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iznsfw · 2 months

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Lucid Dream

IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 7 - Kim Minju

IZ*ONE's Kim Minju x Male Reader Smut

8,525 words

Categories | married man!You, wife!Wonyoung, daddy kink, degradation, rough sex, OC is not a good person

Content warning | cheating, humiliation, Wonyoung slander (it hurt to write but I read "Gone Girl" by Gillian Flynn recently so I guess that went into the whole wife-hating thing)

Skipping again a bit (still will do Chaeyeon and Chaewon and everyone because IZ*ONE best girls). Expect a commission and an IZ Days of Xmas fics this month again <3 I love you all, you make me happy. And as always, sorry for the inconsistency!

Wonyoung is beautiful.

You stare at her as she undresses in front of the full-length mirror. She’s the kind of woman whose vanity seldom rolls eyes because her adoration for herself—smoothing down her dark hair, strictly adhering herself to that keto diet, doing her skincare with the dedication of one who prays nightly to god (pick any)—is wholly justifiable. Look at her. Anyone would understand.

The dress she wore for her hosting show slips off her body. Her abs reflect in the mirror, the result of hard work in the gym. Wonyoung’s waist is impeccable. Magazines have written over and over tips to attain it but it seems that the signature Bratz doll feature can only belong to Wonyoung. The makeup was cleaned up by her stylist but her eyes still shine, her lashes are still long, and her lips are still plump.

Wonyoung is standing there in nothing but her underwear, an attractive set of lace.

Wonyoung is the perfect female form, a goddess from above choosing a man from below.

Wonyoung is beautiful, a feat that no matter how amazing besides true, she remains the same old fucking bore.

“Did you like my MCing, babe?” she asks.

“Uh-huh.”

Her legs, long and thin, move in planned strides down the room. To the bed. You know where this is going.

Your feet are killing you. Recline, welcoming yourself into the softness of the expensive mattress and pillows your wife paid for all in all. “Wonyoung, I’m tired.”

She’s a celebrity. Of course, endless days filled to the edge with schedules chase after her. She ought to understand. The nights are her only rest hours, yet with this energy, it’s like Jang Wonyoung never gets exhausted. Always bubbly, always sweet, always so seductive.

All these are positive traits that any other man would adore and own had you not married her.

Wonyoung makes an adorable sigh. “But you say that everytime,” she replies sullenly.

She’s pushing her lips out into this cute pout while her brown puppy eyes beg you to give in like you used to. Once upon a time, you were putty around Wonyoung. Never could give an answer without your voice shaking. Never could come near her without blushing.

She’s the prettiest woman in the world.

You’re the most awful, undeserving man in the world, for all you could think, as you look at her, is: Fucking bitch.

“Well, maybe it’s because I’m always tired.”

“How about,” she puts a finger on her chin, “I do the job for you?”

Her knees are bruised. You notice this when she drops to them so she could pull your pants to the ground. So she’s been doing this for so long? Lowering herself for you? Sucking you off? You thought that she’d get the hint by now: you don’t want to have sex with her.

So instead, she uses her mouth. Better than her pussy anyway. What are you saying? She’s a tight woman. But it’s the same thing everyday: she gets on your cock and you hear her annoying voice straining as she rides you. Her cunt, soaked and useless, makes you want to call her its name. She’s always needy. It isn’t flattering when you don’t reciprocate it.

It’s a goddamned chore. Wonyoung’s throat welcomes you. The other way around, actually: your cock welcomes a claustrophobically closed passageway and has to deal with it until you cum. It’s an unwanted visitor. She rang the bell, said hi, and you let her in. Doesn’t mean you like her there.

“Doing so good, baby,” you say. Oh, yeah, doesn’t mean you mean it either—although you do feel Wonyoung smile happily. She’s happy when she makes you happy. When she makes you give her the illusion that you have any happiness in this worn-out marriage.

Her lips seal around you. You can feel them suckling. Your knees are tense. The moans are forced, though. Hearing them come out from your own mouth makes you want to place a pillow over your face and press it down as hard as you can.

She slides you down her throat. Admittedly, you love the way she chokes. Her eyes get all watery, like she’s crying from pain. That sounds appealing.

You’re a critically messed up man, you know. But they’re what make the world go ‘round. Why do you think they write romance books about them—the bad boy, the mafia boss, the killer? Plus, one of those “terrible” people inspires the biggest Korean celebrity to continue hosting, dancing, and singing. So who’s so terrible now?

To conclude, if anything, you’re the one responsible for Wonyoung’s success.

To conclude, you groan as desperately as you can then release in her mouth. Wonyoung gags. Another pretty sound. Her eyes look up while she attempts to swallow. Saliva sticks to her chin. Semen floods up to the roof of her mouth. It reminds you of how it ends up there more often than in her womb.

You would’ve made beautiful children with Wonyoung in another world where she wasn’t famous and you actually loved her. You would have been a softer, kinder man. She would have been a person who’s easier to love and make love with.

“Wonyoung, Wonyoung, that… was incredible.”

If you weren’t a director, you’d be the one on camera. You’re a great actor when it comes to your wife. Your incompetence in the house is masked by husbandly exhaustion; an artificial gaze of attentiveness hides your indifference to conversation.

She smiles coquettishly. “I try.”

The wide closet parts. She chooses a pair of silk pajamas that hang around her thin frame. She climbs onto the bed and wraps an arm around you. Her skin is always cold to the touch. Like she’s dead or something. How interesting.

You stroke her hair. “I’d return the favor but… I’m actually gonna pass out. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She kisses your forehead. Wonyoung’s a sweet girl. “Good night.”

You smile. Say it back. Her eyelids flutter closed. Her palms are flat against each other and are placed under her cheek. Cute, you guess. She sleeps.

You don’t.

You should have—nothing good ever happens after midnight.

2:05 a.m., more specifically.

Amazing how time slips through your grasp like air. You reach and reach, desperate for a return, desperate for a flash to the past. As always, your efforts aren’t fruitful. The seconds pour through the pinched waist of the hourglass and you can’t stand it on its other head. You’re unable to revert back to the moment you took your arm from underneath your wife’s skull. The moment you opened your phone. If you hadn’t, maybe things would have been different.

But it’s past two, and you’re resting your back on the pillowy headboard with your phone in your hands. The circumstances just play right into danger: Wonyoung’s asleep, the night is eerily quiet, and the screen is there, awaiting the secret routine. Which girls would you cum for today? Why aren’t your thumbs clicking over censored sites?

Your feed shows a naked woman, her eyes staring up and her mouth wide. Scroll past that—you prefer the amateur videos, where the expressions balance between exaggerated and naturally provoked. A ton of videos could help in the bathroom where you take your nightly “shower,” and it’s not one of those.

Maybe you need the real thing.

Look at Wonyoung. Perhaps you should have let her ride you just so you could cum in a warm pussy again. After all, it’s the least you could do when you were once a fan of her. That’s how everyone starts: puppy-like adoration. But she doesn’t have the star quality she once did onstage; the coy thoughtful princess you envisioned her as. That’s why you haven’t fucked her in weeks.

You’re about to wrap your hand around your cock and ready yourself for another night of conflicted pleasure. This video is perfect for that already. You could jerk yourself off then get a good night’s sleep. Simple. This is the safest option for a dangerous want. By just watching, you’re not cheating on your wife. It’s just porn. Jerk off, cum, cum again probably, then sleep. Nobody gets hurt.

“Fuck me… please,” whimpers the woman in the video. Her legs are spread open. Her partner’s swiping his cock at her lips while she looks at him with equal hunger, equal desire. “I can’t take it anymore.”

Then, a text message notifies you, peeking from the top of your screen. It dares you to click it.

And it says the exact same thing.

fuck me please, i cant take it anymore.

i miss you

You look around, like you’re afraid someone might see it. There’s only the dimness of your bedroom that greets you. It’s safe, but this message isn’t.

The number is familiar. Has one of your friends gone crazy? Or did they send a text to the wrong person? Take it for spam, a perfectly coincidental one, or a scam, a typical, preying-on-the-married, pwning message.

But why would a contact spam you at a time so strangely perfect?

Don’t bother. Your fist works on your dick as you watch the video. The woman’s so wet that although she isn’t squirting, her juices start to stick to the man’s thighs. Her mouth is wide open as he finally pounds her.

What you’d give to have good sex like that again.

XXX-XXX-XXX sent a video message.

Fine. Click it, you’re curious.

Oh, so apparently, the answer is your marriage.

The video shows a face that’s more intimate than familiar. The ebony-black hair already tells you who she is, as does her body. Her form is encased in a floral tank top and nothing else. Although her chest is covered, she’s still a little daring with how her nipples stamp the fabric. She turns herself around to let you admire the curve of her wide hips and her round butt.

There’s only one woman with a body so perfect. And she’s the one and only Kim Minju.

There are reasons for everything. This is yours for why you didn’t give this number a name:

No one needs to know just from a text that you cheated on Jang Wonyoung.

That was so long ago, back when you were still boyfriend and girlfriend. You were drunk and missed Wonyoung’s old self. Why did she have to be such a bitch? Why did she dedicate herself to work and leave you dry? It’s not like the industry would go bankrupt without her. Minju came over, listened to your complaints—every little whine about Wonyoung being busy, every little jab at her workaholic character—then said something along the lines of, why don’t you have a little fun while she’s away.

And you thought… yeah, that was a really great idea.

That was the beginning of the end. After multiple secret meet-ups and raunchy sex in alleyways, you didn’t contact Minju again. You forgot her. You thought she did, too. She should have understood that your infidelity, albeit alluring, would be a thing of the past.

But here she is, in your messages, with a pornographic clip of herself in a round-cornered bubble. She’s waiting for a reply.

Although you’ve long lost your aspirations to be a better husband, you type what a good man should. This man is proper, faithful, and loving. He loves his wife only and the only other people he loves with this deep of a bond is his family.

Stop texting me or I’ll block you.

It’s not enough. You’re not a good man. You aren’t proper or faithful or loving or any of that shit. You were about to masturbate to an internet celebrity after turning down sex with your wife. What about that makes you a good person?

:( you miss me sooooo bad it’s pathetic, Minju replies.

You look at her again. You may not be able to turn back time with your metaphorical hourglass, but you can turn this hourglass body into any position you want. You could push her against a window for all to see, perhaps fuck her to the floor, or slam her on a desk like a teacher would to a test paper. Minju would let you do anything to her.

Stop it.

She really has to. As much as you dislike Wonyoung, she’s your wife, and you vowed on your wedding day to only have eyes for her.

But you’re only one man against a body like Minju’s that curves in every right place.

Three circles float up and down in a contained bubble before she texts you back:

alright…what a pity :( i’m already outside!! i guess ill have to go back…

You’ve never bolted out of bed so fast.

You look back at Wonyoung as you stand in the doorway. She’s still in deep slumber. Now, are the curtains closed? The entrances locked? Scan the house thoroughly, until you inch your way to the front door.

Hesitate. You didn’t know you had a conscience but here it is. It tells you to wonder if Minju really is behind it, like she said. She knows how to use the privilege of being Wonyoung’s close friend. That’s how she came to your house like she used to with no worry for paparazzi or suspicion. Best friends don’t fuck their best friends’ husbands, right?

Open the door. This one did.

Minju grew more beautiful in her absence. Her hair is silkier this time and her shy smile is brighter. The long coat is smoothed by her fingers, and you wish you could be the brown piece of fabric her pale hands run down. What makes you guilty for thinking it, even when you’ve done it, is the fact that she looks so innocent. It’s like it would be a crime to even buy her a drink.

How could she be innocent with that photo she sent? The time you spent together: you folding her over a table and promising to fill her up? Fucking her while Wonyoung is busy and counting on you to welcome her home? Sending nudes like there’s no tomorrow? Nothing about Minju is pure, yet she acts like she could do no wrong.

“Minju,” you say. Your voice sounds fragile. She has a way of breaking you befote you’re breaking her into breaking another bed.

She blinks theatrically. Everything she does is angelic. “Glad you opened the door.”

The knob is cold in your fist. It chills your animalistic brain and urges you to consider the consequences. Right, it says, here’s what a human—a good one—would think. If Wonyoung wakes and sees you with Minju, she’d have a lot of questions. If paparazzi are somehow hiding in the forest that extends to acres before your house, everyone would know you’re cheating on her. Most of all, you’re married, monogamy and everything.

So what will it be? This is your last and only chance to send her away.

You know what you have to do. Take a few breaths. “You have to leave. I’m not joking, it isn’t right.”

In response, Minju unravels the ribbon of the layers sealed around her waist. It falls apart. You do, too.

She’s a real danger. As it turns out, the girl isn’t wearing anything underneath that trench coat. She’s an artist’s naked muse—bare long legs, wide hips, and a sizable bust that has sculptors carving something else.

The cold hardens her pink nipples. You notice how her breasts are much bigger than your wife’s. How her hips are more tempting to grab, so you do. How her body is meatier, a lot more enticing that you wouldn’t refuse a day without touching it.

Minju fuels your infidelity, and you won’t stop for it if it kills you.

She simpers, fingers curling into your work shirt. “Still wanna make me leave,” she asks, “when you can breed me all night long?”

You laugh, huffing it out as you pull her inside and close the door behind her. Minju looks gorgeous pressed to it. She looks gorgeous in whatever situation, actually. Her thighs squish against the carved design and look thicker as a result. More reasons to dive into that shaven cunt and abuse it.

“You’re not leaving until we make a fucking mess, Minju.” You take your shirt off. Throw it on the ground. “And we better make it quick.”

“Of course.” She nods. She’s slyer than a fox, but she submits to you without a second thought.

You lean in to kiss her. The heat is unbearable. You can feel it from Minju’s body transferring to yours. It’s the effect of her natural skills as your personal slut: trying to fit her tongue deeper in your mouth while you pull her close like she’d dare to run away.

You haven’t gotten this hard for anyone else. It’s always been Minju you fall for. You miss the way she kisses, the way she roams her hands all over your torso, the way she’s goddamned insatiable. Feeling it all now in one, heated moment makes you dizzy. You’re taking in too much of her, but without her, you’d go thirsty again.

Your fingers are in her hair; hers are on your waist. Your teeth are clamped down on Minju’s bottom lip; hers are apart and allow soft moans to pass through—one, two, three. You fit each other in so many wicked ways. They did say misery loves company.

Open your eyes. The dream doesn’t stop. Minju’s still pushing her mouth in your face and you’re letting her. You don’t know if you ought to be relieved or downright horrified. You’re cheating on Wonyoung again with a woman whose body is just a bit nicer. You should be furious at yourself. You aren’t.

You’ve made out with each other on the way to the dining room. You and your wife worked hard for its designed walls and sturdy, well-furnished ornaments. A lot of money was raked out to make this house the best place to call home. So, why do you want to ruin it?

Well, because of her.

Minju leans on the dining table with a funny smile on her face. “She really doesn’t do it for you, huh?” she asks.

It makes you wince how you know who she’s talking about. Who else is she referring to other than poor Wonyoung? Poor, skinny, ugly Wonyoung?

Nibble at her earlobe. Hear little gasps come out of her. “Don’t talk about her,” you say.

You don’t want to have any afterthoughts about fucking Minju. Besides, being reminded that you’re disloyal to a woman who loves you very much is painful, even to a man like you.

Wonyoung is an angel. Minju isn’t—but you run after her to darkness.

“Ohh, come on, I know I’m better than her.” Minju squirms with erotic moans. Your kisses are going south, and she loves their little detour. “You don’t fuck her like you fuck me.”

When was the last time you worshiped Wonyoung? Like what you’re doing to Minju now? Your lips haven’t passed over it in ages that you probably wouldn’t know where the bigs and smalls of her body are. Like there’s anything to know.

“Actually,” you snort, “I don’t fuck her at all.”

You stop chuckling. That was the wrong thing to say. That was the wrongest thing to say out of the millions of other cocky phrases you could’ve thrown to Minju. The look on her face, the one that’s of pride and submission and dangerous knowledge united, tells you to watch your mouth.

You’re five seconds minimum too late to listen.

Minju grins. There’s the answer she wanted. “That’s how it is? Just looking at a girl and thinking you wanna stamp a divorce approval on her forehead? Jesus. This is why I never got married.”

“First off, nobody put a ring on you because you’re a slut, Minju.”

“That’s only the third reason.” Her fingers drape the sides of your face and tugs you in. You’re invited to the sight of her infallible tits. “These are the first two.”

The girl isn’t as busty as that woman Wonyoung likes to call her industry mom, but you bet they’re better. No, it’s a matter of truth. Minju’s boobs aren’t too big or too small; just the perfect, filling size to hold onto when you’re railing her from behind.

You choose to suck on them for now. It’s like a trip down memory lane when you kiss down her neck and collarbone. You remember how good her smooth, soft skin feels beneath you, how her moans are a favorite tune. Minju bites her lip while you do so to her shoulder.

It’s crazy to think that she just so happened to be born with this. She was born to be a pretty face with a sex-defined body that you pull and push and pry apart. Best thing is, she’ll lay back down and beg for more. It’s like she knows her purpose, which would’ve shot down her dignity and humanity.

Her nipple pops in your mouth. Your sucking guarantees its hardness, and Minju starts whining. She arcs her body, wanting something rougher. Thus, you seize the span of her hip to rub her pearl with fierce speed.

“Oh, fuck, god—” What others might take for blasphemy, you take for praise. Minju’s already soaking wet. She would have had embarrassing laundry to do if she wore panties. Maybe it’s a good thing she arrived wearing nothing.

She’s still so sensitive. You caress her clit after a few kisses down her midriff. She fidgets needily like you aren’t already touching her. You’re nearly right—this touch is nothing when she needs something harsher. That something involves you treating her less than a human being, putting her down and tearing at her hair.

“Please just fuck me,” she whispers. “Breed me, breed me, breed me—”

Yeah, that’s what she wants.

You don’t need further motivation, not when you’re presented with the prettiest pussy you’ve ever seen. Her fat lips are soaked. They frame the clitoris you’ve been stimulating that shines with slick. Then there’s the tiniest hole below it that begs to be used.

Your digits shove past all tightness. Her wetness allows a deeper exploration, so you curl your digits like you’re beckoning the orgasm forward. You know how easily you can get it out of her. All it needs to get Minju cumming around you is a slap, roughness, and giving her what she wants anyway. You know your methods, she knows hers. It’s a recognizable cycle that despite this, you can’t break.

Part your fingers widely to spread her. She’s so wet that she soaks your knuckles. There’s an ocean inside her waiting to be waved to shore. A storm, too, brews from the base of her throat as Minju whimpers. Her body lifts off the table but you force her down on it. She isn’t going anywhere, not without a fight.

Oh, and fight she does. She was an idol before an actress, so her muscles still memorize the circling motions that repeat on your fingers rather than move onstage. She sang once. That was a long time ago yet her voice sounds perfect as it strains her moans. Every little thing she does is a reflection of her past.

That’s why when she leans back, pupils dilating north, and says “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” you get deja vu.

Your palm hits her clit, adding impact to your strokes. “There you go, little slut,” you snarl. “Are you happy now? Maybe even a little grateful?”

If Minju’s ass isn’t pressed down on the glass mantling your dining table, it hovers so her pink little hole receives you better. It’s not without the help of her weak hands clinging to the table for dear life, but she seems to be losing her balance. Her hips are shuddering. Her beautiful face is squeezed up into a blissful wince. Her breaths are becoming blunt little gasps that say none of the gratitude you want to hear.

You slap her boob. Red blooms from her pale skin that deepens when another impacts her bosom. The recoil dizzies you. If anyone’s getting the impression that you’ll slap her bouncy tits until you hear a proper word of thanks, they’d be right. First impressions are right just for once.

“T-thank you—” Her voice cracks, breaking like her. “Fuck, shit, thank you, thank you.”

Squeeze her cruelly and pull on the perky nipple. Your thrusts become mindlessly paced. Your hand returns to your cock while the other ruins her pussy. The pleasure is telepathic. It’s connecting you; her screams and squirms make you do the same. The electricity firing up in your veins is a shared network. When you point your fingers to her spot, she arcs her back in the same direction. How beautifully fucked up is that?

“That’s not enough. You didn’t come here for nothing. What do you want, Minju?”

Minju babbles. You got your gratitude but not a proper answer. To be fair, she can’t speak when you’re fucking her like it’s your dick inside her, and when your lips are all over her collarbone.

“And you better keep quiet,” you add, curling your thrusts, “or Wonyoung‘s gonna hear. Do you really want her to know her precious friend is a big slut?”

However, despite the rumors she starts, Minju could be a very good girl when needed.

“Need you to make me cum,” she whispers. Her midriff is fluid as water with the way it rolls, showing off the hourglass shape of her waist and a soft tummy. “Do everything to me you can’t with Wonyoung. P-please, I can’t take it.”

Even if she can’t (wrong by the way), you’ll make her. She asked for it. She walked up to your house with a purpose: to be used, to be treated like less of a human being. So it’s understandable that you slam her down the table and seal a hand around her neck.

She’s so light that the forceful push doesn’t break the fragile glass. But there’s something of hers instead that’s going to be broken.

“Oh fuck! It’s so–” Minju’s eyes roll back. “Ohh… oh!”

