#because like so MUCH of her life is scrutinized and watched | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

astraystayyh · 9 months

Text

In my dreams

Seungmin x reader. (fake) enemies to lovers. my interpretation of in my dreams by tearliner, love X stereo.

Seungmin has never liked you. You never understood why, but you were slowly coming to terms with it. However, you gradually come to learn that there is more to his feelings than what meets the eye.

skz song series

cw: reader has anxiety and deals with lots of self-doubt and insecurities.

a.n: the end of our skz song series!! and a pretty personal final fic, this one is based on my own experience with anxiety, so it might differ for everyone :) thank you for reading as always <3

You watch, a soft smile on your face as two little girls play with one another in the playground. It reminds you of simpler times, when you could just walk up to another human and become friends with them instantly.

But reality is much more challenging, especially for someone like you, constantly plagued by their anxious thoughts.

Anxiety didn't tiptoe into your life, one drop at a time so you'd get accustomed to its overwhelming presence. Instead, you woke up one day and it barged into you, through cracks and dents you didn't even know existed in your being, and then it made itself a permanent home within the confines of your heart.

You never truly learned how to live with this parasite feeding off your soul, draining you completely until you became a mere shell of who you once were. You never fully adjusted to the invisible hands choking you from within, to the voice nagging you in the back of your mind, telling you that something horrible was bound to happen.

Because nothing ever went wrong, day after day, nothing bad happened. And yet, the feeling of dread persisted and lingered until you started to believe that the problem was you.

And once you opened the door to self-doubt, you could never fully close it again.

You're too overwhelmed, too nervous, too much of everything bad. Your conversations are scrutinized, down to every syllable you uttered, to the way you smiled and how you laughed. The interactions might differ but the regret that haunts you after is the same.

So, you diluted your being, in an effort to be more acceptable, easier in the lives of the people around you. You believed that if you pleased everyone you ever encoutered then at the end you must satisfy yourself too.

You sigh softly, drumming your fingers along your knee. You’re starting a new year in college tomorrow. Your first one wasn't exceptional by any means. Aileen, the girl who sat beside you from time to time was nice, and you grabbed coffee sometimes as you prepared for your exams together. But she had other friends, ones she's much closer to, ones she invited to her birthday party, ones who she didn't simply fill her free time with.

You shake your head, putting a stop to the thoughts in your head before they get too much once again, pushing you over an edge you don't want to be in right now.

You'll try harder this year. You'll be okay, for once.

≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋

Your professor Lee is scribbling something on the large whiteboard, as he waits for the class to fill up. Someone sits next to you, and the smell of their cologne wafts to your nose- hints of vanilla and wood seemingly calming down your nerves. You quickly take a glance at them, to find a guy with long brown hair and freckles dusting his cheeks. He's taking out his notepad from his bag, and you smile at the chick keychain he has on it. He catches you looking and you quickly avert your gaze, heat creeping up your cheeks.

"Hi, I'm Felix," he greets enthusiastically, and you turn your head slowly to be met with his wide grin. It softens his features, making his eyes turn into moon crescents. You envy his ability to smile without overthinking how he looks.

"Yn," you introduce back, and he nods, the grin still etched on his face. "You were in my Economics class last year, no?" he asks and you tilt your head to the side, as you mull over his question.

"I was but I don't remember seeing you," you admit sheepishly and he waves a hand in the air, not bothered the least by your words.

"It's okay, I just remembered your presentation on Inflation. I finally understood why we can't just print more money," he admits with a chuckle, and you giggle against your will.

"I don't blame you, it sounds like an easy solution," you agree, and his eyes widen.

"Right! when I tell my friends they just stare at me in disappointment."

You laugh at his adorable pout, an unfamiliar warmth stirring within your chest. He's nice.

"I'm glad I helped you then, I was so nervous presenting it," you clear your throat as he smiles impressively at you. "Really? I couldn’t tell at all."

Mr. Lee calls for your attention and you both turn your heads back to the board. You couldn’t really focus, Felix’s words echoing in your head like a broken mantra- he couldn’t tell you were nervous. A sudden relief dawns on you at the possibility that, maybe, not everyone is aware of the neverending storm raging within you, threatening to drown you at any giving moment.

≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋

"Movie night at my dorm?" Felix proposes as he packs up his bag, your two hours long class finally done.

"Will Seungmin be there?" you ask, a slight edge to your voice and Felix pauses, shaking his head at you.

"Yn, you're overreacting. I promise he doesn't hate you."

"Have you ever seen him smiling at me?" you ask, arching your eyebrow expectantly at him. He stays silent and you wiggle your finger in the air. "Exactly! Please tell me he won't be there."

"About that... He's helping me bake the cookies," Felix smiles sheepishly and you groan, falling dramatically on your seat.

"I’m not coming."

"But the cookies," Felix pouts, and the promise of the chewy baked goods is so enticing it makes you second-guess your decision.

"The cookies...," you whine, and Felix giggles grabbing your hand to pull you up.

"I’ll see you at 5?"

"Yes," you concede, a small smile on your lips. You wait until Felix bids you goodbye for it to finally slip from your face.

Seungmin has never liked you, from the moment Felix introduced you to him. You still remember it clear as day, the way his eyes slightly widened when they fell on you, before narrowing down. How he didn't utter a single word when Felix left you both alone to get your drinks. Your panic grew as an uncomfortable silence reigned on the both of you, and you racked your brain for something to say to cut through that eerie quiet.

"Seungmin, right?" you asked, a bit too cheerfully, and you winced inwardly at your tone. He didn't reply, only humming back. It was so faint you wouldn't have caught it had you not been staring at him intently.

"What's your major?" Your voice cracked.

"Computer science." He replied curtly, and you waited patiently, expecting him to return the question. He didn't. And you shifted awkwardly from one foot to another. Maybe he just didn't do well with strangers. Maybe he wasn't a chatty person, to complement Felix's extroverted nature.

But you were wrong. You watched in complete astonishment as he teased Felix relentlessly, a wide smile on his face. It made his eyes soften, a newfound fondness itching itself on his expressions. He laughed and he joked and you felt yourself shrink more and more, this way he wouldn't notice you anymore, wouldn't glare at you as if you did something horribly wrong to him.

Felix tried to include you as best as he could in their conversation, but you tuned it out. It was hard to focus on their talk when there was a tumultuous one ongoing in your mind. Seungmin's behavior just further cemented every horrible idea you held about yourself. There is something wrong about you, and he can see it. You may have fooled Felix but you didn't fool Seungmin. If you were him you wouldn't talk to you either.

Every encounter with Seungmin since then left you feeling fifteen years old again, in a classroom full of unkind eyes zeroed on you. You tried to talk about his interests, to string along a normal conversation, one that would reassure that your first encounter was a wrongful impression.

But he did not like talking to you, only offering short replies in response. It’s as if his tongue was tied in your response, and in return it only magnified the knot in your stomach. You went through every conversation with him a million times in your head, trying to pinpoint what exactly went wrong. What warranted him to be so silent in your presence, and yours only, as if you weren’t worthy of a simple conversation. And the answer always tied back to you.

So, you’ve been avoiding him like the plague for the past month, sparing him the chore that is existing near you. It was particularly hard since Felix was his best friend and roommate, and surprisingly he actually enjoyed spending time with you. Still, you couldn’t help but think that it was only a matter of time before Felix started to hate you too.

≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋

"You're moving too much," Seungmin chastises and you freeze in your place at his words. You are sitting on the couch of Felix’s dorm later on that day, a horror movie playing in the small TV before you. Felix decided to lay on the floor, buried in a pool of yellow blankets, and a long pillow that weirdly had the picture of one of their friends printed on it. "It's my safety net," he explained and you didn't question him any further.

For some reason, Seungmin decided to sit next to you, instead of the opposing couch. Granted, he can see the TV more clearly from here, still this is the first time he willingly went somewhere near you, let alone talked to you.

You decide to ignore him, too focused on predicting the next jump scare, your feet tapping the floor furiously. But still, it happens so abruptly, eliciting a startled gasp from you, anf you clutch the edge of the couch even tighter.

"Close your eyes," Seungmin speaks suddenly and you raise an eyebrow at him, confused.

"There is a jump scare coming soon," he clears his throat, "just... close your eyes if you don't want to see it."

You comply without much thought and soon enough, you can hear a shrill scream coming from the screen. He was right.

"It passed," he says softly, and you tentatively open your eyes once again. There is a foreign expression on Seungmin's face, one you haven't seen before, but it passes as quickly as it came, like a dream slipping between your fingers as soon as you wake up.

"How did you know?" you ask, hugging your knees tightly to your chest.

"I already watched this movie."

"Really? Why are you watching it again?"

"Because. I had nothing better to do," he says, almost defensively, his hand now covering his mouth as if he had to physically stop the words from spilling out.

You don't reply, turning back to look at the screen. Seungmin doesn't tell you when a jump scare is coming next, he simply taps your arm, and you close your eyes on cue.

His hand brushing against your bare skin feels weird, not uncomfortable by any means, but it still is a foreign sensation. You didn't know he had such soft hands, and you always imagined them to be cold. But they are warm, and you wonder what other things about Seungmin you've been wrong about.

≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋

"I'm so tired," Felix groans, laying his head on your shoulder and you giggle, patting his head in mock sympathy. It's been three months since the start of your year, which means that the assignments are starting to pile up on you all.

"Me too," you sigh, and Seungmin stays silent next to you. Felix dragged you both to this coffeeshop, a little outing to recharge his spirit, as he texted you. You're slowly getting used to Seungmin's brooding presence. He talks to you a little more, even cracking a few jokes here and there. But you’re still wary of him. You keep your guard up just in case he forcefully brings a mirror to your face once again, reminding you of everything you despise about yourself.

"I'll go order, it's my treat. Pick a place for us?" Felix says and you nod, walking ahead of Seungmin towards a table near the back.

You sit down first, and Seungmin follows second, sitting right across from you. You quickly bring out your phone, scrolling mindlessly through the apps to distract yourself from the man in front of you.

"You have a presentation tomorrow, right?" Seungmin speaks up, startling you, and you slowly put your phone down.

"Yes, how did you know?"

"Felix told me that it makes up 25% of your grade. Are you nervous?"

"A little," you admit, even though ‘a little’ didn't even begin to cover it.

"Don't be. You'll do well," he says, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. You almost feel as if you've imagined it before it dissipates.

"Thank you," you nod, as Felix brings the tray down your table.

"Is this for me?" you ask tentatively, pointing to the strawberry milkshake, a sore thumb sticking out between the iced americano, and the hazelnut Frappuccino, Seungmin’s and Felix’s respective go to orders.

"They got the order wrong. I got you an iced matcha," Felix pouts, double checking his receipt.

"It's okay," you smile slightly. There was nothing you despised more than having to change up your order.

"You don't want to drink this," Seungmin says, staring at you expectantly and you wave your hand in the air dismissively. "I don't mind."

Seungmin stands up, grabbing the drink from your hand before taking the receipt from the table. He goes to the counter and you watch in astonishment as he comes back, a green drink in hand this time.

"Here," he hands you your cup, before grabbing his own and sipping from it. Your drink is cold, but the warm tingles spreading through your being at his sweet gesture outweigh any other feeling.

≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋

Talking in front of 267 people never gets easier.

You memorized your presentation; you rehearsed it so much you could probably recite it with your eyes closed. Yet, the nerves still found a way to weave themselves inside you. Your hands were shaking, so much you couldn't even stare at the notes you prepared. Your palms were sweaty, blood rushing rapidly to your ears, tuning out your voice as you spoke.

You can’t even recall what you said exactly, it’s as if your body had a mind of its own, your mouth moving itself without you commanding it. You aren’t sure how it was, but someone smiled at you reassuringly from the first row, and the professor clapped, so you assume you did okay.

The class finally ends, your nerves slowly dissipating and leaving in their trail an excruciating exhaustion. You rub your eyes tiredly, as you slowly walk out of the door, before stopping in your tracks when you notice Seungmin leaning against the wall, hands buried in his varsity jacket.

His eyes are closed, a pair of earphones dangling across his chest. But then, as if he feels you looking at him, he opens his eyes, locking his gaze on you. You stay put in your place as he walks to you, his bag loosely hanging from his shoulder. He hooks his thumb underneath the strap, keeping it in place

"How was it?" he questions, and it takes you a few seconds to register what he was asking about. Your presentation. Was he waiting for you?

"I think I did well?" you reply, but it comes out more of a question to which he giggles softly.

"Are you asking me?" he teases and you roll your eyes playfully. "I did well," you repeat and he smiles, nodding a bit. "I’m sure you did. Here." He opens his bag, taking out your favorite chocolate bar from it- it had bits of caramelized pistachio and almonds in it. Seungmin doesn’t like it, he prefers plain milk chocolate, as Felix told you one day.

"Eat this, I ended up buying two by mistake, I still have an extra one at the dorm." You grab it from his hands, and he quickly leaves before you could properly thank him.

≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋

You always dread the days you'd wake up with a heavy weight crushing your chest.

You try to distract yourself, try to focus in class and take notes. You try to laugh at Felix's jokes and savor the brownies he just brought you. But you can't. It feels as if you're a cup filled to the brim, each passing second bringing you closer to when that fateful drop would finally make you overflow. And you could do nothing but watch yourself unravel.

Seungmin's eyes never leave you, and it only makes your anxiety spike. It feels as if he's peering inside your soul, witnessing how a cord ties itself around your throat, making it impossible for you to breathe. You can't speak anymore, every word you say threatening to make tears spill out of your eyes. You aren't sure you can make them stop if they ever start falling.

Nothing happened, nothing's happening, you try to remind yourself. But you are scratching your hand incessantly, and you feel an overwhelming need to flee. To run away, somewhere where only you would witness the display of your broken soul. So you sputter a meek excuse, and then you stand up and head to your dorm.

It's raining outside, and you don't have an umbrella. But you are grateful for it, since the rain mingles with your salty tears, shielding them from the curious eyes of the people passing by. You need to get home, you need to hide somewhere and you need to remember how to breathe-

"Yn," a hand grabs your forearm and you startle, instinctively taking two hurried steps back. It's Seungmin. He removed his blue hoodie and he's now placing it over both of your heads.

"What are you doing? You'll get sick," he sounds mad, and you can't take his disappointed tone anymore.

"I'm having a bad day and I don't need you to make it worse," you say, startling yourself with the raw emotion in your voice.

He physically recoils from your words, his arms faltering as he gazes at you, a wounded look in his eyes. "I make your days worse?" he asks quietly and his voice sounds so small, you can't help the regret that courses through you.

"Come on, Seungmin," you chuckle warily, "don't you hate me?"

"No?"

"Hate is a strong word, okay. You dislike me."

"I don't. Why would you think that?"

"Because you never wanted to talk to me, from the moment we met. And it wouldn't matter if you were this way with everyone, but it's only me. And you make me feel so small each time I'm around you," you ramble angrily, as Seungmin's eyes widen with each passing second.

"Yn, yn, I don't- I didn't know you felt this way, but I don't hate you. I truly don't, I promise you," he's panicking, voice growing higher with each word, and you feel a sudden embarrassment flood your being for lashing out at him.

You don't know what to say and he sighs, looking up at the cloudy sky before meeting your eyes once again.

"This is embarrassing, God, um..." he places his hoodie on top of your head before running a hand through his face. "I don't talk to you because you make me nervous."

"I do?"

"Yes. A lot," he chuckles, a pink hue tinting his cheeks. "I just... I find you very interesting, and funny, and I like watching you, not in a creepy way, my God what am I saying," he whines, hiding his face in his hands and you can't help the giggle that escapes your mouth.

"Don't laugh," he pouts and you nod, willing the smile to disappear from your face.

"I like watching you exist. Just laugh and smile and talk. You look very pretty doing it. I just don't know how to deal with it. That's on me."

This time the smile is effectively gone from your face. The weight of his confession distracting you from the turmoil of emotions that swirled within you.

"I'm sorry, for making you feel that way. I never meant to. For what it's worth, you make me feel like a small kid again, as if I'm having a crush for the first time."

A fresh wave of tears brims in your waterline, and Seungmin's eyes soften at the sight.

"Please don't cry," he says, gently wiping the rain droplets from your cheeks. "I don't hate you, I think I like you too much and that's the problem."

I'm sorry I misjudged you, until you wiped my tears off away

"Okay," you say quietly, your mind not yet registering what he said, too busy focusing on his hands on your face. You can't believe you've ever felt invisible because of Seungmin, when he's looking at you like you're the most precious being in the world.

"You had a bad day?" he asks, his knuckles brushing against your cheek tenderly, and you nod, silently.

"Would you like a hug?" he asks, and you nod again. A hug sounded nice.

He steps forward, wrapping his arms around you. His t-shirt is cold, clinging to his now wet skin. But a surprising warmth emanates from his chest, shielding you from the pouring rain- it travels from his body to yours, as if it's a familiar path, one it underwent a million times before. His hand finds your back, and he pats it gently, following a soothing rhythm, one you try to sync your breathing to. "You did well," he whispers, "you always do well," and his words feel like a patch of shade on a scorching day.

You exhale softly, tightening your arms around his waist. You think you can stay here, for a while. You could rest in Seungmin, now and tomorrow, and maybe for the following months. If he still likes you this much.

Bonus

"I'm ready," Seungmin says, his soft hair tickling your bare skin. He's laying on top of your stomach, black tie undone, a piece of crumpled paper in his hands. You can tell he's nervous, with the way he looks up at the ceiling, avoiding your gaze. You lean down, pressing a sweet kiss to the top of his head. He closes his eyes, his hold on the yellowed paper slightly faltering.

"I'm all ears," you whisper, and he smiles softly at you, before looking at his written vows- the ones you decided to read to each other after your wedding ceremony, just the two of you, in your personal bubble. It feels much more intimate this way, they are words meant for you only to hear, after all.

"My love," he starts, and he can already feel the tears welling up in his eyes. He blinks repeatedly, in a desperate attempt to keep them at bay. "If I'm reading this it means I finally married you, which is probably the best thing I've ever done in my life." You giggle and he can't help but smile at the sound of your laugh.

"I am writing these vows one year into our relationship, I haven't proposed yet, but I just know you're the one I want to marry. And I suppose I don't want to forget everything I want to say to you, when that day comes." His words make your breath hitch in your throat as realization dawns on you- he wrote this three years ago, and he kept it safe, till this day.

"I still remember when I saw you for the first time. I couldn't talk because you looked so pretty, and you were smiling at Felix and I felt an overwhelming need to be the one you were smiling at. I think you cast a spell on me because I couldn't even ask you about your major back, I couldn't believe how awestruck I was. But you already know this, don't you?" He looks up at you, pressing a quick kiss to your stomach and you smile widely. You still remember when Seungmin recounted the first time you met, from his perspective. Rosy cheeks and fumbling words as he explained how much he felt for you in that instant, and how little he could express it.

"But there are still things I haven't told you," he clears his throat. "Like how Felix told me what horror movie he was planning to watch with you, and I looked it up the night before, to memorize all the jump scares just in case you were afraid. And you were, and I'm glad I did. I don't even like horror movies, but it was worth watching it three times in a row, just for you."

"Also, how I had to run out of my class to yours, so I'd catch you after the end of your presentation. I bought that chocolate only for you. I kept a stack of fifteen bars hidden in my desk, just in case you were feeling down, and you ended up needing it. I kept asking Felix about everything you liked, and disliked, and he was probably sick of me at that time," he chuckles, as memories of begging his roommate for any bit of information about you flooded his mind.

"I don't know how far into the future it'll be when I'll finally read this to you. I don't know how I'll be, or where I'll be, but as long as you're with me then I must be okay. I used to overthink everything, plan every part of my life so it'd run smoothly. That is until you came into my life, so suddenly, and you flipped it upside down. I didn't care to plan my life anymore, all that mattered is that it revolved around you," he pauses, sucking in a deep breath.

"I knew I wanted to marry you when you took me stargazing. You talked about the stars and galaxies so excitedly. And then you brought up Saturn; how it was unique among the planets, adorned with thousands of ringlets. And I remember thinking that you're my saturn, you're the dazzling planet that everyone admires and I'm the ring spinning around you, the one you're keeping afloat. And as long as you're here, I have a purpose and I'm okay. So please..." his voice wavers, as silent tears slip out of his eyes.

"Don't leave me. I know we're married now, but still, don't leave me. I love you. I feel like I've loved you in different lifetimes, in different earths and timelines. Everything can come crashing down around us, but one thing that'll forever remain the same is my love for you. I was made to love you, after all. My eyes were made to look at you, and my hands to graze your cheeks. And my heart... My heart was made to beat for you. And I love you. I feel like I don't say it enough but I truly love you. As long as I'm breathing then I'm yours."

5K notes · View notes

nicksolemnlyswears · 5 months

Text

WAYS TO DESTRESS

summary: after a long day, all coriolanus wants to do is blow some steam off. nothing will stop him from getting what he wants…not even your sleepy state

pairing: young! coriolanus snow x capitol! reader

word count: 3.1k

warnings: 18+, smut, cursing, somnophilia, dub non-con, p in v, oral (f receiving), fingering, squirting, pussy spanking, belly bulge (?), LISTEN I KNOW ITS UNLIKELY BUT LET ME BE UNHINGED, a bit rough nothing too crazy, get your holy water though, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it please)

a/n: this came to me the moment i opened my eyes this morning. pure filth. i shouldn't be proud but i am. goes to show how much coriolanus is plaguing my thoughts day and night. my new little hyperfixation. a new villain to add to my collection <3

PT. 2

requests open ✨

All Coriolanus feels is anger. It's been pumping through his veins throughout most of the day, almost causing him to lose his composure at all the wrong places. He can never afford to fuck up. He already did it once, and second chances are nonexistent in the Capitol.

He owes a lot to Dr. Gaul. After all, she saw the value in Coriolanus. She saw right through him and his faux kindness and unearthed his true wickedness. He simply needed a nudge in the right direction.

While working for with her is an honor, it is hardly easy. Like all aspects of his life, he's had to adapt to how she runs her lab. Coriolanus is hardly a follower; he's a leader, but as long as he remains under the tutelage of Dr. Gaul, he will have to follow her orders. Which means he has to talk when spoken to and perform how she expects him to.

There are days when it all becomes too much. His pride rises to the surface, forcing him to stifle it as best as he can before he does something he regrets.

He has to think of the scrutinizing gaze of his peers waiting for him to fail. As much as they pretend to be his friend, they want him to make a mistake so they can rise to the occasion. He won't allow that.

His apartment is silent when he steps in. The lavish decor is obscured by the lack of illumination. It's to be expected, seeing it's well past midnight.

Leaving his coat by the door, Coriolanus walks towards the bedroom. He needs to destress now, or he'll carry all his anger and frustration on his shoulders for the rest of the week. He can't have that. He can't lose control and look bad in front of Dr. Gaul and the others.

