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mrsbarnesblog · 22 days

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i need help

summary: Rafe has a breakdown and he finally asks for help

word count: 1.4k

warnings: angsty and fluffy?, crying, mentions of drugs and alcohol, ward is the worst father (this is ward’s hate space btw💋)

a/n: I just want to baby him. so yeah, soft/clingy Rafe again because apparently, I can’t write anything else right now🙂

You were sitting on Rafe’s bed, patiently listening to his firm footsteps on the staircase. The room was dimly lit only by a lamp from the nightstand and you fought back an urge to fall on your back and fall asleep with your face in his pillow.

Yet the harsh and cold voice made your head clear of your thoughts and you finally noticed your best friend walking into his own room.

“What are you doing here?” Rafe grumbled at you as soon as he slammed the door, turned the lock and turned around, only to see you sitting on his bed.

“What?” His bloodshot eyes were burning holes into you and you innocently blinked at him, not understanding why he was acting so weird.

“I said, what–”

“Don’t yell at me.” You interrupted him calmly. “We wanted to hang out; it’s been a few days since it was just the two of us. You never complain when I come here.”

“Ye-yeah, fuck…sorry, I didn’t mean to.” You watched how Rafe started pacing around the room, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes. He was almost shaking, his hair looking like a mess, and you would’ve thought that he was on the verge of tears. “I’m not in the mood right now, okay? We’ll do it another time. Can you leave now? I– I need to be alone.”

“No, Rafe, I’m not leaving. What happened?” Your brows furrowed, concern and nerves bubbling inside of your body as you watched how your friend and the guy you had a crush on was slowly breaking down.

“Nothing. Nothing happened, Y/N.” He mumbled, still not staying in one place. “Just go.”

“I told you no.”

“Why can’t you listen to what I’m fucking telling you?!” Rafe snapped, stepping closer to you as if he were trying to scare you away. Yet you remained still in your place, not even flinching. Your brows shot up in silent question, eyes were glued to his face, and especially to the way his own eyes became more glassy and watery with every second. “Fuck, fuck—I'm sorry, I’m so sorry. I don’t want to yell at you.”

“Then don’t. You know I hate it when you’re doing it, Rafe.” You continued calmly. “Sit here and tell me what happened. I see that something’s wrong. It’s been that way for a long time, right? You’re acting differently… C’mere.” You patted the bed near you, giving Rafe a reassuring smile.

“I don’t know what to do, Y/N.” Sitting near you on the bed and holding his head in his hands, Rafe spoke so quietly that you could barely hear him. “I’m going insane. I have issues and nobody hears me.” You slowly, as if you were touching a wounded animal, put your hand on his back, slowly moving it up and down.

“Tell me. I’m here and I hear you. Please tell me what’s going on.” You tried to sound as soft as you could, moving a little bit closer. “You know you can trust me.”

“There’s something wrong with me. I— I have thoughts in my head that I don’t like. They’re bad. They’re wrong. I don’t want to be violent or feel these things inside of me but I c-can’t stop. They’re stronger than I am and sometimes they’re messing with my head.” Rafe’s voice cracked at the end and you felt the violent beating of your heart in your chest. He sniffed a few times, desperately trying to be strong in front of you and to hide the disgusting things that were eating him up alive.

“Are they dangerous to others or to you?”

“Both.”

You slowly nodded, processing the information and trying not to show the way it actually freaked you out. Did you know that Rafe struggled with anger and was not everyone's favorite person? Well, yes. He was nothing but sweet to you, though. You saw that he was a nice person, with a good heart. The only thing that he wanted in return was to feel needed, important, and loved.

And you always gave it to him.

But realizing that there were problems so much deeper and that he was now screaming for help because he could not live like that anymore made you wonder how you could be so stupid to not notice the signs earlier.

“Did you talk to your dad about it? Maybe anyone else? Or is it just me? ” You finally reached Rafe's face with your hand, turning him in your direction. You’ve never seen him even shed a tear, not to mention the state that he was in right now and it was shocking how much it hurt you too. The look in his pretty eyes was so desperate and so hurtful that you felt sick.

“He told me to man up. Cool, right? Can’t even do shit without disappointing him. I–I said that I have problems, but he just ignored it. He told me to rest and that it'd be okay.” He smiled at you, even though tears were still freely streaming down his face. “I just thought that maybe once he would hear me. See me. Not Sarah. I’m so fucking tired of it.” He shook his head and looked down. “So it’s only you. Nobody really cares about me anyway, so...”

“Oh, Rafe… Come here.” He wasn’t resisting when you dragged him closer to you by his arm. No, instead, he wrapped his arms around you as if his life were depending on it. You hugged Rafe back, slowly lowering both of you on the bed, until he was lying almost on top of you with his face in the crook of your neck and your fingers slowly brushing through his hair.

What you noticed is that Rafe was always cautious with physical contact. Sometimes it seemed like he tried to be closer to you, sit near you, or casually play with your hands or hair, but the next day he was completely dispant and hesitant.

It was obvious that now Rafe lowered his guards; he let you see the damaged parts of him and he craved your touch because it was the only thing that could ground him.

“I need help. I’m tired of this shit in my head, and I don’t want to continue ruining my life with alcohol and drugs…but it just calms everything down for some time and I don’t know how to come out of this circle.” Rafe sobbed harder, his arms wrapping around you even more, until you were closer than you'd ever been before. Your own eyes were filled with tears, but you refused to show them. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being such a disappointment. P-please don’t walk away.”

You knew about Rafe’s lifestyle, but despite your words, he always made it seem like not a big deal, like something fun that he does at parties. Though now it was obvious that the facade that he had built was slowly falling down and drowning him in it too.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, Rafe. It’s not your fault. But you do need help, darling.” You whispered, pet name rolling from your tongue faster than you could’ve processed it. “It’s important that you understand it. And I’m not leaving. It’s the last thing that should be in your head.”

“I do. I want to get clean. I want to be normal. I just don’t know how.”

“That’s okay. I’m here for you, yeah? Your dad may not hear you, but I do and I’ll help you. We’ll figure it out together tomorrow, okay? Now you need to rest a little bit.” You reached the end of the bed, dragging a duvet and covering both of you with it. Rafe didn't move an inch from your warmth.

“You promise?”

“I promise, Rafe. You mean a lot to me; you know that, right? More than you think.” You whispered, soothingly brushing his blond hair again.

“You mean a lot to me too. More than you think.”

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fluff

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emmyrosee · 2 months

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hiya emmyy

i’m in love with your soft bf!sukuna pieces they’re just, melting me into a puddle of simp- so.. i saw your post abt angst so what would you think abt sukuna and y/n arguing, and making up after that? i dunno why but i’m just picturing him texting you to eat your meals and drink water and take your meds, even tho he acts like he doesn’t care at all 🫣 (did i js want that in bf? yes )

thank you so much for providing a lots of pieces for simps like me (who pretty much simp over anyone they can) and i might show up in your notifications bombarding your posts with likes but i hope you don’t mind ;)

hope you’re having a good day (and get good rest, water, food (and meds if you take them!)) <3

-sky :)

SUKUNA ANGST BUT HIM BEING DOTING MY BELOVED 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

When you banish him to the couch for the night, he merely scoffs and grabs his pillow to make his way for it, but he hears your soft cries and his heart breaks just enough to make whatever you were fighting about seem beyond unimportant.

He takes his phone out to scroll on through it, trying to distract himself from the situation, too stubborn to fully cave into the guilt. But then he sees the time, and he sends you a text.

SENT don’t forget to take your medicine.

I think there’s a bottle of gatorade in the fridge. Drink that and have one of my protein shakes, since we didn’t eat tonight

dummy 🙄 why do you care?

SENT because I still fucking love you?? Duh??

Fights aren’t going to change that fact, idiot

He clicks his phone off and lays an arm over his eyes to block out the automatic lamp and the moonlight that creeps in from the curtains and into the big living room, and he tries not to look as you come stalking back out of the bedroom and approach him.

“You remembered that I have to take my meds,” you swallow thickly.

He scoffs, “and?”

He hears you shuffle awkwardly, “we’ve just… been fighting so long, I thought you would’ve forgotten, too- because I did.”

Now, he finally peeks at you from his arm, “I’m never going to forget something that important. You know that.”

He watches as you timidly, raise a hand to lay on his thigh, thumb stroking the muscle lovingly, “I’m sorry I banished you to the couch.” You look down in shame, “I never want us to go to bed separate… I don’t want to be the couple that does this, who needs to do this.”

“I didn’t do this,” he grumbles.

“I know; but I only did it because I was hurt, Sukuna. Please understand where I was coming from.”

This makes his heart jerk and tighten, his arm finally coming down to look at you fully, and with a click of his tongue, he reaches down to lace his hand with yours, and he sighs, “I know I’m not the easiest guy to work shit out with, so I get it.”

You sniffle, “Will you… maybe… come back to bed? With me?”

He ponders his options for a minute. He could go back to bed, condition you into thinking that it was okay and you’ll always pull this crap on him. But you look so sad, so heartbroken and wearing your heart on your sleeve-

And hey. Maybe he likes watching you grovel a little bit.

He clicks his tongue and makes a move to get you off his legs, and you smile excitedly. “Alright,” he gruffs. “Pull this shit again though, and I’m sleeping on the porch swing at ma’s.”

You nod your head, and as he sits up, he plants a kiss to your knuckles, squeezing your hand lovingly.

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are, Kuna.”

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help-itrappedmyself · 2 months

