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03jyh23 · 1 month

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— shooting stars! || park seonghwa

loosely inspired by the drama shitting stars!

Most people aren’t interested in the truth. They just casually gossip to entertain themselves. No one takes responsibility for the caused pain.

idol!seonghwa x prmanager!reader

genre: angst, fluff, smut

trigger warnings: vanilla sex, honestly there's not much just kissing, touching, and... lovemaking. really soft smut. it's embarrassing, jealousy, argument, emotional distress, career-related stress, and difficult decisions

words: 8.2 k

reminder: what you're about to read is purely fiction, so let's keep it separate from reality.

!minors do not interact!

— hi there! this is my longest story so far! i've been working on it like crazy for the past few days and here we finally are. so the smut... it's not really a smut but still? i tried oh god, i feel so embarrassed but yeah i just decided to go for it. it's again requested work but i actually changed some of it to fit into my idea... anyway thank you so much for requesting!

love, monika. ♡

if you enjoyed this post, i'd be so grateful for a little love – a like or comment would truly make my day!

The office in Mapo-gu, Seoul, felt stiflingly hot, despite having already downed three cups of iced coffee. With the air conditioning out of order and repairs not scheduled until two days later, you found yourself drowning in a sea of work. Who would have imagined that working at a medium-sized entertainment agency would entail such an overwhelming workload? You should have felt grateful for landing this job, considering the effort you had put into securing it, but at times, it felt overwhelmingly demanding. Being the head of the PR department at KQ Entertainment was certainly something to boast about, especially after ATEEZ's success. You joined the company a few years back when you were the sole member of the PR team. If you claimed you believed in the company's success from the beginning, you'd be lying. When you first entered, fear outweighed optimism regarding the future. Indeed, it was no small feat for eight teenage boys to shoulder the weight of an entire company, but ATEEZ rose to the challenge with unwavering determination and passion. Now, with two active bands under KQ's wings, you find yourself constantly occupied.

Managing the members of ATEEZ was undoubtedly a challenging task, and surprisingly, it wasn't due to any misbehavior on their part. Despite their young age and the temptations that come with fame, the ATEEZ members remained remarkably grounded and focused on their careers. You truly admired that. But when a band from such a small company starts gaining momentum, rumors are bound to circulate. Your main priority was to prevent those rumors from leaking. Which wasn't easy, as people can be cruel when they're envious. But still, to this day ATEEZ has not been involved in any major scandals, which made you proud.

In a small company like KQ, everybody knows each other. Initially, stepping into that environment, you couldn't help but feel a bit nervous around the members of ATEEZ. Their presence seemed to exude a magnetic energy that was both captivating and intimidating. As you interacted with them more and more, you realized that their aura was indeed something special. Each member brought their own unique charm and personality to the table. You and the members of ATEEZ grew slightly closer than others, due to your similar ages, but it was Seonghwa who stood out to you the most. His effortless humor, kindness, and genuine care for others made him a favorite. Right from the start, you felt drawn to him. However, you maintained a professional demeanor, knowing all too well the potential consequences of getting too close, especially considering his status as an idol. But at some point, company dinners and parties became regular occasions, where you celebrated each of ATEEZ’s success together. And as the alcohol in your system increased, your professionalism decreased. Your bond with Seonghwa deepened, you found yourself drawn to him more than ever before. Whether it was sharing drinks, engaging in playful games, or simply relishing heartfelt conversations over company dinner, you cherished every moment spent in his company. With each passing interaction, your admiration for him grew, and before you knew it, you were falling head over heels for him. Despite the looming fear of crossing a line you couldn't return from; you couldn't resist him. What started as a professional relationship evolved into something much deeper and more profound. The shy touches and lingering glances exchanged between you spoke volumes, conveying emotions that words alone couldn't express. In the midst of loud music and bustling crowds, you found yourselves leaning closer to each other, seeking solace in the warmth of each other's presence. His hand naturally gravitated to your waist whenever you stood side by side, a silent yet undeniable declaration of the connection you shared.

The day had been long and exhausting, and you were just about ready to call it quits when the sudden intrusion of your boss jolted you from your thoughts. Startled, you looked up to see him standing in the doorway, a look of excitement and urgency written across his face.

"Y/N! Have you heard?" he exclaimed; his voice filled with anticipation. You blinked in surprise, your exhaustion momentarily forgotten as you leaned forward in your chair.

"Heard what?" you asked, curiosity piqued. Your boss couldn't contain his grin as he delivered the news.

"ATEEZ just sold out an entire US Tour!" The words hung in the air, sinking in slowly as you processed their significance. And then, without warning, a surge of elation washed over you, and before you knew it, you were on your feet, a joyful scream escaping your lips.

"What?" you exclaimed, unable to contain your excitement. Without a second thought, you rushed forward, enveloping your boss in a tight hug, overcome with happiness at the incredible news. It was a moment of pure exhilaration, a testament to the hard work and dedication of everyone involved in ATEEZ's journey. The exhaustion of the day melted away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of pride and accomplishment. The excitement in your boss's voice was contagious as he patted your back, a wide grin spreading across his face.

"We are celebrating tonight!" he declared with enthusiasm, his words echoing through the office. A surge of anticipation raced through you at the prospect of celebrating ATEEZ's incredible achievement.

"Absolutely!" you replied eagerly, already picturing the party ahead. With a playful wink, your boss continued,

"So go back to your place, doll up, and I'll see you here at 7 sharp!" You nodded enthusiastically, a smile stretching from ear to ear.

"You got it!" You exclaimed, already mentally planning your outfit for the evening. As you made your way out of the office, the excitement of the impending celebration filled you with renewed energy. With a spring in your step and a heart full of anticipation, you packed up your belongings and bid farewell to the office for the day. The thought of celebrating ATEEZ's success and the prospect of finally seeing Seonghwa filled you with an infectious excitement that bubbled within you. As you made your way through the bustling streets, the anticipation only grew stronger. The familiar sights and sounds of the city seemed to fade into the background, overshadowed by the promise of the evening ahead. Tonight was a night for celebration, a chance to toast to ATEEZ's success and revel in the joy of being surrounded by friends and colleagues. But above all else, it was a night to be reunited with Seonghwa, and you couldn't wait to see where the evening would take you. With a smile on your face and excitement in your heart, you pushed open the door to your apartment.

After a quick shower to freshen up and wash away the cares of the day, you set about styling your hair and applying my makeup with meticulous care. With the luxury of extra time on your hands, you paid attention to every detail to ensure that you looked and felt your best for the evening ahead. After finishing your make-up, you reached out for your phone resting on the nightstand, your heart skipping a beat as you saw Seonghwa's name flashing on the screen. A surge of excitement coursed through you as you answered the call, eager to hear his voice after what felt like an eternity apart.

"Hello?" You said, your voice tinged with anticipation as you brought the phone to your ear, butterflies dancing in your stomach.

"Hey, it's me," Seonghwa's voice came through the line, warm and familiar, sending a rush of warmth through you. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you replied,

"Hi, Seonghwa. I was just thinking about you." There was a pause on the other end of the line, followed by a soft chuckle.

"Funny, I was just thinking about you too," he said, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "I will see you tonight, right?"

"Absolutely, I wouldn't miss it for anything," you replied without hesitation, "We definitely need to celebrate!"

"Honestly, the only thing that matters is that I will finally see you," Seonghwa's voice came through the phone, filled with warmth and affection. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you replied,

"Same here, Seonghwa. I've missed you." And as you exchanged a few more words of affection and excitement, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the opportunity to be reunited once more. With a renewed sense of anticipation and joy, you ended the call, a sense of warmth and happiness lingering in your heart. Tonight was going to be a night to remember, and you couldn't wait to see Seonghwa's smiling face once more.

Choosing the perfect outfit for the evening was challenging. On one hand, you wanted to look your best – to make a memorable impression on Seonghwa after being apart for so long due to his overseas schedule. But on the other hand, you didn't want to appear overdressed or out of place at the party. After rummaging through your wardrobe for what felt like an eternity, you finally settled on something. Opting for a timeless and sophisticated look, you selected a classic black shirt for the evening's celebration. Deciding to add a touch of allure to the ensemble, you opted to leave the top few buttons of the shirt undone, revealing a hint of skin. It was a small gesture, but it added just the right amount of intrigue to the outfit. Paired with a simple black skirt that hit just in the middle of your tights, the combination was effortlessly sexy. The monochromatic palette created a sleek and cohesive look that was eye-catching. With a few carefully chosen accessories – a delicate, gold necklace, a pair of understated earrings, and a sleek clutch – you completed the outfit. As you admired your reflection in the mirror, a sense of excitement washed over you. Tonight was going to be a night to remember.

You entered the company building, the air was filled with electric energy, a tangible sense of excitement pulsating through the air. Everywhere you looked, you could see signs of preparation – colorful balloons swaying gently in the breeze, banners hanging from the walls, and a festive atmosphere that filled the space with warmth and joy. A smile spread across your lips as you took in the sight before you, feeling a surge of excitement building within you. It was clear that everyone had gone to great lengths to ensure that tonight's celebration would be a night to remember, a fitting tribute to ATEEZ's incredible achievement. With each step you took, the anticipation continued to build, fueled by the excitement of finally being reunited with Seonghwa and the rest of the ATEEZ members. After exchanging greetings with everyone and soaking in the festive atmosphere, you found yourself nestled in a cozy corner of the room, a drink in hand. As you scanned the bustling room, your heart skipped a beat with each familiar face that passed by, hoping to catch sight of Seonghwa among the crowd, but he was nowhere to be found.

"Y/N!" As you heard your name called from across the room, you turned your head in the direction of the sound. Through the sea of people, you spotted a familiar face.

"San!" You greeted him enthusiastically as he approached, a genuine smile spreading across your face at the sight of him. San was always such a warm and friendly presence, and you were genuinely glad that he had come over to you. "Congratulations!" you exclaimed as San pulled you in a warm hug. With a smile, you pulled back from the hug, meeting his gaze with genuine happiness in your eyes. "I'm so happy for you, San," you said sincerely, knowing that his success was well-deserved.

"It's truly incredible," San replied, a smile tugging at his lips as he raised his glass to clink it against yours. The sound of glass meeting glass echoed through the room, a toast to success. "It's moments like these that make all the hard work worth it," San said, you nodded with agreement. "Here's to many more successes and celebrations to come." with a smile, you took another sip of your drink, savoring the moment and feeling grateful for the opportunity to share it with a friend like San.

''Y/N! You look amazing!' You didn't notice when Hongjoong approached you,

"Thank you!" You replied, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. Before you could react, Hongjoong took your hand and spun you around gently, causing laughter to bubble up from within you. His eyes scanned you appreciatively, and you felt a blush rise to your cheeks under his gaze. It was a simple gesture, but it filled you with a sense of happiness.

"Am I interrupting something?" As the question hung in the air, you turned your gaze away from Hongjoong and met Seonghwa's eyes, feeling a rush of emotions wash over you. His presence seemed to fill the room, drawing you in with an intensity that was both exhilarating and unnerving. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you locked eyes, a silent exchange passing between you both. In that moment, it felt as though the rest of the world faded away, leaving only the two of you standing there, caught in a moment.

"No, not at all," you replied, as you tore your gaze away from Seonghwa's, turning back to face San and Hongjoong. "We were just catching up." your mind remained fixed on Seonghwa, unable to shake the feeling of his presence lingering in the air.

"I was just telling her how amazing she looks tonight," As Hongjoong's words filled the air, a warm smile spread across your face at his kind gesture. It was a small reassurance amid the tension that lingered between Seonghwa and you,

"Thank you, Hongjoong," you replied with genuine gratitude, meeting his gaze briefly before turning back to face Seonghwa once more. His eyes bore into yours, and you couldn't help but wonder what thoughts lay behind Seonghwa's gaze.

''We will leave you two alone and say hi to the rest of the team.'' San spoke, as he took Hongjoong by his arm, and pulled him behind.

"Of course," you replied, nodding in understanding as San and Hongjoong made their way towards the rest of the team. They disappeared into the crowd, leaving you alone. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence between you filled with unspoken words and unresolved tension.

“I don’t like the way they look at you” Seonghwa's words hung in the air, breaking the silence with a weight that you couldn't ignore. His voice was soft, tinged with a hint of concern that sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn't help but feel a mix of surprise and curiosity at his sudden confession.

"What do you mean?" you asked. There was a depth to his words that hinted at something more, and you found yourself holding your breath, waiting for him to elaborate. Seonghwa sighed, his expression troubled as he struggled to find the right words.

"I mean... I just don't like the way they look at you," he confessed, his voice strained with emotion. His admission caught you off guard, and you were at a loss for how to respond. "It drives me crazy." As he downed his drink in one swift motion, you could see the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

"Seonghwa, are you... jealous?" you asked tentatively, your heart pounding in your chest. His eyes widened at your question, and for a moment, he was speechless.

"Jealous?" Seonghwa repeated, seemingly taken aback by your question. He looked at you, his eyes searching yours as if he was trying to find the answer himself. After a moment of silence, he let out a soft chuckle, his gaze dropping to his hands. "Maybe I am," he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. The intensity of his confession made your heart flutter, and a blush crept up your cheeks. You watched as he ran a hand through his hair, a sign of his nervousness that you had come to recognize.

"I just... I care about you, you know?" He looked up at you, his eyes filled with an emotion that you hadn't seen before. It was a look of protectiveness, of possessiveness, but also of vulnerability. And in that moment, you realized that perhaps Seonghwa's feelings ran deeper than you had initially thought. Your moment was abruptly interrupted by someone calling his name from across the room. Your heart sank slightly, realizing that you wouldn't have the opportunity to delve deeper into the conversation. Seonghwa glanced at you apologetically, his expression filled with regret.

"I'll be right back," he promised, his voice tinged with disappointment. You nodded in understanding, offering him a reassuring smile despite the lingering questions in your mind.

"Take your time," you replied, watching as he made his way through the crowd, his figure disappearing into the throng of people. Left alone with your thoughts, you couldn't help but wonder about the true meaning behind Seonghwa's words. His confession had stirred up a whirlwind of emotions within you, and you longed for the chance to delve deeper into it. But for now, all you could do was wait, hoping for the opportunity to continue your conversation when the time was right.

As the night wore on, you found yourself swept up in a whirlwind of conversations and celebrations, the opportunity to continue the conversation with Seonghwa slipping further and further away with each passing moment. Seonghwa seemed to be caught up in the festivities as well, pulled in different directions by the demands of the evening. Despite your best efforts to find a moment alone with him, the bustling atmosphere of the party made it difficult to carve out the time for a private conversation. Seonghwa was constantly surrounded by friends and colleagues, and you found yourself pulled in different directions as well, engaging in lively discussions and catching up with the rest of the team.

The atmosphere in the company was quiet, with only the faint echoes of the recent party lingering in the air. As the party slowly wound down and the last of the guests trickled out of the door, you found yourself alone in the room, left to clean up the aftermath. Suddenly, the sound of footsteps approached, and you turned to find Seonghwa lingering in the doorway.

"Can I help you clean up?" he asked, his voice gentle and earnest. You nodded, appreciating his offer of help and the chance to speak with him once again.

"Of course, thank you, Seonghwa." You replied, welcoming his company. Together, you started to pick up the scattered cups and plates, the silence between you comfortable yet filled with anticipation. Seonghwa worked diligently, making quick work of the mess. You watched him out of the corner of your eye, admiring his focus. When he finished, he looked up and met your gaze, a small smile playing on his lips.

"It's much easier with two people," he commented, breaking the silence. You agreed and thanked him again for his help. The room was now clean, but neither of you made a move to leave. Seonghwa finally broke the silence.

"About what I said earlier," he began, hesitating slightly. You nodded, indicating that you were listening. He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before he continued. "I meant what I said. I care about you... more than I probably should." His words echoed in the empty room; the atmosphere suddenly heavy. You looked at him, surprised by his confession but also relieved. His feelings mirrored your own, and you found yourself smiling at him.

"I care about you too, Seonghwa," you replied, his face lit up at your words, and for the first time that evening, you felt a sense of peace wash over you.

"Can I kiss you?" His words sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through you, and without hesitation, you reached out to gently cup his face in your hands.

"Yes," you whispered, Seonghwa’s eyes twinkled with happiness at your answer. You could feel your heart pound against your chest in anticipation. Seonghwa’s touch was gentle yet commanding as he pulled you closer by your waist, drawing you into his embrace with a magnetic force that was impossible to resist. As his touch sent shivers cascading down your spine, your body reacted instinctively, responding to the electrifying sensation with an intensity that took your breath away. Every nerve seemed to ignite with a fiery spark as his fingertips grazed your skin, leaving a trail of tingling sensation. Seonghwa's lips were warm and soft against yours, each gentle brush sending sparks of electricity dancing across your skin. The moment his lips met yours, everything around melted away. All you could feel was him; his lips on yours, his heartbeat echoing your own. The kiss was soft, tender, filled with all the emotions that had been building up between you. With each press of Seonghwa’s lips against yours, you felt yourself melting into his touch, losing yourself in the intoxicating sensation of his embrace. Your heart pounded furiously in your chest, a steady rhythm echoing the urgency of the desire that coursed through you. With each caress, your senses were heightened, attuned to every nuance of his touch. It was as if a spark had been ignited within you, setting your entire being ablaze with a fierce longing that threatened to consume you whole.

"Seonghwa, we shouldn't," you whispered breathlessly against his lips as you pulled away, a pang of hesitation gnawing at your heart.

"Why not?" He murmured, his breath hitching as he stared at you with a look of surprise and confusion. His words resonated within you, forcing you to confront the fear that had been lingering at the back of your mind. You swallowed hard, your mind wrestling with the feelings that had been building up inside you.

"You're an idol, Seonghwa, and I... I work for your PR team," you started, your voice barely a whisper. You watched as the confusion in his eyes shifted to understanding, his grip on your waist loosening slightly. "The rules... the... the consequences," you stuttered, your heart pounding as you tried to put your fears into words. "We could get caught... I could lose my job... and it could ruin your career." For a moment, Seonghwa was silent, absorbing your words. You could see the struggle in his eyes, the battle between his feelings and the harsh reality of the world you both lived in. But then, he pulled you closer, his eyes never leaving yours.

"I understand," he said softly, his voice barely audible over the pounding in your chest. "But I can't help how I feel about you. We'll figure this out... together." You tried to say something, to voice the concerns still swirling in your mind, but Seonghwa shook his head and placed a finger on your lips.

"Shhh... I've waited too long for this," he murmured, and before you could respond, he leaned in once again, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss that left no room for argument. His touch was electrifying, his lips hungry and insistent against yours, and you found yourself returning his fervor with equal intensity. There was no gentleness, no tender caresses. Instead, your kiss was raw and unbridled, fueled by a primal hunger that threatened to consume you both. With each brush of your lips, the barriers that had once held you back crumbled, giving way to an overwhelming surge of desire. In the heat of the moment, there was no room for hesitation or doubt. All that mattered was the fiery connection that blazed between you, igniting a flame that burned brighter with each passing second. And as you lost yourselves in the intoxicating rush of passion, you knew that there was no turning back. As the world around you melted away, you found the courage to voice the words that had been on the tip of your tongue.

"Let's go to my place," you breathed out, your heart pounding in your chest as you waited for his response. Seonghwa looked at you, a slight surprise in his eyes. Then a slow smile spread across his face, transforming his features into a look of pure happiness.

"I'd love to," he replied, his voice husky. You reached out, gently grasping Seonghwa's wrist and pulling him to follow you. His eyes widened slightly in surprise, but there was a glimmer of excitement mirrored in their depths. With a sense of urgency, you swiftly took your purse. Every movement was propelled by a heady mix of anticipation and desire, your heart pounding in rhythm with the rapid pace of your thoughts. As you made your way to the back door, Seonghwa paused for a moment, reaching for his jacket, glasses, and a mask before stepping outside. You were struck by his thoughtfulness and attention to detail. In that simple gesture, you saw a glimpse of the considerate and caring person he was beneath the surface. With a soft smile, you followed, grabbing your own jacket and slipping on a mask before joining Seonghwa outside. The cool night air greeted you as you stepped onto the pavement, wrapping you in its embrace. Feeling the warmth of Seonghwa's hand intertwining with yours sent a jolt of electricity. With your fingers intertwined, you set off together, following the familiar way that would lead you to your apartment. You couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude as you made your way through the quiet streets, it was a relief to know that your apartment was only a short distance away from the company.

As soon as the door to your apartment closed behind you, Seonghwa pulled you hard into his chest, your bodies pressing on each other. His kisses became more urgent, his grip on you tighter as if he was afraid you would disappear. His lips found yours in a passionate kiss that left you breathless, his taste intoxicating, leaving you wanting more. In this moment, there was no room for remorse or second thoughts, only the overpowering need for each other. You were lost in him, in the overwhelming sensation of his touch, his taste, his scent. As the intensity of your shared passion escalated, Seonghwa moved to unbutton your shirt, his fingers trembling slightly with anticipation.

"Wait," you murmured, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark and filled with desire, but he stopped at your words, his hands coming to rest on your waist as he waited for you to continue. "I... I just want to make sure we're both on the same page," you said softly, voice trembling slightly with the weight of the moment. "I care about you, Seonghwa, more than I can put into words. But I want it to mean something, for both of us." As you spoke, you searched his expression for any sign of hesitation or doubt, but all you found was a profound sense of understanding and respect. In that moment, you were sure that Seonghwa shared your desire for something deeper, something more meaningful than just physical intimacy. His lips curved into a tender smile, and he reached up to gently cup your cheek in his hand.