In the master bedroom, he finds you lying on the soft mattress, tangled in the silky bedsheets. He watches your chest rise and fall with gentle breaths, your pouty lips slightly ajar. It's a shame he's going to disturb your sleep, but he needs to let off some steam. That's one of the numerous reasons he has his pretty little girlfriend.

Coriolanus unbuttons the red waistcoat and removes his shoes, leaving them in the armchair. As he approaches your side of the bed, he notices the bright orange bottle on the nightstand and your book thrown haphazardly on the floor.

It's rare for you to take sleep aid medication because you hate how they knock you out. You only take them when you've had a particularly rough day. It seems Coriolanus is not alone in this. Today has been bad for both you and him.

Still, his plan remains the same. Coriolanus leans over you, kissing your forehead gingerly before his lips continue to trail down to kiss your cheek and lips. You don't stir with the soft touches.

Coriolanus darkly chuckles. It's not often he gets to do this. He'll take it as a treat for his patience throughout the day. He'd say the universe is working in his favor if he believed in such silly things.

Having you so pliable and willing in his hands excites him to no end. Lying on the bed, he digs his head on your shoulder, leaving marks for you to find in the morning. It spurs him on to hear little gasps falling from your lips.

"Beautiful and all mine," he mutters into the silent room as he lowers down the thin straps of your night dress to reveal your chest.

Coriolanus takes his time with your body. Even while asleep, it responds to his touch. He sucks and squeezes on your breasts harshly, biting down on the stiff peaks of your nipples.

He's not as gentle this time around compared to other times in the past. Then, you were simply asleep; now, you're completely doped out. He will miss your whines and the way you berate him.

Coriolanus continues down your body until he settles between your legs. "Fuck, darling," he audible groans when he lifts up your nighty to find a patch on your panties. Who would've thought you'd be as responsive to him while asleep.

He gives into his urges as he presses his nose against your center, smelling your arousal and licking up the wet fabric with his tongue. He only parts for a moment as he roughly slides the thin fabric off.

With you like this, there is no reason to tease. He doesn't have to kiss your thighs or hold himself back. Coriolanus can truly delve into what he wants without a spectacle.

It's why he buries his tongue into your wet cunt as soon as he has the chance. He holds your limp thighs on his shoulders as he presses himself against you, his blue eyes closing in ecstasy at the taste.

Soft noises- moans- come from above him as you slightly stir in your drug-induced sleep. While Coriolanus suck on your pearl of nerves, he wonders what you're dreaming about and if he's the protagonist as well.

His hips roll onto the mattress underneath, soothing the ache on his cock. He could go straight to fucking you but wants this to last. He needs to keep his mind busy, and eating you out is the answer.

Unconsciously, you grind your cunt on his tongue, chasing your release. Coriolanus smiles at this and rewards you with fucking you with his tongue. He's determined to make you cum all over it.

"Oh," he hears you whine when his nose rubs on your sensitive clit. He knows you're close. He feels it in the way your thighs are suddenly clenching around him.

There is no doubt in his mind you're still asleep. If you were awake, you'd be gripping his hair like a vice and calling his name for everyone to hear. You'd be begging him to fuck you silly.

Coriolanus laps up your juices like a starving man when you cum. Despite living in poverty, he never felt the need to act in such a way until he tasted you for the first time. He treats his sweet little girlfriend's cunt like a delicacy.

He stops himself before he almost makes you cum again as he slurps and sucks on your cunt. From up close, he can see the way your clit twitches under the pleasure. He leaves a bruise that will turn purple by morning on the inside of your thigh. It'll be a telltale sign he was there, devouring you while you soundly slept. A reminder you're his to use whenever he pleases.

Taking the rest of his clothes off, Coriolanus returns to your sleeping body. He pumps his cock in his fist as he looks at all the bruises and marks he left behind, and you'll have to hide because you can't have him seem like a pervert in front of his classmates.

Kneeling on the bed, he wraps your legs around his hips. He teases your wet cunt with the fat head of his cock, nudging over your clit repeatedly. He continues this until his cock is slick with your juices. As an extra, he spits down on your cunt, spreading his saliva over you. Not because you need lubrication but because he likes the sight of him on you in every which way.

No matter how many times Coriolanus has fucked you throughout your two years of being together, he's always had trouble pushing his cock in. He has to take a deep breath when he bottoms out as your cunt tries to choke him out. It's one of his favorite things about you, a constant reminder of the day he took your innocence.

It's only when he begins rocking his hips into you that you give any indication of waking up.

"What?" You whine as panic settles into you. Your brain isn't working properly. You're hazy and confused. Not knowing where you are, you get scared, and your heart races.

Coriolanus holds your hands as you begin struggling. As he leans down to talk to you, he pins you down, leaving you impaled with his cock. He immensely enjoys the struggle but can't have you screaming out in panic.

"It's just me, darling," he coo's in your ear, nuzzling his nose against your face. It works as your heart begins settling down.

"Coryo?" You sniff with tears in your eyes as your panic is quickly swept away. You try to speak, but the pills leave your tongue heavy and your brain foggy.

"Yes, your Coryo," he responds, kissing your cheek sweetly.

You've stopped struggling and spread your legs once again, just how he likes it. He even feels you clenching down purposefully around Coriolanus' cock. You're no saint; you enjoy making it hard for him even in your drugged-out state.

"Relax, darling. Go back to sleep," he hushes you, softly rocking into you.

Your eyes are already closed as he utters the words. You have no choice in the matter. Granted, now you sleep calmer, knowing it's Coryo touching you and making you feel food.

Coriolanus calls your name once, twice, and there is no response. You're back with the sandman, peacefully asleep. He takes it as a sign to keep fucking you.

Kneeling back on the bed, Coriolanus brings up your thighs to touch your chest. Your pretty cunt is on full display, showcasing the hues of pink and glistening fluids that shine under the lowlights of the bedroom.

Coriolanus licks the pads on his fingers before they smack down on your center. The only way it'll look even better is if it had that familiar twinge of red. He aims for the center, straight at your pearl, and smacks his hand down several times.

It manages to wake you again, eyes hooded with sleep, staring at him and complaints falling from your lips. Each time the 'smack' reverberates and you flinch, he soothes the sting, spreading the clear strings of arousal that drip from your hole.

Only when your cunt is flushed red and your clit is puffed out of its fleshy covering, does he pull you down on his cock. He fucks in and out of you mercilessly, addicted to the way your tight walls hug his cock even as he pulls out.

He glances towards your face and notes you're back to sleep. If it were up to him, you'd take the pills more often just so he could find you waiting for him asleep, naked on the bed. A real-life doll of his own.

The sound of skin slapping and his desperate moans and grunts fill the room, along with some of your smaller ones. He doesn't tend to be so vocal; he prefers listening to you beg for him, but with no one to hear him, he lets it all out.

Coriolanus places a hand on your lower tummy, pressing down to feel himself through your walls. It's an erotic thing to feel his cock slipping in and out, reaching the deepest parts of you.

He slows the pace of his thrusting, opting to go harder and deeper, just where he can make out the bump on your pelvis of his cock head.

The pressure Coryo is causing doesn't go unnoticed by you. Groggily, you open your eyes to find him with his head dipped down, whispering profanities to himself, a pretty sheen of sweat covering his fair skin.

"Mmm, Co-coryo," you moan, catching his attention.

With a glint in his eyes, he grabs your hand, placing it where you can feel it too, his fingers lacing through yours as he holds it down, "Feel this? No one will ever get you to feel like I do, darling. I'm going to ruin you for all others. Not like I'll let you leave anyways."

It's never crossed your mind to leave Coriolanus. Not for a second. The moment you set eyes on him, you knew he was it, and the ring on your finger is a promise of that. It's why you let him use you as he pleases.

You babble out a response as the darkness consumes you once more. By morning, you'll barely remember a thing as a side effect of the pills, but Coryo won't let you forget.

The mixture of your relaxed state, Coriolanus' hand pressing down on you, and the angle of his thrusts allow for something that hasn't happened before. Something he'll enjoy for the years to come.

As he viciously snaps his hips to chase his release, you wiggle under him. There are words on your heavy tongue neither can make out, a warning.

"Shh," Coriolanus quiets you down, focusing on the way you're milking his cock for all that his worth.

He's in for a surprise when a particularly angled thrust causes you to squirt around him. A stream of your juices covering his cock and abdomen. Although he falters for a moment, he quickly pulls out and rubs at your clit, causing a smaller stream to leak out of you.

His night has become a hundred times better. His eyes widen in wonder as his brain creates new ways to have you and make you do it again. "This is going to be fun."

When you wake up in the morning, you don't remember what happened, but you know something did. It's in the way your cunt aches and how thick cum runs down your leg when you get up.

Brief, blurry memories surface as you shower. Truly, you didn't care. If anything, you're upset you missed out on the fun and can't remember the pleasure. Ultimately, you trust Coriolanus and that he won't hurt you.

You feel well-rested as you dress and make breakfast for the two of you. There is an undeniable ache in your cunt, but that's always welcomed. Your problems from yesterday are only a quiet hum in a dark corner of your brain.

"My love," you softly call out to Coriolanus, touching his naked shoulder.

"Good morning," he says with his eyes closed, although there is an undeniable grin on his lips. All the stress he felt yesterday has dissipated, leaving a pleasant feeling in his chest.

"Good morning to you, too," you giggle as you lean down to catch his lips in a kiss. There is a tangy taste attached to them that you recognize well. "Had a good night, did you?"

"I certainly did. Do you remember anything?" He asks, sitting up on the bed. The falling bedsheets reveal his toned chest and stomach. Gently, you grab the tray with food and place it on his lap.

"Barely," you scoff, "It's a shame." You technically haven't had sex with Coriolanus in two long weeks. His stunt from last night did nothing to satiate you or your mind that keeps picturing him in all sorts of compromising positions.

Coriolanus hums as he takes a bite of toast. You know him well enough to know he's amused that you don't remember and that he's hiding something.

"What is it?" You prod, brushing a strand of pale blonde hair away from his eyes.

"Nothing," he says with a shrug. He's making you work for it. Coryo loves his games, after all.

"Coryo," you speak his name with a warning.

He takes his time, sipping on the glass placed on the tray. "I just…I didn't know you could squirt," he reveals cheekily, stabbing his fork on a piece of fruit.

"What? That's because I don't," you say, taken aback.

A crease forms between your eyebrows. You and Coryo are not ashamed to talk about sex. It took you by surprise at first because he always presents himself so elegantly and no-nonsense. Behind the scenes, though, when he's with you, he's open to discussing everything he wishes to try and his likes and dislikes.

You, in return, have been the same. Admitting that you've never been able to squirt and might never be able to. It's been a topic of conversation numerous times, seeing as it's something Coryo has always been curious about.

"Yes, you do. Last night, you squirted all over my cock and my fingers and my tongue," he boasts with a smirk as he remembers all the times he made you cum after that.

"I did?"

"You were such a good girl for me, darling," Coriolanus responds, putting the tray of food to the side and cupping your face, "All you had to do was relax."

"Hard to do when you're edging me for hours," you roll your eyes at him. Edging you is just one of the fun ways he tortures you.

"Don't be a spoilsport," he frowns, gripping your face harder before planting another kiss on your lips.

"It's not fair. I can't remember anything," you softly murmur. It's a real damn shame you won't remember the first time you squirt or the face Coryo made at the realization.

"Poor thing. I can show you how to do it again. I practiced last night a couple of times," he whispers in your ear, kissing down to your pulse point, "But I can't right now, or I'll be late."

"Huh?" You dumbly respond, enthralled by his words, imagining all the pleasure he'll give you.

"Thanks for breakfast," Coriolanus says, standing from the bed and heading into the bathroom butt-naked.

You watch after him lustfully and angrily, forced to continue your morning as if nothing happened.

In less than an hour, Coriolanus is ready to return to Dr. Gaul's laboratory. He has to check for any progress in his experiment before heading to the university for his classes.

He sits you on the bed before he leaves, though, to show you something 'important.' "I'll see you tonight," he says, kissing the crown of your head and turning on the TV.

The screen shows you lying on your back, whining helplessly as Coryo slips two fingers into your cunt rapidly. The rings on his fingers and the palm of his hand glisten with your sticky juices.

He did not lie about your new ability as you watch your hole leak clear liquid. The Coryo on the screen, who had been encouraging you with lewd words, eagerly attaches his mouth to catch it all. When he pulls back, his chin is dripping with your release.

Watching yourself in that fucked out state and Coryo behaving so obscenely gets your silk panties wet. Glancing at the clock, you note you have 30 minutes till you have to be at the door.

In no time, you're spread out on the bed with your hand under your university skirt, panties pushed to the side fucking two fingers into your cunt. Your eyes are focused entirely on the screen, rewatching the clip.

thanks for reading! i hope you liked it!

part two for coryo making her squirt while she's actually conscious?

#fanfiction #smut #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games fanfiction #coriolanus snow fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

alessiamalfoyzabini · 4 months

Text

𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

Pairing | Yandere Jungkook x Reader

Word Count | 1,542

Warnings | +18, smut dubcon(?), somnophilia, pussy worship, pussy eating, tongue fucking, fingering, male masturbation, Jungkook is desperately horny, cumming on her, body worship, breast/nipples worship, explicit language and descriptions, kidnapping, Jungkook is absolutely obsessed, this is not for minors.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | If she had paid attention earlier to the sin that dwelt behind those obsidian irises, she would never have trusted it.

If she had noticed earlier the devouring love that dwelled in his corrupt heart, she probably would have fled.

She had done none of that, and now she had to come to terms with her new reality.

➢ Author's Note | Third chapter of Happy Ending arrived, enjoy your reading, my dears 🥰❤

Chapter List - I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII - VIII / The End

That same night, a shadow wandered around the young woman's apartment. It had not been difficult to get there, as he had already thought, those windows were too old and easy to force, he could not allow Y/N to live in such a place. If a novice like him had managed to open the window facing the kitchen so quickly, then an experienced thief would have been able to do even better. He looked around, scrutinizing every nook and cranny, being very careful not to make any noise, noticed a pizza box on the table, with Coke cans scattered around, was very careful not to step on a single one - mentally cursing at the girl's mess - and headed for what he guessed was her room.

He opened the door slightly, which squeaked faintly because of rust, but that was not enough to wake the girl who lived in the apartment. Y/N must have been a very heavy sleeper, the boy thought. Jungkook was there for one simple reason, to take Y/N away and make her live a better life with him. Normally an art professor would not have made that much money, but professor was not his only job, he thought with a grin. The school's principal, Kim Seokjin, had his hands in everything, and someone like Jungkook was right for him. He then looked around, studying the environment to get an idea about his beloved's tastes, finding a variety of references to anime and manga, as well as books and flowers. Nothing that hinted at a passion for fashion, but of that Jungkook did not worry, he would see to it that she was dressed cute and perfect, just for the pleasure of his eyes.

Reaching just to one side of the single bed, he stared at Y/N sleeping blissfully with only part of the blanket to give her warmth, the tender lower lip protruded invitingly and Jungkook felt the urge to squeeze it between his teeth, tasting its softness. He shivered slightly when he took a flap of the blanket, pulling it aside. He slowly uncovered Y/N's body, revealing something that made the man's brain go haywire. Y/N slept in only a tank top and panties even in winter. It was a comfortable habit for the girl, but for Jungkook it was like a wedding invitation, literally. His eyes did not break away from the bare skin in the slightest while enough light filtered through the window to make that vision heavenly for him.

He slowly knelt down, a hand flew within inches of her calves, he did not know whether to touch her that way or not, she was not conscious, it would not be right, would it? The boy found himself gritting his teeth, it would only be a caress, a gentle caress. He gently laid his fingers on one calf, held his breath at the smooth sensation of her skin against his fingertips and continued with the slow ascent, felt his lips dry up when, having reached her knee, Y/N decided of her own volition to spread her leg wide, leaving a wide view of her intimacy covered by the blue panties, at which point Jungkook's blood concentrated in one spot. He took that sign as a Y/N response to continue. He climbed onto the bed gently, positioning himself right on top of the young woman, his hand opening on her inner thigh, the softest and most tender part of her leg, felt that buttery texture under his fingers and did the same with the other, thus bringing both legs apart for him, he sent down watering at that scene so erotic that it nearly drove him mad.

He felt powerful as never before in his life, he could do anything he wanted to her and she would continue to sleep blissfully. The young girl's tightly closed eyelids cast lash shadows across her cheeks, she was so serene in sleep that Jungkook found her enchanting, so much so that he leaned over her, stealing a sweet kiss on her cheek, in love with that pure little fairy of his. His. He watched for a possible reaction, but she continued to sleep. Not content, he descended lower, to the tender breasts enclosed in that wide camisole, lifted the pale fabric finding himself face to face with what, he knew, would become his favorite damnation, studied with hungry eyes the perfect color of those still soft and relaxed little buttons, barely touching with a finger the velvety, graceful circle of an areola. He trapped the tender nipple with his lips, sucking it tenderly inside his warm, moist mouth, felt it plump under the strokes of his tongue and found himself nibbling on it without too much pressure, sending small, sweet twinges to the young girl's sleeping body. Y/N, for her part, turned her head slightly, opening her mouth slightly in a moan that her brain could not fully register.

Jungkook cupped the other breast, stimulating it with the tip of a finger, squeezing it lightly before devoting his mouth to it as well, and the more he engulfed that tender flesh, the more his cock throbbed uninterruptedly in search of its dose of forbidden caresses. A pop resounded from the room as he let go of his grip on the young girl's now abused nipple, went down with moist kisses all along the girl's chest, with his sweet prey's breathing rising in response, thus reaching the lower abdomen licking a small trail around her navel, moaning silently at the taste of that skin that he would also have gladly bitten into, but he could not risk waking the girl up in the midst of his fun, so he merely descended lower and lower, reaching to the fabric of her panties. With the tip of his nose he pressed against her covered pussy, ecstatically inhaling the natural scent of her essence, he felt himself salivating and his own boxers got a little wet, he pressed his erection against the mattress moving slightly to give himself some relief, not satisfied he peeled back the fabric of the panties and almost thought he would come there on the spot. The rosy flesh of the folds opened under the pressure of his index finger, revealing the swollen clitoris and the sweet slit from which sweet transparent liquid was already leaking.

Jungkook gave a long lick that from the young woman's narrow entrance reached up to her clitoris, encircling it with the tip in a tender and insistent caress; on another occasion the boy would have cried out in the most bewitching pleasure, but he forced himself to enjoy that taste in silence. Y/N unknowingly thrust his hips into the man's ravenous mouth in a soft, slow rhythm that delighted Jungkook. That to him was the ultimate proof that the girl accepted his intimate attentions without regret. He used two fingers to stimulate the young woman's lit and pulsating clitoris, continuing with the tip of his tongue to penetrate the tight and wet slit, sucking the small quivering lips together with the unconscious girl's legs, continuing to poke and pull at that pearl now stiff and ready to explode between his index finger and thumb, teasing the soft flesh ever more insistently. "Mm... Ah...!" the girl's back arched slightly, exposing more and more of her intimacy to the boy, her body tried to keep up with that forbidden pleasure, in her mind Y/N was dreaming, dreaming of Jungkook and in her dream the boy was doing to her just what the real Jungkook was joyfully enacting in reality.

He willingly swallowed the young girl's fluids with yet another tongue caress, then replaced his fingers with the latter, cradling the pulsating clitoris in velvety lashings, penetrating the now-soaked entrance with his fingertips, the girl rigidly propped her feet up on the mattress, opening her mouth wide and frowning in a shrill howl, which was prolonged when her clitoris succumbed to extreme pleasure following a light bite from the boy, his teeth weakly crushing that taut pearl, now at the 'extreme and that gesture was enough to release its violent contained pleasure. Jungkook detached himself from Y/N's quivering body, lowering his pants and boxer shorts, took his already dripping cum cock in his hand and leaned over Y/N beginning to pump himself several times, ran his thumb over the scarlet tip increasing the speed of his thrusts, before pouring out a large amount of cum with a choked cry, smearing the girl's breasts and panties with the sticky white liquid. He looked at his work of art with devotion and affection, stroking his cock in an attempt not to let up again on those gentle discharges of pleasure, until it became completely soft again. He adjusted his clothes, retrieving tissues from the girl's bedside table to wipe off his semen, silently praying that the sweet, spicy taste of Y/N would never disappear from his tongue.

God, he would have taken her again and again on that bed, but he shook his head to himself , Y/N deserved better and wanted her awake when it happened. He wanted her to see with her own eyes how much love he would be able to give her.

#bts #bts fanfiction #bts smut #bts x reader #yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #yandere jungkook x reader #yandere jungkook #bts yandere smut #yandere bts smut #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #yandere #yandere jeongguk #jeongguk x reader

335 notes · View notes

leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 2 months

Text

SKZ DRABBLE-Lee Minho

No one says 'no' to a God. That's what you've always been taught. But maybe, no one's just ever really had the chance. or A retelling of Poseidon and Amphitrite, if it were a little bit more modern and a lot more geared toward those of us who are total sluts for enemies to lovers. This one's for you, babe.

Tags: Skz, Stray Kids, Stay, Lee Minho, Minho, SKZ au, skz as greek gods series, lee know, minho x you, minho x reader, greek mythology, modern greek au, skz fluff, skz smut, skz angst, skz fic, skz fanfic, skz x you, skz x reader, femreader, y/n, enemies to lovers, greek gods, Poseidon

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Light Smut

Warnings: Exhibitionism, Spit as Lube, Virginal Sex

Soundtrack:

🌊 Euclid by Sleep Token 🐚 Bad Habits by Nerv

Title: Wave After Wave

"Oh my gods, he's literally the hottest man I've ever seen."

You glance up from gathering wood for the celebratory bonfire at your sister's uttered words, and follow her gaze to the man reclined by the roaring fire next to your father.

You can't quite make out his features from here-they're made wavy and indistinct by the heat of the flames-but you know he's handsome, incredibly so.

Why wouldn't he be? He's one of the fucking Big Three after all.

You say as much, scoffing under your breath with a slight smile in your besotted sister's direction.

"He's one of the major Gods, Thetis. Of course he's going to be incredibly good looking. They've been made to appeal to every single one of the five senses." You hit her ass with one of the sticks you carry, and she gives you a little glare with a pout of her lips. Your voice turns teasing. "You're no better around him than a pitiful human, weak for his charms and falling right into his traps."

She crosses her arms over her ample bosom and pouts some more, even as you shove some of the gathered wood into her waiting arms. "Well, can you blame me? We only ever see sailors here, or the minor gods, if we're lucky. But one of the Big Three?" She huffs, following after you, trying to balance the bundle of sticks as she hurries to catch up. She's slightly out of breath when she says under her breath to you, her eyes flickering back to the man beside your father once more, "And I would argue he's the best looking out of all the Big Three."

You shoot her a sharp look. "Don't let anyone hear you say that, Thetis. Father will have you punished for blasphemy."

"You cannot punish me for saying the truth." She rolls her big blue eyes, lined with long, dark lashes, and flips her blonde braid over her shoulder. Her round cherubic cheeks are pink from exertion, her red lips pursed into a perfect pout.