Little sparks of wetness shoot in the air. Your pace turns merciless. With just three fingers, you puppet her body. Strings are pulled—her arms raise and her long legs strain to pull you in. You push and she keens, you pull and she yells. You’re making her desecrate the place with her water.

“C-can’t breathe.” A squeeze of her beautiful features—eyelids wrinkling, mouth parting, cheeks filling with scarlet—occurs before she squirts again. She whimpers pathetically, sounding so pitiful you want to laugh. “Ah, fuck, daddy—”

Something stirs inside you. When men hear that name, it ought to feel purely platonic and familial. They’d hear it from their daughter and feel compelled to protect them from men who’d do to them what you do to Minju. But you much prefer hearing that two-syllable word when it comes from a naked woman squirting all over the floor, from whom once you register it, you’re urged to pin her down, tie her down, hold her down.

Ironically, you release her. That isn’t because it’s over though. “On your knees. Follow me.”

Minju releases a gasp, grateful for the oxygen. The color returns to her face yet she barely has the energy to get off the table. You’re a generous man, and hey, it still counts as helping. So you yank her hair and force her on the ground. She fucking moans, a feat deserving of a healthy spank to her ass.

You walk to the living room. She follows you withher hands and knees bearing the cold tiles. You lead her to the place where you spend your time watching movies, rehearsing, and hanging out with Wonyoung if she’s ever home.

Speaking of, glance at the door of your bedroom. It’s still closed. It’ll stay that way.

Look down after wondering why Minju’s noisier. She’s playing with herself on the floor with no care for the cold chill of the tiles or the little dirt wedged between them. She lightly rubs her abused clit, quivering at the contact. You expect that from her—she’s corrupted, an irredeemable cause. She’ll get herself off anytime anywhere.

But what’s unexpected is what those watery eyes are focused on: you, in a framed picture on the wall. You look younger, happier. You’re in formal garments standing next to Wonyoung in a church.

It was you on your wedding day.

You spit on Minju. “Filthy cumslut.”

The drool slides down her cheek like a tear. She darts her tongue out and licks it. One could’ve thought it was candy considering the lift of a smile.

“I’m sorry, daddy,” she says resolutely. Her fingers still toy with her entrance. They won’t serve her well when there’s a bigger, better thing behind your pants to do it for her.

Your pants are already off. “Get up. Get the fuck up,” you command, but you do it for her.

You grab her neck and force her up. The look on her face is addicting, the way the shock turns into carnal need, the way she bites her lip. You press her to the wall, right under the framed wedding pictures, and finally plunge yourself inside her.

“Oh, oh, oh!”

What did Minju do to get this tight? Her walls are squeezed closer around you than you remember. They’re still wet from her squirting, easing your burden of fighting against the tautness of her core.

Her groans are pitched just like how you pitch yourself in her and make her fight for it. She tries everything: gathering the strength she has to push her ass into your crotch, rolling her body, looking back to watch your cock disappear between her lips.

“So big, daddy!” she cries. With a lick of her lips, she turns to face you. “Mmm, d-do you ever get this massive when you’re fucking Wonyoung?”

That seals it. There’s no restraint in using her body. Her plump ass leading to her toned back is a temptation by itself. You’d burst all over it (maybe in it) if you weren’t already firm in breeding her. But dear god—it rises and descends into your angled pumps so effortlessly that you aren’t afraid to spank it like you’re angry at her.

“Keep your whore mouth shut.”

Spank after spank you bestow and you realize, oh, you and Minju are really made for each other. The more her ass reddens, the more hot pain sparks on your palm. She throws herself back hard, you piston her harder.

Your puzzle pieces stick together so perfectly that it’s a shame you didn’t meet under different circumstances. She could’ve been an adorable girl next door and you could have been a guy looking to slip her a love letter. She would’ve been your loving girlfriend, a beautiful wife, someone you’d actually enjoy touching, so different from the woman asleep in the bed upstairs.

But that’s never happening. Minju’s a slut through and through, and she’ll forever be a sin you won’t go to confessions for. She was made to be fucked then discarded of when she’s no longer of use. You see it in the way she’s in a mantra of craziness, the way she yells, the way she looks back at you like she’s daring you to hurt her.

You choose the dare rather than to tell her the truth. You curl her hair into a fist and pull her into you.

“God, I’m so close.” Minju’s trembling body grows warmer in your touch. “I’m gonna cum all over your big gorgeous cock. I can’t hold out longer, daddy.”

Your teeth dig into her earlobe. You could make her bleed and she’d still find a way to make the pain heavenly. “I thought I told you to be quiet. Is Wonyoung waking up and ending your life worth it for this?”

“What if I say yes?”

“Fuck.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice, making her see you’d give her away to get a night with me? You’ll give up all this stupid shit t-to be my daddy. Because Wonyoung’s just sooo worthless, isn’t she?”

Savage her cunt and shove your fingers down her mouth just so she could shut up. You love this. Minju’s always so ready for you.

No, actually—now that you think about it, you hate it. You hate how she’s curvier than your wife, how she’s more alluring than she could ever be, how she moans despite the blockage in her throat. Everything about her is so sexy that the sound of her choking up spit makes you throb.

This is the wrong time to have a conscience. You’ve already split her apart. You’ve already got your fingers in her hair that pull hard to the point that damage is highly likely. You’ve already—

—got Minju screaming, biting down on your skin as her legs spread. What a strange thing to have as a natural reflex. That’s all she knows to do: spread her legs, hope her innocent face attracts a guy into her home and his dick into her pussy. Her skin, white as snow, has become impure with red blemishes. You see her purple-bruised neck flex when she yells into your hand.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Minju yells. Her fingernails leave fine scratches on the wall. “Fuck, I’m squirting so much I don’t know what to do—oh fuck!”

You bump the manic girl up on your knee before spreading her legs. A godless squirt of her juices hits Wonyoung’s face, the savior being the glass protecting the picture. Others bless their homes with water blessed by esteemed priests; you like to stand out. Choose to have Minju’s unholy juice flood the photo you once held dear.

Did something possess you? An evil spirit, a god of fertility? All are clichés but you can’t help but think so when you notice how fast you’re pumping Minju. It’s like greed’s finally reigned you. It’s difficult to resist. Minju just wrings your cock perfectly dry with her tight cunt, keeps you speedy with her desperate moans. You’re vandalizing her with your climax and she doesn’t want to be clean ever again.

“You think you’re special, Minju?” You press her to the ruined picture. Her side profile mashes on the glass. “You’re nothing, only a useless hole, just like that bitch. Now clean it up.”

Her eyes light up in shock. Excitement? “What?”

You pull her head back in order to have her full lips pressed against Wonyoung’s face. The clear squirt is still dripping from it. Minju’s face is red, and although your cock left her moments ago, she insists on tensing like it’s there. Is that how she lives? Her way of bonding is riding on the high she got the night before and the night before that. She always has sex in her mind that thoughts of it occur to her as they would to an animal.

That’s right; she’s an animal. Perhaps even a dog would have more self-control than her, ironically.

“Lick your mess,” you command. “Now.”

Minju whimpers. You bury your fingernails in her scalp until she loses her fake hesitance. Her tongue glides on Wonyoung’s face and relieves her of the mess. Her lips part and close, taking in her own taste.

She looks like she’s making out with your wife. Her pretty face smudges the other pretty face in the picture and it’s so much hotter than it’s got the permit to be. Wonder how it’ll look if she’s actually kissing the real Wonyoung—picture them with their legs locked together and tongues coming out to play—and you’re hard enough for another round.

“That’s right. You want to be Wonyoung so bad? You want to be the one I drive into the bed everyday? So fucking make out with her.”

“Y-yes, daddy. Oh.” Minju’s moans fog the glass. “I taste delicious.”

It’s probably a hygienically reprehensible thing to do. But her mouth is dirtier than the picture anyway. You force her lips deeper into it until you pull her away, satisfied.

Not quite.

Rub her clit a few more times. Hose her squirt all over the floor. You’ll have a mess to clean up. Oh, there’s all the evidence: her squirt on the floor, her lipstick in the shape of a languid kiss on the picture frame, the mess she made in the dining table where you ate her rather than your food.

But it’s all worth it. An evil idea plants and sprouts in your mind. “Bedroom.”

Minju pants. Her hands are flat on the wall. She turns to you, saliva and lipstick smeared on her chin, and asks, “W-which one?”

“You know exactly where.”

Her wide eyes tell you wordlessly that she got the point. She’s well aware of what room you want to use her body next. It’s not even supposed to be a question given the ways and moments you fucked her there.

“But daddy—if, if she hears us?”

You grin. “Then you’ll have to be pretty fucking quiet.”

The best thing about Minju besides her body is her passiveness. She may act up sometimes but she still needs your cock, and she’ll do anything to get it. So when she hangs her head to hide her smile, you spank her. It speeds her steps to the staircase. Continue doing so all the way.

It’s funny how she struggles to even lift a foot. Streams of your cum and hers slide down her legs, staining the carpet. You’ll have to wash that out, too. If you have the maid do it, she’s likely to put two and two together.

Even from the back, Minju’s body is beautiful. Her reddened ass twists from side to side and brings attention to her wide hips. The deep line on her spine is a path you trace your fingertips on. She quivers.

“Daddy,” she whines.

Hit her butt. Let it fill your palm. “Keep on walking.”

It’s borderline dehumanizing. You’re treating her with a ferociousness a woman like her should never have to go through. The eyes of the painted men and women on your walls lock on her. It’s like their hard stares are real. Minju bears the blows to her cheeks during her walk of humiliation up the stairs. Tiny yelps are caused by each one. It’s in her to be quiet now that Wonyoung is quite near, although not as close as she is to another heavy orgasm.

You slap her pussy, making her shake, then lead the juices mingling in it up to her asshole. She chews on the inside of her cheek to hide her moan. She reaches the last step with a huge sigh of relief.

The finality of the torture doesn’t last long. Fuck, it doesn’t even exist. You collect the semen and wetness from her legs, then drag it right back to her pussy.

You shove your fingers deep in her cave. There. Now your cum stays inside her. After that, it’ll drip all the way to her womb. She screams through pursed lips.

Push her hard against your bedroom door. Her stomach’s flatness goes up to the point that it’s the only thing engendered into the wood. Minju’s tiny gasp is already loud for you. Her beautiful side profile is mashed deep into the solid barrier between the two women.

Minju whimpers. Is she scared or heavily turned on? The thing with her is she likes both. So, yeah—she’s wet at the thought of being caught with you, being fucked within a distance of your wife wherein she could finally pin down your infidelity.

The little angel closes her eyes when your words hover near her prone ear. “Shut up,” you warn, “unless you want to lose your career. Or this dick.”

You slip your shaft between Minju’s shapely thighs. A friction is nurtured and grown into rough, pant-accompanied humping that leaves both of you breathless. Her pussy lips splay warmly on you and you’re allowed to rub yourself on her clit.

Minju tenses up. Her breaths are kept to a hummed volume yet their huskiness gets you to fuck her legs faster. The core between them is so warm and you haven’t even welcomed yourself in it again.

You carefully open the door. You don’t know what you’re expecting: Wonyoung crying with her face in her knees? An anger you never knew she could have? But what shows calms you. There’s your wife who remains asleep on the bed. From the soft snores, it’s easy to tell she’s deep in a dream.

“Wonyoung’s so pretty, daddy,” whispers Minju. You push her to the footboard where she holds on tight. “Do you think she’ll want to join if she wakes up? Or she’ll leave you for me?”

“Are you sure you want to act like that?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “Depends on what you’re gonna do to me.”

Everything. You’re planning on doing everything to her.

Push her to the small pole of the wood. You’re forced to shove your fingers in her mouth again to keep her from yelling. The contact it makes to her clit is already overwhelming. But she’s all for overwhelming—she wants the kind of sex that leaves her beaten and bruised, the kind that leaves her sore and not knowing if she should tell you to keep going or halt.

You know what she’d choose.

Minju grinds on the pole. She’s dancing her hips again. Somehow, things of the past don’t leave her. Her idol days still leave an impact on her. The guy she made cheat on his wife a long time ago returned to her life to cheat again.

No, you’ve never been one for sentimentality, but things have somehow stayed the same. The slut that is Minju today was a slut all those years ago, too.

Grab her hips and force her to hump the ball of the pole. She soaks it instantly. Minju is corrupted to no hope of return. There’s your cum, leaking from her pussy and to the bedsheets. Her juices wet the pole and increase the creaking noises that would wake Wonyoung up if not for whatever dream she’s having.

“Oh, daddy! Oh, daaaddy—” she stammers, words bitten and broken in the major need to be quiet. “Just… fuck me. Please?”

“As long as you—”

“Be a good quiet girl, yes. I’ll do anything, daddy. Anything for this cock.”

She kneels down. Her tender mouth seals around your left testicle. You nearly shout right there and then. Minju’s running her lips on the underside of your swelling dick. She feels so good, and she is so good. She has all the tips and tricks to keep you hard memorized, if her brain wasn’t too full of other dirty thoughts.

The rasp in your throat materializes and makes her squirm her legs together. She puckers her lips then slips your cock through their joined entrance. Her almond eyes look wider tonight. Your tip pokes the back of her throat. She lets it rub there for now. You find pleasure in the texture that makes you leak. No, you can’t cum. Not yet.

Take a last look at Wonyoung before diving your rod to the depths of Minju’s throat.

It’s funny that the girl still has a gag reflex. Sucking dick is second nature to her. So is getting throatfucked. The walls of her oral hole flex to keep you in. She makes sharp inhalations only to take in the musky scent you thrust on her. In her?

Choking comes after. The orifice grows tighter which makes you fuck it harder. Saliva’s slick liquid state sheens your erection. Minju’s lost her breath a long time ago but she’s lost more than that now. The regular beat of her heart is gone. You can’t search her face for any color other than the palest white.

“You have to stop gagging, Minju,” you say. Don’t help her though; keep ruining that throat. “Maybe you really do wanna get caught. Makes you really wet, doesn’t it?”

She nods. Your hard tip bobs in her mouth as she does. Her pretty eyes, with their long lashes and big pupils that always seem to gleam with innocence, fill with watery tears.

“How cute.” You’re surprised that her hair is intact to her scalp after you pull it back. “But I make the rules around here. And I need you to seal that mouth shut and use it for good.”

There’s a possibility that, like Minju, you’re a dancer as well. But the upward grind of your body has no grace in it. It’s a rough, punked up beat that renders the girl humming and screaming. This roughness is nowhere close to natural.

You dip your cock in her just to see how far you could go, how far is needed to keep her quiet. Feed her more than she could suck. Every sensitive spot of yours is on fire thanks to Minju’s dutiful tongue and hard sucking. Your sack slaps her chin so hard it’s surprising it doesn’t hurt.

But, like you iterated, Minju isn’t normal. She takes the pain for pleasure and doesn’t give a damn if she gets wounded because of it.

The tears finally fall from her eyes.

The lines blur. Who is she—the woman asleep on your bed or the woman you fucked to be disloyal to her? Minju’s beautiful; so is Wonyoung. Jang Wonyoung is beautiful but there’s a category of beauty wherein the girl you’re destroying right now falls in. That’s the section for women who look pretty when they cry, who’ve accepted they’re as fucked up as whoever finds them and takes them in for who they are.

Your wife is pretty. You guess. But Minju is a beauty who lets you do everything to her, and that makes her a little bit more important.

Defile, defile, defile. Wonyoung wouldn’t let you get cum in her hair—(”I have a photoshoot, babe, you can’t!”). Semen sticks to Minju’s locks right now. Wonyoung wouldn’t let you be this rough with her—(“And what if they see? I shouldn’t look dirty to the fans.”) Minju is sitting there taking it like she’s just a cum dump. Wonyoung wouldn’t let you tear off her clothes because “they’re couture so it’s not really mine.” The coat Minju wore coming here lies discarded on the first floor.

Wonyoung doesn’t let anyone defile her. It’s her most fatal flaw. It’s the flaw that makes her husband see all the tiny imperfections she doesn’t allow the camera to see and chase highs in another woman’s throat.

So when Minju cries, gags, chokes—you realize it’s all so simple.

Slip out of her. The delusions clouding your head make you steal a look at the bed. Oh, now it’s unbelievable. Wonyoung is still asleep.

Not that it’s any inconvenience to you.

You prop Minju up to the vanity table. The counter carries the heave of her small chest. She can barely lift her head up. It makes her carry a look of humiliation that’s not at all true. She’s the most shameless woman you’ve ever met.

“Daddy… daddy…”

Twist her chin so she can look at herself in the mirror. Her body is amazing despite the handprints and bruises peppered on her stomach, butt, and neck. She flusters but your finger presses on her lips before she can look away.

“Not a single sound,” you remind her.

She nods. Good girl.

Minju’s a capable girl. Well, mostly. She offers those amazing dicksucking lips, shapely curves, and sometimes, her ass for ruining its own tightness. But nothing beats the feeling of her cunt. It’s all the right things: wet, tight, and perfectly quivering as they wrap around your shaft.

Minju closes her eyes. Bites down on her lip. She fights to be true to her promise of silence. Being a good girl and bad girl simultaneously is one of her versatile traits. The table creaks louder than expected. You would’ve shot another look at your spouse again, but Minju’s pretty face is in the way. Her cheeks are scarlet and her brows bead with sweat. She really is a beauty.

Your strokes are ceaseless. The thing that shocks you the least is the fact that her legs look as if they spread wider and wider. She splits while you split her apart. Place a hand on her tummy to muffle the sounds of skin colliding and wood creaking, and reach a better end: your cock is hitting her guts, making a bobbing print on her flat stomach.

“Look how deep I am, Minju.” You grin wickedly at her reflection. “You call me daddy anywhere, don’t you? How about I become a real one?”

Minju bounces herself on you. That’s a yes. A definite, enthusiastic yes.

Your penetration is rougher, gliding on places she can’t even imagine. If you cum right now, and this far in, you’ll live up to your name of “daddy.” Minju isn’t the only one who has to keep promises.

Corner a pulse point on her neck. Her core squeezes and although its resistance is tough, your pumps are more so.

“You’ll be my secret good girl. Daddy’s gonna put a fucking baby in your stomach, and no one has to know it’s mine. No one has to know you’re mine.”

Minju pouts, not out of sadness but of the orgasm that’s creeping from her feet to her center. It’s so close she could reach for it, taste it like a strong wind. You allow the tiny breaths and pants that leave her to be exemptions from your bedroom law.

“Wonyoung would be so happy for you.” You lick the sensitive spot behind her ear. “‘That’s so great, unnie! Come on, tell us who’s the lucky guy.’ And you’ll have to stop yourself from telling her that I did it. Can you do that?”

Minju emphasizes each repetition with a responding throb and push of her cunt. “Yes, yes, yes—”

Allow that, too. Burst inside Minju. Flood her insides with cum that shall infiltrate her fertile womb. Soon, that tummy would be round rather than flat. It’ll be your baby.

Minju got what she wanted in the end.

The next day, Wonyoung will wake up crying.

It’ll happen early in the morning, when the moon is still up and sheets still wrap your exhausted form. But she’s sobbing so loud that it’ll rouse you.

“What’s wrong?” you’ll say.

She’ll tell you about a dream she had. Wonyoung’s going to narrate a complex dream of Minju, her beloved former member and best friend, seducing you. It happened right in the house and in front of her. You dared to do it to her while she was sleeping and thought she didn’t know.

And you?

You’ll take her in your arms, kiss the inside of her trembling wrist, and say, “Oh, honey—it’s okay. I’m here, baby. I’m here. I’m here.”

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blackopals-world · 2 years

Note

I have a silly request that you may or may not enjoy.

Fem!Yuu who came from a long line of chefs and can make just about anything. From quiche to raspberry tarts to katsu sandwiches. She of course decides to share her skills in the form of making each of her friends a different bento catering to their tastes.

When asked why, she simply states that she cares about them and wants to see them well fed. Cue the marriage proposals.

~Okay, I can do that. Not for ever character of course because I have no time. Just allow me my personal flavor.~

"The way to a man's heart"

(part 2 here) (part 3) (part 4)

Characters featured:Azul, Jamil, Ace, Deuce, Malleus, Vil, Idia, and versus staff

"Remeber sweetheart, the way to a man's heart is though his stomach. That's how I got your Baba. It's is also a measurement of love, a good dish is made with 3 cups of love and 4 tablespoons of care and 1 liter of dedication."

Yuu had those words etched in her mind since childhood. Every dish she made was filled with the TLC her family required for the perfect dish.

But being the youngest I such a line meant that she had never had many people outside of the family try her foods.

Mama, Baba, Ye ye, and Lola didn't lie; but they didn't want to hurt her feelings.

So Yuu couldn't help but tremble when she handed the two lunch boxes to Ace and Deuce. It was just before lunch time when she presented them before quickly running off.

She ran to the quad and hid behind an apple tree.

Her plan was to let them eat the lunches and later go to retrieve the boxes to get a review. They wouldn't feel pressured to say anything nice and Yuu would know how she did.

And if they like her cooking then they could be super close and eat lunch like this everyday!

But if they hate it then they might not. They might get mad and never talk to her again.