"I understand," he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. "I want this to mean something too, Y/N. More than anything. I’m not leaving you." With those words, the last of your doubts melted away, leaving only a sense of trust and connection between you. His touch, careful and loving, trailed down your body, taking the time to appreciate every inch of you. Seonghwa’s fingers traced over your skin, leaving a trail of warmth and desire in their wake. He took his time, his hands exploring you as if he was memorizing every curve, every line of your body. Your hands found their way to his hair, tugging gently at the soft strands. He let out a soft groan, his hot breath fanning against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His lips found yours again, stealing your breath away with the intensity of the kiss. His hands moved to the buttons of your shirt, unbuttoning it and tossing it aside. His gaze was full of admiration and desire as he looked at you, his eyes taking in your form.

"You're beautiful, Y/N," he murmured against your lips, his voice low and filled with emotion. You blushed, a smile spreading across your lips at his words. Seonghwa leaned in, pressing kisses along your neck, collarbones, down to your chest. His hands finally moved to unclasp your bra, letting it fall to the floor. His touch was electrifying, each kiss sending waves of pleasure through your body. Seonghwa was patient, taking his time to make you feel loved, and cherished. He moved lower, his lips trailing down your stomach, making you gasp with anticipation. You arched into his touch, your fingers tangling in his hair, guiding him closer to where you needed him. "So impatient," Seonghwa commented as he moved back up, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer. Craving the feel of his skin against yours, your hands moved to his shirt, unbuttoning it and pushing it off his shoulders. You took a moment to admire him, your gaze trailing over his muscular chest, and the defined abs. Seonghwa was beautiful, every inch of him perfect. You reached out, your fingers tracing over his skin, feeling the warmth radiating from him. Seonghwa’s hands roamed your body, the touch igniting a fire within you. He moved lower once again, his lips trailing down your stomach, making you gasp with anticipation. His hands moved to your skirt, unzipping it and sliding it down your legs. Seonghwa’s lips found the skin on your thighs, his hands gently creasing them, each touch sending waves of desire coursing through you. His lips moved up your tight, his lips finding all your sensitive spots, making you arch your back and gasp out his name. You felt his breath dangerously close to your panties, which by now were soaked completely with your arousal.

"Seonghwa," you moaned, your voice thick with longing as you arched your back, surrendering to the intoxicating sensations that washed over you. "Not here," you murmured, your voice trembling as looked down on him with a mixture of desire and urgency. "Bedroom... Let's go to the bedroom." Seonghwa, with a deep and magnetic gaze that held you captive, guided you gently towards the bedroom. He led you to the edge of the bed, his hands never leaving your body. Carefully, with an affectionate touch, he laid you down on the soft sheets. Seonghwa's gaze was intense but tender, as if he was committing every detail of you to memory. The look in his eyes held a fervor that was both thrilling and comforting. The last piece of your clothing was slowly discarded, your lace panties landing softly on the floor. His hands, now free to explore, traced a path of heat down your bare body, each touch igniting a spark of anticipation. He kissed you deeply, a promise of more to come, before his eyes met yours once more. Seonghwa's gaze was full of adoration and hunger, a testament to the intimate connection that was about to deepen. Slowly, Seonghwa began to undress himself, his movements unhurried and deliberate. As the last piece of his clothing dropped to the floor, he positioned himself atop you, his bare skin against yours sending tremors of desire coursing through your veins. His eyes continued to hold your gaze, their depths reflecting the shared anticipation of the intimate moment that was about to unfold.

"Is this alright?" Seonghwa whispered against your lips.

"Yes," you murmured, your voice barely more than a whisper, "Yes, Seonghwa... I'm yours." Your affirmation seemed to ignite something within him. A slow, intoxicating smile spread across his face, his dark eyes twinkling with a mixture of love, desire, and a hint of possessiveness that sent shivers down your spine. His gaze never wavered from yours, maintaining eye contact as he leaned down, his lips meeting yours in a searing, passionate kiss. One of his hands, tender and firm, cradled your face, his thumb gently brushing against your cheeks. With the other one he steadied himself between your legs, and you finally felt him entering you slowly and gently, his movements measured and full of care. The feeling was intoxicating, overwhelming in its intensity but filled with a tenderness that only Seonghwa could provide. As Seonghwa moved, you felt a surge of pleasure that left you gasping, your fingers trailing over his back, your nails gently digging into his skin. His name fell from your lips in a breathless whisper, the syllables intertwining with the soft moans and gasps that filled the room. Each thrust heightened the pleasure, building up tension that had you moaning his name louder. He responded to your every sound, his movements shifting and adapting to your responses. It was as if he was attuned to every part of you, each touch designed to elicit the maximum pleasure.

"Seonghwa," you moaned, as he continued to move, his rhythm steady and deliberate. He looked down at you, his gaze filled with love and desire, his expression mirroring the pleasure coursing through you. "I’m close" you whimpered as the pleasure started to overwhelm you.

"I know, baby," he responded, his voice low and soothing. His eyes never left yours, holding your gaze as the room around you both seemed to fade. Each of his movements were measured, calculated to draw the maximum response from you. He knew exactly what you needed, when you needed it, and he wasn't afraid to take his time in delivering it. Seonghwa was completely in tune with your body, knowing just how to touch you, how to move, to bring you to the edge. A gasp escaped your lips as his rhythm increased, the intensity building as he moved. His name was a whispered prayer on your lips, the only word you could manage as you clung to him. The world around you narrowed to the feeling of him, the sight of him, the sound of him, the scent of him.

"Let go baby," he murmured against your ear, his voice a soothing balm, grounding you in the moment. With a few more deep movements, he guided you both to the peak of your shared pleasure. The feeling was indescribable, a release of tension that left you both panting and gasping for breath. And through it all, Seonghwa was there with you, his gaze never leaving yours, his love and desire for you clear in his eyes. As the waves of pleasure subsided, Seonghwa collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms. He held you close, his heart beating in time with yours as you both lay there in silence, the echoes of your shared climax still reverberating through your bodies. Seonghwa’s fingers traced idle patterns on your skin, a soothing gesture that eased the lingering tremors racking your body. His lips pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, the tenderness of the gesture making your heart flutter.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. His concern was palpable, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort. You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips.

"More than okay," you assured him, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair from his sweaty forehead. His answering smile was warm and genuine, a sight that never failed to make your heart skip a beat.

"Good," he murmured, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. His breathing slowly became more regular, his body relaxing as he basked in the afterglow. You laid there, tangled in each other's arms, your heartbeats syncing in the quiet. There was no need for words now, the silence between you was comfortable and familiar. As you drifted off to sleep, his arms tightened around you.

You were suddenly awakened by the sound of Seonghwa's voice, harsh and irritated, a stark contrast to the gentle tone you had grown accustomed to. His distressed voice pierced the calm tranquility of the early morning as he was on the phone, pacing around the room with furrowed brows, clearly in frustration. As you sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you noticed your phone blinking on the bedside table. Forty-three missed calls. A wave of chilly dread filled you as you unlocked your phone to see the flood of messages and notifications. The first one you clicked on made your heart drop. Pictures of you and Seonghwa, walking to your apartment, your hands intertwined, were plastered all over various media outlets. The headlines screamed about Seonghwa's secret relationship, a shocking revelation that seemed to have hit the fandom like a lightning bolt. The comments section was a whirlpool of emotions - shock, betrayal, and surprisingly, support. As you scrolled through the articles, you could barely register the words. This was your worst nightmare coming to life, the very reason you hesitated to start a relationship with Seonghwa in the first place. Seonghwa finished his call and turned to you, his face unnaturally pale.

"It's all over the news," he said, his voice barely a whisper. The room felt suffocating as a heavy silence descended upon it, both of you too stunned to utter a word. The reality of the situation was sinking in, unfolding a terrifying scenario that you both had dreaded. Your mind was racing, scrambling to make sense of the situation. All your worst fears were coming to life - the fear of getting caught, of losing your job, and of potentially damaging Seonghwa's career. This was the adverse consequence of your secret relationship, the one you had feared and tried to prevent from the very beginning. Yet, amidst the turmoil, you couldn't help but feel a pang of regret. Your anger flared as you dialed your boss's number, your hands shaking as you held the phone to your ear. He picked up on the second ring, his voice tense,

"You need to do your job and stop this information from spreading," he demanded, his tone cold and unyielding. You felt your heart clench at his words, a bitter laugh escaping your lips as you fired back,

"How am I supposed to do that when I'm the one involved?" The line crackled with tension as you braced yourself for your boss's response, knowing that your conversation was about to take a heated turn.

"You're involved!?" His voice was sharp, laced with disbelief and a hint of anger. "How could you let this happen, Y/N? Do you have any idea what kind of mess you've gotten yourself into?" His words hit you like a slap in the face, and you felt a surge of anger rising within you.

"I didn't 'let' anything happen," you shot back, your own voice rising with frustration. "This isn't something I planned or wanted. And as for the mess, believe me, I'm well aware of it." There was a tense pause on the other end of the line, the silence filled with unspoken accusations and bitter recriminations. You could practically feel your boss's disappointment radiating through the phone, a heavy weight pressing down on you with each passing second.

"We need to contain this," he said finally, his tone clipped and businesslike. "Handle the damage control on our end, write a press release. Stay out of the public eye, keep your head down, and for god's sake, don't make things worse." You clenched your jaw, struggling to keep your emotions in check as you listened to his instructions.

"And what about Seonghwa?" you demanded, unable to suppress the edge of desperation in your voice. There was another pause, longer this time, as your boss considered his response.

"Seonghwa knew what he was getting into when he chose this life," he said finally, his voice oddly cold and unsympathetic. "He's a public figure, and he needs to accept the consequences of his actions. Just like you do." The words hung between you, a bitter reminder of the harsh reality you were both facing. As you hung up the phone, a sense of resignation settled over you, knowing that no matter how much you wanted to protect Seonghwa, there were forces at play far beyond your control. Seonghwa, who had been a silent witness to your conversation, finally broke his silence. His sobs filled the room, each one stabbing you like a knife to the heart. You turned to him, your eyes filled with regret and sorrow.

"I was supposed to be the one protecting you," you said, your voice choked with tears. You could see the pain in his eyes, reflecting your own as you confessed, "This was a mistake. I'm going to get fired, Seonghwa. There's no future for us." His face crumpled at your words, a look of utter devastation replacing his earlier confusion.

"No, Y/N, please..." he pleaded, his voice cracking with emotion. "I can't lose you." he retorted, his voice filled with a mixture of anger and despair. His words hit you like a punch to the gut. As the silence settled in the room, you felt a lump forming in your throat. The harsh reality of the situation was too overwhelming to comprehend. The words that had been exchanged between you two still echoed in your ears, haunting you. The room, once filled with love and warmth, now felt cold and distant. The air was heavy with unspoken words and suppressed emotions. Seonghwa, his eyes red and swollen from crying, looked at you. His usual cheerful demeanor was now replaced with a look of sadness and despair. He seemed like a completely different person. Seeing him like this broke your heart even more, the reality of the situation dawning on you.

"I... I need some time," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He got up from the bed, picked up his clothes from the floor and walked towards the bathroom, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You sat there, numb and silent, as you processed everything that had happened. You felt a sense of guilt wash over you, realizing that your actions had led to this mess. Picking up your phone, you answered the incoming call from one of the reporters.

"This is a delicate matter, and we are currently fact-checking all the information," you replied, maintaining a professional tone. "We will be releasing an official press statement soon regarding the matter. Thank you for your understanding."

For the next several minutes, you found yourself answering a seemingly endless stream of phone calls, bombarded with the same questions over and over again. "Who is this girl?" "Is it really Seonghwa?" "Is it official?" With each call, your heart ached a little more, the reality of the situation sinking in. You were the reason behind this mess, and with each question, the weight of your actions became increasingly clear. Seonghwa finally emerged from the bathroom, he was fully dressed, his hair neatly combed back, and his face, although still showing signs of distress, was more composed. He settled down next to you, the distance between you heavy with unspoken tension. You could feel his gaze burning into you, his eyes searching for answers in the depths of your own. But as he heard you denying what happened during countless phone calls, a flicker of hurt flashed across his features, overshadowing the mask of composure he had worn moments before.

"Y/N," he began, his voice tinged with a mixture of frustration and disappointment. "Why are you doing this? We can't keep pretending like nothing happened." His words cut through the silence like a knife, leaving you speechless in their wake. You could feel the weight of his gaze bearing down on you, demanding honesty in the face of your denial. But as you met his eyes, you saw the pain reflected in their depths, and a pang of guilt surged through you. You had hurt him deeply with your words, and now, as you continued to deny the truth, you were only adding to his anguish. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you turned away, unable to meet Seonghwa’s gaze any longer. In that moment, you felt more alone than ever, trapped in a web of lies and deceit from which there seemed to be no escape.

Once the calls ended, with a heavy heart, you began to draft a press release denying the rumors. As you typed, your mind raced with thoughts of how to properly word your denial, how to ensure that it would put an end to the rampant speculation. Seonghwa, who had been observing silently, finally spoke up, his tone filled with discontent. "Why are you denying it?" he asked, his eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and frustration.

"Seonghwa, we have to," you tried explaining,

"No, we don't," he retorted, his voice steady and determined. "We don't have to lie. We don't have to hide."

"Seonghwa, we can't just admit to this. The backlash... it could ruin your career," you argued, your voice tinged with desperation.

"And what? We lie? We hide?" Seonghwa countered, his voice filled with frustration.

"We need to think about the consequences. The fans, the company... it's not just us we have to consider." you countered, trying to maintain your composure.

"I don't care about that," he said, his voice softening. "I care about you. I care about us. I don't want to lie about that."

"But this isn't just about us. There are other people involved. Our actions have consequences." you responded, your voice breaking slightly.

"I know that" he said, his tone resolute. "But isn't our relationship worth fighting for?" he asked, his voice filled with concern. As the weight of your situation bore down, you felt the sting of desperation clawing at your heart, driving you to speak words you knew would hurt Seonghwa deeply.

"What relationship are you even talking about, Seonghwa? We hadn't even had a 'what-are-we' talk, and everything is ruined," you spat out, your voice laced with bitterness and regret. "We kissed less than 24 hours ago, and now we're all over the news." The words spilled out of you like poison, each one laced with the bitter taste of reality. You could see the pain flicker across Seonghwa's face, his eyes clouding with hurt and confusion. But you couldn't stop yourself, couldn't hold back the flood of emotions threatening to consume you. "We need to protect you," you continued, your voice trembling with emotion. "There's no 'us' in this, Seonghwa. It's just you, and your career, and the future you've worked so hard for. I won't let you throw it all away for me." Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you turned away, unable to bear the weight of Seonghwa's gaze any longer. In that moment, you knew that you had hurt him deeply, but you couldn't bring yourself to regret those words. For better or worse, they were the truth, the raw, unfiltered truth that lay at the heart of your impossible situation.

"You don't get to decide that" Seonghwa replied, his voice steady despite the turmoil beneath his calm exterior. "You don't get to decide what I throw away or keep. It's my life, my career, my future. And you... you're a part of that, whether you like it or not." His words hung heavy in the air, an undeniable truth that weighed down on your heart. "We're in this together, and I'm not letting you walk away just because you're scared. So, let's face this together. Let's fight for 'us', for our future. Because, in my eyes, there's no 'me' without 'us'." You stared at him, your heart pounding. His words echoed in your mind, raw and powerful. The intensity in his gaze was almost too much to bear. Could you really fight for this? For him? Suddenly, the weight of your decision seemed more significant, more daunting.

"I... I don't know, Seonghwa," you stuttered, your voice barely a whisper. "I don't know if I can do this. If I can put you at risk like that."

But Seonghwa just shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "That's not for you to decide," he countered gently. "I'm ready to face whatever comes our way. And I want you by my side. So, will you fight with me?"

#ateez x reader #ateez angst #ateez fluff #ateez smut #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x y/n #seonghwa smut #seonghwa angst #seonghwa fluff

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seekingflowers · 2 months

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Future Husband Pick a Card (1-3)

I'm sure you all know how it works! Just relax and let your intuition guide you to choose your pile 🌕. Take what resonates and leave the rest. I am very honest and will not sugar coat what I see. Please don't hesitate to tell me what resonated with you! I welcome all to interact 🤝

Hello everyone! Welcome to my tarot blog. This is my first post ever, and a pick a card reading (1, 2, 3- cards) 🥰😍🥀

Pile 1:

Page of Wands

- First and foremost, it COULD indicate he's younger- if not, he may seem younger with his demeanor. More than likely, he may have approached you first. He'll be the first you one hear when you walk into a room.

In the beginning stages, this person will feel like a breath of fresh air. They are lively and outgoing. Always inviting you to join them on outings with friends or see and experience new places.

They are very social and ready to be on the go-go go. If you're not, it doesn't matter. They'll go because they're ready. Decisive and quick. However, it may not always be thought out. This person tends to be optimistic and may seem naive, but do not berate them. Sharp and witty, they stand their ground. They do not like to be held back and smothered. They seek fun and spontaneity, keep them on their toes. At times, you may feel like this man flakes out on you because he is so quick to do other things or entertain himself with others. He may forget things easily, such as planned dates or activities, anniversaries, or make sudden changes.

Their curiosity and openess will show you how to appreciate the moment and accept changes. It's okay to experience new things. If something is wrong, they will confront you, and they will expect the same from you. Be open and honest, and communicate with patience. They're not afraid to voice their opinion and say it how they see it. Friends and family love and adore their presence, which brings warmth and laughs all around.

Please remember, we all change with time, and some things may remain, but nothing lasts forever. Take what resonates and leave the rest.

Pile 2:

King of Wands Reversed.

- He's definitely the one to approach you. Could be someone older or someone in an authority position.

This man may appear aggressive, often displaying signs of frustration or impatience. Can be very controlling and dominant overall. He has natural charisma and a fiery intellect, making it difficult to get a word in with him. Stubborn and hot-headed, he will likely dislike opposing views or opinions. People's views of him are black and white. Few understand him. There could be a problem with respecting those above him or taking consideration from others in general. There are few to maybe none that he cares for, but if he does care, he is fiercely protective over them and will come to their side to defend them. Even blindly.

About action, he's the one to get it done and have a go get it now attitude. Either do it or don't. Prone to impulsiveness and hypocrisy, his actions may bring upon consequences he isn't ready to handle and will break down in a tantrum.

Not afraid to approach others, he is relentless with his pursuits. On the good days, his humor and smiles are a sight to see and hear. Captivating and charming, people are drawn to him or are intimidated by him. His humor isn't everyone's cup of tea. It may be crude.

Highly competitive, spats between him and others are frequent. He hates losing and hates being wrong.

To be with this man, thick skin is needed along with groundedness. With you, he can be very loving, but ill tempered and stubborn.

He's very likely a traditional man who wants a traditional wife and family with him as head of the household. Although earlier in life, he may have had a desire of the opposite for the short term.

Please note that the future is not set in stone. Take what resonates and leave the rest.

Pile 3:

Ace of Cups

- This man off the bat is an emotionally intuitive man. More likely to be reserved with his words, but expressive with his love and affections. Expressive eyes with intent prying into your soul. He enjoys private moments with you and goes out of his way to get you alone. It may seem unintentional, but it's not. It may be a love at first sight, or rather, when they fall in love- they fall hard.

There could be this feeling of a deep connection between the two of you that feels familiar yet so foreign. However, do not drown with the feeling. Learn to swim with it, or it will create false imaginations of the other person. You open up this person's inner world, and they want to pour into your cup endlessly. Sometimes, feelings can become intense, and a struggle to sort through emotions with each other can be difficult. Therefore, there can be spurts of emotional outbursts. Clear communication is very important with this man.

Being one to love deeply, he can hold a grudge and keep score of what wrong he thinks you've done to him. He might think he loves you more than you love him. This man wants you to be open with your love and reciprocate his feelings with the same intensity. When you are in an emotional frenzy from work or a bad day, he's the one to comfort and feel you. He'd go out of his way to make you feel better. If he can't, he will beat himself up for it. People close to him are few, even if it seems like there is a whole crowd around him. He's the go-to therapist or listener for folks, and it may get to him from time to time, so please allow him some space when needed.

Some days, he may seem hot and cold, but that's just likely because he isn't feeling anything that particular day or hour. Or he is in his head thinking about anything. As all humans do.

Love each other truly and not just love itself. It is easy to get lost in love and forget the person. Take what resonates and leave the rest.

Please remember, take what resonates, and leave the rest. One card does not describe everything about a person, and it is not the end all be all. Nothing is set in stone. People change - we all change.

Once again, please let me know what resonates and tell me what'd you like to see from me. 💫

#psychic #tarot cards #tarotblr #pac reading #love tarot reading #tarot reading #divination #tarot blog #seekingflowers #tarotcommunity #tarot #pick a card #pick a pile #love reading #future husband

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valkryrie · 11 months

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Veiled Allure — Gojo Satoru

synopsis: It is your wedding day and you finally get to meet your spouse.

content: f!reader, arranged marriage

author's note: Gojo is such a fun character to write. I hope you enjoy this short piece! („• ֊ •„)

PART TWO

You took slow, deliberate steps towards the altar, your heart pounding in your chest like a war drum. The weight of tradition and expectation pressed heavily on your shoulders, and you couldn't shake the apprehension that had settled within you. How had you ended up here?

You were the child of a clan head affiliated with the Gojo clan. You had hoped that being the youngest of four siblings would grant you some reprieve from political unions. Yet, fate had decided otherwise. You remember the shock that had come when your father informed you of your engagement. You had fought against it initially, determined to forge your own path, but your father had said that both of the clans had already agreed. Resistance was futile.

With every step closer to Satoru, your betrothed, the knots in your stomach tightened. His presence only intensified your nerves. The charismatic Gojo prodigy was an enigma.

Satoru was two years your senior. You had never had the chance to interact with him on a personal level as an underclassman student of the sister school, Kyoto Jujutsu High. You had heard many tells in your high school years from your seniors about the aloof Gojo Satoru. It seemed that his reputation preceded him, and now you were about to be bound to him for life.