You'd be shocked if your father didn't do his damndest to secure Thetis the God's hand before he leaves here tonight.

You set your logs down beside the fire and catch your breath, brushing the bark from the front of your finely made dress as you glance at your younger sister once more.

"You'd better go and charm the man then, because I'm fairly certain Glauce has already staked her claim." You motion with your head to your sister, who is practically in the God's lap, her long dark hair twined around her fingers as she leans over to playfully whisper something in his ear, the seashells around her neck dipping between her bare breasts.

Thetis's eyes narrow and she pushes past you with a huff. "We'll see about that."

You watch her go with slight amusement, content to enjoy the games of tonight from afar.

You've never been interested in the Gods like your sisters, nor marriage, and you have every intention of living your life out on Naxos, dancing and remaining free for the eons.

Being tied down as a Big Three's wife, constantly scrutinized and judged, cheated on with mortals?

No fucking thank you.

You adjust one of the ornamental pins in your hair with a sigh, trying to stop it from digging into your scalp, and wish for the thousandth time that you could let your hair down.

The breeze off the sea is calling your name, and you itch to pull off this ornamental gown and untie your hair and dive into its welcoming, azure depths.

You crave the silence the deep brings.

"Daughter."

You turn at the sound of your father's call and see him approaching, his hands tucked behind his back.

You give a brief duck of your head in deference as he walks toward you, a dip of the knee to show your respect.

"Father."

He places a finger beneath your chin, guiding you back to your feet. "Rise, child. I have something I wish to discuss with you."

You wait patiently for him to continue, your gaze holding his. The breeze tugs at your skirt, twisting it around your legs, as if it's a silent invitation to follow it into the embrace of the sea.

Your father's lips lift into the hint of a smile as he strokes his hand down your cheek. "My beautiful eldest, the coveted rare pearl that adorns my crown. I always said you would be a blessing from the Gods, and I was right."

You cock your head, nodding slightly. "Thank you, father. I hope I have made you proud."

"You have, my child. You have." Your father sighs, and his eyes soften slightly as he takes you in. "As have your sisters." He glances out at the sea, his eyes following the rise and fall of the waves for a moment.

Finally, he says, "He has made a decision."

You watch him-the way his brow furrows in thought, the way his dark eyes reflect the blue of the sea-and then you reply back confidently with another duck of your head, "Thetis will make an excellent wife for him and a stunning Goddess of the Seas."

Your father meets your gaze once more, and there's something there now that unsettles you, his lips curving down seriously, his expression somber.

"It is not Thetis who has been chosen."

You stare at him, confused. "Who then? Glauce? Maera?"

You cannot imagine one of your younger vapid, vain sisters ever catching the God's attention, but stranger things have happened.

Something sad flickers across your father's face, and he reaches for your hand.

Your stomach drops at the expression.

"He has chosen you."

You feel as if you've just been barreled by the waves, thrown beneath the surface, crashed helpless over and over again against the sharp, jutting cliffs.

You can't seem to catch your breath.

You're drowning.

"What?"

Your father gives you a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Poseidon has chosen you."

🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚

Minho watches you for a moment before making his presence known, his body hidden in the shadow of the column.

This is one of his favorite versions of you-sitting beside the sea, your feet buried in the sand, your dress wet as it clings to your curves, hair down and free, tangled slightly from the salt water.

He likes to imagine this is how you looked as a child, roaming the beaches of Naxos, causing mischief, dancing barefoot into the night.

Now, you are his queen, and yet, he still sees that untameable girl in you, even till this day.

You laugh out loud and splash salt water back at one of the dolphins as it breaches near the shore, showering you with a wave of the sea, and Minho's mouth curves into an unbidden smile as he steps out from behind the pillar.

He approaches you quietly, content to watch you admire the dolphins as they breach and play, fins the color of smoke cutting through the turquoise water like butter on a warm day.

He'd known, the moment he had the mansion built, that the secret cove beneath that let him have free access to his beloved sand and sea would quickly become his favorite place to spend the time.

As soon as he'd met you, he'd known it would be your favored place of refuge as well.

You were similar in that, escaping to the sea when everything became a little bit too much.

You glance up as he approaches, giving him a smile that almost blinds him, and not for the first time, Minho can't quite believe that something so beautiful, so perfect, belongs to him.

He is much like the sea-turbulent and fickle, intimidating and dark, dangerous when provoked-and you have been the only one in eons of years that has dared swim below his surface to explore the depths beneath.

He finds himself grateful for that every single day.

He sits down in the sand behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, tugging you back against him. The salt water on your dress dampens his pants, but he can't bring himself to care, burying his nose in your hair that smells of sea and sand and sun, running his lips along the curve of your neck just to taste the salt on his tongue.

You give a little hum of approval at his touch and lean into him, and Minho chuckles.

Glancing out at the dolphins playing in the waves, Minho's lips pull up into an amused curve.

"And what have you taught your little pets today, sweetheart?"

You lean your head back against his shoulder and he admires the way your nose crinkles as you give him a teasing smile, arching a brow.

He lets a finger trace down your throat, playing with the seashell strands you wear around your neck, his cock immediately paying attention to the way they disappear between the valley of your breasts, your skin sparkling with the sea.

"Oh, you'll love this one." You chirp back, standing up as you wave to get the dolphins attention. You glance over your shoulder at him, grin turning wicked. "I've taught them to flip you off."

You raise your hand, and a few of the dolphins immediately use their tails to propel them above the waves, their sleek bodies upright as they wave their fins in tandem back at you.

Minho chuckles, standing up, his arms going around your waist once more, as he leans in to murmur against your ear, "I don't think your trick is quite as impressive as you think. They lack fingers."

You give a little shrug, and lean back against him, and there it is again, that devastating smile that leaves Minho feeling like he can't breathe, like he's just gone beneath the waves and can't resurface.

"Well, you have to use your imagination a little bit." You whisper back, expression cheeky, as you tilt your head to be able to kiss the line of his jaw.

"Oh?" Minho remarks in bemusement, his brow inching upward as he looks down at you in his arms. He takes a fingertip and traces slowly down the column of your throat, the skin he leaves in his wake shining with conjured droplets of sea water, shimmering in the afternoon sun. "I can think of a lot more things I'd rather use my imagination for right now, sweetheart."

He lets his finger dip between your breasts, and he doesn't miss the way you shiver at his touch.

His lips curve into the start of a smirk.

"Like imagining you out of all these clothes."

You pull out of his arms and turn to face him, walking backward slowly so that your feet disappear into the frothing waves of the sea, your gaze never leaving his.

Something mischievous comes across your features as you stare at him, standing knee deep in the water, your dress like a living creature wrapped around your legs, the dolphins frolicking against the sunset.

"That can be arranged." You tease him, arching a brow, as you slowly slide the dress down one of your shoulders, revealing a swath of perfect skin.

And without another word, Minho leaves the shore behind and joins you in the waves.

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

It's clear that though he may have chosen you, he doesn't like you.

Not in the slightest.

The man can't even look at you as you pull up to the mansion bordering the sea, and you're grateful-not for the first time during the drive-that he'd left the Stingray's old fashioned top down so that instead of focusing on the oppressive silence between the two of you, you could hear nothing but the wind whipping in your ears, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.

The hum of the car purrs to a stop as he parks in some sort of underground garage cut into the seaside cliffs, and you're not certain whether you should let yourself out or wait for his move.

He doesn't look at you, or seem in a hurry to leave the car, so you remain still, your hands folded in your lap, your eyes ahead.

Fuck, this is awkward.

What does one say to an all powerful God that has just taken them-unwillingly, you might add-from the only home and family they've ever known?

Fuck if you know.

You clear your throat, and decide that if he won't break the silence, you will.

"If I may-" You start to say, startled to a stop when he gets out of the car abruptly, not even bothering to look in your direction as he stands.

"You'll be shown to your room. You'll be expected for dinner every evening at 8 sharp. It's on the veranda overlooking the sea, your maid will show you where. Feel free to go where you will, just don't go alone."

It's like he's talking to the wall, his hand on the open door, his eyes on anything else but you.

You feel the anger from earlier bubble upward into your throat as you regard his obvious disdain.

You reach for your own doorhandle.

"You've brought me all the way from Naxos, and I know no one here. Certainly you're not just going to leave me alone on our first night together-"

"I have work to do." He says coldly, cutting you off, and without another glance, shuts his door, before stalking off toward the stairs that must lead up into the mansion above.

You stare after his retreating form in shock for a moment, before you growl beneath your breath and get out of the car, moving to open the trunk where your luggage is stowed.

"Fine." You hiss beneath your breath. "I'll see myself to my room then."

And in that very moment, you decide you will ask the Great God Poseidon, one of the Big Three, for nothing so long as you both shall live.

It's going to be one long fucking eternity.

🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚

He doesn't like it.

He doesn't like how you make him feel unsettled, as if every inch of control he's ever struggled to gain in his own damned, immortal existence is thrown out the window as soon as you walk into the room.

He's had to claw his way here, to where he is now, in charge of his own life, in charge of his own sea, and he doesn't intend to lose that, not now or not ever, and definitely not because of a pair of fucking beautiful doe eyes.

He'd known it as soon as he saw you-dancing with your sisters on your father's little island-that he was never going to escape your grasp.

You hadn't even looked at him, for gods' sake, hadn't even given him a moment of your attention, and he was instantly bewitched.

And Minho did not bewitch easily.

And now, here you were, in his house, in his domain, soon to be in his bed, and he was absolutely fucking terrified of what that meant.

You were his, and he didn't know if he could fucking handle that.

"Fuck." He swears beneath his breath, running his hands through his hair in an agitated motion, his elbows resting on his knees as he sits, collapsed in the sand.

The night is muggy, the warm air heavy with the saltiness of sea water, and he stares at the dark crests of the waves, rising and falling like a giant being breathing peacefully in slumber.

His fingers find a shell in the sand next to him, and he hurls it into the waves, watching as it disappears beneath the surface in a ring of ripples.

The water is reflecting the stars of the night sky back to him on its surface, and it feels as if he's sitting in the middle of a constellation, but his head is no clearer than when he first left the mansion for the cove beneath.

His mind wanders to you-are you settling in for the night? Your perfect skin sliding between the silk of the sheets as you curl up in the middle of the large bed, alone?

He wonders, briefly, what your hair looks like when it's not ornamentally pinned, what you wear when you sleep, how your face looks crinkled and barely awake in the morning.

He wonders how it would feel to hear you say his name-not his name gifted by the mortals, but his given name-in a murmur against his skin, your perfect breasts free from the sheer material of your dress, your hands, or gods forbid, your lips, on his aching cock-

"Fuck." He swears again, more vehemently this time, and falls back against the cool sand, staring at the jagged rocks overhead.

He can't lose his cool every time he sees you, he's worked too damn hard to get where he's at, and he's a fucking god for hell's sake. He needs to pull it together and stop thinking with his dick.

It's going to be one long fucking eternity.

🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚

"You know-" You remark offhandedly as you glance out over the sea, red from the setting sun. You can smell the salt in the air, courtesy of the Stingray's open top, and the warm air whips your hair as Minho speeds along the deserted oceanside highway.

Minho glances over at you, a slight curve of amusement to his lips, a silent signal for you to go on, as he maneuvers the sports car around a curve.

You let your fingers float outside the open window, weaving along in the breeze like a dolphin skimming and jumping through the waves.

"-I hear skinny dipping is even better at night."

Minho chuckles, the sound low beneath the rush of the wind. "Oh? Who told you that?"

You shrug, biting back a smile, as you admire the way the nail polish glints on your fingers in the rosy tint of the sun, the flash of the pearl on your ring finger.

"A little fish."

Minho gives you another amused look, but it's clearly exasperated, his brow arching. "You're not getting out of this party, you know."

You sigh and let your head fall back against the seat.

"Well fuck."

Minho chuckles again, and reaches over with his free hand to rest the warmth of his palm on your thigh, his other hand easily maneuvering the car through the twists and turns of the road.

He gives your thigh a little squeeze, and you glance down at his hand-the tan, smooth skin, the rise and fall of his knuckles, the perfectly trimmed nails.

Your eyes flick to his other hand on the wheel-the golden glint of his wedding band contrasting the strip of inlaid pearl that matches your own.

Your skin heats underneath his touch, even though the fabric of your dress acts as a barrier.

It's a thin, flimsy barrier at most.

"I promised Hyunjin we'd be there." Minho sighs regretfully, and you know he's dreading this soiree just as much as you are, even more so. "But I swear to you, sweetheart, after this, no more parties for another decade."

You give a little laugh and squeeze his hand. "I'm going to hold you to that, your highness."

Minho smiles, his gaze moving down to your hand resting over his own. His eyes catch on the wedding ring you wear, and he raises your hand to his lips, brushing a light, lingering kiss across your knuckles.

"I know you will."

Your gaze drifts back longingly to the sea, fingers still encased in the warmth of his own.

Minho gives your thigh another squeeze, and when you turn to look at him once more, he gives you a dangerous smirk, perfect teeth flashing and dark eyes glinting.

"However, skinny dipping is never off the table, sweetheart. So trust me when I say I'll be holding you to that too."

You grin back at him.

"I would expect nothing less from the God of the Seas."

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

Dinners with Minho are unbearable.

You spend the majority of your time on the veranda watching the waves crest in watercolor beneath the setting sun, the sleek, almost apparition like forms of the dolphins darting in and out of the frothing foam.

He never talks, and you never ask.

It's easier to eat in silence and excuse yourself to your room for the rest of the night while your new husband disappears gods knows where to do gods knows what.

Tonight, the dolphins are especially playful, leaping and chittering to each other, and you find yourself watching them longingly, wishing you could be as free as they seem to be, bound to no one and nothing.

The sound of a fork scraping obnoxiously across a plate draws your attention back to the table, and Minho is watching you, his expression unreadable, fork held loosely in his hand, his empty plate before him.

You hold his gaze, refusing to back down, as you set your own fork down next to your barely touched food.

His features remain blank as he wipes his mouth with the linen of his napkin, the maid scurrying in to quickly clear his empty place.

You've never noticed, but his eyes are dark-dark and stormy like the sea at night-and they're uncharacteristically cold, no warmth lurking in their depths.

"Do you like them?" He asks suddenly, voice flat, almost uninterested, as he waves away another servant approaching with more wine in a decanter.

You stare at him, schooling your expression. "Like what?"

You know you're addressing him casually, you should watch yourself-he's your husband and a god-but you can't seem to bring yourself to care in the face of his aloofness.

He won't give you anything, so you won't give him anything either.

He lets his gaze scan your face, giving nothing away, then motions with a glance toward the sea below.

"The dolphins."

You give a little shrug and glance down at your food, scraping it around your plate. You have no appetite suddenly, not when you can feel Minho's gaze boring into your skull.

"They're beautiful. The freedom and joy they possess intrigues me."

"Then you can have them."

You jerk your gaze back up to his in surprise, your mouth dropping slightly open, but he's already pushed back from the table, no longer looking at you, as he motions for one of the maids to begin to clear the table.

"I have work to do. You may retire when you are ready." His voice is emotionless, and he doesn't spare you another glance, as he turns and strides away.

You watch him go, anger beginning to bubble in the pit of your stomach. Your mouth tastes of bile.

'Then you can have them.'

He thinks he can just give living creatures to another just like that? Like they're property? Like they're his to own? Like they do not already belong to the sea?

Fuck him.

You push back from the table angrily and fling your napkin on the ground.

If he thinks he can give and take that which is not his, was never his, so easily, then you'd like to see him try.

You are not so easily tamed.

And it was time he knew.

🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚

"I've never seen him this happy."

You hide a smile behind the rim of your glass as you take a sip of your drink, following Hera's gaze to Minho where he stands across the room, discussing something with his brothers.

He looks fucking delicious tonight-dressed smartly in a navy three piece suit, his thick, dark hair smoothed back, his sun kissed skin golden beneath the lights.

Maybe these parties aren't a complete waste of time after all.

"What can I say?" You muse as you let your gaze fall back to Hera beside you, a smile gracing your lips now. "I'm good for him."

She gives a little tinkling laugh, raising her glass to meet your own with a gentle clink of cheers.

"I'll drink to that."

You take another long sip of your drink, and when you look up once more, Minho's gaze catches your own from across the room.

You arch a brow in response and mouth silently to him, already knowing the answer, Having fun?

He gives a slight shake of his head with a roll of his eyes, and you grin.

He holds your gaze, and with a miniscule movement, tilts his head to the side, his eyebrows raising in a silent question, as a smirk curves his lips.

You turn to Hera, setting your now empty glass down beside hers on the table, and touching her arm lightly to draw her attention.

"I'm going to use the little goddesses room."

She nods, turning back to her conversation with Aphrodite, and you excuse yourself from the room, noting that Minho's already managed to slip away from his own conversation on the other side of the room.

He's nowhere in sight.

The sounds of the party fade away as you slip out of the gaudy ballroom and make your way down the quiet hallway.

You're just passing the large, glass doors that look outside onto the darkened veranda and sprawling garden, when he finds you, coming out from the shadows and startling you slightly, his hands going on either side of your head as he traps you against the wall.

"Jesus, Min." You breathe out, your muscles relaxing, as you try your best to glare up at him. "Give a girl some warning."

His teeth flash as he grins in response, the expression dangerous, his dark eyes meeting yours in a predatory fashion.

"Where's the fun in that?" He murmurs back, as he lifts a hand to play with a strand of your hair, his fingers brushing over the seashell comb you wear. "I like when your hair is down."

You tilt your head back against the wall and look up at him, a smirk flickering across your lips. "Should've thought of that before you RSVPed us to this stupid party." You tease in a low voice.

Minho lets out a sigh. "Yeah well, I have duties and so do you, but right now-" His eyes darken, his body pressing into yours, flattening you against the wall at your back. "-right now it's just you and I, sweetheart."

"And about a hundred other people just in the other room." You retort back, reaching up to straighten the shell broach pinned to his suit jacket.

"Fuck them." Minho growls, leaning forward to run his nose up your throat, and you tilt your head back to give him better access as he begins to suck kisses into the skin beneath your jaw. "They can miss us for a couple of minutes."

"Speaking of hair-" You breathe out, as he continues to litter your skin methodically with love bites, his teeth making your skin tingle and your breath catch.

You reach up and run your fingers through his dark tresses, loosening the gel and mussing the strands until they fall around his face. You let salt water coat your fingertips, dampening your skin and wetting his hair until it looks as if he's just been for a swim.

"-I like yours best when it's wet."

Minho pulls back to smirk at you, his brow arched, his eyes dark.

"I like you best when you're wet, sweetheart. Especially for me."

You hold his gaze, his words sending fire like heat skittering across every inch of your skin.

"Well, then you're going to love what you find between my thighs."

"Oh?" Minho's smirk grows, his pupils blowing at your words. He leans into your space, pressing you back against the wall once more, his knee going between your legs to nudge them apart. "Show me then."

You hold his gaze, reaching down to lift your dress to give him access. His eyes never leave yours as he leans forward, and slides a hand between your upper thighs.

You let out a stuttered gasp when he touches you, and you can feel the way you instantly coat his fingers, and it crosses your mind that maybe you should be embarrassed at how worked up he's already gotten you without even touching you, but you can't be, not when Minho pulls his fingers back and studies the shiny, sticky skin like it's one of the seven wonders of the mortals' modern world.

"Beautiful." He murmurs beneath his breath, still watching the way your slick slides down his fingers as if entranced.

You admire him for a moment, admiring you, and then your lips curve upward into the start of an amused smile.

"I suppose I do not need to mention the irony of a Sea God being obsessed with fluids?"

Minho's dark eyes flick to you, his fingers still raised. He arches a brow.

"You do not." He replies back pointedly, and then, holding your gaze, bends his middle finger so that he can dip it between his lips, licking it clean of your juices with even, long strokes of his tongue.

You clench your thighs together, suddenly in desperate need of friction as you watch him slowly, methodically clean his fingers, all the while, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Although-" He muses, pinning you beneath his heated gaze, his lips curving up into the hint of a smirk as he sees the flush of your cheeks, the subtle movements of your legs. "-if given the choice, I would choose you over the sea any day."

You shake your head teasingly, as he backs you up a few steps further down the hallway, away from the party in the ballroom, stalking you like a big cat, his movements lithe and fluid.

"That's shocking, coming from you."

"It's true though." He insists in a low tone, before he cages you in once more, his hands coming down forcefully on either side of your head, making you jump. "Every word of it."

Without warning, he slides his hands down your body and palms your ass before he lifts you up, fingers digging into the backs of your thighs.

You give a little yelp, and cling to him, your arms going around his neck for support.

He looks up at you, his eyes the color of the sea before a storm, and the sudden hungry look on his sharp features makes you shiver.

"Now. Be a good girl, sweetheart, and let me feel how wet you are for me from the inside."

He pushes your skirts aside, and hefts you a little higher into his arms.

You gasp when you realize for the first time as he shifts you, that your back is no longer pressed against the solidarity of the wall, no, your back is pressed against the cold pane of a window-the French doors to the garden.

"Minho." You hiss, struggling in his arms a little bit now. "Someone will see."

"Let them." He growls back, his voice sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine, before he bucks his hips and sheaths himself fully inside of you in one smooth motion.

You cry out, your back arching and your head falling back against the glass, safe to let your body react how it will in the strong embrace of Minho's arms.

"Fuck." You pant out, your hands tangling into his hair, as he continues to thrust in steady strokes.

"Oh gods-" He groans gutturally, his fingers digging into your thighs, keeping you in place. He looks up at you through dark strands of hair, his lips parted, as if he can't quite catch his breath, as if you're the most beautiful, wonderful thing he's ever seen.

When he speaks again, his voice is hoarse, his words punctuated by harsh gasps that match his rhythm.

"Fuck, sweetheart. There's no one, no one-mortal or God-who can instantly make me lose every last shred of control like you can."

You tug on his hair to make him meet your eyes as both of your lips part in pleasure.

"Does that scare you?" You breathe out, your chest rising and falling as you heave for breath.

His lips curve upward into the start of a smile, and his voice takes on a tone of amused honesty that rings through your very being.

"Not anymore."

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

It fucking terrifies him.

This thing you possess that makes him lose his mind, his every last thought, his final shreds of dignity and willpower.

But he doesn't know how to control it-or himself-and that scares him. So instead, he's avoided you, and obsessed until his feelings have grown sour, and forced a wedge between you that might never break.

It's easier to deal with you as an enemy from afar than someone who has the power to destroy him right?

It's been eight weeks-two months-of silent dinners, but who's counting?

He glances at you down the table-a table much too big for two people-and notes the way your eyes scan the horizon, looking for the dolphins.

Stupid fucking dolphins.

You've never once looked at him the way you look at those creatures, but then again, has he ever really given you reason to?

He clears his throat, and before he can talk himself out of it, announces, setting aside his fork, "I have work that must be seen to. Enjoy your evening."

He stands, pushing back his chair, and turns to leave, but before he can escape, you say, without turning your head, "Stimulating dinner conversation as always, husband. I so enjoy our time together."