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Dead on Main AU 3

Masterpost

So this one is a bit longer, but that's because part of it is the same phone conversation from the other side.

~~~~~

“Road trip!” Dick calls out. All of the- siblings(?)-younger people start to scramble before Bruce calls out for them to stop.

“This is going to be a 12 hour drive one-way, which means we won't be back until dinner tomorrow at the earliest. Not all of you can go.” This causes a lot of frowns and Danny holds in a chuckle. They start arguing over why they should be able to go and Bruce pinches his nose, right between his eyes as they shout at him.

“First and Foremost, I do believe that Masters Duke, Damian, and Stephanie have school tomorrow.” Alfred inserts. Everyone quiets to listen to him, Danny notes. Everyone else they’ll talk over, he must be important, be extra nice to him.

The three must sigh and sit back down at the table.

“Cass, if you wouldn’t mind staying to keep them out of trouble overnight. I’m sure Alfred will see them out to school.”

Cass shrugs, then signs at Dick who responds “Of course!” Danny hadn’t realized that she was speaking sign language this whole time.

Bruce then turns to face Dick and Tim. “You have absolutely no way to keep us from coming.” Dick sing-songs.

“You both have work tomorrow.”

“Actually, Dick and I called out ten minutes ago, family emergency.” Tim shrugs. “We won’t be in for a few days unless things change.”

“Alright, go grab your things.” They both whoop and you can just tell they were both about to start running when they catch eyes with Alfred and just start walking really fast. “Pack light, and grab some changes of clothes for Jason!”

Before they can leave a phone starts ringing. They all look around before all eyes settle back on Danny. He feels around his pockets for where the phone is, before pulling it out and seeing his own number on the caller ID.

“Oh, it’s me!” Danny hurries to pick up as he hears someone mutter “Why didn’t we think of that?” from the table. Dick and Tim are almost immediately right next to him as he mumble out a hello.

“Um, hello, Jason?”

“Yeah, this is Jason. You with my family?” His heart thumps when he hears his own voice coming out the other side of the phone. It somehow makes the whole situation seem a bit more real then it did before.

“If the people that were in the room with you before are your family. I really only have confirmation that one of them is your dad.”

“Hey, we’re his family”

“We’re all his brothers and Cass is his sister.”

“Have those motherfuckers not even introduced themselves?”

So much talking at once, Danny tries to focus on his own voice coming through the phone. It’s a little deeper than it usually is, gruffer and lilted like it’s trying to talk in an accent the mouth isn’t familiar with shaping. Danny supposes the voice he’s speaking with now must be doing the same.

“Sort of. Eventually.” Jason sighs loud enough to hear over the phone and Danny chuckles at the response.

“Right, well your name is Danny right?”

“Yeah! Have you talked to my family yet?” They were all home the last he checked, and Jazz usually tells him before she heads out.

“No, haven’t left your room. Your name was on your homework though.”

“Oh, please do not judge the homework.” Danny rubs a hand down his face just thinking of that - his homework- being his soulmate's first real impression of him.

“Didn’t even look at that part. So, I’m assuming that you guys are coming to me?”

Danny shakes off the embarrassment “I think so?”

“Of course we are!”, “Was he not paying any attention as we decided who should go?”, “We were just planning.” There are so many people talking at once again.

Danny pulls his face away from the phone and turns to the room at large “Stop it, buzz off!”. He turns to face a wall and takes a few steps away. “They said yes.”

“Please tell me they’re not all planning on coming.”

Danny hums, focused on something else. “Look, I do need to warn you…” what if he goes ghost, can he go ghost with Jason in his body? What are his parents working on today? “ about a few things actually. Jazz, my sister, her room is across the hall and she’ll be able to help you if you. I sort of have… like a medical condition. I would rather explain that to you in person, but she’ll watch out for you if you go meet her.”

“I can do that. Anything I should look out for?” Weird ice mist coming out of your mouth would be pretty unexplainable at the moment, but random things shooting at him can be avoided!

“My parents leave all kinds of weapons around the house, and sometimes they’ll target me-you- at random, so try not to touch anything, and either stay upstairs or have my sister take you somewhere in town. Whatever you do, don’t go in the basement, the lab is down there.” Almost everything in that lab is to be avoided, although since he is already in Danny’s body he shouldn’t be bothered by the potential radiation.

“Kid, what?”

“This is really an in-person talk.”

Danny does not know how he would explain this over the phone, with a room of eavesdroppers behind him. Although they’ve become respectfully quiet, more whispers than anything now.

“Sure, okay. Find Jazz, preferably leave the house.”

“Yep!” That would be best, Jazz will definitely help him. “Is there anything I should know?”

“Shit, if I had time I would give you a warning about everyone in my family individually, but for now… I don’t know if this will translate over…” It will, but there’s really no way to explain that. “I have… I guess it’s sort of a health condition as well. My family knows what triggers it, and they should be on their best behavior right now anyways, but if you wouldn’t mind putting someone on the phone I can threaten them properly.”

Danny laughs and puts the phone on speaker before calling out to the room, “You’re on speaker!” so everyone in the room knows as well as Jason.

“I swear to god if any of you scare him, hurt him, or anything I’m going to kill you. I know everything you love and if you don’t act normal, just know, it will be destroyed.”

“Yeah, yeah. Jay, this is your soulmate!” Dick has bounded back over to Danny, right up in the personal space.

“Also, most of us love you so that threat doesn’t work as well as you think it does.” Steph yells from the table, where she continued eating at some point.

“Bitch, I died once, I’ll do it again. Don’t test me on this right now.”

Danny starts laughing so hard he doesn’t register everyone else in the room having frozen at the outburst.

“Oh, wow, same.” Danny gets out once he can breathe again.

The room is staring at him again, but they seem to do that a lot.

“You must be Jazz.” They hear coming through the phone. “I’m Jason.”

“Jazz!” Danny calls out.

“Danny would like to talk to you.” There’s a small shuffle.

“Danny?”

“Hey, Jazz! So, apparently I’m the younger, so today’s the day. I’m with his family right now.”

“You have a plan? Are you coming home?”

“Yeah, just. Would you mind keeping an eye on Jason until I get there? It’s going to be a long drive so could you make sure nothing shoots him and that he gets edible food?”

“I’ll take him to Nasty for dinner, don’t worry.” Danny sighs in relief, he knew Jazz would help, but he did not need his soulmate food fighting with dinner.

“Sounds good, he’s in my body so he shouldn’t really be poisoned but Mom and Dad still can’t really cook. Speaking of which! He is in my body so if anything happens with the, um, medical condition, help him through that as well.”

“Of course, Danny.”

“Thanks Jazz! We were just deciding who was coming along, but apparently, it's about a 12-hour drive? So, you guys won’t see us until tomorrow.” There’s a lot unspoken in this conversation, but Danny knows she’ll do her best. “Try not to interrogate him, and no psychoanalyzing!”

#dcxdp #dpxdc #batman #danny phantom #crossover #soulmate au #jason todd #red hood #dead on main #batfamily

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hoseoksluna · 4 months

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BOOKWORMS | knj

pairing: boyfriend!namjoon x reader

genre: smut; fluff

word count: 4.4k

summary: namjoon thinks of you when he reads a smut scene in his book.

warnings: boyfriend namjoon!!!, kimi namijoon reading, mentions of sex (riding), oral sex (f. receiving), nipple play, the importance of consent, teasing, raw sex, breeding kink <3, big dick namu!!, dom/sub dynamics, spanking, joonie's chain dangling in ur face, tummy bulge, creampie, bruising, hickeys, aftercare:(

note: it took blood, sweat and tears (hehe) to write this and i'm so happy it's finally here!! i loved writing about namjoon. he's my whole soul and the entirety of my heart and i have to write abt him again soon. please take your time reading this and enjoy urself! let me know what you think in the comments mwah (or tell me anonymously in my inbox) and as i always say please like and if u want to - reblog, but i won't pressure u baby. love love you!!

side note: if you want to jump straight to the smut, it's right under the asterisks <;3

You revel, you truly do, in seeing your boyfriend in such a serene state of mind.

Nose buried in a book, Namjoon pays no mind to the surroundings fleeting by him with each flutter of his eyelashes. It goes unnoticed by him, strangely so, how you tidy up the apartment you share. How you feed the two cats that chose you and him to be their human parents. How you fondle their soft ears. How you bend over the furniture to whisper ‘pspsps’ at them when they need a moment away from you just to see their round eyes look up at you stupidly. Namjoon usually observes these moments; this utmost natural behavior of yours. He draws strength from the homeliness of it all with each and every swell of his lungs. Needs it to survive. That is until he gets a hold of that one papery portal and sits comfortably on the couch, one ankle propped over the knee. Then, he ceases to exist in this world.

You’re happy for him. Over time, you’ve come to find that you have a certain fondness for the way he remains stoic. Because you always know what kind of book he’s reading, a smile blossoms on its own over the line of your lips whenever your eye catches the sculpture-like look on his face. It’s like even if he let himself hold his breath, his consciousness would waver back to the earth and the wretched awareness that he’s here, among mortals and the unfair capitalist system aftermath, would stream in his bloodstream, poisoning his experience. It takes the leisure out of it and makes the bed for misery instead. He doesn’t like it. Hates it, in fact. It’s a necessity that he focuses, as he embarks on the journey, because he does it for you.

Namjoon confides in his feelings and his literature with you almost on a daily basis. On the same couch, with the same cats snoring faintly, their small bodies spilling over the perimeter of your tangled legs. Doesn’t matter if it’s his thigh or the curve of your hip. The animals always find a warm crook to doze in, eavesdropping in, with their curious little ears, on the conversations you’re having. Though you reckon they like the meat of his thigh the best. You do, too. Can’t really blame them. The same serenity that intimately knows the person of Namjoon perceives the person of you when he prompts you to rest your head on his lap while he brushes his book-kissed fingers through the silky waterfall of your hair. Thoroughly explains the intricacies of the plot he’s invested in to you. Describes the characters as if they’re real people he’s become acquainted with. They are real to you as you listen. As you ask additional questions and gaze up at his eyes just to catch that one body of a shooting star fiery hot in the glossiness of his eyes. As you wonder, openly, what will happen to them.

“I’ll tell you when they tell me.” He sunk the promise onto the smooth skin of your forehead with the pucker of his lips.

It’s how you discovered, in all seriousness, that the plaster of his stoicism breaks during these literary moments.

Various colors of emotion tug and twist his features, the bare kind. The unrestrained kind. You know it’s a relief for him when the dam bursts open, soaking you in the beauty of humanness one only finds in literature these days. You can’t help but fall in love with him all over again when his eyebrows furrow. When his orbs nearly burn a hole in the ceiling when he’s trying to think of the right word that will ultimately help him convey the unfolding of the storyline. When he gives up and weaves English into his sentences, relying on his hands to say what his overstimulated brain fails to do.

He reads to pass knowledge to you. The serenity whispered it into the chambers of your heart, a puff of hot breath in winter’s cold. It soothingly rubbed his shoulders when Namjoon told you there used to be a time when he couldn’t stand the sight of his books lining up the walls of his apartment. Wanted to burn it down and watch as the evidence of his melancholy dies in front of him. Because that’s what most of his book collection consisted of back then. The innermost shadowy faces of his pain. Loneliness. Sadness. Despair from life, from it not being enough for him, from it not saving a spot there for him–not once throughout the course of his life. That’s why he reads different kinds of books now. Ones that do not reflect his survival before you.

The reader has to get wiser, ruffled by life in order to gain more, gain what they need from those once deeply loved pages. It’s what the serenity believes. It’s what you believe and hope for Namjoon. That one day, somehow by the healing of the love you give him, he will look back and pick a souvenir from that moonless country of pain. Put it up somewhere between the spines of his new cluttered collection. Look at it from time to time and sense that it’s telling him something. Something that will fill the stitched-up cracks in his heart with sunlight. Something that he will pass over to you. It’s your love language after all. Namjoon reads because you read. It’s his own personal healing thing.

You two are just a pair of two bookworms. Unfit for the world outside. Fit for the land you two created. Whose soil you take care of together.

***

Dinner is almost ready by the time you feel his fingertips gripping your hips. You hum, acknowledging his presence. Glad for the homely heat that radiates off of his body and seeps into your bones as you stir the risotto you decided to make on the stove. Coldness had been embracing you all day while he read so you’re overjoyed that he ripped it away from you.

Namjoon places a kiss on your temple and you sigh in relief. You might be too dependent on him, but so is he. He wouldn’t be nuzzling his face in your hair, squeezing your waist, peppering kisses on your tender skin if he wasn’t. It’s the perfect balance. And it’s not that you’re not able to be away from each other. The principle of looking forward to one another is what makes it so sweet, so endurable for the pair of you. Of the coming back and coming into contact at the end of the day. It’s natural. Simple. Human.

