the action right between delicate skin. Melissa was completely drowning you in her exquisite breasts. You were totally blissed out, your face pressed between her tits. Giving up any sort of control, you give in to the desire to bite down soft flesh. Smoothing down with your warm gentle tongue. Melissa responded with a groan. Her olive skin was covered in shivers. Just from one action. It was no secret for both of you that her breasts were subject of admiration. She also loved them, loved the attention she got from you. Now it was a research question to see how sensitive her breasts are and how many minutes, or hours would it take for you to make her cum?

“Tesoro, do this again!” she groaned out.

You bit her again. Taking the heated bowl with the meted warm chocolate you covered your tits in the steaming liquid. You shivered at the warm tingly sensation. Making your rosey buds harden almost instantly. Mel licked her lips before launching her tender lips and sucking on your right nipple. You let out a cry at the delicious feeling. Of her lips on your nipple softly nibbling on the pointy flesh. Her other hand palmed your left tit. Using her nails to tease the nipple. The sensations were sending you into bliss. Her scent, her warm inviting skin, warmth radiating from her big breasts. You closed your eyes to focus more on the pleasure she was giving you.

“Agh, mommy, please, bite me again agh, rougher plaeaase” You screamed from the sensations. The pool in your underwear was no help. You became more needy with every passing second.

You practically glazed more chocolate on her inviting breasts. Slowly licking the tender olive skin. You started with the top, kitten licking right breast, gently sucking on the skin around her areola. You were teasing, changing speed between agonizingly slow to faster with your tongue drawing different patterns. One of them was the word “mine”. Caressing the other breast with your nails. Giving a firm quiz here and there. Melissa was getting overwhelmed with feelings. She was so sensitive, everywhere. Firstly her breasts were on fire, pleasantly carried away with your skillful tongue, you sweet words you were drawing with your tongue on her breasts. The warm hand that was palming her left breast was sending light pulsations straight to her pussy. She became so putty in your hands.

“Like that, good girl, you are doing so great, just suck nipples, they are aching for your experienced tongue” She cried out. Pressing your lips closer to her overstimulated nipples.

Her praise was making your pussy clench around nothing. You were so happy to please your mistress. So eager to make her cum. Like no other men on this planet will. The sweetness of chocolate was mixing up with the significant taste of your gorgeous girlfriend. Making you want to devour her without mercy. Her fragrance was interacting with a sweet scent of chocolate. Revealing new muscusy notes in the air. Her strawberry lip gloss was like a cherry on top of the sweetness. All your senses were blessed with her gorgeous presence.

Your velvety lips were gently sucking on her exuberant nipples. Redhead responded with a breathy moan. She harshly pressed you into her exquisite breast. Too lost in the moment to care. You started to bite down slowly on the puffy bud. Changing the frequency of suction and biting. Gazing your teeth over a chocolaty-covered nipple adds more dopamine to your system. The taste of skin with sweetness was an amazing combination for your taste buds. Switching to another nipple you bit harder, smoothing harsh sensation with a lapping of your tongue. Taking a break from her nipples made her a whining mess.

“Amore…” Melissa whined out, while squirming her hips.

“Please, do-dont stop” She complained.

You took more strawberries and chocolate. You covered her reddened buds with chocolate and squirted strawberries over her breasts. Not caring where it will lend. As if there is no tomorrow you began to follow down the drops of juice. Making patterns, softly nibbling, and harshly biting down the pinkish flash.

“Tesoro please, I am so, so closeeeee” she was a crying mass. The overstimulation made her brain get foggy. She became more whinny. Desperately trying to get her release.

