#I can’t even stay up late anymore because my body feels like it isn’t counting the sleep even if I get 8 hours | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

notafunkiller · 5 months

Text

we found wonderland

Summary: You have a choice to make: you either set yourself free or continue to play the game.

Pairing: (fake) boyfriend’s brother!Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings: 18+, age gap (r is 26, Bucky is 39), teasing, dirty talk, unprotected séx (but she is on the pill), pet names, daddy kínk, language, implied aftercare, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 2.4K

story masterlist

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this mini-series! Thank you for reading!

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

You had decided you should wait for a week before making your relationship public, using that time to try to convince your parents to change their mind while Bucky plays pretend with his. It’s not an ideal situation, but he understands, keeping the truth to himself.

What he can’t keep to himself is his hands. Not that you can… but as soon as he comes home, he’s all over you, not even caring you are in the living room sometimes.

Acting like you’re just friendly is very hard for you. You want to touch and kiss him like crazy. Having sex with him changed the game, and now you try your hardest to find a way out of this deal so you can be in this relationship completely.

You laugh at the way he pouts. “You’re really adorable for an old man.”

“Is it so crazy I want us together?”

You melt, leaning in to kiss his chin. “That’s not crazy, baby, but isn’t that a little fast?”

“We’ve been living together for months now. What’s the difference?”

You wish you could find the right words to explain it. It’s quite scary and exciting, but it feels strange. “We’ve been together for a couple of days. Maybe we don’t…”

“Are you thinking of a break up already?”

You jump immediately. “No! Maybe we don’t have things figured out enough yet. And by we I mean me. I won’t have a job anymore if my parents don’t change their minds. I won’t have a real home. I won’t have anything but you. And I love every moment I spend with you, but I want something of my own, and I definitely don’t want to feel like a burden even if you don’t make me feel like that. My life is a mess.”

“And I want to help. I am not trying to control you or suggest something you don’t want, but we are friends, too, not just a couple. I am here for you. You can stay with me as a friend if not as a boyfriend. I want you safe.”

You say nothing, only staring at him for a while. You don’t even know what to say because the mix of emotions you feel is confusing.

“You know what I want?”

“What?”

“I want to fuck you right now.” You don’t try to hide your neediness as you place your hands on his shorts. “Can I, baby? Can I ride you?”

“Fuck, you’re gonna kill me before I turn forty. Is this your plan? Do you want me gone?” He’s already raising his ass so he can help you take off his shorts quicker.

“I want you with me always. Want you inside me so badly.”

He groans at your tone. “Then go for it, baby, take whatever you want. It’s all yours. I’m all yours.”

You smile eagerly seeing his hard cock, and lift his T-shirt. You cannot stand anything between your bodies right now. You just need to feel him. “God, we should go to the bedroom, but I can’t wait.”

You take off your underwear, unable to wait any longer. As if someone is holding a knife to your throat, and if you don’t get Bucky inside you in the next seconds, you’re gonna die.

“Anyone can walk in,” he says as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. He probably even enjoys it. “Can you imagine their faces?”

You snort, bringing his dick to your entrance without hesitation after spreading your legs further apart. “No, but I can imagine yours when you come.”

“You don’t need to imagine. You’re gonna see it up close if you hurry up.”

Neither of you even realize you’re not using a condom for the first time until it’s too late and you’re already sliding down.

Your grasp on his shoulders is so forceful, you’re sure it will leave a mark, as you moan his name.

“James…” You desperately look at him, wanting to see if he feels the same. “We’re not using anything.”

“I c-can feel that.”

“God damn it, James,” you sound like you’re scolding him, but in reality you are just overwhelmed.

“What did I… fucking hell, I am totally not getting to turn forty. I will die tonight.”

You ask with your eyes closed. “Do you want me to get a condom?”

“No, I want to die.” He groans, already in a different space. “Unless you want to… I am clean and you are, of course, and I can pull out, but like it’s not… I can go grab a condom right now.”

You immediately shake your head, placing your hand on his chest. He’s not gonna do that. He has to make you come.

“You are not going anywhere, you get out of me and I’ll die!”

“So you’re ovulating?” He asks casually, with a playful grin spread across his face.

You chuckle, hitting him in the shoulder.

“Yes, I am, and you gotta take care of me.”

Bucky groans, grabbing your ass, unable to keep his hands off you. You’re so hot and warm. “You’re really, really wet, princess.”

“Ihm.” You slide down further, almost taking all of his cock. “Look how deep I took you now.” You moan proudly, feeeling so stretched like this. “Look at this, daddy.”

And when he lets his eyes drop to your entrance, he has no idea how he doesn’t com right then. The sight is incredible.

“Baby…”

“I’m your baby, daddy.” You quickly take off your T-shirt at the same time you move your hips. As soon as he’s naked, you grab your breasts, holding them together with a smirk. You know that is going to affect him, and it makes you feel powerful.

“Oh God,” he groans as you bring your breasts closer to his mouth.

“Come on, daddy, go ahead.”

It’s all he needs to hear before he takes your right nipple into his mouth and the left one between his fingers. Riding him like this is a little difficult, but it’s not impossible. You love getting your breasts played with, and he loves doing it.

There is also something really hot and thrilling about the possibility of getting caught. You have no idea why and how, but you’re going to enjoy this as much as you can.

“You feel so good like this, nothing between us. Nothing between your come and me,” you moan, not even thinking about what you say.

“You can’t say that and expect me to be strong.”

That makes you laugh. “I’m on the pill, though, you don’t have to be strong.”

“Fucking hell, you’re gonna drive me crazy.” He starts to thrust his hips back so he can meet you halfway. Riding him feels so, so good. You got him deeper, and the lack of a condom makes you properly feel his thickness.

“You feel so… Fuck, your cock is filling me just the way I need it.” You grab his shoulders so you can move faster. “You’re such a good daddy, let-letting me use you right here, where everyone could see us.”

“You love using daddy’s cock.” He looks so drunk, in so much pleasure. “Such a naughty girl.”

“I’m your naughty girl, James.”

“All mine.” His hands on your hips help you move faster indeed, and you’re already so close you can barely keep your eyes open.

“F-faster.”

Bucky stops thrusting his hips back, and you groan. You need more.

“If you want it faster, keep your eyes on me, pretty girl.”

“I c-can’t-” As much as you want to fight this, your eyes instinctively close again. “Ss-so close.”

He can hear your desperation and without hesitating, he brings his hand into your hair and pulls unexpectedly hard. That’s enough for you to come loud. So loud you can hear yourself as you let the pleasure consume every bit of you.

But Bucky doesn’t stop moving his hips, making your orgasm last longer. He’s saying things, probably dirty things, in your ear, but you can’t understand anything. Your ears are still ringing.

And just like that, Bucky comes too, with his right hand still wrapped around your hair while the left one is digging into the skin of your hip.

“Fuck, I’m coming inside you, baby, can you feel it? Can you feel me filling your pussy, baby?”

“Ihm,” you can barely whisper, too overwhelmed by everything.

“Whose come?”

“Y-yours.”

“Good girl.” He groans as soon as he finishes coming, wrapping his arms around your waist and hugging you. “This feels like heaven.”

“I don’t think I can go back to wearing a condom now. I mean if you want to…”

“Are you sure? We can still use one just to make sure we are safer.”

You peck him. “We can still use it, don’t worry, I get it. Looking out for me and stuff.”

He lets out a deep breath, thankful you understand what he means.

“Of course I am looking out for you, that’s my job.”

“Job? You are my daddy, not my mom or dad.”

“I am your partner and your friend. I will always look out for you.”

A sudden urge to fuck him again takes over your body, but before you can do it, your phone starts ringing.

Bucky gives you the phone without moving, and when you both see it’s his brother, you groan.

“Hi, William.” You try to sound as normal as possible, but your voice is so raspy it’s impossible.

“Hey, gonna be home in a few minutes. Are you okay? Is Bucky home yet?”

“Ihm, he came.” You wink at James. “All good here. See you.”

You don’t wait for him to answer before you’re hanging up.

“You came too.”

You giggle immediately. It’s hard not to be around Bucky; he is goofy at the right time. “We need to clean up, though, he’s close.”

“Alright.”

Your parents didn’t want to listen to you at all. You didn’t have the chance to talk at the party since they’re avoiding you at all costs, and you had to go outside not to cry in front of everyone. You don’t just feel alone and treated like shit, you feel humiliated.

You’re lucky Bucky went to pick up William because his car broke down halfway here, so he didn’t actually witness your breakdown. You know he’d have done something about it. Something you should.

At this point, what do you really have?

“Hey, are you well? Why are you outside, it’s freezing?”

Bucky’s voice makes you jump as he’s suddenly by your side, rubbing your arms. William is right behind him.

“Baby, why are you outside?”

You see Bucky rolling his eyes, and you sigh.

“I wanted some fresh air, William.” You turn toward Bucky before taking a step back. You don’t want him to think you reject his touch. You really need his hug, but it’s not about what you need. “We should go inside.”

He nods, and all three of you make your way close to the improvised stage in the main room.

It’s crazy how many people actually came; it almost feels suffocating.

Your parents have been talking for a while, you assume, because people were animated. You wonder what they promised them.

“And since we’re all here now, I have something to announce,” Bucky’s dad takes the microphone all of a sudden, and William sighs. You want to ask him what is going on since he looks nervous, but you don’t have time to. “I want to invite my son, William, on the stage with us.”

And then he calls your name.

You look at both of your parents, trying to understand why you’d be needed there, and Bucky is just as confused as you are. Everyone starts clapping, and you find yourself dragged on the stage before you can protest.

“Tonight marks a very special moment for us both: professionally and personally.” You freeze, looking at Bucky instantly, but he’s also shocked, shaking his head. “A partnership that will last for a long time, hopefully, passed to a real-life partnership that has developed over the last months.”

William smiles proudly when his dad pats him on the back, and you want to throw up right then.

You turn your head to your parents, who display the fakest smiles you’ve ever seen. They don’t care about what you want. About what you need. Either way, you’re alone, and you cannot continue to play their game. You can’t!

And before anyone can stop you, you’re basically running down the stairs, straight toward Bucky. You quickly wrap your hand around his neck and force him to lean in so you can properly kiss him. You sense his surprise, but you don’t stop, using the opportunity to shamelessly kiss him in front of the whole company, including your parents. He’s yours, and everyone should know it.

He cups your face when you break off the kiss to breathe, and you smile.

You finally did it! You’re free.

You don’t need to turn around to know how upset your families must be. Everyone around you is either gasping or whispering around. You know they’ll be talking about this for a solid week at least, but you’re not gonna be there to hear. You won’t explain anything to them, and they can consider you a cheater who fucked the other brother all they want. It is not your mess to fix. You just want to leave.

“Let’s get out of here,” you whisper, taking his hand. All you want is to eat something and suck him off. “I need to pack my stuff.”

“Are you sure?” He asks concerned as you start to walk toward the exit. Neither of you turns when William calls your names.

“I have never been more sure in my entire life.”

He says nothing as you reach his car, lifting the hand he’s been holding closer to his lips so he can brush a tender kiss against the back of it.

You’re going to be okay.

Tags:

@charmedbysarge @identity2212 @vicmc624 @cjand10 @mayusenpai666 @abitofblues @doveromanoff @buckyb-stan @igotmajordaddyissues

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #boyfriend's brother!bucky #boyfriend's brother!bucky barnes #forbidden #fake dating #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #sebastian stan #my fanfics #my stories #marvel fanfics #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n

836 notes · View notes

courtingchaos · 2 months

Text

The Boy is Mine (Meg’s Version)

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

For @carolmunson little prompt game/request/event/whathaveyou. Day week late and a dollar short as usual but I just can’t bust them out like I used to (ha ha ha). Event rules here. This is short and sweet because I’m not allowed to be precious about my writing anymore. It creates the anxiety in me.

Warnings: Weed smoking, drinking, tattooing (inebriated and unschooled), allusions to sex.

Word Count: 1.6k

A day spent rotting away in the dark recesses of his room. No Wayne, away on a hunting trip with his VFW buddies, and no work. Two days to yourselves with one reserved for outdoor activities and today set aside to spend the better part of the day in bed. The rain is what woke you up first, unexpected, the hard and sudden pattern beaten into the corrugated metal jolting you from your cocoon of worn soft sheets. The scratch of a record and the piney smoke of Rick’s good weed pulling you from the bed and into your discarded clothes.

You catch sight of Eddie moving around the kitchen in just his boxers, joint tucked neatly into the corner of his mouth that mutters along with Zeppelin.

“Just gonna abandon me like that?” You ask behind him, your hand stuck in the sleeve of your t-shirt. He turns before you can get it unstuck and he gets an eye full of your chest while you unintentionally flash him, his grin widening.

“Well good evening to me.” He leans against the counter where you can see two pizza boxes that weren’t there earlier and you try to reach past him but he snatches your hand in his and pulls you in for an embrace. Half hug, half struggle on your end while you try for the pizza. “Would you just hug me?” His laugh is low and scratchy from sleep and smoke, smoke that rolls from his mouth off his words. You just purse your lips at him until he gives in and places the damp paper between your pout with a sigh. “You just want me for my weed and my body huh?”

“Oh don’t be like that, you know that isn’t true!” You snag a slice and slip out of his grip with a grin and his joint to toss yourself on the couch. “I also want you for your mixtapes and the rides to work.”

Eddie watches you from under the cabinets with glassy eyes, a smirk playing on his lips while you shove half the slice in your mouth and rest the joint in the ashtray beside you. The tv plays the local news on almost mute while he moves around the kitchen again, cups clinking and fridge door shutting before he joins you on the couch in drape over your hip. A chipped high ball glass gets nudged in front of you on the side table before the cheap bottle of wine you brought over hovers in front of your face with the strain of his stretch.

“I ran out of nice cups your highness, I hope this is okay.” The liquid almost sloshes out onto the veneered table top but Eddie catches the slip of his fingers, neck of the bottle clutched tight in his fist so he can pour his own glass before setting the bottle down on the floor.

“No Garfield mug?”

“That stays on the wall now, I’m afraid.” With a sigh he nudges down to wedge behind you and prop himself up on an elbow, long arm reaching over to steal his weed back. “After Wayne found it on the floor that last time.” A pointed look at the back of your head that you can feel without seeing.

“I apologized for that.”

“I know, but he’s a stickler for his mugs my dear.” He runs a flat palm under your shirt and up your back, blunt nails scratching lightly on their way down. Over your shoulder he watches the news with you, half paying attention while he intermittently switches between rubbing your back and holding the joint over for you to pull off of. By the time the high school scores are being discussed you’ve hit a gentle high that relaxes you back into his chest, almost empty glass of wine cradled to your own. In the back of your thoughts you remember one of your weekend plans and try to remember if you brought your sketchbook with you.

Lips pressed to your temple Eddie whispers into your hair when he notices the crease in your brow. “What’s up?”

“Thinking.”

“I can tell.” A small nip at the high point of your cheek that makes you giggle. “Something wrong?”

“No, I just was thinking about that stick and poke idea.”

“Oh!” Suddenly his voice is bright and he sits up to look down at you. “You wanna do that?”

Before you can answer him he’s crawling over you, avoiding kicking over the empty bottle of wine on his way off the couch and back down to his room. A moment later he scurries back out with a big smile and a small tin box that rattles in is hands when he holds it out to you to take.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“What’s your plan? What are you gonna put on me permanently?” He taps his feet against the carpet and you give him a once over, his small smattering of tattoos moving with him as he wiggles around anxiously. The glassy look that you know mirrors your own gives you half a minute of pause before you get up to find your bag and root around for the small notebook you usually take with you.

Eddie had watched over your shoulder one afternoon while you had doodled mindlessly and had suddenly pushed his finger into your pencil lines with a gasp.

“That one.”

“What about it?” You laugh at him when he invades your space.

“I want that on my leg.”

“A tattoo?”

“Yeah! We can bring it in and see if they can do it justice or,” he gives you a quick peck on the forehead, “You could always do it.”

Flipping to the page with the simple heart and dagger you show it to him with a raised eyebrow. “You still want this one?”

He gives it a glance before looking at you with an easy grin. “Unless you have something else in mind.”

A shake of your head before you grab one of the kitchenette chairs for him to sit in. He snags the remote and looks for anything on tv while you search for a clean glass and paper towels. When you come back to him he’s already pulled the coffee table over and left the box open, one of the throw pillows tossed on the floor between his feet for you to sit on.

“Get a little peckish out there?” He nods at your hands full of supplies, the tub of vanilla frosting hidden behind the glass of water.

“No, this is for you so you don’t get fidgety.” You drop it in his lap with a spoon and he rips into it before you can sit fully, the giggles between you two quiet and infectious. It’s quiet work while you find the perfect spot on his thigh for the simple drawing and use the makeshift safety-pin-turned-needle to gently draw out the shape with the India ink.

“You sure you shouldn’t make it a little bigger?” Eddie asks around a glob of frosting. He’s not demanding, anything but, however he gazes down at you with such an easy countenance you can’t find the right words to argue with him.

“Do you want it bigger?”

His head tilts while he admires your work, a low hum from the back of his throat while he thinks it over. “Just a skosh.”

He shares his frosting with you like he did his joint, holding the spoon down for you to eat off while you start over and finish, presenting his thigh to him with a flourish.

“Perfect.”

“Okay, now hold still. I don’t want to hurt you.” You dip the tip of the pin into the ink and look up at him watching you. He’s still firmly in the giddy part of his high and he can’t help but smirk at you. “But what if I like that?”

All you can do is roll your eyes at him before you set to your work. Steady pokes against his pale thigh that follow along your faint sketch, the heart a simple curve you can get lost in while Eddie watches you with rapt attention.

“I like watching you work.” He says lowly, frosting forgotten in his hand. You only answer him with a smile while you get more ink on the pin and start working on the point of the dagger, his hiss the only sign of his discomfort. Behind you the TV is just noise that neither of you pay attention to, a little bubble of contentment engulfing the two of you.

“You push your jaw forward when you concentrate.” He whispers while holding out a bite of frosting for you to take. “It’s cute.”

Your breath breezes over his sore thigh, a cool break from the mounting burn of his new tattoo. Finally you look up from your work to lick the spoon and you have to laugh at his groan.

“Pervert.” You tease while scooting in closer to him.

“How else would you want me? Decent?” He scoffs.

You sit up to admire your work, checking for any missed spots. “Never.” Your lines aren’t perfect but it’s yours and it’s on Eddie and he let you put it on him. In his skin. There’s a weird weighty feeling in your chest and before you can stop yourself you drop a kiss on the inside of his thigh, just under the new ink.

His hair curtains around you when he leans down to mimic you with a soft kiss to the back of your head. “If you aren’t careful,” He mutters against you, his smile evident, “we’re gonna have a problem maybe.” He teases you with fingers that brush against your hairline.

“I don’t know if I’d call it a problem, wasn’t that kind of the point of this weekend?”

“You’re absolutely right.” He lets you lean back into him as he sits up, frosting forgotten when your head finds its place in the crook of his hip, your handiwork just out of view.

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson Fic #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson Fluff #My Work #My Fic

202 notes · View notes

rollingsins · 1 year

Text

three's a crowd, part five

summary: you hadn’t expected this. to fall in love. with not one girl, but two. you hadn’t expected to ruin their friendship. love triangle au.

pairing: emma myers x reader, jenna ortega x reader

warnings: language, angst, 18+, implied smut.

word count: 4k

a/n: it's me, the angst goblin. back to collect more tears.

You spend the rest of the week with your head down.

Avoiding Jenna is easy - she’s avoiding you too. Ducking out when you enter a room. Headphones on, the world muted.

The only person she’s interested in talking to is Emma. Who does nothing but freeze her out.

You feel bad for her, you do. You’d change it if you could. But you have problems of your own. Namely - yours and Emma’s new arrangement.

Friends with benefits would be an apt name if Emma considered you a friend. But she doesn’t. Not anymore.

You’re a booty call. A warm body. Revenge.

It doesn’t feel good.

“Do you want to maybe stay?” You ask, chewing your lip as Emma pulls her clothes back on.

It’s late, near twelve, Emma’s visit unplanned.

She’d knocked on your door and had you pressed into the mattress not thirty minutes ago. And now she’s already halfway out the door.

“I have to shoot tomorrow,” Is all she says. You sit up, try to tug at her hand, but she’s too far out of reach. You pout, slightly.

“My place is closer,” You reason.

She pauses. Surveys you.

“My moisturizer is at home.”

“I have moisturizer.” You offer, helpfully.

But it isn’t about that. Even you, naive idiot to a fault, can tell that.

She smiles at you in a way that doesn’t really feel like a smile. It feels like a slap in the face. Then, she’s pulling on her shoes.

“Bye, YN.”

This continues for much of the week.

You’re not really sure what you expected when you agreed to this thing you have going with Emma, but it certainly wasn’t this.

She’s holding back, taking what she wants from you but with none of the intimacy. You don’t speak much on set, you don’t speak much at all. She’s busy laughing with Hunter and Joy and Johnna and you’re an afterthought.

The last person she calls when she wants to talk. The first person she calls when she wants to fuck.

And it is fucking. Quick, rough, not even a kiss goodbye.

And you can’t be mad because it’s what you had agreed on.

“You and Emma seem to be getting on better.” Georgie says one day at lunch. It’s just you and him - Emma’s commandeered Joy and Hunter, Jenna sits by herself nowadays. Oddly enough, of all people, Georgie’s sort of become your confidant.

At this you snort, mouth full of soup.

He raises an eyebrow.

“Or not?”

“We’re friends with benefits.” You say, “Without the friend part.”

Georgie shrugs.

“Sounds like a good deal to me.”

You bite your lip. Look over to where Jenna’s sitting. She looks miserable, earphones in, staring at the back of Emma’s head like if she stares hard enough Emma will come over and talk to her.

“How’s Jenna?”

Georgie looks away.

“She’s… Jenna. Wants to be alone. Lost in her work or whatever.”

You hum. Take another sip of your soup.

Georgie leans in.

“I thought Emma would have forgiven her by now. I mean- she won, right? She got the girl.”

He’s looking at you like he wants you to confirm it. You swallow.

“I don’t think anyone’s the winner here.”

Georgie looks at you piercingly.

“Could you maybe… talk to her? Emma? It just seems so silly to fight over this. They were really good friends-”

You sigh. Drop your spoon to the bowl. Whatever you said, Emma would do the opposite. She’s punishing you too in her own weird way. But Georgie’s looking at you with puppy-dog eyes, and you can’t deny a favor to the only friend you have left.

“I’ll try.” You say, half-heartedly.

You bring it up a little later.

Emma approaches you when shooting wraps, slings an arm over your shoulder. She kisses you and tells you to come back to her place.

It would surprise you, except you know the show is not for you.

Jenna’s only three feet away. Emma’s kiss is hard. She’s marking you. Like a dog pissing on it’s territory.

You glance away and try to pretend like you don’t see the look on Jenna’s face.

“I was thinking…” You say as you trail behind Emma into her apartment, “That maybe it’s time you made up with Jenna.”

The entire car ride home you pondered how to bring it up. You considered trying to weave it in naturally, or even hinting. Maybe making up some bullshit story about one of your long-lost friends who you wished you’d just tried with. But Emma is no-nonsense these days. She’d see through it.

So you take the bulldozer approach.

Emma’s not a mean person, this you know. Surely she’s seen the way Jenna’s been acting - withdrawn, quiet, heartbroken. You watch as Emma stops and turns slightly to look at you. The look on her face is unreadable - she’s either about to break down in tears or scream at you to get out of her apartment.

You swallow and hurry through your words, hoping you can appeal to her humanity.

“It’s just - she’s really upset, have you noticed? Not about me. About you. She cares about you and she’s really sorry-”

Emma raises a hand, cutting you off.

“Don’t talk to me about Jenna,” She says, voice flat, “Don’t you dare talk to me about Jenna.”

You blink, shoulders falling limp.

“I just-”

“I hope she’s upset,” Emma says, eyes ablaze, “She betrayed me in the worst way, do you even understand that?”

Silence fills the room. You contemplate dropping it. You’re on thin ice as it is. But Jenna had seemed so sad today, and you can’t help but want to fix it.

“It was my fault. Not hers. I kissed her-”

A lie she sees through immediately. Emma tilts her head.

“So go kiss her again. Go fuck her for all I care. Bring her up again and we’re done. Okay?”

She throws her bag down, a little violently. Runs a hand through her blonde hair.

“Alright.” You say, a little resigned, “I’m sorry.”

You hadn’t expected it to work, but it feels like a loss all the same. You’ve aggravated her now, you can tell by the way she kicks off her shoes, glancing up at you like she’s not sure why she invited you.

“Let’s make this quick.” Emma says, taking off her jacket, “I have a date tonight.”

At this you stare. Blink back at her, wonder if you’ve misheard her.

“A date?” You ask. You can’t keep the jealousy from seeping in your tone, “With who?”

