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yuujispinkhair · 14 days

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Sukuna’s the type of baby daddy that even if you break you never really broke up 😭 and if you got pregnant again there no chance in hell it could be anyone else’s kid besides his

The love you and Sukuna have is world-changing. Even after you break up, you are both still stuck on the other and unable to move on.

Pairing: Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: Hurt + comfort, fluff, mentions of smut Word Count: 1.5k Warnings: 18+, mentions of smut but nothing explicit. Reader and Sukuna break up, but they get back together at the end of the story. There is a happy end. They already have a daughter together, and another pregnancy is mentioned at the end. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact. Divider @/benkeibear

It's not that you aren't trying to get over Sukuna. You really do. After a week of crying your eyes out, you decide to go out. It's not even that hard to get chatted up by some guy at a bar. But when his hand lands on your knee, you practically bolt. It feels so wrong, so dirty somehow. As if your body is still Sukuna's territory and no one else is worthy of touching you.

You try again a week later and the week after, too. But none of the men you meet spark your interest. Maybe this shouldn't come as a surprise. After all, only a few weeks ago, you had Sukuna. You had the best. There simply is no one who can compare to him. No one will ever make you feel the way Sukuna did.

You regret the breakup. It was stupid. Just small things that accumulated over several weeks, combined with a bad day at work and Sukuna being grumpy when you got home. You could have handled it differently.

But now, your bed always feels cold, and your heart doesn't seem to be in your chest anymore. Instead, there is a stone in your chest, heavy and painful, while your heart is in another part of this city, in the hands of the man who will always be the one for you, even if you will never get back together with him again.

+++

Sukuna asks to see his child, but you feel unable to face him, so you cowardly text him back, telling him to just pick your daughter up from kindergarten and spend the afternoon with her. When Sukuna brings her home in the evening, you are relieved that he seems to have gotten the hint. He doesn't come inside but waits at the front door as your daughter runs up the stairs to your apartment.

But you aren't strong enough not to hurry to the large window that faces the street, gazing outside to see Sukuna's familiar tall, broad figure slowly stroll down the street toward his car. His pink hair looks just like the cherry blossoms that fall down onto the road like pretty, pink snowflakes.

You know you will never be able to look at cherry trees again without feeling sadness wash over you.

Maybe you will try going on another date with some new guy, but deep down, you know that it will be in vain. It will always feel wrong. It will always feel like something is missing. Because none of those men are Sukuna. No one can be like him. There is only one Sukuna. Everyone else will always just be second best.

Sukuna isn't even trying to get over you. Not anymore.

On the first night after your breakup, he was a mess and stormed off to some bar, desperate for a distraction. Anything that would keep him from getting overwhelmed by his feelings.

He had some drinks and flirted with a random girl. Even took her home, thinking that sex would help him feel better. But the moment she tried to unbutton his shirt, Sukuna grabbed her wrists and stopped her.

It felt wrong. He felt wrong. As if he was cheating on you. He told the girl to leave and watched with his arms crossed as she angrily slammed his door shut before Sukuna sank down on his couch and buried his face in his hands.

He knew right then and there that it was no use to go out and try to have hookups. It wouldn't work, and it sure as hell would only make him feel worse.

In the following weeks, Sukuna worked longer and spent more time at the gym, always trying to stay busy because as soon as he got home to his deadly silent apartment, he was drowning in thoughts about you. Drowning in all those happy memories the two of you had made over the years.

You were Sukuna's love, his heart, his everything. He hadn't known or understood love until he met you. So how is he supposed to ever get over you and move on? It's impossible. You are still his everything, and you will always be.

And so it's clear as day to Sukuna that he won't even try to move on. He knows he will always be yours, whether you are together or not. He was only able to give his heart away once. And even if you don't want it anymore, it still belongs to you.

+++

Sukuna spends two days every week with his daughter, happy to see his little girl but sad because he misses the time when all three of you did things together. And when she looks at him with your eyes and asks him, "Daddy, why don't you just come home again?" Sukuna feels his heart shatter into a million pieces.

Sukuna doesn't know what to tell her. He, too, can't understand why the two of you decided to break up. It was stupid. Nothing big caused it. Just small things that added up, and looking back they seem insignificant.

"I don't know, princess. Maybe Daddy should really go home and talk to Mommy."

He decides at that moment that he will get roses and come up to your door this evening.

+++

Sukuna's chest feels painfully tight when you open the door, and he sees your face again after all those weeks, hitting him with just how much he missed you.

He hands you the roses, a beautiful huge bouquet that cost a little fortune, his eyes gazing deeply into yours,

"Please take those flowers. They come without any obligation to take me back or even talk to me. But I want to give them to you because you are still the mother of my child. And... and you will always be my woman, just like I will always be your man, even if we aren't together."

He fears he sounds like a creep, that he overstepped a boundary, and that he made you uncomfortable. But he has had lots of time to think during the last few weeks, and he promised himself that he would be more open about his feelings if he ever gets a chance to talk to you again.

You stare at Sukuna for a moment that feels like hours to him. But then he sees the tears gathering in your eyes and sees the way your hand that's holding the flowers is trembling. You breathe a soft "Kuna..." and Sukuna knows. He knows that you are still his, just like he is still yours.

He pulls you into his arms a split second later, crushing the beautiful roses between your bodies as he hugs you tightly. And you melt so perfectly against him as if you are made for him. Your face is pressed against his broad chest, and you snuggle against him, every centimeter of you touching him. You cling to him so tightly that it's almost painful, but it's the first time since your breakup that Sukuna feels like he can breathe again.

"I am sorry. I am so sorry for everything."

You both speak the words at the same time, eyes locked, small relieved smiles playing around your mouths.

You tell Sukuna to stay for dinner, and he agrees. He takes over the kitchen again, his kitchen, and prepares a dinner that he knows his two girls always loved. He sits at your table again, jokes around with his little daughter, and basks in the way you look at him with your eyes full of happiness.

Sukuna doesn't just stay for dinner but stays the whole night.

He kisses you after the two of you bring your daughter to bed. Pushes you gently against the wall and claims your lips again, though deep down, he knows that those lips always belonged to him, even when you were apart.

He grins when you laugh when he picks you up and carries you princess-style to the bedroom. Your lips are on his again, kissing him as if you can't get enough of him, making it hard to walk, but Sukuna would find his way to your bedroom even blind.

He locks the door behind you, turning around only to find your hands on his chest, unbuttoning his shirt while your lips find his again in another passionate but tender kiss that makes Sukuna moan softly into your mouth.

He makes slow love to you in the bed you bought together all those years ago, showing you what it feels like to be loved and desired and cherished endlessly. And you wrap your arms and legs around him and meet each of his slow thrusts while you moan his name softly, and tears run down your cheeks, showing Sukuna the same love he is showing you.

Sukuna doesn't leave again after that night.

The two of you talk things out, and only a week later, Sukuna finally puts a ring on your finger and tells your little daughter that she needs to pick a pretty dress because she will be a flower girl at the wedding.

And only a month later, you place a positive pregnancy test on Sukuna's pillow, making both of you burst out laughing when you realize that you and Sukuna must have made another baby that first night when he came back and brought you the roses.

Thank you so much for the ask! It made me feel so many things, so I had to get these feelings out and write this little story 😭 I hope you enjoyed it and that it made you emotional, too. How could there ever be anyone else after Sukuna? It's really not possible 😭

Thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet 💗

#sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff #sukuna smut #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk fluff #jjk smut #tw pregnancy

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ghostgirl101 · 1 month

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I just wanna say that I am SO excited for the part 2 to your Paul Destiny fic. I have so many questions and Im excited to see if they get answered. Like if Paul is pledging his love to the reader then is the romance plot with Chani still relevant? Is the reader still the princess here? Very interesting

Imagine if Paul Atreides claimed you as his destiny: PART Ⅱ of Ⅱ

|| Word Count: 1.7K || Fluff ||

A/N: Honestly, I didn't think this would blow up so much- 1k+ likes??! Thank you all, it's sick 🙃 in answer to your questions, I didn't really specify if the reader (you) are part of a Great House or the Emperor's daughter, or maybe someone else, that's kind of up to your imagination. And yeah, sorry Chani fans, I kind of kicked her to the curb lmao; This is all about you, and so enjoy the second and final part of this destiny trope before I work on some relationship headcanons for Paul and Feyd-Rautha... Requests are open for Dune 2, so don't be shy 📩

You can't escape fate.

It's as real as the Spice that threads through the grains of sand blanketing Arrakis in heavy, warm golden waves. It twists and turns in the air, in the tides of change, something beyond understanding roping together reality and its lives to bond, whether in love or hate.

At least, with the newly ascended young Emperor, you know which side you're on. Since the day of his declaration and claiming of you as his Empress, you've never once left his sight, unknowingly or not. The boy is almost ridiculously close and observant, as if testing the depths of the events unfolding around him, testing to see whether you'll try to run from them, from him. But you can't run from fate, either.

"You aren't resting."

Paul's soft, low voice slices through the silence of the dusk, the only words you hear before you feel his warm, firm arms slipping under your arms and around your middle, pulling you into his front in a smooth, protective motion. His chocolate brown locks tickle your neck and cheek as he gazes up at you from your shoulder; wandering, curious eyes study yours knowingly, his natural hues tainted blue with the Spice.

"What troubles you?"

You hesitate in your response, unsure of the right thing to say. There's no point in lying, not to him, to a boy who could easily use the power of his Voice to make you tell him everything and anything with just a few words. He's done it to the Bene Gesserit, to those who speak out of turn and challenge him cluelessly, but never to you. And something tells you that he never will.

"I'm sorry," is how you answer instead, in a small whisper, trying to read his expression before his reaction.

But all Paul does is give you one of his soft, amused smirks, a brow raising slightly, unconvinced.

"Don't apologise to anyone for anything," he murmurs, his fingers drifting to lock with yours, his hand hot and strong in yours. "We are to be wed, you and I, soon. So what troubles you?"

"It's not you," you tell him as earnestly as you can, his eyes capturing yours and holding them as you blink up at him. "I'm just... nervous."

"Nervous?" Paul repeats gently, his hands squeezing yours for a moment, his face an inch away from yours. "What have you to be nervous about?" He grins slightly, not attempting to hide his teasing amusement. "A wedding?"

You can't help but smile at his tone, savouring the unguarded moments of the new, young Emperor, his boyish traits lingering beneath the newfound power and promises passed down to him.

You were nervous, because you weren't so familiar with destiny and its quirks, and yet, Paul Atreides seemed to be its master. Nervous, because although there was a strange pull between you and him, a deeper part of you somehow knowing him, at an instinctive ease with him, you had never met him before these past few days, and now, you were going to be joined together for time indefinite by marriage. Nervous, because he didn't just want you to rule with him, but alongside him, as a partner, a second part of him. His second half who's with him in soul, not just spirit, physically, not just mentally. And he's relishing in it.

"I've never had one before," you shake your head with a light smile, "I don't know what to expect. Or what's expected of me."

Paul hums to himself at your reply, pausing for a while as he thinks over his words.

"It isn't just a wedding," he tells you quietly, "it's so much more. This... this a beginning. A new dawn."

"Beginning?" You echo in bemusement, looking up at him in wonder. "Of what?"

"Of a new era," Paul says thoughtfully, his hands moving from yours to run over and down your sides, tracing over your figure absentmindedly, a gesture that makes you hold your breath for a beat as you watch him, "the first of many. You are more than a mere future. You're the future. My future. And the future of my people."

The sincerity and conviction in his voice makes you stare back at him in slight awe, taken by his certainty of what he's seen in the deepest stretches of his mind, the flickering images of you, adorned in all your natural beauty and grace that he could find nothing short of perfect. You were a fantasy and a hope materialised. Someone he'd wished and dreamed for so much, that you came true, just as you should have.

"Anything that happens to you," Paul continues, looking you straight in the eye as he speaks, "happens to me. You have always been mine, and I was yours before then. Absolutely and completely."

And his words make a home in your head, everything he says so poetic and beautifully surreal, but so honest and unwaveringly confident. He didn't need to practise what he said before he whispered the sweet words in your ear, in a voice only you could catch, in the long, warm nights on Arrakis. There was no need for practice. He had been made for this, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

You let yourself relax slightly in his grips, giving him an earnest smile. "That sounds nice."

Paul smiles back at you, a bright, sweet smile that makes him seem so soft and normal, almost forgetting for a moment of his utter strength and glory over the planets, his dangerous darkness that he occasionally allowed to rule over his actions at the tensest of times, until those who stood up against him retreated in bewilderment and fascination and fear.

"It does," he agrees, his gaze dropping to look out at the dunes beyond you, "you can't imagine..."

You couldn't. But every part of you wanted to. And those parts won.

"Won't you tell me?"

Paul's attention shifts back to you after you speak, before you can stop yourself.

"Would it be kind to tell you?" He asks aloud, speaking half to himself as his eyes go to search yours again, studying every inch of you, almost unsettlingly intently.

"Do you dream?" Paul questions you softly, and you dither before shaking your head.

"Not like you do," you answer steadily.

"Like I do. Seeing your face amidst the streaks of sunbeams and every kind of ethereal power that could create wonders, planets, worlds. Waking up, and you're not here, though it felt so real," he goes on, his voice laced with longing, as if it pained him to remember the feeling. "Realer than I've ever felt anything before. Every sense in me was awakened, because with destiny, I saw hope. And I did not know that hope could be so.... beautifully... angelic."

Paul draws closer and closer with each word, pulled by invisible strings to rest his forehead against yours, closing his eyes for a long moment to breathe, breathe you in. The sight of it is almost dizzyingly hypnotic, staring at the little scattered freckles over his fair, lightly tanned skin, cheeks flushed golden. He moves his face to rub his cheek against yours, seeking out affection in an irresistible rare, vulnerable move. Your hand reaches up to brush your fingers against it, and he takes it in his immediately, pressing his lips against your fingertips as he speaks.

"I need you," Paul insists, his voice firm and pressing again as he stares at you with a spark of desperation. "I need only you. More than you can comprehend. By my side, always, where you belong."

"I'm right here," you reply a little giddily, looking away from his eyes slightly bashfully from the intensity and unbridled longing of his gaze. "I suppose I'm just not used to this."

"To what?" Paul questions, his fingers tilting your chin up softly to force your eyes back up to his, his face a little closer than before. "To being an Empress?"

Before you can respond, he's pushed himself closer over you, his warm, damp lips sliding and pressing against yours and parting to encourage you to deepen his affections. It sends hot shockwaves rushing straight through your blood, as Paul crouches over you, all patience and purpose forgotten in the moment where it's just the two of you in the calm, lingering desert night.

You fit together perfectly, too perfectly for his words to be untrue, and his head tilts keenly where your fingers skim his neck, his lips parting from yours as they tangle in his hair with a short gasp. He loses none of his confidence and persistence, his azure blue eyes a shade darker as he watches you with an open trace of adoration.

