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pandoraslxna · 7 months

Text

Classified briefing

Miles Quaritch x female scientist reader

Words: 2.7k

Summary: Briefings can be so boring. Luckily, Quaritch has his favorite little lap warmer with him to make to whole thing so much more entertaining.

Warnings: explicit smut, no plot at all just porn, in public, age difference, size difference, cockwarming but with toys, authority kink, voyeurism, sex toys (anal plug, vibrator/dildo), public humiliation, everyone kinda thirsts over reader because this is my dirty little fantasy hehe

Notes: i wrote this back in august and then totally forgot about it until now so here it is, not proofread at all and not my best work either lol

There’s a long, polished table that stretches across the center of the room. The table's sleek design exudes elegance, and the smooth surface reflects the room's cold, overhead lighting. It makes you feel even more out of place than you already were.

You can’t help the tremble of you knees once your eyes fall to Dr. Garvin and Mick Scoresby, both of them considered big fish in their area of expertise. You swallow dryly, nervousness slowly creeping up under your skin.

A gentle push to your lower back signals you to move, and then your feet automatically carry you further into the conference room. Most seats are already taken up, each person exuding an air of authority and importance, and a hushed silence falls over them as you near the table.

Glancing to the handful of free seats and based on their ridiculous size, you could only assume who they were reserved for.

The recoms act like a bunch of rowdy teenagers. Pushing each other in a fight for the seats in the far back, snickering and cursing, and you want nothing more than to hide your face in your hands for all the attention they draw on themselves and ultimately on you, too.

Thankfully, they all fall silent once the Colonel clears his throat and takes the first seat, thighs spread like he owns the place. Again, you feel so out of place, frantically looking around to find a place to sit and make yourself even smaller than you already were, next to those trees of blue soldiers.

But before you can even do as much as blink, all chairs seem to be occupied and you find yourself standing, nervously fiddling with the seam of your skirt, before two big hands grab your hips and pull you down to sit on a warm lap.

In all honesty, you were already expecting him to pull a stunt like this. Obviously there had to be a reason for him to bring you here, and not just because he thought you were oh, so interested in a meeting that had absolutely nothing to do with you or your work at all.

Quaritch grins and pulls you closer by your waist, a huff of breath fanning over the top of your head at your little whine of discomfort.

Sitting down makes you hyperaware of the round little silicon toy, the plug that’s sitting snug inside your ass since he himself had placed it there a couple of hours before.

"Be good while I work and I’ll reward you later", he reminds you quietly, squeezing your hips in a warning grip and you nod, blushing. But the faint rosy color on your cheeks soon turns into a deep flush of red that spreads all the way to the tip of your ears, once Miles pulls a little, pink remote, barely the size of your thumb, out of his pocket and places it on the table right in front of your face. You know what this is for. Not for the plug, no, but for the other toy that’s spreading your pussy open, the one you’re currently clamping down on.

For a moment, all your attention is fixed on staying still, not moving too much like that would remind him to turn the switch on and—

"With all respect, Colonel", a voice suddenly speaks up, then a finger is pointed at you and your breath hitches in your throat. "What is she doing here?"

Scoresby looks at you, then back up at Quaritch, and while he doesn’t speak to you directly, the message is clear. It seems Miles feels the way you tense up, because his hands begin to run up and down your thighs, thumbs rubbing soothing circles over your skin.

"Keeping my lap warm", he grins and shrugs in an act of fake innocence, and Scoresbys jaw clenches so tight at the sound of snickering coming from the other recoms, that you‘re sure you just heard something crack.

He actually looks a little relieved at the voice of Dr. Garvins as he politely chimes in, "She’s from the scientific department, sir. That means she’s certainly not qualified enough to b–"

"I- I can leave, it’s okay", you cut him off, causing all present pair of eyes to fall onto your smaller frame. Your attempt to stand up however, is quickly interrupted by Quaritchs arm around your middle, pulling you back down and keeping you there, firm and secured. No chance to flee.

"No, you won’t."

The tension in the air is thick enough, you could probably cut it with scissors. There’s a uncomfortable silence, before the Colonel opens his mouth again, smug as ever, "Her qualifications are none of your concerns, doctor. In fact, I am her qualification to be here. Now if you would please move on and wrap this up so we can all go on with our days? I have other businesses to attend to."

Dr. Garvin, in no mood to argue with the recom that’s over twice his size, straightens up, clears his throat, nods, and moves to the center of the room to stand in front of a big holographic map.

His voice is still a little shaky, a thin layer of nervous sweat sitting on his forehead as he starts the briefing like nothing’s ever happened. The recoms sitting to your left and right instantly scoot back in their seats, settling into more comfortable positions like they’ve been through enough meetings like these to know this could take an awful while.

You allow yourself to finally exhale the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding, shoulders hunching a little as you try to listen to what was being said in front of you.

Something about na’vi clans, metkayina, the ocean, weapons, their relations to something they call Tulkun and then over time, it flows into all that war talk you can barely keep up with.

Not that you could actually focus, really focus, on anything other than the pair of hands roaming up and down your thighs the whole time and the feeling of being so full, so on edge, but not being able to do anything about it. His palms are warm and rough on the soft of your skin, squeezing the flesh of your inner thigh from time to time, which causes you to clamp down on the toys inside you. You close your eyes briefly- inhale, exhale.

When you open them again, you desperately try to find something else to put your focus on. Next to you sits Lyle, the Corporal plays with a pen, flicks it around in skilled fingers, looking just as bored as the rest of team deja blue. It’s actually quite interesting to look at, you think. That is, until he catches you staring. Your eyes meet and he winks at you. Straightening up, you glance in the other direction, trying to hide to blush spreading over your cheeks.

Lyle may be an exception when it came to Quaritch‘s possessiveness, but that doesn’t mean the Colonel won’t tease you for this.

Your whole body tenses when suddenly, a low vibrating buzz shoots through your core, putting your nerves on fire. The suddenness of it all gives you barely any time to stifle the gasp that falls from your parted lips, quieting down the whole room. Your ears are ringing, pleasure surging through you in pulsating waves, before Quaritch switches the toy off again. Well, not entirely off, but at least to the lowest setting. Enough for you to calm down again.

Blinking away the stars behind your eyelids, you realize, to your absolute horror, that Dr. Garvin has stopped talking. And he is staring right at you, mouth slightly agape. And so are some of the other humans. The other half that’s not looking at you, is trying their absolute most to keep it that way, staring at the papers in front of them or counting the tiles on the ceiling.

"Excuse her. Normally she knows how to behave", Quaritch breaks the nerve wrecking silence with a chuckle, "Please, move on."

Garvin clears his throat, sweat now beading at his temples as he stutters to continue where he had left off.

"Corporal Weinfleet here is trying to concentrate, darlin'", Miles hums lowly into your ear, hands gripping your waist to pull you down harder against his lap. "And you’re being very distractive."

His hands hold you down, and then he makes your waist circle on his crotch, hard enough to feel the plugs heart shaped handle grind against his cock.

"S-Sorry, I’m sorry", you whimper quietly, biting your bottom lip to keep yourself from making any more noise.

"Don’t tell that to me", he grins. One of his hands then tips your chin up and gently turns you to look over to his right hand man, who’s grinning back at you like this is the most fun he’s had in weeks.

"Sorry, Lyle", you mutter, big doe eyes looking up at the recom.

You know there are important words being said. Things about trade, unions, Tulkun, hunting, Sully and all the work that still needed to be done to catch this guy you’ve heard so much of. Over an hour has passed of nothing but strategizing and thinly veiled arguments and it’s safe to stay, you’re slowly loosing the battle against your own body’s desires.

The vibrator still weakly buzzes inside you, and you struggle not to squirm on Quaritch’s lap, you really do. But it’s just so difficult.

Your breathing has started to come out in shallow pants, nerves being on edge for way too long now, and then Quaritch leans forward, curling a piece of hair behind your ear so that he can murmur into it.

"Relax, princess", Quaritch whispers. "Just trying to take the edge off for you…" Your lace panties are absolutely soaked with arousal by now, and your teeth scrape over your bottom lip as you inhale sharply through your nose when he flicks the switch and the vibrations turn more intense. Your toes curl. But you don’t move. "Good girl, doing so good for me. That feel good, hm?"

Motherf— "Yes, sir", you shakily exhale. Just a little more, you think. A little more and you could… if only you weren’t in a room full of people.

Miles fingertips stroke gently up your thigh, causing little goosebumps to appear and your entire body to shiver at his caress. It’s a battle not to tighten every muscle against it, to let it roll through you for everyone to see, because the alternative is far more dangerous. You know for certain that he wouldn’t have even the teeny tiny littlest bit of a problem with bending you over this table and fucking you raw for the whole conference room to see, if you wouldn’t behave and sit still. You swallow thickly at the thought and fuck, you wished you didn’t bought that mental image up because you clench around the plug, around the vibrator, feeling both toys rub against each other through the thin wall that’s separating them.

Someone coughs at the other side of the table and your eyes flicker up to Scoresby, sitting three down at the head of the table. He’s watching you with a cocked eyebrow and a barely concealed glint in his eye.

He knows, you think. You can see it in the way he looks at you, filthy and creepy and— Another wave of pleasure shoots through you like lightning, the vibrations picking up and it causes your entire body, including the walls of your aching holes, to tighten even more, and the tiniest little whimper to escape from the hollow of your throat before you can swallow it down.

Your cheeks flush, the tips of your ears heat, and you quickly turn your attention back to Quaritch just as he opens his mouth.

"You like having that nasty fucker look at you, huh?"

You try your very best not to keen from the feel of your sticky underwear clinging to your pussy, pushing the toys deeper in as he pulls them up a little, giving you a mean wedgie under the table.

"N-No, sir", you whisper.

"But you’re putting on quite the show." Miles grins, sharp toothed and mischievously, his eyes boring into Scoresby until he finally adverts his gaze, his nervousness covered by yet another cough.

"I‘m– I’m n-not…", is all you manage to force out, panting heavily.

Your back arches and just like that, the vibrator is at the perfect position. Just up against your g-spot, the silicon tip rubbing so slightly against the oversensitive ridges.

Your fingers grasp at his forearms, blunt nails dig deep into the thick blue skin, as you focus more on clinging to him than how full you feel, how each breath you take makes the toys move ever so slightly to tease you deep inside and how the vibrations are on their highest level, ruining you from the inside out and causing your whole body to physically shudder.

You’re so ridiculously wet, natural lubricant squeezing around the toys, drenching your panties and now soaking a small patch onto his pants where you’re seated. It feels good. So good, and you’re so close and everyone can probably hear how heavy you’re breathing, so you think fuck it and rock forward with the smallest ”mmh” and a bolt of pleasure shoots up your spine. Quaritch can feel his cock twitch with the growth of his own impatience.

"Look who’s getting bold", he chuckles quietly, and you dare to roll your hips forward. "You want to come, huh? So close, ain’t ya?"

You feel eyes on you. Prager as he dares to put a hand over his cargos and squeeze his aching cock. Mansk staring so shamelessly at you, like his sunglasses make him invisible. Feel Lyle next to you tilt his head to try and catch a glimpse of what’s underneath your skirt.

Feel Miles hands on your hips, tight enough they might bruise your skin as he rocks you back and forth on his crotch, clit dragging over the wet fabric of your panties.

"Please", you whine softly, eyes fluttering close as you let pleasure overtake all your senses, not even caring for the fact that you’re in a room full of people.

"M‘not holding you back, darlin'", he speaks lowly into your ear, bouncing his leg a few times to push those toys just an inch deeper inside you. "Come, if you can keep it down."

Your brain had completely checked out sometime around when your abdomen began to clench with your exasperated breathing and the throbbing between your thighs became so unbearable, you slumped forward. The cold table top against the burning hot skin of your forehead felt like a relief and you had to bite your tongue hard, to not moan out loud.

The vibrations inside your core felt like they were shaking and stimulating ever single nerve there was, to the point all you could do was let it happen. Your whole body felt hot, sticky with sweat and other body fluids as you clamped down on both toys for the final time, before you fell apart with a choked little gasp, followed by silent whimpers of, "Hngh– fuck, f-fuck!"

"There you go, buttercup", you heard Lyle snicker next to you, only adding further to the humiliation you tried so hard to ignore. "About time."

Your whole body locked up, thighs squeezing shut and muscles tensing, as you tried your absolute most to hold back all those pathetic little noises.

"You owe me twenty bucks, Mansk. Told ya‘ she can’t hold it in", came as a whisper from your left, yet you couldn’t put your focus on that voice enough to figure out who was speaking. Ja maybe, or, or… fuuck, fucking hell.

The vibrations inside you went on and on for as long as Quaritch doomed you were capable of, and it felt like you were still coming, until he finally, mercifully, decided to shut the toy off.

It was almost comically how you instantly went slack on his lap, the moment the vibrator inside you stopped working. The content little sigh that left your parted lips was all you could hear, as the room had turned awkwardly silent over the past few minutes.

Then, a dark chuckle sent a chill down your spine, as Quaritch looked over at Garvins stunned frame and said, "You were saying, doc?"

#colonel miles quaritch #miles quaritch smut #avatar miles quaritch #miles quaritch x reader smut #miles smut #miles quaritch x reader #miles quaritch #colonel quaritch #colonel quaritch x reader smut #quaritch smut #atwow quaritch #quaritch x reader #recom quaritch #avatar quaritch #quaritch x you #quaritch fanfic #atwow #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water

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iwritefandomimagines · 1 year

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NO LONGER IN DENIAL

masterlist

pairing: anthony bridgerton x reader, bestfriend!benedict bridgerton x reader

description: anthony has made no secret of not wanting to marry, despite it being more than clear that he is head over heels in love with you, his “best friend”. benedict decides he is fed up of anthony’s denial, and takes matters into his own hands — by inciting jealousy from his older brother.

warnings: angst, jealous!anthony cos i’m a sucker for him hehe, benedict being a shit stirrer who i adore, fluffiness at the end <3

“Lady Y/N is joining us for dinner this evening, I believe,” Benedict hummed, a small smirk gracing his face as the eldest Bridgerton’s head snapped up, “Mother told me she hopes to, anyway.”

Anthony watched as his sisters fussed excitedly over seeing you, for it had been at least a week since you had graced Aubrey Hall with your presence and they missed you dearly.

Anthony had too, of course, though he’d never admit it was for any reason beyond how highly regarded you were in his family and how much he enjoyed your friendship.

“I very much look forward to seeing her,” Benedict continued, still smirking devilishly, “Though I did have the pleasure of bumping into her as she left Modiste yesterday.”

Anthony furrowed his eyebrows at his brother, “You didn’t tell me that, brother.”

“Must I share every occasion I see Lady Y/N with you, Anthony?” he quipped in reply, crossing his arms over his chest as Colin stifled a laugh, well aware of what was going on, “One might think you jealous.”

“Jealous? You jest, brother. She is my closest friend, I am simply surprised you would not mention even in passing that you saw her,” Anthony spoke through gritted teeth, “Regardless, I look forward to seeing her.”

“Ah, perfect timing!” Francesca grinned as Lady Y/N’s arrival was announced moments later, and in you walked with a gloriously bright smile on your face, though this faltered as you saw the bitter look on Anthony’s face.

“Is everything alright, my Lord?” you asked shyly, taking a few steps towards Anthony, whose expression softened at this, “Have we chosen a bad day to visit? If so I apologise—,”

Suddenly Benedict was at your side now, “It’s quite alright, my dear Lady Y/N. We are all pleased to see you. Might we take a turn about the room? We have some things to discuss!”

“No fair! You saw her yesterday, I want to show her my embroidery,” Hyacinth pouted, though Benedict raised his brow at her and flickered his eyes in Anthony’s direction as if to explain his actions.

Everyone in the family was well aware of the affection shared between you and Anthony, even if he dared not admit how he felt because of his apparent desire not to marry.

Benedict believed he just needed a push to see that you had myriad other options, and that he could only push away his feelings for so long.

“I’m sure Benedict has something important to share, my dear Hyacinth, but I would love to see your embroidery promptly after,” your voice was like honey to the eldest Bridgerton, who fought off the desire to make his own request for a moment of your time, “There is enough of me to go around! My brother will be arriving shortly, also.”

Benedict began whispering almost as soon as you had crossed the room, endeavouring to make you well aware of his plan so as not to cause any discomfort to you.

He didn’t wish for you to be confused by his sudden flirtation, so immediately indulged you with the details of his concocted plan to induce jealousy in his older brother that might finally allow him to be honest about his feelings.

With some hesitation, you accepted his plan.

Benedict was well aware of your feelings for his brother, and you knew this — after all, you had confessed it to him yourself because you trusted him dearly. Much to Anthony’s dismay, nowadays Benedict was your closest friend of all.

Anthony had once filled that role, but as each year passed and your youth slipped away, you had fallen far too in love with him to be so satisfied with a friendship as you were with Benedict.

Benedict was your best friend — Anthony was the love of your life.

Though he did not admit it, you were the love of his too. This is why Benedict’s interference was so necessary as far as the second Bridgerton son was concerned.

It was unfair for you to believe your love unrequited when it was merely his stubborn refusal to see beyond his ‘duty’ as Viscount and head of the household that prevented him from giving in to his feelings.

The plan seemed already to be working by the time you were seated for dinner, far closer to Benedict than to Anthony who sat at the other side of the table.

He scowled as he watched his brother gossiping with you, still irritated by both his earlier remark about seeing you yesterday and his persistence with being the only person in the room to maintain your attention.

“It is working, my dear friend,” Benedict beamed across at you, leaning forward to both better execute his plan and so that you could hear him better, “If looks could kill, my brother would have seen me long since dead and buried.”

You brought your hand to your mouth, hiding the giggle that escaped as you waited to calm before looking across at Anthony, “Benedict!”

You drew in a deep breath, composing yourself before glancing across at the Viscount and catching his eye immediately. His glare was suddenly no more, his lips curling up in a smile that sent your heart racing.

You mouthed a small “Hello,” to him, blushing crimson at the intensity of his stare. Despite the conversation going on around him, all he could do was look at you.

The staring contest you seemed to find yourself in was swiftly broken by Benedict’s voice calling your name again, returning you to conversation with him.

The rest of dinner passed much the same — small conversations here and there with the other Bridgertons, longing stares from an increasingly restless Anthony, and teasing comments from Benedict, who was certain that Anthony would be confronting you tonight.

“We should probably call for our carriage, I suppose,” you smiled sadly, disappointed with both how quickly the night had passed by and the fact you’d hardly spoken to Anthony throughout, “I’ve had such a lovely evening. I only wish I could stay longer!”

“You could!” Anthony exclaimed, an unusual outburst for the eldest sibling but one that made all at the table laugh as he rose to his feet, “We could have a room put up for you. It is late, and Wellsbury Hall is quite the distance.”

You bit your lip, smiling at him as he sat back down again, “Oh we couldn’t trouble you with that, my lord.”

“Perhaps my dear friend is right,” your brother disagreed, “It is getting late, and if it is no trouble we would be incredibly grateful. And I hope we might repay you with an invitation to Wellsbury in the near future? I hope to host a ball before the season ends so that my darling sister might finally find a husband.”

His eyes flickered between Benedict and Anthony for a moment and you realised that he must have been in on Benedict’s little plan.

You looked around the room cautiously at every smiling face, before settling your gaze on Anthony with a nod, “Very well then. I’d be delighted. The many childhoods spent staying here overnight are often much missed.”

Lady Bridgerton grinned, “Fantastic. Then it is settled,” she turned to the maids stood by the door, “Please prepare two rooms for our guests as quickly as possible. It is, after all, late, and I’m sure they will soon wish to rest.”

The way Anthony watched you for the rest of dinner made you impossibly nervous.

When the maids told you which rooms were readied, you stood to retire to bed, but not before Benedict offered to show you to the room as it was in his opinion the best decorated.

“Brother, I don’t believe it’s appropriate for you to show Lady Y/N to her room,” Anthony huffed, having had enough now of him being stuck to you like heavy-duty glue, “Perhaps you should allow one of our maids to kindly do so.”

“It is quite alright, Anthony. We are in the comfort of our own home, and I know Y/N quite well enough,” Benedict sing-songed, “Unless you would prefer to show her? The maids are quite busy clearing up.”

Anthony’s jaw clenched at his brother’s comment about knowing you ‘quite well enough’ and so he found himself at your side quickly.

“In fact yes, perhaps I should,” he agreed, a sternness in his tone you’d become used to again today. He was so much gentler with you, but today with you so seemingly far from him he has grown stoic again, “After all, I am the head of this household and you have not let me spend a minute with my closest friend, hm?”

Colin interjected now, aware of all eyes on the conversation, “Perhaps Lady Y/N can make the decision herself?”

“I—,”

“Fine, I concede,” Benedict raised his hands in surrender, “I suppose I’ve not let her leave my side this evening, though you cannot fault me for that. I will bid you goodnight, Y/N. Goodnight brothers.”

He took your hand in his, lifting it to his lips for just the gentlest of kisses to the back of it, before he bowed and quickly left the room.

With Anthony facing the other way, towards you, Benedict turned to shoot you a wink before leaving, and nerves bubbled in your gut at the unknown of what was to come.

The kiss to your hand was the final straw for Anthony, who linked his arm with yours and lead you out of the room without another word to anyone else.

You were silent for the walk, but once you stopped still outside of the room you were to sleep in Anthony turned to stand in front of you, his breathing jagged as his eyes searched your face for clues to why he was feeling so furious at your friendship with Benedict.

“Is my brother courting you?” he came right out and asked it, his chest heaving and yours doing so now too as you shook your head.

“Not at all, my lord,” you bit your lip again, before looking down at the ground to avoid his gaze.

He brought his index finger to your chin, lifting your face so that you were forced to look at him again, “And do you wish him to be?”

Again you shook your head, but his finger never left your skin for a moment.

“I was so sure—,”

“Forgive me, my lord, I have just been finding comfort in his friendship of late as I see him regularly about town,” you frowned, suddenly even more conscious of how little time you spent with Anthony in recent weeks.

He leaned ever so slightly closer, “Finding comfort in his friendship? And what of ours?”

“Our friendship, my lord? I—,”

“I apologise, Y/N, but I do not like to see you so close with my brother. Not least because of the fear of a scandal if others saw his behaviour,” he gritted his teeth, “He touches you too often. Leans too close to speak with you and it… it is misleading.”

You gulped, “Why would you be so infuriated by the notion of him courting me, my dear Anthony? He is your brother, and he cares for me. Even if it is not him I wish did so.”

He cocked his head in confusion now, before his eyes widened in realisation of his brother’s scheming. And in considering that, he realised that it had worked.

He’d never wanted to marry, and especially never for love.

But with you stood right there at his finger tips, smiling up at him nervously with a twinkle in your eyes, he threw caution to the wind and realised that you had changed that in him.

He could no longer deny his desire to hold you, to have you entirely as his, to make you his Viscountess.

“Who do you wish to treat you as such, my lady?”

“Surely you can see the answer for yourself, Anthony.”

“I simply wish to hear you say it. But if I must do so first, as a consequence of my foolishness in not seeing it sooner, then so be it. I dislike your closeness to my brother because I miss your attention being mine. I wish to have you at my side always, to laugh with you and dance with you and just talk with you all evening. I do not wish to see Benedict court you because I wish to do so myself.”

“Anthony—,”

“Please, my love, let me finish. I have most probably been in love with you for as long as I have known you, and yet chosen not to see it out of my own stubbornness. If not for my scheming devil of a brother, I might still be in denial. But I love you most ardently, Y/N. And if you feel at all the same then I should like to make you my wife. My viscountess.”

You were speechless, perhaps for one of the first times since meeting Anthony.

You had always told him everything, always saved your last dance for him at balls, always rooted for him in every game of Pall Mall even as his competitor.

And now here he was, the famously anti-marriage Viscount asking if you too wished to wed him.

“Anthony, I had hoped it was clear as day that I too have been unfathomably in love with you for longer than I can explain,” you blushed crimson again under his gaze as a smile spread across his face, “To marry you, well, would be the only way I might find joy in marriage. I know you’ve never sought a match, let alone a love match, but I love you most dearly, my dear Anthony.”

He captured your lips with his as soon as you stopped speaking, knowing that he shouldn’t do so but hoping nobody was around.

Besides, he would soon make you his wife, and he couldn’t contain the excitement.

“I know I’ve previously had my reservations but I am no longer in denial, and I’m sorry for taking my liberties with you by kissing you before we are wed but I could not help myself. And I wish to spend a lifetime kissing you, Y/N. Will you marry me?” he looked shy all of a sudden, which you had never seen before, and you grabbed both of his hands in yours to kiss them.

“Of course, my dear, there is nothing I would like more!”

His smile became impossibly wide, and once more he kissed you out of sheer excitement.

“I’m sorry that this was so abrupt, and I have yet no ring. But my mother will be ecstatic and I plan to give you her betrothal ring because— you are the only woman worthy. And I shall spend our whole life ensuring that I make up for taking so long to do this,” he was vulnerable now, still shy under your careful gaze,

“I had no desire to marry because I had no desire to put the woman I love through the pain of losing me like my mother did my father. She was distraught but— I see now that it is no good wasting time with this fear. However long I might live, I wish to spend those years loving you and making you happy, so that any pain might be worthwhile.”

You kissed him now, tearing your gloves from your hands and reaching up to cup his face and kiss him, “I love you, Anthony Bridgerton. Always. And I cannot wait to be your wife. It will be the greatest honour.”

You were both hot and flustered, and it was taking everything in him not to push open your bedroom door and sweep you off your feet.

But for you, he was a gentleman, and so he settled for one final kiss atop your head and a sweet goodnight.

“We shall tell the others as we break fast tomorrow, perhaps?” you could see the dizzy joy in Anthony’s eyes as he asked this of you, and you nodded profusely.

“I cannot wait, my dear.”

“Then I will bid you good night, my love. I will dream of you, and look forward to seeing you in the morning. Sleep well, my future viscountess.”

“Sleep well, my love.”

As you went to part, you heard a rustle a little way down the corridor, both looking up to see a smug Benedict smirking, leaning on the wall just down the hallway.

“Even I underestimated my own plan. Congratulations, brother. You finally saw sense.”

———

hello! i know this is completely random as i’ve been writing for djats lately but i has this idea and felt the neeeeed to write it. feel free to request more bridgerton fics, as i’m inspired at the moment and rewatching it.

in the meantime, here is my masterlist!

#bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader jealous #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton one shot #jealous #jealous anthony bridgerton

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vagabond-umlaut · 21 days

Text

a battle well begun is the war half won

gojo notices you. you notice gojo. [the boy wants your eyes on him at all times.]

teen!gojo x fem!reader; first meetings; love at first sight[??]; lovesick gojo[??]; mostly fluffy; 1 small discussion on death; reader is in 1st yr whilst gojo is in 3rd yr; gojo has a very... unique definition of romancing in his brain; 'one-sided enemies to lovers' vibes; 2.2k wc

belongs to the series 'fictitious force' but can be read as a stand-alone if you wanna

the og saying is smthng else, yeah... ik. i js tweaked it a bit for fic title purposes, hehe. also, pls no comments on how i named this series... i used to hv a love-hate thing with pseudo-force problems in physics during my hs... and i'm srsly out of ideas :D

header frm pinterest // divider by @/benkeibear // jjk isn't mine

the sky bleeds green, the first time gojo sees you fight.

it isn't anything enthralling. your movements, far from well-practised. your twisted expression screams unease at best, extreme discomfort at worst— you are definitely not one of the best sorcerers the boy has seen so far—

yet he finds himself utterly transfixed.

feet rooted to the earth as an even brighter green beam cuts through the forest. and the second mountain of cursed energy becomes a few wisps of smoke. your form slumping to the ground not long after—

were the boy a better person at heart, he reckons he would've rushed to help you. but he isn't. not really.

so he keeps to his vantage point. blue eyes narrowing a touch behind his shades, as they watch you slowly heave yourself off the mud, face shifting into a scowl as you trudge towards a tree and plop down with no ceremony in front of it—

a barely-there rustle to his left.

followed by the appearance of the steady simmer of a cursed energy, all too familiar.

"yo, nanamin!" gojo greets, wearing a wide beam the second the said kouhai comes before him, feet carefully and soundlessly treading the rugged terrain— the latter's perpetual glower turns into a momentary flicker of surprise.

but it's vanished before the older boy can comment on it.

nanami's face flattens back to its usual state of annoyed indifference.

"the tournament is already over. yaga-sensei wants us all to report to him in another ten..." the boy trails off. rather abruptly. rather strange for him— aha! so nanamin has finally spotted you in the valley below, huh?— gojo wraps an arm around his kouhai's shoulders, allowing his gaze to return to you as well.

you look pretty cute when you're yawning...

"she's from kyoto, isn't she?"

"yes," the younger boy replies, pinning gojo under a curious look. but it's gone all too soon, all too swiftly like the ones preceding. he drops the arm resting on his shoulder.

gojo lets him. simply pouting in response, before he hums, "do you know her?"

"personally, no," nanami is quick to answer, "but from what i've heard from others... she's somewhat peculiar, if i may say so."

this is honestly one of the best opportunities he will ever get to tease that stoic underclassman of his, even more 'cause since when did he, the nanami kento, start gossipping like old geezers!?— but gojo opts to let this chance pass by.

getting more deets on you is way more important for him.

he doesn't bother to hide his burgeoning interest from his tone. "you know her name by any chance?"

nanami does. and as far as gojo knows, your surname doesn't belong to any of the sorcerer clans. none of the major clans, he is pretty sure of that— you might be from a minor one. or, what his gut feelings are telling him, you're from a non-sorcerer background.

not that it matters to him. he is better than the elders of his clan.

"and which year is she in?"

"first year."

wow. you haven't been in school for more than a few months, but you have already managed to make people talk about yourself, huh? quite impressive, gojo thinks as he steals another glance of you.

this time, no longer yawning. just staring vacantly at your keds—

except those muddy shoes are no longer the object of your attention. it is him— really, so very him— your bright, blinding, blindingly bright gaze, every ounce of it focused on him, as your back straightens. and he spots your shoulders tense, brows furrow—

gojo satoru doesn't run away.

he is one of the strongest duo of jujutsu sorcerers. the boy does not, he cannot, he must not run away... yet that's what he does when his gaze collides with you the first time.

grabbing nanami's hand and wasting not one moment to warp them both to the school rooftop, his kouhai's yelp of surprise goes with an ear-piercing whistle of the winds— gojo releases his hold on the boy, the moment his feet touch the concrete— and turns to him, eyes the calmest he can make them seem.

"tell me everything you know about her— like, right now— or i will tell your dear geto-senpai you were the one who finished his melon pan— quit glaring and start speaking, nanamin!!!"

****

turns out, nanami's heart has a very soft corner for gojo's best friend.

also turns out, the third-year need not wait till the breakfast at 10 am tomorrow, to approach you— you amble into his life, dressed in a tad too washed-out set of pajamas and a terrible hairstyle— gojo reckons an angel too would look the same, when you flip the kitchen lights on, making the clock seem a halo-ey thing behind your head.

you stop. suck in a sharp breath.

the boy swallows the last bit of his mochi. and grins.

"heeey! you're the newbie from kyoto, right? heard a lot 'bout you!"

honestly? it was less of hearing and more of extracting info, but gojo decides not to mention it. you don't have any business knowing that, whatever can be the case— ten painfully slow seconds tick by before you return him a response—

a stiff smile.

an even stiffer bow.

followed by you turning on your heel.

were gojo any slower, you would've slipped from the kitchen without any doubt. but he isn't. which is why not even four seconds can pass before he stills you again, this time not by his tall figure lounging in a terrifyingly dark kitchen but by his fingers grasping your wrist.

thumb pressing into the dangerously frantic pulse beneath your skin.

you try to snatch your hand away. and the boy lets you. only 'cause he was too distracted by the furious warmth of embarrassment creeping into your pretty face— no, it is not for how your skin felt a tad too soft beneath the callouses of his palm...

you're the first one to speak this time. voice so quiet... so firm.

"i don't think i can help you with anything, senpai. please don't bother me this way. let me go... please."

no way in hell is gojo bothering you right now— the indignant retort is the first thing the boy can think of. but he resolves to bite it back.

a stupid argument isn't how he wants his story with you to start. sure, there might and will be those later on, but not now. no. he shoots the second grin of his this night, your way.

"aw, i don't need your help with anything— but yeah, you're right. i'm not supposed to stop you like this... you need to sleep enough before tomorrow's one-on-one duels, don't ya?"

"yeah," you agree easily, eyes drifting to your shoes in a small nod.

gojo's grin widens.

maybe like a cheshire cat.

maybe like a victor cat who finally got the rat right where he wanted: in his paws.

"but you won't be needing a lot of rest if you're already determined to lose the match tomorrow— will you now?"

no, you won't. you obviously won't. gojo has learnt enough about you to predict this much accurately; but maybe not too accurately. given you don't show any sliver of shock or fear in return.

just two eyebrows raised, only to slowly descend to their original level a moment later. your tone feels firmer this time. "what exactly are you trying to tell me, senpai?"

"nothing too serious," the boy hums easily, stuffing his hands into his trousers pockets. why do they start being so cold, so clammy now of all times??— "just that it doesn't take a hell lot of work to maintain an image of being an incompetent idiot, like the one you always seem to be— c'mon," the boy coaxes, making his voice seem extra petulant at noticing still no emotion whatsoever on your face, "you do know what i'm speaking of, don't you?"

in retrospect, maybe... he should have handled you with greater care. you're not only new to your school, but also to the world of sorcery in general. pressing you so hard will hurt you, if not break you entirely— but gojo doesn't let such concerns form in his mind. not even for one whole second.

not when he wants to see something, anything come to life in those bright eyes of yours. he is dying to see a spark in them.

you fold your arms across your chest. brows nearing in a mild scowl. gojo doesn't really understand, but loves the sense of joy the sight is bringing him— "what exactly are you trying to tell me, senpai?" your adorable voice repeats, stonier than before.

he resists the urge to pinch your cheeks. or worse, coo at you.

the boy removes his hands from his pockets. copying your stance as he says, "i cannot really tell you anything, y'know— you're almost as smart as me— i mean, tricking those stinking geezers into believing you're just some weakass, with neither a cursed technique nor good fighting skills, despite the insane amount of cursed energy you've..."

"why did you never curb your cursed energy, by the way?" the query slips past his lips into the space in between: horribly genuine. a fact that doesn't escape your eye, he grasps when you reply— in spite of the not-too-little reluctance marking your features.

"the higher-ups were aware of my high cursed energy before i even knew what the hell it was— it was honestly too late," you state in an awfully matter-of-fact tone, "they would have noticed if i tried to do anything to it."

the 'and they would have harmed me or my family' goes unsaid, but gojo doesn't need to hear it to know it. not entirely intentionally, his voice grows softer with the next question.

"but you tampered with something that no one knew anything of yet— you lied about having no cursed technique, didn't you?"

your hesitation overpowers you this time, however. brows furrowing for a beat at him, before they flatten again. you offer a curt nod.

few more seconds borrowed until you speak again, "but my horrible fighting skills weren't a lie entirely... i really am shit at fighting— you saw that today, did you not?"

he did. he so did—

but that very moment, he also saw just how strong your technique is. surely not as powerful as his. but pretty much capable on its own— it frankly won't be a serious issue even if you keep fighting how you did today—

the sound of a yawn breaks his internal musings.

those big eyes of yours blink up at him. so bleary, so bright. he stifles the urge to pinch your cheeks again. deciding to shoo away the sleep in your eyes by throwing the next ask his brain has cooked up. one he knows, has the biggest 'yes!' ever for its answer—

"you're very scared of dying, aren't you? that's why you always make yourself seem so weak— so much so that you aren't assigned to any mission— don't you?"

— only to question his brain when he notes the easy smile twist your lips. it sharpens at the edges as you answer, "dying's rather easy and uncomplicated, senpai. it doesn't really scare me, except maybe, the pain i might have to suffer— but do you know what's scarier??"

"no," gojo says back quietly. honestly. your smile grows something an awful lot similar to pity— the boy detests it usually... but coming from you, he thinks he will take it.

he will take any look you're willing to give him.

as long as it's you on the other side—

your words reach him quieter than the breeze outside. "what's more terrifying is the worry of what is going to happen to your loved ones, should you just die someday— death is inevitable, but i just want to stave it off for as long as i can. just so i may live with my family... you know what, senpai?" you interrupt yourself abruptly, voice becoming the sharpest in these last fifteen minutes.

a feeble sound escapes the boy.

he isn't sure if it's because of that sincere little hum in your words or if it is the gleam of the moonlight on your face. perhaps, both...

yeah, both— it is rather difficult to distinguish between the beauty of your inner self from that of your outer self— the smile simmers down to a subtle twitch of your lips.

something stutters and stumbles inside gojo's chest.

"i know you see me as nothing more than a coward right now, but i believe... it's better to be a coward and alive, than to be a hero and dead— isn't it, senpai?"

[you're pretty bold, however.

far braver than he could ever deem you to be, the boy muses later to himself with a wry smile, an ice bag on the big toe of his right foot— this poor thing swollen and bruised from how mercilessly the heel of your slipper stamped onto it earlier—

okay, fine— the sorcerer concedes to the imaginary angel perched on his shoulder. something between a grumble and a sigh escaping— he shouldn't have asked you out on a date, in return for him to keep your secrets.

it was really inappropriate, he admits. and gojo likes to see himself as a gentleman... yet, yet, yet.

the need to see that placid mask of yours crack— let it be by a glower and not by the smile, he has never seen on you but knows will be just as lovely as you— that need was too overwhelming then as well...

shushing the angel and fist-bumping his guardian devil, gojo tosses the ice bag away. and falls back into his bed—

a very happy, a touch too giddy grin splitting his face into halves:

you really are a peculiar girl, heh!]

hope this was an enjoyable read! pls don't plagiarise, translate or repost this ❤️❤️

masterlist

#gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #kit posts 📝

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anantaru · 10 months

Note

Hiya! I just came across your post about what would happen if you said the ‘safe word’ in bed with Alhaitham and ayato.. I was wondering if you’d maybe be able to do it with Kazuha, Xiao and Scaramouche? I’m so curious aha

If you don’t want to I completely understand but I just really like your writing style 🥺

cw. saying the safeword, angsty, fem! reader

a/n. hello loves, quick side note: this is an exception since i had already planned to write them in this scenario as well, please don't send thirsts with more than one character in the future <3 ty and enjoy

— kazuha

kazuha blows his hips into you, hard, precise storms of his thrusts finding your dribbling cunt and in any other typical case, you would've twisted and turned to have him deeper in you, arch your back when he licks his tongue over your neck to wet the skin— specifically to have his cock crowd you this way, until you're seeing nothing but glittering, white stars.

thus far, it didn't develop into the same thing and you begin to wonder why you haven't felt your best tonight. involuntarily you start to sense how you're clenching down on him, wrapping your trembling arms around his chest and hiding your face into his sweat-troubled neck, his pulse throbbing on your cheek.

for some reason, you thought that if you were to calm yourself down, without telling kazuha how you really felt, it would simply go away but again, this time it didn't and nothing was as important as voicing your concerns and discomfort during sex.

he closes your already troubled breathing state when he moves down to sloppily make out with you, ramming the head of his cock into your deepest spots while excitedly running his hand down your core to play with your little clit and stimulate you further as you did something he never thought he'd ever have to encounter nor witness.

you voice, cry and yell out your safe word over and over, right against his cheek when his eyes shot open in disbelief, large and wide, glossed in unwavering worry. every little sound of you felt like it’s multiplying by a tenfold, and you can’t stop.

kazuha pulls out immediately, pacing his eyes over your shaking figure back and forth, watching you again, back and forth, "my love." he says quietly, loosing the beat of his heart when he witnessed your tears spinning out of control. to be sure he was doing what was necessary, he decided to pull away the blanket which was clumsily thrown over you both in order to make it easier for you to breathe, not leaving your space, but he didn't lay a finger on you, the last he would want now was to cross any more boundaries and it eats him up inside, quietly crying.

"do—" his heart sinks, and so does his voice, "do you need water? are you thirsty? please.." absentmindedly, you run your fingers over his upper arm, but the panic in you, for whatever reason it had emerged, is all-consuming and couldn't be shaken off.

your stomach was in knots and you can barely catch yourself, but you also didn't want kazuha to leave you, voicing him clearly, although with a silent tone, that he should please stay. he directly nods in agreement, placing his palm on top of your agitating hand, telling you to take your time and that it was okay, in fact, you had nothing to worry about, he won't leave.

— xiao

xiao's rough touch and mundane scent was everywhere around you, perceivable and invading your nostrils. you loved it whenever he was a little rough with you, almost feral, pleasing your body until you're shaking from aftershocks of his skilled thrusts.

that time, he twists his fingers around your nipples, just a bit but he did it repeatedly, like you would if you were turning a particularly sensitive knob— and your mounds of flesh were beginning to burn, while his groans were getting louder, showing sweet euphoric need, through with a loud, fast smack of his hips repeatedly finding your soiled cunt.

in combination with him stimulating you on many parts at once, you suddenly began to feel tense and sore, experience an abnormality like you can’t focus on anything, not on him, especially not on the pleasure that of course, was feeling amazing and well but it also didn't.

your heart was racing greatly and you started to sweat profoundly, cold, washed over sweat untangling over your spine and forehead. subtle hints, such as tapping his shoulder were getting you nowhere, and it only made your situation worse as time passed.

"xiao!" you cry out in an instant, not knowing what to do as his blows got even faster, pistoling into your tight pussy, thinking you're enjoying it as much as he did. "xiao, please stop!" and you squeal your safe word and panic one last time before he immediately stills himself, as if you turned off a switch in his brain, making him reach down to push you away.

his gaze hovers around your face, and that's when he saw it, crystal clear, your scrunched together expression that was signaling no sorts of pleasure and he couldn't settle on looking at you for too long, it was beginning to eat him from the very within and his chest was heavy, filled with stones that kept him chained to the ground, so he gets up to sit next to your quivering body.

xiao was speechless, did he really just inflict clear, hurting pain on the person he loved the utmost, more than himself for that matter.

his once, with pleasure glowing eyes, take on a haunted look, open wide in helpless circles, not knowing what to do. if he were the same person before he met you, he would've left and punished himself for what he did but he knew, he just knew that it would make this situation even worse. so he decided to stay, although he didn't say much at first, he did everything in his power to help you, when you so desired any help of him.

it's when he speaks for the first time, "i'm—" and gulps down, eyes burgeoning with tears yet they do not slip, "i am so sorry." his neck grew corded with tension, jaw evertight as he bites down on his cheeks, "so sorry, so sorry.."

"please don't leave me." he continues, xiao makes the tiniest noise in his voice, a worried hitch in his breathing, and for a moment you think he might be leaving you instead, starting to think again that he wasn't enough and that you do deserve better than him. but he settles back down, he doesn't leave and you would lie if you say it didn't surprise you.

you brush away the spilled, dried tears on your cheeks, "i could never leave you." and take his hand to kiss his knuckles, "it's okay."

— scaramouche

scaramouche had immense power, you knew of that and how strong and rough he could get. he easily hauls you off his throbbing cock to abruptly push you into the mattress, hovering on top of you now so he could look and read your sinful expressions, gather and indulge in them while you relish in him fucking you with his fully erected cock.

your bottom lip quivers, and tears had since long been rimming around the sides of your eyes and in any other cases it would be an implication that he was doing a good job, "fuck— fuck, that feels so good." he groans out, ramming his hips into your split hole and groaning out when you clench around his girth.

truth is, he was way too fast and needy with you tonight, making it not possible for you to catch a single breather as he uses your cunt as he pleases, taking you in and out and hoisting you back and forth his leaking member. by this time, you could barely look at him with a clear vision, tears parting from your lashes at last when you cry out in gulps and chokes— the stretch on your cunt aching and forming into anything else than pleasure.

while your first moans were fallen on deaf ears, those in particular that slipped past the tip of your tongue now, made his skin shiver.

"wait— no, no." he quickly pulls you off when you began to uncontrollably sob under him, really not knowing what had caused all of this. he was quick to brush away the tears on your face, "i'm— I'm sorry, please don't cry." his touch for now, had been completely different than just moments ago, now it's warm and soft again, understanding and full of sorrow.

he swallows dryly, unable to wet his parched throat, he hated himself very much right now, his muscles stiffened when you decide to look at him. "i'm sorry." you suddenly state, "this is so embarrassing." confusing him even more and archons knew why you were apologizing in the first place, because you absolutely shouldn't.

"don't." he pushes a warm blanket over your cold, shaking body, "don't apologize." he adds on, "you're not at fault, you hear me."

his eyes soften when you nod, searching for his touch, eyes blood shot but you really needed him to hug you right now as he pulled slow circles on your hips, opening his arms for you so you could easily rest your head on his chest. "i was too rough with you tonight, right?"

"i mean—" he quickly retracts his statement, panicking and smacking himself in his imagination, "that's not important, take your time, don't speak and take your time."

"wait, but you can speak.. if you want."

you answer back with a breathless laugh, placing him in an even more confused state but you would lie to yourself if you'd say he wasn't adorable in his stuttering and his desperate attempts to make you feel comforted. "can we lay like this for the night?"

"of course." he affirms you immediately, "you don't have to ask." silently grazing his hand from your hips to place it on your dampened cheek to cradle your face, sweetly kissing your forehead and smiling.

"everything you want."

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #kazuha x reader #scaramouche x reader #xiao x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #xiao smut #kazuha smut #scaramouche smut #wanderer x reader #wanderer smut #genshin drabbles #genshin impact drabbles #genshin x you #genshin impact x you

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gamergirl-niffler · 1 year

Text

Taking Care of Haganezuka's Injuries - headcanons

Requested by: @zero-sugar-null

Being a swordsmith's wife is a little difficult, but being Haganezuka's s/o is a whole different story.

He not only gets angry easily but also gets hurt just as easily and of course you are the one to take care of him.

‌Any kind of bruises or cuts annoy him even more than anything else.

Not because they hurt.... Because they interrupt his work!

"God dammit!" Loud, angry voice fill the forge as a not yet finished sword is thrown across the room. "It's not perfect. I will have to start from the beginning," Haganezuka mutters and suddenly stops at the uncomfortable feeling in his palms. After taking one look at his hands, he can tell what was wrong. He didn't even notice the cuts at first, but they indeed were there.

So it was time to see you.

‌He is snappy when someone else is offering help.

True. Most smiths hate his guts but still he is one of them, so offering help is something normal, but Hotaru truly hates it!

"Hanganezuka? Maybe you need help?" Someone asks.

"NO! Leave me alone!” He growls in return.

Who the hell they think they are to suddenly offer him help?! Are they looking down on him? That's some kind of joke.

He doesn't need it... Not from them at least. After all he has you.

Any other attempt of helping him ends with an argument. In the end, other smiths stop even trying.

You are the first and only person he comes to.

At this point, you are pretty used to your husband returning home with his hands hurt in one way or another. Yet it still somehow gets you off guard when in the middle of the day the door suddenly bursts open, and you see a big man in a weird mask while you simply try to enjoy your tea and a day off!

Him showing up isn’t unusual, but after years with him, you know what it means. You put away your nice, hot tea and get up to get the stuff.

‌He doesn't wince or whine.

Hotaru is just watching you, maybe frowning once in a while, but you don’t really know because of the mask. He doesn't like how it feels when you take care of his injuries, the burning sensation isn’t his favorite, but your touch is great compensation for the moments of pain.

It soothes the discomfort and immediately makes him feel much better.

Hotaru ALWAYS thanks you.

Each and every time you do this for him, no matter how many times and for how many years. It's a really simple, polite gesture, but it's important for him.

He is fully aware he isn't the best pick for a husband, yet you picked him for some reason, so it would be only fair to show you how grateful he is.

"Thank you," he says after raising his mask to place a kiss on your forehead and then cheek.

Hotaru often thanks God for the mask, because your sweet reaction makes even this angry man blush.

‌Sometimes you scold him.

You understand his craft is important to him, but some days he takes it too far. Getting his hands all cut and bloody, you can't pat him on the head for that!

"How can you do this to yourself? Love, I admire your work and dedication, but you can't keep it up."

He scoffs at your words. "Someone has to make sure you slayers won't fight with bare hands."

"I know that and thank you for this but working so hard is stupid."

“HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT?!” Hotaru quickly gets defensive.

Scolding sometimes turns into heated arguments between the two of you... Ups...

LET'S REVERSE STUFF A LITTLE

You are a demon slayer, so you make sure the village as well as smiths in it are safe. What means: going against demons, what means: sometimes you get hurt.

‌ Information of you getting hurt is one of few things that pull him away from work.

Yes, he is always deep in his work, but the simple mention of you getting hurt makes him drop everything. He needs to know how bad it is? Are you alive?

So he drops whatever he is doing (even if it means starting from the beginning again) and goes to see you.

‌If it's possible, he helps you himself.

Haganezuka isn't a master of taking care of others. It's hard for him, but he watched you work so many times, so he follows exactly those patterns.

He cleans your wounds and wraps them carefully, just like you do with him.

Also get ready for a kiss on every wound you have, after all kisses make it all better, right?

‌If it's not possible, he entrusts you to a person who knows what to do.

But this process is full of yelling and threats.

"You better take good care of her! Or I will deal with you myself! She is my wife, remember that!”

Sometimes even other smiths must hold him in place for the safety of others.

‌He scolds you as well.

That's another thing you should get ready for. Hotaru is your worried husband, so he has a right to do so when his wife isn’t careful enough.

Right after sweet kisses, he will scold you for getting hurt.

"How could you be so stupid!,” He mutters, annoyed. "You should be more careful. You're a demon slayer, not some child with too sharp toy! Being careful should be your priority!"

"B-But..." You try to argue, but you are quickly cut off by him.

"NO BUTS, Y/N,” He snaps at you. "You need to remember about your own safety. Keep other slayers and villagers safe but remember about your own safety too!"

You just sit there and listen, nodding from time to time. It's obvious your husband is worried, and you won’t argue with that. It was understandable, you do the same when it comes to him.

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

In the end, you care about him deeply, and he cares about you even deeper. Each of you try to keep the other safe and provide help and/or comfort whenever it's needed.

It's just a simple proof of how much you love each other, and neither of you is going to complain.

Both of you love it so much, actually.

#demon slayer #Haganezuka #demon slayer haganezuka #kny haganezuka #hotaru haganezuka #haganezuka x reader #demon slayer headcanons #hotaru haganezuka x reader #kny headcanons

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bratphilia · 7 months

Text

teacher (m. schmidt x reader)

request: "Can you plz plz write a smut where Mike takes readers virginity and they are kind of innocent"

note: sorry if this was a lil shorter than you were hoping. i left some breathing room at the end for a potential second part

pairing: mike schmidt x reader

tags: fingering, missionary, virgin!reader, soft dom!mike

"this is your clit," mike says, pressing on the sensitive area.

your hips jolt. "o-okay," you whine, struggling in his grasp.

abby is at vanessa's house to be babysat so you and mike are left alone at his place. mike has you resting half way on top of him with one hand on your leg to remind you to keep them spread for him. you decided that today's the day you want to go all the way with him, much to his concern to your change of heart. however, you managed to convince him that you were ready.

the truth is, mike's been wanting this for awhile. he just finds your innocence so cute! the way you're a bit of a prude, blushing and shying away from anything related to sex. he finds it adorable. he finds youadorable.

he slowly moves the finger resting on your clit down south until it prods at your hole. he kisses your forehead and then your cheek as if to prepare you for what comes next.

"ooh," you exhale shakily. it's an admittedly discomforting stretch, but thankfully he eases you into it gently. he's such a caring boyfriend.

once the finger is inside, he curls it, earning a sharp "ah!" from you.

"...and this is your g-spot."

"th-that feels nice, mikey," you say, reaching a hand to grasp his t-shirt while he curls and uncurls his finger.

"yeah?" he mumbles, slightly mocking your voice.

mike pumps his finger a little faster and reaches another hand to rub slow circles around your clit. you grasp onto his arm and whimper.

"m-mike — mike! — i feel weird..." you cry.

instead of slowing down, he actually goes a little faster. your slick provides for a perfect lube to do so. "shh, it's okay. just let it go, okay?"

he presses the hand rubbing on your clit on your tummy, gently pressing down. the heat in your stomach grows until you feel some sort of release and a pulsing in your pussy. you moan loudly when he kisses you.

you feel yourself dripping onto his finger and your face burns. "'m sorry."

he gives you a lopsided grin. "what are you sorry for?"

you shake your head and he begins to unbuckle his belt and discard his pants and boxers. you tug on his shirt for him to take it off and he does so, pecking your lips before and after.

"still good to continue?" he checks. god, he's so good to you.

you nod and he slides on top of you. his dick prods at your entrance. "i'm going to go slow, okay? it's gonna hurt at first but that's just you adjusting."

"and we can stop at anytime, right?" you ask.

"of course."

he pushes in slow as he promised. you let out a flurry of 'ah's as the burning sensation of your walls stretching hits you overwhelmingly. fuck, you're so tight. he was expecting you to be — you were tight when he put his finger in — but he doesn't feel confident he can really move inside of you that much.

he's buried about halfway inside and waits for your call to move. "you're — ugh — so fucking tight," he can't help but comment.

"is — is that a good thing?" you wonder out loud.