"Are you trying to poison me? What kind of girl doesn't know how to cook something so basic" Ace would say tossing away her lunch.

"It's not too bad, if it's your first time. I just don't think your cut out to be a chef." Deuce would say turning green.

Yuu managed to make herself depressed from her own imagination as she hid. Her wild imagination tended to get the better of her.

"Hey, Yuu! If you wanted to eat here just say so." Ace said standing behind her with lunch box still in hand.

"It's not a bad spot either. We should eat here more often. It's quieter." Said Deuce next to him.

Yuu internally screamed as they sat to eat. She focused on their every facial expression as they ate.

Ace had Monte Cristo sandwich with a summer fruit salad. He seemed to really like the dip for the sandwich.

Deuce had a simple fried egg sandwich with bacon, and cheese. There was a bit of blueberry jam on the side for the bread.

While the boys ate Yuu didn't notice that they eyed each others food and quickly ate theirs to see if they steal form the other. They guarded their lunch like dogs.

Yuu saw this and her eyes lit up believing they really loved her food. Eagerly she waited for them to finish so she could ask.

"Do you like it?!" Yuu asked

The boys after staring each other down heaped praise on her and asked her to make lunch again.

It became a regular thing as they were already spoiled by Yuu and she loved her first taste testers.

With Yuu reassured of her skills came another challenge. He insatiable need to share her food.

"Good food makes for good company and friends." Ye ye always said.

Food is meant to be shared and it was good for the soul. Many souls in this school needed to be fed. Maybe they'd calm down a little.

So she started supplying her friends with homemade food.

Yuu waited patiently for Jamil after basketball practice with a hefty lunch box. It was buttered chicken curry with jasmine rice. It had a side of vegetable sauté. And of course an after practice energy drink.

She had patted herself on the back for this one. She wanted to impress Jamil.

As she walked along the side of the court she offered Jamil the drink. He took it great fully before eyeing the lunch box suspiciously.

"I made you something to eat. I though you might want something to eat you didn't make yourself for once." Yuu said suddenly self conscious.

Floyd must have heard because he rudly began interrupting.

"Oh, sea snake is are so lucky! I want a shrimpy wife to cook for me too!" He whined loudly.

The "Ooo"'s that came from the other basketball club members made Jamil's ears turn red.

"Shut up Floyd!" Yuu yelled at him with her face burning.

"I'm sorry Yuu. You know how guys are. Thank you for doing this for me." Jamil said quietly trying to hid his face.

"It's no problem Jamil. I really wanted you to try this." Yuu said softly.

Just as she said this Jamil looked over his shoulder to the the boys laughing before leaning down and kissing Yuu's forehead.

"I wanted to thank you properly." Jamil said smiling before leaving to sit down to eat with Yuu.

She was an amazing cook and it felt good to be cooked for. It reminded him of when he didn't need to care for Kalim.

"I wish I could eat this everday." Jamil said absent-minded.

Yuu's eays widened before laughing. He didn't mean it. Right?

There were times Yuu casually dropped off dishes.

Korean barbecue for Epel

Ratatouille for Rook

Fresh baked pie for Silver

None of this escaped Vil's notice who wondered why Yuu never came around to give him anything. I wasn't as if he didn't eat.

Though if memory serves he has turned his nose up at certain foods around her. She probably didn't want to be told her food wasn't good enough.

To Vil it didn't matter, if she was a chef she should know her customers tastes. Never mind that he wasn't a customer nor was she being paid to cook, his feeling were hurt.

But as luck would have it Yuu didn't forget him.

"Vil-sama! Here!" Yuu practically bubbled with energy was she leaned over Pomefiore's kitchen counter.

Epel was currently face deep in a slice of apple-apricot pie. and ice cream.

Vil hoped that she wasn't expecting him to eat that as he wouldn't have that much gusto. He didn't have the heart to lecture Epel on manners with Yuu around but he had no problem after she was gone so he better injoy it while he can.

"Try some." Yuu held out a cup of green liquid.

Yuu held out a cup of green tea with a palte of fresh sushi.

"Traditional green tea doesn't go well with heavy or greasy foods so I made some simple salmon sushi to help clean your palette." Yuu said smiling.

Vil took a sip and smiled at her.

"It's good. I wish I could drink this every morning." Vil said eating a piece of sushi.

Yuu turned pink as she quickly excused herself.

Azul was the greediest of her friends. He loved trying new foods but especially fried chicken.

Azul eagerly awaited when Yuu entered the lounge with food in hand. They would eat in his office as Azul would try to trick Yuu into working hin the kitchen.

Even though he was trying to convince her to work for him the job offer was as a personal chef because he didn't want to share. Another reason she didn't agree.

"I just want to eat with you everyday." He said slyly over his Frutti di Mare. "Don't you want to eat with me too?"

Yuu bit the inside of her cheek as she turned red.

"Azul that's not funny. Don't say that unless you mean it." Yuu said stiffly.

"But I do mean it. Cross my heart." Azul said more earnestly but Yuu quickly said goodbye and fled. Azul was left confused.

The next day Yuu spent lunch hiding in the teacher's lounge. She was allowed to as Crewel's pseudo daughter and bringing lunch.

Crewel dug into his beef stroganoff as he listened to Yuu's concerns.

"I don't know what to do! Pa, I can't face them again!" Yuu panicked her hands waving frantically.

"Slow down my pup. What happened." Crewel said unfazed by Yuu's familiar. She's expressive he'll give her that.

"Jamil, Vil and Azul asked to marry me!" Yuu shouted before slapping a hand over her mouth. Blabber mouth.

(telling someone you want to eat their cooking or drink their tea everyday could be considered a proposal. I just happens that in Yuu's family that how they propose marriage traditionally.)

There was a sharp spitting sound from across the room as Sam burst out laughing making seafood gumbo splattered.

"Congratulations, sugar! I always knew you were a charmer. It's no wonder all the boys want you!" Sam laughed.

"It's highly inappropriate. You're all to young to even think of such things." Trein said stiffly as he put down his spoon and stopped eat his potage parmentier.

Divus stared blanky before asking again. Crowley would raise hell over this if he didn't do it first. His puppy can't get married. Not yet.

Yuu found herself at ease after it was explained that people don't propose that way here.

Feeling better she waited late for her nightly walk with Malleus. She made a late night snack of soft madelines and a thermos of cinnamon hot chocolate.

Malleus was more then happy to accept her gift. They sat in glen snacking before Malleus spoke up.

"I heard you are getting engaged." He said drinking hot chocolate

"No I'm not." Yuu sighed because of course he heard.

"I see, so they were all unacceptable. Please consider me an option then. I would happily marry you and eat with you everyday!" Malleus said taking Yuu's hand and getting on one knee.

Yuu almost fainted in shock.

'Papa you lied!'

(Bonus)

"Idia please come out! I brought you some Gyros." Yuu called out from behind the door.

Yuu had been working hard to lure Idia outside and was making progress. Soon enough Idia will be eating in the cafeteria before he knows it.

It was like getting a feral cat socialized as Idia cautiously opened the door. He knew to be wary of Yuu's offerings but like the call of a harpy he does as she wants. Everyday she lures him further away from his safe space.

"I made some tortoise candies last night." Yuu said holding the golden lollipop.

Idia would have to steel himself for this one.

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cleoluvrr · 6 months

Text

high school sweethearts (rafe cameron x reader) - I

these are the requirements, if you think you can be my one true love

WARNINGS: mature content; dark!rafe, dub!con, choking, domestic violence, substance abuse & addiction, controlling behavior, coercion, manipulative behavior, stalking, toxic relationship, attempted suicide ,kook!reader

masterlist

series masterlist

rafe’s head weighed down your chest, tears soaking through your pajama shirt that left your skin feeling sticky from the salty substance. his large body was racked with sobs and while it may have made someone else feel pity for the boy, all you could feel was the uneasiness creeping up your spine.

he’d shown up randomly in the dead of night, the sound of his knock at your window leaving you filled with so much dread that you almost ignored the desperate tapping. the tall man stumbled in like a fawn, leaking blood from his flushed, teary face that left stains all over his shirt. as he came closer, the red scratch left behind from his father’s family ring was clear on his cheekbone, raised and pink from the irritation.

it was the second time that week he’d come over like this. the bruises from the last time had not even healed before being overlapped by fresh ones.

you weren’t sure why rafe and his father got into it so bad, so often; but it had taken a toll on you both mentally and physically for having to deal with the aftermath all on your own.

after nursing his injuries and having him change into a spare shirt he’d left in your room, all you could do was allow him to cry into you. it was the only thing you had the energy to do, and there were no words you had to say to him to make him feel any better than he did now.

so, here you sat with your back against the headboard, legs outstretched and weighed down by your boyfriend’s body as he buried his face into you chest to muffle the cries that he couldn’t stop from escaping. sleep was slowly creeping through your body, but you fought it off to pacify your aching lover’s pain.

“it’s okay,.” your voice was soft, the sweet sound vibrating against his ear drums. “you don’t need to cry, i’m right here.”

you continued to speak soothing words to him for what felt like an eternity before he finally began to calm down, his cries steadily reducing to erratic sniffle every few dozen seconds. your arms cradle his upper body as you gently rock side to side in both an effort to calm him and keep yourself awake.

a pair of puffy eyes stared back up at you as rafe pulled his face from its hiding spot. his face was tired, pink, and tear stained, though most of the salty fluid was thoroughly soaked into the tank top stretched across your chest that he used to cry into. you don’t complain about the less than comfortable way it sticks to your skin out of concern that it would only manage to further upset him.

“i’m sorry…” rafe’s voice was quiet and broken as he spoke, the strength of his sobs evident from the damage it left on his voice.

“don’t be. you have nothing to be sorry for.” your head shakes at him in refusal. nimble fingers graze over his face gently as you wipe away the stray tears that continued to fall.

“i didn’t mean to come over so late.” the pink of his tongue pokes out to moisten his chapped lips before it retreats. “i didn’t know what to do. i–i just really needed you, y/n.”

“i know, baby, i promise it's okay.” you look down at him with soft eyes, one that you pray display deep affection for the man and not the irritation you felt inching closer to the front. “you can come to me whenever; i always have time for you.”

it wasn’t a lie, exactly. if rafe wanted to see you then he would do it, whether you were busy or not. you had no free time, practically your entire life outside of school was dedicated to your relationship. going to a college on the mainland was completely out of the question, simply because rafe would never let it happen–he already hated the fact that you lived fifteen minutes away. you couldn’t count how many times he’d begged you to live in tannyhill with him, nor could you count how many times you’d said no. living four hours away in a different city where he couldn’t keep a constant eye on you, where you would be around thousands of guys, would never happen–in this lifetime or the next.

you had to go to a university nearby to take classes, one that was close enough to home that so wouldn’t have to leave. you rarely hung out with your friends alone because it offended your boyfriend if you spent too much time with them. ‘are they more important than i am?’ is what he would ask through gritted teeth whenever you made plans with them more than twice a week.

that’s how much rafe controlled every aspect of your life.

the last time you tried to free yourself of it, rafe promised to kill you. so you’ve learned to accept it for your own safety. even if your entire life revolved around your boyfriend, you’d rather that than having it be taken from you.

“do you want to talk about what happened?” you remained cautious in your inquiry, trying your best to be inoffensive as to prevent triggering him to anger or another crying fit. “it’s the second time this week you came over like this, baby…i’m worried.”

“my dad doesn’t think i deserve you, that’s what happened.” rafe chuckled dryly, head shaking as if he couldn’t believe his father would ever say something like that.

“what?” you brows knit together in confusion. “what do you mean?”

“my dad really likes you, y/n. more than he likes me, probably.” he releases another humorless snort. “he called me a, and i quote, ‘worthless leech of a son.’ he said that you were too good for me and that you would never stay with someone like me if you were as smart as he thought you were.”

you blinked at him as you processed the recounting of events. ward’s words towards rafe should never be uttered from a parent to their child, but he wasn't wrong.

rafe stole money from his father and misused their funds very regularly. he would spend it on drugs, alcohol, vehicles, and whatever else he felt like impulsive spending on–all the while he contributed nothing. it was something that you consistently scolded him for, especially when he would spend his father’s hard earned money on expensive gifts for you.

you would never call rafe worthless, but it would be a lie to say he’s not mooching off his father. however, every rich kid in kildare did the same thing to their parents, and his father definitely never worked to stop the behavior while he was younger.

as for you being too smart to stay with someone like rafe–you can’t say that you agree too much.

“don’t listen to him, rafe. no good father should ever say that to their child.” is what you settled on telling him instead.

“i know, what a piece of shit.” he shook his head, eyes rolling in annoyance as he retold the events of the night. you observed the faint appearance of a smirk on his face, the ghost of a smile barely visible but you couldn’t miss the slight twitch of his lips before he spoke again. “so i told him he’s just mad that my girl actually loves me, while my mom was smart enough to leave his ass.”

“rafe!”

“yeah, he didn’t like that very much.” the eyes that had lowered while he spoke flicked back up to watch yours. “he hit me with that big ass ring on and told me to leave, so i did.”

you tilted your head to the side, lip caught between the whiteness of your teeth.

what he shared was not out of the ordinary for the duo. what was out of the ordinary was the state in which rafe was in just a few minutes ago. typically he would just come over and let you dress his wounds before letting you play with his hair is silence, or listening to him call his father everything but a child of god in a rage-fueled rant.

“and why were you crying? you can’t just show up like that, rafe…you scared me.” the boy in your arms sat silently for a moment before answering.

“its just…you’re in college now. i’ve made so many plans for our future but what if….you’re not gonna leave me, right?” rafe had worry set deep into his expression as he watched you process the question, his head shaking at you. “he was wrong, you’d never do that. you’re smart enough to know better.”

you were sure he heard you gulp after speaking the last sentence. you knew what he was implying, and he was right. ward was correct in saying that you were intelligent enough to know that staying with rafe was a terrible idea, but you were also smart enough to know that rafe would do anything and everything under the sun before letting you go.

“i’m not going anywhere, baby. don’t listen to him, he just wants to get under your skin.” it nearly made you sick to say it, but what choice did you really have? “i love you so, so much, and going to school isn’t going to change that. i’ve had a plan for my life way before i met you, but that doesn’t mean i don’t wanna make you a part of it. my future is my future, but i can’t see it without you there too.”

you meant what you said. you love rafe so, very deeply, and you would do almost anything to make him happy–within reason. rafe didn’t understand reason; rationality was not his forte. any reasonable person would understand that the waters would be tested once a high school relationship became an adult relationship, but rafe was not reasonable. any normal person knows that plans change as life goes on, but rafe was not normal.

maybe you would marry him one day. you might have his kids, be his trophy wife, and live in tannyhill, happily ever after. you knew that even if you went to college on the mainland, you wouldn’t leave rafe. that you would come back to kildare every chance you got and spend every spare second with him until you had to leave again.

even when he gave you hell, you still loved him with every bone in your body.

rafe didn’t understand that, though, and that’s what led to your attempt at breaking it off with him. he degraded your lifelong goal, telling you that your relationship was more important that ‘some stupid degree’ could ever be. you supported him through everything, even when you thought it was the most idiotic thing someone could do, so his total disregard for something that you deeply cared for hurt you.

the only reason rafe even let you go to school was because he’s terrified of losing you. not only physically, but emotionally. sure, he could threaten your life to make you stay and you’d listen out of fear. what he knew, however, is that he would lose you if he took your dream away from you. his leash was tight, but it was long enough to keep you satisfied.

rafe nodded at you in approval, seemingly satisfied enough with your answer to leave it alone.

he never wanted you to go to college in the first place. it was the only thing that you put your foot down on, but if it were up to him, the two of you would be getting married by spring.

he thought it was stupid–why do you need a degree or a job? why work when rafe was there to provide for you once he took over his dad’s company? he fought you long and hard about it for months, but you wouldn’t budge. you needed a safety net–you couldn’t let him take the most important thing in life taken away from you; knowledge.

for you, knowledge was power. it was the closest thing you had to freedom. you knew that if you had a degree, it would be a safeguard in case things with rafe ever went south. deep down your boyfriend knew that, which is probably why he was so against it in the first place.

rafe knew his father was right, which is why he was in such a severe state of distress. he would never admit to that, however,

“are you just saying that because you’re scared?” your breath hitched at the sudden question and you were sure that you’d been caught.

“no! i mean it, seriously-”

“you’re smart to be scared, honestly.” he chuckled at you darkly, eyes glinting in the dim light of your bedroom. “i couldn’t live without you in my life, i love you too much. just thinking about you ever trying to leave me makes me so–so…sick. i need you more than anything. i would probably have to kill myself if you were gone, because i don’t want to live a life without you in it.”

you remained stoic.

“and i couldn’t see you with anyone that isn’t me.” he stared at you for a heavy moment after saying it. the two of you both knew what he was hinting at, a look of understanding shared amongst the silence that overtook the room.

“rafe, my love…i don’t think that’s healthy.” the words left you in a soft, inoffensive tone. setting off the unstable man was the last thing you wanted to do. “you shouldn’t say things like that, its not funny..”

he shrugged at you, pushing your arms away from him and sitting upright. your eyes fluttered shut as he pressed his soft lips against yours, body melting into him instinctively. it only lasted for a few seconds before he pulled away abruptly, the feeling of his soft breath mixing with yours leaving you confused.

the moment doesn’t stay on your mind any longer when he leans back in, lips meeting yours in a fervor. your skin feels flushed, face warm as the tingling feeling sets in from his skin on yours. rafe brought his hand up from its resting place on your thigh and attempts to wrap it around your neck like he usually does, but you pull it away haphazardly, hardly paying it any attention as you descend deeper into the kiss.

your own fingers reach up to play with his hair, a set of manicured nails gently scraping against the nape of his neck. you use it to pull him closer, the sound of lips smacking together filling the otherwise silent room along with your minorly labored breathing.

a warm, calloused hand slowly crawled up your side and landed on your throat once again, each finger slowly working to wrap around your neck in a firm grip. it was much tighter this time, and its grip strengthening faster than you could adjust. you reach up once more to pull it away, but he doesn’t let up.

“stop,” you pull away from him mid-kiss, your hand covering the pale one tightly wound around your neck. he doesn’t flinch at the sound of your demand, eyes low as he observes your increasingly frantic movements.

“what?” he asked.

rafe’s face was expressionless, the slight scrunch in his nose being the only giveaway of his sudden rise to anger. it was the silent rage that scared you, why you so carefully chose your words when speaking to him–because it would lead to moments like this. you weren’t even sure what you said to trigger him, but your rapidly decreasing airflow wouldn’t allow for you to think about it in depth.

“rafe, stop.” you repeat yourself. another hand reaches up to fight against his, nails scratching at the skin as they try to pull him off. the feeling had long passed being uncomfortable, and was encroaching on unbearable. “what’re you doing?”

“what's wrong, baby…can’t breathe?” your boyfriend’s eyes furrowed with a look of faux concern, but you felt him stop holding back. he allowed the full weight of his strength onto you, biceps flexing as the tips of his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your throat. “huh?”

unable to answer verbally, you hummed quietly as you desperately tugged at him. despite your incessant squirming, that doesn’t deter him from returning his lips to yours. the kiss was sloppy, you were too focused on fighting for what little breath you had to return it fully, but rafe didn’t seem to care.

he suckled at your bottom lip before nipping it with the sharpness of his teeth. he laved his tongue against yours, all but fucking your mouth the wet muscle. the sound of his soft, dark laughter reached your ears after he heard you whine against him. you were beginning to become lightheaded the longer rafe’s hand compressed your trachea mercilessly.

he was allowing just enough room for you to not pass out from lack of air, but the finger against your jugular veins was preventing oxygen from reaching your brain.

leaving you with a few sporadic, wet pecks, he pulled away only slightly to observe your less than lively state. his lips were glistening with moisture, and you could feel spit dribbling down your own chin from your inability to swallow the saliva that had been gathering in your mouth. the blond’s face went stoic again and pulled you back to him, lips just barely brushing against yours.

“you see how i just had your life in my hands? how scared you felt knowing that i could’ve just crushed your throat if i wanted to?” the grip over your neck had finally loosened and you did your best to not pant against his face as your breathing steadied itself.

you remained silent but rafe watched you expectantly, clearly awaiting an actual response and not the stupid, wide-eyed expression you carried. you nodded at him weakly, stray tears sliding down your face as you blinked your eyes clear of them.

“i’m not joking.” he whispered against your parted lips, eyes low and jaw clenching for just a second before speaking again. “i will fuck you up, and i mean that.”

#rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #outer banks #drew starkey #rafe cameron x kook!reader #rafe cameron x oc #obx fanfiction #obx1 #obx2 #obx3 #rafe imagine #rafe outer banks #cleoluvrr fics

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diarioculto · 7 months

Note

reader being a college student and she feels very drained and charles being the best boyfriend ever and making her days better? idk midterms are kicking my ass i need comfort

YOUR WARM EMBRACE. ﹙ charles leclerc x reader ﹚

author’s notes: thank u sm for requesting this, anon !! i hope everything goes well for u and i’m veeery proud of you ♡ i hope u enjoy this x

۫.⭒ ۫ ׅ ⋆ﾟ⊹

midterms season was here, and were you happy about it? absolutely… not.

from all the stress building up on your muscles to the countless all-nighters dedicated to studying, you felt like your brain was going to explode. midterms were a significant part of your grade and you knew that you had to be well prepared for them, even if you felt relatively confident in your skills. this cycle repeated itself for more days than you could count right now and you felt your energy drain by the minute. you were reading your textbook for the millionth time, words mixed up inside you head, when you heard your bedroom door creak open. you look up to find your boyfriend charles, body rested against the door frame and a worried look on his face.

he hated seeing you like this, even if the soft smile on his lips said otherwise. his heart ached every time he looked at your face, eye bags darker than usual and your smile faded into a more tired expression, lips always pursed.

« chérie, don’t you think that it’s time for a little break? » his soft voice echoes through the room, eyes scanning over your face. he hoped that you would stop, even if it was just for a couple of minutes. you look back at you textbook, an indecisive look on your face, and in that moment, he knew that you weren’t going to stop unless you were forced to. you were always stubborn, especially when it came to college.

charles’ footsteps grew louder behind you and, next thing you know, your textbook is close shut with a loud thud and everything you read evaporated from your mind.

« c’mon. » his arms slid around your waist, lifting you up from your seat and you can feel your body slowly melting into his touch. you were so tired. so so tired.

« i’m sorry… » you mumble under your breath as your body is pulled against his chest. he tucks your head under his chin as he rocks you back and forth and you can hear his heart beating faster by the second, your grip around his torso growing stronger.

« for what, my love? » you lift your head to look up at him only to find his gaze already on you, an eyebrow cocked in confusion. you don’t answer, finding comfort in the silence around you. instead, you tuck your head comfortably against his chest once again with a satisfied smile on your face, eyes fluttering shut. charles’ lips curve into a sweet smile as he feels yourself relax under his body and he swears that he can hear your soft snores amongst all the silence.

« i love you, chérie. and i’m so proud of you. » he kisses the top of your head as he keeps lullabying you, sun setting behind your intertwined bodies.

#i hope ur midterms go well!!#★ — request!#f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader

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undercoverpena · 1 year

Text

this year's love.

simon ghost riley x f!reader

wc: 5.5k warnings: angst. fluff. smut. feelings. usual jo things. summary: And then you begin calling him Riley. It’s more flirtatious—more meaningful. Simon is when you’re soft, thanking him, when others are close and can hear you. Riley is when you’re leaning over the bar, staring into his soul and smirking so deviously it takes a lot to not kiss it off your lips. an: from the drabble where ghost 'dates' a non-militant he meets in a pub. this is dedicated to @yeyinde for reminding me why British pubs are adorable, and also to @guyfieriii because she hates my angst, but loves my fluff, and makes me want to write better.

simon ghost riley masterlist

He suspects he should stay away.

As soon as he began to crave the sight of you. Ignoring the fact he’s heard This Year's Love by David Gray three times already—and he has only been here an hour. The condensation beads from his glass pools on the picked-at-bar mat, drenching his fingers and wrist.

Not that he cares.

Ghost—

Simon knows it’s all part of the charm.

It has been since the day he turned eighteen and his boss at the butchers took him for his first pint.

The place hasn’t changed since. Everything from the same ten to twelve songs which crackle through the worn and tired speakers. The smokey air, and discoloured, yellowing wallpaper.

Things don’t get replaced either, the chipped glass ashtrays are the same as the ones he remembers. The same chipped mahogany tables with the ill-matching chairs and stools that are wobbly.

The scent in the place is familiar, a mix between festering ale and Mr Sheen, working men and cheap perfume, fust and smoke—both from the crackling winter fire and cigarettes—even if one hasn’t been smoked inside of it for years.

The place, to outsiders, would look like any stone-walled pub on the corner of two streets they’ll never remember. Then they’ll step in, their eyes glancing over the peeling wallpaper, moth-eaten curtains (that never close) and the once-white nets in the windows, before questioning what they’ve walked into. That’s before they’ve noticed the white ball on the pool table is in fact another black ball and that the dart board triple 20 has been chipped out after Bald-Andy lost his rag.

The pub has been a real gem to those who know what real diamonds are for as long as Simon can remember. None of the regulars care that the bar stools have burns from cigarettes being stubbed out, they don’t care that the musty smell doesn’t vanish even with Febreze and sheer will. It’s expected, just like how the bar is always sticky and the energy always feels right.

Here, he can relax.

When he’s home, he feels purposeless. A man with a map but no direction. But, he can unfurl his shoulders from his ears, even let his hood slide to the back of his neck.

Because in this place, strangers aren’t welcome. It’s a local pub, for local folk. Those who wander in, thinking the pub on the corner of quaint and quintessential will provide them with a typical British evening, normally leaving before Freddie Mercury has reached the bridge of whatever song is on rotation.

But, Simon isn’t just here for the bourbon or the ale, he’s not here because the wooden fire licks every wall of the place. He’s not here because it feels more like home than his actual home.

He’s here because there’s one thing that has changed, and it’s you.

You with a rosy, sweet laugh that usually accompanies a smile which makes his heart gallop. It calms whatever storm rages inside of him when you look at him—when you bore your pretty, fucking eyes into him before you lean over, hand on the beer pump as you call him Simon.

Simon.

His name has never sounded more serene than when it falls from your lips. The way you say it makes it seem less than ordinary, almost unique. Humour sways in your eyes, a glint he knows there’s more too—and wants nothing more than to explore.

You’re a vibrant surprise in the middle of my mundane, and it took him all of five minutes to discern you’re both difficult and charming all rolled into one.

And then you begin calling him Riley.

It’s more flirtatious—more meaningful.

Simon is when you’re soft, thanking him, when others are close and can hear you. Riley is when you’re leaning over the bar, staring into his soul and smirking so deviously it takes a lot to not kiss it off your lips.

Women haven’t tended to last here—except Tracy. Tracy, who like the urinal cakes, has been here since Simon’s first pint. Her lines had deepened in her skin over time, but her hair has remained that putrid blonde she tries to claim is natural.

You, on the other hand, are far younger—kind, soft, unless someone gets lairy and then there’s a ferociousness to you that’s packed into something so small. He suspects you know what the men at the bar look at when your eyes aren’t looking, and it’s not the way you command the small space stuffed with offerings and glasses.

He’d paid no mind initially. Tried not to, anyway. He’d decided it would be for the best. Then you’d bite back at Dave that you may be too young to remember a song, but you could still get down on her knees without them creaking.

He had smirked at that.

Deciding his new seat at the bar, on the rickety bar stool was his new favourite seat.

To this day, you always smell floral, but the accompanying scent with it changes. Sometimes you’re sultry, sometimes you’re just sweet. Each time he is able to return ‘home’ he’s never sure which one he’ll get—but it burns a place in his nose all the same.

Hard to shift, difficult to smother, not that he wishes to do either.

Their first exchanges were simple. Contractual. Another? Yes. Your usual? Yes. Then you had placed a deck of cards in front of him, a teasing smile on your face in the quietness of a Wednesday evening.

Keep me company.

It was difficult for him to grasp how soft your eyes were, how it made his mind blank and his heart both hammer and stutter all at once.

Now, it’s normal.

He’s used to it, fucking welcomes the way they land on him. He thinks about them on the plane ride home, how Alan—the chef who’ll serve anything off-menu for a packet of fags—makes a mean all-day breakfast sandwich. But mostly, it’s you.

“You back for long, Riley?”

“No.”

“Never are.”

“You sound disappointed, sweetheart.”

You always smile the same when he calls you that. Always half-roll your eyes before shaking your head, as though flirting with you is oh so wrong.

Especially when you start it first.

“What would you do if I was?”

That’s new.

His fingers pick up a crisp, watching you lean on the pump in front of you. The star earrings hanging from your ears, catch the bar spotlights, making it seem as though you’re literally glowing.

But then, you are—to him at least.

Someone calls for you, pint raised in hand—saving him from answering. You wink, and mumble you’ll be right back, the words lingering in the space you once stood.

You’re too good for him.

Too normal. Too unscarred and untouched. He suspects a bad thing has never happened to you. You’ve not plunged a knife into someone’s throat, not shot a moving target with a precision that most try to replicate on their controllers and headsets.

For that reason, and that reason alone, he knows he should stay on this side of the bar. Even when it takes all of his self-restraint to do so.

It’s hard though.

More so when you give him that look—that one which makes his cock twitch and his thoughts turn feral.

Because the nice girl from the pub may have a sweet, soft voice, but fuck he knows you’re anything but.

You’re all red lips and righteousness, a siren and enchantress who chooses floral perfume to try and disguise the way your eyes undress him.

Not that he complains.

He’s done the same.

Fucked his own fist to the thought of the noises you’d make and how you’d feel enveloped around his cock.

Tonight he’d likely do the same.

Winter is in full effect when he next returns.

Snow was thick on the streets, the roads a horrid mix of ice, slush and asphalt.

You’re behind the bar, Bald-Andy and his wife in the corner near the fire, and the crackling, gruff voice of Oasis is playing. You look up, lips smirking, eyes glistening.

“The usual?”

He considers it. Sweet, caramel and vanilla notes hit his tongue in memory. But he shakes his head, pulling out a stool, and sitting opposite you as your perfume greets him.

“Surprise me, sweetheart.”

You stand fully, hair falling around your face, making his heart lurch and his stomach burn.

“Living dangerously, I see,” you say, turning your back to him as you pull at spirit bottles.

If only you knew.

He suspects something sweet when you place the glass in front of him. The sound of it meeting the worn wood so loud, not that the other two patrons look over. As though it’s just the two of you. No one else. His eyes lift, hooking themselves into yours—unwilling to let you tear them from him as he tries to bury the aches of war and fighting.

It’s caramel coloured, darker at the bottom of the glass than the top. Ice. So much ice.

“Go on, try it, Simon.”

And he does.

It’s sweet, and zingy. It’s mellow but spicy, and he tastes the hints of ginger and rum as the cold hits his teeth.

“What y’made me?”

“You like it?”

Yes.

The tip of your tongue swiping across your bottom lip, watching you lean smugly. “Dark and stormy… the epitome of you.”

A groan leaving his lips, your laugh tasting of sunshine and happier days.

A long moment stretches between the two of you, one that makes the air thrum and him having to shift his jeans. A continuous voice in his head, telling him no, telling him to put a stop to this now.

He drinks it. He even orders it again.

Time ticks fast—too fast. He wants it to slow. Ever since their first flirtation, if you’ve finished when he’s there—he walks you to your car.

You drive something small, your entire backseat is always covered in coats, shoes and books. Something normal, and so typically you.

He does the same tonight, hands in his jacket pockets, periodically scanning the area as you lock the big wooden doors of the pub. You shake them, ensuring you have, pocketing the keys before turning to nudge him.

Simple. Soft. Each gesture in the short walk is always seemingly effortless. You don’t worry he’ll take offence, that he’ll shatter or snap.

Not that he would.

His arm lifting, letting your small hand slide around it for stability as the snow falls thick and fast. It paints the streets in a blanket that crunches under their boots. And there’s something about the snow landing in your hair, on the tip of your nose, even on your lower lip.

He wants to brush it from your mouth, and trace the bow of your upper lip with his thumb.

Because it’s all a contradiction. Snow makes you look innocent, something close to a character from a movie or a Disney film. And, you’re not any of those things.

You’re snarky, huffed whispers and quick retorts when drunkards try to hit on you; you’re witty, funny and boldly brilliant.

So much so, he’s never sure why you work there. He knows you’re studying, knows you’re trying to better yourself. You’ve told him as much over a Pepsi Max in your hand and something stronger in his.

He knows it’s odd to keep staring at you. Your eyes staring up, making your eyes seem wider and bigger than they actually are—pretty sure the flurries of snow, stars and moon are shining in them. But it’s his treat—his reward. The thing he thinks about when he’s knee-deep in mud or covered in blood, sweat and bruises.

Your feet stop at your car, unlocking it—the beep and flash of your headlights casting light across the car park.

“You back for long?”

“No.”

Smiling, you lean against the rear window. “Never are.”

It’s a pattern, a habit. An exchange that has become the norm for the two of you as much as hello and goodbye.

Then, you sigh.

Something you rarely do, not to him—not with him. His brows knitting, tightening, heart thundering in his throat as you drag your eyes up his chest, and neck and land on his face.

“Do you know how perfect it would be, if you grew a pair and kissed me in the snow, Riley?”

Your hand slides into the handle, opening it as your smirk turns into a grin. One which is brighter than your headlights, the moon—hell, the fucking sun.

“Guess I’ll have to wait for a shooting star, instead.”

And, you laugh, leaning your back against the car—expression blended with vulnerability and searing heat that should melt the settling ice on your face.

“Y’seem like the sorta woman to make me work for it.”

“Oh yes, because eighteen months of will-they-won’t-they hasn’t been tedious enough.”

He grabs your elbow, roughly pulling but finds you fall into him with far too much ease. The snow continues to fall, leaving soft cold kisses on his face, but he doesn’t feel cold.

How could he? You’re staring up at him with the searing heat of the sun.

“Y’want me to kiss you, Sweetheart?”

“More than I want to go home and sleep, Riley.”

His hand cups your cheek, warm meeting cold as he pulls your lips to his. Cold, soft lips slide against his, and he tastes the orange from your cordial swirling with his bourbon-covered tongue. Your car groans when he presses you against it, your hand clutching him with the same desperation as he’s flush with your body.

Your cheeks are warm against his hands, eyelashes fluttering open as the two of you break apart.

“You… you want to come back to mine?”

Yes. Fuck yes.

But—

“Next time.”

“Yeah?”

His fingers brush down your cheek, and he nods.

He got your number.

For convenience. You tell him he didn’t need to come in and drink one of your piss-poor beer pulls just to get in your knickers.

So he doesn’t.

He doesn’t text when he first lands. He gives himself a day—a moment to shed the Ghost and become Simon. When you do you don’t reply with anything witty, just straight-laced—just like he likes it.

A time. An address.

He expects you to size him up at your front door, even bracing for a changed mind. You don’t do either. You let the door open, standing two steps inwards dressed in something lace and rippable.

Fuckin’ fuck.

It’s the only thought he has before he slams your door behind him, striding towards you and practically throwing you over his shoulder.

You don’t taste like what he expects—it’s better.

His tongue flattens against you, two fingers inside your warm cunt as you whimper. You reluctantly still clutching to the promise you’d made earlier. The one where you informed him it’ll take more than a few fingers and a skilled tongue to make you scream.

So he sucks. Bites. Nips.

He finds that squishy part, stroking it as your thighs twitch by his ears.

It’s then he grants himself the chance to look at you, finding your lipstick spread in a way which seems deliberately chaotic—even if he knows it isn’t. Your lashes wet, eyes clamped shut as you try and try not to give in.

So fuckin’ stubborn.

Your hands, all smooth and soft, clutching your breasts, the pink of a nipple poking out between your index and thumb as your chest rises and falls as you fight calling out his name.

He likes that you have convictions—it gives him something to break.

His tongue swirling, knowing already what he needs to do to undo you.

And then—

Simon—fuc-k, Simon.

It’s better than classical, better than whatever is number one on the fuckin’ charts. The sound of you coming hard, and fast, trying to bury it in a whisper than the scream you actually want to release. All of it is a better sound than his knife plunging into some unsuspecting op—because he will make you scream.

He laps up every ounce you give him, your pleading whimpers and nails in his hair making him groan against your cunt until you almost snap his neck—or try to.

“Take them off. Now.”

He doesn’t like orders.

He fucking detests them. He gives them. Normally loud and booming. But your voice, all sweet and high-pitched, trying to give stern eyes when your lashes are coated in tears he’s caused…

Your eyes widen when he stands naked. And he knows he’s big.

He’s very fucking aware of it. He’s seen plenty of evidence to support the fact in the wild, surprised eyes of those who he’s dropped his trousers for.

You now being one of them.

But fuck, he fits in you perfectly. So much so, he wants to mould your insides to match him, to ruin you for every other person who thinks they stand a chance with you.

Because they don’t.

But then neither does he.

Not that he’ll squander a moment to fuck with heaven—to hear the cadence shift when he hooks your leg over his hip as he drives his cock into you all the way to the hilt.

He coaxes another out of you, your tight cunt like a vice around him as your manicured nails leave scratches on his back. His tongue swipes across your jaw, before haphazardly capturing your mouth.

You taste like mint polos and sex—a taste he is already sure he’ll crave.

And he wonders to himself if you know how fucking perfect you are. If you have any idea of how stunning you truly are.

Especially like this. Your body shimmering with sweat, each thrust making your breasts bounce as your fingers tease his hair at the nape of his neck.

And then he wonders about something else.

Something far from coating your walls in his come.

Would you fit in his life?

Would you fit as well in it, as he does inside your cunt?

And then you’re clenching, hips lazily trying to meet his as you whimper, moan—

And then you scream.

Not Riley.

But Simon.

Mission accomplished.

It has become a habit.

You have become a habit.

He lands. He waits a day. He fucks you until you are raw, sore and breathless. His lips are on yours, hands still on your hips as he hears how hoarse your voice is.

“You back for long?”

“No.”

But this no is different.

It’s tinged with half a teaspoon of regret and sadness.

You hide your face when he answers now. Sometimes by slinging your arm to shield him from your eyes or by turning from him. It’s like you know he likes them. Likes being able to see each infliction of emotion in them—shimmering, dancing, storming across in front of him.

Somehow, you’ve fit into his life too well—cutting yourself a hole, forcing your way in, and making it seem as though you were always there.

Simon lets you be, too.

You have one of his t-shirts, baggy, black and covered in your perfume. He finds he has one of your hair ties around his wrist, not even realising until he slides on a pair of gloves. Flicking it against his wrist as he thinks of you, something he only allows himself to do briefly.

Things have changed. Shifted.

But the Earth hasn’t fallen off its axis and he’s not fucked up a mission. So he counts his blessings. He doesn’t know if he believes good things can happen to him, but he could be persuaded that he can have nice things. A belief he even starts to accept. A reality he begins to wish for, rather than keep at arm's length.

You’ve left the pub. You hadn’t been working every night for a while. Your studies had ended—receiving a photo of a cap and gown without your face when he was in the middle of a desert.

Now you’re working a better job, one you deserve more—it’s creative, more you. You make the world brighter, and better while he’s getting dirty and riding the world of darkness. You text him once, the day you got paid, that you bought him something nice.

Something he ripped with his teeth when he landed—much to your annoyance.

You’re no longer the girl in the pub. You’re perfectly applied make-up he fucks off your face. You’re high heels and pencil skirts—and sometimes fitted trousers that hug your arse so beautifully, he’s almost a bit jealous. You’re the pink sky at night, laughter that warms his chest, and a smile he thinks about as he falls asleep.

“What would my alias be?”

Your hand slides over a plate to him. Cheese on toast. Nothing big, nothing major, but he stares at it all the same. Because you’ve made him something.

You’ve been doing it for a while, and each time is as perplexing as the last. His brain is unable to figure out how, why and what he’s done to deserve it. Even if it’s toast, a sandwich, or a fucking meal.

Because it’s something outside of sex. It’s outside of holding the back of your head as he fucks your throat; outside of him pinning you against the dark alleyway of the pub he first saw you in, making you both cold and warm all at once.

Even if he knows—constantly turns it over and over in his mind—that this isn’t just sex. He’s not entirely sure what this is. Except…nice?

You take a bite of your own, the crunch filling the air, crumbs littering your top—his top. “My call sign.”

Simon isn’t sure why he told you about what he did. You were in his arms, warm, smelling of sex, flowers and something sharp. And, it fell out of him. Still drunk off your cunt, lost in the tenderness of your fingers on his chest, playing it a pattern with your nails.

Not everything. Fuck, he couldn’t tell you everything—wouldn’t. But you know enough.

Enough for him to know you’re not running, that you still want him knocking on your door whenever he lands—whether it's morning, noon or night.

Now, you’re making him food. Legs long, his black t-shirt skimming your thighs—all his. Looking ever so inviting, making it hard not to push you up on the counter and give your neighbours something to talk about.

“Egg.”

You snort, sharp and light. “Egg?! You’re fuckin’ rude, Riley. Egg? No, that’s shit, give me a better one.”

“But, true. You’d shatter, you’re more yolk than shell, you.”

“C’mon, be serious.”

He gives you a look, finding the one you’re giving him sultry, teasing—demanding.

“Snow.”

You stare for several seconds before you hum, crunching the corner of your food with your teeth. “Lemme guess because I’m oh-so-delicate?”

No—

It’s because you’re fucking perfect.

Because you’re his favourite season and favourite moment.

On some deeper level, he suspects it’s because you’re pure. That you’re unruined. Untainted. Your body has no scars—except the one from chicken pox and one on your hand from a glass bottle shattering. But, that’s it. He’s kissed every inch of you to know, to be 100% sure.

You’re Snow because each time he sees it, he thinks of you. Those red lips, all that fucking audacity and the way you kissed him, tasting as warm as bourbon and as sweet as sugar.

“Yeh, ‘cause you’re all pure and innocent, Sweetheart.”