"A queen?"

"Paul," you start shakily, as he smirks at you fondly, his head ducking to trace his tongue briefly up the skin of your neck, with a faint chuckle.

"To being desired?"

You glare at him weakly, hanging onto his hands tight to find some sense of grounding. "You're just playing with me."

"I intend to do so much more than that," Paul grins at you, kissing your cheek before burying his face against your shoulder. "And so should you. Test the depths of our connection. Push it to its limits. Push me. Please."

You find yourself speechless again at his way with words, simple and truthful, but full of passion and unthought romance, a sensation he's been craving since the first shadows of your being in his hazy dreams and visions.

"Give into your destiny, sweet girl," he croons to you in a whisper, his lips brushing against yours and pressing down against your skin needily, hungrily. It takes almost inhumane strength not to crumble and shiver under his touch and desire radiating off him and his dark glare, the wanting over years of dreams and prophecies building up to its peak. "Give into me."

"I think I will," you whisper back in awe and giddiness, your arms having to hold tightly around his neck to stay upright. "I think I want to."

"That's good," he praises you with a soft smile, as his voice lowers. "And besides," Paul mutters in your ear, nuzzling against your cheek breathlessly, with that subtle, teasing look in his eyes, "I plan on taking you as mine well before the wedding."

══════════════⊹⊱≼ fin ≽⊰⊹══════════════

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added to this for my future Dune fanfics): @minaxcarter @milaeth @ennycutie @weird0o0 @aoi-targaryen @jindongdongie

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suguruplsr · 7 months

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Gojo getting intimate with you then suddenly he's realizing how lucky he is to have you

And he would cry if he wasn't fucking you, it's slow and soft but hard and emotional and so fucking good

And he's treating you so well, praising you, thinking about everything he loves about you

Maybe this is a drabble request....

It’s you he loves

✰ ✰ ✰ the act of you loving him is simply enough.

જ⁀➴ i love you. this fic feels so cute.

,, sappy!satoru x fem!reader , fluff , smut , unprotected , overstimulation, cream pie , idk , drabble.

divider from @/benkeibear

the feeling of the bed dipping beside you shakes you from the trance you were in, turning your head from the oh so interesting ceiling and meeting satoru’s tired eyes. as always, his sleepwear being nothing but his underwear, well, at least you had the decency to wear some random shirt of his over your practically naked body. much to his dismay. his white fuzzy and freshly dried hair brushes your skin as he slips into your gentle hold, “how’re you feeling?” you mumble, gently running a hand along his back as his head finds purchase in your chest. you don’t mind that he doesn’t answer, already sensing that today may have been particularly rough for him. you move the large ‘stubborn’ blanket off his sprawled body, (his long legs hang off the bed, even if it’s king sized), before he could grumble about how hot he was, considering he forgot to turn on the fan to the highest setting, or at all for the most part.

satoru snuggles more into your warm body. you read him like a book, he thinks. you’re patient with him, yet your patience wavers with anything or anyone else. you take care of his every need when he can’t, even the little things. he never has to feel that small amount of fear with you when he decides to be overly dramatic. you pour his ketchup on the side of his fries just how he likes it, he’d say that he needs a little more, despite it being a perfect amount, and you’ll smile, bantering with him playfully and submitting to his wishes. he could say that it’s ’not enough’ kisses despite you covering his face for 10 minutes straight, and you’d comply with no hesitation. sometimes he thinks that you just do it to please him, or because you don’t want to lose him. yet he’s proven wrong, every single time, just like now when he looks up at you and sees the warmth of love in your eyes. all scrunched up and squinting as you eye a bruise on his shoulder, but you don’t question it. although, satoru knows you’ll spend an extra 5 minutes in the morning with him to delicately place a cute band-aid over it, with extra kisses. just how he likes it.

“i love you..” satoru mutters, his voice rasped with exhaustion, yet it rumbles earnestly with the utmost affection. he grabs the hand around his shoulder, kissing the back of your hand, even going further to leave rows of kisses on each finger when you giggle from how ticklish it was. your ring finger gets extra kisses to make up for the silver ring that he still hides in a small safe at shoko’s house. ‘i’m almost done planning’, satoru tells himself every day he wakes up to you, or when he holds your hand, sometimes when he sees your plain finger, and always, when he loves you. which is something that he lives and breathes. so of course it’s annoying when he’s constantly checking the calendar in his phone, counting the amount of days until your planned trip to the place you’ve been practically gushing about visiting. he’s already struggling enough to not get on his knees and propose without the ring, or to do it when his mouth is full of toothpaste when you’re wiping the corners of it, or when you’re washing his hair. fuck. whenever you’re simply committing the act of loving, he can’t help but feel his throat bubble with the desperation of spilling everything, somehow forgetting the proposal part and purely admitting to everything he loves about you. he just hopes nanami can endure just a few more weeks of his insane ramblings.

“i love you lots sa—“ “no.. you don’t understand.” satoru cuts you off with a sigh, sitting up and sneakily spreading your thighs, taking his rightful place between them before you can even comprehend his movements. yet, you get where this is going, and you know that the man you love is a very uncompromising one. “then help me understand. show me toru..” you whisper softly, feeling the erection planted against your thigh as he towers over you. large hands pinning behind your head and his ceruleans eyes looking down with determination that has your pussy throbbing. he looks so hot like this, his defined build covering your whole body. the way he casually raises one of your legs is always a reminder of how easily he could handle you, putting your body in positions that you could never think of. “oh m’gonna show you alright. only gonna think of me tonight..” satoru is not only an uncompromising man, but he’s a man that keeps his word, most of the time at least.

“don’t cry baby— doing so well f’me..” satoru coos, sinking his cock back into your messy cunt. you were full of cum, legs shaking around his waist as you looked up at him with pretty teary eyes. “ s’a lot toru..” biting your lip, you look down to where you two met, your pelvis all creamy and sloppy, his bulge peeking out your tummy as he moved. “a lot of my love for you.” satoru grins cheekily, rolling his hips before giving a sharp thrust that has your eyes rolling, stuttering out low moans as he continues. “toru..” you let out a meek whimper that has him leaving his moment of bliss, catching how one of your hands reached out to him. it makes his brain run in circles, heart leaping in his chest as he locks his hand with yours. it’s just so intimate, a sign of love that’s so different than him fucking his cum into into you. “oh baby.. love you so much.” satoru stops slowly, his voice breaking with an emotion you couldn’t quite understand, but he holds both your hands down into the sheets, his body above yours. your legs stretch to accommodate, almost choking when he’s pushed into the hilt, slow drags of his cock that has you blabbering adorable murmurs of his name.

“l-love you too toruu.. mm you feel so good..” you’re sniffing, trying to catch your breath, but he’s capturing all of your senses, his strong body wash entering your wavering senses as he leans down to kiss you, “so sweet to me baby, a-always takin care of me. you fuckin’ deserve this” satoru’s breathless too, head almost limping into your shoulder as you clench around him. he can’t help it, he’s only thinking of you, funny considering his earlier words. in the midst of it all, he’s in love with the way your hands mesh together so well, how you keep gripping him just a bit more firmly when he thrusts into the sensitive gummy spot inside you.

“b-but..” you can barely respond, only able to moan into his chest and let him take you. your brain wasn’t even able to process how your body was reacting to everything. it all just felt right. the way his words make you squeeze your eyes tight, your heart getting heavier and swelling with love that overflows into the little kisses you try to place around his chest. “and you make me so h-happy.. oh fuck.. so weak around you.” satoru realizes he’s spilling his heart out. of course, these aren’t words he’d actually say, well if he wasn’t fucking you at least. but it’s so raw and in the moment, a realization that makes you both try to get even closer to each other. he feels like if he continues, he’d be prickling with tears of emotions that he can't verbally communicate. only able to fuck you with the hopes of you understanding the feelings that swirl inside his heart all because of you being his.

satoru doesn’t mind though. because it’s you he’s spilling his emotions too. it’s you he thinks of. it’s you that he hopes to eagerly come back home to with a box in his jacket pocket. early in the next morning, pondering if he should use whatever time he has to make you breakfast before he asks his long awaited question. or if he should wake you up and give you some sappy heartfelt message. but maybe he should save that for his vows. because the way you sob his name and react so transparently to his words make him realize that this could be his proposal.

i mean, does crying while he’s cumming inside you, pleading for you to say yes, really make a difference?

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usedpidemo · 2 months

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More than you know (Nmixx Haewon)

“Miss Haewon, please see me after class hours later. I would like to talk to you.”

There it is. A rather predictable bookend to another dull lecture. She saw it coming from the moment she walked into the classroom.

She absolutely loathes hearing it.

Despite the comically indignant scowl she shoots you on the way out—and the mocking jeers from her friends that elicit embarrassment—by the time the final bell rings, she couldn’t wait to see you later on.

You’re excited, too—but for all the wrong reasons.

She’s the only thing keeping your passion for teaching alive.

—————

For the record, Haewon is not a bad student, not in the slightest. If anything, she’s par for the course. She’s not gonna be some summa cum laude, but she isn’t a sorry case, either. And that’s been the pattern with your students for years. They only care enough just to get by. Haewon is the most clear-cut example you can refer to.

Based on the rather intriguing stares she shoots at you, you’d be tricked into believing she’s actually interested enough in improving her future performance in class. Peeking through the laptop, catching glimpses of everyone’s grades. Her name is highlighted on the document, and the scores consist primarily of mid-eighties with some low-nineties. Clearly she’s nowhere close to a flunk or a future dropout.

Better than the high seventies and low eighties that the rest of your class averages.

“Sir, how many times do we need to go over this. I’m doing well for myself,” she remarks, giving you a look that says I told you so. The evidence is right in front of you, written in bold. “C’mon sir. Just let me go early today.”

And that’s when you make your first of many mistakes—feeding her the attention she craves. Where’s this energy when it comes to your lectures, you wonder?

Before you even entertain the thought, the scene has already gone completely sideways. Here’s a student with zero regard for following rules, and you’ve experienced your fair share of troublemakers. She’s sitting on the desk, pale skin in plain view from the off shoulder cropped sweatshirt that barely qualifies for the dress code. You’re looking—and she’s keenly noticing.

“Maybe another time, sir?” Haewon reads your mind like an open book. She’s purposely dressing improperly for two reasons: to piss off the higher-ups who hate her guts, and to make it easier for you to rip through her clothes. “I’ve got dance practice with the theater girls and I’m running late.”

“Well for one, you can drop the honorifics,” you reply, plainly, in a particularly weak effort to change the conversation. The attention you give her is short-lived; your focus returns to the unanswered emails and grades you need to fill. “Class hours are done for the day.”

It’s evidently not the response she wanted, because her arms are crossed and she’s pouting. You have to admit, she looks cute acting like that, revealing clothes be damned.

“Sir.” Haewon drawls out into a groan, bothered by the monotony of waiting when she has places to be. She won’t go as far as to knock your laptop down, but she’s considering it as a last resort. “You’re being a bitch right now.”

Anyone else in her position would get it—a verbal lashing that would get your teaching license rescinded and take you to court, but Haewon is the epitome of getting away with murder. You have no idea how she does it—how she manages to escape mostly unscathed from punishment. Even now while you drum on the keyboard, because you’re allowing her to call you a bitch without consequence.

Maybe because you like her more than you would openly admit.

She sighs. It’s a defeatist tone. A few moments later, you close your laptop and she perks up.

“Take a seat. I do want to talk to you about something important,” you tell her, knowing one hundred percent certain she’s not getting off your desk.

Haewon can’t help herself to a snarky comment. “Damn. Finally.”

By every conceivable account, this should be awkward, if not outright wrong. She’s still an undergrad, you tell yourself, staring into her sharp, alluring eyes. For as rebellious and as unruly as Haewon acts, she still listens to you. Hell, you’re the only professor she bothers to attend classes regularly for. She’d tell you she cares in her own twisted way. Look at how she dresses, for one. Your thoughts consist of mainly her in some cumbersome position, her lips letting out these desperate, heavy gasps. Your hands squeezing her taut breasts; the way her shirt accentuates the curves of her chest drives your imagination wild. You can spend all day planning how you intend to fuck her—

“Sir, you’re staring again.” A snap back to the present, where she’s grinning and leaning close to your face. So pretty. “I get it—I’m hot, but we’re on borrowed time, sir.”

“Right. I honestly forgot what I was gonna tell you,” you mindlessly drawl, searching through your desk for something. Something to temporarily distract you from the inevitability of the end. The rest of your paperwork lies unattended in the faculty room, you remember, but you’re not gonna step foot inside that place—not when the other professors are still around. Time is money. “But it’s definitely not your grades, that’s for certain.”

“What’s it about, then?” Her eyes continue to follow your every move.

You place a folded sheet of paper between you. She grabs it and reads through the brief content. The response is concerning.

“You’re leaving?” Haewon turns to you, stunned and gobsmacked. A rare expression coming from someone who’s usually indifferent toward everything and everyone.

Genuinely, you have no idea how to explain yourself. You had this all planned out since the beginning of the year; these two semesters will be your last, you were completely certain. You could have told anyone in the faculty. They’re decent people—as decent as they can be during the few times you actually interact with them—but they were merely coworkers and nothing more. You could have told your wife, who just so happens to be a fellow professor and colleague, but she’s one of the reasons why you’re leaving in the first place.

Word spreads like wildfire around campus, so you know to be careful, but this is straight recklessness. You call it mutual trust.

“Been thinking about it for a while,” you say, rather quietly, trying your hardest not to look her way.

“Let me guess,” she says, breaking the pretense of sympathy and concern for her usual caustic tone. “No one cares about your shitty class?”

You’re not remotely bothered by her comment, even if she’s speaking the truth. Though she could have used a nicer word besides shitty. “Part of it, yeah.”

“I seriously don’t understand why there’s gotta be a religious unit for a business degree,” she adds, fascinated by her own question. Even more so than listening to your lectures. “I don’t get it.”

“I don’t get it either.” Truthfully, you seriously question why you’re even teaching here to begin with.

You’re employed by one of the top universities in the country; every parent would sacrifice everything just for their children to study here. It pays well by teaching standards, but the bar is in hell. Despite the prestige, the overall experience is no different than your time in public high school. Most of the students who do attend come from rich backgrounds; people who use the place as a dick measuring contest to see who is the richer person. These entitled scholars who are always on their phone—one of their many phones—and cheat to get ahead.

It happens so often on the regular that you eventually stopped caring.

“Hmm,” Haewon thinks to herself, running through every piece of information she has to weaponize against you. She knows you better than anyone, mainly because you share personal life details like they’re the daily newspaper. Not to mention the very reason she comes to the classroom in the afternoons: you.