"very," he says with a pained chuckle.

you take a deep breath after a few moments. "'m ready."

mike begins to thrust slowly and cautiously. his cock drags against your walls pleasurably enough for the both of you. the noises your making, squeals, whines, and cries, makes him want to go faster and illicit more, but being careful with you is far more important than his primal needs.

he recalls your reactions to the way he talked to you, so he leans down to whisper in your ear. "you like that, baby? like feeling me inside you?"

"yes," you moan.

his shallow thrusts are still enough to make the cheap bed creak and rock. "fuckin' god, babe, you feel so good wrapped around me."

"baby," you cry. "can you go a little faster? i can — ah! — take it."

"yeah? does my baby want it faster?" he mocks you as he picks up the pace ever so slightly.

"mikey!" you cry from the stimulation.

"gettin' close, baby?" he asks.

"mmm! i think so..."

like before when you were close — and he can tell you are by the way you're spasming around him — he brings his hand to your clit and rubs from side to side. you grip desperately onto him as you feel the same way you did before: the tension in your stomach growing like a dam about to break loose.

"ah! ah!" you moan and spill over the edge.

mike holds off from coming himself, for now and pulls out. this was about you, not him. besides, he'll teach you how to use his mouth on him some other time anyway.

#fnaf #fnaf smut #fnaf x reader #five nights at freddy's #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt smut

750 notes · View notes

chokchokk · 11 months

Note

Can I request a San x Female Reader where It's her first time having sex and first time having an orgasmn. So San makes her squirt over and over before fuckin her. But at the end she notices blood and freaks out so he comforts her? Very smutty and fluffy please?

-AA

Im too embarrassed

dearest AA, “very smutty”, “very fluffy” and “too embarrassed” don’t co-exist in my universe, so i hope with this fic i could get some of your shame (?) away, babes <33 indulge in your desires and don’t hesitate to revisit me anytime !!! thank you for being my first requester xoxo

ʟᴇᴛ ɪᴛ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛʀᴜᴇ! | choi san x fem!reader

“Don't go around calling me baby right now, or I'll turn like the San in your dream.”

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 : Your boyfriend is a wet dream, but this only goes so far, when your real dream leaves you confused and most importantly, curious. San is more than happy to help.

“How does an orgasm feel like, Sannie?”

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 : fluff (slice of life-ish), smut

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 : 10k

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 : 1st time, sex with communication, first orgasm, foreplay, explicit consent, fingering, squirting, protected (!) penetrative sex, bleeding, after-care; san is a great boyfriend, san has a big dick, that is actually important to the plot, established relationship, living together, a lot of sweet pet-names, teasing, domestic humour

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎 : LMAO i’ll be honest i got carried away with the build-up (pls know this abt me; i’m a WHORE for build-up (sorry not sorry)) but if you want to jump to the spicy part immediately, go find the second border, the smut will start there!! enjoy in any way you want !!! <33 feedback would be greatly appreciated xoxo

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“Good night, Y/N. Dream of me~”, your boyfriend lulls, as you’re cuddled into his breast, San’s sturdy arm cushioning your body from below, stroking your head that’s under his. He just finished talking about his lucid dreaming recently, fascinated that he can remember more details now, but you interrupted his talking, when he iterated a fight to you where he got his nose bleeding.

“I don’t have to dream of you when you’re the dream already, Sannie,” you whisper, and with a giggle, he kisses your forehead. San has warned you about calling him ‘dream boyfriend’ multiple times, since he’s aways got, quote, “things to improve on”, but since it’s not dream husband yet, you’re left with no other description.

“Ohh, sugarplum,” he coos and and pushes your face deeper into the crook of his neck, “don’t say that.”

San is a special case in every which way; in the way he’s this buff guy with guns for arms that he uses to keep you warm when you sleep — in the way San is has the energy of a bull that he stashes away to sing his girlfriend a lullaby — in the way that the Choi San who has dated so many women in his past and hooked up with them (with no ill feelings in the present, of course) has settled down with you, Y/N, a woman with no prior experience other than the media she has consumed.

So you keep telling it yourself in secret. San is, and will forever be, a dream boyfriend. He’s as good to you as you are seemingly to him, but course the topic of sex, at least the lack thereof, crosses you two’s conversations from time to time.

It’s not like you had tried to save yourself for something, really not. It just… didn’t sound appealing to you, ever. You’ve shared to San that you don’t even masturbate that often, since you’ve never been able to get a satisfactory end— an orgasm— out of it. And while other men would laugh about such a thing, San has shown you nothing but understanding and support.

When you feel sorry for not being able to meet his sexual needs, he tells you he’s happy enough that you feel comfortable to share your discomforts with you. There is not one cell of his body that would mutate and judge you, San is fully devoted to your well-being.

What you forget sometimes is that while San is your first boyfriend, it’s your first time being a girlfriend, too. So being sorry for San is one thing, but wanting to love San more is another. At least you realised that this morning, when you woke up from your first ever wet dream.

You have been able to just ‘shake it off’ during the day and not think about it, but after San, being your soulmate he is, came up with the topic of “lucid dreaming”, and you could barely listen to his wild stories because of how distracted you were.

Maybe that’s why San thought you were tired and cuddled you to slumber so soon. Him cuddling you and getting your head under his chin is you two’s usual sleeping position, but well, huh… You’re not tired, not at all.

“I mean it,” you choke out, San humming, touched by your compliment, but of course he doesn’t know that by saying he’s a dream,you’re also referencing to how his hands were touching your private areas all around, his mouth in places that it’s never been in before in real life. ‘Tastes so good…’

“I love you so much, Y/N,” San exhales delightfully, fed by your fuzzy feelings, still caressing your head with gentle fingers, “but you know that I want you to hold me accountable.”

“Saaannie,” you murmur, your breath turning into a hot patch on his shirt, “just take it as it is.”

San notices your slightly agitated tone and chuckles, kissing your forehead again. “Y/N, my sugar-pie, what’s bothering you?” There has been no doubt in you that San wouldn’t catch on that you’re being weird, and though you’re really glad he did, it, for some reason, doesn’t make the topic any more easier.

“It’s—“, you begin to stammer, and with your struggle comes San’s immediate help. He shuffles back a little bit so he can take an analytical look at you, all blushed and worked up over a dream you can’t even remember the half of. San’s eyes are droopy, and while right now, it’s because he’s tired, in your dream, it was because he wanted to ‘eat you up…’

“It’s too embarrassing to explain.”

San gets the arm away from below and leans his head against his hand, propping himself up. “Embarrassing?”, he asks and pouts with a slight smile, his dimples digging deep into his cheeks. “Is it an embarrassing matter or just you who’s soooo easy to embarrass, huh?”, San grins and taps your nose one time with his finger to loosen you up, looking you straight in the eyes to give you all his attention. He’s showing to you that you, dearest, could never be embarrassing to him. Everything you do, he’ll take serious and anything you say, San will listen to it, as he’s shown you over and over again, reaffirming it to you every day and night.

‘I’m going to show you my love, all of it.’

San sees you licking your lips and putting your words together in your overwhelmed brain. You’re not nervous of how San will react, that is for sure, it’s just that… Where do you start? ‘Hey, boyfriend, I think I want to have sex with you?’ That does get the message across, but the words have to leave your mouth first.

It’s hard. You don’t think you’ve ever said the word, ‘sex’ in the context of… actually having it, let alone desiring it. San watches you spiral— starting to inhale, but then losing your words— and strokes over your head, humming “Just start with the basic outline—“

“I had sex with you in my dream.”

San stops stroking your head for a hot second and you two are just looking into each other’s eyes. San notices now how red you have become, how flushed you look, what a cute girlfriend you are for being embarrassed about this and shit, how lucky he is that you’re his and not anybody else’s girlfriend who you are so adorable playing with your hair right after you just dropped the “s-bomb” on him.

You don’t know what’s worse: Him, waiting for you to continue your talking before he can react to your … attention-grabbing introductory sentence, or you, not having anything to follow up. He probably expects you to tell your dream, but— but not in front of San himself, no! You’re quiet and continue to be, until he takes it upon himself to break the silence.

“… Did you wake up?”

Huh?

“What? Of course I woke up, I’m here now.”

“No, sweetie,” San wheezes softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, while you finally let your eyes stray away (his gaze is unbearable), “I’m asking whether you got to see the end of it.”

“The—“, you parrot him, and while you do San smiles sheepishly, apparently finding you so endearing while you are in mutilation, a foreign warmth growing in your stomach, “— end?”

“I just don’t want to scare you, Y/N,” San hums and twirls your hair around on his finger. “This is me asking where your head is in this situation.”

You blink and San pushes his lips out to indicate that he’s waiting for an answer, or at least something to give him to know if you’re in need of consolation or advice. “Uhm,” you inhale, “I… saw almost everything, I guess.”

His reaction could mean a lot. The dimple in his cheek getting deeper, his nose crunch, him sucking in his lip — it could mean a lot, but also so little.

“Almost everything,” San re-confirms, you know that this description is still very vague.

Gathering your shards of confidence, you murmur, “I mean… We saw each other naked often, so I think that’s why my brain could— do that, but when it came to that, it… You know. It surprised me.”

“That,” San repeats and by now, he definitely understands the superficial parts of your dream, but you have yet to drop any details. Was the dream a good one? Or well, was he good?

As expected, he wouldn’t dare to ask you that right now, looking at how you’re stammering awkwardly. You can still read it in his eyes though; his curiosity is asking you whether your dream has changed your attitude about sex, let it be for the better or worse.

You know San is going to show understanding regardless, right?

Yes, absolutely right.

“Y/N, sugar, we can talk about this tomorrow or any other day you like. I’ll keep it in mind, if that’s what you want.”

Maybe you should say something before San thinks the dream has made you negatively speechless. Well, it did make you speechless the whole day, but now, you’re almost bursting with the things you want to say, like they’re brewing inside you but not getting flavourful yet.

“No, Sannie,” you whine and put your hand on your eyes to hide yourself from his way-too sincere eyes. This isn’t how people do it in the movies or in the books. They usually just… get it on, no? Like they eat each other up, like it’s a necessity for survival, like eating to meet hunger, like quenching your thirst. You don’t know if this is a feeling like that. Whether the uncomfortable warmth inside you is truly the embarrassment but rather the reaction of your memories. ‘Let yourself be all over me.’

“Yes, sweetie,” San croons, removing his hand from your head to leave you by yourself even more, your palms resting on your eye sockets.

You love him. You’ve never doubted this, and you’re not doubting it now. From the moment he confessed his love to you, you having to get used to the idea of being in a relationship to now, almost a year later. You’ve mentioned it to him haphazardly already, but you’ve done everything except have sex. It had been San’s idea to ease you into the twosome-ness of it all; ‘let’s be each other’s person’. He said that in your dream, too, and finally you understood it.

You remember your long-lived confusion before today too well. San was your person as you were his, him with his own set of needs and expectations, you with your own — but weren’t they contradictory? San needed the sex, didn’t he? Like… sexual needs?

No, “sex isn’t a need”, San explained to you back then, “it’s a way!“

You tried to bring up the whole concept of orgasming being healthy to him, but he continued with “to me,” and you are reciting these words in your head as you try to think of something good to say, “sex is just one of many ways to love you, Y/N.”

So, truth be told, despite having a virgin girlfriend, he orgasms a healthy amount still. Sometimes San does it while you’re sleeping next to him, sometimes he feels like he can’t resist to look at your peaceful, tranquil, breathtaking face and does it in the bathroom, but essentially, he is not having sex, just getting rid of his ‘bodily mishaps’.

While you thought of sex as this strange way to get rid of stress, San thought of it as something way more, but he wouldn’t try to convince you of it, if you didn’t give him your “okay” to talk about it at all.

But here you are. Okay. You’re finally ready. Or maybe you’re not, but you’re ready to try, try with San, try San. He’ll be your person, get to know where you like to be touched, get to know where your sweet spots are and you will hopefully do just the same— touch, no, lick, no, touch, lick and suck everywhere he wants, pour your yourself over him. You’ve wanted to find out how to do that since you’ve dreamt of it since last night, processing the brain-sensation it has left you with for the whole day.

“Do you think you want to tell me about your dream first?“

“Can you kiss me?”

“H- huh?”

You get your hands from your eyes and your vision is too blurry to precisely get the picture of his rather shaken expression in. San thinks you’re bold. Mostly because that’s what you are right now. Bold. Still embarrassed, but encouraged and desperate. “Can you kiss me?”, you ask again before you fall into another pile of self-embarrassment.

“I can, but I don’t know how it’s going to help—“

You pull his face closer to yours with both of your hands and San is the one who slightly turns red now. “Y/N,” he pants, and you have to suppress a cheeky smile, when you push his cheeks together to form a duck-face.

Until you notice he’s not being sulky with the way he’s trying to push you away.

It takes you a while, how would you know that it was so easy to get men erected? Okay, you’ve seen San get a boner in the most uncomfortable situations several occasions, but usually they weren’t because of a direct cause.

If he had worn a baggier set of pants, you probably wouldn’t have seen it, but it’s only his shorts today, and the whole outline of it is almost jumping into your face, you couldn’t have not seen it. Not remarking it also wouldn’t have helped the situation. Your situation. ‘I won’t stop, I won’t stop fucking you all night.’

“Is that why you don’t wanna kiss me, Sannie?”, you murmur and flutter with your eye-lids, once your realise you’ve been staring for too long down there.

In contrast the voyeuristic scene, it strangely does not become one of those erotic moments; with San’s whiny chuckle, it actually becomes kind of … bonny. Him getting a hard-on, when his girlfriend is quite figuratively trying to open up with him, it becomes a small detail to poke fun at, one to laugh about it with an amiable awareness that you’re not mocking each other.

“I’m sorry— ignore this— I can ignore this,” San tells you and flops on his back, grabbing all of the blanket to roll around it and leaving you cold with less. “Hey!”, you pout and grab the seam of the blanket to get under it, but San gets ahold of your wrists to prevent you from cuddling to his side.

Maybe it’s because there’s nothing else occupying San’s mind and body right now, with you knowing it, or the way you can’t keep your hands off of him and he’s desperately trying to avoid your touch, it seems like a short game of cat-and-mouse.

“I don’t care that you’re hard, Sannie!”, you whine and search for his vicinity, but he wiggles away, forcing you to be a bit more assertive and wring with him.

“But I do!”, he exclaims, not really understanding the weight that your words hold. You just told him that you’re not appalled by his erection, that should be a big sign that you’re, uh, up for conversation, no? Why are you being like this? Maybe to keep up the tension? Because it’s fun? Fun playing around with San— to watch him try to use as little strength as possible, knowing that once he gets just the tiniest bit of muscle in, you’ll be overthrown?

“Sannie,” you make a sullen face, breathing out, at your third try to get your arms around him with San’s hands on your wrist, but when you get caught in the blanket with your leg that he keeps pulling, it’s over the second he yanks you to the side.

Yanking you to the side meaning pulling you by your whole body— you landing on his belly, arms awkwardly angled towards your torso, leaning into his face.

“You men”, you theatrically moan to tease him even more and San is fighting with all his inner voices right now. Most of them are just empty screams of ‘what is happening?!’, but also muscle memory persuading him to wrap his arms around your perfect waist and pin you down— he’s trying, that’s what he’s yearning to tell you by pushing his eyebrows down. “I’m sorry.”

“Ohh, Sannie,” you sigh, letting your head drop on top of his breast, crossing your fingers into San’s, while he manages his breathing.

“This is why I’m no dream man, Y/N,” San pouts, feeling guilty having used his power over you.

“It’s natural, isn’t it?”, you answer — letting your hands fall to each side of San’s body, and you feel like one of those people that usually tell you the same thing when the fact that you’re a virgin slips off your tongue. ‘It’s natural, isn’t it? That couples have sex?’ It should be and it’s going to be, thank you.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… I was really not prepared for that,” San wheezes and he raises one of your intertwined hands to touch your fingers with his lips.

“What? The cuddling or the dream?”

“The cuddling, in the context of the dream,” he answers honestly and inhales your sleepy scent from your fingertips, feeling how comfortable you lay on top of him.

“It was a good dream,” you conclude.

This was what San was trying to find out. Good or bad. And to his luck, it was good. Very good. ‘Such a good girl… So good to me.’

“Y/N?”

You accidentally zoned out, re-imagining your reverie; San all over you, sweat dripping down from his skin onto yours, his pelvis pistoning into your raised legs. How had your brain come up with that? It felt so… real. “Sorry, I got lost there for a second. What did you say?”

“How was he, that San in your dream?”

“The San in my dream, he,” you chuckle, feeling your breathing accumulate to your boyfriend’s, “… did everything, but he wasn’t careful, no.”

“What?!”, San exclaims, and it seems like he’s offended by his alter-ego to dare such a thing— he lets go off your hands in the shock and grabs you by your shoulders. “Not careful?!”

“Hmm,” you try and calm him down, letting your hands glide onto his pillowy breasts, massaging your fingers into his flesh by circling them, “he was inside… But a bit… Too fast for my liking? I mean, I don’t know my liking… I was enjoying it in my dream, but— uhm, I don’t think I could handle so much right now?”

San hums, as in to show that he heard what you said, but it took him a second of you burying your hands inside his armpits to inhale, “wait, right now?”, and remove his hands from your shoulders.

“Sannie,” you murmur with closed eyes, the buzzing feeling inside your lower abdomen swaying you to something like slumber, but if you’re not mistaken— and you’re sure that you can’t be mistaken about your own thoughts— it’s not a slumber that can be cured by sleep, but rather something else, “I couldn’t think of anything else today.”

He’s silent. He’s still breathing— thank goodness— but even though you can hear his breath leave his mouth, it doesn’t seem like San is going to say something. Pushing your upper body up, you tilt your head down.

He’s silent, sweaty and breathing, breathing heavily, staring upwards at you with sunken eyes, unable to let any of his thoughts leave the safe space of his mouth, because if San did, he’d give himself trouble for it. Seeing you fix your gaze— eyelids droopy from having been smushed into his breast— seems to only be adding fuel to his loss of good sense, and San is praying in his head that you won’t lick your lips once more, because oh god, if you did, you are going to be in so much more trouble than he is.

“Baby?”, you ask, and you swear you’re not trying to provoke him, since you only call him baby in the most special occasions, but right now, it just slipped out of you because San is being a bit strange.

Boyfriends don’t act like this, do they? Your boyfriend doesn’t; that, you can be sure about.

“Sorry,” you correct yourself, hopefully to get rid of some of his— well, what was it— anxiousness?— no, frustration?, “I didn’t mean to say ‘baby’. It just slipped out.”

“N- no, Y/N, it’s not your fault, it’s mine,” San whines. “This may sound really weird, but while I would rather die than hurt you, sugar-pie,” he murmurs, avoiding your heavy gaze on him, “I am… a man. And I don’t know how comfortable you are with me, but I am fully, undeniably erected, Y/N. Don’t go around calling me baby right now, or I’ll turn like the San in your dream.”

“How does an orgasm feel like, Sannie?”, you ask, purposefully innocent, but still in a way that makes it obviously suggestive, your tone dropping in an octave from its initial high-tone embarrassment. Where is your sudden confidence coming from? You don’t know, but- uh- well, you’re kinda over San here, both mentally and physically, it seems like.

“It feels like…”, San sighs, both reminiscing his lifetime of orgasms and feeling pretty fucking awkward in general, to be explaining this to you, while his body is screaming for him to do anything but talking.

“… It feels like being washed over by refreshing water on a hot summer day, after easing yourself into it with small splashes.” San is no poet and he sees this by how you’re flexing your face together, trying hard to understand.

“It feels like…,” he starts again, and you can swear you are feeling something twitch underneath you, and it’s probably his hard erection. “… Orgasm feel like, wow… How do they feel like, they— Uh…”

Somewhere between his words, San is looking at the ceiling, letting his eyes wander around everywhere your body isn’t laying dangerously close to his throbbing genital, but having to tell you how orgasms feel like is just the end of his senses. Now it’s not only his body urging him on, his girlfriend is trying to find out how they feel like without having experienced one, ever.

“… They are worth it.”

He’s trying to be a good boyfriend, but up until now, he’s been used to being the boyfriend of a virgin girlfriend who didn’t want sex at the moment. And that was the end of it. Definitely more than manageable, more doable than … this.

“Do you think I can enjoy them too?”, you question, revealing to him the true nature of your curiosity.

You’ve confirmed the pulsation between your legs seconds ago, when San let out a whine from his mouth, that was definitely not intended to sound as sexual as it did. You’re a virgin, not dumb, you know what’s seductive, sultry and arousing. Oh, you’re aroused, alright, maybe for the first time in your life— and your boyfriend is, too, so if this puzzle isn’t going to be put together this night, there must be something wrong in the air.

“I can’t speak for you, sugarplum. It was your dream, Y/N.”

“I don’t know how we started, but we were here, on our bed, naked, and you were… thrusting into me with this… almost scary vigour, it was— It was rough. And that one, I didn’t enjoy. You looked mean, Sannie.”

“I’m sorry,” San pouts and he looks downwards to show how sorry he is, but also to focus on your words only. If he sees your sweet face describing those things one more time, then he’ll have to disappear into the toilet soon. “I would never treat you like that.”

You blink a couple of times and lick your lips. “How would you treat me?”

“I would,” San mutters, finally meeting your eyes again, while he slowly, but surely begins to prop himself up by angling his arms, getting to your face-level. “I would treat you with care, reverence—with tenderness; I would get every inch of your skin to understand how it feels to be seen and loved, I would—“, he pants, he’s unable to breathe through his nose, and he just keeps on talking, he…

“YN, I— I would do everything to get to make your body flourish with my love, to make your heart grow with all I have, I want to—“

He goes silent.

Yes, San is a man. But it’s strange to you how he blames being a man for his weakness, but if there is a strong suit that your boyfriend has over you, it’s not being so strong that he can pull you down in a second— it’s having the mind of a lover, and a lover who promises to protect everyone he loves with his strength, and not because he’s getting his own satisfying release out of it.

A man and a lover; San is also your boyfriend, who knows what to tell you to make you grow weak. Let’s say he doesn’t do it a lot for reasons that include wanting to protect you, but as you are on top of him, listening to his words from beneath you, his words melt like fizzled honey on your tummy, crumbling with them.

“I want you, Y/N. And that’s my selfish dream.”

Being pulled down by gravity as San’s upper body rises, down to his crotch, you let him work his silent ways. He pushes himself up the last inch that it takes to be under your face, and his skin radiates heat onto yours.

There is not even a centimetre separating you two and San finally finds his words. “Please”, he begs, his voice above a whisper, “let me be your dream, Y/N.”

“I thought we already went through that,” you chuckle, getting your arms on each of San’s shoulders now, “baby.”

You can see he’s enjoying this a little too much, the way San is thoroughly covering every inch of your skin with butterfly kisses, as he has you laying on your back, letting you rub your hands over his torso to get used to the ‘intimacy’-part of it all.

Getting naked was an easy process, being exposed to the very last skin on the other hand, not. You’ve never been naked in front of him for this specific occasion, and since he knows, San doesn’t dare to rush you into more touching than needed, allowing your underwear to wrap around your privates until he’s finished giving you goosebumps all over the body.

With his soft lips, San kisses your shoulders and collarbones, whispering words of comfort into them, while you try your best to not make any lewd sounds. You didn’t know they came naturally, you had thought it was acting but — oh, goodness — no.

“Sugar,” San sputters— rearranging himself over you, one knee between your legs, the other over your leg, “let ‘em out. Let the sounds out.”

You gulp, as he glides his hand across your stomach to your lower abdomen, slightly scratching the seam of your panties, and San has placed his lips at your jawline, his voice vibrating in your ear, peppering kisses around the corner of your neck, entrancing you to fall deeper into your mattress, sighing in the calming feeling of your boyfriend.

“Only because you wanna hear me,” you murmur and wrap your arms around his upper body, running your hands across his back muscles that ease into your touch. “And that’s a bad thing, because…?”, San hums and begins to get lower with his kisses and his thumbs caressing where your pantyliner meets your thighs, warming up the small patch of skin there.

“Hmm,” you breathe out, San’s lips working their way down your cleavage, “Good… point.”

San smirks and brings his hands up, not letting a second pass where he is not feeling you under his fingertips. “There is nothing more that I want to hear,” he murmurs, his eyes appearing to become a bit foggy from your scent, San becoming absolutely lost in it, “except you, my love.”

Your breath comes out stuttered and stroke his bangs away to the side in order to have a better view on his face above your breast. He’s radiant, but as much as he’s excited to be doing this, San will stop as soon anything leaves your mouth asking him to, he promised you. In your dream, San just kept going. That’s why you didn’t want to retell the story. He forced you around, he thrusted into you with no choice, and he wouldn’t stop, until your dream cut off without you having orgasmed once throughout the thing.

So the dream itself didn’t get you to want this, and San knows this, the curiosity did. Curiosity of reaching the edge that you missed in your sleep, which you think you can only reach with the real San, with your real boyfriend.

“Can I touch you here, sugar?”, San asks, his upper body hovering over your torso, lips approaching your face, hands gliding up by your waist to meet your ribs. He’s done a good job not staring at your exposed nipples, but following the way from your jawline, neck, and collarbones, this is the next area to appreciate.

“Yes, please,” you answer, cupping your boyfriend’s cheek with one hand, inviting him to kiss you softly. San encloses your breast with a hand that has up to no muscle tension in it, kindly allowing it to get used to the new, but warm contact.

His rosy lips meet yours and he presses several kisses on them, reminding you of how much familiarity you’re dealing with right now. You kiss San all of the time, for all the reasons you love him, and as he kisses you right now, at this sleepy midnight, he’s showing you why sexual intercourse is just a fancy term to describe something so complex, that it actually becomes simple. He loves you. That’s all he has to do to have or not have sex with you.

With his palm, San brushes over your nipple, and by wonder, it hardens and makes goosebumps run over your back.

“You look so beautiful,” San lulls, smooching your lips one more time before he can finally take a look at your breasts and gulp, lick his lips, and ask you, “may I?”

“You may.”

The last kiss lingers delicately on your opened lips, as San breathes in your breast, kneading and softening it up. Automatically, you exhale and run your fingers through his uncombed hair. He sucks once and twirls his tongue around your hardened nipple, and with your very valuable feedback, his other hand draws a long line across your curvature.

“Sannie... Baby…”, you whine, the slow, but sensual licking sending you down a sensation of being tickled and being caressed at the same time.

“Yes, pie?”, San grins, proud that he’s making you feel this way, no, that it’s him that is making you feel this way for the first time in your life. With each of your sweet sounds, his pride and ego grows and his lips lap around your nipples razzingly.

You tug at his hair and send him down deeper into your skin, slightly pushing him to get his head where you’ve found that you feel best, grabbing the fabric of the bedsheets under you with your other hand.