“Johnna.” Emma shrugs, “She asked me after work.”

It stings a little. When Emma had told you no strings you hadn’t expected her to to and find a new yarn of wool to tug at.

“But I thought we had plans.” You say, a little put out.

She shoots you a look.

“We’re going to fuck, that’s not having plans.”

“So you’re going to fuck me and then go out on a date with another girl?” You say, voice a little high, “Does she know you’re sleeping with someone else before your date?”

Emma rolls her eyes.

“Don’t act the part of the jealous girlfriend,” She says, “You already blew that, remember?”

Your stomach flips, and not in a good way. It’s overtaking you, confusion, jealousy, hurt. You’re starting to feel like a two-dollar hooker off a roadside.

“Don’t you think that’s a little inconsiderate?” You say, “I don’t think Johnna would appreciate you fucking me and then sharing a bowl of Pad Thai with her-”

“Johnna knows the situation,” Emma says, flatly, “I thought you did too. I’m not your girlfriend, I’ll go on as many dates as I want.”

Tension fills the room. You don’t recognise her. How could this be Emma? The sweet girl with the pretty blue eyes who had blushed when you touched her hand for the first time. And now she was up for fucking two different girls in one night?

What had you done to her?

“Fine.” You say, swallowing. Your ears are ringing, unpleasantly, “Have fun on your date. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You grab your things, try to quell the tide of emotions that flush through you.

Emma stares. Disbelief in her eyes.

“You’re leaving?”

“Yeah. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of you getting yourself pretty for Johnna.” You snap. Immediately you regret it. You’ve shown your hand. You’re jealous, even though you have no right to be. She doesn’t placate you.

“Fine,” She says, voice clipped, “See you tomorrow.”

They’re laughing when you get on set in the morning.

Emma and Johnna.

Hands touching near the make-up chairs. You watch, eyes narrowed from the craft services table. Dump far too much Mac and Cheese onto your plate.

You barely notice as Jenna slips in beside you.

“What’s going on there?” Jenna asks, voice casual, “I thought you two were a thing?”

You’re not expecting her. You blink over at her, a little confused.

“I thought we weren’t supposed to talk to each other.” You say.

“We’re not supposed to kiss each other,” Jenna says as she pries some food onto her plate, “Talking isn’t cheating.”

“It’s the talking that usually leads to the cheating,” You say, “Besides, Emma and I aren’t exclusive, she can talk to anyone she wants.”

Jenna looks up at you, slight frown on her face.

“So she is seeing Johnna?”

You avert your gaze. This is the last person you want to have this conversation with. But Jenna doesn’t relent.

“I’m confused.”

“You and me both,” You mutter. You reach for a rogue grape, wrestle it onto your plate, “Look, Jenna - I know we’re just talking, but if you want Emma to forgive you, maybe we shouldn’t. Like at all. I tried to bring you up yesterday and she flipped-”

“You brought me up?” Jenna asks, voice soft, “What did she say?”

“She’s pissed.” You don’t try to sugarcoat it. “At you. And at me, but mostly you.”

Jenna’s looking at you, a little mournful. Like a wounded puppy.

“What can I do?” She asks. Her shoulders are dropped, like she’s resigned to her fate.

You don’t know the answer.

You tell her so.

Her eyes are downcast. Her lip twitches. And then she’s looking up at you, something different in her eyes.

“Are you sleeping with her?” She asks, voice filled with curiosity. A touch of jealousy. She asks like she doesn’t want to know the answer. So you avoid the question.

“Let’s not speak anymore.” You say, chewing your lip. You glance over at Emma. She’s smiling, laughing at something Johnna’s said. She hasn’t seen yours and Jenna’s clandestine chat, “It’s too hard.”

It’s weighted and Jenna seems to understand the implication. It feels wrong talking to Jenna with Emma just a few feet away. But it’s also hard to speak to her and not want to push her up against the craft services table. Kiss her until you’re both out of breath. If not speaking to Jenna helped rid yourself of those thoughts you were willing to do it. For both of your sakes.

“Okay.” Jenna says. She finishes filling her plate, hovers awkwardly, “Let’s not speak.”

And you don’t.

Another week passes.

You and Georgie hang out at lunch. He distracts you with tales of his teenage years, tells you about the slew of girls he’s trying and failing to date.

It makes you feel a little better. Like you’re not the only one stuck at a romantic crossroad.

You and Jenna don’t speak, as you discussed. Emma and Johnna get closer.

And you hate every second of it.

You lay back naked in your bed one night, bedsheets pulled to your neck. Emma’s made you cum, twice, but you’re hardly satisfied. Your stomach churning and your mind running a mile a minute. She’s pulling on her jeans, and all you want is for her to stay.

“Are you going to see Johnna?” You ask, a little hesitant.

Emma looks over at you and pauses.

“I’m going home.” She says, simply. She tugs on her shoes.

You bite your lip.

“You could stay?” You offer, “We could order food and watch bad 80s movies.”

“YN-“

“Please,” You urge, “I miss you.”

“We just spent the last hour together.” She says, voice neutral.

You shake your head. She doesn’t understand, you miss her. The Emma who sends you stupid memes, the Emma who giggles when you tell a joke, even if it’s not funny. The Emma who had kissed you that night by the pool, who had been honest enough to tell you she’d been thinking about it for a while.

Not this Emma. This cold, aloof, doppelganger. You don’t want her. You don’t even like her.

“You weren’t here, even if you were.” You say, “You don’t talk to me at work, we definitely don’t talk outside of work. You won’t even kiss me while we’re…. while we’re fucking.” You swallow, trail off. “I’m starting to feel like a prostitute or something.”

Emma crosses her arms.

“If the shoe fits.”

You blink back at her. It hurts, and the look in her eyes tells you she meant it to hurt. You swallow the lump in your throat, not wanting to cry in front of her.

“When did you get so mean?” You ask, voice wavering, “When I first met you, you were this, sweet, happy girl, and now-“

“You fucked around with my best friend behind my back. That’s when.” Emma says, her voice flat.

You swallow. Hold the sheets tighter to your chest.

If this is the only way you get Emma, you don’t want her.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” You say, thinking hard, “You can hate me forever, maybe I deserve it. But I don’t thinking hate-fucking me is helping either of us. I feel like shit every time you leave. And you - you just close up. It’s like you’re a different person.”

“What are you saying?” Emma says, voice low, “You want me to kiss you and be romantic with you, and let you touch me, why? So you can close your eyes and pretend I’m Jenna?”

You stare for a moment. Your heartbeat a dull thud. Something coils in your chest, twisting your heart in pieces.

“You should go.” You say, voice hollow.

It must show on your face - the kind of emotion that’s toiling deep in your chest. She stares a moment, something flickering behind her eyes.

“Beetlejuice.” She says, suddenly. She’s blinking, hands falling limp at her side, suddenly her mask is gone.

“What?”

“We should watch Beetlejuice. And order Chinese.”

You blink back at her, not understanding. She slips off her coat and unties her shoes. Slips under the covers with you, her arm grazing yours.

“You’re right,” She says, suddenly. Her eyes hesitant, “I’m being- I have been being mean. I’m sorry.”

She looks down at her hands, suddenly shy.

“This has never happened to me before,” She admits. Her gaze is piercing, “You really hurt me and I just wanted to hurt you back. Both of you.”

You don’t dare say a thing. It seems almost too good to be true. You don’t want to open your mouth and change her mind.

She leans in, rests her head on your shoulder.

“Forgive me?” She’s asking, voice small.

“Yeah.” You say. You reach out, entwine your fingers with hers. She doesn’t pull away, “Least I can do.”

Nothing changes, except everything.

It isn’t like you can flick a switch and make Emma forgive you for everything. That, you’ve surely ruined. But she stays the entire night, lets you kiss her goodnight. Even lets you make her breakfast in the morning.

She stops ignoring you at work, stops fucking you like she hates you.

She even suggests going to parties together, making out on the balcony when you’re both too drunk to see straight.

But she still disappears every now and then, sometimes for hours on end with Johnna.

And she still won’t talk to Jenna.

You watch it happen once more, on Friday game night.

Hunter’s defrosted to you, a little, invites you personally. And then he rounds on Jenna.

“Come to game night,” He insists, grabbing her hands, trying to tug her earphones out of her ears, “Please. I know you’re doing your goth-girl-introvert-method-Wednesday thing but we all miss you.”

You look down at your phone, pretending not to listen.

Jenna doesn’t look sure.

“I don’t know, Hunter-” She says, voice gravelly, “I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. I don’t want to make Emma uncomfortable.”

“Emma said you can come,” Hunter says, eyes sparkling, “I think she’s over it, Jenna. I mean - I doubt she wants to make friendship bracelets with you anytime soon, but she can stand to be in the same room with you. That’s progress, right?”

At this, you snap your head up. Look over to where Emma’s sitting. She’s laughing with Johnna. Jealousy coils hot through you. It’s all you can do not to roll your eyes.

“Did she really say that?” Jenna says, chewing her lip. She can’t hide the dash of hope in her voice.

Hunter nods, smile wide.

And so here you all are.

You arrive with Georgie, pour you and him a healthy helping of Rum and Coke. You have a feeling you’ll need it.

“Cheers,” He says, knocking your glasses together.

You bite your lip, surveying the room.

Emma’s already here, in deep conversation with Joy. Johnna and Hunter are setting up the game table. Jenna’s already in the kitchen, pouring out her drink. She looks small by herself, a little sad. Your heart twists, painfully.

“Do you want to see if she’s okay?” You ask, nudging Georgie, “You mind being her guy, tonight? I know Emma said she could come but-”

You trail off, not wanting to say it aloud. Emma’s mean-spirit had dwindled, a lot, but that didn’t mean it still wasn’t there.

Georgie looks over, sets his glass down on the table.

“You’ll be okay?” He asks, genuine concern on his face.

You nod.

“I have Emma.” You say, smile tight.

“Okay.” He says, squeezing your arm, “I’ll look after her. Promise.”

You wait until Emma’s done with her conversation, then sidle up to her, smile on your face.

“Hey,” You say, settling down at her side, “You look pretty, tonight.”

She smiles, presses a kiss to your cheek, “So do you.”

Johnna’s watching, you can feel her eyes on you. Emma takes your hand and your heart leaps. The smallest of victories.

And then Hunter’s ushering you all to the table, ready for the first round of Cards of Humanity. At first, it’s fine. You’re careful to lead Emma to the opposite side of the table, well away from Georgie and Jenna. To your chagrin, Johnna manages to slip into the seat next to Emma.

You play, each round stupider than the next as the group gets progressively drunker. Emma’s laughing. Jenna cracks a smile.

And then Hunter’s wrapping up the game, insisting on a fifteen minute break while he sets up the next one. And the night goes to shit.

It happens when you’re in the bathroom. Emma leaves her Gin unattended, too caught up in laughing with Johnna and Hunter too care. When you get back, she’s looking around the room, eyebrows furrowed.

“You okay?” You ask, rubbing her back. Her lips purse.

“Where’s my drink?” Emma says, a little confused.

You glance around the room.

“I don’t know.”

Joy springs up like a baby-bunny. Clearly a couple of drinks deep.

“The Gin and Tonic? Sorry, I didn’t know it was yours. I gave it to Jenna.”

Emma falls silent. Annoyance flashes through her features.

“It’s fine, Joy” Emma says, voice stony, “She likes taking things that don’t belong to her. Isn’t that right, Jenna?

She says it maybe louder than she first intended. The entire room goes quiet. Jenna turns at her name, a flash of hurt flushing through her features. You look down at the table, ashen-faced.

Emma blinks. Her own words, surprising her.

“I’ll get you another one,” Johnna says, smoothing it over, quickly, “Hunter - how long until the next game?”

But it’s too late.

Emma settles into her seat, cheeks flushed red - maybe a little out of annoyance, maybe out of embarrassment. Johnna does a good job at distracting her. It gives you the chance you need to raise your eyebrows at Georgie.

Jenna’s abandoned her drink. She’s reaching for her coat, a hasty look on her face. You watch as Georgie takes her aside, tries to reason with her. And then you’re swallowing hard as he’s shrugging at you, watching as she walks out the door.

And you can’t help yourself.

You don’t have to murmur an excuse - Emma’s eyes aren’t on you. You drop your drink to the table, shuffle past Georgie and follow Jenna out to the door.

“Jenna!” You call out, rushing to catch up to her, “Wait!”

When she turns, her eyes are a little misty. She isn’t crying, not yet, but the look on her face says she might soon be.

“She didn’t mean it.” You say, breathlessly, “She’s had a lot to drink and she’s still angry, but you shouldn’t take it personally-”

“How am I not supposed to take that personally?” Jenna snaps. You recoil, slightly. Her face is red. You’ve never seen her angry before. It takes you aback.

“I knew I shouldn’t have come,” She says, voice hot, “I knew she wasn’t over it, what the hell does Hunter know?”

“She needs time,” You say, “She needs space. But she’s a good person. She’ll forgive you eventually, I know she will.”

“Yeah,” Jenna says. There’s something in her eyes. Jealousy, maybe? Disgust, definitely, “You seem to be giving her a lot of space.”

You blink back at her.

She swallows. Her chest heaves, and she closes her eyes.

“Sorry. I’m not trying to- sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You say, voice hollow, “You don’t have to apologize to me.”

She takes a deep breath. Her movements are jerky, shaky. Maybe from the Gin she’d been gulping back earlier. You resist the urge to reach out and steady her. Touching is a no-no. You might not be Emma’s girlfriend, but that you know is against the rules of your arrangement.

“I need her to forgive me.” Jenna says, voice wavering. Desperate, “YN-”

“She will,” You insist, “I promise she will.”

“How?” Jenna says, agonizingly, “I wouldn’t forgive me. I’m such a bad friend.”

“You made a mistake, we both made a mistake,” You say, “But you’re sorry, and she’ll see that eventually. Just give her time.”

Jenna’s eyes flicker. She looks up at you, eyes wide, vulnerable. Hazy with hurt, and booze and a little of something else.

“If I had told you that night how I really felt - that night by the pool. Would you have picked me?” Her voice is low, quiet.

You blink back at her, not expecting it.

“I- I don’t-”

“Would you have picked me?” Jenna insists, brow furrowed. She leans forward, a little. Her scent washes over you. Coconut. Vanilla. Cinnamon. Jenna.

It goes straight to your brain. Short-circuits you in a way you only feel when she’s close. Her lips are red, chapped, only slightly. You can’t help but stare at them.

You remember the night. Feeling weightless by the pool. Resisting Emma’s attempts to pry you into the water because Jenna wasn’t. You remember the feeling of her skin against yours. Remember the wash of jealousy that had flooded through you when you thought it was Georgie she liked.

If you say it out loud it’s real. If you say it out loud you can’t run from it anymore. Your heart is in your throat. All you can hear is the dull sound of the music inside the apartment and your own wild heartbeat.

“Yes.” You whisper. You don't want to hide from it anymore, “I would have picked you.”

Jenna hums. Closes her eyes slightly, body swaying gently from the effect of the alcohol.

Your ears ring, slightly. Devastation floods through you.

If only she’d told you.

If only it were different.

Jenna opens her eyes. Offers you a sad smile.

“We would have been so in love.” Is all she says.

“Yeah,” You echo, voice hollow, “We would have been.”

Nothing but the sound of the night. The quiet chirp of crickets. Yours and her heartbeats, both thrumming wildly, perfectly in sync.

And then she smiles at you, once more. And leaves you standing there alone.

next part

#three's a crowd #love triangle fic #jenna ortega #emma myers #fanfic #jenna ortega x reader #emma myers x reader #jenna ortega x you #emma myers x you #wednesday

605 notes · View notes

jaemmphilia · 10 months

Text

★𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪 𝕞𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥★ || kim j.mn

★ summary: the moment suho has been dreading for the past five years has finally come. he has absolutely no idea how to handle it.

★ pairing: dad!suho x dad!reader

★ warnings and rating (16+): suho is stressed bc his boys are growing up, he loves his boys a lot, he cries a little, like two cuss words, gays in love :'((

★ word count: 815

★ binnie's thoughts: i've been feeling super frustrated lately, so here's some soft domestic fluff for you all

★ requested?: yes, by @jaehyuncocksleeve

★ disclaimer: this fic in absolutely NO WAY represents suho as a person. this is simply a work of fiction for entertainment purposes, so enjoy!

Today’s the day. The day that every parent dreads, from the moment their kid turns that special age. The day their precious little bean goes to big-kid school. Suho wishes it would never come. Alas, he can’t just stop his boys from growing up, so he’s gotta suck it up, your words.

The day his twin boys, Daesik and Dalyun turned five, he knew their first day of first grade was nearing close. Every time he would go to the grocery store there would be displays screaming, “Get ready to go back to school!” at him. He would glare at the happy children on the displays, his mind going back to the reminder that Daesik and Dalyun needed to get their school supplies before it was too late.

It was almost too late when the twins got their school supplies. [Name] had told Junmyeon at least thirty times a day that he needed to look over the supplies list and take the boys to the store so they can pick out what kind of supplies they want.

[Name] sits Junmyeon down after dinner one night, staring down at his husband with a scowl. The twins were in bed, and [Name] tucked them in after a bedtime story. Junmyeon wishes the couch would swallow him up and turn into a stale fry that’s been tucked between the cushions for months now. [Name] gives the male a look that tells Junmyeon to start explaining why the hell their boys’ first day of school is in two days and they still do not have any supplies.

“I can explain, love,” Junmyeon starts, shrinking deeper into the couch as [Name]’s piercing pools of [EC] narrow at him. If looks could kill, [Name] would be wanted for the murder of his husband. “I meant to take them a week ago.”

“And you didn’t, why?” [Name]’s voice is sharp, and the man isn’t even yelling. He’s talking normally but his tone tells Junmyeon that [Name] is angry.

“It’s a funny story, really,” Junmyeon chuckles nervously, but [Name] isn’t laughing, which is a bad sign. His husband doesn’t get angry often, but when he does, you might want to watch out.

“Junmyeon, does it look like I’m in the mood for a funny story? I want an explanation, and I want one now.”

Junmyeon breaks, finally, tears forming at the corners of his eyes, “Fine! I confess, damn it! I didn’t take them because I don’t want them to go to school!” Junmyeon covers his face with his hands, letting the tears fall freely.

[Name]’s body and face soften at his husband's confession. Now that Junmyeon told him the truth, [Name]’s chest rumbles with light chuckles. [Name] takes a seat next to Junmyeon and he tugs his sulking husband close to his body.

“Junnie, look at me,” [Name] says, lightly shaking his husband's slightly bigger body, “I’m not mad anymore now that you actually explained what was going on. It’s not like you to stall until the last minute.”

“I know, love. I’m really sorry, but the thought of my precious little beans growing up scares me to no end.” Junmyeon says, allowing [Name] to wipe the salty tears from his cheeks.

“I understand, but this is something we have to do. You want them to get a proper education so they can be successful, don’t you?” [Name] asks softly, his slim fingers pushing Junmyeon’s wild baby hairs away from his face.

“Of course I do, I want them to grow up and be happy. But I also want them to stay little forever.” Junmyeon sniffles, looking at his husband with the cutest pout on his handsome face.

“I don’t want them to grow up either, but it’s just part of life, darling,” [Name] says, chuckling softly at his pouty husband, “They’re only five right now, Junnie. They have lots of growing to do.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I just love them so much.” Junmyeon sighs, his chest clenching with heavy amounts of love for his twins.

“They love you too, trust me. They keep asking me when Daddy is going to take them shopping for school supplies. Dalyun is hoping to find a Bluey backpack.” [Name] laughs, Junmyeon joining in.

“I’ll take them tomorrow, promise. Will you be joining us, love?” Junmyeon asks, his hand slipping into [Name]’s and bringing it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on top of his hand.

“Sure, I’ll go. It takes two to parent those two little monsters.” [Name] says with a cheeky smile.

“How dare you call my little beans monsters! They’re little angels!” Junmyeon gasps, offended. [Name] just laughs some more and stands up.

“Sure, sure. Let’s get ready for bed. We have a few busy days ahead of us.”

“Yes, we do. I may not be prepared, but I’m happy.”

“That’s all that matters, dear.”

#kpop x male reader #kpop x reader #male reader #exo x male reader #suho x reader #written by triplejracha

141 notes · View notes

k4katsujin · 11 months

Text

a lonely night (miguel ohara x gn!reader)

‼️ consider this as the second part of the series‼️

disclaimer: it's still an ongoing series and i'll organize it when i will have written more episodes though i don't like the idea of a timeline bc it's like one shots and 🧍🏻‍♀️ idfk bro i js specified for clarity

this is the very first part of my lonely series! idk if i will make this series a miguel x reader only but :> even made my own tag 🦦

part two/one here !

also you don't need to read all the stories to like understand the plot they're js one shots and a good way to cope w my crippling loneliness (this is actually a call for help /srs

Warning: implied suicide (not really because it’s a cliffhanger but it may be triggering to some people idk so I’m still putting a warning.)

Also I’m not really sure abt the “don’t put words in my mouth” bc I’m not a native speaker but in case it isn’t clear I meant that reader basically said “don’t make me say what I didn’t say”

Also 2 there is no mention of gender bc I’m trying my best to like write for my fellow enby pals but jk reader will be fem bodied.

Also 3 I’m asking this once again but please reblog this if you liked it it helps small writers a lot please and fank yew

Also 4 BIG THANKS TO DEEPL WRITE FOR PROOFREADING THIS WHEN I WAS LAZY TO IT MYSELF some AIs need their ass ate fr

(ignore the random ass banner lmao)

You were chilling on a rooftop before you felt a familiar presence.

-What are you doing up this late, carino? Asked the voice.

You didn’t know why neither how, but somehow you instantly knew it was him.

The one who was known to save every universe despite everything.

He sure was a good leader, sometimes he was mean, but it was all for the sake of the many universes he had to protect.

He was a good leader for sure, but a good lover? There’s no way you could count on that.

You loved him very much and you know how painful it was for him to show any kind of affection, but tonight you had too much of holding everything inside.

He put his hands on your waist, sneaking a kiss on your lips before sitting next to you, both your legs dangling in the shining lights of the city.

The weather was cold for a beginning of summer, but it was nothing compared to the cold residing in your heart.

Your relationship was bound to come to an end, and you were here for this end to come.

-Is something wrong my love? Miguel hastened to ask when he noticed your expression was off.

-Do you truly love me? You asked, ignoring his question.

He stiffened at the hearing of your question.

-Of course, why wouldn’t I? he asked worried.

-Listen. I’m going to be straightforward with you. I’m pregnant. And I want the baby to have both parents when they grow up. And I think, with both of us being heroes, this won’t work. Don’t put words in my mouth, I do love you with all my heart and you know it. But I can’t do it anymore. (tears start falling on your cheeks but you continue anyway:) I am grateful for all the things we lived but I think our relationship is meant to end anyway. I’m sorry but I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

You stood at the edge of the building and disappeared in a snap.