Then she comes to a rather off the wall conclusion. “It’s Miss Myoui, isn’t it?”

You squint your eyes. Haewon glints up. A small opening.

After a brief pause, she piles on, smirking. “Did I touch a nerve? Poor you,” she says, shooting you a mocking pout that you mostly ignore. “I guess you haven’t had some good pussy in a while. I mean, there’s no reason for me to be here other than the fact that Miss Myoui isn’t letting you clap her ass. Maybe the rumors are true then—”

Before she continues to spill more information that anyone shouldn’t be allowed to know, you fire back with a sharp glare. She cheekily grins. By ignoring the flashing red light right in front of you, you’re purposefully walking towards your own downfall. It’s a trap; you know this. You know Haewon more than any other student. All her little tricks, all her crafty schemes.

God, you can already see how this is gonna end.

“So I’m right?” Haewon tilts her head, leaning slightly forward. Her smug expression, word choice, and mocking tone tests your patience—including your blood levels—and you’re failing by the minute. “Trouble at home?”

Your response? Nothing. Going word for word with her ultimately results in a losing effort; previous conversations with her leave you more tongue tied and in a rut by the end. Haewon is so natural at getting under people’s skin. It’s what she gets off on—wrapping professors and superiors around her finger with her mouth. And more often than not, she’s charismatic and charming enough that it’s entertaining, but no one wants to openly admit it except you.

It’s how she’s able to read you like an open book. Let personal information slip so seamlessly. The numerous discussions regarding her underperformance in class lead into intimate sessions where you and Haewon become more acquainted with each other. A little too comfortable at times, but you can see where and why she acts the way she does. And you had come to the conclusion that you can’t fix her. Many have tried—and failed. She does whatever she wants, and she’ll end up getting away with it.

You slide your laptop aside, ready to dance with the devil, going against everything you swore against. “Mmm—not quite, but you’re halfway there.”

Haewon smiles and her eyes flutter. Not in a patronizing, condescending way, but the sweet kind. Genuine. The soft side she’ll only let you see. “Miss Myoui not letting you clap, sir?”

“She does,” you say, dour. And I already told you class hours are done. Please don’t call me sir.”

“Right. Sir.” Haewon’s playful tone trails off with that loathsome word. She can’t help but smirk; it’s second nature to her. She’ll claim that you fell for that bait, but that was deliberate, you’ll say—even if she refuses to believe you.

After a brief impasse, “So—sir,” she follows, using her eyebrows and cadence to tease, her hands on the edge of her pants, teasing some underwear, “You need to fuck me again? Now? Is Miss Myoui not letting you have some lately?”

Turning your gaze away and to the desk, “About Mina,” you reply, drumming your fingers on the table, deep in thought, “I’m planning to divorce her soon.”

“Huh?” Her eyes shoot wide, her expression rather surprised at the sudden revelation. You’d think by how she teases you about your wife, she’d have a much more subdued reaction. Considering she knows facets of your rather strange relationship with Mina. “Well, I would tell you’d be fumbling big time, but you should know—”

“She’s cheating on me. I know.”

Now she’s genuinely shocked, completely caught unaware. She’d assume you to be particularly naive and clueless about campus rumblings, especially since she’d never see you outside of the classroom and in the faculty room. “Well damn. I honestly thought you didn’t know.”

“Can’t say it would be the first time I’ve heard about it,” you say, turning to face her again, cold and gloomy. Pointing your finger at her, “And before you say anything, no, I didn’t catch her getting eaten out in the faculty room.”

You say that with the utmost sincerity—and sarcasm.

Haewon hesitates, before answering, rather “I figured.” She understands that your poor eyes have seen some things you shouldn’t be seeing.

Truthfully, you’re amazed she hasn’t brought up the subject a lot earlier. Since the end of the previous academic year, you’ve noticed Mina’s sudden changes in behavior. She’s sending more text messages telling you she’ll arrive home later than usual, the frequent faculty outings she chooses to attend, the cancellation of plans scheduled months in advance—the biggest of which, a dinner date at a particularly expensive five-star restaurant on the other side of town that has a notorious 18 month waitlist that you miraculously booked for your anniversary. And that was five months ago.

People change, but Mina is an entirely different person to you now. You can hardly recognize her.

“I guess I should say I’m sorry for what happened,” Haewon says, pretty modest and empathetic in tone, but even during serious moments, she can’t help but remark, “But you were kind of loser material for a woman like her.”

You can only stare back, annoyed. She chuckles, heartily. Seeing your animated, cartoonish expressions only serves to amuse her even further and fuel her addiction of teasing you.

“Ah, I fucking love you, sir. You’re my favorite professor for this reason.” In an instant, the somber facade falls apart and she’s back to being her usual coy self.

“Among other things?” you question.

“Such as?” Haewon looks confused. It’s a bluff; you’re calling it now. “Such as what, sir?”

Placing a hand on her knee, you’re creating friction so intense that her mouth goes agape and her breaths grow heavier. “Such as the fact that no one eats you out better than I do,” you reply, inflection transitioning from formal to low.

“Oh?” She doesn’t believe what’s happening to you. “Sir,” her cadence dances in such a melodic and sultry way it’s gonna ruin you faster than anything she’s done so far. “You have no evidence to prove—”

Suddenly, Haewon goes tongue tied, unable to finish her sentence. That’s a first. And you didn’t need to lift a finger or use your voice. Your other hand finds solace around her toned waist, exploring her tummy, and it’s thankfully not restricted by any layer of clothing. So much pristine skin to claim as yours, you begin to lose your restraint—and there isn’t much left to begin with.

“I can take you to the faculty room and show you,” you mumble against her belly, the cold breath tickling her flesh that she trembles. Haewon’s senses float off, her vision growing dark as her hands impulsively latch onto your shoulders. In return, you peck her navel, her abs, until you reach her abdomen, a hair’s breadth away from her chest. Between kisses, you continue to feed into her want, “Or I can give you an example right now.”

“Please,” Haewon finds enough clarity to cup your face up and meet her in a lengthy passionate liplock. This is what she wanted from the start. “Indulge me, sir.”

The only thing keeping you two apart is the laptop dangling on the opposite side of the table, almost pushed aside while you were making out. You quickly place it on a random desk before closing the two classroom door curtains.

When you return to Haewon, she’s sitting atop your desk, playfully swinging her legs, smiling modestly. It’s only now that you recognize how pretty she looks. But behind that meek appearance is a demon, a temptress that only sees you as a conduit for pleasure. In her eyes, the only purpose you have to give is sex, and nothing more.

So push your chair forward when you sit down. Haewon’s legs are already spread wide, but the pants remain on them. She doesn’t like to do it herself.

“Won’t give me a cheating discount?” you say, looking up at her coy grin, placing your hands around the hem of her trousers.

“Technically—” she trails off, kissing you, “You’re cheating on her with me, sir.” Followed by another. Each one deeper, more intimate than the last. “Don’t act all innocent now, especially when we’ve been doing this for months.”

Then, Haewon consumes you—as in, devours you. Grabs you and makes out with you with a passion you wish she’d present during class hours. You’d be content to remain in this position for the rest of the day, even if the clothes never come off; he’s so passionate and fervent that it’s intoxicating. But it’s all planned. Elaborate. You’re familiar with her more than you ever want to be: how she loves to unbutton your shirt while kissing you, how she mumbles and hums softly against your mouth, how she whispers desires that end up becoming realized after the foreplay. In reality, she’s the one dictating the pace, the one calling all the shots, and you’re merely an instrument she uses to indulge herself.

And she wants it: everywhere, in every position—something you find too much to handle, and she’s already quite the handful. But it’s merely a delay of the inevitable; you’re going to fuck Haewon, you’re gonna pour all your cum inside her, and you can figure out the rest the morning after.

More often than not, your shirt ends up unbuttoned, but not completely undone. One of two layers keeping your impulsive desires in check. As you work Haewon’s pants down her legs, most of your lesser instincts are shown in full display. It takes almost tearing your own fingers off your very hands not to rip through her panties. Meanwhile, she’s lounging on the desk, enjoying the sight of you reverting back to something primal.

The way you fondle her creamy thighs, never finding their beginning and end, is like beholding a sculpture crafted by the gods. They’re meant to be worshiped, to be handled reverently.

And Haewon guides you through the process, commanding you like she has authority over you. Titles do not matter—they never have. “Keep going,” she says, as you leave delicate kiss marks down her thighs, slowly burying yourself into the inviting presence of her pussy. Peeking through the near-nonexistent layer of fabric, she shifts the lift of her legs, perching on your shoulders as she forces you into her suffocating warmth.

“Show me,” she gasps, brushing your hair with her hand, and that’s what sets the rest into motion.

Her legs clutch you into a breathless hold. God, she’s killing you slowly, and you don’t mind it one bit. At this point, you have nothing to lose. You might as well treat this as your last supper, your final meal before you have to say goodbye. She can strangle you with her thighs while you drag your tongue up and down her folds, suck on her clit, take in all her nectar—it doesn’t change the fact that Haewon is gonna fucking end you.

You might as well repay the favor.

And despite throwing caution to the wind, Haewon appears unprepared. Dazed and confused by the overwhelming sensation burning through her nerves, she trembles—and moans. She couldn’t be any less subtle if she tried; hearing her hit notes you never thought she’s capable of hitting only serves to be a minor distraction from her pulsating heat. You’re relentless, slowly picking away at her senses, at her sensitive cunt, knowing that no one can eat her out as well as you do.

“S-sir.” Haewon can only muster up a single word before her mouth fills the room with nothing but air.

Deep down, you despise the rather obstructive yet comfortable position you’re in. Your tongue brushes against Haewon’s folds, going back and forth to taste of her warmth and her clit. The rest of her frame lays atop the desk, trembling, unable to keep herself steady under your grip. She’s lost you somewhere in between, clinging onto the edges of the table for support. You can only imagine her jaw agape, her expressions twisting in pleasure, wriggling and tossing her head around as she aimlessly tries to find some semblance of control.

Her mouth is the only tool she can use to make some sense of this overwhelming bliss. And even that doesn’t amount to much. ‘Shit,’ ‘so good,’ ‘don’t stop—’ these are only some of the things she groans out as you trap her in a whirlpool of her own ecstasy. It’s still not enough. You want to prove her wrong; you want to remind her what’s important, and the only way you can make sure she truly understands if she fucking cums all over your face.

So while Haewon writhes and makes a damn mess of your desk, you continue to feast on her pretty cunt. She’s making sure every person in the building knows how good your tongue is, and it’s in character with how unabashedly shameless she behaves in front of everyone. Her legs kick sharply against your chair, so you end up where you were supposed to be from the beginning—on your knees. And yet it doesn’t deter you; if anything, you grow more attached to her pussy, savoring every taste and drop, taking piece of every little part of her as yours.

You can’t wait to explore the rest of her body and claim it as yours. On the off chance you’re able to rip her shirt off, your hands roam her tight, lithe figure. You’re met by layers of fabric, frustrated at the inability to grab her breasts in their natural form. She grabs you by the wrists; it’s a miracle she’s able to feel you through the waves crushing her to the desk. You suck on her clit hard. She lets out this guttural moan that sounds violent in nature, like you’re hurting her, when you’re actually doing the exact opposite.

And it’s how you play off each other for the most part. Your need to get Haewon naked is only matched by her desperation to cum. She doesn’t need to tell you directly how much she wants to. Her hands guide you beneath her shirt, and you press on the underside of her boobs in appreciation. You’re playing a dangerous game; you have no intention of letting go.

Surprisingly, Haewon holds up well. One look and it might appear that she’s a complete wreck: how her body trembles unceasingly, how she has half her shirt lifted to give you a better view of her chest for when you eventually come up for air, how helpless she is at even the slightest touch. You made her like this. It’s a habit she’s used to by now; she’s learned that a figure like hers is meant to be admired, to be used.

Before you grow comfortable with the habit, the idea that you can eat her out on the desk for hours, Haewon cums.

She keens and shudders through her surprise orgasm. It’s aligned with her playful nature to cum without your knowing, even though the signs were there all along. Your tongue works through the torrent of fluid, then the wave of slick that you drink up. Lap whatever your satiated bud allows. You can see remnants of her climax spill down the desk and to the floor, to her pants.

Even now, you’re still learning something new about your students. For one, you never knew Haewon squirts.

The wet desk would make for a perfect reference picture for when she questions your legitimacy again—but you have better ways of explaining yourself.

You give Haewon no reprieve; she mewls and whimpers as you lick her folds clean, till you settle into soft, gentle kisses. The situation is all sorts of fucked; she has places to be and friends to meet, but you have her on top of your desk, keening after eating her out and making her cum without a care. It’s gonna take an essay's worth of explaining the glaringly wet patches on her clothes and deep red marks over her skin.

Truthfully, she’d rather be with you than with her overbearing friends—but you won’t hear it directly from her lips.

Speaking of, you hear a phone ring. Haewon cranes her neck in the direction of her bag. “Sir, I need my phone.” She huffs, gasping for air, each word spaced out between deep breaths.

Regretfully, it takes every bit of your resolve to release your tongue from her warm cunt. You rummage through her bag and hand the phone over to her. It’s about picking up the pieces now, salvaging whatever you can make of the mess you made, albeit there’s hardly anything to save, even yourself.

“Don’t.” Haewon uses her loose toes to point at you, shifting herself into a sitting position on the desk. You’re halfway done with the first button on your shirt when she stops you. She’s tapping through her phone, texting some bullshit excuse to her friends. Knowing her, they’re most likely no better than her; they might be playing into your little secret, too. All it takes is one person, one word of mouth, before information spreads around like wildfire.

Like everything else about her, you had mostly left it up to interpretation. Forcing details out of Haewon is a near-impossible task. You were never really a good negotiator. The deal usually ends up like this: her panties for a bonus in her grades, her lips for a signed excuse letter, and if she was really in the mood, her pussy for a cheat sheet. Sometimes,

She sets her phone aside on the desk, hopping off the table to lay her hands on your exposed chest. Momentarily kissing you, she whispers, “Sir, I told them I would be a little late today. You should know better by now.”

Her fingers wring around the collar of your button up shirt, eyes ablaze with reinvigorated lust, lips curled in a pleasant smile. You’re so enamored with her, it drives you crazy. Even when she pushes you onto your chair, even when she rips the already undone shirt off your body, all you can do is pay attention to the stars in her eyes. Her warm, wanton gaze—both charming and alluring in all the right ways. She knows how to use every part of herself to near perfection.

The rest of your clothes couldn’t come off any faster. Your pants and boxers pool around your ankles, followed shortly by a dark cropped sweatshirt. You’re not given any time to savor the perfection that is Haewon’s naked figure; she’s straddled on your lap, stroking your hard cock with a delicate grip. She smirks, and she has every right to look smug. You’re left breathless, under pressure; if only you can see yourself in the mirror and see how needy you look, and the utter control Haewon has over you.