You were practically sucking out her buds, areolas, using your tongue to tease, smooth, irritate, and get a reaction from a hot beast. Your delicate hands were palming her puffy tits. Your nails were gazing over and over over sensitive pointed rosy skin. One last suck of your tongue, one lust swirl of your hand on her nipple sends her over to the sweetest release she got from this type of stimulation. Her eyes got lost in the back of her head. Her hips are uncontrollably bucking against nothing. Her hands firmly tugging on your hair, pressing hard into her tits. Her thighs are moving intensively which makes your hips join her rhythm to saddle over her thigh. You were following her movements to make you reach your desired release together. You collapsed in bed. Heavy gasping for air.

“ Well, well you did pretty good for a little muse, il mio amore”

With these words, you shared a passionate, loving kiss. And that night you had the best sleep in each other's arms. Melissa finally felt content and loved. She did not regret her decision to start a resort romance. Now she has her girl. Sleeping right beside.

What a Valentines…

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months

Text

Sunshine, Lollipops, and Rainbows 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, clashing personalities, exclusion, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: moody boy Curtis Everett x bubbly, plus-size reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Your lunch is a bit hectic and tour tummy is aching for your missed meal but your mission is accomplished. You have the box of coffee, the exact brand they keep in the break room. You stop at your desk and attach one of your heart-shaped post-its, writing Curtis’ name on it with a smiley face over the i. You'll let it be anonymous, a nice surprise.

The only hitch is finding the opportunity to drop it at his desk. So you do some snooping through the internal calendar. He has a meeting at fifteen. That's doable.

You watch the clock, not getting much done in your anticipation. You wait until two minutes after then hug the box to your stomach and make your way towards IT. You keep your head down, laser focused on the target.

You slip past Jensen's desk, he isn't there either. You see just ahead that Curtis’ chair is empty and you almost leap in delight. You tiptoe over, hovering the box beside the keyboard but don't put it down.

You shouldn't look but you know that shade of pink. The slightly open drawer slides open as you poke your toe under it. Your pillow! The stuffed donut pops up as it's released from the tension of the cramped drawer.

Wait? How'd it get there?

“What the hell are you doing?” Curtis startles you as he comes around the corner.

You look up at him and bat your lashes. He stole it. Why? Revenge? Does he hate you that much?

You drop the box of coffee and it bounces onto the floor. You snatch the pillow from the drawer and scramble in the other direction. You nearly collide with Jensen as Curtis grumbles behind you, the drawer slamming harshly.

“You okay?” Jensen touches your sleeve.

You can't talk. You're confused and hurt and… you really thought you misplaced the pillow, you didn't think someone would steal it. You shake your head and push past, clinging to your pillow as your eyes sting. You're done trying to be nice.

🩷

You take your pillow home with you that night. You won't bring it back. You'll just suffer the pain.

You can't believe you ever tried to be his friend. Why did it matter so much to you? You suppose there's still lots of people to meet at the office. Or you can eat your lunch alone.

Oh well, it's the weekend. You don't have to face the music for a couple days. You spend the night on your computer, playing the new game you downloaded on Steam, a puppy dress-up sim. It was free.

You sleep, not well. You don't know why you're so uneasy. Halfway through the night, you hide the donut pillow in your closet.

The next day you think of all the ways you can spend your time. You come up with nothing but that's fine. You'll go to the mall!

You put on a yellow and green patchwork overall skirt over a plaid blouse and set off. You won't spend too much but a new plushie will cheer you up.

The bus drops you off at the east entrance of the mall. You enter and stop to buy yourself a cinnamon bun. You're starving!

You wander and wipe away the stickiness on a crumpled napkin as you enter the game shop. You pass by the collectible figures for a tabletop RPG and find your way to the squishmallows. The taco one is adorable.

You squat down to grab the fried egg plushy and smile. This one will go with your toast pillow. As you stand, you press against someone else. You apologise but stop as an arm hooks around you. Another comes around your other side, claiming the stuffy from your grasp.

“You like these things?” The gristly voice rolls into you.

You gasp and pull away, turning to face Curtis as he eyes the smiling sunny-side up. Your back hits the shelves as you stare with wide eyes. You don't get it, how did he find you?