He freezes, and something akin to annoyance bubbles in his chest as he stares at you, refusing to look at him, your eyes fixed on the sea.

"To have a conversation with one another, wife, requires you to engage in one." He replies back coolly, watching you for your next reaction.

He's not disappointed.

You whirl to face him, eyes flashing with anger, hands going into fists on top of the table.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I was unaware you wanted anything to do with me, and I certainly didn't know you wanted to speak with me."

Minho grinds his teeth, and he feels a muscle clench and flicker in his jaw as he regards you.

He shouldn't flame the fire, but he's intrigued by this side of you, this fight, and interacting is interacting, regardless of the tone of the words being said.

"Forgive me, but I am not one of your precious dolphins, so I merely assumed you would find my company boring and droll."

His tone is sharp, goading, seething.

You stand, shoving your chair back so forcefully that it tips over onto the cobblestone, and glare him down with the force of a thousand suns.

If he were not a God, Minho probably would've been dead.

"I hate you."

He feels his lips curve upward into the start of a taunting sneer as he leans over the table toward you, palms flat against the cloth.

"Oh? Do you? Careful there, sweetheart, the line between hate and love is no thicker than the edge of a sharpened dagger."

"Oh, there is no mistaking the feelings I have for you. I hate everything about you." You spit back, words sharp and pointed.

Minho settles back down into his seat casually, crossing his leg over his knee. He sees surprise flicker across your expression, before the fury takes over once more.

He motions for you to go on with a wave of his hand. "Go on then. Tell me all the things you hate about me. I do love a good discussion." He leans forward and makes a show of listening, his chin propped on his fist.

He sees the way it pisses you off, and it makes something inside of him lurch.

Your gaze is hard as you begin.

"I hate your arrogance. I hate the way that you just assume that everyone-mortal and god alike-want to fall at your feet."

Minho watches you, the way your chest heaves with impassioned breaths as you lean forward across the table toward him, the way your hair is falling loose from the carefully curated style he's sure your maids spent hours on that morning.

He prefers it down.

His cock pays attention to the way your breasts fall heavily when you lean, the open neck of the dress you wear gaping open, revealing the necklace of seashells dipping between your cleavage.

Focus.

You narrow your glare in on him, and Minho realizes you've begun speaking once more while he was distracted.

"I hate the fact that you make me come to these goddamn dinners every night, just so you can make me into a fool."

He arches a brow. "Well, I hate the fact that you agree to come to dinner, if you're simply not going to even try to engage in conversation with me."

Your expression grows murderous.

"You have never once shown any interest in speaking to or getting to know me! Not once!" You fire back, eyes flashing. "And that brings me to my next point-I hate that you dragged me here, away from my home, away from my family, just to lock yourself away in your office and not even have the honor or decency to show me even an ounce of kindness!"

Minho feels himself start to grow irritated as your voice rises in volume, and your anger flare.

He clenches his teeth and breathes out slowly, staring you down.

"Honor and decency?" He repeats back, his tone cold, his words firm. "Kindness? When has the world-or the Fates for that matter-ever been kind? I hate that you are so naive that you would think the world would be handed to you like a polished pearl within an oyster. This is not Naxos."

"I hate the way you talk down to me, belittle me, as if I am a sheltered little girl who knows nothing." You retort back, staring him right back down. "I am a goddess of the sea, and now your queen, and you would do well to treat me as such."

He feels his lips twist upward into a humorless smile.

"Oh? Is that so? If you were a queen, you would not be addressing me in such a way, which in turn, proves my point that you indeed know nothing of the world."

"Bullshit." You hiss through clenched teeth. "Your views on life-and marriage-are dated and archaic."

Minho arches a brow. "Interesting. Do tell me more about my own views, sweetheart."

Minho watches the way you clench your hand into a fist, your knuckles whitening.

"I hate when you call me sweetheart."

"And I hate when you're contrary just for the sake of being contrary, sweetheart." Minho retorts right back.

You glare across the table at him.

"I'm not fucking doing this." You finally growl out, before you turn your back on him and head for the winding stairs that lead off the veranda, and down to the hidden cove below.

Minho follows you, his steps right behind yours.

When you reach the beach, you whirl on him, fury written across your features.

Minho stops, but he doesn't back down.

"What else?" He goads, watching you carefully.

You stare at him for a long, hard moment, and then he sees you take in a forceful breath.

"I hate the way you hold a fork. And that you decorated my room in jewel tones and that you've never even once asked me if I prefer my coffee with or without sugar. I hate the way the same exact muscle flickers in your jaw every single time when you're holding in your irritation about something."

Minho smirks. "Oh? Is that all?"

"No." You retort back immediately, holding his amused gaze. "I also hate the way your hair always looks like you've just come in off the sea-tousled and damp. I hate the fact that you wear white button down shirts so casually, and I hate that I've noticed that one of your cheeks dimples slightly when you smile."

Minho stares at you for a moment, caught off guard.

You take the opportunity to barrel on, stepping closer to him, your bare feet digging into the wet sand.

"I hate that I know that you prefer when I wear my hair down, because I've seen the way you look at me when it's not done, and I absolutely fucking hate that I care in the slightest what you think of me."

The sea crashes wave after wave behind you, as if agreeing with your tirade.

Minho stares at you some more, completely unsure of what to say.

"I hate-" You take in a deep, gulping breath, and your expression sobers a little, the fury ebbing slightly. "-more than anything, that you have an effect me, I hate the way my body betrays me when you're around, the way my heart pounds, the way I look for you in a room when I enter, even though I know you won't be there."

Minho swallows.

"I hate the way you say my name-not the name I was given as a goddess, but my name-and the sparks I feel dance across my skin when I hear it on your tongue."

You sigh, and glance down at the sand at your feet, your toes dug beneath.

"But do you want to know what I hate most of all?" You ask, in a quiet voice, as if you're not really asking Minho, more just putting it out into the universe.

So he doesn't answer, just watching you, waiting for you to continue.

The waves crash against the shore, and when you look at him, your eyes have darkened, no longer with anger, but with regret.

"I hate, more than anything, that I can't make myself hate you."

Minho stares, all the words he was preparing dying on his lips, his brain buzzing.

You don't-hate him?

Fuck, maybe, that means-

He doesn't allow himself to finish that thought.

Surging forward, like the impatient sea at high tide, Minho crashes his lips into yours, and you stumble with the surprise force of it, both of you tumbling down into the soft, wet sand.

Minho doesn't stop, pressing you backward into the shore, his lips like fire on your own.

You let out a soft little gasp of surprise against his mouth, but you don't push him away, and he experimentally dips his tongue between the part of your lips.

Your breath audibly hitches, and the sound goes straight to Minho's dick.

Fuck, you're just as responsive as he had imagined you would be.

Carefully, he lets his hand trace down the arch of your neck, the line of your shoulder, and he hesitates for a brief moment of unsurety, before he lets his palm cup the swell of your breast.

You arch your body up into his touch, and open your mouth wider for his tongue, letting out a little whine as he begins to massage your breast.

"Fuck." Minho breathes out against your mouth, pulling back slightly so he can stare down at you splayed beneath him on the sand, your hair loose, your lips raw.

Its the fucking most beautiful sight he's ever seen.

He lets his hand trace down the line of your hip, your thigh, to the material of your skirt, wet now with sea water, sticking to your skin.

He has the sudden crazy urge to slip a hand beneath the material and see just how wet you are for himself.

Instead, he glances up at you, watching him carefully, and murmurs in the form of some start of a question, "Can I-?"

You nod, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, and Minho wants to reach up and free the plump skin from its constraints.

He doesn't, because before he can move, you say softly, "You don't have to be gentle with me. I know what this entails."

He follows the length of your body back upward, until, he's straddling you again, his hands sinking into the wet sand on either side of your head.

He looks down at you and sees your nervousness in the way your forehead crinkles slightly, the way you obstinately suck on your bottom lip.

Fuck, maybe there's a few tiny things he's let himself notice about you too in the weeks he's done his due diligence of avoiding you.

"You've been prepared?" He asks, still watching you carefully.

You nod again. "Yes. Our governesses. They said-"

You hesitate, and Minho feels his heart leap into his throat.

"They said what?"

You glance away, avoiding his gaze, and pink rises in your cheeks.

Minho doesn't think he's ever seen you embarrassed before.

"They said it might hurt." You whisper back, still not looking at him, your eyes focused too intently on the way your fingers, stretched out at your side, dig into the sand in anxious movements.

Minho blows out a breath.

"It might." He admits quietly, and you flick your gaze up to his, and he sees determination still your features. "But, did they also tell you then, that if done right, it can be extremely pleasurable for you?"

You cock your head, holding his gaze. "No. They said that you-"

"Fuck me." Minho immediately shakes his head, even though the words make his already unbearably hard cock ache.

He leans closer to you, his nose brushing yours. He can smell the salt water in your hair, see the way your pupils blow at his nearness.

He watches the way your throat bobs with a swallow, and brings his hand up to your cheek, stroking a fingertip along your jaw, glistening with sea water.

"I want to wring your body of every ounce of pleasure imaginable before I even think about satisfying myself."

Your lips part in surprise at his fervently uttered statement, and Minho smirks, staring down at you-the way your chest has started to heave with your breaths, the way you're squirming slightly beneath him.

Signs of arousal. Arousal for him.

He brings his hand up to his mouth, and holding your gaze, spits into his palm, wetting his fingers slowly, one by one, as you watch.

"You're wet." He remarks offhandedly, and he pointedly gazes down at your dress, the water puddling beneath your hips from the waves lapping at the shore.

You stare back at him and give a little hum of assent in your throat in reagards to his observation. "Mmm."

"Tell me, sweetheart-" He expects you to prickle at the nickname, but you don't, your eyes instead darkening at the way the syllables roll off his tongue. "-are you wet in other places?"

You inhale sharply, and Minho practically groans when your eyes flicker to his.

"Yes."

His lips curve into the start of a smirk. "I thought so."

He slides his hand down your body once more-the one he'd wet moments before-and moving slowly to give you a chance to change your mind, slips his fingers beneath the drenched material of your skirt.

When he touches the wet heat between your upper thighs, you both inhale sharply in tandem.

"Fuck, you weren't kidding." Minho groans, leaning forward on the one hand he still has planted in the sand, as he carefully begins to explore you with a finger at a time. "Wet enough to drown in."

"Minho-" You gasp out, arching your body up into his and putting delicious friction on his cock, as he cautiously works you open. "Fucking gods above. Shit."

Minho's lips curl up into an amused smirk as profanities continue to fall from your lips in an unending, pleasure driven stream.

"You know, for such a pretty little thing, you have an incredibly filthy mouth, sweetheart." He remarks, making you gasp and jolt as he curls a finger experimentally.

He wants to memorize the way you look up at him in this moment, your vision hazed with pleasure, your expression soft.

"I grew up in the presence of sailors." You reply back with a slight shrug, as Minho pauses, taking you in. "Does it bother you?"

He arches a brow, leaning forward to put his lips against your ear, and as he does so, he adds another finger, making you whimper and squirm beneath him.

"On the contrary, sweetheart. I could listen to you sing my praises in profanities for the rest of my immortal life."

"Minho, please-" You beg, your hands tracing up his body, your body writhing in the damp sand.

He stares down at you. "Please what?"

"Please, just give me more."

His lips curve, and his dick throbs at your desperate plea.

He would love nothing more.

"You and I are like the sea, sweetheart. The waves never cease. There is always more to give. And I swear to you, if I have to spend the rest of my eons exploring every single inch of you, I will gladly do so. Over, and over, and over again. Wave, after wave, after wave."

You bite back a smile as you stare up at him.

"I hate that you're so dedicated."

He smirks.

"And I, sweetheart, hate that I ever believed myself capable of staying away from you. I intend to remedy my mistake every single day from here on out."

🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚

You lean back against Minho's bare chest, admiring the way the sunset plays off of the waves, your mind quiet and your body content against the warmth of the sand.

You feel him press a kiss against the crown of your wet hair, and you glance up at him, arching a brow as you ask softly, "What was that for?"

He glances down at you, amusement in his dark eyes. "I have to have a reason to kiss my wife?"

You give a little shrug and bite back a smile. "No, I guess not."

He angles his head to press a kiss to your lips, lingering for a moment. You can taste the salt on his tongue, the sun warming his mouth.

He tastes like the sea.

He pulls back, and you grin at him. "I just find that you usually have a reason for everything."

Minho rolls his eyes. "I hate that you think I can't just be spontaneous."

"And I hate that you stopped kissing me." You quip back playfully, and he growls, leaning over to kiss you again, wrestling you back into his arms as you giggle and squirm against the sand.

"There. Happy?" He asks when you separate once more.

You glance up at him, and raise a hand, letting sea water coat your fingers as you push back his hair.

"Incredibly."

His expression softens, and he leans in to kiss you once more, hand tangling into your hair to tug you to him.

You'd worn it down. It was his favorite after all.

Out at sea, against the setting sun, a dolphin breaches.

270 notes · View notes

ageofevermore · 6 months

Text

HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

SUMMARY — two years after losing natasha, the only thing you count on is having wanda home for christmas

WARNINGS — canon endgame events, death, grief, cute wanda moment, tony being sweet/sentimental if you squint

AUTHORS NOTE — @family-house-of-m hope this is what you wanted :)

The worst thing about life always happens when you’re doing your best. It happens when you're lying in bed at night left with nothing but your thoughts, when you're finally catching up on chores that had been sitting on a checklist for months, when you finally see the rainbow after the storm. Life doesn’t care about the little things you could be doing, it doesn’t care that you have a load of laundry in the washing machine, or that you're six feet off the ground trying to hang a star from the top of your Christmas tree on a rickety old ladder. It doesn’t care, because the worst thing about life is that it never stops evolving. The days never stop dawning, relationships never stop changing, and the people you know never stop leaving. Leaving. It’s inevitable, but somehow even knowing that fact, doesn’t make it any easier to heal from.

There’s a pile of presents on the ground that will never be opened. There’s a stocking on the mantle that will never be glared at. There’s an empty spot in your bed that will never be warm. There’s a hole in your heart that can never be filled. Life moved on after Natasha Romanoff sacrificed herself, but you stayed there. You stayed in her shadow wearing her clothes and watching her movies, and you held onto her memories because if you didn’t, life would plow right over them. Your other girlfriend hadn’t been much better. She’d hexed an entire town, she only spoke Sokovian – the language that was so similar to Russian that sometimes in the middle of the night you confused her for Natasha – and she only cooked her favorite food. Maybe neither of you had found the strength to move on, but keeping her alive was more important then going to bed knowing you were healing. You could never heal. You’d rather cry through her favorite movie and sleep in her favorite shirt rather than forget about the little things that were already starting to fade.

It wasn’t your first Christmas without her. Last year was the worst. Nothing felt normal, because nothing was normal. Not only was your bed 33.3% colder, but the living room was missing her laugh, the dining room table was missing her plate, and your heart was missing the woman that had seen the best in you when nobody else did. You loved Wanda, and she loved you, but Natasha was the one who brought you together. Natasha was the one that had trusted in you both, and while your love could prevail even after her death, nothing was the same. Your life felt like the barren cold of winter that not even a flower could survive in. There wasn’t snow, there wasn’t rain, there was just dead and empty nothingness that could make anyone go mad.

Christmas was her favorite holiday. You never cared for it much, not until you met her, but she loved everything about it. She loved getting you gifts, and she loved that mistletoe gave her an excuse to kiss you in a room of people, and she loved walking around New York just admiring the lights and inflatables that were put out. When it was Christmas, she wasn’t a superhero, she wasn’t a child assassin or a murderer, she was just a Russian woman who loved to give love to the people that had chosen her. That’s what you loved about the Avengers. They had chosen each other. With the worst parts of themselves beneath a microscope for anyone to scrutinize (and boy did they), they had to choose to see the good, and once they did, there wasn’t anything that could dissuade them from being a supporter and showing up. They would always show up for each other, even after death. You just wish Natasha could see that.

You wish she could see how Tony hung her stocking on the mantle. You wish she could see how Wanda only wears her favorite pajama pants to bed. You wish she could see how Laura and the kids always start voicemails with her name. You wish she could see that she had presents waiting for her beneath the tree. You wish that loving her was enough to bring her back to life. You couldn’t help yourself when you saw them in the shops, but now that they sit beneath the tree never to be opened, it only makes your heartbreak feel fresh. You can still see her broken neck and shattered legs on the bottom of that mountain. You can still see the way blood seeps from her midsection and how it blends in with her red mane that’s sprawled around her, too far away for you to fix it. You can still see the life drain from her eyes, and the very last breath she wheezes out. If love was strong enough to bring back the dead, there’s not a single doubt in your head that Natasha Romanoff would be eternal.

Sighing, you finish putting up the decorations in your bedroom just as Wanda comes in, already dressed for tonight’s event. It had slipped your mind, and even if it hadn’t, you weren’t in the mood to join her and socialize with Tony’s megarich acquaintances who didn’t know or didn’t care that half of your heart was decomposing at the bottom of a mountain on an alien planet, not even able to be properly laid to rest. On nights like these, you hoped to god that she found a way back to you and Wanda, even if her body was far away. You hoped that when you die, she’s waiting with open arms, but you can’t be sure that her soul made it off of Vormir when her body couldn’t. Every Christmas, Tony hosts a gala with all of his billionaire friends, although now it's more of an excuse to get shitfaced then it is to raise money for his projects, but no matter the reason, Wanda would be going alone.

“I’m leaving for Tony’s.” Her voice was silky like a piece of red satin fabric, warming your skin from across the room. She looked like a dream in her floor length black dress, cleavage on display for any man to drool over. You couldn’t help but feel proud of who she had turned out to be despite all of the challenges that came up, and there were plenty. Desperate to feel her, to ground yourself in her embrace, you opened your arms, silently inviting her into your touch. She closed the gap between your bodies in seconds, Natasha’s perfume clinging to her skin. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah.” Your voice quivered, your fingers twitched, but you couldn’t possibly get any closer to her than you already were at this moment. You wanted to bury yourself in Natasha’s scent, wanted to plant your roots and never leave it, but Wanda had to go, and Natasha wasn’t really here anyways. She hadn’t been in two years. “Are you going to be okay? You don’t have to go.”

The gentle smile that pulled at Wanda’s lips had your heart doing backflips in your belly, her beautiful green eyes admiring every naked feature of your face. She clasped your cheeks in her hands, so close you could feel the exhale of her breath against your lips. “YA tebya lyublyu.” Her nose teased yours, nudging against it for the faintest second before her lips were chaining yours to a breathtaking kiss that made the room spin, and for a single second, your heart doesn't ache anymore. She tasted like peppermints, a very specific kind that Tony kept hidden in the top cabinets behind a bag of flour, but you knew that she’d used her magic to steal one, and your heart stuttered thinking about how Natasha would’ve been right at her side being the lookout. It was true that some things never changed, but somehow that saying wasn’t true at all. Everything had changed in the last two years, even these sweet moments, but for Wanda you would push through.

“I love you too.” You whispered when she pulled away, framing her face with your trembling hands for one last intimate embrace before she really had to go. “Come home to me.” You dropped your hands, watching the muscles in her back contract as she walked to the door and grabbed her crossbody bag. Another artifact of Natasha’s, though it hadn’t ever gotten to see the light of day on the redhead's sleek figure. She’d died three days after receiving it, and for two years it had sat in your closet collecting dust. She was all around you. In the clothes that you wore, in the food that you cooked, in the music that made you cry without even being sad. You and Wanda embraced every miniscule thing.

With a flirtatious flick of her hair, Wanda’s green eyes met yours for a final time before she disappeared down the hallway and into the cold night where miracles happened and snow fell. “I always do.” The slip of Sokovian on her tongue made your insides weak, but before you could pull her into bed and ruin the sheets, she was gone.

🎄⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊

The compound felt empty as you wandered around aimlessly, wearing nothing but Natasha’s favorite crewneck and a pair of Wanda’s socks. She never liked to frolic around in her comfiest clothes, but since her death, you’d shown it around the entire compound like maybe it would bring her back. It hadn’t, nothing ever would, but still you hoped for a miracle. You hoped that one day she’d come waltzing through the front door wearing a snarky smirk. She’d have a new hairstyle, and a new wardrobe, but she’d still be your Natasha. She’d fall onto your lap, eyes teasing and bright, full of mischief, and the first thing she’d say would be, “Miss me?”. You wouldn’t have the heart to be mad, so you’d just hug her tight and never let go, and things would finally feel right again.

With everybody out for the night, you settled on the couch with one of your favorite books and a mug of tea, throwing a blanket over your bare legs when the outside wind made your bones feel cold. In a moment of weakness, you let yourself get lost in the sight of Christmas around you. The LED bulbs on the tree were a dim white, just bright enough for the sparkles on the wrapping paper to glisten, and when you looked to the left, her empty stocking hung perfectly at an angle. For that one moment, you let yourself believe that she was here, that her arms were wrapping around your belly and she was pulling you into her chest and reading the words of your book over your shoulder, even though she would insist that she wasn’t when you turned your head to ask. You didn’t miss the superhero, the reformed assassin, the hero; you just missed Natalia. The woman who had never been truly loved until she found you.

Pulling yourself away from that fantasy, you opened your book, starting from the beginning. It was a classic story, one that you read every year around this time, but you could never get tired of it. As characters came to life in your head and the words became something more than just black text letters, you blocked out the notifications spilling in on your phone, entirely content with your simple night in, longing for the minute Wanda came home and the two of you could fall into bed together and sleep away the heartache that came with every new sunrise.

You hadn't realized how much time had passed until you slammed the book shut and let your eyes wander toward your phone that was laying face down on the coffee table. You always hated the climax of the book when the main character refused to believe the Prince was in love with her, but right now you couldn’t force yourself through it, so you chucked it to the end of the couch and let yourself have a moment to breathe. Scrolling through your notification, your heart sank to your feet seeing hundreds of texts from Tony, Steve, Clint, Bucky, Maria… everyone you could think of that had been at Tony’s gala. Everyone but one. With frantic eyes and labored breathing, you threw a pair of shoes on and booked it out of the compound into the frozen night, not bothering to slip on a pair of pants or a hat like Natasha would’ve scolded you about.

Tony had rented out the restaurant down the street, and while it wasn’t the closest trek, especially in your lack of clothing, it was quicker than waiting for a response from the world's mightiest heroes. You didn’t have to go far to tell that something was wrong. Firetrucks and ambulances lined the main road, and the breathtaking restaurant that Natasha loved to order in from was left in shambles. The entire exterior was demolished, and in a circle stood your friends, all solemnly hanging their heads. From the distance, you could make out tears on Clint’s cheeks, the lights from the police cars reflecting off of his dampened face all too similarly to how he’d looked on Vormir. Your eyes searched for Wanda in the crowd, coming up blank everywhere you turned. The closer you got to the scene, the easier it was for you to tell that something bad had happened. Tony’s suit was ripped at every seam, Maria’s face was cut up and smeared with blood, Steve looked so defeated that even Bucky’s prompts to pull him away fell on deaf ears. Just when you were about to ask what had happened, close enough to hear Sam sniffling into his sleeve, your entire world fell apart.