“It feels so good,” you whine, and San chuckles after seeing your grip, gliding his hand right between your ticklish fingers.

“Yeah?”, he coos and presses another kiss onto your mouth, adoring the way your eyebrows twitch inside according to his voice. “I’ll make you feel even better…”

San caresses the area under your boob, whispers into your ear, “Will you let me?”, and you nod, words inside your head turning into hazy exhales out of your mouth.

“You won’t regret it,” San chuckles and crosses his fingers into the surface of your hand, using your own hand to slowly, but surely slide down your stomach. You kind of get the idea of what he’s trying to do, but not really the image.

“You think I won’t regret it?”, you ask him, a bit anxious, — it’s your first time, after all— your soft skin under both of your fingertips becoming one, as he leads the hand down. “I don’t know so,” San admits, comforting you by kissing your forehead, “so I’m going to make you believe it, first.”

“Hm?”

San pushes his upper body up with the hand that has been at your breast and glides it behind your back, so he can get between you and the mattress, his naked upper body pressed against your shoulder. He plants an uncountable number of kisses onto your neck, and assists you down to your panties, keeping his eyes on you to confirm you’re okay with all that he’s doing.

You’ve never touched yourself on this bed. The last time you did was somewhere in your gleeful high-school teens, long before you met San, and if you’re honest, you’d rather have him touch you, but when San kisses you on the lips and both of your hands slide under the seam of your underwear. The rough fabric of the lace scrapes San’s hand and you meet the hot slickness you’ve become inside.

“Would you look at that,” San purrs, voice wispy— his finger is the only one to glide against your wet labia and explore the untouched lips. It helps that your hand is down there too, and it feels like a rubber hand illusion, you touching yourself while San does it for you.

“Y/N,” San moans into your ear, stirred by the sensation that is you. “You feel so good, don’t you, sugar?”

You inhale sharply, when San’s finger strokes over your clitoris, and straight away, your boyfriend presses kisses onto your temple. “S- Sannie,” you whine and provoked by your sounds, his finger circles around your clit again.

Sparks, tingles — you name it. With San kissing you all around the face to counteract the new stimulation, you can’t keep your legs straightened, folding your thighs around your and San’s arm with an overwhelmed sigh. “Sannie…”, you repeat yourself and look him in the eye.

“Aww, sugar,” San smiles and catches your forlorn gaze, flushed and drowned in his kisses. Your cheeks are burning red, but the same thing goes for San. Both of you are drunk in love, falling for each other deeper with every breath you take.

“Is this good?”, he asks and rubs your back with his thumb, the other finger teasing the slick entrance. “Y- yes,” you answer and San crunches his nose in admiration, slowly easing his finger around the tissue.

“Can you touch yourself for me?”, is San’s second question and you gulp at the sincerity in your boyfriend’s voice. He’s talking two octaves deeper, raspy, lascivious; he’s promiscuous in all he is doing, let it be nibbling at your earlobe, rubbing your clit, caressing your spine with utmost libertine care— you have a feeling you’re developing another crush for your boyfriend.

“Y- yes,” you stutter, but a bit anxious about doing something wrong. It feels so right when San does it, but he’s the more experienced one in this— at least that’s what you think. He removes his hand from the surface of yours and lets you do the rubbing for a short moment, and you try to replicate what he did to you, flicking your finger over your clitoris.

“Doing it so well,” San comments and he raises your upper body with his arm, making you sit up, slithering down while smothering your lower abdomen with sloppy kisses.

“R- really?”, you ask, and San nods, while kissing the inner sides of your thighs, his eyes looking at you sideways. “Of course. It’s your body, Y/N. Your beautiful, gorgeous body.”

As San gutters, you feel something swaying on your clit, when your boyfriend smirks and looks directly at your pussy. He’s so handsome, San is making you nervous, and his eyes are drilling into you lustfully.

“You’re so beautiful everywhere, sugar, what have I done to deserve this?”, he pants, hooking himself from under your thigh, hands resting on your hip bone.

You don’t know what to answer and just flutter with your eyelashes, exhaling, when San sticks his tongue out and slides across your slickness it in one stroke, looking up at you to catch your whiny reaction. He deserves all of it, not because he was patient enough to wait for it, but because San is the one to make you feel this pretty in the first place.

“It’s probably really predictable I was going to say this, but I can’t not say it, ” San gutters, his dimple dug deep into his cheek— he’s smiling, licking his lips, “you taste amazingly sweet, my love.”

You press your lips together and feel like you have to push San into your arousal again by his hair, combing through it. “D- do it again,” you beg, and San’s heart flutters. Not letting you wait, he inhales through his nose and laps his mouth around your glistening cunt. You already knew he was good with his tongue for you have french-kissed him before, but— but this is another type of tongue-work.

It’s slow, it’s sensual, but it still feels so exhilarating— how he’s sucking in your clitoris, laving over your muscled entrance that reacts to the movement of his tongue; it makes you breathe heavily and let out feathery moans.

“Feels so good,” you hush, and stroke his hair. San hums and at smiles with his eyes, getting one hand away from your leg to slowly run it towards your vagina.

“Are you really going to … make me cum?”, you ask, a bit plumply, both out of rush and nervousness.

“I would like to, yes,” San answers, kissing you all around the pelvis bone. His lips have become plump and his nose is also painted rosy red from how he planted his face into you. “Will you allow me to?”

“Please be careful,” you appeal and San nods. “Yes, Y/N. I promise I will never do anything to you that will hurt you. Not like that stupid… dream-San you talked about.”

You chuckle and caress his jawline with your thumb, San leaning his head into your hand. “I know you would never do that, Sannie,” you say and prop yourself with an elbow. “Please make me cum.”

San wants to say something, but he bites his lip and suppresses it, crawling closer to your throbbing, heated pussy. “What is it, baby?”, you ask him, and this time, you deliberatelywant to tease him by calling him that, winking slyly at him.

Your boyfriend blinks in disbelief and lets out a light-hearted scoff, his breathing comes in and out stuttered. “Y/N,” San hums, putting a leg over his shoulder and you feel like more air is hitting your wetness, “you have no… idea… what those words are doing to me.”

Your boyfriend gulps, and as you peek at him innocently, having to get used to the new position, he looks amazed and set ablaze. Is this your ‘aroused face’? You, with your lips parted ever-so soppily, looking sultry and lovable— San is savouring this sight, oh, this sight, and saving it into his brain so it will never leave his mind, add it to the collection of his memories of you.

“Show me,” you whisper, a fire starting to enflame in you, demanding San to extinguish it.

“There’s nothing else in the world I’d rather do,” San hums and with that sentence, he’s at your cunt again, but more eager this time. The tongue flicks faster over your clitoris, his pants are getting breathier against your skin— San wants you, wants all of you, and before you know it, there’s a thumb rubbing at the entrance, notifying you that he is going to be penetrating soon.

“I’ll make you come over and over,” San breathes, and his eyes are filled with lust, hunger, desire, thirst— and you gasp at the sight of it alone, but his voice, his heart, his mind, is all painted and drowned in something purely innocent that is love. “Is that alright with you, sweetheart?”

He asks as if you stand a chance to resist him, but San seems to be doing this for the enjoyment that is pleasing you, and you’re more than happy to allow him to have his body all over yours for the sakes or it, because you love him so much. You’re already excited for when you know how to get your body all over his.

“That,” you exhale, feeling his thumb be replaced by his digit, the muscle of your entrance closing in on the finger tip, “is alright with me. I’m in, Mr. Choi, the deal’s settled.”

San chuckles at your light-hearted joke and you giggle as well, which allows his finger to glide into you slowly. Of course you’re tight, but you find it fascinating how your muscles ease around him and suck his finger in, the slickness squelching, as he licks over your slit.

“Looking forward to our cooperation,” he grins, lips pressed against your pussy and you can feel yourself slowly turning into mush. Your abdomen feels strangely ticklish, and there’s this pulling feeling that makes your body rock.

“… Ms. Choi.”

You scoff— San gave you his last name, how silly of him— but your amusement doesn’t hold on for too long, when San begins to move his finger around, angling it up and down.

“Mmhf,” you gutter and your legs close down on his head, the second leg finding its place on his other shoulder. “That—“, you try to gasp, but San being the quick learner he is, keeps stroking that one spot which got to this reaction in the first place.

“S- San!”, you whine; fuzzy, dizzy, light-heated, feeling like you’re going to shoot into space, to other worlds, and come right back to earth. In the meanwhile, your boyfriend’s tongue flicks even faster, head stuck between your thighs, his finger sliding in and out of you until you’re a whimpering mess.

“I’m here, baby,” he murmurs, finally looking up to you, wishing to meet your eyes again, but your head is rolling to the back, your upper body feels heavy and you slightly fall to the back, having to grab his hair to support yourself.

“I- I,” you stutter, feeling like there’s something that’s sizzling for explosion, and it seems San is feeling it too, in the way your pussy is tightening around his finger, and half-laughing out of glee about this discovery, San props himself up a little bit, your lower body raised from the mattress.

“Cum, sugar, cum,” he whispers, and as he adds a second finger that fills you up in a way that one finger couldn’t achieve, you fully suffocate him with your thighs, the thin string holding you away from release finally snapping.

“Fuck!”, you moan, and at first, San is surprised about your cussing, but then his eyes grow big, when there is more fluid coming out of your vagina that hasn’t been there beforehand. Explosion, sweet release, what should you call it? An orgasm— that’s what this is, but no, you’re also squirting, lower body spasming as you do so, and San is trying to react quickly by slurping it all in, but it’s too much— your bed gets wet. He drives the two fingers in and out and makes you a mess, makes a mess, makes you messy, getting all your squirt out and inside his mouth.

“San— Sannie— Baby!”, you pant, overstimulated by his fingers and lips that will just not stop, and you fear you’re going to choke your boyfriend to death with your thighs, but the same tingle appears in your lower abdomen again, felt everywhere in your tightness.

“Come on, come on, come on,” San growls, short of breath, and by angling his fingers upwards your walls, you see stars again, throwing your head into the bed and you pull at his hair, harshly and roughly, gripping his scalp for dear life, when you’re shot into bliss again.

“Ooooh baby,” San howls wispily, repeating his motion, but less ecstatic this time in order to not make you pass out from pleasure, if that happens at all.

And as licks the remaining fluid of his lips, and gets you back down again, San doesn’t lose any of his excitement, hair ruffled by your grip, lips swollen from using them so much. “Can I do that again? Can I please do that again?”

“Wha— What about you?”, you ask, panting, knowing that the penis inside his pyjamas has been hard since almost an eternity, but it seems like San doesn’t care about that at all. He looks euphoric, he looks like he saw a god (a goddess, mind you) and San just shakes his head.

“Don’t think about me, I’m,” he admits, and what you don’t know is that he just came inside his pants, when San saw your stunning orgasm-face— and he definitely has to clean it up before it soaks through, “all cared for here.”

San shuffles away from your legs to your face and kisses your forehead, wiping a bit of sweat away. “I’m gonna get towels and you’re gonna make yourself ready for a second time, alright?”

“But—“

“Will there be a ‘but’?”, San asks, and he’s prepared to let all go and just take a shower, but you just scratch your neck. “Don’t you want to fuck … me?”

“Ohhh, don’t worry, sugar, I want and will,” San grins and you smile, feeling a bit light-headed because of your first orgasm. For this to be your first orgasm, while many of your friends had their first time without having orgasmed—… it’s a lot, to admit the least.

Not to say that you’re trying to compare with them and feel superior, but if this is what’s waiting for is worth, you’d spend all that time again.

Again. And again, and—

“Again!”

You’re breathing heavily, skin slippy from your sweat — or, well, both of you are covered in body fluids, there are pearls of sweat dropping down on San, who, despite rubbing you clean with his hands, doesn’t even bother anymore to dry his wet arm anymore.

“Sannie,” you exhale, when San kisses your from behind, as you sit between his legs, “I- I th-think this is enough, I’m r-ready.”

“Hmmm?”, he hums, pressing his naked upper body at your back, his two fingers coming out of you for the nth time. Your hips have been spasming around for a long while now, and you feel sensitive and over-stimulated at your clitoris, but if there is one thing you’re still curious about after all those orgasms, it’s how San feels inside you not with his fingers but his girth.

“I want your dick inside,” you command directly, too sex-drunk to express your wish in any other way.

“Are you sure?”, San asks and kisses the nape of your neck. “We can do it any other time, sugar-pie, aren’t you tired by now?”

“Are you?”

“Of course not.”

You turn your head around and slightly pant, seeing San not lose any of his desirous colour in his eyes. “Then let’s not lose any time.”

San presses a deep kiss on your temple before he leaves your back, and you feel the warmth of his lips sit there, as he positions himself at the front, on his knees. He still has his boxer-shorts on, but that only goes so far, when he’s been leaking with pre-cum, never-mind has come in the same set an hour ago.

You can see it perfectly— San’s length, his girth, the way it moves by itself under the fabric; it looks captivating as much as it is arousing you again after all the times you’ve orgasmed this evening.

“Do you want to touch me?”, San asks, and trails his own hand over his breast, giving you an idea of what you can do to pleasure him.

“Yes, baby,” you answer and get on your knees as well, grabbing San by the hips and caressing the seam of his shorts with your thumbs. In the meanwhile, your lips seek for his vicinity and you place kisses on his neck. “I’d love to.”

“I love you so much,” San sighs and holds you by your head tenderly with both hands, cupping the circular form, feeling you get a taste of his sweaty skin at his neck. His Adam’s apple bops, when you slightly pull his boxers down and there’s resistance from his erection.

“You have a big dick, right?”, you ask, and San coughs— he was expecting you to say ‘I love you’ back first.

“U- uh,” he stammers, “yeah. It’s- uhm. I hope it’s not too big, Y/N.”

“Can it be too big?”

You ask him with genuine curiosity and San scratches the back of his head. “I was preparing you thoroughly for it, honey, that’s all… I can say.”

He harrumphes in the awkward conversation, and before he can get shy from your stare, you chuckle and kiss him, “I love you too, Sannie. I couldn’t imagine doing this with any other person.”

Your boyfriend slides his hand to your jaw and pulls up your head to kiss you, mumbling, “only do this with me, Y/N,” into your lips.

As his lips work against yours, you slide down your hands into his boxer-shorts and use your wrists to spread the spandex, getting San’s underwear off.

With your eyes closed, you hear San breathe in deeply through his nose and he rubs your back with both of his hands to push your naked body against his.

His dick feels hot, wet and mild, when it presses against your abdomen, and you subconsciously grind your lower body to identify it better. It is big. The two fingers don’t even come close to what you’re working with here, and in the moment, it’s really good that you feel loosened up by the numerous times San made you come.

“Please touch me,” San instructs you and you nod, opening your eyes to see his glistening tip pointed towards you. Without waiting, you leniently wrap your hand around it and San parts your lips to pant.

“I don’t think I’ll hold on for long,” he whimpers, and his pelvis twitches, when you squeeze your hand around the soft, heated, slick muscle.

“Wait, Sannie… Do we have condoms?”, you ask and to your surprise, San opens up the cupboard. You loosely remember when San asked you if he should buy condoms at the beginning of your relationship, and you know that you answered with an ‘I don’t know’ back then.

A year later, it turns out San has bought a pack, but didn’t talk about it until the time was ripe. “Do you want to do it for me?”, he asks you, ripping apart the plastic wrapper with his finger and mouth. That this took a wet dream to realise is funny to you, but as you’re in the moment, you can only gulp in anticipation.

You nod and continue to pump his length in your grasp, when you’re handed the flimsy condom. Is that even going to fit around him?

“Yes, it is going to fit,” San giggles at your subconsciously asked question, and then kisses you, “did dream-San wear a condom?”

You place the center of the condom on the tip of penis and slowly glide down the lubed silicone by the ring.

“No, I don’t think so,” you murmur, though you couldn’t care any less about your dream right now. San hums and bucks up his hip into your hand, making the condom hit the end of his length.

It frankly looks quite comical, the way the white outlines your boyfriend’s dick, but before you can laugh, San delicately pushes you at your ass— other hand on the back of your head to not make you hit the bed-frame, with you landing on your back, legs angled towards the sky.

San tsk’s about his alter-ego’s wrong-doings and shakes his head. “I think your brain has a very twisted image of me.”

You chuckle at how sulky San is about it, though you can’t take any responsibility. You also don’t know how your brain cooked up the imagination of San ramming into you raw, especially when your biggest fear has been that things were going to hurt. (Now that you know they don’t, you’re good to go, you think.)

But the real San touches you softly, carefully, endearingly faintly, even if his dick looks intimidatingly big; you’re covering your mouth at the sight of it alone.

“Come on, don’t be shy now,” San grins and flops his protected peen on your pussy, the girth of it weighing down on your sensitive bud.

“Sannie, baby, please be gentle,” you whine and San caresses your cheek, not finding your plead in any way offensive.

“I will, sweetheart,” he whispers, and his voice sounds sweet, melts sweetly in your ears, but when his tip is there, at your entrance, you have to grab his hand at your cheek forcefully.

It’s a stretch. If you had known it would have come to this, you would have asked San to add a third, no, maybe even a fourth finger, but maybe he knew too, that even that wouldn’t have helped with a lot.

Not to say that it hurts, but to feel your muscle be extended as he just pushes in the tip, you’re already panting. San intertwines his fingers and leans forward, trying to calm you down. “Are you okay, baby?”, he asks, pouting. “I can stop.”

“N- no,” you stutter, though the bit of movement has had him slide in deeper and thus, your cunt be stretched further. “It’s okay. Just be slow. I can do it.”

“No, Y/N, you have to want it,” San sighs and you press your face against his hand. “I want it,” you murmur, glancing up at him. “I want you, Sannie.”

He smiles in awe of your droopy eyes and luscious lips reaffirming your love to him, and San inhales deeply. “I’ll move a bit more, okay?”

“Okay.”

Both of you inhale at the same time, but it’s San this time to moan it out. “Oh, god,” he whimpers, “feels so good, Y/N. Feels so fucking good.”

And this is where you close your eyes and let your boyfriend do his thing over you, because San’s sounds are candy to your ears. He’s doing it slowly, and heaven knows he can’t push it just entirely just yet, but the first third that San has inside you is enough to make you grip the sheets.

“Are you alright? Baby, is it too much? Can I do more?”, San whines, and you’re too weak-hearted for his arousal-sake, that you sigh sultrily and say, “Sannie, you know what to do.”

“No, no, baby, please don’t say things like that, I really won’t—“

He groans and pushes himself further in. You have to strain your forehead and pull in your eyebrows to work around the fact that you have never felt your cunt be stuffed in like this, and oh god, you feel so stuffed.

“Baby, please tell me when you want me to stop,” San begs you, concerned about your facial expression, kissing your cheek repeatedly.

“This just feels unfamiliar, that’s all,” you whimper and San pulls out a little bit while you talk. “But you will tell me, right?”, he asks you, and gets a nod in return. You should be seeing black in front of you, given that you’ve closed your eyes, but after San pushes himself in again, there’s a piercing zap that makes you open your eyes wide.

“Sannie, wait—“

He immediately stops and both of you look at each other. San doesn’t move, anxious that anything will make you more anxious, when you grab him by his arms.

And with one glance down, you see it.

Blood.

Not a lot, fortunately so, but still, bleeding from your privates outside your period is terrifying, and it makes all of your heat flee away—

Blood!

There’s not a scream or a gasp leaving your mouth, rather just a short soundless inhale that indicates your surprise, when you close your eyes and cover them with the surface of your hands.

Blood?!

“Oh my god, sugar,” San exclaims silently, you don’t know if this is a first for him as well— and though both of you don’t panic as loudly as you could have, your boyfriend still looks mortified, eyes ripped open, mouth opened by a slit, when you remove your palms from your eyelids. “Did I hurt you? Did it hurt? Oh my god, Y/N, I’m so sorry, I—“

“No, Sannie, it didn’t hurt— It didn’t—“

Not panicking, but still both stammering and not aware of what to do with your hands.

He pulls out and covers your private with the towel that he used to catch your fluid before, and San immediately claims a serious expression on his face, looking around to find something for you to hold onto. He finds you a pillow, puts it over your stomach, and you cuddle into it, trying to catch a breath.

You didn’t lie. It didn’t hurt, it really didn’t. At least not even half the the amount of blood that is covering the towel, and you don’t think anything else (let it be more preparation or whatever) could have had helped you two in this situation. Is it just a matter of luck? Of your body? Well, maybe you’re out of luck and your body is going lax as well.

San is removing the condom from his dick and fetching his boxer-shorts again to fully call it quits, using approximately 4 seconds before he disappears in your arms again and smothers you with kisses.

“But— but Sannie…”, you whimper, feeling kind of guilty to be leaving him hanging like this after he’s done so much for you, but he silences you with his lips.

“Don’t you dare say sorry, sugar-pie,” San smiles and brushes over your hair, continuing to peck your face, as he hugs you from aside, and his warm skin soothes the goosebumps you got from seeing red on yourself. “As long you’re not hurting.”

“Do you want to take a shower or do you want to sleep?”, San asks you and you shiver a little bit once the adrenaline has worn down and all that provides you comfort is your boyfriend’s vicinity. “I don’t know, Sannie,” you murmur into his breast and a hand rubs your back. You’re still naked, but San covers you up with a blanket. “You don’t have to know, sugar,” San whispers and rests his chin on top of your head. “Just be here with me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

You nod into his embrace, feeling exhausted, worn out and tired, and you start to breathe heavily into his skin, San rubbing his thumb across your lower back to match the rhythm of your breathing, your heartbeat slowing down.

You’re safe.

You’re home.

You’re not dreaming, you’re with your boyfriend, Choi San, and even though nobody will know what kind of dreams will visit you, what nightmares will make you wake up in the middle of the night, you’re, well, in love.

Comfortable, soft, warm, at ease, serene — happy; this is what love feels like. A dream doesn’t come close to the unworried warmth love provides, to the warmth the real San provides, and while you doze off, you and San whisper affirmations into each other’s presence that you’ll,

“Dream of me, Y/N.”

#choi san x y/n #choi san x reader #choi san smut #choi san scenarios #choi san x you #ateez x reader #ateez smut #if you wanna see an epilogue pls request it because i find boyfie san so endearing #chokkiwa #chokko

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kanene-yaaay · 4 months

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The Benefits of a Restful Sleep (and other things that a friend can help you with)

Kanene's notes: In my defense, Dogday is way too cute and kind. That was his mistake. Now I just HAD to make an entire story where he is alive and the Player is both the most stubborn bean ever and the biggest softie to set a foot in the factory. That is it. That is the entire story. Warnings: Mentioned death as a form of reset, angst and mention of injury and blood. It's discussed but not too deeply and isn't the main plot of the story. Raspberries, nibbles, lots of teasing, hurt/comfort and roothing fluff. Reader is adressed with they/them. Around 9.500 words. Heavily inspired by @fluffymary 's wonderful, incredible stories. Take a look at them too :D

[~*~]

You were exhausted.

That was a problem.

Sure, tiredness wasn’t really a new feeling in your life when you looked at the big scheme of things. Even before you went back to your old workplace, it used to cling on your bones, to fill your mind with memories and to pull your spirits down at any time of the day when a kid’s laughter or flowers would remind you of everything you tried so hard to leave behind.

(And look where you are now.)

The constant ‘fighting for your life’ thing also hasn't been helping a lot lately. Adrenaline and the will to keep on living were perfect for the battles but could only get you so far when the feeling of danger and fear scrutinized all of your steps, stalking in any and every corner, waiting for the right moment to strike. Days and hours became a total mess and the longer you spent on exploring and surviving, the more and more things that were once important started to fade to a background thought in your head.

Food was one of them. Water. Sleep. The debris and destruction brought a lot of memories and enemies but hardly a safezone where you could actually sit down, breathe and rest for a bit. It was fine, though. The solution was simple and quick.

Dying.

Sounded harsh when you thought about it in that way, to be honest.

Resetting.

Or something like that.

Not during a fight, of course. After the first couple of times, it quickly became annoying and no fun at all to have to experience all the chase and… other things more than once. However, on other occasions, missteps into an abyss happen and sometimes a bad calculation using the grabpack could be fatal (and more frequent than you should admit.)

You couldn’t deny its convenience. In a blink you would wake up, not hungry, thirsty or exhausted, a few meters behind your previous location and then you would be ready to go until the pain of hunger or the feeling of being in a brick of passing out appeared once again.

It was not the best, you knew, but it was a good enough solution.

It was fine.

(It was fine.)

Especially now, when you have someone else depending on you to survive. Saving Dogday had been tricky and much, much harder than the alternative. Keeping him alive after that, during the smiling critters chase and the aftermath, even more so. None of this didn’t really matter, though. It was worth it.

The beginning had been tougher. With all the emotions, the changes, pain (and how to keep going after all of that), going back to Home Sweet Home and getting into more trouble trying to turn on all the generators. The fact that, not very longer after getting into the Daycare, you found a new, clean fabric and a set of tools to take care of Dogday’s injuries was the perfect help, even if the coincidence of that encounter had bordered on a miracle that made your skin prickle in discomfort as you had stared at the sewing kit localized (placed) just a few meters away from you two. There was no way that this could have been accidental.

(Ever since you set a foot in this factory not a single encounter, voice, tape or battle seemed a coincidence and the fear of the image that this puzzle was creating haunted your every choice.)

Nevertheless, beggars couldn’t be choosers. Even though Dogday stayed unusually quiet for a really long time after his injuries were taken care of, he still insisted on using it despite both of your strong suspicions, not wanting to be a ‘burden’, anymore.

You disagreed strongly with that word, of course. Not only because his knowledge of the place and the little shortcuts or hidden spaces had been essential both to escape from the hungry toys and to make your path confusing enough to mislead any pursuers you had was essential to your survival, but also because…

Damn.

You just really missed this.

Chatting. Having someone truly by your side. No second intentions or guesses or working around to earn a couple of moments of dialogue. Just a companionship and a fighter if needed, someone bright who could, just with their presence and company, help to keep your focus and your objectives in mind.

Dogday’s voice was raspy and rough but his words were light and kind. He would insist on calling you ‘angel’ and gesture excitedly around when he was talking, pulling your attention back when you began losing yourself in your thoughts. He would help solving the complicated puzzles spread through the factory and hold your hand tight to hide the tremble of his own paws when you both went through somewhere too dark. He would joke and hold and help and you wished you could put in words how no trouble in the world could make his presence here not worth it.

That is why you couldn’t afford passing out right now. That is why you kept pulling one foot after the other and continued your path to the end of this hell.

Unfortunately, the very reason that kept you moving forward was the same one blocking you from actually managing to reset your body and get over that tiredness.

The fact that Dogday cared.