-Goodbye, Miguel.

~~~~

You woke up in a hurry, instinctively looking for your husband.

-Is everything ok, my love? Miguel was quick to ask. (he put a hand on your forehead) did you catch a cold or something? You seem to have a fever.

-I’m okay don’t worry! You say with a frank smile. I just had a nightmare but nothing to worry about I promise.

-Mm. If you say so, he said with a tint of doubt in his voice. I’ll stay in bed with you just in case something happens, ok?

Without waiting for your response, he forcefully got into your bed, which made you move.

You inevitably fell into your husband’s arms as he put his arm on your shoulder with your head on his chest, feeling his soft breathing and hearing his heartbeat.

Despite everything, the work he had, the countless nights you spent waiting for him to return home, even wondering if he ever would, the arguments, you were in love with him. And it even if it was hard, he and him only was the one you decided to love.

And that was beautiful.

#kaheri's lonely series #kaheri's chronicles #across the spiderverse x reader #spiderman atsv #atsv x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #spider man 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #x reader #writers on tumblr #queer writers

88 notes · View notes

genezpen · 2 years

Text

『 neglect a queen 』

pairings: jay × afab!reader

genre: angst, fluff (ur girl is a sucker for)

warnings: first person pov(as always), drunk reader, mention of vodka, jealousy, kinda bratty reader, sweet call signs such as love, (hun)ey (idrk what to include lmk if i forgot to add sum)

word count: 1.6k+ words

notes: hi! i wrote this like last month then suddenly got tired of it so i left it unfinished and since i wanna get rid of my mental block, here it is! finished product in the house, babe lol pls enjoy reading and lmk what u think abt this. the first few scenes were actually my personal favourite ^·^ stay safe and love y'all~

“why did you drink so much? i told you to drink moderately, you barely even manage to drink five cups!” jay scolded me, but i’m so lightheaded to even care.

“stand straight or i’ll carry you right now!”

he knows i hate being carried like a baby. without a do, i immediately stood my ground holding his hand for my dear consciousness, with his other hand rested on my waist for support. anytime now i might passed out, i can’t even keep my eyelids open anymore.

i know i can’t handle alcohol like he can, at least, but i have no choice but to drink the pain away. for weeks, he’s been extremely busy, working so hard almost forgetting to stay at home. what’s funny is that he always have time to attend a night out with his bosses, be it for business or celebration, when he can’t even make plans with me. and all he said was he couldn't afford to miss it.

it’s not hard to tell that i’m jealous. with his work, yes. i want his attention more and more each passing day, and i can’t accept the fact that he can’t even tell earlier this morning!

“there’s a newly opened restaurant nearby, would you like to try it out later, hun? i reserved a seat for two people.” i smiled at him.

jay stopped at his track for a second then proceed to tying his necktie infront of the mirror.

“sorry, love, you know how busy i am lately. you can just bring your best friend, i won’t mind.” he utter fixing his hair.

i mind! i wanna scream so bad but as a mature girlfriend i am, i held back. resulting for me to drink with the girls instead of sulking in that fucking restaurant.

“who knows, he might be busy with something else other than his work?” i murmured pouring a vodka on my cup for the third time.

one of my friends gasp. “you can’t just say that! do you not trust your boyfriend? i’m pretty sure hardworking people only wants promotion so they won’t let themselves get distracted for a while. let’s understand them for now.”

“from experience?” another added, they clicked their glasses of wine.

“so, am i a distraction to him now? i can break-up with him right away, if only he told me so, you know?!” i know, i’m starting to lose control over my body– mouth right now. i need to stop drinking!

“oh no, you’re drunk. stop drinking or we’ll get scolded by your boyfriend!” my friend pointed at my other friend, “hey you, call jay immediately! oh gosh, this girl, really–”

i laughed maniacally. with hooded eyes, i lean against the front door when we reached our apartment then stare at jay. my forefinger touched the tip of his pointed nose, grinning without the teeth. i’m so drunk and sleepy, he held my waist so i won't fall.

jay stopped and stared at my current state like i’m hopeless.

“you...” suddenly, tears welled in the corner of my eyes as i remember the reason why i drank so much. i met his painful gaze, his pitiful eyes looking at me.

i want to him to kiss away the pain but can’t say it face to face because it’s embarrassing. or am i just too drunk?

“w-why did you even f-fetch me–” my voice hitched. i feel like a hand crushed my heart but it’s still beating loudly, so weird.

i gulp when his gaze turned intense.

“come again, y/n?” oh no. this isn’t good. he’s calling me by my name!

i smiled bitterly. instead of putting up a fight, i gave up immediately. i then lowered and shake my head.

“sorry...” almost a whisper escaped my lips. tears began to fall like rainfalls, my heart’s clenching so bad in agony.

you're so funny, y/n. the nerve to get mad at him then back down when he’s starting to get angry too. you’re literally hopeless. you’re pitiful.

those words stings too much i felt numb. maybe... i’m just too scared to disappoint him? is it bad to be conscious about how you make your partner feels? but then, how about him? did he really care about mine?

“come on, let’s get you change into comfortable clothes...” his voice instantly sounded calm, almost soothing this time.

i nodded weakly before letting him guide me inside.

“would you like to take a bath? i’ll help you...” jay handed me a glass of water once i was seated on a kitchen stool.

instead of answering him, i drink the water in one go. when i finished, he takes it out of my hold before putting it on the granite counter.

before i knew it, he was already squatting on the floor, leaning towards me. jay caress my cold palms carefully, still looking directly into my eyes, watching my lone expression.

“are you sober now?”

i nodded staring at the flat floor, refusing to meet his gaze.

“hmm. then are you alright? did something happened?” jay probed.

my lips twitched, “you have to rest now, jay. it’s late, you have to go to work early tomorrow morning...”

“i think the question is, are you alright, y/n?” he pulled my hands slightly making me glance at him. “you’re obviously not. can you tell me what exactly happened? did i do something that upset you? please, enlighten me, baby...” jay’s gentle caress against my knuckles makes me dizzy.

but then, even if i tell him what i feel or what is it all about, he still can’t do anything about it. work will always be his number one priority. it sucks, i know. but that's reality.

“you don’t have to worry about me. let’s prepare for bed immediately so you can rest, alright, love?” my cold palms made contact with his warm cheeks as i assure him it’s nothing serious.

he held it shaking his head and cage my hands in between his cheeks and palm.. “your eyes says otherwise, though. i won't let you sleep with a heavy heart, baby. it would only bother me as well. so please, enlighten me...” jay pressed a kiss on my fingers.

i rolled my eyes as my hands against his cheeks dropped, "fine! since you're so eager to know... it is your fault!" now i'm back to being the brat here.

jay only raised his brows. he slightly sighed in relief for an unknown reason. is he relief that i got out of my sulking but understanding girlfriend mode? well, let's see if he can handle a sulking brat!

"you're working too hard lately, i like that about you. but you rarely- no, you don't bring me to dates because of it so i also hate it!" i crossed my arms on my chest looking sideways with furrowed eyebrows.

he nodded slowly understanding why i am suddenly acting up. "hmm. is that it?"

my lips parted in shock. what does he mean by that? that whatever the reason why i'm sulking is just THAT?

"ha! are you serious? jay, you've been very busy that i had to sleep alone and wake up with you getting ready to leave the apartment for almost two weeks!. it's almost like i don't have a boyfriend anymore..."

it stunned him for a bit.

“you– did you really felt that?” now, he looks confuse as hell.

“but then again, i understand. i am a little bit immature,” i glared at him when i said that, “but i know how to handle my emotions now. you don't have to worry about me.” i pouted even tho i mean it. my feet fidgeting, drawing circles around the tiled floor.

jay shook his head then held my face close.

“no, no, love. thank you, for being honest about this matter. thank you for telling me how you truly feel. i don't want you to hold back if you feel like i am upsetting you unintentionally or even intentionally at that.”

our eyes met and i saw the longing that’s been hiding behind his chocolate brown eyes.

“i love it when you let me see through you. i love it when you bare your soul to me as i bare mine to you too. i want to know what you think of everything so you don’t have to keep all these to yourself. i promised to understand you all the time, didn't i?” jay caress my cheeks full of tears now.

i nodded, sniffing not breaking our eye contact.

“i’m sorry if i made you feel neglected, you know i would never do that– or i would never want that to happen. i’ll do my best to be better and treat you like a queen you are.”

i wrapped my arms around jay’s nape and buried my sobs on his neck. moments of silence enveloped us that only our heavy breathing can be heard. it wasn't uncomfortable unlike what i felt with other people, more like a peaceful silence. like a home.

“promise to take me to a romantic dinner date on the weekend?” my voice quivered when i tried to speak.

i heard him laugh a bit, hugging me back caressing my exposed arms.

“i’ll take you to wherever you like, tomorrow. i finally got promoted so i have an even more flexible schedule.” jay whispered and i felt my ears clapped!

“as you should! you should never neglect a queen ever again...”

jay laughed even more. “i apologize, my queen.” i smiled.

252 notes · View notes

lolabangtan · 3 years

Text

STAY | 02

Forced to live with the enemy in your home, you must learn to deal with Jeon Jungkook’s insufferable ass and late gaming sessions without losing your sanity… Until you are presented with a tempting bargain.

index • previous • next

Word count: 10k

Warnings: Jimin uses cringey emojis, alcohol consumption, drunk confessions, slight physical contact.

You were dreaming about something just a second ago, it was displayed vividly in your brain. What was it? It was pretty nice, but you can’t remember as you slowly wake up. The drossiness feels heavy all over your body.

Row coming from outside your room, the rustling makes you jump. You can feel your heart racing in your chest—

But then you remember you’re not living alone anymore.

You check the time; barely seven in the morning, what the hell is he doing up so early? And why can’t he be a bit less noisy while he’s at it? Why does something have to happen every single day?

It tempts you, the idea of staying tucked in your warm blankets just for a bit longer. And it’s not like you need to get ready for the day just yet. Jeon Jungkook might be nuts, but you are – or try to – be a regular, ordinary member of society; and in this one, regular, ordinary people don’t get up unless they need to.

However, you decide to get out of your room and have breakfast anyway when your stomach starts growling like a mad beast. Since you’re not getting any more sleep any time soon – once you wake up, it’s impossible for you to fall back asleep. So, you might as well be an early bird for once in your life and do something fruitful in these early hours of the day, when the world feels like it’s frozen and the sun has not even risen yet.

Living with Jungkook has proved to be nerve-wracking so far; he oversleeps every single day. Unless you get a day off – then he becomes the earliest bird in town. It’s impossible to make him clean behind himself, and he takes hours in the shower.

Also, you have to beg him to drive you to class because ‘he’s embarrassed to be seen with you.’ Which wouldn’t sound so bad if it wasn’t because it was an explicitly stated term in his contract.

“Good morning,” you groan, still rubbing your eyes.

Jungkook just hums when you walk into the kitchen. “I’m leaving in fifteen minutes.”

Processing his words takes you fairly ten seconds. You’re trying your best, but you’ve slept so poorly and your life is so miserable that you don’t think you deserve any judgement for it— do you?

“But I don’t have class until ten, and neither do you! What am I even supposed to do alone on campus for two hours?”

“Not my problem,” he retorts and sips from his coffee to conceal a smirk.

“What are you—?” You can finally take a proper look at what he is drinking, and when you notice, you groan again, but this time for a worse reason. “Hey, that’s my mug.”

“And what about it?”

“That it’s mine, the Shrek mug is mine. You can’t just use it without asking first.”

“Jeez, sorry. I didn’t know.” Rolling his eyes, Jungkook snorts and leaves the now empty mug in the sink, without even bothering to wash it.

While he spits out his poor excuse, you grab another mug, pour what coffee there’s left in it, and put it in the microwave. You take it out after a minute, pour cream, and gulp it down in a second because hell, are you pissed off that he used your Shrek mug.

“You could’ve asked. And wash it before you leave.”

This time, however, you don’t give him time to talk back since you flounce out of the kitchen in a second. You’re torn between giving in to him and get ready in ten seconds – and giving up a nice shower in the process – and telling him to fuck off, kick him out of your place, and learn to enjoy the beauties of the town’s forty-year-old only bus line.

After hopping off your twenty-second shower, you brush your teeth and grab your phone to resort to your only option besides sitting out two hours in the quad.

[Thursday, 7:16 AM] You: I need Jimin to give me a ride today.

[Thursday, 7:16 AM] You: But he isn’t answering 🤡

[Thursday, 7:17 AM] You: Is he awake?

[Thursday, 7:23 AM] Worse half💩🌍: He’s left for the campus gym already, I think they have a morning training session today. I was very asleep and very happy 😭😭

[Thursday, 7:23 AM] Worse half💩🌍: Why don’t you ask Jungkook to take you?

[Thursday, 7:24 AM] You: Because he’s a pain in the ass, and I guess he’s got to train today too because he’s leaving in ten minutes. And I don’t have class until ten.

While you wait for her to answer, you wander around the room, taking this and that, grooming your hair, putting all your stuff into your backpack, and picking an outfit. Jungkook lets you know he’s left already when you hear the entrance door slamming closed, and you let out a desperate groan.

Your phone buzzes on your bed again.

[Thursday, 7:31 AM] Worse half💩🌍: Well, I don’t have class today. And even if I did, I would’ve needed Jimin to give me a ride.

[Thursday, 7:32 AM] You: Jungkook already left.

Again, Ari doesn’t say anything for a solid quarter of an hour. That gives you time to get ready to leave – even though you realise then that you’ve done it for absolutely no reason since Jungkook has left already. And you don’t have to head out until past nine, and that is if you get a way to get to the campus, so you’re pretty much with your hands tied behind your back right now.

[Thursday, 7:45 AM] Worse half💩🌍: Are you ready and all? He’s on his way back to pick you up.

[Thursday, 7:46 AM] You: What the hell, how did you manage to do that?

[Thursday, 7:46 AM] Worse half💩🌍: I just asked 😭

“Y/N-ssi?” It’s Jungkook’s voice coming from the entrance door. “Come on, I’m going to be late.”

Seeing you’re not answering, Jungkook comes through your room, knocking first, naturally – you’re shocked to find out that, before anything, he is a gentleman and respects your privacy. He’s probably just trying to avoid embarrassing situations, but that’s a good enough reason to be polite.

“Coming!”

You grab your backpack and walk out into the living room, where Jungkook is already waiting for you. Quite impatiently so, judging by his frowning.

The two of you jog to the landing and down the stairs, where his car awaits. He’s just come back to the flat to grab ‘something he just left at home’, that’s why he isn’t waiting down by the engine. You’re still grateful, though, and bitterly frustrated for being so.

It’s weird to sit in Jungkook’s car; sometimes he will turn on the music to fill in the thick silence and end up humming to the melody. Of course, he usually stops the second he notices you’re listening to him, and then he’ll nibble his bottom lip, like you’ve figured out he always does when he’s nervous.

“I was wondering— do you mind if I wait the morning out at the gym?”

“And, uh” – Jungkook almost looks away from the road at your odd request – “why would you want to do that?”

“It’s cosy, and I won’t get kicked out even if I don’t buy a drink,” you joke to justify yourself, just shrugging it off. “I can’t just keep drinking coffee or shakes for two hours straight.”

He lets out a sigh. “I’ll have to ask, but I guess Mr Bae won’t mind as long as you don’t disturb us.”

“Of course he won’t! – I’m your lucky charm.”

Despite your efforts to cheer up the situation a bit, Jungkook doesn’t seem willing to make it any less bit awkward. Maybe your joke has offended him or something, it does look like that is the reason. Whatever is it behind his sudden bitterness, it’s making him too uptight to enjoy it.

Morning sessions are a sacred thing in the swimming club, that you already know – Seokjin used to be painfully adamant about forbidding you from coming to watch them.

Naturally, most of the time you didn’t even want to come. Your warm, cosy bed was a far better prospect.

Maybe it’s because of them coming so early strictly to train since regular training takes place after all the lectures and classes are over. It might help them focus, or at least get their heads into swimming better – no one has ever bothered to give you an explanation, and you have never bothered to ask for one.

You turn towards Jungkook again, and he is drumming his fingers on the steering wheel to the music playing on the radio.

Three songs and some bickering about the radio’s volume later, you finally pull into the university’s car park. It’s right behind the sports pavilion, so you only have to get out of the car and walk a few steps.

“You stay here, I’ll go ask Mr Bae if you can stay.”

“Hey, be more respectful to your elders—” But he’s gone before you can even finish talking.

Waiting by the hall, you spot a couple of classmates and a bunch of members of the swimming team. You have to greet them, of course, and some even approach you for a bit of small talk, which you have to give. It’s deathly almost. Actually, you can’t be sure Jungkook is not purposely making you wait longer than necessary just to spite you.

“You should totally come, Y/N.”

Now, what is he talking about? You have kind of lost the track of the conversation. Last thing you remember, he was telling you about the Spring Tournament.

“Sorry,” you mutter, fighting a yawn, “come where?”

Jimin lets out a laugh. “To Tae’s party tomorrow— rough night? Is our golden boy not making it easy?”

“It’s a fucking living hell, and it’s all because of Jungkook. And he’s supposed to be talking to the coach now, but I’ve been waiting here for fifteen minutes already. Hasn’t the training begun already?” you groan again, throwing back your head onto the wall.

“It will, in five minutes. Talking to Mr Bae about what?”

“He’s asking him if I can stay,” you tell him. “Since my car’s shit and I don’t have my first class until ten, I had to come with him—”

“Y/N-ssi.”

Jungkook shows up out of the blue, making the two of you jump.

“God, you startled me,” Jimin whines, although chuckling. “What did the coach say? Surely he won’t mind if Y/N—”

“Yeah, he said you can stay. Just don’t be a nuisance.”

And with that – and before you can say anything to let him know you want him to fuck off – he turns around and heads out to the changing room. With an apologetic smile, Jimin says goodbye and follows him down the corridor, and you decide to leave the hall before anyone else can see you. The venue should be enough comfort.

The memory almost always pops up, like a compulsory sally, whenever to find yourself here; Seokjin and you kissed for the first time under the bleachers, like a pair of sneaky high schoolers. You could still describe perfectly the way your face felt hot and boiling.

The club members are wandering around the venue as they wait for the coach to finish off some details and start the training. You spot Jungkook sitting down next to Jimin and Taehyung – even if he’s wearing the team’s tracksuit, you can see his tattoos peeking out beneath the sleeves. He’s taken off his piercing studs, too, and you wonder if he has ever lost one before.

You don’t particularly enjoy staying to watch the training sessions – and have never had, not even when you were dating Seokjin. Instead, it has always been a tool meant to broaden, groom, and take care of your social life. It was meant to let you see, be seen, talk to your friends, and fulfil your role as a supportive girlfriend, cheering on the then captain of the team. It may seem silly to some people, but to you, it was a world of its own. It was your world.

And one day it just crumbled down.

Really, you don’t know why you still let yourself sulk and reflect. Overthinking won’t do you any good, it never has. It just hurts so fucking bad.

The coach’s high-pitched whistle snaps you out of your thoughts, and the sadness in your face quickly vanishes into your usual blank stare. When your eyes refocus on the venue, though, you miss the way Jungkook is staring at you.

The point is, coming to training sessions is fiendishly boring when you’re on your own.

You try to text Ari for some conversation, but you guess she is still asleep, given that she is not answering. So, you can only look at the ceiling and daydream, glancing from time to time at the boys as they hop into and out of the water. When they get a break, half an hour into the session, Jimin walks up to you.

“Did you think about it?” he asks you, wiping his face dry with a towel.

“Think about what?” you ask and cover yourself with your arms when Jimin shakes off the water in his hair. “Stop—! What are you, a bloody dog?”

He ignores your groans. “About Taehyung’s party tomorrow – you’ve had plenty of time to make up your mind.”

“Will you be satisfied if I say yes but still keep the right to back off if I have a mental breakdown an hour before heading out? Because, honestly, it’s a very likely reality at this point.”

“Uh” – you let out a dry laugh, seeing Jimin as he thinks about it seriously – “I guess it works for me. Or I can let you finger-slap my forehead whenever I say something that makes you feel bad, all right? You can even imagine it’s Ari.”

“I swear to God, if this is another of your weird kinky games—”

“It’s not! I promise. I just feel guilty for what happened at the quat last week,” Jimin insists. “By the way, Ari asked if you wanna come over to hang out. I can—” The coach then calls for him, so he turns to you. “I can give you a ride after class if you don’t want Kookie to drive you… We love you, and we appreciate you, and we cherish you.”

“You better do.”

But Mr Bae is not a patient man. “Park! You got out sweep—! Now!”

“Yessir!”

With a threat-promise that you will talk later, Jimin tosses his towel to the team’s manager and runs back to the pool, slipping off on his way. He’s quick to get up, but the team bursts out in laughter, and honestly, so do you. It pumps some good, old serotonin into your system.

By the time they are done with training, the bunch of dripping wet boys flock to the changing rooms. Jimin asks you on their way out to wait for him and Jungkook at the hall, as you have a class on Comparative Politics at ten. They’re back in no longer than five minutes, in time to head to the building on duty. With his aesthetically shabby backpack hanging from his shoulder, Jungkook just silently follows behind you across campus.

“I’ll see you later,” Jimin tells him at the door, and the two of you walk into the hall. “Now, may I have an answer? Tae needs to sort out the drinks.”

You let out a snort. “Not this again—! Count me out, I just want to spend a relaxing day in my own home.”

“Well, I don’t know what’s relaxing about—”

But Jimin’s phone starts to ring in his pocket. Until he takes it out, all eyes are on him, judging and fuming for interrupting the solemn silence of those who were studying before the professor’s arrival. He could apologise, of course, but he doesn’t really want to.

You just jog down the steps, knowing Jimin will follow you, and you squeeze through the narrow gap between the benches and the desks until you reach the spot where you usually sit.

When you see him come back to you, there is something in his face that makes you sigh. “If you say anything else about—”

“Nah, it was Ari,” Jimin cuts you off. “She insisted I ask you again if you wanna come over after class for, I don’t know, a drink and some catching up. I can give you a ride – I’m heading home as soon as Ms Oh’s twelve o’clock class is over.”

Actually, taking it out with Ari will surely be a great way to get rid of this growing rage inside you. Either that or commit the worst crime in the world known to man – and you know perfectly well that you still have a great deal of regular, ordinary things ahead of you to live. Surely you wouldn’t want to miss any.

“You can drop me off?”

Jimin nods mindlessly. “Yeah, I have to go home and fetch a few things before my study session with the boys.”

“Study session?” You chuckle. “Is that a polite euphemism for a group wank party?”

Then he stares at you in silence with a soft smile. It’s weird, it makes you feel weird, the paternalism— or is this just the look of a friend who cares about you and enjoys seeing you happy?

“I’m glad,” Jimin continues, making you grimace, “that you’re smiling and hanging out a bit more. We all are, really.”

“And now you ruined it,” you laugh it off. But it makes him slowly drop his smile, and you have to nudge him apologetically. “I’m sorry, I just— you know I don’t handle touching moments all too well…” You press your lips together, feeling encouraged all of a sudden. “When I’m happy, I feel like— I feel like I’m just faking all the moments when I feel sad.”

The heavy-cut moment is interrupted when the professor walks into the classroom, requesting loudly that all the students sit upright and get ready for the session. You look away from Jimin, not really willing to see whether or not he’s still staring at you – if he is, there surely must be pity in his eyes. You couldn’t handle that, not now. Thus, his reaction will remain a mystery for the rest of your life as the class carries on.

Comparative Politics are fun from time to time, but today isn’t one of them.

After what feels like an eternity typing the professor’s endless speech on voting behaviour, he dismisses you as he turns off his Upper Pleistocene laptop. Jimin and you are out of the room in the blink of an eye.

“Jungkook’s coming with us,” he tells you as the two of you walk down the hall. “We’ll be studying at your place?” he explains when he notices your confused face.

“Uh, what do you mean, at my place? Jungkook didn’t ask me first.”

Jimin just lets out a chuckle, passing under the gate. Your sworn enemy is waiting at the foot of the steps. “He’s renting a room, you know – I’m pretty sure he doesn’t need your permission to bring people over— Kookie! I just read your text. What do you mean you need me to give you a ride? What happened to your car?”

“Tae needed to run some errands after class, he’ll bring it down later,” Jungkook simply replays, shrugging.

“Well, I’ll be leaving you now” – Jimin smiles at the two of you – “to watch one of Ms Oh’s endless, touching movie documentaries about the German unification. Funny, given they didn’t even have movies back then. Later!”

Before neither of you can utter a word, he runs off to the building across campus, leaving you alone in the middle of the typical last hour’s fuss.

“They had pictures, though?”

You’re given two options: spurning Jungkook and just leaving without a word – which, you’re sure, would be undoubtedly good for your mental health – or trying to play nice for a change, ask him if he’s got any class left, and perhaps even walk with him if it’s nearby – for the sake of your future mental health, as you have already figured out that he plays a big role in it.

You try to speak, but he’s faster, “The guys are coming over to study, so don’t bother us if you’re staying home.”

And then he’s gone, leaving you with the words still in your mouth and rage in your throat.

“Thanks for the ride! Maybe I’ll see you guys later at home.”

With his backpack clutched between his fingers, Jimin waits by the door. “Sure! We’ll save you some snacks… I’ll better get on the move now; Jungkookie seems a bit pissed off today, and I wouldn’t want to try my luck.”

“You’re too scared of him when he’s just a big baby,” Ari teases him before she gives him a peck.

With a giggle and a handful of kisses later, the two lovebirds say goodbye, and your friend closes the entrance door behind her back. Ari then sighs – she always hates to be far from Jimin, even if she knows it sounds and looks a bit strange to the rest of you.

“Ah,” you coo, just as teasingly, making her make a sardonic grimace, “to be young and in love—! Sometimes I even envy you.”

“There’s no need, you know; you could perfectly have this if you tried.”

“I think we know already that love isn’t exactly my thing,” you simply reply as you flip through a magazine.

Striding towards you, Ari walks up to you and snatches it, ignoring your whimper that it could have made you cut yourself on your finger. She tells you that you’re overreacting and takes a seat next to you, forcing you to fold your legs.

You can’t help but snort. “Ugh, I knew this was a trap.”

“Not a trap, I just want to get an update on your life with Jungkook… Do you want something to eat while you tell me the whole thing?”