Four black wheels almost blended into the asphalt, and they would've had it not been for the large metal structure that sat on top of it. A bulky black bag was wheeled out, haphazardly strapped to the silver metal contraption so it wouldn’t roll onto the ground with any minor bump or jerk. Again, your eyes desperately searched for Wanda, but all you found were the sorry faces of your friends who had already watched your world fall apart once.

“No.” You shook your head, stepping away from Maria when she reached out to touch your shoulder. Your voice trembled, your heart stopped beating, you were sure of it. All the blood in your body rushed away from your head, leaving your hands to tremble as you tried to make sense of what you were seeing, and who you weren’t. You couldn’t see Wanda. You couldn’t find her. How could you not find the only redhead on the property?! There’s no way your beautiful, fiery, stubborn, sensitive girlfriend who was absolutely fine and completely alive four hours ago, was inside of that body bag. There was absolutely no way you had just lost your entire world when you were just barely surviving at all. “No. No no no.”

Dropping to your knees on the asphalt, agonizing sobs ripped past your lips and flooded the block. Tony winced, Clint broke down, Maria tried to console you, but all you could feel was the complete emptiness of nothing. You should’ve gone with her, if she had to die you should’ve died with her. You never should've let her go alone. She never should’ve come at all. Why was this happening? Why could you never have just one good thing?

“No! It’s not her! It’s not h-her!” You sobbed, shoving Maria away from you, violent cries deafening the paramedics who approached cautiously. Everyone knew who you were. Everyone knew that the infamous Black Widow was so comfortable in her sexuality that she had two girlfriends. Now, everyone was aware that only one remained. Wanda Maximoff and Natasha Romanoff were no more, finally reunited but not complete.

You didn’t think it could hurt any worse, you didn’t think life could be any crueler, but then the words to Natasha’s favorite Christmas song started playing through the broken restaurant speakers, and Wanda’s face so full of life and brightness dawned on you. Just last night she had sung these words so goofily, twirling you around your dark bedroom in matching pajamas. Just last night she had been alive.

i’ll be home for christmas, you can plan on me. please have snow and mistletoe, and presents by the tree. christmas eve will find me where the love light gleams. i'll be home for christmas, if only in my dreams

#wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #wandanat #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wandanat x reader #wanda maximoff fluff #natasha romanoff fluff #wandanat fluff #wanda maximoff angst #natasha romanoff angst #wandanat angst #avengers x reader

252 notes · View notes

kentopedia · 6 months

Note

RYLIE OMG you’re nanamis classmate and you guys are just like friends or whatever and then he leaves right??? but you stay because jujutsu is all you have. but you guys stay “friends” but hardly ever see each other. then he becomes a sorcerer again yippee!! and you guys are seeing each other a lot more.

he has feelings for you but things you have a thing for gojo so he doesn’t go for it. tension ensues.

anyways!!! i hope your thursday was great rylie!! xxxx

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ AND I AM DONE, DEAR — nanami kento

contents. angst (we’re going back to my roots!), maybe unrequited love, fem!reader, 800ish words

notes. this is so painful bc he wouldn't go for it either :( and then satoru pursues you because you've gotten close over the past couple of years, and kento's been gone </3 there are years worth of memories and jokes between the two of you, and kento spent those years miserable & alone. sometimes, he wonders what would've happened if he'd just had the strength to remain a sorcerer, instead of running from everything he hated

"kento," you snap him out of his stream of endless memories, the ones that always seem to gnaw at him when he was around you.

he glances up, and a culmination of flashbacks spin before his eyes.

he sees you at fourteen, a first year student who was still so scared of her technique.

he sees you at sixteen, smiling from ear to ear at another one of gojo and geto's ridiculous antics.

he sees you at seventeen, sobbing over the corpse that had once belonged to the kindest student in your year.

he sees you at eighteen, your empty, hollow expression when he told you he was leaving, and he wasn't coming back.

"yes?" kento asks, forcing the memories away, because you're there in front of him, more beautiful than he remembers... and though you aren't a stranger in his life anymore, his mind still doesn't do justice to the depth of your angelic features.

"is everything okay?" you ask, blinking up at him with concern. your voice turns into something gentle when you're around him, almost like he's something fragile. the kindness in your heart is endless, extending, even, to the man that once broke it.

kento clears his throat, wondering how much emotion he'd let filter onto his expression. he'd gotten worse at hiding it ever since you'd stumbled back into his life, the woman he hadn't realized he'd loved until it was too late.

"yes," he repeats, flat, calm. though he can't muster a smile, he raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "why do you ask?"

for a moment, you chew your lip, thoughtful. kento wants to kiss you. he wonders what you'd say if you knew.

"you've just been..." you shake your head, rubbing your arm awkwardly. "ever since..." the sentences are broken, uncomfortable, and though you'd once been best friends, there is a sense of professionalism between you now. a wall that he doesn't think he can break down anymore.

kento parts his lips, considers interrupting, but someone beats him to it. gojo satoru, the constant pain in kento's ass, saunters into the room with a sparkly white grin, gleefulness bounding off of him in a way that's obnoxious.

"there you are! megumi told me i might find you here," satoru says, and he's to you in just three long strides, attaching to you like a magnet. "ready, baby?"

gojo kisses the top of your head, throws an arm over your shoulder and smiles at kento, like he knows what's running through his mind.

you're still studying kento, and he pretends not to notice you scrutinizing him, the way your lips are flushed from chewing on them. "yeah," you say to satoru, squeezing his hand, the sparkly bracelet with gojo's initials dangling from two charms shimmering.

a subtle reminder that kento may have loved you longer, but you'll never really be his.

you start to walk out the door, and kento watches with what he hopes appears as impassivity, his lips drawn into a thin line. though, just as satoru is beginning to pull you across the threshold, you meet kento's dark brown eyes, the ones that turn so tender the moment they land on you.

"kento?" you ask once more

his name sounds so sweet on your lips, but he wishes he didn't want to know what it sounded like on the edge of a moan.

"ijichi is waiting." kento doesn't let you ask whatever you were thinking of asking, because being pinned by your beautiful, caring eyes is almost too much for him to bear.

you blink, surprised by his harshness as you curl into satoru, almost imperceptibly. "right. have a good evening, then. see you tomorrow."

kento nods, pushing his glasses back onto his face. his heart cracks a bit at the emotion tinged in your words, and though his severity has never hurt you before, he's beginning to wonder if it's hurting you now.

"bye, nanamin!" satoru waves cheerfully, and the two of you are gone, leaving nanami in the room alone, the silence almost deafeaning.

he's used to it by now: the solitude of his life. he's used to being strong when he's needed, and even when he's not. everyone sees him that way: the man who's steadfast, unwavering, a little too serious for his own good.

if only they knew he was a weak man when it came to you.

#I CANT BELIEVE YOU'D DO THIS EM !!!!#I HAVE ANOTHER NANAMI ANGST FIC THAT IM WORKING ON BUT STILL RAHHH #xoxo . . . emma #nanami kento #jjk x reader #jjk x you #nanami jjk #nanami x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento angst #nanami x fem!reader #nanami x you #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #nanami imagine #nanami angst #xoxo rylie 💌 ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

266 notes · View notes

sena-shi · 1 year

Text

SAGAU but with Scheming Creator!Reader Impostor AU [PT. 3]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“You are…” You started to speak, but then you paused for a brief period of time, as if you were thinking for the appropriate words to say, before proceeding. “Zhongli.”

Zhongli furrowed his brow, his Vortex Vanquisher positioned and ready to strike at you at any time despite the momentary sense of nostalgia he had just had at the sight of you.

There was complete stillness between the two of you as you faced each other, neither of you dared to make a move.

Everything would have been great if not for the fact that the man in front of you is wielding the signature weapon you granted him, which is capable of inflicting harm on you if he so chooses.

Even though he had been given the order to drag you into the depths of the abyss, he couldn't help but find it strange that the divine creator he worships, who is seated on the throne, is capable of such viciousness.

Because he considers you to be the most caring individual he has ever come across, he believes that the divine creator he is familiar with would never resort to doing something like that.

Your presence, the soothing words you spoke, and the kind actions you did all contributed to his falling in love with you.

Zhongli pictured you as someone who is compassionate and understands that if someone else were to wear your skin and impersonate you, all you would feel is genuine concern, even if you will feel a little bit sad, and you might even make an effort to understand why the imposter is trying to act in such manner.

This was the image Zhongli had of you in his mind. Even worse, he believes that you would even make friends with the impersonator.

You are guaranteed to have a wonderful time laughing if you ever get the opportunity to listen to his thoughts. You were never a kind person after all; you only find entertainment in pretending to be like one.

You had no idea that the fanfiction you've been reading can become real, but you're thankful that you acted like it was real back then because it became useful in the end.

But if that is what he thinks of you, then perhaps you can act the role as well.

In all honestly, you do love and genuinely care about them. Why would you even invest a lot of money and time just to have them if you don't like them at all?

But they have the audacity to give the real imposter the same amount of attention that they are supposed to save for you.

They all immediately ran to worship the fake and did so without any hesitation or doubt.

An imposter can only take on your appearance; they are unable to replicate the divine attributes or wonderful personality that you possess.

You are not really in that much of a hurry to take back secondhands. The imposter who is pretending to be you has already touched your cherished characters.

They need to make amends for their sins, rid themselves of the fake's filth, and start over so that they can be untainted once again.

Only after they have accomplished that will you be able to welcome them back into your life.

They belong to you just as much as you belong to them.

You simply cannot wait for the day when you will be able to watch your imposter's terrified face as your darling acolytes, whom she deceived, slaughter her on their own.

And you will simply take your seat atop the throne that they have so painstakingly crafted for you, acting the part of the benevolent creator who is overflowing with kindness that you are, and who is incapable of causing any harm to anyone, not even your imposter, while your lovely characters do the work of discarding that fake on your behalf.

You could feel the wind gently brushing your face, as if it, too, could not wait for that day to finally arrive. Teyvat will always have your back, even if you are a vicious person and not really as kind as they believed you were.

Zhongli scrutinized each and every part of your body while also tensing his hold on the weapon he was carrying.

The question is, who exactly are you?

He feels that you are more similar to the divine creator that he knows than the divine creator who is seated on the throne. You are more like the divine creator he is familiar with.

Are you really the fake one? Why are you just standing there as if you are waiting for him to pierce you with his weapon?

He observed that you appear to be terrified, and the pain that suddenly appeared in his chest in response to your retreat caused him to want to gasp for air and look away from your sad expression.

You can't take another step, or you'll end up falling down the rock.

He grimaced and opened his mouth to speak, but he kept it closed when you beat him to it.

"Are you going to hurt me as well?"

No— no— but he should— for his divine creator.

Yet— it pains him. It causes him great distress to see you in the condition that you are currently in. Your tattered clothing will never be able to compete with the most luxurious and magnificent clothes that their divine creator wears as she enjoys a carefree life in the most protected area of Teyvat.

You present a very pitiful appearance. Since you look so frail and harmless, there shouldn't be any reason to be worried if he decides to let you go, right?

This means that he will act as if your first encounter with him never took place and will ignore anything and everything that transpired during this time.

If, on the other hand, he believes, even for one instant, that you pose a danger to his divine creator, he will not hesitate to rip you in two pieces and destroy you.

Zhongli stared at you with an expressionless face, his gaze dark, before saying a single word.

“Go.”

You blinked, appearing to be naïve like you didn't get what he meant.

Does this mean you can leave? Unscathed? Just like that?

"Don't even dare to take a single step onto the Liyue harbor," he warned. "Its people would never be willing to give such a repulsive imposter a warm welcome."

"Disappear to a place where we are unable to see you."

You didn't say anything in response to any of his cruel statements and instead chose to remain silent.

Zhongli can see that even though you appear to be maintaining your composure and putting up a brave front, your eyes are quivering uncontrollably as though you are going to cry.

When Zhongli thought of you crying, his eyes became ever-so-slightly wider. If you shed a tear and it didn't change into a glistening crystal, then it shouldn't be too difficult to get rid of you.

Since he was only killing an imposter, he won't have any need to feel guilty about it. Then perhaps he won't have to disobey the orders of his divine creator because of what he is feeling; all you have to do now is to show him the tears of a normal human, and then he will destroy you.

Pffft— Haha!

You couldn't help but giggle to yourself on the inside at how eager he was for you to shed a tear.

‘Since you are eager about it, I will be happy to show it to you,’

“It seems that… you weren’t true to your words when you told me that Liyue will always welcome me with open arms,”

Zhongli was startled out of his thoughts by the gentle and beautiful voice. The Vortex Vanquisher slipped out of his grasp as his fingertips began to feel numb.

“It looks like I won’t be able to share a drink with you after all,” You gave him a smile, but your tone and expression revealed the fact that you were feeling unhappy.

“My divine creator…” Zhongli heaved a quivering breath out as he reached out with his gloved hands in an attempt to grab you.

You flinched backwards as you attempted to avoid his touch.

Drop.

Your left eye let out a single tear as a twinkling crystal fell to the ground. It is meant to be a pure white color, much like what they have seen in the past, but instead it has a color red swirling inside of it.

Sadness. Despair. Hopelessness.

That, Zhongli can clearly see.

It’s his fault. His fault— his fault— his fault— his fault— his fault— his fault—!

‘I blessed you with what you are so eager to see and played my part very well,’ You sneered as you thought. ‘Now it's your turn to surprise me.’

You laughed with mirth, but Zhongli is currently preoccupied with attempting to process everything to even notice it. His thoughts are consumed by you and only you — how he brought tears to your eyes and how he made you feel miserable.

He is a fool, he was so eager for you to cry, and now that you have, it is evident that he is the one who is suffering.

He stared at your divine existence with a crazed look in his eyes; he looks obsessed, ready to pounce at you at any moment. He was staring at you as if he wants to possess you. You are aware of that look, and you have seen it many times before.

He wants to keep you all for himself, doesn’t he?

Tch. He doesn’t have the right. He just lost it.

You removed your attention from him and turned to look down at the ground below you. You just need to take one step, and you will be on the ground.

It is in everyone's best interest to escape while the Geo Archon is still in a state of disarray. Even if he is only Zhongli now, he is still very powerful, and he will easily be able to confine you.

It's possible that because of the artifacts you gave him, he's even more powerful than he was when he was still Morax. Indeed, you did a wonderful job raising him.

Perhaps, in the deepest part of your heart, you yearned for this, you wanted this.

You want them to be completely obsessed with you so that they won't make the same mistake that they did and see an imposter as their creator.

You wanted to be the only one they could see in their eyes. It gives you the satisfaction that you’ve been craving your entire life.

Zhongli grabbed you by the waist and peered at you intently with a look of obsessive fixation flickering in his eyes. It was almost as if he knew what you were going to do.

‘Zhongli, my most beloved Zhongli. Do you not realize that you are behaving in the same manner that you did when you still held the title of an Archon?’

Hm, dragons are possessive creatures after all.

However, even this will not be enough to confine you in any way. You obviously wouldn't mind being locked up and pampered, but not right now.

There’s always a suitable time for things like that.

"My divine creator, I beg you not to weep. You are more than welcome in Liyue. I was foolish. I beg for your forgiveness." Zhongli spoke in a hushed tone.

When he saw the tears streaming down your face, he couldn't help but feel bitterly cold.

“Please— I will do anything you ask,” He pleaded.

You finally looked up at him, but you didn't respond to any of his words. Your expression never changed; all you did was look at him with disappointment in your eyes.

Zhongli was captivated by your majestic appearance, but the pain in his heart was overwhelming.

You were disappointed with how he treated you. He feels the need to repeatedly stab himself in the chest in order to divert his attention away from the agonizing pain that he is experiencing in his heart.

“You are lying, just like Barbatos,” You spoke. “You have all replaced me.”

“No— we were blind, my creator. Punish us, plea—”

You gave him a genuine smile, which made him feel at ease.

“I only wish for you to not hurt your new creator just like what you did to me,” you started.

"Being thrown away... is indeed very painful. I don't want anyone else to feel as lonely as I do right now, so please take good care of them."

But then again, you are well aware that Zhongli will act in a way that is directly contradictory to what you are suggesting.

It shouldn't even surprise you that after you leave this place, word will quickly spread that the head of their divine creator, who was seated on the throne, has just flown across the room.

Zhongli bowed his head and pleaded with you while kneeling at your feet. He softly grabbed both of your hands. "Please understand that I have no intention of casting you aside."

However, you are both aware of the fact that this had been his aim from the very beginning.

Your hand travels all the way up to Zhongli's head and runs through the silky locks of his hair.

You smiled at him in a way that was meant to reassure him, but Zhongli was the only one who felt a sense of foreboding from your expression.

“Live well, Morax.”

And just like that, you were gone, leaving him to dwell on his own thoughts while they raced around in his head like an annoying parasite.

After all, you still need to play with your favorite Geo Archon’s people.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Zhongli didn't move an inch from his position. You are just too kind, extremely kind.

He wishes that you could be a little bit more ruthless and self-centered and give him the order to destroy the true imposter who is sitting on your throne.

Even though you were the one who was treated unfairly, you still exhibited a great deal of sympathy and concern that your imposter may feel the same hopelessness you experience.

That simply proves the fact that you are the one he fell in love with, and not with the repulsive creature that is currently sitting on your throne.

His lovely creator, why are you too kind? If you give him the command to put an end to his own life in order to make amends for his sins, he will gladly obey. But you suddenly left him. All he needs is your command.

You told him to live well, but how can he? He will never be able to forget the image of you weeping in sadness because of him because the memory will be imprinted into his brain forever. It will remain engraved in his heart and soul for all eternity.

It is something that will follow him for the rest of his life and haunt him.

He was too late.

Will he be able to see you again?

Zhongli clenched his teeth tightly as he felt rage engulfing every part of his body.

The thought of the imposter reigning on your throne and leading a luxurious life while you are being hunted is making him to want to kill everyone, including himself.

If blood doesn’t spill tonight, then he will never be able to sleep.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You turned around and looked back at the location of the Guyun Stone Forest, which was shaking violently. Your mouth twisted into the beginnings of a smirk.

It seems like blood will indeed spill tonight. Not only yours, but also their divine creator’s. And you have your doubts that Zhongli will allow them to die in a peaceful manner.

“The imposter went this way!”

“Seize her!”

“Do not let that creature get away!”

You limped as you tried to hide from the extremely angry citizens of Liyue.

Thanks to Xiao, you now have an unsightly gash on your leg.

Even Keqing and Ganyue are hunting you because of Ningguang's orders, which is something that isn’t really surprising.

It's not like you're going to stand there and let them take you captive.

After all, you have not yet paid Inazuma a visit.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

y/n grabbing the title of both sadistic and masochistic

no beta read, very lazy, very horkne

#imposter sagau #sagau impostor au #sagau x reader #sagau #genshin sagau #genshin impact sagau #sagau cult au #yandere sagau #genshin self aware #self aware genshin #genshin x reader #genshin angst #genshin impact x reader #creator!reader #scheming!reader #honestly i just want to mess with the characters #grab the lore and put it on a cheese grater

3K notes · View notes

goldengalore · 1 year

Text

Perception

Summary: Y/N has social anxiety. When she and Harry go on a double date with Jeff and Glenne, Harry thinks everything is going extremely well. It isn’t until they get home later that he realizes Y/N didn’t feel the same way.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: anxiety, eating problems due to anxiety, use of alcohol as a coping mechanism (which I do not condone), implied smut

A/N: I focus on H’s POV throughout just to show how much his perception of events differs from Y/N’s, which is tainted by her anxiety. Hoping to write more fics with this concept in the future! :)

***

“You know, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” says Harry, entering the master bathroom where Y/N is meticulously applying her makeup.

They have dinner plans tonight with two of Harry’s closest friends—his manager Jeff and Jeff’s wife Glenne. Y/N has met Jeff a few times but only in a professional setting, and she has yet to meet Glenne. Although the four of them have tried making plans to hang out before, they never came to fruition because Y/N’s anxiety would always spiral out of control leading up to the event, causing Harry to make up some excuse for why they have to cancel.

“D—do you not want me to go?” asks Y/N.

He frowns, slipping his hands into the pockets of his brown corduroy pants. “What? Of course I do.”

“It’s just...” She pops open the cap of the lipstick in her hands and stares down at it. “This is the third time you’ve said that to me today.”

His eyes fall shut for a moment, as he realizes how his words must have come across when repeated that many times. “Fuck. Sorry, lovie, I hadn’t meant it that way. I just don’t want you to feel pressured to do something you’re not comfortable with.”

“I can’t bail on them again, H. I’ve done that enough times already.” She sighs. “And besides... Life’s about getting out of your comfort zone, right?” She forces a smile and returns to applying her makeup, leaning forward to get a closer look in the mirror.

He notices a slight tremor in her hand as she glides the rounded edge of the scarlet lipstick across her bottom lip, then the top one. Her lips now match the colour of her knee-length, satin dress. She spent longer than usual getting ready for tonight, going the extra mile to ensure that her makeup was flawless and every hair was in its place.

Now, as he watches her eyes scan her reflection in the mirror, it’s almost like he can read her mind, like he can see her mentally scrutinizing every little aspect of her appearance that she perceives as an imperfection but he perceives as one of the many things he loves about her.

“You look stunning,” he tells her.

She smiles at him. “Thank you, baby.”

He walks over to her. She turns to face him, leaning her hip against the counter. The movement causes a perfectly curled strand of hair to fall over her shoulder. He gently brushes it back. She truly does look stunning, and it’s making him imagine all the things he wants to do to her right now but can’t because it will only end up making them late for dinner, which won’t be any good for her anxiety.

“I hope you know you don’t need to impress them or anything like that,” he says. “They already love you.”

She gives him a skeptical look. “How can they already love me? They barely know me.”

“Um, not true. I talk about you a lot. Probably far too much. In fact, Jeff has told me to shut up on a few different occasions because I wouldn’t stop going on about you.”

His admission makes her laugh and paints her cheeks a cute shade of pink.

“So, they already know lots about you,” he continues, “and they think you’re amazing, which means there’s nothing to prove. All right?”

She nods. He analyzes her expression closely but still can’t discern whether she actually believes him or not; he can only hope she does. He starts to lean in for a kiss but stops an inch away from her lips. She gazes up at him in confusion.

“I really want to kiss you,” he says, “but your lipstick’s going to get all over me.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re such a baby. Come here.” With a hand on the back of his neck, she pulls him in to complete the kiss, then effortlessly wipes the residue off his mouth with her thumb. “See? All gone.” She smiles sweetly, making him want to kiss her all over again.

“Okay, now get out,” she says. “I need to pee before we leave.”

“Fiiine. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

***

They arrive at the restaurant at nearly the same time as Jeff and Glenne. The four of them convene in the parking lot before heading inside together. The reservation is under Jeff’s name. He speaks to the hostess, who guides them to a booth in the private dining area. It’s quieter here, the dim lighting and soft jazz making it feel even more intimate.