“Missed me?” Namjoon husks into your ear.

You smirk and turn off the stove, turning around to face him. “Terribly.”

His body is clad in a black T-shirt that fits his broad figure well and a pair of baggy sweats of the same color, having discarded the warm crewneck he was wearing earlier somewhere in the universe of his book. A long silver chain twinkles in the middle of his chest in the yellow light. You caress it with your fingers and leave your palm there, on the hardness of his pecs.

“I finished the book,” he says and you blink up at him. You’re not surprised at all. “Couldn’t put it down.”

Sleepy wrinkles have left their mark on his face from the cozy position he laid in for too long on the couch. His short sunlit hair, grown healthily from his military service, is tousled in all directions and you smooth it down for him. How did God bless you with such a beautiful man is something you’ll wonder about for the rest of your life.

“What happened to Theo in the end?” you ask, genuinely curious about whether one of the characters you’ve grown attached to is okay after all the shit the author put him through.

Namjoon was reading a coming-of-age book about a boy named Theo. A panorama of his childhood and adolescent life, you’ve heard all about it. Namjoon cared a lot about this story, cared a lot about the protagonist’s emotions and reactions to the reappearing storms. What made him stick with it, despite the nearly triggering themes, is the fact that Theo never let go of his optimism no matter what. It was incredibly inspiring for Namjoon. Something new. Something that he never thought could be possible. You’re proud of him for daring to read a book so reminiscent of his past.

“You’re not gonna believe it,” Namjoon says, a blush creeping along his cheeks.

You raise one of your eyebrows in question.

“Theo got laid,” Namjoon reveals, laughing softly. “I’m so happy for him.”

You gasp and burst into giggles. “What?”

“He got some!”

Your laughter rises in volume. “He lost his virginity and that’s the end?”

“It was a big moment for him. A triumph of some kind. Like he shed his old skin and left that broken life behind. It was amazing.” Namjoon’s eyes glint with tiny shooting stars and you melt. He always finds poetic meanings in the varieties of the character arcs. You think you just fell in love with him all over again.

“That’s really beautiful,” you admit. It reminds you of something. Of something quite personal. “My first time with you changed my life as well.”

Namjoon’s eyebrows curl in tenderness. Dragon eyes widen and round in fervent emotion. He squeezes his arms around you, enfolding you in a hug. Kisses you warmly. Strokes your hair down your back. Your own eyes pool with little tears with the intimate knowledge that you chose the right person to unfold your raw femininity with. No one, no man other than him could have created such a safe for that to happen.

“Tell you what,” Namjoon says a bit hoarsely. “I saw us in it.”

You hum, encouraging him to continue. Crave for more of his thoughts and confidential findings. Its fire spreading through your body, as each word of his registers in your brain, always makes you feel phenomenally alive. You’re not timid to avow that it’s your addiction. Shame doesn’t know you.

“Elena was on top and he was watching her. In awe of her,” he murmurs, caressing your cheek with the tip of his thumb. “Made me think of our last time. A life changing experience of mine as well.”

You welcome the fire and suspire with sudden desire, eyes lidding. Your heart begins to thump. Namjoon studies your reaction.

“You remember well, don’t you?” He nudges his nose against yours. “I was in awe of you just the same.”

It’s impossible not to remember. The memory consumes your mind every waking hour. Gets you needy in ways you haven’t felt before. Namjoon had you sat on his lap among the fluffiness of your innumerable pillows and plushies. Had you do all the work as he focused on the sleekness of your freshly moisturized calves, its coconut aroma interfused with the scent of sex and the euphony of your bounces, ragged breaths and broken moans making his head all fucked up. He was loud himself, more loud than you ever recalled him being. Reading your body at the mercy of the pleasure his hard length was giving you with his bottom lip sucked between his teeth. Not once did he take his eyes off of you, not once did he help you. Just gripped your calves. Your thighs. Your tits all in his face. Only when you came hard, out of your own delightful merit, did his eyes roll back. You left his hips glazed with the evidence of your well-deserved orgasm, a porcelain statue made glossy.

A little later, during your pillow talk, he told you he’d found the idea of you using him while getting yourself off extremely hot. Made him more hard than he’d been in a while. Begged you to be even more selfish next time, adding an indistinct, ‘well, of course, if you want’ to the end of his sentence because he’s Namjoon.

“I do,” you breathe. “Touched myself to it this morning while you were still asleep.”

Namjoon groans. “God.” He kisses the side of your neck. Gets close to your ear. “You wanna do it again, hm? Wanna fuck me?”

You might burst. His closeness, his heat, his need to ask for your consent turns you unstable. You’re choked up on your words, mind too fuzzy to say something. Turned on. Fucked up.

“You wanna show me how you touched yourself?” Namjoon continues, but you shake your head against the side of his face.

You had touched yourself in the shower. Couldn’t say no to the impulse. Sharing that part of you for his eyes to see isn’t something you’re quite ready for. To you, it’s still something that’s yours. Something private. A courage you have yet to pluck up. You’re afraid to give him this last part of your femininity.

“Not today,” you whisper, planting a kiss on his neck. Feel him shiver. “I’m sorry. Do you mind?”

Withdrawing from your neck, Namjoon looks you dead in the eye, brows twisted in stern seriousness. “Don’t ever apologize for something like that again. Hear me when I say that.”

You squeeze his shoulder, the corners of your mouth lowering in a pout. Thankfulness grips your heart and suddenly it’s hard to breathe.

“You know this is why we do this right?” he asks you. “Why I ask you these questions? I need to always know what you’re comfortable with so I don’t make a mistake.”

You nod. “Yes, Namjoon, I know and I’m so thankful.”

“Good. I’ll never push you to do anything you don’t want. Don’t forget that, okay?”

“Okay, I won’t.”

“That’s my girl.

You grab him by the back of his neck and engulf him in a hug. Luckiest girl in the world? That you are. The fact that you’re his is still something you can’t wrap your head around.

“We can stop. We don’t even have to do anything tonight—”

“No, Namjoon.” You withdraw. “Look.” Wrapping your hand around his wrist, you slip his hand beneath the confines of your panties.

His breath shakes when he reaches your soaked folds. He traces your hole with his middle finger and your hips follow his movement, the pleasure so faint but so good that you flutter your eyes closed.

“Fuck, baby.”

“Yeah, I need you. Need more,” you breathe out. “Can’t leave me like this, can you?”

Namjoon hums. “No, I’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of this pussy.”

He kisses you. Massages his tongue against yours. You buck your hips into his hand and Namjoon hears your body language. Takes his fingers up and rubs your swollen clit from side to side, quickening his pace as he swallows your moans down his throat. Gets angry at your tight leggings hindering him in giving you more, so he gets on his knees and swiftly pulls them down along with your underwear.

“Sit on the counter.”

You comply right away. Namjoon takes your feet in his hands and gently removes your slippers, removing your garments fully so they don’t pool around your ankles. He needs your legs spread and he needs them spread wide for what he’s about to do to you.

Torso long enough to reach you, he remains on his knees. Runs his hands up the back of your thighs to guide you into the position he wants you in. “Lock your arms around the back of your knees. Don’t let go.”

You do as he says, biting your lips in nervousness. Intertwine your hands together. Prepare yourself to die.

Namjoon studies your dewy pussy, index and middle finger mimicking the letter V as he slides them up and down your folds, squeezing just right to hear you mewling. Your knees being so close together makes her look a lot more pillowy and you hear Namjoon breathe hard, absolutely hypnotized by the beauty of your flesh.

“Fuck, baby, you’re dripping down my hand.” He withdraws his fingers to show you how your slick trickles down the lines on his palm, changing the course of his life once and for all.

Your clit throbs, breath matching his. “Please, Namjoon.”

He curses inaudibly. Brings his fingers back down to your folds, squeezes your lips and your clit together. Hisses at the sweet whimpery sounds spilling out of your mouth. Presses tighter so you whine needily for him. Takes you into his mouth when he accomplished what he wanted, tonguing your clit in slow agonizing circles that has you buckling your hips again. Puts his hands on your thighs to keep you down, flicking fast to absolutely abuse the fuck of you. Dragon eyes zeroing on yours, he gives you the hypnosis that your pussy did to him as he sucks on your bundle of nerves. You can’t even scream. Can’t breathe. The pleasure overwhelms you wholly and straps you down. There’s nothing you can do but take it.

You come hard on his tongue. Namjoon laps it all up gladly. And when he’s finished, he stands up and slips those two digits that ruined you into your hole. Doesn’t move them. Lets you adjust instead.

“One more,” he mutters. “Please.”

You nod.

“Use your words or we’re stopping.”

You groan and close your eyes, your thighs visibly shaking in your iron grip from your orgasm. “Yes, Namjoon, one more. I’ll come for you.”

Namjoon places a wet kiss on your thigh to praise you, and to thank you as well. Begins to move his fingers promptly, but can’t seem to get enough of your skin. Proceeds to make it shiny with his liquid love, sucking it to bruise you. To remember this moment a little more fondly in the morning.

Creating a trail up to the back of your knee, his digits pick up the speed. The pool of slick you left in his palm sloshes with each rapid thrust of his hand. He looks back at you and sees you lost in the pleasure, eyes lidded and unfocused. “Look at me.”

You do, weakly.

“Just a little bit more and I’ll fuck you, all right?”

You’re about to nod, but decide against it. “Mhm, yes, Namjoon, fuck.”

He smiles down at you. Your relief inches closer. “I’m so proud of you for speaking up today. For letting me know.”

You could cry right now. Because of his fingers making you feel so good. Because of his kindness making you feel so safe. It all closes in on you and you whimper.

Abruptly, Namjoon unravels your grip on your knees and kisses you, tongue slipping in. You come all over his hand, without meaning to, and he doesn’t stop. On the contrary, Namjoon fucks you harder. Takes all four of his fingers and strums your clit, prolonging your orgasm, swallowing down all of your moans.

“Come on.”

Namjoon helps you down. If it weren’t for his arms holding you steady, you would’ve collapsed on the floor. Your legs shake, muscles taut and tense.

“I got you.”

Sat on the floor with his joggers and boxers pulled beneath his crotch, he pulls you down on his lap. A wisp of precum adorns his tip and you wrap your hand around it, collecting it with your thumb. Watch him as you swirl your tongue around the digit before sucking on it, letting go with an obscene pop. Namjoon licks his lips, hands clasping your hips hard enough to bruise you. Twitches in your other hand.

“Don’t fucking do that to me, baby.”

You laugh almost inaudibly, drunk on him. “Are you gonna come in me?”

He replaces your hand, holding his length at the base for you to sink down. And you do, gasping softly at his thickness. Your dewiness helps it to be a smooth ride.

“Gonna pump you full. Leave you dripping,” he promises, voice restrained. “Gonna fuck you so good you’ll remember it for the rest of your life.”

One thing about Namjoon, he’s a man of his word.

Seated perfectly on him, he waits for you to adjust. Alleviates the tremble of your thighs with his palms, massaging the muscles. Takes off your shirt and flings it across the kitchen. Gropes your tits, rolling your nipples between his fingers. You start to grind on him, throwing your head back. He latches onto your nipple and flicks the nub with his tongue. You lose your mind, leaking down his balls.

“Ready?” he asks against the fullness of your breast.

“Yeah, fuck me, Joon.”

He thrusts into you once to watch you fall apart. Locks your arms behind your back. Grabs your forearms for his use.

“You forgot something.”

He thrusts again, harder this time.

“What?” you breathe out, meekly.

“What word do you use when you want to ask for something?”

He watches you as you work it out in your brain. Fucks into you three more times, equally hard, to disrupt you.

“Fuck, sorry. Please, Joon, please.”

He grinds, hips rotating in circles.

“Uh-huh, that’s right. Now use it.”

Namjoon envelops your tit in his mouth, swirling his tongue around your areola. Sucking. Keeping up the agonizing pace. Groaning when you clench down on him.

“Please, hmph, fuck me.”

Your breast bounces back when he lets go, biting his lip. “Knew you could do it,” he coos. “Smart fucking girl.”

He begins to fuck you properly. Thrusting up and down as he holds you steady, keeping his eyes locked on yours. As he takes control of your squirming, leaving his fingerprints on your forearms and waist. You’re breathless, whimpering, on the verge of sobbing. So turned on and needy for him that the emotions brim in you, threatening to spill over.

“Aren’t you?” Namjoon continues. “Aren’t you a smart girl?”

You nod, knowing exactly what he wants to hear. “I’m a smart girl.”

He spanks your ass to reward you and you arch your back. Tits all in his face. He’s mesmerized watching them bounce and nearly slap against each other, nubs hard and pointed. He licks them up, flicking them with his tongue. You round your shoulders a little in pleasure, his strong grip not letting you fold like your body wants.

“That’s right. So smart and good for me. So fucking wet. Making me lose my mind.”

Namjoon kisses you. Inhales you. Withdraws only for a mere second before he’s back, tongue in, toying with you the way you like it. You feel your relief calling your name.

“Namjoon, I’m so fucking close. I’m so close. I’m gonna come,” you whine, forehead pressed against his, face twisted in ecstasy.

Namjoon stops out of the blue and slips out of you. You whine loudly, but before you know it, he carries you to the couch and lays you down on it. Takes off all of his clothes until only his silver chain remains, shining bright in the dim light. He spreads your legs, one limb over the backrest, the other around his thigh. Grips his length and tugs at it a few times, the feeling of your wetness making him slippery pulling moan after moan out of him.