You laugh, richly. Head thrown back, perfect thin neck exposed to the air—to him.

And he wants to kiss you.

He wants to taste your laugh and smile, let his hands run around the back of your thighs and feel you against every inch of him.

That’s when your eyes land on him again—all full of questions and spice. Your tongue drags across your plush bottom lip, wiping up the grease from the cheese as he swallows.

His throat suddenly dry.

Because the girl he met in the pub—the one standing before him—is standing in his t-shirt. Looking every bit delicious, good enough to eat and never come up for air.

And he thinks—

Realises, he actually, might—probably—miss you when he goes back to Price.

It’s stretched on for months. A year.

He lands, uses the key you gave him and stamps the snow from his boots, half smiling to himself as he does. Whenever he gets here, he doesn’t wait, he finds his way to whatever room you’re in.

Sometimes he doesn’t get far, your body colliding with his. All curves in his hands and arms around his neck, and he’s not sure what the fuck this is, but he likes it.

Loves it.

It’s something like a song about falling in love and a peaceful Sunday morning; it’s those moments you see in movies that make your eyes swell with tears as he stares at you, wondering how on earth you’re so goddamn amazing.

It’s familiar, and yet he has no idea what is happening next or why.

Mostly, though, Simon knows it’s something because he said your name to Johnny.

Not because he was dying, not because he was hurt. But in the middle of a normal conversation, one exchanged on some dark rooftop, stars twinkling, and eyes fixated on a building down a scope.

Normally, he wouldn’t have answered. Would have ignored him.

If y’could be anywhere, right now, Lt. Where’d y’pick?

He didn’t need to think.

He didn’t say home. Because home wasn’t his place, the pub or even the fuckin’ city he’s always ever known. It’s wherever you are. It’s where your heart beats and your bed is placed; it’s where your annoying, shitty music taste is blaring and that sleepy smile is when he wakes up next to you.

So, Simon said your name.

Simple. Easy.

Except it wasn’t simple or fucking easy. It was messy, and complicated. Because Johnny tilted his head, in that obnoxious way he does, demanding more information than he is ever prepared to ever share.

‘Fuck off, Johnny, before I punt y’off the rooftop and tell Price you’d been a cunt.’

Because you are locked away when he’s here. You are chained inside his chest, the deepest fucking secret—one no one will ever fucking take no matter how much they dig, how much they push him too.

You are his.

Something only he gets to enjoy—gets to see, hear and taste.

He’s done all of that for the last hour. Getting some sick satisfaction from edging you until you’re pleading with him, begging him with every breath you have to let you come as you wriggle and wiggle, urging him to lift your legs—just like he likes it, how you like it, and make you see fucking stars.

Now, you’re barefoot.

A different t-shirt of his hiding the welts he’s left, the growing bruises from the way he’d needed to hold you in place. Watching, observing—admiring—the oddness to your steps as you flick on the kettle. He’s always close—looming in the sun’s shadows across the kitchen he knows better than his own.

He has to be. Wants to be.

You’ve not just carved a place in your life, but in his chest—his heart. You’ve seeped into his skin, into his soul, merging and bringing to life something he thought had wilted and died. He doesn’t care that he’s vulnerable, that he’s not jagged edges and sharp stares.

“You wanna go out with me? Tonight?”

You pause, tea bag in hand, looking over your shoulder at him as if he’d asked you to slaughter a pig, a child, a whole bloody family.

The moment is tender, almost fragile.

It trembles under the weight of his question and the silence of your thoughts.

Then it stills—

“You don’t… you don’t have to do that…”

“What?”

Dashing the tea bag into the cup, you turn. Hips leaning against the counter, sigh falling from your swollen, pink lips as your arms fold. The air scented with that familiar smell your home always has—jasmine and pineapple, the sun kissing your toes and legs as your face shows thunder and rain.

The air shifts, changing. It’s speckled in ice with a cold breeze punctuated by you suddenly not able to meet his eyes.

“Date me. Change… this. I know that you… I know you don’t have time for that.”

Except he doesn’t hear that, he hears me.

He suspects you don’t say it to hurt him.

But it does.

It wounds—

It fucking burns. It’s on par with a bullet or a rusty knife, twisting and twisting until it’s hitting nerves and making muscles quake.

It worsens when the kettle clicks, ready—waiting. It blows steam under your cupboards, billowing out around the edges before it rushes to the ceiling. Twisting, turning, desperate to escape the uncomfortable space between the two of you.

But, he just wants to pull you close—impossibly close. He wants to cradle and fucking hug you, even if he never hugs anyone. Simon wants to tell you that he hasn’t been doing this with anyone else. That it’s been over a year of this, and even he knows it’s something.

Admittedly, yeah, he didn’t think he’d have fucking time for someone, and then you came in and blew that all to shit. But, on some level inside of him, he knows they aren’t the words he should be saying. So silence fills the space instead.

Doubling. Tripling. Expanding like foam and smoothing over crevices as you shift your weight from one foot to the other.

And he knows he should just ask again.

Softer. Maybe with a bit more emotion. Counting in his head. One. Two, fucking Three.

Your body turning, holding out a mug you got him—big, black with tiny ghosts on it. Because you’d pestered and pestered to know what he was called. What his alias is when he shoots people. The mug made you grin when you handed it to him last time—tired of him taking your favourite. The one with a quote from a television show you keep promising to show him. Sarcastic. Almost makes his teeth show when he smiles. He almost does the same when he takes the mug, and you turn away from him.

Now when he takes it, your eyes drop to the floor. To the space between the two of you.

The one which feels vast, and far larger than the bar ever felt.

All Simon wonders is why there’s a pit opening inside of him—why it is filling him with a feeling he wants to cut out of himself. It’s not light or nice, it’s dark and twisty.

Because he’s the same person who goes on stupid solo missions where the percentage of survival is low, and still fucking comes back to base with whatever was asked of him. He’s Ghost—a man who many fear. Who is often coated in more of other people’s blood than he is dirt.

And yet this—

You.

Terrify the living fuck out of him. Not that he’s showing that. He knows he’s stood with a stiff back, and a face devoid of any emotions.

“You said it when we first… Just… I know your job is important. I know you can’t commit and I respect—”

“Sweetheart.”

Your eyes meet his. Teeth biting your lip, arms crossing over your chest.

And shit, he hopes to never see this face ever again. This nervous, unsure face that he’s put there. One which complicates everything and pulls on every string inside of him.

You are an enigma, and he’s not even sure you know it.

You’re something he never deserves, something he never thought he’d have, get, or keep.

Yet, here you are.

Someone who has seen every inch of him. Knows what he does. Where he goes. You even know brief moments of his past, the parts of him that he’d rather take to the grave.

You are important. You matter.

He’s falling—free-falling, in fact—and has been for a while, he didn’t even acknowledge it. Pushing it down, letting it sit with all the other things he doesn’t want to deal with.

“Do’ya wanna go out with me tonight?”

Each word hits you, strokes you. He watches as each syllable lands, your eyes reading him.

“You back for long, Simon?”

His lips twitch. “Little bit.”

And then you smile. All devious and cunning, lips twisting as you unfold your arms and adjust your stance. “I think I’d prefer a takeaway. Keep you to myself, while I 'ave you.”

Standing, crossing the small space of your kitchen as he cages you in. Your hand clutching his cheek, soft, gentle, and more than he fucking deserves.

His head lowers, lips close to your ear as you curl your body into him as he whispers, all gruff and quiet so only you—and not a fly or spirit could hear—says, “I’ve always been just yours, sweetheart.”

Simon doesn't expect a response. More a kiss. Maybe even a roll of your hips.

It's why he doesn't expect the words, "I'd hoped so", or the way they make him feel like he's walking on air.

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compact-turtle · 1 year

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Can we get some fun facts on Orion? He's such an interesting character to read about the way you write is immaculate

Of course!! Don’t know if these are fun facts lol but here’s a little bit about Orion, the yandere space explorer…

-was not meant to land on your planet. An unexpected asteroid through him off collision to his original destination.

-weak baby with noodle arms (at least in your eyes).

- master manipulator and gaslighter.

-likes when you accidentally hurt him (scratches him, playfully bites too hard, etc…) because it means you give him more attention. He’ll play it up saying he’s gonna die from it because humans are so weak compare to you.

“I didn’t know I could be in this much pain. I’m afraid I’ll die from this injury. Could you hold my hand and sing me a song so I feel a bit better?”

-a bit emotionally dumb and hasn’t realized his feelings for you. Just knows he doesn’t want to share you or your world with anyone else.

-has two different journals. One dedicated strictly to you. Another for whatever else he deems important.

-can do bare minimum cooking. Uhhh safer for you to do it though.

-but amazing at cleaning and organizing your house :)

-He says you go foraging “together” but it’s just you babysitting. You have to make sure he isn’t eaten by a creature while he’s scribbling notes in his journal. Has happened multiple times ( ；´Д｀)

-is the epitome of the kid who touches stuff at the store when their parents (you) tell them not to.

-got offered the mission because the original explorer died. He was the only one who volunteered. The team was on a tight schedule from their superiors and had no other choice but him.(Otherwise they wouldn’t have let someone with no survival skills go)

-complains a lot.You’ll take him on trips and he’ll complain about his his feet hurt. Ends with you carrying him. Thankfully he feels as light a feather to you so it’s not a big deal.

-adores when you play with his hair. He enjoys the feeling of you running your fingers through it or when you braid it.

-will die if he doesn’t receive at least one instance of physical contact . Could just be snuggling together in bed or you carrying him through the woods.

-loves doing culture exchanges with you. He’ll tell you stories about his people and you’ll sing songs from your culture.

-hates when you feed him vegetables. Would rather starve

-on the other hand. Loves sweet things and has the biggest sweet tooth.

-has become spoiled because of you. You adore your new friend so you often bring him presents.

-tried to adopt a dangerous creature until you told him to put it back in the wild :(

-enjoys that he doesn’t have to pay for things. Back on his planet, his salary was pretty low since he was only a junior researcher. Didn’t help that he lived in the capital where everything was expensive.

-his diet consisted of energy drinks, caffeine, ramen noodles and candy back on his home planet

-can do a backflip if you ask (only cool trick he knows)

#male yandere #tw yandere #yandere drabble #yandere alien #male yandere x gn reader #yandere x darling #yandere imagines #Yandere space explorer #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc x you #yandere oc imagine #yandere oc #male yandere oc #yandere headcanons #yandere thoughts

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eveningepiphany · 1 year

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sick | H.S oneshot

A/N: harry’s post on Instagram about the cancellation of the LA shows inspired this— the amount of times he said sorry was so so sweet. I hope feels better soon. anyways this is my first post on here, so I hope you enjoy!

summary: Y/N looking after Harry when he’s got a bad case of the flu <3

warnings: mentions of illness and harry takes some painkillers. other than that just cute fluff between best friends that are totally inlove with eachother.

“Harry?” You knocked softly on his hotel door, hands struggling to balance the bags full of medicine, groceries and other necessities you bought for him.

A groan sounded from the other side, “coming… coming.”

The door swung open to reveal your best friend, his hair rumpled and a doona cover wrapped around his shirtless frame.

“Wow— you look like you’ve gonna through the wringer, H.” You say gingerly, taking in his eye bags.

Somehow, as much as you can tell he looks sick, he still looks cute.

“Feel like I’m dying.” He croaks, walking back into the room, allowing you to follow behind.

“Y’didnt have to come though.” He says, laying back down on the bed as you begin to unpack the many things you bought over for him.

“Don’t be stupid, of course I did. You’re sick.” You roll your eyes.

“I don’t want you getting sick aswell, Y/N. This is awful.”

“I know, but you would do the same for me.” You sigh, grabbing some pain relief and water as you head over to where he lays.

The TV is playing your favourite show, the one you both watch together, and he’s clearly been binge watching it.

You sit down next to him carefully, reaching your hand up to touch his forehead. It’s uncomfortably warm.

“Take these.” You prompt, and he half opens his eyes.

He takes the two pills from your palm and moves to sit up a bit.

He slips them onto his tongue, and you bring the cool glass of water up to his lips, letting him wash the pain relief back.

He thanks you before laying his head back down, hand coming up to rub at his eyes.

“Feel so bad for not being able to play.” He sighs, and you knew this would have been on the forefront of his mind.

You smiled sadly, it’s just too sweet how dedicated he is to his fans. Placing the glass on his bedside table you scoot closer to him.

“C’mere.”

“Noooo—“ he drones, “you’ll get sick.”

“Jesus Christ Harry, you’re too bloody caring.” You laugh as he tries to roll away from you.

You pull him into a hug, that he’s trying with his little energy left to resist.

Your hand goes to his hair and he immediately begins to cave, body slowly sinking into your arms.

“You did everything you could, and everyone will appreciate that so much.”

“It’s more than ok to put yourself first, Harry. Especially when it’s regarding your health.” You whisper to him.

“Yea, you’re right. There’s no way I would’ve been able to play tonight anyway, but I still feel terrible.”

“I know it really sucks, but it’s pretty much done now, so let’s just focus on getting better hm?”

“Hate seeing you like this.”

“Hate you having to see me like this.” He groans, eyes closed.

“Come on, not the first time I’ve done it.”

“That does not make me feel better.” He chuckles.

“I mean you’ve probably dealt with far worse from me.”

He smiles, knowing where you’re going with this. A handful of stories you rarely bring up to save your dignity.

But your desperate to have him feel even just a little better, so self-deprecation it is.

“Least you’re not nearly shitting yourself.”

Last year you had picked up a stomach bug on a family holiday, which Harry had come to, and it hit you out of no where.

Poor Harry was sharing a room with you, and had to deal with the constant running to the toliet, crying and clingy-ness— because of course you’re not only an emotional wreck when sick, but you crave comfort.

He stayed inside with you for half the holiday, looking after you, making sure you stayed hydrated.

“The amount of times you cried when that happened.”

“Whatever, you’re just as clingy when you’re sick though.” You tease.

“I don’t remember inviting you over here.” He sniffed.

“Yea but you would not even actually try to make me leave. You want me to look after you.”

He let out a yawn, “I like when you’re here. So I guess that’s true.”

“I’ll make you some soup, that way you’ll like me even more.” You laugh, looking down at where he’s practically curled into your side.

He stayed quiet for a few minutes, his breathing slowing out— god knows how much sleep he’d gotten last night, probably stressing about the shows.

“Y/N.” He sounded gravely as he spoke, voice riddled with sleep.

“Mmhm?”

“I love you.” He slurred, and you’re not sure he even means to be telling you this right now.

Sure, you say it all the time to eachother in passing. But the way he’s telling you now feels all the more personal, tucked into your chest.

“Like really do love you.” He reaffirms, and your heart flutters.

“Tell me again when you’re not delusional from your fever, m’kay?” You whisper.

He nods gently.

“I love you too, H.” And you can’t help but follow the words you just uttered with a kiss to his cheek.

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #best friends to lovers #best friend!harry #love on tour #fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles blurb

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sokkabackbender2021 · 2 months

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ok y’all i finally finished the neflix live action avatar and…….don’t hate me……..but i enjoyed it 😭 my standards for entertainment is honestly on whether or not it entertained me, so honestly i question my standards.

first off, the visuals and score was absolutely amazing. the fight scenes were well choreographed, and the bending, which i was super nervous about, looked actually amazing.

i think we can all agree the writing and dialogue was pretty choppy at times, and the delivery could be better at times. but i also think (most) of the energy of the original characters was captured well. katara honestly got done the dirtiest because why was she so…….not passionate??? i’m hoping later on she gets more so because that’s a key trait of katara. i was very disappointed with that :/

what they did to suki too……..i liked her being a little awkward and such because it makes sense but i felt like too much of her character was dedicated to her having a crush on sokka. like where is her attitude, her ferocity?

i think aang was played very well by gordon cormier, especially considering this is a child actor we are taking about. his line delivery isn’t going to be great and yes he is a real boy so he can’t be as cartoony as some would hope but i think he was absolutely adorable.

surprise surprise, i loved dallas liu as zuko. i think there were some pretty whack line deliveries but he really captured the anger and cringeyness of zuko well. his martial arts were also also incredible, his fight scenes were my favorite to watch. the scene with him crying quietly on the bed when ozai banishing him shattered me, his subtle acting is underrated honestly.

i have my beef with ian ousley as sokka mostly because of the controversy and such, but i can’t lie he did play sokka well. yet again, as for the last characters, some line deliveries were iffy but he was still a very believable sokka.

so for the writing, i have LOTS OF OPINIONS. there were things they cut that definitely upset me, and that was just because of their lowkey questionable pacing. as much as i hate the slimeball, i missed a lot of the interesting parts of zhao’s story that they cut like his agni kai, jeuong jeuong (aang’s fear of fire??), zuko SAVING him. i feel like they had something interesting there with building a fake alliance with him and zuko, and they didn’t build more off it. [edit] that so, the dude who played zhao had me losing my shit. his line delivery was hilarious and i just love that zhao just gives that manager no one likes/that one creepy math teacher in high school vibes (only combination i could think of y’all).

the additions to zuko’s story was something i absolutely loved. i found myself actually getting very emotional with a lot of the flashbacks, and the 41st division being his crew 🥹🥹 but then i find myself being upset that we were shown other flashbacks so early (like the death of katara’s mother??).

i actually hate the hate azula’s actress is getting. she’s playing a 14 year old……like a 14 year old?? she wasn’t even in season 1 in the og so ofc she’s gonna not be the same, i’m hoping this means they’re building up her up to her fierceness in season 2.

one last critique PLEASE GET A WIG BUDGET GOOD LORD THOSE WIGS WERE BAAAAD. and also a lot of their costumes looked fake or like plastic this was actually my least favorite part 😭

overall, not as horrible as people make it out to be, i had a good time but obviously the og will always be the higher quality product. i’m just glad the young actors seemed to really be passionate for the project :)

#atla #avatar the last airbender #natla #natla spoilers #zuko #sokka #azula #katara #iroh #atla live action #netflix atla #i’m always going into a war zone with atla opinions #it’s a passionate fandom

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gojos-thot-patrol · 1 year

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Some good old fluff! How would the JJK men comfort a sad s/o and vise versa? 🫂 HCs please and thanks!

ooo, I love this!!! We all need some fluff in our life, lets do this!

Now Presenting...

Starring Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Kento Nanami, and Ryomen Sukuna

Satoru Gojo

Gojo’s method of trying to comfort you is trying to make you laugh.

Gojo is the “Run from you emotions and never ever ever confront that shit” and while he would never push that on to you, it’s how he knows how to cope

He’d hold you close while making soft jokes just to try and make you smile

Hopefully if you’re with Gojo you have a sense of humor, even a dark one, so hopefully it doesn’t hurt your feelings more.

If it does, he P A N I C S but internally to not stress you out more. Outwardly he softly apologizes and shuts the hell up

Which is honestly probably what you need as well

He brings you tea for sure

Tea is warm and safe and comforting, and here: Put it inside you, it helps

He’s doing his best, ok?

Making him feel better is a little more straightforward.

Make him laugh, make him giggle, joke around with him anything.

When Gojo is sad, the last thing he wants to do is think about it. That can be saved for late at night when he can't sleep. For now, he just wants to take his mind off of it.

So just make him laugh. It won’t be hard honestly.

Sit with him and distract him, he’ll feel better eventually.

Your proximity to him ensures that.

Suguru Geto

His comfort is quiet. It’s him holding you while you cry into him, assuring you it will all be ok.

It’s gentle forehead kisses and back rubbing while you cuddle on the bed

He wraps the two of you in your favorite blanket and turning on your comfort medias.

He’s willing to cancel the day and just stay with you and be there for you when you’re upset, honestly

He’s dedicating all of his time and love into you while you're emotionally recovering

And when he’s upset he honestly just wants the same thing.

He wants you to rest your head on his chest and tell him how much you love him.

He needs to know you're going to be there for him, no matter what and unconditionally.

Geto is in an almost constant emotional pain, and he’s extremely good at hiding it.

So when it gets to the point that it’s visible you know it’s bad. It’s soul crushing.

And a part of him hates the fact that all it takes is a hug from you to soothe that pain, just a little.

A part of him is relieved that he has you to remove some of this immense emotional burden off of him.

But 100% of him is positive that he needs you, more than he needs air.

So just hug him for a little bit when he’s sad, yea?

Kento Nanami

He does the guy thing where he tries to find solutions

Even if you don’t want solutions.

He copes with his own sadness by trying to solve the problem, so logically that would help others, right?

But, if you communicate with him that you don’t want solutions you just want to vent, he will shut up and listen.

But, ya gotta communicate that first.

He’d probably make you your favorite warm meal while you talk as well, that way you have another form of comfort when you finished venting.

He makes that as well as your favorite hot drink

When he’s upset, he wants to talk about it.

He wants you to sit with him and come up with ways to try and solve the situation. Just talking with you helps really

He finds your voice rather soothing

And if there really is no way possible to fix it, he wants a distraction.

Talk to him about the weather, what shows you like, how your day has been.

He doesn't want to waste energy on what he can’t fix.

He'd rather pour that energy into you.

Ryomen Sukuna

AH SHIT, HERE WE GO AGAIN

I struggle so hard anytime yall want Sukuna to get all cute and fluffy because he Does. Not. Function. Like That!