He was smart and quite smooth too. That was clear after all the times he would ‘accidentally’ get in front of you when you managed to step a bit too close from a deepless hole or how he would suddenly remember a shortcut that would have you to deviate from the giant abyss you had been eyeing for a few moments ago or when he distracted you as he followed another direction, a light pull on your wrist and a inviting conversation on the tip of his tongue, the pit getting farther and farther away.

It was a bit endearing, you couldn’t lie.

However, when a badly placed hand of your grabpack successfully made you slip from a fatal high and you only had time to listen to a surprised yelp (or more like a ‘yap’?) before a giant orange arm held you close to a fluffy chest you were actually torn between hitting something in frustration and melting in the warmth.

Dogday smiled, looking down.

“Ops, you almost fell in there, angel.” His eyebrow was crooked and his expression filled with tension and confusion. Yep. He definitely realized what was going on. That kind of sucks.

He started heading the other direction, taking a different path to where you were going. “You‘re really tired, aren’t you? Saving everyone must cost a lot of energy.” His eyes softened. You struggled to keep yours open, body inevitably relaxing with his voice and kind touch. “And, well, I don’t think you had a lot of opportunities to rest since you got here too, right? Ehehe. That is… a bit worrisome. Humans need plenty of sleep and we have been walking for a long time already!”

You have survived longer without it. It was fine. There were more generators that had to be turned on before anything else. Those were your priorities.

Dogday acknowledged the end of your sentence before shaking his head vehemently, his ears flopping around in an endearing way.

“The generators have been turned off for a long time now, a few more hours won’t hurt. You are our priority, angel.” Dogday tried to not let his tail wag in adorableness when he pulled you closer to his chest and you let your head and eyelids fall with a really tiny, quiet sound for a moment too long before opening them and watching him in a stubborn manner. “And I think I know somewhere where we can hide for long enough before continuing.”

He watched as you deviated your gaze, thoughtful. Almost there.

“Besides, my kind angel” he let his posture go, just a little. The exhaustion from… everything showing from the light of his eyes to the darkness of his mouth. Trusting had been what got him stuck but also what freed him. He could offer this human a bit more of it. “I-I really think I need time to recover. Sometimes it just… hurts.”

He looked down and you didn’t need to follow his gaze to get what he was saying.

Oh.

That was what settled it. You nodded. But he had to put you on the ground.

You kept your expression firm and ignored his playful chuckle and the way he only pulled you closer with your words, because if he kept holding you, there was no way you would not fall asleep instantly and you both couldn’t afford that until he got to that safe place.

With a huff and a beginning of a pout he acquiesced and put you on the cracked floor, getting your point. He had to hide his snickers with his paw when you wobbled on the same spot for a second before eventually gathering your strength back, feeling a million times more tired.

Urg. Relaxing was a mistake.

“Don’t worry, it’s not too far from here. We will get there in no time!”

(...)

Took longer than he expected for you to finally lay down, but it was worth it. The place was one of the old dorms so there were a lot of pillows and mattresses thrown around, a few somewhat still holding a good condition for use. With the help of some furniture and moving around, you managed to barricade the door and build a sort of nest hidden in a farther corner so that it would be really difficult to notice through any window.

The human seemed ready to pass out at any moment, yawning and giving the door a last look, watching every creek and tear on the walls for anything that could be dangerous, even after all their previous care to make this place as safe as possible. Silly dear.

Dogday has always prided himself in being perceptive. Both because of the kids he once needed to watch and take care of and also because it’s important to notice and understand the details around your teammates so he would know when to help them.

(Old habits die hard, as it seems.)

And, yeah, maybe it had something to do with how long he spent without seeing a human or how he missed having someone (anyone-) who cared so much around. But he couldn’t really help to watch, prod and pick every little detail and gesture of yours around as if he was collecting flowers in a garden. Humans were so… expressive, and this one wasn’t different at all.

Angel was fierce and determined, going silently and non stop through the facility and all their objectives with a focused mind and precise movements. Their senses and general environmental awareness were good, too, catching hints and dangers just a second or two after Dogday himself caught them, which, considering their small ears and eyes, was an incredible feat.

Still, like a true angel, strength and kindness walked side by side with them. Dogday didn’t say that only because that person was the literal reason he was alive today, but simply because it was clear as water how much of a true softie you were inside. It was in the way they fired only around the small smile critters, avoiding to actually burn and kill them (even though he didn’t really know how he should feel about it), on how they carried and treated his wounds and how all their features - tensed, anxious and angry - softened everytime they looked at him.

It was on the way that they walked slower to accompany him, amusing his rambles with pokes of fun and interesting additions and in how each touch or word was filled with tenderness and respect. He didn’t feel like a toy with them like some old employers had made him feel before or a failure as… others made him believe.

So, his companionship was extremely captivating and maybe that was why it hadn’t been really hard to notice how the little tiny hints and actions came together to form a quite worrisome image of how disregarding about their own safety they were. Jumping into fights, crawling into dangerous, small spaces without thinking twice (he couldn’t get them there, if he needed he couldn’t get them there-), following strangers’ orders and running over cliffs as if their life wasn’t the thing that mattered the most and Dogday would always be there to catch them when they fell.

(What did they use to do when he wasn’t?)

Even now, he huffed as the human slowly took off the grabpack while still not even lowering themselves on the mattress or trying to get comfortable even though they seemed ready to slip into unconsciousness at any time now. Alert to the very last second.

It felt a bit nostalgic, if he was being honest. At least helping someone to go to sleep was a kind of problem that he knew how to solve.

With no further ado, he let himself fall on the soft pile with a ‘oof’, slowly rolling around the cleanest pillows they found and hugging the mattress as a loud, relaxed sighing fled from his mouth. His entire body seemed to untense with the unexpected comfortable feeling. How long had it been since he could just enjoy being surrounded by softness and safety like this?

His tail began contently thumping on the pile, another sigh leaving his mouth and making him forget for a moment his objective as he rolled more and more on the spot, the pure feeling of bliss taking over his senses until the sound of amused chuckles brought him back to reality.

He opened his eyes only to find an incredibly fond gaze looking right back at him. The absurd weight that haunted his friend’s shoulders seemed to have disappeared for a moment and, if he really concentrated enough on those kind eyes, it was like the rest of the world became unfocused. That is right! Dogday shook his head, as if cleaning it from his distracting thoughts. He had a mission to accomplish! Get the human to rest! No more fooling around!

“Hmmmm, It’s so, so, sooo comfy here!” Dogday controlled his voice so his playful tune wouldn’t show too much and give away his plan. He got a pillow and shoved his face on it just to highlight his words. “Like a kingdom made of clouds, where all the citizens get to lay down and rest all day, everyday and their favorite hobby is to cuddle and snuggle. Sounds like a nice place, don’t you think?”

You agreed, snorting when two expectanting lights turned around and Dogday patted the spot right beside him, only smiling bigger when you pretended to roll your eyes and finally, finally, laid down, barely touching the pile before your body crumbled the rest of the way.

It was… really soft. Even more than you expected from such old furniture but that could be the exhaustion talking. A relieved groan filled the place and before you could process that it came from your lips two arms came and carefully pulled you to a bunch of even softer fluff, which automatically made you snuggle closer, hugging the pillow (friend?) and relaxing, body aching with how much tension flew away from it so quickly.

A sweet voice said something in the background, but all of your senses melted together with your muscles when a hand began rubbing your back, drawing light circles on your spine and following it to your neck, briefly massaging it before going back to the back rubs.

That nice voice kept talking and you could briefly distinguish the words ‘deserve’, ‘rest’ and ‘good’ before the hand got a bit too close to your side and you giggled. The hand stilled but it was okay, it just tickled, that is all. No need to stop.

This was really nice, you kind of missed it.

You snuggled more.

All of it. It’s been a while.

As the darkness of the unconsciousness started taking you away, an amused, fond ‘aww’ was the last thing you heard.

(...)

You woke up with a scare.

Nothing necessarily happened, but your body immediately tensed, in alert. Blurry eyes traveled with speed around the room in search for any kind of movement, the silence helping to amplify the sound of any enemy that could be closer.

One second, two seconds…all you could pick up was the paused, calm snoring of Dogday still being deeply asleep.

Right. Safe. You were both safe.

You let go of a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding, blinking rapidly to scare the sleep out of your sight as you looked up, mind finally getting time to grasp the memories from last… (night? hours? day? irrelevant). The quick beating of your heart started to slow down to a normal pace and you laid down again on the mattress, now wide awake.

Dogday was still sleeping. That was good. He deserved all the peaceful rest he could get after everything that happened.

And, to be honest, it was quite amusing to watch him sleep. Each time he snored his big ears flopped just the slightest bit around and from time to time those little muffled barks would appear on the back of his throat and his tail would wag a bit, not so different from a real dog.

(He truly was a marvel of science.)

At one time you could almost swear he said a name, but it was so low that you couldn’t quite catch it.

Beyond all of that, you couldn’t deny how right Dogday had been, resting really did wonders to your body and mood. You could feel your mind clearer and your muscles less stiff, even if still quite sore. Also, it was made in a rush, that is true, but the soft pillow pile really was comforting enough that it didn’t make it any easier to get up and go on about your day.

Still, as always, there was work to do. It really wouldn’t hurt to get up in the vents and walk around a bit to see if there was any murder toy wandering close so you could attract them away before they could interrupt Dog’s sleep.

It wasn’t anything really that urgent, however,… It felt weird not doing anything in this place, to deliberately choose to stay instead of to move. Letting your guard down last night had been literally the only thing you could do with how exhausted you were and having a trustful friend close by your side, but now? When you were more rested and nowhere close to the exit? The jittery feeling was already catching up to you.

You tried to get up, only to be stopped by an arm closing on your midriff, a nose being pressed on the top of of head and nuzzling it with care before a raspy voice - you really needed to find some kind of oil or toolbox to help with his voicebox, sometimes it felt like he was always with a sore throat - glitched for a half second before coming to life in a quiet, slurred “Angel?”

Good morning, sleepy beauty.

Dogday huffed in amusement. Silence washed over you both once again.

A while passed and no more words were exchanged. Uh, probably went back to sleep already. You tried to carefully extract yourself from his hold.

“Mm? What happened?” Dogday yawned, sounding a bit more awake this time. “Do we have to go?” He propped himself in one elbow, using his enormous height to peak over the hiding place and watch the door and windows, ears perking up in a search of any strange sound. “I’m not listening to any danger. This is a good spot.”

You agreed, feeling a tad bad that you woke up your companionship unnecessarily with your unrelenting thoughts. Nothing really happened, you assured, he could go back to sleep if he wanted. You could stay with the guarding shift.

Rubbing his eyes and yawning more, the sentient toy then changed his focus to you, noticing the slight drop in your tune, mind becoming clearer as he added to that detail the stiffness that went back in your shoulders. His brain tried to connect the dots.

“Did you have a nightmare, sunshine?”

No, not really.

“What happened?”

It’s all just… too much thoughts. You wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep like this, not without a distraction. It would be the best if you got something to do, so he could go back to his nap. It was fine, you would stay awake in guard.

“I see.”

He laid back down, however, instead of letting you go and immediately go back to sleep, as you expected, he began massaging your shoulders, mouth turning into a pout when that didn’t make you melt completely in blissful slumber like last night, but at least got some of the tension out.

Even if it felt like the human continued to hold onto every last drop of stress for some reason, refusing to close their eyes or fully relax. Knowing their current situation, Dogday could understand. But still, his friend should be able to enjoy this little chance of a rest that they’ve got. They were both so tired and finally had a good place to spend some good old lazy time without being worried about running for their lives or seeing nightmares at each blink of eyelids. It was not the best spot that the factory could once offer, of course, yet nowadays it was like a piece of heaven.

He wished he could help his angel to enjoy it. Yesterday they seemed so happy. But unless he could think in a good distraction…

A sudden thought then popped in his head, a memory from what happened the previous night. An idea.

Hm.

“Sunshine, do you like games?”

Games? Like… hide and seek or catch?

Dogday nodded, looking eager.

Yeah, you did. Even so, you don’t think that making up some ruckus will be good to keep up their hidden spot, well, hidden.

“No, no! This one doesn’t involve running or anything that could give up our location. Actually, you won’t even need to move from where you are to play it.”

Really? Well, it was worth a shot, then.

“Alright. Do you remember what happened when we found those old rags in one of the corridors a few days ago?”

Yes, you did.

You watched as Dogday chuckled, like he knew something you didn’t and, with a crooked eyebrow, you stared at him, trying to remember the mentioned moment better.

Nowadays his fur was no longer the bright orange that it once was like the old cardboards and tv episodes showed, but at least it got a resemblance of a cleaned state after using some good-enough rags you found on the way to one of the generators. You both did the best to take out the debris, dust and blood from him. It took longer than it should because the taller toy kept squirming and wiggling around in an adorable inescapable fit of giggles, not really being a big help as, in between his laughter, he kept claiming that it really, really tickled.

As a good friend, of course, you just grabbed the rag he let fall after a bit of lil cleaning on his poor ticklish tummy and racked both hands up and down his sides, scribbling away while he hid his smile behind hands, muffling his loud crackles. The cleaning didn’t stop there and hunted each tiny spot and slight hint of dust off him with plenty of scratches, prodding and drumming everywhere your hands could reach, catching all the titters, snickers and snorts that danced in the rhythm of your fingers. Your own giggles did not take much longer to follow them.

Dogday’s paw continued to run in a light touch on your back and suddenly a bolt of electricity jolted you up when your mind connected the memory of his playful demisse to what he just said.

Your eyes widened and his expression opened into a smirk, sensing the very same moment you got to the conclusion that you were about to get absolutely and utterly destroyed with tickles.

You tried pushing him away, one hand twisting behind to catch his wrist as the other hand fought to snatch his free one, which kept flying away from yours in a game of mouse and cat.

“Wait, angel!” He couldn’t help but laugh, especially as your movements got more and more uncoordinated the longer they kept this little game, even before he truly attempted to do anything. A wobbly smile was already taking over your face, only growing bigger when every swipe he did in your direction - only to be deflected by your hands - made your entire skin tingle and prickle in anticipation. Each adorable reaction only assisting in making Dogday more determined that he choose the right distraction. “Don’t you want to know about the game? I bet that you will love it! I used to play and win all the time so I can teach you every special trick of mine.”

No, no, no, no! You knew exactly what he was doing! There was no such thing as a game!

“Gasp!” You were sure that Dogday would be dramatically putting a hand on his chest if it wasn’t for the rough housing, but sudden noise was successful to break your concentration. He used his trapped hand to sneak a quick jab on your side, ripping out a delightful screech before you slammed your back again on the mattress, both hands now in front of you, no longer moving, yet still ready to defend and attack. “I would never lie to you, my beautiful, beautiful beacon of light, the only and one sunshine, my angel.”

He was not going to succeed in distracting you again with those sugary sweet nicknames! You knew exactly what he was doing and you wouldn’t let him get you.

“No, no, you got me wrong, angel.” Dogday booped your nose, seeming like he couldn’t control himself with excitement and a smug kind of joy that only grew the longer you both stared at each other, waiting for the moment to strike. His tail wagged and he pretended to lounge at your stomach, stopping inches before touching it and drinking the way that a squeal escaped from your mouth, body stuck into a position between laying down and curling on itself, giggles quickly filling the room. Actually, you could feel yourself getting giddier at each second, completely aware that there was no way for you to get out of this and no other option besides wait for the next attack.

The way that this thought only made butterflies go crazy on your belly should be illegal.

Dogday continued as if nothing happened. “This isn’t the game. The game only starts when I start to tickle you, silly! And it is called ‘Try To Not Laugh’.” He managed to waltz through your defenses, his index finger and thumb catching your side in a grip way too light to even be considered a pinch. It made you try to squirm with a snort to the other direction, as if he just had unleashed a ruthless attack of squeezes on the spot.

His grin glimmered and he let you go, chuckling. You could feel the phantom touch still.

(Why did his paws have to be so fuzzy!?)

“It means that you can’t giggle, squeal, snicker, chuckle, snort, chortle, shriek or laugh! No matter how much it tickles, itches or ‘feels funny’.” Dogday counted each reaction pulling up a finger and you tried to not let your face melt as he just kept talking, looking more and more delighted with how each word seemed to make you twitch on the spot, his paws clawing in your direction when he was done.

Before you could think, he went for your neck, fingertips barely, just the slightest bit, grazing the skin before you catched his wrists and pushed them away, scrunching your neck as tiny tickly sparks spread like fire across your nerves. A sound akin to a keysmash left your lips and Dogday looked like you had just given him the best news of his entire existence.

He tilted his head and watched his own captured paws for a piece of moment before shrugging. He continued on with his explanation.

“In turn I will try my true best to make you laugh. And that can mean anything! I can fill your entire cute neck with aaaaall the raspberries that it could ever want, wiggle my claws on your ticklish armpits, play your ribs like a very lovely piano, squeeze your sides non stop until you’re dancing around like a wiggly worm, maybe even give your tummy a few scratches and scribbles, or, or even better! I can play ‘This little piggy’ with your toes over and over again until your sweet laughter fills this entire room like the sweetest melody. And then we can do it all over but with you giggling and snickering ringing free the entire time! Doesn’t it sound like a fun idea, my angel?”

Oh, you were going to die. Whether he decided to tickle you right away or keep the teases for who knows how long, you don’t think that your face would survive being under so much heat for so long.

Besides, this is not fair at all! He will win it anyway, you couldn’t hold on your laughter forever while he t-, while he attacks you.

“Aww, but, sunshine, tickling is hardly an attack!” His face got closer and suddenly you realized that he did not need any free hand to accomplish his first promise of tickles.

With wide eyes you tried to roll away, but to do so, you would have to let his paws go, and you knew very well that the moment this happened, it would be a game over for you. For the way that Dogday grinned in your direction, he reached the same conclusion as well. “Also, I can’t even touch you, right now! I think you can win this.” Dogday wiggled his paws in your hold, as if proving his point.

With (an eager) trepidation, you watched as his face continued to get closer, prying a couple of titters when his floppy, fuzzy ears brushed your own ears. He chuckled at your reaction, a mix of fondness and playful, fake frustration painting his words. “Sunshine, you’re already giggling? I will have to take my last words back, then, I don’t think this game will last too long, anymore.”

Oh ho ho, he should just wait, because when you get him back you then he was going to see who was-

Dogday shoved his face on the crook of your neck and immediately began nuzzling the spot without a worry in the world, successfully cutting your threat short.

Wait! Wait!

“Don’t mind me, angel, please continue.” He huffed and puffed on the spot, shivers running in a hilarious cacophony across your every sense, almost ripping a squeal from your lips. Actually, just like his words hitting the skin, you could feel the way that snickers began pooling in your throat, waiting for any tiny chance to escape. You clamped your mouth shut, a muffled snort taking over. You were going to at least try to hold them in and try your chances at winning this childish game, for your own pride, if nothing else.

He didn’t have his paws to tickle, right? I mean, how bad could it really be?

Dogday hummed, each word vibrating on the skin in an almost unbearable manner, making you want to jump away and at the same time let yourself get lost in the sensations. “What were you saying, angel? Please, don’t stop because of me! You know I always love to hear what you have to say.”

You shook your head, partially in an attempt to somehow escape from the tickling and partially to dissipate the energy that was building up on your system. Anything to not focus on the snickers bouncing freely in your chest.

“No? Not a word? Aw.” You could feel the fake pout the sentient toy did right before letting his features go back to that dangerous, mischievous grin. “I have a question for you, then! Do you know what is the tickle puppy favorite’s fruit?”

You knew a trap when you saw one, so you kicked your legs, trying and failing to let out any protest because you were sure that if you stopped pressing your lips in a tight line for even half of a second, there would be no stopping from the waterfall of laughter.

“Raspberries!”

A shriek almost made you lose when he unleashed the first raspberry, more and more of them being quick to follow right after. On the base of your neck, your collarbone, under your chin and in every inch on the unprotected spot. There was nowhere safe from the awfully buzzing that made every other feeling disappear, seeing to tickle every nerve and making tingles to run crazy in absolutely everywhere. He even grazed the back of your ears with a couple of raspberries, cooing when you tried to shrink and hide the spot by pressing them on your shoulder, only succeeding to leave the other side of your neck completely free for more nuzzles and tickles, an opportunity that Dogday was fast to take, taking turns in bashing every side of your neck in a tickly attention.

Another quiet, muffled squeak painted the air.

Dogday lifted his head again, entire demeanor completely melting for a piece of time when he saw you (oh my stars, look at this amazing smile!) before that joyful light was back in his eyes. Once more, he tried wiggling his paws out of your hold, but your grip continued to be as firm as ever, your wobbly smile shining in a challenge.

Oh, you’re just so fun!

“Gasp! It seems like I am stuck! Oh no, angel, what will I do now?” His gaze then traveled to your stomach, and all the hints that softness had ever been present in his features instantly evaporated as his face became something more playful, even a tad devilish, with a hint of hunger.

“My, my,” you didn’t exactly know why, but his voicebox glitched, jumping between a light taunting tune and his usual lower one. “Is that a delicious tummy that I see? Poor thing, it must be so cold to be shaking like this. Well, and what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t offer any help, huh?”

Your friend was quite tall and kind of clumsy when he walked around, too. Now, how that clumsy toy was able to, in a span of less than a blink, take a gigantic breath and immediately attack your stomach with it was a true mystery that you didn’t had a lot of time to think about when your entire body took a screenshot for a long, long second, ticklish sensations exploding in a frenzy, before your entire torso instinctively beginning to trash, loud peals of laughter jumping freely on the tip of your tongue, begging to be free. They cheered in excitement and only grew stronger when other smaller raspberries took their turn to explore every spot, every sensitive creek or place of your stomach, breaking more and more of your barriers, little by little. It took every single ounce of strength to not lose the game right here and there.

Dogday didn’t even pretend to be holding back, anymore. Right as you survived another tiny raspberry that got way too close to your side to be an accident, a nibble appeared, catching you so out of guard that it made your arch your back, legs kicking with adrenaline. But the tickly, light nibbles weren’t diverted, intertwining with tiny raspberries in a mischievous dance that increased your internal laughing into a tenfold.

That was when one of them hit the spot closer to your bellybutton and you couldn’t take it anymore. Your hands let go of his wrists to push his stupid smiling - so proud and so bright - face away, body squirming and eyes crinkling on the corners with mirth.

“I am free!” He laughed, pretending to not hear the tiny low titters flying from your mouth as you regained your strength, taking the breather as what it was. His ears twitched with every cute little giggle and he kind of wanted to immediately go back to bash every sweet, soft spot in tickles you until that beautiful laughter was ringing loud and free across the entire room and that soft, relaxed state you were in became so much common that he wouldn’t see you stressed ever again.

But he was going to wait for you to rest a tadbit first, that was the main objective of their game, afterall.

Feeling calmer, you looked at your friend, who jolted in the same place, seeing to get out of a trance. He recovered quickly and lifted his paws, easily slipping into the tickle monster persona as he slowly clawed in your direction.

“Now that my hands are free, I wonder where I should attack next…” He looked thoughtful, slowly bringing his paws closer and closer to your torso, wiggly fingers softly scrapping the ticklish skin, but not really drumming on it, not yet. “Maybe I should try your armpits first? Aw, but you were so jumpy when I squeezed your side that one time! And you seemed really excited when I mentioned tickling your ribs… Ah! So many options, so many options… We will have to try every single one of them, of course. What do you think, my giggly angel? Which one do I tickle first?”

None! Absolutely none of them!

“None?” He tilted his head, knowing very well how cute he looked like when he did that. “But then … Oh! I see!” Dogday snapped his fingers and you were pretty sure that if this was a cartoon a lamp would appear shining right above that absolute, silly, mean, goofball. “You want me to tickle your legs!”

What!

At your wide stare and sputtering pretenses of protests his smirk turned sharp, which didn’t quite help the anticipatory bolts of electricity that suddenly left you feeling even more ticklish than usual, trying to curl and hide your legs but feeling him dig more on your torso every time you did so. He continued. “That is why you didn’t stop kicking and squirming the entire time I was tickling your neck and tummy, right? Aww, sunshine, if you wanted my attention so much, you could’ve just asked!”

That was literally not the reason at all! Dogday!!

He hummed in an answer, turning around and easily pinning your legs by holding your ankles down, his touch so gentle that you were pretty sure that if you really wanted and struggled you could escape from it.

(And if that didn’t make everything even more endearing, you honestly didn’t know what would.)

Without wasting any more time, Dogday started squeezing the sensitive spot right above your kneecap, skillfully jumping from one leg to another unexpectedly, digging on the skin and following your leg around with no problem as a new round of kicks started once again, keeping up with the tickling. The ticklish sensations made your head spin, tingles spreading across your muscles and teasing all the nearest tickle spots, leaving them prickling in anticipation and a funny kind of energy that made every nerve of your knees crazy as more and more squeezes and pinches continued unmercifully assaulting the spot non stop.

A sudden move and you yelped when your legs were lifted, his curious hand worming its way under your knee to lightly scratch the sensitive skin there. The touch was so incredibly fuzzy, so adoringly soft that the sudden change from the rough to light technique almost ripped a series of snickers from your throat without permission, the hilarity and urge to laugh taking over your every thought.

Dogday continued scribbling and drawing shapes, leaving a couple of pokes here and there just so he could listen to those delightful muffled snorts.

(He would really love to listen to them more clearly, though.)

“You really love this, don’t you, angel?”

You barely sputtered out an answer before being obligated to clamp your mouth shut, uncontrollable laughter making your shoulders bounce as he took the chance to crawl his fingers upwards to your thigh, skittering them there for a couple of seconds before spidering them right back to under your knees, repeating the cycle for a couple of times before mirroring them on the other leg.

“When I tickle you.” He scratched under your knee.

“When I tease you.” He squeezed your calf.

“When I fluster you.” He swiped at the space right under your toes.

“It’s really adorable!” His paw stopped right on your sole and he pressed it, firmly enough that it didn’t tickle, still, for some reason you couldn’t stop your smile from becoming even more wobblier, the giddiness growing stronger and spreading in your every cell just like the heat that seemed to take over your face.

“Especially because I can’t wait to hear aaaaall those cute giggles and beautiful laughter that you have trapped right there.” Suddenly, he raked his fingers up, from your heel to under the toes. A squeal filled the air. Dogday’s eyes shone, like an arrow findings the target. His fingertips curled, kneading on the skin. “That is why I have to apologize, angel, because I lied to you. That is a game that I just have to win.”

He then attacked.

It was less than a half of a piece of time, but suddenly your soles were being overcomed with scribbles, scratches and wiggling everywhere they could reach. There were digging fingers under your toes and a spidering that followed them to the pads, tweaking and scritching them all while curious pokes payed attention to the entire path of your arches, even if shouldn’t be possible for him to be tickling both places at the same time. Nevertheless, Dogday’s paw was so big that he was able to torment both of your feet at once while still holding them through all the resulting kicks those created.