He enters you again and resumes his fast pace, holding your calf in his hand. “Smart girls come on the couch, not on the floor like whores. You got that?”

You nod almost too eagerly, fucked out beyond measure. “Yes, Joon, please make me come. Please, come here.”

Namjoon leans towards you, propping his elbows by your head, cradling you. “I’m here. I’m gonna make you come.”

From this angle, he fucks you more deeply than before, his tip reaching your cervix. You roll your eyes back, but bring them right back to his face when his chain taps you on the chin. You find it so hot that you grind your hips against his, meeting his thrusts, encouraging him to fuck you harder. The chain meets you in erratic staccatos and you scratch your nails down his bare back, the sword-like pendant hurting you in a way that you like.

Namjoon notices. Slows down his movements. Pinches the chain from the back of his neck. Prompts you to lift your head and slides it over, letting it rest in the middle of your breasts. Then fucks you back into the couch.

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs against your lips. “Gonna breed you. Hm. You want that, don’t you?”

The cord tightens in your lower belly. The bulge of where his tip is hitting you nudges him in his stomach and he looks down. Curses.

“Look.”

You follow his eyes and moan. “Namjoon, Namjoon, please come in me. I’m so close. Wanna feel you. Please.”

He grunts, nodding his head. Licks his fingertips and presses them against your clit. Pleasures you in fast and swift jerks until you’re knocking your head back. Only when he grabs your jaw and kisses you does the cord snap, his lips being your ultimate undoing.

Namjoon presses you down with his body, keeps you calm and collected. Kisses you all through it, your jaw, your neck, your cheeks. Then his thrusts turn sloppy and his cock twitches in you. He gives you one final hard thrusts and fills you up, groaning against your mouth.

You’re smoothing down the sting of your scratches on his back when he pulls out of you and his cum drips out of you. You wish you could see what he sees, hand on his mouth, careful to catch his drool. You push out more for him and he curses, fondling your pussy with his thumb before he pumps it back in.

He comes back to you and kisses you. Fixes your hair. Caresses your cheek. Helps you stand on your feet as he leads you into the shower. Washes every inch of your body, heedful of the bruises he left on the back of your thigh. Lathers your hair in your favorite shampoo. Wraps you in a towel. Wanted to moisturize your body, but you told him off, knowing both of you would get horny again. You let him brush your hair, though, placing a comb in his hand. He’s gentle as he undoes the knots, then he blowdries your hair.

And you do the same for him.

Once the pillow touches your cheeks, you’re both out like a light.

BACK to masterlist

#namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x y/n #namjoon x oc #namjoon x you #btscreatorscorner #bts smut #bts imagine #namjoon imagine #namjoon scenarios #namjoon fluff #kpop smut #knj x reader #knj #kim namjoon #namjoon

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ceilidho · 6 months

Text

prompt: price/reader bear shifter fic. PART 1.

“—are priced wrong. You need to fix that.”

“Hmm? Sorry?” you ask, mind snapping out of whatever fog it’d descended into upon seeing John Price’s truck pull up out front of the grocer. You blink a couple times before focusing on the older lady lined up at your till, her face pinched with displeasure. It deepens when she realizes that you haven’t been paying a lick of attention to whatever she’d just spent the better half of a minute complaining about.

“The beefsteak tomatoes are priced wrong. They’re supposed to be two dollars a pound—it’s in the catalogue.”

Before you can so much assure her that you’ll certainly honour the advertised price and save yourself the headache, she’s already opening up her purse to pull out the crinkled grocery catalogue, unfolding it across your conveyor belt; it goes out in the local paper once a week with all the sales and rippable coupons, and this isn’t the first time you’ve had someone try to lecture you about discrepant prices (Kate, your manager, is a sweet, gungho lady, that often sends off discount confirmations to the editorial staff of the local paper without informing anyone that actually works in the shop day-to-day).

From the corner of your eye, you see John slam the door shut on his truck and make his way towards the shop, hands shoved into his pockets. Even from a ways away, the sight of him makes your cheeks redden; his beard’s gotten fuller in the week since you last saw him, clad in even more layers of flannel and tweed now with the fast approach of winter. He looks properly ready for the winter months, with just an air of heaviness present in the lines on his forehead and the tilt of his head.

You feel your lips slip down into a frown. Helpless, you can only watch in defeat as John lumbers into the grocery store, brushing his hand over his hat to shake off the snowflakes onto the mat by the automatic doors. He picks up one of the baskets by the front door before heading down one of the aisles. His eyes don’t flicker to meet yours so much as once.

Your shoulders slump when he ducks out of sight before you focus your attention back on the woman in front of you. She’s pointing out the tomato print with the little two dollar sign in the advertisement with a stiff finger, eyebrow cocked like she’s pulled one over on you. You really can’t imagine there being anything less important to you than the price of beefsteak tomatoes, never mind having to refund someone a whole dollar because you inadvertently overcharged them and you happened to get stuck with the one customer that would spend a full thirty seconds reviewing their bill before leaving the shop.

“See?” she says, the word coming out sibilant and stressed. You blink.

Turning back to the till, you click a couple buttons before the register pops back out again and you pluck up a dollar to hand back to your customer. On the receipt that’s printed out, you hastily scrawl the reason for the refund and shove the seller's copy back into the till. The woman stares at the dollar now sitting on the belt in front of her.

“Of course, ma’am,” you say, a robotic smile stretching across your face. “Apologies for the inconvenience. I’ll get someone to reprice the tomatoes so this doesn’t happen again.”

She doesn’t say anything when she snatches up the dollar along with her groceries and hobbles out the front door, the automatic doors swooshing behind her. With her finally gone, you close your eyes for a second, a private moment just to yourself.

Someone clears their throat from just off to the side. Your heart bursts into a frantic pitter-patter when you open your eyes to find John waiting patiently at the end of your till, his basket filled up with bottles of mustard, gherkins, and other preserves.

“A paper bag, please,” he says in a gruff voice, like he tousled with sleep just a few minutes ago. It makes your head spin.

You nod, hardly able to even respond.

Up close, he smells like firewood and smoke, the ever-present cigar usually hanging off his lip nowhere to be seen but still clinging to his jacket and flannel beneath it. The mutton chops of his beard have grown out more than the rest, but his jaw is covered in a layer of fur in comparison to the week previous. John doesn’t really make eye contact as you scan his groceries, almost too tired to raise them from the conveyor belt. Not for lack of respect—it comes off as pure exhaustion.

You know John as the gruff, taciturn park ranger that comes in once a week to load up on steaks, cold cuts and fresh produce, but in the months you’ve lived in this town, he’s always fresh off work, a little rough around the edges and not quite fit for human interaction just yet. He just grunts and nods when you tell him his total, towers over you and never really makes much eye contact.

It’s always non-perishables with him these days. At least for the past several weeks, as far as you know. Cans and jars and freezer-ready meals. He doesn’t strike you as much of a prepper, but his order speaks for itself. It’s one of the things you like most about your job—getting to peek into the small crack of life laid bare before you.

“Getting ready for the winter?” you ask.

John grunts, eyes meeting yours just briefly before dropping down again. Dark brown. Sometimes you swear you catch the faintest glimmer of gold in them, like a honey glaze, but it’s likely just a trick of the lights.

“Gonna be a rough one.”

You try not to shiver at the sound of his voice. It’s not often that you get to hear it; even though you moved into the house next to his almost six months ago, he spends most of his days in the mountains, working up there as a ranger. He comes home after dark nearly every day—not so hard now that the sun sets early on in the day, but even back in the summer you’d spy him coming back from his shift well after dark.

He’s gotten more heavyset in the last couple of weeks, a comfortable weight to his midsection and arms. Beefier, more solid. When John is in front of you, it’s like no one else in the world exists at that moment; he removes them all from sight and mind. It soothes some of the worry that his constant late coming has stirred up in you, knowing that he’s fed. Not all of it though.

“You know the, uh—” you start, clearing your throat midway through, almost losing your nerve under his sudden attention at the sound of your voice, “—the butter’s twenty percent off this week. I, um…I wasn’t sure if you’d noticed.” You catch his little frown and clarify. “You usually get butter.”

“Thank you, but not this time,” he says gruffly. “Got enough of it in the freezer.”

“Oh…well…” you trail off like you’re going to say something else but you let the conversation fall flat instead.

He’s quiet the rest of the time as you bag his groceries. John always is. There’s a hurt side of you, silently begging for more, but you’ve watched him enough around town to know that this is just what he’s like. Gruff with the other rangers on the mountain, taciturn after a long day’s work, and sweet as apple pie with the older townsfolk. You’ve seen him help people at crosswalks and more than once he’s footed someone’s grocery bill when they’ve come short.

Maybe you’re not interesting enough to merit conversation or that same goodwill he extends to others. Not that John has ever been anything less than polite with you, but—your thoughts scatter like birds when you recite his total without thinking and watch him wordlessly as he pays.

“Thanks, honey,” John says, eyes meeting yours again. “See you next week.” He finally manages a smile, his eyes crinkling under the weight of it.

You could get lost in his smile if you let yourself. It comes freely but seldomly these days, kept at bay by rough days out in the woods helping lost hikers, ticketing hunters for going over their allotment, and managing the wildlife. But when he smiles, you feel the blood go hot under your cheeks and fight every vision you have of him suddenly leaning across the counter and tipping your chin up for a kiss.

Tongue-tied, you nod. You can’t even force a smile on your face, wide eyes still set on him in wonderment. He doesn’t wait around for you to find your words.

But—you think again wistfully as he turns to leave—it might be nice once in a while. For him to look at you like you’re more than a stranger.

You mourn your chance to talk to him once he’s out the door, wishing you could call him back. It’s not his fault that just the mere sight of him leaves you tongue-tied. It folds up like a cherry stem in your mouth when he speaks to you and you haven’t yet managed to untangle it in his presence. Maybe someday.

That’s just life though.

He’s always made you feel nervous, like a schoolgirl with her first crush, but it’s a safe kind of crush. The kind that feels fun to indulge in because there’s no possibility of reciprocation, like you can just ogle him and pine over him without having to worry about what you’d do if he felt the same way. You mourn the loss of him when he leaves, but like a tender bruise on your knee that you sometimes press just to shy away from.

The rest of your shift pales in comparison to the eight minutes spent in his presence. Rinse and repeat. Someone else complains about the tomatoes and you write a note for your manager to read the next day. It’ll be her fault if someone finally emails in to complain or takes it to the news; there’s always an op-ed in the papers that’s little more than a thinly veiled bad Yelp review.

John’s car is outside his house when you make it home at the end of the day, the lights still on inside. You sit in your car and stare at the light hidden behind the curtains.

It would be nice, you think, resting your head back against the seat, to go up and knock at his door. If only you were braver. You’d march right up, knock on his door, and offer him something to eat. You could do it too. In the six months you’ve lived here, it’s not as though you’ve ever treated him particularly neighbourly.

You squeak when you see John pull the curtain back and peer out the window, sliding down in the front seat so he doesn’t notice you there.

Maybe some other day then.

#ceil writing #cod x reader #cod mw2 #captain john price #captain price #john price #price x reader #price x you #price/reader #x reader

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staryuee · 6 months

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LOVE TRIAL!

GUILTY AREN’T I? OF ALL MY LOVE CRIMES…

— [warnings]. [mentions of drinking (venti)]

— synopsis . . . [char] has decided to come clean and acknowledge all the facts necessary for conviction. the conviction? they’re in love with you.

(more simply, them just being hopeless losers that are in love with you hcs ๑>◡<๑)

— characters . . . venti, zhongli, tartaglia, wanderer, lyney, neuvillette, wriothesley, navia, clorinde, arlecchino

— notes . . . i can't go on the genshin x reader tag anymore bc of the amount of smut on it, i’m so loved starved rn…*sighs dramatically* i added venti & zhongli purely bc i love them (plus they’d also be on trial for war reasons so hehe)

VENTI — 温迪

love is quite similar to the wind in a way. comes quickly, randomly, it can hit you hard, it can be gentle and peaceful yet it can also be irritating and noisy.

currently, venti was feeling all the negatives: drunk, irritated, and his heartbeat drowning out any exterior noises to the degree he didn’t even hear your recognisable footsteps entering angel’s share. normally, he’d instantly perk up at the mere glimpse of you, but he just couldn’t bring himself to even bother raising his head up from his arms anymore.

“venti? someone asked me to come check up on you…you alright? (o*｡_｡)o” you gently touched his back in comfort which just made his heart swell.

