#face claim directory | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fluentmoviequoter · 2 months

Text

Doggitude

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x teacher!fem!reader (+ Kojo!)

Summary: After Tim takes his bad day out on you, you leave. Kojo misses you and does everything he can to see you again.

Warnings: angst, argument, Tim insults/belittles reader and her job, fluffy ending! KOJO!!

Word Count: 2.8k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Tim loves you, and loves his job, but sometimes those sides of him are at odds. You are happy, bubbly, a ray of sunshine in a dark world, whereas his job shows him only the dark. Each side of Tim impacts the others; a good day with you leads into a good day at work, and a bad day at work is occasionally taken out on you.

Tim knows he isn’t a great boyfriend, and he can be abrasive and use you as an emotional outlet when things aren’t going well. He tries, he really does, but some bad days make being a good person seem impossible.

This week, Tim has worked several shifts back-to-back and is in a terrible mood when his shift finally ends. He’s ready to get home, but he just wants to enjoy some quiet and go to sleep, so he decides not to call you. Even as he sees your picture on his phone screen, he finds your smile a bit too bright. You’re different than him, and Tim usually loves that, but at the end of three consecutive bad days, Tim wants to stew in his anger rather than see something bright, like looking into the sun after extended time in a cave.

✯✯✯✯✯

You’ve been spending time at Tim’s house while he’s been at work. Every minute with Kojo in the otherwise empty house has made you miss Tim even more. Your kindergarten class has been rowdy all week, but you refuse to let them dampen your mood. Excited at the idea of Tim finally coming home tonight, you sit with Kojo and wait, reviewing lesson plans and report cards in your spare time.

✯✯✯✯✯

Kojo looks up from your lap when the front door opens, and you smile brightly when Tim enters. He doesn’t notice you as he drops his bag and sighs.

“Hey,” you greet. “We missed you this week.”

Tim clenches his jaw as he turns to face you. “Have you been here every night this week?”

Nodding, you explain, “I wanted to see you, but I also needed to take care of Kojo.”

He remains silent, his eyes focused on something behind you.

“Are you okay? I know it’s been a long week, but-“

“You don’t know,” Tim says, cutting you off. “You will never understand what a long week really is.”

“Tim, I-“

“No,” Tim snaps, stepping back as he shrugs sarcastically. “You do not understand what it is like for me. Your job is nothing; your long week is because a kid wets his pants, mine is because one of my own gets shot or I lose a suspect, and someone gets hurt because of it. In the grand scheme of things, your job doesn’t matter because people still become criminals and ruin lives like mine!”

Tim’s chest is heaving with anger, every little thing he had to deal with this week weighing on him while he takes it out on you. You bite down on your bottom lip as he continues hurting you, attacking you and the thing you love to make himself feel better.

“You’re angry and tired,” you begin, your smile long gone. “So, I’m going to go-“

“Don’t talk to me like I am one of students. You can barely control them, so don’t try to placate me. I have dealt with criminals who do more work than you.”

A tear rolls over your cheek, and you wipe it away harshly.

“Then go yell at them, since that seems to be what you do to the people you claim to care about,” you reply, grabbing your things.

“Don’t leave.” Tim rolls his eyes as he says it, like you’re overreacting.

“I didn’t want to, but you clearly do. I hope you feel better in the morning, Tim.”

The door slams behind you, and Tim runs his hand over his hair, pinching the tight muscle at the back of his neck. Kojo jumps from the chair where he was sitting beside you, rushing to the closed door and whimpering. He looks back at Tim, whining as he raises his paw toward the door.

“I messed up, didn’t I, Kojo?” Tim asks.

Kojo whines again, a clear ‘yes.’ Kojo has loved you since the moment he met you, and Tim even refers to you as 'Kojo’s mom.' Tim pulls his phone from his pocket, dialing your number. He gets no answer, and Tim can’t blame you, but he also knows better than to chase you. He texts you and puts his phone away, calling Kojo to follow him to bed. Kojo stays at the door, lying down and watching the doorknob.

“Sorry, buddy,” Tim says, leaving his bedroom door open in case Kojo forgives him in the night.

✯✯✯✯✯

Once you are safely in your apartment, you let yourself cry, Tim’s words on a loop in your mind. Your phone rings again, and you see Tim’s name with yet another message. Turning the ringer off, you push your phone away from you and curl up in the middle of your bed, crying rather than sleeping.

Tim has been emotional coming home from work before, saying something you didn’t deserve. He’s never taken it this far or made it about you personally before tonight. His comments about your job had to have come from somewhere, maybe something he’s been hiding. You don’t believe him; you know what you do is important, but Tim hurt you, and you’re not sure it will ever stop hurting.

When the sun appears on the horizon, you call in sick from work, prepared for a long weekend alone. Part of you wants to know if Tim is feeling better today, but then you remember what he did, giving you a bad day in his attempt to minimize his own.

“I miss Kojo,” you whisper, crying again as you remember that it’s not only Tim you’re losing.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Kojo?” Tim calls, growing more worried with each empty room.

Behind the kitchen island, Kojo is sitting and shaking with his head down. Tim kneels before him and lays a gentle hand on his back. Kojo begins whining, a different sound than his reaction to you leaving last night.

“What’s the matter, Kojo?” Tim whispers.

Kojo shakes harder, sliding his front paws out so he’s lying flat on the floor. Tim searches for a nearby vet hospital before picking Kojo up and carrying him outside. Once Kojo is in his truck, Tim drives to the vet hospital. Kojo’s whining turns to short barks as he carries him inside. The vet takes one look at Kojo shaking and leads Tim into an examination room. After checking Kojo's vitals quickly, the vet sets her equipment down and chuckles.

“Mr.?” she begins.

“Bradford. And that’s Kojo.”

“Mr. Bradford, Kojo is faking. There’s nothing wrong with him.”

“He’s- he’s fine?”

“Yes, he is. Dogs sometimes do this when they want attention or after something changes, in an attempt to get it back. Has something like that happened recently?”

Tim looks at Kojo and nods.

“Someone will be in shortly with the paperwork. I’m glad Kojo is healthy. Have a nice day, Bradfords.”

As the door closes, Tim asks, “Wasn’t that a bit dramatic? Did you think I’d call her, and she’d answer for you?”

Kojo looks up and grunts at Tim. Someone knocks before handing Tim the bill and telling him he’s free to go. Tim looks down at the bill and releases a deep exhale. He should be upset with Kojo, but he probably deserves a lot worse for what he did to you.

“She really won’t come back now, Kojo. You spent all my money,” Tim mutters.

Kojo grunts again as Tim clips a leash to his collar. He refuses to look at Tim, upset that he was taken to the vet rather than your side.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim hasn’t texted in a few hours. He either realized you weren’t going to answer or decided he didn’t want to talk. You haven’t read the messages or played the voicemails, too hurt to communicate with Tim in any way. Reading his words or hearing his voice will make you cry harder, and you’re already nearly cried out.

Looking at a framed picture of Kojo, you wish things had been different, wondering if one little choice would have made things end differently. You didn’t sleep last night, and you’re sure you won’t sleep again tonight, too busy crying and mourning the loss of the most important boys in your life. As the sun sets, you begin sobbing, holding the picture of Kojo to your chest as you hear Tim’s angry words in your mind again.

✯✯✯✯✯

Kojo won’t come near Tim, content to sit by the door. When Tim moves, Kojo grunts, turning away. The doorbell rings, and Kojo steps back, watching Tim as he answers it. Signing for a package, Tim ignores Kojo’s growling.

“I can’t make her forgive me, pal,” Tim tells Kojo after he closes the door.

Kojo trots away, turning into the guest room to sleep. Tim sits on the couch, pinching the bridge of his nose as he realizes he has two problems that must be solved. He hurt you, and worse, he hurt you intentionally, and now he has a dog that misses you and blames him. Tim understands why you are ignoring him and why Kojo is upset, too. Reaching for his phone, he texts you again, but the dozens of unanswered texts above the newest make him refrain from calling you.

✯✯✯✯✯

After managing to get an hour and a half of sleep, you hope the third night without Tim will be easier. When you hear a dog barking outside your window and a man talking kindly to the dog as if it will respond, you realize that tonight will likely be the worst. Tim and Kojo do that, have their own language, and you were part of their world for a brief, brilliant moment. And then it was snatched away from you, breaking your heart and hurting your mind in the process.

✯✯✯✯✯

“You have to go outside eventually, Kojo,” Tim says with his arms crossed over his chest and Kojo’s leash hanging from his hand.

Kojo grunts, looks toward the door, and slowly approaches Tim. On the walk, Kojo pulls harder than usual, not listening to Tim when he gives him commands.

“When is this dog-gitude going to pass, Kojo?” Tim asks. “Because there’s nothing we can do.”

Tim doesn’t realize how close he is to your apartment when he enters the dog park. Kojo runs back and forth across the park a few times, glad to stretch his legs after avoiding Tim in the house for a few days. When he stops suddenly, looking at Tim as his back legs drop, preparing to run, Tim knows he can’t stop him.

“Kojo, no!” Tim yells.

Kojo, of course, doesn’t listen. He runs past Tim, out of the dog park, and down the sidewalk as fast as possible. Tim follows behind, pushing himself past his limit to catch Kojo. When he sees the lights of a familiar apartment complex, he realizes that Kojo is finding you.

“Kojo!” Tim calls again, slowing as he begins up the stairs.

✯✯✯✯✯

A dog barks at your door, and for a moment, you think you are imagining Kojo’s presence. When claws scratch against the wood, you open the door slowly. Kojo pushes past you, circling your legs happily. You sink to the floor, wrapping your arms around Kojo. Unaware that you are still crying, you’re surprised when Kojo begins licking your chin, attempting to dry your tears.

Footsteps echo in the stairwell, and when Tim appears in your doorway, panting and pressing one hand to the doorjamb to stay upright, you turn toward him instinctually. Kojo grunts, moving in front of you, blocking Tim.

Tim sees your tears and bloodshot eyes and can’t stop himself from stepping inside. He closes the door and squats, keeping his eyes on you as he lowers to look in your eyes over Kojo’s head.

“Did you read my messages?” he asks softly.

You shake your head, and he nods before leaning back as he sits against the door.

“Do you want me to leave?”

Shaking your head again, you pull Kojo back into your arms and cling to him.

“I’m going to tell you want my messages said, but if you want me to stop I will,” Tim begins. “I never should have said those things about your job, because they were wrong. Teaching is important, and the kind of teaching you do is far more important than what I do. You give kids a chance to be the best they can be, and I have to find the bad people and make them pay for it. You already know that I had a long week, a bad one, too, and I took that out on you. I can’t say much more than I am sorry; I’m so sorry that I talked to you like that. You are the only good part of a life surrounded by grief. I- I wouldn’t forgive me.”

“Why?” you ask against Kojo. “Why did you say those things?”

“You- you’re bright, sunny, happy… all the time.”

“I thought you liked that about me.”

“I love that about you. But, after the week I had, it was just hard to turn away from the hard parts of the job and see pure light.”

“So, you don’t want to come back to-“

“Don’t finish that. This has nothing to do with you. This was all me, trying to deal with a bad week and making it far worse. Hurting you in the process was not my intention, and I can never make up for that.”

You hug Kojo tightly, thinking about what Tim said. Having two completely different life elements like that can’t be easy. If it’s not about him not wanting to come home to you, you’re not sure how to avoid the same thing in the future.

“I’m sorry,” Tim repeats. “And, if you give me a second chance, I will show you that I can separate the two. Bringing a bad day home to you, hurting you, is not an option and I never should have lost sight of that… I’ve missed you.”

“I missed Kojo.”

“Yeah, Kojo missed you too,” Tim replies with a dramatic raise of his brows. “Cost me nearly $1,000 trying to see you again.”

“How?” you ask, looking up at Tim again.

He softens when your eyes meet his. “He pretended to be sick trying to get you to come back, but I just took him to the vet. Emergency visits are expensive, even if there is no reason for it.”

“Did- did you follow him here?”

“Yeah. He ran from the dog park and came straight here.”

“Would you have come here if he hadn’t led you, or would you have just moved on after I stopped answering the phone?”

Tim slides closer until Kojo is the only thing separating him from you. “I would have come. I would have gotten on my knees and begged to apologize.”

“Just to apologize?”

“I can’t force you to forgive me or give me another chance, just tell you that I’m sorry and I miss you like crazy.”

“Well, I missed you like Kojo missed me,” you say quietly.

“That much?”

“I haven’t slept in three nights, so, yeah,” you answer with a chuckle.

Tim raises his hand to your face, placing his fingers under your jaw as his thumb moves gently across your cheek.

“I forgive you,” you whisper, leaning into his touch. “Just promise to talk to me, rather than take it out at me next time you have a bad day?”

“I promise,” Tim replies. “Kojo, move.”

Kojo grunts, moving closer to you.