Arriving at the altar, you took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing pulse. You could see your kneeling soon to be husband and found yourself momentarily lost in the depths of his eyes. They were a striking shade of blue, vibrant and captivating. You noticed how they widened as his eyes took you in from head to toe. In that moment you were thankful that your face was obscured, the veil helping to hide the flush that dusted across your cheeks. You didn’t know what to do when Gojo Satoru was looking so appreciatively, interest so plain in his gaze. You stiffly took your place seated beside him.

The priest began the ceremony. His words droned on but it seemed that Satoru wouldn’t stop staring. You turned to him and he smirked at you in response when he knew that he had your attention.

“You seem rather amused.” You whispered to him, “Is my discomfort truly that entertaining?"

"Oh, my dear, it's not just your discomfort. It's the way you've managed to captivate my attention without saying a single word."

"Well, I suppose I should consider that a skill in itself. Perhaps I should add 'silent enchantress' to my resume."

Satoru actually laughed, the priest stumbling in his oration. You ducked your head when he cast a quelling glance in your direction, reprimanding you and your soon to be husband.

"I can already tell this marriage will never be dull. Let's make it a partnership worth gossiping about, shall we?"

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo imagine #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #valkryrie

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merakiui · 8 months

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while in captivity, floyd encounters a human and unintentionally pair-bonds with you during a moment of biological vulnerability.

(cw: gender neutral reader, nsfw, omegaverse/abo, heats, captivity)

The marine lab has recently acquired a unique specimen—unique in that he is half-human and half-fish, hailing from deep, dark, indescribable depths. An eel merman, to be exact. You’ve only ever glimpsed merfolk in outdated textbooks and fairytales, the latter of which depicted them as whimsical beings capable of feats beyond scientific understanding. Magic. Although in the realm of biology, such folly is never entertained and so what the world calls ‘magic’ other fields built upon the foundations of research refer to it as a ‘miracle’. In your eyes those words are interchangeable, but then the idea of a miracle is far easier to digest than the concept of magic.

Merfolk have always been elusive, covert creatures, hence why there is hardly any conclusive data on them. In fact, they’re so secretive that they were believed to be mostly extinct—a figment of dreams and hallucinations. Most of what humans know stems from the tattered notes of long-gone sailors, their presences nearly lost to time itself, and for a while all anyone ever knew were four key details:

They are spread throughout the sea, living out their lives in frigid fathoms.

They are hypnotic and deceptive.

They are predatory.

They rarely interact with humankind unless absolutely necessary (e.g. to hunt or observe).

But with plenty of promising technological advances, some of the theories and myths surrounding merfolk have been bolstered or disproved, respectively. Merfolk are just as diverse as the rest of the animal kingdom. Some live in solitude. Others thrive in groups. Some make their home out of caves and grottos. Some dwell within the labyrinths of volcanic rock formations. It is every marine biologist’s dream to come face to face with one of these mysterious creatures, if only for just a few minutes to glean more information.

That dream is made reality today.

The eel mer was discovered off the coast of a tiny island, entangled in fishing lines and plastic litter. His large, winding body, snake-like in its sleek build, was littered with scars and scrapes. There was a hook lodged up in the folds of his gills. Despite his thrashing, his tail swishing wildly in the sand and nearly knocking down three researchers like they were bowling pins, he was wheezing and gasping, drained of energy and air. When the first bucket of seawater came down upon his dry gills, he settled briefly, wide, crazed, mismatched eyes flicking from face to face. Likely assessing the situation or counting the amount of bodies, the report claimed.

He fell still after that, and it took two teams of ten people to load him onto the lift so he could be flown to the lab.

After he spent a week in recovery, where he healed surprisingly fast, he was transferred to a much larger and wider tank, its depths far deeper than the average swimming pool. He doesn’t swim to the surface much, and he only ever pokes his head out at night, scanning his surroundings with intelligent, keen eyes. And then he turns and disappears below. It’s a pattern he’s stuck to for weeks now. No one really understands it, and they haven’t had the opportunity to try. He’s uncooperative and unpredictable. It’s much too dangerous to send a diver down there.

So they transfer you to his enclosure, assuming you might have more luck. You’re not sure and you can’t make any promises of potential success, as you’ve only ever interacted with marine mammals. A merman is…different. Not only because he’s half-man and, by that same logic, likely possesses a human brain that is capable of a higher level of thought, albeit one that is wired to suit his mer biology, but because he’s bigger. A lot bigger.

He could kill you.

You saw the documentation. The serrated teeth, the powerful claws, the dangerous jaw, the bulky, muscular build that cuts through water like a bullet. He is a predator in every sense of the word, and you’re supposed to look after him. Coax him to the surface. Get him to trust humans. Interact with him just inches from the edge of his tank and hope that he doesn’t get hungry or violent.

He might kill you.

But there are safety measures put in place for these things. Ethics to be followed and whatnot. It’s a slippery slope because he’s part human and therefore could possibly have the same level of intelligence humans have, in which case it would be wrong to trap him here. There may be ways to skirt around it with other animals, but he’s not like other animals.

For now, he’s kept here under the pretense of recovery and scientific study. The lab treats him like the big fish he is, going so far as to buy a shark suit in your size and instruct you to wear it even though you’re not going to get in the water. “It should prevent him from biting through,” they had said, “but it won’t lessen the force of his bite.”

“What good will that do? I can’t fight him off.” Though you knew it had nothing to do with anything, you added, “I’m an omega. Merfolk might not have the same sub-genders as we do up on the surface—or maybe they do; I don’t know—but if he were human he’d definitely classify as an alpha. Put that into perspective. I can’t. Fight. Him. Off. It’s biologically impossible.”

“So you poke his eyes. Dig your fingers into his gills. He should let go of you then.”

“That’ll hurt him,” you protested, clutching the suit to your chest.

“Not as much as he’ll hurt you.”

You suppose it’s a clinical priority. Survival of the fittest, but it’s the human who has to live. The lab could afford to lose you, but they don't want to. And if they did, they might put the mer down. Shoot him up with enough tranquilizers to keep him comatose. Maybe it only bothered you because, yet again, he’s half-human and no one on the team knows the extent to which he thinks and functions.

To simplify it, they consider him a shark. But like any creature, sharks learn and adapt as they go. Death is instinct.

He will kill you.

But you don’t want to think like that, which is why you put on your best smile and trudge into the enclosure he’s being kept in. The tank looms before you, seawater clear and beamed through with streaks of light from the harsh, glaring LEDs above. The deeper the water gets, the darker the shadows. You press your palm against the glass, observing the murky darkness with a frown. Somewhere in this tank, at a depth you can’t even imagine, is an eel merman. A big, strong, powerful, scary eel merman.

You swallow a steadying breath, curl your fingers into fists, and climb the spiral staircase to get to the attached platform. Your reflection follows you with each step, countenance set in grim confliction. Once you reach the top, you peer out at the surface of the pool, listening to the droning hum of water filters and other hidden machinery. There’s a very shallow part of the tank, a dip in the design that allows for the mer to lounge if he so pleases. You’re reminded of the dolphins in live shows, who slide up onto their stomachs to face an awestruck audience. You doubt that’s what he’ll use this ledge for. If anything, it could allow a researcher to kneel in the shallows while they interact with him at an intimate propinquity.

You don’t plan on being that researcher.

Instead, you pace a healthy distance away from the edge, holding a bucket of his breakfast in one hand and a notebook in the other.

“Um!” You cringe at your voice as it reverberates around you in a nervous echo. Cautiously, you inch towards the water. “I have your food!”

You wait three seconds, expecting him to come bursting up from the darkness like the shark everyone wants to delude themselves into thinking he is. The water remains still and unbroken. You wonder if your voice can even reach such a depth. If not the sound, the vibrations might. Or maybe he’s resting. It’s still relatively early in the morning. Perhaps his sleep schedule is thrown off. Yours would be if you were taken from your home and dumped in a manufactured version of your habitat.

You lurch forwards with the bucket and watch as a collection of shrimp, crab, and small fish soar through the air in a sloppy arc before landing and sinking into the waiting depths below. Nothing happens. The tension in your body ebbs away, and when it becomes clear that he isn’t coming up to greet you and feast on your offering you relax completely, collapsing against the wall with a great sigh.

If they really want to study him, they should just watch him on the security feed, you think, peering up at the camera in one corner of the room, its red eye fixated on you and the surrounding enclosure. He’s not going to come up during the day. Not when there are humans walking around.

Still, you wait your shift out, scribbling nonsense in your notebook and occasionally glancing up to gauge the state of the water.

The mer doesn’t show, so you resolve to try again.

Try you do, and try you have.

It’s been one week of perfunctory routine, arriving and feeding him at the same time in hopes that he might understand what you’re doing and come up to investigate. Or, at the very least, recognize you’re a recurring figure in his chapter of captivity. You don’t intend on befriending him. You only wish to fulfill your duties as a researcher, however skewed they may have become. Even though you know you ought to be grateful the mer hasn’t caused any problems, you want something to happen. Anything! At this rate, you’d sooner tire yourself out playing with rowdy sea lions than sit around in silence while waiting for an appearance from him.

It’s a quiet Tuesday afternoon when the first beat of unrest hits.

The mer’s enclosure is kept at a comfortable temperature for humans; it’s the water that’s freezing below the surface. So when you step up onto the platform and peer into the chum-infested deep, the empty bucket now set aside, you feel warmer than usual. Odd, considering the room is normally so chilly. Not extremely so, but chilly enough to give way to a pleasant cold.

Tugging at the collar of your shark suit, you cover the distance to stand under a large fan situated just near the dip in the pool. Cool air kisses your heated skin, providing you with much-needed relief, and you peer up at the propellers that spin in endless circles. Around and around and around. Your eyes follow the motions until you dizzy yourself, and you step back on wobbly legs. Your foot misses the metal platform and instead slips into the ledge built in the tank. With a startled yelp you fall backwards, landing in the shallows on your rear.

“Of course,” you mumble, bitter with embarrassment. “Leave it to me to fall right into the predator’s tank.”

You scoot further up onto the ledge, staring at the water below. It’s quite calm here, where the shallows lap languidly at your waist. If you were delusional, you might think this was a jacuzzi pool that you could dip your toes in. It’s not. Of course it isn’t. Not when there’s a beast lurking just below. But while you’re here, you run your hands through the saltwater while your own body temperature rises as if it’s a hungry flame in a stone hearth.

You place your hands on either side of the ledge, intending to push yourself up and onto the platform, when something tightens inside of you. Your heart stumbles in your chest and you lose the strength in your arms at once. With a noisy splash, you flop back into the shallows, your compromised body rigid and shaky with a tingling, all-encompassing warmth. Horrified, you raise two fingers to your pulse to feel it stutter wildly beneath your skin.

Swallowing thickly, you lower your head onto your arms and wait for the feeling to pass. The seconds slip by and in that short amount of time your state seems to worsen. Your temperature is volcanic, your every sense restless, and you’re sweating through the shark suit as if you’ve just run a marathon and more.

“Not now,” you hiss, slapping your hands upon your face. “Please not now. Anything but now…”

You intend to haul yourself up and out for good this time, desperate to get as far from the pool before your brain is completely overrun by your encroaching heat and robust omega instincts, when fingers brush against your leg. Something chitters behind you, a low, slow sort of sound that is shot through with curiosity. You turn as if you’re frozen in ice, your heart in your throat and senses on high alert.

The eel mer is right there, clutching your ankle in a firm grip. Not to hurt you, but to keep you there. And you’re not at all in a hurry to leave. Not when those claws are so close to your calf, capable of shredding through to your very bones. Even with the shark suit, you worry. He stares at you with narrowed eyes, his head angled in a cute, childish way. He appears confused and rightfully so, considering you’re a creature he’s likely never interacted with so closely before. You mirror his befuddlement, your brows furrowed, lips creased in a thin line.

For a long while, the two of you watch each other. If you look past his predatory design, he’s quite pretty with his smoky teal coloration and dark stripes. Your gaze pans over to the water, where a long, powerful tail disappears below. The paranoid side of you says he’s going to drown you, but then he doesn’t seem outwardly malicious in his intentions.

“Um…”

He flinches at the sound of your voice, his head snapping up to your throat and then your lips. Your attempt to pull your captive leg back is thwarted when he lurches, rising out of the water to grab hold of your foot. You gasp and shake your head at him, your senses sharp and dull all at once. Your heat-addled mind just barely parses the threat of danger, looming and ever-present.

“Please,” you beg, your tone sticky and breathless. “Don’t…”

The mer tilts his head the other way. The fins where his ears might be if he were human shiver, as if listening to the desperation in your syllables. He chirrups, lips widening in a sharp-toothed smile, and then he’s dragging you towards him. Panic seizes your nerves and you dig your palms into the smooth basin in an effort to get away. His expression falls when he notices your struggle and he lifts himself onto the ledge with you, draping himself over your legs like an oversized rug.

“Wait… H-Hold on; get off!” You grunt and weakly prod at his chest. He doesn’t budge. “You… You’re heavy!”

His webbed hand closes around your waist, steadying you in the shallows, while his other arm cages you beneath him. Instinctively, you arch into his touch, your breath coming in tiny, frenzied huffs. He clicks at you, and words that you can only assume are meant to be gentle and soothing are produced in a sweet melody. It relaxes you more than you’d like to admit, a lyrical balm to your terror.

You squeeze your eyes shut and brace yourself for the worst. For the searing pain and the stinging agony. For the blood that will color the water a dark, foreboding red. For the sight of him merrily tearing into your jugular, his maw spattered with crimson. But none of that ever comes. He cradles your face next, his thumb running along your cheekbone, and slowly you peel your eyes open. His face is inches from yours, looking on with an intensity that’s almost primal.

Warily, you lift your arm out of the water and touch his hand. It’s much bigger in contrast to yours, but he’s handling you with such immaculate tenderness.

“You’re not going to hurt me…” you mutter, amazed. “You’re just curious.”

As if responding, he chitters. You nod even though you have no idea what he said. He doesn’t smell like an alpha or an omega or a beta. You’re not even sure if he’s capable of releasing pheromones, but if he were you’re certain it would have driven you much crazier than you already feel.

You hold his stare and reach up to pat his cheek, and he leans into your careful touch. Your hand soon trails down to trace his lateral lines, which earns you a pleased hum. You watch in awe as the gills on either side of his body flutter.

Led on by your own wonder, you follow the pattern to his waist and press your thumbs into his hip bones beneath smooth, slippery skin. “How fascinating… I wonder if it’s possible to take an X-ray. Would you allow—oh!”

Clumsily, he lifts you into his arms to embrace you, rolling his hips against the chainmail shark suit. Your breath hitches, and you fumble to grasp his broad shoulders.

“Ah, w-wait. I’m not… You can’t…”

He clicks thrice and lowers you into the shallows, his face scrunched in annoyance. You think he might’ve understood you, but then he’s palming between your legs and it occurs to you that he wants the suit off. Carnal delight shivers through you at the prospect of being wanted to such a degree, and though you know it’s the heat muddling your sensibility you can’t help indulging him just a little. You undo the zip at the back and slide it from your body, revealing your shoulders and bare arms for his wandering, mismatched hues. He leans in to nose at your scent glands, chattering happily as he inhales. You can’t understand a word, but he sounds pleased—even more so when he runs his hands along your arms, squeezing and petting in equal measure.

His tongue laves across your neck, and what fragile restraint you have left snaps. You cling to him like he’s your anchor, meeting his searching hips halfway with every awkward thrust that doesn’t quite connect as it should. You chew your lip, tamping down a torrent of filthy moans. Your mind is clouded with lust and instinct, and you dig your fingers into his hair, holding him against your neck while he continues to lick and nip.

It feels right up until the haze parts momentarily, allowing temporary sobriety when you spy the tip of something poking free of its encasing. Dazed and inquisitive, you reach between your bodies to prod at his slit, hoping to coax more of his prehensile cock from out of its folds. But then the door below opens and the mer lifts himself from off of you, his head turning in the direction of the sound at an alarming speed. You blink up at him, lazily following his line of sight. His lip curls up in a silent snarl, the beginnings of razored teeth peeking out, and then he slithers back into the water, his hands lingering on your ankles.

Despite the dizziness you sit up, your arm outstretched. “Wait, don’t go!”

I didn’t get to cum yet. You didn’t even claim me either…

He peers at you, neutral for all of a minute before swimming over to you. He presses his face into your palm, chittering softly. There are footsteps on the stairs, and he grits his teeth, withdrawing completely before turning and diving under in a spray of seawater.

You fall back into the shallows, panting like a starved, feral monster. A researcher comes to your aid, her expression equal parts shocked and disturbed. You don’t catch her questions, each one tacked onto what feels like a ceaseless rant, while she helps you to your feet. Something about danger. About heats. About omega biology. About how the researchers watched the both of you on the cameras, swelling with queries of their own.

“I’m not sure,” you mumble as you’re helped down the stairs, stumbling in a heat-drunken stupor. Thankfully, your fellow researcher is an omega like you and that relaxes the hypersensitive part of you—the part that fears being taken advantage of when you’re vulnerable like this. But the needier, greedier part of you wants the mer—wants his hands and mouth all over you, ripping you free from your suit and indulging in the bare skin beneath. “I think he...wanted to help…”

No one can explain his behavior. But it seems promising.

While you’re led from the room, the eel mer stalks you from the gloomy confines of his tank.

In the days following your heat, you return to the marine lab with your head on your shoulders and are immediately barraged with requests. Amongst all of them, one common demand stands out: You have to get him up to the surface again. Part of you doesn’t want to face the mer again. When you truly mulled over that day, tossed the memory of it around in your mind like it was a tennis ball, you were hit with shame.

It’s not…normal. Researchers do not tangle themselves in sexual situations with their subjects, especially when said subject was an eel mer from the Coral Sea. It’s unheard of. Luckily, the team of researchers you work with swears to secrecy. You were out of it and your judgment wasn’t in the best state. That’s the excuse they’re using. It works enough to push the humiliation from your thoughts.

You wonder if you should feel disgusted by the events. Rather, you didn’t mind it. For all of his rough, scarred, monstrous edges, he was gentle.

You press your fingers to your scent glands, recalling the feel of his tongue.

Today you’ve donned your usual work attire, foregoing the shark suit and any other protective gear the lab expects you to wear. Something tells you you won’t need it anymore. Not after everything that happened the day you went into heat.

Feeling rejuvenated and refreshed after your mini break, you trudge up the staircase with a food bucket, determined to finally fill your notebook with data. You’ve only made it up four steps when color flashes in your peripheral. You turn and find the mer is at your eye level, following you up the spiral staircase adjacent to his tank.

You pause and wave experimentally. He watches your hand move to and fro and then he mirrors your actions. He swims the rest of the distance to the surface, breaching it just as you make it onto the platform.

“Good morning, Mister,” you greet, bending down to empty the contents of the bucket into the water.

Disinterested, he watches bits of shrimp sink deeper. And then he looks back to you, his mouth opening and shutting. “Fu… Fu…” he forces out, his face scrunched in concentration.

“Fu…? Food?”

He nods and then shakes his head, hissing at himself in what you think might be admonishment.

“Fu…ro…”

“Furo?” You set the bucket aside and scoot closer to the edge. “What’s that?”

He tries once more before the syllables fizzle out on his tongue and, with a few frustrated clicks, he swipes a fish from the surface and stuffs it in his mouth. You giggle, and the sound has him tilting his head. Without a shred of apprehension, he meets you at the ledge. You watch him munch on the fish between his lips, content to observe in silence. He polishes it off rather quickly before procuring a handful, which he dumps onto the ground beside you. You shake your head at him, smiling weakly.

“Thanks, but no. It’s all yours.”

The mer shrugs and indulges without you.

“I should thank you for not hurting me back then,” you add. He pays close attention to your lips; you think he might be attempting to read them while listening. “Um… But don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not sure if merfolk are like humans, but we have this system… Or not a system… It’s more like…groupings? Secondary classifications?” You frown. How can you explain the complexities of sub-genders to a mer who doesn’t even speak your language? “Basically, I was in trouble and you helped me out. Kind of. In any case, thank you.”

He stares at you for a while, chewing and swallowing. You think he might swim back under once he’s finished, but instead he places his hands on the ledge and hoists himself up on his arms. He’s in your face next, all eager smiles and chitters.

“Fu… Furo. Furo…ido. Furoido,” he sounds out.

You read his lips in the best way you can before it finally clicks. “Ah! Floyd, right? Is that…your name?”

Floyd points to himself, makes a few upbeat clicks, and then nods. He’s pointing at you next.

“And me? Oh, my name is (Name).” You take your time sounding it out for him, and he repeats it with an awkward tongue. You smile and nod encouragingly. “That’s it. That’s me.”

He flops back into the water with a celebratory trill, a wild smile tugging at his lips. You watch him swim laps from you to the opposite end of the pool and back. Ditching the shark suit was the right call. You’re no longer uncertain. This time, you know for a fact that you’re going to be getting along very well with him.

And you look forward to fostering this flowering friendship.

#meraki mumbles #fluffy floyd hours #n/sfw #tw: abo #tw: omegaverse #he's so cute >w< i love floyb orz #okay now it's back to tmdg!!!#jade is going to kill me for writing about his twin when i should be writing him ;;;;

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hyperactively-me · 7 days

Text

regency era!ghost x reader au (part 5)

Simon stands alone in his study, the soft glow of candlelight the only thing keeping him company. The servants of the house are well asleep, the rain and thunder outside providing a soothing lullaby. The flickering light casts long shadows across the room, highlighting his furrowed eyebrows. His mind is consumed with thoughts of the evening he spent with you not long ago at the ball, the memory of your touch lingering in his mind.

But why?

You both have mutual contempt for one another.