And you allow her; this is her specialty, this is what she’s built for—to fucking end you.

If your words allow you, you’d command her to get on her knees, suck your cock and take a warm load all over her face; this is the ideal position to make the move. But you can’t. Not when you’re missing the point.

Haewon is on the edge of your lap, running her hand around your cock, gathering spurts of precum on her nails and finger pads. She’s still winded from before, slow in her movements. The naughty look she gives your body never grows old.

“I hope you don’t mind if I ask you a question,” she starts, looking down at the little mess she’s making on your thigh. You’re too overwhelmed to breathe, let alone say a word.

“Be honest with me. I’m being serious for once.”

And she sounds like she means it. You gulp your throat as you enter the unknown.

Her eyes flicker up to meet yours, her expression deep in thought, something she’s not usually seen doing. And you feel the heat gradually building on your lap, but you’re paralyzed by anxiety for the sensation to register. She runs the other hand through hair to take a good luck at you: your rather sweaty face, somewhere between pleasure and tense.

“Tell me,” she sighs, running a hand down your shoulder to your elbow, before continuing, “Am I the best student you’ve ever fucked?”

“Yes.” The word comes out involuntarily, as if it were muscle memory. Like your body knows, and it knows itself better than anyone or anything else.

It draws a piqued reaction from Haewon. She raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. “And what about Yoona?”

“And what about her?”

A reply you end up regretting almost immediately. Haewon doesn’t take bullshit for an answer, as evident by the cold, dour stare on her face. If there’s anyone who knows the ins and outs of university, it’s her.

It doesn’t take long for you to cave in. “She’s so tight,” you admit, sounding like a guilty criminal being interrogated. “But you’re still the best, I swear.”

“And what about Yuna? That exchange student Lily? Miss Minatozaki? You say that to just about anyone.”

In an instant, she goes from curious and passionate to downright frightening. It’s not supposed to be like this; normally it’s you who has the authority. Haewon can go on and on for hours if she wanted to. She has all the leverage, all the evidence, all the power to cause the end of everything, your life included. But she only wants one thing: the truth.

“They’re nothing compared to you. Promise. You’re still my favorite student.”

To a certain extent, you’re right; Haewon is your favorite, but for all for the wrong reasons. It has nothing to do with teaching her anything other than being a good toy, because deep down, she’s about as irredeemable as your peers make her out to be. Really, it’s about using her body, fucking her, pushing her to the absolute limits—anything to get your mind out of the numbing, monotonous work of being an actual professor. There are many good girls in class, including the names she mentions in passing, but this is a stark reminder that Haewon is yours, and you belong to Haewon.

“Then show me.”

And to drive the point even further, she sinks down on your lap, pressing her weight on your crotch—until her pussy meets your cock and you both disappear into the sea of pleasure again.

Haewon throws her head back, and she’s never looked more vulnerable, not even when you had her laid out on the desk. All this flesh and body to claim, and you have no clue where to begin. But that’s the least of your problems when she begins to glide up and down, rocking your lap with slow, agonizing thrusts. You end up blanking out and caring about the friction in your hips instead.

The slip of your cock in and out of her pussy when she rides you. Your palms press against her waist while you watch her slowly come undone: the moans, curses, and every sound in between, the rapidly twisting expressions, the hypnotic jiggle of her chest. Soon, you find a steady rhythm to match, and everything becomes effortless. Both of you pushing and pulling against each other’s bodies in an effort to get deeper. You forget you’re a professor and her a student, only two souls in need of sex during some trying times in your lives.

In a way, you’re both meant to be. Fate is a strange entity.

Then Haewon regains some clarity, enough to be kissing you, moaning directly in your ear, demanding your gaze. Even when her hole swallows your cock, she still wants your attention. And even while you have it so deep in her cunt that she’s mewling, struggling for oxygen, she manages to form a coherent sentence.

“Tell me I’m the tightest. Tell me I have the best pussy you ever fucked.”

God, she’s so fucking tight you can’t fully comprehend it. Perhaps even more, and you’re used to using her. Maybe it’s all that pent-up frustration toward your dead end job, toward Mina, that makes her clench tighter. That’s now how pussy works; you’re just stretching her out really hard, but you have nothing sensible to conclude with. What you can tell, however, is that you needed this—and you needed it badly.

You’re thankful you closed off the doors and curtains to the classroom, because the last thing anyone needs to see and hear is the sight of Haewon riding you while you both moan about how good the other feels.

“Love this pussy,” you murmur, breathing against her collarbone, wanting a taste of her taut nipple. She has you in a tight bearhug that binds your hands around her waist. “Fuck—so—fucking—tight—the best—”

And that’s all she needed to hear. Every word—every sound—slips from her lips like it hurts, but she’s in total bliss. She moves her hips against the roll of your cock with deep emphasis, like fitting puzzle pieces together, and it sends you. You’re left even more breathless, more in awe at how fucking well Haewon takes your length. As if it was always meant for her.

Curses and praise aside, she’s never one to talk during sex. But then she makes the faintest comment about how your cock fits so snug inside her, and you honestly just lose it.

Once in a while, a certain inquiry is brought up. What’s your favorite thing about me, Haewon asks, when it’s supposed to be the opposite. You’re supposed to give out this very question to your students as a way to improve your teaching style and maybe come off as an approachable authority figure. As expected, it wasn’t helpful in the slightest. She then would suddenly come to you at the most random of times with this particular question, and you’d be preoccupied with numerous things—home life, school activities, the usual—to find an answer.

But right there, right as you spear deep into her tight, needy cunt, is where you figure it all out. It’s all in the little details. Your hand going up and down her arched back. The squelching of her pussy against your cock. The furious sound of your flesh slapping against hers. Her loose, shrilly whines while you bury your face between her chest, begging you harder. Her hands tangled with your hair and nape. All that while she’s bouncing on your lap at such a feverish pace; she’s going to break the chair you’re sitting on.

Before you know it, your tongue has traveled all over the most sensitive parts of her body: nipples, neck, and even pits.

Everything about Haewon is so ridiculous, you can’t believe how much of a challenge she has been for the longest time that you’ve forgotten how easily she folds. Like she’s meant to be used.

But no punishment is suitable enough; no amount of discipline can change her. If anything, it only fuels her goal to thread the needle even further.

“Gonna fucking cum, Haewon,” you hiss against her ear, blurring the line between kissing and biting her collarbone. Using all the strength in your hips, you have her legs spread as wide as they can over the chair, over your thighs. The squirt she releases as she crashes on your lap serves to fan the flames in your cock even brighter. It’s all but inevitable that you’ll pour it all inside her, and she wouldn’t want it any other way.

If you had any semblance of a spine, you’d never let her hear the end of it. The idea that her pussy isn’t getting its fair share of seed disgusts her. She needs to learn what boundaries are, and how not to cross said lines. At least there’s one lesson you can impart on her before you split, but you’ll save that for another day, because you cum.

You fuck Haewon so hard, she turns into mush that melts in your grasp. Forget the guttural groan you made; the aftermath is alarming. Her pussy drips with a huge load pooling on the chair and trickling down her thighs. You make sure you bury yourself to the hilt and unload inside her. The evidence is undeniable; from the smell to the sight of clothes and cum, there’s no concealing it—if there was even anything to hide, because your salacious activity could easily be heard anywhere in the building.

And lost in the madness is your train of thought; your body is reeling from the aftershocks of your orgasm, and you simply idle. Let your cock stay in Haewon’s warmth as long as possible. Let the setting sun bathe her pretty face in that lovely afterglow. Let her slowly recover and realize that you’ve been right all along about everything.

“Sir, you came inside me a lot,” she says, a little over a whisper, trying to take record of your work. Her eyes stay glued to the puddle of cum dripping down her leg, running a finger to taste you.

“For my favorite student, why wouldn’t I,” you tell her, caressing your hand up and down her back. Even through the climax, you never stopped.

The brief, peaceful respite is interrupted by, you guessed it, another phone. This time, it’s not Haewon’s. She moves gingerly bending down, almost tumbling over in an attempt to retrieve your phone from the depths of your pocket. Your only contribution is ensuring she doesn’t bash her head on the floor.

“Well, well, well,” she comments, looking at your phone with a familiar, sarcastic tone before handing it over to you. “Speak of the devil.”

On the screen are two missed calls and one new text, all from none other than Mina herself. A grim reminder of the reality you live in.

The message is as predictable as it reads. She won’t be home till late in the evening, which might as well be dawn of the next day.

“Miss Myoui is getting it. A hundred percent sure.”

She delivers it with such conviction that it might as well be fact. You’d be upset about the very thought—anyone would—but a glance at Haewon gives you an idea. One that leaves her curious.

“Sir? Why are you looking at me like that?”

You can already imagine it: the image of railing Haewon everywhere. On the table, against the wall, under the showers. Maybe if you’re lucky enough, Mina will go through that door and be greeted by the sight of her least favorite student getting fucked by her husband from behind.

You show her the text, and just like that, you’re both one and the same. A look of pride crosses her face, as if she’s accomplished an important milestone—and it’s quite a momentous one.

And what better way to celebrate than inside the comfort of your home.

—————

(A/N: Been down bad for Haewon since December. Also, NMIXX is actually good now! Their latest EP has some bangers, highly recommend Run for Roses and Passionfruit. The setting might be a bit more on the bleaker/less wholesome side, but I hope it's not uncomfortable/upsetting. Thank you for reading!)

#smut #kpop smut #nmixx #haewon

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holybibly · 2 months

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I think my brain refuses to accept anyone else but Seonghwa today. Sorry not sorry, bunnies, but if I suffer, you'll suffer too.

These are my unholy thoughts.

You've been an Ateez fan for a long time, so when you got the chance to go to their concert, even with VIP passes, you went crazy. God, to be able to see Ateez in real life—isn't that a dream come true?

You had a liking for all of the members—well, maybe not all of them. Seonghwa, you just weren't interested in him; you didn't really understand all the hype around him, and he wasn't really your type on the outside.

The sound check went well, and then you had the opportunity to have a quick chat with the members before the start of the show. You literally melted under Hongjoong's gaze, almost flowing across the floor and shining like the damn sun just from Yeosang smiling at you. The boy was an angel; you could see the divine light that was in his surroundings. San was such a gentleman, and Woo was so playful and full of fun. God, the way Mingi said your name in that deep voice of his took your breath away, and Jongho was so adorable you couldn't help but want to kiss his soft cheeks. Need I mention how gorgeous Yunho's hands were? He could literally wrap his whole arm around your neck.

And then there was Seonghwa, of course. You greeted him politely but were happy to escape his dark, feline gaze whenever you had the chance. He was... Intense and his presence beside you sent a shiver down your spine.

It would be an understatement to say that this drove Seonghwa crazy. The blood in his veins was literally boiling with rage.

"How dare you disregard him! He's a fucking Park Seonghwa."

But Seonghwa was determined that by the end of the concert, you would be drooling and your juices running down your thighs just looking at him, and damn, the boy did his best.

The fans went crazy, literally swooning over his sexy moves, demonic charisma, and, of course, his tongue. Seonghwa was even moving his hips a hundred times harder than usual, but you... you didn't even look in his direction; you were completely captivated by San and his damn dimpled smile. Seonghwa wasn't jealous. No, of course he wasn't. He is Park Seonghwa. He is the epitome of sexiness and greatness, and you didn't care about him. He hated you like hell.

For you, the concert was just great; you enjoyed every second of it, had a lot of fun, and seemed to have completely lost your mind over San. God, the man was literally a wet dream. All in all, you could say that your night had been a meaningful and joyful one, but Seonghwa was left with a bad taste in his mouth after you had left. When you met for the second time that day, this time for a sweet farewell, you didn't even approach him. You just turned towards him and bowed formally as a farewell.

You did fucking bow. As he watched Wooyoung shamelessly spin you around in his arms, his sensual, plump lips curled in disgust. A bit more, and his hands would have been on your buttocks in a kneading motion. Seonghwa didn't want his hands to touch your soft, plump flesh at all. And he didn't stare at your tits at all, which literally bounced with every move you made and made Yeosang's cheeks blush. He was a second away from the words to them:

"Go ahead, fuck her right here; don't mind me."

But it all ended as quickly as it had begun. Now you are leaving with the rest of the VIP fans, taking Seonghwa's interest in you with you.

Even the day after the concert Seonghwa couldn't stop thinking about you, you just wouldn't let him go. He needed to relax, clear his mind and forget about the stupid fan who didn't even understand her own happiness. He looked at you, maybe he even could fucked you, and you just kept on staring at San's damn dimples.

Seonghwa was literally seeing red.

So he had recourse to his favourite form of relaxation - dancing. And let's just say: Park Seonghwa had a very creative approach when it came to relaxing.

This club was not a big one, and it was certainly not known to the general public. It was very private, and it was by invitation only, which was more difficult to get hold of than tickets for a BTS concert. It made you feel very privileged, like royalty.

In the last few days, your life couldn't have been better. Yesterday you had an Ateez concert, and today a private strip club that was completely inaccessible to ordinary people—hell, not even all the rich and famous could be on the guest list. But you were. And you couldn't be more grateful to your friend, who was fucking the owner. Pussy power, as they call it.

The evening passed under a soft, sexy bass, and the alcohol consumption heightened the senses. Your inhibitions became more and more vague, which is why you didn't even think twice before you agreed to a lap dance with a super-elite and fucking unrealistic stripper. You didn't know what to expect when your friend laughed and pushed you into the small room, giggling and saying, "Have fun."

Waiting for the show to begin, you slowly sat down on the soft plush couch in front of the small stage. Before you entered the room, your friend pushed some papers into your hands, something about confidentiality or security. You still didn't understand it; your brain was foggy from all the cocktails you had drunk, but you signed everything they told you.

The lights dimmed and a sensual, slow bass filled the room. God, you have to fuck with music like that. Your eyes were fixed on the tall, lithe figure, surrounded by shadows, as he bent down around the pole. It was a man, and you had to say it was incredibly handsome, even though you had not yet seen his face, but you were sure of it.

His legs were long and slender, his hips swaying vulgarly as he fucked the air, and that slutty waist... Your mouth was in drool.

He made a few more turns around the pole, sliding down the length of it and arching his plump ass. And then, at last, you saw his face, and you froze like a deer caught in the headlights, your mouth opening and closing helplessly in a complete stupor.

With cat-like eyes, sharp cheek bones, and full, wet lips, the man standing in front of you was none other than Park Seonghwa.

When Seonghwa met the gaze of his 'client', he stopped breathing for a second. It was you, the girl, because of which he had come here today. He was supposed to point out that you looked damn sexy, all petite, curvy, and voluptuous in a tight, shiny sequin dress. It showed off your luscious big tits and sweet thighs. Seonghwa's teeth ached with the desire to bite when he saw the naked skin untouched by the sun.