And the teasing… Of course there was also the teasing.

“There we go! Oh my, oh my, look at you! You just can’t help being so adorable, now, can you? Awww, angel, you always get this… sweet expression when you are happy, so I like to call it your happy face! It’s delightful. The corner of your eyes gets all crinkly and your face gets all soft and your smile… your smile is the best part, it’s so bright! No matter the size or the time, it really feels like we have our own special rays of sun down here.”

He found a rather sensitive spot right above your heel and immediately concentrated on it with all his might, drumming and prodding there as if the salvation of this entire factory depended on making you laugh.

“That is why it was so easy to see how much you love tickles, sunshine. First when you were tickling me a few days ago and now. Since we started that game… you didn’t even ask me to stop and all while you simply never ceased looking so adorably full of joy like this! I could really spend the entire day just here, you know? Tickling you silly over and over again.”

That did it. The barrier broke. Loud peals of laughter were fished from your lips. Every sound and reaction filled the air in a frantic, unrestrained melody of mirth.

Now, with them flying freely in the room, there were uncontrollable, hysterical giggles when Dogday decided to knead your calves up and down, those only being taken down by an unstoppable crackling, painted with one or two snorts, as his paws wiggled away to squeeze right above your kneecaps, taking his sweet, sweet time to give the ticklish skin under it a few swipes before moving away.

Finally, he let your ankles go, both paws resting on your sides, unbothered by all the squirming and protests that this simple act created, drinking in every reaction with a so fond, so tender gaze that it bordered on dotingly as you got another break.

You tried to take big gulps of air, but everytime your gazes found each other, titters grew anew, distracting you and leaving you in a constant state of a silly, giggly kind of joy.

M-Maybe he should reconsider! You laughed already, he won the game! That should be the end of this, right!

Dogday chuckled, fingers tuttering in their spot, curling and uncurling slowly, content to feel the trembling on the skin under them.

“The end? But we just started! And you still got so much beautiful laughter trapped right here to show.” With his index finger, he highlighted his word by tapping on your belly, right in your bellybutton, ears perking at the screech this brought. “So many cute snorts and melodious shrieks that I would love to meet. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t help to let them out, huh?”

A flow of words, more unintelligible than anything, fell off your lips. A mix of pleas, threats, high pitched giggles and some indistinguishable sounds that could only be considered a true keysmash rather than a sentence. Dogday hummed in agreement and nodded his head as if it was all a well constructed and understandable sentence.

“I knew you would eventually see my point, angel. You’re such a delight, you know, that?”

He smiled, so kindly and caring, and then he digged.

His paws, big enough to cover your entire midriff drummed non stop, squeezing the lower part of your stomach while scratching everywhere they could reach. He stayed there for a while before his wiggling fingers crawled up, scribbling and pinching your sides unmercifully. They looked for any weak spot, any lovely place that would make you snort and squirm away and latched there with pinches and kneading until your back arched, only then moving back to tickle your stomach until you went back to try to curl yourself in a ball, starting the cycle over and over again.

You felt almost high with laughter, the thought that it tickled, it tickled so so much and more than anything ever taking over your brain in sync with the loud, high pitched squeals and belly laughter (ha- Dogday would love that pun if you could say it to him) that chased after each other. After so much teasing, every tickle seemed to be accompanied by the brush of thousand of tiny phantom feathers that still tormented your stomach even when he moved away to your ribs, carefully pressing down on the bones and quickly scribbling with so much skill that it should be illegal the actual, loud crackle such a simple action created.

Your hands flied to hold his wrists, caught between pushing them away and pulling them close and, at seeing that, the sentient toy couldn’t help but feel himself melt and snicker fondly, barely controlling the urge to shove his face back on your neck and nuzzle and nibble the daylights out of it in a pure attack of cuteness. His tail was wagging so much that it dislodged a few pillows from where they were.

“Such a good friend. Such a cute, nice friend for me. For us.” The praises fell from his mouth naturally, your companionship too focused on keeping those happy reactions to really think too much about them. “You do so much to all of us, to me, and keep going above and beyond just to accomplish what you set your mind in. You’re brave and one of the strongest humans I’ve ever known. And there is so much kindness in you that I could talk the entire day about it! You saved me, you cared and tried and sometimes down here it feels like a nightmare but you… you make everything so much better, like a true angel. That is why I love this nickname so much. It really fits you.”

You tried to answer, to say how much especial, strong and essential Dogday was for you as well, but every time a single coherent word slipped from your lips he immediately reinforced his attack, fully aware that if you said anything sweet he would inevitably let his guard down and you would be able to turn the tables, and he really needed to say all of that to you before that.

His tickles were now focusing on keeping up the flow of starry laughter, watching them grow up to chortles and tune down into snickers as he scribbled in between each bone, keeping track of every special spot that pried a shriek from your lungs only to randomly attack it with prodding and poking, slowly fishing all kinds of joyful sounds that you could make.

He then buried his paws in your armpits, swirling the fingertips there for a few moments before digging energetically, fingers dancing and prodding every inch they could reach, which immediately made your arms come down with a loud chortle, head shaking and legs kicking at the sensation.

How was he so good at this?

Dogday gasped dramatically (not again-) and lightly pulled his paws in faux alarm, not really stopping his attack. “Oh no! Once more, you have trapped me!” Such a goofball. Such a silly, mean goofball and you could not wait to put your wiggly hands on and see how flustered you could make him be. “Dang, I really didn’t want to resort to this but I guess that I have no other option but to keep tickling and tickling and tickling on your poor ticklish pits forever and ever until the end of our days.” He then winked when he found your shining eyes. “But you would actually love that, wouldn’t you, my giggly sunshine?”

That was it. You were going to die. Right here and there. The playful tickles, the unrelenting teasing, the fond stares and gentle words… you could actually feel your entire body about to melt.

With a strength you didn’t even realize you had, you pulled your arms up to hide your flaming face, a pitched ‘eee’ sound mixing with the hysterical, absolutely uncontrollable laughter, your body rolling to the side and curling, shoulders bouncing with the force of each of your giggles.

Dogday let go of you, giggling together with your reactions, resting his hands on the ground and just observing, amusement and care clear as water in every trace of his features.

After a while, you felt a paw lay on your back, retracting for a bit when just that made you wiggle away, a new round of chuckles spilling, before it came back to rub your shoulders, touch kind and too firm to tickle. “Okay, okay, sunshine. I’m done. You can calm down for now.”

Laying down on the floor giggling yourself silly didn’t feel so embarrassing when Dogday’s own quiet snorts and snickers were quick to accompany you, especially since the rubbing really felt relaxing, making you melt on the touch bit by bit.

After a few minutes, when a comfortable silence had fallen on you both, you rolled on your back, finally being able to stare at your companionship without feeling like you would explode. Dogday smiled bigger at your direction. He lifted a paw to gently wipe a tear from your cheek, not thinking too much about it.

“That was so fun! I didn’t know you were so ticklish, angel. You are almost as bad as m-” He stopped right in his tracks when a gasp and a new string of titters fell like a waterfall from your mouth and you pushed his paw away, fastly rubbing your cheek so the feeling of fuzzy tickles would go away. It was like the softest makeup brush had just touched your skin, and you had no idea that just this could tickle so much.

Dohohogday! You sahaid you werehe done!

But your companionship didn’t answer. Astonished, he stared at his paw before looking at you again, gaze jumping from one to the other like he was watching a tennis match.

Suddenly his entire face brightened like the sun and he looked at you as if you had just said the funniest, most brilliant pun he had ever heard in his entire life.

“Aaaangel!” Every letter was bathed in pure, disbelieved delight.

No! You knew very well what that tune meant! No way! Nononono! Don’t you dare!

“Are your cheeks…”

Dohohogday! Don’t you come closer!

“Ticklish?”

Before you could push yourself from the mattress and jump away, there were two thumbs softly scratching on your cheeks, scribbling so lightly that it immediately made a giant smile take over your expression. Titters started to fill the air once more.

“Oh my… angel! This is adorable!” Dogday looked like he was about to bounce around the room with how much excited he was, his voice getting higher and glitching in excitement. “I can’t believe how fun and cute… You just… Ah, sunshine, I can’t help but!”

And before you could even blink, he shoved his smiley, stupidly fuzzy face right on your neck again, nuzzling there without a single worry in the world. His fingers kept tickling your cheeks, sometimes even slipping to tease the back of your ears with a few scratches as he giggled in joy since he could literally feel the rumbling of your snickers. They twirled and spun in the air for much minutes more until his tickly attack from cuteness overload was finally finished and you both just kept layed down on the comfy pile, cuddling in between content sighs.

Dogday listened to your calm breath, saw how relaxed your entire body was and, according to the few sneaky peaks he had, saw that happy, full of mirth, smile was still in your face, leaving him melting in contentment, entire body relaxing as well.

Perfect. His plan had worked.

Not that it was that big of a deal, but it had been such a long time since he had the opportunity to…

He was just glad that it worked. That he still got it in him.

(Being playful. Happy. Helping the others. Being there when they needed him. Matter when it was necessary. Being silly and fun)

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t sense the hand coming until it laid on his head, playing with the fur there and scratching on that place right behind his left ear that never failed to make him embarrassingly become a mush of pleased hums and wagging tail. A low, sleepy voice crossed the air.

You said you would take him out of here. It’s a promise, Dogday.

How his angel knew exactly what to say was a mystery to him. And, it didn’t quite hurt, but his entire being ached at those words. His smile was sad and he was glad that the human couldn’t see as he blinked quickly, eyes suddenly moisty. “Alright.”

There would still be some revenge when you woke up, though. Be ready.

And that reminded him so much of others playful, sleepy conversations he had before everything happened that it ripped a surprised laugh from him. He tried to look up to see the very much likely mischievous glint in his friend’s eyes, but a few more purposeful scratches turned him right back to a content puddle. He nuzzled the human a bit more. “Sleep well, angel.”

You too, Dogday.

(And sleep well they did. Lost in a peaceful rest as the entire world outside left them be.)

[~*~]

Random fun facts!

-There is a parallel I made by mistake between CatNap and DogDay and the whole 'trusting and following the being that saved your life'. It's not too deep and Dogday isn't as bad as Catnap but that was an interesting thing I noticed :D

-Different from the reader, Dogday is more used to the time down there so he has a good grasp when day and nights happens in general.

-I am actively ignoring the plotholes here about food and water here. Ya know when you have to poke holes in a lid so the bugs in the container can breathe that is what I doing kjhgfdfghyhgfd

-Nothing to do with the fanfic but I kept listening to this song when I was writing it and I think it's cute.

#Had so much writing this! It's been a good year and something since I wrote some good ol reader insert #xreader #Ticklish!Reader #Lee!Player #Lee!Reader #Ler!Dogday #Mentioned Lee!Dogday and Ler!Reader #poppy playtime tickles #poppy playtime tickling #wanted to say more on the tags but woke up sick so brain is fuzzy #Kanene's fic #Kanene's fanfic

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galedekarios · 8 months

Text

the netherese orb: consequences for gale and his connection to magic

i wrote a post a while ago focusing on the physical ailments that the orb was causing gale, and i had a really interesting exchange with another user on it:

@dark-videogamer: I just noticed it myself, which for me implies that as the orb is consuming his weave, his life essence, it's also refusing to allow that part of the body to properly heal, like he's always internally bleeding or it's infected. (at least in my opinion) which makes me wonder how irreparable the damage is there. @galedekarios: i actually do have a post coming up on that! i want to focus on what the orb does to his magical ability in that post because i focused more on the physical aspect here. of course, they sort of go hand in hand for a wizard to a certain degree, but there are a few hints in the game. anyhow, sorry for rambling! i very much agree with you! it's def either is still consuming gale's own gifts and i think that's a reality he has to face after it's removed.

so this further inspired because i actually wanted to use this opportunity to look at how the orb might be affecting gale's magic / casting ability.

general stuff & how the physical impairments affect the casting of spells

first off, i want to note that both of these are of course intrinsically linked, not least of all because the orb is affecting everything a caster class needs to cast spells:

-general biological deterioration -muscle spasms -ringing in the ears -disorientation -concentration issues -varying levels of physical discomfort / pain

aside from the obvious things that would impair a caster (deterioriation, disorientation, pain, discomfort), concentration is incredibly important to maintain a spell. muscle spasms, too, would absolutely interfere with the somatic component of a spell:

The somatic component was a basic part of spellcasting. Many spells required the caster to make a motion to cast the spell. If the caster was unable to make the correct motion, the spell could not be cast.

i could add more here, of course, but i think it's fairly obvious how all of these mix together into something that would leave a wizard defenseless, and again, gale admits as much, too:

player: i fail to see why you need me to help you this. you’ve done fine without me so far. gale: A fair point - however, until recently I was able to rely on a supply of artefacts stored in my tower in Waterdeep. A supply that has now run dry. The reality of the matter is that a lone wizard with a chronic impairment such as my own is not in the most ideal of situations with regards to self-defence. The manner of artefacts I need are not often found waiting patiently on a shop-keep’s shelf. One usually has to lift them delicately from trap-filled tombs or prise them from the hands of violent ne'erdowells.

the orb

but what consequences did the orb itself have?

we have several lines in the game, where characters are surprised that the orb didn't outright kill gale. gale himself knows this and the imagery we get when gale opens his mind to the protag and shares his story is incredibly violent:

the orb didn't kill him outright and it was a miracle that it didn't, both gale and mystra acknowledge this in-game.

but it left him incredibly weakened and with a condition that could still kill him if left untreated, as well as those around him.

what it did do instantly, however, is that it did consume his gifts.

again, both gale and mystra acknowledge this in-game:

Gale: Is that why you lied to me about the Crown of Karsus? Self-preservation? Mystra: My concern was the preservation of everything. The Karsite Weave could tear apart the very fabric of the Material Plane. That it entered your body and consumed no more than your powers was a miracle. But we will not be granted another. The only reason the 'orb' sleeps is because I have allowed it to feed on the true Weave - a temporary measure, but one that will not be enough to save us.

Gale: It sounds like the door to redemption is open at last. All I have to do is walk through it, carrying the Crown of Karsus. Player: Is that what you want? Gale: Perhaps. I see few other options open to me, if I ever want to reclaim those parts of myself the orb snatched away. If I ever want to be me again. Player: We're going to cure you Gale: Thank you. There aren't many I'd trust to stand beside me on such a journey. Fewer still who would do so because they believe I deserve such a chance.

so what are these gifts that were consumed exactly?

in early access, there used to be a scene with gale in act i that was commonly known as the loss scene, where he would be found in camp, cursing as he tries to cast a spell that he was once able to:

Gale: Khat-Tsjin Deth-Thra! Tav [Wizard]: That was a failed spell if ever I heard one. Gale: Failure. You'd think I'd be used to it by now. It’s getting late. I think I’ll turn in. Perhaps some sleep will do me good. Tav: Is something wrong? Gale: Let’s just say not all is right. But that goes for all of us. Tav [Wizard]: I didn't recognize your hand gestures. What spell were you trying to cast? Gale: A bygone spell from a bygone age. It doesn't matter. Tav [weave romantic]: Come, you know I care about you. I showed you when we shared that spell [CHECK wizard] Gale: So you did. Very wel. Just now, I was trying to cast a spell I once cast with ease, but I failed. You see, this fire – there was a time that I could make it come alive. That it would take the shape of a dragon and roar in delight. There was a time I could silence a Beholder with a word, and lift a tower from its foundations with a flourish. There was a time I was all but one with the Weave. But no more – a mere shadow of the wizard I used to be. Why? Because I’ve lost. Tav: I don’t understand. What is it that you’ve lost? Gale: I’ve lost… Tav: [Insight] Go on. Every burden is easier to carry when shared. Gale: An apt enough observation. I've... lost... Mystra. I sought to impress her personally. Tav: Another fool pays for his arrogance. A tale as old as time. Gale: Arrogance? Ambition, rather. And ambition is a fine thing – until suddenly it no longer is. Then again, if that is how you judge me, there’s little I can do to change your mind. But know that I have this ambition still. First to save myself, and after that, the licence to dream. (Gale Disapproval)

this insight in just how great the magnitude of his loss in power as a wizard and, intrinsically linked to that, his ability as a wizard is entirely absent in the full release of the game.

while we do know that he was an archmage and we also know that he was a chosen of mystra, with all the gifts that may have entailed, we only get a very vague mention of the lost gifts and gale being a former shadow of who he used to be.

abilities of the chosen of mystra include:

Chosen of Mystra gained many benefits from her blessing. They held a greater command over spell, being able to cast even the highest tiers repeatedly. Doing so, however, was not encouraged by Azuth and Mystra (Midnight), as it required repeatedly tapping upon the weave. They also became more familiar with magic and able to detect its presence. In addition, many also developed immunities to magic, and eventually even immunities to disease and poison. They become much more hardy, showing a toughness uncharacteristic of most mages. Mystra's Chosen were also immune to the deleterious effects from the casting and wearing of a mantle: they suffered no loss of health or the removal of spells from their minds upon the raising of a mantle or the cumulative daily requirement of the spell. The Chosen also wielded silver fire, a unique raw magic that conjured a silvery flame with a variety of functions.

[source]

other interesting bits and pieces:

Chosen age, albeit slowly, and as they age their power becomes closer to equivalent level mortal wizards. They can steal bodies to prolong their lifespan, but if they choose not to they eventually die and return to the Weave until Mystra makes them a new body. Chosen still have access to Silver Fire and can manipulate their hair freely. Mystra has imposed restrictions on magic in some cases, such as making it physically painful to read minds. This applies to using weave-work to communicate long distance with 'regular' humans. Chosen have the ability to communicate to the weave-ghosts of other Chosen as well as living Chosen, but rarely seek to interrupt the lives of each other. Laeral can speak across distance with Storm, Alustriel and even Halaster. Chosen still don't need to sleep, but do need to enter Reverie to replenish their energy.

[source]

again, this is all not really mentioned in the game and it's sad because again, it adds a lot of context to gale as a character. the most that is hinted at, i believe, is elminster's incredibly long lifespan of several hundreds of years.

conclusion / consequences of removing the orb

this is just speculation on my part, so feel free to ignore this completely.

apart from the chronic ailments, we know from the arcane hunger status that the orb feeds on gale's very soul and that both gale and mystra acknowledge that the orb has consumed already gale's greatest gifts as a wizard.

we also know that tara and gale were not able to figure out immediately how to treat the orb after gale was afflicted by it. it was tara, who in their combined research, figured it out and it took them some time to do so.

on top of that, we know that gale had to live without said treatment for a while since he no longer had any magical items to consume and, in fact, i speculated it's a part of the reason why he may have left waterdeep behind and was captured on the nautiloid.

all this time, the orb was left with nothing to consume, with nothing to feed on, except what was within gale to give and the orb is ever-hungry.

i feel like this surely would have consequences even after the orb is rendered inert and then, later, implied to be removed by mystra:

one of the sadder outcomes could very well be that his ability to cast spells is permanently diminished or entirely cut off.

Thus comes the question: what is the Weave? It is an essential element of the universe. It runs through everything in unseen threads. It is what makes magic possible. — Excerpt from Magic of the Weave - An Introduction.

with the orb inside of him, left untreated for long intervals, it may have consumed a lot of gale's own weave, something that runs through all living souls, his ability to cast magic might be even smaller and weaker than now.

at best, it will take him some time after the game to recover, back home in waterdeep, with tara, with morena and a romanced protag and new friends.

at worst, and, with the knowledge that the orb consumed so much upon first entering his body, it may also be a possibility that gale could be stripped of magic entirely, but that's quite a cruel fate for him, someone who says that magic is their life.

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 meta #ch: gale dekarios #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #meta: mybg3 #a big thank you to fae mako and shiba for listening to me rant and exchanging ideas on this

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bitchiswild · 6 months

Text

Rockstar

Huh Yunjin x F! Reader

Warnings:None, Fluff

Word Count: 3k

A/n: Travis Barker and Kourtney Kardashian WHOO???? 🗣️

⋆｡‧₊°♱༺𓆩❦︎𓆪༻♱༉‧₊˚.

Yunjin POV

The energy at my concerts was amazing, filling me with life and excitement. But even in the midst of all that joy, there was a big hole in my heart - the absence of my wife, Y/n. I've been touring for two months, going from state to state to share my music with people. But throughout it all, I've felt like something important was missing - her.

Gosh, I miss her like crazy. It feels like It's been forever since I've seen her sweet smile, held her close, and been intimate with her. I swear, it's almost like I'm going through withdrawal because she's my everything. Even with all these cheering fans and bright stage lights, I can't shake this feeling of longing for her.

She's more than just my better half; she's my muse. Every song I write, every melody I play, it's all thanks to her inspiration. Her absence feels like there's this huge gap in my life that not even the loudest applause can fill. She's my comfort, my spark - being away from her feels like a big chunk of my heart is missing.

I can't stop thinking about the last time I held her close. I ache for her warmth, her presence, her giggles that light up my world. Every day without her feels like forever, and I'm counting down the seconds until I can wrap my arms around her again.

As the tour goes on, every night ends with this achy feeling. Despite the amazing shows and the music, what I miss the most is her laughter, her unwavering support, and that special connection we share. She's not just the missing piece; she's the heart of the whole picture.

"Dude, are you okay?" Chaewon, my bandmate, asked, concern etched on her face.

I let out a sigh, sinking deeper into my thoughts. "Just missing Y/n," I replied, my gaze fixed on the lock screen of my phone displaying a picture of us, captured in a moment of pure laughter.

"Call her, maybe it'll help," Chaewon suggested with a reassuring smile. Taking her advice, I navigated to my contacts, fingers hovering over the familiar entry labeled 'LOML<3'.

The phone rang, and after a few moments, a groggy voice answered on the other end. "Hello?"

"Hi, baby, did I wake you up?" I spoke softly, a hint of guilt tugging at my heart for disturbing her sleep. Checking the time, I realized it was midnight in New York, forgetting the time difference from where I was in California.

Y/n's voice softened, a mix of sleepiness and warmth. "Hey, it's okay. Is everything alright?"

"I'm sorry for calling so late," I apologized, feeling a twinge of regret for not considering the time difference. "I just... I miss you. Can't seem to shake off this feeling, you know?"

There was a gentle chuckle on the other end. "I miss you too, silly. It's okay, hearing your voice is nice. Tell me how's tour going on so far."

And just like that, as I started sharing the mundane yet cherished details of tour and my day on the road, her voice became the remedy for the ache in my heart. Despite the distance, her presence, even through the phone, made everything feel a little lighter, a little brighter.

As I spoke to Y/n, a faint sound of gagging reached my ears, causing a knot of concern to form in my stomach. "Are you okay? Are you feeling sick?" Worry laced my words, not wanting her to endure any discomfort while I was miles away.

"I'm okay, Jen," Y/n reassured me, her voice trying to sound steady despite a trace of unease. "I probably ate something that didn't agree with me earlier. It's nothing serious, promise."

The worry didn't dissipate from my mind. "Are you sure? I can catch the next flight home right now. Your health is more important. I don't want you to be sick without me there."

Y/n's voice held a gentle firmness. "No, Jen, it's okay. You have a concert tomorrow; you can't miss it. I'll be fine, really. It's just a passing thing. Take care of your show, and I'll take care of myself here."

I hesitated, torn between the urge to be by her side and the responsibility of the upcoming concert. "But what if you need something? What if—"

Y/n interrupted, her tone warm and understanding. "I promise I'll call someone if I need help. You focus on your music. I'll take care of myself until you're back."

Reluctantly, I nodded, feeling a pang of helplessness at not being able to rush to her side. "Okay, but if anything changes, if you feel worse or need anything at all, promise me you'll call immediately."

"I promise, Jen," she replied softly. "Just give an amazing concert tomorrow. I'll be here waiting to hear all about it." And with that reassurance, I forced myself to focus on the concert ahead while keeping a watchful eye on my phone, ready to fly back at the slightest hint of need from Y/n.

Y/n's yawn echoed through the phone, prompting me to glance at the time. It was nearing 2 am in New York, and exhaustion seeped into her voice. "Y/n, baby, it's getting late. You should go to sleep," I gently urged, concern evident in my tone.

"But I want to talk to you," she murmured, her words tinged with sleepiness and a hint of longing.

"I promise we'll talk more tomorrow, okay? Get some rest. I love you," I said softly, my love resonating in the tender words that escaped my lips.

"I love you too," Y/n murmured back, the weariness in her voice indicating she was already drifting into slumber.

Reluctantly, I ended the call, my heart feeling heavy with the distance between us. All I wanted was to hold her close, to feel the rhythm of her breathing as she slept beside me. The ache in my chest was palpable, longing for the comfort of her presence.

One Month Later

"Three more months," I whispered to myself, a vow echoing in my mind. Three more months until I could wrap my arms around Y/n again, until I could finally call her home. The countdown began, each passing day marked by the yearning to be back in her embrace, to find solace and warmth in our shared space. Until then, the miles that separated us felt like an eternity, but the promise of reunion kept me going.

"It's been a month already, just two more to go before I'm finally back in Y/n's arms," I muttered to myself, the countdown almost a lifeline in this whirlwind of touring. Despite our daily calls whenever we managed to catch a break, it never felt like enough.

"We've got two more months of tour, Yunjin. Hang in there," Chaewon chimed in, her voice carrying a tone of encouragement.

"I know, but I just want her here. Why didn't she come on tour with us?" I vented, frustration creeping into my tone.

"You know how demanding her job can be," Chaewon explained, trying to soothe my irritation.

"She should just take it easy. I'd take care of her forever," I retorted, feeling a pang of helplessness at not having her close during this extensive tour.

Chaewon leaned in, her expression conveying a sense of understanding. "She's a hard worker and independent. She doesn't want you to carry the load alone. Marriage is about being a team," she said, raising an eyebrow as if to emphasize her point.

Her words struck a chord within me. I nodded in acknowledgment, realizing the truth in her statement. Y/n had always been fiercely independent and dedicated to her career, a trait I admired endlessly. Yet, the longing to have her by my side during this journey was undeniable. The ache of missing her was profound, but Chaewon's reminder of our partnership brought a sense of reassurance, reminding me that love wasn't just about being physically present but also about supporting each other's aspirations and dreams.

"Chaewon, Yunjin, you're on in 5," a member of the backstage crew informed us before hurrying away to attend to other tasks.

"Ready to rock and roll," Chaewon exclaimed, mimicking playing the guitar with exaggerated enthusiasm.

I chuckled at her playful antics. "Let's rock and roll," I humored her, joining in the light-heartedness.

We shared a laugh as we made our way toward the stage. Unbeknownst to Yunjin, a heartwarming surprise was in store for her this evening, orchestrated by Chaewon and Y/n. For the past month, they had been planning this moment. Y/n was going to surprise Yunjin at one of their concerts. Chaewon had discreetly kept Y/n updated on Yunjin's well-being during the tour, and the idea of surprising Yunjin had blossomed from their conversations.