“That’d be nice, yeah.”

Ari gets off the couch and heads to the open kitchen, ready— no, eager to hear all about it.

There isn’t anything new, really; apart from the fact that you’re closer to a meltdown with each day that passes. Jungkook gets on your nerves every time you see each other, there’s no doubt about that. Here and there he does something oddly kind for you, but it’s probably because of his own good-natured personality rather than his desire to do you a favour.

In the meantime, Ari makes something quick to eat, and the two of you have lunch while you continue with your crying and complaining.

It takes you a solid five-minute speech to fully – or almost – express the frustration and misery living with Jeon Jungkook is making you feel. Ari just watches you as you ramble, nodding from time to time to let you know she is still listening. Not that you are checking her reactions, though – as you’re too busy blurting out complaint after complaint.

Already full, with a mug of coffee in your hand, and your friend in front of you, she harps you to keep talking. Honestly, you’re surprised to find that even you can run out of things to complain about Jungkook with.

“Just fuck him.”

You have to work your lungs in order not to spit your drink out. “What the—! I’m being serious here, you know.”

“And so am I,” Ari continues. For once, you believe she’s telling the truth. Unfortunately. “Just give him the fuck of his life, I’m absolutely sure it will tame him. Believe me – all guys fantasise about screwing their flatmate, and he won’t resist a girl as pretty and hot as you.”

“It won’t be hard for him to find other pretty girls to hook up with – pretty girls he doesn’t hate to the bone,” you retort.

“Uh, maybe, but— it’s good that they’re not you. You have to understand, Y/N; you are like a magnet with guys. Can’t you see that not even dressing like the 21st-century version of Allison Reynolds and barking at them can completely put them off?”

You frown and sip your coffee. “I don’t dress like the 21st-century version of Allison Reynolds, I beg your pardon.”

“Thing is,” she cuts you off again, “Jungkook is hot, you are hot – why not be hot together? And have fun in the process. In the best-case scenario, you’ll have him eating out of your hand, and he might even buy you another Shrek mug. Maybe even a 3D one.”

As unbelievable as it may sound, you actually give it a thought; it’s not that he is not good looking, and you are pretty sure he can be a sweetheart – when he wants to which, when it comes to you, is never – but still, it would feel like you are taking advantage of him. It would be a lie, and if there is one thing you hate with all your might in this world, that is lying.

“I don’t know,” you mutter, “it doesn’t sound clean.”

“It would make your life so much smoother, and who knows? Perhaps you’ll even find out you’re better matched than you expected,” Ari insists, shamelessly pretending to be checking her phone.

Now you can only laugh at that. “Believe me, you won’t catch me dead getting feelings for Jeon Jungkook.”

“Life has many twists and turns—”

Before you can even ask her what on earth she means with that, her phone starts ringing in her hands and she gets up to pick up the call, beckoning you to wait for her and finish your coffee.

Becoming fuckbuddies with Jeon Jungkook?

No, you should be crazy to even think about it. Besides, no matter how much Ari says you’re a hottie, you’re pretty sure you’re not his type. And even if you were, what would you do once he gets accepted back into the dorms and moves out? ‘Hey, Jungkook, remember we’ve been fucking around? That was so you’d stop making my life miserable. Thank you for your stay, the exit is at the back on the right.’ No, it sounds outrageously wicked.

“Jeez, look at the time!” she yelps, taking a look at her phone. “Well, I’ve got my laser appointment in twenty minutes. You can stay here if you don’t want to go home, just take out the laundry load from the dryer when it’s done.”

“No, I’d better leave too,” you say, getting up with a sigh of resignation. “I’ll just walk home; it’s cheaper and it’ll kill some time. Thanks for the coffee, though.”

“Bugger.”

Smirking at her, you grab your coat and head to the door. Once you’ve said goodbye and promised to think about screwing Jungkook – which you will not – you ride the lift to the ground floor, ready for a walk of at least forty minutes. Fortunately, you decided to wear comfortable shoes today.

It takes you an hour since it starts to rain when you’re just twenty minutes into the walk.

But it certainly comes in handy. A bit of fresh air and silence to think have brought you, perhaps not any answers, but at least a bit of inner peace; maybe you don’t know how to improve these months ahead, but you do feel a bit stronger to face them.

You almost groan in happiness the second you turn the corner and see your building. Jimin and the other must’ve arrived two hours ago, so who knows if they’re still there or if they’re bored enough to go for a walk. With this rain and a bit of luck, they will have decided to split up for the day and go home. Well, you rather hope so, but judging by your fortune’s performance this week, you’d rather going to need faith.

“Drenched mess coming through—!” you warn to the interior of the flat, whether it’s empty or not.

Jimin rushes to give you a hand. “I think you caught a drop or two in the way.”

You chuckle sarcastically at his joke and take off your soaked coat, along with your soaked jacket, and then your soaked trainers. Hobi comes to the rescue soon enough with a towel for your hair.

“I feel like the Queen of Sheba with this line of eager servants. Thanks,” you mutter and start rubbing your hair dry. You walk into the house room as soon as you’re dry enough, even though you’re obviously going to need to change. “Are you still going at it, boys?”

“Not really. We gave up an hour ago and have been drinking ever since,” he admits with a chuckle.

“Drinking? But it’s only three o’clock.”

“It’s only been a couple of beers, don’t worry.” Jimin goes into the kitchen and you follow him while Hobi comes back with the rest. “Do you want one? Have you eaten anything, by the way? I don’t know if Ari had planned to have lunch at home.”

You watch him squat down to take a can of beer from the freezer. “We’ve had a bite… Are you really doing nothing besides drinking?”

“What else could we be doing—? I mean, we’ve been talking a bit, if that’s what you mean… But we’re not exactly into board games, and with the way it’s raining out there, it’s not like we can go out either. Come on, you should change and put on dry clothes, or you’ll catch something.”

The group in the living room suddenly bursts into laughter at something Taehyung has said. You sigh, remembering your brother, and wonder if he might want to drop by to see the team one day. But you know it’s fruitless to think about Yoongi when he’s on the other side of the world, probably asleep or tired, so you take the can and thank Jimin with a smile. Perhaps it is best to just take a rest among the wolves.

“I’ll join you in a minute.”

By the time you’ve gathered some dry clothes and your bathroom kit and gone back into the living room, everyone is already getting ready to leave; you frown, wondering if their rushed departure has anything to do with the quarrel you heard from your room just a second ago. You then see Jungkook cleaning after them, picking up cans and all the delivery packages.

“Leaving already?” you ask, crossing your arms. “I didn’t even have time to finish my beer.”

Namjoon, clutching his coat, tries to smile so that you won’t worry, but it’s clear that something has happened. “Sorry, we just— we think we’d better leave… Go take a warm shower, and don’t mind Jungkookie, whatever he says.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me – I think I’m starting to pick up on that.”

He just nods, slowly, trying to think of something else to say. To save him the effort, you smile and see them off to the entrance door. Jungkook stays in the living room, sulking in silence; you can almost feel the pissed-off, overthinking haze surrounding him, and it makes you grimace. Do you really have to deal with this right now when you’re tired and soaking to the bone? The universe is taking too much of your patience lately.

If he notices your staring, he doesn’t show, his own eyes fixed on the screen of his phone.

“I’ll go take a shower now… Need to use the bathroom?”

Jungkook just shakes his head, still not uttering a word. You make a face and spin on your heels to head towards the bathroom on the other side of the room.

The hot, almost boiling stream of water pouring relentlessly onto your head gives you the chance to reflect and think.

It’s been almost a week since Jeon Jungkook moved in. You know already that this situation will carry on unless you do something about it because he clearly won’t lift a finger to improve cohabitation— funny choice of words, you note with a chuckle, and remember Ari’s words.

Just fuck him.

You can’t help thinking about it as you step out of the shower and reach your arm to grab a towel – it’s taking root in your brain.

Of course, that is something you’d absolutely never be willing to do. You might be a bitch, but you know your morals, and taking advantage of someone’s potential for intimacy is a desperate measure that you’re neither willing or going to reach.

But even if you are not interested in seducing Jungkook, you can’t deny that you are quite curious to see if you could; you’ve never had trouble meddling with men, that is true, but it’s been a while since you last put your abilities to work.

With a curious tilt of your head, you let go of your grip on the towel and let it slide down your body until it piles up around your feet. You look at your naked body in the mirror, scanning it; it’s been a long time since you’ve seen yourself naked, not having much interest. Now, however, you find a little confidence in your silhouette.

If this doesn’t work, you’ve never been here.

After hastily drying your hair, at least until it stops dripping, you tie the short towel back around your body and make a face at yourself through the mirror. Solitude really has taken its toll on your sanity, hasn’t it? Or maybe it’s Ari’s madness getting to you.

“Jungkook, don’t forget to do the dishes. It’s your turn today,” you casually say as you walk past him and head to the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

Jungkook’s focus is still on his phone until your voice repeating yourself makes him look up. You’re walking out of the kitchen now, gulping down the fresh water.

“I— uh, y-yes, I’ll— I’ll get on with that…” Jeez, is he stuttering? Blessed Ari and her fucking mad ideas. You even think for a second that he sounds cute. “Yeah, I’ll get on with that in a minute. Hm, Y/N-ssi? Did you—” Jungkook hesitates for a second, pursing his lips. “D-did you forget your clothes—? I could’ve… brought them up.”

You can’t help letting out a chuckle. “Oh, no—! I just like to be comfortable around the house.”

Maybe you’ve kept yourself out of the market for too long because the mere feeling of his eyes roaming around you strokes your ego madly. Jungkook, too, finds himself staring a bit too much and looks away so quickly he practically sprains his neck.

“You don’t mind,” you begin with a soft voice, “if I do, do you? Of course, if it’s awkward for you, I won’t—”

“O-of course not, there’s no need,” he babbles out, still looking away. But he seems to gather the courage to add, “It’s your place, you can wear a clown costume if you want. Don’t— don’t mind me.”

Even if it goes against your intentions, that is oddly nice to hear. And with Spring closer than ever, it’s good to know you can walk around without minding how many layers you are wearing.

“Really?” you chirp. “Thanks, Kook! You’re great.”

You miss the way he looks at you, with his eyes wide open at your sudden cheerfulness. As you walk to your room with a cheerful spring in your step, the smile is impossible to fight. Finally, in the privacy of your room, you can let out an embarrassingly silly giggle. God, you really have to reconsider many things in your life – starting with Jeon Jungkook’s presence in it.

“Just… a paragraph left. Well, I think it does the job pretty well; not my sharpest work, but it’s good enough. And—! Sent. Voilà ! Free again.” You shut the laptop with a tired, relieved groan and turn over on the mattress, hearing the chaotic mix of music and screams coming from your phone. The ceiling stares back. “Thanks for the help, Taetae.”

“Anytime. You helped me with my English course… Are you coming after all? Everyone’s here already, and some underclassmen were asking about you just now.”

You let out a chuckle and get off the bed. “Not today, sorry. It’s pretty late already, and this paper’s got me a headache.”

“So, you’ll just lock yourself in your room?” Taehyung laughs from the other line. “Sounds like a sad way to waste away a Friday…”

“I’m not going to lock myself in my room! I’ll light up some candles in the living room, get a glass of wine” – masturbate like a madman with your reliable vibrator until it runs out of battery, too, but that’s private information – “binge-watch my favourite show, and forget, even if it’s just for an evening, how miserable my life is.”

Taehyung’s hesitant hum sounds awfully suspicious. “I think you should check your living room before getting your hopes too up— hey, you! Don’t touch that vase, it’s a family heirloom—! Y/N, I gotta hang up, my phone’s dying. Bye!”

And then your phone beeps, letting you know the call is done for. You stare at the screen.

What on earth has Taehyung meant with ‘check your living room’? What the hell is in your living room that you must dread so much? A lion?

With a snort, you give in to the sudden concern created by your friend and walk out into the living room—

Finding Jeon Jungkook lounging on the couch, game controller in his hands and eyes fixed on your TV. Now, what the hell is he doing here? He’s supposed to be at the party, away from you, having fun and not coming back home until way later! This wasn’t in your plans at all.

“Jungkook?” you mutter as you approach him. “Aren’t you, uh, at Tae’s party?”

Jungkook looks away from the screen for a second. “I’m not really into partying, and now that I’m not sharing a room with that party-obsessed guy from the team, I can stay at home without anyone getting on my nerves.”

Yes, of course, because now you are the one with the nerves completely wrecker. Goodbye, relaxing evening by yourself. Goodbye, quiet and peace in the house. Goodbye, masturbating without having to care about whether you’re being loud or not. It’s all ruined now, there is no point in staying locked in your room on a Friday, as Taehyung so kindly bothered to point out, and you are most certainly not sharing the living room with Jungkook and his loud ass videogames while you gulp down a bottle of wine so he can call you an alcoholic.

Slumping next to him into the couch, you take out your phone. Desperate times require desperate measures.

[Friday, 10:33 PM] You: Can I still sign up for that party or is it too late?

[Friday, 10:39 PM] ✨Park Jimin✨: I don’t know, can you? 🤡 We’re still offended by your heartless rejection. What’s the occasion, though?

[Friday, 10:41 PM] You: Apparently, Jungkook is a nerd hermit who just doesn’t go out at all 😭😭😭 I’m sick of seeing him just lying around and playing video games when I come out of my room. It’s like having a big ass dog take over your couch.

You cross your arms over your stomach as you wait for a reply; Jungkook hasn’t seen your text, too immersed in the video-game to pay any kind of attention to you. The smell of spicy sauce draws your eyes to an empty plastic container with noodle leftovers.

“Do we have any more of that?” you ask, taking a better look at it.

Your phone buzzes right before you get up.

[Friday, 10:43 PM] ✨Park Jimin✨: That sounds like Jungkookie 🤣🤣

[Friday, 10:47 PM] ✨Park Jimin✨: Okay, you may come, but just because you are friends with the cool kids. Drinks are on you, though, unless you get someone to share.

[Friday, 10:47 PM] ✨Park Jimin✨: That freshman Soobin is always making eyes at you 👉👈 so he’ll be willing.

“Okay, uh— you’ve got the place for yourself, I’ll be out tonight.” Finally, Jungkook looks away and fixes his doe eyes on your figure as it moves towards the bathroom. “I’ll take a shower and leave. Sorry in advance if I make noise on my way back.”

“You’re going to Tae’s party…?”

You just hum in affirmation from the bathroom door, taking out your makeup stuff.

[Saturday, 5:23 AM] Worse half💩🌍: Please, just send me a text when you’re back home safely. The taxi was legit, right? Call me tomorrow morning, please.

[Saturday, 5:24 AM] Worse half💩🌍: 😭😭😭😭😭🙏

You manage to write a more or less legible reply as you fumble in search of your keys. The taxi has left already, after waiting for five minutes for you to get your card code right; both Jimin and Taehyung had offered to drive you home, but the first one had drunk just as much – if not more – than you and you didn’t want the latter to leave his own place just for the sake of your wasted ass.

Shit, your head is spinning like crazy, it’s making you dizzy. Luckily, you won’t throw up, just wake up the next morning with a hideous hangover and some killer instinct.

When you finally manage to open the entrance door and slither into the flat, you take off your heels with a long, breathy groan. You can’t wait to tuck yourself in your warm quilt, with a nice glass of water on your bedside table.

The living room is eerily silent; since the sun hasn’t risen yet, only the constant city lights, impossible to kill, come from the windows to illuminate the room. It’s enough to see your way to your bedroom, but you still are careful not to bump into anything and make noise. A pissed-off, sleep-deprived Jungkook at five in the morning while you are completely drunk is the last thing you want.

Or is he awake? The flat is so silent that you can hear a soft humming – interrupted from every few seconds by your flatmate’s loud ass snoring – coming from his room. It sounds pretty much like the opening music of that show he’s always watching.

You cringe as the door creaks open.

This is not what you would call a good idea – at least the sober you wouldn’t think so – but, God, it sounds so terribly funny in your head.

Just like you thought, the show is still playing on his laptop by the bedside table, but Jungkook is sound asleep; his face, pressed against the pillow on one of his cheeks, is dimly lit by the faint lights and glows coming from the screen. He’s pouting his lips so prettily, almost like a baby. How can he still be asleep despite the music blasting practically on his right ear?

You almost moan as you sit down next to him on the bed— how come his shabby college dorm mattress is this comfortable? It’s almost like it shapes itself around your butt. When you make sure Jungkook is still asleep, you lie down to try it with your entire body and groan again. Maybe you should steal it, he won’t notice. And if he does, you can always let him play video games for a couple of hours longer.

Your train of thought starts to fade off, the dizziness slowly cradling you into an eager slumber.

Unfortunately, once asleep, and the human koala you are, your arms tangle around his waist with a content groan and pull him towards your chest. He lets out a sigh, chewing on something invisible.

Until the foreign warmth of your body eventually wakes him up.

Jungkook almost jumps off the bed when he peels his eyes open and sees you lying down next to him. Your touch suddenly burns, and he scoots back like he has seen a ghost, face paper white before heat takes over his cheeks and they turn red.

“What the— get off!”

As he tries to wiggle out your grip, you mumble something, and he takes a proper look at you; you’re half-asleep, still wearing the outfit you had on when you headed out, and with your makeup more or less intact. And you smell awfully like booze. Just how much did you drink tonight? And what time is it—? Twenty to six in the bloody morning. When did he fall asleep? But most importantly, what the fuck are you doing in his room, on his bed?

He shakes your shoulder. “Y/N-ssi, wake— wake up. Go back to your room.”

But no, you’re inert like a mummy.

Honestly, Jungkook gives two fucks about the hangover you will have to suffer tomorrow, but he’d rather take five minutes of his sleep to wipe your face clean than put up with your whines and complaints about a skin breakout for an entire week.

“I can’t believe I almost got a crush on you—”

“Jungkookie…” you suddenly whine, making him flinch. Shit, he didn’t notice you’ve woken up. Your eyes are closed, and he’s pretty sure you’re still on the verge of passing out. “Fetch noona a glass of water…”

Your hands are stroking his cheeks, trying to get his attention. He can finally stare into your now half-lidded eyes, blown-out pupils staring back at him—

No, no, no. This is both wrong and weird.

And so, Jungkook shrugs you off of him and puts some distance between the two of you, sitting up on the bed. His skin prickles where you have touched him. God, that’s making it even weirder. Focus, Jungkook, for fuck’s sake. A glass of water, yes. You’ve asked for a glass of water. And he’ll need to get whatever you use to remove your makeup.

“Y/N-ssi—”

“Call me noona,” you whine, pouting before just cracking up another giggle. “You’re always calling me Y/N-ssi… We are bitter enemies; we can treat each other informally.”

Jungkook sighs, letting his head down – if the world is in any way fair, he’ll get this karma back. “Noona,” he practically cries, “come on, let’s… get you some water. Get up from the bed.”

It’s only thanks to his strength that he manages to lift you off the mattress and get you to stand up. You’re starting to slowly come back to your senses, stumbling behind him as he drags you back to your room. You let out a giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck so that you won’t trip over your own feet.

But you survive all the way to your room. Your knees do falter for a second, and you both end up falling on your bed – you, laughing your ass off, and Jungkook, shrieking.

“Noona!”

Jungkook can’t get up, your arms are still around his neck, hooking him against you. His heart is beating like crazy, though. Please, he just needs you to stop smirking like that; he’s tired, and you’re drunk.

“Jungkookie,” you call again, almost purring, “I really like your eyes… It’s like… you’ve got stars in them.”

He almost fails, but he manages to pull back before you can kiss him. It doesn’t offend you, though; on the contrary, you start giggling before you try it again, and then he grabs your shoulders so that you can’t try it again. But he can’t nag you, he really can’t.

You look so pretty right now—

“Let’s fuck.”

“S-stop talking nonsense,” Jungkook stutters again. Are you really drunk, or are you faking it just to mess with him and get a nice laugh? “Wait here, I’ll bring you some water. Don’t move.”

You strengthen the grip, adding your legs to the equation, and he has to breathe in. “I mean, don’t you want to? Don’t you think I’m hot, Kookie? Because I surely think you are. You know, Ari said you’d stop being a dick to me if I fucked you. What do you think? Would it work, huh? I’m tempted to try it out – or would you be good for me?”

This has to stop. This has to stop right now.

Jungkook tussles out of your grip after many tries. He wants to be pissed off, he knows he has the right to – but he will torture you with it tomorrow, once you’ve slept it off and can talk back without… offering sex as a solution.

“Here” – once he gets off the bed, Jungkook takes a look at your tallboy, grabs your cleanser tissues, and tosses them at you – “clean your face and I’ll go get you a glass of water.”

“Aye, captain!”

The things he has to put up with to have a roof over his head.

With another sigh – he’s lost count already – Jungkook heads to the kitchen. He grabs a glass and slams it on the counter, fumbling to grab a bottle of water that is not lukewarm or half-drunk. When he comes back to your room, you’ve already wiped your face clean and are snoring on your bed with no worries reflected on your face.

He leaves the glass quietly on your bedside table and leaves without a second thought.

Now in the privacy and safety of his room, he bangs his head back on the door. This must have been a fever dream, that’s it. You— you were all over him just a second ago, you even suggested you could fuck. Have sex. Together. Skin to skin.

Jungkook runs his fingers through his head; how is he supposed to go to sleep? Even if you don’t deserve in the slightest any sort of kindness from him, he can’t deny that he’s a bit worried. You will surely turn into the hangover monster tomorrow when you wake up.

But what is wrong with Ari, anyway? Telling you to fuck him.

He definitely needs to have a word with her.

Seven train waggons – at least – have passed over your head during your sleep. Your mouth tastes like cast concrete, too, dry and paste-like. The lack of hydration is frustrating, can’t find any of it even in your gums. Just moving your tongue sends jolts of pain into your brain.

“Oh, shit—” You manage to sit up in the bed after a while, using up all of your core strength. “I wanna die.”

You surely want to die as soon as you start recalling all the events from yesterday. Not all of them, of course, but enough to instantly cringe. Why did you drink so much?

Since you’re still wearing your clothes from last night, the first thing you do is gulp down the glass of water Jungkook left next to your bed. Then you get up to get look for your pyjamas so you can get changed and devour a good breakfast.

Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook…

Oh, shit. Fuck. Jungkook. You start remembering how you got into his bed yesterday, how you clung onto him like a koala, how he took you back to your bed, and how— how you tried to kiss him and told him you two should fuck, just like Ari had suggested.

But if he is in any way like the regular human being, Jungkook might just pretend nothing happened. Yes, surely he won’t bring it up.

Only after you’ve peeked your head through your door and checked he is nowhere to be seen, you dare to walk out into the living room.

The kitchen awaits, a choir of angels singing sweetly as it glows in a golden light. It still smells like coffee, so you guess Jungkook must have left not too long ago. Whatever, you don’t care – you just want a warm coffee, scrambled eggs, and all the hangover soup you can fit in your stomach. God, your mouth is drooling already—

Someone flushes the toilet and makes you jump. Obviously, it’s your beloved flatmate who comes out, making a face as soon as he spots you hovering over the fridge.

Jungkook hesitates before speaking. “Hm, noona?”

“Uh?” You turn around with a puzzled frown, wondering if you’ve heard wrong. “Did you—?”

You step back to close the fridge. There’s coffee in the machine, so you grab your unused Shrek mug and pour it. God, you’re so hungry your stomach hurts.

“Er, jeez, I mean, Y/N-ssi. It’s just that, yesterday, well, you…”

Oh. You remember now that you did ask him to call you noona. The poor guy took you seriously, you see, and perhaps it’s best to keep it up.

“You can call me that. That is, if you want to, of course… I mean, I am older than you, and we’re technically close, even if you make my life miserable.” When you see him grimace, you correct yourself and hand him the milk, “But not more miserable than if Ari and Jimin kept begging me to take you in, so— don’t feel bad about it.”

But he slams the milk bottle onto the counter. “You know, I’d rather sleep under a bloody bridge than carry on living like a beggar. So, if you don’t want me here, then I might as well just take my things and—”

“I never said that!” you groan out of the blue. It even takes you by surprise, your words. You might have thought so, but you’d never say it out loud to him. “I’m sorry if I made you feel bad, it wasn’t my intention. I just wanted to remark how annoying these two are. And traumatising – you don’t know what they were doing seconds before they asked me to take you in for the first time…” But you can always tell him. “Ari had her fingers right up his… you know, ass.”

“You think that’s traumatic?” he asks after getting ready two mugs with coffee and hands the bottle back. “Try getting woken up at four in the morning because your friend is getting railed by his ‘mommy’ and can’t stop shrieking like a bloody banshee. God—” Jungkook trembles at the memory. “Just how much cock can a human ass take?”

You would have liked to groan at the excessively specific description or the way he has just disregarded your comment, but you can’t help cracking up a laugh instead; the way he is grimacing, so exaggeratedly, it’s too funny.

“You know, they tried to sell it to me that they were undergoing some kind of forced celibacy for your sake.”

Jungkook just snorts. “What a big fat lie.”

“Anyway” – you close the fridge softly and lean back onto the door – “I wanted to say, I’m sorry about yesterday. I just got carried away with the booze, you know. I even almost—” You cut yourself off, though, for your sake but also for his. “I even almost fell asleep on your bed! Just how crazy is that? Jeez.”

“What?”

Did you almost jump his bones in an attempt to seduce him? Well, yes. But your memory is still foggy around that part of the night, blessed brain and its biology, so it technically has never happened.

“Do you mean that you almost tried to have sex with me?” You freeze on the stop, delaying your way out of the kitchen. “Because I haven’t forgotten. You even told me it was Ari’s plan to make me stop being a dick to you, and that you were tempted to try it out.”

It takes you a second to put yourself back together despite the shame. “But here you see… I didn’t,” you say then, “because your noona has a very, very firm, and very strong, and very unbreakable ethics code.”

“Stop saying you’re ‘my noona’, I’m gonna barf,” he groans, grimacing.

With a snort, you press your forehead on the cool door of the fridge. You feel on the verge of passing out, or throwing up, or just jumping off the window, really. Where does he get this strength from after pulling up an all-nighter destroying his pupils with loud videogames and shiny screens?