You were so stunned that you didn't even notice the idol who was standing in front of you until his fingers had wrapped themselves around your chin.

"Isn't this my luck, kitten, hmm?" Seonghwa asked you as he stroked the side of your cheek with his thumb.

"I-I even..." But as Seonghwa straddled you with ease and rolled his hips sensually against you, all words died on your tongue. His tall figure towered over you, and in the purple light, he looked like a real demon who had come to take your soul away from you.

As he tilted your head back so that you looked into his eyes, his long fingers ran through your hair, tugging hard at the strands.

When he spoke, it was in a deep, sexy, angry voice.

"I'm going to teach you some respect, kitten. When I'm done with you, you'll know better than to ignore your mommy."

And Seonghwa meant every word, bending down to plant a harsh kiss on your soft, supple lips.

Yesterday's concert may have been great. But Seonghwa is going to give you a private show that will be a million times better.

#ateez smut #kpop smut #atz smut #ateez hard hours #ateez unholy hours #smut #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut #park seonghwa smut #ateez scenarios #ateez au #ateez x reader

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alessiasfreckles · 2 months

Text

not good, not bad, just different (leah williamson x ADHD!reader)

disclaimer: this is based off of my personal experience of ADHD. this is in no way saying that this is what adhd looks like for everyone!!

a/n: based on this request! i hope you like it, i'm sorry it's so all over the place but that also felt pretty thematic so... hopefully it's okay. i'm planning on doing 1-2 more parts to this! the next part will be about the reader getting diagnosed and coming to terms with their diagnosis + telling the other lionesses about it. also if you're interested in more WLW football based fiction involving ADHD, read Cleat Cute by Meryl Wilsner!

------------

You had always felt… different. Not in a ‘not like other girls’ kind of way, more like an ‘I don’t understand what’s wrong with me’ kind of way. Things just seemed to be so much harder for you than for everybody else.

As a teenager, you were constantly getting told off by your parents for your messy room and bad grades. You were a smart kid, they said, so why couldn’t you just do your homework and study for tests like everyone else?

You would ask yourself the same thing. Forcing yourself to sit at your desk, staring at your maths textbook, desperately begging your brain to just cooperate, just this once, not understanding why it was so hard to just do the work.

When your parents would come into your room you would instantly feel a flash of white-hot shame at the state of it. Clothes everywhere, rubbish you’d forgotten about in corners, plates, cups, half empty water bottles. You couldn’t help it, it was like once something was out of your line of sight, you just forgot it existed, like the plate of half-eaten food that you’d put next to the bed at some point and then had absent-mindedly pushed under the bed to get it out of your way. When you found it weeks - okay, months - later, you were so embarrassed by the mould that you secretly threw it away rather than take it downstairs to the kitchen, where anyone could see it.

You would forget things you knew you should remember, things that anyone else would have remembered, like weekly tutoring sessions that your parents paid for (something they reminded you of when you forgot, yet again). You felt so stupid. It was at the same time, every Wednesday after school, so why couldn’t you remember?

Or doctor’s appointments, dentist appointments, any kind of appointment really. You would write it into your calendar, set yourself a reminder on the day, set yourself another reminder 30 minutes before, and all that would happen is that you would swipe away the reminder thinking ‘oh, yeah’, and then you’d continue doing whatever you were doing before. It was only when you’d hear the phone ring that you’d instantly know it was about you, about the appointment you’d missed, or maybe it was from school, or maybe something else you’d just completely forgotten about.

And all of that wasn’t even taking your issues with human interaction into account. You’d always struggled to make friends, especially as a girl who liked football. When you hit 9 or 10, the other girls in your class started to grow more interested in talking about boys, or music, or tv. You couldn’t understand what they found so interesting, that they’d rather spend breaks just sitting around chatting to each other when they could be running around playing football, or some other game, or anything more exciting.

As you got a little older, though, you realised that it was clearly a ‘you’ problem. People at your secondary school were nice, for the most part, but you still struggled to make friends. When you’d accidentally interrupt someone, or start talking too much and too loudly in excitement, or fidget a little too noisily, people would give you looks and whisper to each other about how weird you were. You learned to sit on your hands to stop yourself from clicking a pen or tapping your fingers, to keep quiet to avoid saying the wrong thing or saying it the wrong way.

Football was a good escape. It was fast-paced enough that you didn’t have time to think about other things, and there was enough going on that your brain wasn’t looking for external stimulation. You’d always been observant, noticing things most people wouldn’t notice, and you used it to your advantage. You were quick with the ball and you seemed to always know where everyone was around you. You were so good, in fact, that you made the England U17 squad - something you’d hoped would make you seem a little cooler at school, but just added to your ‘weirdness’.

That time was far behind you now, though. Now you were in your twenties and not only played football professionally, having joined Arsenal when you were 19, but also played for the England senior squad, one of the Lionesses.

That’s not to say that you didn’t still struggle with things. Your apartment was a mess, you lost things constantly, you would still interrupt people and fidget. You had friends though, at least. If anything, people knew what you were like and they loved you for it. It became a running joke on match days that you would inevitably lose your shoes, or your shin pads, or your phone, or that you’d need to borrow a hair bobble from someone. Everything would always show up right as you started to panic, though. Your shoes would be in the bathroom, because you’d been holding them when you went in to go to the toilet before the game like you always did. Your shin pads would be in the pockets of your jacket, one on each side, so you wouldn’t lose them.

“Looking for this?” Leah would ask, pulling your phone out of her pocket and smiling at the look of relief on your face.

“Yes! Where was it?”

“On the bus. You left it on your seat,” she explained.

“Huh. That doesn’t sound like me,” you joked.

“Nah, that definitely doesn’t sound like you,” she would say with a wink.

So, yeah. Maybe you had a reputation as the forgetful one, and the messy one, and the chaotic one, and the distracted one. But that was just who you were, right?

---------

Okay, you knew you were here for a reason. There must have been something you were going to get from the prep room, that’s literally the only reason you were there. You mentally went through everything you needed; shoes, on your feet, jacket, wearing it, headphones, in your pocket, water bottle - fuck, that was it! Your bottle!

You grabbed it from the bench where you’d left it and headed back out. On the way you needed to pee, so you quickly went to the bathroom, washed your hands, and went back to the training pitch.

“Did you get your water bottle?” Leah asked, a quizzical look on her face as she looked at your empty hands.

“Fuck,” you sighed. “I had it. Where the fuckety fuck did I put it?”

“Y/n, come on! Training started 5 minutes ago!” one of the trainers called over. You felt a white hot flash of shame in your belly, heat rising to your face.

“Do you want me to help you look for it?” Leah asked.

You shook your head, looking down. “No, it’s fine,” you muttered. “Let’s just start training.”

After training, Kyra came over to you in the changing room.

“Here,” she said, holding out your bottle. “I found it in the toilets, on the sink.”

---------

After that you made a list. You stuck it to the inside of your cubby, and every day you would look through it, double checking everything before you left the room. It helped for a while, until you started seeing the list as part of the background and your brain started ignoring it.

When you went to international camp, it got worse. You were away from your routine, in an unfamiliar environment. At least the people you were with was pretty much the same as always. As nice as it was to see everyone though, it was draining, too.

“Y/n? What do you want?” Leah asked. You were on a rare night out, the whole team at a restaurant by the beach together.

“Huh?” you asked, frowning. At a table nearby, people were singing ‘Happy Birthday’, cheering, clapping. On the other side of you, someone was having a conversation - it sounded like they were on a first date, but that didn’t make sense, you were in Spain, they sounded English, why would they be on a first date here?

“What do you want to order?” Leah asked again, prompting you. The waitress stood there, looking at you expectantly, notepad in her hand. A light flickered somewhere in the corner of your eye.

“Oh, um, I,” you stuttered, looking at the huge menu in front of you. The people on the date were talking about what kind of things they liked to do on holiday, she liked to go sightseeing, he just wanted to relax, at another table a baby started crying, the ice in people’s glasses was clinking, knives and forks were scraping against plates, that song you’d had stuck in your head for days now was still playing on a loop in the back of your head, your leg was bouncing uncontrollably under the table, someone’s nails were tapping against their phone, the man was telling the woman that the whole point of holidays is to relax-

Leah’s hand on your knee made you look up from where you’d zoned out looking at the menu. The waitress was gone. Leah was looking at you with a concerned expression, her hand steady on your knee.

“Do you want to go outside, get some fresh air?” she asked calmly.

You nodded wordlessly.

With a hand on your arm she guided you outside the restaurant, taking you to a nearby bench to sit down. The breeze cooled the sweat on the back of your neck, making you shiver.

“Are you cold?” Leah asked, reaching for her jacket.

“No, no, I’m okay,” you said, breathing in deeply. You knew you should just go back inside, suck it up, smile at Leah and say everything was okay, but you just couldn’t yet. You just needed a few more minutes.

You sat there in silence for a minute. It wasn’t a bad silence, but you could tell Leah was giving you space to talk whenever you felt ready. You didn’t want to talk about what had just happened though, you felt too embarrassed about getting overwhelmed like that. Everyone else was fine, it was just you who couldn’t handle it.

“The people at the table next to us, I think they were on a first date,” you said instead, looking at your hands.

“Yeah?” Leah laughed.

“Yeah. But, like, why would they be on a first date here? They sounded English, why are they on a first date at a restaurant in Spain?” you asked.

“Huh, I dunno,” Leah mused. “Maybe they’re both on holiday and happened to meet and decided to go on a date?”

“Maybe,” you nodded. After a few seconds of quiet, you sighed. “I’m sorry about all that. I just got… there was just a lot going on.”

Leah squeezed your knee. “It’s okay. It was busy in there, wasn’t it?”

You nodded again. “Yeah. My brain just couldn’t handle it all. All the noises, and the menu- oh, fuck, I didn’t order anything!”

“It’s okay,” Leah chuckled. “I ordered for you.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. A sandwich and chips. If you don’t want it I’m sure someone else will eat it,” she shrugged.

“I didn’t even notice you ordering for me,” you frowned. “I feel like something’s wrong with me.”

“Wrong with you? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, I- I feel like something is wrong with my brain,” you tried to explain, not knowing how to put it into words.

Leah frowned.

“It doesn’t matter, I’m making a big deal out of nothing,” you said, suddenly feeling awkward and embarrassed. “Let’s go back inside. Everyone is probably wondering where we are.”

“Wait, y/n, we can stay outside for a little bit longer,” Leah said.

“No, no,” you stood up quickly, not meeting her eyes. “Let’s go. I’m okay, I promise.”

———

It didn’t take long for Leah to corner you the next day, determined to talk to you..

“You seem distracted,” Leah said, sitting down next to you on the bench. “More distracted than usual, I mean.”

“Ha, yeah,” you said. “It’s kind of ironic, actually. I’m distracted because I’m distracted.”

“Right…” she said, frowning. “You’re distracted because you’re thinking about why you’re distracted?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, trying to think of how to word it. “We all know I get distracted easily, right?”

The blonde nodded. “Yeah, you’re like a magpie or something. You see something shiny, you gotta pick it up. Except the shiny thing is literally anything that catches your attention,” she laughed.

“Exactly! Well, I was looking some stuff up online, or, no, I saw some stuff online, wait, let me start again,” you said. “My thoughts are moving faster than my mouth. Okay, so, when I was a teenager, I was on tumblr a lot. It was the only social media I really had. And on tumblr I’d see a lot about people with ADHD and autism and about hyperfixating on things. And I’ve always kind of hyperfixated on stuff - I mean, football, obviously, but other stuff too, like how on my days off I’ll binge watch an entire season of a TV show and then not shut up about it for like, a month straight, and then I’ll lose interest and basically never mention it again.”

“Or like when you decided to start playing guitar and bought a guitar and had 2 lessons and then stopped, or like when you got really into gardening for a few weeks and bought all those plants and seeds and books about gardening and then realised it was the wrong time of year for half the things you wanted to plant?” Leah asked, an amused look in her eyes.

“Huh. Yeah, I guess those count too,” you said, frowning. “So, yeah, I hyperfixate on things. And I’ve only ever seen it mentioned together with ADHD and autism. But I always thought wow, that’s so crazy that I do that but I don’t have either of those!”

“I feel like I know where this is going,” Leah smiled.

“Leah, what if I do have ADHD? I don’t think I have autism, I mean, I might, but I haven’t really looked into it yet, maybe I should-”

“One thing at a time, okay?” she laughed, putting a hand on your arm. “Y/n, we both know I am in no way qualified to tell you if you have ADHD or not. But I know you very well. We’ve known each other for what, 5, 6 years now? And it would not surprise me in the slightest if you have ADHD.”

“Really?” you asked, incredulous. “What makes you say that?”

“You mean, aside from what I just mentioned?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Last night? At the restaurant?” she gently reminded you.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I may have also read up on the topic a bit. I kind of suspected you might have ADHD, but I didn’t want to bring it up until you did,” she explained, not meeting your eyes. You felt something flutter in your stomach at her confession. “Anyway, one of the things I read was that people with ADHD also struggle with overstimulation and sensory issues. Do you think that could be what happened last night?”

“Oh,” you said, suddenly quiet. “Maybe?”

“I’m sorry if I overstepped, I just-”

“No, no, it’s okay! It’s just a lot to take in.” you told her. Your mind was racing, thoughts splitting off into dozens of other thoughts, some fully formed and some nothing more than singular words or phrases.

You sat together in silence for a few minutes.

“What do I do now?” you asked Leah, your voice small. “I, um, I didn’t think I’d get this far. You’re the first person I’ve told, and I kind of expected you to tell me I’m being silly.”

“I would never say that,” she said, turning to look at you, her eyes fixed on yours. “I wouldn’t say that about something important to you, I promise. And as for what to do now, well, I guess you have a few options. You can keep going as you have been, and do some more research, if you want, and try to figure it out alone. Well, not alone. You’ve got me. Or you could speak to someone, a professional. See if your hunch is right.”

“And then?”

“I dunno, I guess that’s up to you. I suppose they’d be able to help you with coping mechanisms, or put you on medication, if that’s what you wanted,” she shrugs.

“Medication?” you asked. Your mind was full of pictures of hyperactive kids, bouncing off the walls. You propped your feet up on the bench, pulling your knees in close to your chest. “What if I’m wrong? What if there’s nothing wrong with me and I’m just being dramatic?”

“Then that’s okay, too,” Leah said firmly. “Then you’re just dramatic, but that’s okay, too. I promise.”

You nodded, resting your chin on your knees.

"Would you be able to help me find someone to talk to? I don't know how, or where, or, anything, really," you asked.

"Of course," she said, putting her arm around your shoulders and pulling you in close. "I'll help in any way I can."