Each couple takes one side of the booth. Harry lets Y/N slide in before him. As they get settled, Jeff asks Y/N if she has ever eaten at this restaurant before. She shakes her head in response. Jeff lets out a dramatic gasp.

“What?! H never brought you here?” He shoots Harry a judgmental look. “What kind of boyfriend are you, man?”

“An amazing one, thank you very much,” Harry retorts, adding, “We’ve just never had a chance to come here.”

The real reason Harry has never brought Y/N here before is that eating in public triggers her anxiety. She tried apologizing to him once for her anxiety preventing them from being a “normal” couple who goes on “normal” dates at restaurants, but he refused to let her apologize for something that’s out of her control. And anyway, they don’t need to go out to fancy restaurants to have fun. As long as he’s with her, he’ll have fun no matter where they are.

“Well, Y/N,” says Jeff, “I can assure you this place serves the best food in all of Los Angeles. I would even go as far as saying all of America.”

“Okay, don’t oversell it now,” Glenne intervenes. “You’re going to set her expectations way too high and she’ll be disappointed.”

“Impossible,” he states confidently.

Glenne rolls her eyes and turns to Y/N. “He’s obsessed with this place, in case you couldn’t tell. Brought me here for our first three dates. Not one, not two”—she leans forward to emphasize—“but three.”

“Oh, you loved it.” When she doesn’t refute his statement, a victorious grin spreads across his face.

Y/N seems enamoured with their exchange. “How did you guys meet?” she asks.

They launch into a story about their very first interaction and how that cascaded into them falling madly in love. A story that Harry has heard a million times now and never gets tired of.

He is a hopeless romantic through and through. He loves love.

Jeff and Glenne have always seemed like the perfect match. In all his years of knowing them and especially on the day he officiated their wedding, Harry often found himself wishing that he could find a love like theirs someday—so pure and everlasting.

Although he and Y/N are still in the early stages of their relationship, having dated for only a few months, something keeps telling him that this might be the love he’s been yearning for all along. And every time he’s with her, that feeling is reinforced.

The waiter—a man of average height with neatly styled blonde hair who introduces himself as Dylan—comes by to deliver their menus and obtain their drink orders. When he leaves, Harry, Jeff, and Glenne begin discussing the menu items, bouncing ideas off each other about what to get and commenting on dishes they’ve previously tried.

Y/N is silent. When Harry looks over at her, she’s staring down at her menu blankly, brows furrowed, teeth nibbling on her bottom lip. The menu items do have strange names, and the brief descriptions accompanying them are not very informative, so he can understand her confusion as a first-timer.

He leans over to her and points at an item on her menu. “I think you’ll like that one.”

She seems relieved to finally have some input on what to order. “Okay, I’ll get that then. But, um...” She glances at Jeff and Glenne, who are immersed in their own conversation about the menu, and drops her voice as she asks, “Do you mind ordering it for me? I’ll probably butcher the name if I try.”

“Sure, no problem.” He straightens up in his seat, then leans back over to her to add, “But just so you know, I’ve butchered plenty of these names before, so you wouldn’t be the first to do it.”

She gives him an appreciative grin.

After some time, Dylan the waiter returns with their drinks and notes down their orders. From the corner of his eye, Harry notices Y/N down a large portion of her cocktail in one go.

Ever since she opened up to him about her struggles with social anxiety, he has been trying to read up on it to understand and support her better. He recalls reading somewhere that people with social anxiety often use alcohol to soothe their nerves before and during social interactions. He has certainly caught Y/N doing that on several occasions. It may not be the healthiest coping mechanism, but he doesn’t judge her for it. He knows from experience what an effective, though temporary, salve alcohol can be for difficult emotions.

“So, Y/N, how did you and H meet?” Glenne asks. “I’ve heard the story from him, but I want to hear your side of it.”

The three of them stare at Y/N expectantly. Her leg is bouncing up and down under the table. Harry places his hand on her thigh, squeezing it gently, reassuringly.

She clears her throat. “We, um, we met in a Zoom meeting.”

“Isn’t that so romantic?” Harry jokes, eliciting a laugh from them.

Y/N seems to relax a bit.

“Wait, hold on,” says Glenne. “Rewind before the Zoom meeting. Harry told me Jeff reached out to you about getting your help with some merch designs?”

“Right, yeah, I’ll start from there,” says Y/N. “Jeff actually reached out to my friend Rosie. She handles all my social media and helps my art gain exposure—all the things I’m not so good at,” she laughs. “So, Rosie called me and said that Harry’s team had reached out to her about my artwork and asked if I would be willing to help design some new exclusive merch for him. I was about to say no at first because well, the thought of my art being seen on such a massive scale was... terrifying. But Rosie convinced me that it would be a great opportunity, so I said yes.”

“Thank God,” Harry mumbles off to the side.

She smiles, continuing, “So, Jeff and Rosie set up a Zoom meeting for the four of us. I was absolutely terrified. Rosie had to do all the talking. I probably said five words the whole time.”

“I remember exactly what she said.” He counts on his fingers as he lists off the only phrases she uttered that day, “She said ‘hi,’ she said ‘thank you’ twice, and she said ‘bye.’”

Glenne chuckles, looking fondly between the two of them.

“The second meeting was much better,” says Y/N. “I actually had to talk since Rosie couldn’t make it. Harry made me feel really comfortable, and I realized he wasn’t scary at all. He also kept reassuring me that I would get credit for my work, as if he thought I was afraid he’d take my designs and run off with them.”

“Yup, classic Harry,” Jeff remarks, nodding along.

Harry’s cheeks grow warm. “Well, I thought that was why you were being so hesitant!” he explains to Y/N. “It’s happened to other people. Didn’t want you to think I was like that. I’m a man of integrity, you know.”

“Oh, I never doubted that, baby.” She places her hand on top of his on her thigh.

“What a sweet story,” says Glenne.

“Who knew people could find love over Zoom?” Jeff jokes.

“Maybe they should change their branding and become a dating website,” Y/N adds facetiously, earning a laugh from all of them.

It delights Harry to see her opening up to his friends. This is the Y/N that he wanted them to see—the funny, opinionated person beneath the shy, reserved exterior. There are so many layers to her, and he finds himself uncovering more and more each day.

Their orders arrive a few minutes later. Everyone except Y/N digs into their food ravenously. She takes several sips of her drink before even touching anything on her plate. On the way there, Harry told her that she could sneak her food onto his plate if her nerves were making it hard to eat.

“You’re just saying that because you like stealing my food,” she said when he suggested that.

“You got me,” he replied with a smirk.

Dinner goes swimmingly. Y/N loosens up more and more as time goes on. He can’t be sure whether it’s the effects of the alcohol—she’s had a few refills of her drink—or the fact that she’s growing comfortable around Jeff and Glenne, but he would like to think it’s mostly the latter.

After they’ve finished eating and paid the bill, Y/N and Glenne take a trip to the restroom while Harry and Jeff wait for them outside the entrance.

“Y/N seems awesome,” says Jeff. “I can’t believe you’ve been hiding her from us this whole time.”

Harry gives him an amused look. “I haven’t been ‘hiding’ her. She’s just shy. Takes her a bit to get comfortable around new people, you know?”

“I get that. Hopefully, she can start coming out with us more often. Seems like she’s going to be around for a while.” He smirks and playfully nudges Harry, who coughs into his fist to cover up the boyish grin on his face.

The door to the restaurant swings open, and out comes Glenne with her arm wrapped around Y/N’s. They’re both laughing about something.

“Someone’s a little tipsy,” says Glenne, as they approach the men. “She almost walked into a wall coming out of the restroom.”

Y/N hiccups. “It came out of nowhere!”

“Good thing I caught her in time.”

“Thanks, Glenne,” says Harry. “I’ll take it from here.” He puts an arm around his girlfriend’s shoulders, pulling her close to him.

“I’m really not that drunk,” she insists, hiccupping again.

“Whatever you say, lovie,” he teases, planting a kiss on the side of her head.

***

Y/N hardly says a word on the ride home. Harry doesn’t think anything of it. He’s still musing over what a wonderful night it was and how happy he is that his friends got along so well with his girlfriend.

When they get home, it’s still pretty early, so they decide to watch a movie on the couch. Y/N lays with her head on his chest, face directed towards the TV. She hasn’t moved or spoken in a while, so he assumes she must have fallen asleep in the middle of the movie, but then she suddenly sits up.

“I’m pretty tired,” she tells him. “I think I’ll head to bed, but you can finish the movie without me.”

“Are you sure?”

She nods and gives him a kiss goodnight before standing up and leaving the room.

The movie is still playing, but Harry can no longer focus. Something about the way Y/N avoided his eyes when she got up and her brisk steps toward the stairs has left him feeling strange. He tries to tell himself that she probably was just tired and eager to crawl into bed, but that explanation doesn’t quite satisfy him.

His gut is urging him to go upstairs and check on her. He waits a few minutes before doing so, quietly climbing the stairs and approaching the bedroom at the end of the hall. The lights are off, but the door is open. He peeks inside and sees Y/N laying there under the covers, wide awake, staring up at the ceiling.

“Lovie?”

She jumps a little at his voice and turns to look at him. “What are you doing here? I said you could finish the movie without me.”

“It’s no fun without you.” He walks in and sits down on the bed next to her, switching on the lamp on the bedside table. “Wanna tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” He lightly taps her forehead, bringing a small smile to her lips.

“Nothing. It’s stupid.” She closes her eyes and sighs. When she opens them again, there’s a sadness behind them. “I’m sorry, H.”

“For what?”

“For embarrassing you in front of your friends tonight.”

He frowns. “Embarrassing me? Is this about you getting a bit drunk? There’s nothing wrong with that, you know. It’s not like you were climbing on tables and cussing at bystanders. That would have been embarrassing, albeit hilarious.”

“It’s not just that.” She shakes her head. “It was... It was everything. I was trying so hard to act normal, but everything that came out of my mouth just felt awkward, and then there’s the fact that I hardly ate anything and I know Jeff noticed that because he kept glancing over at my plate and I could tell he was wondering why I was acting so strange, and I also feel like I wasn’t contributing to the conversation as much as I should have, but I—I just didn’t know what to say and now I’m worried that they think I’m boring or—or—”

“Y/N, hey.” He places a gentle hand on her chest to halt her rambling. “Take a deep breath for me.”

He feels her chest rise as she inhales deeply, then fall as she exhales slowly.

“Good. Now listen to me. You did not embarrass me, so get that out of your head right now, okay?”

She nods.

“And all those worries floating around in your head? They’re not real, my love. Dinner went really well. You were wonderful. I was having a great time, and I thought you were too, but I might’ve misinterpreted things—”

“You didn’t. I was having a good time. It was only after we left that I started getting in my head about it...” She pouts. “I just really wanted them to like me.”

“They do. I promise they do. You know what Jeff said to me while we were waiting outside for you and Glenne? He said you’re awesome and he hopes you’ll come out with us more often. Now why would he say that if he didn’t like you?”

She shrugs. “Maybe he was just trying to be polite?”

That almost makes him keel over with laughter. “Sweetheart, Jeff and I are way past the point of politeness. If he doesn’t like someone I’m seeing, he does not hesitate to tell me.”

She stares up at the ceiling again, biting on her lip. “Did he really say that?” she asks eventually.

“He did. But in case you don’t believe me, let me show you a text I received from Glenne after we got home.”

He takes his phone out of his pocket and opens up his messages with Glenne. The most recent one says, “Hey, I completely forgot to get Y/N’s number. Would you mind sending it to me? I’d love to plan a shopping trip with her sometime.” He allows Y/N to read it for herself.

She looks at him when she’s done.

“Believe me now?” he asks.

“Yes.” Pulling the covers up over her head, she releases a frustrated groan. “Why am I like this? Why do I get so in my head about these things?”

He lies down next to her and brings the covers back down below her face. “It’s okay. It’s just your mind playing tricks on you, that’s all.”

“How do you even put up with me?”

“The real question is, how do you”—he shifts to get on top of her, his face hovering above hers—“put up with me”—he kisses her lips—“constantly wanting to be around you”—then her neck—“all the bloody time?”

She giggles and squirms at the feeling of his lips leaving sloppy, open-mouthed kisses all along her neck. As he continues showering her with kisses, all the tension seems to evaporate from her body. She melts into the mattress. Determined to help her relax even further, he lifts up the covers from the bottom and ducks under them.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“I’ve heard the best remedy for anxious thoughts is an orgasm.”

He can hear the amusement in her voice as she replies, “Oh, is that right?”

“Mhm.” His hands slide up her thighs, spreading them apart to make room for himself.

“Did you read that on WebMD?”

“Something like that.”

***

Thank you for reading! For more anxious!reader and other fics, check out my MASTERLIST

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles fic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #anxious!reader #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #my writing

2K notes · View notes

wmarximoff · 2 years

Text

in secret | w. maximoff

summary: after spending all of her youth trapped in HYDRA's labs, Wanda Maximoff had no contact with outsiders, and therefore never knew the nuances of human pleasures. but when a young amateur photographer travels to Sokovia, in secret, Wanda discovers more about herself than she ever has done before.

warnings (18+): mentions of tragedy, sexual discovery, masturbation, mentions of sex, voyeurism.

pairing: Wanda x fem!reader

word count: 2k

A/N: guess who finally saw In Secret? lol

this is basically Wanda's journey of discovery about her sexuality and maybe her body as a whole. it's more of a character study than anything else, really.

|masterlist|

༺ᱬ༻

Wanda Maximoff couldn't have pinpointed with unerring clarity the first time that dazzling spark flickered in her fiery center when facing another female figure. When she had started to feel that peculiar way around someone like her – when her gaze had started to take too much of its time just scrutinizing the contours of rosy lips and gentle chins, lingering on the newly conceived idea of the fact that she wanted to touch – she needed to feel – something that she also had.

At some point, as in a summer breeze that comes in the form of an announcement of warm and restrained days, like a verging innocent desire to know something new, the curves of pelvic girdles became more attractive than the prominent muscles and roughness of stubble beard trails, when the softness and the fragility were enough to make her want more of that new idea. For Wanda, there was nothing of an assorted nature that would be able to attract her like that feeling did.

It certainly wasn't, however, during the early years of her pre-adolescence, all carried away in poverty worthy of the structures of a country devastated by war, that she realized this outlandish distinction flourishing within herself. A need. A crave, perhaps. Not like other girls, but for other girls.

At the time, the unfaithful hunger had allowed her senses to arise in no other way than to beg for something other than food to digest within the walls of her stomach; there was no room there to consume the dying butterflies of love, for the hunger was cavernous even when her mother barely tried to keep it from being so – her father worked to keep everyone pleased and healthy, it’s true.

But, at that time, there was a girl a little older than Wanda who lived in the apartment next door, next to that scrawny, tiny room in which she lived huddled together with her parents and her older twin brother – a room that wasn’t quite enough to shelter within itself, in four scraggy walls that barely prevented the frosty draft from outside, the size of a family of four. But they had a small television, a handful of old American sitcoms to watch, and a teenage daughter trying to make sense of the unintelligible.

The Maximoffs made it happen because they had no choice but to share the same bed to stay warm through the cold, algid Sokovian nights. When Wanda had to hug her own hands and only hope she didn’t die of hypothermia overnight.

The neighbor at the time was a rather appealing young woman, tall, typical of Slavic Europe, about nineteen years old, who had been babysitting her and Pietro some seasons before in the summer sun. She was a stunning image that captured the senses of a young Wanda at the height of her fifteen years of age, when things began to blossom like a rosebud and the notion of a child's world was slowly fading away from her cognition, every day a little beyond an ingenuous notion.

When she started fancying to have her own room and own bedsheets like the American kids did in these old shows from the last century – the pinnacle of the American Way of Life, a blatant lie for impressionable eyes –, realizing the unfair limitations of poverty and the true meaning of it in one's life, having lonely teenage nights to discover what hadn't been discovered yet.

There was a need effervescent in Wanda’s spirit, as if her lungs were crying out for oxygen to breathe. It was as if she was shedding her own skin without realizing that she was doing it; until it was too late to turn back. Wanda found the girl buried in the ruins of the popular residence after the second bomb fell on the building's terrace.

Only a pale, unresponsive forearm could be seen dragging itself out of the concrete and splinters, but Wanda recognized the silver bracelet buttoned to the length of her skinny wrist that had sporadically caught her attention when that pretty girl passed her in the hallways, always to offer her a fond, complacent smile that made Wanda's little heart, still so foreign to amorous feelings, flutter strangely when her cheeks heated up like an ignition in a fireplace, burning greedily inside her nerves.

On the lonely teenage nights she liked to daydream about, Wanda began to think about what it would be like to sleep next to the warm body of her striking neighbor; how the silhouette of her sinuous body would look under the covers when it was lit only by the silver moon, and how unsettling her sweet, honeyed scent would be when she bent over her straining guts. It made the hollow half withing her thighs quiver beneath her nightclothes every time.

Maybe she wouldn't snore as much as Pietro did, always so loud and so unkempt, or kick her shins under the thin blankets in her sleep. Her skin would be soft and delicate against the hollow of her calves, like a second mantle, silky and subtle to the touch. Wanda would certainly like to know what her sleepy sighs would sound like tenderly in her ear.

She was armed with the best of intentions when she took the bracelet for herself from that frozen dead arm (unlike the image her unconscious had become accustomed to idealizing in dream lines when flanked by the coming sleep, of that warm forearm encircling her waist and bringing her closer and closer) because she liked that girl enough to keep her memory close even after she passed away.

But crying for her parents, she didn't remember shedding any tears for the girl. She was then made an orphan, after all. She was a lonely girl, absolutely helpless.

Wanda lived to grow beyond the age when her neighbor was faced with the abrupt end of her life robbed by a war she hadn't started, and in which she would never be the one to end it. Even in an orphanage, crammed into a single room in the company of dozens of other little orphans, that girl in the next door still made her think and turn in the uncomfortable sheets overnight.

But she was barely twenty years old when she and Pietro (the orphaned twins then imbued with unusual gifts, Mind Stone energy pulsing in fiery golden color within their blood cells) fled the clutches of the HYDRA organization once and for all, after a few years of a poorly misguided volunteering that only resulted in abilities beyond what a normal human would have, the two of them headed into a world they would no longer see in the same way as they did before.

It didn't take long for Wanda to realize that she didn't truly understand the ranges of her new capabilities and how they shaped and transmuted her as a being, just as she didn't understand that ecstatic feeling that took shape, grew and expanded inside her like a crimson mist. The sun of her childhood had set, and it was time for something new to emerge from her insides.

She wanted to be in Pietro's shoes when he narrated to her, always so pompously, about the secret nocturnal encounters he'd been having with some girl and some other boy in the villages they frequented as they traveled across Sokovia with only each other’s company – the long journey only tarnished with a winding trail of experiences through the still shaken country, Wanda curious, dreamy and experimenting at that point among a collection of shabby maps, disjointed guides and fantasies late at night – every night – as soon as she realized that Pietro was falling asleep.

Wanda couldn't care less about the young man's summaries of what boys were like exposed in the minimal, voluptuous light of a dark room, indeed.

Just how they could be rather filthy when stripped of clothing and guided only by the will of their desires. But something in her craved to know more and more about how a girl reacted to being touched in a way that she had never been touched, nor had she ever touched anyone else before. How would it feel at her fingertips.

So she touched herself in the dead of night, in one of those where Pietro ventured out of their rented room, just rehearsing the idea empirically in her actions.

Idealizing the subtlety of a girl’s gentle touch even though her own probing fingers were amateurish and naively sloppy against the middle of the old sensibility that used to throb between her partially spread legs, so elusive against her panting skin.

There was something wet and pulsing that she brushed lightly with her fingertips, still testing, still knowing, but it caused an awakening of chaos inside her that she didn't want to let go of at that moment.

It felt good, as good as something that shouldn't be that good. If she was a person devout in faith, she figured, maybe it was a sin, because sins seemed to be good to taste. But there was nothing to stop her from moving forward, and everything in her screamed for her to keep going until that knot formed below her belly button came undone.

And then, in a rush of scarlet pleasure that sailed hard through her ruffled veins (her brow furrowed as if in pain, her heart racing like a marathon runner, her wrist aching in that newfound position of the tendons in her joint), with her mouth agape, Wanda understood. She truly did.

It was a sweet secret she had kept to herself. Something she secreted to the four walls of a dark room again, again and again. Everything about it, about the cravings of girls, always seemed to be something to be kept in secret – a secret that no soul seemed to dare to reveal.

A few weeks passed then since a new discovery, you showed up in her life. A photographer from another country, someone at the inn where the two of you temporarily settled down clarified the doubts that were circling Wanda's mind when her mouth opened to ask about you, a foreigner who just didn't seem to be from there – because you really weren't.

You were there to capture on screen the feeling of witnessing the pleasing Sokovian spring landscape, to present the result of a project and get your college degree.

Being a college student, then, you were a couple of years older than she was, but you were a new figure for her to discover and you were just as intriguing in Wanda's eyes as a foreigner could be. You, the idea of what you would be – what you could be –, aroused something exciting inside Wanda.

And she devoted her hidden attention to you like a believer who follows a god, always biting her own lips in a veiled excitement for the times in which you looked so intently with your camera and took a picture of some situation unfolding in your lens, preserved for posteriority in the light of your attentive gaze.

Wanda wanted you to look at her in that same intense way; that you studied her behind a camera and immortalize her in your memory.

She was like a red specter behind you on a particularly warm afternoon, heading into the scrawny beech trees of vegetation that skimmed the edges of that tiny village situated somewhere in the heart of Sokovia.

Like an animal looking for its prey, Wanda followed you along the lines of a shy little bunny, only being guided by the long pauses made by your sloppy feet, all directed to photograph the vibrant landscape or peaceful nature, some humming bird exotic in a funny pose.

Curly trees and elemental rusticities encompassed the natural landscape around you, a mist filled with the slow two-dimensional heat of morning hovering over your slow path, trickling through the tall row of trees clustered before the edge of a silvery-surfaced river like a long mirror.

You had taken a shortcut through the forest overflowing with so many emblems of nature and crossed the river before the dew, and at one point, amidst the vegetation, Wanda got on her knees (her fingers crunching fresh grass between the extensions of silver rings, she on all fours like a child still in the beginnings of that primordial phase of crawling, still not being able to walk properly) behind a tall pasture that served as a direct audience for you, as oblivious as you were just around the corner across the river, so far from the one who wanted you, yet so close that her gaze burned at your silhouette in front of a golden pool of sun.

From somewhere deep within that dark vortex, Wanda felt a new awakening of desire; so monstrous was her appetite for such a distinguish figure that, just a few feet away from her hiding place in the tall vegetation, you only raised your camera before your eyes and then snapped a well-articulated photograph.