“Kojo,” you say, smiling when he moves to your side, watching you closely for any sign of hurt.

“He likes you more than me. His mom left and nothing could make it better.”

“Has he been eating? Because I have some of his food here-“

Tim cuts you off, kissing you softly as his hand moves to the back of your neck. He moves slowly, communicating his love and his apology in his movements.

“Can we get off the floor?” you ask.

“Only if Kojo and I can stay for a while.”

“You can stay forever.”

Tim pulls you into his lap, smiling when you grab his shoulders in surprise. He kisses your jaw as he stands, pulling you up and moving to your couch.

“I’m sorry you had a bad week,” you say, patting for Kojo to join you.

“Why are you like this?” Tim replies.

“Because I’m sunny, and bright, and all things happy.”

“Lucky me,” Tim hums.

#tim bradford x reader #kojo bradford #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford #the rookie #requests #fem!reader #kojo bradford. cutie pie extraordinaire.

385 notes · View notes

heaven-s-black-box · 3 months

Text

Blurred Lines- Sunday x fem!Reader

Return to File

Recovery date: February 9th, 2024

Description: A personal entry for the Valentine's event, location: Hotel!

Includes- slight plot, not much smut (sorry), office sex, fem receiving oral

Notes: Not Beta read, also there's so little content/info on Sunday that is is probably ooc. Link to the Valentine's event is HERE, it's still ongoing and I have no requests rn!

Word count: 1 009

Back to directory

Penacony is the land of dreams.

Is a land of dreams. It exists beyond the border of consciousness, tethered to reality by only a single building– a hotel that stands as the only line between dream and reality.

The Reverie.

As a native and current resident in this land of dreams, Sunday prides himself in being able to confidently distinguish between these two faces of his homeland. The hotel in reality is always occupied with people milling about and guests checking in or out. It has an artificial brightness cast upon it by the lights, and despite what guests claim, it’s rather dull. At least compared to the Reverie in the dreamscape. Only there can he see the hotel from the guests point of view, where the hotel itself glows and the lights cast a golden haze.

Also, his office, where he frankly spends most of his time, does not exist in the dreamscape. It doesn’t need to, but if he were to explain to someone how he can tell the difference between the two Reverie’s, that’s what he’d say. The absence of his office gives away the dream and separates it from reality.

If he’s in his office, he’s in reality.

“Sundaaay,” Y/n drags out as she wraps her arms around his shoulders and nuzzles against the side of his face.

His wings flutter against her cheek, making her giggle and place a gentle kiss on the feathery appendage. This earns her a shaky sigh from the leader of the Oak family as he relaxes into her hold, setting his pen down and raising a hand to hold her arm.

“Yes?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Sunday watched Y/n gnaw on her lip as she considered what she wanted to say next. He knew it was getting late, he was expecting her to usher him to bed and perhaps into a date somewhere in the dreamscape, so as she mulled over her words he began to stack the papers he’d been signing. His movements were slow so as not to disrupt her, but when he finished and she still hadn’t moved he turned his chair around and forced her to let go.

He ducked forward as his chair swiveled, narrowly avoiding knocking their faces together, and came to a stop when they were face to face.

“Have you come to usher me to bed?” He prompted upon further silence, settling his hands on her waist. Y/n was still awkwardly leaning over him, but the second his hands touched her waist she straightened up as if snapped from her daze.

“Sorry,” she sighed, letting him drag her into his lap. She took a seat on one of his thighs and threw her legs over the other arm of his desk chair. Sunday ducked his head and began to litter gentle kisses along her neck, nipping gently when Y/n’s hands wrapped around his neck and began to scratch gently at his wings. “I really just came to remind you to eat,” Y/n sighed contently as Sunday kissed up to her jaw, then he pulled away to look into her eyes, “but maybe going to bed is a good idea.”

Sunday’s thumb began to rub gentle arcs against her hip as he leaned in closer, eyes half lidded before they slid shut and his lips connected to Y/n’s. The kiss was slow and lazy, the day’s exhaustion weighing on them both as they finally found themselves in eachother’s warm hold.

Lazy kisses turned into lazily roaming hands as Y/n brought one hand down Sunday’s chest to undo his vest and Sunday’s hand began to bunch her dress up at her waist. The silky fabric of his glove scraped against the skin of her thigh, making the muscles clench up. With a soft chuckle, Sunday spun the chair back around and rapped his knuckles twice against the desk before helping Y/n up.

He took a moment to move the papers he’d been working on into a drawer, and then placed his hands on either side of her hips.

“Well I think I should thank you for taking such good care of me.”

“The door’s not locked.”

“Do you really think someone would have the gall to enter my office without permission?” He whispered against the shell of her ear before kneeling down between her legs.

Y/n dragged her nails against his scalp, tangling the soft gray hair near his wings around her fingers while he kissed up her thigh and helped her out of her underwear.

Sunday prided himself in the ease with which he could distinguish the dreamscape Reverie from its counterpart in reality. His office was a safe space in that way, being tangible proof that he was in reality.

His office was located in reality.

The words floated aimlessly in his head as he licked a wide strip through Y/n’s folds. Her thighs snapped closed around his head, pinning his wings down. Everytime they tried to flutter, a small shudder would wrack Y/n’s body as they tickled her and the shudder would cause her to roll against his tongue making her sigh. Y/n leaned back, resting her weight on her hands, and smoothing her bunched up dress enough to see Sunday’s eyes.

This was reality.

The words faded into the wet slurping as he tongue fucked Y/n, looking up at her through his lashes as he moved a hand from her thigh to her clit. Her eyes screwed shut as the tension in her abdomen grew and she began rolling her hips forward to match his rhythm.

Was he sure this was reality?

The thought grazed the edge of his consciousness as Y/n’s thighs practically crushed his head and he pressed himself further against her cunt. Maybe it was the limited oxygen that had made his mind grow hazy, or maybe it was the pleasured noises coming from the women above him, but…

The lines between dream and reality were starting to blur.

#locked entries #honkai star rail #hsr sunday #hsr sunday x reader #sunday x reader #x reader #female reader #sunday smut #hsr sunday smut #honkai star rail smut #hsr smut #smutshot #smut

286 notes · View notes

smellslikebot · 2 months

Text

"how do I keep my art from being scraped for AI from now on?"

if you post images online, there's no 100% guaranteed way to prevent this, and you can probably assume that there's no need to remove/edit existing content. you might contest this as a matter of data privacy and workers' rights, but you might also be looking for smaller, more immediate actions to take.

...so I made this list! I can't vouch for the effectiveness of all of these, but I wanted to compile as many options as possible so you can decide what's best for you.

Discouraging data scraping and "opting out"

robots.txt - This is a file placed in a website's home directory to "ask" web crawlers not to access certain parts of a site. If you have your own website, you can edit this yourself, or you can check which crawlers a site disallows by adding /robots.txt at the end of the URL. This article has instructions for blocking some bots that scrape data for AI.

HTML metadata - DeviantArt (i know) has proposed the "noai" and "noimageai" meta tags for opting images out of machine learning datasets, while Mojeek proposed "noml". To use all three, you'd put the following in your webpages' headers:

Have I Been Trained? - A tool by Spawning to search for images in the LAION-5B and LAION-400M datasets and opt your images and web domain out of future model training. Spawning claims that Stability AI and Hugging Face have agreed to respect these opt-outs. Try searching for usernames!

Kudurru - A tool by Spawning (currently a Wordpress plugin) in closed beta that purportedly blocks/redirects AI scrapers from your website. I don't know much about how this one works.

ai.txt - Similar to robots.txt. A new type of permissions file for AI training proposed by Spawning.

ArtShield Watermarker - Web-based tool to add Stable Diffusion's "invisible watermark" to images, which may cause an image to be recognized as AI-generated and excluded from data scraping and/or model training. Source available on GitHub. Doesn't seem to have updated/posted on social media since last year.

Image processing... things

these are popular now, but there seems to be some confusion regarding the goal of these tools; these aren't meant to "kill" AI art, and they won't affect existing models. they won't magically guarantee full protection, so you probably shouldn't loudly announce that you're using them to try to bait AI users into responding

Glaze - UChicago's tool to add "adversarial noise" to art to disrupt style mimicry. Devs recommend glazing pictures last. Runs on Windows and Mac (Nvidia GPU required)

WebGlaze - Free browser-based Glaze service for those who can't run Glaze locally. Request an invite by following their instructions.

Mist - Another adversarial noise tool, by Psyker Group. Runs on Windows and Linux (Nvidia GPU required) or on web with a Google Colab Notebook.

Nightshade - UChicago's tool to distort AI's recognition of features and "poison" datasets, with the goal of making it inconvenient to use images scraped without consent. The guide recommends that you do not disclose whether your art is nightshaded. Nightshade chooses a tag that's relevant to your image. You should use this word in the image's caption/alt text when you post the image online. This means the alt text will accurately describe what's in the image-- there is no reason to ever write false/mismatched alt text!!! Runs on Windows and Mac (Nvidia GPU required)

Sanative AI - Web-based "anti-AI watermark"-- maybe comparable to Glaze and Mist. I can't find much about this one except that they won a "Responsible AI Challenge" hosted by Mozilla last year.

Just Add A Regular Watermark - It doesn't take a lot of processing power to add a watermark, so why not? Try adding complexities like warping, changes in color/opacity, and blurring to make it more annoying for an AI (or human) to remove. You could even try testing your watermark against an AI watermark remover. (the privacy policy claims that they don't keep or otherwise use your images, but use your own judgment)

given that energy consumption was the focus of some AI art criticism, I'm not sure if the benefits of these GPU-intensive tools outweigh the cost, and I'd like to know more about that. in any case, I thought that people writing alt text/image descriptions more often would've been a neat side effect of Nightshade being used, so I hope to see more of that in the future, at least!

#reference #ai art #ai discourse #not sure how else to tag this #long post

225 notes · View notes

sunvmars · 7 months

Text

if i could give you the moon || s.r.

pairing: steve rogers x afab reader

*navigation/directory | request box | taglist | masterlist

word count: 5.5k (of mostly pain)

summary: your relationship with steve is nothing more than a string of lies and promises in a hearty affair, but hope lingers still.

warnings: swearing, angst, cheating, smut (degradation + appraisal, finger sucking, brief spanking, unprotected p in v, brief mention of hair pulling, use of the names ‘dove,’ ‘bunny,’ and ‘slut.')

a/n: highly recommend listening to moon song and/or midnight love while reading this :,)

‘you pushed me in and now my feet can’t touch the bottom of you’

Love is to be experienced as a delicate, never-ending symphony between two souls. Love is supposed to feel like soft sand under your feet, a perfect breeze flowing through your hair, and warm water wrapping around you in a comforting embrace.

But loving Steven Grant Rogers?

It’s sharp teeth sinking into your flesh that gnaw the meat off your bones. It’s total darkness and an unrelenting dagger piercing your very core. The blade twists, somehow sinking deeper with every thrust of his hips and soft groan that falls from his lips. The warm water that’s supposed to comfort you is freezing cold as it pulls you under, water filling your lungs.

“My pretty girl.”

He says it like it’s a title meant for you, only for you.

“Don’t think I could ever get enough of you,” he sighs. His hips drive faster into “Fuck- got such a tight little cunt, dove.”

You croon, your sounds being drowned out by you shoving your face into your soft comforter. You’d wash the sheets in the morning. It’s always less painful after he goes home when there’s no trace of him left behind.

Steve delivers a hard smack to your ass before gripping the aching cheek roughly in his hand. His free hand comes to rest on your hip so he can force your hips back into his to match his thrusts. He slaps your cheek again with the same roughness, desperate to pull more whimpers and moans from you.

His pace quickens, the tip of his cock deliciously hitting your g-spot as he slides in and out of you. “Come on, sing for me, dove,” he demands.

And you obey; loud moans and gasps falling freely from you now. A deep groan emits from the man behind you as your sounds greet his ears. Large hands grip your hips tightly, sure to leave bruises that would have you avoiding mirrors until they disappear.

“Look at that,” he groans as he pulls out of you slowly.

You wince at the obscene squelching noises coming from your sopping heat. He doesn’t notice your discomfort because you don’t allow him to. If he knew about that ache you feel every second of the day that he’s not stretching you out then he’d probably end things for good. Having bits and pieces of him is better than having none of him, you’d decided.

Steve watches closely as he enters you again, speaking through gritted teeth, “So. Fucking. Perfect,” he grunts in between thrusts. “Fuck, I can feel your needy cunt gripping me, bunny.”

“Stevie,” you mewl, grabbing fistfuls of the sheets under you, “Please, please.”

You’re not even sure what you’re begging for anymore. More of him? For him to go deeper into you, to fuck into you so roughly that you forget he’s not yours?

His thrusts slow as his hand tangles in your hair to gently pull you up and against his chest. Your head tilts back against his shoulder, your teary eyes locking with his lustful blues. He rocks his hips at a moderate pace like he’s savoring what he can of you. There’s not much to savor though, most of you has withered away and he takes what’s left of you home with him every night. He’ll return tomorrow night anyway, in your bed, to claim what’s left of your hollowed bones.