“Where did you come from?” You ask dumbly.

“Relax, I was here to buy dice,” he continues to examine the toy.

“Oh…” you look around, “you play that game; diners, dives and dragons.”

“Dungeons and dragons,” he corrects you.

“Ha, I know, just a very not funny joke,” you shrug.

You reach for the stuffy but he pulls it out of reach. He finally looks at you. You could wilt like a dying flower.

“I'll get it for you.”

You're stunned speechless. Your mouth falls open as he looks away. He pulls his shoulders up and drops them.

“Fair trade. For the coffee.”

“Oh,” you snap your mouth shut, “that's not… that's fine.”

You try to take the toy again but he puts it behind him. He steps closer, crowding you against the shelves. You sweat as your eyes skitter side to side.

“I shouldn't have taken your… donut thing.”

“Uh, yeah, well, it's… really, I think it's better we just keep our distance,” you rub the back of your neck, “it's nice of you to offer to make it up but I'm over it.”

“Over it?” He echoes.

“Yeah, I don't wanna be friends. We're coworkers. Let's keep it profesh.”

“Profesh…” he squints.

“So I'll just take the squish,” you sidle and reach around him, tugging the toy until he lets go, “have fun with your dragons.”

He doesn't move as you march up the aisle. You go to the counter and proudly present the fried egg. You unzip your furry purse as Curtis strides towards the till.

“Wait,” he says.

“Sorry, I got stuff to do. See ya around the office though,” you swipe your card and the machine bings with approval, “I'm sure you're busy too.”

You smile at the cashier and take your bag and receipt. You spin and stroll out. You sense Curtis behind you and walk faster. He catches up to you and blocks your path. You nearly fall over your feet as you stop abruptly.

“I apologised.”

“Thanks.”

“Thanks?” He growls.

“Uh huh.”

His brows draw together and his lashes flick, “I… I'm trying–”

“It's too late. Sorry, can't help you,” you shrug, “enjoy the coffee and the silence. I know you prefer both to me.”

You sidestep him again and hear him sputter. You scurry without looking back. You don't hear him but don't let out your breath until you turn into the next wing of the mall. You hope you didn't just make him hate you even worse but you have to protect your happiness. And your squishmallows.

#curtis everett x reader #dark curtis everett #curtis everett #dark!curtis everett #snowpiercer #sunshine lollipops and rainbows #drabble #series #au

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verstappurr · 1 year

Note

“I freaking love you!” “…You're drunk.” “I knooow!” with teammate max pls

drunk max is something else and i’d love to party with him 😭

—

you watched as max jumped to the rhythm of “super max”. you couldn’t help but to giggle at the sight. you didn’t blame him though, he had just become champion for the second time and with your amazing performance during the season, red bull was able to take the constructor’s championship home, so you were all allowed to have a good time.

to say you and max were only teammates was a complete lie. ever since you signed your contract with red bull, max had been nothing but supportive and kind. during your first get together as a team, you two immediately clicked and practically became best friends right there. inseparable and insufferable best friends, like charles would say.

it has never been more than that though, and that hurt you. falling for your teammate was not the smartest decision from your part, but how can you not? max was the sweetest boy you had ever met, and he always knew how to make you feel special. not to mention how the guy was practically built by the gods themselves. his dirty blonde hair, his soft blue eyes, his soft pale skin, and that beautiful smile made you weak.

but what you didn’t know, is that max was head over heels for you. of course everyone noticed it but you. the media, the team, even the drivers knew about max’s big crush on you. but both of you seemed to be completely oblivious to the fact you would practically drool at the sight of the other and completely oblivious to the effect you had on each other.

max would be embarrassed if you found out about the times he caught himself daydreaming about you, about making you his wife, having a family and growing old with you. god, he was whipped.

you turned around when you felt a tap on your shoulder, your mouth curving into a smile seeing the man in from of you. there he was, cheeks tainted a light shade of pink due to the alcohol he had been consuming since the party started and a big smile on his face.