“Look, I have huge hangover, I am ashamed of myself beyond human comprehension, and I really need to take a shower – I just don’t have the energy to bicker with you right now, Jeon Jungkook.”

He doesn’t say a word, and you reluctantly glance at him; Jungkook is poking his tongue in his cheek, fighting off a grin that screams anything but good humour.

“Then fuck me— I-I mean, let’s fuck,” he stutters at the pitiful choice of words. “You said it yesterday, wasn’t it Ari’s idea? Maybe that way you’ll keep me happy, noona.” But you can only let out a snort at his words, making him drop the smirk. “What?”

You turn to face him, and he shrinks at your suddenly overshadowing presence. “Nothing, but I’m pretty sure,” you begin, “that you couldn’t handle me, Jungkookie.”

His puzzled face almost makes you chuckle. You step closer, not really trying to get him pinned against the countertop – you just want to give him a small fright.

“Cat’s got your tongue now?” you chuckle. “What? Did you think that, just because I’m embarrassed, I’d be stuttering and babbling? That you could tease me about it? I am embarrassed about yesterday, of course… but I’ve already apologised, haven’t I? Can’t see what else I could do here— unless you’ve got something in mind already.”

Jungkook wants to say something, he needs to say something, his pride now completely wretched. As warm as your body just felt caging him against the counter, as sweet as your voice sounds – he hates you. He swore to hate and despise you for all eternity, that’s all you deserve for being a mean, egotistical, fake jerk. And what do you mean ‘he couldn’t handle you’? Haven’t you seen him? Jungkook hates to think that you still see him as the little nerdy freshman he was a year ago. He’s none of that now, and yet, you can’t still see it.

Shit, his blood is quite literally boiling in his veins. He finally tries to mouth something, but the doorbell shrieks across the flat.

You grab your mug. “I’ll go get that.”

“Hello, bitches!” The second you open the door, all your friends invade the entrance noisily, plastic bags hanging from their hands and smiles printed on their faces. “Post-party movie night. Jungkook, I know you didn’t come, but you can stay,” Ari jokes.

“What— what time is it?”

“Uh” – Namjoon checks his phone – “half-past seven.”

Ari comes to you while the rest leaves the bags in the kitchen. “I told you to call me as soon as you woke up, jeez. Glad Jungkookie was kind enough to let me know you were still alive.”

At the mention of your antagonistic flatmate, you go still in Ari’s embrace. She pulls back to look at you, grimacing, but says nothing else and joins Hoseok and Taehyung in the living room.

“I’ll help you with this and go get changed,” you mutter. “Someone pass me the noodles?”

“Here, noona—”

You poke your tongue against your cheek, glaring at Jungkook as he hands you the noodles package. He’s grinning, teasing you, when Jimin gasps at the scene.

“Since when do you call Y/N ‘noona’, Jungkookie?” he asks, stifling a smile.

“Yesterday she—” You shut him up with a blunt prod of your elbow against his side. Jungkook bends in pain. “Shit! What was that for—? Y-yesterday she told me I could call her noona, you know, to mend fences…”

Jimin takes a crisp from the bowl he’s holding and stares at the two of you on his way out. “That’s good, hm. It’s good to see you’re trying to smooth things over.”

After half an hour of bickering and putting your debating skills to the test, your friends and you agree on a movie to watch. It’s an action film, or a romantic one, you don’t know – fate has brought you to seat right next to Jungkook, and there are three pairs of eyes creepily fixed on you two.

“I’ll go get another drink. Anybody want anything?”

At the massive answer, Ari and Taehyung go to help Jimin with everyone’s drinks. You notice you’ve forgotten to give them your glass, so you get up to go to the kitchen.

“But you can’t cheat—”

“What are you talking about? How on earth could I cheat?”

“Remember, it’s three months at least.”

“Well, I think Jungkookie is about to fall.” It’s Jimin’s voice, and he’s giggling. “I can already feel the money in my pocket and your words back into your mouths.”

This time it’s Ari, giggling as well as something clinks in the background. You think she’s just playing around with the drinks. “And I think you’re counting your chickens before they’re hatched – just don’t claim victory yet, baby.”

You pretend you’ve heard nothing when you run into them as you walk into the kitchen. They leave you alone with Taehyung, and you hand him your glass so he can pour you another drink. However, you might be staring too much because he makes a face at you.

“Now what’s up with you, Igor?” he chuckles.

“What were you talking about earlier with those two, right before I walked in?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about… Beer or wine?”

“Wine— I think you do.” You come closer to Taehyung and put your hand on his shoulder, making him jump. “Spit it out now that I still have the patience to be nice.”

Don’t hesitate to like, reblog, and leave some feedback if you liked it! It’s always good and encouraging to know what you think <3

727 notes · View notes

ahundredtimesover · 3 years

Text

Inevitable (Prologue) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader (ft. ot6)

Genre/Tags: exes au, parents au, baseball player!JK; angst, fluff, smut (18+)

Series Warnings: foul language, alcohol consumption, minor character death, explicit sexual content in future chapters (oral, unprotected sex but be safe please!)

Prologue Word count: 2.2k

Summary: You convinced Jungkook to break up years ago so he could pursue his lifelong baseball dream. Now he’s back home, staring at you, and the little boy next to you who looks unmistakably like him.

A/N: I’ve had this story in my head for months and I’m glad I finally got to put this into writing! This little family was such a joy to write, and I thank the sweetest soul, Ava @btstannies for letting me gush over this trio and hyping me up everyday! Also, my baseball knowledge is pretty shallow so please forgive me!

Listen to: Walking By by Something Corporate

Series Masterlist || Next

“We’re here.”

The deep voice cuts through the numbness you feel, blowing life into your body that’s chosen to block out the pain for now because you know after this, it’s going to hurt a lot more.

You taste iron on your lips. You feel the sting in your eyes. You see the crescent nail marks on your palms. Then you slacken your jaw and try to breathe.

“You can cry, you know?” But Taehyung knows you won’t. Not in front of him. Not in front of the man whose heart you’re about to break.

Your best friend knows you, knows you’ll only cry when you’re alone - under the covers, in the shower, on your bedroom floor. You don’t let anybody see you like that. It makes you feel like you don’t have control, and control is the one thing you need to have right now.

“I will.”

“You also don’t have to do this.”

But Taehyung also knows you still will. It’s a decision you made on your own and he knows you well enough that nothing - no one - will make you change your mind.

“I need to.”

He hums; it’s a battle he won’t win. So he exits the car, opens the passenger seat door, and pulls you out. “I’ll be here when it’s over.”

When it’s over. Over. That’s what it’ll be after this.

You ring the doorbell and hear the faint footsteps get louder. The door opens and joyful onyx eyes greet you, a contrast to your tired brown ones. He takes it for something else, perhaps stress, since he doesn’t say anything about it.

Jungkook pulls you in a hug and you will yourself not to bask in his sweet scent, not to let his soft giggle on your neck and peck on your cheek and whisper of “I missed you” make you forget why you’re here in the first place.

He tugs you inside the apartment, the one the team offered him because he couldn’t abide by the university dorm’s curfew, being that he trains too early and finishes too late. It had been a blessing to you both, as in the course of your over two years together, you’d taken advantage of the privacy and solitude it provided.

You can’t imagine what it would give him after this.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been so busy. All these calls with the Dodgers’ owner, then manager, then coach. You think they’d all just call at once but they’re in different cities, I guess,” he shrugs and turns to you. “They’ve been excited,” he continues, his smile reaching his eyes.

It’s never pained you until now.

“As they should,” you try a smile. “They’re lucky you signed.”

He chuckles at this. He’s always been amused at your oblivion with how these things work. He’s lucky he even caught the eye of a scout, lucky they even paid attention, lucky that the LA Dodgers wanted to give him a shot with their AAA affiliate team in the minor league.

If he’s even luckier, maybe he can get to the major league in three years; two would be a miracle. It’s what he’s worked so hard for, it’s why the decision to move thousands of miles away was a no-brainer. Not everyone gets a chance to play in the most popular baseball league like this.

But Jungkook doesn’t know any better, doesn’t know that you know how these things work. You wouldn’t be doing what you’re about to if you didn’t.

“I’m glad you called, though,” he says, nerves teeming with excitement at his news. Well, proposal. It might be a difficult sell with you but he knows it’s not impossible.

It came to him one day, in the middle of a conference call with the owner who kept raving about his soon-to-be home.

“Oklahoma City is great, Jungkook. You’re gonna love it there,” the man had said. Jungkook wasn’t completely sold on the city but he knew you’d enjoy the museums, knew you’d enjoy watching the OKC Thunder play - you were always more into basketball than baseball, anyway.

Everything had been so fast - from the meetings to the contract-signing to the planning of his move to the US - but he couldn’t imagine starting his life there without you and he just knew he had to have you there with him.

He could help you find a job or you could do freelance work; what he’d earn could be enough if you both plan things out well, he thought. He was smiling like an idiot during that call, thinking about the next phase of your life together and he couldn’t wait to tell you.

You’d been caught up with your final projects and school events and he’d been caught up with his papers but you’re here with him now.

“So I was thinking and—.”

“We should break up.”

You say at the same time. For the first time, his wide eyes mirror yours - sullen and dark, but glassy, too because he did not just hear you tell him that you two should end this.

Everything had been going so well. You’d been so excited when he got signed to the Minor League, was celebrating with him in all ways you both knew how. There were no talks about breakups, no ending things. It seemed like a given that you’d both stay together; long distance relationships are hard but there are ways to manage. He knew that. He thought you knew that, thought you felt the same, too.

He stares at you, unable to make a sound, to form words that would be remotely close to what he wants to say. His heart is breaking by the second and you stare back at him. There’s no sign of guilt. You’re not taking it back, you’re not saying anything.

“You don’t mean this, ___. Tell me you don’t mean this.”

“I do,” you sigh. “I just think it’s best if we end this.”

He wishes you had not said anything at all.

“Why?” He stammers, willing himself to face whatever fucked up reason you have for wanting to break up. It doesn’t seem real. He’s suffocating with how forward you are, with how unbothered you seem while he feels his world slowly crumbling. “Did I do something wrong? Do you not love me anymore?”

“I just don’t think it’s gonna work out.”

“We haven’t even tried. I mean, I’m not leaving yet, we have a few more months to figure it out.”

“It’s months enough to get over this so we can move on. It’ll just be harder then. We know it’s gonna happen anyway,” you lie.

You see the shock on his face, the disbelief in the words coming out of your mouth. This isn’t the woman who he laid in bed with just a week ago, naked, giggling, kissing him.

“Babe, you can’t do this. I want you—no, I need you to be with me,” he continues, voice strangled, the thoughts of asking you to come with him drifting away.

“I don’t.” It’s another lie, but it’s one you need to tell.

You’re uncompromising, resolute in your decision. Your almost emotionless face - tightened features and completely dry eyes - is a contrast to his. You can’t break. You can’t back out from this.

He muffles his cries, heart breaking at the coldness of your words.

“You’re all you need, Jungkook,” you continue. “There’s nothing else I can give you that you won’t get there.” Another lie. You know that no one could love him as much as you. It’s why you’re doing this.

“Don’t do this to me, please.”

“Don’t do this to me, too, Jungkook. You have an entire life to live out there. You’re the one leaving and I’m supposed to just stay here and wait for you? Until your dream is enough? Live my life in limbo until we can be together again in god knows when? Expect that video calls will make up for the distance? What about me and my own life? What about my needs?”

It’s messed up but that’s what you do when you love someone, right? You hurt them? And you let them go?

You can only hope that one day, he’ll understand; that one day, he can forgive you. That one day, he’ll accept that you had to do this. It’s that hope you hang onto - that you’ll hang onto for years to come - just so you won’t fall apart. It’s only that hope where you can derive your strength from because you’ll have to be strong for someone else now. Someone who isn’t him.

“We— we can work it out. We’ll try, okay?. We’ll figure something out.” He stutters, still unbelieving that this is happening, that he is begging you to be on the same page with him, begging you to fight for this with him.

“But what if we can’t? What if it becomes too much? You know what it would take to make it and I can’t hold you back, Jungkook. My life is here, my family and my friends are here. I have a job waiting for me, so you can’t hold me back either. It’s unfair to both of us.”

He’s looking at you, desperate to find a crack, to find an opening. But there’s none.

“Baby, please—” he cries, arms out to hold you but you step away, as if his touch could burn you. His heart is already shattered, why are you still breaking it? What’s left to break when you’ve taken everything away from him with just your words?

“Jungkook, think about it!”

“I am, and you’re not making sense! I know we haven’t really talked about it—“

“Exactly. Because there’s nothing to talk about. You don’t need baggage when you’re over there, you can’t be thinking about anyone else, especially one who isn’t there. You need support and more patience and understanding and… I can’t give you those. Not anymore. I’m tired. I’ve been tired. It’s gonna be even more tiring when you’re gone.”

The lies don’t stop but you know they’re necessary, that this is how you convince him, that this is how he lets you go.

Jungkook doesn’t think there’s a worse way that you can hurt him. He’s always admired your decisiveness, but right now, he hates it, hates everything he loves about you - how strong you are, how persistent you are, how uncompromising you are. Your words are ice, as cold as the December evening. You’re unmoving and he knows you well enough that you won’t take it back.

“Fine,” he relents. “You want to break up? Then we break up.” He wipes the tears off his face, trying to be brave, trying to salvage the remaining dignity he has left. “We end this right now, like you want.”

This is what you came here to do. This was the goal. And you’re absolutely broken.

You turn away, knowing any more second of looking at his clenched jaw, balled up fist, and unblinking eyes will make you give in, will make you take everything back.

“Don’t reach out, okay? Don’t call. Don’t make this harder than it already is,” he states. “You wanted this.”

You nod because he’s right. You’ll lose all rights to him after this. He’ll get over you, he’ll be okay. You’ll let him know the truth when the time is right.

“Goodbye, Jungkook. Good luck out there. Your father is very proud of you.”

You turn and head out the door, the bang not as loud as your shattering heart. And just like that, it was all over.

You stand motionless outside his apartment, unable to make a step to make it all final.

You hear a thump. Then a sob.

“Please, don’t go,” he whispers, as if he knows you’re still there, and even during the final moments, he’s still begging for you to change your mind. It’s faint but you hear it and you step away this time before you walk back in and take everything back.

Taehyung starts the car as he sees your figure approach. You head to the back, behind the driver’s seat, a hand over your mouth to suppress your sobs.

“You can cry now,” he says, as he steps on the gas and turns up the volume of the radio until it drowns out your sounds. You let yourself go and weep, throat aching at the force of it all, chest tightening at the overwhelming emotion of what you’d just done.

It hurts not like you expected. It hurts even more.

You ground yourself before you lose more of you as the seconds go by and cradle the soon-to-be-there bump on your stomach.

You need to let them know it wasn’t their fault, that they’re a blessing either way, but that it’s just hard right now. You don’t want them to feel the grief, the ache of a love that had to end, the love that created them.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” you whisper and trust that this tiny little being can hear your words. “But we’re gonna be okay, alright? Mama’s gonna be okay.”

#jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fanfiction #parents au #exes au #baseball player jk #inevitable #series

2K notes · View notes

missmonsters2 · 3 years

Note

today I feel awful... idk my insecurities are taking over me and I just want to curl into a ball and cry. maybe it's my hormones maybe the fact that I weighted myself and found out I gained weight (I can't fit into my jeans 😭) and the fact that I saw my sister in a tight skin dress looking perfect while I'm in my pj's just destroyed my confidence. I need something angsty to read to make me forget about my sad, miserable lffe right now. would you be down in writing sth angsty with nat maybe? you don't have to though. it's fine either way. I really appreciate all of your work and I keep reading on repeat whenever I'm feeling down. makes me cheer up. thank you, van ❤️

It's like we're the same person because I also went to visit my sister recently and my sister has gotten her life together and is living her best hot girl bod while I...let's not go there.

I just want you to know that you're hot as fuck and a body is just a body that we can change with time and effort. We're lit rally in this together. This time next year, we will be rocking the body that makes up happy and we'll be healthy!!! 💘💘

But I will still give you nat angst...but with a happy ending bc I said you deserve a HEA!!

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The Withers of Springtime Bloom

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spring is a time of blooming and when things come back to life. You can't help but notice things that may be causing your relationship with Natasha to wither.

Warnings: self-esteem issues, insecurities about body, relationship with working out and food, seasonal depression. angst with HEA.

Count: 2.1k~

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You're not sure when things changed.

Things change so slowly after all.

Without you noticing, things change and change and change until one day, you do notice.

You notice that Natasha has become quieter, somber.

You notice the lack of date nights and affectionate touches.

You notice that you've let yourself go a little.

You're standing in front of the mirror, staring at your body with a frown. You've gained weight since dating Natasha, but relationship weight gain was normal, wasn't it?

But you remember how Natasha was just as fit as she was before she met you. Sure, she was a superhero, and you were a regular civilian; there was no reason for you to train long hours as Natasha did.

Still...

You turn to the side and peer at yourself in the mirror again.

You can't help but wonder...were you becoming less attractive to her?

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It had been the beginning of fall when you met Natasha. You loved the season of change and when things turned into warm colors before withering away for winter to come.

Natasha had come like a blessing, and in the winter, she was just warm as the colors of fall. Instead of withering away, she bloomed and invested that warmth in your relationship with her.

Despite always being an early riser to work out, weekends were the days she stayed in bed with you just a little longer. There had been so many breakfasts, lunch, and dinner dates. You found yourself moving things around or neglecting to work around her busy schedule.

Perhaps that was when things began to change. Eating out so often and forgoing working out to spend time with Natasha was what led to this.

Spring has arrived, and things are coming back to life. Yet somehow, your relationship with Natasha was withering away.

"Hey," you greet her as you come home, shopping bags in hand. You bought some more clothes when things felt like they didn't fit comfortably anymore. The experience had been upsetting for you, and you didn't end up buying too much, telling yourself you didn't want to spend too much when you were going to lose the weight.

Natasha was working in her office, peering down over reports, and barely acknowledged you other than with a hum.

"Long day?" You ask her as you put your things away and walk over to her.

"Yeah," Natasha sighed. "Trying to get these reports done since Maria needs them tomorrow."

That had been Natasha's excuse for spending long hours in her office every night for the last two weeks.

You place your hand on Natasha's shoulder with a reassuring squeeze, but she leans to the side as if to readjust herself, but still away from your touch.

The sting immediately comes, but you try to push it down, so it doesn't hurt as bad.

"Right," you say hoarsely, but Natasha stares on at the reports. "I'm just going to get ready for bed. It's been a long day and all. Let me know if you need anything."

Natasha gives you a nod as you leave the room. You feel awkward as you lie in the bed you share with her. You wonder if you're taking up too much space.

There's a pang of something as you try to curl yourself to be smaller and only distantly realizing you've skipped dinner before you fall asleep.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You fall back onto the mat, chest heaving and your lungs burning.

It's been a while since you've worked out, and now you're definitely paying for it with how unfit you are.

The gym is moderately empty with the hour it is. You hate going to a public gym because it always feels like someone is staring, but it's better for strangers to stare than working out at the Compound for people you know to stare at you.

The rational part of you knows that you should just talk to Natasha, but the emotional side of you whispers that you won't like what Natasha has to say, that she might even end it before you've had a chance to change yourself.

When weeks pass, and you weigh yourself again, you almost start crying because you've only lost a couple of pounds.

It's normal, you know it is. You're losing weight at a normal rate, but it's not enough. You know fast weight loss wouldn't make sense for your body but you also feel you don't have half a year to go back to your normal weight.

You sit on the bathroom floor for hours, debating what to do when you hear a quiet knock.

"Sweetheart, are you in there?" Natasha's muffled voice comes through.

You wipe at your eyes furiously as you stand up.

"Y-Yeah," you answer back. "I'm just in the tub soaking."

There's a moment of silence through the door before Natasha answers back, "Alright. Enjoy yourself. Did you want me to order anything specific for dinner?"

"No, it's okay," you tell her. "You order anything you want. I already ate on my way home." You think about the chicken salad you've been eating for the past two weeks and almost sigh.

Natasha answered that she just came back to see if you've eaten, but she actually had to head back to the Compound. You were Natasha shuffling around before leaving through the front door, and you let out the breath you were holding.

You actually take a long, hot shower before putting on sweats and a big hoodie.

The truth was, you were hungry. The chicken salad was okay on the way home, but it had been a couple of hours since.

You knew starving yourself wasn't the answer, so you went into the kitchen to see if you could find something healthy to hold you over until you could go to bed.

But you can't find anything in the fridge except for Natasha's leftovers from whatever she ordered the day before. You can't find anything except frozen pizzas and microwavable foods.

You check the calories on the back and let out a frustrated sigh. Checking your watch, you realize it's too late in the evening to go grocery shopping because, by the time you get there, stores will have closed.

You slump down on the floor, leaning against the cabinets as you let out a pathetic whimper while your eyes became hot with tears.

You miss Natasha. You want Natasha holding you and telling you it would be okay. But you couldn't have that until you were back to what you were when you met her.

The front door suddenly opens.

"Have you seen my—sweetheart?" Natasha started to call before she noticed you sitting on the floor. "What's wrong?"

You use your sleeve to wipe at your eyes as you sit up straight.

"Nothing," you sniffle before you start to stand. "I just stubbed my toe against the edge of the kitchen island. What were you looking for? USB? You left it next to the bedside."

Natasha stares at your back, hair still wet as she takes in your attire.

"It's a little hot to be wearing a hoodie and sweats, isn't it?" Natasha asks softly. "Doesn't seem like you turned on the aircon in here."

You keep walking, but Natasha starts to follow you.

"'m cold," you say quietly so she can't hear the tremble in your voice.

"Are you feeling sick?" Natasha asks with concern as you sit down on the couch, turning on the TV. You pull the blanket over you as if to make your point.

"No," you tell her because you don't want her to worry. "Just cold after a bath."

Natasha sets her things down before she takes a seat next to you. Even in the low lighting, she can see your eyes rimmed red and dampness of them.

You're refusing to look at her as you have your knees drawn up to your chest and stare stubbornly at the TV screen.

Then she hears it.

Your stomach grumbles.

"Are you hungry, sweetheart?" Natasha asks softly again. "We can just order food and stay in tonight."

Your cheeks grow hot. "Don't you have to be at the Compound?"

You don't mean to snap at her, but you can't help but feel embarrassed.

Natasha remains quiet for a moment, quickly thinking over the last few weeks before she feels guilt trickle in.

She doesn't remember the last time she ate with you—doesn't remember the last time she saw you eat.

"Sweetheart," she calls you gently again, and you bristle at the tone. "Is there something wrong?"

The fragile dam you've built to keep the weeks of compiling emotions at bay breaks, and you're hurtling down the stream over the waterfall.

"Are you not in love with me anymore?" You choke out as you begin to cry.

You can't even register to feel horrified at your breakdown because you just need to know.

"I know...I know my body has changed since we first met and I've gained weight but I really am trying to lose it. I just—I feel like you're avoiding me. At first, I thought things at work have been really stressful for you, and I wanted to give you space but you're gone all the time. You're gone even when you're here."

Natasha can barely understand anything you've said after hearing you say the first part. Her breath hitches painfully in the back of her throat, and she legitimately feels appalled at herself.

She starts to say something, but you keep going.

"I'm sorry, I don't want to make this about me because if you're going through something then I want to support and be there for you. But I can't help but feel like you're grossed out by me. I mean—I feel grossed out when I look at myself. I feel like I'm taking up so much space—"

Natasha cuts you off abruptly, pulling off the blanket as she pulls at you until you're in her lap.

"Nat—"

"You're not gross and this is not about the weight you have or have not gained. You hear me?" Natasha says forcefully as she holds you close to her, hand over your thigh to keep you against her.

"God, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry if I've been making you feel like you're not attractive me," Natasha's eyes well up as your tears wet her shoulder. "You're literally still the most gorgeous person I've ever met and you're always going to be that to me."

Natasha's hand at your waist dips underneath your hoodie, her fingers trailing up your back as she sighs at your warmth. "I should've told you, but the springtime is just really hard for me. It's odd because it's a time for things to come back to life but some of the worst things have happened to me during the spring and things blooming makes me think about things that aren't coming back. I think it's also just a little bit of seasonal depression too. I'm just the rare percentage that gets it in the spring."

The explanation makes your body sag with relief because while you feel so horrible that there is a reason Natasha doesn't like spring, she's not falling out of love with you.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize that I was hurting you," Natasha apologizes again. "I didn't mean to be so distant but I didn't want to bring your mood down as well, which is why I've been working so much to keep busy."

"It's okay," you muttered as your turn your head, forehead pressed against her neck. "I'm sorry spring is depressing for you."

Natasha merely hushes you as she kisses the side of your head.

You begin to feel awkward, thinking about how you must be heavy on her and try to move, but Natasha doesn't let you.