He coos softly as his eyes scan over your blissed-out expression, “There’s my girl. Always look so pretty getting stretched out by my cock, don’t you?”

Your jaw goes slack when one of his large hands travels down and between your legs to rub circles on your sensitive clit. The fingers in your hair come to rest under your chin, his thumb being placed in your open mouth. He chuckles when you immediately start sucking on it, relishing in the fact that only he could do this to you. Only he gets the pleasure of turning you this cock-hungry and seeing you this desperate. He’d already ruined every other man’s chances with you because, well, they’re no Steve Rogers- nobody is.

If only he’d thought the same about you as you do about him.

His head tilts to the side, his thumb leaving your mouth with a ‘pop’ as his hand makes its way onto the back of your head. He pushes your head so that your lips smash against his. His soft lips move with yours feverishly in a series of sloppy kisses. He kisses you with the same amount of need he always does, but you kiss him with a desire that runs much deeper than sexual. You need him in every possible way he’ll offer you.

His tongue swipes out in between kisses, urging you to open your mouth. For the first time, you allow him entrance without teasing. His tongue explores your mouth Your tongues swirl together as he explores your mouth. The kisses he offers you always have your mind reeling in the most blissful way. You figure it’s because it’s the closest you’ll get to being filled by him completely; his tongue down your throat, his fat cock stretching you so deliciously, him being yours for the time being- even if only for a few hours.

‘you couldn’t have stuck your tongue down the throat of somebody who loves you more’

“Close, m’close, Stevie,” you breathe out against his lips.

Steve pulls his lips away from yours to tsk at you tauntingly, “Are you? You gonna come all over my dick, bunny?” he asks, the circling motions on your clit coming to a stop so he can softly slap it a few times.

The slaps send a sharp tingle through you and your hips jolt forwards slightly, his cock almost slipping out of you. A growl makes its way from his chest and out of his mouth as he slams back into you fully. You pule when he starts to rub your clit again at the same speed as before.

"Such a pretty baby when you take what I give you- squeezing me so tight, s'like you were made for me."

“Please,” you beg, “Wanna come, please let me come.”

“No, you can wait," he orders.

“Can’t, Stevie. Need to finish.”

“I know you can hold it ‘cause only bad girls come without permission- and you’re not a bad girl, are you, dove?”

He would be the death of you. And you were sure of that simple fact.

“N-no,” you whine, the knot in your stomach tightening.

He chortles as your hips move to meet his, “I know you love being bent over like this, like the dirty little slut you are, but I think I want you on top of me so I can see that pretty face when you milk me,” he says with a grin.

You find yourself unable to conjure up anything other than a low hum as he sinfully ruts into you. His movements quicken, the pressure applied onto your swollen bud increasing. Moans and soft whimpers come from between your lips, your back arching off his chest. He doesn’t let you fall though, and his hand that once was wrapped by your hair flies down to your chest to steady you.

Thick fingers dig into your breast as Steve holds you tighter against him. You mewl when he pinches your hardened nipples between his digits. Somehow you’re able to hold your building release as he rolls the peak around, tugging only slightly. His thrusts become unrelentingly fast and the tip of his lengthy cock slams into your g-spot with a force that’s bordering painful.

‘It’s like you were made for me.’

To you, you were made for him. All of him fits so perfectly with all of you, from your witty personality paired with his serious exterior down to how your walls were molded for his cock.

You wondered if he thought she was made for him too.

Warm, salty tears run down your cheeks slowly as you take the pain that he’s unaware he’s inflicting. The physical pain was being dulled by the pleasure, and some nights that used helped the mental pain too, but not anymore. He places soft kisses on your cheek to kiss away the train of tears.

“What d’ya think, sugar? That sound good to you? You wanna bounce on my cock so I can see all of you?” he questions again, his accent becoming more prominent. You don’t respond, still unable to, so he speaks again, “C’mon, dove. Color?”

You manage to breathe out a, “Gre-green,” the first half of the word getting caught in your throat.

“Good, now come sit on my cock,” he demands as he pulls his girth completely out of you.

His hands pull away from your body, giving you just enough time to steady yourself. You whine at the loss of contact as you lower yourself to your knees, trying to catch your breath. The mattress sinks when he sits next to you before pulling his legs onto the bed, careful not to kick you, and straightening them.

Patiently, he waits with his back sat against your bed frame for you to take your spot on top of him. Rarely did he rush you because he always loses track of time when he’s with you. Not that time matters anyway since the woman he truly belongs to had been picking up the night shift for the last few weeks.

You shuffle on your knees to his side and throw your leg over his to straddle him. Steve's gaze never shifts from your face except for once to look at the sight of your dripping cunt being prodded by the fat head of his length. He grunts quietly when you slowly lower yourself onto him, the tightness of your clenched walls almost pulling him all the way in.

Hands make their way up your thighs with one stopping on your hip and the other on your waist. As you continue to sink down, his thumb brushes underneath your breast as it strokes your side gently. You’ve always been able to take him fully, whether with ease, or with a lot of foreplay that he never really minded because he loves to tease you.

“There we go, little bunny. Such a pretty girl, aren’t you?” he coos, the grip on your hip tightening as he bottoms out inside of you.

The bright blue eyes you’d come to love and hate were significantly darkened now. But that wasn’t unusual during times like these, for his usual sweet gaze to blacken and gloss over with lust and desire.

Almost as soon as you’d sunken fully down, his hand moves you around, swiveling your hips in circles. His length stirs inside of you, hitting that familiar soft spot that makes you gasp. A rough hand kneads your breast as he starts to bounce you up and down on his length. The movement is painfully slow at first but builds up speed after a minute.

You moan loudly as you ride him, not bothering to muffle your noises. As much as you don’t wish pain on her, the selfish part of you wants her to walk in on the unholy scene; him plowing into you, his hungry stare glued to your bouncing tits, the lewd noises of skin against skin filling the room. Maybe if she saw you two like this then you could have him. He was amazing, truly, and you know that you’d want him all to yourself if you were her too.

You take control from him for a moment, pushing down on his chest as you move. He allows you to do so, his hips only moving in the same slow swiveling motions from earlier. His dick swirls inside of you as you ride him and it provides an extra sensation that has you whirling.

That knot in your stomach tangles itself up again as you ride him quicker. You lose control of your movements after a few seconds, your hips stuttering as you try to keep a steady pace. Per usual, as he does with everything you do, Steve takes notice of it quickly.

“You close again?” he rasps, although he’s fully aware of the answer.

He takes over again, bouncing you so that his thrusts meet yours in the middle. He’s also knowing of the fact that you probably won’t find it in you to respond, so he speaks once more.

“You can let go for me now. Been such a good girl tonight, you deserve to come,” he praises you, his voice husky due to his own climax approaching.

“Stevie,” you whimper lowly, wanting to come with him.

“I know, dove, s’alright; come for me, promise I’m right behind you.”

The verbal confirmation is all you need to let yourself release. Your body spasms, your vision blurring into a white static as your eyes shut tightly. An embarrassingly crude string of moans make their way out of your mouth and deep grunts emit from his chest as you clench around him.

Both of his hands come to sit on the back of your head and pull you down to his face. His lips press to yours so hard that both of your mouths open, your teeth clashing. The kiss doesn’t last longer than a few seconds before he’s groaning into your mouth. His lips disconnect from yours and he buries his head into the crook of your neck.

The sight of your face twisted in pleasure stuck in his mind, his thick cock still sliding in and out of you, is all it takes for him to let go too. Strings of hot, white cum paint your insides. The warmth of his seed sends a tingle down to your core that only prolongs your orgasm. His thrusts slow almost to a stop but his hips occasionally rut into you roughly as the two of you ride out your high.

The feeling is both sour and sweet because you know he’s going to leave. He’s going to clean you up, either in a quick shower together or with a warm rag, get you some water, and then hold you until you fall asleep. You’re never sure if he leaves when you’re sound asleep or when the sun starts to rise and his fiancé gets off work. All you know is that he leaves, and he’s never there when you wake up.

And that’s what hurts more than almost everything- that you’ll always be right here waiting for the man who’ll never be waiting for you.

'so i will wait for the next time you want me like a dog with a bird at your door’

“Love you, I fuckin’ love you,” Steve moans quietly against your neck, brushing your hair back softly.

Ouch.

Maybe if it hadn't been the first time he'd said the words, it wouldn't have hurt as much. Or maybe it was always going to hurt to hear them because they're always going to be whispered as a secret.

“Steve…,” you trail.

“I know,” he whispers.

He places a few chaste kisses on your neck before moving his head back up so that his forehead rests on yours. Your fingers dig into his hard biceps as you swallow the lump in your throat. Your chests are pressed together, your heartbeat in sync with his. Soft pants fill the silence that's thick in the room.

"Color?" he asks.

"Green."

Your eyes finally open to meet his gaze. His eyes are softened now, perfectly showcasing the soothing waves of baby blue in them. Tinges of regret and disappointment can be seen beneath all the longing and drowsiness in his eyes.

"Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?"

You offer only a nod in agreement before pulling off of him, his semi-hard cock sliding out of you. He slides off the bed, leaning down to pick up his clothes. You come to stand beside him as he pulls his boxers up, looking up at him affectionately. He then slides his shirt onto your form with ease before helping you pull your arms through the sleeves.

The shirt smells just like him, an intoxicating musk paired with amber and sandalwood. You exchange a knowing, grateful glance with him and he returns the look with a smile. He laces his fingers with yours and leads you to the bathroom in your bedroom.

"D'ya want to take a bath with me tonight, dove? You might be sore tomorrow," he says.

You're almost starstruck by his question. A shower together wasn't uncommon if he had the time to spare, neither was him running you a bath if he was running short on time, but he'd never asked about a bath together before. You'd never thought to ask about it before either, deciding the act was too romantically intimate.

"You'll take one with me..?"

"'Course I will, bunny," he replies, the corners of his mouth turning up ever so slightly, "Is that a yes, then?"

He waits for you to hum a soft 'mhm,' before turning the water on. You sit on the closed toilet as he glances down at you. Without taking his eyes off of you, he leans down to pick up your favorite vanilla bubble bath soap. Only then does he look away from you to pour a decent amount of soap under the running water in your large tub.

Most nights, he wouldn't dare use your soap, let alone bathe in it. It was almost as if he was starting to care less and less about covering his tracks. But you knew that wasn't true and he'd probably just wash your scent off as soon he got home.

Steve sat himself on the edge of the tub next to you, one hand on your thigh and the other swirling the soap to create more bubbles. The first time he'd done this for you, you told him you liked a lot of bubbles, and he remembered that. He always remembered the things you like.

You continued to watch him while the water rose in the bathtub. When it was considerably full with the warm water and thick vanilla-scented froth, he stood and offered his hand to you. A smile graces his lips when you place your hand in his. Once you're standing, he pulls his shirt over your head and helps you lower yourself into the water. The bubbles embrace you as you scoot up to give him enough room behind you.

He joins you only a few moments later, his legs stretching out on either side of you as he pulls you into his lap. His strong arms wrap around your midsection tightly and you melt into his touch. Your eyes close in contentment, your head tilts back to rest lazily on his shoulder.

A chuckle rumbles through his chest as he places a kiss on your temple. Your face nuzzles into his neck to place a soft kiss at the base of his throat.

"You comfortable, dove?"

"More than," you whisper, lost in the feeling of his embrace.

"We can stay like this for as long as you want," Steve replies as he glances down at you, "I promise."

Does he do this for her too? Touch her with such a tenderness that you can’t help but swoon at? Whisper soft, sweet nothings into her ear that would make anyone weak?

Only a few beats of silence pass before he speaks again, "M'gonna give you the world one day," he murmurs, "You're my sunshine, you know that, right?"

'and if i could give you the moon i would give you the moon'

The unusual affectionate sentiments throw you off. It wasn't odd for him to be sweet to you, but it was different for him to be expressing it so verbally. He usually preferred to show his affection towards you in more physical ways- it used to be easier that way. While the words are nice to hear, silky as they roll off his tongue, they sting a little. As far as his loving nature goes, you would never be the first to hear the loving words he spews.

Your heart clenches, but you respond nonetheless, "And you, mine," you whisper back.

Minutes pass by as Steve holds you close in the water, the fragrant bubbles surrounding you both. It's a moment of tender vulnerability that you don't get to share with him often. His whispered promises pierce you, leaving you both longing for more, and you wishing for a future where these moments with him are reserved for you. He's like broken glass slipping through the cracks between your fingers, and you're like water in his hands.

Steve began to gently wash your body, his touch gentle and filled with care as he ran the soapy loofah over your skin. He always knew how to soothe your aches from the physical exertion, but the emotional weight of being the other woman was untreatable. His hands moved in soothing circles, kisses raining down on your shoulders and neck. Occasionally he mumbles little praises like 'my pretty dove,' and 'such a cute little bunny,' in your ear.