Simon sighs out loud, admitting to himself that he was rude and presumptuous in his every interaction with you leading up to this point. It wasn’t fair to you for him to be so condescending, especially upon your initial introduction. He had overstepped his bounds time and time again, disregarding your autonomy and treating you despicably. The more he thinks about it, the more guilt he feels consuming his soul. It's a behavior unbecoming of a man of his station, let alone a Duke.

He recalls the sensation of holding you in his arms, guiding you through the steps of the dance. Your face appears, beautiful and doe-eyed. The memory of your touch, the way your hand had fit so perfectly in his as you danced together, haunts him. Confusion gnaws at his heart, mingling with a sense of longing that he struggles to understand.

He had never been one to dwell on matters of the heart, always preferring the clarity of duty and discipline. But ever since that night, he finds himself haunted by thoughts of you, unable to shake the memory of your fiery spirit and unwavering resolve. He knew that he should resist the pull of his emotions, that he should keep his distance and maintain the facade of indifference that had served him so well in the past.

Simon paces restlessly across the room, his footsteps echoing in the silence of the moonlight. He can't help but question the nature of his feelings. Why does he feel this undeniable pull towards you, despite the animosity that had characterized your every interaction in the past?

He rakes a hand through his hair, frustration building within him. It's absurd, uncalled for, he tells himself. He has no place in your world, no right to entertain thoughts of romance or longing. He's an ex-soldier turned Duke, duty-bound and disciplined, while you are a lady of society, born and bred.

And yet, despite the vast divide that separates you and him, Simon can’t help but yearn for something more. He finds himself drawn to your spirit, captivated by your character. He stops by the window and glances outside, watching rivulets of raindrops trickle down the glass.

He knows that he should put an end to these foolish thoughts, that he should focus on matters of state and leave behind any notion of romantic entanglements. And yet, try as he might, he can't shake the image of you from his mind.

As Simon grapples with his conflicting emotions, restlessness settles over him like a thick fog. He can't just forget the way you had stirred something within him, awakening feelings he had thought dormant. It's a disconcerting realization, one that leaves him feeling vulnerable and exposed in a way he has never experienced before.

What are you doing to him?

With a heavy sigh, Simon sinks into the nearest chair, his thoughts swirling. He knew he had to mend his relationship with you, apologize to you, beg for your forgiveness until he could no longer stand under the weight of his guilt. But how could he even begin to approach you after the way he had treated you all this time? The dance at the ball was not enough to make up the damage he has done. He refuses to let his pride stand in the way of mending this.

If he truly wants to make amends and seek redemption in your eyes, he must take action, no matter how daunting the prospect may be.

Lost in his thoughts, Simon’s gaze falls upon the box of stationery resting on his desk. With a start, Simon rises from his chair and strides purposefully towards his writing desk. He picks up his quill, the inkwell glistening in the candlelight, and begins to write.

At first, the right words are difficult to come by. Each stroke of the quill feels heavy with the weight of his remorse, yet he presses on, determined to convey the depths of his regret. Slowly but surely, the words begin to flow, a heartfelt apology taking shape on the paper before him.

He writes apologies of his wrongdoing, acknowledging the hurt he has caused and expressing his sincere desire to make amends. He doesn’t hold back, baring his very soul in a way he never thought he could. Every word is written with care, every sentence crafted with the hope of earning your forgiveness.

Content with what he wrote, he seals the letter with wax and his crest. This letter may be a small gesture, but it is a step towards reconciliation.

With the letter in hand, Simon stands, making his way through the corridors of his grand estate. Finally reaching the foyer, Simon pauses before the heavy oak door, his hand trembling slightly as he clutches the letter tightly. Outside, the rain continues to patter against the window panes.

Summoning his courage, Simon steps out into the night, the cool raindrops soaking him to the core as he rides his steed to your residence. His heart rattles in his chest as your residence comes into view, undeterred by his goal.

As he approaches your doorstep, Simon hesitates for moment; but he knows that he cannot turn back now, that he must face this head on.

With a deep breath, Simon raises his hand and raps upon the door, the sound resonating into the halls of your home. For a moment, there is only silence, broken only by the distant rumble of thunder.

Then, the doors swing open, revealing a servant.

“It’s urgent,” is all Simon says.

With a polite nod, the servant gestures for Simon to enter, his expression a mix of curiosity and bewilderment at the Duke's unexpected visit at such an ungodly hour. Simon steps inside, the warmth of the foyer enveloping him like a comforting embrace after the chill of the rain.

As he removes his dripping coat and hands it to the waiting servant, Simon's heart pounds in his chest, his nerves frayed. His jaw set with determination, Simon follows the servant to the drawing room.

“Please, Your Grace, wait here.”

Simon nods, then takes a seat on the couch. He doesn’t really care that he’s getting it wet; his mind is consumed by thoughts of you. Each passing moment feels like an eternity as he waits for your presence, his heart racing.

Finally, the door opens, and you step into the room, just dressed in a nightgown and robe. Your eyes widen in surprise at the sight of a soaking wet Duke seated before you. The moment you step into the room, Simon shoots up from his seat, giving you a quick bow.

“Your Grace,” you say, utterly confused. “Uh, to what do I owe the… pleasure of this unexpected visit? And in the middle of the night?

Simon’s gaze never leaves yours as he approaches you with measured steps.

“You’re soaking wet,” is all you can manage to say when he is only a few paces away from you. His hair is sticking to his forehead, and you can see his dress shirt plastered to his defined chest underneath his jacket. Your eyes flit back up to his face.

Simon halts in his approach. “Please, forgive the intrusion at this late hour, but I’ve come to speak with you, if you’ll allow me,” he begins, his voice gentle yet earnest.

You regard him with suspicion and guarded interest, unsure of what to make of his unexpected visit. With a nod, you invite him to take a seat, your demeanor polite but guarded. Simon accepts your offer, settling himself into the chair opposite yours, the letter still clutched tightly in his hand.

“I’ve… I’ve come to apologize,” he begins, his words measured and deliberate. “For the unkindness I have shown you, for the harsh words spoken in haste, for my arrogance and presumption. I… I realize now that I was mistaken, that I had no right to treat you with such disrespect and animosity. Please, my lady, please forgive me.”

He extends the letter to you, the parchment slightly damp from the rain, the wax seal bearing his crest glistening in the soft light of the room. You take the letter cautiously, your fingers brushing against his freezing fingers as you do so.

Slowly, you unfold the letter, the sound of the parchment crackling in the silence of the room. Simon watches you intently, his breath caught in his throat as he waits for your response.

With each word you read, you feel a shift within you—a softening of the walls around your heart, a willingness to believe that Simon is truly apologetic. His words are, from what you can tell, sincere; each sentence bears the weight of his remorse. As you reach the end of the letter, you look up to find Simon watching you with bated breath, his expression a mix of hope and trepidation.

For a long moment, you say nothing, the silence stretching between you like a taut rope. You study him, searching his face for any hint of insincerity, but all you find is remorse shining in his eyes. Despite yourself, a flicker of something akin to hope stirs within you—the smallest glimmer of possibility that perhaps Mister Riley is not the cold-hearted Duke you believe him to be. And then, finally, you speak, your voice soft but steady.

"I accept your apology, Mister Riley,” you say, your words measured. "But, know that forgiveness is not easily earned, nor is trust quickly regained. I will give you a chance to prove yourself, but know that I will not tolerate any further disrespect or mistreatment.”

Simon's eyes widen in disbelief, gratitude shining in their depths. "Thank you," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I will do everything in my power to make things right, to earn your trust and respect.”

With a nod, you hand the letter back to him. The journey toward forgiveness will not be easy, but for the first time, you allow yourself to believe that it might just be possible. And as Simon rises from his seat, a sense of hope blossoms within you—a hope that, perhaps, despite your history, there may yet be a more peaceful future worth fighting for.

part 4 < what was written in the letter? > part 6

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon “ghost” riley x reader #simon “ghost” riley x you #hyperactivelyme #*ੈ✩ simon “ghost” riley

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wanted-game-if · 4 months

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Wanted Game is a cowboy fantasy with some lovecraftian horror interactive fiction game

You wake up in the middle of nowhere, the sun blistering hot

no food,

no water,

and probably the most concerning thing of all you don't remember anything not your name, not where you are and not what you look like

You are found by a gang of outlaws the leader (or who you assume the leader to be) takes you captive but then offers you a deal you can't possibly pass up but things smell fishy.. they are outlaws who are there for their selfish reasons how can you truly trust them;

especially when they all seem to know something about you even though you have a mask stuck to your face they aren’t willing to tell what they know about you

no matter how close you get or how many tricks you try

• A customizable Mc though physical customization is somwhat limited until later in the story.

• Paint/design the mask and thought out the story their will be some options that will affect your mask

• Romance 10 of the charaters 7 main ones and 3 youll just have to figure out, one of the secret romances is a poly route with Oscar, got commitment issues or just looking for fun theres a large aray of flings along the road so dont you worry

• Doom or help the jobs succeed with your choices

• Grow relationships with the rest of the gang {{and even the group of bounty hunters chasing after you and the gang}}

• When not doing jobs entertain your self with a hobby or work on your skills

Oscar || He/They || 24 || 5’3

Growing up in the gang most would probably assume Oscar is mean, greedy, selfish but if given the chance you would find a soft caring man with a love for literature almost always with a book when he is not scouting or helping his ma with sewing up clothes the gang tend to wreck

Emile || Xe/Xem || 27 || 5’10

Oscars older brother Emile is very protective of Xyrs little brother emile is known to sleep around and be a massive flirt but never actually letting anyone be anything to Xem then a pretty face Xe can fool around with. sometimes you catch Xem staring at you with a expression you don’t quite understand

Louis || He/Him || 30 || 6’2

A very quiet man always tending to the horses or making wood sculptures hes very quiet keeping to himself not because of anything distrustful or rude he seems to just like being alone he is always looking to help out with jobs as long as he can keep his distance with people

Boss || He/Him || 58.. || 6’0

{{ Attracted to anyone but must be close to them emotionally before he does anything sexual in nature }}

A very talkative older man with alot of elegance for a outlaw he always has plans brewing though his number one goal is keeping the gang safe. He tends to be overprotective of everyone and can be a very hotheaded man its very easy to press his buttons

Ares || he/they/she || 28 || 5’11

Growing up in high society Ares learnt to be a very charismatic and social fellow most people would call her a charming, gentle, kind person but if you peer close enough through their wall you will soon learn that she is not at all what she appears and she has a more nasty complex towards commoners, rich folk and especially outlaws

Clara || She/Her || 40 || 5’5

Clara a sweet older lady recently joined up with the gang temporarily to help get funds to get her home but something about her story doesn’t add up, she seems like she wouldn’t hurt a fly so many dismiss her but some ought remember she is still an outlaw no matter how sweet she seems

Adelaide || She/Her || 37 || 4’9

Adelaide is the best with all things traps, distractions and explosives she cant be a bit much always adding a flare to everything and talking so fast you only barely understand she isn’t very observant when it comes to body language and tone so don’t expect her you realize your emotions straight away. she is also Boss’s Niece

T} ??? || he/him || 35 || 6’0 || Poly route with Oscar

“They are so utterly perfect for him I’m jealous of them but i also want them aswell how selfish my heart is”

S} ??? || They/Them || 29 || 5’8

“In darkness she is the one stray ray of light that kisses my face”

J} ??? || they prefer just to be called by their name || 33 || 6’5

“Its against my job, my morals,my life so tell me why it feels so right”

||Demo:TBA || Pinterest || Art Acc ||

Sorry for any misspellings or weird way i worded things

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 18 days

Text

The Arcana HCs: M6 get temporary amnesia

~ the sequel >:3. for headcanon purposes, the scenario remains the same: your beloved slipped on a cobblestone and hit their head. they retain basic functioning but don't remember you, and need a week of healing to recover ~

Julian

Here is what he knows: he woke up with 0 recollection of what happened and how he got here, and an irresistible stranger is treating him like he's worthy of love and taking care of him

He's about to break his own record for how quickly he can fall in love. He doesn't know when last someone treated him this well

You, on the other hand, can feel your heart cracking slightly every time you interact with him

The adoration in his eyes when he looks at you is missing the settled confidence of a secure relationship. He's desperate for your affection, but beneath the neediness is a deep unease

You've become accustomed to a Julian that doesn't ask constantly for a kiss because he knows you'll always give him one. This one asks, takes, and then winces like he expects to be shut out

The afternoon three days in when he tearfully tried to pack up with nowhere to go so he couldn't burden you didn't help at all

Tripping over himself to dote on you however he can, partly out of love, but mostly to convince you he's worth keeping around

Might laugh at his own misery when his memories return

Asra

You've gotten all kinds of looks from them over the course of your relationship, but this is the first time they've ever looked ... wary

Grateful for your help, sure, appreciative for the lodging and food and care, of course, and plenty friendly

And completely, entirely distrustful

He doesn't know you. He doesn't know your motives. He doesn't know what you want. Even after observing you enough to realize that you really are acting out of love, you still terrify him

Because their own traitorous heart is rioting to let down every wall and ignore every instinctive guard to be close to you again, to be themself around you, even to give of themself to you

Faust's ongoing confusion and the effects of your bonded hearts serve to both ground and unsettle him, even after learning why

They aren't mean at all - if anything, they act like a close friend - but they sleep separately from you, avoid general touch, and get antsy after sharing a space with you for longer than a couple hours

You know his memories are back when he's suddenly pulling you into a hug, so grateful that you could love him like he's loved you

Nadia

She knows she's missing memories and she's not happy about it

Yes, you woke her up, and yes, she can tell that she can trust you, and yes, she's excited at the possibility of finally having found her person. However -

She is apparently a COUNTESS and that is not something to take lightly. Clearly, there is a lot of work to do. As eager as she is to bond with you, she expects you to prove yourself worthy of it

Fill her in on her job. Assist her with whatever proves challenging with her regular work. Tell her what she needs to know to succeed

And don't push her boundaries. She's stressed and will ice you out

Even as she's frustrated with her dependence on someone she doesn't know, she's quietly relieved for your companionship and support. She'd much rather have you than nobody

So tell her about yourself. Use your shared meal times to answer her questions, let her interview you until she does know you well enough to be at ease around you

Slightly embarrassed about her behavior when her memories return. She'll apologize for it by spoiling you nonstop

Muriel

There's no nice way to put it. He's terrified of you at first

When he first opens his eyes, he's injured enough to make fighting difficult, he's in a hut in the middle of nowhere, and his only source of information is the person who brought him here - you

For all he knows, you could have been the person who hurt him enough to trap him, you could be keeping him captive for your own entertainment, you could be lying to him about who he is

Something in his gut tells him it's been done to him before

But as another day or two passes, he quickly realizes you're an exception. He knows how to observe and read people, and you truly care about him. He still hates touch, though

He doesn't know what madness possessed you to feel that way, but he doesn't take your feelings and actions lightly either

You're about to be on the receiving end of a scary amount of unquestioning loyalty, without the stability of a trusting, secure relationship to temper it

So relieved when his memories come back. He's a whole new level of trusting with you now that he knows what you'd do for him

Portia

It's gut wrenching to watch your partner for life open her eyes and the first words out of her mouth be "hey cutie, what's your name?"

Somehow, it's even worse when her response to your crestfallen face is to pull you into a hug, warm and comforting and yet distant with the politeness of trying to help a stranger

As soon as she starts asking questions and you tell her what happened, she's determined to make things right

That's okay if she doesn't remember, you're here to tell her! Not to mention how excited she is to find out that she's already bagged the attractive stranger who's been showing her so much love

So full of wide-eyed wonder for the life you two had built together. Tell her everything, show her your daily routines, share the inside jokes, take her to your favorite date spots

Still not comfortable with physical affection beyond cheek kisses

Flirts with you nonstop anyways. You're strung between her optimism, her clear affection for you, her relational distance from you, and the knowledge that it isn't what it was. It's sweet agony

Covers you in kisses while she sobs when her memories return

Lucio

A. Pain. In. The. Ass - Neck.

The thing that makes the life he has with you so wonderful now is the fact that he shares it with you. You make him want to be a better person. You make a bedroll safer than a suite

But when he doesn't remember you? Everything about the life you've built together is distasteful to him at first

What do you mean, you don't own a house? He's this much of a grown up and still living the nomadic lifestyle of his early twenties?

Sure, you're cute, and the part of him deep down that craves and appreciates your love keeps drawing him back to you, but he'd always thought he'd end up with someone rich and powerful

You're just a journeyman. The magic is cool, but still - really?

Keeps trying to wander off and make reckless, selfish decisions and handing the responsibility to you. If you didn't want him to blow your budget on caviar, why'd you give him the coin purse?

Gets so uncomfortable with the conscience he has around you

Doesn't have many words when his memories return. He just wants to hold you tight and apologize until he can make up for it all

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana game #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

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plutogist · 8 months

Text

FIRST MEET

i. part one: your first meet with these characters. (part two here)

ii. gender neutral. reader | not proofread (lmk if I used any gendered terms!)

iii. characters: gon freecs, killua zoldyck, kurapika kurta, chrollo lucilfer, feitan portor.

GON FREECS

You and your family just recently relocated to Whale Island, primarily due to financial problems. You weren't particularly against the notion of relocating to the countryside, but you'll miss the city life in YorkNew. In order to become accustomed with the town, you first wanted to explore it.

While you were exploring, some of the locals approached you due to your new demeanor. Speaking with so many new individuals was a little challenging for you, but it was also quite a bit of enjoyment. You were strolling after shopping for new clothes in a store when you stumbled into a person and fell.

"I'm so sorry!" exclaimed an optimistic voice. You looked up and noticed a boy that seems to be in your age with green spiky hair and hazel eyes. He extended his hand, and you grabbed it.

"It's fine, don't worry," you said with a smile on your face.

"Are you new here? I don't recognize your face; by the way, my name is Gon Freecs!" He introduced himself to you.

"Yeah, I just moved here yesterday. My name is Y/N L/N. Nice to meet you, Gon," you introduced yourself, and the two of you have been acquainted since then.

KILLUA ZOLDYCK

You're Gon's cousin, who also stays on Whale Island. You agreed to accompany him to the 287th hunting exam after learning of his objectives. You were concerned that Gon's negligent conduct may bring him a lot of suffering or, worse, death because he can be rather impetuous when making judgments.

You met Kurapika and Leorio since you were on the same ship as them. During the first phase, you and Gon met a boy your age who had silvery locks and stunning blue eyes that captivated you.

"So, you two are cousins?" Killua asked while the three of you were running. Some of the participants were falling like dominoes due to how exhausted they were, but you chose to ignore them. This is just an endurance test, but they're already failing.

"Yup! Actually, we're like siblings with how close we are and we also grew up together," Gon explained and his smile grew wider. Killua just hummed as a response, while the three of you simultaneously ran together.

Killua is considerably closer to Gon, yet the two of you interact and converse every now and then. Nonetheless, you wished to be more connected to the boy.

KURAPIKA KURTA

You grew up in Lukso Province along with your grandparents (mother side). Ever since your parents were assassinated by an elite assassin when you were 8 years old, your grandparents have taken care of you and ever since that day, you have pledged to seek vengeance on the assassin that killed your parents.

Your grandparents live in the Lukso Province predominantly because it is isolated from the rest of the world, which your grandparents prefer. Your mother moved to Zaban City, where your father dwells, after marrying your father, and shortly thereafter gave birth to you.

You spend your free time keeping an eye on your grandparents' nearby fruit and vegetable shop and entertaining the customers who stop by. A boy with grey eyes and medium golden locks appeared one day. He was a kind customer. He would stop by sometimes and you find him to be quite intriguing.

You later learned his name and that he is a member of the Kurta clan. You two grew closer to one another, and you also met Pairo, his other friend. But the day where he stopped visiting you came and the day turned into months. It was a normal day for you until you heard about the tragedy that was brought upon the Kurta clan. You were substantially devastated by his murder and the death of his clan once the word of their assassination spread throughout the neighborhood and worldwide. But you never knew that he wasn't killed and is the sole survivor of the clan.

CHROLLO LUCILFER

You are a resident of Meteor City, a forsaken city where citizens are not listed in the official records. You have no recollection of your parents or how you ended yourself in the city. You had no idea how you'd survive on your own as a child.

And you're completely aware that you'll die within a week. You're famished, and struggling to move. Your clothes are filthy and coated in dust spots. You witnessed a church while wandering around looking for food and approaching it carefully, utilizing your residual stamina.

The church's doors were closed, but not locked, thus you were able to open them by pushing them. The church was not equally huge as cathedrals, but it was vast and expansive for a city that had been abandoned. The walls have been coated white and are immaculate, but the ceiling was embellished with various fresco paintings pertaining to Christianity - quite reminiscent of Michelangelo's masterpiece in the Sistine Chapel Ceiling. The windows were shut down, so the sole source of illumination was coming from outside the door.

You sat on the long wooden pew bench, gazing at the hardened asphalt surface, absorbing the misery and starvation that had been devouring your body for days. Your eyes were gradually giving up until you felt a tap on your shoulder that made you flinch. When you turned around, you saw a boy with medium-length black hair and grey eyes, who was looking at you with a smile.

"Hello. My name is Chrollo. Who are you?" he sought out directly, an inquisitive expression on his face. You didn't respond promptly because you were considering all of the possibilities, but you concluded that he might be able to help you. "I'm Y/N...Nice to meet you, Chrollo...," you sloppily said, your hunger returning, and Chrollo appeared to notice.

He reached deep into his pocket and offered you an edible treat. "I'm sorry, this is all I have," he responded nervously, chuckling. While glancing at the snack on his palm, your eyes gleamed. You took it away and opened the treat, but before you bit through it, you smiled at the boy. "Thank you, Chrollo," you said as you devoured the snack. Unbeknownst to you, a pink hue was prominent in his cheeks, but you were too busy eating the food to notice it.