"Sweetheart, I don't know how to convince you that you're perfect to me," Natasha says so seriously as she forces you to look at her. "If you want to lose weight because that is what you want, then I support you. But I need you to understand that I love you no matter what. I don't care either way because you're so fucking lovely to me always. Do you understand?"

Timidly, you reply, "Okay. Thank you."

Natasha presses her lips against yours in a long kiss before she pulls back.

"Now, I'm going to ask again. Are you hungry? We can order in and watch that new show on Netflix I heard was pretty good from Wanda."

You feel lighter. You think you might still want to work out because that would make you happy, but you don't feel the rush like you did just a couple of hours ago.

"Yeah," you say shyly. "But maybe something not so heavy?"

Natasha nods as she presses another kiss into your cheek as she helps you settle onto the couch right beside her to grab her phone.

"Anything to make you bloom."

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff oneshot #black widow x reader #black widow x you #black widow imagine #avengers imagine #avengers x reader #mm: my fics #g.angst #g.fluff

662 notes · View notes

sunflowergyeomie · 3 years

Text

can you handle it?

sypnosis: jeonghan is a real pain in the ass, we all know that. he always seems to get you to do things you never agreed on doing, you try not to fall for them though. what if one day you accidentally fall into his trap and give in, without knowing at all?

pairing: yoon jeonghan x gn!reader (vagina bearing)

genre: established relationship, fashion design student!au, architect!au, smut (18+ only)

word count: 2.9k

warnings: profanity, m!dom, degradation, lots of cum play, fingering, creampie, unprotected sex, pet names, size kink?? if you squint

a/n: bcos the irl girl version of jeonghan (aka my devil angel twin) @shuajeong told me "there aren't any fics of jeonghan lately", thus ✨this is written purely for you and your pain 😘 i have to say though, this isn't my best work :( i kept going back and forth and i rewrote and changed things at least three times so 😖😖 (i'm lowkey done with it so i'm sorry i tried, i really did) please forgive me.

Challenge?

Oh, it’s a challenge, alright.

Annoyed is what it is, lips pressed tightly together as you sink in the indescribable feeling. That’s what was currently happening seeing how there is a huge load of cum in your panties – an ignorant aftermath of your quickie with Jeonghan this morning before he drove you to class.

He even had the nerve to question how long you could stay like that for the entire day. You took that as him asking for a challenge and having been with you for a while now, Jeonghan knew you were never one to back down from them. Having basked in the afterglow of sex sure made you think anything was possible – or more accurately speaking his dick just made you dumb.

Now that it’s almost noon, you’re absolutely starting to regret the choice you’ve made, especially when you’re sitting halfway through your second lecture for the day, simply feeling that load threatening to spill out from the cotton panel, onto your inner thighs and slowly ooze down your legs.

Multiple calls of your name put a halt to your thoughts. A hand waves across your face while your eyes focus and refocus as the silhouettes come into sight. Your friends, Mingyu and Minghao are both staring at you, confusion etched across their faces, anticipating an answer from a question one of them probably asked. But in all honesty, you couldn’t recall the subject matter, nor did you give a shit about their issues because your main concern at this time is to get the hell out of there. “Oh, huh? Oh yes, sorry, yes, I’ll absolutely do that.”

A little laugh escapes from Mingyu’s lips while Minghao frowns. “I said.. What are you thinking about?” Mingyu asks, “You have a weird look on your face.”

“Are you not feeling well?” Minghao chimes in. “We can take n-“

“I’m fine, guys. Just a little tired,” You brush off, not wanting to go too deep into whatever you were currently feeling. It’s not that the guys weren’t close to you. In fact, they grew to be one of the closest ever since freshman year when all three of you showed up in the same pattern drafting class, wary looks on everybody’s faces in a new environment. Since the fashion department itself is small with only a few hundred students enrolled, it also meant that classes were taken with familiar faces, rarely is there a fashion student you haven’t seen before. Not to mention you were always being grouped in numerous projects and that’s how the three of you came to be. Both of them knew of your relationship with Jeonghan, of course, but there’s just some things that are better off left unsaid even if they are your best friends.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the both of them stealing glances at you every now and then. Even though they didn’t buy your excuse, Mingyu and Minghao knew better than not to bug you about it so throughout the whole three-hour lecture, you could just sense their concern emanating off their bodies. Adding on to your growing anxiety, making you more on edge, terrified that at any moment they would catch a glimpse of whatever dirty secret you were holding in – quite literally. Pulling out your phone, you quickly sent a text.

[12:03 PM]

you: I can’t take this anymore.

hannie: what’s wrong, princess?

You groaned, exasperation coating your breath. Was he playing dumb?

you: you know what I mean, han.

hannie: and what about it?

hannie: if I recall correctly, weren’t you the one who practically begged me to cum inside of you? Was just doing what you asked me to, princess :)

Scoffing in disbelief, you ignore his message, tossing the device straight into your bag, now furious at yourself for agreeing to it.

Stupid dick.

You weren’t even that horny this morning.

The cement walkways on campus greet the three of you as you step through the warm breeze. The sun shining through every leaf on the tall oak trees above you signal the firsts of many beautiful days now that summer is just around the corner. The bright weather is a big contrast to your dampening mood as your feet slowly drag along the blocks, leaving a gap between you and your friends while you try to keep up. You weren’t too keen on walking too fast right now. One wrong shift and you could be at risk of having Jeonghan’s gooey, semi-translucent, and not-so-warm release pooling down from underneath your mound. The two paid no attention to you though, they’re happily chatting about lunch options and the next possible location for studying afterwards. Not that you were going to join them anyways, not until you get the mess in between your legs situated.

“How about donkkaseu?” Mingyu turns around to ask, head whipping back mid-sentence to look at you, only to turn around and see that you’re already gone. His head turns left and right, trying to find you in the crowd of students, squinting his eyes for even a glimpse of your backpack but you’re nowhere to be seen.

“Where’d she go?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Minghao gives him a pointed look. “Jeonghan.” He says bluntly.

Jeonghan works downtown, a full hour away from your university. He was a busy man, well-equipped with knowledge and never failed to take pride in his work, no matter what it was. Your boyfriend was a well-wanted individual – not only with people who desperately wanted to be in his inner circle but also in his field of work with the numerous clients fighting for a slot in his schedule. Jeonghan has never-ending project proposals, spending most of his hours reviewing alterations and redevelopments on his building designs – a perfectionist, you often say or an obsession as others might call it. Knowing how serious his job was to him, you made sure not to meddle in with his profession, seeing how much it irritated him whenever he couldn’t concentrate, but this time was different – and you couldn’t hold yourself back from making the journey. You bow as you greet the secretary at the front desk. She takes one look up from her screen and already knows who you’re here for, immediately telling you of your boyfriend’s whereabouts while you nod back in thankfulness.

Pushing the heavy doors to Jeonghan’s office, the first thing you notice were his eyebrows deeply furrowed upon his face, a definite telltale to the attentiveness of the task in front of him. A few coworkers were surrounding him, each hovered over what seemed to be like another one of his drawing plans. At the click of the doorknob, Jeonghan’s head perked up when he saw you enter. A smile threatens to pull at his lips, but he bites them to prevent the joy from appearing. He’s been waiting for you all day. Having expected you to cave in earlier so he could have an excuse to take a long break. The current deal he was working on was getting to his head even though he’s gone over it a couple times already. He just needs a reset, a breather of some sort, … a release. Jeonghan fakes innocence however when he asks why you’re here. Simultaneously, his brain has already got his fingers wrapped around the string – pulling once, twice, three times, officially starting the internal mischievousness in him. A devious idea accelerating right before your very own eyes.

You furiously start making your way towards him, hair flying in all directions, nostrils flared in annoyance, your cheeks flamed red from built-up anger since the early morning you got to school, and the wrinkle between your eyebrows. You were a hot-tempered mess, you knew that but god, all he could think about was how beautiful you look. The way your eyes are rounded with the curvature of your nose bridge, adding on to the natural tint to your soft lips. Your lips that pout ever so slightly whenever you want something, your lips that taste like a mixture of yourself and that artificial strawberry-flavoured chapstick you apply every morning, your lips he so badly wants to feel against his own.

Your voice cuts through, interrupting his trance. “Excuse me, can I speak to you privately for one second?”

“Of course.” Jeonghan grins, dropping the pen as his hands start pushing his body up from the plush chair, quickly dismissing his staff with a wave of the hand. They take a hint as one by one, each of them starts leaving. He stands up, arms already going around your waist to pull you close, “Hi baby, how was your day?” He asks, head tilting as his hands are already reaching up to run his fingers through your hair.

You open your mouth to spew words, anger bubbling in letters as they boil up to the back of your throat but all of which dies down when the fire is turned off. Blocked off after the door is shut behind the last person when his demeanour takes a turn and switches a whole 180 degrees. His plan finally comes into action as his acting skills gear up. Licking his lips, his hands drop as he takes a step closer to you, hovering over your tiny figure. He’s finally got you where he wanted you in the first place. His eyes peer down from the lenses of his wired glasses, “Don’t you know better than not to interrupt me while I’m working?” He pauses. “What do you think my staff will think if you’re here for too long?” The back of his fingers gently trails down your face, almost feather-like as you try to press your face against his palm, leaning more into his touch.

“Guess you couldn’t keep it in, huh? I always knew you were a little slut.” Jeonghan tsked, “Was my cock not enough that you needed a second filling? It’s only been a few hours, darling.”

He starts walking back to his desk, hands going into his pockets as he leans against the edge. It shouldn’t have intimidated you, the way his eyes bore into yours but you gulped anyways, a feeling of excitement stirring in your lower abdomen as you clenched around nothing. You opened your mouth to retaliate, only for it to be shaped like what seems like a silent ‘o’. One of his eyebrows raise, a silent gesture for you to come.

Out of habit, your legs start moving obediently on their own until they reach the fronts of Jeonghan’s dress shoes. Tracing the outline of his long, toned legs hidden underneath the carob brown material of his trousers, you couldn’t help catching onto the small details of the garment. The modern leg-lines seamed in to elongate his legs, waistband wrapped around his torso showcasing his slim but strong build, the button with its holes as imaginary eyes and a crossed thread disguised as lips silently screaming ‘open me, open me!’.

He grabs your jaw, forcing you to tear your eyes away from his lower half to look at him. “I thought you came here to say something, but I can practically see the drool coming out of your pretty little mouth, staring at my cock.”

“I-“, He spins you around, positions changed now that you’re the one leaning against the desk. Jeonghan dives his head to capture your lips with his. You’re taken by surprise as a gasp escapes from your mouth while he takes that as a chance to deepen the kiss, his tongue slipping past your bottom lip; full of need and desire, desperate to let out his frustrations. All your effort is focused on keeping up, molding your mouths together. Your anger is now replaced with lust. His hands are moving down to grip your ass.

Your breath hitches when his lips start trailing down your jaw, gently nibbling the soft skin on your neck before travelling down the valley of your breasts. He doesn’t bother trying to take off your top, opting to unbutton the first few, just enough to expose your lacy bra. Slipping underneath one cup to carefully knead your honey soft skin before latching his mouth onto your nipple, sucking gently but firmly. You whine as he hoists you up and places you on the surface, his face never detaching from your soft and full chest as he quickly pulls your pants off, leaving you in just your soaked panties.

“Maybe it was a good idea to leave my cum in you,” Jeonghan’s fingers hook onto the waistband. He smirks before pulling them down completely, stopping mid-thigh. “Easier to prepare.”

A trail of your slick follows as his digits spread your pussy, using his middle finger to slowly drag up your wet slit. His other hand is gripping your thigh when he reaches down in between, scooping the leftover cum from the previous session and forcing it back into your pussy. You watch with wide eyes only to have them roll back completely when he finishes by stuffing them all the way into you, resulting in a loud moan.

“P-please”

Jeonghan chuckles, satisfied by your reaction. He had you beckoning at his every move yet you were sure the satisfaction still wasn’t enough for him, not just yet. He pulls his fingers out to strip himself of his own pants, popping his member out. The hand with the fingers that were just inside of you is now rubbing all over his cock, using the little beads of precum along with a bit of your slick to pump himself.

Jeonghan’s cock is pretty, like the boy himself. He’s not too big or too small but he knows his angles and he knows how to use them right. Every time the two of you get intimate, which is quite often, his thrusts are sharp, clean and reach to the most inner parts of you – something that leaves soreness inside of you for days. But that doesn’t seem to matter whenever the two of you are having hot and steamy sex five days out of the seven weekly.

“You better stay fucking quiet.”

One hand is gripping your waist for extra support while the other is slowly guiding his length into you. The growl in his voice sends another wave of arousal between your legs, the wetness starting to spill and gather down your thighs. His eyes diverted down to pay attention to the way his length was disappearing inside of you. Each stroke covering his manhood with even more of your juices.

“F-ffuck, baby.” He curses under his breath. “You’re still so tight.”

His voice was breathy, almost like a whine before he picks up his speed, splitting your folds with a sloppy rhythm, expecting to chase both your highs before his coworkers come barging back in. Although the thought of getting caught in such a compromising position arouses him, Jeonghan couldn’t risk letting anyone seeing you in your most vulnerable state. Not when you have all the right curves, exclusive only for his viewing.

At some point, his hands start pulling you into him to meet his every thrust, your tits bouncing as you start feeling the delicious new angle he’s ruining you from. The tip of his cock rubbing against your cervix with every stretch. The familiar feeling of tension starts to build as your eyes squeeze tighter, your orgasm is approaching faster and faster. You’ve never wanted to scream his name out loud so badly when he slams once, no, twice into you, releasing the coil sending intensifying waves of pleasure throughout your whole body. Your tight heat clenching and unclenching around him causing Jeonghan to groan, “Shit.”

“Cum in me.” You insisted weakly. He gives in as he presses himself balls deep, cock twitching as he unloads inside of you, cum shooting in spurts coating your walls in white. The groan emerging from the back of his throat muffled as he quickly smashes his lips onto yours to conceal it. Your muscles move on your own, hiding your own whimper as your lips move together in unison. His body slumps over yours while he rests his head against your shoulder, pressing a light kiss as a way to say thank you.

In the intimacy of the moment, your arms are thrown around his broad shoulders, subconsciously pulling him closer as the two of you try to catch your breaths. When he lifts his head up, his doll eyes are already staring into your glossy ones. A tender smile spreading across his face, pecking your lips one more time before he slowly pulls out. Straight away, the emptiness is evident as his warmth disappears, your hole gaping while he looks down to appreciate the work done on your ruined pussy.

You feel your panties being pulled back up, now snug on your hips as he lets go of the elastic waistband to hear it snap back on your skin.

“Guess you have two loads to keep in now.” A devilish look covering every inch of his handsome face.

“Jeonghan!” you lunged at him. He cackles maniacally, successfully dodging while you attempt to jump on his back. The blood in your veins starts boiling again, both hands reaching up to cover your face when you realize your mistake for the second time today.

Jeonghan’s dick really did make you dumb.

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #yoon jeonghan x reader #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan smut #jeonghan imagine #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan imagines #yoon jeonghan smut #yoon jeonghan #yoon jeonghan one shot #jeonghan one shots #svt jeonghan

923 notes · View notes

allmightluver · 3 years

Note

**bnha spoilers** I'm just sat here with renewed realisation of what All Might is going through. 40 years. /40 years/ he held and refined that power and dedicated his every waking (and sleeping if Vigilantes is anything to go by) moment towards the goal of defeating AfO and creating a society in which people could feel happy and safe. And now as it turns out AfO is still alive, society is broken and he has given a literal piece of his soul to this young boy leaving himself with only phantoms

Yes. I don’t think people quite grasp what all he’s going through.

It’s been shown recently to us that some, if not most, heroes have underlying ambitions in becoming a hero. Whether for money, glory, fame, popularity, doesn’t matter. They’re ultimately in it for themselves. Toshinori’s intentions from the beginning have been the most pure- he wanted to be a symbol that people can look to and know things will be ok. A symbol of hope. This boy was only around 14 years old when he decided this. What kind of 14 year old sees the world that clearly? Sees that people have no hope, that a veil of darkness covers them. The only thing I can think of is- Toshinori did not have a good childhood. Something had to have happened to a boy that young to stop seeing the joy in life so early, and see the world’s flaws. Truthfully, I believe he was an outcast- due to his quirklessness. Most likely an orphan, perhaps abandoned by his parents, as we’ve never seen him have any family. I do truly believe Toshinori has been alone all his life. I don’t doubt more could have happened to him as a child before he met Nana.

Some may argue that Izuku is the same age, and therefore it shouldn’t be that hard to see why Toshinori wanted to be a hero at such a young age. BUT, Izuku had someone to look up to, ever since he was a child of four years old, to inspire him to be a hero his whole life *cough cough* All Might. Izuku also was quirkless, much like Toshinori, and an outcast because of it (hence where I assume Toshinori was much the same). But ultimately, Izuku wanted to save people because he saw his hero do it. It really wasn’t until Izuku was a bit older, has been in UA, has been on rescue missions, has seen what the heroes see, that I think he’s truly realized how dark the world really is. Toshinori didn’t have that. He didn’t have someone to inspire him as a child, someone to look up to, a hero to inspire him to help others. At that time, heroes hadn’t become as popular as they are in present times. Toshinori saw the world for what it was, on his own, at a tender age. I think that day Nana ran into this blonde hair kid, she eyed him up, noticed his scraggly form, looked into those captivating blue eyes, and saw a man who’s lived through the world’s horrors- experienced the worst it has to offer-, and wants to save everyone he can from the same fate, all in a 14 year old boy.

Then after only a few short years with the woman he saw as his mother, she’s killed in front of him because of his own weakness- he wasn’t strong enough yet to protect her. The only other person his life, Gran Torino, literally abused him. He beat him to a pulp, taking his own emotions out on a teenager, and I doubt Toshinori said anything of it. He probably thought he deserved it. He’s still afraid of Gran Torino to this day, remembering the beatings and expecting more for his failures- even if he doesn’t know what they are surely he’s at fault for something, but he’s the only person who’s stood by his side for this long. Even while at a distance, and spouting nothing but criticisms along the way. But Toshinori had to put aside his own emotions to be that hope for everyone. He left everything he knew to go to a new country on his own, to learn how to be a hero, to be that hope for someone.

Vigilantes showed us just how hard he worked. Toshinori literally stayed awake with no sleep for days on end- 3 in the chapter I’m referencing- because people needed help, people needed saving, and no one else stepped up. He fought villains, rescued civilians, repaired damage, cleared rubble, (even accept and eat food that was against his dietary restrictions after his injury) whatever the public needed, all while draining himself further. He worked himself to the point of exhaustion because he had no help, once literally falling asleep while mid-leap across the city because he simply could go no further.

^^These happen in succession of each other^^

No one stepped up to say “Hey, Mr. Number 1, you’ve been working hard lately. Let me help you!” No one tried to take over his position. Even the Number 2 hero, Endeavor, never tried to take some of his burden. His only goal was to try to be better than All Might in terms of power- he was never trying to be the hero that the people relied on All Might for. Everyone relied on him when things looked grim. He was the back up plan. And all of this happened before Toshinori’s injury.

The only thing he ever wanted to do- help people- he can’t do (at least the way he’s always known how to). The ability to save people has been taken from him in the most gruesome way. He was finally able to fight the man that killed Nana, and in a rage that I’m sure echoed with all of the emotions of the previous users, he smashed that man’s head like a grape. But not without consequence. Several organs are gone. The pain is excruciating. He wears that man’s mark on his body for the rest of his life, never truly able to rid himself of the filth.

Then we have Nighteye’s betrayal. The man that helped him as a sidekick, the man that grew to be his only friend. Now some people may ask why Toshinori flipped like he did to Nighteye looking into his future when he was concerned about him making it through his injury. What I believe is Toshinori didn’t want to know when he would die (and really, who does). Now he knows he’s on a time limit, knows the clock is ticking. Time is running out to keep the world at peace, and with him as he is now, how long can this go on?

I think the betrayal, doing something that Toshinori specifically asked him not to do, is what hurt the most. How can he trust Nighteye anymore? He already can only count on one hand the people he can trust, let alone befriend.

He’s wasted away into a skeleton, a shell of the man he used to be. He can’t over exert himself without his only lung bleeding in protest. It’s canon in the side books that he really doesn’t eat much, which isn’t good for his diet without a stomach now (he’s supposed to have several small meals a day). He is quite literally punishing himself by starving. (Granted, he doesn’t feel hunger anymore.) He’s a sick man, beyond medical help at this point. They can only stabilize him and hope for the best. For five years now he’s in constant pain, every day. He loses blood like sweat. Surely his veins are bruised and collapsed with how many times he would have needed to be hospitalized. Whether from losing too much blood, being too dehydrated or starved from “forgetting” to eat, or an organ failing as body continues to fall apart. “...even as my body rots and grows frail...” - Toshinori People are bound to stare at him as he walks down the street. A tall, willowy, skeleton with a grimace on his face and blood stains on his clothes as he coughs up more into his own hands. There would be the ones who outright ignore him when they walk by, the people who offer pitying smiles and sympathetic glances or just outright stare, and then ones who are afraid of his appearance- children screaming at the mere sight of him and running to their parents to hide from the monster. Each one is another knife in Toshinori’s side, an ache in his chest. If only they knew who I really am.

Losing Nighteye took a toll on his hero work as well. Mirai was a huge help in the past, and took care of all Toshinori’s paperwork, while also reminding him to take care of himself. Without him, Toshinori was even more buried beneath his responsibilities. Plus, now he was on a time limit. He even snapped briefly in his first meeting with Tsukauchi, accidentally revealing himself as All Might because he was under too much pressure, and telling the detective he literally couldn’t handle doing everything by himself (who graciously took over the paperwork side of things for him).

He was living a double life now, having to lie to people left and right about who he was while in his small form, about how he became so sickly, why he was here in the first place who the heck is this skinny old guy. Surely he had multiple visits to the doctor while continuing to repair the damage done by AFO (there’s a limit to how much the body can handle at once. And things I’m sure continued to fail as time went on). Then he would be bedridden for as long as the doctors could keep him strapped to a bed, until he couldn’t take the people’s cries for help any longer, and would jump into action. (It’s also revealed he has something of a super hearing- able to hear danger- which may have been a form of danger sense of OFA that was never fully unlocked?. Either way, he surly could sense disasters happening while he could only lay and heal from his latest surgery. Those poor doctors must have had to re-stitch him several times). People blame him for not preparing society for his retirement, that he failed in passing on the torch so to speak, but in reality he did everything possible to keep society from falling for 40 years, doing all within his power just to keep things afloat. He is only one person. One human being, he can’t do everything despite trying to. Society failed All Might.

People blame him for not being a good teacher. He didn’t exactly have the greatest teacher himself to learn from. He’s never had to teach anyone anything, he just punches! He’s learning. And for his own credit, he’s an incredibly wise man, he has years of experience under his belt, and an intelligence score of 6/6, scoring up there with Nezu! He may not always have the right way to bring something up, but he’s doing his best. Yet even he blames himself for Izuku not being able to control his quirk better. Every time the boy hurts himself, it’s just another tally on the chalkboard of Toshinori’s failures. He himself knows the boy deserves better, better than him. Useless. Pathetic.

Then his friend from America, Dave, essentially became a villain trying to preserve Toshinori’s legacy after Toshinori told him about his injury. Dave went behind his back, threatened people, injured people (pretty sure people died), all for Toshinori’s sake. Something he didn’t want to begin with. Having to put your only other friend in jail for trying to help you surely couldn’t have been easy.

Oh, by the way? All For One isn’t dead. All Might will fight him again, publicly, have his weakened form exposed to the world, and have his own emotions toyed with as he finds out about his master’s grandson in the villain’s hands. Would Nana hate him for leaving her son alone like she’d asked, and dooming her grandchild to be raised by the greatest villain? Could he have done anything to save him? But Toshinori isn’t allowed to feel, he has to smile and push his own feelings aside once again, because there’s a villain to be fought, and only he can fight him. Despite coming out on top, he’ll have suffered severe head trauma, broken left arm, destroyed right arm, and several cuts and bruises that are sure to scar. And then, his quirk, the only thing that’s been allowing him to help people, the gift given to him that he carefully held for 40 years and molded into his own until his very consciousness was permanently carved into it, blows out like a match in the wind. And he’s done. Used up. Empty. Broken. Hollow. Alone, again.