"Gonna miss you tonight," you admit as he rinses the loofah in the water.

He pauses briefly before rinsing the bubbles off of you, "I know- I miss you every night, dove."

'Then stay,' you want to say- but you don't.

"But you know I'll always come back to you, right?" he adds, "And even though I leave, my heart always stays here with you."

You want to say more but instead hum another low 'mhm', reaching forward to pull the plug from the drain. The water, tinted slightly white from the bubbles and soap, spirals down the drain. Steve helps you stand and steps out of the tub, grabbing a towel for you and one to wrap around his waist. He cocoons you in a fluffy, plush towel, his touch lingering as he dries you off. Then he dries himself off just enough to throw his boxers back on before taking you back into your bedroom.

"What're you wearing t'night, bunny?" he inquires, leading you to sit on your bed.

He shuffles over to your dresser, awaiting your answer. When he doesn't receive a response, he cocks his brow up at you expectantly, and you shrug back at him.

"Black lace," you finally respond, "And your shirt..?"

When he doesn't answer immediately, nerves pool in your stomach as a manifestation of your worry that you've crossed a boundary. Steve glances at you and a storm of emotions swirl behind his deep blue eyes for a moment. The room feels heavy, the air being replaced with thick tension and unspoken thoughts.

"Sweetheart, I don't know if that's a good idea tonight," he sighs, his head lowering to avoid your gaze.

How silly of you to think you could keep a piece of him here. His bits and pieces you thought you got to keep were reserved for her too, now that you think of it. You merely got her scraps. But he's her fiancé, so what else could you have expected?

"It's alright, I'm sorry," you say, mumbling the added, "Don't know why I asked anyways."

A frown makes its way onto his face, "Bunny, please don't do that,” he coos as he grabs your lace panties from the drawer.

"Don't apologize to me." Steve's eyes soften as he walks over to you, his hand delicately lifting your chin to make you meet his gaze. "You can have my shirt."

"Steve, really, it's-"

"You can have it. I know it's hard not having any piece of me here, I feel the same way when I'm without you, my sunshine," he admits with a soft smile.

"Thank you," you whisper, thanking him for both the offer and the vulnerability he gives you.

His hands cup your cheeks, one thumb brushing your cheek. He presses his lips to yours without another word. The kiss is slow and chock-full of passion, a silent promise of the love he feels for you. You practically sink into the feeling of his lips on yours, cursing whatever force brought you into his life after he met her.

When he breaks the kiss with a soft sigh, forehead resting on yours, you open your eyes. You stare longingly into the familiar seas of blue, getting lost in them. You start to feel like you're drowning again, but, this time, the sinking is caused by the way he looks at you.

'you are sick, and you're married and you might be dyin' but you're holdin' me like water in your hands'

Your body shivers as your air conditioning turns on. He walks to the bathroom to grab the shirt then slides it over your shaking form.

“Better?” he asks softly.

“So much better,” you reply with a yawn, savoring the scent of him on his shirt.

Steve tilts his head in adoration, “I’ll get dressed and we’ll go to bed, okay bunny?”

You nod in agreement then push the disheveled comforter to the far side of the bed. Steve slides back into his pants that were long forgotten earlier in the night before turning to face you. He watches affectionately as you scoot backward on the bed to lie down, a smile threatening to force its way onto his face.

Once you're settled in comfortably, he takes his spot next to you and pulls you into his side. His heart starts to beat a little faster than usual when you lay your head on his chest. A strong arm wraps around your waist to hold you as close as possible, his other hand stroking your hair back in a soothing manner.

Your bedroom is enveloped in an aching silence as Steve holds you as close as possible. Time always seems to stand still whenever he holds you. The only reminder of the outside world's existence is the impending, and unavoidable, separation soon to come that weighs heavily on you. The weight is heavy on him too, but he'd never tell you just how heavy it is for him.

His chest rises and falls with each steady, slow breath he takes. You can feel and faintly hear his heart beating just beneath your ear, a bittersweet reminder that he's real and actually there- that this isn't just a dream.

The room is bathed in a soft glow from the moonlight filtering through your curtains, creating a serene ambiance. It's a serenity that doesn't feel deserved, a stark contrast to the guilt and longing that nip at your flesh.

Steve breaks the silence, "I do love you, you know," he admits in a whisper.

"I know," you reply with an equally soft tone, "and I love you."

"You're my everything," he promises.

"I wish I could be."

"You are," he says reassuringly, "Bunny, you mean everything to me. Please don't ever doubt what I feel for you."

You squeeze your eyes shut tight in an attempt to hold back the tears that long to spill over. You've heard these words before, but tonight they feel more real. Maybe they feel more real because they're only spoken in this intimate space that you and Steve created.

"But you go back to her every night," you mumble, half hoping he didn't hear and half hoping he did.

His movements still, his body tensing for a moment. He heard.

He sighs deeply, "I have to, dove, you know that. But I promise that one day, soon, we won't have to hide. You deserve more than this and I'm going to give you more. Just hang in there for me a little longer."

You want to believe him. You want so badly to believe the promises of a future he's selling you, but you can't. If you give in to all of the promises and all of the desires, what do you have left to keep you grounded? Why gamble in putting your trust in something that's nothing more than an idea?

"I won't ask you to leave her, but who do you want, Steve?"

He pauses as if thinking about his answer, "You. It's always you."

"Then why does it hurt so much?" you whisper with a trembling voice.

His hold on you tightens, "Because you're a good person. Loving you is the most beautiful but agonizing thing I've ever felt, and I can't keep hurting you. I'm going to fix this, okay?"

When you don't say anything, he speaks again, "I wouldn't promise you something I can't keep. Try to get some sleep for me, bunny. I'll be back tomorrow, just like always."

There's a quiet, unspoken understanding between the two of you. For now, you close your eyes and find comfort in his presence and warmth. The soothing feeling of his hand in your hair and arm around your waist puts you to sleep rather quickly. You always fell asleep faster when he was here, and you probably always will.

Steve stares down at your peaceful, sleeping form for about an hour after you fall asleep. His eyes trail over the face he's come to never stop thinking about. From the very moment he wakes until the time he sleeps, he's thinking about you. You never slipped his mind and it didn't seem to matter whether he was with you, her, or by himself.

Of course, he'd never pegged himself as the selfish type, but he was, and he knew it now. He knew it was selfish of him to keep you and her, but he'd be selfish even if he ended things with you earlier since he would always come back to you. Now he was in too deep and it was simply a matter of who he had to hurt; nobody could come out unscathed at this point.

"God, I love you," he murmurs, his statement falling on deaf ears.

He gently lifts your head off of him and onto your pillow before slowly getting out of your bed. After he stands, he tucks you in under your comforter. The room is quiet aside from your soft breathing as he pulls his flannel on, buttoning it up to cover his naked chest. He pulls a little box from his pants pocket and adorns you with the gift he bought for you. Steve takes a brief second to memorize your expression before he turns to leave. When he slips out of the room, he can't help but feel the guilt of the choices and promises he's made.

The door clicks shut behind him, waking you slightly. You notice that his warm figure isn't under you anymore. You'd expected it, but it hurts nonetheless. So, you drift back into an almost restless sleep, hoping to wake up from the cruel dream where the man you love isn't truly yours. A small and irrational part of you prays that when you wake up you'll be in the future; a future where your love can be more than a symphony in the night.

'when you saw the dead little bird, you started cryin' but you know the killer doesn't understand'

When you wake, thick sunlight pours through the blinds and curtains. The morning sun that you used to love waking up to is now just a brutal reminder that another night has passed, and you're still waiting. You sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and trying to reorient yourself. The emptiness in the room bathes you in loneliness.

As you stretch and get ready to get up, the feeling of something cold sliding around your neck makes you pause. You look down to find a delicate rose gold chain with a small pendant. Your brows furrow in confusion as you pull it up closer to your face to observe it. There, hanging from the chain, is a matching rose gold locket. The locket is heart-shaped and detailed with intricate lace patterns. It opens with a tiny latch to reveal, what you assume is, space for a small picture.

Your heart flutters as you realize it's a gift from Steve. Gently, you open the locket to find a tiny 's.g.r' engraved on the empty side and a small photograph of the two of you on the other. It's a candid shot, and your favorite picture, from a few months ago. It was taken by Bucky when the three of you went to get ice cream in the park after a four week-long mission. The photo captured a moment of genuine happiness on both of your faces, only weeks before Steve made the first move on you.

Tears spill freely from your eyes as you smile down at the locket, closing it in your hands. A knock sounds at the door, pulling you out of your thoughts. You sniffle and wipe the tears from your eyes. Your legs fling lazily over the edge of the bed and you make your way to the door.

"Coming," you call out.

You open the door to find Steve standing there. His hair is messy, his hand still running through the damp strands, and his eyes are slightly red. Your eyes widen a little at his disheveled state.

"Steve? What are you doing here so early, are you okay? I-"

"I told you I would fix it, and I did," he states, "I choose you- I want an honest life with you and I always will."

taglist:

@pigeonmama @rogersbarber

if you'd like to be to my general taglist (for steve rogers and other non-chris evans characters i write for), feel free to ask or visit my taglist form to be tagged in more specific fics :)

205 notes · View notes

weskie · 5 days

Text

Perfectionist (Albert Wesker x afab!Reader)

18+ | this man deserves to hump the bed, oral sex (reader receiving), afab anatomy gn!reader, amab version here | Fic Directory

Particular. Methodical. Precise.

Starved.

All words fit to describe the way Wesker handles you. Even now, even with his face buried between your legs, he works with such intense mindfulness. Every swipe of his tongue, each bruising nibble to your thighs or heady suckle to your swollen bud is done with the sole intention of bringing you the most pleasure possible.

Wesker is a perfectionist, and you are the canvas upon which he will paint. He will carve the beauty of your bliss into this world one swipe at a time, for hours on end if he must. Even in the midst of such a primal deed, he is nothing but grace– until he isn’t. Until you catch, by sheer luck, the sight of his hips grinding down against the bed. Just once.

Just one little slip of his self control.

But how fucking euphoric to know you push him to such extremes. That the mere taste of your nectar can unravel his unyielding poise is enough to undo you. With your hands in his hair, gripping, tugging, voice squeaking and pleading, you feel the lightning strike of your release burst through you. It tingles into your limbs, down your spine. You arch and squirm, but he holds you in place effortlessly.

He always does.

And he doesn’t stop…

He laps at you through all of it, fingers beckoning slick from your quivering cunt to feed his insatiable appetite. His little sounds aren’t lost on you. The heavy, panted breaths; the little moan here or there; that one particularly drawn out hum of delight when your thighs clamped tight around his head.

You peer from under heavy eyelids when you feel his lips at your thighs once more, peppering soft kisses as you come down from your release. To your surprise, his gaze is anything but soft– so unlike his actions. You find him staring with determined, voracious eyes– red as ever, boring deep into you. The juxtaposition ignites the strangest blendings of anticipation and adoration. He’s promising you silently and loudly all at once: you belong to him.

You are his down to the molecular level and beyond– to the little building blocks of each and every atom in your body. He has made his claim.

The fingers within you continue their motions and his thumb falls to your tender bud. Wesker is silent as he works you back to madness, basking in the trembling of your legs, nuzzling against the inside of your thigh to feel and watch each and every reaction.

You can see him faltering again. So subtle, but you catch the way his hips move. Poor thing. His pants must feel so tight by now…

You wish he wasn’t so damn dignified all the time. If he’d only accept that he was allowed the simple pleasures, that he could let go of some of that pride and hump the bed like any normal man. God, you’d fucking love to see it. Even just that little gyration was enough to make you clench around his digits.

You can see in his eyes that he’s doing everything in his power to resist it.

You use your grip in his hair to push him back to your aching core. His lips curl in a smirk at your clit and you wish more than anything that you could kiss that damned look off his face.

“Mm, god!” You mewl, knowing full well what such an exclamation means to him. Not a plea to a higher power, no…

That title is his.

“So, so good…” you gasp, pushing up to meet his soft tongue. Through the haze, you see it happen again. The smallest arch of his back, the lightest rocking of his hips.

Is that what he needs?

“That's– that's it!”

Again.

“Al… oh god!”

Let him know how good he’s doing.

You resist biting back a moan, just to further test the waters. You let those little whimpers sing freely, let his name fall from your lips and your hands tug and pull at his hair. You even dig one of your heels into his back, and then you hear it.

Nearly silent, Wesker's gasping, open-mouthed whine reverberates against your sopping folds. The sound dances to your ears, more beautiful than any melody to ever grace the world.

Your fingers curl tighter in his locks, pressing him closer. With your back arched and feet braced, you grind up against his face. Both of his arms lock around your thighs as if, by some measure, to remind you that it’s only by his good graces that you’re allowed to use him so wantonly.