#hannah writes fics #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson fanfic #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson fluff #adhd #woso fanfics #woso #woso x reader #awfc #woso imagine #woso fanfic

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getosfavoritewife · 4 months

Text

The Sun Always Rises

✮⋆˙ General Jing Yuan has a way of bringing sunlight to you, regardless of how much you avoid the warm rays. (1.5k words)

✮⋆˙ A/N: first post!! jing yuan has such a lazy/cozy feel and I'm still trying to gauge his personality so sorry if it's a bit ooc!!

✮⋆˙ Warning(s)/Content: forgemaster!reader; implications of mental health concerns (nothing heavy); can be read as platonic or romantic; fluffy fluff, teasing

✮⋆˙ jing yuan x gn!reader

Hearing three knocks against your door on a sunny winter evening could only signify one thing.

Not even trying to conceal the lack of surprise on your face, you open the door for your expected visitor; as usual, Jing Yuan greets you with a pleasant smile, hands comfortably clasped behind his back as he strides in like he owns the place, opens the curtains, and makes himself at home.

“Arbiter General,” you murmur, almost as if scripted.

“Forgemaster,” he replies in turn with a twinkle in his eyes, also as expected.

You don’t ask if he wants tea, opting to pour two cups and place them on the table as you both sit down. Forgemaster Yingxing had always taught you to be polite to guests, but that was a very long time ago, and Jing Yuan wasn’t just any guest.

“There’s a festival in Aurum Alley this evening,” Jing Yuan muses as he eyes the tea with interest, picking the small cup up as he gives the hot liquid a gentle blow and careful sip.

You know where he’s going with this, so at this point, the best course of action is feigned indifference and avoidance. “And you came all the way over here to let me know? Especially during such a busy day at The Seat of Divine Foresight?”

You take a ginger sip of the tea, grimacing as it burns the tip of your tongue, before placing it back down on the table. Master Yingxing’s tea was far superior to yours anyway—if he could see the hot garbage you’d brewed, he would have scolded your skills all afternoon.

Jing Yuan’s voice brings you out of your thoughts. “Astute as always. You should get out of the house more.”

“I leave the house,” you try not to sound defensive, squinting at the man sitting across from you. “I go to the forge every day.”

“Other than there?”

“And… I went to the market last week,” you grumble, rooting around in your brain for excuses. Lamely, all you come up with is a throwaway line about being too busy that you know Jing Yuan won’t buy. Anyone else would accept the lies that rolled off your tongue like second nature, but not Jing Yuan. He knew you and your habits all too well.

He stands up, dusting his pants off with a lazy smile. “Wonderful, grab your coat.”

“No, Jing Yuan. No.” You respond too quickly, shooting up as you wrack your brain for an excuse.

The softness with which he calls your name is lost to the roaring silence of the room and you know what face he’s making without even looking.

That corner above the cupboard really needs dusting. Master Yingxing would sneeze because of the dust, and he’d blame allergy season. Maybe tonight—

“Only for a little while,” he coaxes, as he swipes a strand of hair from obscuring your eyes. Maybe that’s what makes you meet his eyes: golden and full of life as usual, albeit with his dark circles that seemed worse than before.

“I’ll think about it,” you sigh tiredly, reaching up to run your fingers under his eyes. “You should sleep more, Jing Yuan. You look tired.”

A laugh rumbles out of him at that as he closes his eyes and leans into your touch. You can’t help but let the corners of your mouth quirk up in response. “Don’t let the others at The Seat of Divine Foresight hear you say that.”

“If only you would stop sneaking away at the sight of paperwork, maybe they wouldn’t be so wary of your work ethic,” you scold halfheartedly.

Jing Yuan simply watches you, an adoring smile peeking out that makes you want to push him away from you, embarrassed. Instead, you card your fingers through his hair, murmuring how his ribbon is coming loose as you free it from his snowy locks.

He sighs, letting his eyes flutter shut as you tug through his fluffy hair, replicating his usual hairstyle with practiced ease. You let your thoughts wander to when you used to re-tie his hair every day after it came loose during sparring while Master Yingxing went to go meet with sword master Jingliu and the others.

“How’s Yanqing’s training coming along?” Breaking the delicate silence, your voice always sounds unfamiliar these days; the results of less use, you suppose.

A golden eye cracks open to peer at you, and Jing Yuan lets out another sigh, this time more rueful. “You know how he tends to be. It still surprises me the speed with which he is able to pick up on new techniques and skills, but that obsession with winning and losing…” Jing Yuan trails off. “It’s like I say, if you treat him as a child, he'll put on the airs of an adult. If you treat him as an adult, he'll show the temperament of a child.”

“It’s a difficult age. Remember how you used to be?”

You bite back a snicker at the mock-offended look Jing Yuan shoots you.

“I don’t quite remember it like that,” he says. “I believe I was a joy to be around at every age.”

“I’m sure you remember it like that.”

“How else could you remember it?”

You take a break from playing with his hair to flick him on the forehead, at which he lets out a soft hiss, rubbing the small red mark and catching your hand before you can give him another one. “So mean.”

With a scoff, you make no move to remove your hand from his grip, letting yourself relax in his grasp. “You were nothing short of a terror. Anytime I tried to hang out with you it was always ‘Let’s spar here!’ or ‘Extra training is basically hanging out!’. I got so sick of you that I told Master Yingxing to stop meeting Master Jingliu when I was around.”

“Was I… really like that?” You can’t help but laugh at Jing Yuan’s face, ignoring the smile creeping onto his face at the sight of your laughter.

“All I’m saying is that he’ll grow out of it, just like you did. Kids are desperate to prove themselves at that age. You ought to praise him a little more,” you advise him softly.

“I give praise where it is deserved,” Jing Yuan places your clasped hands on his chest with fake affrontedness, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he huffs in amusement.

“Yet I am expected to praise you even when you are undeserving?”

“I hadn’t realized there were times where I was ever undeserving of praise?” You can’t help to smack him with the hand that was resting on his chest as he pretends to ponder.

“Speaking of Yanqing though—” you start before Jing Yuan interrupts.

“I thought we were speaking about me?”

The roll of your eyes seemed to simply be an intrinsic reaction to Jing Yuan’s teases after all these years of dealing with his painfully fatherly sense of humor.

“General.”

The pleased smile on his face only curled higher. “I’m listening.”

“As I was saying, Yanqing’s birthday is approaching this month. Maybe it’s time he finally receives a sword from the Forgemaster on his birthday this year?”

“I can already imagine his tears of joy. He still asks when he can meet you sometimes. I admit I have yet to give him an answer in fear that he will spend every moment not used for training to instead bother you incessantly at your forge.”

“Like father, like son, I suppose. Send him around—it’s truly no bother. It would also help me figure out a suitable blade for him.”

You pretend to not see the way Jing Yuan’s brows knit together at your teasing jab.

“Come watch us train sometime soon. To help you gauge his fighting style, of course,” Jing Yuan remarks lightly.

“Of course,” you echo. Giving him a look before sighing, you grab your coat off the hook, opening the door for him as you slip it on. “Only for a little while at the festival, please. And no buying or winning me anything while we’re there.”

Jing Yuan doesn’t even try to hide the smile unfurling on his face and you know the next words that come out of his mouth are bound to be an easy lie. “Wouldn’t dream of anything else, Forgemaster.”

From spending every free minute together as kids to only seeing him when he came knocking on your door every single day. No matter what happened, the sun always rose the next day. And no matter what happened, your Jing Yuan was always there.

thanks for reading!! ✮⋆˙

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webslingingslasher · 10 months

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ok but what if some girl would be saying that she slept with frat!peter after some party (where he was with trouble) and stuff like "oh yeah he had me calling him daddy and he's totally not a boob guy" and trouble overhears her and goes to peter with "you would not believe what i have just heard" and joking that maybe she has magic tits or something

you weren't listening.

minding your own business, pouring liquor into plastic cups, and cracking a can of sprite for a mixer; a group of friends crowded behind you. not listening, but certain words poked out more than others.

"he's fucking jacked by the way, it's like when i hooked up with parker."

your blood ran cold, frozen in place you were straining your hearing for each word to follow, if she didn't add more context you'd be shaking peter by his shirt.

a friend gasps, "you did? when?"

oh, not old news?

yeah, when did she?

flashing your eyes to peter, he's talking to someone and not paying attention. you'll kill him.

"like, around the start of the school year?"

oh thank god, he's in the clear.

"okay, well... spill!"

you can't walk away, your feet are glued to the vinyl floor. maybe, you just want to know if peter's telling the truth when he says you're different than the rest.

"ass man all the way, insisted on doggy. big dick, strong game, threw me around a little, had me calling him daddy and everything. not very affectionate though, i don't think he kissed me, actually. and not a lick of a cuddle after, threw my dress at me and said 'need an uber?' but, hey, i'd still do it again."

another friend cackles, "too bad, nate begged him to do a double date and parker immediately shut it down and said, and i quote, 'no. i have a girlfriend. she doesn't want me dating other girls.' kinda sweet if you ask me."

your heart soars, this is the first time he's ever referred to you as his girlfriend. not that you were, at least not officially, but it's easier to explain than what you actually were, and you had no idea what you were. you assume he doesn't either.

their conversation falls into something else, making you feel confident in moving away from the counter with a full cup in each hand, walking straight to the most interesting man of the night.

peter perking up instantly, leaving his friend with a fist bump, meeting you halfway.

"hi trouble, i missed you." a warm kiss placed on your cheek, you can't help the grin while handing him his drink, "hi handsome, i got a question..." you trail your words off and shift your back against his chest so he'd have a clear view of who you're pointing at.

"see that group of friends, do you know anyone there?"

he barely gives them a look over, one harm slung over your waist, he presses a kiss to your shoulder, "no, don't think so."

nudging him, "no, really. look." a sigh, "looking, no one looks familiar." the back of your head hits his chest, "peter, c'mon. please don't tell me you're one of those guys."

"i don't know what you mean! are you testing me or something?"

turning in his hold, a small pout hangs. "you hooked up with one of them. tell me which one and you earn two brownie points."

that changes things, because now peter knows what the mission is and how to identify previous suitors. mind ticking and eyes running over each body in a different way. watching him analyze is interesting. You wonder what he looks for in a hookup.

"the one in the middle. i'm sure of it, but i can't remember her name. I think it started with an 's' or 'v' maybe 'l'?"

"It's whitney," peter cheers his cup on your shoulder, "oh yeah, that's right."

you spin in his grasp, "liar. i made that up." peter pulls you closer, "you're just so convincing, trouble. call me gullible."

humming, you press a kiss to his chin, "she was talking about you, wanna hear?"

"this feels like a trap, i don't like this idea."

"oh, you should. i heard all about you in bed, and how you told nate i was your girlfriend." peter shakes his head, "i think you've been hitting the sauce hard tonight and you're making things up."

shaking your head like a toddler, "nope, i heard the truth about daddy." peter's head is thrown back with a groan, "alright, wow, we're really doing this. what else did you hear?"

"that you're an ass man, and," you sway on your feet and pretend to twirl a stand of hair, a nasally sarcastic tone rips, "you're like so, super fucking jacked. like, seriously so sexy. ugh! with a big dick too!"

peter presses a kiss to your cheek, "thank you for the compliments, baby." another kiss, the corner of your mouth, "even if you're sarcastic." a delicate kiss to your lips, "and a little wrong."

"which part was wrong? she's right, you've got a fucking wrench."

your cup is pulled from your hand, "alright, it's done. we're done."

a whine, "no! c'mon, please, daddy?"

"i'll silence you and you won't like it."

"will it be with your monster coc-"

a hand is slapped over your mouth, "i'll kill you, and won't have a problem with it."

#peter parker x reader #peter parker blurb #tasm!peter x reader #frat!peter drabbles #my writing

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bippiti · 2 months

Text

catalyst clc16 x rockstar! reader

after the release of your new album, life has been hectic as you've been running around doing shows. only problem is you seem to have only one person on your mind. little do you know he's having the same issue

an part two! any feedback is appreciated and please like + rb!

if you want a visual guide for the band .

part one next part

tags @bloodyymaryyy @guiseppetsunoda @maxverstappendefender @charizznorizz

yourig

liked by king, charles_leclerc and 42,836,364 others

yourig thanks for coming out london! nyc see you soon x

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user ughh i wish i couldve come :((

yourig next time lovee💜

user sounded so good

user anyone else gonna talk about the album afterparty???

user who cares bro😭 theyre adults and tbh they would be a power couple

user right?! ive been thinking the same thing, shes not a good influence on him

user im sorry do yk y/n??? how would u know that lmfao

king looking good!

liked by yourig

user where is the fit from???

user i think vivienne westwood!

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you sighed, scrolling through your comments. it had been almost a month after your albums release, and some people still were bringing up the hug with charles. i mean, seriously it was just a hug. it wasn't like you guys had made out or anything.

both your label and ferrari were sponsored by celsius, and your management had met with one of ferraris pr heads. they had agreed to work together to promote the new album, and had picked charles because he was a fan of your music.

you clicked instantly on the first day of set, but it also helped that you spoke fluent french (you had an obsession with indila when you were younger and forced yourself to learn it) the lack of a language barrier, coupled with the fact that you guys had similar interests made it inevitable that you both would become friends.

after the album launch party, you were exhausted. you had woken up at 4am for promo shoots, and had been running around all day before singing your whole album (which was around an hour long) to the attendees. it was fun, and you wouldnt trade your career for the whole world, but man you were tired.

as you were heading out, you spotted charles and you both stopped to talk

"tu as bien fait là-dedans" he said, smiling as he pushed his hands into his pockets (you did good in there)

"merci! les heures de pratique m’ont aidé. je pense que je pourrais oublier les paroles si j’essayais" you smile as he laughed (thanks! the hours of practice helped. i dont think i could forget the lyrics if i tried)

"en pratiquant son art on devient artisan" (practice makes perfect)

you nod, turning as you hear your bandmate siobahn call for you

you look back to him, saying your goodbyes and quickly hugging him before running after her.

that was it. just a friendly hug. it's not like he liked you, and if he knew you liked him, you doubt he would still be friends with you.

charles_leclerc

liked by yourig, pierregasly and 305,387 others

charles_leclerc i won. maybe next time @/pierregasly 😘

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user just realized pierre had a chance to fork the king and the rook in

user not y/n liking this...

user so cute😍

pierregasly i almost had it

charles_leclerc of course you did

user my fav french men

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after having checkmate charles sat back, smiling smugly as he looked at pierre try and fail to make a move. giving up, he raised his hands in defeat.

"quand vais-je jamais te battre?" he said sighing as he chuckled (when will i ever beat you)

"peut-être dans une autre vie" (maybe in another life)

scoffing, pierre changed the subject.