He overhears his student, Bakugo, admit that he blames himself for All Might’s retirement. If he hadn’t been captured, All Might wouldn’t have had to save him, and he wouldn’t have had to fight AFO. Of course Toshinori knows that’s not true, his time was about to run out anyway. It would have happened one way or another. But how can he explain to this child that he wasn’t the cause of his hero, the world’s greatest hero, fighting for his sake, bleeding for his sake, being forced into retirement to keep him safe. Every time Bakugo sees the bandages covering Toshinori’s body is another reminder of the pain and sacrifice Toshinori willingly gave to keep him safe. Toshinori wasn’t held when his mentor died. He wasn’t told it was ok to be sad, that grief and mourning was a natural process, that it takes time to heal. He wasn’t told it was ok to cry. Instead his feelings were beaten out of him as he wondered if Gran Torino blamed him for Nana’s death. He already blamed himself How then, does he comfort a child mourning for him? For what he lost.

And then he gets the call to come to the hospital. Mirai, Nighteye, his old sidekick friend, has been gravely injured, much like he himself was only a few years ago, and most likely won’t survive the night. And to his horror, Nighteye is happy to see him, smiles at him, says he doesn’t hate him for what happened, only wants Toshinori to be happy. He can’t accept that, at least let him apologize, reconcile his sins before it’s too late! But it is. Another fractured piece of his heart gone.

Of course, seeing your students beat up and their arms completely destroyed must have hurt. Instead of being able to save these kids, they’re the ones that hurt themselves to save everyone else. And if Bakugo had kept OFA, things could have been very different (especially with what we know now of OFA and people with quirks). Toshinori wasn’t mad at Izuku for transferring it away, he’d never regret choosing Izuku, and I believe he still would have stayed by Izuku and Bakugo’s side should it have stayed in Bakugo, doing whatever he could to help.

As he tells Aizawa, “I’ve decided to live,” -that statement seems so melancholy, besides obvious reasons. It sounds more like another task he has to accomplish. He didn’t die he was supposed to die with the AFO fight, and now the whole life he lived is over. The world has no use for him anymore. If not for Izuku, he’d have nothing left keeping him here. But because his boy made him promise to live, he’ll do so. Though it almost seems like he says those words with regret. “I’ve decided to live.” Not, “I’m going to live!” “Nothing can kill me!” “I won’t go down without a fight!” No. “I’ll live if I have to, only because you asked me to.” The man is obviously and outwardly depressed. He has so many things against him. No doubt has severe PTSD, anxiety, among others. Not to mention his own physical health. Every day hurts. It’s painful to be alive. Why would he torture himself if he doesn’t have to? For you, my boy. You’re the only thing keeping me here. The only light in my dark world.

He tries to help Izuku find out the previous holder’s quirks, to help his boy in any way he can now that he’s worthless, and goes days on end without sleep, running his body into the ground. He even forgets Christmas. Only to find that by giving the boy the same gift he had received, he may have just doomed him to an early death, among psychological torture (danger detection). (Granted, he really doesn’t know how everything works, and he’s afraid to talk to anyone about it). His boy could live only half a life.

It’s only been a few months since he retired, and society has fallen into shambles. People are blaming him. People are dying. He watches helplessly as his colleague fight his fight for him, and end up battered, bruised, crippled, dead. He students, his boy, battle the monster he should have killed. Children are bleeding. This shouldn’t happen. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Is everything he worked for, everything he fought to protect, to build up, to inspire, is all for naught?! Did he live a foolish dream and doom the world? Was all the the friends he lost, tears he shed, the organs he destroyed, the pain he endures on a daily basis from the hole in his side, and the blood he continues to bleed every day, for nothing? The public, the ones he protected for so long, mourn his absence, but surely there are those among them who also blame him. The statue from his last fight in Kamino one that he never asked for was decimated in a mock of his catch phrase- the one that was supposed to give hope.

Now he can feel his own vestige speaking with Izuku in the OFA realm, even with out OFA in his own body anymore. His clock as nearly reached it’s limit, Nighteye’s prediction is due any day now. The only thing he wants is to see his boy smile at him, to give him some shred of hope. Yet the child remains unconscious, and Toshinori can’t even hold his hand from the bandages covering his arms. Will he still be able to fight? Is there any coming back from this now? Did I break him?

With all Toshinori has been through, I’m honestly surprised we haven’t seen him just outright break down. Anyone, anyone, else should have crumbled under the pressure of holding up the world for 40 years alone. And instead of being able to pass it on to someone when he can no longer bear its weight, it simply falls to into the abyss. People don’t credit All Might enough for everything he’s done. Most don’t realize the sacrifices he’s made. His character is so unbelievably profound and deep, it’s more than just the “I am here!” people focus on. He’s a deeply troubled, layered, complex character. And I can’t find fault within him.

2K notes · View notes

vanderlustwords · 3 years

Note

What if Steve leaves and she finds out she’s pregnant? I really love your alternate ending where he leaves for Peggy and wondering if you could write more about it. Doesn’t have to be him leaving a child behind that was just a question that popped into my head

Pairing: (past) Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader

Please do not repost/translate anywhere. Reblogs/Comments are much welcomed ♥

Continuation of: This Dress is Karma || Alternate Ending

Warnings: unbeta'd. Angst ending for Steeb.

Note: I don't know how you roped me into writing a 2.3k continuation but here I am LOL

Count: ~2.3k

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

You shut the door with a soft click, waiting until you hear the quiet footsteps fade away. The lump in your throat gets harder to swallow as you turn around, leaning back against the door and let out a shaky sigh.

You can't help but think those were some brave words you said to Steve. You desperately wanted them to be true. You did want to be so happy that it would physically pain Steve if he were to ever witness it.

You wanted it to be true that you were never going to see him again because he had hurt you so much, and he needed to stay away from you.

But when you lift your trembling hand to your stomach, you wonder if everything you said had been nothing more than a brave front.

"You alright?"

You immediately look up and see Bucky stepping out of the guest room, fully dressed with towel-dried hair.

You swallow and force a smile as you drop your hand.

"Yeah, you ready to head out?" You ask him as you stand up straight.

Bucky nods with a grumble before he grabs a strand of his hair. "I need a haircut first, though. Do you think we could find a barber first?"

"Sure," you say, turning around and opening the door with Bucky following you behind.

"You sure everything is okay?" Bucky asks you again.

The way your throat feels raw, the hysterical words that want to escape your mouth make you feel dizzy. You want to put your hand against your stomach again as if to see if you could suddenly feel a bump.

But you refrain because Bucky would get suspicious. Well, he'd probably think you had a stomachache first, but if you didn't stop acting strange, he would pry.

"Everything's fine," you mumble.

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

As the weeks pass, more and more things begin to slip from you.

There is a layer of never-ending panic that sits right beneath your skin, crawling and setting your nerves on fire.

When you began to get morning sickness and threw up into the toilet, you began to shake.

The reality of your situation began to hit you.

You were pregnant.

With Steve's child.

Steve, who had abandoned you and was grey and old and probably would pass away soon.

The notion of it all had you throwing up in the toilet again.

You were alone, and you were scared.

What were you going to do? You couldn't rely on Steve anymore.

You looked down at your relatively flat stomach still, placing your hand against it.

There was a life growing inside you. What were you going to do?

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

It was harder to hide when Bucky came over almost every other day, even though he didn't live with you. He had stayed for a week after the confrontation with Steve but quickly found his own place.

Initially, that had made you feel more alone, like everyone couldn't wait to escape from you. But it had worked out when you needed alone time.

Bucky was currently in your kitchen, cooking up steaks for lunch for the two of you.

The smell of it made you deathly pale.

"What's going on with you?" Bucky asked with a frown as he set the steaks aside to rest.

You had to swallow hard before you could answer. "Nothing," you said weakly. "I'm—I'm sorry. I know you came all the way here to cook but I'm not really hungry."

"You've been saying that for days now, doll," Bucky pursed his lip. "I feel like I haven't seen you eat a proper meal lately. What's going on? I know things have been...hard. Especially since you last saw Steve, but this isn't okay. I need you to eat something in front of me that isn't pretzels, bananas, or bread."

The idea of sliding a piece of steak basted in butter had your stomach knot itself painfully.

You shook your head, but when Bucky insisted, slicing the steak and you watched the juices run, you couldn't hold it in anymore.

You took off to the bathroom in haste.

"Hey—" Bucky called out and took off after you, but you were quick to shut the door before you fell to your knees over the toilet and hurled.

"What's wrong?" Bucky yelled through the door, trying to jiggle it open but found you had locked it. "Open the door, doll. I just want to make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine," you said shakily as you grabbed some toilet paper and wiped your mouth, eyes hot with tears. "I just—I just haven't been feeling well."

The silence on the other side of the door only lingered for a moment before Bucky used his metal arm to turn the doorknob so hard, it broke open.

He found you sitting on the floor, over the toilets, eyes rimmed red and your face pale.

Bucky carefully walks in and kneels slowly before you.

He thinks back the couple of weeks and how you've been going to the bathroom a lot more, and how you don't like going to restaurants to eat. You've been eating at home and the strangest things and wearing more flowy shirts.

He looks at your face, and the way you're trying to hold back your tears makes Bucky feel dread.

"Doll..." he calls you softly. "Are you—Are you pregnant?"

You let out a choked sob in response, face dropping as you close your eyes.

Bucky's quick to hold you in his arms as he strokes your back, his heart dropping.

There was only one person who could've gotten you pregnant.

There had been some dumb shit Steve's done the entire time Bucky's known him. Always getting into scraps he couldn't finish, always prideful when Bucky wanted to help him.

But it had been the first time Bucky's ever been so fucking pissed at Steve. It was the first time Bucky couldn't defend or make an excuse for his friend.

"Bucky, what am I going to do?" You trembled in his arms. "I can't—Steve isn't—I want to keep it but I'm alone."

Bucky swallowed so hard it was painful.

There was no fucking way he was ready to be a dad or step up in any kind of way—that is, if you even let him.

Fuck, you two didn't even have feelings for each other or anything. There was something, maybe, Bucky thought for the future. But now?

"You're not alone," Bucky reassured, keeping his voice still for your sake. "I'm here. I'm here all the way and I'm not gonna leave you, doll. Ever."

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

You manage to keep the fact that you're pregnant under the wraps easily. It helps that since saving the world, no one really meets up anymore. A part of you worries because you can't find Wanda anywhere, but you know she can find you if she wanted to.

Sam might be the only other person who knows, and Bucky was begrudging when accepting his help.

Months pass, and you're surprised how dedicated Bucky is. You're pretty sure you're on the verge of a mental breakdown constantly. A part of you worries Steve will show up, but Bucky reassures you that there's nothing Steve could do even if he did show up.

"Fuck..." you swore as Bucky was in the middle of figuring out how to build the crib the two of you got from Ikea. He looks up at you alarmingly. "I think my water just broke."

"Oh, shit, okay, okay!" Bucky jumps up right away and starts running around to grab the prepared bag as he helps you out into the car. "Don't panic!"

"Bucky, I'm literally about to push a baby out of my body. I'm going to fucking panic if I want to," you snap, and Bucky bites his lip to refrain from speaking as he zips through traffic.

"Oh, god," you say under your breath. You were having a baby. You were actually going to have a baby.

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

"Bucky, you can't just carry her everywhere," you grumbled as you pushed the stroller through the park. "You're spoiling her."

"Yes, I can. She wants me to carry her and whatever my princess wants, she gets." Bucky declared indignantly at you while sticking his tongue out.

You sighed with a smile.

You couldn't believe a year has passed. Despite the time passing, you never really felt fully prepared as a mother. You were scared you were fucking it up all the time if you're honest.

Bucky holds your hand, and you give him a shy smile. That was new too. Slow and steady, as Bucky has always been, and you think you were falling for him because of that.

When you look up, your heart stops.

"Oh," Steve blinked.

Another year has passed, but you find Steve doesn't look too different. A little more tired perhaps, but still...Steve.

You feel panic creep up in your chest that threatens to become a panic attack before Bucky squeezes your hand.

"Breathe, doll," he whispers encouragingly to you, but it's loud enough for Steve to catch.

You do as he says, taking a few calming breaths. You want to keep walking, but it seems Steve can't stop staring at the child in Bucky's arms.

"Why don't you take Hazel to the pond? She really likes looking at the ducks," you tell Bucky, and he nods, warily looking at you and Steve. He sends Steve a curt nod before he takes the stroller with him and walks off.

Steve's eyes trail after Bucky.

You know then that he knows. It's not hard after all. Hazel looks like a spitting image of Steve, something that had been hard for you to deal with at first. Her blonde hair and blue eyes—the blue eyes were easier since Bucky's eyes were blue too, even if a darker shade.

But Hazel was so lovely; you loved her so easily.

"When did you know?" Steve asked.

You shrugged. "The day before we all saved the world."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Steve's voice was pained and betrayed, and you cocked your brow at him.

"Why? So you would stay?"

"Yes, I would have!" Steve insisted.

The sheer stupidity of the situation had you give a humourless laugh.

"The last thing I want is for you to stay because of a baby, Steve. You wanted to leave, despite everything, you chose to leave. We would only hate each other in the long run."

"That's not true," Steve denied. "When I made that choice, it wasn't because I didn't love you anymore."

"No, you just didn't love me enough."

The words rang clear, almost throwing Steve off-kilter.

The silence fell, and the two of you could hear Hazel laughing with Bucky in the distance as she shrieked.

"Don't you think I deserved to know about her?" Steve asked with his lips pursed.

"No," you answered honestly. "What do you, a 90 something-year-old man, have to offer her? You certainly can't step up and be her father. Your time keeps running out and the last thing I need is for Hazel to have instability. Did you want to be her grandfather? She's already met mine, so do you want to pretend to be Bucky's?"

"So, you're just gonna lie to her and let her think Bucky is her dad?"

Your eyes flash angrily.

"Bucky is her dad. He's the only dad that counts in every way. Do you know how hard it was for me? I was scared shitless, Steve. You can delude yourself into thinking otherwise, but you're unreliable. I couldn't come to you for help," you snap at him. "Do you know who was there every time I was puking my guts out, crying or screaming, or wanted pickles with peanut butter at 2AM? Who do you think was there for every appointment. Who bought fifty parenting and baby books to study religiously? It was Bucky. Even though I knew he was scared too, he was there. So, don't fucking try to make me and Bucky look like the bad guy. You have NOTHING to offer to Hazel."

Steve stood there wide-eyed, guilt crowding over his eyes. Steve doesn't want to say he regrets going back because that would mean a lifetime of regrets he can't get back.

"You're right," Steve said slowly, trying to appease your anger. "I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that. It's not my place to say anything."

Even though Steve says it, he looks over to the little girl squealing in Bucky's arms. He looks at her blonde hair that she clearly got from him and your nose.

He and Peggy had children—children he loved more than anything.

But...the idea of his child with you...that was another reality he missed.

It seems to be that way always for him, Steve thought somberly. He was always missing something. Maybe you had been right about him.

Steve listens as you take a deep breath in and exhale.

"Do you want to meet her?" You offer, and Steve can tell it's difficult for you to say those words.

"If you're okay with it," Steve said slowly.

You nod stiffly. "It's fine as long as you respect my wishes and refrain from telling her you're her bio dad. I want to save that conversation for when she's older and able to understand it more."

You don't say it, but Steve is already thinking how he'll most likely be gone by then.

The two of you begin to walk towards Bucky and Hazel.

"What will you tell her?" Steve asked.

"The truth," you shrug. "That you were the world's greatest hero and you loved her and would've loved to get to know her if you stayed, but you didn't and it wasn't her fault."

"Right, it was mine," Steve felt a sting in the back of his throat.

"I don't think it was anyone's fault," you tell him. "It's just karma, Steve. I wasn't enough for you and now you're not enough for Hazel."

Right, Steve thought somberly as he looked at you in your summer dress. It was different from the sexy red one that used to drive him insane.

It was a calm peace, a show of your motherhood and graceful maturity.

This dress is karma, too.

#steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #steve x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #steve rogers x you #bucky barnes x you #avengers imagine #avengers x reader #v.myfic

973 notes · View notes

mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

Your Favorite — Part 1

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: When Y/N comes home from college for the summer to meet her mom's new boyfriend, she finds herself in a rather tough spot when she can’t stop thinking about him— And it seems he feels the same... Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Adults w/ age gap, masturbation (female and male), minor exhibitionism kink, oral sex (male receiving), penetrative sex, breeding kink (kinda? i think? 😅) Word Count: 7.3k (do you see now why I had to make it a miniseries? alsdjfdk)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLIST

DISCLAIMER: In this story, Spencer is dating Y/N’s mom while also having a sexual relationship with the reader herself. Because of that, there are obvious undertones of cheating, alongside some perv-y tendencies when it comes to a partner’s daughter. That being said, Spencer and Y/N’s relationship is consensual. However— If any of what I just forewarned is something that you think will make you uncomfortable while reading, please do not read! If there are any more disclaimers you think I may have missed, don’t hesitate to tell me! There is another post I made HERE with some disclaimers as well if you want to know more about what this story will entail.

NOTE: This intro is already too long, so I’ll just get this out of the way: you can find visual nsfw inspirations for this story over at @mercy-midnight, I’m working on a playlist for this story on my Spotify @/mercyburning, and I don’t know when part 2 and 3 will be out, but you can assume they’ll be here within the next few weeks.

———

JUNE 5th

I hate my mom's new boyfriend.

For the past three months she'd been telling me about this new guy who's "The One" as if "The One" hasn't been like four other guys in the past two years.

And as much as I'd love for my mom to find someone to spend the rest of her life with, I don't believe she'd ever find Mr. Perfect at this rate. Unless she spent more than a few months with them at a time before dragging me home from college for a weekend to meet them, I really don't see it happening.

It just sucks. Because every time she does this, every time I return home, I see the glimmering hope in her eyes and the diminishing spark in his, and I know. I know it won't last, and her heart will be utterly broken within the span of a few months.

I always thought maybe she just had terrible taste in men.

But this time around, when I begrudgingly walk through the door of my childhood home for the summer and see my mother clinging to a man who returns that glimmer in her eyes, I know she's picked a good one.

And I hate him.

His name is Spencer Reid, and he's a retired FBI agent who teaches full time at local colleges now.

He greets me with a bona fide, radiant smile, unlike all the others before, and it sets my insides on fire. And when we sit down for dinner, he's polite (but not in a fake way,) and he seems genuinely curious about my studies and my personality and my relationship with my mother. And when dinner is finished he offers to clean up while Mom and I settle in the living room.

I see the way he looks at me as I leave, a gentle, closed-mouth smile and eyes that linger a little too long on my exposed legs before averting, a glint of shame pooling within them, and it only spreads that fire in my belly.

Maybe I'd been imagining the whole thing, because deep down I wanted him to look at me the way he had... But it's hard to tell when my brain is mostly setting off sirens, blaring "THIS IS WRONG! THIS IS WRONG!" on a loop with blinding lights.

And they're even louder when my mom wraps her arm around me and lays her head atop mine. "Well, what do you think? He's great, huh?"

She's so lovesick, it hurts. It hurts even worse knowing that all I can think about is his big hands wrapped around my throat while he fucks me into the squeaky twin-sized mattress in my bedroom upstairs.

But I can't tell her that, obviously.

And so I decidedly hate him. And I have no choice but lie to her face, embracing her joy and hoping that I'll be able to survive this summer.

"Yeah, Mom. He's really great."

JUNE 19th

It's been two weeks and I can barely stand to be in the same house anymore.

I try to keep myself busy by going outside, to the beach or for long walks in the park; but it's too hot for my liking, and our town is so small that unless I want to spend my time in the grocery store or one of the three bars on Main Street...

I'm stuck either outside where it's hot and uncomfortable, or in the house where it's also hot and uncomfortable.

We have air conditioning, of course, but that's not the problem.

It's Spencer.

I thought by now my little crush on him would have gone, but the longer he hangs around the house, the stronger my feelings for him grow. They're not romantic—nor do I think they ever could be given the fact that if anything serious really were to ever happen between us, my mom would disown me for the rest of my life and murder Spencer with her bare hands—but that doesn't make it any easier on me.

Every day he just exists, right in front of me with that tug-able mop of hair, those warm honey eyes, and his hands that never stop moving. I swear, it's like every time he breathes, his hands are breathing too, challenging me to try and stop them.

But I refuse to touch him. Because I know the moment I do, all will be lost. I won't be able to control myself anymore. And if I don't drop to my knees and try sucking his dick at the dinner table, I'm sure I'll blurt out how I can't handle it anymore and that I need him, and either way I'd be royally fucked.

Right now he's in the dining room, teaching my mom how to do a disappearing card trick. She thinks it's utterly charming that he can do it at all, but mostly that he's patient and willing enough to teach her. And normally I'd agree, but I can barely look at them without wanting to waltz over, grab his wrist, and suck his fingers into my mouth.

It's truly pathetic.

So I try to focus on the television just a few feet away. It's one of those rare instances where I wish our house was bigger, because while I don't mind having less wall-space between rooms, I do mind not being able to watch TV without the kitchen table in my periphery at a time like this. And I think about going up to my bedroom instead for a moment, but I'd have to go past the kitchen, and I just know Mom is going to ask if I'd want Spencer to teach me his magic trick.

And I most definitely do not want that.

In another life, maybe, where he isn't a hot professor and rather an average-looking dude who's way too into fantasy football... But not in this lifetime.

So there I sit, concentrating so hard on Family Feud that my face hurts.

When I hear a flutter of cards and joyous giggling from the other room, it's more than my face that hurts.

It's also my chest, churning and tensing at the hands of the green devil.

Fuck!

I barely even know this man... I haven't really talked to him because I'm afraid that if I try to hold a conversation I'll snap. He's literally just some hot older guy who's dating my mom, and still, my whole body twists and aches with envy when they do anything together, and it fucking sucks. Not only because of the jealousy, but it's also the fact that my mom deserves to be happy.

This time it's different. This time, she's really found someone who returns her every loving gaze, who makes her laugh, who's kind and genuine and not a total douche. She's happier than I've seen her in years.

And the one time she finally finds "The One", every waking second of my life is spent longing for him fuck me.

But it's only been two weeks.

And it's also been nearly two years since I got laid, so maybe that's just my issue...

I figure it can't hurt, so in a spur of the moment decision, I turn the TV off and sprint towards the stairs, right past Mom and Spencer before they can ask questions.

———

I hardly even register the dimness of the light inside the house by the time I glide up the steps, fumbling with the key and trying to make my entrance as quiet as possible. Though, because I'm so used to the dark by this point, the light—no matter how dim—nearly blinds me. The door shuts louder than I'd have liked, and I cringe inwardly, pausing as if that will keep anyone from seeing or hearing me. Not like it'll matter, considering Mom and Spencer are the only ones that are staying here and they'd also been the only ones aware of my plans for the evening.

Well, somewhat, anyway. I told them an old friend invited me out and I probably wouldn't be home until late.

Regardless, that instinct of trying not to get caught coming in late at night is stronger than common sense. Throw a little cheap beer and some shots into the mix, and it almost feels like I'm a teenager again.

The only thing different now is that I have a pool of some stranger's cum soaking my underwear and a man in front of me who stands like an angel. An exhausted, almost scruffy-looking angel more like, but my point still stands.

"You're up late," Spencer observes. It's a simple enough statement— not really judge-y, but I can tell that regardless of his knowledge of my coming home late, he seems shocked to see me coming through the front door right now.

And it's hard to look away from him. Just like it has been for the past two weeks. Still, I try, just barely avoiding his eyes as I cross my arms and fight the urge to clench my legs together. "I'm a whore. What's your excuse?"

Maybe not the best thing to say. But like I said, common sense? Gone.

"O—oh... Umm..." Spencer stumbles through his words, obviously stunned by my response, and the look in his eyes kind of makes me want to curl up in a ball and die from embarrassment. Still, I stand my ground and wait for him to continue.

He settles on a short, "I can't sleep," and then there's nothing else.

"Ah," I express. One syllable. I don't draw it out, I don't exaggerate it... This is the first real conversation I've had alone with him, and I've made it extremely awkward, so I sigh and take a few steps forward, trying to walk past him. "Okay. Goodnight."

I only make it a few steps before he stops me, his hand reaching out to tap my shoulder. "Wait—"

The touch makes me jump, and he pulls it away immediately as I turn to face him. My heart is racing at the speed of light, my panties are soaked through, and if I'm not careful that whole 'no common sense' thing is going to bite me so hard in the ass I won't have one left.

"Can I talk to you?" His voice is barely audible, and the gentle rasp it has to it seems to make me even more wet.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

"Look, I um... Your mom has been totally transparent with me about her relationships, so I know that she's been through a lot of them in a short amount of time... And I know that must be a little difficult for you. Especially now that I'm here... And you've been... distant. And I know that I don't know you that well, so forgive me if I'm assuming anything, but I just want you to know that I don't have any intention of making things difficult for you and your mother."