Chaewon suggested the idea of Y/n surprising Yunjin at one of their concerts and offered to purchase the ticket for her. Y/n, touched by the gesture but adamant about not letting Chaewon pay for the ticket, agreed to the surprise plan. And so, here they were, on the brink of the surprise unveiling.

Moments before stepping onto the stage, Chaewon seized the opportunity to confirm the presence of Y/n to their manager. With the affirmative nod from the manager, it was all set. Y/n was seated in the front row, clutching a sign in her hands, eagerly waiting to surprise Yunjin. The anticipation of the heartwarming reunion infused an extra spark of excitement into the upcoming performance.

3rd POV

The buzz of anticipation surged through the stadium as the tour's introduction set the stage ablaze with excitement. Among the sea of eager faces, Y/n anxiously awaited Yunjin's appearance, clutching her sign, which was yet another surprise in store. Though recognized as Yunjin's wife by some fans nearby, the presence of bodyguards, courtesy of Chaewon and their manager, dissuaded any intrusion, allowing Y/n to immerse herself in the electrifying atmosphere.

Surrounded by enthusiastic fans, Y/n reciprocated their waves with a warm smile, acknowledging their recognition. However, her focus was soon captured by the first strum of the guitar, signaling Yunjin's imminent performance. As the stadium erupted into thunderous cheers, Yunjin's voice filled the air, crooning one of her most beloved songs. The crowd, seemingly in perfect sync, sang along with fervor, each lyric resonating throughout the venue.

For Y/n, it was a moment of sheer awe. The rush of emotions flooded back, reminiscent of the times when she and Yunjin had first connected through their shared love for music. The nostalgia of hearing Yunjin's live performance stirred a whirlwind of memories, from their initial meetings to the moments that cemented their bond. The song carried not just melodies but a story of their journey together, sparking a surge of emotions in Y/n's heart.

Lost in the music and the undying adoration from the crowd, Y/n found herself transported back to the beginnings of their love story, reliving the magic of those cherished memories while witnessing Yunjin's electrifying presence on stage.

The electric energy of the performance reached its pinnacle as Yunjin drew closer to the edge of the stage, pouring her heart into the lyrics. As her eyes met Y/n's in the crowd, an unspoken connection sparked, bringing tears of overwhelming emotion to both their eyes. Chaewon, standing beside Yunjin, caught sight of Y/n, acknowledging her with a playful wink, prompting a grateful smile in return for her pivotal role in orchestrating the surprise.

As the first song concluded, Yunjin and Chaewon engaged with the crowd, marveling at the sea of eager faces.

"Wow, so many people tonight!" Yunjin exclaimed, genuinely taken aback by the turnout.

"So many people," Chaewon echoed, sharing the sentiment.

"Thank you all for coming out tonight. I hope you have an amazing time with us," Yunjin expressed her gratitude, her eyes glinting with excitement. Her gaze then shifted to Y/n, a warmth and love evident in her expression.

"And we have a very special guest with us tonight, my wife, Y/n!" Yunjin announced, pointing to the large screen where Y/n's face appeared. The crowd erupted into a thunderous cheer as Y/n waved, a radiant smile lighting up her face.

"Isn't she beautiful, everyone?" Yunjin beamed, her love for Y/n resonating in her words, inciting an even louder cheer from the fans.

Seizing the perfect moment, Y/n lifted up a sign, and the atmosphere crackled with heightened anticipation. The crowd's volume skyrocketed, Chaewon gasped in disbelief, and tears cascaded down Yunjin's cheeks in a torrent of emotions.

On the sign, in bold letters, it read: 'Yunjin, I'm Pregnant!'

Tears flowed freely down Y/n's face, mirroring the ones streaming down Yunjin's cheeks. Without hesitation, Yunjin leaped off the stage and rushed towards Y/n, enveloping her in a tender yet exhilarating hug, careful not to squeeze too tightly in her overwhelming joy. The crowd erupted into a collective roar of excitement, their elation matching the emotions of the two women sharing an immensely intimate and life-altering moment amidst the exhilarating concert atmosphere.

The stadium erupted in a cacophony of cheers and applause as Yunjin, overwhelmed with joy, announced the life-changing news.

"I'm going to be a mom!" she exclaimed into the microphone, her voice filled with excitement and happiness. Without hesitation, she pulled Y/n close, sealing the momentous occasion with a passionate kiss, a celebration of their love and the impending addition to their family.

Breaking away from the kiss, Yunjin gazed into Y/n's eyes, her own sparkling with love and adoration. "I love you so much, and I already love our baby," she declared tenderly, her heart overflowing with emotions. The words reverberated through the crowd, sharing the intimacy and boundless joy of this unforgettable moment with everyone present.

With an air of exhilaration and boundless energy, Yunjin regally returned to the stage, her eyes locking briefly with Y/n, a playful wink passing between them. The glow of their shared secret lingered in the air as Yunjin addressed the crowd once more.

"With this profound news, I've got an endless supply of energy! LET'S HIT IT!" she exclaimed, her voice carrying a contagious enthusiasm that reverberated throughout the stadium.

The band swiftly picked up the rhythm, launching into the next song on their setlist. The pulsating beat and electrifying melodies ignited an even greater fervor among the audience. The crowd, already stirred by the monumental revelation, erupted into a deafening roar, their excitement and anticipation fueling the atmosphere with an unparalleled euphoria.

Yunjin's infectious energy, amplified by the band's lively performance, turned the concert into an unforgettable celebration. Each note played and every lyric sung became an anthem of love, joy, and the thrilling anticipation of the new chapter ahead for Yunjin and Y/n. The energy in the stadium soared, echoing the exhilaration of this momentous occasion, etching this night into the memories of all who were present.

The final song crescendoed, bringing the concert to its euphoric conclusion. Yunjin and Chaewon bid their farewells to the cheering crowd, exchanging appreciative smiles and heartfelt thanks for their unwavering support throughout the show. Meanwhile, Y/n waited in the green room, anticipation thrumming in every heartbeat.

As soon as the concert ended, Yunjin dashed towards the green room, her determination evident as she maneuvered through the bustling crowd, propelled by the sole desire to reunite with Y/n. With an urgent fervor, she entered the room, her eyes instantly seeking out her beloved.

Spotting Y/n standing there, her heart soared, and without hesitation, Yunjin surged forward, enveloping Y/n in a warm embrace. Lifted by an overwhelming surge of emotions, Yunjin lifted Y/n effortlessly, spinning her around in a whirlwind of joy and elation. She set her down gently, their eyes meeting in a silent exchange that conveyed more than words ever could.

Unable to contain their overflowing emotions, Yunjin pulled Y/n into another passionate kiss, the depth of their love and the magnitude of the moment imbuing the kiss with an unspoken promise of a future filled with joy and togetherness. The room seemed to fade away as they immersed themselves in this cherished moment, reveling in the warmth and intimacy of their embrace, sealing the unforgettable night with the most heartfelt display of love.

Their embrace lingered as the weight of their revelation settled in, the enormity of becoming parents washing over them in waves of disbelief and joy.

"I can't believe we're going to be parents," Yunjin sighed, her voice carrying a mix of wonder and amazement.

"I've been wanting to tell you, but I thought surprising you would be even better," Y/n replied, her eyes shimmering with affection as she gently caressed Yunjin's face.

"When did you find out?" Yunjin inquired, curiosity evident in her voice.

"Remember that call we had, and I gagged? I went to the doctor the next day, and she said I was already two months along," Y/n explained, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"So, I knocked you up before I left," Yunjin chuckled, a playful grin lighting up her face.

Y/n playfully slapped Yunjin's arm, sharing in the lighthearted moment. "Yeah, you did." I chuckled.

"Well, I'm so happy and excited. I'm so ready to start this new chapter with you," Yunjin expressed, her voice filled with affection and anticipation.

"So am I," Y/n replied, her gaze filled with unwavering love and excitement, affirming their shared readiness for the journey ahead. In that moment, amidst the laughter and love, they embraced the thrilling prospect of embarking on this incredible journey together, united by the bond of their love and the prospect of welcoming a new life into their world.

“I'M GOING TO BE AN AUNT!!”

“SHUT UP CHAEWON!”

⋆｡‧₊°♱༺𓆩❦︎𓆪༻♱༉‧₊˚.

#huh yunjin #huh yunjin x reader #jennifer huh #yunjin x reader #fluff #lesserafim x reader #lesserafim fluff #lesserafim imagines #bitchiswild #BIW.WRITES #rockstar girlfriend #rockstar

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lixie-phoria · 4 months

Text

[14.0 sweater weather] BETTER THAN REVENGE !

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the night was loud. between jeongin and han's bickering, changbin's laughter, and chan's occasional reprimands, there was no place for awkward silence. even as the seconds advanced towards midnight, and the rest of the campus fell into a peaceful silence, jeongin's dorm was filled with noise.

and for that, you were grateful.

"you dumbass you didn't boil the ramen enough!"

"I did. This isn't my first time making ramen!"

"no it's still-"

"ok that's enough," chan interjects, throwing an exasperated glare at the youngest boys of the group. "Han if you think the ramen is undercooked just add warmer water to it."

"I don't think that's how it works-"

"oh for fucks sake just eat the damn food!"

you watch in amusement as the boy sinks further into the couch, a pout puckering against his lips as he shoves the chopsticks into his mouth.

"nobody ever takes me seriously here-"

"anyways!" changbin exclaims, meaningfully pinching han's side as his eyes raise to meet yours, "we have more important stuff to discuss than how jeongin makes ramen."

it takes you a second to realize all their eyes have turned to you - although jeongin looks unwilling.

"so yn, innie here isn't giving you too much trouble, right?" changbin teases, digging his elbow into his friend's side.

"of course i haven't-"

"let her speak!"

you laugh at the way jeongin huffs, crossing his arms before falling back into his seat, avoiding your eyes.

"he's a pain. i can't wait for this to be over," you play along - much to han and changbin's excitement as their eyes light up.

"has he? well that isn't acceptable, is it?"

"can you leave me alone?"

but that seemed to be the last thing on any of their minds as they turn their attention towards you again.

"you know when he first told us about your arrangement we were a bit worried," chan adds, "but this seems to be working out for you guys."

chan was by far the only one who hadn't teased the youngest boy, but you could clearly see he was just as interested in the conversation.

"yeah well, we're trying. we'll see how much it's really helped him after our test next week."

"yeah-"

"but has this been helping you as effectively?"

you blink at han in confusion as he leans forwards from the couch.

"what?"

"han drop it-"

"you know with the entire making yeonjun jealous plan? i hope you've been giving his cheating ass a hard time!"

yeonjun.

cheating.

oh.

all the progress you had made came crashing down in that single moment.

han hadn't anticipated the depth of his words, obviously. it was a mistake, and you understood that, but the weight still fell like solid lead down your stomach. your throat clogged up, and you could barely meet any of their eyes as the culprit slapped a hand across his mouth, evidently regretting it.

cheating little slut.

yeonjun's words came breaking through the barriers you had tried so hard to build.

it's your fault.

you didn't think it was possible, but your mother's words pierced deeper than yeonjun cheating on you.

any sensible boy would break up with you.

she was probably right. nobody in their right minds would like someone who couldn't even bring herself to move past the boy who had cheated on her.

you should apologize to him. like your mother expected you to.

your company had obviously picked up on your discomfort, and if you hadn't been so caught up you would be embarrassed at the revelation of the chink in your armor.

"you dumbass," you hear changbin hiss under his breath.

"yn im sorry-"

jeongin was the first to act - slipping his hand into yours to pull you up - sending a sharp glare towards his roommate.

"i think we're done for today," he said, gently guiding you towards the front door, picking up your books on the way.

"you guys clean up, please. i'll drop yn back to her dorm."

he only gave you enough time to bid your goodbye to the three boys - including a forgiving smile towards han - before you two stepped out into the cold night.

"you don't have to walk me back."

"it's past midnight, yn. i'm not letting you go alone."

you were grateful, despite your hesitance. the last thing you wanted was to be alone with your thoughts.

"and i'm sorry about han. he didn't mean to bring him up."

you shake your head, patting jeongin's arm in comfort. "it wasn't his fault, don't worry about it. and please tell him not to feel guilty either. it's alright."

"but are you sure you're okay?"

were you okay?

you didn't know.

until the last match, you and yeonjun were technically still on good terms. there had been no bad blood.

but after your argument? you didn't even know where your relationship stood.

you hadn't broken up officially. you were still together, and the thought was sickening. not because you wanted to break up with him. no. but because it was reassuring. and you hated the little comfort that it bought.

"yn?"

your gaze snaps to the side as jeongin's hand softly brushes yours.

"sorry, i was just thinking," you sheepishly mutter, avoiding his eyes.

he doesn't push any further, and the rest of the walk is spent in silence until you reach your block.

"thanks jeongin."

he shoves his hands into the pockets of his sweats, smiling back as the street light shines down on him, highlighting his features.

"don't worry about it. sleep well, yeah?"

you almost send him away with that, but the cold breeze that flutters past your skin jars you into your senses.

"wait!"

you hastily take off your hoodie, patting down your ruffled hair as he turns to look at you in confusion.

"something wrong?"

"it's cold. take this. you didn't carry yours," you say, thrusting the article at him, avoiding his eyes.

"oh it's fine-"

"we have an important exam coming up. i'd hate it if you fell sick because of me."

he doesn't notice the blush dusting your face as he thankfully accepts the warmer clothing, and you're grateful for the dark.

"thanks yn."

"i should thank you."

he grins at you one last time before he's on his way back, absentmindedly fiddling with the sleeves of your hoodie, sending a kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering in your stomach. you hoped you weren't imagining the tips of his ears turning red. you hoped he would keep it, and only give it back when it had caught on to his scent.

in a much better mood than with which you had set out from his dorm, you almost manage push away yeonjun to the back of your mind.

that is until your phone notifies an incoming message.

never mind.

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nayziiz · 22 days

Text

Stay | LN4

Summary: A new romantic prospect puts things into perspective in the best and worst ways possible.

Pairing: Lando Norris x OC (Cara)

Warnings: Angst

Masterlist

CHAPTER 6

The music was louder than Cara expected when they entered the club. Maya immediately dragged Lando over to the bar to get drinks, and Max and Pietra went on a mission to find the private booth Maya had apparently arranged. Cara hung back for a minute and surveyed the scene. It wasn't her go-to place regardless of the country she found herself in. She sighed, defeated, knowing she would be spending most of her night being miserable.

Trying to make the best of it, Cara wandered over to the bar, deciding to get herself a drink. She squeezed through the crowd and managed to catch the bartender's attention, ordering a simple gin and tonic. As she waited for her drink, she couldn't help but notice Lando and Maya at the other end of the bar, Maya clinging onto Lando's arm as they laughed together.

Cara felt a pang of something she couldn't quite place—jealousy, maybe? She quickly dismissed the thought, reminding herself that she and Lando were just friends. Still, it was hard to ignore the growing discomfort she felt every time she saw them together.

“Here's your drink,” the bartender said, breaking her train of thought. She thanked him and took a sip, letting the cool liquid calm her nerves. She turned away from the bar and tried to spot Max and Pietra, hoping to find some solace in their company.

After a few minutes of searching, she finally saw Max waving her over from a corner booth. She weaved through the throng of people, grateful to finally sit down and escape the chaos for a bit. When she reached the booth, Pietra scooted over to make room for her.

“Never really been your scene, huh?” Max observed, a knowing smirk on his face.

“Not at all. But hey, at least I've got you guys to keep me company,” Cara shook her head, managing a small smile.

“Don't worry, we'll make sure you have a good time,” Pietra assured her with a pat on the shoulder.

“See, she looks so out of place,” Maya whined when she looked back at Cara. Lando followed her eyes and found Cara slowly moving towards Max and Pietra.

“Cut her some slack, she's trying,” Lando countered, a hint of frustration in his voice.

“Why do you defend her so much?” Maya asked, her tone a mix of curiosity and annoyance.

“Because she's one of my best friends, Maya.” Lando sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to find the right words.

“It just feels like she's always around, and I don't get why you prioritise her so much.” Maya pouted, clearly unsatisfied with his answer. Lando took a deep breath, trying to stay calm.

“Cara is important to me, just like Max, just like Pietra. We've been through a lot together. It's not about prioritising; it's about recognizing the people who genuinely care about you. You should give her a chance, get to know her better.” Lando continued. Maya rolled her eyes as she shifted closer to Lando, linking her arm through his.

“Baby, she's not like us, she doesn't fit in,” Maya retorted, her tone dismissive.

“Like us? What does that even mean?” Lando asked, baffled by Maya's comment. “Alright, if you want to see me defensive, keep saying stuff like that.”

“Calm down, Lan. I'm just sharing my opinion,” Maya shrugged, trying to downplay the situation.

“No, you're being mean towards her, and that's not cool, Maya. She's only been nice to you,” Lando continued, his voice firm.

“Whatever, Lan. I just think you should focus more on us.” Maya rolled her eyes at him once more. Lando shook his head, feeling a growing frustration.

“It's not a competition, Maya. If you can't accept my friends, then this won't work.” Lando informed her. Maya stared at him, a mixture of anger and hurt in her eyes. “Give her a chance. You might actually like her if you got to know her.”

Maya didn't respond, instead turning her attention back to the bar. Lando sighed, knowing that this was far from over, but determined to stand by his friend.

Cara spotted Lando and Maya in an intense conversation from their reserved booth where she sat with Pietra and Max, who were also chatting away. She nudged Pietra, drawing her attention to the scene unfolding at the bar. Pietra turned to look at what Cara was indicating.

"Trouble in paradise?" Pietra asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Who knows?" Cara sighed again, feeling a pang of discomfort at the sight.

Max, picking up on the shift in conversation, turned his attention to the bar as well. "Looks like things are getting heated over there."

Cara nodded, taking a sip of her drink. "Yeah, it does."

Pietra leaned in closer to Cara. "You okay?"

Cara forced a small smile. "Yeah, just...it's been a weird night."

Max gave her a sympathetic look. "Weird how?"

Cara hesitated, glancing at Lando and Maya again. "Just...Maya's been making things a bit uncomfortable. I feel like I'm in the way."

Pietra put a reassuring hand on Cara's arm. "You know you're not in the way, right? You're part of this group, and we all want you here."

Throughout the night as the drinks flowed, Cara loosened up and even ended up on the dancefloor. She danced with some girls for a while, and then the men started approaching her. Lando ground his teeth, his jaw locked, as he watched her dance against a new man every few minutes, a goofy smile plastered on her face as she did so.

He could feel the frustration bubbling inside him, his protective instincts flaring up with each passing moment. He knew Cara was just trying to have a good time and shake off the evening's earlier discomfort, but it didn't stop the surge of jealousy and concern he felt seeing her surrounded by strangers.

Maya noticed Lando's attention was securely on Cara and nothing else the second she went on the dancefloor, so in a huff, she left the club without saying goodbye to Lando. She felt a sting of betrayal and disappointment as she pushed through the throng of people, heading for the exit. Her dramatic departure went unnoticed by Lando, who was too engrossed in his moment with Cara to see anything else.

Lando was able to contain himself until he saw another new man approach Cara. The man slid in behind her, grabbing her hips as they swayed, and pressed himself right against her. She didn't move away from him, not even when his hands travelled around to her waist and later to her butt and thighs. Lando's blood was boiling as he stood and watched.

Max, noticing Lando's agitation, nudged him. "You okay, mate?"

Lando forced a tight smile. "Yeah, just... keeping an eye on things."

Max followed his gaze to where Cara was dancing, understanding dawning on his face. "She's just having fun, man. Let her enjoy herself."

Lando sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know, I know. It's just hard to watch."

Pietra, joining the conversation, leaned in. "Maybe you should go dance with her?"

Lando hesitated. "I don't know if that's a good idea."

Pietra gave him an encouraging smile. "It might be exactly what she needs. Besides, it's clear you're not happy just standing here."

He walked through the crowd to where she was. The man dancing with her had disappeared, and Lando took the opportunity to wrap his arms around her waist from behind to see what her reaction would be. Instead of pushing his hands away, she rested her hands on his and intertwined her fingers with his. She pressed her body against his and swayed to the beat of the music. She rested the back of her head against his chest and turned her head slightly so she could just, ever so slightly, brush the tip of her icy nose against the skin of his neck.

“You know it's me, right?” Lando asked, his voice soft yet tinged with a hint of amusement.

“Uh-huh,” she hummed, warm from both the alcohol and by Lando’s sudden presence behind her.

“I thought I'd join you,” he replied, trying to keep his tone light. “Looks like you're having fun.”

"I am. But I wouldn't mind a familiar face to dance with,” she admitted, a slight flush to her cheeks.

“Well, here I am.” He grinned, relieved.

Lando and Cara continued to dance, their laughter and movements synchronised. The energy between them was palpable, drawing a few curious glances from onlookers but mostly just blending into the vibrant, carefree atmosphere of the dancefloor. Max and Pietra, seated in the booth, observed the scene with satisfaction.

“Looks like they’re finally letting their feelings take control,” Max commented, leaning back with a contented smile. Pietra nodded.

“It's about time. They both needed this.” Pietra agreed, hinting at all of the months and trips they spent watching Lando and Cara dance around each other and their feelings.

After their night at the club, the unexpected intimacy they shared on the dance floor lingering in their minds, Cara and Lando found themselves back at the apartment. The atmosphere was filled with a mixture of awkwardness and anticipation, as both of them tried to process the shift in their relationship. They had reversed roles for the evening: Lando took the couch, and Cara took his bed.

Cara lay in Lando's bed, surrounded by the scent of him that clung to the sheets and pillows. She turned over and buried her face into his pillow, breathing in deeply. His scent was comforting, but without him being close, it felt suffocating and incomplete. The bed felt enormous and empty without his presence. It was cold. Too cold. She pulled the blankets tighter around herself, trying to find some semblance of warmth, but it was no use. The events of the night replayed in her mind, especially the moment on the dance floor when she had felt so safe and connected in his arms.

In the living room, Lando tossed and turned on the couch. The cushions felt foreign and uncomfortable, a far cry from the familiarity of his bed. The eerie loneliness of the room gnawed at him, amplified by the silence of the early morning hours. He stared up at the ceiling, his thoughts consumed by the feel of touch and the way she had fit so perfectly in his arms. He couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that filled the room without her presence nearby.

Both of them were restless, struggling to find comfort in their new sleeping arrangements. The distance between them felt greater than the physical space that separated the couch from the bedroom. They were both acutely aware of each other's absence, and it weighed heavily on their hearts.

His bedroom door creaked open, and Cara stood leaning against the doorframe, watching Lando toss from one side of the couch to the other. The sight of him struggling to find comfort tugged at her heart. She could see the unease etched on his face, and it mirrored her own feelings of restlessness.

“Not comfortable?” she whispered as she approached him, halting his movements.

“Something like that,” he admitted, sitting back with a sigh. He looked despondent, the weight of the night’s events clearly still on his mind. Cara took a seat beside him, their shoulders brushing. “Why are you still up?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” she confessed, pulling her sweatshirt’s sleeves over her hands. The fabric provided a small comfort against the cold, but it did nothing to quell the chill she felt inside.

Lando sat there, his heart pounding against his ribcage like a caged bird desperate for freedom. His mind raced, a flurry of doubts and uncertainties clouding his judgement. Was this the right moment? Would she think he was being too forward? A myriad of questions bombarded his thoughts, threatening to drown out the faint whisper of courage that urged him forward.

Yet, amidst the chaos of his mind, there was a flicker of something different—an ember of spontaneity and daring that dared to defy his apprehensions. It was that tiny spark that propelled him forward, urging him to take a leap of faith into the unknown. For a brief moment, he hesitated, his lips parting as if to speak, only to falter at the brink of uncertainty.

But then, with a surge of determination, he silenced his doubts and let his words spill forth into the space between them.

"Fancy a cuddle?" he suggested, the words hanging in the air like a delicate promise waiting to be fulfilled.

In that instant, time seemed to stand still, the world holding its breath as they stood on the precipice of possibility. Would she laugh it off, dismissing his offer with a gentle smile? Or would she embrace the spontaneity of the moment, taking his hand and diving headfirst into the unknown?

As the blush bloomed across her cheeks, Lando felt a surge of anticipation mingled with a hint of vulnerability. He watched her, his heart pounding in his chest, wondering what her response would be. For a moment, she seemed to retreat within herself, her gaze flickering away from his as if grappling with an inner turmoil.

Then, just as he began to fear that his suggestion had been too bold, she surprised him. With a deep breath, she rose from her seat, her hand extended towards him in a silent invitation. It was a gesture filled with a quiet determination, a silent affirmation of trust and curiosity.

Lando felt a rush of relief flood through him as he accepted her hand, letting her lead him back to his room. The air between them crackled with anticipation, the weight of their unspoken feelings hanging heavy in the space around them.

Once inside, he closed the door behind them, the sound echoing softly in the silence. He watched as she made herself comfortable under the covers, her movements graceful yet tinged with a hint of uncertainty. It was a simple act, yet it spoke volumes—a silent agreement to embrace the intimacy of the moment, to explore the connection that pulsed between them.

As Lando slipped out of his shirt, the fabric falling away to reveal the contours of his frame, it felt like shedding a layer of inhibition, a symbolic gesture of vulnerability and intimacy. It was a routine he had grown accustomed to, a small act of comfort and familiarity in the quiet moments before sleep claimed him.

With a silent grace, he joined her beneath the covers, the warmth of the blankets cocooning them in a world of their own making. And as he settled beside her, he felt a sense of rightness wash over him—a feeling of belonging that transcended words or explanations.

She welcomed him into her embrace with a natural ease, her body fitting against his like two pieces of a puzzle finally finding their perfect match. He could feel the gentle rise and fall of her breath against his neck, a soothing rhythm that lulled him into a state of contentment.

Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he pulled her close, relishing the sensation of her skin against his own. It was a simple gesture, yet it spoke volumes—an unspoken promise of protection and comfort, a silent declaration of love and devotion.

With her hand resting on her exposed stomach, he felt a surge of tenderness well up within him.

“Tell me something nobody else knows about you,” Lando quipped in an attempt to distract himself from the feeling of her body against his.

“I am absolutely terrible at skiing,” she whispered with a small chuckle.

“Is that why you didn’t come to Finland with us?” he realised.

“Partly, yeah,” she chuckled. “I did have to work, too.”

“I can teach you, you know, how to ski,” he offered.

“You’d be teaching a wall how to walk, not going to happen,” she countered.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m a great teacher. Just look at how great you are now at karting,” Lando teased with a knowingly smile.

“Alright, fair enough,” she conceded, chuckling slightly at his cockiness.