“y/n! come dance with me!” max dragged you into the middle of the dance floor with him, “since when do you dance?” you laughed, “since… right now!” he giggled and spun you around.

your laughs and awful singing could be heard over the music and the team was enjoying every moment of it, so were you.

max spun you around once again but this time he pulled you into him, hugging you tightly, “I freaking love you!”, he yelled into your ear, making your heart beat faster, “maxie, you’re drunk”, you tried to play it cool, “i knoooow! but this is the only way i’ll be able to say it without turning into a nervous mess!”

you pulled away looked at him, “are you being serious right now?” you asked him, “of course i am. i’ve been in love with you ever since i laid my eyes on you. you’re the most amazing woman in the whole world! the most beautiful too!”, he giggled, “why didn’t you say anything?” you looked at him, “because i can’t handle you rejecting me, duh”

“i’m not going to reject you, max” you chuckled, “simply lovely! then we’re boyfriend and girlfriend now, wohoo!” he clapped, “not so fast, verstappen. i want you to say this tomorrow with no alcohol in your system”

“simply lovely!”

#max verstappen fluff #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen blurb #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #f1 imagine #f1 driver x reader #f1 driver x you #f1 #f1 fic #f1 blurb

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nolita-fairytale · 1 year

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make my heart surrender | carmy berzatto x fem!reader | chapter three: thursday

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

warnings: lots of swearing, angst, use of she/her pronouns, allusions to sex, eventual smut, no use of y/n, second person pov, mentions of death/mikey's suicide

word count: 3.4k

summary: you and carmy finally find some time to catch up and carmy begins to realize that you're more similar than he thinks.

a/n: thank you to all who are reading, reblogging, and commenting omg. i'm so grateful that someone wanted to read this story. i wrote it in a week because i couldn't get these two out of my head. they were begging to be put on the page. i also have a companion playlist that i'll release when the story is done because i don't want to spoil anything! comment below if you'd like to be added to this story's taglist. i did presumptuously add a few of you i've interacted with, so please let me know if you'd also like to be taken off of it.

read: part two | masterlist

Thursday

You’re grateful that by day three, you’d been able to smooth over some of the tension between you and Carmy. You even looked forward to catching up with him, if the two of you can swing it. Instead of going home early, you had jumped on the line this evening. Ebra was out for the night and Marcus had asked to fly solo on prep so that you could give him some feedback before lunch service tomorrow morning.

It was an easy decision, to fill in and jump on the line. After all, you had checked your bag on the plane so that you could bring your knife roll with you, just in case. There was something about this kitchen – the energy and the people – that you wanted to stick around for. And it didn’t hurt that you got to spend a little extra time with Carmy. When he was in his element, expediting and leading this kitchen… he was… breathtaking.

“Damn, nice knife, Jeff” Tina comments, checking out the santoku you’re running through some parsley. She can hear the crisp, clean cuts you're making, which is what caught her attention in the first place.

“Jeff?” you question, shooting her a look.

“Long story, but trust me. It’s a term of endearment,” Sydney interjects, from her side of the prep station.

You chuckle, “She’s a beauty alright. My first fully Japanese knife. Though the steel is a bitch to take care of. That’s for sure.”

“What do you mean?” Tina questions further.

“Well, it’s just a kind of metal alloy that’s super prone to-,” you start, completing your sentence at the same time as Sydney chimes in.

“Rusting,” you both say in unison, sharing a look.

“Huh,” Tina sounds, suddenly losing interest. “I don’t get it. It’s more work to take care of? Our shit’s part-plastic and does the job just fine.”

“Oh but she’s so smooth,” you playfully swoon, referring to how beautifully the knife performs for you.

“It’s all about the performance, T,” Sydney adds.