Sweat ran in hot drops on the milky pale skin of Wanda’s neck, feeling so suffocated even under the damp shade of tall trees, and a hissing sound broke in the hollow of her parched, parted peach lips as she shifted position on the grass, the hem of the scanty maroon dress clad in the hollow of her crotch skimmed lightly against that secret place of hers reserved for lonely nights only.

“S-shit…” she moaned, half shivering, snatching her lower lip hard between a row of upper incisors.

And Wanda wasn't even at all surprised when she realized that, there, that nerve was throbbing, begging to be brushed again against the thin material of her secondhand dress. She spread her legs a little wider, fitting her pelvis better against the grass, the pale skin of her knees, then scattered here or there with small leaves and twigs, brushing against the grass mat down her inner thighs.

Charm and vulgarity clenched at Wanda's core when it was that she daringly rolled her hips forward one more time, in test form then intentional, only to feel the bun of fabric press against her panties beneath the dark layer of the dress. And it was good.

Then she rolled her hips again. And again. And stronger. And more exasperated. And more excited. And she rode out in search of what she already knew, secretly honoring you, that unknown photographer whose name she didn't even know.

Then Wanda lifted her clouded gaze, tilting her chin at a broken angle, the emerald green veiled by a shroud of sullen need that melted into the anticipation she'd compelled herself to feel, only to find you, right next to her in that bank of the river parallel to the one she was on, fiddling with the camera dangling from your neck, so absorbed in your ecstatic actions.

A nervous lump of hidden arousal formed inside Wanda's larynx – something pressed inside her as the notion descended upon her that you, far away, so beautiful and so immaculate, were just ignorant of her there, brushing nervously with the hollow of her inner thighs against the fabric of her own dress and the dewy grass on the ground like an animal in heat.

There was something bestial about the raw brutality that aroused her; Wanda discovered it there, snarling against her clenched teeth, watching you from afar, the knot about to burst.

“Fuc– fuck–! Fuck!” she grunted as that lump untied, her eyelids partially threatening to close against her eyes that would never dare leave your vision.

As Wanda rode, prolonging that vibrating red burst between her legs as long as possible, she never stopped holding her neck to watch you there, practically salivating, wanting it to be you there beneath her — she could rub herself against your hand, maybe your thigh, or even all over your pretty face.

And something in her shuddered, as you raised your camera in front of her face, even if so far away, and pointed the lens right at the place where she was hidden within the tall grass.

Later, the incitement of an impending night crept in, which dawned behind the avenue, between the tops of comfortable trees and along the green hill where the sun set behind the mounts, in the bliss of a due leisure, to which the moonlight of summer alluded to the amenities surrounding that small Sokovian village.

The candid air was clear, dewy, and humid to the lungs, yet a bit chilly in its European essence. The windows around the inn had all been closed. Wanda was lying on one bed and Pietro on another.

“So,” began the older twin, getting better under his covers, “What did you do this morning when you disappeared? I looked for you everywhere, you know? I was worried.”

And a small smile allowed itself to mischievously slip into Wanda's rosy lips.

“I can’t tell you,” she whispered to her brother, like a child who holds an enigma, “It's a secret.”

1K notes · View notes

imnameimswrld · 3 months

Text

╰┈➤ ❝ [𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞, 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 || 𝗠𝗝 ꒱꒱

━━ ❪ prince!jun x duchess!reader || part one ❫

━━ ❪ . . . description : with the war long over, your home borders on bankruptcy that only the higher kingdom can provide aid in, but aid requires a marriage. however, you're suprised when it is the oldest of the seven, that chooses you ; ❫

━━ ❪ . . . royalty au, marriage of convenience ❫

━━ ❪ . . . disclaimers : this features ricky of zb1, renjun, chenle and kun of nct, and the8 of seventeen, and most of them are asses in this au ! also featuring as your siblings is xiaojun of nct, xiaoting of kepler, and handong of dreamcatcher ! ❫

━━ ❪ . . . warnings : none ❫

( next part ) coming soon !

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A snarl pulls at your upper lip as as grimace at your reflection.

"I assume you have words, my lady ?" your handmaid inquires from your side, hands clasped respectfully behind her back.

You grunt once as I raise a single finger to point at my perked up, suffocating, breats.

"Is this necessary ? It leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination and," my sharp gaze cuts to the handmaid, and instantly her haze drops to the ground. "Last time I checked, I was to be a princess, not a whore."

There's a stiffle of laughter from the doorway, and you watch as your oldest sister gestures for the handmaid to leave. As if she couldn't leave fast enough, she all but scurries away with the kind of haste she could've used earlier with bringing your tea.

"You're very mean to her, you know." Dong chirps, sauntering in with poised grace. Unlike yourself, she, was made for this life of ballgowns and pleasantries.

You were made for a sword and armor.

"It's not like she likes me all that much anyway, sister," you glare at the low neckline of your dress one more time before turning your full attention to her. "Or have you forgotten the many times she's purposely dropped my food and drinks on me."

A knowing smile pulls at lips, and she nods slowly, but says nothing further on the topic. Dong comes to stand before me, placing her gentle hands on your tense shoulders.

"The war is over, sister. We've won, thanks to you who led our men. Now, it is time to lay down your sword, and place that crown on your head that you so rightfully deserve." Her gaze is soft, but her tone fierce.

"It was not meant to be me-"

"But it is you, sister."

A cloak of silence settles over the two of you, your mind not able to find the words to explain how wrong this whole situation is. One of your sisters should be the ones to marry first, they're fit for royalty. You, are not.

A knock at your open door echoes painfully loud through my room, and my gaze shifts to see the rest of my siblings standing in waiting.

"Are you ready, sister ?" Xiaojun inquires, swallowing hard as he stares at you. He's the only one who hates this idea as much as you do, because it means no longer sharing a home with his twin, his best friend.

You make to deny, but Dong doesn't allow it. "She is."

Your gaze flits back to her intense ones, and you let out a breath.

"Because you are Han Y/N, Duke Han's fierce and mighty last born. You, are ready for anything."

You take a staggering breath, willing your knees to quite their shaking as if meeting seven men is more frightening than going into battle with thousands of them at your command.

With one arm through your brother's, you other hand clasping your older sister's, Xiaoting's, tightly, you lift chin and straighten your posture.

Just like Dong told you, because you are the woman who led men into battle, and if anyone should be afraid, it's the seven that are waiting for you in the next room.

Nodding once, the guards pull open the double doors to one of the many ballrooms that sit in your home. Eyes forward, you do your best to not meet any one of their scrutinizing gazes as you walk, opting to just state at a family painting that hangs on the opposite wall, standing at seven tall.

As you stand, you can feel all their gazes inspecting, noting down my every feature, flaw. You make sure to settle a minuscule glare in your eyes, because if they think they can treat anything less than a noble lady, they'll be very sorry.

This process should be anything but slow, and yet, with how closet they analyze me, it feels as if an eternity passes until their steward speaks.

"The princes will now make their choices." the older man speaks, his silver hair glinting in the sunlight that hits through the floor to ceiling windows.

Yippee.

The youngest steps forward, his white hair styled to perfection with a few lose strands left out for the purpose of adding to his beauty – because although younger than you, he is beautiful, and you cannot deny that.

But Quanrui is as arrogant as he is stunning.

"Your beauty is not to the standard I expected, Lady Y/N," you feel Xiaojun stiffen beside you, and you have to dig your nails into his sleeve before he lunges and gets you all into major trouble.

"Therefore, I decline you, Lady Y/N of Duke Han."

Thank God, he's too young and is better off marrying his own goddamn reflection.

Quanrui steps back, his incredibly sharp eyes giving you one last once over before refocusing on Xiaoting beside you. Ha, good luck with that one kid.

The fourth borns step forward simultaneously, twins, but their features couldn't be more different. Chenle you don't know all that well, but one thing is for sure, he has absolutely no desire in what you have to offer.

He'd much prefer someone with a...yeah.

But that is not your secret to tell.

Hence why it's no suprise when he steps back after reciting Quanrui's last words. Renjun seems to have a bored expression on his face.

"A place beside me is not fit for a warrior such as yourself, Lady Y/N. Nor is our home truly," he sighs, clearly uninterested in this whole situation. "But alas, my father disagrees. However, I decline you, Lady Y/N of Duke Han."

He steps back, and you fight back a scoff. As if he could handle a woman like you anyway.

Your gaze flicks to the much taller prince, his body lean and shoulders broad. His gaze is anything but full of distaste. You're taken aback most of all by him. Minghao is silent as he simply steps back, not even showing a hint of respect towards you.

This time you're unable to fight back a glare, and Minghao meets yours with a dark one of his own.

Although the line is coming to an end, the worry practically radiates off of Dong as she stands beside Xiaoting. You understand why, because logically Minghao was your last chance. The next two brothers are older, and would have no interest in a younger woman like yourself – and even though you couldn't care less if you return with no betrothed, you know your father would be disappointed, and Dong fears the limit his patience will continue for you.

You realise in this moment how being declined by all the sons of the High Kingdom could effect your family. You'd be left with a disappointed father, possible bankruptcy because the Duke grows old and there's only so much burdens Dong can carry as the eldest. This house can and will crumble if it doesn't recieve aid from the richest. You've been chosen as the offering, and as degrading as it may feel, your peoples lives depend on being chosen.

With that knowledge, you raise your chin once more, standing just a little taller than before.

One can hope.

"I decline you, Lady Y/N of Duke Han."

But that hope cracks with Kun's words as he steps back, joining his younger brothers. He's the only one to grant you a respectful nod, and for that, you offer him one in return.

Lastly is...

Your gaze travels from the gleaming tips of his boots, up his towering stature, his chest broad and shoulders seeming ever so mighty. The eldest son carries himself with the kind of natural confidence every man dreams of possessing, and in your eyes, it is his beauty, that is unmatched.

But Junhui won't choose you, it's highly unlikely. He's the most quiet, barely ever seen roaming outside of castle walls, and has never, ever been spotted with a woman on his arm. Some say he's a cold man incapable of love. Others say there's just no one worthy enough of being at his side.

However, you are not a woman of stories, but one of reality.

His eyes are unreadable as they stare into yours, not daring to violate your figure as his younger brothers had done. In fact, if you recall correctly, he's not looked anywhere but your eyes this whole time. Does that mean he's interested ? Or is he just being polite ?

For Christs sake, put me out of my misery already and say you decline-

"I accept you, Lady Y/N of Duke Han," Jun strides over with more grace than your whole entire being holds.

Your breath catches in pure shock, an unfamiliar spark jolting in the hand he takes into his own, traveling like wildfire up your arm, before raking down your spine. His touch is gentle, soft, but nothing could compare to the tenderness of his lips that kiss the back of your hand; and the whole time, his gaze never leaves yours.

"I make my choice, and it is you, Lady Y/N."

#kpop #seventeen #svt x reader #svt fluff #svt #moon junhui #jun seventeen #jun svt #jun x reader #jun x you #jun x y/n #nct #renjun #chenle #wayv kun #the8 #the8 seventeen #x reader

48 notes · View notes

infernalodie · 2 years

Text

𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲’𝐬 𝐏𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐨 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫 || 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐳

“𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘶𝘱 𝘚𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘐 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦, 𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩“

Inspo: Rex Orange County - Pluto Projector

Pairing: Maddy Perez x Son!reader

Summary: You would carry the weight

Warnings: character’s aged up, brief talk of abuse, and just fluffy and angsty throughout.

Words: 1623

DNI IF YOU’RE SENSITIVES TO THE WARNINGS ABOVE!

Maddy found out she was pregnant at probably the worst time in her life. The school was starting and she was dealing with Cassie dating Nate. Overall, it had been a stressful time for her to even have a baby on her mind. But she knew abortion wasn’t an option as having a kid had been a dream of hers since she could fully understand the concept.

Raising her own son or daughter. Able to teach them all that she knows. Help them through difficult times. See them rise to success and fall just for her to pick them up and support them. Be able to have grandkids. And see what her child has made of themselves and be incredibly proud.

That was all she had ever wanted. She never received that fully from her parents and she just wanted the best life she could provide for her child. So, it only made sense that she was able to follow through on those dreams.

Kids around town and parents alike did scrutinize her silently for her decision. Being labelled as the pregnant teenager, who had fucked someone who didn’t decide to pull out. It was a lot to handle. Even her parents weren’t sure it had been the best idea for her at the time in her life. She was still young and still had so much life to experience.

But her response was always so simple and full of love.

“Then I get to experience it with my baby.”

When you were conceived, Maddy knew the moment she held you in her arms, you were a gift that she never deserved. Not in a million had she ever seen such a beautiful baby boy with the brightest eyes and goofiest smile. You were her angel. Her gift. Her reason to live and to fight for what she held close.

There hadn’t been much in Maddy’s life that she saw as a core memory. It was debatable that her years as a kid were her best, but none of them came close to when you looked up at her for the first time inside that hospital room. It seemed like for around a minute, you were old enough to know who she was and understand what was happening around you. Because all she was love within your brown eyes that had begun to tear up.

You hadn’t cried. You hadn’t done anything but stare up at her.

It had been the most extraordinary thing that Maddy had ever seen. She knew that every parent felt like their kid was special and greater than any other she had seen. But it felt like you had proven that you were something else. Because as she stared back down at you with a smile, tears rolling down her cheeks. Your tiny little hands grabbed ahold of her gown and pulled your head into her chest.

That had not only been the greatest moment of her life. But a moment that she would never forget and would tell you about when you were older and could fully realize how special you were.

The moment that she took you home, all her friends visited to see you. Smiling and talking in their amusing baby voices as you laughed and smiled. One thing she knew was that you were completely different from her and your father. A joyful, smart, and extraordinary baby boy.

And you seemed to like the idea of meeting new people that would become family figures for you. Rue is your cool aunt that would let you get away with a lot of your shenanigans and often participate. Jules is the overbearing loveable aunt. Lexi is the aunt that helped you with school and someone you could watch movies with for hours on end. Kat would help you find your fashion sense. Fez would plainly be the cool uncle. And Elliot would be the uncle to get you into music. It was a good variety that Maddy knew you deserved. Far better than whatever Nate could ever give you.

That family that she wanted for you grew with your age and your understanding of life growing. Maddy got through school and got a scholarship at NYU where most of your aunts and uncles were heading for their own dreams. You had everything Maddy wanted to give you. There was nothing else that she wanted except to see you happy with your life.

But there was one part of her that felt shoved away. A side of her past that you had no idea of and would likely be enraged from. That was your father, Nate. Maddy never wanted you to know the things your Nate had done to her and probably countless other girls throughout the years you grew up and the two of them went their separate ways. Hell, she never wanted you to know who he was or to ever see him. It just felt like a disservice to you as she kept it from you and you were nothing like him. You were so different from the both of them that it made her afraid you would see yourself differently after you found out.

The front door to the apartment opening and slamming shut alerted Maddy from her spot on the living room couch. Her head snapped in the direction to see you place your skateboard near the front door and adjust the strap of your backpack around your shoulder. But instead of your beaming smile that she was so accustomed to, she found your hood up with a solum look on your face.

“Hey, honey-” You walked straight up to the coffee table and took the remote and shut off the TV. Ruining her position that she was at with House of the Dragons. But even before she could say a word, you were already speaking.

“What did he do to you?”

It was a rather abrupt question but Maddy had known what you were referring to in an instant. He. No name was needed to know what asshole you spoke of. The man you had never seen except through pictures of him online. Living a lavish life with Aunt Lex’s sister whom you hadn’t ever met either.

But although Maddy knew who you spoke of, she wasn’t even sure she was ever going to be ready for the talk. She never wanted to shine a bad light on Nate even though he deserved it. What she had wanted was for you to have a hopeful outlook on the man. Maybe he would reach out to see you one of these times. Maddy wouldn’t be against it as you deserved to have a father figure in your life. Even then, Fez and Elliot were doing an excellent job as it is.

Maddy’s mouth sat agape, unsure of how to answer. That only made you drop your backpack at the end of the couch and crouch down in front of your mother. Taking her hands in yours as you bowed your head. Sniffling as you shook your head. “What did he do to you, mom?”

Hearing your broken voice made it even harder for Maddy to speak. The back of her throat closed as she inhaled deeply with a set of her own tears beginning to brim in her eyes. “He hurt me, Y/n. He was abusive to me and many others.”

And hearing for the first time, it finally broke you. He hurt her. Your own father laid hands on your mother. There were many questions running through your head that you were sure you would never get the answers to. Albeit, you wouldn’t listen to Nate if he gave answers because you would likely be taking your skateboard to his head, but you just wanted to understand why. Why her?

It felt like Maddy was transported back to that hospital bed as you looked up at her. Tears in your eyes with nothing but love within them. Genuine unconditional love for the woman who had given you everything she could just to make you happy. She felt Deja Vu. Like you had known since you were born the type of war she had been through. It broke her.

“Baby-” Before Maddy could get a further explanation out, you had devoured her into one of your hugs. Ones that held nothing but care and warmth. Every little feeling she had been putting off- Dread, shame, and maybe even a bit of sorrow was washed away.

One of your hands held the back of her head as she cried in your chest. “You’ve been my anchor since I was born mom. You’ve carried weight across oceans that I would never even begin to fathom. You’ve walked through fires to get here,” you whispered softly. “Let me take that weight from you, please.”

It was a plea. A chance to repay the woman that had been your guardian angel. Your light at the end of every tunnel. Your entire reason to smile every morning you got up after doing karaoke with the rest of the family. You were the one taking care of her now. Opening up the book she had put a lock to until now. Allowing her to write the final page and place it back on the farthest shelf within her mind where it would be forgotten.

“I can’t do that to you, baby.” Maddy shook her head, parting from your hug. “You’re still so young. I can’t do that-”

“Mom.” That damn weightless laugh made the woman softly gasp and look up at you. Your eyes were as bright as the day she first held you and your adorably goofy smile filled her eyes. “I’m old enough to understand.”

#maddy perez #maddy perez euphoria #maddy perez imagine #maddy perez x son!reader #maddy perez x male reader #maddy perez x male!reader #maddy perez x you #maddy perez x reader #maddy perez x y/n #maddy perez x son reader #x son reader #x son!reader #euphoria x son!reader #euphoria #euphoria fanfiction #euphoria imagine #euphoria fanfic

663 notes · View notes

swissboyhisch · 1 year

Text

Don't Want to Lose You

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Reader

Summary: You notice something is wrong with your body. A wrong diagnosis then something you never wanna hear.

Word Count: 2003

Warnings: Cancer, Ultrasounds, Baby/pregnancy talk, hospitals, doctors.

A/N: This is angsty. I was really feeling it. Inspired by true events.

NEXT PART PART 3

THE MASTERLIST JOIN THE TAGLIST HOCKEY DISCORD

Something wasn’t right with you. Your period wasn’t regular like it had been since you first got it. It wasn’t heavy like it was. You had noticed you were putting on weight as well. At first you thought it was because you weren’t eating the healthiest and hadn’t been going to the gym as frequently as you had been. But then you stopped eating as much. Watching what you ate. Counting calories. It didn’t stop. Then you started having to loosen your belt. One hole at a time.

Then you noticed your stomach... At first you brushed it off as bloating. That pesky lactose intolerance. But then it was all the time. That little bulge at the pudge above your pubic bone. It got to the point where if you wore a tight shirt, a stranger commented on your body. Asking if you were pregnant. That’s what broke the camel's back.

Luke had noticed the change in you over the couple months. The longing glancing in the mirror. The scrutinous gaze. Something had changed and he couldn’t pinpoint what was happening. You withdrew from him. It started with dressing in looser clothing. Then it was not having sex as frequently. The biggest clue was when you didn’t want to cuddle. Something was wrong.

“I have a doctor’s appointment soon,” You reveal to Luke as you get ready to head out.

Luke turned suddenly, “What why?”

“I just feel like something is wrong…”

“Do you want me to come with you?” He offers, watching you pull on your shoes.

You shrug, “I’ll be okay.”

You made your way from you and Luke’s shared apartment in Newark. The doctor’s practice wasn’t far, so you could walk. The time spent in the waiting room, you were a ticking ball of nervous energy. Deep down… you knew something wasn’t right. When the doctor called your name, you followed her into the office. After getting the basics out of the way, the first question was something you expected.

“Is there any chance you’re pregnant?” She questions.

“I’ve taken a test and it was negative,” You answer.

“Do you think you can take another test?”

You blush, “I don’t need to go right now.”

“Can you lay on the bed for me?” You did as asked. Laying on the sterile bed, letting her feel around your lower abdomen. She asked a few questions about your sex life. The doctor pulled her hands away and threw out her gloves. “I think you're pregnant and in labour.”

“What?”

The doctor started writing on her computer before printing something, putting it in an envelope. “You need to go to the emergency department and get an ultrasound done. Give this to them at triage when you get there.”

You finished up there quickly after that. Standing outside, you called Luke hoping he wasn’t busy. It took a couple rings but he answered. You could tell by his voice he was worried.

“So, I don’t think it’s true but my doctor thinks I'm pregnant and in labour…”

“What?!” Luke nearly screamed on the other end of the line.

You sigh, “Look, I can uber if needed–”

“Not a chance,” He interrupts.

“I need to go the emergency for an ultrasound.”

He promised to be there soon and hung up. You waited to see the familiar car sing into the car park. Thoughts were racing through your mind as time passed. You were sure you weren’t pregnant. No moving. No morning sickness. The sigh of Luke driving into the carpark pulled you from your thoughts. You were quick to climb into the passenger seat. No words were shared as you two made your way to the hospital.

Luke was the first to break the silence in the cab. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m not pregnant.”

“But the doctor–”

“She’s wrong,” You snap.

The conversation of kids had come up in the past. You weren’t looking at having kids anytime soon. You two were only 19 for god's sake. If you were really in labour… you couldn’t even think. Luke parked the car before the pair of you made your way to the emergency department. You went to triage, giving the nurse on duty the note from your general practitioner. After filling out paperwork, it was now the waiting game.

You turned to Luke, a hopeless look in your eyes, “You won’t leave me right?”

“Even if you are in labour,” He confirms, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Silence fell between you once more. Luckily, thanks to the note, you were taken back quickly. A nurse set you up on the table, Luke beside you holding your hand. She left you before returning with a technician and an ultrasound machine. He set it up and had you lift your shirt.

“It’s going to be a little cold,” He advised before continuing.

Sure it was cold but you just laid there, staring at the roof. Luke would squeeze your hand, hoping to provide some form of comfort. Even if he was nervous too. The tech frowned at the screen, moving the device over your stomach. He asked the nurse to get a doctor which made you nervous. The doctor arrived and the pair whispered between each other.

“So it’s not a child,” The doctor finally announced. “But you do have a mass in your abdomen. We’ll need to admit you while we take some blood tests and scans.”

The next hour was spent in the emergency department. You were a pin cushion for the doctors and nurses. Luke sat beside you the whole time. Not many words were shared. You were then taken to get a CT scan before being returned to your little area.

“How long do you recon we’ll be here?” You ask Luke, just trying to distract yourself.

“I don’t even know,” He replies. He kissed the back of your hand he was holding. “I’ll be here the whole time.”

“You have a game,” You argue.