FEITAN PORTOR

You work as a clerk in a game store at YorkNew City's Saloma Mall. Even though working as a clerk isn't really your thing or something you'd enjoy performing, you don't want to rely excessively on your parents when it comes to buying the items you need and paying for your tuition as a college student. You opted to work as a cashier at a game store in order to make money because you are completely aware of how much they are paying and it makes you ashamed to ask them for something you desire.

However, it is a minimal wage. You work for a full 14 hours without ceasing to sleep or even take a break, but periodically you take a nap if there isn't a customer or if your friend Aki is there. You earn 1000 jenny every hour. (I based this on the currency of Japan [yen] + I also searched on Google abt this, so I'm sorry if it's inaccurate.)

It's Thursday, and it's 10:45 p.m. You yawned as you flipped through the pages of the novel you're reading, rereading the lines because all you've been doing for the past few seconds is reading the sentences and not processing or understanding them. "I'm so exhausted..." you whispered to yourself as you flipped over the pages of the book.

But your lackadaisical manner was shattered when a bell on above of the doors chimed, indicating that someone had entered. You noticed two persons enter the shop: a guy with blond hair and two green eyes, and a boy wearing baggy clothes and a skull-embroidered scarf concealing his mouth. He's also much shorter than the guy he's with.

You noticed the two walking around the aisles, looking for a game that piqued their interest. However, based on your insights, the boy with black hair appears to be apathetic in anything, as he simply follows the other person about, sporadically examining something but quickly leaving it, in contrast to the other, who seemed to be extremely thrilled skimming at various videogames.

"Hello, this is what we're getting," you didn't realize that they'd already arrived at the counter. You simply nodded and scanned the three objects he set on the counter.

"Your total is 3500 jenny," you said and placed the three items in a bag. He placed his money on the counter while you gave him the bag, and you began to count the money that he gave. "Oh, but before we leave, my friend here thinks you're attractive; my name is Shalnark, and his name is Feitan! See you later, Miss!" The person dashed away, while the other gazed at you for a brief time before chasing him down.

You're still perplexed by what just occurred while your hand is still occupied with the coins. And it turns out that as Feitan was sitting on the seats inside Saloma Mall waiting for the rest of the troupe, he noticed you wandering about in your uniform. And we'll...he's been watching you ever that particular day, but he's reluctant to approach you.

Here are your ages:

Gon - 12

You - 12

Killua & You ^

Kurapika (when you first meet) - 13

You - 13

Chrollo (when you first meet) - 11

You - 11

Feitan - 25

You - 21

#hxh #hunterxhunter #hunter x hunter x reader #gon x reader #killua x reader #kurapika x reader #feitan x reader #chrollo x reader

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mononijikayu · 2 months

Text

ten minutes — gojo satoru.

In the midst of the vibrant scene unfolding around him, he finds himself unable to shake the image of you from his mind. Your allure, your seduction—it's unlike anything he's encountered before. With a wry smile, he acknowledges that no one in this bar, no matter how alluring, could ever compare to you. You possess a certain magic, a wonder that transcends the superficial attempts at seduction displayed by others. In his eyes, you are unparalleled, and he wouldn't dare entertain the thought of comparing you to anyone else.

Genre: Post - Hidden Inventory Arc, 2010s;

Warning/s: R-18, Smut, Explicit Depiction of Sex, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, Pet Names, Praises, Flirting, One Night Stand to Lovers, Romance, Smut with Fluff, Depiction of Alcohol Consumption;

masterlist

listen: ten minutes by lee hyori

note: i wrote this while in my class and i just, i couldn't get gojo and him being in a bar out of my mind. it was pretty sexy!!! so i had to come back with this~ please enjoy it~ i love you all~.

IT WAS EVER SO TEMPTING. As the ambient glow of the dimly lit bar envelops the room, casting shadows that dance along the walls, your eyes meet those of Gojo Satoru, the enigmatic sorcerer whose presence commands attention wherever he goes. In the hazy atmosphere of the establishment, there's an unmistakable electricity between you, a palpable tension that crackles in the air like static before a storm.

With each step towards him, your confidence radiates like a beacon, drawing him in with an irresistible allure. The subtle sway of your hips as you move through the crowd captures his attention, a silent invitation that he can't help but heed. As you near him, the world around you seems to fade into obscurity, leaving only the two of you suspended in a moment of charged anticipation.

Time slows to a languid crawl as you approach Satoru, the weight of his gaze locking with yours in an unspoken exchange of desire. In the depths of his eyes, you see a flicker of intrigue mingled with a hint of mischief, mirroring the emotions swirling within your own heart. In this fleeting moment, the boundaries between you blur, and the world outside ceases to exist as you become enveloped in the magnetic pull of each other's presence.

As you settle onto the stool next to him, a subtle yet undeniable shift occurs in the atmosphere of the crowded bar. Your presence is a magnetic force, drawing the attention of those around you as you lean in closer to Gojo Satoru, your proximity alone enough to send a thrill coursing through his veins.

With a knowing smile curving your lips, you speak in a soft, sultry tone that seems to echo in the intimate space between you. Your words carry a playful edge, teasing and tantalizing in equal measure as you extend an invitation that promises excitement and intrigue.

"You seem like you could use some company," you whisper, your voice a seductive murmur that ignites a spark of anticipation in his eyes. Each syllable drips with allure, weaving a spell that entices him to lean in closer, drawn to the enigmatic aura that surrounds you like a veil of mystery.

In the dimly lit ambiance of the bar, your confident demeanor and subtle allure cast a captivating spell over Gojo Satoru. As his gaze meets yours, a silent understanding passes between you, acknowledging the magnetic pull that seems to draw you closer with each passing moment. The air crackles with anticipation, charged with the promise of an encounter that transcends mere chance, beckoning you both into the depths of a captivating intrigue.

With a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes, Gojo leans in closer, his breath mingling with yours as he meets your gaze with a playful glint. "Well, who am I to turn down such an enticing offer?" he responds, his voice a low rumble that resonates with a hint of mischief.

Amidst the soft glow of the bar's intimate lighting, the interaction between you and Gojo Satoru unfolds like a dance of wits and charm, each movement filled with playful banter and a palpable sense of chemistry. As his eyes roam from the contours of your body to the features of your face, the playful twinkle in Gojo's eyes grows more pronounced, accentuated by the subtle shift of his dark-rimmed glasses. With a grin that speaks volumes of his playful nature, he revels in the delightful exchange, savoring every moment of the intrigue unfolding between you.

As Gojo's gaze flits across the dimly lit bar, he finds himself briefly observing the other patrons, each one vying for attention in their own way. A woman with bright red lipstick catches his eye momentarily, her attempts at allure evident in the boldness of her appearance. Another woman, teetering on high heels, exudes confidence as she moves through the crowd.

There was there a seductive man who dances in the middle of the dance floor, sex appeal echoing for all the others to see. Another was staring at him, in a prim and proper suit, taking a shot of whiskey. Yet, despite their efforts, Gojo Satoru's thoughts inevitably return to you, the magnetic presence that has captivated his attention from the moment you entered the bar.

You possess a certain magic, a wonder that transcends the superficial attempts at seduction displayed by others. In his eyes, you are unparalleled, and he wouldn't dare entertain the thought of comparing you to anyone else.

As he watches you lean against the bar counter with effortless grace, a subtle challenge in your demeanor, Gojo can't help but marvel at your confidence. It's as if you know the effect you have on those around you, and you revel in it without a hint of apology.

Men and women alike may have cried over you, yearning for a taste of your attention and affection, and Gojo finds himself contemplating whether he could potentially be one of them. After all, you exude an aura of allure and mystique that seems to transcend the ordinary.

Yet, despite the allure of your presence, there's an undeniable magnetism that draws him closer to you. It's a call to action, a challenge to step up and claim what he desires. The way you hold yourself, the subtle tilt of your head, it's as if you're inviting him to rise to the occasion, to summon the courage to approach you and stake his claim.

In that moment, Gojo finds himself caught in the midst of a silent dance of attraction and desire, captivated by the enigmatic allure of the person before him. And as he contemplates the possibility of being one of the men and women vying for your attention, he realizes that perhaps, just perhaps, he may be willing to take the risk.

"What's your name?" he inquires, his tone laced with curiosity and genuine interest as he takes in your captivating presence.

With a playful twinkle in your eye, you respond with a coy smile, teasing him with a raised eyebrow. "Do you really want to know?" you counter, your voice dripping with intrigue.

Gojo's grin only deepens at your playful response, his charm radiating from every word as he leans in closer. "Well, I'd like to know the name of an angel in front of me," he quips, his smooth words delivered with effortless charm.

You can't help but laugh at his flattery, shaking your head in amusement. "Aren't you a flirt?" you tease, your own grin mirroring his playful demeanor.

"Only for you, darling angel," he replies, his tone sincere yet tinged with a hint of mischief.

Your smile widens at his words, feeling a warmth blossom within you at the endearment. As you reveal your name, Gojo's smile grows, the name rolling off his tongue as if it were made for him to speak.

"So, pretty boy, your name?" you inquire, returning the playful banter with a teasing glint in your eye.

"Gojo Satoru," he replies, his voice smooth and confident, the name carrying an air of familiarity and prestige.

Your playful teasing continues as you jest about his affluent background, Gojo matching your banter with his own witty remarks. Amidst the playful exchange, he orders drinks for both of you, his gaze never wavering from yours as he gestures to the bartender.

"Well, it seems it works like a charm. I got you, somehow," he remarks with a grin, his words laced with a hint of triumph and amusement.

In that moment, the air between you crackles with anticipation, a tantalizing dance of attraction and curiosity that beckons you both into uncharted territory. As the minutes tick by, the world outside fades into obscurity, leaving only the electrifying energy that pulses between you—a promise of an unforgettable encounter that defies the constraints of time and space.

With each passing moment, the intoxicating allure of your presence envelops Gojo Satoru, drawing him deeper into the spell you cast with your words and demeanor. As the minutes stretch into an eternity within the confines of the bar, the outside world fades away, leaving only the two of you immersed in a captivating exchange that defies explanation.

Despite his usual penchant for control and composure, Gojo finds himself surrendering to the irresistible pull of your charm. There's a thrill in the air, a palpable tension that hangs between you, fueling the flames of desire that flicker in the depths of his gaze.

In the midst of this heady atmosphere, you seize the opportunity to further entice him, your words dripping with allure as you lean in closer, your breath mingling with his. "Tell me, Gojo Satoru," you whisper, your voice a seductive melody that sends shivers down his spine. "Do you believe in fate?"

Caught in the whirlwind of your presence, Gojo's response is a mere breath of a laugh, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of amusement and intrigue. "With you here, how could I not?" he replies, his voice husky with anticipation.

“You’re quite confident,” You whisper to him, your eyes casting an alluring gaze. “With all your words, lover boy.”

“It’s easy to say things to you.” With a flicker of anticipation in his eyes, Gojo leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin as he murmurs softly, "Tell me, what is it about you, angel, that feels so... familiar?"

Your heart skips a beat at his words, a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins as you meet his gaze with an enigmatic smile. "Perhaps it's destiny," you suggest, your voice a seductive melodic whisper that resonates with a hint of mystery. "Or maybe we've met in another life."

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Gojo leans in closer, his warm breath grazing against your skin as he speaks in a low, husky tone. "You have a way with words," he murmurs, his voice dripping with admiration and desire. "But actions speak louder, don't they?"

A playful smirk curves your lips as you meet his gaze, a silent challenge shimmering between you. "Perhaps they do," you reply, your voice laced with a hint of seduction. "But only if you're brave enough to find out.

As you feel the heat of Gojo's proximity, a rush of adrenaline courses through your veins, heightening your senses to the electric tension between you. His gaze, intense and smoldering, locks onto yours with an unspoken challenge, igniting a firestorm of desire within you. You find yourself drawn deeper into his orbit, unable to resist the magnetic pull of his presence.

With each passing moment, the anticipation mounts, thickening the air with an intoxicating allure that leaves you breathless. There's an unspoken understanding between you, a silent agreement to surrender to the intoxicating dance of seduction that unfolds between your intertwined destinies.

In the hazy atmosphere of the dimly lit bar, the air crackles with anticipation as Gojo inches closer, his proximity sending a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins. With each passing moment, the heat between you intensifies, a tangible manifestation of the desire that pulses between your bodies like a living, breathing entity.

As his warm breath caresses your skin, you can feel the raw intensity of his desire, a primal force that threatens to consume you both in its fiery embrace. The tantalizing smirk that graces his lips only serves to heighten the anticipation, drawing you in with a magnetic pull that leaves you utterly breathless.

In this charged moment, there is no room for hesitation or doubt, only the heady rush of adrenaline as you lean in closer, your bodies moving in perfect synchrony. The magnetic pull between you is undeniable, an irresistible force that draws you together with an almost gravitational pull.

With each passing second, the tension between you builds to a fever pitch, the air thick with unspoken promises and forbidden desires. In this moment, there is no room for restraint or inhibition, only the intoxicating allure of the forbidden as you surrender yourself to the irresistible pull of Gojo's presence.

"Bravery has never been an issue for me," he murmurs, his voice a husky whisper that sends a shiver down your spine. "But perhaps I need a little... encouragement."

With a boldness that surprises even yourself, you reach out to trace the line of his jaw with your fingertips, the touch sending a jolt of electricity coursing through you. "Consider this your encouragement," you whisper, your voice barely above a breath as you lean in to capture his lips in a passionate kiss.

In that moment, the world falls away, leaving only the intoxicating sensation of Gojo's lips moving against yours, igniting a fire that burns brighter with each passing second. And as you lose yourself in the heady embrace of desire, you realize that fate has brought you together in this electrifying moment, where words are no longer necessary and actions speak louder than anything else.

As the kiss deepens, time seems to stand still, and you are lost in the heat of the moment. The passion between you and Gojo Satoru ignites like a blazing inferno, consuming everything in its path. With each touch, each caress, the intensity of your desire grows, binding you together in a fierce and primal embrace.

In that electrifying moment, there are no barriers, no inhibitions—only the raw, unbridled passion that courses through your veins. The world around you fades into insignificance as you are consumed by the fiery connection between you and Gojo, your souls entwined in a dance of ecstasy and longing.

But even as the flames of desire threaten to engulf you, a sense of exhilaration washes over you, filling you with a newfound sense of freedom and liberation. For in this moment, you are truly alive, swept away by the intoxicating rush of emotion and desire that knows no bounds.

As the intensity of the kiss reaches its peak, Gojo Satoru slowly pulls away, his breath ragged as he gazes deeply into your eyes. There's a primal hunger in his gaze, a silent invitation for more. You meet his gaze with equal fervor, a silent agreement passing between you.

Without a word, you take his hand and lead him towards the bathroom, the anticipation mounting with each step. As you reach the door, you lock it behind you, the sound echoing in the confined space like a promise of what's to come.

With the world shut out, you turn to face Gojo, the air thick with desire and anticipation. Without hesitation, you pull him into another searing kiss, your lips crashing together in a feverish embrace. In the confined space of the bathroom, there's no room for restraint or inhibition—only the raw, unbridled passion that ignites between you.

As your bodies pressed together in a desperate frenzy, the heat between you intensified, driving you both to the brink of ecstasy. In this moment of unbridled passion, there are no rules, no limits—only the intoxicating thrill of surrendering to desire and losing yourselves in each other's embrace.

As the music swelled around you, drowning out the sounds of the bustling bar, the anticipation between you and Satoru intensified, creating a charged atmosphere that crackled with electric energy. You could hear the faint murmurs of people moving about in the background, but their presence seemed distant, insignificant compared to the magnetic pull drawing you both together.

Leaning against the cool tiled wall, you felt a surge of heat coursing through your veins, igniting a firestorm of desire within you. Satoru stood before you, his appearance slightly disheveled with one button of his expensive shirt undone and the fabric wrinkled from your heated embrace. His heart raced with a mixture of excitement and anticipation, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that mirrored your own.

Unbeknownst to Satoru, the fire burning inside you matched the blazing inferno in his own veins. Every touch, every glance, every word exchanged between you fueled the flames of passion, propelling you both towards an inevitable climax.

With your hair tousled and your cheeks flushed with excitement, there was no denying the raw desire that pulsed through your veins. In this moment, there was no turning back. The world around you faded into obscurity as you surrendered to the primal urge driving you both towards a moment of ecstasy.

With an urgency born of desire, Satoru's hand found its way to your waist, pulling you closer to him in a fervent embrace. Your lips collided once more, the kiss charged with an intensity that threatened to consume you both. In this moment, restraint was a foreign concept, abandoned in favor of the overwhelming need to lose yourselves in each other's embrace.

Passion surged between you as you made out fervently, your eager hands exploring every inch of each other's bodies with a desperate hunger. With each touch, each caress, the flames of desire burned brighter, igniting a firestorm of longing that threatened to consume you whole.

Breaking apart for a moment, you whispered in his ear, your voice laden with unbridled desire, "I want you so bad right now." The words hung in the air, heavy with anticipation, as you locked eyes with Satoru, your heart pounding in sync with the rhythm of his own.

Satoru's breath hitched at your whispered confession, his gaze locked with yours in a fierce dance of desire and longing. The raw intensity of your words echoed in the air, igniting a primal urge within him that he could no longer deny.

In a swift, decisive motion, he captured your lips once more, his kiss fervent and hungry, fueled by the unbridled passion that pulsed between you. As your bodies pressed together, a wave of heat and electricity surged through him, engulfing him in a whirlwind of sensation and ecstasy.

With every touch, every caress, the boundaries between you dissolved, until there was only the primal, unrelenting need that bound you together. In this moment of unbridled passion, time seemed to stand still, as you both surrendered to the intoxicating allure of each other's embrace.

As your lips parted, breathless and flushed with desire, Satoru's eyes bore into yours with a fierce intensity, a silent promise of the ecstasy yet to come. And in that moment, you knew that there was no turning back — you were lost in each other, consumed by the flames of desire that raged between you.

"I've wanted you from the moment I laid eyes on you," Satoru confessed, his voice husky with desire, his hands tracing the contours of your body with a hunger that mirrored your own. “You were so fast with me, little minx. Let me have you.”

"Then take me," you urged, your voice a breathless plea, your fingers tangling in his tousled hair as you pulled him closer, unable to resist the magnetic pull drawing you together.

With a primal growl of need, Satoru crushed his lips to yours once more, his kiss fierce and possessive, igniting a fire that burned hotter with each passing moment. In the searing heat of passion, you melted into each other, consumed by the ecstasy of the moment, lost in a whirlwind of desire and longing.

In the heat of the moment, Satoru's touch ignited a primal hunger within you, each caress setting your skin ablaze with desire. As he unbuttoned your shirt with deliberate intent, his lips trailed a scorching path down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His hands, rough and possessive, explored every inch of your body, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through you.

You couldn't help but moan into his mouth, the sound muffled by the intoxicating press of his lips against yours. The intensity of the sensation was overwhelming, surpassing anything you had ever experienced before. It was more than just physical desire; it was an unbridled passion that consumed you both, drawing you deeper into the fiery embrace of ecstasy.

Satoru's touch sent a jolt of electricity through you as he trailed his fingers along the hem of your tight leather jeans. With practiced ease, he swiftly pulled them upwards, revealing your legs to the cool air of the bathroom. The contrast between the warmth of his touch and the chill of the room sent a shiver down your spine, heightening the intensity of the moment.

As he admired the sight before him, a wolfish grin tugged at the corners of Satoru's lips. The raw desire in his gaze only served to fuel the fire burning between you, igniting a fierce longing that threatened to consume you both. In that moment, with nothing but your underwear separating you, you felt utterly exposed and yet irresistibly desired, lost in the throes of passion and longing for more.

As the heat between you intensified, the barriers of clothing became unnecessary hindrances, discarded with urgency and fervor. Soon, you found yourselves naked in the confined space of the bathroom, the air heavy with anticipation and desire.

The intimacy of the moment was both exhilarating and daunting. You were both embarking on a journey into the unknown, driven by a magnetic attraction that transcended any reservations or inhibitions. Despite the brevity of your acquaintance, there was an undeniable sense of connection, a mutual understanding of the desires that drove you together.

In this intimate space, surrounded by the intoxicating allure of each other's bodies, everything else faded into insignificance. The world outside ceased to exist as you surrendered to the primal urge that consumed you, each touch and caress a testament to the raw passion that burned between you. In this moment, there was only the two of you, lost in the throes of desire, unbound by the constraints of time or expectation.

In the intimate embrace of the bathroom, passion surged between you like a raging inferno, igniting every nerve ending in a frenzy of desire. Satoru's powerful grip tightened around your thighs as he pressed you against the wall with a primal force, the raw intensity of his movements driving you to new heights of ecstasy.

You surrendered to the sensation, arching into him as he entered you, the friction between your bodies igniting a firestorm of pleasure. With each thrust, he plunged deeper into the depths of your being, drawing forth a symphony of moans and gasps that echoed in the confined space.

His touch was rough and possessive, leaving a trail of sensation in its wake as though he was staking his claim on every inch of your skin. Your fingers tangled in his hair, guiding him with gentle urgency as he peppered your neck with fervent kisses, each one sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

As the tempo of your lovemaking intensified, so too did the crescendo of your passion, rising to a fever pitch with each rhythmic movement. In this moment of blissful abandon, there was only the two of you, locked in a primal dance of desire, each movement bringing you closer to the edge of euphoria.

Amidst the whirlwind of sensation, your voices intertwined in a symphony of desire and longing.

"I've wanted this since the moment I saw you," Satoru breathed between heated kisses, his voice husky with desire.

"You feel so good," you moaned, your words punctuated by gasps of pleasure as he moved within you.