Another weak noise quivers against your aching cunt, and you find it in yourself to fight off the tendrils of release seeping through every fiber of your being just to watch him.

“I love it!” You gasp, perhaps just a little too breathily. “L-Love you!”

Which, of course, earns you that reaction you so desperately want. This time your treat is two sharp rocks of his hips and the unmistakable creak of the bedframe protesting against his strength.

You’re playing such a dangerous game with him. What if you get what you want, hm? What if you make the man-made god come in his pants? What then?

Surely there will be consequences for pushing him into such a position. Perhaps he’ll make you lick him clean. No, no… that’s hardly a punishment. What if he threw you over his knee?

Also not quite the worst case scenario.

So you sing for him. With every little breath, you vocalize how good it feels, how good he feels, until suddenly those subtle grinds against the bed are anything but and he’s practically growling against your heat.

His eyes are screwed shut, brow furrowed, tongue fucking in and out of you while his nose presses to your clit, and he humps against the bed as though the panopticon of his pride had never been there at all to observe such a desperate act unbecoming of a god.

The sight sends you hurtling over the edge, back rising from the bed as you shiver and shake and gush more slick for his greedy tongue. His name falls from your lips over and over like a prayer, and by the time your back hits the bed once more you hear and feel him finding his own release as he thrusts away at nothing.

The thought alone of what just happened is enough to make you see stars…

You pet through his hair affectionately, cooing praise until those piercing eyes crack open and stare lazily through the haze. His mouth stays pressed at the base of your mound, slick glistening at the tip of his nose and the curve of his cheek– too invested in painting his masterpiece to realize he’d become part of it.

Eventually though, you manage to get him to crawl back up. You thumb away at the mess, utterly hypnotized when he grabs your wrist and sucks your digit clean. You can see it in his eyes… You feel it in the way he kisses you.

Ever the perfectionist, Albert Wesker is far from finished with you.

#albert wesker #albert wesker x reader #albert wesker fanfiction #albert wesker x you #albert wesker smut #wesker x you #wesker x reader #resident evil #dead by daylight #dbd

136 notes · View notes

tonkatsubowl · 8 months

Text

puppy.

il!dan heng x trailblazer!femdom!reader ⿸ xianzhou spoilers. nsfw themes (literal SMUT, in heat, etc). read at your own risk. breeding. femdom. other femdom thingies. :3c english isn’t my first language, so please don’t mind the grammatical errors. (っ◞‸◟ c)

⪩ after phantylia's defeat, the express crew began their preparations to leave for the next world, penacony. during their down time, dan heng―oddly enough―was hiding away in his room for some reason. so, our beloved trailblazer decided to find out on her own...

TERM DIRECTORY ◖y/n: your name ◖e/c: eye color ◖h/c: hair color

"...? so he's just feeling sick?"

the scent of warm coffee and bread filled the atmosphere, welcoming the trio who had just returned from their trip (well, technically speaking only two). standing in front of y/n were himeko, welt and march―and in the distance, pom-pom, who was practically occupied trying to mop away the already-clean floors of the express train.

march hummed, rubbing the back of her head sheepishly, "well, i mean i guess i don't exactly blame him. i don't know what it's like being a vidyadhara and all, so i can only assume the transformation takes the toll outta him."

himeko responded with a nod, taking a sip from her coffee, "well, all he requested was to leave him be until further notice. i do not have any information in regards to that."

you pursed your lips, though your expression remained...well, almost unconcerned.

in contrast to everyone else, you were very observant whenever it came to dan heng's behavior and well being, given the fact you were rather into him. the aftermath of phantylia's battle was practically the start of his change of behavior. he became distant, his cheeks were reddening, and he was breathing quite heavily. he often dismissed himself from conversations and meetings, claiming that he wasn't feeling too great. during these meetings, he kept eyeing you, for whatever reason. your skin, your hair, everything about you―he was hungry for it. but he couldn't. you two were friends, and it was inappropriate of him to think of you in such a way. being a vidyadhara and all, it was annoying to deal with these little cycles, akin to a woman fighting her mensuration weeks as well.

...but his behavior? his reddening face, his heavy breathing, his eyes that kept lulling onto you...

you already knew why, and you weren't stupid.

in the dead of night, while everyone was asleep peacefully in their rooms, you wandered through the halls of the express train unable to sleep. the adrenaline of phantylia's battle had kept you up, but it had definitely knocked march out, as you can hear her quiet and silly snoring softly echoing from her door. you wandered about briefly to find maybe a cup of decaf coffee, or even water...but that's when you stopped in front of dan heng's door, almost forgetting about his condition.

you were silent, listening to the quiet shuffling of his clothes or bed sheets of his futon, hearing him breathe so heavily. so... he was still awake?

a gentle knock of his door, and you could hear him fall silent, pretending to be asleep.

too easy to read, dan heng.

"i know you're awake," you murmur, your tone audible enough for the dragon on the other side of the door to hear, and for the others to not hear you, "and i know what's bothering you."

purposely, you coo at him, teasing him with a seductive yet baiting tone. you could hear him shuffle again, knowing that he was unsure what to say or do. he knew what's bothering you, but... he was hesitant. yet, his body needed it. he needed you.

"...c...come in," you could hear him say quietly, the locks of his door unlocking.

slowly, you opened the door and entered, closing it behind you...locking it. you turned your head, watching as the dragon in heat shuffle back to his futon sheets.

god, what was he saying? what did he just say? now he allowed you in. he was confused at his own thoughts, and now he's confused that his body is speaking for him. but when you had entered the room, he was...getting excited. but he kept denying it. forcing himself to hold everything back to not pin you against that wall and breed you already. he couldn't.

"look at you," you quietly say, watching as he hid himself, "so pitiful."

dan heng's head perked up, his horns almost radiant from the darkness that flooded the room. beads of heated sweat rolled down his countenance, confused to why or...what you had just said. he blinked, confused―irritated at himself, irritated at this cycle...

"...huh?" he muttered.

you slowly approached him, taking off your shoes by the door, and hovered over him. slowly descending to one knee, you take dan heng's chin by your index finger, slowly lifting his face. "you're just like a puppy," you whisper, your e/c opticals scanning the rest of his body, "begging for something with those eyes of yours."

dan heng gulped, his chest rising and falling. the tightness at this crotch was aching, practically begging to come out.

"gh... y/n... what are you saying―?" he groaned, feeling the warmth of your hands travel to his chest.

"what do you mean what am i saying? you're the one who allowed me to come in here, so now..."

you sat on his lap, feeling his bulge twitch and ache underneath your crotch. a faint smirk tugs at your lips, teasing him by slowly grinding your hips against his aching mess hidden behind his clothes. earning a whimper from dan heng―music to your ears―you watched as he leaned his head back, using his hands to cover his mouth as you began to ride him.

"you really are a puppy," you murmur, "you whimper like one too. keep your voice down, you don't want to wake the others, do you?"

dan heng looked at you with his drooping eyes, almost akin to a puppy―quite literally―giving you a worried, pleading look. you can't really turn away from him now.

he gulped, silent, but the movement of your hips were already a response to almost everything. the moans, the quiet whimpers...everything. at this point, you were feeding onto this cycle. his brain. his needs, his wants―he couldn't think anymore.

"y-y/n... please, i―"

despite the clothing you both wore, you could feel his liquid seeping through his fabric. he was leaking, alright, and he definitely needed you.

your fingers play at his bottoms, unbuttoning or unzipping his clothing, exposing his length whole. he was a twitching, erect mess, and he was quite the sight to see. beautiful, clean, and perfect. perfect enough to fit inside you, after all.

"so beautiful," you whisper, leaning down to let your lips touch the tip of his member.

"a-ah...!" dan heng whimpered quietly.

a simple kiss was enough for him to react like that. he was extremely sensitive, alright. but you paused, looking up at him, tilting your head innocently.

"do you want it?" you asked.

dan heng looked down at you, nodding. he was breathing, clutching his fists as he was unable to take it anymore. god, fuck. he just needed you at this point.

accepting his response, you take the tip of his head into your mouth, then the rest of it. earning another whimper, moan and soft cries from your little toy, you began to work your magic. using your tongue and your mouth to pleasure him, you glance up a few times to see him struggle and twitch against you. at one point, he'd even buck his hips into your face, as though he was wanting to face-fuck you at that point.

"ngh...!" he mewled.

god, hearing him moan and whimper was a blessing. music to your ears, and you were ready to take him...to make him yours, and yours only.

"c..com―"

that's when you began to work a bit harder, bobbing your head and using your tongue to the best of your abilities to make him come. eventually, the hitch of his throat and his tail flickering violently was the indicator of his release; a hot, sticky mess entered your throat, coating your mouth with his seed. you swallowed every bit, amused by his reaction and the taste of his lovely seed.

"delicious," you say, removing your head from his length, licking your lips. even from cumming, he was still erect. a vidyadhara in heat...you pondered for a moment,

how many rounds can he take tonight until he's satisfied? it was time to play a game.

breathing and twitching underneath you, he looked at you with his adorable wide eyes, witnessing as you lifted your shirt, exposing your bra, you let the shirt hang on top of your chest, held by the whites of your teeth. your bottoms were next; you tugged them down, exposing yourself adorned in your undergarments and your perfect, supple thighs (dan heng wanted to be around your thighs too). he twitched, gasping quietly as he felt the air become stuck inside of his throat due to the beauty of your bare skin.

"y/n.." he murmured. his length twitched, drips of his precum travelling down at the side of his member. "mgh..."

dan heng watched as you hover before him, before turning your back to him. slowly, you inserted him inside of yourself, earning a quiet, "w-wait―!" as he felt the sensation of your tight, luscious walls wrap around his very self.

with a faint smirk of amusement, you release a sigh of satisfaction, feeling his member inside of you. god, it felt so welcoming. it was meant to be, how perfectly fit it was inside of you. he couldn't see your face from how you positioned yourself, but he could see how perfectly round (and large) your rear was. he reached out as you arched your back, his hands placed on each side of your rear. you felt his hands as you looked back, eyeing at the puppy you rode.

his beautiful eyes that never stray away from your very appearance. lust filled, dazed eyes. he breathed, bucking his hips gently, motioning into you. he moaned and whimpered as you picked up the pace, but... you wanted to see more of him.

slowly lifting yourself from his length, he looked at you with a bit of a worried look―was it not enough? was he not enough? no, it was not that. definitely not. you laid on your back, resting your elbow up, letting your face sit on the palm of your hand. you gestured him to come closer, and he proceeded to come forward with a gentle nod. with boldness, you reached up, gently gripping onto his horns―which were very sensitive.

"a-ah―!" he blinked, caught by surprise. your puppy moved his hands towards your thighs, inserting himself into you once more. he whimpered in the process, watching amusement fill your e/c eyes you feel him inside of you once more. missionary, was it called? yes, this was the position you wanted to be in.

a better look to see his face. that beautiful man that towered before you, and that man who was wrapped around your very finger.

oh, he belonged to you. he was your puppy, and you had the leash that was chained to his very collar.

he began to move his hips, but it progressively sped up. his need to fill you up with his seed, his very need to just thrust and pump every inch of his member into you―he needed you so desperately.

"y/n...!" he moaned, colliding his hips into you. god, he was mating you at this point, but you were wanting this too, weren't you?

wrapping your arms around him, you proceeded to let out soft sighs of pleasure, allowing your little puppy to mate and breed you as much as he wanted. then came a quiet, "c-coming―" that mewled from his lips. bucking his hips, he immediately filled you up with his seed, but it didn't seem to stop him.

he went again, moving his hips repeatedly inside of you, practically breeding you. you weren't sure how long this would go on for, but you were definitely in for the ride (literally).

"good boy," you murmured, stroking your hand through the locks of the desperate vidyadhara, "keep going. i can take it..."

❥ bonus

finally withdrawn from his vidyadhara form, dan heng was out in the halls of the express the next morning, carrying a tray of a neatly-prepared breakfast. a bowl of your favorite cereal, a side of fresh fruit and a cup of coffee with some cream and sugar on the side.

"oh! dan heng!" he could hear march's voice from the other side as she ran up to him. "you're okay! i heard you were feeling sick. are you feeling better?" she asked, smiling brightly.

dan heng nodded slowly, keeping his expression...solemn as ever, it seemed. he didn't really change as much. "mm. i'm alright. thank you."

march beamed, before her eyes look towards the tray of food, "ah! is this your breakfast? oh, speaking of, i was gonna see if y/n wanted to head out to jarilo vi since natasha is offering breakfast and―"

march immediately got silent, seeing that dan heng gestured for her to be quiet. a simple, "shh," and the motion of his head towards your door.

"she's asleep. this was actually for her. she's had a long day after phantylia's battle."

march blinked. "oh! r-right," she whispered, "can you make me some breakfast too?"

dan heng sighed.