"so i heard you're with some rockstar these days"

"i most definitley am not"

"sure, sure. you might not be dating her but i can tell you like her"

charles paused, having a mini crisis. ok. so maybe he did like you. he couldn't help it, honestly. throughout filming ,and even after he had grown to really admire you. not only just as an artist, but as a person as well. he honestly hoped you'd be able to meet up afterwards, but he hasnt been able to see you since. between his preseason training and your concerts, you both are rarely free, let alone in the same country.

he told all of this to pierre, who listened quietly, nodding along before telling him his masterplan. he was gonna help him out, what kindve friend would he be if he didnt?

hearing the notification sound go off on your phone, you picked it up. your eyebrows raised as you read it

part 3??

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc prompt #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #scudia ferrari #charles leclerc x yn #f1 x reader #f1 smau #charles leclerc smau #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic

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sunderwight · 11 days

Text

SV Malevolent AU where, due to a system error (Shen Jiu not actually dying from the qi deviation? Mu Qingfang being present and resuscitating him in time maybe?) Shen Yuan ends up only half-possessing SJ by gaining control of his eyes.

SJ, of course, fully believes that he's been possessed by a demon and wants to evict the creature in question as soon as possible. However, he's still a paranoid bastard before anything else, so his first attempt is to just quietly do it himself after chasing Yue Qingyuan and anyone else away from his house. He doesn't want either a reputation for being weak and susceptible to possession, or one for having ties to demonic influence. There's enough grime on his reputation and the ONE thing he has confidently never been at risk of adding to it was consorting with demons, and he'd like to keep it that way.

Except, of course, Shen Yuan's not a demonic spirit, so none of the efforts to "evict" him actually work. Much to Shen Yuan's relief. A blind cultivator is still plenty formidable, but after a few days of deadlock over the issue, and with Shen Yuan fully in control of Shen Jiu's eyesight but otherwise unable to do much, Shen Yuan negotiates with the system (which SJ cannot perceive at all) to be able to tell Shen Jiu some things. Enough to get him to do something other than crack and run out of his house to let the other peak lords try their hands at ousting SY.

He tells Shen Jiu that he's not a demon (not for the first time, not that SJ believed him) but that he IS a spirit from another realm, and that he got turned around somehow on his way to try and warn this world about an impending catastrophe. SJ is naturally still suspicious, but after SY provides him with enough tidbits of information to verify that he's not completely lying, he decides to at least entertain the idea that SY isn't a demon and that a more nuanced approach is called for (also this route is appealing for him because it means he can still avoid telling anyone else that there's anything wrong with him).

Thus, uneasily, the two Shens reach a truce. Shen Yuan offers to help SJ navigate the world by describing things to him (within the privacy of their now-shared mind, of course), and SJ just sort of gives up on destroying him. For now.

Shen Yuan also, of course, tries to stop SJ from abusing Luo Binghe. Both because he would do that regardless, but also because he's now co-piloting SJ's body, which means he has a vested interest in making sure it retains all of its limbs. This has varying degrees of success.

But mainly I think this would be hilarious because Shen Jiu would essentially be held hostage to Shen Yuan's descriptions of things. Flowery, detailed and fascinated descriptions of monsters (at least these are useful because SY also has encyclopedic knowledge of their weak points). Largely vibes-based descriptions of scenery and women. Glowing assessments of Luo Binghe. Constantly bringing up Liu Qingge's beauty. Shen Jiu doesn't need his own shidi described! He knows what the asshole looks like! Go possess his body instead if you like it so much! (SJ was maybe kind of hoping that would happen when the spirit did something during the debacle in Lingxi Caves -- but no, SY just saved Liu Qingge's life, like some kind of not-evil creature. Infuriating!)

#svsss #scum villain's self saving system #scum villain #shen qingqiu #shen jiu #shen yuan

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fuxuannie · 1 year

Note

This is honestly my first time requesting anything so I'm kinda nervous ngl lol.

May I request some HCs with Dan Heng, Jing Yuan and/or Blade with a GN Reader who dislikes physical touches? As in, if someone hugs them and grabs their arm they recoil as fast as they can because they're uncomfortable? And will only be okay with physical affection when it's needed or if it's their partner?

Thank you for possibly considering this request, and have a good day or night :)

* pairing(s) : various hsr men (4) x gender neutral reader

* prompt : request ♡

* authors note : this request is SO me-core, as someone who's horrible with physical touch, i think im the best candidate for this /j thank you for the req and i'm honored im your first! this is really messy, im sorry T.T

DAN HENG was one of the first people to notice your discomfort with physical touch when you joined the Astral Express. March 7th tried to cling onto you, but instinctively you moved out of her way. (and admittedly almost made her stumble and fall doing so.) Profusely apologizing for that little accident, but you never really let people hold onto you.

So when you two got together, Dan Heng was pleasantly surprised with how clingy you really were. Whenever he was working in the Archives, the arms wrapping his waist and leaning on his back couldn't have been anyone else, he didn't wanna ask or point it out, just incase you would've been embarrassed or awkward about it.

Not only giving, but receiving. You used to refuse any form of physical touch but now the way he holds you in his arms is a blessing. You fit so perfectly, like you were meant for him, and he's so glad that you are. He helped you learn to love touch, and you helped him realize he loved to touch.

"I'll be there after work, I promise." You remember JING YUAN saying, and you told yourself you could survive a few hours waiting for him. So there you waited patiently, sitting alone on one of the outdoor tables by the restaurant you planned the date on.

It was almost time for him to arrive, and you were just happy you'd be seeing him soon, but you hear a throat clear behind you. You put your left arm by the back of your seat and turn around. "Hello there!" The man asked, a friendly smile on his face but something felt odd about it. A sixth sense intuition that somehow he didn't have the best intentions.

"You seem to be alone," Oh no. "I can give you a much better time." You force a laugh, flicking your wrist while doing so. "It's quite alright, he'll be arriving any minute now." And that seems to annoy the man, his kindness running thin. "Listen, he's clearly not interested-"

His hand goes up to grab your arm on the chair, but in one swift movement, you stand up and pull away. "Please. Do not touch me so casually." You say sternly, sending a glare towards the stranger. But the familiar feeling of a hand around your waist calms you down, you look at your boyfriend, who looks back at you apologetically. The man had long left, realizing who he may or may not have pissed off.

"I'm sorry I couldn't have arrived sooner." He says with a tired sigh. "It's alright, I'm glad you're here."

BLADE doesn't exactly care nor mind, he wasn't much of a touchy person either. But he'll do the little things like locking arms or letting you hold onto him.

He will get annoyed and maybe even confront people when it comes to situations where he feels like he has to. His mere glare can send people off running, so you're greatful to have him around.

You did like it when he'd hug you or hold you. It was rare, but when he let himself rest for a few hours, you're his personal pillow for that time period.

Kafka would mess with him every once in a while, touching your arm and making you feel ever so slightly awkward and the glare Blade gives would scare any ordinary person. She loves the reaction she gets out of him, seeing you get pulled away and his hands on your waist posessively.

"CAELUS, wait-" March 7th and Dan Heng tried to stop him, but suddenly the trailblazer walks up to you and wraps his arms around your figure. The other two expected you two slap him in the face, or something to push him away, but the way you payed no notice to the way he holds onto you surprises them.

"Whaaat..??"

"Oh! Right, this is my partner. Hehe." He'd snicker, already seeing March 7th's absolutely baffled expression. "You have a PARTNER??? AND IT'S (name)?!"

You're known in the Station for being a researcher who despised being touched, most people knew how passive aggressive you'd get depending on how you were touched, and the intentions behind it. "I'm the one exception to that whole thingy they have, I'm just really special." Caelus sparkled in pride, before clearing your throat. "You're about to lose that privilege if you don't let me go and look at some papers."

Caelus apologizes, pulling away as you huff. "Thank you." And you return to your work.

"I still can't believe Caelus pulls.."

"What in the GALAXY is that supposed to mean?!"

#✹ ִֶָ ꐑꐑ entos paw prints #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #jing yuan x reader #dan heng x reader #blade x reader #blade hsr x reader #caelus x reader #caelus hsr x reader

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ohisms · 4 months

Text

↪ 𝐹𝐼𝐿𝐿𝑂𝑅𝑌 ⅋ 𝐅𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 . ( a collection of sentence starters from season one of syfy's the magicians . adjust phrasing as necessary . this prompt will be updated as time goes on . )

it's always something with you , isn't it ? it's always an emergency .

look , this is your responsibility .

wow , nice trick . i'm sure you're a hit at parties .

so ... you think you're ready .

i called you . all weekend . where were you ?

okay , we have got to pull you together .

you can't run away hard enough , can you ?

i know where you were all weekend .

life is raw , everybody medicates .

i love you . call me , okay ?

am i hallucinating ?

come on , or you'll miss it .

can i start over ? please .

i'm going to make sure you don't remember a thing .

playing with time is such difficult magic .

don't bother trying to compare yourself .

it's good to be aware the world is blatantly unfair .

it's my fault that they said that .

if you think my family is some sort of advantage , you've been misinformed .

maybe i wouldn't let myself forget .

that was before i knew there was something else .

it's really okay if this is not your thing .

you're hurting yourself , & you're not okay .

i just needed to see if i was right .

we've been watching you for quite a while now .

hello ? do you need help ?

you feel right because you're starting towards your destiny .

for some reason , you're involved . so be involved .

look , hold that thought , okay ?

i'm obviously coming with you .

there's no such thing as safe magic .

what is this place exactly , besides a health hazard ?

you ask a lot of questions .

jesus , you didn't tell me you were dangerous .

it's a little bit bigger than messing up .

there's a bad story every few years around here .

can you just help me live with myself ?

i'm gonna tell you something deep & dark & personal now .

i'm trying to tell you , you are not alone here .

i don't know . i wanna be your friend , i guess .

you should hate me right now .

the last thing i wanted to do growing up was read fantasy .

let's just say life wasn't exactly non-stop fun growing up .

if you're guilty , i'm guilty .

come do something stupid with me before you go .

okay , you know what ? i'm not interested in your personal issues .

this isn't just some lark to me , just so you know .

i mean seriously , what do they expect , you know ?

look , you can't run away from you .

there's nothing i can do in this moment to stop the comet from crashing into the earth , is there ?

i keep trying to tell myself that this is somehow better .

you don't see color & want to go back to black & white .

you can't help , & i can't help you .

what the hell was that , you maniac ?

why would you ever trust anyone ?

i'm willing to teach the right people what i know . & i know a lot .

you're lucky i can fix this .

hey , have you heard of karma ? sometimes it's instant .

i'm generous with you , considering .

get me everything on this list . this week .

why even ask , if you'll just forget it again ?

that's not a real answer .

you're a much better liar than i expected you to be .

do you think you have a destiny ?

there is no destiny . no born heroes .

you can either step up to it or not , that's up to you .

this is your problem , that you should solve !

#rp meme #inbox prompt #rp inbox prompt

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lovelybrooke · 4 months

Note

If you're interested in doing some headcanons for Kieran, I'd love to request some!

Yandere Kieran x Reader (Pokemon Scarlet/Violet)

I caved and wanted to write this, don't judge me. (also if you want to request anything for the games go ahead).

Masterlist

---

Kieran despises the thought that people think he's weak. He hates knowing that whenever someone looks at him, they view him as small and helpless. So it doesn't help when you, a random student visiting Kitakami, come and prove every one of his insecurities right. You're so much stronger than him, in and out of Pokemon battling. You have this deep connection with each member of your team and he just despises it.

However, even with all this, Kieran can't seem to hate you. You're kind, to him and his sister. You never judge him for his shy nature, in fact you seem comfortable around him, even going as far to consider him your friend. It makes it hard to hate you, because he knows you're a good person. But whenever he's around you he feels weird, like he's sick. He's too embarrassed to ask his sister, so instead he bottles everything deep down. Because of this, whenever he's around you he's awkward, stumbling over his words and blushing whenever you look at him. To everyone it's obvious he has a crush, but to him, he still feels this sort of resentment towards you, even if it is overshadowed by adoration.

After you tame Ogerpon, Kieran converts his mixed feelings for you into motivation to get stronger. He has to get stronger, he needs to. He needs to prove to himself, and you, that he's strong. He doesn't exactly know why, some days he feels like he's doing all this to protect you, to keep you safe. Other days it's because he wants to prove you wrong, imagining what it would be like to see you cry as he destroys your team. In truth, he doesn't know why he's acting this way, but he knows it's your fault. You made him feel this way, and he hates it.

While Kieran's away at Blueberry academy, all he's thinking about it you, about getting stronger. It worries Carmine. Unlike Kieran, she's able to recognize his feelings for you, and at first she thought it was cute. She thought he looked up to you, since you were so strong. In a way he does, just, a little too much. It's not long after she hears Kieran murmur about you that he changed his appearance, and when she asked why, he seemed almost embarrassed. He just mumbled about something about you and about something else she can't hear before rushing off. She chalked it up to him wanting to seem more confident. In reality, Kieran, even though he'd never admit it, wants to present himself as this cool person in hopes that you like that version of him better.

Carmine was so happy when you arrived at Blueberry Academy, she was so relieved. She thought you could talk some sense into her brother, maybe he'd even confess. Instead, when you meet, Kieran looks like he couldn't care less. In reality, he was a mess. His angry and harsh dementor was a facade for the chaos running through his mind. He kept wondering why you had to come now, he wasn't ready. He doesn't know why he expects you to take on the League, because deep down, he knows you're strong enough to defeat them. He starts to feel that old feeling again like back when he was with you in Kitakami, the one that made him feel sick. It's even worse whenever anyone in the league talks about you. He can't help but be so jealous, you must like them because they're strong, right? Well he's stronger, so just, look at him...please.

Kieran rejects any attempt you make to come close to him again. He's still hurt after what you did in Kitakami, and he's still dealing with his feelings for you. But most of all, he's embarrassed. He's spent the last four months non stop thinking about you, about how strong you were. He's channeled all his confused, messed up emotions into becoming the strongest, and now that you're here, all he can think about is how pretty you are, about how well you work with your Pokemon and others, about how even after how mean he's been to you, you're still kind to him.

It isn't until you beat him that he fully accepts his feelings for you, he's enamored, obsessed, infatuated, whatever you want to call it he doesn't care. He becomes completely delusional, believing that you two were made for each other, that you came to Kitakami when he did for a reason. He doesn't care if he can't beat you, if he'll never be as strong as you, because either way, you'd still be his friend, right? And that has to mean something. If not, what was all this for.

After everything in Area Zero, Kieran apologizes, and asks for a reset on your friendship and luckily you agree. He's so happy, and he can't remember a time he was happy. When you bring him into a hug, he feels so warm, and he wants to cry. After all this, Kieran becomes less demanding, at least outwardly. He's possessive, of you and your time, and very clingy. He's just afraid that if you leave, even for a second, you won't come back. He still doesn't like it when you hang out with any of the league members, or really anyone other than him. He still holds the belief that you two are one of the same, and so you shouldn't waste your time with others.