Luke shook his head, “I’ve already called coach. Did it while you were getting your scan. I explained that you were in the ED.”

“What about Jack?”

“I didn’t think about that,” Luke admits.

“Call him, tell him what’s going on. Just so he doesn’t find out when you don’t show up for the game.”

Over the next hour you’re both sitting around. He had set up Criminal Minds on his phone for the pair of you to watch. Multiple doctors and nurses popped in and out of your curtained off area. At one point, you just shuffled over in your bed, making room for Luke to join you. It was the only comfort you wanted right now. And Luke was happy. It was the first time you had initiated a cuddle for a while.

“We’re going to keep you overnight,” The doctor informs you, looking down at what you predict is your chart. “We think it’s a cyst on your ovary. Unsure, but tomorrow we have a gynaecologist coming to have a look.”

“Can Luke stay?” You ask.

The doctor looked at your boyfriend. You were praying that for once, his job would be able to help you. “I’ll allow it as you are going to have your own room.”

“Thank god for insurance,” You mutter to Luke.

While you were moved onto the ward, Luke went home to grab some clothes and necessities like your phone chargers. He had returned with your backpack and some Subway. Thank god cause you had experience with hospital food over the years and it was never good. He set up your laptop on the wheelie table with your favourite movie.

Throughout the night, you were awoken by nurses taking your vitals. Luke was sleeping on the couch that was in your room. It sucked having him further away than you would have liked. When you woke up in the morning, Luke was whispering away to Jack who was sitting on the couch beside him.

“Morning.”

“Hey,” Luke mutters, coming and pressing a kiss on your forehead. “How you feeling?”

“I don’t know how, but it’s like it’s worse.”

“I’ll go get a nurse,” Luke replies.

Jack came over and leaned down to hug you. Since you and Luke had been dating since you were teenagers, you were close with all of his family. “Hey, I was worried when Jack called.”

You hummed, “Did you at least win?”

“Yeah, for you,” he answers. “The team doesn't know all of it but they know you’re in hospital. They’re worried.”

The pair of you talked until Luke returned with a nurse and the phone to his ear. If looks could kill, Jack would be six feet under. You looked at Jack and rolled your eyes.

“What did you do?”

“I may have told Mum when she called last night after the game. She was worried that Luke didn’t play.”

You sighed, knowing that Ellen would be worried not seeing her youngest on the ice. Or even just on the bench. “It was going to happen soon anyway. We would have to tell her at some point.”

“Thanks for that,” Luke hisses as he hangs up. “So Mum’s flying out.”

The three of you sit around, chatting until the gynaecologist arrives. The boys let you have the appointment in peace until the end. When they come back, the doctor reveals the diagnosis. A tumour. Unsure of what kind but it’s an aggressive kind, rapid growing. They’ll biopsy it during the surgery to remove it. You probably won’t need chemotherapy luckily. That’s if it’s not malignant.

“We’ll set you up with a cancer nurse, so you have the support. And we’re looking at two weeks for surgery.”

Two weeks. That was going to drag. You already felt like shit. But you could wait it out. Luke and Jack stayed until you were released from the hospital. You had follow up appointments and pre surgery appointments with all different doctors during the next two weeks.

Jack follows you and Luke back to your apartment. The boys wouldn’t allow you to do anything. Luke set you up on your bed with your favourite show and left to make you some food. Hoping maybe you could eat. Jack joined him in the kitchen. Silence. Neither knew what to say. Jack was lost. You were his little brother’s future wife. Sure you weren’t engaged but the whole family knew it would be the way. You were also his little sister. Having known you since you were kids.

“How are you holding up?” Jack finally asked.

It was the wrong question. Luke started to cry. Trying to keep quiet so as to not alert you to his sobs. Jack was quick to hug his baby brother. This was hard. On both of you. Luke hated that he was crying. You hadn’t shed a tear yet and here he was sobbing.

Jack shushed Luke, rubbing his hand up and down his back. “She’ll be fine. She’s strong and won’t go down without a fight.”

“She shouldn’t have to fight,” Luke hisses through tears. So many emotions were running through him. Sadness. Anger. Fear. “Cancer, she has fucking cancer.”

“It could be benign,” Jack offers.

Realising he would be taking too long, Luke wiped away his tears and made you some grilled cheese. One of the only things he could cook but you loved it. He entered your bedroom to see you curled up on your bed, hugging his pillow.

“Why don’t you stay in here,” Jack offered. “I’ll hang around until Mum lands and bring her back here.”

“Thanks Jack.”

Luke handed Jack the plate, not having the heart to wake you up. He slid under the covers and held you close. Holding you against him reminded him of what he could lose. Admiring your beauty. His best friend. His girlfriend. The one he was planning on spending the rest of his life with. You guys were only 19. It couldn’t happen this early. He didn’t want to lose you.

TAG LIST

@findapenny @mp0625 @hischierhaze @11zegras @lvrzegras @francesfarhadi @cixrosie @daisysthings

356 notes · View notes

nunalastor · 1 month

Note

I present unto thee this persistent thought:

(Hazbin Hotel and Dark Souls 3 crossover idea)

(You brought this on yourself by accepting that Supernatural crossover ask lol; I wasn't going to send crossover asks at all)

Someone very strange somehow finds their way to the Hotel. Someone who wears strange clothes, has enchanted rings, and smells of ash, but doesn't speak any language known to any of the residents (even Lucifer).

The Hazbin cast start calling their newest resident "Ash" because they don't know Ash's real name (unbeknownst to them, neither does Ash, anymore).

Ash, until they realize what the others' names are, mentally refers to them by descriptors. Having been in the Abyss for millennia, they haven't had any social interaction in just as much time- not since they gave Gael's remains to the Painter and watched their homeworld die- so they're slow to pick up on cues.

Ash turns out to be truly sweet, helping out around the Hotel and developing a unique bond with each of the others despite the language (and societal) barrier.

Charlie is just over the moon to have Ash present and helping out. Ash likes her, but is worried about her getting hurt; she seems to rush into things too quickly.

Vaggie is cautious of Ash, but likes sparring with them. Ash likes sparring with Vaggie, but also fears killing her on accident so they end up throwing the match any time they think they're about to go too far.

Angel thinks Ash is weird, but has an absolute blast dressing them up in various fashions. Ash likes Angel's fashion sense, and heals his wounds whenever they realize he's hurt. They don't know if he's noticed.

Husk appreciates Ash's quiet company, but he WILL get that mead recipe from them someday! Ash is just happy to have someone to share Siegbräu with again.

Alastor finds the mystery surrounding Ash fascinating, and treats them similarly to Charlie as a result. Ash worries that, with all of the people Alastor eats, that he'll end up like Aldrich (who ate so many people he turned into a goop) or Gael (who started eating souls and, after countless ages of torment, went Hollow in the end). They'll bring him things he likes to eat, but Ash also keeps a close eye on him afterwards.

Niffty thinks Ash is scary. She can't explain it, and she can't do anything about it, but she avoids them when possible. Ash just wants to know what they did to unsettle Niffty. So does the rest of the Hotel.

Lucifer knows that Ash isn't actually a Sinner. He hasn't figured out what they are, yet, but he's keeping a close eye on them. Ash only notices the scrutinizing glares when they're around Charlie, Vaggie, or Alastor, and draws the conclusion that Lucifer is protective over Charlie and Vaggie because of familial bonds and somehow draws the conclusion that Lucifer must be jealous of how close they're getting to Alastor. It's not that Lucifer only glares at them when they're around those three, that's just when Ash notices it. (Ash later attempts to wingman for Lucifer, multiple times, and it always ends in varying degrees of disaster.)

With the exception of Niffty, none of them even think to consider Ash as potentially dangerous. They're too kind, after all.

Then Ash spots an assassination attempt on Charlie's life and stops it, permanently killing the assassin in the process. The others didn't even realize that something happened until Ash sat down at the dinner table and began eating like nothing was wrong... With an angelic spear still sticking out of their forehead.

when i skimmed i thought this was about pokemon

#dark souls #dark souls 3 #crossover #hazbin hotel

35 notes · View notes

c0l0re · 13 days

Text

To this day I have so many Feelings about Yume Nikki, and especially its main character, Madotsuki. She is such a fascinating character despite the fact that she never says a single word or even directly shares her thoughts on anything. Just from exploring this girl's dreams, you can piece together so much about her life, her fears, people she knew and may have been close with or were afraid of, the list goes on

One particular interpretation I find very interesting and actually have myself is that Madotsuki is transgender, specifically a trans woman. The amount of imagery in Yume Nikki that can be easily viewed through a trans lens is astounding, honestly

Monsters in the shape of genitalia that feels like a visual metaphor for gender dysphoria and discomfort or even fear of her own body, the insane about of imagery that has to do with feeling watched and/or scrutinized, the very clear themes of isolation and feeling disconnected from people, themes of being excluded by others and being treated as a threat or generally something "wrong", there's a lot here to support this. One thing that especially jumps out to me is that one area where you can find a version of Madotsuki herself literally hiding in a closet

Also effects that change her appearance are very interesting here, especially ones like the "long hair" and "blonde hair" effects, as that seems like it shows Madotsuki having some level of dissatisfaction with her appearance, maybe that she's not living up to certain beauty standards, or that she isn't "feminine enough" in her usual presentation. Also the "fat" effect make me wonder about this, whether that be because she sees herself as too fat, and that effect is like the way she sees herself even if it's not the case, which would suggest some form of body dysmorphia and possibly even an eating disorder; or maybe on the other side, that she sees herself as too skinny, not curvy enough, thinks she's too small in general, etc. Effects like these seem to imply that Madotsuki has some pretty severe body image issues and doesn't like how she looks for one reason or another, and does very much read like a trans person being upset that they don't "look like" their true gender, or are generally dealing with dysphoria

The fact that Madotsuki also cannot actually talk to or otherwise meaningfully interact with anyone in her dream world also seems to show that Madotsuki feels very isolated and possibly unwelcome around others, or even that she's had a history of being excluded, pushed away, and ignored. Again, this reads like a trans person being perceived as "wrong" and being othered by the people around them, especially when they actually begin their transition. Even in her own mind, Madotsuki feels alone, unwanted, and excluded

Madotsuki is a heavily trans-coded character, and I think that all of what I've mentioned here shows that. I'm sure there's even more that you could read into even deeper, or other things I just forgot to mention that could support this even further, and I think that's just interesting. She's easily one of my favorite fictional characters ever, and a large reason for that is how she manages to have so much character, personality, and depth to her without there ever being a single line of dialogue, or any sort of conventional story or narrative structure at all

(Also thanks to @checkadii for inspiring this post with her response to a post I reblogged you're cool thanks for hyping me up lmao)

#yume nikki #madotsuki #yume nikki theory #yume nikki madotsuki #trans madotsuki #colore speaks #it was fun to ramble about madotsuki my beloved for a while <3 #and there is... SO much more i could talk about with not just her but yume nikki and its other characters as a whole #i love this game so much its unreal

25 notes · View notes

marblemoonstones · 7 months

Text

stiletto 👠

summary: bangtan may think they’re the mafia kings, but little do they know you are the rising queen. mafia!au I apologize if there are any minor holes or grammatical errors. feedback is welcome, but please be respectful. :)

main masterlist

*any similarities to other fics are accidental*

bts x reader

mafia!au

*warnings: ❗️any characters in the story have nothing to do with their real life counterparts❗️f reader, use of ‘bitch,’ ‘ass’, ‘shit’ (still don’t know if it counts as a warning lol), mentions of killing (nothing happens), tae and kook threatened by reader (nothing happens), shooting of guns (no injuries)*

sorry I haven’t posted in forever 🥲 I’ve been so busy, but I’m still working on catharsis 🩵

this is just a silly little mafia one shot because I wanted to try something different. reader is a bad bitch bc I wanted her to beat bangtan in a fic for once ;) also pretty tame in terms of violence and such for a mafia fic. hope you enjoy!

word count: ~2.3k

Opening my eyes, I immediately sense that someone’s watching me. I pretend to not notice it, going about my daily morning routine. The cameras are subtle, but my eyes catch them quickly. These boys may be smart but I’m always one step ahead. I knew that they were going to watch/trail me the second I turned down their business proposal.

~ Two days ago

“Stiletto, you have a business meeting with Bangtan today,” my assistant tells me.

“Oh, it totally slipped my mind,” I say, knowing full well about the meeting. You have to act forgetful once in a while or else people assume that you know everything and don’t tell you anything.

“It’s in an hour in your office.” I nod at the reminder, and wave her off. Venus is a hard-working girl and not a snitch, so I’ve kept her around as my assistant. She knows the consequences of betraying me.

An hour passes by quickly, dealing with my product shipping and whatnot. I’ve been involved for a good seven years; in both the technology industry and the mafia. My technology is top notch, and this led many mafia bosses to want to buy my products. I’m happy to oblige, as this makes me a pretty penny.

A sharp knock on my door makes me smirk.

I call out, “Come in.”

Seven men dressed in suits enter and shut the door behind them.

Bangtan.

“Hello Stiletto, it’s good to finally meet you,” Kim Namjoon says cordially.

“Likewise. Now, let’s get to it. I’m a busy woman, so if you please, give me your deal.” My face is blank, eyes steely, scrutinizing them as they do the same to me.

(a/n, I didn’t go into specifics with the deal because I’m not good with that sort of thing, so sorry for being so vague :’))

I listen to their proposal, knowing from the first sentence that it’s not going to happen. At least, not with me. The deal has minor holes and could easily be executed with another company. My price is also not met.

“I’m sorry to interrupt Mr. Kim, but this isn’t going to work. Have a good day,” I dismiss them, seeing the looks of anger flash in their eyes.

“What do you mean it won’t work, Stiletto?” Min Yoongi asks, barely concealing his anger.

“Are you deaf? I mean it won’t work. Find another company. Goodbye.” I’m about to call for security, but they keep pushing on. Well. Looks like they have some bark in them. But I have more important things to be doing than entertain some boys and I know I’ll see them again soon enough.

“You’ll regret this later,” Park Jimin says, and before he can say more I interrupt.

“I know that I won’t. Goodbye.” And with that, I have security escort them out. Granted, they don’t put up much of a fight, but instead I see them clench their fists if only for a brief second. Good. They’re mad. I hope that they learned that I can be a bitch, exactly as everyone says.

Hence the nickname Stiletto. Stilettos may be pretty looking but they’re also powerful. I bet you’ve never seen someone walk in stilettos and not look like a bad bitch.

Ever since this nickname was given to me, I have worn a pair every day. Why not give the people what they want?

I had to kill everyone who knew my actual name, so now only a select few remain who know my actual name; Y/n.

~ Present Day

Bangtan is so mad that they are trailing me to try to find weaknesses to make me bend to their deal. Their attempt is almost comical. Almost. I don’t have weaknesses. Growing up in an orphanage led me to learn and figure out things by myself.

My black suit is waiting for me, and I slip on my signature stilettos. They have red soles, an exclusive one-of-a-kind shoe made especially for me. Little does the brand know that I made some alterations to the shoes. I made the tips be steel and each shoe has a small dagger hidden inside the stiletto.

My black purse is waiting and I check my inbox as I make my way downstairs and into my garage where my chauffeur is waiting.

The cameras inside the house have already been disabled, courtesy of Venus’s hacking skills. That girl is shaping up to me more and more like me everyday. I smile inside at the thought of toying with Bangtan. Some say they’re the most powerful mafia, even going as far to call them the ‘mafia kings’ but I know better than that. They may be more known in the industry, but my name is still influential and slowly climbing the ranks. I blame me being a woman for the reason why I’m not on top. Most of the mafia bosses think I’m just a pretty face who can’t be taken seriously. Someday I’ll destroy all their empires and watch them burn. (she says nonchalantly lol)

I get out of the car at my office and head inside. Venus greets me, showing me my schedule of the day. I thank her, the only person I ever do, and head off to my office. It’s a peaceful workday, considering that I haven’t had to hurt/kill anyone yet.

It’s around 2:00pm when I get a notification on my phone saying that there are two unidentifiable figures that breached our building. I dismiss getting security to investigate as I know that it’s Bangtan. Perfect. They’re coming just as I knew they would. I know it’ll take them about a half an hour to reach my office so I wait eagerly.

Half an hour later I’m sending an email when I can feel their eyes on me. Based on my research I can guess that it’s Jungkook and Taehyung in the vents. These two are the deadly duo and also the sneakiest.

While Yoongi and Hoseok are the best at weaponry, Namjoon and Seokjin are the best fighters (with Seokjin doubling as a doctor), Jimin is a master manipulator, and Taehyung and Jungkook are the stealthiest. Jungkook is their ace though, good at everything.

I internally feel giddy, but on the outside I pretend that I don’t notice them.

I let this go on for another half hour, knowing that they’re watching every move. So I send boring emails and don’t do any actually work. I already shut down their hacking and can’t wait to shut down their camera that’s been in my office all day. But that comes later in my plan.

After hitting send on another email, I start typing up an rsvp and say, “Boys, it’s time to come down now. I know you’re up there, so be good and come out.”

There aren’t any noises but I can tell that they didn’t expect this.

Bangtan doesn’t expect me to know their every move. I have tabs on all of them at all times, and they don’t know I know all their tricks in the book. Including trailing business owners who don’t accept their deals.

Since they aren’t responding, I decide to have some fun and use their names.

“Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook…the maknaes of Bangtan. Be good boys and come out, okay? We don’t want this getting out of hand,” I say sweetly, imagining their eyes widen at me calling them out by name.

I count slowly in my head…three…two…one…

Bang! The vents come open and they drop down silently behind me. I turn around in my chair and see the two culprits.

“Hello boys. Have a seat.” I say, leaving them no room for argument. They sit down and don’t speak. I know they’re searching for ways to escape, but I won’t let them. They’re not the only ones good at planning.

“Look, I’m not going to force you to talk about anything. But just know that you shouldn’t try to-“

Before I can finish Jungkook brings out a gun and fires it at me. I dodge it and pull out a gun of my own.

“Don’t even think about it buddy. I have dozens of weapons aimed at you that could fire at any moment, so sit your ass down.” This makes him slightly wary, and he lowers his gun.

“Give me your weapons boys,” I demand next, knowing that I could still win against them in a heartbeat but don’t want to take that chance.

They get them out for me but I notice Jungkook forgot two and Taehyung forgot one.

“Jungkook, give me the dagger in your hair and behind your ear and Taehyung, give me your ankle dagger,” I sigh impatiently.

They do as I say, surprised at my knowledge.

“Perfect. Good boys, thank you,” I praise, knowing that this makes them uncomfortable. And it works. Jungkook looks down slightly while I see Taehyung swallow.

I stalk over to the filing cabinet and pull out the camera recording all of this. I smirk slightly into it and place it down in front of the boys and I.

“Hello Bangtan, thanks for sending your maknaes to me. We’ve been having a jolly good time,” I say into the camera, noticing Jungkook and Taehyung exchange glances.

“Anyways, better come get them before something happens to them…that would be horrible,” I say, my tone a hint darker than before. Then I crush and destroy the camera.

I turn back to Jungkook and Taehyung.

“I’ll guess…thirty-four minutes until they come for you. In the meantime, do make yourselves comfortable. I have snacks and shit in the mini fridge if you’re feeling peckish. But don’t try anything!” I singsong, going back to my desk.

They look at each other, confused at what’s going on. One second I’m threatening them the next I’m offering them food. I ignore their looks and continue typing and responding to emails.

Precisely thirty-four minutes later the rest of Bangtan comes bursting through my office door.

“Where are they?!” Namjoon booms, gun in hand.

“They are right there,” I say, pointing to the two boys who haven’t moved from their sitting positions.

I see Bangtan freeze, if only for a split second. I know that they’re shocked I didn’t harm them/tie them up somehow.

“Did you do anything to them? Because if you did, I swear to god Stiletto I’ll-“

“Calm down Hoseok, can’t you see they’re unharmed?” I state boredly, gesturing to the maknaes.

“It’s true Hobi,” Jin says, rushing over to inspect his babies.

“Aw, such a happy reunion,” I say, then sharpen my tone. “Looks, you idiots need to learn that no means no. I don’t want your business deal, so stop trying. It’s not working.”

“You sure, Stiletto?” Jimin asks me, a calculating grin on his face, “Because it seems to me that you care a lot about our babies, not even harming them. What does that show?”

I roll my eyes. “Jimin, quit it. Your tactics don’t work on me.”

“Ooh, feisty. I like you, Stiletto,” Jimin says, sidling up to me and putting his arm around my shoulder.

Quick as a wink I take his arm off my shoulder and twist him so we’re now face-to-face.

“Isn’t it obvious? I like you too Jimin,” I say, staring deep into his eyes. Oh how I love toying with them.

He falters for a millisecond then regains his composure and licks his lips.

“Great, so let’s make a deal-“

“You silly boy,” I push him away much to his dismay, “I already told you, no means no. Now, get out of here before I shoot you all.” I’ve had my fun and it’s time for them to go.

“Look, Stiletto, we don’t mean to cause issues with-“

“Trailing me? Putting cameras up in my own home and office? Attempting to hack my technology? Sending your babies to spy on me? It seems that you have caused issues. While I like to mess with you, I’m done playing.” I’m dead serious as I look them each in the eye.

“Get out of my sight and don’t bother trying to contact me again. I’m done with Bangtan. Oh, and keep in mind that I know more than you think,” I warn.

“Like what?” Namjoon scoffs, not believing me.

“I know that you and the rest of the boys have feelings for each other,” I say casually, noticing their looks of shock, “What, you don’t think I noticed? It’s pretty obvious to me and honestly you’re all perfect for each other anyway.”

“But…no one knows that…” Jin stammers, showing the first sign of weakness since their arrival.

“Look, I’m not a snitch when it comes to that topic, so I won’t tell anyone, but you best believe I know so much more,” I say, watching them all breathe a small sigh of relief.

“Okay, point made Stiletto. We’ll leave you alone.” Namjoon caves, nodding to the rest of the boys.

“Great, now get out.” I point to the door and they all file out.

Ever since my spy in Bangtan told me that they were planning on meeting with me, I planned on the outcome.

I knew their deals were usually good at hiding the holes, so I took the liberty of finding out what deal they were going to offer to me. It wasn’t bad from the outside but I knew that in the end it would benefit them more than me.

I knew they wouldn’t accept my ‘no’ so I planned on them following me. Taehyung and Jungkook coming wasn’t a surprise in the least and I knew that revealing their biggest secret would make them leave me alone.

I now hold power over the ‘mafia kings.’

That makes me be able to control all the groups in my area.

Perfect.

Now I can grow my empire and slowly but surely take over and show everyone who their mafia ruler really is.

The mafia queen, Y/n.

sorry for kinda rushing through this. it’s not perfect but I just love the scenario! anyways, as always, thanks for reading! 🩷🫶🏼

#bts #bts ot7 #bts ot7 x reader #ot7 bts #btsot7 #mafia!au #bts mafia au #bts mafia fic #bts mafia imagine #badass reader #marblemoonstones

53 notes · View notes