#imbibitor lunae #il dan heng #honkai star rail #dan heng x reader #il dan heng x reader #inbibitor lunae x reader #dan heng #hsr dan heng #hsr x reader

200 notes · View notes

thaywrites · 4 months

Text

PUBLIC COMMISSION—on the SOURCE LINK, you will find #200 gifs of the actor RORY CULKIN in LORDS OF CHAOS !! all of these gifs were made by me from scratch so please don’t repost them and claim as your own & make sure to check out my guidelines before using my content. please LIKE/REBLOG if you find this helpful & consider BUYING ME A COFFEE ( THAYWRITES ) linked on my theme or COMMISSIONING A GIF PACK from me. ♡ you can access the full gif pack through the payhip link, along with a rar download file, or through my directory.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: guns, smoking, face paint (corpse paint), drinking, eating, kissing, semi-nudity.

#rory culkin #gif pack #gif hunt #gifpacknetwork #dearindies #gifsociety #supportcontentcreators #fcxdirectory #userdevon #usermina #gif commissions #gif pack commissions #rory culkin gif pack #rory culkin gif hunt #rph #rpc #gif pack*#mine*

140 notes · View notes

bronzefuryfic · 10 months

Text

Bronze Fury

When the only child of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce is brought to King's Landing to meet with the rest of her family, she finds herself caught in a crisis of succession. The Greens battle for her support... and her affections.

Chapter One: Runestone Remembers / Directory

The shepherds of the Vale report the dragon Sheepstealer has been sighted to the south of Runestone. Determined to please her family, 15-year-old Rhae Targaryen is ready to finally claim her birthright, or die trying.

Since she was a child, Rhae Targaryen bore the weight of vengeance for a house wronged. The words of her mother's house were "We Remember", and for what happened to her, House Royce would never forget. The ghost of their fallen matriarch haunted the face of her daughter. Despite her silver hair, the only child of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce otherwise preserved the features of her mother.

Rhae would sometimes wonder if she looked any less like her mother, that the lords and ladies of Runestone might move on. Her uncles and cousins would promise her they'd have justice for Daemon's crimes, but these promises always seemed for someone else. While all of House Royce could remember Rhea Royce- her fury and her passion, her skill with a bow, her sharp wit- Rhae could not.

For all her frustration for her lack of remembrance, Rhae's heart still soared with each comparison.

"Your mother also favored a heavier bow when she was your age," her uncle would tell her. "Best to build the muscle. You'll have a far greater range than others will expect from a female archer."

For all her frustration for her lack of remembrance, Rhae's heart still soared with each comparison."Your mother also favored a heavier bow when she was your age," her uncle would tell her. "Best to build the muscle. You'll have a far greater range than others will expect from a female archer."

"Lady Royce never had much patience for needlework either," lamented the Septa. "We'll have to have you start this piece again. That simply won't do..."

"A favorite of Rhea's, if I recall correctly," a cousin shared as Rhae pored over the historical accounts of Nymeria's travels. "Nymeria was a hero of hers."

Though she'd never know her mother, Rhae thought she would've liked her.

The subject of her father was an equally difficult one, but for a different reason. House Royce was sure to remind Rhae of her father's crimes near-daily. Her mother was said to have been thrown from her horse, her spine broken and skull caved. A senseless tragedy, as noted in the letters that came in the following weeks—most of which offered some line of inquiry about the new heir of Runestone's two-year-old hand. But nearly all neglected to comment on the true treachery that transpired.

Prince Daemon had returned to Runestone the day of his wife's death, and had scarcely stayed an hour before departing for the Red Keep. The Street of Silk was alive with whispers that night, rife with reports of Daemon's celebration. He was finally rid of his bronze bitch.

Rhae was raised on the story of her Uncle Gerold confronting Daemon at King's Landing and accusing him of murder. She was told how her father merely laughed, and said that as Rhea Royce's husband, Runestone should pass to him now. Daemon never made good on the threat, but nothing came of Ser Gerold's accusations either. During this time, only the Hightowers extended a hand. Ser Otto alone dared to acknowledge Rhea's murder in his communications with Ser Gerold. It was a small solace.

Rhae resented and feared the rogue prince accordingly. There was little incentive for any other conclusion—she could not remember Daemon either. Images of his face were only her imagination.

But resenting him did nothing to change her heritage. Rhae was the only person bearing the Targaryen name in all the Vale. She was easily spotted everywhere she went for her silver hair. Just as the vestiges of her mother haunted her, so did her father.

Her position was thus a precarious one. She was the heir to Runestone, but shared the name of the butcher who'd killed her predecessor. To some, to have a Targaryen sit the ancestral seat of House Royce was a great insult. As she was a woman, an engagement could easily remedy this slight, but there were those in Runestone that recognized the power in her name. If a Targaryen were to champion House Royce, their house may know glory like it hadn't seen in years. While the Bronze Kings were a proud lot, they would be foolish to deny the potential of the dragon before them.

That was, of course, if the young Targaryen had a dragon. Forgotten in the Vale, Rhae suffered from a lack of resources. She knew little of Old Valayria and its teachings. Daemon had never disowned his eldest daughter, but he'd never extended a hand to her either. It was as though she didn't exist, even as obvious as it may be she was a trueborn Targaryen. What House Royce remembers, the House of the Dragon forgets.

Questions of her place plagued Rhae through her youth. For all her love of House Royce, she carried a hollowness in her heart. She'd never known love without grief.

"They have denied us justice for your mother's murder for many years, Rhae," Gerold told her as they walked the courtyard. "And perhaps we'll be denied forever, if not for you. If Daemon were to return for Runestone, as he's promised, we will be at the mercy of his dragon."

"I cannot control his dragon," Rhae replied. An involuntary tug of her lip turns her mouth into a frown. Few things could stop a dragon, and Caraxes and his rider were as vicious as they came.

"Not his," Ser Gerold mused, offering a rare smile. He did not seem to hold his usual temperament. Rather than grave and serious, Ser Gerold's voice carried a hint of eagerness. For what, Rhae couldn't be certain. They'd had this conversation a thousand times in the 13 years since Rhea's murder. "We know little of dragons here, but even this we are certain. Dragons are loyal creatures, even if their riders are not."

Rhae pursed her lips and looked away. Last she'd heard, Daemon had travelled to the Free Cities some months ago with his new wife and children after a years-long stay in Driftmark. Rhae had spent many nights wondering if he might do something horrid to them as well, but all the news seemed to point to the contrary. Having won his battle in the Stepstones, and ridding himself of his first wife, Prince Daemon seemed to have retired to a life of a lavish lord. More than that, he seemed more than willing to share this life with Laena Velaryon and their children together. Rhae's father seemed no stranger to loyalty, even if it wasn't to her.

"There have been reports of a dragon migrating north from Dragonstone," Gerold continued, stopping Rhae in her tracks. "Myself and the maesters believe it might be a sign."

"I'm up for the task."

Gerold chuckled and turned, having gone a few paces past her.

"I suspected you might say that," He said, surveying her with pride. "I've had scouts tracking the beast's movements for some time now. We believe it's settled in a cavern on our Southern coast."

"And you've waited until now to tell me?"

"We wanted to be certain," Ser Gerold said, raising a hand defensively. "Furthermore, we'd hoped you might learn more from King Viserys before taking on such a task. Has the King responded to your letters?"

Rhae flushed. At her uncle's behest, she'd been attempting to appeal to the King's supposed love of family and Valaryian history. Ser Gerold even instructed her to express contempt for House Royce and show a longing to reconnect with her Targaryen roots. Rhae thought this piece was her most convincing. She hadn't expected an invitation to King's Landing by any means, but she'd hoped at least for a book or two. So far, even that was too much to ask.

"No."

Ser Gerold's brow furrowed, and Rhae knew this meant disappointment.

"I don't need a letter or a book or a blessing from the king to claim what is mine!" She insisted, clenching her fists. She'd do anything to ease the constant shame that hung so heavily over her. "Just because they refuse to see me as part of their house, doesn't mean I don't share their blood! It is my birthright to claim a dragon. You too must not deny me this!"

Ser Gerold held her gaze a long while, before finally relinquishing with a curt nod.

"Very well, Lady Rhae."

And without waiting for dismissal, Rhae took off to prepare her things.

Rhae, Ser Gerold, and thirty of their best men set out the next morning for Gull Town. The journey took three days of riding, but Rhae did not mind. Away from the castle, on her way to claim a dragon... The change was welcome.

Rhae was accustomed to whispers as she passed, but on this journey, the guards were sure to give her plenty space. She suspected this might be on her uncle's order—He had been oddly distant with her since they last spoke. He communicated to her only in scout updates and affirming nods from across the campsite. Rhae wondered what he was thinking.

Scouts reported they were tracking Sheepstealer, a wild dragon of about forty years of age. According to Ser Gerold, Sheepstealer did not harm shepherds. While it was not clear what compelled him to come so far north, the dragon seemed to behave in all manners expected from its name. Farmers have reported over two dozen sheep stolen in the last few days alone.

They planned for Rhae to deliver a sheep to the dragon before attempting to ride it. While Sheepstealer did not hunt humans, there was no way to determine his reaction to being approached. If things turned deadly, Rhae was to fall back to the treeline immediately. Archers would cover her retreat, and with any luck, Sheepstealer would leave after losing sight of them.

"Not that I have any doubts you will claim this dragon," Ser Gerold added after their meeting. "You are Targaryen; the dragon will obey your command."

Rhae willed herself to believe the same.

On the second night of their journey, a scout reported he had seen Sheepstealer just a mile westward. The camp grounds held an uneasy silence that night, every knight and guard nervous to fall asleep with a dragon so close by. In the morning, they would deliver Rhae to the sight on foot, to avoid detection and possibly frightening the beast.

Rhae too stayed up late, feeding on the anxieties of the rest of the campsite. She tossed and turned in her make-shift bed.

Perhaps she wasn't ready to tame a dragon. She'd never so much as seen one before! If she failed to tame Sheepstealer, what would come of her house's hope for justice? Would she become exiled from them too? Rhae thought she might prefer Sheepstealer eat her before facing that future.

In the morning, Ser Gerold maintained his stiff silence towards his niece. The whole walk, Rhae hoped he might say something. When they first heard Sheepstealer's roar, he did not look her way. As the archers got into position, Ser Gerold busied himself with a loose strap on his armor. It wasn't until her uncle pressed the sheep's lead into Rhae's hand, still dodging her gaze, that she found the courage to break the silence herself.

"I don't mean to alarm you, uncle, but I think you have grown twice as gray as when we started this trip."

Ser Gerold looked as though Rhae had smacked him across the face, then let out a wild bark of laughter. The guards behind him flinched at the sudden noise, eyes still trained on Sheepstealer, and Ser Gerold instantly bit his knuckle.

"Apologies," he whispered, leaning in as tears stung his eyes. He was still chuckling softly. "You are so extraordinarily like your mother."

"So I've heard," Rhae mustered.

"I'm sorry, Rhae," Ser Gerold clasped her shoulders, gaining his composure. Sheepstealer trilled from the field, but Ser Gerold did not take his eyes off her. "I have acted cowardly. House Royce has little business with dragons. I must admit, this pending task frightens me more than any I've had before."

"Fear not, Uncle," Rhae managed half a smile. "I'm the one carrying his favorite snack."

"That is the part that frightens me most." Before Rhae could reply, Ser Gerold pulled her into a tight embrace. A lump formed in her throat as her arms wrapped around his torso.

Lead in hand, Rhae steps out of the brush into the field. The ocean breeze blowing in from over the cliff edge whips her silver hair, and she quickly spots Sheepstealer lounging by the cliff face. She turns to see her Uncle Gerold one last time, and he gives her a final, grim nod.

You've got this.

Heart thumping in her chest, Rhae marched the sheep across the field. It was much farther away from the treeline than she would've preferred. As she drew near, Sheepstealer lifted his scaly head to watch her. To Rhae's surprise, he was actually smaller than she had imagined. Rhae wondered for a moment whether she'd merely imagined dragons to be too big. She straightened her spine—he wasn't so scary.

Sheepsteeler scales were a dark muddy brown, making it difficult to distinguish his features. He was a dark, lean mass save for orange eyes that seemed to glow like embers. The sheep Rhae escorted tugged at the rope, resisting her lead. The dragon trilled once more, eyes narrowing on its squirming meal.

Rhae held her ground as Sheepstealer pushed himself up further, baring his teeth. After a moment, when nothing else happened, Rhae gave a tug of the leash and dragged the struggling sheep closer.

"Serve me, Sheepstealer." Rhae said, locking eyes with the beast before her. His snout flared slightly. "By the power of Old Valyria, heed my words."

Rhae was uncertain that the dragon could understand her—his attention seemed torn between her and the offering she brought along.

It won't work, Rhae thought fearfully. But she couldn't return without a dragon. Sheepstealer would listen to her—He had to.

Now within biting distance of the dragon, Rhae slackened her grip of the sheep's lead. It at least seemed a good sign Sheepstealer had not struck yet.