His lips brushed against yours, his voice a seductive whisper against your skin. "I can't get enough of you," he confessed, his movements growing more urgent with each passing moment. “You’re too good for me, angel. Too good.”

With a desperate hunger, you clung to him, your breath hitching as pleasure surged through every fiber of your being. "Don't stop," you pleaded, your voice filled with an urgency that mirrored his own. “Faster, lover boy, oh, oh, there!”

As the intensity between you reached its peak, every touch, every movement sent waves of pleasure coursing through your bodies. In this moment of raw passion, you surrendered completely to the overwhelming sensations, your senses consumed by the fiery connection between you.

With each arch of your back, each moan of ecstasy, the desire between you grew more fervent, igniting a primal hunger that could not be sated. Satoru's groans mingled with your own, a symphony of pleasure that echoed through the confined space, heightening the intensity of your shared ecstasy.

He held you close, his body pressed tightly against yours, the scent of sex enveloping you both in a heady embrace. Tears of pleasure welled in your eyes as you clung to him, your grip tightening with each passing moment.

Feeling his own climax approaching, Satoru's movements became more urgent, more desperate, mirroring the fervor of his own desires. In this union of bodies and souls, you were both on the precipice of euphoria, teetering on the edge of release as the flames of passion consumed you both.

Amidst the symphony of their shared ecstasy, amidst the heavy breathing and the pounding of hearts, words were rendered unnecessary. Yet, amidst the primal dance of desire, whispers of longing and adoration slipped from your lips, mingling with Satoru's own murmurs of pleasure.

"I need you," you gasped, your voice trembling with desire as you clung to him. “Please, please. Lover boy,”

"You feel so good," Satoru growled, his breath hot against your skin as he buried himself deeper within you. “Angel, how do you feel so good?”

Lost in the intoxicating haze of pleasure, you and Satoru moved together in perfect synchrony, each movement a testament to the raw, primal connection between you. Your bodies melded together, skin against skin, as you rode the wave of ecstasy to its peak.

"I've never felt like this before," you confessed, your voice a breathless whisper as you locked eyes with him.

"Me neither," Satoru admitted, his gaze filled with a mixture of awe and reverence as he continued to move with you. “Let me come in you, angel. I’m so…so close. I need to—”

“Do it!” You cried back to him, pleased tears pouring out your eyes. “Make me come, make me feel you!”

As the intensity of your climax washed over you, every nerve ending on fire with pleasure, you cried out in abandon, your voice echoing in the confined space of the abandoned bathroom. Satoru's relentless thrusts only fueled the flames of your passion, driving you to new heights of ecstasy.

Amidst the haze of pleasure, you felt something primal and possessive in Satoru's touch, his teeth grazing against your skin in a sensation that bordered on pain and pleasure. It was a mark of his dominance, a primal instinct that ignited a fire deep within you.

As he continued to move within you, his pace slowing to prolong the euphoria of the moment, you felt his release wash over you in waves of pleasure. His voice mingled with yours in a symphony of ecstasy, the sound reverberating off the walls of the bathroom as you both surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure of your union.

As the echoes of your shared climax faded, leaving only the soft sounds of your heavy breathing and the gentle patter of water droplets, you found yourselves locked in a tender embrace, bodies still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure.

For a fleeting moment, you simply existed in each other's arms, the world outside forgotten as you reveled in the intimacy of the moment. Satoru's touch was gentle now, a stark contrast to the primal intensity of moments before, as he cradled you against his chest with a tenderness that belied his earlier fervor.

With a contented sigh, you nuzzled closer to him, the warmth of his body a comforting anchor in the midst of the storm. In this quiet sanctuary, you felt a sense of peace wash over you, a fleeting respite from the chaos of the outside world.

As you lay intertwined in the dimly lit bathroom, the air heavy with the scent of sex and sweat, you realized that in this moment, you had found solace in each other's arms—a brief reprieve from the trials and tribulations that awaited you beyond these walls. And for now, that was enough.

After the intensity of the moment subsided, Satoru's breaths slowed, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with yours. With a tender gaze, he looked into your eyes, his voice soft yet filled with determination.

"Hey," he began, his tone almost hesitant amidst the lingering echoes of your passion, "I was wondering if... maybe... you'd like to go out on a date with me?"

You couldn't help but burst into laughter at his unexpected question, the sound reverberating off the tiled walls of the bathroom. It was a rare moment of levity amidst the intensity of the encounter, and you found yourself chuckling uncontrollably.

"Wait, are you serious?" you managed to gasp between fits of laughter, your eyes sparkling with amusement.

Satoru's expression shifted slightly, a faint pout forming on his lips as he crossed his arms in mock indignation. "Hey, it's not funny," he protested, though the hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Between giggles, you shook your head, still unable to contain your amusement. "You should have asked me that before we had sex," you teased, the words playful yet tinged with affection.

His pout deepened momentarily, but then he grinned, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Does it matter if it's a little backwards?" he countered, his tone teasing. "I still want to take you out on a date."

You couldn't help but smile at his persistence, touched by his sincerity despite the unconventional timing of his request. Leaning in, you pressed a tender kiss to his lips, your heart fluttering with warmth.

"Yes," you whispered against his lips, your answer filled with unspoken promise. "I'd love to go on a date with you, Gojo Satoru."

A few years later:

As the evening wore on, you found yourselves seated at a cozy corner table in the dimly lit bar, surrounded by the gentle hum of conversation and clinking glasses. Nanami and Shoko, old friends of yours and Satoru's, were engaged in lively banter, reminiscing about past adventures and shared memories.

Satoru's voice filled the air with infectious energy as he began his tale, his eyes alight with mischief. "It was a whirlwind romance, really," he declared, his words punctuated by a playful chuckle. "I saw them across the room, and I just knew I had to talk to them, you know?"

Shoko's laughter bubbled forth like a melodious chorus, her amusement contagious as she leaned in, hanging onto every word. "Oh, I can only imagine," she exclaimed between giggles, her eyes twinkling with mirth. “I…I can’t believe that’s how you met — this is so insane. Even for you, Satoru.”

“Hey! It was love at first sight. I only needed ten minutes to fall in love!”

“I guess that’s how long you lasted too, huh?”

“HAH!? Take that back, Sho! I lasted long enough!”

“Satoru….” You groaned, ever so embarrassed about his shamelessness.

Nanami Kento, ever the picture of composure, remained stoic, his expression betraying little of his inner thoughts. He listened intently, his gaze fixed on Satoru as if trying to decipher the truth behind his embellished tale.

Undeterred by Nanami's unreadable demeanor, Satoru continued with gusto, his grin widening as he delved deeper into the story. "Of course, my angel here was playing hard to get at first..." he added, his voice trailing off with a hint of playful exaggeration.

As Satoru's narrative unfolded, the atmosphere crackled with laughter and warmth, each member of the group drawn into the captivating tale of your whirlwind romance.

As Satoru continued his animated storytelling, you felt the heat rising in your cheeks, a telltale sign of your embarrassment. His arm draped casually around your shoulders, seemingly oblivious to your discomfort, only added to your blush. Desperately, you buried your face in his shoulder, hoping to shield yourself from further embarrassment, but he remained entirely unfazed by your reaction, his attention wholly absorbed in the tale he was weaving.

"And then, well, the rest is history," Satoru concluded with a wide grin, seemingly unaware of your discomfort. "We've been inseparable ever since."

Shoko, still wiping away tears of laughter, offered a sympathetic pat on your hand, while Nanami cleared his throat awkwardly, his stoic demeanor masking any hint of amusement or discomfort he may have felt. As the conversation shifted to lighter topics, you couldn't help but steal a glance at Satoru, his easy smile and carefree demeanor serving as a gentle reminder of why you fell in love with him in the first place.

Sometimes falling in love can take a while.

Sometimes it can never happen for some.

But for you, it only took a good ten minutes.

And you were happy to have a whole lifetime.

You knew Satoru was happy about it too.

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kingofbodyrolls · 5 months

Text

Stuck at a Christmas party (m) | pjm

*Part of ’the winter collection’.

Summary: It’s Seokjin’s Christmas party and you’re trying your best to be social with your friends, but it’s really hard when you feel the burning stare of your nemesis, Park Jimin, lighting your skin on fire. It doesn’t help when you feel his hand between your legs under the dinner table.

Pairing: Jimin x female reader AU + genres: enemies to lovers, pwp (very little plot – let me be honest, it’s just pure smut). Humor/crack, smut. Rating: Mature/explicit/R18 - this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact. Word count: 5,1K Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸 Warnings (explicit): exhibitionism, fingering, oral (male receiving), orgasm denial, cum eating, creampie, unprotected sex, choking (in a sexual context), degrading name calling (brat), hair pulling, dirty talk, multiple orgasms.

Taglist: @yopjm

Author’s note: the snowstorm couple are back!!! 🥳 For reference, please think of GDA 2019 Jimin with his sleek black suit when reading this 🥵

ℹ️ This is part of ‘The Winter Collection: Stories with the Snowstorm Couple’, it can still be read as a stand-alone though!

I am going on a hiatus, but I wanted to post this before I left…

As you stand there, befuddled and speechless, you can't fathom how Seokjin deduced the intimate encounter between you and Jimin, your mortal enemy. The questions swirl in your mind—how, what, and why—leaving you utterly mystified.

Rage simmers within you, and you clench your hands into tight fists, resembling an enraged child ready to lash out. However, before you can unleash your fury, Jimin beats you to the punch with a nonchalant explanation, “We got cold.”

Your jaw drops once more as Jimin strolls past you and Seokjin, casually hanging his coat on the rack and discarding his shoes. He carries himself as though what transpired between you is the most ordinary thing in the world.

Seokjin's laughter, that annoying windshield wiper sound, echoes in the air. It grates on your nerves, and the urge to smack him for it intensifies. However, he ushers you inside, and with a frustrated sigh, you release your petty thoughts, letting your shoulders slump in resignation.

“Not a word to the others!” you hiss, jabbing your finger forcefully in Seokjin's face. It's crucial to drive the point home; the last thing you need is for the rest of your friends to find out. The mere thought of enduring their endless teasing is unbearable.

Seokjin mimics zipping his mouth shut with exaggerated hand gestures, and you shoot him a stern glare for good measure, silently urging him to grasp the gravity of your seriousness.

Seokjin accompanies you into the living room, where Jimin lounges on a couch, wearing that infuriatingly smug expression. Despite the lingering resentment, he acknowledges you with a subtle nod, licking his lips teasingly. A shiver snakes down your spine at the suggestive gesture, and you can't shake the feeling that this evening is destined to be nothing short of torturous.

The music pulses through the air, creating a lively atmosphere that encourages conversation with friends. Despite the chatter and laughter around you, there's an undeniable sensation of being watched. Your attempts to catch up with girlfriends are accompanied by the persistent feeling of a gaze, like smoldering embers, leaving your skin tingling with heat.

It's Jimin, his captivating dark brown eyes following your every move, setting you ablaze amidst the festive chaos.

Despite your best efforts to steer clear of him throughout the evening, the inevitable moment arrives when dinner is served. The grand table is a vision of Christmas elegance, adorned with festive ornaments and pristine white plates boasting delicate gold rims. As you approach, the once plentiful seats have dwindled, leaving only two vacant spots side by side. The realization hits you like a silent shock – everyone is settled in their places, except for one person: Park Jimin.

A smirk dances on Jimin's lips as your eyes lock, and with a gentlemanly flourish, he pulls out the chair for you. The attention of your friends is inevitably drawn to the unfolding scene, their curious glances making you squirm. You take your seat, feeling the weight of Jimin's gaze as he elegantly settles his perfect plump ass in the chair beside you.

Amidst the lingering stares and unspoken questions, you divert your attention to the spread before you, purposefully loading your plate with an array of delectable dishes. The clinking of cutlery becomes a welcome distraction, and for a brief moment, you find solace from the constant scrutiny of Jimin's eyes that have tracked your every move since you arrived.

Engulfed in the lively chatter around the table, you savor each bite while selectively tuning in to the diverse conversations unfolding. The clinking of cutlery and the hum of laughter weave a symphony that, for a moment, allows you to lose yourself in the festive atmosphere.

Your senses tingle as a warm sensation caresses your thigh, an unmistakable touch that sends a jolt of awareness through your entire being.

A rush of longing surges through you, an electric pulse that ignites every nerve, and without needing to glance down, you're keenly aware of Jimin's hand, a potent source of warmth, intimately tracing the contour of your thigh. As he gives it a firm, possessive squeeze, you close your eyes, surrendering to the tantalizing dance of desire that envelops you.

A relentless wave of need courses through you, the mere touch of Jimin's hand on your thigh igniting a fiery pool of arousal in your core. It's almost absurd, the intensity of your response—his hand, just on your thigh, and yet it feels as if the entire universe has conspired to stoke the flames of desire within you.

His attention remains fixed on the conversation with Namjoon, his eyes avoiding yours, but the impact of his touch on your thigh is impossible to ignore. The simple act of eating becomes an insurmountable challenge as his hand, like a brand, leaves an indelible mark on your senses. The silk of your dress offers little resistance to the searing heat emanating from his touch, rendering the task of composing yourself an elusive feat.

You grit your teeth, attempting to conceal your mounting frustration, and in a clandestine exchange of glances with Seokjin seated across from you, you're convinced he sees right through the charade. Damn it all.

Jimin's hands persist in their exploration, journeying beneath your dress and ascending higher on your thigh. A stifled gasp escapes your lips, your attempt to conceal the pleasure coursing through you as his fingers delicately trace the contours of your panties.

Your mind races as he inches perilously close to your core, your pussy pulsating with anticipation. Damn, the intensity of the sensation is overwhelming.

His apparent nonchalance fuels your frustration. How can he engage in casual conversation with Namjoon, seemingly unfazed, while his hand stealthily explores the contours of your thigh beneath the table? The audacity, especially in the midst of your friends, leaves you seething with a mix of desire and irritation.

His fingers delicately dance over the fabric that shields your pulsating core, sending a shiver down your spine. Conflicting desires surge within you – an undeniable craving for his touch and the hesitation born from the inappropriate setting, surrounded by the prying eyes of your friends.

With deliberate slowness, he trails his fingers along the edge of your panties, expertly sliding them to the side. A single finger ventures into your slick folds, and an involuntary exclamation of desire escapes your lips. Fuck!

Panic and pleasure collide within you as your body ignites with an uncontrollable fire. Fumbling for composure, you desperately try to conceal the intoxicating sensations Jimin's hand is orchestrating beneath the table. Casting a surreptitious glance at your friends, relief washes over you—it appears they remain oblivious to the clandestine dance Jimin is leading on your fevered skin. Thank god.

Your entire being tenses as an electric current courses through you, a silent struggle unfolding within as you grapple with the urge to control your escalating breaths, ensuring each intake is hushed and every gasp remains concealed.

Jimin's fingers expertly plunge in and out of you, a relentless rhythm that leaves you quivering in your seat. The addition of a second digit amplifies the sensations, intensifying the shivers that course through you. Fuck you, Park Jimin!

You shoot him an incredulous look, but he remains unfazed, deep in conversation with Namjoon as if his fingers aren't skillfully working their magic on you. Frustration bubbles within you, the tightening knot in your stomach threatening to unravel. Shit.

His fingers abandon your pulsating core, and just when you dare to hope for a reprieve, he redirects his attention to your swollen clit. Electric jolts course through your body, and an involuntary flinch escapes you, catching the curious gaze of your friends. The intensity of his touch threatens to betray the secrets you're desperately trying to keep under wraps.

“Are you okay?” Concern etches across Hoseok's face as he leans in, his voice laced with worry. His eyes search yours, dissecting the panic in your stare and the sudden gasp that escaped your lips.

Summoning every ounce of strength, you lift your chin and strive for confidence as you reply, “Y-yes.”

Even as the words leave your lips, their uncertainty rings in your ears, a desperate plea that he won't press for more answers.

The sensation of Jimin's fingers expertly tracing figure eights on your clit sends electric chills down your entire body. Your thighs clench involuntarily, and you find yourself biting your lip, desperately trying to stifle any sounds that might betray the pleasure coursing through you. It's a delicate dance between ecstasy and secrecy, his skilled touch weaving a spell that makes it increasingly difficult to maintain your composure.

As Jimin's fingers work their magic, your heart races, and the sensation is akin to running a marathon. A lone bead of sweat forms on your hairline, evidence of the intensity building within you. Fuck Jimin, unraveling you like this in front of your friends. The promise of payback simmers in your mind, determined to teach him a lesson he won't soon forget.

As your breath quickens, the telltale signs of impending release manifest—quivering thighs betraying your desperation.

You're on the verge, yearning to pry Jimin's hand away from your pulsating core. The last thing you want is to climax in front of your friends; the situation is already precarious. Imagining their potential disgust only adds to the thrill.

The forbidden allure of the moment perplexes you—why does the idea of their judgment fuel your arousal?

Despite your futile attempts to swat his hand away, Jimin remains resolute, intensifying his efforts to push you over the edge. A determined glint in his eyes, he skillfully manipulates your senses. As he continues to stimulate your clit, a rush of liquid heralds your surrender, leaving you slumped against the table, your body succumbing to the waves of pleasure.

An electric surge courses through your body, causing every muscle to tighten, your clit pulsating beneath his expert touch. Desperately trying to collect yourself and avoid drawing attention, you navigate the fine line between pleasure and discretion.

Yoongi's concern cuts through the haze, and he observes, “Are you alright? You seem out of it.”

A quiet, low moan escapes your lips, and in that moment, you become acutely aware of how disheveled and spent you must appear—fatigued and lost in a dazed gaze. Rising from your chair, Jimin's hand reluctantly withdraws from your core, and as your dress gracefully descends with your movement, you manage to murmur, “T-toilet,” your chest heaving with the lingering waves of lust.

In a frenzied hurry, you bolt into the bathroom, your hands gripping the edge of the sink, and you confront your disheveled, panting reflection in the mirror. It feels pathetic, the way Jimin effortlessly coaxed an orgasm from you under the table, using only his fingers. The realization hits hard – you are undeniably and thoroughly fucked.

Inhaling deeply, you attempt to steady yourself just as the bathroom door creaks open, heralding the impending return to the outside world.

As you gaze into the mirror, the source of your overwhelming frustration materializes before you: none other than Park Jimin.

You emit a hiss, a potent blend of frustration and arousal, as your eyes lock with his. Despite the turmoil, you can't deny the magnetic pull of his irresistible gaze, a look saturated with sin, his eyes half-lidded, and his tongue seductively gliding across his lips.

You sense your core clenching with a frustrating ache, an insistent reminder of desire for the infuriating man you both despise and secretly crave.

He teasingly presents his fingers to you, wiggling them suggestively as a sly grin plays on his lips, “You came.”

Your gaze locks onto him in utter disbelief—did he stroll around casually with your essence adorning his fingers?

“Suck them dry,” he commands, a smug smirk playing on his lips as he surveys the aftermath—your flushed cheeks and the deep rhythm of your breaths.

His words linger in the air, a challenge you're quick to accept. Without hesitation, you wrap your lips around his digits, tasting the remnants of your essence. His low groan reverberates as he watches you skillfully suck him dry, a silent dance of desire between you.

With each deliberate suck, you reclaim every trace of your essence from his fingers. When the task is accomplished, you fix him with an intense gaze, a silent challenge in your eyes, daring him to unleash the pent-up desire that simmers between you.

“Can’t stop thinking about me?”

Your gaze locks with his, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you bat your lashes, feigning a sense of dominion you both know is illusory. He meets your challenge with a smug smirk, dragging his tongue over his lips, and in that moment, the taste of him floods your senses, a lingering memory that refuses to be forgotten.

You want more so you decide to match Jimin's honesty with your own vulnerability. As the words escape your lips, confessing, 'I can't get you out of my head either,' a gust of candid truth hangs in the air. The charged atmosphere between you two becomes palpable, an electric tension that leaves you yearning, your desperation laid bare.

With a sultry whisper, you proposition him, your voice dripping with desire. Your eyes linger provocatively on the pronounced bulge in his pants as you suggest, “I can suck you off. It’s the least I can do.”

He skillfully unbuckles his belt, swiftly unzips his pants, and sensually lowers both his trousers and underwear, unveiling his throbbing, substantial dick that eagerly springs forth.

Your tongue darts out to moisten your lips, the lingering taste of him still fresh in your memory, and an undeniable yearning builds within you, an insatiable desire to descend upon him just as you did in the heated confines of the car a mere few hours ago.

He strides purposefully toward the toilet, ceremoniously lowering the seat, and with a provocative gesture, positions himself on it, legs enticingly spread, an open invitation for you to draw near and indulge in the feast of his dick.

You swiftly descend to your knees on the welcoming warmth of Seokjin's floor, grateful for the cozy indulgence of heated tiles. Running your tongue across your lips, you seize his throbbing cock with a determined hand, evoking a hiss of pleasure from his lips.

“Fuck! I missed you.”

“It's only been a few hours, Jimin,” you chuckle before enveloping his pulsating dick in your saliva-coated warmth. He fills your mouth perfectly, and you establish a steady rhythm, savoring the delicious anticipation in the air.

You skillfully handle what can't fit in your mouth, teasing with your hand. Jimin throws his head back, emitting a delicious moan in response to your artistry. Sucking him off with an intensity that borders on desperation, you flatten your tongue and expertly play with his frenulum, eliciting a hiss and soft moan from him.

With a firm grip on your hair, he tugs at your ponytail once more. Drool drips from your mouth as you glide over his cock, expertly hollowing your cheeks to create the perfect suction.

His fingers tighten in your hair, urging you further. Breathing in and out through your nose, you navigate down to his pubic hairs, humming sensually around his dick. The subtle shiver you feel from him fills you with a sense of pride, knowing the impact you're having on him.