“mfh…i’m—hic—okay (ﾟヘﾟ)?” he responds nonchalantly.

“yeah, you sound very self-assured don’t you...come here then.”

“drink with me… (♡´𓋰`♡)”

“nope, i’m getting you far away from angel’s share, this is bad, even for you.” you speak to him so softly it almost makes him sleepy as you attempt to lift him up. venti wrapped his arms around your neck in response, pouting at you with a hazy and dizzy look.

his hand travels to your cheek, delicately caressing it with weird concentration. he leans into what seems like a kiss before pausing and resting his forehead onto your shoulder instead. he whispers in a delicate and dreamy tone, “i love you… too much.”

ZHONGLI — 钟离

zhongli fiddled with the brooch you gifted him while out on a stroll the other day with a complaisant smile, humming a tune to himself that he specifically remembered you sung. it was such a lovely melody, something so serene and gentle it was almost like the feeling of sunlight on your skin. or perhaps that was only the case because you sung it?

he’s an ancient being with countless of prior lifetimes and ones ahead; he’s no lovesick fool, but he couldn’t deny that the giddy feeling in his churning stomach, and the swirling of his heart is a rather enticing experience, one which he cannot tire from.

his mind traced back to the short hangout you had earlier today; nothing unusual, just a walk around liyue harbour with his hand inching closer to yours, breath hitching at the minute contact before he retracted his hand to awkwardly play with his rings. oh, and that angelic smile that he loved so much…

zhongli traced his bottom lip, imagining it as your own as a silly smile graced his face at his delusion. would you lean into his touch? move away? be startled, confused, or even worried? would you look away? or…

ahh…perhaps, he’s a little head over heels for you, alright?

TARTAGLIA — 公子

“tartaglia, please. this is seriously too much!!” he crumpled another letter with that specific and significant order and threw it skillfully over into the bin. there’s no such thing as “too much” when it comes to showering someone with gifts, ESPECIALLY during important holidays and events! at least that’s what tartaglia’s delusional lovesick mind has led him to wholeheartedly believe.

he gazes over at the countless trinkets you’ve given him over the course of your adventures and vacations; i mean if you can do it, why can’t he? little does he realise that “trinkets” is much more acceptable than “gifts that pile up to your ceiling at the end of each week”.

it makes sense for you to want to spoil someone any way you can if you love them.

…love them?? did he love you? i mean, he accepts your affection like it’s a natural instinct, sends you letters and gifts biweekly, his entire family knows you, and whenever you exchange gifts during holidays he purposefully skims his fingers over yours.

but that’s all just friendly gestures…okay listen he may have believed santa clause (or the teyvat equivalent…?) was real for several years because of pulcinella but he’s not THAT horrifically oblivious (grits teeth). he absolutely adores you, and the letters he has stashed away, that could practically count as love confessions due to how descriptive they are of your character, are solid evidence.

WANDERER — 流浪者

your mind has three defense mechanisms against impactful events: repression, denial and displacement. all of which were prevalent with the wanderer.

he pushed the conscious memories of abandonment into his unconscious, he ignored the reality of his feelings for you to avoid any form of attachment, and proceeded to take out his anger onto you because of the way you made him feel.

he’s convinced himself he hates you.

hate, within the context of a romantic relationship, arises mainly from a relational betrayal. betrayal trauma can feel an awful lot like the dull and lingering pain after a swift punch to the gut. the person who hurt you isn't a stranger, yet when they leave, it certainly feels like you never knew them at all.

that’s precisely why he can’t fall for you…but he does so anyway; because how was he meant to override the childish fluttering in his prototype heart whenever you gently brushed your shoulders together when walking, or when your eyes met and you instantly smiled at him so stupidly?

and well, he isn’t really doing a good job of pretending he hates you when he lets you touch him so freely, or when he seeks your simple affections out without shame…

☆ ITTY BITTY SPOILERS ☆ for both fontaine archon quests 🐳

LYNEY — 林尼

lyney rubbed his weary eyes as the light began to settle into his view. while initially blurry, after blinking a few times, lyney realised exactly where he was; the opera epiclese. yet he’s not standing where he and his twin would be if they were preforming a magic show, rather, he was standing directly where an accused perpetrator would.

despite how hazy he felt, that tinge of anxiety managed to bubble into his stomach to ironically stabilise him. the stomping sound of a cane reverberated through the room which fixed his attention to the iudex. “order.” his voice caused lyney to grimace whatever words he’d utter next. why was he reliving this moment?

“mister lyney, i hereby declare you as guilty in this love trial.”

lyney couldn’t help but blink and tilt his head in confusion…what kind of trial? was that some sort of code? 【・_・?】

“with no further objections, the oratrice shall now deliver its final verdict.” however, before he could hear the motions of the machine in action, he awoke: sweaty, confused, and face flushed a brilliant red hue. lyney glanced over at his bedside table, his cheeks tinting even redder at the sight of a rose that he gained from your fine hands.

maybe that dream was trying to tell him something…(｡•́︿•̀｡)

NEUVILLETTE — 那维莱特

recently, the skies of fontaine have been ever so clear. every blemish of grey spotted clouds disarrayed into a flurry of white, the sun blazing out and making it the most perfect atmosphere for a pleasant summer. though…this was the middle of october, so this particular weather puzzled the fontaine citizens, albeit with little complaint.

neuvillette sat in his office with a gentle and subtle smile expressed his soft features, although he maintained that ‘air’ of professionalism as he went over a recent investigation, he subconsciously grazed his fingertips over a letter with your name on it.

to neuvillette, love is a lot like a trial (or perhaps that’s the only analogy he can conjure up to comprehend his deepening feelings for you). you put yourself out there, presenting your best case for why you deserve to be loved, just as a lawyer presents their case for why their client is innocent. it involves the same sense of vulnerability, uncertainty, and even risk: you don't know how the outcome will turn out, and you have to have faith in the process and trust in the person who is judging (or loving) you.

his judgement about you, however, doesn’t need much thought or even a confirmation of the verdict with the oratrice. he’s in love with you, devoted, if you will. and perhaps, if you’re willing, he’d be happy to make a whole argumentative case on why you deserve him.

WRIOTHESLEY — 莱欧斯利

he’s very tempted to make a case against you.

you’ve committed the most heinous crime known to teyvat, one which no person has had the courage to fulfil:

stealing his heart.

how long would he have you down in the fortress for to pay for your crimes? glad you asked, because he’s made an entire mental plan for whenever you visit him in the fortress of meropide (for whatever reason…let’s just hope it’s nothing TOO bad ahaha…. ._.)

your sentence would depend on how long it takes for you to fall for him too. god he’s never realised how much of an absolute loser he can be when enamoured it actually makes him angry. if you could see the way he low-key giggles and plays with his hair at even the slightest glimpse of you, he’s assured your sentence would be several years instead of his hopeful couple months (unless you’re already in love with him then…hey.)

i’m pretty certain if he could, he’d send you a letter that says “haha, what if we kissed? just kidding! unless…”

yeah, he’s THAT level of loser for you. (*´∀｀*)

NAVIA — 娜维娅

valentine’s day has become her favourite holiday! not for any “particular” reason…certainly not because she can use the day to “platonically” spoil you with food and subtle affection whenever she pleases.

“happy valentine’s day! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡” navia smiles at you and bows, presenting you a pink bag glittered in hearts, a cute bow on of one of the handles. you smiled in response and took the bag from her gently. merely catching a sneaky peek into it you could see several little plastic bags filled with goodies and sweets, ones you assumed where baked by her fine hands.

“thank you, navia! honestly, i look forward to this every year~ (∩❛ڡ❛∩)” you laugh as you unwrap one of the brownies in the bag and begin chewing on it with a complaisant and satisfied expression. your sweet and genuine look made her heart clench in her chest, she coughs into her hand awkwardly and looks away from your lips.

“uhum, i’m glad! anyways i’ve got uhh…something to do…(｡>\\<)” she replied hastily, clutching at her chest dramatically as she left, leaving you rather confused: you continued to eat her pastries regardless of the sudden change in atmosphere, because i mean who doesn’t like free shit made specifically for you?

navia’s mind and heart felt so fuzzy as she checked her complexion in her pocket sized mirror, padding at her face with powder to futilely hide her immense blush. putting away her mirror, she flipped over her hat to reveal a matching pink letter with cursive writing on it. “sorry lyney your plan was cute and all…but i seriously can’t do this today…”

CLORINDE — 克洛琳德

harbouring her position as the best champion duelist means there’s plenty of people (people who desire death at the hands of a pretty woman.) who wish to duel or spar against her purely to see her skills personally. yet, so far there’s been no one who’s stepped up to that challenge (we can ignore tartaglia for now.)

until you, that is. you have no reason to ask to spar with her, and while she has little reason to refuse you, she does reject your requests each time. however, clorinde has learnt over time that refusing your cute face and sweet smile leaves a little bit of her hollow, so alas, one day when she had a free schedule — she accepted a spar session.

thank the hydro archon that she did because holy shit. clorinde never thought she had a type, perhaps just someone who’s the opposite of her to balance her out, but now she definitely knows you qualify. the way the sweat drips down your arms and neck, your expression fixed yet amused and the subtle vein forming on your hand as you grip your weapon…shit she’s not paying attention.

as you strike a blow that leaves her tumbling backwards onto the floor, a cheeky grin adorns your face that makes her heart skip like pebbles on a flowing river. you can boast about your win against the champion duelist for all of teyvat to hear, all she cares about is seeing that side of you again…please.

ARLECCHINO — 阿蕾奇诺

ah well shit.

this isn’t going to exactly work now, will it? technically, falling in love with a subordinate isn’t against some sort of law or code, but a harbinger being bewitched is a different story.

arlecchino leaned against her desk with her hands resting behind her. an icy shiver ran down your spine as her eyes were practically piercing through you. did you mess up on a report or something…? was this the end…(,,>ࡇ<,,)? you’ve always thought you kept a pretty good and quite close relationship with the knave, but perhaps that was your downfall?

it’s not easy to ignore the deafening sound of her heartbeat, that alone made it even more difficult to concentrate when you’re just an arms reach away from her in her private study, with no one to bother you two. it’s futile to ignore the fluttering of your heart, therefore, arlecchino decides to saunter over to you with a poker face, something which only made you want to die on the spot.

she leaned over on your desk with her hands right on the edge, you instinctively peel your head upwards to question her with a meek voice, “is uhm, something wrong, knave?” you begged she didn’t notice the slight quiver in your voice.

“i believe,” she averts her gaze before staring directly at you with a much more softened expression, “i’ve fallen in love with you.”

I KNEW IT INSTANTLY, YOU’RE ALSO GUILTY…

©STARYUEE do not copy, steal or repost <3

#AAAAAAAAH this makes no sense but i need to push SOMETHIN’ out….#genshin x reader #genshin x gnreader #genshin x you #wriothesley x reader #neuvillette x reader #navia x reader #clorinde x reader #arlecchino x reader #lyney x reader #wanderer x reader #scara x reader #tartaglia x reader #childe x reader #zhongli x reader #venti x reader #gi x reader

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suguru-getos · 8 months

Text

| Yandere Gojo Satoru x F!Reader | Axphyxiation |

A/N: The yandere in me has risen from the dead. Read this at your own discretion, Satoru is a manipulative, dangerous, abusive asshole here. Mentions of guilt-tripping, dub-con (doesn’t happen but mentions), belittling, comforting, gentle-talking.

Normally, on a normal day, you’d have the right to be livid, to scream out and throw a tantrum over Satoru’s antics whenever you wanted. It would usually go unnoticed, even catered to if he’s feeling nice. Not today…

“Being a little too bratty are we, Princess?” There was a greyish hue of rage in his sky blues. All, because of you. He would make sure you realize it. You’d cower in fear of him in times like these, breaking down into choking sobs and mumbling apologies for pissing off the ‘Honored one’.

“I swear, I didn’t—” You tried to defend yourself, before the glass window behind you cracked, breaking into shatters as you flinched. A reminder to not piss off Gojo Satoru right now. Your heart raced at the situation you were in. Kneeling in front of him like a guilty prisoner, not daring to look up. Anxiety being the only thing hugging you right now.

“Why did you think it would be nice to ask for Megumi’s phone?” Satoru spoke… almost dazed, still controlling the immense rage that he felt. At times like these, you, a mere non-sorcerer feels a pang of pressure in the atmosphere. As if it was hard to exist, as if it was hard to breathe. It was Satoru’s cursed energy going haywire.

“I wan-wanted to ask for, something.” You were slowly getting broken by this. Yes, you had asked Megumi to give his phone to you, a pathetic attempt to contact your friends. You couldn’t risk contacting your family or Satoru’s rage would pave way in a direction you’d dread more. You just missed them… you aren’t delusional enough to think they had the chance to rescue you after all.

“Ask for what, hmm?” Satoru tilted your chin up, your eyes meeting his harsh, unforgiving ones. He looked dramatically betrayed at your antics, while a choked sigh escaped you. “Just- just missed my friends, Toru.” You had been carefully calibrating this reply. Squeeze his nickname in with the truth. There— that’d make him… less dramatic. Or, that’s what you prayed & hoped for.