The moment of truth was approaching. The sheep would run, and the dragon would feast. Then, if she still had her wits, Rhae would mount his back. She tried not to dwell on the fact that she wasn't sure what to do then, either.

Rhae let the rope fall to the ground with a soft thump, and the sheep set off at a brisk trot, its lead trailing behind it. Sheepstealer was now raised on all fours, watching its prey flee with alarming excitement.

"My gift to you, Sheepstealer."

With a roar of delight, the dragon did not waste a second longer to open his maw and expel a shot of flames. Even though the blast was not aimed at her, Rhae gasped at the intensity of the dragon's breath from where she stood. Startled, she leapt backwards to distance herself from the wave of heat. In doing so, her foot snagged on a rock.

Rhae cursed loudly, swinging her arms wildly for balance. She knew her mistake instantly—she should've allowed herself to fall. Sheepstealer may have tolerated Rhae's presence so far, but tolerance was not the same as trust. The sudden noise and large movements surprised the dragon, which defensively spun on her in an instant. His neck coiled back, eyes turning to slits. Another blast seemed to building in his throat...

"Serve me, Sheepstealer!" Rhae cried forcefully. "I wish you no harm! Stand down! Obey!"

Rhae could've sworn she saw the glow within his gullet dim, but control was already lost. At the edge of the wood, Ser Gerold had charged the open field the moment the dragon turned on Rhae. Dutifully, a small band of knights followed quickly behind. They let out a cry, drawing Sheepstealer's attention.

With a roar and a powerful flap of his wings, Sheepstealer was airborne.

"RHAE! RETREAT!"

Shit shit shit shit shit shit!

Rhae made her way hurriedly across the field, sprinting past the smouldering, forgotten sheep she'd brought as an offering. Within moments, Sheepstealer had crossed the field and was descending upon the guards. A volley of arrows loosed as the knights threw their shields up.

Sheepstealer roared in outrage, lashing his spiked tail dangerously. One body went soaring through the air, landing with a sickening crack in the ground thirty feet away. Rhae's heart seized as she sprinted harder for the wood.

"Fire!"

Another volley of arrows loosed, with several lodging in the dragon's throat. They didn't seem deep enough for any substantial damage, but Sheepstealer still cried defiantly, shaking them free.

Rhae was closer now, and could see Ser Gerold slashing with his sword. She sucked what air she could into her lungs and cried out once more.

"Stop this attack! Stop!"

Now caught up, Rhae dodged as Sheepstealer gave another deadly whip with his tail. It came down hard beside her uncle, who fell to the ground with a painful grunt. Before she could make her way to him, another knight had grabbed her firmly around the waist and was dragging her to cover.

"NO! Sheepstealer, stop! Unhand me!"

Rhae wrestled herself from his grip and ran to her uncle, ignoring the danger. A roar filled the air as another volley loosed—the men were panicking. Sheepstealer incinerated the arrows as they flew closer, thrashing his head. Rhae heard muffled shouts over the ringing that now filled her ears.

A blinding pain consumed her left side, the same wave of heat from before colliding even closer to where she stood. Rhae fought to keep her eyes open, struggling to focus on her own smouldering arm. Her skin bubbled and boiled, looking red and angry. Through the haze and smoke, she saw Sheepstealer rise once more.

"Ser... Gerold" she gasped. She had fallen to her knees, trying to hold herself up with her uninjured right arm. Her Uncle was badly hurt. With one knee bent at an odd angle, and an arrow protruding from his gut, Ser Gerold Royce lay gasping for breath in the dirt. He too suffered from sickly burns. Rhae watched in horror as his armor seemed to mold to his skin.

Ser Gerold writhed on the ground, crying in anguish from his injuries. As Sheepstealer soared off over the ocean, the remaining guard came out from their cover.

"We need a healer!" someone called. Rhae was loosing conscious rapidly, but she was vaguely aware of someone attempting to move her.

"Uncle..."

Rhae did not remember her travels back to Runestone, having been heavily sedated on the milk of the poppy. It was later, while she recovered in the castle, that the Maesters finally filled her in.

During her third bandaging, she'd finally become lucid enough to understand their story. She was told that they'd only lost seven men of the thirty they brought—a "miracle". In addition, only she and two others received any long-lasting injury.

"And Ser Gerold? Which of these is he?" she demanded of the Maesters once she had found her voice. They bowed their heads, confirming her fears.

"I apologize, Lady Rhae," the eldest of them, Maester Willem, stepped forward. "They said Ser Gerold did not survive the return to camp."

Rhae let loose a throaty sob, wishing they'd leave. She could not shout at them in this state, and so allowed them to proceed with applying burn creams to her charred arm.

"Your injury will take time to heal, but it thankfully has not become infected," Willem continued, once her labored sobs gave way to sniffles. "It is likely the scar tissue will affect mobility at your shoulder and elbow joint, but we hope it'll be mostly functional within a few months."

Rhae would give both arms to have Ser Gerold returned to her—none at Runestone advocated for the heir as devoutly as her Uncle.

"Any other news?" She asked meekly as they re-bandaged her arm. She prayed for none.

The Maesters exchanged nervous glances before Willem brought forth a letter from a pocket deep in his robes.

"One last thing, if you're up for it..." She wasn't. "It arrived shortly after you left."

Grunting, Rhae leaned forward in her bed, reaching for the scroll. She broke the seal and flattened it one-handed on her bedsheets. As soon as she read it, she read it over again. Then a third time, just to be sure.

"Is this truly from the Queen?"

"It came with all the royal seals, my lady."

"She says..." Rhae's voice faltered once more. "She says that the Crown regrets our estrangement."

"This is good news, is it not?"

Rhae couldn't say. Ser Gerold had ruled Runestone in her stead all these years. Rhae had originally ascended at 2, but now at 15 it would be appropriate for her to sit the seat herself. That was, if anyone else from House Royce still trusted her after this latest tragedy. She could already hear the whispers in the hall. Rhae had been tasked with bringing justice, but all she brought was more death and more destruction.

Rhae reread the letter a fourth time, ignoring the Maester's question.

"The King grows ill." She continued. "And has expressed a desire to reconnect with family after so many years apart." Did it count as reconnecting if they'd never met? "The Queen says she would like to host me in King's Landing, to learn the ancient traditions of my House." A bit late for that, it seemed. "She mentions her daughter Haelena is my age, and her sons are close to it. It's her sincerest hope that we might still be friends..."

Rhae trailed off, reading the letter a fifth time. Rage brewed in her stomach. What good was such an offer now that Ser Gerold was dead? The Maesters watched her closely.

"If I may offer some advice," Maester Willem said at last. "I know you bear no love for your Targaryen family members, but you're scarcely the only one to feel that way... if you're to believe the gossip of lords and ladies, that is."

"Which lords and ladies?"

Maester Willem eyed her closely. "The Hightowers have long held contempt for your father, just as the Royces have. I think it notable that your response came from the Queen, and not the King."

Rhae allowed his words to sink in, trying to ignore how itchy and sore her arm felt beneath its wrappings. Ser Gerold's cries of anguish still rang in her ear.

What had it been for?

"Fetch me some parchment, Maester," Rhae groaned as she sat straightened in her bed. She may be without her own dragon, but she could still align herself with their firepower. Best yet, she could do so while granting House Royce a reprieve from her presence. "And put away the poppy. I've had plenty."

The Maesters bustled at her orders. There was still a matter of finding someone to warm her seat in her absence, and she would need time to recover before she traveled. A necessary delay, though plenty frustrating...

"Prepare our fastest raven," Rhae continued, dipping her quill. "I'll have my response sent as soon as I'm done with it."

She may not remember Rhea, as the rest of House Royce did, but the sight of Ser Gerold's mangled corpse was not something she'd soon forget.

Next Chapter: Ch. 2 - To King's Landing

After suffering a great loss, Rhae is summoned to King’s Landing to meet her estranged Targaryen family members. Far from home and alone in the dragon’s den, it is up to her to determine friend from foe.

AO3 | Chapter Discussion

Thanks for reading!

#House of the Dragon #hotd fanfic #aemond x oc #aegon ii x oc #team green #Royce!oc #Targaryen!oc #OC can also be used as a semi-reader-insert #She has a name and silver hair and she’s right handed #For plot reasons #Everything else is up to your imagination and won’t be contradicted in the text

165 notes · View notes

byeuijoo · 6 months

Text

fake a kiss and heal a heart 𐀔 han dongmin

⠀⠀⠀chapter one. : a broken heart and an unexpected gesture.

warnings : alcohol consumption, kissing, angst if you squint, a kind of panic attack ⋆ word count : 4,034

serie masterlist ✩ boynextdoor masterlist

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ୨ ✩ ୧

MAYBE DONGMIN SHOULDN'T HAVE LISTENED TO JAEHYUN THIS TIME, perhaps he should have taken it upon himself to endure all the sadness in the world without taking action. what a clever idea it had been to hire someone totally unknown to him to play the role of his fake girlfriend and accompany him to an unimportant student party.

on your side, the end of the month was pretty hard on the money, so an extra income wouldn't go amiss. donghyun suggested this idea after stumbling across this unreliable site : a complete directory of people willing to be paid just to look pretty and stand next to random people for one occasion or another. at first, you didn't give it much thought. but since you knew your favorite artist was coming to your town, you had to save every penny you could to pay for your concert ticket. that's why you decided to take the plunge and create your profile, hoping that at least one person would find you attractive enough to hire you.

and that's what led you to your current situation, walking briskly through the crowded city streets, under the light of the streetlamps, to reach the person who had contacted you earlier in the day. it was probably a bit hasty, and you probably wouldn't have time to learn much about why you ended up accompanying him, but it shouldn't have been too complicated. looking again at the photo of himself that he had kindly sent you earlier, a small smile spread across your face as you realized that, at least, he didn't seem to be an old pervert dude interested in young female students. after a few last minutes of walking, you found yourself at the rendezvous point, looking around for any sign of his presence. furrowing your eyebrows to get a better look at the faces of the people around you, you finally spot him, leaning against a stone wall, headphones on.

trotting over to him, you finally tapped his shoulder, which caught his attention and created a look of surprise on his face. « hey, you're han dongmin, am i right? » you asked softly, tilting your head to the side with a smile as he dropped his headphones around his neck. the black-haired boy nodded, and you could see the tips of his ears redden slightly — cute, you think. « i'm y/l/n y/n, nice to meet you. » you added, leaning forward slightly to greet him, before he did the same.

he seemed shy and unsure of himself, and you could easily guess that the idea of hiring you didn't come from him. his honeyed eyes seemed lost and unsure of themselves — as if they were trying to figure out what to say or what emotion to use. « what time do we have to be at this student party? » you say, changing the subject so as not to make him uncomfortable, while looking at the time on your watch. a small, almost inaudible oh escaped his lips before he looked down at his phone, holding out his hand as if to guide your path, « you follow me? »

his voice was soft, like the lullabies sung by mothers when you're little. it was as if he was afraid to speak too loudly. nodding as you began to walk, dongmin followed your movements, staying close to you. « so.. your name is dongmin and you're 19, right? » you asked, tucking your hands into your jacket pockets to keep the cold from attacking your skin. « uh? oh, yea. » he replied, staring at the road ahead. « we're the same age, » you suddenly felt his gaze settle on your side, which prompted you to continue, « i'm glad you're not a weirdo.. i was a little afraid i'd run into an old pervert. »

dongmin nodded positively, raising his hands and shaking them as if to claim his innocence, « i promise i'm not weird, » he said, insisting that he really wasn't weird at all, « i'm just a little unsettled, i'm not used to doing thing like this. »

you understood how he felt. so you nodded in turn, turning your benevolent gaze on his face, offering him the sincerest of smiles. « i could feel it, » you admit, shrugging your shoulders, « but that's normal since we don't know each other and i'm literally here to play your fake girlfriend. »

his cheekbones flushed, a light red-pinkish shade on it, in contrast to his eyes, which were painted with a glint of sadness. so the subject must have been a sensitive one — but you needed to know a little more. « can you tell me why i'm here, dongmin? » he wasn't surprised by your question, but a sigh left his pretty heart-shaped lips right after it.

« my girlfriend broke up with me a month ago, and i don't want her to see that i'm still moping about our breakup, » he let slip this explanation from his lips, as he carelessly tucked his headphones into the backpack he was carrying, « well, my now ex girlfriend. » you hummed in reply, nibbling your bottom lip as you look away from his face. he seemed really devastated by the situation, you could tell by the way his demeanor had suddenly changed. he seemed to close in on himself, looking all around him as if he were panicking, and the way his thumb played frantically with his rings. you had to do something to divert his attention and help him relax, otherwise his plan would fall through completely.

then you suddenly stopped walking, hooking your fingers into his sleeve to prevent him from advancing any further. and when his questioning gaze landed on your face, you offered him a gentle smile. « everything will be fine, » you started, letting his arm fall back along his chest, « i'll be there to help and support you, okay? »

dongmin took the time to observe you properly, for the first time since you two met a few minutes ago. you were smaller than he was, you sounded fragile, yet your voice exuded boldness and unparalleled assurance. he was slightly jealous — you wore so much confidence on your face, when he could barely look you in the eye. he wasn't usually so shy, so reserved, but the reason for your meeting made him nervous without knowing why. it was probably the fact that he'd spent all his savings on a fake girlfriend, with the sole aim of making his ex-girlfriend jealous. it's ridiculous, he thought, finally looking away from your gentle, kind face. however, he had really chosen the prettiest girl on the website to accompany him.