I don't think you'd really notice anything wrong with Kieran. It's easy to chalk up his behavior to the deep insecurities he has, rather than an obsession with you. It might take interference from Carmine or another League member to finally get you to open your eyes about his behavior, and even then, he's great at manipulation. Just a few tears and you're comforting him and promising him you won't leave.

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #yandere pokemon #pokemon x reader #pokemon scarlet and violet #yandere kieran #kieran pokemon #kieran x reader

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kurogxrix · 1 year

Text

Fire Drill

Dad!Ao’nung x Sully!reader

IN WHICH yours and Ao’nung’s son is killed during Quaritch’s attack, but your family is here to help you pick up the pieces.

WC: 3.3k

warnings: ANGST, grief of a son and a brother, death, violence and gory injuries.

2 years. The little amount of time that you had been given before Quaritch and his team came to wreak havoc amongst your family once more. It seemed like your parents killing him once had not been enough, because his appearance made him look hungry for another death. Though you were all happy now, far away from the menace of his heavy ammo and the menacing gun that was slung upon his shoulder.

The first few weeks of living within the Metkayina had been so hard for you and your family. Between Lo’ak and Kiri being treated far worse for having human features, and the hard time you and your mother were having with fitting in with their traditions. The Tsahik had not been any softer on you despite the mistreatment that your family already faced. She despised your family of ‘demons’ and probably your mother too because she was affiliated and had children with one.

Your siblings and you had found comfort within the presence of the sweet Tsireya and Rotxo. Neteyam and yourself often found yourselves laughing quietly at your obviously in-love brother. Though you couldn’t make fun of him for too long, because you too had started developing something for the local Metkayina bully.

Something about his arrogance just made him so annoying yet attractive. Maybe it was his confidence, or the way he would tease you unrelentingly. Nevertheless, you just couldn't let anyone know of your silly crush for now, because if it fell upon the ears of the future olo’eyktan, you knew that he’d never let you live it down. Weeks had passed and your interest towards the boy could only grow more and more as the days passed by.

Though now, only with the teasing remarks of your family. Neteyam was always known for the keen eye that your mother had passed down to him, and it didn’t take long for him to notice the longing stares that you would send the rude boy. Long story short, he told Lo’ak and your little brother and his humongous mouth just couldn’t keep shut. To say that your mother was disappointed in your choice of men was an understatement, but she had allowed herself to fall in love with the person that she had wanted, so why couldn’t you?

Jake was…shocked to say the least. You had never audibly expressed your interest in any boy back at home, and here you were now. Though he knew that there was nothing that he could do to stop his 18 year old daughter from pursuing her heart's desires, because he had done so with Neytiri.

Your sisters had a calmer approach about the subject, rather asking you about it during some private gossip session that you had with them.

So after many months of hidden admiration spent, you still wondered how you had managed to end up under him in the middle of the forest behind their homes. Far from reach of everyone else, in the middle of the Metkayina mating grounds. His chests heaved up and down as he regained his breath, staring down at you with his stern lustful gaze.

An accidental confession and two young adults on the run from prying eyes was all it took for the both of you to run off and bond before eywa, queues intertwined with the feeling of love running thick through both of your veins. You’d laugh at yourself months ago if you had told yourself that you even had a chance with Ao’nung, but here you were now, mated for the rest of your lives.

The walk of shame felt rewarding in some way the next day, you had proved to Ronal and Tonowari that you feared them not, even if it meant being bonded to their son. Now you were all family, if they wanted it or not. Ao’nung and you had moved into your own private marui, and you were shoved into your mother’s loving embrace one last time as you packed your things and moved into your new home. Everything was perfect at first, a feast was soon established for the news of your mateship, and soon came another for the news of your bearing.

A baby, conceived through the love that you both shared. The endless nights that you both spent hidden away from the rest of the world, tightly squeezed in each other’s embrace as you slept the night off. Many were unaccepting at first, a demon hybrid and their future olo’eyktan? How absurd. But soon everyone calmed down, and time passed faster than you would’ve liked it to.

Fires spread throughout the whole village, heavy flames engulfing the beautiful village in its soaring arms. When you arrived back at shore, your heart was already void of all emotions. You felt as though it was bleeding, and the death of your brother felt like the knife that poked through the midst of it. You wanted it to burn with anger towards the sky people for taking your younger brother’s life, but you just couldn’t feel anything.

The brother that you had watched being birthed, cleaned and placed wailing into your young arms had been violently taken before you. It was unfair, but he was in a better place now, away from the cruelty of this world. You couldn’t imagine how your parents felt, losing their first son before their very own eyes. How guilty your little brother must've felt for everything. Though you forced your sorrows away because you had a family of your own to attend to.

Your son was still with his caretaker, and your mate probably had wounds that needed tending. Suddenly, the acrid scent of burning hit your nostrils, making you scrunch your nose in disgust. The fumes entered through your lungs like the much wanted air, and exited like the carbon that you would need to exhale.

Your yellow eyes shone a warm amber colour as your eyes were strained amongst the fiery scene before you. The flames engulfed the stretching material of the maruis, spreading at an undying pace. You were frozen in your spot as you watched the fire turn your homes into remainders of what once was. Your mind raced as you imagined the worst of all scenarios.

You flinched upon contact, elbowing hardly whoever had just grabbed you by the elbows. You turned around to meet their eyes, distress swirling in your very own. Ao’nung nearly fell back at your unwanted assault, huffing as you elbow left quite the fuzzy feeling in his stomach. Not the good kind of feeling. He looked at you before reaching for you once more, though you were unresponsive to his touch.

Once the smell of burning reached his nose, his attention was completely retracted from your frozen form. He suddenly urged forwards, grabbing your hand harshly into his as he ran towards the maruis. He ran faster than he had ever done, because there was a nagging feeling of fear lodged deep inside his heart.

You could feel your heart physically stop as you arrived in front of your shared marui, the stretchy material of your home now falling apart under effect of the burning. What scared you the most was the silence. As much as it pains you to say, you would’ve rather heard the painful yells of your baby than the wavering silence.

Without hesitation, Ao’nung entered the marui first. He had little to no reaction as a piece of burning material from the roof fell ungracefully over his arm, leaving a small and ugly mark behind. Him halting in his steps was enough to bring you back to life and rushing to the scene besides him.

Though the sight before you was what no mother would ever wish to see. The woman that was once protecting your son now laid lifeless besides the weaved crib that was made from dried sea plants. The smell of death was atrocious, and you had immediately known that she had not died due to the unfortunate fires. She had been murdered by those sky demons.

You had no care nor time to turn her around to investigate her cause of death. Though you were happy that you didn’t see the violent wound that ran down her back, a long cut that passed from the top to the bottom of her spine. Her blood seeped to the floor and tainted the material, and you could only wish then that it wasn’t Aytan’s, your son.

She was bare and open from the back for anyone to see if they dared to flip her around. You were glad that you didn’t need to, because the sight of her guts spilling all over your feet would’ve surely made you regurgitate your meal all over her mutilated body.

Instead your eyes panned for painfully long on your son that laid still in his crib. Void of any movement or life, you felt as though now you would puke.

His skin was cursed with burn marks that overtook nearly half of his body. He looked so miserable and even if he was still alive at the moment, you would wonder if saving him would do him any good. The once soft baby skin now looked roughy and flaky.

He was still so small that he could barely fit into the two palms of his father’s hands, but he was big enough to fit perfectly in your smaller ones.

Perfectly safe and healthy in his mothers embrace is where he should’ve been right now, not like this.

You looked over to Ao’nung for some unreasoned confirmation that your son was truly dead, but he wasn’t even looking at you. Instead, his lifeless eyes hovered over the charred child that laid innocently in his crib. He couldn’t even make a move to grab the baby, because he was frozen in anguish.

You couldn’t even remember when you had started crying, or when your cries had turned into desperate sobs and prayers towards Eywa. You couldn’t even remember when Ao’nung’s family had found the both of you safe and sound into the marui that once called a home, now in shambles beneath your feet. All you remembered was grasping your son with all force that you had left and praying to the Great-Mother down on your knees, and the painful tears that rolled down your husband’s cheeks.

Though there weren’t more than 3 tears that he had shed, it was 3 too much. He wouldn’t have cried if those damned demons didn’t follow your family here, but yet there he was. He too couldn’t even remember when his mother had embraced him, but she had done so.

There were so many things that the both of you had regretted not doing on that night. Like staying back to protect your son by yourselves. You both resented yourselves for the fact that the last time the both of you would ever hold him this way would be at his funeral, followed by your brother’s.

Everything was quiet since that night, at least for you. It was too much loss for your fragile heart to comprehend all at once. Was your brother’s death not enough, have they had to take your innocent son’s life as well. Your poor son that had just been presented to the clan

You were scared. Scared of so many things that you could not control. You feared what Ao’nung thought of you, did he hate you for not being there with you son? Maybe if you were, you could’ve protected him unlike the incompetent babysitter that you had left him with. No, you shook your head from those nasty thoughts. It was wrong of you to think ill of that woman, she had been present with your son until her unfortunate death.

Your fears turned into trepidation as your husband made his way towards you, a plate of fish in his wobbly hands.

Ao’nung was so angry at many things. He was angry at himself for not being there with his son. He felt mad at the poor woman for not having the ability to protect his innocent son. Though most of all, he felt vexed at you for freezing up on that day. He told himself that perhaps if you had not taken so much time to snap back to your senses, your son would somehow still be here.

He knew that it was wrong of him to think like this, he knew that even if you had acted faster, his son would still be laying unresponsive at his return. He knew that feeling angry at his innocent wife was wrong, that none of this had to do with you being at fault. He hates himself for having these unwanted feelings and thoughts, and at times Ao’nung truly wishes that he could silence his subconscious.

He hated himself for internally blaming you even after watching you drown in remorse. Even after watching you sob over your dead son’s frail body. And even though it had been hours since the funeral of your brother and son, your tears still ran freely on your delicate cheeks.

They stained your dark skin and they strained your eyes that could do nothing to stop the flow. Ao’nung felt his guilt triple in size as he sat next to you, your body instinctively shaking as he engulfed you in his warm embrace. For he had always been your pillar of reconfort and the person that you allowed yourself to feel vulnerable within.

He hushed you gently as you sobbed into his arms, his heart shattering once more as you cried to him. You were unsoothable but he hadn’t complained once, instead he gave you the comfort that you seeked so much. You felt guilty too, because you were not the only person going through grief. Who would be there to comfort Ao’nung when you were crying in his embrace?

Though when you made your worries audible, he was quick to shut them down. He wanted to be strong for you, for his family and mostly for himself. He told you not to worry, that he was okay as long as you were and soon your insecurities of him hating you vanished through the soft breeze. Ao’nung didn’t hesitate to remind you of how strong your love was and that you’d both get through it.

You both slept with heavy hearts at night, unable to close your aching eyelids until they fell on their own with exhaustion. His arms never left your form and you slept with your head on his chest, finding comfort in the sound of his beating heart.

You felt jealous at first, heart black and full of envy as you watched young mothers with their children. Hell, even the older mothers made your heart clench with resentment. And though you knew it was selfish of you to despise mothers for simply existing, there was little that you could do to make the feeling go away.

You couldn’t face the sight of the young children that trudged behind their mothers and soon it began affecting your Tsahik performances. How could you heal children and mothers and assist labourers when you couldn’t even stand the sight of them anymore.

It was unfair, so unfair for everyone but you knew that it was the way that life went. You knew that you couldn’t keep on closing yourself off like this, that you had to be accepting of what had happened and face reality.

So accepting was what you had done. Slowly by slowly, you have started rebuilding your life with the help of people around you. Your mother was the most understanding person, because she had lost so much already. She had lost her son just as you had, but she had never once reprimanded you for grieving. She had never forced you to speak up to her, she had never resented you for feeling the way you did.

You had learnt that it was not the end of the world, and that one day you’d be better, you’d all be better. Neteyam and Aytan’s death were not in vain, for the Great-Mother always had a plan for everyone. If it was her will, then so be it, there was nothing that you could do to undo what was done anyways.

Tuk had been the sweetest girl during that moment, and it never failed to bring tears in your eyes at how understanding she was. She was so young and you were sad that a part of her youth was taken away from her because of this ongoing war.

You could never thank your brother and father enough for being there for you despite the guilt that weighed them down, pushing so hard that they could only bear to stand on their knees.

Though solace could only work in both ways, and you were just as there for them as they were there for you. Aytan was just as much their family member as Neteyam was, and they were allowed to grieve the loss of your son as well. It took time for you all to find peace within this feeling of forfeiture, but you all knew that one day, things would be okay.

You watched as Ao’nung made his way towards his people, a prideful smile adorning his face as his gaze turned to you. His eyes were full of adoration as he stared at you, then to the little bundle of joy and baby fat that was lying comfortably in his arms.

He stood before his people clad in his traditional clothes that were used during feasts and announcements of this type.

The child in his arms stirred awake at the disturbance, whining slightly for her mother. The sound reached your ears and for a second you worried for your daughter, but you knew that nothing bad could happen to her as long as she was in her father’s arms.

The child's stomachs growled loudly for a second and you had to bring your hand in front of your mouth to stifle your laughter. She had just been fed a few minutes before this and yet her hunger caught up to her once more. A trait that she had acquired from his father, you had to cook 3 times your own fish portion to properly feed his warrior’s stomach.

Ura was a child that would soon grow to walk on clumsy legs, a child that was yours. Though a part of yourself was gone forever, tearing a piece of your heart along with it. You knew that the pain of losing your first child would never really go away, but you'd always have your family to help you get through it. You had a wonderful mate, that you relied your entire life within his hands, and a family that knows the ways past your heart.

You watched as Ao’nung raised your 3 weeks old daughter into the air, her chubby little arms raising in amusement. The sound of her name pierced through your ears and soon the chants began to fill your heart with joy and pride. You couldn’t help the warm smile that overtook your features as you watched your daughter being presented to the entire clan, your family close behind you.

Your mother held a hand over her chest, where her heart was. Her smile mirrored yours and the pride on her face could compete versus the one that she felt when you were the one being shown to her clan. Your father and siblings were close to her. Lo’ak now shone with new tribal tattoos, ones similar to yours as they dipped from his chin and all the way down his leg.

His mateship with Tsireya was soon made public, and you felt a pang in your heart when you knew that you couldn’t tease him about it with Neteyam anymore. Though you swallowed your sorrows, feeling happy for your baby brother. Your sister in law stood besides your brother, her eyes glued to her newborn niece. A child that she knew that she just absolutely would spoil when she would learn to stand on her own feet.

Perhaps things would get hard at times, and the reminiscences of your son would be permanent, but you had a loving family that would always help you fill the void.

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