Too late, pal, I think bitterly, the gentle authority in his tone setting my insides alight. I'm positive that voice could get me to do so many things...

That's the alcohol and sex talking, Y/N, just shake it and move on...

He starts again, but I cut him off with a short wave of my hand. "Look, I... I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I had a really long night, and I'm exhausted. I just wanna shower and go to bed."

I expect more resistance, but Spencer only nods. I still can't bring myself to look him in the eye, though this time I catch his hands clenching at the bottom hem of his shirt. "I understand. Sleep well."

Without another word I turn on my heel and walk a little faster towards the stairs, and I'm about to take my first step when I realize he's followed me. His voice calls out my name softly from a few feet behind, and it stops me in my tracks regardless of my desire to get out of there as fast as I can. And then I turn around and finally look directly at his face.

Big mistake.

His eyes are on my legs again, trailing slowly upwards until he reaches my face. The light over here is dimmer, barely noticeable at all, though I swear I can see red forming on his cheeks.

"I like your dress," he says softly. It's almost meek, like he'd been afraid to say it but took a chance anyway.

It's such a random, small compliment, but with the alcohol and endorphins flowing through my body after the night I'd just had, it nearly makes me quiver.

It also makes me incredibly stupid.

An amused, almost sensual grin forms on my face as I make eye contact with him, and I feel myself throb at the way I can just barely see his throat move. He looks like a deer in headlights, afraid to make one sudden move.

"Turning to flattery to try and win me over, are we?" I say slowly.

I almost think he'll stumble over his words once more, but again he surprises me with a full answer. It's only three words but it's clear, and his voice is deep, and I want to fucking jump his bones right then and there.

"Is it working?"

This has to be the alcohol making me imagine things... I swear I didn't even drink that much tonight, but it has to be an obvious lapse in judgement. The drinking mixed with the sex mixed with the dirty thoughts I've been having about this man lately have to be what's making this feel real. It's all culminating into this one big fantasy (or delusion, more like), and all I need is to shower and sleep it off.

That has to be it.

So because there's no other reasonable explanation that my brain can conjure up, I take a chance and throw Spencer a wink before turning and sprinting up the stairs.

And it's that same seemingly undeniable reasoning for this illusion that doesn't keep my hands from wandering in the shower. Even though those warning sirens in my brain keep blaring, telling me that the common sense is still there for me to utilize, they're drowned out by my thrumming heartbeat and the repetition of Spencer's soothing, authoritative voice, guiding my movements.

Keep rubbing your clit for me, baby... Just like that, nice and slow...

Warm water cascades down the front of my body as I lean back into the wall of the shower, but that's not why I'm so warm. This heat radiates through my insides, spreading like wildfire and bringing out small whimpers and mewls that I know I'll have to contain in fear of waking my mom from her bedroom right next door.

But then the thought of her hearing me next door as I cry out her boyfriend's name only excites me more. I keep it quiet still, but just knowing that someone else is in the house while I'm having these thoughts right now (one of them being the object of said thoughts) is what finally brings me over the edge.

I finish my shower on weak legs, definitely overstimulated now, but also feeling even more tired. I know that the moment I lay down on my bed, I'll be pulled into the sweet, soft surrender of a deep sleep.

Nothing else has ever sounded so pleasant.

———

When I woke up that morning after, I was feeling surprisingly calm. Realistically I knew that my whole 'this has to be an illusion' montage had been less truth and more inebriated babble, and the longer I sat on it the more I thought it'd all turned out for the better.

Turns out, tipsily masturbating in the shower to thoughts of your mom's hot new boyfriend was a surefire way to get it out of your system, right?

Wrong.

It really had been okay at first. I thought about Spencer almost immediately, and yeah, he was still hot as fuck—But there wasn't this overwhelming desire within me to jump his bones when I saw him that morning, his hair messy and his hands clutching a cup of coffee while Mom made breakfast behind him.

But that good feeling I had about all of this? It lasts only about a split second.

Because the moment he looks up and sees me, the mug falls out of his hand and shatters to pieces. His eyes stay glued to me, even as my mother darts over to pick up the pieces of the ceramic that are scattered about the table and the floor. And when she turns back to grab a paper towel, he still stares at me, once again at my legs.

It takes me all of four seconds afterwards to remember that not only did I talk to him briefly last night, but I also flirted with him after he complimented me.

That whole part seemed to have slipped my mind when waking up, and now that his gaze is bringing me back to that moment, that 'this has to be an illusion' montage is starting to become larger than I'd remembered.

It isn't until he finally snaps out of it and starts to help my mom clean up the mess that I snap out of it, too, going back upstairs to clear my head and cool the heat radiating over my skin.

———

There's a knock at my bedroom door about an hour later, and it sounds different than my mom's usually quick two-knock succession. That means it's someone else, and unsurprisingly, my stomach tightens at the thought of seeing him again.

"Yeah?" I call out, turning in my desk chair and meeting Spencer's figure in the doorway. He's changed, a rather nice pair of slacks and a white button-up shirt clinging to his limbs.

"Can I come in?"

"Mhm," I say. I still don't know if I entirely trust myself to say anything more than a few words to him, and as he enters the room and sits on the foot of my bed, I wonder if he can tell.

He tries, really tries, to look me in the eye, but I know that it's hard. I've been in the same spot. And then he takes a deep breath before folding his hands in his lap.

"Y/N, I want to apologize... When we... talked last night... It was kind of weird, and then this morning wasn't really any better..." He can barely get out the words 'talk' and 'last night'... And then he avoids my gaze altogether, staring at the floor and trailing off, trying to put his thoughts together it seems.

And that's when it starts to click into place.

There's one thing that both last night and this morning have in common, and I've noticed it almost every time I've caught him staring at me. At my legs. It's happened almost daily since I've met him. And then, the night I come home clearly having just been fucked, waltzing past him, entertaining his fascination with my legs and then masturbating to thoughts of him in the shower, he finally starts dropping mugs.

He must also really feel something here. Something similar to my own feelings. And really, that should be a red flag, because he's my mom's boyfriend, and it's a goddamned fucking mess...

But fuck, it excites me.

I'm still wearing my pajama shorts, silky and lavender in color, and I use them to my advantage, slowly crossing one leg over the other and just barely gaining Spencer's attention back.

"Yeah, what was that, anyway?" I ask him, amusement dripping off my tongue.

I can tell from his reaction that he wasn't expecting me to ask. A few times he opens his mouth to speak and then closes it , stumbling before panicking. He's been pretty good so far at coming up with answers and explanations, so the fact that this time I finally seemed to have broken him down makes it all the more clear.

He must have heard me in the shower.

Right?

I'm almost completely positive that's what this is about. And there's one way for me to get the confirmation I'm looking for.

"So you heard me, huh?"

I try to keep my voice as plain as I can as not to give away my motives, and with my luck Spencer is so flustered that he probably wouldn't have even noticed it at all. He looks up at me, his eyes desperately trying to find something he can use to make up a lie, but in the end there's no use.

I've caught him. And he knows it.

"Yes," he whispers. He looks exhausted, guilty, and also a little like he wants to cross the barrier and kiss me.

Okay, maybe that part's just in my head. I really can't tell. But I do know that hearing me call his name out in the shower last night is what brought him to this point of severe distress. As much as that excites me, though, it also embarrasses me a little. Maybe if it hadn't happened we could have avoided further destruction.

It must read on my face, because Spencer perks a little. "Oh! Y/N, I'm not... I'm not mad or anything. I really didn't mean to overhear and invade your privacy... Really, I-I'm sorry."

The fact that he's apologizing to me right now, rather than acting all grossed out that I even did it in the first place, tells me he either feels guilty for not being able to help himself from hearing me, or he's just a good guy who loves my mom and doesn't want to ruin it because of a little mishap.

Either way, it's frustrating, because I don't know what to do.

Well, I know what I want to do, but I don't know if I should hint at it.

But then he does something. It's small, and no one would have noticed, but I've been fascinated with his hands since the moment I met him, so my eyes are instantly drawn there.

They're clenched so hard, his knuckles are nearly white.

He's nervous.

To ease his mind a bit, I hold off on poking the bear harder (though it's really tempting to see what will happen if I don't) and nod, trying to make myself look as apologetic and small as possible.

"It's okay... I... I won't make it awkward if you won't?"

His shoulders slump, and his body seems to relax. "Y–yeah. Yeah, deal."

He gets up off the bed and blurts one final apology before heading for the door, but that part of me that wants to poke the bear further makes me stand up and follow him.

"Spencer?" I call out.

He freezes and turns to face me, and I don't think he quite expected me to be as close as I am. I have to tilt my head up to look at him, and the angle gives me an added layer of this innocence I'm trying to achieve.

"I'm sorry, too..."

No the fuck I'm not.

Whether he can sense my lie or not, he doesn't show it. But I think he at least knows that I'm pitching my voice a little higher on purpose, and if that doesn't give it away, the way I'm staring at him sure should.

Still, he only nods and retreats.

All there's left to do is see what happens.

JUNE 25th

For someone who agreed not to make things awkward, Spencer sure can't keep his eyes off of me.

To be fair, I have tried to keep things fairly normal. I only really interacted with him if I had to, I kept my distance, and I saved my skimpier clothing for the strangers I was regularly going out to see almost every weekend.

My lustful feelings for him aren't as strong now that I've been getting some on a semi-regular basis and keeping myself occupied. I've been doing my part.

But I still can't shake him entirely.

Whenever he spends the night (which is surprisingly most nights), the occasional wet dream about him gets me frustrated when I know he's just down the hall and sleeping soundly next to my mom. On those days I try to cut as much interaction with him as I can, though it doesn't keep me from seeing the occasional stare he throws my way.

I wish I could say that I hate it.

But I don't, and it increasingly gets worse. It's only been a week, so there's still time, but honestly, I don't think there's any shaking him.

Today especially is one of those days where it's hard not to give into the incessant need to tease him and coax some stronger reaction out of him.

I talked to Mom earlier this morning about getting some new clothes, and she had this brilliant idea to have Spencer take me. "It would be a good chance for you two to bond a little, don't you think?" she insisted, nudging him in the side and silently pleading with her eyes for him to agree.

I could tell from the look on his face that he really wasn't ready to be alone with me again, but that only excited me.

"Yeah, I think that's a great idea," I piped up, positively beaming.

Mom was so excited for us to 'bond' and also that I was gladly inclined to go through with it that Spencer couldn't have said no to her even if he wanted to.

And I was pretty sure he didn't want to.

Yet here we are, sitting in the car, the air conditioning so strong it's blowing some of my hair into my eyes. I think it had been his way of punishing me for choosing today to wear a short skirt, something I usually refrain from nowadays unless I'm going out, and it makes me smile. I can't help it.

I also can't help the way my fingers play with my skirt, dying to tease him some more. I just want to see, to know for sure that I'm driving him mad.

"No offence, but you seem weird today... Is there something wrong?" I ask him, lifting my skirt just a smidge. The air from the car blows the fabric in waves.

"You're acting this way on purpose."

Well, I hadn't been expecting that answer... All this time he'd hardly been confrontative, and now he's full-on calling me out. It's plain to see that he's finally snapped, and I would have felt sorry about it if I didn't find it extremely sexy.

"What do you mean?"

"Y/N..."

My name on his lips is a warning. He's clearly annoyed, exasperated, and I'm loving every second. "Don't act oblivious. I'm not stupid, and neither are you. I don't want to make you hate me or anything, but you have to know where I'm coming from. I was willing to let the shower thing slide... And you said you were too, for that matter, so I don't know what's changed, but it has to stop now. Understood?"

Oh, all I want is to argue with him. I want to point out that none of this is really my fault because he's the one who hasn't been able to stop staring at me all summer so far. I want to tell him that if he wants this to stop he has to make it stop.

But that isn't going to give me any of the answers I'm looking for or further proof of my theory that he wants me just as badly as I want him. And I am not going to fuck this whole situation up by making a poorly-timed move on him.

I have to know for sure.

So, I fold my hands neatly in my lap, sigh, and look dead ahead. "Right... We said no awkwardness. I'm sorry."

Spencer seems to accept my apology and continues down the road.

When we make it to the mall I think he's calmed down. At least, he seems a little more comfortable around me, and honestly I'm okay with it. As much as his spiel in the car turned me on, it also exhausted me to the point of silence.

Even as we walk around each store in the mall, I just lead and he follows, not saying a word when I pick out a top or a pair of pants or whatever else I need. And when it comes time to pay, he takes the basket from me and pays for it with no question.

Near five bags of clothes later, I figure I could get used to this new dynamic.

But then we pass a lingerie store, and I remember that the main thing I'd needed was new underwear. I start to turn into the store, but stop suddenly, pausing awkwardly and deciding to go straight ahead instead.

"You don't want to go in?" Spencer asks.

I shake my head. "No, it's fine. I can just pick some up later, it's not a big deal."

He sighs then, nodding his head towards the sign. "If you need to go in, you can... I'll just wait out here if you're uncomfortable."

I really want to call him out, ask him if he's the one who should be worried about being uncomfortable. But so far this afternoon has been pretty decent, and I really don't want to make things any weirder than they have to be.

Besides... If my theory is right...

"Sure. Thanks. Uh, how am I gonna pay, though?"

"O—Oh... I'll uh... I'll just watch the counter and come in when you need me."

"Orrrr, you could just give it to me?"

This time I get a laugh out of him. "Not a chance. Go in, I'll wait."

I smile at him and hand him the bags to hold onto while I leave, and it fills me with absolute amusement that he'd just given me one more ounce of proof that I'm right.

He's gonna have to come inside and pay for what I bought. He could have just given me the card, and maybe he truly doesn't trust me with it (which I don't know why he wouldn't honestly), but he chose to come inside all the same.

I browse happily then, going through the displays and picking out things I need, but also things I know Spencer will like.

Specifically, I stumble on a pair of lavender panties, embroidered with flowery trim up top. The pattern from the outside is lace, but there's a thin layer of cotton underneath designed to be more comfortable to wear.

I've noticed that he can never seem to look away when I'm wearing anything, really, but it's more intense when I wear one of two things. Florals, and any type of purple. And these fit both of those bills perfectly.

Now there's just one more bill to take care of.

I stride over to the counter and turn around, finding that Spencer's caught my eye immediately. Either he truly had been paying attention to the counter the whole time, or he'd been watching through the glass, following me with his gaze to the best of his abilities. Either way, he blinks a few times and looks like he's gathering the courage to go in before actually taking any steps.

I laugh to myself, eager to gauge his reaction to this next step.

Surprisingly, he holds up well. The air between me, him, and the cashier is obviously awkward, but he doesn't say anything and barely looks at what she rings up. (I say barely because he tries extremely hard not to look at the purple pair I picked out, inadvertently adding another checkmark to my list of proof.) She tells him the total, he hands her the card, and within a minute, everything is in our possession and we're leaving the mall entirely.

I don't think there are any more steps to my plan today once we get in the car and I tell him thank you. (To which he responds a short and simple, Sure thing, and turns the radio on.)

But then there's a note taped to the front door, and it instantly gives me another one.

My Sweethearts,

I got called in on a work emergency and won't be back until 7. I would have called but I figured you were having a nice time and didn't want to interrupt! I'll bring home dinner, and then maybe you can tell me about how your day went. Can't wait to hear it!

XOXO,

Eve/Mom

I check my phone, seeing that it's almost 3.

Perfect.

But I don't want to give myself away too quickly, so I thank Spencer again for taking me out and tell him that I'm going upstairs to make sure everything fits right. He nods and lets me go, though not without lingering eyes. I can feel it.

The smile never leaves my face as I try all my clothes on. Once each article has been fitted, I throw it in a laundry basket and move to the next, until I get to the last piece.

The lavender panties.

As expected, they fit perfectly, and as I look at myself in the mirror I picture what Spencer would look like when he sees me wearing them.

That's right. When.

I throw back on my earlier outfit and grab the basket, acting as bored and normal as possible to find him sitting at the kitchen table, reading a book.

"Hey," I greet him, setting the basket in front of me once I reach the bottom of the stairs. "Everything fits good, I just need them washed now. Could you run these down to the laundry room for me? I think I'm gonna make something to snack on before Mom brings dinner."

It doesn't surprise me to see him look at my legs before my face, even if it is brief. I want to smile, but I hold back, watching him nod with a tight smile of his own.

"Sure."

He disappears and then I wait.

One...

Two...

Three.

I sneak as quietly as I can to the laundry room once I hear the washer door open. I hadn't specifically asked him to put them in the washer for me on purpose, and it looks like now he's doing exactly what I thought he might.

My head peeks around the corner, barely in his range of sight as I watch him empty the basket. He takes one item of clothing at a time and throws it in the washer, and halfway through the basket he stops, just to place a pair of my new underwear on the dryer beside him.

My heart races faster the more I wait for him to get to the end of the basket. Once he does, he pauses again, and I think I know exactly what he's looking for.

Still, he sets the basket aside and picks up the stray pair of underwear, a simple black cotton pair that I'd been getting for years, and drapes it over his hands. My thighs instantly clench, and I try so hard to remain where I am so I can see where he takes this.

He takes it straight to hell, apparently, tentatively pulling his dick out of his pants and gripping it firmly. I can barely see since his back is partially turned, but I see enough, and god he's so fucking pretty. My underwear dangle from his left hand while the other works slowly over his erection, a soft sigh falling from his lips.

I fight to let one of my own slip as my hand sinks down the front of my body, past the lavender cotton and lace that I know he just wishes he had right now.

And then, a few seconds later he's already coming, using my brand new underwear to catch each rope of it, and the sight nearly has me on my knees.

And because I want to catch him in the act, I quickly draw my hand away from myself and step into the room, barely giving him time to recover.

"You come fast."

Spencer looks utterly devastated when he turns to see me standing in the entryway to the laundry room, arms crossed and an amused smirk adorning my face.

"Y/N... I—I... I'm so sorry, I didn't... I..."

"Don't worry about it," I say, taking a step towards him and shrugging. "You heard me, and now I heard you... We're even. Besides, I... figured you might be looking for these."

He's still stunned, but he looks down all the same, watching my hands slip under my skirt and glide the lavender panties down my legs. I step out of them and hold the garment up on one finger, a soft smile still on my face.

"I picked 'em out just for you, you know," I tell him, tossing them past his face and into the washer. "I've noticed that you like purple."

This time he's quick to respond. "Y/N, we... We can't... This isn't right."

"Says the man holding my underwear soaked in his cum..."

He looks panicked again, extremely guilty, but if this isn't going to end in a total disaster, then I have to reassure him that I'm okay.

"Spencer, I'm not mad..." I take another step forward, and it feels much like trying to approach a wounded animal. I can see in his eyes and in his posture that this conflict is killing him, so I decide to show some rapport. "And I know... I know this is messy... I love my mom... And I'm sure you care about her a lot... But are we really going to ignore this? We tried that, remember? And now look where we are."

"I..." He swallows, shaking his head and trying to avoid my eyes. "I can't stop thinking about you... I can't..."

My hand finds his arm, and the light touch has him sighing out, an incredulous, breathy laugh escaping him. "Y/N, please... Don't."

"Don't what?" I ask softly, praying he won't turn me away. If he does, we're just back to square one, only the square is jagged, sharper than ever before, and in serious danger of injuring someone.

When he meets my eyes, I see nothing but a desire for something he knows he can't have. "Don't want me."

Now it's my turn to laugh. My knees start to wobble as I go down, keeping my eyes locked onto his, and I swear I see them dilate fully. I scoot in closer, sliding my hand up his leg and finding the words in my heart to finally say out loud.

"It's too late for that..."

My face moves closer, and the hand of his that doesn't currently hold my underwear flies down to gently tug at my hair, keeping me in place.

"If you do this... God, Y/N, I won't be able to stop myself..."

A smirk dances over my lips as I lean in, breath fanning gently over his exposed skin. "Don't."

He swallows. "Don't what?"

"Don't stop yourself."

I barely get the words out before his hand is completely pulling me towards him, and the second my lips press against the silky skin of his hard cock, he loses it completely.

His fingers thread through my hair as I kiss and lick my way softly up to the tip. Once I'm there, I swirl my tongue out and taste the small beads of cum that had remained after he came, a low, satiated hum radiating through my body and making him shiver under my touch.

And then I wrap my lips fully around the head of his dick, and there's no stopping the most beautiful sound I've ever heard come out of his mouth. It's a broken, desperate whisper of my name. The crack in his voice when he says it spurs me forward, and I take him deeper into my mouth until he hits the back of my throat.

That's when he tosses my underwear in the washer and uses both of his hands to grab my head, roughly guiding me along his cock and fully taking control of my actions.

The fire in my belly doesn't ease up, not even once he's decided that he can't take it anymore and pulls me off of him harshly.

And that's only because now he's fully turned over, finally given into these desires that have been plaguing him presumably from the moment we met.

"I want you stripped and in your bed, on your hands and knees within the next five minutes."

I get up off the floor and walk up to him until our bodies are flush, my arms reaching up to wrap around his neck.

"What are you gonna do to me, Spencer?"

He searches my eyes, and his own grow dark with the purest form of sin I'd ever seen. And when his hands come up over the back of my legs, and under my skirt to grab my ass and pull me even closer to him, I can't help the little mewl that slips past my lips.

He smiles, and if it hadn't been for the grip he held on me, I would have fallen to my knees. "Little girl, when I'm through with you, you'll have to come up with some excuse to your mom about why you can't walk straight... Is that what you want?"

The mention of my mom should send me running in the opposite direction, but his threat only prolongs that fire in my veins and makes me want him even more.

I tilt my head up and press a gentle kiss to his lips.

"Do your worst..."

———

Turns out he was very true to his word.

Sitting at the kitchen table is somewhat of a relief, but I try not to walk around as much when Mom gets home. She'd asked me almost immediately if I was okay, and I told her I was just hungry and needed to eat something.

She seemed to have bought it, rushing to the kitchen to unpack the fast food she'd ordered for us. Over her shoulder, Spencer gave me a sly smile, and it took everything I had within myself not to crumble.

Through bites of food, I only half-listen to Mom telling us about the stuff she had to do at work because most of the words I'm hearing are in my head— A loop of endless dirty talk that plants deep into the soil of my stomach and spreads out through my whole body. It infects me, like the most beautiful poison, and I never want it to stop.

"Tell me, sweetheart, you ever let a man come inside you before?"

His weight on top of me coupled together with the heft of his voice has me whining out in pleasure, each snap forward of his hips over my ass as he pounds into me from behind the most delectable burn I've ever felt.

"Uh huh," I answer happily, twisting my head to feel his cheek against my own. "That night you heard me in the shower... I walked through the door with a stranger's cum soaking my panties... And you know what?"

He grumbles, his hips hitting into me harder as he waits for me to continue.

"I wished it was yours..."

My legs clench together under the table and I take a large gulp of water.

I feel something graze over my bare shin, and I already know it's Spencer's foot, a silent reassurance of his presence and that no matter what, he'll always be here.

"Here's what's going to happen..."

He has me on my back now, my legs hoisted over his shoulders and bent back so I'm nearly folded in half. His hips are flush against mine and I can feel his cock throbbing as he comes into the condom.

"You're gonna make an appointment to make sure you're clean... You're gonna make sure you're on good birth control... And then the next time I fuck this pretty little pussy, you're gonna really know what it feels like to have a man come inside you."

Right... Like I really need a reminder of his presence.

I can practically feel it still inside me, taking up every inch of space my body could provide. And no matter how long I go without seeing him, I have no doubt that it'll always remain.

"But that's enough about me, I'm sorry." Mom's voice shifts and breaks me out of my fantasy. "So, how did your day of bonding go? You have fun?"

Spencer and I share a look, a smile spreading over his lips that makes me smile in turn.

"Yeah, Mom," I say. "It was great."

He nods in kind. "Yeah... We'll definitely have to do it again."

His foot grazing over my leg under the table cements the unwavering smile on my face, as does the way my whole body burns at the memory of him fucking me upstairs only hours before.

I don't even flinch or get sick to my stomach when Mom reaches over and gives Spencer a kiss.

———

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @elldell1204 @muffin-cup @calm-and-doctor @slutforthegubes @rainsong01 @yourmisosoup @liveloudwriteloud @reidsconverse @la-vie-en-amour1 @edgycowboy666 @averyhotchner @centiaaa @lizziechaseee @coffeeandendlesswords @usuck @spenxerslut @ssacalumsg0lden @emilyprentisslittlewhore @takeyourleap-of-faith @reidyoulikeabook @spencerreid9 @b-a-utiful @jareauswifey @flipperpenguins @pansexualthing @donald4spiderman @awesomebooklover17 @shemarmooresfedora @izraahh1 @bakugouswh0r3 @singularityjc @xoxospencerreid @thatsonezesty13 @big-galaxy-chaos

TAGS NOT WORKING: @ayla-1605

If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, feel free to message me or leave a comment and I’ll get on it right away!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut

913 notes · View notes