Tina hums in response, still unconvinced by you and Sydney’s admiration for the fancy tools.

“So you and Carmy. How’d you meet Jeff?” Tina inquires further geturing her knife towards Carmy’s expediting station, and eliciting another laugh from you and Sydney.

“Uhhhh… we both worked at the same restaurant in New York. I came in to stage and the competitive jerk tried to smoke me. Thought he could show me it was his territory.”

“Like a little bitch,” Tina teases, the shade evident in her voice.

“And you kicked his ass obviously,” Sydney suggests, hopefully.

“Mhm,” Tina adds in agreement.

“Oh absolutely,” you answer, deviously. “I walked out with a job that night. Carmy and I are the classic kitchen staff case of… enemies turned good friends.”

You look up from your station, noticing an exchanged look between Sydney and Tina.

It’s the kind of look that says, Just friends, huh?

“Alright, alright. Enough with the girl talk, gossip girls. News flash: no one gives a shit about fuckin’ Tom Colicchio and Padma Whatserface over here,” Richie interrupts, referring to the you and Carmy, as he passes by with a few empty storage containers on the way to the dishwashing station.

“Asshole / Fuck off, Richie,” Sydney and Tina shout back at the same time.

“Hey! Listen up, everyone! Fire two spaghettis, two short ribs, one chicken,” Carmy calls out to the kitchen. You listen attentively, hearing the chorus of the entire kitchen repeat the order back to him, punctuating the order with a ‘heard.’

You smile to yourself, as you enjoy the feeling of falling into such a familiar rhythm.

You’ve missed working in the kitchen, and you’ve missed working in the kitchen with Carmy. This was so different than any of the bullshit you’ve been through together – even when he is arguing or yelling at someone. It’s not some sterile environment that looks more like a science lab or an operation room than it does a kitchen.

No, this place has soul.

Between the crass kitchen banter, the less than flattering nicknames, and its wild cast of characters, it’s only day three and you feel right at home. Dinner service flies by and you’re eager to check in with Marcus by the end of the shift. Before taking your apron off, you head over to his corner of the kitchen.

“Hey, how’s everything going, chef?” you ask, curiously.

“Good, chef,” he answers proudly. “I got the brioche covered and ready to rise overnight and I prepped the cake donuts so we’re ready to roll tomorrow morning. I went with a blueberry cake donut this time around.”

“Sounds great. I can’t wait to try it, chef,” you reply. “Need anything from me before I head out for the night?”

“Oh no, uh, I’m almost done here,” Marcus answers, inspiring confidence in his ability. “Just workin’ on a curd for the filling, chef. Just like you taught me.”

“Alright,” you chuckle, tickled by how excited he is. “Have a good night, chef.” You pause, wondering if your words will be totally lost on him. “And make sure you get some rest tonight, okay?”

He responds with a nod, as you leave his station.

You make your way to the locker area, hanging your apron up, and slipping off your kitchen sneakers, before taking a seat on the bench. It looks like most of the kitchen staff got a head start on you and have already left, or are out of their kitchen clothes and ready to head home. There’s a strange feeling in your heart. You haven’t felt this kind of… community… in a professional kitchen in a long time and you try your best to name what it is you’ve felt was missing.

“Hey,” you hear a voice say, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Hey,” you say to Carmy.

He removes his apron, folding it over his forearm. It sits further down his arm, right near his tattooed hand, you notice, as he leans his side against the lockers.

“Thanks for jumpin’ in… you know… on the line tonight,” he starts his gaze practically piercing through your soul.

“Yeah, it’s uh, no problem,” you reply, placing your knife roll and kitchen shoes back into your locker. “I had fun.”

“You uh, you still want to go for that drink?” he asks, shyly.

You smile.

“Yeah.”

“It’s fucked up,” Carmy shakes his head in disbelief.

“Oh please. What?” you groan, shooting him a look.