« yea, thank you. » he finally says, gesturing you to walk again with a simple nod of the head. sliding in beside him with a smile, you didn't dare ask any more questions, as you didn't want to accentuate the sadness that was currently occupying the whole of his heart.

after many long minutes and a dark sky, dongmin stopped moving forward, staring at a point in front of him. following his gaze, your eyes landed on a house that seemed crowded with people — loud music blared from the open windows and people chatted on the porch just in front. finally raising your eyes to the boy beside you, you watched his gaze suddenly devoid of all confidence.

he was on the verge of running away and turning back, but your hand on his shoulder drew his attention to you. « eh, you can do it, » you announced softly, like a whisper that only he could hear, « i'll be by your side from beginning to end. »

he couldn't explain why he found a certain reassurance in your low voice, or how the way you spoke didn't make him doubt your sincerity. you had to play a role, sure, but why were you such a good actress? he didn't know what to answer : he was caught between the desire to show everyone that he was not the sad and depressed boy they all thought, and the desire to run away from all this charade which only accentuated the pain in his chest. and anyway, what was he going to do if he suddenly found himself face to face with her? sure, you were there, but what was really your role in this situation? stay silent by his side and smile at his ex? he couldn't put you through this when you had been so nice to him from the beginning. biting his lower lip while juggling his gaze between your reassuring face and this big house, a shiver ran down his arm when suddenly your cold fingers intertwined with his. and for the first time, his eyes looked into yours.

« eh, han dongmin, » you started to say, taking a step forward towards him, « i'm here to help you, okay? » then, your thumb mechanically caressing his skin caused a comforting warmth to rise along his spine, « we're going to show her together what she lost. »

the boy observed you for a few seconds, before sighing, closing his eyes while applying pressure around your hand clinging to his — then he nodded, gently pulling on your arm to pull you in with him. he didn't notice the little victorious smile on your lips after that, way too busy not to chicken out until he get through the front door. he didn't bother to ring the bell or even knock, immediately going inside and dragging you with him. a few glances landed on both of you, and where dongmin completely ignored them, you responded with a charming smile of which only you held the secret. his hand didn't let go of yours until you reached what you assumed was the kitchen — where he hastened to serve you two glasses of alcohol. which he swallowed in one gulp.

you quickly grabbed his hand, removing the now empty red plastic cup from it, sad eyes settling on your face. « eh there, slow down a bit okay? » a scoff left your lips, placing his glass on the counter next to you, as he lowered his head in a defeatist gesture, « hiding yourself in alcohol won't help you anything. » you explained to him, patting the top of his head with your free hand.

« did you see her? » you asked, taking a sip of your drink as you watched him settle into one of the high stools around the counter. dongmin nodded negatively, rubbing the bridge of his nose without bothering to respond to you verbally. « do you want to play a game? » you said suddenly, pushing your arms up to sit comfortably on the counter, next to his stool. the black-haired boy looked up, his eyes meeting yours as you shook your shoulders, « to pass time. it could be funny. »

he didn't hate the idea of playing a game with you — but he didn't have the faith to make the slightest effort to move. so after a few ideas, you suggested the game of twenty questions with the simple aim of getting to know each other. after all, even as a fake girlfriend, it would be safer to know some details of his personality. « alright.. i'll let you start. » he declared, turning around to pour himself a second cup of alcohol, without you stopping him this time. pretending to think, you stared at the ceiling for a few seconds before returning your gaze to him, « what are your hobbies? »

swallowing a few sips of his drink before answering you, dongmin gave you the opportunity to look at him silently. you had to admit that he was very handsome — and a boy as handsome as him would not be common in the streets. when he finally spoke, you leaned forward slightly to hear him more clearly, not wanting to let the music disturb your conversation. « i like to make music. i like writing songs and composing melodies, » he explained, and you saw the little flame of excitement in his eyes disappear as quickly as it had appeared, « it's the only thing i'm good at anyway.. »

wrinkling your nose as you jostle his shoulder, dongmin ignored you as he continued downing his glass of alcohol. « okay, my turn, » he said, staring at the ground, « why are you doing this? »

rolling your eyes at his question, not finding it interesting in your opinion, you placed your hands against the surface behind you. « i give you three reasons, you choose the one that suit you best, » you replied, and before he could protest, you cut him off by continuing, « one, because you're pretty hot. two, i need some money. and three, because i was bored. which of the three do you prefer? » — tilting your head to look at his face, he rolled his eyes before finishing his second drink, « the second is the most plausible. »

what a shame, you would have preferred that he chose the first one. you weren't going to complain — especially since he seemed to have relaxed since you arrived at the party. a smile took place on your lips as you thought about your next question : part of you wanted to ask him what happened to make him so sad, but on the other, you feel like it was an intrusion into his private life that concerned you in no way. so you simply changed your mind, not wanting to appear intrusive. « why did you choose me? » you asked, as he leaned back so that his back was against the counter. you watched him shrug as he played with the rim of his cup, « you didn't look like a psycho. and it was my friend who chose you, all i did was contact you. »

a sulky pout played on your lips as you looked away from his silhouette — you couldn't say why, but the fact that the idea of choosing you didn't come from him made your heart sink. sniffing before finishing your drink and leaving the cup on the side, dongmin raised his chin towards you and stared at the profile of your face without saying a word. trying to avoid meeting his gaze, you puffed up your cheeks and chattered on the marble with your fingernails — until his delicate fingers encircle your wrist, suddenly attracting your attention. « what? » you say, pulling slightly on your arm to loosen his grip, but your eyes met the pretty smirk on his lips, making you stop moving.

« are you disappointed? » he said suddenly, a scoff leaving his tongue right after. turning away and looking up at the ceiling, you decided to ignore his remark and continue sulking in your corner. a crystalline laugh escaped from his mouth, which somehow filled you with happiness — it was the first sincere laugh you'd ever heard from him. dongmin swiveled around again to pour himself a third glass, but you didn't understand how he could do it without letting go of your wrist. you could still feel the warmth of his fingers around your skin as he took a sip of his beverage. he seemed reassured and in a better mood than earlier in the evening — which was a good thing.

not wanting to disturb him further, you raised your eyes to look around you, until your gaze falls on a face so pretty you could have fallen backwards. « do you know this girl? » you asked innocently, not thinking for a single second that it could be the girl who haunted the young boy's thoughts. dongmin raised his head slowly, his eyes filled with apprehension — and suddenly, his hand around your wrist tightening slightly. he felt like he was running out of air, like he was suffocating, as if all the oxygen in the room had disappeared. the pressure on your muscle caught your attention, and you hastened to place your alcohol on the counter to help him. « eh, eh, what is going on? » you asked, placing your hands on his cheeks in panic, lifting his face tenderly so his eyes locked on yours, « han dongmin, look at me. »

he was trying not to panic, to breathe properly and not to juggle so quickly between your two eyes — but his heart in his chest hurt so much that he felt like someone was tearing it away. his jerky breathing was of great concern to you, so you stepped down from the counter to find yourself closer to him, placing one of your hands on his distraught heart. « eh, listen to me, » you started, looking him directly in the eye, « do as i do. breathe in... breathe out... breathe in, breathe out... that's it, that's good. »

after a long minute of controlled breathing, you felt his heartbeat return to a steady speed under your fingers. he seemed to have come back to his senses. « how do you feel? » you asked softly, tucking the strands of his hair back correctly on his forehead. dongmin nodded, patting your shoulder in thanks, « awful. but.. thank you, y/n. »

just as you were ready to answer him, a smile tugging at your lips, a voice suddenly came from behind you. you could see his face turn as white as a sheet, and his eyes slowly move up to stare at a point — a person, behind you. turning to face the voice, you came face to face with the pretty smile of the girl you understood to be the ex-girlfriend of the boy beside you. « hey, taesan. it's been a long time. » she said suddenly, making you frown. taesan? is this a nickname they used between each other?

dongmin rose from his stool, now standing beside you and scratching the back of his neck. « hey jieum, how have you been? » his voice was much more confident than you'd expected, and the look she gives him doesn't seem to frighten him. so.. her name is jieum, that's pretty, you think. there was nothing about her that seemed ugly : her face was flawless, her smile was to die for, she was tall and slender, she had lovely pianist's hands, and her voice sounded like those used in children's night show, the kind of soft voice that grazes your heart with a gentle kiss. you could almost be jealous of the soft, gentle aura emanating from her, but you remembered that she had to have one little flaw that led her to lose possession of dongmin's heart.

you hadn't followed the conversation in front of you, far too busy analyzing the girl as if she were an object of experience, until you hear your name roll off your new friend's tongue, « this is y/n. y/n this is jieum. »

arming yourself with your best smile, you leaned forward slightly to greet her, looking her straight in the eye, « nice to meet you, jieum. dongmin told me a lot about you. » — a sparkle suddenly appeared in her eyes, and her warm hand came into contact with your shoulder, as she gave you this look full of innuendo, « for the better, i hope ! »

you didn't have time to reply when a fourth person joined the conversation : another boy. glancing at him, then at dongmin, you can see something break in his eyes, as if someone had just thrust a dagger deeper into his heart. diverting your eyes from his face, you subtly slipped your hand into his, squeezing his fingers between yours in a reassuring and comforting gesture.

« ah, guys, meet my boyfriend, his name is sungho ! sungho, this is taesan, and his friend y/n. » she explained, smiling broadly as if the sun had just come into the room. you understood why dongmin had trouble getting over the breakup : jieum was mesmerizing. but what worried you most right now was how he must have felt after learning that this guy was the one to replace him. your hand gripped his more firmly, as you made small talk with the two new people so he doesn't have to worry about it. then after long minutes that seemed like years to the young boy, jieum and sungho waved goodbye and wandered further into the room, leaving you alone with a dongmin even more broken than before.

you tore your gaze away from jieum to meet the boy's devastated face, emotionless eyes staring into space as if nothing mattered anymore. then, when he felt your hand tug on his, his tear-filled gaze locked with yours, « don't cry.. » you whispered, your thumb tenderly caressing his pale skin.

but a hiccup escaped his lips, as he tried at all costs to hold back his tears. « she looks at you. don't cry now, she doesn't deserve your tears. » you explained, bringing your free hand up to his cheek to brush away the pearl of salt water that had just escaped from the corner of his eye. then, biting your lower lip, you looked him straight in the eye, « do you trust me? »

dongmin didn't know what to say : how could he trust a girl he'd only just met? but part of him felt that you were good for his heart's well-being. those last few hours with you proved to him that you wanted nothing more than his well-being. so he nodded, briskly, up and down, looking into the whites of your eyes. and in the madness of the moment, it took him a few seconds to realize that something warm was suddenly against his lips.

your hand against his cheek held his face in place, as you dared to kiss an almost stranger for the sole purpose of making his ex-girlfriend jealous. dongmin's lips tasted like alcohol — which you sensed even more when the pressure of his lips against your mouth grew stronger. his previously empty hand was now placed behind your neck, holding your face close, as he closed his eyes to appreciate the exchange more fully. it was pleasant to kiss han dongmin — but what wasn't, however, was feeling all the sadness of his heart against your lips. he seemed to want to get rid of everything that was eating him up inside, as if all his emotions were too hard to feel on his own.

then, after a few seconds, he finally pulled away from you, his pupils juggling back and forth in the depths of your eyes. « you don't cry anymore.. » you whispered, your index finger tenderly caressing his cheekbone. dongmin nodded slightly, not willing to move one millimetre away from you, before speaking in a broken, weak voice, « we're getting out of here, um? »

nodding positively in turn, you took a step back to retrieve your jacket, putting it on in a hurry, before pulling dongmin by the hand to the front door. passing by jieum, you unintentionally gave her a provocative look, knowing full well that she had witnessed your entire kiss scene. you didn't want to get angry with her, you just wanted to know and understand what she could have done to break this poor boy's heart into a million little pieces. for the little you knew, it was she who had decided to end this relationship, and it was also she who already had a fresh new little boyfriend. perhaps she'd lost her love for him, in which that case, she'd done nothing wrong? but it seemed far too easy, bearing in mind that dongmin was really devastated. nodding politely to her, you end up continuing your walk to the door, before leaving this place and taking a disturbed han dongmin with you.

85 notes · View notes