Sukuna doesn’t do comfort. When he sees you cry he gets annoyed.

He tells you to stop, like full stop my guy lmaooo

He’s like throwing toilet paper rolls at you like “Tears! Ahh! Dry them, Dry them!”

….Buuuuuutttt It wouldn’t be my Sukuna if he didn’t have a soft spot.

Sukuna is avoiding you, yes. But, you do find small comforts around the house. Ones that he surely left you.

Little candies or even flowers.

And eventually, late at night, he does come around to hold you while you drift into sleep.

Not for you though, not at all. All of this is for him…somehow. Just trust me, ok!

When he’s upset, if you were smart you’d steer clear of him.

But you’re in love with Sukuna, so how smart could you be?

That was a self burn btw.

Comforting Sukuna is honestly just being domestic with him.

DO NOT acknowledge the fact he’s in pain. That's calling him out for being vulnerable and that will not end well.

But, do make him some tea and talk to him about your day. Ask him to sit with you while you tend to the flowers, or walk the grounds with you. Cuddle into his side while “forcing” him to watch something on tv.

Those are the little things he needs. Despite what Ryomen says, he’s completely and utterly in love with you, you being alive is testament to that. So when he’s upset, all he wants to do is be near you.

Ryomen is constantly paranoid that you don't actually have feelings for him. For all intents and purposes, you shouldn’t. So, when he gets even a little bit of confirmation that you actually do love him too, that’s all he needs to feel even a little bit better.

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daisys-reality · 1 year

Text

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆

What kind of person is your DR significant other?

General disclaimer: super long reading ahead. This pac reading is meant for my reality shifters who have a special someone in their desired reality. This reading is timeless in a way but you can adjust it as you see fit. I hope you guys enjoy this. <3 All of them were cuties, you guys have good taste. 💫

If you like to read more pac readings from me, feel free to check out my masterlist ! If you want to share your experiences and/or give me feedback and/or share pac ideas, I would be very happy if you send me an ask over tumblr !!! (Also, fyi I don't own any of these beautiful pics, I just edited them!)

pile one

Hello pile one! Your s/o is definitely a strong person - not necessarily physically (could be) but I’m feeling more so that they have a strong core - mental and emotional strength. Self-confident and proud of their abilities and even physical shape, ready to perform feats any time. With their unwavering focus they have their eyes on their goal, to be on top. They can be very patient if they want to be but they must win by all means, they hate losing. Their energy is regal, they naturally demand respect. Their strife and energy is inspiring for some, for others it’s a bit intimidating. They can be quite calculating and like to think things through, but sometimes their impulses win them over. They surely don’t like dancing to someone else's tune, it’s just not for them lol. Even though they have great leadership qualities, they are more on the introverted spectrum - but definitely by no means shy. They don’t have a lot of close/intimate connection, not many know their inner core. Though they always strive to become better in every sense, personal (and I would even say spiritual) growth is important for them, they even dedicate their whole life to that because they want to ‘master’ themself. Some might mistake them as hard to access or aloof but those with a keener eye know better. They are very observant, stealth and precise in their words and actions. They just do not like wasting energy or resources. Their presence is strong but peacefully calm (if not provoked lol). Reliable and grounded. They might at times tend to get too serious or withdraw too much (for example in stressful times).

They are not the type to do anything merely for the sake of a whim or pleasure; they live to "satisfy their hunger," without hurting anyone for the sake of ordinary self-satisfaction. I feel like there is a great need to be surrounded by luxury and wealth - even better if they have lots of power. Ok this could seem greedy to some but they are also perfectly capable of enjoying the here and now and all the things that surround them while simultaneously striving for an even better future. Could be that where they are now is very different to where their life started. They are the type that is always solving some problems because they can identify them maybe more quickly than others. Justice and fairness are also values they live by, they actually have nice intentions and want everyone to get along … omg i think they were actually a softie as a kid but life teached them the hard way :( . They truly just desire stability and balance, and they will fight as long as they can make these desires come true. They have high (and precious) ideals but sadly in the real world ideals rarely exist in pristine form and justice is elusive - forcing them (and everyone else) to have to make some decisions and to adjust once ideals and values. They have learned their lessons the hard way - or will their whole life. Hardworking, and also very prideful. I think they do care quite a bit about traditions and their reputation. I also feel like they can be pretty straightforward, blunt even. They mean what they say and say what they mean. They prioritize truth above all. They are usually active and assertive. No nonsense person - even when it comes to appearance. They prefer practicality and are more so unpretentious in their style. I think they love being physically active in all kinds of ways (iykwim lmao) - depending on what world their living in - I can also see them even enjoying fighting or battling other people (until all their energy is burn off/until their reach their limit and then training more and more).

Even emotionally they are honest. They have integrity and they don’t play mind games and are unafraid to admit that they’re wrong. Mature but not afraid to express themselves. Love matters and such are usually not on the front of their mind. Their surroundings might be quite demanding (many responsibilities, people who rely on them etc). If you are in a connection/relationship/friendship with them, they would always let you know where you stand with them/ where you’re heading with them. The type of person who will be clear about what they are looking for. With this person, it’s suggested that you take everything they say at face value. The truth may sometimes hurt, but at least they are telling the truth. *

Physically, they mastered the art of looking effortless. Funnily enough they could have the certain “je ne sais quoi” vibe about them that many envy. Something that would normally look disheveled on another person looks sexy on them - that kinda thing. They don’t follow trends. They are very laid back and chill, with a slight youthful energy. They also give me the vibe of ‘They eat what they want when they want it, and they work out when they feel like it.’ I guess it has to do with their belief that life is short to base it around what others think is right and what not etc.

They are the type of person that is kinda apathetic about their general surroundings. Mhm maybe it’s just the fact that they are struggling with their own life and are too distracted by their own issues to worry about others. Emotionally they could also be a bit careless. They can come off as ungrateful and lacking in self-awareness. This person regardless of your DR setting I think is not as much concerned with larger social justice issues. This person may be very short-sighted in that sense. They refuse to get involved with situations unless they can directly benefit from it. If it doesn’t affect them, it is not of their concern lmao. Ok, this seems a bit harsh but I feel like this kind of selfish attitude is working like a shell for them. I said before that they maybe were very ‘soft and pure’ as a child and it could be that they were also quite sensitive, okay? And you know I suppose that life treated them too harshly which in turn made them cold and even apathetic. You know those villains in movies that were actually very kind as a child but abuse and what not made them get astray from their path. I’m not saying that your s/o is a villain or villainous but they just learned that caring too much about others or being too naive is not worth it in the end and will only hurt you. And I feel like they sometimes present themselves colder and harsher than they actually are to protect themselves. To be honest, I usually analyze the things I pick up and filter them accordingly but the first messages I be getting from them are all like ‘I’m indifferent. I don’t care about other people, I’m very cold towards others. I’m arrogant yada yada…’ which kinda seems like a self mantra or like affirmation you tell yourself where I am like why tf you being like this ?? lmao…So, yeah…again, it takes some time and lot’s of patience to feel comfortable enough to share parts of themselves. It could be that at some point in their life they hated themselves for their softer side. They wanted to become stronger and colder. They hated being on the receiving end of this harsh reality, they wanted to be on top, maybe they also wanted revenge of some sort. I think they kinda like showing their rough edges or intimidating others. Because you know, if people are intimidated by you they usually do not dare to disrespect you, right? It could also have to do with their pride and with them hating revealing any weakness of theirs.

Also, whatever they are working on in their life, their work life makes up a large portion of their identity. They take a lot of pride in the amount of work they put into their achievements. This might also not be very apparent to others but I feel like they often reach their limit, working for too long, too hard and just ending up really tired and burned out. I feel like they rarely engage in anything self-care related. However, I see that if there is something important to them, then they are 100% willing to put in the work. Not only are they hard-working in a professional sense, they’re willing to work on their relationships, spirituality, and self-improvement. They make an effort with their looks, and they work out. Their workaholism may negatively impact their health. And their ‘career’ ambitions usually motivate them to always appear presentable — just in case they run into anybody important. They could also be meticulous with their diet and health routines.

Emotionally, they work on their emotions and thoughts systematically. This person may enjoy journaling or chronicling their experiences. At some point in their life they will learn how to process their feelings in a constructive way. They generally understand that anything worthwhile takes work and time to build up, whether it’s a relationship or a business. If you’re romantically involved with this person, they could be the type who would be willing to go to couples therapy to work on your relationship issues. It does seem like they believe in fixing what they already have rather than giving up. They are the type to make you feel like you’re with somebody who makes an effort. Whether you’re linked to this person romantically, platonically, or professionally, there’s a sense that they give as much into the relationship as you do. They don’t make you do all the work. This person is also persistent in everything they do. Always working on their self-improvement, they also have the humility to learn something new at every stage of life. To be honest, if you take the time to get to know them, you will see that they’re truly a sincere and earnest person.

(*Actually, I had finished this reading at this point already and started doing the other two piles but they turned longer than pile one and I felt the need to continue this pile at another time. I don’t know if this information is useful for you. But I feel your s/o just really takes a lot of time to open up, they have a lot of different layers to them and a hard shell. Their true inner self is a lot more different than how they seem to be outwardly. Just so you know, with this person you really gotta be patient if you want to build something whether it’s true friendship or a romantic relationship.)

(** I also wanted to let you know that I mentioned your s/o a little bit in pile two, I will just copy-paste here, so that you don’t have to read the whole 2nd pile: ��Like pile one they can be very very patient! At first I got the feeling that the energy of pile two seems a little similar to pile one (only slightly) but while pile one seems more like the male lead of some isekai manhwa (like the typically black haired red eyes archduke lmao) that other people label as the villain - logical, unpredictable (kinda wild), powerful, intimidating and confident but a little withdrawn; pile two seems more like the second male lead - appearing smart and polite with a charming personality but then you find out they are actually controlling the whole empire behind the scenes and know everything that is going on lmao (obviously this comparison with ‘male leads’ has nothing to do with their gender - I just read too many isekai manhwas).)

(*** Also, I don’t why but the whole time during the reading I thought about Madara Uchiha from Naruto [I am a naruto stan btw so no shame✋] Even though he was one of the main villains, he was a softie as a child. He lived in cruel (war) times, lost all his family members (esp. his precious little brother at the end) and the ‘betrayal’ of his clan and the mistreatment from his one and only friend and true love just made him lose his mind… :( Anyways, I can understand if you shift for him sfjdk)

-> Possible energies in their chart : They definitely have strong air energy in some form in their chart mixed with a little earth and fire. Specifically, they could have/be one of the following signs: Libra, Capricorn, Virgo, Leo, Sagittarius (maybe even Scorpio/Cancer).

-> Timeless messages for you from them :

I hope the future will bring us together.

They took their time with this one lmao - I thought I wouldn’t get a message from them at first because they were hesitating to share something - but after this reading we all know they truly mean it from the bottom of their heart hehe

Once I continued this reading I tried to get a few more messages for you:

I don’t know what you see in me…

You shouldn’t wait for me. Prioritize your happiness.

It could lead to problems...

Other things/people were interfering and trying to control me and this connection.

I’m working on myself…I want a fresh start.

Not seeing you is hurting me so much…

The last message dayumm… Another advice I got from you which I think is more so regarding your shifting journey is that you’re asked to be patient because the passing of time will naturally solve your problems. In some situations only endurance helps. In the meantime, try to relax and focus on your happiness. Do something kind for yourself that warms your heart and treasure those seconds when you feel your heart beating. Also don’t reveal or show your personal treasures and things that are important to you to just anyone - not everyone is capable of understanding its preciousness. Just know and rest assured that everything will solve itself with time.

Thank you for reading, I would be very happy for some feedback. <3 Wishing you good luck on your journey, pile one!!

pile two

Hello pile two! Your s/o has a very calm energy. You might lose your sense of time while looking into their eyes lol. Something about their eyes or their gaze is special, mesmerizing even. They are very good at observing and analyzing; paying attention to details. There might be a tendency to overthink or over-analyze or just to take it to extremes at times - falling into traps of pettiness or obsession or being overly critical. This obviously not always the case but there MIGHT be a tendency. But all this observing is not for nothing, I see that they are very skilled and talented in what they do. The type to learn from other people’s mistakes while observing and acting behind the scenes. Like pile one they can be very very patient! Like pile one they can be very very patient! At first I got the feeling that the energy of pile two seems a little similar to pile one (only slightly) but while pile one seems more like the male lead of some isekai manhwa (like the typically black haired red eyes archduke lmao) that other people label as the villain - logical, unpredictable (kinda wild), powerful, intimidating and confident but a little withdrawn; pile two seems more like the second male lead - appearing smart and polite with a charming personality but then you find out they are actually controlling the whole empire behind the scenes and know everything that is going on lmao (obviously this comparison with ‘male leads’ has nothing to do with their gender - I just read too many isekai manhwas).

They’re someone that people might underestimate at first or think that they are harmless - maybe that’s exactly how they want to appear mhm… I do get the feeling that they are very good at seducing and charming people into doing what they want (they probably seduce you with their eyes and a little smile sdkslja). I just heard ‘they eye of the storm’, boii ok they can be really really calm even when everything around them is in chaos (- maybe that’s their doing?? lmao), they can shut out any distraction in order to analyze what is truly going on. And they can be very tenacious and persistent while actualizing their plans. I already mentioned that they are very skilled in some way but they also have an artistic side to them. I am not sure what exactly it is - it might be different for each of your s/o’s - some might be creative with fashion, self expression, acting, with music or instruments or other creative tools while for example planning how to reach their goals. Or maybe even with plants and nature if we look at this pile’s picture! Either way, they have an eye for aesthetics as well.

There is definitely something working behind the scenes, in hiding, under different names or with wearing masks (literally or metaphorical) - I think they learned in life that doing so usually works in their favor but it also at times limits their creativity and I feel like it created some (still unresolved) issues regarding self image and success. Maybe they’re suffering from imposter syndrome; always questioning who they really are ‘Am I who my audience thinks I am? What if I want to grow into something more/different?’ - is this creative ego fear? idk but in this aspect they seem like a ‘suffering artist’ - i think this shows itself more strongly in stressful times; then, they might also become more competitive. Not only are they good at creating new things and actualizing them, it also helps them to balance and calm themselves down in those times.

Their energy is very focused and sovereign. They also have natural leadership qualities but it manifests differently than in pile one’s s/o; it is more indirect and less straightforward and less pushy because pile two understands other people and their feelings and motivation better and they can use this to lead the people in the direction they want. I think they have always easily drawn other people’s attention but they might have been more shy in their childhood and only learned over time to just accept the spotlight - and to use it efficiently. As a child they might have been the type to ‘let life happen to them’, living their life very passively - maybe they had people around them that were very dominant/authoritative/manipulative/moody and your s/o just learned to observe and analyze, to adjust themselves and to be obedient. Maybe they weren’t even interested in taking on responsibilities or even to take control of their own life - I have a feeling that they were pushed into a position early on in their life that they really didn’t like. Only over time they gathered their courage, gained their confidence and took on their rightful place. On a side note, their older self might have a tendency to become slightly arrogant - they should avoid this.

They are an investor type of person, patient, methodical and systematic, not afraid to move slowly. They understand the importance of nurturing and cultivating the people and things they care about. A balance between masculine and feminine, active and passive, assertive and receptive. Taking their time when it comes to their body, health and their physical appearance. For them it’s a good investment to treat their physical body well. Persistent and disciplined, but also patient with themselves. They would never push themselves too hard at training or dieting or whatever. They prefer wearing clothes of high quality (talking about good investments again lol) rather than following some fashion trends. Not only are they good at patiently saving up for quality items they also tend to keep their investment pieces for a very long time. Timeless and practical in style.

Even emotionally they are patient and persistent. Not the type to rush anything. Keen observer who likes gathering information before making decisions. As a friend they are very generous and selfless - maybe even the type of person who likes to provide and help all of their friends (they don’t expect really anything in return but pls show at least your appreciation - they will maybe turn a blind eye to it a few times but if the disrespect keeps on repeating itself (you exploiting them and being rude) I can assure you it won’t end well for you lmao - don’t force them to be mean to you!). In romantic involvements with this person, don’t expect this person to commit quickly - even with people and relationships they take their time to analyze, observe and nurture. Slow burn. They are actually quite good at nurturing others (like they are good at self care) and they can be very passionate. Always thinking long term. A visionary at times. They are the type of person who makes you feel like it’s ok to slow down and take your time. They are not quitters but they know how to rest and when to let go of what they can’t control.

I think the picture really fits them well (regardless of gender); them in a white simple but pretty dress tending towards their plants with care while standing in this calm and pretty environment which they alone created - like in a safe peaceful bubble. A creator and nurturer.

-> Possible energies in their chart : They definitely have strong earth energy in some form in their chart mixed with a little fire and water. Specifically, they could have in their chart: Virgo, Taurus, Leo, strong Saturn and Mercury energy, strong Pluto/8th house,

-> Timeless messages for you from them :

We are healing and learning with all of this.

I am jealous just imagining you being with someone else.

I have always loved you… I’m sorry for realizing it so late.

This is too much for me right now…

I am not ready (yet).

You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.

You, my dear pile two, have or will definitely have something romantically going on there hehe… The order of these messages seem a little messed up but that’s how I received them. I felt ‘yearning energy’ from them but it felt a little hesitant and a bit uncontrolled - like they feel a lot for you but also want to take this slow and not rush this because they respect you and value you really a lot!

Thank you for reading, I would be very happy for some feedback. <3 Wishing you good luck on your journey, pile two!!

pile three

Hello! Dear pile three, your s/o surely is a person with a unique personality or they are quite unique or special to you/in your perception. One of the first things that I got about them is that they are a systems thinker, always figuring out how to get everything working together effectively. I can tell that they love well-built structures and nothing makes them happier than when everything is running smoothly and everyone is doing their part. By contrast, nothing annoys them more than when systems are poorly designed or built. You know they are the type of person that thinks that one never changes things by fighting the existing reality; to change something, you have to build a new model that makes the existing one obsolete. Once they understand the impact of a given action, they will never be able to ignore that problem until they have done their part to fix it.

They just excel at figuring things out and optimizing them. In fact, they have literally no tolerance in efficient things lmao. To be honest, it feels like it takes a bit of work to get them to work together. I think they have a slow internal processor (also very micro focused) - does that make sense? - either way that doesn't mean they’re stupid - in fact they are quite intelligent and have a sharp mind! Also, their sense of responsibility is quite strong. They’re always doing something and are quite stubborn/rigid in their ways - not very flexible. They are list makers and are all about the process. When things do not go as planned they can be very moody. In fact, the slightest interruption to a plan is enough to ruin their entire day (lmao I feel this). They are very detail oriented, for them specifics equal sincerity. They just have extremely high standards (often perfection) especially for themselves but also for other people). Even though they just want to improve the things around them, it might often seem to others that they are just overly critical - like nothing is good enough for them. I honestly feel like they do not get along well with others easily. They surely are incredibly loyal and also self denying. If you’re someone important to them they would do anything for you and I can assure it will be done well! While it often doesn’t seem that way from an outsider perspective, they do tend to put everyone else's needs ahead of their own and if they're not careful they will become resentful of this because they feel the burden to do it. At times this is a very justified feeling, at others it is a self-inflicted choice to take on the tasks. They are very practical and logical. Their thought process is analytical and systematic. This means that they have a specific way in which they feel things should be done. If it does not go as planned or if it does not go in this way, they feel it is "wrong" and this irritates them which in my opinion is comprehensible if you understand how their mind works. Flexibility is not in the inherent skill set for them. If they find a method, they stick to it.

It is important to notice that their intention is truly to help other people; however, more often than not, it feels like criticism to those people but this is just because it is hard for others to understand your s/o. I truly think they are not good at expressing themselves. They might have suffered from this - like being misunderstood, people finding their presence ‘annoying’ - too strong, too negative - and therefore they might have always been excluded or rejected by their peer groups. Of course this might have played out differently for each of your s/o’s my pile three people. When people suffer from such intense need for perfection, they usually have grown up in an environment where their parental figures (or just the people around them) made them feel like ‘this level of perfection’ is the norm - and if they don’t reach this level they are ‘complete failures or just useless’. They might have been emotionally pressured from early on, probably not having experienced much ‘healthy’ love - I say this because if they have done well, they might have received some kind of superficial/fake ‘love’ but only for those moments until they would have ‘failed the expectations’ again. This screams toxic emotionally/mentally unstable or distant parents. I don’t want to go any deeper into their childhood, right? But there is a reason why people are the way they are. Your person probably has never been ‘seen’ the way they truly are, never been understood - they just lived for someone else, constantly working hard, bearing the pressure, just to help someone else, to reach those imposed expectations, just to receive love and maybe even an approval for their existence. They always feel so much weight on their shoulders. So, to give you some tips, try not to take offense when they are serious and hyper focused. And, know that it is important to them that you appreciate their contributions. They value logic and need everything to make sense, so be sure you explain your point thoroughly. And finally, if you seem unstructured, or “willy nilly” to them this will create anxiety and possibly even a lack of trust! So, be careful with this. Show them respect by respecting their need for quality, logic, and structure. This person is probably wise beyond their years. This might surprise you at first. Behind their normal facade, they may have a lot of wisdom to share.