“You’ve been in my city for… what three days now and you already have a hookup at one of the hardest to get into bars here,” Carmy replies, eliciting a laugh from you.

“Oh my god,” you sigh with a playful eye roll. “I’m a New Yorker, asshole. You know that’s how we do it.”

He shakes his head again, before locking eyes with you, “You were always better at it than me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Are you, Carmen Berzatto, finally admitting that I’m better at something than you? Can you say it again, and I’m just going to-.” you tease, playfully, pulling out your phone as if you’re going to film him saying it.

“Oh shut up…” he shoots back, gently pushing your phone away from his face.

“I mean, you could always make friends with anyone. The bodega guy downstairs. The fuckin’ bodega cat. Our favorite butcher? ‘S why we always got the good cuts of meat when we cooked together on our days off.”

“Which is exactly why I do it,” you point out.

You had always been so magnetic to him. It’s something that he’s always admired about you – something that always reminded him of Mikey.

“No, I-, I used to be a regular at this bar when I was working at Gramercy Tavern – actually, I think it closed right before you came to New York. Anyways, found out my favorite bartender moved to Chicago and I sent him a message letting him know I’d be in town. Said he’d get us in even if they were booked up, and,” you gesture towards where the two of you are sitting together, “Et voila!”

Carmy takes a look around. He hasn’t been in a fine dining establishment since he left New York. It’s as if all the fancy awards and all the dues he’s paid cooking in the best restaurants in the entire world don’t matter anymore. He feels so out of place: the people, the over-the-top cocktails, the overpriced bowls of food called something fancy to justify the high price point.

“From the kitchen” your bartender had said curtly, a mere few minutes ago. He had placed a few plates in front of the two of you to share that you most certainly didn’t order.

You both had thanked the bartender, before digging into the large bowl of soup, stracciatella, and focaccia bread on the plate. You rip off pieces of bread, dipping them into the salty broth, popping them into your mouth. Carmy’s much more of a gentleman about it, using his spoon to try the soup first. You had only planned on drinking here, but your friend at The Aviary had really come through. You’re sure it doesn’t hurt that you’re here with Carmy, and that these guys definitely know who Carmy is.

“So…” you start, taking a sip of whatever fizzy strawberry gin thing you’d ordered earlier. “I feel like there are a lot of long stories I’d like to hear.”

Carmy makes a sound in agreement before taking a sip of his drink. It’s just bourbon on the rocks, and you wonder when he started drinking bourbon like this.

“I mean… we could start here. How the hell are ya?” you ask.

“I…” he starts, before trailing off. He buries his face in his hands, dragging his fingertips across his forehead. “It’s uh, it’s been a long couple of months. Christ. The restaurant was a goddamn mess, everyone hated my fuckin’ guts. And then Syd showed up and, well, she’s been a big help.”

You wait a beat before saying, “As much as I want to hear about the restaurant, Carm, I mean how are you doing?”

Your words stop him, and he looks up at you with those baby blue eyes. He takes his time thinking about it, shrugging before muttering something along the lines of, “I’m okay, I guess.”

He’s searching for the right words to explain how the hell he’s even supposed to answer that question.

“I don’t know. Guess I thought if I fixed the restaurant, if I could fix it-. Maybe I could fix him,” he drags out.

He waits a few beats before finally admitting:

“I miss him. Mikey. And I found out all kinds of shit about him that I-, well, shit I didn’t know. I think-, I think it’s why he kept me away. Why he shut me out.”

You listen as he begins to fill you in: about Mikey, the drugs, the debt he inherited that he now owes to Cicero, how hard it was to win over the kitchen staff that, come hell or high water, weren’t interested in changing their ways. And then he tells you about the meetings he's been going to -- the al-anon meetings. And you begin to understand. While he’s the same old Carmy, this isn’t the exact same Carmy that you knew in New York. The Carmy you knew in New York never would’ve gone to those meetings. He would’ve brushed it off and pretended there wasn’t a problem and taken as much punishment as he could in the kitchen instead of dealing with what he was feeling.