“Fuck. You’re so good,” he moans, pulling your hair tighter in his grip, the raw desire in his voice sending shivers down your spine.

“Shit, I’m close already,” he gasps, his voice breathy with anticipation, and you can sense the pulsating urgency of his cock in your mouth, signaling that he's on the brink of release.

Unexpectedly, you withdraw from his throbbing cock, leaving him suspended on the precipice of release. His eyes widen in disbelief, watching as you sensually lick your lips, a spark of mischief and fiery playfulness dancing in your gaze.

“Brat. Finish what you started!”

His demand hangs in the air, laden with urgency, but you defiantly shake your head, a smug smirk playing on your lips. In this tantalizing game of desire, you've decided to level the playing field, returning the favor with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

With a sly smirk stretching across your face, you assertively declare, “No.” Your lustful desire is unmistakable as you deliberately pull away, leaving him hanging. “You made me come in front of our friends, embarrassing me. So now,” you add with determined confidence, “you don't get to come.”

As you swing the door open, you exit, leaving him in the bathroom, his fully erect dick on full display, a silent challenge echoing in the air.

“Fucking brat!” His voice reverberates through the air, a raw and frustrated yell, trailing after you as you make your exit.

A mischievous laughter escapes your lips, an odd mix of satisfaction and empowerment swirling within you. Striding back to the table with your friends, you effortlessly dive back into the conversation, as if leaving Jimin high and dry is just another casual move in your repertoire.

There's a subtle thrill in knowing that maybe, just maybe, you've imparted a lesson on not messing with you.

After a few minutes, Jimin saunters back to the table, and you can't help but notice the lingering outline of his arousal beneath his pants. Apparently, he didn't tend to his needs as you assumed he would. The intrigue in the air grows thicker, adding a layer of curiosity to the already charged atmosphere.

The remainder of the evening unfolds without any further advances from Jimin, and despite the undeniable tension in the air, you manage to restrain yourself, keeping your hands to yourself. The pulsating undercurrent of arousal lingers, fueled solely by the magnetic pull of Jimin's presence.

Dinner concludes, and after lending a hand with the cleanup, the music swells to an even higher volume, enticing people to the dance floor. Amid the lively atmosphere, you join in the dance with your girlfriends, playfully swaying your hips to the rhythm. The pulsating energy is infectious, but beneath the neon lights and thumping beats, you sense Jimin's intense gaze fixed on yours once more.

Sensations of arousal ignite within you, yearning for a more intimate connection that goes beyond the pulsating dance floor. Amidst the crowd, you feel a magnetic pull, a desire for his crotch to be the one you're grinding against. However, such an encounter isn't suitable in the presence of your friends. Suddenly, Jimin materializes on the dance floor, seizing your hand and drawing you into a close embrace. His warm breath grazes your ear as he utters, “Come with me, brat.”

He pulls you away from the pulsating crowd of friends, a flicker of distress in your eyes, yet a clandestine thrill seeping through your veins. The covert glances from your friends affirm that they caught the provocative scene. With determination, he leads you into a secluded room, the door securing your privacy with a decisive click.

His eyes blaze with an inferno of lust, an intensity that borders on fury. There's a dangerous edge to his gaze, and he licks his lips with a hunger that suggests he's poised to consume you whole.

“Some nerve you have,” he begins, a low growl in his voice as he presses you backward, drawing you closer to a waiting bed, its presence dawning on you like an ominous realization.

Nervousness courses through your body, a relentless tide, as he exerts control over you with the sheer dominance of his presence.

“Leaving me like that, you fucking brat,” he hisses, forcefully pushing you down onto the bed.

Despite your nerves, a chuckle escapes your lips, “Well, I think it was only fair.”

“Do you?” he raises an eyebrow, his face hovering dangerously close to yours, the air thick with anticipation.

“Fuck. What do you do to me?” he murmurs, diving in to kiss your lips. Your hands instinctively find his cheeks, and you melt into the soft, plush sensation of his mouth, lost in the intoxicating dance of his lips.

Instantly, your body relaxes, and you wrap your legs around his waist, provocatively pressing your core against his erect dick, eliciting a hiss of pleasure from him.

“I could say the same to you,” you pant, “and I don't even like you. I don't understand,” you murmur between kisses, grappling with the conflicting emotions that the intensity of the moment brings.

“But I want you. Damn it, I want you to fuck me so bad,” you confess with a breathless mixture of desire and urgency, punctuating your words with a daring roll of your hips, leaving no room for ambiguity about your craving for him.

“Fuck.”

He unbuckles his belt with a purpose, the metallic clink resonating with the promise of what's to come. Swiftly, he unzips his pants and skillfully lowers them along with his underwear, gracefully joining you on the bed with a hunger in his eyes.

His arousal is evident, his dick appearing more heated and flushed than ever. The crimson hue tells a tale of the desire he harbors, heightened by your previous act of leaving him hanging and hungry for more.

“You’re such a brat. I’ll fuck you senseless.” His voice, a sultry promise, sends shivers down your spine. With a self-assured stroke of his dick, he spreads your legs, deftly teasing your underwear aside.

Hovering above you, his breath dances on your skin as he murmurs in your ear, “I’m going to shut that pretty mouth of yours up.”

Your body quivers in response as he deftly lifts your legs over his shoulders. In this moment, he appears both commanding and delicate, a paradox you can't help but be drawn to. As your moans escape, his eyes light up, as if you hold the key to his universe. Yet, the bitter truth remains—you are enemies, drowning in mutual hatred despite the intensity of the desire that binds you.

His fingers dance over your sensitive folds, ensuring the cascade of wetness that engulfs you. You're a river in anticipation, and he chuckles, pulling back a glistening digit to savor your essence. His words, whispered with satisfaction, echo in the room, “You taste so good.”

You moan, your body craving his touch, and impatiently inquire, “What's the hold up?”' as you yearn for him to fulfill his promise to ravish you.

In the dim light, he chuckles down at you, gripping his hard dick once more and skillfully aligning it with your eager entrance. The head of his cock nudges your folds, eliciting a desperate mewl of pleasure from your lips. Despite the intense disdain you harbor for him, all you crave now is to feel him deep inside you.

With a powerful thrust, he impales you on his dick, plunging deep into your core with reckless abandon. A primal scream of his name tears from your throat, echoing in the room, encapsulating the sheer intensity of the moment. “Fuck, Jimin!”

His grin turns wicked, a hint of danger in his eyes, as he accelerates, showing no mercy and denying you any chance to acclimate. Every powerful thrust widens and fulfills you in the most exquisite way, leaving you breathless and aching for more.

Though mere hours have passed, the yearning for his dick consumes your thoughts. The magnetic pull of his desire leaves your mind shrouded in dangerous fantasies that dance provocatively through the corridors of your consciousness.

“Fuck, you’re still so tight.”

Moans of pleasure escape his lips, breathless and raw, as he utters your name in a fevered whisper. Holding your legs aloft, he thrusts into you, skillfully navigating the depths, each movement a calculated dance that hits your soft spot with precision, sending ripples of ecstasy through your body.

His intoxicating scent envelops your senses, a heady mix of musk that clouds your mind. The rhythmic dance of his tie brushing against your dress on your tummy mirrors the cadence of his thrusts.

Amidst the tumultuous waves of pleasure, you find yourself caught in a paradox of conflicting emotions. “Fuck, Jimin. I hate you. I don't understand,” you blabber, your words intertwining with the rhythmic surges of arousal coursing through your body. With each relentless thrust, the coil in your stomach tightens, weaving a complex tapestry of desire and disdain.

“I do,” he utters, punctuating his words with a forceful thrust that reverberates through your core, causing a symphony of sensations to cascade through your body.

“You like me, that's why,” he pants, each powerful thrust resonating through your pussy, an electrifying dance of pleasure and desire. It's a truth you're reluctant to acknowledge, and as your heart races, you turn your head away, unable to meet his intense gaze, even as your body betrays your feelings.

“No, no, you look at me while I fuck you, brat,” he seethes with anger. He presses himself down on you, your legs parting to rest on the sides of his arms. His hands find their way around your throat, giving it a light squeeze as he maintains the fast pace of his hard thrusts. The intensity in his eyes matches the fervor of the moment, a collision of passion and dominance that leaves you breathless.

He forces you to turn your head toward him, and the grip on your throat tightens even more. “Just admit that you like me, brat,” he demands, his voice a potent blend of authority and desire, making your heart race as you navigate the thin line between resistance and surrender.

Your mind swirls in a hazy mist, a product of his presence or the firm grip around your neck — it's hard to discern. Yet, amidst the uncertainty, there's an undeniable thrill that courses through you, a strange liking for the intoxicating blend of dominance and desire.

Released from his grasp, you inhale desperately, your breaths echoing the tumultuous whirlwind of emotions within. With the tightening coil in your stomach, you reluctantly admit, “Fine... I don't hate you.”

His hands reclaim your throat, a firm grip that mingles pleasure and restraint, synchronized with the rhythmic precision of his thrusts hitting every exquisite spot within you. “That's not good enough, brat,” he growls, his control both intoxicating and exhilarating.

“I know you like me, because your body tells me so,”

“I know you like it when I choke you, because you clench so much around me when I do,”

“Your body can’t lie, brat.”

Holy fuck. He’s right. At least in some parts. Your mind is a tempest of desire, clouded with thoughts of him, and suddenly you’re screaming, the sound muffled by his firm hands around your throat. Your body spasms uncontrollably, a tidal wave of pleasure crashing around his pulsating dick.

“Fuck. Yeah, cream my dick, brat.” he maintains his relentless thrusts, your orgasm surging through you like a wild storm, leaving you with a symphony of sensations and a loud ringing sound in your ears.

His hands finally release their grip on your neck, and you find yourself panting for air, gasping his name with a mixture of desperation and lust, “J-Jimin, fuck.”

“You’re doing so good. Even if you behave like a brat. Fuck. I’m so close.”

And then his thrusts become erratic and even more frantic, as he desperately seeks his own climax.

“Fuck, Jimin, just like that!” you scream as he relentlessly targets your sweet spot, igniting the familiar coil in your stomach once more. Fuck.

Jimin seems to sense your escalating pleasure, and one of his hands skillfully finds your clit, circling it with a tantalizing touch that nearly makes you scream. “Shit!”

He skillfully pinches your clit, and suddenly, you see stars—you're gone. Squirts of your release gush out, painting his pubic hairs, and Jimin gazes down at you. You thrash around the bed, frantically breathing, your muscles tightening as your vision becomes a canvas of small, white dots.

“Damn. You just squirted all over me,” he breathes in a soft voice, a hint of adoration laced within. However, you can't really decipher his tone as you're lost in the moment, your ears ringing again.

“Damn, that's hot,” he exclaims and thrusts into you again, releasing his warm load inside you with a scream of your name.

He continues to thrust into your core, the rhythm slowing down to a more sensual pace. Your body feels dazed and sweaty, the dress clinging uncomfortably to your skin, the satin now undoubtedly soaked through.

You gasp for air, still catching your breath. “Fucking hell, that was amazing, Jimin.” He chuckles, offering you a gentle smile that quickly transforms into his trademark smirk.

His laughter dances through the air, accompanied by a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You know, we can totally do this again,” he says, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. You can't help but roll your eyes, though deep down, the idea doesn't seem entirely unwelcome. Keeping a sense of mystery, you respond with a playful glint in your eyes, “Maybe.” The rebellion in your spirit mirrors the dance of sparks between you, a familiar game of push and pull that seems destined to continue.

“Brat.”

He chuckles, yet defies the teasing nickname by bending down to kiss you; it’s sweet and tender, a stark contrast to how he just fucked your brains out.

You cast a dismayed gaze at your drenched dress, muttering, “I can't go out in this,” and you groan, feeling the uncomfortable cling of the fabric to your skin, an unwelcome sensation adding to the aftermath of your heated encounter.

“How about we raid Seokjin’s closet?” he suggests, winking with a playful lift of his brows and a light chuckle.

“Is this Seokjin’s room? Did we just fuck on his bed? Damn, he’s going to be furious!” You burst into laughter at the absurdity of the situation. “No way! Imagine if everyone finds out we fucked.” You shriek, wildly waving your hands in the air, the possibility suddenly sinking in.

“Why are you so hell-bent on keeping it a secret?” he asks, genuinely curious, a playful glint in his eyes as he chuckles at your distress.

“Because you're my sworn enemy,” you state matter-of-factly, giving a nonchalant shrug.

“Are you sure about that?” he teases, his eyebrows wiggling playfully. You can't help but roll your eyes at his cheeky demeanor once again.

“And I think they already know,” he laughs, amusement dancing in his eyes as he observes your irritated expression. You groan into your hands, grappling with the realization that he might be right. However, you're determined to cling to any shred of hope you can find.

“We'll just stay up here until my dress is dry,” you declare, as if it's the most brilliant plan you can conjure. Jimin chuckles, his gaze lingering over your heaving form with a hunger that ignites a spark of desire. He licks his lips, suggesting, “Then take it off. That way, it'll dry faster, and we can go for round two in a moment.”

#jimin x reader #pjm x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts smut #the winter collection series #reader: female #au: enemies to lovers #theme: winter #theme: christmas #vibe: comedy #vibe: smutty

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carlyraejepsans · 5 months

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pardon the papyrus posting but re-flowey and learning the "kill or be killed" mentality, i think part of what made papyrus so interesting to flowey is he, like asriel, rejected the idea with his whole "everybody can be a good person if they really try" (the world and people aren't a stagnant, fundamental way and can change), but even when faced with death directly papyrus held onto his outlook, which flowey found incomprehensible

ehhhh i disagree, personally i think the reason flowey was so captivated by papyrus is because papyrus is the most... "present" character in the game. not only is he extremely fun and alive personality-wise in an average playthrough, he also has the most lines put together out of any character in the game. one of the main things flowey states about how he grew bored of the world around him is that people became predictable and stopped feeling like people. lines of dialogue. strings of numbers.

it only follows, then, that the character with THEE most dialogue, THEE most interactions, THEE most content and information to pry and seek out would be his favorite. if losing his SOUL actively impacted his capacity to love and care for other people (even if not completely, as we all know well), then "entertainment" would've been the closest he could get to genuine care towards another person in his SOULlessness. when everyone else became numbers, papyrus was probably the last one to feel like a real person (until even he fell short. only his idealized memories of chara never failed him, since they physically couldn't. and we KNOW how obsessed he became with them, and with us/frisk and our "unpredictability").

also like. i get that handplates was cool and all, but papyrus believes in second changes and giving everyone a choice to turn their life around, he's not vowed to nonviolence/not killing. can we scrub that from collective fanon characterization? if they don't take that chance, he is 100% going to beat their ass into oblivion. the only reason he didn't do that to us in-game was because he underestimated our strength and died first. noble and positive as it is, his attitude isn't any more morally groundbreaking than, say, Toriel's conviction that no "greater good" is worth someone's sacrifice.

#ie flowey wouldn't really care aside from a ''how far can you push him before he changes how he behaves'' standpoint #because papyrus isn't connected TO him and to his tragedy in the way his parents and chara are #ie people whose stance on nonviolence he actually cares about. and mocks about. and feels wronged by #answered asks #undertale #flowey #papyrus #metanalysis #finally settled on my analysis tag

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harmonysanreads · 1 year

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When something (or someone) is stealing your attention.

characters: al haitham, kamisato ayato, raiden shogun (ei), scaramouche (wanderer)

cw(s): general yandere themes, dark themes, mentions of captivity, mention of gaslighting (once)

──⚝ al haitham

Probably doesn't even notice and if he does, sees no reason to get worked up over it.

Al Haitham practices control over his emotions — more so, the less rational ones, through assessment of the given situation. Sometimes, you can almost see apparitions of the cogs turning and twisting in his irises. So, when he sees your insistence on ignoring his existence, he merely sits down somewhere close and resumes where he left off on his own book. It's you who is concerned from his lack of acknowledgement, stealing glances to see him having his merry time. After all, those light novels can only occupy your attention for so long and after re-reading the same text for who-knows-how-many times, you'll be forced to come to him (yet again another disadvantage of being held captive). He'll have his revenge then.

──⚝ kamisato ayato

His time is precious, more so the time he gets to spend with you, so, not a chance.

Somewhere in his corpse of a heart, there is guilt for the position he has put you in. His pride wouldn't let him admit that though, it claws its way out and blends in some of his actions. Ayato loves you too much to ignore the obvious forlorn look etched on your visage for any longer, your eyes are loud in the demand for freedom and it's been proven that not even an estate full of servants and people are enough to satiate your loneliness. So, when he gifted you the caged canary, he thought he'd finally see you smile again. Instead, it bites back at him and steals the last scraps of your attention. Ayato is displeased, to say the least and he makes it quite clear. If you still insist on being ignorant although, he'd have to resort to crueller methods. Fear not, he wouldn't allow a scratch to appear on you but, he cannot quite say that for your bird friend. After all, he's not ignorant of your attachment towards it or, of the resemblance in situation it has to you. Let this be a warning.

──⚝ raiden shogun (ei)

She's not jealous. Pssh, only a child could get jealous over something like this. You're merely interacting with her pet. A teasing pet who whispers suggestive comments in your ears every three seconds and — is she touching you now?

Gaslights herself for as long as possible because Celestia forbid should she succumb to this feeling of jealousy, in front of this menace of a kitsune moreover, she'll not hear the end of it. In her pursuit of an unchanging eternity, she has triumphed over the trifling mortal emotions. So then, why is it that all of her carefully constructed euthymia crumbles when it comes to you? Without doubt, you're an impediment to that perfect eternity, a weakness and yet, she fails to let you go, refuses to let you go. The mischievous kitsune utilizes it to her fullest entertainment, revelling in both your flustered reactions and Ei's crumbling ataraxia. If Yae Miko does manage to snap the last straw (which she does), Ei will quickly rush her out of her realm to cackle over the victory somewhere else. Then, it's up to you to smother the blow.

(You'll be surprised at how soon she melts.)

──⚝ scaramouche (wanderer)

Depending on which time of his life you manage to win over his non-existent heart, the reaction varies.

Kabukimono does not even feel it at first. Though, as his admiration and observation of the humans deepens, he eventually manages to make out some semblance of the unpleasant feeling. He'll never blame you though. It's... uncomfortable for him as he's new to it but compared to his future selves, Kabukimono is far more forgiving.

Kunikuzushi, newly familiarized with the cruelty and ugliness of the world is not so soft. He's constantly on the edge, questioning your loyalty and anticipating a betrayal. You'll have to put in a lot of sweet talking and loving caresses for him to strengthen his trust in you. Once you've gained it whole, you'll have to be even more careful. I'd advise not adding to his number of betrayals.

The Balladeer's perception of the world is twisted, he simultaneously doesn't want to trust you and is ready to give you the highest position of his heart (whether you like it or not). He's much, much more expressive and violent than Kabukimono but narrows it down to you lesser than Kunikuzushi (that does not mean you're off the hook entirely though). If it's an item that has you ignore him then poof! It's gone, now pay attention to him. If it's a person...then, they're also gone :).

Wanderer (after regaining his memories) is levels above the pettiness of his previous selves, so much so, that he ascends to a whole new degree of it. Rest assured, you won't be on the receiving end of the creative ways in which he deals with the sources, just be prepared to deal with one clingy menace.

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teyamskxawng · 1 year

Text

Say It

Lo'ak Sully x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

The rundown: Lo'ak just wants you to swallow your pride and spill all of your desires.

Warnings: 18+ content, language, sprinklings of fluff and stupidity, lowkey no plot just smut, characters are aged up, minors do not interact!! please

WC: 5.0k

A/N: There’s really no excuse for this, it’s about 5% plot and 95% shameless smut before I potentially drop a messy little love triangle fic... My @ is crying out for help lmfao I swear I have solo Neteyam fics in the works!!

Much to your delight, dinner with Lo'ak's family had become a frequent event ever since the two of you started courting. The Sullys captured your heart, and you definitely weren't going to say no to a meal that required no effort on your part, so it was a win-win situation. You were more than grateful for the family's unwavering generosity and found yourself regularly lounging around in the Sullys' tent after the meal was said and done.

Today was no different. As the aromas of the evening's feast lingered in the air, intermingling with the pleasant sounds of easy-going conversation, you felt completely content.

Further into the tent, Neytiri busied herself with cleaning the remains of dinner–collecting plates and bowls ready for washing. Meanwhile, Kiri assisted Tuk in getting ready for bed by dragging a wet cloth across the girl's lively little face, which somehow (always) ended up smeared with food after mealtimes.

You had to stifle your laughter as you watched Kiri struggle to pluck a morsel of food from one of Tuk's braids. The sight caught Lo'ak's attention, who teasingly nudged you underneath the thick woven throw-over that covered your adjacent legs from your shared spot on the ground.

Sitting across from you were Jake and Neteyam. After every one of your dinner visits, Jake would somehow find a way to bring the three of you together to discuss whatever warrior matters were on his mind that day. And Neytiri would always roll her eyes at her husband's relentless enthusiasm, claiming he wasn't raising an army, but you found it all endearing nonetheless.

Jake was clearly just excited to rant about military tactics and strategies with the three of you, who had all matured into warriors and were no longer clueless little kids. He valued your thoughts and opinions on new training methods, upcoming missions, and strategic planning–topics that were far over your heads before you reached adulthood.

That evening, Jake seemed especially excited about a new gadget he explained he'd get to pick up from the avatar camp the next day. It was called a three-dee-geo something. You honestly had no idea what it was, and you didn't really care. It sounded like something straight out of the RDA's playbook; therefore, you didn't give a shit.

However, Neteyam clearly did.

He was entirely captivated by his father's description of the strange device's use, nodding along to every word and firing off a series of probably very perceptive questions. Every inquiry received Jake's full attention; it was clear that he respected his son's keen interest in the matter.