The excitement of their banter dissipated into the tranquil embrace of the night as she nestled her head into the curve of his neck once more. Her breath, warm yet tinged with a hint of chill, ghosted across his skin, sending shivers down his spine.

Lando's fingers traced gentle patterns over her arm, the warmth of her touch a soothing balm against the tumultuous currents of his thoughts. He tried to coax himself into a state of sleep, to let the gentle rhythm of their breaths lull him into oblivion. But amidst the quiet darkness, the desire that simmered beneath the surface refused to be ignored.

With each passing moment, the urge to lean in and capture her lips in a tender kiss grew stronger, a silent plea that echoed in the depths of his soul. He turned his head slightly, his gaze meeting hers in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the window.

Their eyes locked in a silent exchange, a wordless conversation that spoke volumes of unspoken desires and hidden truths. In that fleeting moment, the world fell away, leaving only the two of them suspended in the timeless embrace of the night.

“I really want to kiss you,” he confessed, his voice so soft it was barely a whisper.

“Okay,” she mimicked his tone and volume, her breath warm against his skin.

With a tender reverence, Lando cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing lightly across her skin. He leaned in, closing the small distance between them, and gently pressed his lips against hers. The kiss was soft and delicate, a gentle caress that spoke of all the unspoken words and feelings they had shared.

For the first time in a very long time, Lando felt butterflies fluttering in his stomach—the good kind that signalled something special, something real. It wasn’t a hungry or desperate kiss, but one filled with sweetness and tenderness, a reflection of how he felt about her.

When he finally pulled away, he watched her eyes remain closed, her face serene as she absorbed every moment of the lingering sensation. A smile curved her lips, and in that moment, Lando knew that this simple kiss had sealed something profound between them.

They spent the rest of the night wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and intimacy, gazing at each other with a mixture of wonder and contentment. The world outside their little bubble seemed to fade away, leaving only the soft glow of the moonlight and the quiet whispers of their shared breaths.

With tender curiosity, they traced invisible shapes into each other’s skin, their fingertips leaving trails of warmth and affection. Each touch was a silent declaration, a wordless conversation that spoke of their growing closeness and the trust they had built.

Her fingers played gently with his hair, twirling soft strands between her fingertips, while he marvelled at the delicate way she moved. In return, his hand found its way to her hair, smoothing it back from her face with a tenderness that made her heart flutter.

As the night wore on, their words grew softer, their touches slower, each moment drawing them deeper into the embrace of sleep. The rhythm of their breaths synchronised, creating a soothing lullaby that carried them towards slumber.

Finally, with their bodies entwined and hearts beating in unison, they drifted off to sleep, each wrapped in the comfort of the other’s presence. And as they slipped into dreams, the night held them close, a silent witness to the beginning of something beautiful and enduring.

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fantasyescapes17 · 1 year

Text

Wings (Part 1)

Your debut in society was as spectacular as one could be, but nobody had prepared you for what came afterward. When you find yourself overwhelmed during your very first season and unable to keep up with the rat race to secure yourself an eligible husband, a curious mentor appears- in the form of notorious flirt and self-proclaimed rake, Mr. Kim Mingyu.

Genre: Mingyu x Female!reader. Regency!AU (It's sort of Bridgerton-esque in the sense that I give zero attention to historical accuracy and prioritize aesthetics lmao) You are Jeonghan's sibling so your last name is Yoon but the reader has no other physical characteristics.

Warnings: Reader frequently displays signs resembling (undiagnosed) social anxiety.

Word Count: 5k+

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Series Masterlist [You WILL need to read Patience, the earlier installment in this series first in order to understand the character dynamics in this story. Reading Candle before this is also strongly recommended.]

Your mother's grip on your arm was painfully tight.

Today was, after all, one of the most important days of her life. Mrs. Yoon had presented one of her daughters at court a few years earlier (your elder sister) but the stakes were much, much, higher with you.

"I never had much hope for your sister," your mother said dismissively as she fussed with the exquisite fabric of your dress. The heavily embroidered gown had been custom-ordered for today; the day of your presentation. Being presented in court before the queen was a vital ceremony that every marriage-minded young lady undertook to enter society as a debutante.

"Mother…" you said patiently, but she ignored you, too caught up in her own nerves to notice your discomfort.

"I knew that your sister would cause trouble and look what she did- courting a widower-oh! I cannot bear to think of it. Thank goodness she is not here to ruin your debut. My darling, you have no need to worry. You are far more beautiful than your sister, and your manners are sweet and reasonable. You will make us very proud."

You may have been sweet and reasonable, as your mother liked to put it, but you were not ignorant. The weight your mother had placed on your shoulders to make a splash during your debut social season and snatch up an eligible gentleman was not easy to carry.

Neither was the dress you wore that weighed about two tons.

"We are next," your mother released your dress and turned her attention to your hair. "Remember what I taught you. Walk slowly and confidently. Keep your face lowered but not so low that they can't see your pretty features, and-"

Your mother did not have time to finish. The man at the entrance to the royal throne room announced your name loudly.

"Miss Yoon, presented by her mother, Mrs. Yoon!"

Your chest tightened. Taking a deep breath, you walked forward slowly and gracefully in the same way that you had practised hundreds of times at home. The large hall was filled with quietly chattering members of the ton. The most elite society of London had their eyes on you.

You did not look around the grand hall in fear of setting off your fragile nerves. Instead, you chose a spot on the velvet carpet at the foot of the Queen's throne and fixed your gaze firmly on it as you walked forward. You finally reached the throne and bowed deeply.

"Hmm," the Queen said as she observed you. You did not dare lift your eyes to look at her. "A pretty little thing. She will do well."

Relief.

You could almost feel your mother's delight radiating from a few steps behind you as you bowed once more to the queen and turned to leave. The walk back felt much easier. Although the dress was just as heavy as it had always been, some of the imaginary load had been shed and your shoulders felt lighter.

The presentation had gone well.

Or at least, it had not gone badly.

Your mother embraced you once you were outside and you allowed yourself to slump against her in a mixture of exhaustion and relief. You had been dreading, dreaming and preparing for this day for weeks, and it was finally over.

"Sister!" Jeonghan hurried out to greet you. You beamed at the sight of your half-brother.

"Was I all right?" you asked hopefully.

"You were excellent," Jeonghan promised you with a smile. He was accompanied by his newly wedded wife; a cheerful young lady who had been very kind and welcoming to you since your arrival in London.

"You were the most beautiful young lady in the room," your sister-in-law told you excitedly. "The Queen only spoke to two of the other girls- so you were certainly one of her favourites. Her Highness never said anything to me during my debut," she added with a laugh.

You found that difficult to believe. Jeonghan's wife was incredibly beautiful and charming.

"Thank you so much-"

"All right, it is time we took our leave," your mother interrupted stiffly.

It was no secret that your mother did not like her step-son, and she disliked his new wife equally. Your sister-in-law had unwittingly usurped your mother’s position as the lady of the Yoon household. The two women clashed on multiple subjects and could not seem to agree on anything- from the colour of the upholstery to the treatment of household staff.

You preferred not to be caught in the middle of that particular storm.

Jeonghan nodded. "Then we will see you at dinner. Congratulations, sister. The most difficult part is over. You will have a wonderful season ahead of you."

If only your brother had known how terribly mistaken he was.

—-----------------------------------------------------

Dear sister,

I have heard from Jeonghan that your presentation at court was spectacular. I expected no less from you. You are undoubtedly one of the most beautiful young ladies this season. I am sorry I could not be there, but mother insists that I stay away from London for fear that my status as a spinster will raise questions and cast a shadow over your prospects.

Do not worry for me! It is peaceful here back home. Mother’s absence makes it easier for me to write to Seungcheol; and if circumstances allow, he may come visit me soon (of course Mother must never hear of this). Seungcheol sends his best regards for your first season and asks me to warn you to be wary of rakes- but I am sure Jeonghan will keep you safe from them. Once you take your pick of London’s finest, we may have a joint wedding!

I am sure that offers for your hand will begin rolling in soon. Mother and Jeonghan shall be quite overwhelmed. Do not forget to write to me often!

Your loving sister.

You folded the letter and tucked it safely away in your drawer. You knew that your elder sister wanted nothing but the best for you. It had been years since she had fallen in love with Choi Seungcheol- a widower and father to a young boy. But their match was unseemly and your sister had kept the courtship hidden for many years out of fear that it would tarnish your future prospects. Even now, the couple waited patiently to be married until you had secured your own matrimonial bliss.

You were not ignorant of their sacrifice.

Both your sister and Seungcheol were very dear to you, and although neither of them would ever say it aloud, you were the reason they could not live together as husband and wife. You considered it your responsibility to make the most of your time in London. You would secure a husband before the season ended.

Surely it could not be so difficult?

Your mother had insisted on putting you in the most restrictive of dresses (‘to better show your figure, my dear!’) so you felt breathless and anxious throughout the carriage ride to the Graham manor. You were on your way to the first social event of the season- the Duchess of Graham’s spectacular opening ball, where you would experience London society at its grandest for the first time.

“Sister, are you all right?” Jeonghan asked you worriedly, as he helped you down from the carriage.

You swallowed and nodded. “Y-yes, of course.”

“You look rather unwell.”

You felt unwell. The enormous Graham manor loomed before you in all its grandeur, and multiple carriages were parked on the road with various well-dressed ladies and gentlemen descending. Many paused to glance at you curiously on their way to the manor, and you felt exposed and anxious.

It was dawning upon you how enormous this all was. Most of the people at the ball would have heard of your presentation in court. They would be watching you, judging you, talking about you. Even the smallest mistake could mean the end of your season.

You suddenly could not breathe.

"Come, sister," Mrs. Yoon (your sister-in-law) said. She had noticed your anxiety and took your arm in hers in a friendly manner. "Your presentation at court has caused quite the stir. There are many gentlemen eager to share a dance with you this evening, so you shall not be left wanting for dance partners.”

“It’s only… this is my first ball…” you choked out nervously.

“Not to worry! I was terribly nervous during my debut season as well, but you will begin to enjoy it soon!”

You had no option but to take her word for it. There was a sea of fashionably dressed people gathered in the foyer of the manor. More than you had ever seen at once in your life, having spent most of your youth at your family’s remote countryside estate. Numerous eyes were on you. You could already feel your skin heating up underneath your heavy gown, and sweat beading on your forehead.

“Well! If it isn’t Mr. and Mrs. Yoon Jeonghan!”

Your brother and sister-in-law were interrupted by greetings from a pair of gentlemen. You did not recognize either of them- so you had no choice but to stop and force a smile as your brother and sister-in-law greeted them warmly.

“I am surprised to see the Lees have arrived in London early this season,” Jeonghan said to them with a smile.

“We could scarcely continue to hide in the shadows after our sister married a Viscount. Her marriage has given the rest of us renewed hope for our own prospects,” the taller of the two laughed jovially. He was very handsome- with a bright smile and kind eyes. Your stomach clenched in anxiety once more as he turned and his eyes fell on you. “Oh! Is this the much-anticipated debutante Miss Yoon?”

You forced a curtsey.

Jeonghan nodded. “Yes- this is my youngest sister Miss Yoon. She was presented in court only last week. Sister, allow me to introduce you to Mr. Lee Jihoon and Mr. Lee Seokmin. They are the brothers of Viscountess Hong, whom you may have met earlier this week.”

You had a vague recollection of meeting the Viscountess at a ladies’ tea a few days ago. But the memory was pushed to the back of your mind when you discovered a large hand extended towards you. It belonged to Mr. Lee Seokmin- the owner of the bright smile and kind eyes.

“We have heard so much about you, Miss Yoon. May I ask you to join me for the first dance of the evening?” Seokmin asked.

It was as though you had forgotten how to speak. Mr. Lee Seokmin waited patiently for you to respond but despite your thoughts whirling at a hundred miles an hour, you simply could not force your lips to make any noise. There was a brief silence before your sister-in-law spoke on your behalf.

“I am sure Miss Yoon would love to join you for a dance, Mr. Lee,” she promised. “You must simply allow us to visit the refreshment tables first. A glass of water is much needed in this warm weather.”

Seokmin nodded in understanding. “Of course! You must wait here and we will find someone to bring you some water immediately.”

You felt your tense shoulders relax slightly when the gentlemen disappeared into the crowd of people, and you were left alone with your sister-in-law. She turned to you with concern.

“My dear, are you all right?”

“I am fine,” you reassured her breathlessly. “I-I do not know what happened, my mind simply seemed to freeze and I could not think of what to say to him. He was so handsome and gentlemanly and I-I…”

Mrs. Yoon grasped your hand and smiled.

"You seem so nervous! You must not worry. Mr. Lee Seokmin is a very nice young gentleman- I have danced with him before myself -and I think it is an excellent idea for you to start your ball by dancing with him."

Her words felt distant. They did nothing to ease your anxiety. There were still too many eyes on you and your chest still felt tight. Your mind would not stop considering all the different scenarios in which this monumentally important evening could go terribly, terribly wrong.

You were grateful for the silk gloves that concealed how sweaty your palms had become.

Seokmin returned a few moments later with a glass of water for you. You accepted it with a trembling smile, and forced yourself to drink a little as your sister-in-law engaged Seokmin in polite conversation about his family.

"Ah- I believe the dancing is beginning!" Seokmin announced suddenly. The musicians had taken their places, and he held out his hand to you. "Shall we?"

You took his hand and glanced at your sister-in-law, who gave you an encouraging smile. Your feet felt numb as you followed your dance partner to the centre of the room. The ballroom was enormous. You could see other young ladies far more graceful, confident, and beautiful than you standing up to dance as well. Miss Hong, Miss Ella Williams, and even the Duchess herself stood with their dance partners.

How could you compete? How could you stand up in a dance beside these accomplished women? Yes, your mother had paid for a tutor to teach you how to dance but she had said nothing, nothing about how positively nerve-wracking it would be to stand up in a room full of people with their eyes on you while other ladies smiled and glided effortlessly along!

"Are you all right, Miss Yoon?" Seokmin asked you kindly as you took your place among the dancers. "You seem rather flustered."

Your throat still felt tight. "I-I am fine…"

He nodded and smiled. The music began, and Seokmin slowly led you into the dance and initiated a light conversation.

"You bear a striking resemblance to your elder sister. I knew her rather well. I and some of the other gentleman here who were privy to her… courtship with Mr. Choi often danced with her to ward off other suitors."

Mr. Lee Seokmin was not at fault. He had only done what any gentleman meeting with a new lady would do. He had found a topic of shared interest and attempted to initiate a conversation.

He could not have known that he had said the worst possible thing to ease your nerves.

You thought of your sister- your poor, darling sister who was depending on you to have a successful season and snatch up an eligible husband as soon as possible; your sister who had suffered through so many balls dancing with men she did not love solely for your benefit. She would be sitting at home and waiting to hear news of how you had charmed all of London's young men.

The thought of disappointing her made you sick.

"Miss Yoon?" Seokmin asked when you did not respond. He laughed uncomfortably. "I apologise, I did not mean to offend- perhaps this was an inappropriate setting to mention your sister or Mr. Choi…"

Your eyes widened.

"No!" you cried. "No, I…"

*Yes?"

"I love my sister very much!" you blurted out loudly.

Seokmin blinked, surprised at your sudden declaration. "Ah; yes, I imagine so. She spoke of you often. I understand you are very close?"

You nodded. It was your turn to speak but you could not think of anything to say to him. Your mind raced in a panic as you tried to think of something to reply with while keeping pace with the dance. You stumbled; Seokmin was surprised but managed to keep his grip on your gloved hand and ensured you did not fall.

You were mortified.

"I-I am so terribly sorry," you stammered.

Seokmin chuckled. "That is perfectly all right, Miss Yoon, it happens to the best of us. Are you all right? Did you wish to sit down?"

Your ankle suddenly throbbed painfully. The stumble had thrust it into the wrong position and the sheer pain brought tears to your eyes. You blinked them back as you shook your head.

"No, no," you said hurriedly. To sit down in the middle of your very first dance would surely attract far too much attention. You could not afford that kind of infamy. A young lady's first ball set the tone for the rest of the season, your sister-in-law had said so many times before, and you could not allow it to end like this.

Seokmin frowned. "Miss Yoon, you really do not seem-"

"I am fine," you insisted breathlessly. You desperately tried to focus on anything but the pain in your ankle. Swallowing back your tears you looked up at Seokmin. "D-do you have any siblings of your own, Mr. Lee?"

He tilted his head in mild confusion. "Well- yes. You met my brother Jihoon earlier, and the Viscountess Hong is my sister. I also have three younger siblings who are not out in society."

Oh no. You realised your stupidity too late. Of course Seokmin had siblings, Jeonghan had told you about them mere minutes earlier! How could you ask the Viscountess' brother if he had siblings? What a fool you must have looked to ask a question that you should have known the answer to!

"I-I apologise, I should have known-"

"Not at all. It is your first season, Miss Yoon, it is perfectly understandable that you may have been confused."

You flushed in embarrassment. You were ruined. Seokmin would tell all the other gentlemen of the ton that the younger Miss Yoon was a bumbling idiot; that she had no idea how to dance, or hold a conversation, and that she was rude enough to ask him about his siblings when she should have known them by name….

You could not look at Seokmin. The awkwardness and concern on his face was only adding to your growing dread. The pain in your ankle was becoming more and more difficult to conceal, and you could not keep your thoughts in order. Tears were springing to your eyes again.

The dance finally came to an end. The silence that followed the last few notes of the music brought with it an immense relief, and you did not even wait to thank Mr. Lee Seokmin for the dance before you hobbled away from him. You needed to get away from the noise and the crowd and the staring eyes and judgemental faces, you needed a moment to simply breathe.

The Duchess of Graham's manor was enormous and it was not very difficult to slip out of the ballroom relatively unnoticed. Your ankle was in incredible pain and you could not go far. You found the first door and burst out onto a deserted balcony.

The cool night breeze allowed you to take a refreshing gasp of air. The combination of the pain in your ankle and your crippling anxiety led you to simply close your eyes and lean against the barristers. You had not been able to manage one dance without panicking! How would you make it through the rest of this evening?

Perhaps you could hide here until the dancing ended?

It was the only option you had left. You could not-would not- go back into that crowded ballroom full of watching eyes and fashionable young men and women that were so confident and graceful and intimidating. The mere thought filled you with a deep and intense dread. Your ankle throbbed, and you slumped down with your back against the barristers and cradled it as you fought back more tears.

You did not know how long you sat there on the balcony. The distant music from the ballroom must have stopped and restarted a few times before you suddenly heard the door to the balcony open once more.

You froze. A tall, startlingly handsome gentleman entered the balcony with a cigar held loosely between his lips. He did not notice you immediately; he was too busy trying to light the cigar despite the gentle breeze blowing. He grumbled to himself a few times before finally managing to light it. The man took a long, satisfying drag and the balcony was filled with the smell of tobacco smoke.

There was a sudden, sharp gust of wind that blew the smoke in your direction along with a wave of pollen from the lush, blooming garden below.

You sneezed.

The man jumped in surprise and turned to you with wide eyes. "For heaven's sake- what are you doing down there?" he demanded.

You were mortified. You could not speak. He squinted at you in the dim light streaming through the manors windows.

"Are you injured?" he asked, noticing how you were clutching your ankle. He frowned and peered at you more closely. "You look very familiar… surely, you're not…ah! Are you the younger Miss Yoon? I know your sister!"

It was too much. The mention of your sister tipped you over the edge that you had been teetering on all evening.

You burst into tears.

The young gentleman looked horrified. He stood there for a moment with his mouth gaping open before he pulled out a handkerchief and tried to give it to you. You were too mortified to take it. You simply buried your head in your hands and sobbed your eyes out.

You heard the gentleman leave- there was the sound of the balcony door closing, and then it opened again after less than a minute and multiple footsteps were audible.

"Oh! Here she is- my dear, we have been looking for you everywhere!" your sister-in-law's arms came to wrap around you and you allowed yourself to relax in her warm embrace. Your brother was not far behind her.

"What did you do, Mingyu?" Jeonghan demanded with a frown.

Mr. Kim Mingyu- the gentleman who was rapidly putting out his cigar against the balcony railing, paused and looked both bewildered and affronted.

"What did I do?" he cried. "I will not pretend as though I have never made a young lady cry, but really, Jeonghan, I barely said a word to her before she burst into tears!"

"Nobody saw you?" Jeonghan insisted.

"Of course not. Everyone was far too busy chatting about Miss Hong and that unfortunate business up in the library-"

"All right, all right. Thank you for calling us."

Your brother came over to help you up. Jeonghan sighed when he noticed your ankle. "Can you walk?"

You shook your head miserably.

"All right. Here- lean on my shoulder. Your mother is going to be furious…"

—----------------------------------------------------

Your mother was furious.

"I should never have trusted you to chaperone her!" she yelled at your sister-in-law. "How can you tell me that she danced only once- and to have allowed her to injure herself! How will she dance at the upcoming balls?"

Your sister-in-law sighed.

"Madam, I will confess that perhaps I could have kept a closer eye on her, but really, the injury was an accident. I am not sure how you expect me to have prevented it from happening," she retorted irritably.

Your mother was incensed. "I shall certainly expect nothing more from you! I shall escort my daughter to all the balls for the rest of the season myself!"

Your eyes widened.

"Mother, no…"

"Hush," your mother snapped. "I don't want to hear another word from you. Injuring your ankle at the very beginning of the season! As though you had never been taught to dance! I want nothing from you, except to heal that ankle as soon as possible!"

You bit your lip. "Yes, mother…"

"I am off to Mrs. Patty's to see what the rest of the ton thinks. We must count our blessings that the Viscount's sister made an absolute spectacle of herself the same night, so word of your poor debut was not the most gossip-worthy event of the evening."

You bit your lip. It seemed unkind to take relief in another young lady's misfortunes but those were the cards you had been dealt. Your mother stormed out of the parlour and your sister-in-law came closer to you.

"Are you all right?" she asked gently. "How is your ankle?"

It was swollen. The doctor had been by and had advised you to rest for a few days and that you should be in a position to walk normally in a week's time.

"Better," you lied.

"You look quite miserable, my dear."

"I-I dread to think of how I shall manage the next ball. Mr. Lee was so gentle and kind, but I still panicked and could not bring myself to converse normally with him. I am sure he will tell the entire ton that I am a bumbling fool!"

"I am sure he will not," Mrs. Yoon said firmly. "He is not so unkind."

"And if the next man is not as kind as him? What if I make a bigger fool of myself in front of someone far more important? How shall I ever find a husband if I cannot even dance or converse with gentlemen? Were you this nervous when you debuted?" you cried.

She sighed. "I will confess I was not. We each have skills which come more naturally to us than others. But you need not worry. That does not mean that you will never be able to charm a gentleman. It only means that you need more practice in the arts of… conversation and flirtation than others."

You blinked at her. "Will you practice with me?"

"I would love to- but it will not help. You are too comfortable with me. You need to practice under more realistic conditions with a real gentleman. But a gentleman with whom the stakes are low, and who will not mind if you make a few mistakes."

A servant entered the parlour and curtsied. "Mrs. Yoon- a Mr. Kim Mingyu has arrived to see you."

"Yes- please show him in," your sister-in-law replied before smiling at you. "Your practice gentleman is here, it seems."

You stared at her in disbelief.

"What?"

Mr. Kim entered the room. You had not been able to see him clearly in the darkness and emotional haze of the Duchess' ball the previous night, but he appeared in front of you now, in all his present glory.

Kim Mingyu was tall and handsome, with a charming smile and twinkling eyes that radiated a mixture of playfulness and confidence. He wore a fashionable riding coat. His dark hair was soft and brushed his forehead lightly.

You were stunned into silence.

"Excellent," your sister-in-law said when she noticed your horrified expression. "That look is exactly what we are hoping to ease you out of, with enough practice. Mr. Kim; come join us!"

Mingyu gracefully took a seat across from you and flashed his perfect smile.

"Miss Yoon," he greeted you. "I must apologise for my behaviour the previous night. I really did not see you on the balcony."

You opened your mouth to respond but no words came out. Clenching your fists, you forced yourself to respond calmly. "No-I mean…it was not… you did nothing wrong… I was hiding…"

Mr. Kim bit back his smile.

"Ah," he said calmly, with a tone of understanding. "I see the problem."

Your sister-in-law turned to him. "As you can see, Miss Yoon is having some trouble engaging in conversation. I thought, as one of the more experienced bachelors of the ton in matters of flirtation and courtship, you might be persuaded to take her under your wing."

Mingyu grinned. "I would be delighted."

You stared at them. "But-but…"

"Mr. Kim is a notorious rake," your sister-in-law told you matter-of-factly. You stared at the gentleman sitting across from you in shock, expecting him to be offended by her name-calling, but Mingyu only nodded solemnly.

You had to object. "Sister, surely he is not-"

"No, Mrs. Yoon is perfectly right," Mingyu interrupted you. "I have gathered quite the reputation for myself and it is wholly deserved."

"O-oh."

"Mr. Kim has generously offered his services," your sister-in-law continued. "He is not only prepared to teach you how to flirt and converse with gentlemen at social events, he is also prepared to enter into a public courtship with you until you are ready to venture out on your own."

"A courtship?" you demanded.

"It is, of course, a false one," Mingyu explained to you calmly. "It may take some time until you are fully ready and confident enough to converse with your real suitors. Until then, I would be happy to play the part of a jealous, lovesick suitor who intends to keep you all to himself. I shall interfere and sweep you away from any gentlemen you are not ready to speak to. I can prevent further uncomfortable situations and act as a buffer. This way, you will not appear rude, and the blame for any unpleasant situations will fall upon me."

"I see…."

Your sister-law nodded. "Once you are ready, you may publicly end your courtship with Mr. Kim and proceed to pursue the man of your choosing. Nobody will blame you- he is a known rake, after all, and you would not be the first young lady to have her heart broken by him."

"Well," Mingyu chimed in with a gracious smile. "I will not presume that Miss Yoon wishes to have her heart broken by me. If it suits you better, I will be delighted to pretend that you were the one who broke my heart. We may orchestrate the ending of our courtship in a manner of your choosing."

You swallowed. "But my mother-"

Your sister-in-law grinned. "Mr. Kim is an only son and is the sole owner of a very wealthy estate not far from where the Chois live. Your mother will not object to him courting you. Of course, she need not know the truth."

It was an elaborate and dangerous scheme. You were not sure if it would succeed but you could see the genuineness in your sister-in-law's eyes. She really wanted to help you, and after the disaster at the Duchess of Graham's ball, you would be a fool if you did not admit that you needed all the help you could obtain.

You would have to trust her.

"Miss Yoon?" Mr. Kim asked with a charming smile. "Do I have your permission to court you?"

You took a deep breath and nodded.

"Yes, Mr. Kim. You do."

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