Mikey’s death, and coming home, and this restaurant, it’s all changed him.

And maybe, just maybe, it’s part of the reason why, after months of no contact, he reached out to you now, but he’s not sure if he should tell you that yet.

You’ve got to give it to him. If anything, he’s exceptionally talented at cutting people out of his life. It’s his M.O – the only thing that’s been consistent in his life – even when those people didn’t deserve it. It’s what he knows to do. It’s something he’s learned… from Mikey, from his dad…

But this… what he’s telling you, these are stories of connection and community.

“And Syd’s really helped me pull this shit together. She's kinda like... the glue, y'know? I- I don’t know where we’d be without her,” Carmy concludes.

You agree. Syd is brilliant. You can see just from having been in that kitchen that she’s been the biggest catalyst for the changes — even his.

“I know you only asked me to come for pastry but I’m glad you let me jump in on the line tonight,” you say. “It’s cool to see what you’re doing now and… I don’t know. I know it was a rocky start, but you’ve got something here. Something that could be really, really good, Carm. You’re making real fucking food. Like your mom’s chicken. I haven’t forgotten about that.”

“How can you remember that?” Carmy asks, a little surprised, his eyes lighting up. He’d almost forgotten that he’d once made it for you while you were both still in New York.

You nod, “Best chicken piccata I’ve had in my life.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Hands down.”

“You know,” you start, a mischievous tone in your voice. “If I recall correctly, you made me some pretty bomb meals back in New York. And didn’t I say something along the lines of you really shining when-?”

“Oh no,” he groans. “Not this again.”

“I’m just saying!” you justify, innocently. “When you cook the food you grew up with, Carm, you’re at your very best. And don’t get me wrong. You’re an exceptional chef, regardless of what you do but-.”

“So what? You’re gonna say ‘I told you so?’” he questions, shooting you a look.

You shrug, playfully, “I can’t help it if I’m right all the time,” earning an eye roll from him.

“Especially when it comes to you.”

He’s quiet for a moment, because you do know him. You’ve seen sides of him he’s barely let anyone else see. It feels good and terrifying all at once to be seen this clearly.

“Yeah, well, you always were a little more Mozza than French Laundry, huh?” he shoots back, referencing your difference in preference. While Mozza was more family style, The French Laundry, a restaurant Carmy had worked at once upon a time, was anything but.

“Yeah. Who knew one day we’d switch places?” you reply, a sadness in your voice. Were you… envious of what Carmy had? Was this what you were looking for?

“So uh, you gonna tell me what the hell happened with the restaurant?” Carmy asked, changing the subject – changing the subject to you.

You sigh, you raise your drink to your lips, finishing the rest of what’s in the glass in one go.

“That bad, huh?”

“No!” you’re quick to reply. “Well, yes. But no. But yeah….”

Carmy flags the bartender down, ordering another round for the two of you.

You’re not even sure where to begin in regards to the existential crisis of sorts that you’ve been having, so you just tell him what happened.

“I was juicing blood oranges one day. And-, you know we were going to take the juice and do all that fancy gastronomy shit with it… turn it into like, the same consistency of ‘dew in the early morning’…” you began to explain, quoting what your head pastry chef had said that day.

“And I’m sitting there thinking… what the hell am I doing? I mean, who eats food like this?! Who wants to eat a drop of blood orange juice that’s been turned into the consistency of dew in the early mornings? Like, why the fuck can’t I just make the best blood orange olive oil cake anyone’s ever had, and that be enough, you know?”

“And. I don’t know. It got me thinking a lot about the kind of food I want to make, and what that would mean, and what does any of this shit even mean? Fast forward to a week later, and I don’t feel like I have a fuckin’ clue about what I want to do with my life and I’m quitting the restaurant.”