For physical characteristics, your s/o probably doesn’t put too much weight on fashion or anything they wear. They may have a very wise worldview on fashion and style. For example, they may choose what to wear in an almost philosophical way, but at the same time, they don’t take fashion too seriously lol. They might be the type to care about how the garments they wear were sourced or produced. They are someone who is practical in the way they dress, prioritizing ease of movement. They may enjoy wearing athleisure, light fabrics. I feel like their preferred look might be very active and athletic. They might enjoy spending time outdoors and/or hiking. Overall, they give me the vibes that they are very at peace with their physical appearance and that they’re very self-accepting and easygoing. If they do not appear that way at the time you get to know them, then it might have to do with their past/childhood which I assume was not really the best - so to say ‘unresolved childhood issues/trauma’. Even though they might have had some self harm inflicting habits or tendencies in their childhood, I feel like with age they learned the importance of a healthy body (but it feels like it’s more so because of efficiency than self love/self worth but oh well), so they learned how to treat their body better - this might even have turned to some health-obsession where they’re like super strict with their daily schedule, their diet etc. It truly depends on where on the journey your s/o is. (I still do think that they have some not healthy habits - I would even go as far and say coping mechanisms where they might punish themselves in some form when they feel like a ‘failure’ - which they obviously aren’t but they just have a rather questionable perception of themselves at times.)

Emotionally, they might be someone who carries their life lessons with them wherever they go. Even when young, this person might carry life lessons from previous past lives with them (if you believe in this). Even though their past might seem a little extreme, I don’t think they are living in the past or are stuck in the past - the past experiences don’t embitter this person (I don’t think that they blame anyone from their past - they rather would blame themselves), their experiences just make them more cautious and intentional. At some point in their life, they could have some spiritual awakening in some form. Your s/o’s raison d’être (other than improving things around them) may also be to seek out truths. They either hold a large amount of responsibility in their life or their job/profession, or they just take it very seriously. Honestly, your s/o’s presence might often not be very pleasant to other people but in my opinion with the wisdom your s/o’s shares and the way they life their life it forces people to see the uncomfortable truth and to learn, to move on and to grow - and we all know this is most often not a nice experience which might trigger consciously or unconsciously those people hence their negative attitude/reaction towards your s/o. If you ever struggle with something, I can tell you that your s/o can probably give the best advice, helping you change your perspective - it might be some hurtful truth but it is meant well on their end.

As I said before, they usually have good intentions and they have a selfless side to them. They are very generous - to themselves and others (but because of their past experience it might have been very hard to be generous to themselves for a longer period of time). Even if they are not wealthy, this person may be generous with their time and energy. They could be a good listener or a good friend to you. They might have a more passive, receptive energy. (We all have a little bit of both energies expressed in a balanced way, regardless of which gender we identify as.) They might be the type to share their food, to donate their clothes, and they’re really never secretive with advice. I think they are also very socially aware. They are very generally ‘open’ with others; they might not appear like an open book but if you ask them something they would always answer honestly, but they also know when they should not overstep. They’re the type that enjoys the finer things in life, but they would never flaunt what they have. In this aspect, they are all about balance and surely value quality over quantity.

They seem quite emotionally sensitive (in terms of sensing subtle things like other people’s intentions/moods) but also intimate, and laidback. They enjoy making the people that are important to them feel comfortable and at home. Again, they are generous with their money as well as their time. Whenever they can give to others, they probably will, and if not, they probably have a good reason for that. They always want to fulfill their end of the bargain. This is a friend that you surely want to keep around. Honestly, if you get to know them more, you would feel inspired by their generosity. They give from the kindness of their heart, not because they ask for anything in return. They are sincere. All they want is for you to pay it forward. If this doesn’t sound like your person at all, it could be because your person enjoys performing their acts of kindness in secret. They’re not doing it for show. They are the type of person who gives anonymously.

Another thing is that they might enjoy traveling (more so slowly and consciously - they are rarely in a hurry). Traveling for this person is a healing experience. They focus on the journey rather than the destination. They are someone who is in the process of healing - like their whole life seems like a healing journey (from the childhood they experienced). I don’t think they are the type to dwell in the suffering tho. This person is all about moving on, healing, and entering calmer waters. This is a future-oriented person. Although they’ve gone through their fair share of challenges, they still choose to remain optimistic about what is yet to come. They might also prefer to keep a smaller circle of trusted friends and family members (it is partly also because of the reasons we mentioned above - the struggle with being understood etc.) But they are very reliable, and you can also count on them to get whatever job done. This person is also very private, even when for example their job requires them to be in the public eye.

They are the type to make you feel just as calm and mellow as they are. If you’re romantically involved with this person, even though I mention quite a bit of their flaws and struggles, this person will move on from their past and heal, they are perfectly capable of healing - and I would even go so far and say they are destined to heal in this life they’re living. So, you don’t need to worry so much. They would not let a relationship with a person they care about become toxic or harmful. They learned that much and they would never wish this upon another person - especially upon the person they love, okay? I just felt like I had to make this clear. But going back to the ‘traveling’ part; they may even live in a different city/country from you. I don’t know what you scripted but I feel like you might communicate with each other at first from a distance (if your DR is in a modern setting, it might be over phones; if it’s in a traditional/fantasy setting, it might be through letters - I even had the imagery of small note sent by some bird idk a falcon or sth). They will be pretty easy to get along with in a long distance relationship because they enjoy having some time and space for themselves and they also truly commit when they decide on it. They have a calming and healing presence about them; but I feel like it shows more when they are with people they're close with and where they can feel at ease.

You remember how I said in the beginning that your s/o is someone unique, they truly are. Most people might not see how special and I would even say how precious they are. They might have started their life as a rough diamond not knowing their own worth but the more they live the more their worth comes to surface and the people that treated them bad in the past will come to regret their actions and behavior at some point. I feel like you will see their worth and their preciousness, you acknowledge their uniqueness and I think this beautiful (let me cry in a corner for a moment.)

-> Possible energies in their chart : They definitely have strong air energy in some form in their chart mixed with a little earth and water. Specifically, they could have in their chart: Aquarius, Taurus/Libra, Pisces, Capricorn, Virgo, strong Venus, Moon, Mercury and/or Saturn energy.

-> Timeless messages for you from them :

Don’t wait for me. I want you to be happy. And I don’t know how long it will take for me to be ready.

It just scares me to feel so much…

I’m feeling the consequences of my actions.

I’m sure I’m dreaming about you but I can’t seem to remember.

Things moved too fast and I didn’t know how to trust my feelings for you.

Please forgive me, I messed up.

I’m taking this seriously.

The order of these messages seem a little messed up but that’s how I received them. Based on their energy it seemed like they’re feeling apologetic towards you and are being quite hard on themselves because of what happened/will happen. Regarding the first message, they don’t want you to actively wait because it also puts pressure on them as well. They want you to make yourself happy NOW - even if it is just about putting on your favorite music and freely dancing to it. Being in that energy will help you find the right answer. Because they also want you to find out what you truly want without any pressure. They want to help you be your authentic self. The advice that I got was: Don’t wait for it, start now and make yourself happy. Miracles happen and sometimes life takes unexpected and wonderful turns. Be open and curious about what life has in store for you but do not actively wait for it to happen. I hope this advice makes sense and helps you somehow.

Thank you for letting me read your dr s/o’s energy. I only wish you both truly the best! If you could spare some time and give a me little feedback, I would be very grateful. <3

#pac #pac reading #shifting #shiftblr #shifting realities #my tarot readings #f/o imagines #love reading #tarot reading #pick a picture #reality shifting

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bloodypeachblog · 10 months

Note

You got any daddy Sammy Headcanons?

You fucking bet I do!