“Just- missed my friends, Toru.” He mocked you, mimicking your tone and his hand rested onto your neck, slightly choking. A grim reminder of what he can do to you but chooses not to. Tears well up in your eyes as you looked at him, silently praying for this to end.

“Am I not enough?” His voice rose, almost tediously high. You closed your eyes, bracing yourself for what’s to come. “Please- Satoru.”

“I asked you a question, cupcake.” He chided you, as if he is shutting a brat up who was hell bent on throwing a tantrum. “I asked you something and I need an answer.”

You had to be really, really careful with this one. You mumbled, hands shivery and jittery. There have been times he’s locked you up, just so you miss him. Maybe decided to use your cunt with his fingers just so you’d embarrass yourself cumming over and over and he could taunt you for being a needy slut for him. You didn’t want that… “You are important.”

Your answer squinted Satoru’s eyes, thin ice….

“You are, enough. You are a friend to me, too. S’ just that sometimes I wish to know how they’re doin’ that’s it.” You were internally panicking. Satoru didn’t do anything to you until now but it was the ‘what he could do’ that made you nervous. Satoru wasn’t delusional, he knew you were being calculating and didn’t want to piss him off. However, he was fine as long as you tried to be in his good books. He liked feeling important.

“I see, then should’a just asked Daddy, eh?” He quirked a brow, another question for you to duck.

You decided to accept your mistake like his ‘good little girl’ nodding and looking down, looking oh-so-cute with the guilt laced on your features. “Sorry, Daddy.”

Oh it warms his heart up when his Princess tries to be good for him. Tries to win his heart & suppress his rage. “My baby’s apologetic?” He cooed, kissing your forehead softly, while you nodded like a bobble-head; almost reflexively.

“I see, I see… what’s my baby gonna do to make it up to Daddy?” A smug grin plastered over his features. You were so naive he had you exactly where he wanted you to be. Expressions all knowing & dreading the impending doom, you looked up at him and bit your lip. The bile rising in your throat with anxiety.

“Whatever- whatever you want.” You wanted to make this easy on yourself. Better to have him throw words at you and comply. Satoru… was more twisted than that. “Nuh uh… gonna have to see what you would do on your own to make it up to me.”

You bit your lip, knowing exactly the answer he wanted. “Daddy can make love to me.” You uttered brilliantly, his eyes growing more tender. Satoru never, ever, forced himself on you. It was somehow, you, always begging, crying apologetically even— tormented in situations which hugged you like spiderwebs, with no escape wherein you’d do nothing more than to surrender. That’s what Gojo Satoru does…

“Oh really?” He almost scoffed, clicking his tongue. “Daddy’ll make you feel good after you committed a mistake?” He would also make it seem like everything he does is for your pleasure— there are days you believe it, there are days you dread it.

“Sorry.” A stray tear escaped you, it was as if you were being pulled apart with no defenses. “Please, I just— if you want I won’t cum.” Aww— his pathetic, little, dumb, princess.

“Perfect.” Now he has you where he wants.

“Then gonna be my pretty, precious lil cocksleeve yeah?” Satoru asked you once more, feigning the opportunity for you to say no. You nodded, almost gracefully in defeat.

“That’s my good girl.”

#gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #yandere gojo #yandere gojo satoru #yandere jjk #yandere gojo x reader #yandere jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo thirst #jjk thirst #yandere jjk thirst #yandere jjk smut #yandere gojo thirst #gojo imagines #jjk imagines #jjk x you #gojo x you #yandere jujutsu kaisen

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greg-montgomery · 1 year

Note

Please just the team telling r about HOW MUCH OF A SOFT SPOT AARON HAS FOR THEM like god he’s literally such a grouch to Morgan and prentiss but he kisses the ground you walk on and they’re like BESTIE GET A GRIP HES WRAPPED AROJND YOUR FINGER bc reader is convinced he doesn’t share their feelings and he’s just being polite </3

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

“Guys, please stop. You’re giving me false hope,” you sighed, dropping your hands on your lap. “I know you’re only trying to make me feel better, but honestly this is making me feel worse.”

“False hope? Sweetheart, the man is in love with you,” Derek said.

“No, he’s not.” You pouted.

You regretted ever telling your friends about your crush on Hotch. What you expected was them making fun of you for it. What you got were daily lectures on how your boss had the hots for you.

“He makes you coffee every single morning,” Emily pointed out.

“He’s just being polite!” you argued.

“We arrive here at the same time every day and he has never made one for me.”

“I’m sure there’s an explanation for this,” you said. “Maybe he thinks you won’t like it the way he makes it. But he knows I do, so that’s why he only does it for me.”

“Okay…” Derek spoke again. His eyebrow was raised, showing he had a very good point to add. “What about when you got hurt last week? It was only a scratch on your cheek but Hotch was ready to drive you to a hospital.”

“Now you’re exaggerating!”

“I saw him cupping your cheeks, it’s true!” Emily exclaimed.

“I also saw that,” Spencer, who had just been observing the conversation, added.

“You too, Spence?”

“Sorry.” He lifted his hands up in defense. “I’m only pointing out what I saw.”

You crossed your arms against your chest. There was no way you’d let them get to you. If you let your heart believe that Aaron had feelings for you then it would break even harder. “He’s like this with all of us.”

Emily moved close to you and took your hand in hers. “No, he’s not,” she said with a smile. “How can you not see it? He looks at you like you’re his sun and stars.”

“We could have an experiment,” Spencer suggested.

“What kind of experiment?”

“Emily got yelled at yesterday for making a mistake during paperwork,” he explained. “I can see you’re preparing a similar report today so you could make on purpose the same mistake as her. Let’s see if he reacts the same way when he sees it. If he yells at you too then that means he treats you the same way he treats all of us. If he doesn’t…then you’re his soft spot.”

“Fine,” you agreed. “Only so you can all finally stop torturing me with this.”

A few hours later, your report was on Hotch’s desk.

“Y/N?”

You heard your name in that warm voice of his and lifted your head to look at him. He was standing at his office door with a smile, certainly not looking like a man about to start yelling.

“Can you please come to my office for a moment?”

“Of course.”

Walking up the stairs to his office, you could feel the stares of your colleagues. Time to prove them wrong, you thought. Even though, you were secretly praying for the opposite.

“What do you need me for?” you acted naive.

“I was just looking at your report,” he said, sitting down on his chair. “And-”

“Oh no, did I make a mistake?”

“No, it’s nothing important!” he rushed to reassure you. “It’s just some little thing. I only wanted to show you so you know the correct way to do it from now on.”

There was a sweet smile on his face. His voice was soft and not at all angry.

“Come on, let me show you.”

It didn’t feel scary to go close to him. So you did.

It was a bit hard to pay attention to him explaining your mistake, since you were staring at his fingers brushing the paper in front of you. It didn’t matter anyway, your mistake wasn’t an accident at all.

“Okay?” he asked when he was done.

“Okay. I’m really sorry, Hotch,” you said, giving him your best puppy eyes. If you were gonna do this experiment, you were gonna do it right. “I’ll be more careful from now on.”

“Why don’t you come to my office next time you prepare a report like this one? We can do it together, hm?”

“But you’re so busy, I don’t wanna slow you down,” you argued, your heart beating faster and faster as you realized that Aaron wasn’t angry at all with you.

“Nonsense. We’re doing it together next time.”

“Okay,” you said. “Thank you, Hotch.”

Just before you arrived at the door, you heard him calling your name. “Oh and Y/N?”

“Yeah?” you responded, looking back at him.

“The team is right.”

“Right on what?”

He smirked and dropped his gaze back to his papers. “You know what.”

You turned around to exit his office with a huge grin on your face. Sometimes it feels better when you lose.

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch #criminal minds #ask #hotch 🪐

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freedomfireflies · 7 months

Text

American Psycho*

Summary: Part of Halloween Kinktober, Freaky Fun, and One for the Money*

The one where you and your boss, Mr. Styles, have a little bit too much fun at the office Halloween party.

Can be read as standalone!

Word Count: 4.6k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

“What…are you wearing?”

Mr. Styles glances down at his dark suit, brow cocked upward. “What does it look like?”

“Har,” you huff, although you’re smiling as you toss your makeup bag aside and move closer, “I thought you were putting on a costume. It’s a Halloween party, you’re supposed to dress up.”

“I am,” he argues. “I’m dressed as a guy that doesn’t want to fucking go.”

You laugh. “Come on, be fun for a change.”

“I’m the boss. I’m not supposed to be fun.”

“Well, they’re throwing this party for you,” you remind him. “Nadia’s been talking about it all week.”

“Right, instead of working. Which is not what I pay her to do.”

“Harry,” you repeat, shooting him a pointed look. “Seriously, why don’t you put on a little fake blood or something? You could go as Patrick Bateman!”

“And why would I do that when I could just not go at all?”

Pushing your pink, painted lips into a pout, you straighten up onto your tiptoes, and snake your arms around his neck. “Please, Sir? Just this once? For me?”

He begins to frown, but you feel his hands find your hips, expression stern but amused. “Peach…”

“I won’t ever ask for anything ever again,” you murmur, letting your mouth ghost atop his teasingly. “Swear. And I’ll behave all night. Be so good for you.”

He likes this idea, studying you carefully as his grip tightens. “Is that so?”

“Incredibly so. Just want to have fun with you, Sir.”

“I know,” he sighs, now cupping his palm against your cheek. “But you know the rule, honey. We can’t be seen together, not at the office.”

“I know,” you echo. “But we can still go. Even if we can’t exactly hold hands and dance in front of everybody, we can have fun. And I want that for you. You never take the stick out of your ass.”

Pinching your jaw playfully, he snorts. “And I thought you were gonna be good.”

“Once you agree, yeah. Until then, I make no promises.”

With a smirk, he grasps onto your chin, and tugs you to him. Smashing his lips to yours until you exhale gratefully and melt into his touch.

“Besides,” you mumble, “if you don’t come with me, then I’ll have to go in my slutty costume all by myself.”

Now you have his attention, his eyes narrowing sternly as he leans back to see you. “Oh, really?”

You nod. “Yup. Thought I’d use some of the lingerie you got me and go as a Playboy bunny.”

You can feel his heart racing beneath your fingertips – even through his nice dress shirt – and it makes you chuckle.

“Did you?” He doesn’t seem to have much else to offer, but you can see his walls beginning to crumble.

“Mhm. Equipped with a fuzzy little tail and ears.”

He swallows thickly before clearing his throat in an effort to appear nonchalant. “Well, let’s see it then.”

“Only if you agree to go.”

“Peach,” he warns, frowning again but you’re quick to shake your head.

“That’s my deal, Sir. Take it or leave it.”

And while you can tell he wants to be cross with you, he begins to smile, clearly amused with your negotiation tactics. Perhaps even a little proud.

“Fine,” he finally concedes, making you grin. “But I’m not putting on any makeup.”

“No, just a little fake blood,” you suggest, immediately rushing toward your bag to retrieve the bottle. “It won’t stain, and it washes right out.”

He eyes you carefully while you scurry across his apartment. “And I suppose you’d like me to carry an ax, too.”

“I mean…it would sell the part,” you tease. “But let’s start with the blood. Go wait in the bathroom and I’ll go change really quick.”

“No, don’t,” he calls, almost firmly before you can slip from the room. “Not yet.”

You hesitate. “Okay…why? What’s wrong?”

His tongue runs over his bottom lip while his head cocks deviously to the side. “Because if you do…then we aren’t ever leaving this apartment.”

And you can’t help but grin.

“Let me guess…Edward Cullen?”

Even from a few feet away, you can see Harry’s expression fall. “Funny.”

“What?” Nadia smiles. “Come on, you look just like him. The blood and the suit and everything. It’s good.”

“Great,” he grumbles but you can tell he’s amused.

She laughs. “Patrick Bateman is a good look for you, boss. I like it. Feels…fitting.”

“Is that so?”

“It is. But in a sexy, fun kind of way.”

He snorts before his eyes trail over to you. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You wink.

The party is relaxed but enjoyable. Everyone is mingling, drinking, and dancing to the upbeat, spooky playlist. The usually boring, gray interior of the office floor is decorated with orange lights, carved pumpkins, and an array of ghostly décor. And nearly everyone came in costume, making it feel that much more like Halloween.

And despite the fact that you and Mr. Styles are forced to remain distant, you find yourself admiring him from across the room almost all evening. Happy that he seems to have finally begun to unwind, relax, and even enjoy himself.

You watch as he engages in chatter with some of the other men in the finance department. You catch his eye while you’re grabbing a drink of the festive punch. And you feel him stare as you and Nadia head to the middle of the floor to dance to Somebody’s Watching Me.

Truth be told, you find it hard to be away from him after so many nights together. And even though it’s what you both agreed on, you feel a certain sort of longing for the handsome man in the corner of the room.

However, neither of you are quite ready to tell the office you’re dating yet or deal with the potential fallout. At least not right now, when things are so new. Special. You suppose that could change in the future, but at least for tonight, he’s your dirty little secret.

So you resort to exchanging sneaky glances from time to time as you enjoy the party. Like now, when you catch his subtle but devious smile from behind the shadows while his hand casually slips into his suit jacket pocket.