You pause, noticing that he’s just been listening attentively this whole time.

“I’m tired, Carm,” you admit. “I mean. I’m burnt the hell out. I just. I don’t want to work this hard for something that- something that I’m not even sure I believe in anymore.”

Another beat.

“I know it sounds totally insane but-.”

“No! No, it doesn’t,” Carmy interrupts, quick to reassure you, as he reaches for your hand. Your eyes flicker from his hand on yours, the small tattoo above his wrist, then back to him, feeling the loss of body heat as he pulls his hand back only a moment later.

“I feel like I’ve been thinkin’ about a lot of the same shit,” he admits, empathizing with you.

“I just feel… kind of lost,” you say, and it’s the first time you’ve said it out loud. “I do. I-, I’ve been feeling really lost lately.”

In all the time he’s known you, never could he have expected you to feel lost. He wondered if he’d just put you on a pedestal. You had always been this stunningly charismatic, charming person that could walk into any room and in minutes, have everyone wrapped around your finger. For so long he denied any feelings for you because he knew you were unattainable – that someone like you could ever want someone like him felt impossible. Wouldn’t you be better off with one of those Wall Street assholes that came into the restaurant all the time – wining and dining their clients with their expensive wristwatches and fancy town cars?

But hearing you say it – that you feel lost – it reminds him that you’re only human too.

He waits another beat, guilt filling up his throat, before he speaks again.

“I should’ve been there for you. I’m sorry.”

There’s an earnestness in his voice that makes you want to trust him. Sure, it seems like he’s been apologizing to you for three days straight, but you want to listen.

You take another sip of your drink.

“I started volunteering at a Brooklyn community garden so I could like, pull my head out of my ass,” you share with him.

“Did it help?”

You shrug, “Yeah, a little bit.”

It helped, but it hadn’t fixed anything. You feel like you can confide in him, especially since he told you that he was going to meetings.

“My therapist actually encouraged me to come here,” you confess, gauging his reaction as the words flow from your mouth. “Get out of dodge. Get a change of scenery… give myself some time to think.”

“We both know you do a little too much of that,” he teases gently, and you chuckle.

Between Carmy’s avoidance, and your neuroses, you’re quite the pairing.

“Yeah.”

Carmy pauses, not sure if he has the words to give you the explanation you deserve, but he’s going to try.

“I had… a lot goin’ on. When I got back. And I didn’t know….” He pauses before continuing. “I didn’t know how to do it all at once. How to handle, you know… everything at the same time.”

And it’s just easier to avoid everything – to avoid you, to avoid the way I feel about you, he thinks to himself.

And it’s exactly what he did, he pushed you away, and pushed any and all feelings or thoughts about you into a dark hole, never to be acknowledged ever again.

Until you quit your job. Until his phone call with Tim. Until his phone call with you.

“I know, Carm. I know you’re sorry and I appreciate the apology,” you start, taking a breath. “It’s just that-. I need you to know...”

You pause, suddenly feeling like you’re in the middle of an anxiety dream where you realize you’re not wearing any pants.

“I need you to know that it hurt. It… it really hurt. Not hearing from you. Being cut out like that.”

“I know,” he admits, remorsefully. “I’m gonna be better. At least I’m trying to be.”

“I really want to believe that,” you say, softly.

But I don’t want to get hurt again, you think to yourself.

He looks at you, a soft, shy smile on his face, and it makes you want to take a chance on him.

Who are you kidding? You’d jump off of a bridge with him if he asked, even if it meant getting hurt all over again.

“Okay?” he asks, hopefully.

You’re not sure if he’s asking if it’s okay, if you’re okay, if everything is okay between the two of you, and you wonder if he means all three.

“Okay,” you answer, quietly.

“Okay.”

read: part four

taglist: @lazypeachsoul @bookwormvoyageuse @allthefandomstogether

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #the bear marcus #sydney adamu #the bear tina #richie jerimovich

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