Sammy Lawrence headcanons

(This is with F!Reader, btw)

~~~♡♡♡~~~

• Sometimes his personality when he was human can show when something doesn't go right or his way or he's just annoyed. He can be a real asshole when he's like that. But if he upsets you, he would apologize later.

• the instance you responded to his 'can I get an amen?' tape with an 'amen', he fell for you almost instantly. He knew that his savior has blessed him with you, you had to be his bride. He waits til you fall asleep and he carries you to his room. You're his now.

• the songs he writes for you? Oh so lovely and romantic. He even plays them on his banjo and sings them for you.

• when he likes you, he can get a bit flustered and tongue-tied at times. When you've been together for a long time, he gets a bit better with that, but his inky heart still flutters when he sees you and hears your voice.

• if you can't sleep, he would sing you a lullaby or tell you a story from his bible (he wrote one where it's basically the christian bible, but Bendy is Jesus) until you fall asleep.

• he lets you join him on his searches for sacrifices and sometimes lets you choose their fates. They'll still die, but you get to choose how they die.

• Total. Drama. Queen. But not in a way that'd make you hate him, more in the way where you can't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it.

• guy's mind is stuck in the 1920-1930's, so if you show him something like, an iPhone, or you dress in modern clothing, his brain would probably implode.

• he LOVES listening to you read passages from his bible during sermons. He just marvels your words and pays very close attention. You could see a big smile though his mask.

• the same goes vice versa, he speaks with such energy and dedication and he smiles to himself when he sees you're just so enthralled by his preaching.

• basically when he speaks about you, he's exactly how Gomez Addams talks about Morticia. He ADORES you.

• "I would die for her. I would kill for her. Either way, what bliss." "To think, Lord Bendy has blessed me with such a beautiful angel such as yourself." "To live without you, only that would be death." "I cannot see, I am blinded by such beauty."

• pet names: Darling, Love, Angel, my little lamb, my sweet, Dear, Dearest.

♡NSFW♡

• master of seduction. Just, pure incubus skills. His soft voice makes you melt, and he knows it.

• oh he is all for foreplay. He wants his little pet to be ready for him.

• his cock is about 6 inches and pretty thick, but that's thanks to the blessings of the ink.

• *psst!* if he wanted, he could grow two of them to double-penetrate you, but he'll immediately pass out once he cums because it takes twice the energy, so he doesn't do it often.

• he wouldn't exactly whisper dirty words, but the way he phrases things...

• "don't be afraid, it's what our Lord wishes. We wouldn't want to disappoint him, now would we?" "You're so wet for me, how sweet.." "I'm so blessed that you're mine.." "You're doing so well, love..." "Just relax and let us share this bliss that our Lord has blessed us with." "Perhaps Lord Bendy will bless us with little sheep of our own tonight.."

• kinks? Well...he does like tying you up nice and tight. Can't let the little lamb run off, can he? No, he cannot. He has a praise kink, where he just loves to praise you for being such a good little wife.

• he LOVES to tease you and make you beg for him. The grin and deep chuckle he lets out from hearing your begs will make you melt.

• he'll make sure you cum a few times before he does. You'll be putty in his hands when he's done with you.

• yes, he cuddles you during the afterglow. He also whispers loving words into your ear, making sure you feel loved and cherished, because you are.

#batim sammy lawrence #batim #batim smut #batim sammy headcanons #sammy lawrence headcanons #sammy lawrence x reader #sammy lawrence #whoo mama #hallelujah #praise be unto him #all praise our lord and savior bendy

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restlessmaknae · 9 months

Text

dating (hypothetically)

One helpful act on a stranger’s part leads to a headline article the next day, and in 24 hours, your whole life takes a turn when the stranger is revealed to be the heartthrob rocker, Cho Seungyoun.

➳ Characters: solo rock singer!Seungyoun x female reader/you

➳ Genre: comedy, fluff, showbiz au

➳ Words: 7.3k

➳ Warning: mentions of paparazzi, crazy fans and therapy

➳ A/N: Dedicated to @lily-blue

➳ WOODZ taglist: @dat-town

➳ Check out: my WOODZ masterlist

Straight out of a kdrama: WOODZ is pulling his alleged girlfriend out of harm in new pictures

One of today’s hottest items, Cho Seungyoun (also known by his stage name WOODZ) was seen in a rather intimate position with his alleged girlfriend on 20th May at around 9pm in Sogong-dong. In the pictures, we can clearly see the heartthrob rocker and a mysterious young lady talking in front of a 7-Eleven store, the girl reaching something out to him, then the multitalented singer-songwriter pulling her towards him - out of harm as a motorbike is seen passing by. The close scene is making fans swoon worldwide as it looks like a scene straight out of a kdrama.

However, some fans expressed their disappointment that their favourite singer is seen around a young lady as he has not announced that he was taken. On top of that, just a month before the incident, WOODZ was quick to reassure fans at his latest fansign that he was single, and went on to explain that his songs were mostly about searching for one’s self-identity, telling his haters off and raging about today’s society because he did not have a lot of experience in love.

Meanwhile, WOODZ debuted as a solo rock singer in 2021, and is one of the emerging artists of today’s music scene in South Korea, shaking up the hearts of young girls with his aesthetic and high-energy MVs, head bobbing songs and even his not so secret tattoos (which you can see in this previous article).

Check out the pictures of WOODZ and his alleged girlfriend below!

What do you think about the news? Are you happy for WOODZ and his alleged girlfriend?

Most of the time, you would not read such articles. You didn’t care about celebrities’ rumours, you watched their movies, shows and listened to their music, but you couldn’t care less about whom they dated and whom they didn’t. You knew that it was usually fake either way, or if it was actually true, then it was disgusting that paparazzis could put pictures up on the Internet, and the celebrities in question would be the ones receiving all the hate, not the ones who took the pictures without the others’ consent.

However, now, you were the one involved, you were the one seen in the pictures, and given the location, given the unmistakably hanging 7 on the sign behind you, anyone who frequented this particular area knew that it was this specific 7-Eleven, not somewhere else. Your boss had been meaning to fix the hanging 7 that was pretty much a safety hazard now, but to your luck, it was caught on camera just like your work outfit and your dyed blue-black hair even if your face was blurred out. Anyone who could put two and two together would know that you were working here, not just being here on a casual date with this so-called heartthrob at 9pm.

“This is just unbelievable, who do they think they are?” You exclaimed angrily as you tossed the phone showing the article back to your co-worker, Yohan. He was the one who had brought up if you had seen the article published early in the morning after you had asked him why there were more people here than usual, and why they were giving you odd glances. So while Minhee was taking over the counter, you and Yohan were in the staff room, away from the curious eyes. Who knew when paparazzi would show up here at this rate?

“I thought the same. You and a rock singer dating? Please,” the younger boy huffed as if he had any right to talk about your non-existent love life like that when he himself wasn’t any better. When a pretty girl showed up at the counter, he basically malfunctioned. He could only be bratty to girls who treated him like a younger brother - yourself included.

“We are not dating. I was just giving his wallet back because he had left it on the table inside the store, then he thanked me for it, and then, the motorbike guy came, and yes, he did pull me towards him, but it was anything but romantic. I felt so awkward, I wanted the ground to swallow me up.”

“But why? You are the one who always complains that chivalry is dead!” Yohan pointed out with a raise of his eyebrows, and you had to give it to him that he was right.

“I don’t know, it was just… weird. He’s practically a stranger!” You reasoned as you leaned onto the shelf with the uniforms, your head throbbing ever since you had laid your eyes on the article. This could not be happening… This had to be a dream… You were the most ordinary person on Earth, why did you have to get caught up in a dating rumour with a rock singer?

“So you didn’t even exchange numbers that would mean you could contact him now?” Yohan broke the momentary silence, his face pondering. You, on the other hand, gave him a deadly glare as if he had asked if you had killed a person.

“No, of course not. I’ve told you there’s nothing between us.”

“It’s not too good then. How are you going to discuss what to do about the whole situation?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know if celebrities discuss these things when they are rumoured to be with common people,” you reasoned, letting out a huff of air at the end of your answer. You ran a hand through your hair, not caring about the mess you would leave behind because it was a mess either way. Not just your hair but the whole situation.

As if it could get any worse, the door of the staff room flung open, and your manager walked in with his hands on his hips.

“Would anyone mind telling me why people are asking ME if the girlfriend of a certain singer is working here? And by anyone, I mean you,” he said as he pointed at you. Oh, come on, could this get any worse?

“Look, there’s nothing going on between me and that certain singer, I swear. I just went after him last night because he left his wallet behind. That’s all.”

You tried with your most confident tone and your most convincing puppy eyes, but you should have known that didn’t work on your manager. He wasn’t a bad manager, if anything, he was a reasonable boss. However, what he hated the most was drama, and if anyone caused trouble, he would go absolutely feral. Good thing that he hadn’t yet done so.

“This is still not good. People are flooding the store, and they don’t even buy anything. How did they even know it’s our store?”

“It’s because of the hanging 7 above the door,” Yohan chirped in, and even though he wanted to be helpful, it didn’t work because your boss just became even angrier.

“Fine, then I’ll fix the sign now, and you should take the day off while we figure out how to keep the peace of our store.”

“But-” You tried to protest, but your boss didn’t let you, and told you firmly to take the day off. He even mentioned that you should try to dye back your hair in case that would help with people not recognising you around here, and whilst it was reasonable on his part, you felt like a child being reprimanded for something you hadn’t even committed.

May it be your fury or the fact that you had the whole day to yourself afterwards, but you had a plan: if you didn’t know how to contact that so-called singer, you should find out where his agency was, and maybe, they would help you settle the case if you were cooperative.

Or so you hoped.

When you let Yohan know about your plan before leaving the store, he insisted on accompanying you. He came up with sillier and sillier answers as to why (what if crazy fans would flock you? What if someone would throw eggs at you? What if they wanted to throw you out of the agency when they got to know why you were there?), so you told him you would wait until the end of his shift, and then you can go together. In the meantime, you looked up this so-called WOODZ’s agency - it was his own agency according to the articles which made everything more and less intimidating at the same time -, and spiralled down into the hellhole of the internet, seeing too many versions of the story of last night, but none of them were true. Some even went as far as to say that you had been kissing after this singer had pulled you closer to him, and one commenter even said that she saw you leaving the store with the celebrity. Absolute nonsense, absolute bonkers. If you hated gossip before, now you absolutely detested it.

Getting inside the agency was no big deal as it seemed that there was an exhibition part of the building about the artist’s life that fans could visit, but getting through the receptionist to talk to Cho Seungyoun himself was more difficult.

“We can’t just let anyone inside that says that they are the girl in the articles.”

“Do you think I would come here for fun if I wasn’t that girl?” You counter-attacked the receptionist dude who couldn’t let you in for safety reasons which you could understand, but still, his explanations were getting on your nerves.

“Crazy fans do exist,” Yohan blurted out absent-mindedly beside you, totally not helping the situation. You gave him a deadly side-eye before turning back to the receptionist.

“Do they even dye their hair to the colour of my hair?” You threw the question at the dude behind the desk, then threw your hands up in the air out of frustration. “Then, what can I do to meet him? Can’t you just tell him that I’m here, and he can see for himself whether it’s me or not, then problem solved,” you suggested as your last piece of hope, and that seemed to spark something in him.

He gave you one long stare before picking up the phone and calling someone (hopefully the so-called heartthrob), then randomly took a photo of you, and when you asked what it was for, he explained that it was for identification to send to Mr Cho as he called the artist. Yohan mumbled something along the lines of ‘how cool’, and before you knew it, you were given a visitor’s pass, and told to go to the fifth floor.

“And what about me?” Yohan puckered his lips at the receptionist who seemed to be on the edge already.

“And who would you be?”

“Her colleague. Her emotional support colleague who wants to make sure that she’s treated right,” he answered all too seriously, and if you didn’t know him, you would say that he was overreacting, but you knew that he could be very adamant when it was about people who were close to him.

You two had been on good terms ever since he had started working at the convenience store and given that you were older and had worked there already, you had been the one to show him the ropes, and you had developed this sibling kind of relationship quickly. He and Minhee could talk about all the boyish topics they wanted while you gave him life advice when he needed it and got him out of trouble when he messed up an invoice or clumsily broke something.

“Fine. But no pictures or videos, either of you,” the dude warned you both before giving out a visitor pass to the younger boy as well who giddily followed you through the gates, and eventually to the fifth floor.

As soon as you stepped out, there was a 30-something guy waiting for you two who introduced himself as Han Seungwoo, WOODZ’s manager. Then, he led you to a meeting room after a few empty corners, and when you stepped inside, the rock singer was already there, looking up from a bunch of documents when you stepped inside.

Last night, the singer had been wearing a casual grey hoodie, similarly plain sweatpants and no make-up. He had looked like your typical boy-next-door, although he was far from a young boy now, and you had no handsome neighbours like him. Even though you would have wanted to deny, you couldn’t deny that he was attractive, not in a pushy way, not in an overwhelming way, but there was a certain degree of boyishness mixed in with his muscular features, and he just looked nice, even as a casual visitor last night.

Now though in a chic white shirt pulled up until his elbows, sliced back hair, slight dark make-up, he did look extra fine. Damn it, it would have been easier to shout his head off (to find a solution to the problem at hand, of course) if he hadn’t looked like that.

He stood up, bowed at you two before signalling to the chairs on the other side of the table.

“Good afternoon! Please, take a seat,” he greeted you two politely, and you exchanged a glance with Yohan beside you. Was he always extra nice, or was it because he didn’t want you to get more frustrated because he believed that you weren’t in the best mood? Either way, he was like a real gentleman, and even his voice was gentle (was a rock singer allowed to have such a gentle voice?) as he introduced himself officially while all of you were taking a seat at the table.

The artist’s manager sat beside Seungyoun himself (he mentioned that he preferred his real name, not his stage name) while you and Yohan were on the other side, introducing yourself quite clumsily, to be honest. However, Seungyoun didn’t give you an odd glance when Yohan introduced himself as your little brother-like colleague who was definitely not your boyfriend before he wanted to know.

“Well, thank you for the information,” Seungyoun chuckled hearing the younger boy’s words, and his eyes turned into little crescents as he was laughing. That was really cute or something, but you weren’t here for that. You were here to get out of this mess.

“So uhm… I don’t know how people do this usually, but can’t you release an article saying that there’s nothing between us, and explain what happened exactly? It’s giving me a hard time at work, people are flooding the store and asking questions. My manager is also quite agitated,” you explained in one-go, hoping that all this newfound information will make him empathise with you enough to agree to your plan.

There was a few seconds of silence when Seungyoun and his manager exchanged a glance, and you felt your heartbeat picking up its pace. What if they thought you were crazy? What if they didn’t want to stir up even bigger of a mess? Such thoughts crossed your mind, but the casual way they gave in eased your worries.

“There’s no guarantee that the public would believe you two, but we can try with an official release on the agency’s side,” the manager articulated solemnly, and you nodded immediately, knowing all too well that the public could think whatever they wanted despite the truth being far from the situation.

So you got started on putting together a statement, and since you were already there, Seungyoun wanted you to have a say in this. Not because he didn’t remember what had happened the night before (you couldn’t have wiped the memory from your mind even if you had wanted to), but because he wanted your consent as to what they would put out. Yohan nudged you in the side hearing that, and you mouthed a why, but he just gave you a smug, boyish grin in return. What was he up to, jeez?

The statement took longer than you would have thought so, and Yohan got so bored in the meantime that he started scrolling on his phone. Thank god he did though because another mess was on its way, it seemed.

“Oh… Ooohh… This is not good,” he vocalised while you were doing the finishing touches on the text, and all eyes were on him now. He pushed his phone to the middle of the table, an anonymous post with the title ‘WOODZ’s alleged girlfriend is seen at the artist’s agency' open on it. You immediately snatched the phone and scrolled down to read what they had to say.

“I saw WOODZ’s alleged girlfriend entering the boy’s agency earlier today, about an hour ago. She was seen with another guy who seemed like her brother or something… Either way, here are the photos I’ve taken… You can clearly see that it’s her, and now we can be even more sure that he’s dating her,” you quoted from the post, your mouth hanging agape at the end as you looked at the photos taken of you and Yohan entering the building. Even though you both had masks on, your dyed hair was still the same, and it seemed that it was enough for the eagle-eyed fan to spot you and make it into an announcement.

You felt like the ground opened up beneath you. Just how… Why… How did this even happen? How could showbiz be like this? When the rumours and drama were far away from you in magazines and on online boards, it did seem bad, but not this bad when you were directly the target of these rumours. It was one thing that you had gotten swirled up in one rumour, but to be caught up in another one? Sure, you could have been more careful when you had entered the building, but should you be paranoid from now on?

“I think at this point it would be easier if you two just… dated,” Yohan blurted out casually, and you felt your eyes widen as you gave him a glare.

“He has a point,” Seungyoun’s manager, Seungwoo, voiced out his opinion as well, and given the singer’s solemn face and lack of response, you had a feeling that he felt the same way.

“That does not solve the problem of me not being able to work because of what’s happening at the store.”

“You can work here. We have some vacancies,” the rock singer suggested seriously, his eyes boring into yours. You could tell that he was being genuine, and since he was the CEO of his own company, he could make it work, but still…

“Wouldn’t that make everything worse?”

“Well, that depends on how you see it. If you work here, we can give you a piece of mind as no one will bother you here. You can also come in from the back or from the garage which are for staff only, not through the main entrance which is for the general public. We can also appoint you a security guard if you would like to. It’s my company, so we could also make adjustments as you see fit. You wouldn’t need to feel like you inconvenience anyone because this is what we do here, that’s our job,” he announced confidently as if he had practised it already. Maybe it wasn’t a surprise that he could lead his own company, he seemed to take everything into consideration while speaking eloquently about a matter.

“We can’t do that elsewhere, but I also understand that you have your own job, your own goals, your friends and colleagues there, so it might not be your first choice,” he added a bit belatedly when you still didn’t speak up. He kept the eye-contact with you, but that just made everything worse because you wanted to believe him. You felt like you could believe him when he looked at you like that, but it was still so sudden, so new and so… scary.

“I… I think I need a bit more time to think about this,” you concluded when you found your voice, and the artist and his manager both nodded.

Seungyoun asked his manager to give you a pass if you needed to come by in the future, you also exchanged contacts, and you also decided to drop posting the official announcement for now. The singer told you to contact him anytime you felt like you needed it because of the situation, and before you would have left, he even apologised for the trouble.

“It’s not your fault. You can’t change the fact that you are a celebrity,” you responded out of empathy, and you saw hurt flash across his orbs, but you didn’t want to ask about it. You were sure that he had his fair share of hardships while being in the spotlight even without articles being written about him.

Maybe he was going through one right now as well.

Working at Seungyoun’s agency seemed like the most reasonable choice given the circumstances, but it took you a whole bunch of supposedly helpful things - such as writing a pros and cons list - and totally unhelpful things - such as tossing and turning in bed at night for two days in a row to make that decision. In the meantime, you went to dye your hair to black and cut it jaw-length short - shorter than it had ever been - so as to at least confuse the paparazzi or fans if they passed you by or came by the store. You still got odd glances, but at least you could have some peace of mind before leaving the store - and your lovely coworkers - behind. Your manager let you quit immediately given the circumstances, and Seungyoun let you join a few days later when you felt ready and had enough of being scooped up at home. You were more nervous about going outside when you were alone at home than when you were actually outside.

It didn’t mean that it wasn’t scary, but they were really nice at the company, and apart from Seungwoo, the artist’s manager, and Wooseok, the receptionist (you got to know his name later on), no one knew who you actually were, which was a relief. You had your own pass, your own duties as an assistant in the production office, and since you were a newbie (and that’s how you had been introduced to everyone on the first day), no one looked at you weird or deemed you incapable. They showed you the ropes, and soon enough, you were sucked into the world of album production, concept making, marketing plans and merchandise distribution. In the meantime, the rumours died down a bit though it didn’t mean that you were 100% rid of your fears and slight paranoia whenever you stepped outside.

Seungyoun, on the other hand, was kind and polite like the first time you met him - to be precise, the second time, but the first one at his company -, and when you bumped into each other in the corridor, he frequently halted to ask how you were doing and what you were up to. He did that with other employees as well, so you weren’t an exception, but it felt nice that he cared nevertheless. Especially because you knew that he was super busy recording for a new album, and he had his own company to run, so he had a lot to do.

You did look him up in the meantime, listening to some of his songs, and actually found yourself growing fond of his own style, especially when you felt like you could conquer the world while listening to a few of his angriest songs (they were great for singing in the shower when the stress got to you).

However, you didn’t really look up his stages and such, so when you were in a meeting to decide on his outfits for his next comeback and they were showing old press and stage photos and even videos of past performances, you were taken aback to see more revealing clothes on him such as sleeveless shirts, blazers without anything underneath and tank tops. You hoped that no one noticed that you were visibly shocked because you sure were. Seeing him in his usual cardigan and cotton pants combo or elegant, usually loose shirts were common, but seeing him like that on stage… well, that made you feel a bit uneasy because he seemed to know the power he had on his fans.

Days went by, the comeback was closer, and days got longer as everyone prepared extra hard. So after a long day when you wanted to have some time to yourself before leaving for home and joining the hustle-bustle of the commuting city centre, you went up to the rooftop of the company building. You looked at the buzzing city beneath you with all its sparkling city lights while taking a few sips from your carbonated drink and trying to ease the headache that was creeping onto you.

However, when the door to the rooftop flung open, and Seungyoun himself walked out, you felt uncharacteristically bashful as if you had been caught red-handed being here. It was common for colleagues to come up here during breaks, you just happened to be here on your own now. Well, he didn’t seem to mind your presence either, just asked if he could join you.

“Sure. It’s your company after all,” you told him semi-jokingly, and he reciprocated your smile as he stepped beside you, leaning onto the rail just like you did. He had a really charming smile, you had to admit, and it was lovely when his eyes turned into little crescents because he was someone who had that typical cute eye smile that could make girls swoon.

“Sometimes I still find it hard to believe that it’s mine,” he admitted as he looked at the city. You had read that he had been writing and producing songs, even being a back-up vocalist for a lot of acclaimed artists before creating his own company and debuting as a solo artist. You didn't know before that people could be paid a lot from royalties, but he sure had his name on a lot of different artists’ songs, and he had also been working part-time before becoming a full-time musician. So he had absolutely worked hard for it, that was one for certain.

“Is it better or worse to have your own company?”

“In a lot of aspects, I think it’s better because I have a lot more freedom, I have a lot more say in my artistic direction, but on the other hand, if I get into a scandal or my sales go down, the whole company could suffer the consequences including the trainees and solo artists that are here now,” he concluded as eloquently as always, and you couldn’t help but think of the dating rumour that you two had been a part of.

“I’m sorry that-”

“You don’t need to be sorry for that. I didn’t mention the scandals because of that,” Seungyoun cut you off before you could immediately go full-on regretful mode. Then, he gave you a soft, gentle smile, and continued slowly yet confidently. “Part of being in this industry is about dealing with the rumours and groundless accusations. They are pretty much inevitable, so one needs to work on themselves to withstand it. I also did that through counselling, and I still see a psychologist from time to time. They’ve helped me a lot at the beginning of my career, and it’s good to have those sessions to clear my mind and give space to more important thoughts and ideas.”

You heard of the free psychological consultation artists, trainees and employees under the company could sign up for, and you applauded Seungyoun for the initiative and also for speaking up about the matter. It must not be easy for him with the stigma around mental health in the industry, but that was just one more reason you looked up to him.

Since he shared something more vulnerable about himself, you decided to do the same. So after a long breath, you shared with him that you had also seen a psychologist when you hadn’t gotten into university upon graduation, and you had believed that all of your dreams had been crashed and taken away from you. It had been such a dark time for you, something that you didn’t like talking about, but it led you to start working at the 7-Eleven and make friends with your colleagues - something that you had never taken for granted afterwards.

“What would you have wanted to become? If you don’t mind sharing,” he inquired after sharing your sentiment that reaching out to a professional in times of need isn’t unnecessary, but rather brave.

“You’re going to laugh-” You started tentatively as the young man turned towards you to give you a semi-offended glare.

“I won’t, I promise.”

He looked at you like a puppy that was waiting for a treat, eyes all shiny and bright under the dim lights around, and after a long sigh, you gave him your answer.

“I wanted to be a journalist. Not the gossip magazine type, but maybe writing about hidden gems in Seoul, travel content and interviewing people about their life stories.”

When you finished, there was a moment of silence before the boy erupted into laughter. You almost threw hands at him because he had promised not to laugh, but before you could do so, he justified his action, still giggling.

“I thought you would say something like… I don’t know… astrophilosophy, and that’s why you said I would laugh.”

“What? Would you have laughed if I had told you so?” You raised a challenging eyebrow, but in the next moment, you also found yourself laughing along with him.

Gosh, it seemed so easy to be around him like this, it almost seemed easy to imagine that it could always be like this with him despite you two having quite a bit of a history yourselves. You didn’t even want to think about the what ifs regarding your future, you just enjoyed this moment and the conversation you were having.

You didn’t know just how crazy a comeback season could be until you found yourself in one, but it was super busy, everyone was doing a lot of work, and although you were only an assistant, not the ones actually making decisions and tracking sales and engagement, you were always on the go as well. It kept your mind occupied, so you didn’t have to worry about your paranoid thoughts that actually easened a bit once Seungyoun made his comeback and mentioned that the truth wasn’t what was written in those articles once asked about it at a fansign.

He didn’t outright deny anything, he shared only this much, and asked fans to understand that if he didn’t come out with a story on his own, it was to protect the privacy of the person involved (aka you), and he wanted to be as considerate as possible in such an intrusive situation as it was. It seemed to calm the nerves of the fans, and since the boy didn’t post anything suspicious on social media or said anything that could indicate more, the rumours died down. Seungyoun even won at music shows and his album sales were solid, so the rumour didn’t seem to affect his comeback (thank god).

Yohan was having the time of his life in the meantime though, watching variety shows of Seungyoun during his breaks at work because he was loving the idea that you were now working for the singer (he said it was like a fanfic coming true). Instead of you, now he had Minhee and Hyeongjun - the new employee to replace you - to chat to, and as quiet as Minhee was, Hyeongjun was a chatterbox, so these three really gave you a headache with all their questions in the groupchat Yohan made for you all. Somehow it seemed that you adopted these boys as little brothers, and they were living their best life being your adopted siblings.

Thankfully, your parents were also reassured that even though you changed jobs so quickly, you managed the new tasks and responsibilities well, and despite them not having heard of your rumour before, you came clear to them, and explained everything. As expected, they believed you over the rumours and were extremely happy to see that the singer protected your privacy, yet stood up for you (and himself as well).

However, even with a pretty successful comeback season ending, work didn’t stop, and it was true for you and Seungyoun as well. You needed to ask him about some materials, but when you asked his manager, he told you to check his office first. The singer wasn’t there, so Seungwoo suggested his studio.

As you got closer to his recording studio, you could already hear an unfamiliar melody in the hallway. Not that you had listened to all of his songs (okay, maybe you had done so a few times), but you knew most of his songs, so you guessed that he wasn’t practising but rather working on new songs. You decided to ask about it once you knocked on the door and he let you in.

“Are you working on a new song?”

“Yeah, work never stops, and it’s good when inspiration hits,” he explained as he looked up from his keyboard, a weary albeit gentle smile playing on his lips. Even though you were here to ask a work-related question, you couldn’t help but pry a bit. You knew that he was always so enthusiastic to talk about his music to anyone, so you hoped he wouldn’t mind.

“It sounded a bit different from what you usually put out. Are you venturing into something new?” You quirked an eyebrow, curious and genuine as usual. He dropped a shy smile, scratching the back of his neck as if he was unsure what to call this new song.

“I want to, but I’m just experimenting for now,” he reasoned almost timidly, and this was the side of him that you usually didn’t see in a work setting. You saw clips of him being shy when fans complimented him or when other musicians called him their role model, but he was usually this confident, ever-so-ready-to-take-on-the-world kind of artist and CEO at the company, so it was rare to see him in such a state.

“Do you want to have a listen?” Seungyoun inquired as he kept the eye-contact. There was no challenge in his eyes, no fear, no pressure… He was just there, suggesting something that you didn’t know whether he suggested to a lot of people, but you didn’t have any reason to say no.

So you took a seat beside him while he was clicking something on his computer, then the first few accords of the song started slowly, calmly. It was like walking on the beach, by the ocean, reminiscing about the past while getting lost in the crystal clear water peacefully reaching for the sand under your feet. Then, the song gradually picked up its pace, and the waves started crashing down on the shore, unpredictable and hard, like a sudden rainpour that brings heavy winds, dark clouds and unforgiven rain.

The song went back to a more tranquil pace after the first chorus, but the waves hit again at the second chorus, and the water kept coming and coming through the bridge, and with one last burst of rage, it came to an end.

You felt like the air was sucked out of your lungs when it ended, the song felt so personal and raw. Just like how in those movies, you see all these flashbacks while the character is rushing to turn their life around, this is how you felt when you were listening to this song, and when it ended, it seemed like there was an intersection where you could choose where to go, what to take away with you.

“Wow… that was… amazing,” you jumbled the first words that came to your mind because truly, you were very positively taken aback.

“Did you really like it? You can be honest-”

“I really liked it. It was really heartbreaking though…” You admitted as you turned your head to look at the singer. When he was all scooped up like this, many empty water bottles on his desk, bright, wide eyes waiting for your answer, he seemed more like a school kid hoping that you liked the idea he had or the small thing he had put together than the CEO of this very company.

However, there must have been a reason he let you listen to this song, and even though you could have easily dodged the question, you decided to ask about it.

“Was it inspired by real life? You don’t have to tell me if you aren’t comfortable…”

“Yeah, it was,” he told you directly, cutting you off. There were a lot of instances when you could feel the emotion in a singer’s voice, and Seungyoun’s song had to be the prime example of that. It was like he was bleeding through the syllables, that’s why you had such a gut feeling.

You didn’t even want to push for more because he seemed to be zoning out after his answer, but a few seconds later, he started sharing the story behind the song.

“I had a relationship before I became a solo singer, and part of why she left me was because of me potentially becoming famous. We kept getting into arguments, and I knew I couldn’t ask her to stay because I understood a part of her reasoning, but after a while, she always found something to nitpick, and nothing I did seemed to please her. It just got messy, and I didn’t really write love songs because it was difficult not to be reminded of the whole experience. But now the inspiration just hit and this song was born in three days,” he shared without batting an eye.

The more he talked, the more your heart churned, and you wondered if it were to ever be released, how would this particular girl react to it. Seungyoun wrote in the song that he was madly in love, but he was tired of the arguments, and how she always left him first, leaving him behind, bleeding and badly hurt. It might have been even messier than you could have imagined.

“I’m so sorry,” you mumbled tentatively, though you wished you could have said more, said something better. You knew that relationships could be messy, but hearing about someone’s experience who was this gentle and who had such a big heart, you had this feeling that you wanted him to have the best possible relationship he could have. You wanted to see him happy, you wanted to hear his love songs that were more joyful. Was that weird?

Seungyoun’s raspy voice was the one that brought you back to reality.

“I just don’t know if I can ever ask anyone to give up a part of their privacy to be with me,” he shared like a sorrowful plea, and this time, you didn’t need to search for the words. You were ready to give him your point of view.

“Look, you made it happen in my case as well. I think you’ll be able to work it out if both parties want to.”

“Would you really let it?” Seungyoun inquired, and you didn’t have to ask him to specify what he meant. You knew that he was asking about you agreeing to a public relationship, and given that you had that experience or semi-experience, you knew that it was both easier and more complicated than one would think. Yet, it wasn’t the idea that surprised you, it was the way he asked about it. As if he was asking about it in your case as well. As if he was asking about it because…

“Like hypothetically, of course…” He added belatedly when he saw you gaping at him like a fish, unable to blurt out any coherent words.

“Of course…”

“If we actually dated, would you really be willing to give up a part of your privacy for me?” Seungyoun asked head-on, and though you were dancing along the lines of the hypothetical-not so hypothetical question, your heart was bouncing like crazy.

“Yes. You’re a great person and you deserve it. I mean, if hypothetically I was in love with you, I would feel that even more intensively. It might not work out, but at least I would want to give it a try,” you confessed straightforwardly, each and every one of your words genuine. From what you had seen and what you had experienced beside Seungyoun, you had a feeling that he would be the most caring, most considerate boyfriend who would want to do nothing but protect and cherish his significant other, and even just the thought of it sent a pleasant shiver down your spine.

His lips blossomed into a coy, yet joyous smile, and you had to look away for a few seconds to be able to think straight. Afterwards, you tried to divert the topic to the actual question you had come here to ask regarding work, but even after you dealt with that and left his studio, you had this fuzzy feeling in your stomach.

Oh boy, were you in love?

You didn’t mean to, but somehow you blurted out what you had talked about with Seungyoun regarding you two hypothetically dating, and Hyeongjun went crazy in the groupchat. He said that it was a sure sign the singer was in love with you, but you shrugged off his words.

Nevertheless, the more you tried to pay attention to Seungyoun’s actions towards you, the more you realised that despite him being a very polite person in general, he wasn’t like that to other employees; he didn’t get them their favourite brand of fruit juice at the end of long days, he didn’t have hour-long conversations with them on the rooftop of the agency, he didn’t share more and more songs with them in his studio after working hours, he didn’t offer them to give them a ride home, and he most definitely didn’t fall asleep on their shoulder once he pulled an all-nighter in his studio and was tired the next day.

On the other hand, with him, it wasn’t like crashing and burning, it was a gradual landing, not an instant fall. You both needed time to open up, to be more sure about the other’s intentions and feelings, and slowly yet surely, you walked towards the same direction. There was no grande scene either when you confessed, it was just like any other day, it was just like any other recording studio session when he showed you one of his songs, and somewhere along the lines, he admitted that his question wasn’t about hypothetically dating, and you admitted that you knew.

Afterwards, you were both smiles and giggles, and nothing really changed, except that there was an even more peaceful air around you two. Apart from that, everything was the same, you still kept things professional during working hours, but one thing was for sure: at least you could tell Hyeongjun that he was right: Seungyoun’s question wasn’t actually about hypothetically dating.

You didn’t even mind though.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this story of mine! Let me know what you think!

If you want to read more stories of mine, let it be for WOODZ or for other artists, consider signing up for my taglist here.

Hope you have a lovely day/night! Take care! ❤️

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