You'd assumed that whatever Jake and Neteyam were discussing had to do with the current, or possibly future, affairs of the olo'eyktan. Whatever their discussion, it had nothing to do with you, so your mind began to wander for some semblance of entertainment elsewhere. Unsurprisingly, your gaze drifted toward Lo'ak, who sat beside you, wearing an expression that screamed boredom. And you could definitely fix that.

A quick scan of the tent assured you that everyone else was preoccupied, lost in their own activities.

As casually as you could, you slid closer to Lo'ak's side and gently placed your hand on his knee underneath your shared covering. With a feather-light touch, your finger traced small circles near the bony joint–a seemingly innocent, unordinary gesture.

But your little game was far from over. With a final little drum of your fingertips on Lo'ak's knee, you subtly let your hand shift, continuing its journey up the expanse of his leg.

Lo'ak managed to maintain his composure with admittedly impressive skill, but a barely perceptible catch in his breath betrayed his unbothered demeanor. Your hand continued its path until it stopped just shy of the edge of his loincloth; only then did Lo'ak shoot a questioning glance your way, trying to decipher precisely what the fuck you were doing through some form of telepathic guesswork.

Feigning innocence, you flashed him a sweet smile. "You okay, Lo'ak?" you asked softly, reveling in your momentary distraction. Obviously, there was no way you would escalate the situation any further underneath your shared blanket. Not with Lo'ak's entire family in the tent and Jake going on and on to Neteyam about something or the other that Norm had said earlier that day. You weren't stupid–you had enough sense to recognize the limits.

But still, you couldn't resist letting your fingers continue leisurely tracing little patterns on Lo'ak's thigh, or allowing your free hand to linger just a tad too long to be considered innocent as you reached out to brush aside a stray braid from his purpling face. It wasn't that cruel.

Clearly, Lo'ak seemed to think otherwise. It couldn't have been more than a minute or two later that he stood up from the spot you two shared on the floor. Pulling you up by your arm, he made a half-hearted excuse about helping you with some non-existent chore at your tent before the day ended. Left with no other option but to play along, you were honestly surprised that nobody even raised an eye at the pair of you as you trailed behind Lo'ak, stepping out of the tent into the cool embrace of nightfall.

Lo'ak began walking in the direction of your tent without uttering a single word, and you had to jog a few paces to catch up with his quick stride. He was walking like he genuinely had somewhere to be, though you knew he didn't. You finally reached his side, trying and failing to bite back your smile as you watched his stony profile. Deciding to play innocent, you remarked, "I didn't know I had chores to finish back at my place."

Lo'ak kept a straight face for about two seconds before his little facade broke. He let out a snort of laughter, shaking his head at the path in front of him. Besides that, he remained quiet all the way to your tent before hastily entering on his own.

You remained standing there, just outside the threshold, giving yourself a moment to compose yourself for what you knew was coming. Then, trying not to give away just how eager you felt about Lo'ak's impromptu night visit, you bit the inside of your cheek as you peeled back the enclosure to your tent.

The moment you stepped inside, Lo'ak was on you with a searing kiss. The sheer intensity of it all stole the air from your lungs and made you stumble backward a little, but Lo'ak was swift to steady you with a firm hand on your waist. He was literally devouring you, his lips seeming to consume yours entirely, and as much as you were trying to pretend otherwise, you were already so far gone.

Once Lo'ak released your lips, he didn't waste any time laying a trail of fiery kisses from your jawline all the way down to your neck. The sensation of his touch coaxed an unexpectedly loud moan to escape from deep within your throat. You tried to play it off, because you were supposed to be the one leaving him all disoriented–not the other way around. But as Lo'ak's teeth grazed the curve of your collarbone, you found yourself struggling to regain control over your breathing.

With a shaky breathlessness laced in your voice, you managed to ask him, "Eager?" Yet there was no break in Lo'ak's dedication as he continued at that sensitive spot on your neck. Nonchalantly humming an affirmative "mhm" in response to your question, his hands glided up from your waist and along the small of your back, drawing you closer to the warmth of his embrace.

Instinctively, your body arched into him, desperate for more of the intoxicating touch that left your skin tingling in its wake. Then, half-teasingly, half out of genuine curiosity, you asked, "Is it your rut?"

You knew there was something different about Lo'ak. His actions were notably more assertive and touchy–his hands roaming eagerly and his motions feeling swifter than usual–so it wouldn't have been a shock if he'd confirmed that it was indeed his rut.

But he didn't. Instead, he offered another low rumble: "nuh-uh," still sincere in its denial but masking any deeper thoughts he might've secretly harbored.

As Lo'ak's hands brushed under the delicate beaded fabric of your top, his fingers skillfully cupping your breasts, you shuddered under the pleasant sensation. His thumbs glided delicately across your nipples while his lips graced your chest with a flurry of soft kisses. Driven by passion, he didn't even bother to remove your top. It was like he was determined to press his lips against any part of your body within his reach. And you were losing your mind trying to suppress your noises of pleasure.

Lo'ak rarely acted this way. The Lo'ak in front of you–silent and all-consuming in the heat of the moment–was a stark contrast from his usual approach. Though he'd never admit it, Lo'ak was usually so soft. He'd still worship your body like he was now, but he'd treat you with gentle tenderness, whispering sweet praises and little declarations of love into the nape of your neck. You liked both manifestations of his affection equally and couldn't imagine favoring one over the other. Regardless of the approach, he still brought you over that edge of ecstasy each time, no matter what.

But at that moment, you honestly weren't even sure if Lo'ak was going to do something or if he was just planning on mercilessly teasing you after your little stunt back at dinner. Just the thought of being left high and dry was too much for you. Embarrassed by the broken noise that echoed from within your soul, you reached out for Lo'ak—your fingernails digging into his arms with a force probably teetering on the edge of pain. You couldn't hold back anymore; curiosity and desire were tugging at your every sense.

"Lo'ak?" Your voice quivered with impatience as you finally broke the silence. "Do you plan on using actual words anytime soon?"

You were tired of his elusive little games–you needed him so badly, and he knew that. With every fiber of your being shouting out for that connection, it felt like nothing was more important than fulfilling your insatiable hunger.

Lo'ak suddenly halted his fervent attention on your chest, and you were kind of really sad about that. Without his electrifying touch, you felt completely bare, an emptiness begging to be filled. Almost instinctively, your hand reached out to draw him close again, yet his following words stopped you in your tracks. It was like he could read your mind. Or he was just equally as horny as you were. "Do you want me to fuck you?" Lo'ak inquired, his voice raw and unrestrained. His dark, dilated pupils seemed to pierce straight into the depths of your soul. Your response came in the form of a frantic nod, any semblance of composure vanishing just like that. Lo'ak's wide grin conveyed his satisfaction.

For a fleeting moment–the briefest of hushed pauses–Lo'ak softened, leaning in and gracing your lips with a gentle kiss that sent waves of warmth radiating throughout your body. The tender playfulness with which he nipped at your bottom lip left you feeling all weak and pliant in his embrace, like you were melting into his touch. He pulled back just enough to gaze at your face, and you didn't even want to know what you looked like.

Lo'ak's teasing question broke through the haze: "But I'm the one who has to use their words?" His eyes danced with mirth as they met yours.

Your automatic response of "shut up" was practically involuntary, like a knee-jerk reaction. Lo'ak gave you a quizzical look at your continually contradicting words before chuckling softly, shaking his head in bemusement, and hungrily seeking out your lips in another deep kiss—passionate, messy, and so fucking good. Caught up in his intoxicating lips, it felt like there was nothing but the two of you. Everything else had been washed away by the intensity of the desire burning within you. There was no room for thoughts or hesitation, only instinct.

Eager to be even closer to Lo'ak, you sought any friction that would alleviate the intense feeling between your legs. Lo'ak, knowing you inside and out, recognized your need almost instantly. He nestled his leg right between your thighs, giving you the pressure you so desperately sought. As your lips separated from his, your mouth fell open in a silent moan, surrendering to the blissful sensation.

Your fingers eagerly searched for some kind of purchase on Lo'ak's back. Rubbing yourself against the firm muscle of his thigh, you became completely lost in the exquisite buildup of pleasure. It wasn't long before you absentmindedly felt Lo'ak's rigid length pressing into your stomach, followed by another press–the second time a bit more deliberate than the first. "Shit, y/n," Lo'ak groaned, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he dipped his head back in pleasure. Both of your breaths grew shallow and rapid, filling the tent with a symphony of pants and gasps.

"You feel what you do to me?" Lo'ak asked in a low voice, highlighting his words by slowly grinding his hips into you. It was a stupid question because you could obviously feel every inch of him. It'd be impossible not to. It felt like a third arm with the way it was poking into you. But your ability to form any kind of snarky response dissolved as soon as Lo'ak locked your lips together again, his tongue licking in your mouth with practiced ease and stealing away what little breath had returned to your lungs.

The atmosphere inside the tent was electrifying; both of you were entangled in a whirlwind of carnal desire and overwhelming passion. The intimacy between you two intensified with every lingering touch and slide of your bodies, making it feel like time had stopped just for that beautiful moment of raw connection.

Lo'ak tugged you down with him in a single swift motion, your back gently meeting the ground beneath you. He positioned himself above you, the intensity of his gaze sweeping over every inch of your body. His curiosity seemed endless as his hands leisurely explored their way up your legs, his fingers playfully brushing against the tender insides of your thighs.

The tantalizing dance his hands performed was agonizingly teasing; you could feel his touch so close, yet so far from where you truly desired him. Unable to endure it any longer, you called out to him firmly, "Lo'ak."

"Yeah?" he asked in reply, even though he knew damn well that your utterance of his name didn't warrant an actual verbal response. As your heart pounded furiously within your chest, you watched Lo'ak through half-lidded eyes. A tiny smirk adorned his face as he deliberately, teasingly, squeezed the soft flesh of your thighs.

"Come on," you implored him impatiently, reaching to tug at his loincloth in an attempt to speed up the progression of events. However, Lo'ak had other ideas in store for you. He intercepted your advances by grasping your hands with his and then sitting upright on his knees, towering over your prone figure and leaving your body void of his touch.

"Tell me what you want me to do," he said, and you had to resist the urge to kick him in the stomach. Your jaw clenched as you breathed out a heavy, frustrated sigh, your eyes squeezing shut in embarrassment. You brought your arm up, covering your face with the crook of your elbow. You hated Lo'ak.

"Stop it," you mumbled into your arm, your voice coming out all muffled from how tight your face was pressed against your skin. Despite the lack of clarity in your words, Lo'ak heard your plea as loud as day, evident by the huff of laughter that escaped his lips. Taking your request literally, he released his grip on your hands and began straightening himself from his position on his knees.

Your heart practically skipped a beat at the thought of being left there; all wound up and unsatisfied. Panicking, you hastily sat up and met Lo'ak's gaze with wide eyes filled with trepidation. "No! Just—" your voice trailed off as soon as his intense stare locked onto yours. It was impossible not to avert your gaze from his piercing eyes; you knew that in this game of wills, you were on the losing end.

As eager as you always were for intimacy with Lo'ak, admitting that aloud turned you into a helpless wreck each time. Lo'ak knew that fact all too well (and secretly really loved it), using it as an opportunity to make you confront your own wishes—encouraging you to become as confident and bold with yourself as you always were when interacting with him.

He always managed to coax out what he wanted to hear from you—unearthing those hidden desires nestled beneath your embarrassment—and tonight would be no different.

With heaving breaths and only the slightest hint of hesitation, you finally mustered the courage to meet his piercing gaze. In an almost inaudible voice, you admitted, "I want you inside me." The heat that immediately surged to your cheeks was impossible to ignore, but your determination didn't waver. And it paid off. Lo'ak's eyes sparkled with delight as he gently chided, "You could've just said that earlier." All the while, he reached for your lower half and skillfully undid the knots holding your loincloth in place. Despite the mounting tension, he continued to move at an irritatingly slow pace, obviously enjoying the opportunity to tease you for being so hard-headed.

As he carried on with his taunting antics, Lo'ak continued, "Didn't have to do all of that back at dinner," his hands lingering on the now loose ties of your loincloth. He seemed to be relishing in the disheveled state you'd found yourself in. You were a mess, even though he barely laid a hand on you. Growing impatient with his antics and eager to hasten his movements, you reached up and removed your top, baring your chest completely before him.

Lo'ak's eyebrows shot up at the sight, pleasantly surprised by your sudden move. It seemed your decision had spurred him into action; there was a noticeable shift in his demeanor as he finally picked up the pace. Without further delay, he pulled off your loincloth and tossed it carelessly somewhere off to the side. His full attention was now focused on you—your body exposed under his intense scrutiny.

The way Lo'ak's eyes roamed over you left no doubt that he was utterly captivated. He studied every inch of you with an almost reverential appreciation: admiring each curve, tracing every stripe with his eyes, lingering over every glowing freckle that adorned your moonlit form. He seemed compelled to commit every minor detail to memory, and the intensity of his gaze was enough to make your heart stop beating.

As Lo'ak's eyes finally returned to meet yours again, he tenderly leaned toward your body. You practically trembled under his touch as his warm breath caressed your skin. His lips began to trace a line up your stomach, its muscles trembling in anticipation. He kissed his way around each of your breasts with such care, and all you could do was stare at the sight of him in awe. It was impossible to look away as you watched him, breathlessly entranced and deeply captivated by love. There was something ineffably beautiful about the way Lo'ak cherished your body, treating it like it was something divine.

Your eyes closed involuntarily due to the sheer pleasure coursing through you, so it was the sound, rather than the sight, of Lo'ak removing his loincloth that caught your attention. The light rustling of fabric, accompanied by its gentle thud against the floor, ignited something primal within the depths of your being. The sensation intensified when he inched closer and nestled between your thighs, softly parting them further with his own knees. You found yourself teetering on the edge of begging for it.

Fortunately, Lo'ak sensed the urgency just as much as you did. He showed no hesitation or restraint, clearly just as fervent and desperate for that intimate connection as you were yourself.

Without wasting any time, he aligned himself with your entrance, his eyes closing as he slowly filled you entirely. A soft moan escaped your lips at the sensation of being filled so wholly—the stretch feeling absolutely exquisite, his length fitting just right. It was as if two parts of one soul had longed to reunite and found solace together at last.

Lo'ak gently leaned down and pressed a feather-light kiss to your temple, tenderly whispering "so perfect" into the warmth of your flushed skin. And that was the only way you could describe the moment. A few seconds passed before he pulled away, only to get right to it. He withdrew almost entirely before sinking back in with enough force to jolt your entire body.

He continued to fuck you, establishing a steady rhythm as he moved within you. Each calculated thrust left you reeling, a testament to just how much you loved having him. And the love you shared was palpable—your heart pounded fiercely in your chest as if threatening to break free, and you felt like you were going to melt straight through the floor beneath you.

Lo'ak shifted in search of a more advantageous angle to absolutely ruin you. He used an arm to cradle your leg, hitching it higher while simultaneously pressing his chest further into yours—practically folding you in half. The change in position allowed him to pinpoint that sweet bundle of nerves deep within you. With precision. Over and over again. He hit that magical spot repeatedly, each powerful drive into you leaving you gasping for air.

"Lo'ak," you exhaled breathlessly, incapable of forming any semblance of coherent thought as he tightened his unrelenting grip around your waist.

Lo'ak's very essence seemed to engulf you; within and around you, every fiber of your being cried out for him. It was overwhelming in the best way possible. You had to reach out and cling onto Lo'ak's back to ground yourself to reality.

But your body quickly approached its limit. You were so close, and that familiar warmth building at your core began cascading outward, threatening to consume every inch of you.

Underneath Lo'ak's strong frame, you felt feather-light and completely limp. It was like all tension had leeched from your muscles, leaving only a wonderful sense of lethargy. Lo'ak's every movement sent pulsating shivers up and down your spine, stealing your breath away. With each whispered curse and quiet moan into the night air, you could sense the end approaching faster than you ever wanted it to.

"Don't stop," you pleaded urgently, your voice a mere whisper of its usual self. "I'm so close."

Your words seemed to ignite something within Lo'ak as his chest heaved at the sound of them. His already intense efforts intensified further, as if he sought to split you in half with each of his powerful thrusts. As the passion continued to build between you, all that mattered was being there in that moment—raw, intense, and incredibly beautiful. The overwhelming sensation was accompanied by the wet slickness and the obscenely loud noises that intensified and echoed into the night.

It was then that you thanked Eywa–not for the first time–that no close neighbors resided near your home. That would not be an intrusion of privacy anyone would appreciate. That was also the last thing you remembered as your climax approached with lightning speed, everything around you beginning to fade away, leaving behind only an indiscernible haze.

A broken noise rose from your throat and dissolved into nothingness just as quickly as it had appeared. Your vision blurred around the edges, making it impossible to focus on anything other than the beautiful sensations enveloping your body. Every inch of your body tensed at once, except for the rhythmically spasming clench of your walls around Lo'ak's length.

Caught off guard by the sudden intensity enveloping both of you, Lo'ak's thrusts faltered momentarily. He dipped his head forward until it gently rested against yours, his breath coming in rapid gasps at the overwhelming feeling of your tight grip around him as you rode out your high.

"Fuck," was all he could manage to mutter between labored breaths. The warmth of his exhalation tickled your face, sending an army of goosebumps marching down your arms in response.

Lo'ak gradually ascended, firmly hovering above you as his gaze jumped between your euphoric expression and your bodies' intimate connection. He seemed entirely captivated by the sight before him–it was as if he couldn't get enough of the view.

With one final slide inside you, he pulled out, his withdrawal accompanied by a resonant wet pop and a shudder-inducing exhale. His hand instinctively reached down to control the base of his shaft, glistening with your shared warmth. Swift and eager strokes filled the air with urgency while Lo'ak's concentrated gaze danced all over your body.

Although you were entirely spent by that point, you felt your heart skip a beat at the sight of him taking in every inch of you. With considerable determination, you lifted your body upward until you met him on your knees, close enough to lightly reach out and brush a hand against his hip for support.

As your other hand intermingled with Lo'ak's at his base, he reciprocated by tenderly gripping your waist—and not a moment too soon—since he was now leaning down to meet your lips in yet another kiss. The sweet union between the two of you was no less passionate for all its languidness—a hazy melding of mouths and sighs that sometimes sidestepped lips entirely in favor of cheeks or chins. But it didn't even matter. You were both completely entranced within your shared exchange of blissful love.

Meanwhile, Lo'ak's flushed cock pulsed within your grasp; each minute stroke, twist, and squeeze of his length only pushed him further toward the edge.

There was a continuous flow of his arousal gently streaming from his tip. You took the time to gather it up with your thumb and use it to help with the slide of your hand, the sensitivity of your touch causing Lo'ak to release a stream of deep moans. Your smile broadened at the sound. You loved how yielding he always was under your touch.

Lo'ak's reactions captivated you–the clenching of the muscles in his stomach with every labored breath he took, every deft slide of your hand; the way he met your rhythmic pumps with each coordinated thrust of his hips; the way his hand continued to linger at the base of his shaft, his fingers brushing against yours with each stroke. He was practically throbbing in your hand, just begging for release.

A wicked part of you toyed with the idea of getting revenge against Lo'ak–removing your touch and cruelly making him ask you to let him finish. But you ultimately decided to save that devious thought for another day when you'd really need it.

Instead, you concentrated on heightening Lo'ak's pleasure. You increased the tempo of your strokes and focused even more on his sensitive tip, tightening your grasp and flicking your wrist with each upward glide, just the way you knew he liked it. It always made Lo'ak lose his mind, and this time was no different.

His grip on your waist grew firmer; it was clear how much he relished the moment as rough, nearly incomprehensible sentiments tumbled from his lips: "So good, y/n," he said; "Holy shit, you have no idea;" and "Just like that."

As you leaned in closer, you placed a line of soft kisses along the underside of his jaw. He immediately tilted his head back to give you better access, and a content hum escaped your lips as you smiled against his skin, reveling in how the situation had shifted in your favor. Before long, you felt the warmth of his release running down your clenched fist, accompanied by the sound of Lo'ak's breathy moans of pleasure filling the air.

You lovingly continued to stroke him, guiding him through his climax and ensuring every last drop was expertly coaxed out. It wasn't until Lo'ak had to physically reach out and grab your hand that you finally stopped. "Okay. Alright," he managed to say between breaths, with a slight tremor in his voice that didn't go unnoticed by your keen senses.

"You're shaking, Lo'ak," you pointed out unnecessarily, placing your free hand on his chest to feel the rapid beat of his heart. The smile on your face made it clear that genuine concern wasn't the driving force behind your words. Despite all that, Lo'ak appeared unfazed–or at least was doing a really good job of concealing any embarrassment he might have felt. The corners of his lips twitched up in a grin, and you really should've anticipated his next words.

"I don't have to remind you how much you were shaking when I was–"

Not allowing him to finish that thought, you quickly placed a firm hand over his mouth, effectively shutting him up. Shaking your head at him in embarrassed amusement, you replied with feigned annoyance, "You're right; you don't."

Lo'ak's laughter bubbled up despite your efforts to hush him, the breathy sound barely muffled by your palm. Although you pretended to be annoyed, his infectious joy was enough to pull a soft laugh from your chest. As the laughter subsided and your shared amusement dwindled down to comfortable silence, Lo'ak gently maneuvered your hand away from his mouth before you accidentally suffocated him to death. He tenderly held that same hand, cradling it with his firm yet gentle grip.

"One day, you're gonna ask for it without my help," he says with absolute conviction as if it's a fact set in stone.

"No, I'm not," you protest with another shake of your head, your voice filled with stubborn resolve.

But there he was, looking at you with his big yellow eyes and wide toothy grin. It was slowly crumbling your composure, and deep down, you knew he was right. It took everything inside you to suppress the lovesick grin that threatened to edge its way across your face.

end

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