It’s a nonchalant motion. Relaxed enough that you barely catch on as you and Nadia continue swaying back and forth to the rhythm. Enjoying the heavy bass and eerie tune.

And then, suddenly…you feel it. The first, gentle vibration from the toy sitting snugly inside your pussy.

Your breath hitches.

And now you understand his look of amusement and the disappearance of his hand. He’s testing out the toy, warning you of his intentions even from the other side of the room.

Just like he promised.

After all, that was his only condition. He’d dress up, he’d play nice, he’d be a good boss.

But if he wasn’t allowed to touch you all night, he at least wanted to have some fun. And remind you that he is still the one you belong to.

A reminder he gleefully gives you now, turning up the strength on the small bullet inside your cunt while he continues chatting with Alex from IT.

He’s not looking at you anymore – something you almost despise – but it’s obvious that he’s entertained. Fighting against a wry grin as he nods along in conversation.

You, on the other hand, are beginning to feel the effects of the teasing. A sharp, pleasurable chill running down your legs while you falter in place and swallow a gasp.

Confused, Nadia eyes you carefully. “You okay?” she calls over the music, leaning closer. “You look a little woozy.”

“I’m…no, I’m…I’m good,” you manage to stammer, forcing a nod before you continue with your dance. “S’just hot in here, I guess.”

“God, you’re telling me,” she snorts, running a knuckle under her eye to catch some smeared makeup. “Last time I commit to the leather pants.”

Exhaling a laugh, you slowly pull your thighs together, hoping to lessen the vibrations currently traveling through your pussy. “Well, you look great.”

“Thanks,” she laughs before gesturing up and down at your costume. “What about you, hm? This is the sexiest corset I’ve ever seen.”

“Thanks, it’s quite hard to breathe in,” you retort playfully, glancing over the pink silk on your torso. “This will also be the last time I commit to lingerie in public.”

“Fair enough. But that’s what Halloween is for, right? So you can be your true, slutty self just for one night.”

You chuckle again before slowly looking over to catch a glimpse of your sadistic boyfriend. However, you find that the smug bastard is now nowhere to be found. Having disappeared from the room, leaving you to struggle without him.

And then, you feel the strength increase.

It’s becoming increasingly harder to ignore the pleasure building in your stomach or the sharp rushes of ecstasy that echo across your clit. Which you suppose is his goal, although you aren’t sure why he’s so determined to make you fall apart under so many obvious eyes.

But you imagine that’s part of the fun. The idea that even though he can’t be with you, he can control your pleasure.

And you have to admit…you adore him for it.

With a shaky exhale, you nod your head toward the exit. “I’m, uh…I’m gonna go get some fresh air for a bit. I’ll be right back.”

Nadia nods. “No problem. I’ll be here.”

Leaving her with a smile, you begin to search for where he might have gone. You imagine his office, although you aren’t quite sure how you’re meant to meet him when so many people are watching.

Sure, more than half the room is drunk or otherwise occupied, but you don’t want to taunt fate. Especially after begging him to come in the first place.

But the painful pleasure in your cunt is beginning to worsen and you realize rather quickly that there’s only one solution.

Him.

So, you take a deep breath and slip into the adjoining hall, traveling through the darkness until you find his door.

You take a deep breath and knock twice, calling a soft but hopeful, “Mr. Styles? Are you in there?”

The sound of a lock turning nearly makes you shiver, and you can’t help but grin giddily as the door swings open, and a hand outstretches for you.

You’re yanked inside before you can even offer a greeting, tossed mercilessly toward his desk while he slams the door shut, and turns to face you.

And he’s stunning. So effortlessly beautiful, even with the blood dripping down his face. You wonder if you should be worried you find this so attractive, but you don’t exactly have it in you to care. Because the way his disheveled suit hugs his broad frame is sinfully delicious and the ruby droplets smeared across his jaw makes your cunt clench around the toy.

He strides toward you, drinking you in like he’s dying of thirst. Eyes dark and clouded with salacious intentions.

He takes hold of your face between strong palms and crashes his mouth to yours. Hips pushing you back until you collide with the wooden table just behind you. Trapping you there while you gasp for air and tangle your fingers in his messy curls.

He groans in response, nipping at your bottom lip until you can’t breathe. “Gonna fucking kill me, Peach. Walking around in this slutty little costume. Almost came in my pants when you bent over.”

You smirk lazily as his kisses move down your neck. “Good, that was my plan.”

He makes another animalistic noise before shoving at your waist a bit harder.

One hand disappears back into his pocket while the other travels up your fishnet stockings and settles against your cunt. The heel of his palm pressing against your covered clit as his harsh kisses dance beneath your ear.

“Shit, Har—” you gasp before you feel him tug your skin between his teeth. “Sir. Please…need…”

“I know,” he grunts, increasing the power of the toy until you’re both moaning. “Can feel it, Peach. Feels good, hm? Feels so fucking good. Bet you’re gonna cum in your pretty, little panties before I even touch you, yeah?”

You make another incoherent noise as his hand pushes the toy further into your pussy. The electric vibrations reverberate across his palm, doubling the sensation until your head just about drops back. Making the bunny ears slip to the ground, forgotten.

“Good,” he hums, and you feel a bit of his fake blood smear across your neck. “S’a good girl, honey. Already close, aren’t you? What a pathetic little thing. Always fall apart so fast when I use a toy to play with you.”

You nod quickly in agreement. After all, he’s right. Vibrators have you coming faster than almost anything else – besides his cock.

And his mouth.

This is a fact he utilizes now, nudging the vibrator further into you until your legs begin to shake. You can feel it in your stomach, the first unraveling as it becomes stronger, and louder, and faster.

You fling an arm around his shoulders for stability before you’re disintegrating beneath him. Writhing and squirming and panting as he sees you through.

“There you go,” he whispers, mouth brushing over yours. Wanting to taste your moans as you come down. “You’re all right, my love. Doing so good, hm? Gonna give me another?”

You nod faintly and he smirks before reaching beneath your corset top to find the decorative panties attached to your costume.

He shoves them aside without pause before ripping the delicate fabric of the stockings almost fiercely. And far too easily for your liking.

He then retrieves the small toy from inside your cunt – smiling when he feels how soaked the silicone has become – before he’s dragging it up to your clit. Pressing the stimulating tip into your sensitive and swollen nerves as you suddenly gasp and go reeling.

“Shh,” he hushes, glancing over your face. “Can’t be too loud, hm? Y’know I love it when you scream for me, but we can’t let me hear, can we?”

“It’s…it’s Halloween,” you counter. “They’re used to screams.”

But Mr. Styles merely smirks. “Be that as it may…I don’t want to share your screams with anyone else. Not tonight.”

You feel your head grow fuzzier as he dips down to take your lips with his.

“Tonight…your screams belong to me,” he exhales against your tongue before he’s pressing the vibrator harder against your cunt.

You’re a mess. Soaking his hand, your outfit, the toy. Shaking almost pitifully while he finally releases the remote to press his palm to the back of your neck. Forcing your faces together until neither one of you can breathe without the other.

He was right, you are pathetic. So goddamn tragic as you begin to shake beneath the bullet. Already close to your second orgasm of the evening before he’s even had a chance to tease you.

But you don’t think he minds. He collects your orgasms like Pokémon cards. Wearing the number proudly until you’re nothing but a pile of limbs in his arms.

Two is only a start. And you know as long as he has this toy, he plans to force you into many more.

“Fucking shit, Peach,” he groans, forehead resting against yours as he glances down at where his hand is settled between your thighs. “Oh, that’s my girl. Always behave so well for me. Knew you would, yeah? Just like you promised.”

Again, you can do nothing but nod weakly. Still clinging to his body like a lifeline while he strokes you through the aftershocks.

“Okay,” he finally sighs, removing the toy and swiping his thumb across your clit. Collecting the arousal waiting for him just to bring it up to his lips. “Okay, honey, turn around. Bend over the desk for me.”

You whimper at the way he takes his body from you and from the very idea of what comes next. You hate that you won’t be able to see his face, but you adore this position. Especially because of the way he manhandles you.

Like now as his hands suddenly grasp onto your hips to fling you around so you’re facing his large, floor to ceiling windows.

The city is beautiful at night. Lit up like a prize, vast and seemingly endless. It’s one of your favorite things about his office and you smile to yourself as you take in the view.

But you aren’t afforded the chance to daydream long before he’s weaving his fingers through your roots and pushing you down until your chest meets his desk. Keeping you bent and pliable as he undoes his leather belt.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, squeezing your scalp as though to reward you. “Gonna fuck you quick. Can’t have Nadia come looking for you, can we?”

You whimper a response before you hear his pants fall to the floor, followed by a snapping of elastic as he pulls his cock from his briefs.

“Let me have a look at you,” he grits, releasing your head so he can stand back and admire your dripping pussy. Pulling back the costume until your cunt is on display for his hungry eyes. “So fucking cute, Peach. S’all pretty and red. Just weeping for me, hm?”

“Sir—”

“Get all sensitive when I make you cum a lot, don’t you?” he asks, even though he already knows the answer. “Your puffy little clit gets all swollen and achy, hm?”

“Yes…yes, Sir, please—”

“Just one more for now, yeah? Just one. And then I’ll take you home and do it right.”

There’s a racing in your chest that can’t be contained. A sharp thrill that lives beneath your skin. He’s everything. His voice, his touch, his intentions. Even his mind. It’s wickedly beautiful and you adore him more than anything in the world.

You feel his fingers smooth through your folds. Teasing you for only a moment before you feel his cock come into play. Repeating the action of pressing and slipping through the wetness that awaits him.

“Can’t tell you what this costume does to me,” he whispers, groping your side with one hand. Preparing you. “You, and this tight, little fucking top, and these goddamn tights. Everybody was staring when you came in. Fucking everybody and I could’ve killed them.”

You moan something akin to his name, but he’s not listening. He’s lost on you. On your body and the way it looks, spread out before him.

“Even this fucking bunny tail,” he snorts, and you feel him pinch the fuzzy ball on your ass playfully. “Sits so pretty on you, y’know. Just like that plug I got you.”

“Shit,” you mumble, stomach clenching at the memory. “Har—”

His hand comes down in a sharp strike to your left ass cheek as you jolt. “Uh-uh. What’s my name?”

“Sir,” you correct, eyes squeezing shut. “Sir, please…please fuck me. Need you so bad—”

“Do you, hm?” He lands another spank before smoothing over the area with calmer motions.

You nod. “You look so good, Sir. Can’t…can’t stand it.”

Even without being able to see him, you can picture his smirk. “Do I?”

“Yes,” you exhale, almost groaning from the thought. “Covered in blood, wearing my favorite suit. Even the way you did your hair. S’been so hard to keep my hands off you tonight.”

You hear a dark, rather sadistic chuckle. “You like the blood, do you?”

You whimper. “Know I shouldn’t, but…it makes you look so fucking hot, Sir.”

Another harsh smack to your ass. Louder this time. “You know how I feel about your cussing, Peach.”

“M’sorry, Sir. But it’s true. You’re so fucking hot like this.”

He spanks you a fourth time but he’s still chuckling. “I’ll remember that,” he murmurs, kneading the tender flesh in his palm. “Never thought my precious peach would have such dirty fantasies.”

“I don’t, Sir. Only when it’s you.”

And he seems to like this idea, cursing in the back of his throat before nudging the tip of his cock against your clit. Making you both gasp until he finds your hole.

The first push in is delicious. Slow enough to prepare you and ease you open, but it’s everything. Scratching an itch that makes your brain turn to mush. Until you’re nearly collapsing onto his desk with anxious whimpers.

“Good,” he breathes from behind you. “Good girl. That’s it, my love. Let me in, just like that. You all right?”

Another faint motion of your head. One that almost concerns him as he laces his fingers back through your roots.

“Peach,” he grunts. “Know I need your words. And you will give them to me when I ask for them. So what’s your color?”

“Green,” you whisper, nails curling into the wooden table beneath. “M’sorry, Sir, I’m green. Just feels so good. Wanted…to focus. To feel you.”

You hear him sigh before he’s pushing in a bit further. “Then fucking feel me.”

He sits inside your cunt like he was always meant to be there. Warm and thick and the perfect stretch. Making the stars return to your eyes as you begin to cry out his name.

However, he releases your scalp only to reach around and smack his palm against your lips. Keeping you quiet as he begins his thrusts.

“Uh-uh,” he warns. “Be a good little bunny and stay quiet.”

The pace is slow at first. Just enough to drive you absolutely mad and you imagine the scariest thing about tonight is how easily you’ve become such a blubbering mess.

“Like it when Daddy’s mean, don’t you?” he calls, returning both hands to your hips. “Like it when I treat you like you’re nothing.”

You can feel the sticky substance of the fake blood smearing across your hips. Probably staining your clothes – an obvious mark of his touch. A mark you’d proudly wear for the rest of your life if he’d let you.

“So fucking wet, honey,” he hisses. “S’just drowning my cock, isn’t it?”

You offer a garbled noise.

“Yeah. Just dripping down me, baby. Begging me to do something about it. Begging me to fucking take you.”

Your entire body is shaking. Along with the desk and an assortment of papers and pens that become scattered with every sharp drive of his hips.

And you can hear it. Can hear the sound of his cock slipping in and out of your pussy and echoing between the walls of his large office. Wet, and lewd, and almost pornographic in nature. It’s obvious how needy you are for him. How unhinged your body has become. Soaking him exactly the way he loves as he fucks himself into you.

You can feel the sweat beading at your hairline. Can hear your pulse thumping in your ears – in time to the music in the other room and the thrusting of his hips. Leaving you to do nothing but lay across his desk and take it. Take him, exactly the way he wanted.

“How about another, hm?” He squeezes your sides harshly before one hand leaves you. “Gonna give me another, my love?”

Nodding tiredly, you allow your lashes to flutter shut. Focusing instead on the sound of his voice and the rough touch of his fingertips. You can feel it building. Can practically taste the beginnings of a third orgasm. You’re powerless to the pleasure. Undone by the man behind you as he readjusts his stance and angles his cock up.

It’s wicked. The immense, overwhelming, and unfathomable coursing of lust between each joint, and muscle, and fiber. You can’t escape it, can’t fight it. Can’t even understand it.

That’s what you needed. That spot, that attention. Over and over and over, and he’s so good at hitting it just right. Only to drag his cock back out and leave you empty and wilted.

“Relax,” he orders firmly before a familiar buzzing reverberates between your ears. “Relax, Peach. It’s okay, honey. Just want one more.”

The bullet is snaked around your hip before it’s pressing firmly to your clit. Forcing the sensitive and swollen bud to succumb to the vibrations and bring you that much closer.

You cry out for a second time, hands scratching down his desk, but he only curses through gritted teeth.

“There you go,” he exhales, and it’s thick. “S’okay, I’ve got you.”

He’s a mad man. Deranged and borderline animalistic with the way he demands your body bend to his will.

“Sir—” You suck in a large gasp for air, but it’s useless. “Har, please—”

His large palm spanks down on your ass as punishment, but he doesn’t comment on your slip. “I know. Almost there. Know you’re almost there, can feel you clenching, baby. Keep going. Feels so fucking good—”

“Can’t…can’t—”

“Yes, you can. Know it hurts, but you can do it. You’ll do it, come on.”

And you want to, you do. More than anything, but it’s almost too good. You can’t think properly, can’t seem to relax long enough to let the orgasm overtake you.

Then, he’s wrangling you up. Pulling you until your back is pressed against his chest while he nudges his nose against your cheek. Inhaling you with a groan before he trails a few open-mouthed kisses along your neck.

And in the reflection of his office windows, you see your silhouettes.

You, in your stunning Playboy costume, tits bouncing up out of the corset with each thrust, fake blood painted across your face and neck.

And him.

The devastatingly wonderful man behind you. Dressed in the sexiest suit you’ve ever seen, gelled curls gone askew, and that same blood dripping down almost every inch of him.

And he’s pounding his cock into your cunt like there’s no tomorrow. Trapping you against his body, your heaving chest in one hand, and the vibrating toy in the other.

“So good, Peach,” he whispers. “So fucking good. Need you to cum, baby, please. Right now. Cum.”

And you do.

You don’t expect it. Have no time to prepare for it. Don’t even understand it’s happening until that white-hot explosion is dancing down your spine and expanding through your stomach. All the way into your toes as you whimper his name and wither in his touch.

He does his best to hold you up while maintaining the pace he set. Faster and harder until he’s spilling inside of you with a moan. Mumbling your name while a hundred praises follow suit.

The aftershocks of this one seem to drag on longer than most. But you both indulge in the floaty feeling as you work to catch your breath. Syncopating to each other’s inhales until your heartbeats become one.

“Did so good,” he sighs, nuzzling his cheek to yours. “God, so fucking good. Feel like heaven, you know that?”

You smile lazily and settle into his arms, allowing your weight to rest atop his. “Well…it’s easy when you look like this.”

He chuckles softly and kisses your temple. “You really do have a blood kink, hm?”

“No, I have a you-covered-in-blood kink. I don’t care when it’s anybody else.”

Now, he reaches out to slide his finger under your chin and turn your face to his. Staring at you for only a moment before he kisses you. Hard and yet filled with an emotion you just might recognize.

“Want you to do something for me, Peach,” he mumbles against your lips.

You nod quickly.

“Want you to fix your little panties…go down to my car…and wait for me.”

You feel your breath hitch.

He smiles.

“We’ve got some videotapes to make.”

~ One for the Money Masterlist

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~ Main Masterlist

~ Blurb Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

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soobnny · 4 months

Text

loving is terrifying — han jisung. best friends to lovers. accidental confessions (1.6k words)

in the midst of ranting, han jisung accidentally confesses he’s in love with you

“And if I burn the whole school down, would you bail me out of jail, Hanji?”

You’re still only a few sentences into the important speech you were asked to write, and you’re starting to feel agitated, chewed up pencil carving out your thoughts on paper before finding its way abandoned on your desk.

It’s been a few hours, and you’d chosen to put the pencil down lest you want to bring yourself to insanity.

Pretty lies usually come easy to you, but now they’re burning holes into your skull and flicking the ashes into your brain. In the reprieve, all you can think about is your anger for the authority.

“Bold of you to assume I won’t be your accomplice.” Jisung retorts from where he’s seated next to you on the floor, arms crossed behind his head as he leans against his couch.

“There’s just so much wrong in the system. Their code of rules deprive students of their creativity. Only the top students have a multitude of opportunities waiting for them. And don’t get me started on how the authorities put so little value into culture and societal issues. Everything is wrong, just wrong in all ways!”

There’s a word count in Jisung’s head on how many times you’ve said wrong in one sitting, but he’s looking at you with a hint of something in his eyes. Almost adoration.

“And we can change it by burning the school down?” A tone of amusement is laced in your best friend’s voice, though you fail to search for a trace of judgment.

“We can start there. Then the world.” You take the pencil back and fiddle with it between your fingers.

“The world? That’s very ambitious of you.”

You glare at him.

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t be by your side. I like ambitious.” Jisung smiles at you, making sure to lock his eyes with yours so you can see heavy genuineness where his pupils are. “What’s the next step then?”

“Climate change.”

Jisung throws his head back in quiet laughter, and the slight movement allows you a whip of his laundry detergent from the white shirt he’s wearing. “Okay, climate change.”

“You’re making fun of me.”

“I’m not!” His lips quirk up into a smile, eyes morphing from crescents to a full moon as he struggles to defend his name. There is still laughter even in the way he licks the inside of his cheek and takes your hands in his.

You fail to copy his laughter.

“Your eyes are upset. Are they directed at me?” Jisung softens his voice, only speaking one his laughter has boiled down. He pulls you closer than you already are, and you don’t notice the way he grabs the pencil between your fingers in the process to set it down.

“Of course not.” You mumble. “I’m mad at everything else, at everything wrong.”

A tally adds to his word count.

You sigh when you let go of his hands to take the paper in your own, eyes leaden as they scan across the sentences you had bullshited earlier. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to write this.”

“Just scream it out.”

“What?”

“Scream out what you actually want to say.” He grins.

You gape at him.

“I’m not screaming in your living room. Your neighbors are going to think someone’s being murdered.”

“Then just say it. Whatever you want to say. Everything wrong.”

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Okay, I’ll start then.” He smiles, and it’s heart-warmingly encouraging. “I wish it was easier to ground myself. I live in my head most of the time, and opening up is hard, and I wish forming any form of relationship wasn’t so scary.”

“Ji—“

“Okay, now your turn.”

“We are not going to ignore what you just said.”

“I said, your turn.”

“Jisung.”

“Please?” He places a hand over yours, and it’s enough for your brain to short circuit.

“Alright, fine. But we are going to talk about it later.”

“Now, what about those things that are wrong?” Jisung asks, giving your hand a gentle squeeze before letting go.

“Well, uh— our poor education system, that’s for one. And, the government. Blatant sexism too, how stupid the patriarchy is, how I still can’t parallel park for the life of me.”

You start with sporadic things, the ones that instantly pop in your head when you think about things that make you upset, and as you continue to talk, you dig a little deeper, and you don’t even realize you’ve stood up and your hands are flailing around like a salesman by the second.

“And, don’t even get me started on the transportation system. It’s so dumb how car-centered design came to be because how is it that the people who have access to private vehicles also have the easiest routes over the less fortunate who walk or commute? Like, why do we have to adjust to the roads?”

There’s a long list of things you want to say, finally letting loose and narrating all the things you’ve kept locked away in the back of your mind because you’re with the one person you can trust. When you meet Jisung’s gaze, he’s looking at you in awe.

“I hate how we’re branded as prodigies when we were younger. I hate the expectations that come with it, that we have to be great all the time, and, oh, this actually feels really good.”

Jisung chuckles at the way you come to a sudden realization, but he’s always known you were wiser beyond your years. “You’re brilliant.”

“Well, you have to say something too!”

Jisung fiddles with his fingers, trying to think of where to start. Though, the brilliance that is you and the opportunity of having this moment with you is enough motivation for him to follow suit.

“Uh, it’s so scary how superficial people are nowadays, and how so quickly they’re let down. It stresses me out how a single mistake could cost you so many relationships, but at the same time, who will stress out if not me? And it makes me realize how lucky I am to have the people in my life, and having an opportunity to talk like this really fuels my positivity in life, and it makes me realize even more how much I strongly feel like my life is for you guys, and there is nothing more important to me than being able to be a good person for you guys, like you. I wish I could be the bestest friend for you, maybe even more than that, but fuck, loving is so scary so I wish you’ll never find out how I’m so so in love with you— wait.”

The room falls silent and he’s thinking of a thousand different ways to die on the spot. He’s embarrassed. This is embarrassing, and he’s thinking it really wouldn’t be too late to jump off the bedroom window and hope for the best. A thousand different ways, maybe pretend he never said anything, stand still and maybe you’d think he wasn’t there in the first place. A thousand different ways.

“Han Jisung.”

“Soooo, haha, where were we in your speech again?”

Jisung doesn’t meet your eyes for the fear of rejection. He doesn’t think he has the heart to handle it right now, especially not after his accidental confession.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“About how superficial people are? Of course, it’s so scary. Hey, did I tell you about the tim—“

“Is being in love with me something wrong?”

He falls silent, and you can visibly see him start to panic, and his hands are pressed together as if in a prayer as he’s shaking his head profusely. “No, oh god no, it’s not. Honestly, it’s one of the only things I’m sure of, and that says a lot because I’m not sure of anything. I’m not even sure I’m in the right course or the right school or if I’m spending my money the right way, or if I’m even gonna live tomorrow, but fuck, loving you and everything about you is something I will never question.”

You can feel yourself start to smile, and Jisung finds himself copying you. It’s one of the first things he knew he loved about you—your smile, and the way you think, and the sound of your laughter. Despite his erratic heart beating and his fear of this exact moment, he still finds himself smiling when you do.

“I’m in love with you too.”

“What?”

You can visibly see the gears in his head turn, and he’s writing a story he doesn’t know the ending to just yet, but the beginning is so beautiful because it’s with you. Then, he laughs. It’s breathy, and you can almost hear the relief. “Did you just say you love me?”

“I did.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“I’m in love with you, Han Jisung.”

“I’m going to die.”

You laugh, and then he snaps back into reality.

“Can I kiss you?” His tone is so careful, but there’s a hint of something you can only recognize as a slight desperation—like he’s been thinking of it a while.

Jisung reaches out to wrap his arms around your waist, albeit a little shy. It’s a pattern that’s already so familiar. He isn’t a stranger to hugging you, in fact, he’s done it a million times, but the connotations to this one is a little different, and he can’t think straight at the possibility that you might actually consent to letting him kiss you.

“Okay.”

Words that haven’t left being translated into the motion of his lips moving against yours. Honestly, he doesn’t even know who went in for the kiss first. All he knows is his hands are gently rested on your waist and he’s actually kissing you right now, and you can feel the way he’s smiling into the kiss.

It takes a few minutes for you two to pull away, a little out of breath, and he leans in to try and kiss you again but your noses bump against each other’s, and the pair of you can’t help but laugh at how the events of the night had turned.

Jisung marvels at the way everything feels so simple, so right.

“I’m not dreaming, right? Like this is actually happening?”

You laugh even more.

Jisung’s always been afraid of venturing into the unknown, always kept his feelings hidden, and he’s always loathed his mouth for being so uncontrolled with the things he says. But now, with you in his arms, he couldn’t be any more happier about the slip of his tongue and how being with you feels like one of the rare rights among all the wrongs.

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